#so that makes me feel better now about my b+

[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Lucifer turns your cockwarming of him against you (NSFW)

For @citrusbatsandhoneybees based on our chats 💜

Lucifer absolutely loves the feeling of you, he’d do almost anything to be inside you

Cockwarming is typically a go to for you two if you want to take things slow that day

Most of the time, he behaves, waiting for permission to start moving because he wants to be a good boy and listen

But today, he had different plans unbeknownst to you; he was about to test you

There you two are, sitting on his throne as your pussy completely envelopes him, your back planted firmly against his chest

His little huffs and whimpers against your skin could drive you insane; peppering kisses down your neck and shoulders, feeling his cock begin to twitch inside you

Before you can say anything, he speaks up

”Darling, what do you say we change things up a bit…would that be alright with you?”

You hesitate, but agree after only a moment, curious as to what he has planned

Almost instantly he summons a small vibrator and hovers it just about your clit

“O-Oh…”

“Is this alright, love? We don’t have to if you think it’ll be too much.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay, Luci, I-I can handle it…”

You can feel his smile against your skin as he presses the vibrator to your clit

It isn’t long before you start to writhe in pleasure from the overwhelming sensation of your sensitive bud being abused as his cock remains firmly inside you unmoving

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re already clenching me s-so tight…f-fuck. What beautiful sounds you make.~ You’re doing so well for me, so so g-good~”

“Lucifer please…p-please move…I-I can’t…G-GAAAHHH”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay hon, y-you can take it. Be a good girl for me, yeah?~ I’ll move as soon as you cum f’me…can you do that? I-I want to feel you cum around my cock…need to feel you…p-please love? I-I promise I’ll move~”

You grip onto any part of him you can get your hands on, you screams of pleasure ripple through the room as your orgasm crashes over you, squeezing his cock so tight

And just as you came, Lucifer tosses the vibrator aside, grips your hips and begins to move you up and down his cock, prolonging your orgasm.

“T-There you go, that’s a good girl…fuckfuckfuck…you’re spasming around me s-so fucking good, love, so fucking good…ssshhhiiiittt…feel better now? F-Feel better now that I’m fucking that cute l-little pussy of yours? G-GAH!! FFFFFUUUCCKKK, o-oh baby, I’m gonna fill you up so good…you want that? You want me cum, sweetheart? Y-You can have it, all of it~”

He slams into with all his might, the only thing on your lips is his name; your mind is all but gone!

You beg for him to cum, your sensitivity is absolutely through the roof, but he he shakes his head, his body trembling as he continues to impale you on his cock

“N-No, n-not yet…fuuuuuccckkk…fuck, not yet…can’t cum yet…need to feel you again…p-please love, please…need you to cum for m-me again…HNNNGG…you feel too good, way too g-good…I promise…I promise I’ll fill you, b-but please, cum f’me G-GOD FFFFUCK…one more time…one more time for me, sweetheart, p-please…”

And almost on command, you can feel your muscles contracting again, cumming hard for him and around him

It’s not a moment later that you can feel himself empty inside you as he cries out, his thick ropes of hot cum painting your walls white.

Both exhausted, he collapses against the chair as you collapse against him, absolutely spent

He lifts you up and removes himself from you, standing up shakily and carrying you bridal style

“Perfect as always, my sweet girl. Let’s get you cleaned up~”

[morose-melodies]

i need dottore,tartaglia,pantalone and capitano(those were in my mind for a while and its killing me) with a reader who always tries to escape.using different tactics each time but always ends up failing.and one day,the reader hads enough and snaps "if you didnt take away and acted like a normal person from the start,i could have loved you"

İf you dont want to or dont feel like writing,thats ok👍

failing attempts | various! yandere! harbingers x reader

CAPITANO

this was escape attempt five.

you truly were optimistic, but capitano wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

your escape attempts seemed to be getting more and more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous to you.

you had attempted to jump out of a window the night before, just as he was arriving home from a mission. the sheer terror he felt as he watched you lean out of the second-floor window was insurmountable.

now, not only was the front door locked shut from the outside, but the windows were now barricaded too. you were a danger to yourself.

and all capitano ever wanted was for you to be safe and with him. was that too much to ask for? was that so terribly wrong of him?

the captain didn't want to take extreme measures to keep you home; he didn't want to lock you in a room, nor did he want to tie you down. he wasn't the sort. He just wanted you to stay without any excessive force.

but you were pushing him into a corner.

this morning, you had darted out of the backdoor, still in your pajamas and without shoes, into the cold.

you didn't make it far at all. you had barely made it over the garden fence, and you were stumbling now.

the captain... sighed as he followed after you. it wasn't an extreme chase; you hadn't even tried to fight back as usual when he caught you; you just stumbled on about something incomprehensible as he wrapped you up into his coat and lifted you into his arms.

"that was terribly immature of you," looking down at you, the captain felt sorry for you, "I would like it if you would stay home but if you plan on leaving, please do wear proper clothing next time. i can not bear the thought of you dying out in the cold."

"if you didn't take me away," at this point, perhaps death was better than being stuck with him, "and if you acted like a normal person," but, you wanted to go home - you wanted to be with your family, "I could've loved you."

capitano's mind blanked. he had given you a chance to come with him freely; he had been kind to you, so were you not lying?

it didn't matter now, did it? "(y/n), you do understand you've caused all this trouble, correct? should you have been a bit more understanding, you wouldn't be in this situation. i love you. Is that not obvious? i only want to see you thrive and to be happy."

he was at the point of no return; he could only go backward from here.

DOTTORE

to take time out of dottore's day, to make him leave the manor to come find you for what seemed like the millionth time - he was admittedly quite frustrated with you.

he found you hanging from the gate, your coat caught on the spike of it.

he grinned - this was a funny sight, but, at the same time, it wasn't funny at all. he was actually very disappointed in you.

dottore approached the gate, standing behind you, "tell me just how long have you been hanging here for?"

your nose was running, and you looked absolutely defeated. when you don't reply, dottore clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Would your life not be simpler if you just accepted your situation? This is such a pitiful sight, (y/n)."

dottore unlocked the gate and walked outside of him, and he helped you down and brushed off the snow that piled on your coat.

"let's go, (y/n)," dottore grabbed your forearm and prepared to pull you back towards the manor, "I've had enough of your antics - perhaps a night or two in the basement would do you well."

"no-" you tugged back, attempting to free your arm from his grip, "stop it! you make me s-so sick! just let me go!"

"(y/n), please. you've done nothing be give me grief," dottore sighed, tugging you along with him, "I don't understand why you feel that being stubborn will get you anywhere."

"you... don't understand?" you grumbled, digging your feet into the snow, trying to pull your weight, trying to stop dottore from getting you back inside, "you're kidding me! i hate you! You're disgusting and unlovable!"

"(y/n), lower your voice - I'm exhausted and you're giving me a migraine," dottore sighed, stopping and getting a better hold on your arm before tugging you along once more.

"if you have yet to notice, I'm quite content with just having you near. i don't exactly need your love to make me feel any better than i do now. hm, that's the sort of effect you have on me."

you went quiet and dottore assumed you had worn yourself out. he brought you inside and sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hand rubbing circles on your shoulder.

