#so it is a case of mistaken identity I am sorry

[storiesbysoup]

Weighted Blanket.

lieutenant simon "ghost" riley x reader. 1743 word count. extra: for the millionth time, i am so so so sorry that part 2 is taking so long!! but!!! i've got my motivation back to write, case in point this little guy, so i'm gonna start working on part 2 again! also, for those of you who have put in requests, i will be getting to those! sorry for the wait! <;3 MASTERLIST.

SYNOPSIS: Simon returns home after a night out with the guys to find you, overwhelmed and frankly almost done wit everything. He holds you.

Simon never truly anticipated being out as late as he had been the last few weeks until tonight. He'd thought that staying out until ten, maybe eleven, would not carry as much strain on you as it did but he was sorely mistaken. You were stressed but far more than what he initially had guessed.

He had gone out with the other members of the Task Force, watching as Soap got nearly black-out drunk and Price managed to embarrass Gaz more than needed after a single comment. These nights were ones he enjoyed, filled with cheers and Soap trying to play wing-man for the other members. When he tried for Simon, the poor Scot nearly had his tongue ripped out at the mere thought.

The high tolerance his body had to alcohol was something he really appreciated. He never drank much when he was coming home to you, with your aversion to alcohol as a whole being one thing that you had heavily expressed. He respected you far too much to deny you the smallest requests; he loved you far too much.

Now, at a strong 2 o’clock in the morning, he tried to sneak himself into your shared little apartment with little success. You were sat at the kitchen table, head propped up on an arm as tears strung themselves from your cheeks. You were in college, taking much harder classes than you needed to because of your counselor and their ridiculous choices for what you needed to take within a single semester. Shoulders heavy with both stress and exhaustion, you barely registered the fact he had walked into the apartment. 

Oh, he hated this. He hated seeing you overwhelmed like this. Hardened brown eyes softened as your tears fell down against the marble counter, forming little puddles underneath your quivering lip. You wiped at your face, cleaning it off before continuing the work at hand. It was something Simon never really understood, formula after formula of things that he would never even try to comprehend. 

Thankful that he didn’t reek of alcohol, Simon stepped closer to you ever so slowly until his hand made contact with your back. The feeling of your clothed skin jolting alarmed him in the worst way possible but he ignored it for a moment, letting his thumb rub circles around the muscles that had tensed within your back. Sympathy was the only thing he felt: he remembered when he began the military, all the studying they had him do to learn simple things. It was preposterous, but needed.

Your exhausted eyes dragged themselves from the homework at hand to Simon himself, watching him as he stared down at you with his silly black balaclava. A soft laugh escaped you at the sight. No matter what, when he was in public he would hide his face with some kind of face covering: that being a balaclava or a simple mask. As long as his identity was hidden to the world. He let your fingers trail up against the silk-like textures as you hooked one finger underneath the mask.

One finger turned into two, then three and four until your hands themselves were tugging it up and above his lips. Eyes meeting in the middle, yours asking the simplest of questions and his responding with an answer before you continued. The scruff of his unshaven beard scratched at your hands as you cupped his cheeks with your palms, allowing your tired gaze to pin it to memory before continuing to drag it off. One by one his features were revealed to your gaze.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen Simons face – far from it, actually – but it was the first time you’d gotten to take the mask off. You believed he was scared of what you’d say, of what you’d do if he let you. That’s why you were so gentle with him, taking your time to let him be comfortable with the new concept of you taking his mask off. His breath was shaky but he refused to move: you were the one who needed him, not the other way around.

When the mask came off, you nearly cried. It’d been so long since you’d last gotten to view your lovers face that you’d nearly forgotten, though it was heavily exaggerated as his face was the most beautiful drawing in all of history. He leaned in, knowing what you craved immediately and latching his lips to yours. Typically the ‘welcome home’ kiss he gave you was passionate and hungry, craving more and more of your plump lips but this one was different.

This kiss was soft, gentle: it was loving. He took his time when kissing you, a hand coming up to support the back of your neck as he sighed out. Simon pulled back shortly after, pressing his forehead against yours as his brown eyes bore into your own. You both were exhausted in your own regards, you with homework and Simon with his military work. He and the rest of the team were on leave as of right now, but you couldn’t help but sympathize with the man that stood in your hands. 

“Baby… oh, my baby…”

The tears that had subsided were now re-emerging at the gentleness of his voice, your arms slipping down to wrap around his neck. You pulled yourself into him, letting out a confused noise as he picked you up by the thighs and held you against his body. You underestimated just how strong he was due to his training, but appreciated it nonetheless as you sighed. The sniffled sounds of you trying to apologize for crying against his body were drowned out by him shushing you.

A silent walk comforted you as he carried you towards the dark bedroom that sat in the back of the apartment. You didn’t mind the darkness that comforted the back of the little home, especially with how bright the rest of the apartment had been throughout the day. Simon laid you down on your back, laughing softly at the whine you made in response due to the lack of his warmth. He turned back, taking off his outdoor clothes and changing quickly into a t-shirt and his boxers. 

He laid beside you, motioning towards his chest. “Come here… lay your head on my chest, love.” It wasn’t an offer, more of a demand though you accepted it graciously. Your head slid against the warmth of his chest, allowing your ear to press against the rhythmic thumping of his heart. Simon slowed his breathing to a calmer one, hands pressed against the warmth of your back. He watched as your head rose and fell with his chest. “Wrap my arms around you like this…”

Simons arms were one of your favorite things about him in general. Strong, wide warms with more muscle than he could do with that held you so delicately. There were times that he would refer to you as ‘little pet’ or something of the sort, and you constantly questioned it. Why, of all pet-names, did he choose the embarrassing ones? It wasn’t until you had the chance to ask Price who filled you in.

Apparently, it was a slang word that was used throughout Britain for a partner. Price had said it was a playful term for someone you feel affection towards: someone you love. You felt loved by Simon no matter what he did, but felt your heart grow at least a size when you learned such a thing. He was such a softie on the inside…

“Are you okay, baby? Hey, just relax ‘n breathe for a bit, yea?”

His hand traced your hair, letting you intake his masculine everything as he holds you. It never failed to amaze you just how easily he could calm you down, even after a rough day. His lips graced the crown of your head, allowing you to feel him against your skin directly. Your eyes flicker upwards as you look at him, the soft smile on his face melting your heart. 

“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ve got you now, you’re okay; we’ll tackle this together. Nice ‘nd slow…”

One of his hands brushed against your cheekbone, brushing against the gentle skin as his wide brown eyes admired your face. He sighed out, the breath coming from his nose tickling your face and causing you to giggle. “God, you’re so beautiful… I am so fucking lucky to have you in my life.” This was more emotion than Simon had shown you in a majority of your relationship. You didn’t view it was odd, more so just as his way of expressing himself. Emotions were something Simon was still gaining traction with, and the progress he was making showed itself proudly.

“I love you.”

The both of you interrupted each other with the same words, both stopping before bursting into a fit of giggles as you held each other. His gentleness had warmed up your sour mood to the point where you felt ready to tackle your work once more. You knew Simon wouldn’t let you until you’ve relaxed for at least a few hours, but you were still proud of the small accomplishments you had made.

Simon pressed his lips to your forehead once again, rubbing his thumbs against your skin just as he had before. “I love you, pet.” That pet-name sent shivers down your spine as you kissed at his skin. You’d never get to see this treatment in front of others, as he kept this side of him more personal and to the two of you. Away from prying eyes, Simon was much more expressive than what others believed. He cracked jokes often and poked fun at you all throughout the day. 

You sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, burying your face into the warm heat of his body. Every piece of him felt perfect when lined up against you, and you loved it more than anything else. He was like your own version of a weighted blanket, except he could talk and move instead of simply sitting there and being heavy. Truth be told, the two of you were like weighted blankets for each other: sometimes he would come home for a night or two and ask you to simply lay on him. The pressure you gave his body would relieve the pain and tenseness that clutched his shoulders and back.

written by storiesbysoup© 2023. I do not condone anyone translating my works and/or stealing them.

[thewayuarent]

I just need to talk more about amount of work actors from Only Friends do. And I want to talk about Book specifically. I saw this

and it makes me think. Firstly, I’m sorry for Book and hope he’s okay. Secondly, he’s doing such an amazing job.

The thing is, Only Friends is a messy story with very grey characters. It’s also a very much drama more than anything. Young adults figuring their way to life, growing up and making mistakes.

This is as far as I know (I can be mistaken) the very early experience with such dramatic roles for most people in the cast. First and Khao have a lot of it - 55:15, Not me, The Eclipse, Moonlight Chicken like come on I do understand why they want comedy for now - but the others? Not so much.

Book is most known for his roles with Force in classic romantic comedies - Enchante and A Boss and a Babe. And while I do think that comedy is very underrated genre in case of how hard it is to make it funny, I do understand that comedies require less emotional effort.

I watched ABAAB and I loved it, Book’s acting there was great and on point. But I am amazed by him in Only Friends.

And it is very much about personal taste, but I do think that Mew is one of the hardest characters to play. The hardest one is Ray btw - and it’s both cause of his complicated personality and the fact that he is drunk almost all the time. The physicality Khao needs constantly support while acting 50 different emotions is so freaking hard.

But Mew is the character that requires a lot of mental energy and work. And that’s because - as @wen-kexing-apologist perfectly explains here - Mew doesn’t know who he is. So Book has to play a character who doesn’t have a strong sense of himself. He needs to play a character who constantly changes his identity cause of external factors.

And I can only imagine how hard it is for Book’s mentality. We see Mew behaving quite differently with different characters in the show. He constantly changes not only his appearance but also voice tone and mannerism and it is so fascinating to watch.

And this is no actual point in this post except of me praising the work people put in Only Friends.

Force nailing both arrogant ass and wet puppy behavior.

Mark is stealing his drama performances.

Neo is so good at every second of being Boston.

No one beats First in his micro expressions.

It’s just so good to see the great work all actors and directors do.

I’m amazed.

[4younotafool]

Love And Justice (Genshin Impact)

This story is also available on different platforms;

Wattpad: NotAFool4You "Love and Justice"

Archive Of Our Own: NotAFool4You "Love And Justice"

genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, mistaken identity, crime, she fell first he fell harder, second chance

Part Five

"I was really surprised when I received a legal announcement, you know!" 

Yanfei exclaimed as I sat on the other side of the table. She was still standing up, and looking a bit distressed.

She showed the letter she spoke of, It was a notice of her presence being needed and requested by the Court Of Fontaine to defend my case. Marissa's name was inserted instead of mine, however, I'm sure she would've realized it was me.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I couldn't be bothered to take one of Fontaine's incompetent people, you see.

Yanfei sighed and took a sit and her head fell. The trial is yet to start but my lawyer acts as if we have already lost.

"I didn't want to come but I'm indebted to you so...."

"I know"

Yanfei is someone whom I have known in one of my travels in Liyue, we are not particularly close to the point of regarding each other as friends. But I had considerably been a great help to Yanfei. Now is the time for her to return the favor, whether she dislikes the law of Fontaine as much as I do or not.

On cue, Yanfei cleared her throat and took a wad of documented papers from her bag, and placed it on top of the table with a loud 'bang'. She's taking the case seriously now, I see.

"According to the charges pressed against you, or more precisely, your sister, she kidnapped a 7-year-old child named Elona. She held her for about half a year and demanded ransom in exchange for Elona's safety. The parents witnessed how your sister took their daughter away from them and have been continuously paying the amount needed every month for their daughter not to get sold off. Recently, they only got the courage to formally accuse her of the crime to the Court Of Fontaine."

"However, in reality. Instead of treating their one and only daughter with care and love, the parents abused Elona on a daily occurrence, may it be physical or verbal, and neglected her to rot in the streets alone. Which is where your sister had met her. Elona's parents are also part of an abduction and human trafficking group. They are responsible for the recent human disappearances in Fontaine and in other regions as well, they're targeting small villages and masking the vanishing as an attack from Teyvat's monsters. They might be using you as a scapegoat and cover for their crime."

Yanfei declared. It made me smile at how prepared she already is despite summoning her abruptly.

"Your case is also told to be related to the infamous 'Fontaine's missing children case' that has remained unsolved for about twenty years now."

"How did that happen?"

Yanfei shook her head to the side and crossed her arms.

"I'm not sure about that part. I didn't get much information. It was strictly confidential."

I nodded my head in understatement.

"It'll be tricky to get you out of here as soon as possible, to be honest"

"But not entirely impossible, correct?"

