#when i was on my own and not talking to folks above my body's Allowed Volume and also i was smoking cigarettes AND weed

[dredshirtroberts]

the saddest thing about my life to this point is that because of it, if I talk just slightly "too much", or I want to sing for longer than like a couple notes of a song (especially at an audible volume), or I start laughing in earnest, or I've eaten something delicious, i start coughing. This is because my body is so unfamiliar with the sensation of having a good time that it freaks out and over-produces phlegm any time i'm utilizing my throat because it has no idea how much we're supposed to need for this shit.

I spent most of my life not talking, or laughing with my whole being. (i did sing a lot but normally as part of a group and i was afraid of being heard and judged to be as bad as my sister told me i was at singing, so if i'm audible it's more likely to make my throat freak out). The eating thing may not be connected, but like. any time i've enjoyed a food, my throat's like "mmm we need more lube in here" and then BLAM phlegm city while i choke on it.

And then of course if my throat is raw from coughing because of the aforementioned things, you know what it likes to do? make more phlegm to lube that shit back up. Which makes me cough.

You'd think staying hydrated would fix this problem but no! in fact it does not! it can sometimes make it worse! my body is a horror show and existence is a nightmare! :D

[inknopewetrust]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝.

Summary: After days of uncertainty, you catch Aemond in the throne room and envision the future of what power can hold. [Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader] [WC: 2.8k]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), public sex, exhibitionism, overstimulation, enemies to lovers dynamic.

Quick Links: Masterlist | gif by @vizual-demon

“Knee deep in the [throne room] and you’re eating me out… is it casual now?”

“Do you always look so smug after killing your own blood?”

In your shadows, Aemond Targaryen stared at the Iron Throne in the storm.

Thunder eclipsed the skies over the castle. In the late evening, you could feel the shocks of lightning beneath your fingertips as they grazed the columns of marble that flanked the room. Each scream of anger echoed through the stones, you could hear it so clearly.

You could see him in the shadows of the throne.

Aemond Targaryen had returned from battle two days ago.

In those two days, the world had changed drastically compared to the one that it was before. A King incapacitated, a legend buried in the rubble of a fallen house, and two sides burning as bright as the cascading terror above.

The tide was shifting and the power in the halls was striking.

Aemond’s arms hung limp at his sides. For someone so thirsty for the power the room held, his apathetic nature would bury him. He could see the darkness of the swords; twisting and bleeding each person dry for their aspirations.

He wanted to be someone who was remembered.

Aemond Targaryen did not want to be immortalized in history as a weak member of the greatest family to ever exist in this world. In his dreams he saw a man of profound strength and terror—someone who reigned a fearsome government with unyielding standards.

In his cruelty, he wanted people to see a person who would not sacrifice his name for peace.

So yes, he was a bit smug at Rhaenys’ demise and ultimately Aegon’s injury. He would not be in this position now had he not done what was asked of him.

But he didn’t answer you—Aemond did not feel the need to acknowledge it because he knew you understood. Even if you were to be cutting and cynical, Aemond knew you rationalized his beliefs in a similar fashion.

And that enticed him.

You had always enticed him. So simple yet cunning, an outsider amongst the other ladies in your class. You were not a whore, you were not a mother, and yet he wanted to know what it felt like to be a feign of your touch.

How would your hands feel on his body? Your delicate fingers wrapped around him?

“Ah,” you ticked at him, pushing off the stone pillar and moving in his direction. “You see, My Prince, when you allow a dragon’s head to be paraded for the city to see, people are going to notice.”

“Power is power. We needn’t parade it unless it was necessary to remind them who they should bend the knee to.”

“At the ill will of a sacred creature?”

Meleys was once a beautiful dragon. It was such a shame that the second time you were able to witness her beauty it was in the butchered attempt of showing off. The grandstanding sickened the soil.

“It does not take a Targaryen to understand that.”

“What would you know of Targaryen customs?” He spoke back. His voice was thin and dry. “You will never know.”

“I apologize… for my lowly status is not on par with such a great house. I am sure my Lord Father would appreciate the sentiment.”

You have a coy, playful smile that he could feel in his bones. The kind that would chide him, never take him too seriously, and one that rarely doubted him.

It was an uneasy feeling. One he would never quite get used to.