"I could've loved you... maybe if you hadn't taken me away..." you trailed off, holding your hands in front of the fire. Why did he continue to act as if he cared for you? "maybe, um, if you were normal, I could've loved you."

dottore smiled at you, though you couldn't see it, "whether you love me or not is trivial - i have you, (y/n), and that's what I need. you, (y/n), you're all I need."

PANTALONE

pantalone was above getting dirty.

it was nothing personal. he'd do just about anything else for you! he just couldn't imagine himself running around late at night trying to find you.

what was the point when he had other fatuus to do such things for him? they have yet to fail him.

so, while you were out, trying to leave pantalone as multiple fatuus' chased after you, pantalone was running you a warm bath and set a pair of clean clothes out for you.

he knew you'd come back filthy. You always did.

he wondered what he could do to keep you home. He wasn't one for forceful methods; he would hate to hurt you. you were his pride and joy.

pantalone would sigh deeply, dipping his hand into the bathwater to make sure it was still warm.

you never wanted anything from pantalone... well, except for that one time, you asked for a can of soup, but then you used it to smash the bathroom window open and jumped out...

that didn't exactly count.

he heard the front door open and knew you were being dragged in now. the guards weren't gentlemen, quite the contrary, in truth.

you always looked so sad and defeated after the caught you.

"oh, (y/n)," pantalone held a hand to his chest as he stood from where he kneeled at the side of the tub, he stepped forward and wanted to embrace you but you were a mess, "you're a mess."

he frowned at you, as the guards released you and shut the bathroom door behind them as they left. "you must be cold, oh dear," his heart ached for you, such a pitiful sight you were.

you were so lucky that he loved you.

he attempted to remove your top, but you tensed, making it hard for him, "do-don't touch me."

"but you're filthy," pantalone reasoned, once again trying to remove your top but you wouldn't budge, "(y/n), I'm doing this because I love you so very much. please, don't make this hard."

"I don't-" you stepped back, shaking your head at him, "I don't want your help. g-get out, just leave."

pantalone's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you, "what's the matter? i-i'm not mad at you, not at all. I understand that i must be lacking something-"

"get out! my gosh, wh-what's with you!? just leave!"

"(y/n)..."

"get out! get out! leave!"

"please, calm down. let me help you undress, alright? You're in a bad mood, i get it. That's no excuse to be rude to someone who loves you dearly," pantalone spoke to you as if he were your mother.

he reached forward and tugged off your shirt with extra force; it wasn't much force; it was just in case you were prepared to tense up again!

"there we go," pantalone cooed as he eased you into the warm bath. he washed your hair for you, making sure to scrub extra hard to get the muck out of your hair.

it was, in a way, soothing...

if only...

"if you hadn't... taken me away and, um," you sniffled, raising your hand to wipe at your nose, "if you were normal... i could've loved you."

instead of offending, that pleased pantalone. what he was hearing was 'you liked him for who he was' and there was nothing better than hearing that.

hm, if only he hadn't taken you away.

"that is the kindest thing you've ever said to me," pantalone smiled, "thank you, (y/n)."

CHILDE

it was a sort of game to childe at this point.

how many times could you attempt to escape this week? how many times would you curse him to hell? how many times would you glare at him today?

he had to find humor in it, or else, he'd lose his mind. after all, there was no easy way to cope with the love of his life hating his guts.

in truth, he had been a bit overbearing the past few days - there was a snowstorm outside and he couldn't allow you to be out in that sort of weather alone.

so, as he stared out the window, looking at the rapidly falling snow, all he could think about was if only something was different. perhaps if the two of you were childhood sweethearts, maybe if the two of you had met before he fell into the abyss, or maybe if the two of you were neighbors.

he, at one point, had gotten so desperate to keep you home that he bent to your will - anything you asked, he did. you never really asked much of him, though...

well, unless telling him to go away was a question.

he was so busy thinking of all the "what ifs" that he didn't notice you running past the window and into the snowy woods.

well, he did, but it just didn't click for him at the moment.

and when it did click? he was out the door, tugging his coat on, not even bothering to shut it behind himself.

"c'mon, (y/n), now is not the time for this!" he called out, watching as you ran around a tree and seemingly "disappeared."

he knew you too well. you expected him to run around the tree to look for you, but he wouldn't; he watched as you emerged from the other side of the tree and pulled you into his open arms.

you can't use the same trick twice on him.

he held you against his chest - he didn't mind that you were nudging at his chest, trying to get away from him. "c'mon, it's pretty cold out here. I'll make you tea when we get back inside."

"no! im not going back!" you nudged harder at his chest, trying to get out of his hold.

"I said we're going back in. we really need to talk ab-"

"there's nothing to talk about! you're not normal and i won't love you!"

he thought had heard it all from you, so, hearing this wasn't anything new, but, what was new was hearing you say:

"if you wanted me to love you, maybe you should've been normal," you paused, and childe's hold on you loosened, his arms going slack at his sides and he looked down at you, "if you didn't take me away... and maybe if you acted like a normal person from the start-"

once again, you paused and took a step back away from him. childe didn't want to hear what you were going to say, even as he imagined what you might say, his chest ached... he wouldn't be able to handle it, "(y/n), let's just go in, okay? i don't want to hear it from you."

"- i could've loved you."

oh, it hurt so badly.

childe tried so hard to be unbothered, so, why was he so hurt from hearing this? he loved you, and he's tried everything to make you understand just how much he loved you, and now you say that you'll never love him.

it hurt, of course, but he's come so far.

childe strongly believes that people can change, anyway. so, he'd keep trying his absolute hardest for you until you buckled and confessed that you loved him back.

but, in the meantime...

"you can still love me," he said, with a weak smile, "I've been good to you, (y/n) and I think I deserve some credit for being so patient, right?"

[transingthoseformers]

So!

I really really liked Transformers One!

The visuals were gorgeous, the characters were interesting, more under the cut

I especially liked the designs of the Quintessons, and the Quintesson ships. I liked how the ships themselves seemed like living organics up close, like some sort of massive arthropods.

I'll admit that initially learning Elita's VA had worried me, but I think Scarlett did manage to capture Elita's personality in a very interesting light— so much that I mayyyy have forgotten she was Elita's VA until the credits😅

there were so many recognizable characters in the background, but since I was. Well. In a theater and not in a place where I could pause and screenshot things I'm sure I missed quite a few Easter eggs

May I return to how much I loved the visuals??? Iacon felt alive and busy, and even though you can tell the surface was ravaged by the Quintessons it was full of so many interesting details. I fucking loved the shifting rocks and mountains

oughhh Airachnid was so cool, she gave me heavy xenomorph vibes.

I may or may not have quietly called D-16/Megatron Optimus's wife several times in the theater. I don't think my Grandma heard me as she was screwing around on her phone the majority of the time.

The transformations were pretty cool

Sentinel was the utter bastard I knew he'd be

They didn't kill the Quintessons or even directly go up against them, (which I was expecting them to go against them) which makes me think they might be saving that for a sequel or something.

LOVED THE END SEQUENCE OF D-16 FINALLY BECOMING MEGATRON AND ORION PAX BECOMING OPTIMUS PRIME, visually it was so cool

Alpha Trion's altmode was cool

I didn't expect it to have been Sentinel to scratch the first decepticon badge into Megatron's armor as a mocking gesture

Didn't expect the future decepticons to be called the High Guard, and to have their ties to the Thirteen Primes

again I loved how beautiful everything was, again and again

hehehe mild swearing in a PG movie

Probably more I can't think of right now!