"Yeah. With actual alibi to prove you are not related to it at any point and necessary evidence I can get you out." Yanfei concluded but sighed. Again. For how many times has it been?"

"If information is our only issue, then you do not need to worry."

"How??? It's the most essential part! I can't defend you properly without it! It doesn't help if we rely on rumors or if we try to avoid them! It's unavoidable!"

"Settle down, Yanfei. I know someone who can fetch one for us."

Yanfei squinted her eyes. Bewildered with how calm I am being.

"You already have it planned out, don't you?"

"Of course." I smiled at her. "You'll be able to meet my informant outside and give you the imperative details you request."

"Yay! Then everything's solved already!"

Yanfei cheerfully rejoiced to the point of hopping around the room as she celebrated. After all, she wouldn't have to overwork or tire herself considering I have everything prepared and ordered. I only require a third person to oversee the case as my eyes and body are outside this fortress.

For a moment, Yanfei froze and looked back at me. I raised my brow at her.

"You're sure that your sister is innocent, right?"

That sounds offending, but I'll let it pass. "As innocent as a newborn child."

I have everything organized. I devised my plan during the ten-hour stay in the Fortress even way before I was arrested. All the verification and documentation to support Yanfei's defense is flawless. The phrases I would and should say against the honor, anything whatsoever the parents would accuse me of, is wholly prepared.

So, how did this happen? Why did Marissa do this?

"According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, Lady Marissa is — guilty."

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic finder

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1. Hello! Me again, thanks so much for the past help!! I was wondering if you’d help me one more time? I’ve been searching for another specific fic for the last three weeks and no matter the tag combos I can’t seem to find it. Essentially: it’s a one-shot where WWX is having a sort of flashback into being at the burial mounds and hallucinating lan Wanji and Jiang cheng speaking to him. He reveals some things about the three months in the BM, but in the end it turns out he wasn’t actually at there and they where trying to get him out of being influenced by resentful energy. Also lan suzhi is there at the end to help too. If you could help that’d be amazing! @spacy-thoughts

FOUND! warmth by antebunny (T, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Heavy Angst, lots of mentions of dark stuff, the burial mounds as a sentient evil mountain, Temporary Amnesia, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, lots of trash fire angst, Mistaken Identity, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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2. Hello I am looking for a specific fic where WWX and LWJ get into a fight. WWX comes back from needing some to find LWJ crying because he thought they were done after the fight. The rest of the fic is them making up after the fight. I hope I gave you enough info to go on.

It’s Post cannon, hurt/comfort and not in modern setting. Sorry for the vague description.

NOT FOUND! this is me trying by queen_gee (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sad with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship)

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3. Hello!!! For the next fic finder please help me find this two fics:

A) A fix it au in which JFM and YZY has a steady relationship, all I remember is a scene where when the wens(?) attacked Lotus Pier madam yu was preggo and gave birth in the middle of it. I think Bicao or SiSi was the one who helped her gave birth.

B) An au from a k-drama that I forgot the title of in which wwx(not him but I aint gonna spoil) accidentally run over a pregnant mxy that ended up in the death of him and the baby, lwj was the baby daddy and decided to have his revenge.

Thankiee~

-♥️-

3A)

FOUND! Yearning for Miles by Murahi (M, 378k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Mutual Pining, seeing the future)

3B)

FOUND! Lie for Love by sether1n3 (E, 69k, WIP, WangXian, WangYu, implied LWJ/Others & WWX/Others, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, endgame wangxian, Mpreg, NOT OMEGAVERSE, hit and run, WWX Goes to Prison, Hurt WWX, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Depressed WWX, Panic Attacks, Bisexual WWX, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lawyer JC, Not JC Friendly, Bad Sibling JC, Violence, Insecurity, Body Dysphoria, forced seperation, Attempted Sexual Assault, Revenge, Blackmail, Artist WWX, Court, Rich LWJ, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Secret (2013) AU, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn)

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4. hi! i’m looking for a specific fic on A03; it is a casefic and has got to do with the jin watchtowers, specifically this one by the sea which is haunted by the woman ****SPOILER START**** whose husband was killed by the contractor (for demanding worker rights) and LWJ falls into the sea trying to stop WWX from getting killed, and gets very hurt in the process ****SPOILER END***. It has a lot of sea imagery, and involves all the juniors +JC. @thatficwheretheprotagisadog

FOUND? And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene (E, 42k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Ghosts, Suicide, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempted Sexual Assault, LWJ whump, Original Character Death(s))

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5. hello! I wasn’t sure if this has been asked, and I did try looking but sorry if I missed it! I’m looking for a fic that was a modern setting, wangxian friends with benefits, only it was more like enemies with benefits bc lan zhan was dead set on not catching feelings for him and he hated that he was starting to. i remember that it opened on a sex scene but that was as far as I got! please help!!!

FOUND? Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with feelings, College/University)

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6. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian wakes up in Lotus Pier after being injured on a nighthunt (?) that he went on with Lan Wangji and he finds out from Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli that Lan Wangji has died.

However, we later on find out that Lan Wangji is not actually dead but instead someone sent false letters to Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen. The letter Jiang Cheng received had said that Lan Wangji had died and the letter Lan Xichen had received had said that Wei Wuxian had died. So somebody purposefully made Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji think that the other was dead.

I believe there was also a part in the fic where some guy at Lotus Pier kept calling Wei Wuxian 'Wei Ying' and Wei Wuxian kept telling him to stop because only Lan Wangji was allowed to call him that but the guy did it again and Wei Wuxian snapped.

Thank you for your help!

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7. I’m looking for a similar story to one somebody asked two fic finders ago but this one has a little twist

Is a fic where JC managed to wish WWX out of existence (I think it was with an array) and JC and LWJ are the only ones who remember WWX, LWJ tries to confront JC about it but JC won’t tell him how he did it, things happen (I think SSC) and JC needs WWX again, so he asks LWJ to help him bring Wei Ying back, they bring him back and so the story continues

FOUND? The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, SangNing, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

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8. I am absolutely boggled trying to find this fic that I *thought* I'd downloaded onto my reader. Was reminded of it recently by another user who was looking. Basically, it's a modern wangxian AU, where WWX reappears after X time gone/cloud hanging over his head bc of something ppl thought he causes and the Jiang sibs who are some sort of celebs (models? actors?) help him (as does LWJ.) I remember a pool scene where all were hanging out & performing normalcy while press were milling about. @thelima

FOUND! so hot out the box (can we pick up the pace) by sami (E, 20k, XiCheng, WangXian, NHS/JZX, QingLi, Modern AU, Enemies to Lovers, Thirsting, Pining, mostly thirst and dick jokes, a little smut)

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9. Hola! Hope you guys are doing well. This request is for the FicFinder.

I don't remember much, but I think WWX was a Lan probably? There was a scene that I remember: during a lecture in Hanshi, LQR was talking about always being prepared or something like that. It was a topic on talismans I think? So Jin Zixun or someone like that said something about talisman being cheap trick and as cultivators, they don't have much use of it or something? Then LQR asked WWX to show how many talisman he carries on him normally (like everytime everywhere) and the later pulls out bundles after bundles of talisman. Then he's says something like : this is the normal I carry with me every moment. If it's a night hunt, I carry much more than this. @utxqia

FOUND! From the Warm Sun by sunshine_sparrow (T, 58k, WangXian, CSSR & WWX, CSSR & LQR, Discussion of Rape, Period-Typical Sexism, Mostly CQL but probably some MDZS too, Cángsè Sǎnrén Lives, Madam Lán Lives, Qingheng-jun lives, But WCZ Still Dies, Fix-It, Happy Ending, All Soft and Very Little Angst, the wens live, Yīn Iron, Good Person MY, Good Person LQR)

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10. I’m looking for a dimension travel fix where Wei Wuxian is a doctor/engineer in his OG modern dimension but his life goes downhill. He gets transported into a dimension a lot like MDZS time, where cultivation exists and the old Wei Whxian was evil and despised. He doesn’t know Lan Wangji, but over time they fall in love. It’s kind of a time-travel/fix-it in one.

FOUND? Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don't worry - he gets better) although im not 100% on that since i havent read it, i just scrolled through the "dimension travel" tag for a few minutes lol

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11. hello, my lieges. once again, i am looking for this fic where wwx rates sex toys and lwj sends him a lot and he's the only one who got five stars. thank you kindly

FOUND! This Ain’t a Stream (It’s a Goddamn Arms Race) by feenwitch (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pornstars)

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12. I remember a fic, where post war LWJ is struggling and is accompanied by a a friendly Ghost (aka WWX) or something like that. I’m not exactly sure, but i still know that WWX was dead and LWJ still saw him.

FOUND? asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining)

FOUND? The Cruelty of Fate by Procrastination_Sensation (T, 15k, WangXian, Canonical Character Death, Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor NieLan) Or Asymptotic like the previous recs say, though I'd personally lean for asymptotic, since wwx is described as a friendly ghost

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13. Hello! I need help finding a Wangxian fic. It was kinda post cannon and in it A-Yuan got cursed if I’m right and was turned into a toddler. He spend a week like that and Wei Wuxian gets his chance at seeing Yuan being a happy child. That’s all I can remember, any help would be appreciated @casslastheaven

FOUND? The Heart Always Remembers by thelamespaceace (G, 45k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Deaged Sizhui, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Angst, They Love Their Son and He Loves Them)

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14. Hi, can you please find the fics that I think at that time I read at AO3.. I'm not remembering much, only the fact that Wei Wuxian already gave his golden core to Jiang Wanyin, and later Nie Mingjue give Wei Wuxian his Saber, Baxia. Since Wei wuxian can actually control Baxia without qi deviation. I've been searching for months now.

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

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15. For the next fic finder, I’m looking for a fic that’s set from a Lan Xichen POV. It’s A/B/O, and he goes to get some paperwork from the Jingshi, only to find a naked omega in his brother’s bed, (Wei Wuxian, though LXC doesn’t know who he is because the author heavily implies this is outsider pov of a time travel fixit) then LWJ comes back. LWJ growls for the first time in LXC’s hearing, who comes to the abrupt realization his brother is terrifying & just didn’t care about growling previously @any-mouse

FOUND! 💖 Disruptions by mondengel (logged in only) (M, 3k, wangxian, ABO, mating cycles/in heat)

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16. Hi! Could you help me finding this fic? In this fic, a-yuan is sick and wen qing said that only cultivation gentry have resource to heal a-yuan. So wwx walk to cloud recesses to beg them heal a-yuan. Lwj meets them (wwx and a-yuan) and he take care wwx while wwx take care of a-yuan. Long story short a-yuan is healthy again and wwx ask lqr and lxc for them to adopt a-yuan but his request refused and instead the lans bring the wen remnant to cloud recesses

There is a quote that make want to read it again. More or less it was like this "in the absence of hanguang-jun, he (a-yuan) is my light".

I have a feeling that fic has been deleted. But i still hold a hope for the reverse. Thank you

FOUND! the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 38k, WangXian, Canon Divergence)

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17. Hello! 😊 Please will you help me find this fic? I have vague memories of it being AOB and WWX was at an omega training school(?) but he wasn't very good at it so never expected to be picked? Then LXC comes to find a match for his brother. There's a dance test that wwx messes up but I think LXC found it endearing? Then WWX played the dizi for the talent portion. Not sure if it was a WIP but the last thing I remember was WWX having a private chat with LXC in the school office.

FOUND? Rattling our cages by danegen (E, 69k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, but like polite, Slow Burn, Pining while fucking, so much hair combing, wwx has a vagina, POV WWX, no yin iron or wars or plot really, Canon Era, spiders--see the notes)

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18. Do you know an AU about wei ying being adopted by hualian and then if I can remember lan qiren, yu ziyuan, jiang fengmian, and others went to ghost city together with lan zhan and jiang cheng and then after they came back hualian tasked the other gods to remove their memories of their trip to the ghost city and only lan zhan fully remembers it because he was the so called wife of the prince wuxian?

Hello Fic Finder! In regards with the story that I was asking for help to find which is #42 on your list. I already know the title and author of it but it is already deleted. The title of the story is Crown Prince of Heaven and Ghost City by bluemoonstarlight if you have a copy of it can I ask for a copy because I badly want to read it.

SIMILAR! Crown Prince Hua Wuxian by Bluemoonstarlight (G, 19k, WIP, WangXian, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JYL Lives, Cultivator JYL, Supportive JYL, Protective JYL, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, HuaLian Adopt WWX, Canon Divergence, Fantasy, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Sunshot Campaign, Grandpa JW, Grandma MNQ, Abusive JFM, Abusive YZY, Grandma BSSR, BSSR is WWX's Grandparent, WWX is BSSR's Disciple) good news! Bluemoonstarlight has posted a revised version of that story under the title Crown Prince Hua Wuxian. (Whether the revision is to your liking is your call, but at least you’ve got *something*).

~*~

19. Please help me find this fic.

Wangxian are soulmate or engaged i can't remember but wwx wear a mask all his life because there is a prophecy or something that he is supposed to remove after marrying lwj but lwj tell wwx that he should never remove it. Qingheng-Jun is alive and being creepy. Wangxian have a soul bond. Lwj act very distant towards wwx who keep trying to make their relationship work. There is war and wwx adopt twin son a-yuan and a-yi. Wwx returns to cr they pressure him into a ritual to remove resentful energy wwx asks lwj to do it. During ritual he start bleeding and is about to die. When he wake up after lxn scold him and accuse him of hurting lwj they kick him out and forbid him from seeing his children. He goes to yilling and take in mxy and xy. It's a ongoing and very angsty.

there is a scheming lan or jin woman who keep provoking wwx. Jin zixuan is lwj's best friend. There is some secret that everybody knows but don't tell wwx. @anee-choudhary

the-last-d-boy: i think #19 was a deleted story by wangxianist :/

imstillthinkingaboutithmm: #19 is price to pay by wangxianist. It is deleted.

I have a copy of the fic, if it is okay i can share it

~*~

20. hello mods! i am looking for a canon divergence wangxian fic, where lan qiren is evil. he loathes wei ying and wants to hurt (kill?) wei ying. if i remember correctly, he traps wei ying in a room by acting as if he is cursed. wei ying tries to help him but instead he hurts wei ying. lan zhan finds out about what his uncle has done. in the end wangxian end up together and lan qiren is punished by being isolated. i read this fic around feb to march 2022. thank you in advance! :)

hello! i am number 20 in the Jan 26 2023 fic finder. thank you for these evil lan qiren fic details! yes that is the fic i am looking for! hope someone can help me find it :)

Ahh I know #20 on the most recent Fic Finder but I can't recall the name. iirc Lan Qiren lures Wei Wuxian to the Hanshi by saying Sizhui was in trouble. WWX sends LWJ an image of a butterfly, their symbol for LSZ, through their mental link. Hope this helps someone find it!

FOUND! And Be the Moon That Moves Your Tide by Milk_Tea_Fantasy (E, 17k, WangXian, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Panic Attacks, Pining, Weddings, Praise Kink, caretaking kink, Bathing/Washing, Subspace, Bottom LWJ, Submissive LWJ, Service top WWX, PTSD, Loss of Virginity, Porn with Feelings, Enthusiastic Consent, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Edging, Crying During Sex, soul bonds, angry wedding planner JC, Nesting, Non-Consensual Touching, it's not sexual don't worry, Intersex Omegas)

~*~

[yuri-is-online]

Popping in with another Tokyo Debunker theory, so sorry you have to deal with me but I literally have nowhere else to go with this ;;;

This theory really is more of a shot in the dark on vibes alone but I just saw the Janitor in ch3 and idk if it's same face syndrome but I felt he looked strangely similar to Dante? I don't know if it's just me, but anyways, for some reason I feel like he's the Ed that Rui keeps talking about (accidentally killing) and was wondering what if he's the one Alan killed and not Dante? Maybe Alan mistook him in the heat of the moment, could explain why he wasn't dead since Rui's dialogue implies they're able to bring him back to life somehow. There really isn't enough info on this but couldn't help but think about it.

Also how is Haru such a mom to the anomalous creatures and yet so shady at the same time (casually putting trackers on Ren? Picking locks? Hello??) and seeing that I have to agree I do think he might've transferred from Sinostra, it'd be a way to connect Jabberwock to the next arc possibly too

My dearest friend, I am not "putting up with you" I am receiving your lovely thoughts and adding some of my own. You can come here and chat, we can keep filling up the Tokyo Debunker tag together. I do apologize to my twsties though, I promise I am not abandoning you.

Rui seems fully convinced that his curse will kill anyone who touches him, especially MC but he is much more casual about how he talks about "Ed" to the point I am almost curious if he is talking about a person or a dog. I lean towards person because he complains about him leaving his socks everywhere and not him constantly stealing his, but him being the janitor is a good guess. Now as for Alan having mistaken him for Dante:

While they do look similar to me personally it is closer to the similarity between Hyde and Sho than it is them being identical:

Who are of course related, so it could just be that Dante and the Janitor are also related. It would add to the friendship between Dante and Hyde if they both have brothers enrolled in the school, Hyde really seems proud of Sho and clearly has bragged to Dante a lot. It would be funny if he does that because Dante is in the same boat. What I personally think is that, based off of the Janitor's hair color and cut, he is likely the dorm captain of Obscuary as pictured here in the loading screen:

The dorm leader has lighter tips to his hair just like the janitor and is familiar/comfortable enough to talk casually with Haru who is another dorm captain. If that's true then I do not think Alan, who would be very familiar with Ed, would have mistaken him for Dante. We also need to consider that Dante is in a wheelchair, I don't think someone who tries as hard to be respectful and accommodating as Alan would mix up someone who can walk and someone who is in a wheelchair, unless that is something new for Dante this year and he was able to function without it last year σ(￣、￣=)

When Haru declared lock picking as one of his special talents I almost died laughing he is SO SKETCHY. He is also trying to run a business, something that Sinostra also does and since Hyde is the advisor for both dorms I think transferring between them would be relatively easier than say, transferring from Hotarubi or Frostheim. Come to think of it both cases of transfers we have seen so far have been (potentially anyway, we don't have confirmation about Haru yet) between dorms who have the same advisor. Something that could explain why it seems easier in Tokyo Debunker than in Twisted Wonderland.

Oh back to Ed/the Janitor for a moment. Obscuary seems to be themed around death, and seems to run a bar that might be themed around vampires? Or just super goth in general. Either way I think his ability to come back to life might have something to do with his stigma and the way it interacts with Rui's curse, but we don't know enough about him to make a specific call just yet. I'll keep my eye out for more information and you are more than free to come here and talk about more of your theories, my anon friend.

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

moving on and letting go. ( mac taylor x reader )

gif belongs to me

Mac was an experienced and respected detective who commanded the respect of his team. He was charismatic, intelligent, and had an air of authority that captivated those around him. You admired Mac not only for his professional prowess but also for his kindness and unwavering support. For six months, you longed for his attention, hoping that one day, he would notice your feelings.

One night, a year after you joined the team while you were leaving the lab after a long day, it happened. Mac caught up with you at the elevator, and as you discussed the case that had been disturbing and, at times, felt hopeless, he expressed his admiration for your sharp instincts and unwavering determination as you carried out your duties with unmatched passion and dedication. Taking the chance, you asked him out for a drink, and from there, your relationship grew in ways you had often daydreamed of.

When you first joined the lab and began to learn and form friendships with the team it was Danny who told you about Claire’s death and you couldn’t imagine moving on from such a trauma and had seen Mac go on dates, struggling to move on from the tragic end of his previous romance. He had never truly let go of Claire, and her memory lingered in the depths of his mind. 

When the phone rang that evening you knew it was Mac on the other end, and knew your intimate plans were going to be set aside for a case.  You had canceled or rearranged plans in previous relationships, one of the downfalls of being a CSI but dating Mac you were learning how it felt to be drinking alone, the excitement fading into disappointment.

However, cracks soon began to show. Mac kept his distance in the lab, even going as far as to remove your hand from his cheek when Stella entered the room. You were hurt by his actions, and Mac continued to keep your relationship out of the lab. However, when you were alone, his tone shifted, and his eyes held emotions you believed were reserved for you. But you had known him long enough to know Mac still loved his ex-fiancée Claire and always would love her in some sense, but when he mumbled her name in his sleep, it was the first time you doubted how much he cared about you and if he was truly ready to move on. One evening, during a particularly stressful case, Mac called to cancel your plans to have dinner together which was fine, but when he called you by his exes name, it cut deep into your heart, and although you knew it was an innocent mistake, it only cemented the idea in your mind that Mac was still in love with Claire, and if he was haunted by her, how could he love you?

"Let me guess, you caught a cold one and can't make it, but you love me and will make it up to me when the case is over?"

You weren't mad at him for canceling, but the mistaken identity a few nights before had earned your avoidance tactics in the office, although Mac hadn’t seemed to notice or at least he hadn’t said anything about it, and the thought that he cared for you so little, only drove the knife deeper into your heart.

"Am I really that predictable?"

"Yes, but I'll let it go."

"I'm sorry about tonight. I was looking forward to it."

You smiled softly, "Me too.”

The words left him before he could process them, “I love you, Claire.”

Now, faced with his unintentional slip of the tongue, Mac felt a mix of regret and confusion. He realized that calling you by Claire’s name had created an unexpected barrier between you both at that moment, feeling it instantly.

This was not the first time hearing him say 'I love you’, but the sentiment lost all meaning when it was followed by her name.

“I’m sorry -”

“I better check on dinner.” You sighed, “Night, Mac.”

You ended the call and looked around his apartment, lifting the glass of wine on the kitchen counter to your lips. You had never felt uncomfortable in his place, as if you didn't belong there until that night, so you fled the apartment and slept in your own place for the first time in weeks. 

Determined to make amends, Mac mustered up the courage to confront you about his mistake. He arrived home in the early hours of the morning, expecting, or rather hoping to find you there, but when he saw dinner wrapped and waiting for him, and his bed empty he knew you had gone home. He sighed as he heated the dinner you had taken from your grandmother’s recipes and as he sat in the quiet apartment, with only the faint sounds of the city to keep him company, Mac’s guilt grew and he debated calling you but it was nearing 2 am and he didn't want to wake you.

That night you began to scrutinize every second of your relationship with Mac. Why didn’t he want the team to know you were dating? Why did he keep calling you Claire? Did he only say I love you so he could imagine he was saying it to her?

While Mac pondered his accidental slip of the tongue, looking at photographs of Claire he realized he had unintentionally let his unresolved feelings for Claire influence his actions. He put away all of Claire’s pictures, before finally, reluctantly, going to bed. He looked over at the empty space beside him with a sigh, missing the way you, even when you were fast asleep, would immediately curl into his arms.

The next day Mac entered the lab determined to find you and apologize, only to find out that you were called with Flack to a crime scene ten minutes ago. He tried throughout the day to find time to speak to you, searching the lab when his conscious wouldn’t allow him to focus on the paperwork on his desk, but each time you were nowhere to be found. And after the third time, Mac concluded that you were avoiding him.

He knew you would turn up eventually and worked on an experiment for a case he was investigating and after forty minutes you entered while his back was turned, greeting Danny who was also working in the lab. You paused when Mac turned and knew from the slight raise of his eyebrow that he knew you were actively avoiding him at all costs.

“Can we talk?”

You glanced at Danny who looked between you both and knew he would have many questions later. You nodded your head and Mac followed you out of the room, and as you were walking down an empty hallway you began to relay findings by the medical examiner about your current case until Mac decided what he needed to say couldn’t wait any longer.

“My vic died from a shotgun wound leaving a cookie cutter shape behind.”

“Caused by pellet separation.”

“Peyton said it’s an indicator of a close-range shot. Add it to the wadding in the wounds - she estimated four feet or less. I think the victim fought off the shooter -”

Mac held your arm gently and you looked at the ground, fearing what was to come, sure it was going to be the end of your relationship.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You nodded slightly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you met his gaze.

“I’m sorry for what happened. I want to talk maybe over lunch or coffee."

As the days turned into weeks, Mac made a genuine effort to rectify his past actions. He showered you with kindness, support, and understanding. He went above and beyond to prove that you were the one he truly wanted by his side and how grateful and lucky he felt that you were. Together, you worked on cases, shared countless conversations, and gradually built a bond stronger than ever before.

Alhough you were hurt, you still appreciated his honesty and vulnerability. Deep down, you cherished the hope that Mac could eventually see you for who you truly were—a woman who cared deeply for him. But for now, you believed you needed to go your separate ways.

He frowned as he began to speak, but you beat him to it. "I always wondered why you didn't want anyone knowing we were together. But I did a lot of thinking last night, and it is unfair to me and to you to start something now when you're not ready." He kept silent as you continued, "I love you. But I can't go on like this anymore, Mac."

"I'm sorry." He began. "I kept a distance between us at work because I'm also your boss and people would talk, and I was trying to prevent you getting hurt. I know I failed, I hurt you and I'm sorry. I can do better. I will do better if you give me one more chance. That's all I'm asking."