Things I questioned / think could've been changed:

... I'll admit, as much as I love Megs, his character and progression from miner to leader of the decepticons felt a little out of character to me. I understand this is a new continuity with its own rules but I almost felt like Orion and D-16 should've been swapped. Idk, just an opinion. It felt very weird to hear D-16 go "mnnn but maybe we're better off as just miners, we're cogless :/", and I feel like his turn to seek violence was a bit fast.

I've seen the inclusion of Bee/B-127 as part of the original four questioned since the first trailer released, and while I liked him in the movie I do agree he might've should've been another character. Though, I'm inclined to suggest he maybe should've been Dion, and died somewhere at the end of the movie.

I'm a little disappointed we didn't get to see other possible Cybertronian cities like Tarn, Kaon, Vos, or Praxus. Idk if it'd've been realistic for them to include them, but still.

.Still not sure about Chris Hemsworth as Orion/Optimus.

Idk. I liked a lot of things about the movie, but there were a few things here and there, you know?

[avonne-writes]

Happy birthday! I just wanted to tell you that you're the best fan fiction writer I've come across in 20+ years ♥️

Can I ask for the [coffee] prompt? Gale manages to get hold of some coffee beans in the stalag and makes a cup of real coffee for John. Even better if he has to hide it from all the other inmates ☺️

My dear, this has been in my inbox for months, waiting for me to finally get to it! I'm sorry that it took me this long, especially because this was an original prompt. Thank you so much for your sweet message, I appreciate it so much! 🩷❤️ The drabble I'm posting below is part of a longer fic which will be posted on AO3 when it’s finished. It’s set in my a/b/o au (core idea here, drabble here).

The last fading rays of summer warmth are pushed away by the deepening chill of the night when the sun sets. It’s only September, but the walls of their prison seem to grow colder with each night, and the barbed wire fence looks taller every miserable morning. How long can a bird stay alive with its wings clipped, locked inside a cage that only lets it see the light, never feel it? And is it life at all?

It's been almost a year, and there's no end in sight. Only the mindless, final darkness, the one that beckons Bucky persistently every time the pains of his body and soul grow too heavy to bear without howling. If he and Gale hadn't bonded before their capture, he would've given in to that call already.

But they had, so here Bucky is. Still hungry, still cold, curled up in his bunk because Gale fussed the whole night and pushed him away every time Bucky touched him. Not even his own mate wants Bucky anymore.

“John.” He hears Gale's voice, quiet and warm, close to his ear as Gale leans over him. A hand shakes Bucky's shoulder, then slides down to his elbow in a caress. “The weather is so nice outside.”

“So what?” Bucky grunts, fed up with the morning sunshine that streams in through the flimsy curtains. How dare it tempt him with joy when he can’t even take a breath deep enough to remember freedom.

Gale shakes him again. His scent is so sweet that if Bucky closes his eyes, he can imagine that this is just another morning at Thorpe, and his mate is in a good mood. “Come, walk with me.”

Illusion shattered, Bucky shrugs Gale's grip off. “I'm not your dog.”

There's a pause, then a sigh. Gale squeezes Bucky's arm, then Bucky hears the thud of his boots as he walks away. The door opens and closes with a click.

“You should get it together, man. You're still mates, are you not?” Jefferson's voice rings from behind him, and it pisses Bucky off. What fucking business of his is it if he and Gale are still mates or not? He shouldn't say shit about things he doesn’t understand.

His irritation is enough fire to make Bucky turn around and rise from the bed, but Jefferson is already halfway out the door, scoffing at him, and Bucky isn’t quite angry enough to chase after him. He growls and drops into a chair at their small table, dealing a pack of cards to play imaginary poker against himself. From the corner of his eye, he notices the stares Crank and DeMarco shoot him, but they also go out after a few minutes, leaving him blessedly alone in silence.

For a while, it feels good. Time is beyond his perception, has been for who knows how long now. It's just one of those things that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He plays and loses against himself, always loses, then just drops the cards and stares at the strip of light crawling across the wooden floorboards. Guilt starts to tickle at the corners of his eyes and throbs at his temples like a headache. He didn’t mean to be so rude to Gale, but last night left him in a mood even worse than usual. He should probably find the strength to go out, join the others and apologize to him. Touch the mark on Gale’s neck if he's still willing to let him. 

Bucky's just about to push himself to his feet when the door swings open and Gale comes back inside. He looks frazzled and pale as a sheet, although it's hard to tell if that's the general effect of the stalag or something new. He puts his hands on his hips and paces around a bit, shooting Bucky quick glances as if gearing himself up to speak.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, frowning.

“Nothing.” Gale licks his lips, then stills for a moment before he walks over to the table with confident steps, all of that sudden unsettled energy swallowed up by his self-control. Maybe, he’s nervous that Bucky will gnash his teeth at him like a feral animal again. When he sits down and meets Bucky's eyes, Bucky sighs.

“Look.” Bucky starts, leaning forward and holding his hand out. He leaves it there even though Gale doesn’t take it. “I'm sorry for this morning. Didn’t mean to lash out like that.”

Gale considers him for a beat of silence, then nods, somber. “Apology accepted.”

He glances down at his lap, then pulls something out of the pocket of his trousers. When he looks at Bucky again, his eyes are soft and loving like they used to be before they learned how fragile the good things in life are. “Do you know what day it is?”

Bucky puffs his cheeks out, his eyebrows quirking up in a way that clearly amuses Gale. “Haven't a clue, doll. I'm wearing my Sunday best though, just in case.”

Gale huffs, shaking his head with a fond twist to his mouth. Something about the movement makes him wince, but he composes himself quickly. “It’s the 8th, John.”

Oh.

A dull pain starts in Bucky's chest and radiates out into the rest of his body. He can’t believe he forgot. He can’t believe that this moment came. The first time he spends 8 September as a prisoner of war, instead of laughing and celebrating with the love of his life.

Gale puts the small package he pulled out of pocket on the table between them. “I couldn’t get you any whiskey.” He says with wry humor that pulls a joyless smile out of Bucky. “But I got you this.”

When Bucky opens the package, the scent of ground coffee hits him like the sweet promise of heaven. It’s the real stuff, he can tell instantly, not the sand and ash concoction they mix up for them on most days. If they brew this, one sip of it will give Bucky enough life for a week. Oh, just the mere thought of its taste, the faint memories still not overwritten by the bland, permeating monotone of the stalag… 

The grin pulling at Bucky’s lips isn’t tainted by manic delusions for once. It’s purely happy, devoid of the shadows that have been haunting Bucky's mind lately, and it seems to make Gale flush in an echo of joy. This small bag of coffee must have cost Gale a lot of rations, but it’s such a perfect gift that Bucky doesn’t have the heart to ruin it by asking to know its price. 

"Happy birthday." Gale says with a small smile, but when Bucky reaches for his hand, he flinches.

It's a telltale reaction that they both know well. Bucky pauses, breathes in deep, takes stock of Gale's wide pupils and the clamminess of his fingers when he touches them. There’s sweat gathering at Gale’s hairline and his cheeks look blotchy. Bucky sees him pulling his other hand back into the sleeve of his fraying sweater, one of the few comforts he has in this wretched place. The gesture makes Bucky's chest go tight.

"Are you in heat?”