You stared at him, tears falling down your cheeks and shaking your head. Before Mac could step away, you stepped forward to place a hand on his cheek. And Mac glanced away briefly, wanting to prolong the moment you broke up with him as he was sure it was coming. However, now that you understood, now that he had explained, you were overwhelmed by your love for the detective and didn't care who knew it, proving so when you kissed him.

When you broke away for air, Mac held your arms as his eyes bore into yours, promising he would make it up to you. And after informing you that he had stored Claire's photographs away, he was already off to a good start.

In the beginning, you were torn between your love for Mac and the fear of being hurt, cautiously allowed yourself to be vulnerable once again. And although he called you 'Claire' once more for the final time, you saw the genuine changes in him, witnessed his growth, and realized that sometimes, love requires forgiveness and patience. Through the ups and downs, your relationship blossomed, transcending the boundaries of a professional partnership.

You held his gaze for a moment before looking away as you attempted to hold back your tears. "I don't think that's a good idea, Mac."

In the end, you and Mac discovered that true love isn't always straightforward. It can be messy, filled with mistakes, and past baggage. But with open hearts and a willingness to grow, you found solace in each other's arms.

[itsanerdlife]

A Really Bad Idea 4

Pairing: Fighter!Howie Stark x Writer!Reader

Warnings: Lies, secrets, cheating, scandal, criminal history, spice, obsessed Fangirl, violence, anger, and honestly no idea cause I’m not finished writing this just yet.

There is no such thing as an instant spark.               In books, sure. Real life? Not so much.                 Till I met the perfect stranger.                   It honestly was a case of mistaken identity in my own panicked state. I didn’t mean to grab a strangers hand. I just needed to avoid my ex and his shiny new fiancee. I never planned on the stranger kissing me.                   I sure as hell didn’t plan for the stranger to by my friends brother. It never was in the cards for me to find someone else after what my ex did to me. Especially a Fighter with a closed off past. I’m struggling to write my book and move on with my life, but what do I do when he comes in and starts changing things for me.       But the thing my ex taught me people aren’t who they say they are, what if Howie isn’t who he says he is?

He couldn’t help but stare. What the hell were the chances, that the gorgeous stranger he kissed, was friends with his brother. That he just happened to find her again. He spent the whole week and weekend thinking about her and the kiss they shared.

He isn’t dwelling hard on the guy, Sam, sitting next to her. He didn’t mind a little competition. It kept things interesting. But when her attention slips from him to Sam, an uneasy, unsettling feeling grows in his chest. He doesn’t like it, it makes his back teeth grind.

“Howie,” Bucky chuckles, setting down his beer. “how was your fight, it was this weekend, right?” His head comes up, nodding as he takes a drink himself. Her head whirls, eyes focused on him.

“Yeah. Won.” He nods. Peter laughs.

“The fuck detail is that? He won with a stone cold knock out in the second round.” Peter brags for him. He pulls his bottom lip in, nodding.

“It’s true.” He smirks.

“Damn man!” Buck high fives him over the table. “Sorry we missed it.”

“You’re a fighter?” Something dances in her eyes. Something like excitement, perhaps curiosity.

“I am.” He smiles at her.

“No shit?” She grins. “How did you get into that?” He has her sole focus.

“Underground fighting is illegal.” He laughs. Bucky and Peter laugh as well.

“Wait, what?” She looks between them.

“That’s how we know each other.” Buck points a fry between the two of them.

“He picked me up.” Howie nods. “It’s how I know Clint. I actually train with him and Pietro.” Howie explains.

“That’s my twin brother.” Wanda grins.

“You’re a twin?” Sam looks over at her. She nods, they slip into their own conversation.

“You got arrested by Clint and Bucky?” She laughs.

“No, just picked up. This fight got raided, I bailed out the side exit. Made it about a block away, and dumb and dumber pull up.” He smirks, jutting his chin towards Bucky.

“Clint offered you a chance.” She nods.

“He did. Turns out it’s one of the best choices I’ve made.” He admits.

“One of?” She lifts a brow.

“One of.” He smirks at her.

“Huh.” She sips her drink.

“What?”

“You’re not like what I thought most fighters are.” Her head tips.

“What, not an angry, meathead?” He laughs.

“Pretty much.” She pops a shoulder.

“Howie is not like most of them.” Peter snorts.

“Explain.” She nods.

“He doesn’t date.” Gwen snorts.

“He’s never angry.” Peter shrugs.

“I have an IQ in Einstein’s territory.” He nods.

“The fuck you do.” She gaps.

“He’s two points higher than me.” Peter sighs, with distaste.

“Of all the mundane shit you say Peter Stark. Of all the boring ass bullshit you tell us. You didn’t think maybe mentioning how you have a pro fighter brother with a IQ higher than yours?” She scoffs at Peter.

“It’s not that much higher than mine.” Peter mumbles.

“Of all the stupid shit you’ve said to me, this isn’t one of them?” She blinks at him.

“You’re mean.” Peter smirks at her.

“She’s fucking evil.” Gwen pouts.

“You’re just mad cause I haven’t written the last book.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“It’s been four months and you don’t even have chapter one!” Gwen throws a fry at her. “That’s cruel, how you ended the last one.” Y/N laughs, popping the fry into her mouth.

“Do you have writers block?” Sam looks over.

“I don’t know. I think so.” They drift into a conversation and that feeling comes right back.

“What’s the book supposed to be about?” He asks, shifting to give her his full attention. She sighs, but there’s a smile on her lips as she shifts to face him. Her back practically to Sam.

“Okay, so it’s an intertwined series. So, each book is a different set of characters, but they all play parts in each book. So, like they each have a POV from each of the characters at one point.” She explains.

“Okay, so you see each story from more than the two main characters.” He nods.

“Yes. Not the whole thing but every so often. So, at the end of the last book I put out. The last chapter is of the only character left. She’s the only single one, and she meets a stranger. That’s literally where I ended it.” She nods.

“You just ended it like that. She meets a stranger?” He lifts a brow.

“Okay, the problems from each book, all connect the characters and their books. She’s got her own problems, a nasty break up. Her friends all have their issues. She’s sitting in a bar, and this stranger sits down next to her.” She nods.

“That’s actually how she ends it.” Nat points out.

“I hate you a little and I have no idea what happened in the previous books.” He laughs.

“So literally he sits down, they do the whole eyes connect. He asks if he can buy her a drink. Boom end.” She nods.

“What are your plans for the next one?” He asks, genuinely interested.

“Nothing.” She presses her lips together.

“What?”

“I wrote it. It was this amazing path I was on. But I honestly have no idea who this guy is. Which makes writing the next book twice as hard. I want him to be this piece she didn’t know she was missing. All the conflicts are coming to a head in this book and I want to throw in their own. But I don’t have a clue who he is.” She runs a hand through her hair.

“You’re single.” Nat shrugs.

“I am?” She sasses.

“Fuck off.” Nat laughs. “I was going to say maybe you should try meeting a stranger in a bar. You know see if you can get into the mindset.” She shrugs.

“Meet a stranger.” Howie nods, a small smile on his lips. She’s turning pink in the cheeks.

“There is no saying it would even help me at this point.” She struggles with a smile.

“Do you two know each other?” Bucky watches them.

“Huh?” They both look over, fighting grins.

[jonesatheart]

Mistaken Identity

It had been something of a routine exercise for the boys. Every few months Master Splinter would have them draw one of their brothers names from a bowl and they would trade masks and weapons for the day or longer depending on how badly they'd been fighting with one another. Of course, it was occasionally rigged, but it always had been for the benefit of his sons, his beloved boys.

Such had not been the case of late. In fact the boys had been getting on remarkably well considering it had been the middle of winter and usually at this time of year they were beginning to get a little stir crazy as it was harder to go to the surface level with the snow. Being underground was also cold of course, but his brilliant Donatello had long been able to make each of them their own heat lamps and Ms. O'Neal in her kindness had gifted them each a heated blanket. She had even given one to Master Splinter. If she had noticed how it helped with his arthritis she was also kind enough not to mention it.

All in all, the boys had been doing well in their training and with one another, which was why Master Splinter had decided now was a good time to try the exercise again.

So that the boys could learn to see from their brothers' perspective not just in times of adversity, but also in times of peace and joy.

And so, rather than just engaging in sparing with each other's weapons Master Splinter had also encouraged them to try out each other's hobbies, music, and other recreational activities.

This had led Michaelangelo to the junk yard to scavenge for metal wiring and such to try out some of Raph's wire wrapping and other metal working skills. Which ultimately led this moment Master Splinter now found himself in. Knelt by his youngest child's bedside in the medbay.

It was more the cold than the concussion, Donatello assured him, that was the cause of Michaelangelo's persisting state of unconsciousness. That did not make the guilt easier to bear.

Master Splinted sighed softly and gently stroked one of the brown, splotchy bruises on Michaelangelo's head.

"Hey, Sensei," Michaelangelo murmured and nuzzled deeper into his pillow. "'S kinda cold. Raphy break the heater 'r somethin'?"

"No, my son," Master Splinter smiled to finally hear his son's voice.

"Sensei!" Michaelangelo shot up suddenly. He groaned at the wave of dizziness and nearly fell over, but Master Splinter was faster. He jumped forward and gently guided Michaelangelo back to his pillow.

"Easy, my son. You have a mild concussion."

"Sure I'm not dying? You're not usually the one babysitting."

Master Splinter smiled and rubbed Michaelangelo's shell. "No, little one, you are not dying, though you did give it a shot. I sent your brothers to rest and warm up."

"Oh. How'd I get a concussion?"

"You were ambushed by members of the Purple Dragon gang at the junk yard. They mistook you for your brother because you wore his mask and carried his sai."

"Ohh. Yup. That'd do it," Michaelangelo said, almost sagely. Master Splinter had to hold back a snicker.

"I am sorry, Michaelangelo-"

"What for?" He yawned. "You're not the one who jumped me."

"Had I not sent you to the junk yard dressed as your brother, perhaps this would not have happened."

"I dunno, Sensei, the Purple Dragon are kinda dumb. And mean. They'd probably mug a kindergartener for their lunch money. It's not your fault. I know how you and Leo can be though, so I forgive you."

Master Splinter smiled and kissed Michaelangelo on the temple. "Thank you, little one. Try to rest now. I will fetch one of the space heaters so you will be more comfortable."

"You're the best," Michaelangelo mumbled as he drifted off again.

---

"How ya feelin' twerp?" Raphael asked and rubbed Mikey's head as crouched next to his bed.

"That depends entirely on why you're here," Mikey teased back. "Master Splinter already apologized. It's not your fault either."

"Yeah, I know. They'd'a been happy to jump any of us. No matter what color we was wearin'. Case isn't so convinced though."

"Hey, Mikey," Casey greeted.

"Hm-mm. Nope, shut up," Mikey cut it.

Raph snickered. "Told ya so."

"Mike-"

"I don't wanna hear it. I'm too zonked out for the emotional-guilt-trippy stuff when it's literally not actually anyone's fault."

"You guys wouldn't be a target for the Dragons if it weren't for me!" Casey objected.

"Bruh. Have you not noticed that Hun has a massive Foot tattoo? Don't think you're so special, hermano, he definitely would'a been on our tails for that anyway. Not to mention it was the armored car that they stole that we stole back and made into the Battleshell. It's not your fault. That said, if you reeeaallly feel that bad about it, you can definitely bring me a snickers about it!"

Casey chuckled. "Maybe I ain't that special, but I actually can be smart sometimes." He held up a candy bar, drawing an excited gasp from Mikey.

"No way! Don't tell the others, but you are definitely my favorite brother right now."

"Hey, I'm still here, remember?" Raph teased and lightly kicked the cot Mikey was lying on.

"Oh, hey, Raph, when'd you get here?" Mikey answered cheerily.

"Brat."

Mikey giggled. "For real though, you guys gotta lighten up."

"We'll lighten up when you stop gettin' into trouble," Raph replied and rubbed Mikey's head.

"Get some rest, bud."

[scarletwritesshit]

〆Goro Akechi x Sumire Yoshizawa 〆Who am I, if Not a Shell of my Former Self?

"I don’t remember who I am."

"You are Sumire, if I am not mistaken."

"Yes, but beyond my real name, I have no concept of myself. All I know is that I am the inferior Yoshizawa sibling."

"I have no conclusive solution for you there, as I hardly even see myself as anything other than my father’s plaything.”

Sumire and Akechi hoped that they still remained anchored in the true reality. No delusional therapists to turn Japan into a dystopia of perfection, no recorded existence of the Metaverse, just a detective recovering from years of abuse and an aspiring gymnast once again seeing the world through her own eyes. It felt real. They felt physically there. Then again, so did the last two realities they had experienced.

"It’s an awful feeling, isn’t it Akechi-senpai?" Sumire asked.

"No need to refer to me with such formalities. It matters not to me in a conversation with a friend. That aside, might I ask, what precisely are you referring to?"

"S-sorry…Goro. I keep forgetting that you’re not as uptight as you used to be. Uhm, anyways, what I meant was having to fake your entire self just to appeal to those who hold high expectations in you. You never really get to be yourself, and if you were someone before, all sense of that identity is lost."

"I am not sure if I can exactly relate in your case, seeing as how I was never someone to begin with," Akechi said, no longer bothering to hide his dejected attitude from her.

"Well, now that you’re free, you can act on your own terms to finally learn what the real Goro Akechi is like.”

"So, you’re saying that I should kill of my own free will..."

"N-no!" Sumire panicked. "Don’t you want to move on from being a killing machine?"

"I suppose that sounds appealing, but killing is the only thing that I know how to do skillfully.”

Sumire thought for a moment. How was she supposed to coax a former killer into becoming at least a semi functional human being? She didn’t even know where to begin with herself, let alone another scarred individual like Akechi. All of the activities that came to her mind was Kasumi this, Kasumi that. Nothing really screamed "Sumire, no, I would enjoy this."

Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity for them to rediscover themselves, together?

"The only thing that I know how to be is Kasumi. But there still has to be me in there somewhere, right? I-I apologize if I am speaking utter nonsense to you."

"You are making absolutely no sense" Akechi said, without hesitation. "What could you possibly mean by…having yourself inside of you somewhere?"

"Well, that’s what we are trying to find out, are we not? I gotta stop trying to be like Kasumi altogether, and you gotta find out who you truly are."

Akechi still could not seem to grasp this concept. It was all too unfamiliar to him, as he had known nothing but abuse for the entirety of his life. He was clearly confused, squinting his eyes at Sumire and skeptical of whether or not she actually knew what she was talking about.

How could she know what she speaks of? Sumire had absolutely no idea who Sumire was. She only knew Kasumi. What made her think that she had the ability to dictate who Akechi was? Shido had done that to him enough growing up, and he wasn’t about to allow yet another person define who he was.

Yet, he was at a loss of where to begin discovering his true self. He can't start with what he knew, as his goal was to break free of his reputation of being a killer. That was unfortunately all that he was capable of. Sumire must see something completely different in him. An actual human being beneath the wrongdoings he committed against his will. Akechi couldn’t understand why she viewed him in such a positive manner, or why her kindness was somehow getting to him.

"How should I expect you to know where to begin, when you don’t even know who you are yourself?" Akechi asked, clearly becoming frustrated with his inner turmoil.

"Well, I know that I am Sumire, and not my sister. That's enough of a start to separate reality from delusion, is it not?"

Akechi did not respond to Sumire’s question.

"And you know that you are no longer a pawn of Shido’s. You're a free man. At the core of this all, we're in the same situation. Practically blank slates."

"And how do you suppose we fill in the blanks of who we are?"

"Maybe we just...need to try a little bit of everything. No more being intimidated by life's potential; we just need to jump in and have at it!"

"You’re acting awfully enthusiastic for someone who was just freed from...possibly two layers of false realities?"

"I told you, I'm putting my life as Kasumi behind me. You aren’t going to get anywhere with a negative attitude like that!"

"I suppose I cannot allow myself to be weighed down by the chains that I have been freed from months ago."

"Exactly! You've made this much progress in rehab, so you cannot be stopped in your tracks now!"

Akechi quietly thought to himself for a moment. He had been undergoing extensive rehabilitation for a few months now, and he had a better grip on himself than when he was working under Shido. He felt more, down to earth, as one may say, but he could alas, not depend on others to hold his hand through life.  

It was his chance to carve a path for himself. All he needed to do was take the first strike. Yet as much as he may try to deny it, he could not resist the feeling of wanting to step into a new life with someone that he felt legitimately cared for him for the first time in his life.

After a moment of hesitation, Akechi nodded his head in agreement.

"And I refuse to stop."

Sumire seemed relieved to have finally gotten through to Akechi. He was a fairly reasonable man once he calmed himself down and collected his thoughts. For a brief moment, she was worried that he may snap and lose his temper like he was previously infamous for doing.

Akechi did not allow himself to lose his cool out of frustration. In fact, Sumire was fairly sure that was the calmest he had ever been during a disagreement of their views.

"That's good news!" she said, enthusiastically. "But I guess you are right about being at a loss of where to start."

"Well then, why don't we start together?" Akechi suggested.

"T-together? That's a rather surprising statement coming from you, Akechi! N-no offense intended, of course!"

"I mean it. We've been through this much for this long, so why not face what lies ahead as one? We may learn a thing or two about ourselves from each other."

Sumire felt like she was beginning to burn up. Face the rest of her life, with a boy who had already helped her through a rough couple of months? She did initially plan on working with him to figure out a sense of self-identity, but Sumire was thrown off guard by Akechi suggesting the idea himself.

The way he phrased it made Sumire think he had…slightly different intentions. Or maybe it could be her awkwardness influencing her perception of Akechi’s feelings. Though, who wouldn’t become flustered when their adorable, loyal friend suddenly says that they want to face the world with you together? Surely, he just means as friends, right? There's no way that he could have enough understanding to think that-

"Huuuh? Like, as in a rest of our lives kind of thing?" she asked, words practically falling out of her mouth.

Sumire must've caught Akechi off guard as well, or maybe he wasn’t aware of the extent of the words he was saying.

"I wouldn’t object. After all, we know each other better than ourselves."

"Senpai, d-do you know what you could possibly be implying here?"

"Sumire, if it’s one thing that we have learned from being dumped off here, it’s that we should listen to our heart, and not let the pressure of others define who we are. I can tell you, though it is not something that I fully understand myself, I find the strangest sense of comfort in talking with you."

Sumire was left completely speechless.

“It is merely a suggestion, but perhaps we can start by teaching each other what it’s like to be genuinely loved. No one else has tended to our emotional needs in such a way, correct? A great understanding seems to be present between us, something that I have learned is important in any form of relationship.”

"Ah...S-senpai?"

He pointed towards the calendar on the wall behind them. The date was February 14th, not even two weeks after Maruki falsely assumed that Akechi was being put to rest permanently. By this time, he had undergone months of rehabilitation in the true reality, and even though it was still sinking in after all that he had experienced in the Metaverse, Akechi trusted himself and his intellect enough to have a sneaking suspicion of what he was feeling for Sumire.

"It is Valentine’s Day, after all" he noted. "Even if it is just for today, I’d like to take the first steps to rediscovering our true selves, together."

Sumire had given up completely on words at this point. Her perception of those around her had clearly been warped, yet what good would she be if she continued to believe everything to be a lie? Akechi was speaking genuine words, and she would be in no right to show any disbelief, especially if it was from his heart.

Tears now building up in her eyes, she flung herself into his arms and held onto him tightly.

The unlikeliest of allies had found themselves to be more alike than they thought, so who was she to deny a sincere bond from someone who absolutely refused to leave her despite the rocky road that recovery has been?

“Akechi…” Sumire managed to say through her tears, “does this mean that you l-like me?”

“I wouldn’t say that like is the precise word that I would use here, but I think you got the idea,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

If they wanted to heal from a lifetime trauma and emptiness, they would first have to learn to see themselves in a positive light.

And what better way to learn how to love than with someone close to you who felt exactly the same?

[belschine]

To the complete stranger who is my castlevania tumblr mutual in law with like everyone i’m mutuals with already that I apparently blocked as (I assume. Like I can think of the person I probably mistook you for specifically) a case of mistaken identity at some point & I dont know how to approach this situation with a direct apology to since I have no idea if you even know I had you blocked or anything: I am so sorry like actually

[somedaylazysomeday]

Oaths - Part One

Javier Peña x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

You are a nurse to the Escobar family. When you decide you can't stand by and watch the carnage any longer, you choose to give information to the American DEA. You don't care for the agent assigned to your case...

*This is not related to my previous Javier Peña x fem!reader fic! I realized that one has a terribly OOC Peña and I wanted to start fresh. I still think the other one is cute though, so I'm leaving it up.

Rating: mature, lemon, etc. Mind the tags. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: some mentions of medical work, mentions of drug trafficking, mistaken identity, mentions of prostitution, grinding, fingering, piv sex, and references to canon-typical violence.

Next | Masterlist

---

This was a stupid idea. 

It was something you needed to do, but that didn’t make it any smarter.

But at least the American DEA seemed to be taking things seriously. They had taken your offer of information over the phone, created an extensive file on you, and set you up to meet with one of their agents. You had wanted to pass along the information over the phone, but that was apparently against some kind of policy. You had to meet with an agent in person.

Fortunately, the DEA seemed to understand the risks in what you were offering. They had provided you with a hotel room, given you a false name to check in under, and given you the name of the agent who was to meet you. That agent - Peña was his name - called you from the phone in the lobby. He set up a complicated pattern he would use to knock on the door of your room. When you answered, he would give his last name again, along with a code word.

All of that went smoothly - impressive in its own right. When Agent Peña stepped into the small but well-appointed hotel room, he asked you to verify your middle name and birthday, then went about searching the room for signs of surveillance.

When he was finally satisfied, Peña turned to face you where you were sitting comfortably on the bed. “You have some information for me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I have the address of one of Pablo Escobar’s safehouses.”

You held out a slip of paper, but he made no move to take it. Instead, a crooked smile sprouted on his handsome face. “My usual type, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked politely.

“The guys at work said you were exactly the type of informant I typically work with,” he explained, though it didn’t truly answer any of your questions. His dark eyes studied your face before traveling a leisurely route down your body, lingering on a few key areas that made you straighten up with irritation. “What do you normally charge per hour? I can probably match it. The DEA is willing to pay for information about Escobar. And if I’m a little over, we’ll think of a way to settle the difference.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked again, this time significantly less politely. “What exactly am I charging hourly for?”

Peña’s brows furrowed for a moment before he froze, a look of terror and regret crossing his face. “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“No, say it,” you requested, suddenly exhausted. 

“I thought you were a prostitute.”

You nodded slowly, the anger leaking from you like water from a cracked cup. At least he had admitted it. That was more than you had expected. “That’s what I thought you meant. I’m not a prostitute.”

“I realize that now.” Peña had taken a sudden, intense interest in the curtains. You couldn’t really blame him. There was really no tactful way to recover after first having assumed someone was a prostitute and then openly propositioning them. Unexpectedly, he seemed to rally after a moment. “What do you do for a living, then?”

“Is that important?”

He shrugged. “The information is in your file, but it would make the process of writing my receipts a lot faster.”

That at least made sense, even if you didn’t particularly like it. “I’m a nurse.”

Peña grimaced. “The last time I ran into a nurse with ties to Escobar, things got… complicated.” You waited for more of an explanation, but he only shook himself. “Why does a nurse have information about Escobar’s safe houses?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

You sighed. “Fine. When I first started at the hospital where I currently work, I met Pablo Escobar. He was there for the birth of his daughter. I didn’t know who he was at the time. I saw a man who looked moments from passing out and asked if he was okay. He told me he was fine, but I brought him a drink and something to eat. I ended up assisting in Tata’s room later and held their daughter. Now Pablo considers me one of the few people he can trust for the medical treatment of his family. I’ve been their private physician ever since.”

“You’re a nurse, though,” Peña pointed out.

“I do realize that,” you responded dryly. “But I know a little bit about several fields and can usually diagnose or treat minor things. If there’s something I can’t handle, I can suggest the right type of physician for them to bring in.”

Peña didn’t look satisfied with your explanation. “Being an informant is a dangerous thing, especially since Escobar would view this as a personal betrayal if he found out.”

“I know.” Your voice was quiet, but firm. “But this is the right thing to do. I knew I had to do something. I can’t stay quiet and watch him slowly destroy this city.”

A quiet scoff from across the room made you glance up. Peña was shaking his head. Anger snapped in your stomach, sharpening your voice. 

“I’m not stupid, Agent Peña. I’m giving you the name and location of a property I was brought to several months ago. The Escobars recently hosted a gathering there. Plenty of people can be tied back to this information, but I will be far down the list. Now…”

You held the paper out to him once more, silently urging him to take the information before you changed your mind. Not about giving the information, of course. Any moral struggle you had undergone was concluded long before you called the DEA. But the longer you spoke with Peña, the more tempted you were to ask for any other agent.