The muscles around Gale's jaw clench. He doesn’t need to say a word. The look in his eyes tells Bucky everything.

“Shit.” Bucky says, his voice like a ghost’s. Departing his body as dread creeps down his throat, cold and slimy fear around his heart. His brain, the last to admit defeat, still tries to deny it. It's impossible. God can’t curse them with this now. Their fate can’t be this cruel. “But you haven't had one in a year.”

“I know.” Gale's nostrils flare.

“But -”

“You know I've run out of the goddamn pills.” He snaps, harsh and aggressive in a way he wouldn’t be in his right mind.

There's no denying it any longer. It can't be just a cold or the bitterness of captivity. They have to face this here, now, and somehow make it through.

Bucky lowers his voice placatingly. “I know, Buck, I know.” He squeezes Gale's hand. It’s a relief when Gale squeezes back. “But that was six months ago.”

Tucked inside his sleeve, Gale’s fingers clench around the fabric. His eyes stare at his boots, and he looks so frail and small that Bucky has to look away to compose himself. They're both at the end of their ropes.

“Better weather, more food…” Gale mutters, pulling his shoulders up in a helpless gesture. “I guess my body figured it was enough.”

Bucky strokes the back of Gale's hand with his thumb, feels Gale’s racing pulse at his wrist. “We're gonna get through this.”

Gale nods, but he stares at the far wall. After a moment, Bucky realizes that he’s holding his breath, as if to keep himself forcefully calm and grounded. 

“Promise me -” He starts quietly. “- that if the guards find out, you won’t get yourself killed.”

Bucky's chest tightens. He hears the fear Gale is stomping down on with all his iron willpower. “I can’t.”

Bucky’s hand is yanked forward so suddenly and with such force that Bucky hisses. Gale fists his other hand in Bucky's shirt and snarls at him from an inch away. “Promise.”

The nasty, instinctual part of Bucky aches to fight, to force Gale to back down using his alpha nature to his advantage. But, even with all the things chipping at his sanity, Bucky doesn’t want to do that to him. It wouldn’t work anyway. Not with Gale, especially not when he's in heat.

“They won't find out.” He tells Gale, cupping his scarred cheek and giving him a firm look. “I promise I'll keep you safe.”

The scent in the air turns cloyingly sweet as gratitude washes over Gale, but then he shudders, and the sweetness turns into sour fear. Gale lets go of Bucky's shirt and stands up, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white. When he speaks, the calm tone of his voice is frightening. 

“Don’t worry about me, John. Whatever happens, I can take it.”

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from July :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

One Way Out of Many by hellotailor

Word Count: 59937 Summary: Hannibal planned to keep Will in the dark about his encephalitis so he could watch that brilliant mind burn itself up and become something new. In a world without daemons, he might have got away with it.An AU incorporating elements of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series, beginning partway through the first season of Hannibal. Due to the existence of daemons, the course of the Chesapeake Ripper case is drastically altered — and so too is the relationship between Hannibal and Will.

Everybody say "Thank you, Serri" because this fic was SO GOOD. I didn't know how I'd feel about the mortal instruments crossover, but it was highly enjoyable.

Long Flights Can Be Torture by ThisIsMyDesignHannibal

Word Count: 6334 Summary: Will and Hannibal are finally flying to somewhere they hope to settle down. Will’s nerves are making him restless…but how better to entertain himself then by toying mercilessly with the man he loves? Will wants to see just how far he can coax Hannibal out from behind that impeccable person-suit, preying on his insatiable attraction, and pushing him as far as he can…just, you know, for fun. Hey, long flights can be torture!

Will flirting with the stewardess?? Secret butt plugs???

certain dark things by multifandom_fanfic_writer

Word Count: 28090 Summary: “Now, you will kneel.”Will opens his mouth and issues his Command. And Hannibal, who has spent forty-four years defying his dynamic, who has never once in his life followed anyone’s commands--falls to his knees.

Blood Will Have Blood by idonthaveyourappetite

Word Count: 13481 Summary: Will and Hannibal are living in a post WotL limbo, a sexless pretense at domesticity full of tension and frustration. Will, unable to get over his guilt and complicity in their new life together, has been holding that part of himself back, but subconsciously hopes that Hannibal will push him, HARD, to take that next step. Hannibal, although increasingly frustrated, has been infuriatingly patient with him. Finally realizing that patience isn’t helping either of them, Hannibal forces Will to confront and accept his desire, giving him exactly what he needs. Their first time is exactly how they both need it to be.

And Cure His Heart by ThisIsMyDesignHannibal

Word Count: 10460 Summary: Will’s irritability and frustration have been mounting since going on the run, and Hannibal has been bearing the brunt of it. Unconsciously craving one particular way Hannibal can help him quiet his whirring mind, it’s time for Will to face up to what he needs, swallow his pride, and ask for it. This time, however, actions speak more eloquently than words ever could. Relinquishing control can be its own form of therapy. Relief is often found in surrender.

Oh my God, Will not knowing how to ask Hannibal for what he needs? And the devastation when Hannibal realizes how he's been neglecting Will? Chefs kiss, perfection.

I'll Take Care of You by sourweather

Word Count: 6339 Summary: After an Acute Stress Reaction and continued trauma at work leave Will feeling desperate for release, Hannibal reveals that he has a very effective technique for Letting Go

Whoops, I like fics where Will is put into subspace as "therapy" SUE ME.

Cuisine Euphonique by thecountessolivia

Word Count: 35335 Summary: Nightmares brought on by a gruesome case lead Will to some unorthodox therapy in the form of a YouTube cooking channel.[Completed]

This fic was absolutely incredible and I desperately wish I could read it for the first time all over again.

Hannibal Lecter and the Great Cat-astrophy of 1812 by slut_arc

Word Count: 1582 Summary: If Will Graham knows one thing about owning dogs (and a cannibal), waking to complete silence is suspicious.Whatever could be distracting Hannibal and the dogs so greatly that they left the house without even eating breakfast?

cat dad Hannibal cat dad Hannibal!!!

the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row by softhan

Word Count: 15355 Summary: Hannibal is having a rough time recovering from his injuries post-fall, and retreats into himself to avoid confrontation with Will while he's still weak and ill. Having to play happy husbands hardly helps

Fake relationship AND vulnerable Hannibal??? it hurts, but it's worth it.

Consenting to Dream by emungere

Word Count: 32188 Summary: A seduction through physical objects. It starts with a scarf loaned to Will on a cold day, but Hannibal, as usual, isn't satisfied with anything small.

Possibly one of the sweetest sugar daddy fics I could imagine reading, oh my god, I love them so much. Will having to get comfortable with allowing someone to care for him? OUCH.

Conduit by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 9288 Summary: No one has ever known Will as well as Hannibal, and if only he could get over his reservations, he knows that they could be amazing together. Hannibal, happy to have Will in whatever capacity he is able, is only too willing to give Will anything he wants, even if it's someone other than himself.Or, Hannibal watches while Will has sex with a woman, and Will gets off on how much Hannibal gets off on it, and voila, sexuality crisis averted!

This was very hot, 10/10.