Fortunately, Peña seemed to understand your wordless demand and took the slip of paper from you. The angle was awkward, leaving his warm fingers brushing your arm, and the unexpected touch made you shiver.

That made you pause, seizing the time Peña took to study the neat writing on the paper and tuck it into his wallet. He was a handsome man, even if his personality left much to be desired. He was healthy and strong, and when he wasn’t talking, you could almost imagine testing those soft lips with your own. He was confident, self-assured as he paced around the hotel room. This was a man with whom Pablo Escobar had declared an all-out war, and yet he didn’t seem troubled. Perhaps that was more stupidity than bravery, but you were willing to believe it was more the latter than the former.

“What are you trying to get out of this?” he asked, snapping you out of your charitable reverie as he turned to level a suspicious glance in your direction. “We pay our informants, but the money isn’t great. Especially compared to what Escobar probably pays.”

“I’m not doing it for the money,” you told him, stung by the accusation. “I- I just want to stop seeing Medellín subjected to this violence. The city - and the people - are being torn apart.”

 Peña squinted at you. “I can’t get you a passport.”

You laughed. The sound was far too abrupt in the tenseness of the room, but this at least made sense to you. Most of the DEA’s informants must have been asking for far more than a small reward for their information. “I don’t need one. I’m a Mexican citizen and I can leave when I want.”

“Why would a Mexican citizen help the American DEA?”

You had expected the suspicion in his voice - hell, you almost understood it - but you still bristled at the implication. “Your media has reported that Escobar’s cocaine travels through Mexico to reach the United States. Do you really think it does not impact every area it passes through? Mexico is harmed by Escobar as well.”

The agent relaxed slightly, but he shook his head. “What are you doing here in Colombia, then? No one is here if they don’t have to be.”

“I have to be,” you replied with a wry smile. “I heard on the news that Medellín needed medical staff, especially nurses. I came to help. When I saw the violence and trauma… I knew I had to stay.”

Peña was silent for long enough that you fell into a sort of trance brought on by the quiet room, interrupted only by the occasional sound of another guest passing by the door. You couldn’t say why you hadn’t tried to leave yet. You had delivered the promised information and risked a lot to do so. There was nothing keeping you there.

Just when you were ready to stand and leave the room, Peña began walking slowly toward your place on the bed, looking thoughtful. “If you can get out of Colombia whenever you want… there are some other opportunities here.”

Opportunities didn’t sound like something you should be interested in, and your sense of foreboding was justified when Peña came a little closer. “Being treated for anything can be dangerous. There is always a chance that something can go wrong.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, frowning at him. 

The agent shrugged. “I’m saying, one mislabeled medication, one injection with the wrong concentration…”

“No.”

Peña sat on the bed beside you, crowding you and even going as far as pulling your hand to cradle between both of his own.. “My partner’s wife is a nurse. I know how easily things can happen.”

“I swore to never do harm to a patient,” you argued, tugging ineffectively at your hand. “Don’t ask me to break my oaths. I don’t like what Escobar is doing, but I don’t even know you.”

“That will change,” he assured you, one side of his mouth quirking up as your fingers twitched in his grasp. “With a connection to Escobar like the one you’ve got, you and I will be working together a lot.”

“Thrilling,” you said dryly. 

Peña traced a fingertip down the center of your palm and you gasped, pulling at your hand again. This time, he let go. “Hey, if you don’t want to work with me, I’ve already come up with two ways to end the whole thing now.”

“I won’t do it and frankly, it’s offensive that you’re still asking.” You shook your head, standing up. “This whole thing may have been a mistake. Enjoy your information. I’ll have to consider whether I can give you any more.”

You ignored Agent Peña’s urging to wait, walking toward the door until you found your path blocked by the agent himself. When you tried to step around him, his large hand wrapped gently around your wrist. “You can’t leave yet. We have to stay in this room for a while longer. About another hour.”

“Why?” you demanded, pulse suddenly picking up. “Are we being watched?”

Peña rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not in the way you mean.”

“In what way then?”

“There are DEA agents stationed around the building. If anyone associated with Escobar even looks in this direction, they’ll call me on that phone.” Peña jerked his thumb in the direction of the room’s phone, sitting silently on the bedside table. “If that happens, I’ll get you out of here the back way.”

“I’m glad the DEA takes such good care of its informants,” you mused, pulling away from him. “I’ll assume it was a hard-learned lesson.”

From the flex in the muscles of Peña’s jaw, your guess had been a direct hit. Still, he pressed, “You can’t leave yet.”

“Yes, I remember. Another hour.” You sighed, smoothing your blouse as you crossed the room once more. You didn’t sit on the bed, instead opting for the small table tucked neatly into a corner.

Agent Peña joined you, his hand brushing over the small of your back as he passed you to take the seat opposite the one you were about to settle into. When you were both seated and watching each other, Peña leaned forward to break the silence.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here? You got a boyfriend you didn’t list in your interview?”

You blinked at the suddenness of the personal question. “I had to fill out an extensive file before the DEA would even consider accepting my information. You know I’m single, but you didn’t know I’m not a prostitute? Why did the DEA want a file if no one is going to read it?”

“Ease down, hermosa,” he told you, gesturing as if you were a spooked horse. “I didn’t read your file. I doubt anyone did other than my supervisor. All I knew was your name and where I could find you. My coworkers were the ones who said you were my usual kind of informant.”

“You have terrible coworkers,” you informed him. 

He gave you a sheepish grin that somehow made you doubt its sincerity. “That may have been an honest mistake. My usual informants are prostitutes, but the United States government isn’t happy paying them off. I usually list them as nurses in my receipts.”

You frowned. “I know you think that made you sound better, but it really didn’t.”

“It’s a compliment,” he said. “Lots of pretty women in both fields.”

“There are male nurses.”

“There are male prostitutes, too. Not my thing, but I know there’s a market.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to volunteer any more information to the handsome agent than was necessary, but you hoped to end the conversation. “I am single.”

“I figured as much.”

You couldn’t fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Yes, you’ve proven you have a keen understanding of human behavior.”

Peña’s mouth twitched. “I do, actually. If I had taken another minute or two, I would have been able to tell that you weren’t a prostitute.”

“Is that so?” you challenged. You weren’t overly offended by his incorrect initial assumption of your occupation, but listening to him backpedal was entertaining. “How would you have guessed?”

“First, it wouldn’t have been a guess. It would be my keen understanding of human behavior,” Peña reminded you. He leaned forward a moment later, pinning you with the intensity of his dark eyes. “Second, a prostitute wouldn’t react the way you do when I touch you. Not unless she was the most expensive prostitute in Medellín.”

Your heartbeat picked up pace, but you did your best to feign disinterest as you asked, “And how exactly do I react when you touch me?”

“That’s the point - that you do react.” He leaned back, a smirk playing across those full lips. “You shiver when I touch your arm, your heart pounds when I hold your hand. I thought you would hurt something with the way you tensed when I put my hand on your back.”

“Maybe I just hate you.” It wasn’t true, but you fervently hoped he believed it.

Peña dashed those hopes an instant later when he smirked at you. “If you did, you wouldn’t be staring at my mouth.”

Damn. And you thought your admiration had been subtle.

“So not only did I know you weren’t a prostitute,” Peña summarized, looking amazingly self-satisfied, “but I could also tell that you’re single. Unless your boyfriend wasn’t treating you right. You need someone to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied automatically.

Peña’s smirk only widened. “I hear that too much of that can give you carpal tunnel.”

You gaped at his crassness. For your entire acquaintance, Peña had been vacillating between attractive and irritating. At the moment, he was definitely falling closer to irritating. “This conversation is ridiculous.”

“Okay, but you’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you,” he pointed out. “And we’re stuck in a hotel room for the next hour.”

The man had gone from asking if you were a prostitute to propositioning you, all in the span of a few minutes. You couldn’t keep up. “Peña…”

“I’m clean. Just got tested last week.” He shrugged. “It’s your choice. All of it is your choice. Give us more intel, don’t. Sleep with me, don’t. But personally, I think you could stand to loosen up. At least this way, you don’t have to worry about finding someone, seeing if they’re interested, and trying to avoid a relationship.”

“Why would I avoid a relationship?” you asked before you could think better of it.

Peña gave you a disparaging look. “You’re a personal doctor for Pablo Escobar’s family and you’re giving intel about him to the DEA. I’ll keep it under wraps, but you know the risks. I don’t think you’re too concerned with starting something serious right now. You’ve got enough serious going on.”

He wasn’t wrong. About any of it, if you were being honest. Your job kept you busy, and moonlighting for the Escobar family made things even more difficult. Pablo was pushing you to leave the hospital and work for him full-time, traveling with his family and their sicarios. You couldn’t do that, but the conflicting responsibilities were backing you into a particularly dangerous corner.

And as for being attracted to Peña, you could freely admit that was true. You had found him magnetic since he had stepped into the hotel room, despite the fact that he was an asshole and regularly slept with prostitutes. There were so many reasons you should turn him down and watch television until you were free to leave. Hell, you saw and treated enough STDs at the hospital to know the risks of sleeping with someone you barely knew. But he had said he was clean and… you believed him. You weren’t sure why, but you did.

Peña had been watching as you struggled with your own motivations, and you finally met his gaze. You frowned. “I don’t like you.”

“You don’t really need to,” he countered.

It was an excellent point. “Do you have a condom?”

“Always.” 

“Fine.”

Peña barked out a short laugh as you stood and turned back to the bed. He stopped laughing as you lifted your shirt off over your head and deposited it in a nearby chair. His eyes were dark as he watched you slip off your shoes and reach for your bra. 

You lifted a brow. “Keep up, Peña. We only have an hour.”

You had never seen a man so eager to obey an order. Peña fumbled for a moment as he pulled a condom from his wallet, but the moment he had it free, he set to work removing his clothes. 

When you had finished draping your clothing onto the chair, Peña’s eyes locked on your bare form. “On the bed, hermosa. I’ll be there in a second.”

He was trying to do what you had done: drape his outfit somewhere so it wouldn’t be wrinkled when you got dressed once more. But with the way he haphazardly tossed his shirt and pants onto the table, you knew it wouldn’t do much good. 

Peña turned back as you were crawling to the center of the bed and he let out a deep groan. When he joined you, lying on his side to mirror you, his hard length bobbed between his legs. 

He was larger than you had expected. You had a moment to wonder if you would regret agreeing to this deal before Peña gently grasped your chin, pulling your face to break the staring contest. “Don’t worry about that for right now. I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Please,” you said, noting the pleasure that bloomed in his eyes when you did. 

You were almost more nervous about this kiss than anything that would follow. Peña’s lips had captivated you with their plushness and you would hate for them to be a disappointment. You shouldn’t have worried - your breath caught in the moment before your lips touched and Peña hummed softly as if to encourage you, his hand settling solidly into the curve of your waist.

The kiss was tentative at first, but settled into something languid as you began exploring each other. Peña seemed infinitely patient, but your temperature was soaring until it felt like you were burning with the need for more. You nipped at his bottom lip and deepened the kiss until it was something messy and heated. Peña’s thumb stroked gently over your side before he began to move lower.

That was fine with you. In fact, you felt encouraged to continue your own explorations. You let your hands travel across Peña’s back and deliberately downward until you could squeeze the firmness of his ass. 

He made a surprised noise and you swallowed it with a laugh. Peña’s lips tightened with his own smile, but he soon took revenge as his fingertips brushed between your legs. You groaned, bracing your foot against the bed to push your knees further apart. That gave him the space he needed to toy with your clit, fingers exploring your folds.

Everything seemed to shift a moment later as Peña pushed you onto your back and leaned over you. Your lips - having separated from his to avoid chipping a tooth or something equally mood-ruining - parted around a silent gasp as he sank a finger into you.

You managed to keep from making any noise… until he started to thrust that finger inside of you. “Peña,” you said, hating how much it sounded like a whimper.

“Shh, baby,” he soothed. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You probably would have objected to that if he hadn’t pushed another finger into you. Instead, you gasped out his name again, lifting your hips as if to encourage him. Instead, all you did was crush his forearm where it was resting on your lower stomach - and brush against his cock where it was pressed between you. 

Peña’s entire body jolted away from you at the touch. The sole exception were his hips, which pushed toward you as if begging to keep in contact with the softness of your skin. How could you ignore such a plea? 

You reached between you, finding Peña’s length first with your fingertips, and then wrapping your entire hand around him. He hissed out something that could have been a curse or your name or a prayer. All you knew was that you liked the sound of it, and you stroked the velvety skin in hopes of pulling the noise from him again.

Above you, Peña bared his teeth, fingers working faster inside of you. Somehow, this had turned into a battle of wills and it was clear that you were losing. The tension became overwhelming as your stomach tightened and your body started to contract around his fingers in long, lazy waves.

When you were slack beneath him, Peña pulled his hand away from you and relaxed slightly. His mouth returned to yours, lips gentle despite the insistent hardness you could feel prodding at your hip. By the time you had caught your breath, Peña had stoked your body back to a fever pitch of wet wanting and you were struggling to keep from wriggling against the pillows. Then his tongue slid along yours and you lost that particular battle. 

“I guess that means you’re ready to keep going, then,” Peña said, lips quirking. “Normally, I like to do a little more for my partners…”

The way he trailed off, glancing meaning toward your core with his lips pursed, made his meaning clear, but you shook your head. “We’re short on time. I remember.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, moving away for a moment. For a strange moment, you thought he was getting out of bed, but you soon realized he had retrieved the condom from the bedside table and was rolling it over his length.

As Peña settled his hips between your thighs, you took a brief moment to check in with yourself. Was this still something you wanted? To sleep with a man you didn’t know, didn’t trust, and didn’t like?

Peña glanced down at you, lifting his eyebrows to check that you were still interested. Maybe he was an asshole, but you wanted him badly. For once, you were going to forget about your plans and responsibilities. You could do something for yourself. More specifically, you could do Peña.

You nodded and Peña recaptured your lips as his hips surged forward. It was a good thing he had kept your mouth busy, because something between a gasp and a wail fought its way out of you. His fingers had been a lot, but they had been nothing compared to Peña’s full length. You felt stretched, invaded. He pushed himself in shallow thrusts, working his way deeper inside of you until your hips were flush. 

It wasn’t clear who broke the kiss first, because you both seemed to need a moment.

You were panting, eyes closed as you tried to reconcile yourself with the stretch of having Peña buried to the root in your channel. Maybe it wouldn’t have been quite so intense if it hadn’t been so long since you had slept with anyone. Or maybe it was just him.

For his part, Peña had his forehead pressed against yours. You didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed since yours were squeezed shut, but he was definitely talking. Assuming you could call it talking. He seemed to be repeating variations of, “Shit. Shit. You’re so tight. Not gonna- Not gonna last long. Shit. You’re so- you’re perfect. Feels so good. So tight. Shit.” 

By the time he had been through this litany a few times, your body had started to change its mind about how Peña felt inside of you. Your channel had adjusted, your walls stretching until you didn’t feel like you were going to split in two. In fact, you were having the opposite problem now: the weight of Peña on top of you, the feeling of him inside… you needed more.

“Peña,” you muttered, frowning. You still weren’t willing to open your eyes, so you couldn’t tell if he could hear you over the sound of his own desperation. “Peña.”

The frantic tumble of words paused. “Yeah?”

“I really need you to start moving,” you told him. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re still really-”

He was going to say ‘tight’, you could tell, but you squeezed your internal muscles around him, letting out a little sigh at the feeling. Peña’s hips stabbed forward automatically, seeming to move on pure instinct. 

“You’re really ready?”

“I said I was.”

“Then open your eyes.”

You responded to the challenge, cracking your lids open to peer up at him. He was studying your face intently, though you didn’t know exactly what he was searching for. 

The silence stretched until your inner muscles spasmed around him and your lids fluttered. “Are you going to move now, or do I have to do something drastic?”

“Much as I’d like to see that,” he started, withdrawing from you with a deliciously thick pull, “I’ll start moving.”

And then he did, plunging himself back into you with a strength and sharpness that drove the air from your lungs, forcing a small cry along with it. He paused, eyebrows raised and you panted. “Keep going.”

Peña took you at your word, settling into a driving rhythm that left you jolting and scrabbling at the sheets. Your hips lifted and fell with him, participating as smoothly as if it was a choreographed dance. And maybe it was, in a way. Humanity’s oldest dance. And you reluctantly admitted that Peña was one of the best dance partners you’d ever had.

He seemed intuitive, somehow. You had known him for such an incredibly short span of time, but he was listening to your body and responding accordingly. 

When your thighs started to cramp, he reached down to wrap your legs around his waist instead. 

When you had worked your way too far up the bed and your head was in danger of hitting the headboard, he wrapped you in strong arms and pulled you more tightly against himself. 

And when you were gliding tantalizingly close to the orgasm you could feel shining on the horizon, his head dipped down and captured one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and nibbling and laving it with his tongue until you were pushed over the edge.

You said something as you came, you were sure of it. Maybe it was his name, but you didn’t know for sure. The roaring of your blood in your ears was too loud to hear past.

The feeling of Peña pistoning inside of you drew out your orgasm so long that you were left utterly spent at the end of it. Your eyes were closed once more, your mouth slack as you tried to regain your ability to think.

Above you, Peña’s breathing had changed to something harsh and desperate. He was still fucking into you, but his rhythm was beginning to stutter. As he moved, he hit something inside of you that sent an aftershock ricocheting through your spent body, tightening your tired muscles. You moaned, hands coming up to brace yourself on Peña’s shoulders. 

Something in the moment must have pushed Peña over the edge. He buried himself in your center, shudders racing over his body until he slumped heavily on top of you. He was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

You were torn as higher thought returned to you. You liked a bit of closeness after sex, you always had. But you didn’t know Peña that well. More importantly, he was heavy. 

Fortunately, he solved the puzzle himself, rolling off of you but not so far that you weren’t touching anymore. You caught your breath in shared silence, but Peña broke it before it could grow uncomfortable.

“That was almost perfect on time,” he said, glancing at the clock on the beside table. 

It was a good way to get yourselves moving again, you had to admit. It wasn’t overly harsh, but it reminded you both that there was a clear line here. You weren’t dating, weren’t friends, weren’t anything. You were essentially strangers, ones who had decided to scratch a biological itch together.

You rolled toward the edge of the bed. “Guess I’d better clean up and get dressed, then.”

Peña started to say something behind you, but cut himself off before you could even guess what it would be. Instead, you heard him shifting against the sheets and assumed he was removing the condom.

Since you were already in the bathroom by that point, you offered the small trashcan around the corner so he could dispose of it without any more fuss than necessary. There was a pause before the bit of latex hit the can, but not a long one. You wet a washcloth to give yourself a businesslike swipe between the legs, cleaning up the majority of the evidence of how you had spent your time in the hotel room.

When you walked back into the main room, Peña had started to get dressed, his clothing already slightly wrinkled from the way it had been bunched on the table. Your own clothing was fine, and you had put yourself back together in only minutes. Your hair was slightly worse for wear, but nothing too noticeable. If anyone asked, you could tell them you had been trying not to pull it out during your interactions with Peña. You got the sense he was known for being frustrating - even in government agencies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘Peña’ during sex before,” he commented casually.

You paused, thinking that over. It sounded bad, but… “I only know you as Peña. No one, including you, ever told me your first name.”

He shook his head wryly. “It’s Javier.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Javier,” you said.

“You-” Peña cut himself off, clearing his throat. “You can call me Javi.”

“Javi,” you repeated softly. 

His gaze grew intense once more, but the phone rang.

In a moment, Peña had pushed you further into the room, maneuvering you until you were around a corner from the door. He stood shielding you from the window with his body. “Get down while I answer that.”

How a sniper or anyone else was going to attack you through a closed door or a window with the heavy curtains drawn was beyond you, but you did as Peña ordered.

The phone call was short and in English. You couldn’t tell if either of those were a good sign or a bad one. When he put the phone back on its hook, he nodded at you. “They’re ready for us to go. You’ll leave first and then I’ll follow. We’ll be in contact if we need anything else from you. And if you find out any more information you want to share, you know how to contact us.”

You nodded, heart beating faster for some inexplicable reason. 

Peña opened the drawer below the telephone, retrieving the small notepad and pen he found there. He scrawled something on a piece of paper, then tore it out and handed it to you. “And here is how you can contact me directly. The first one is for my work phone and the second is my home phone. If you don’t get an answer at work, call my home phone. If I don’t answer that, leave a message. Do not say your name, just tell me when you’ll call back. I’ll know it’s you.”

You nodded again, this time a little too fast and shaky. It was a lot of information and, even as you were struggling to absorb all of it, you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. You were in danger. You would continue to be in danger for the rest of your life, as long as Pablo Escobar lived.

“Hey,” Peña said lowly, drawing your attention back to him. “Be careful. You may know Escobar, but you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

No matter how soothing you found his confidence, Peña’s tone of superiority irked you. You snatched the piece of paper from his hand, folding it with motions made jerky with irritation. “I do know. I know better than anyone.”

Peña scoffed. “You’re a nurse. I get called to look at the bodies of anyone who may have been killed by Escobar or his sicarios.”

“I may not be DEA, agente, but I live in Colombia. I see bodies almost every day. Maybe not as many as you do, but you see the ones Escobar killed. I see the ones he hurt. The ones who have to live with what he did to them, have to live with it every day. And I honestly don’t know which is worse.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and Peña tracked the motion. “Let’s try not to figure it out. We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe.”

“Worry about yourself, Peña,” you countered, not unkindly. “You’re in just as much danger as I am, if not more.”

With that, you left the hotel room. When you had gone in, you were a nurse and an unwilling staff member of Pablo Escobar. When you left, you were an informant to the United States DEA. Your life had irrevocably changed, but it had been the right call. You were sure of it.

---

Author's Note - I tried, but I couldn't find any information about travel between Colombia and Mexico for Mexican citizens during the majority of Escobar's exploits. I'm not really sure if the reader could leave as easily as she claims she could. Just stating that outright in case anyone had some different information!

Thanks for reading! I'll be back with the second chapter tomorrow!

[quillyfied]

Today on “oh, oh no, that is not the word you were looking for, I am so sorry”, we have a case of mistaken identity that actively turns my stomach a bit!

Doe-eyed: means the eyes are soft and gentle and innocent, as in the animal the doe, the deer, the female deer.

Doughy-eyed: means the eyes are soft and malleable like dough and sends me straight to Ick Town.

English homonyms (sort of, pretty close, doe and dough are the homonyms but y’all get it) strike again!

[m-a-salter]

PLEASE provide us your playlist/lore/moodboard for Love Is A River. I'll take anything ya got. :-D

THANK YOU for asking. For anyone reading this other than the asker, she is referring to this fic:

Which, after a bit of a hiatus due to Life Events™, has just been updated with a new chapter!

I don't have an actual moodboard, but you can get the equivalent experience by looking at any stills or GIFs from The Husbands of River Song. I have also commissioned an illustration for the story from the incomparable @illustoryart, and have accordingly also been inspired by their many illustrations of cute cottages and nighttime coziness.

The two most important songs for me in planning and writing have been Now or Never by Alan Doyle, and Anchor by Fortunate Ones.

"Now or Never" has this bit that always makes me think of the end of THORS: "For tonight we are the chosen few/The least that we can do/Is lay our hearts on the line/Oh we're running, we're running/We're running out of time/And I can see the truth/It's coming for me and you/My Love, the moment's here/It's now or never, my dear."

The title of the story comes from "Anchor," and this little piece of that chorus--"Love is a river/It’s gonna run/Time is a sea that drowns everyone"--has been stuck in my head for six months. Not long after I became obsessed with that song, and had firmly established in my mind the water-cycle metaphors of the story, I heard Éilís Kennedy's song Row On, and that also seemed to fit.

Of course, when you are in the middle of writing a story, everything you listen to seems to fit, so the full playlist is mostly just a list of songs I have been listening to, which because I am in my head about this pair, seem to me to be about them. I make no claims to the objective fit of the lyrics of any of these. And the actual playlist I write to also has a bunch of Murray Gold from the Capaldi years, especially, of course, "The Woman He Loves" and "The Singing Towers." The list includes a good number of songs cherry-picked from the many Doctor/River playlists on 8tracks.