I Don't Even Like Lana Del Rey by perpetuallycaffeinated

Word Count: 4328 Summary: Will’s thoughts were going in a very inappropriate direction, and he had a growing suspicion that they were being led in that direction by a firm, determined hand. He gave another half-hearted bark of a laugh and threw back the remaining coffee like a shot. “Maybe Zeller and Price changed the wrong number’s ringtone. Jack’s not the one listening to me when I feel like I’m coming unhinged and feeding me the best damn food I’ve ever eaten in my life.”“No,” Hannibal agreed quietly, “he is not.”The tension and low thrum of arousal were making Will speak impulsively. He knew this, but he’d just finished his drink. There was nothing he could use to stop the question, blunt and presumptuous and rude.“So, what, you’re my daddy?”

Dancing with the Beast by proser

Word Count: 86347 Summary: In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events.Hannibal is dramatic and jealous as ever, and Will is having a great time without the encephalitis. Of course, it's a love story.

FAKE RELATIONSHIP AND IT'S SO GOOD.

Never Conquered, Rarely Came by thisisthefamilybusiness

Word Count: 3242 Summary: Normally, this is the part where Will would pick up his cell phone and leave an anonymous tip on the police crime hotline, tell them there was a cannibalistic serial murderer lurking around the area code of the phone number given in the ad. But not today. Not when his very bones ache and all the raw and bruised places on his skin throb in time with his pulse. Not when exhaustion is slowly eating away at him in a way that has nothing to do with how little he slept last night.Not when these ink-stains on his fingertips and the man behind them are his last chance to get away.Fill for HannibalKink for this prompt: "Will is in an abusive relationship but can't see a way out - he's tried to leave before, but his partner is in law enforcement and always manages to track him down while pretending to be the understanding, forgiving, loving type. One day, Will stumbles across an ad in the Classifieds of the cleverly worded cannibal-seeking-fresh-meat-but-veiled-as-private-cooking-classes type, and decides to answer. Hannibal is pleased when his ad bears fruit, then surprised when his intended dinner apparently knows exactly what he's in for."

this starts off TOUGH, but it's such an interesting concept and it really is a happy ending.

[runawrites-blog]

Nightlight (Tony Stark x Reader)

Summary: When you sleep at Tony's place for the first time you have a terrible nightmare about your troubled past and upbringing. He tries his best to help you but when he finds out what makes you so scared, he comes up with a creative solution. (Gender-Neutral Reader) Word Count: 1,241 Warnings: Angst. Past/Referenced Childhood Trauma. Past/Referenced Abusive Parents. Nightmares. Hurt/Comfort. No Y/N. A/N: First time writing for Tony, so I hope he's in character. Also, the reader is gender neutral, without any pronouns being used but if I did mess up and did use a profound please let me know so I can change it. I needed to get this out because it sat in my WIPs for so long, but I still have so many more to go ^^°

---

It was your movements that stirred Tony from his sleep but it was your frightened pleas that had him wide awake. He was sitting up in bed in a matter of seconds, body in fight or flight mode at the thought of something hurting you. But when he turned to look at you, saw you writhing in the sheets, clinging to them, tears running from your eyes and pleading to someone who wasn’t there his heart broke. You were having a nightmare and a bad one by the looks of it.

For a second he wondered if he should wake you but then he decided that if he were having a nightmare this bad he’d want to be awoken from it, so he reached out to gently shake your shoulder, keeping his voice steady as he spoke to you.

“Honey, you got to wake up. Wake up.”

Your hand came up to clutch at his wrist, still asleep but clinging to his arm tightly as you cried out for someone not to hurt you. Tony had to fight against the panic rising in him at seeing you like this for your sake, so he could wake you up and take care of you. But it was hard to see someone he loved in distress without being able to help them. And he did love you. He hadn’t said it in the few months you’d been together but he knew he did.

“Please, you have to wake up now!”

And to his great relief you did, nails digging into his arm as you gasped for breath. But even awake you still seemed terribly frightened, eyes flicking around in the dark room as you shot up in bed, sobbing as you blindly reached for the lamp on the bedside table and turned it on. Only then did you still, sitting next to him and trying to calm your breathing.

“You’re safe.” Tony said gently, moving closer to you and reaching out to take your hand, checking your face to see if you were uncomfortable with him touching you. “Is this alright?”

You nodded at his question and Tony watched as you gently tapped your fingers against your sternum, trying to calm yourself down as your eyes scanned his luxurious bedroom, faintly illuminated by the light of the bedside lamp.

“Thank you for waking me.”

“Of course.” Tony quickly nodded, a little unsure of how to proceed but determined to make you feel better. “How can I help?”

Slowly, you shook your head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be alright, I promise. I just need a few minutes to calm down and-- Could you hold me?”

Jumping at the opportunity to help you now that you’d asked for something Tony quickly nodded and pulled you into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your head to his shoulder while the other rubbed your back. When he felt you relax in his arms and hug him back, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m not that good at offering comfort. I’m more of a practical person that comes up with solutions but I guess there’s no solution to a nightmare.” Tony admitted, feeling you nod against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?”

You were quiet for the better part of a minute before you spoke up again. “I dreamed of my parents and how when I wasn’t able to control my abilities as a child they’d punish me. They used to lock me up in a small dark room and-- and I was so terrified back then.”

“That’s horrible. You really didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s really embarrassing to admit because-- because I’m a grown adult but I’m really afraid of-- of the dark.” You admitted, not looking up at him as your fingers dug into the back of his shirt. “At home, I have a sort of dim nightlight and I know it’s so dumb but I--”

“It’s not dumb or embarrassing at all, trust me. And I totally get why you’d be scared of the dark.” Tony soothed you, not wanting you to go into a self-deprecating rant after just calming down. “Is that why you were so reluctant to stay over?”

You nodded slowly, turning your face to bury it at his shoulder. “I was embarrassed and worried I’d have a nightmare without any light source in the room.”

“You think I would judge you for something?”

“No!” You exclaimed before quieting down again. “It’s not that I thought you’d judge me but most people have mostly not been that understanding.”

“Well, I am not most people. I don’t care about whether or not you have a night light or something like that, I care about whether or not you feel comfortable.” Tony explained only to feel panic rise in him when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I--”

“No, you were just so sweet.” You whispered and tightened your grip on him. “Thank you for comforting me.”

“Do you want to lie back down? I can hold you and keep you safe.”

He watched you nod, albeit with an uneasy expression, and slowly lay back down to which you followed, turning onto your side so you could hold onto him. After flicking the light back off, Tony held you close, letting you rest your head on his shoulder but despite all this, he could still feel how tense you were. But when his hand came up to rest on his chest, just barely underneath where his arc reactor sat beneath his sweater he got an idea.

When he pushed himself up onto his elbows you moved off him and he felt his heart break for you when he saw how frightened you still looked, so he did quick work taking his sweater off. Your expression changed into one of confusion but once the sweater was off and no longer covering the glowing reactor in his chest understanding dawned on your face, eyes tearing up slightly as you looked back at him.

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sat before lying back down and extending his arm toward you. “Want to lie down now that you have a personal nightlight to make you feel better?”

The small chuckle that left your lips at his words made his worries lift, knowing that he had succeeded in making you feel better. You quickly lay back down, head on his shoulder and hand resting right next to the reactor, running your fingers along the edges of it.

“Do you feel better?”

“I do. Thank you so much, Tony.” You whispered as you inched closer to him. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

“I just hope I could actually help. I know sometimes people don’t want solutions and instead want to be comforted, but I’m just not good at that.” Tony confessed, feeling strangely comfortable about opening up to you now. “But I wanted to help.”