Here is the playlist (I don't do Spotify, so sorry for the extra steps):

1 Now or Never/Alan Doyle 2 Anchor/Fortunate Ones 3 Row On/Éilís Kennedy 4 Basket Case/Sara Bareilles 5 A Drop In the Ocean/Ron Pope 6 River/Emeli Sandé 7 Good Company (From "Oliver and Company")/Pianomation 8 Heartbeat/Scouting for Girls 9 Next to Me/Emeli Sandé 10 Start of Time/Gabrielle Aplin 11 Love is All/The Tallest Man On Earth 12 Gravity/Sara Bareilles 13 Stay/Hurts 14 Cherry Wine (Live)/Hozier 15 Home/Vanessa Carlton 16 North/Sleeping At Last 17 The Night We Met/Lord Huron 18 White Flag/Dido 19 Swing Low Sail High/The Wailin' Jennys 20 Work Song/Hozier 21 Poison & Wine/The Civil Wars 22 All I Ask/Adele 23 Boston And St. John's/Great Big Sea

The story has its origins in my own confusion, upon first watching The Husbands of River Song, over why the Doctor doesn't assert his identity more forcefully. It was clear what the Doylist answer is: the continued mistaken identity allows for lots of fun comic moments in the episode.

But to come up with a Watsonian answer I found myself doing a re-watch of River Song's entire run (in the order of her timestream), and developing this head canon about their mutual belief/fear that the other person thought it was a marriage of convenience. And I love nothing more than mutual pining, so I thought I'd write it up, and here we are.

[rolorules]

Random Rolo Ramblings 4: Worst Staffing Choice Ever!

In @rolotouto’s latest post the question was brought up why Lelouch chose Rolo of all people to “rescue” Nunnally (as plays out in Turn 18: Final Battle Tokyo II). I would like to give my tuppence on this issue after pondering it a little (mostly from memory) and hope other people will add theirs. I apologise for being a bit repetitive, I already wrote some of the following before, in slightly different words, but since this came up again, I’ll jump on the occasion. 

First of all, Rolo is of course pretty suited for the job, there is his Geass, he probably has some fighting skills (even though he does not really need them), at least he knows how to use a gun. He is also a capable pilot, which comes in particularly handy for this mission. 

Then there is the fact that he his very loyal to Lelouch. The latter may even be convinced that his authority and his sway over Rolo are enough to ensure that Rolo will do as he is told. It may even be possible (but I am really not sure about that) that Lelouch simply underestimates Rolo’s fear of Nunnally’s return or cannot even be bothered to consider his feelings. Besides, Sayoko has also been assigned to this mission, so maybe Lelouch thinks her presence is enough of a safeguard. (He could not be more mistaken.)

And finally, speaking of Sayoko, we have to realise that Lelouch did not have  many options. Rolo and Sayoko are more or less the only ones that are loyal to Lelouch, not Zero (apart from Jeremiah, who is busy fighting Suzaku , C.C. is incapacitated at this point). The Black Knights think this mission is about rescuing Kallen and maybe kidnapping, sorry, arresting the Governor General. (In fact, they are only just learning about Lelouch’s true identity and Asahina even wants to go in and arrest Rolo).

All in all, Lelouch’s choice is at least understandable, albeit ill advised. Or is it? Probably yes, but it is still interesting to notice that, like Lelouch, who professes that he wants to kill Rolo, but never does (”I keep missing my chance!” Really?!), Rolo seems to be stalling. Why does he not kill Nunnally on the spot and gets a KnightMare Frame first to “escort” the escape craft? Does he want to avoid a confrontation with Sayoko? She could not really stop him. Or does he think it looks more inconspicuous if the craft gets “mysteriously” destroyed in the fray by an “enemy” KMF?

Or is he, at least subconsciously, afraid of Lelouch’s reaction to Nunnally’s death? When he believes that Nunnally was killed by the F.L.E.J.A. and a shaken Lelouch calls him, he understands Lelouch’s condition and at least tries to break the news to him as gently as possible (”Nunnally was inside of that light...”), before telling him directly when Lelouch refuses to catch his drift. Could he not also have anticipated this reaction in the case of him killing Nunnally? At least he should have.

Opinions?

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

Reacting to Animated Marvel Shows 1/?

Taking a break from my Loki rewatch to react to another animated Marvel show because I saw SIGYN in the thumbnail of this episode and got excited. Is Loki going to treat Sigyn poorly? Almost definitely. Is Marvel going to treat both of them poorly? Almost definitely. Am I going to watch it anyway because I'm a glutton for punishment? Absolutely. Let's get started.

[Post-watch edit: Sigyn is NOT in this. It is a case of mistaken identity in the thumbnail because this is the only episode of this show I've watched. I've been bamboozled and I'm still pissed about it. Sorry if I got your hopes up. I got mine up too.]

Spoilers for Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes 2x15

Okay so already in the recap I'm seeing they buried the lead and this is NOT the only episode of this show Loki is in. So once again I will be consuming Loki content backwards. Cool.

Fuck yeah Surtur, crush Amora in your fiery hand!!

Okay recap over

New York always just has tanks casually rolling around

Fuck no I SWEAR TO GOD IF I THOUGHT AMORA WAS SIGYN IN THE THUMBNAIL I'M GONNA BE SO PISSED

Loki that was the most chill groan of pain I've ever heard. Isn't this shit supposed to HURT? It seems like you're more annoyed than anything else.

Fuck I'm sorry y'all. Sigyn is not in this. Goddammit Marvel. IT'S THE VENOM MYTH [not Venom like the character] AND YOU PUT AMORA THERE INSTEAD OF SIGYN??? THE BITCH WHO BETRAYS HIM TIME AND AGAIN INSTEAD OF HIS WIFE. FUCK Y'ALL.

How fucking rude to replace Sigyn with AMORA. Just add to his fucking torture, Jesus.

Amora has Maleficent horns. Bitch take those off you ain't shit. You can't hold a candle to Maleficent. Get the fuck out of here and go get Sig.

Wait why does Thor still get to be buff but not Steve?

Dude the theme goes too hard for this show

The balls on Thor to call his fucking bodybuilder shit a frail form in front of Cap's asthmatic, wrinkly ass

Eew Amora stop touching Loki's face

WHERE IS SIGYN MARVEL I'M STORMING YOUR HEADQUARTERS

SHE JUST GAVE HIM THE ARMOR SIGYN WENT TO GREAT LENGTHS IN THE OLD COMICS TO GET FOR LOKI'S SOUL TO INHABIT (I mean it might be the Destroyer armor but I'm angry anyway so I'm going with the first option)

THEY JUST TIT FOR TAT REPLACED SIGYN WITH AMORA FUCK THIS WHAT THE HELL

Goddammit am I gonna have to write an AU for this episode specifically, where Sigyn shows up and punches Amora's lights out, like Get away from my husband, bitch!

Cap looks like he's both eleven and ninety

Damn it is the Destroyer, but I think Loki possesses it which is the thing that happens in the old comics? Idk, I only know this secondhand.

Steve I'm begging you to lose your temper just once. Thor is towering over you, at least twice your body mass, can still walk with a broken leg and hasn't once complained of the pain, but anytime the fucker opens his mouth it's to complain about how weak he is. Meanwhile you could drop dead any second, polio has been eradicated in the US and you've already gotten it, but you could probably breathe wrong and immediately need an iron lung in 2010 with your luck.

Thor says "That voice" like he didn't grow up for thousands of years with Loki by his side. Like this isn't fucking, I don't know, Ultron, someone you've fought once (I know they tend to fight him more in the comics and animated shows), that's your BROTHER

Tony saving Steve was cute

THOR FUCK OFF DID YOU JUST PLACE THAT VOICE YOU DUMBASS

Good job, Clint. You helped.

Well do we call that Sigynbait? Healthy relationship bait? Whatever it is I'm fucking pissed and I'm going to have to change my intro for this post to reflect it because I don't do clickbait (which you already know because you aren't reading my draft).

[kofetalesnbpdchaos-leoreaper]

What Does Life Look Like?

Chapter 1: Griefs of a Borderliner; My Mother.

I wanted to start off my ‘What Does Life Look Like?’ series talking about something. In fact I had wanted to not write something but… anyways!! It’s here now!

So, here goes… *loud whisper* nothing….

I’m a BPDer. That means I live with Borderline Personality Disorder.

I wanted to.. dive in deeply. Deeply into the depths of.. how I have these grievances & umm.. what are more my own personal experiences; a creation of shadows depicting things for you .

*breathes*

As you all know, people don’t just wake up one day & decide to grab these things . Cuz if I did, that’s just so silly?? Like… who would….

Who would want to cry inside all the bloody times?!

Cry about all day long sometimes having episodes of depressive bullshits that could last from hours to days?

Have such highhh intense emotions, where in which it feels as though I am .. in this case: grieving. The Dead?

Not a whole assed person, who’s alive and well & all that shit! No no, ahahaha, you’d definitely be mistaken . Mistaken it for the Dead, NOT ever for the .. bloody Living?!?!

I've thinking a lot lately. About how it is like to grieve the Living vs the bloody Dead peoples. How intense it is for me. How it must feel like for others with BPD too!

What I do grieve on is how much I will never ever... have that proper motherly connections. People have always been able to handle it. Haha.

But I? I jus cannot, in fact "handle it". Or "deal with it" as some may also say so.

It's like.. You're expecting me, someone who's tried to attempt at bettering themselves, finding ways to be better at approaching and shit-- keep going no matter what..? Why?

Why has it always been me ? Am I not allowed to complain? I used to says to myself, & I guess insolent creatures who barely have the capacities like the ways that I do, don't even think for a second why's it a failed dead relationship!

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents butt... IF you cannot accept one to be with an asshole of a lover or best friend-- what differences does it make if it's your own literal blood?

No sorry, lemme reframe that: Why would someone allow you to be with your abusive parents, but not with someone who isn't of your very own blood ? It's just fucking BLOOD. It doesn't mean Jack Shittingston!!

I grieve that. I grieve for not being able to have a family, it's been loong dead for me. You just aren't aware of it. Not up until now, perhaps? Huh.

I die each time I think about hugging my own mother. I just have stopped myself now, cuz mi mind's gonna play tricks on me.. again. She'll think that it is love, but the love that there is ? It cannot out weigh the pains and the horrors existing.

I can't ever talk about basic things now. It's gone too far onwards, through the mountains & high altitudes. I can't have proper conversations. A few bits and pieces are like peace through mild yet cautious common grounds. Common grounds are where the shit is calm seas. Sorta.

Unlike most, I can't ever talk about loves & shits alike. I can't speak my minds about my sexuality or my genderqueer identity. I can't exactly even speak of interesting Christian shits, so really... its all dead to me.

Sometimes I wonder. What's it like to have some kind of a relationship? With your mothers? How open are you? How does it feel like to have someone like that in one's own life? Tis not for .. those of us who're lacking them. Not us who don't have mothers. Rather those who do!

I feel so stuck. I feel extremely empty, trapped and suffocated. I don't like it but it's always just whatevers & a dash of eventuallys. The amounts of times I wasn't able to say "she's actually abusive." to those who's brain organs do exist unlike mines. I couldn't verbalise/vocalise it. I couldn't even see through it. Another thing to grieve . *whispers* it is it is..

Its true what they say, we BPDers be the grievers of what happened, and what has not happened. My soul breaks and she haunts the chasms of my dark abyss of a body. The mind. There's a whole detachment that goes on. A whole loada heaviness and sadness weighing down upon me. You can't climb up; up and leave it be. Wounds freshly seared and becoming known to me, it'll take a whole lot of an eternity to heal.

If I were immortal, perhaps I would be able to tell you the deeper differences of grieving Dead vs Living peoples. Sadly, ahaha, I am no immortal being, I am but a mortal soul who knows how to merely explain the differences.

To grieve the Dead, is to know that they are forever gone, gone far off into the Spirit Realm. Gone & always remembered. Heaviness weighs you and you cannot see them ever again. Not yet for now. Probably wishes of changes or words or things wanting to have been solved blossoms. They bloom within you. Years can go by, it can still hurt you, make you cry sometimes-- become so sad & lonely even.

To grieve the Living, is to know that they are still alive, here still breathing. Existing . An avalanche of horrors happen too, cuz you realise that there's no way things can be amended or fixed or whatever. You watch them daily, crying on the insides, detaching yourself and endlessly attempting to make changes that evaporate into the thin airs.

At the end of the day, they both still hurt. 1 where you wish shit could've changed before they passed on wards. The other, you wish to solve things & make em better-- but you've already come to terms that it's allll bloody dead. Gone away, so very far away. I guess I'd rather sit in the depths of Hell than to be alive on this damned realm & die continuously from stress & sadness. To me, grieving the Dead is far more better than grieving the Living. Cuz you don't have to die each time you hope for changes. For the Dead it isn't possible anymore to expect and hope for fucking changes. *whispers quietly* No more, no more...

-- Lena Eclipse Oriña Reaper. Leo Reaper. 29/04/2023.