“You helped a lot. I feel so safe with you.”

Tony gave a small chuckle at that, happy to hear you say that but also overwhelmed with how much you trusted him and feeling like he needed to lighten the mood. “I hope so. I’m a superhero after all.”

“That you are. And you’re my hero, as well.”

“Then you have my word that I will always keep you safe.”

[autistic-cat-with-a-book]

Hello there. I have written a story, which I am now sharing with the keepblr fandom. Enjoy it. Please. (It's a slightly alternate ending for Neverseen, if you were curious.) Tagging @permanently-stressed because I've been torturing her with crumbs of this for the whole week, so it's only fitting she gets tagged.

okay bye

Sophie was about to step into the shimmering beam of her pathfinder when she noticed the small yellow crystal in Keefe’s hand. She barely hesitated before grabbing his shoulders and letting the light carry both of them away.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” Keefe shouted as they reappeared by a lake the color of blood. Tall, foggy mountains surrounded the area, and the whole place gave Sophie the creeps. Nothing good could come of this.

“I could ask you the same thing!” She snapped. “Why are you leaping–illegally– to the Forbidden Cities? Are you seriously going to try to break into an ogre prison?” 

Keefe turned away. “Go home, Sophie.”

“Not unless you explain what’s going on here!”

Keefe opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by three flashes of light. Three dark cloaks with a white eye symbol on the sleeve.

The Neverseen were here.

“Keefe,” Sophie started as the figures slowly walked towards them, “What did you do? What did you do?”

“I…” his voice trailed off.

“How are we going to escape this?” She hissed.

“Simple answer,” said the first figure, throwing back his hood. “You don’t.”

With growing horror, Sophie found the name the voice belonged to. Fintan was here. So were Brant and Alvar. They were trapped.

Fintan held up his hands, a smile spreading across his thin lips. “My, my, Keefe. You’ve really outdone yourself. Sophie is such an excellent addition to our bargain.” His eyes narrowed as he said that last part and a chill went up Sophie’s spine.

What bargain is he talking about? Sophie transmitted.

“She is not part of this deal. Let. Her. Go,” Keefe said, ignoring Sophie’s question.

“Tsk, tsk. If only we could. But now that she’s here, I’d be so sad to see her go,” Fintan said, glee dripping from every word. A small flame flickered to life in Brant’s hand, and Keefe shrank back.

“If you hurt her, I won’t give you the cache!” Sophie heard this but didn’t have time to react before strong invisible arms wrapped around her neck in a chokehold. 

“Keefe,” she gasped hoarsely, “What are you talking about?”

But she has a sinking feeling in her stomach. There are better, safer ways to rescue your mom. You don’t have to trade the cache for this. Please, Keefe. A tear rolled silently down her cheek.

This is the only way, Foster. You wouldn’t be here if you had just gone home!

You know I couldn’t do that.

Fintan ordered Keefe to get the cache, and Sophie watched as Keefe quietly said, “Two twenty-one B Baker Street,” shock and betrayal coursing through her veins.

The cache popped into Keefe's hand, and Alvar immediately grabbed it, tucking it into a concealed pocket on his robe.

How could you? Sophie’s mental question was more sad than angry, but Keefe still didn’t respond.

“Miss Foster, I assume you and Mr. Sencen are communicating telepathically. Much fun as it is to watch you silently struggle, this would go a lot quicker if you would both listen to the terms at hand.” Fintan said, gesturing to Brant.

The scarred elf stepped closer, the heat of the Everblaze in his hand making Sophie sweat. “All you have to do,” he said to Keefe, grabbing Sophie’s monocle pendant and holding it in his fire, “is take this pretty little swan and brand your moonlark. If you do that, we’ll let her go free and you come with us.”

“If not,” Alvar interrupted, “Fintan will start giving Sophie some very painful scars.”

Keefe’s face crumpled and he transmitted, I’m so sorry. I know you’re going to hate me now.

I could never hate you,  she assured him, although she grew less and less sure of that as he took the pendant and stepped up to Sophie.

His ice-blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and Sophie tried one last time. “Please, Keefe. Why are you doing this?”

“Last night…I got more memories back,” he whispered. 

“I still don’t understand why you would join them,” she said. Alvar was nearly choking her, and she was getting very lightheaded. 

“You were raised to be the hero. I was raised to be something…else.” He brushed his hand over her necklace. “I wanted you to have this, in case someday–”

“Heartwarming as this is,” Fintan cut in, “We’re running out of time. And patience.” The last word had a deadly undertone and the tears in Keefe’s eyes spilled over as he raised the pendant to Sophie’s face. It was glowing red from the Everblaze. Sophie didn’t want to imagine how much pain it would cause.

But she didn’t have to imagine. 

All of a sudden, Keefe squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the red-hot swan against the side of Sophie’s neck. She screamed, thrashing in Alvar’s arms, but he held her tight. Bright white pain exploded behind her eyes, and she wanted it to take her far, far away.

 To a place where she wouldn’t have to deal with the Neverseen, or the Black Swan, or Keefe.

The white light promised rest.

Calm.

Peace.

But all too soon, she was ripped back to reality. Sophie could feel blisters bubbling up on her skin, and when she opened her eyes, Keefe had dropped the pendant. Smoke was rising from it, and her mind shied away from picturing what her neck looked like. 

Brant still had a sphere of Everblaze floating above his palm, the flames crackling ominously. 

“Okay,” Keefe said, his voice shaky, “I did what you asked. You have the cache. Now please, let Sophie go home.” 

“Oh, did we say anything about letting her go home?” Fintan asked the others with a laugh. “Mr. Sencen, we merely said we would free her. We never specified where she would be released.”

In one fluid motion, Alvar let go of Sophie, pulled out his Pathfinder, and said, “Have fun, you four!” Then raised the crystal to the setting sun and stepped into the beam of light.

While that was happening, Fintan had summoned a ring of fire around himself, Brant, Keefe, and Sophie, and the flames were taller than she was. 

No escape.

It was hard to think through the searing pain, but she was able to stay standing. Keefe held her shoulders and yelled, “You promised!” at the ancient Pyrokinetic.

“Come on,” Fintan scoffed, “Surely you’ve known us long enough to know that we don’t play fair.” With that, Fintan pulled Keefe away from Sophie and Brant took a small cloth out of his cloak. Sophie could smell the stench of the sedative, and she tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. Brant grinned as he pressed the fabric over her nose and mouth, flooding her brain with the sickeningly sweet smell. 

The last thing she saw was Keefe’s anguished face, and his thoughts whispering, It’s for the best, as he and the two pyrokinetics lept away.

Then she collapsed as the ring of fire grew even taller around her.

Heat. So much heat. Her neck, her arms, her back. They were all so, so hot.

 Sophie peeled her eyes open, coughing on the smoke and ash. She managed to sit up on the gritty sand, noting that she wasn’t actually on fire. But the Everblaze was raging all around her, making its way to the mountains in the distance. She guessed that a few hours had passed since–

Nope. She was not going to think about Keefe. Sophie cautiously reached up to feel her neck, then winced as she brushed her fingers over the blisters. That was going to be a permanent scar. 

“Help,” she croaked, pushing herself off of the ground. The lake was nearby, promising cool water, but she didn’t trust the bloodred color. “Help,” she repeated, louder this time. Her throat scratched and her muscles ached and her mouth tasted all kinds of disgusting, but that didn’t stop her. 

Anything, anyone, would be a welcome presence. With the moon high in the sky and the smoke billowing through the air, the whole place was even creepier than it was in the daytime, which was saying a lot. 

She crawled to where Keefe had been standing and noticed… what was that?

Sophie picked up a small glittering bead, noting the way it shimmered in the moonlight. Was this a leaping crystal? Why had he left it–oh. It must have been for her, in case she followed him here. 

Sophie let out a bark of laughter. This would have been useful a few hours ago before she got the sign of the swan branded on her neck. But…what if it wasn’t from Keefe? Maybe it led to a trap. The Neverseen could have left it here, hoping she’d leap right into one of their hideouts. But then why wouldn’t they just take her along with Keefe?

She brought the bead closer, looking for a clue. It seemed pretty ordinary, just an orb of shimmery compacted powder, but there– she saw a tiny, tiny K painted on the side. 

It was from Keefe. Wow. He really thought of everything. 

She held the tiny crystal up to the moonlight, hoping hoping hoping that it would work. A weak beam of light appeared, and Sophie nearly cried in relief. She stepped into the path, concentrating on the warm feathery rush of the leap as her body dissolved. 

She re-formed at the entrance to Havenfield.

Home, home, safe, safe! Her mind cheered. She limped up to her house, every muscle aching. Edaline and Grady were sitting on the enormous couch, and they both leaped up when she pushed the massive doors open. Edaline rushed to give Sophie a hug while Grady said, “What happened to you?”

“I…” her voice trailed off, a lump forming in her throat. “The Neverseen,” she whispered, gently removing herself from her adoptive mom’s embrace. 

“Oh, Sophie,” Edaline said, running a hand over Sophie’s cuts and bruises. She avoided the burn on her nack, and Sophie was hit with a rush of affection for her mom. 

Grady rushed to their extensive medicine cabinet, grabbing an armful of elixirs and balms. Soon enough, Sophie was lying on her bed, and Elwin –in his fuzzy T-rex pajamas– was treating all of her injuries. He thankfully didn’t ask too many questions, instead letting her relax and calm down from the day’s events. 

After Elwin left, Grady and Edaline brought up a cool cloth for her neck and a small vial of shimmery liquid. “It’s somnalene,” Edaline explained. “It’ll help you sleep. You need it.”

“It’s not a sedative, right?” Sophie asked.

“No, kiddo. These are like sparkly eye drops that make you feel very peaceful,” Grady explained, filling the eyedropper and positioning it over Sophie’s eye. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Edaline asked, concern clearly written all over her expression.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Mom.”

Grady squeezed the somnalene into Sophie’s eyes, and immediately little twinkling colored lights appeared in her vision. Shortly after she settled down, her parents left, leaving her with her thoughts– and Iggy’s lawnmower-esque snore. Despite her long–long– day she was asleep in minutes.

The next morning, Sophie somehow managed to get dressed, eat breakfast, and meet with the Collective without collapsing or breaking into a fit of tears. Her neck still throbbed and her back hurt and her heart was broken, but she was going to be okay. 

She was the Moonlark. 

“So,” Mr. Forkle said with a sigh, “Let’s go through this again. Keefe took you to the Neverseen–”

“He didn’t take me, I grabbed onto him as he was leaping away,” Sophie interjected.

“Right. So then the Neverseen forced him to hand over the cache, and made him…” He looked quickly at the burn on her neck, his voice cracking.

Everyone got silent after that. After a moment, Granite continued quietly, “So Fintan, Brant, Alvar, and Keefe all light leaped away while you were sedated and surrounded by Everblaze.”

Grady and Sandor both looked like they wanted to punch something, so Sophie said, “But Keefe didn’t know that would happen! It was my fault.”

Edaline hugged Sophie, whispering, “What happened was not your fault. It never will be, so please don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ll try not to,” she whispered back. 

Sophie straightened up, clearing her throat to prepare for what she was about to say. “Do you think Keefe is….bad?”

“I think Mr. Sencen is confused, and desperate, and afraid. But I do not think he is bad, Miss Foster,” Mr. Forkle assured her. 

“So you think his guilt is making him do this.”

“Yes. He has chosen a difficult path, but I think he knows that what he is doing is incredibly reckless,” Wraith added.

“I wouldn’t be too quick to trust him,” Grady advised from the corner.

“Especially not after–that thing,” Squall said, pointing her frosty fingers at Sophie’s burn.

“What about the cache?” Sophie wondered aloud.

“We’ll deal with that later. For now, there is news I must share with you all.” Mr. Forkle said. 

Sophie's mind flashed through dozens of possibilities, but nothing could have prepared her for what Mr. Forkle said next. 

“Prentice is awake.”

[runabout-river]

No matter what Gege does with Gojo, I don’t think it will be satisfying for me

I considered every option for what could possibly happen with Gojo, regardless of how likely I think they are, and I genuinely can't find myself considering any of them a satisfying conclusion.

**1. He is dead and no one will mention him in the last chapter.**

Hate this. So much. Random civilians in Shibuya were shown respect by Yuji in the middle of chaos and panic, but nobody has ANYTHING nice to say about Gojo?? Since the fight ended, we got Kusakabe saying he is at fault for not killing Yuji and Shoko calling him an idiot (endearingly) for not destroying Geto's body. Lovely.

**2. He is dead and somebody will say something or we will be shown a grave.**

Better but still bad. I feel like the ship has sailed at this point. They had a chance while reflecting on the fight and we got nothing. Megumi and Shoko were at Tsumiki's grave and... we got nothing. I think it's pretty safe to say no one will be mourning him in the last chapter, they're already going on missions after all. And a simple mention feels incredibly cold and empty.

**3. He is dead but will come back to life due to his soul still not departing and sacrificing one of the Six Eyes in a binding vow.**

I won't comment on how possible or not this is because Yuta managed to return to his body simply by being in proximity of Rika. If Gege wants to write it, he can. However, we are talking about the last chapter of the manga and this would absolutely take away the spotlight from Yuji. Not to mention that this route needs groundwork that I don't think 19 pages can provide for. ALSO, this still doesn't explain why nobody is sad or willing to acknowledge him because, to them, he is dead.

**4. He is actually alive and that's why nobody has been shown to be sad about him.**

Would make sense in terms of characters like Yuji and Yuta not showing any emotion towards him. But this isn't like Nobara's situation. Like I said, it needs build up. A character like Gojo should be shown making his choice, not just appearing out of nowhere. It would add absolutely nothing to his arc and would honestly be pure fanservice.

**5. The dream theory.**

I don’t know how much you've heard about this but there is a theory going around that these last chapters or more have all been a dream. I won't do any analysis on the validity of it because this isn't important to my point. "Who's dream?" is the actual question here.

**a) It is Yuji's dream.**

You want to tell me somebody as kind and compassionate as Yuji has no place for his teacher in his dream of a happier tomorrow? Get out of here.

**b) It is a collective dreamlike state, a product of Sukuna's activation of the Merger despite the rules imposed on it.**

Again, nobody, not a single soul, has it in their heart to include Gojo in their dream? In any way other than criticizing him? It would go against all the care Yuji and Yuta have shown for him and be a genuinely awful characterization. It would show he was actually not loved at all, something we know isn't true.

**c) It is Gojo's dream.**

So, Gojo is dreaming of a world where his body is used as a weapon, his students don't care enough to even mention his name and life goes on as if he never existed? He can imagine himself being blamed but not having a place in his ideal future? Do you want me to kill myself?

I would really like to hear opinions or other options if you have any. Right now, this is all just sad.

*Cracks Knuckles*

First of all, I have read the dream theory and I believe it's possible but for now we take the last chapters at face value.

Yes, the lack of any mourning for Gojo (and Choso) is sad and a sour note at the end of the manga. We already had this lack of regard for his death during the Shinjuku fights. There I could understand though how the characters pushed all their feelings to the side once Gojo had been defeated.

They needed to act fast and steadfast, so we got most of their concern and other emotions while Gojo was still fighting.

Now though there is no excuse anymore. JJK had alwasy been a little loose when it came to the slower and reflective moments but Gege had the space the previous chapter to fill it with somehting meaningful. Instead we got an unnecessary explanation of the New Shadow Style school system that's just plain unimportant three chapters before the end.

So in that regard, yes, Gege fumbled it. Even in the driest part of Gojo's death, there still should've been an earth-shattering shake up of the status quo the same way his birth had changed the jujutsu world. But that was also lacking because chapter 270 basically erased all conflict in the story.

So what will happen now?

Your option 1) hate it, too :D

Option 2) nothing to add. Perfectly said how Gojo should've already been talked about instead of letting it go to the last chapter where he most likely won't get centre stage.

Now to Option 3/4) First, the last chapter will be longer than 19 pages. It was either double or tripple the length of a normal chapter so there is more time to flesh the last things out. Second, I have my own theory on how Yuta using Kenjaku's CT on Gojo's body and then getting ejected from it, might've have permanently revived Gojo.

I don't like Gojo being just alive though because that would be anticlimatic and detrimental to the high stakes and emotions that came before. It would be just one more thing in this super happy ending everyone got (except Choso). What could work though is Gojo's body being alive but in a vegetatitve state. Then it would be open ended how his story would go on.

Now the thing about the dream theory is: Yuji only imagines the good things. That's why characters where their death was ambiguous are all alive and only those who had been 100% confirmed dead are dead. With Yuji doing the dreaming, he would push negative feelings about death away and mourning is one such feeling and he had done exactly that previously as well.

If this theory comes true, Yuji would be mourning way more than just Gojo's death at the end. He would also be mourning the good end he envisioned for everyone. And that's sad but also... what I would prefer in contrast with this sugar cloud of a happy ending.

[studentbyday]

week 3: let's get this bread! (famous last words...)

Omg I can't believe it's only week 3, sm has happened, I swear more time has gone by than actually has 😅😮‍💨🙃 Starting this week feeling a little discouraged because I still have a backlog of schoolwork to catch up on, but let's see if I can get my hopes up again by the end of this week! 🙏🏻🤞🏻If I want to achieve my goals, I need to drastically reduce my screen time. Here's to only using my phone for essential communications and for music, guided meditations, and pilates/yoga videos this week! 😤

mid-week update: this week has been a f*cking mess. mentally, emotionally, physically, existentially. i have not touched the db course so far which was my main goal for this week...every week i'm trying to add something new. i had my reservations about keeping on my original plan for this week, knowing i ended the last one still behind on school, but i went ahead with it, wondering, hoping if it was at all possible. well. we'll see where i'm at by the end of this week. at the very least i'll be closer to caught up.

end-of-week update: posting this early so i don't have to on sunday. i'm making progress but it's still slower than expected. insomnia is a problem. my nerves feel pretty frayed. must find ways to decrease the stimulation. time to reinstate the no-phone mornings (probs should add to my “bingo”) and a social media detox... not sure if i'll have time to post again next week. i find it hard to keep up. i'll probably come back if/when i get things under control...so bye for now (and i sincerely hope your semester is going better than mine 💗) 👋🏻

Academics:

Check and send pathology assignment!!!! ✅

Confirm immunology discussion due date!! ✅

Watch documentary on Wangari Maathai ✅ (glad i did this first thing on monday after sending the path assignment because it was really inspiring and lifted my spirits enough to keep going 💗)

Meet for pathology assignment ✅ (2 members in my group are like...really high-energy and gung-ho. i'm glad cuz that means it's a lighter load for me but woah was that overwhelming at first 😅 and the thing is...these guys aren't the first i've encountered like this. and i'm low-key jealous of them... they're the kind of people who give off the aura of “i'm capable of doing it all” because they're that driven...and based on what i've seen of them, i don't think they're faking it.)

Read all assignment descriptions for global health before you... ✅

Email chosen essay topic to TA by Thursday ✅

Finish M1 pathology by Wednesday ✅

Complete pathology M1 case questions

Finish half of M2 pathology by Sunday

Start pathology M2 case questions

Finish half of M2 global health by Friday ✅

Finish half of M3 immunology by Sunday

Finish M2 microbiology ~ (made some progress but not finished)

Start M3 microbiology

Participate in global health meeting ✅ (wasn't bad but also...not sure when this happened but i've gotten quite nervous speaking up in class and then in my overstimulation, forget some of what i had intended to say, ughhh just gotta keep practicing...)

Complete immunology discussion ✅

Send other pathology assignment ✅

Complete global health discussion ✅

Health:

Meditate x1

Journal x3

Yoga x2

Cardio x1

Pilates x1 (the first time i made it through a 30 min class in one sitting whooooo!!!!!)

Other life things:

Change bedding

Laundry

Music in My Head:

andante spianato et grande polonaise brillante

study music // 1 // 2 // 3

a strange playlist for strange people

piano trio no. 4 in e minor, op. 90, b. 166, “dumky”: i. lento maestoso / ii. poco adagio

pavane op. 50

Things I'm looking forward to:

end of the semester

the height of autumn

christmas

My not-bingo bingo (thinking I'll recycle this every month lol):

[kethabali]

i cannot believe my screenwriting teacher had the audacity to give me a B+ after being the worst teacher i have ever had throughout my college experience. in fact the conservative guy who would complain about something every class was still a better Teacher than this dude. you should be giving everyone an A FOR WASTING OUR TIME!

[tea-tuesday]

07/01/2024

a month left and i'm not panicking (i am)...! sorry to juxtapose beautiful flowers with a cursed picture of memorizing crim at like 3 am lmao. hope everyone's having a lovely summer and good luck to those who are also studying over the summer ! summer study squad🌞📚, let's go!!! may we be blessed with good grades, passing scores, and a stress-free autumn🙏

[astaraels]

why do people think Yevgeny wasn't Mickey's son? in 3x06 there was clearly no condom used (not that Terry probably would have let Svetlana stop to get one), but there's no reason to think she wasn't using condoms with her regular clients. it's not Svetlana's fault that she was a tool used to rape Mickey—the sole blame for everything that happens in that entire situation belongs to Terry Milkovich and him alone—so why does it feel like it's just another way for people to shit on Svetlana for something that wasn't in her control? it's not as though she'd asked to get pregnant in the first place...

[thelaurenshippen]

genuinely think it's good and healthy to follow at least one person in each of your fandoms who reblogs good gifsets but has just...absolutely dogshit takes on the show, or who ships that ship you despise. keeps things fresh. keeps things grounded. you gotta stay humble

[cryptidm0ths]

Vvvvvv messy doodles of magical girl au

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...