“His ambitions are not unknown. How people without power seek it.”

“Is that not why there are whispers of what you have done?” You questioned and his hands turned to fists quickly. “Small folk talk, Aemond. Power is power but when you misuse it, the omen may come true.”

The omen hovered like the storm above. The God’s were battling in the realm in the sky; giants of proportions unfathomable in their richness of blood. They scorched and rattled in the sky as cracks of thunder rumbled throughout the Keep.

“Yet I speak nothing of it,” he eyed you solemnly. “You talk of rumors and fallacies as if they hold truth. Perhaps it is I who should ask where your loyalties preside? Does war scare you?”

Aemond approached you with long strides. His hands lingered at his sides but never held onto his hilt, threatening you with violence or harm for your disagreements.

He could see you did not fear war. Your father would have called on your return if the prospect of war scared a house with the name of your own. A prominent family in the Vale—to the Greens you were a key.

And he could play you a fiddle if you let him.

“No,” you replied, keeping your head tall. “I live in a gilded tower.”

“That has been infiltrated before. It has seen death before.”

“They do not seek me,” your eyes ran along his face as the sky illuminated his sharp features. “But you know that.”

Aemond hummed and in a moment of faulted want, his right hand reached to brush your own. The electricity of shock pulsing through your veins as though it was as important as blood itself.

You swallowed the nervousness that built in your throat at his actions. He was so sure of himself, so different from the man you had known before.

He took his sins and bathed in them. Aemond let the water dry in confidence of himself as Prince Regent. If he was going to rule in his brother’s stead, he needed the reverie of power to seep inside of him.

“Men will seek anything if they are given the chance.”

You traced the direction of his eyes to your hand, how he ghostly itched to touch you again.

“And what is it that you seek?” You questioned quietly. “Is being a ruler not enough?”

In the lull, your ears filled themselves with the sound of your heartbeat. Pumping and beating to the thrills of anticipation you sought in the sordid walls of an ugly Keep. To please a King, well… It was a dangerous thing.

Aemond’s hand touched yours loosely again. His fingers gently grazed yours with a profound intent that was something he sought.

“No,” he admitted. “It is not.”

His hand bypassed yours and rested lowly on your hip. The touch stilled you. In the darkness of the hall, the world stopped moving and your vision tunneled. His hand moved higher to rest upon the crux of your hip and stomach, thumb caressing the fabric of your dress. He stepped closer.

Without thinking, you took a step back out of the chills that erupted on your skin, not out of want. He took the space you created and closed it again but followed you as you moved backwards and backwards until your back hit one of the marble columns you had hid behind not twenty minutes earlier.

One of your hands caught yourself on the column and the other wove itself around a post. The wings of the throne room were elevated for spectators that were nonexistent now.

Aemond’s other hand mirrored the other and he held you there.

“If someone came looking for you,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side which allowed his eye to narrow. “What would you let them do to you?”

You furrowed your brows yet the feel of his hands burning through your dress allowed your mouth to run dry.

Nothing. You would let them do nothing to you. You would fight to the death to defend yourself but if it were Aemond, you would let him devour you.

“What about me, hm?” There was a faint smile on his lips. “What would you let me, your Prince Regent, do to you while the Gods watched over us?”

His hands slithered up your torso, drawing a staggered breath from you as he cupped your breasts over your dress and groped hard to feel the flesh. Aemond saw your chest stutter under his touch.

“Tell me,” he whispered, pulling his head in close to yours. His lips became a mere centimeter from yours; breath lingering in the space between you heavy and taught.

“I-I-I,” your nerves got the better of you. Stumbling over your words like a dolt, his hands moved back down and began to gather your dress in his hands. 

“Poised to stick pins where the plans now lie but a stuttering fool now.” 

“I am not a fool,” you huffed as the cool night air began to make itself known against your ankles, then your shins. “I know what I want.” 

Aemond leaned in, knocking his nose gently with yours. 

“Tell me,” he repeated. 

“I want you to touch me,” you instructed him. “I want to feel the mouth of a King on my lips and under the Gods I do sin, but I wish to feel his lips elsewhere.” 

“Oh?” Aemond hummed as his hands continued their path. “I may not hold the title of King-” 

“You are a King, Aemond,” you said assertively and his hands stopped. 

“You rule in the place of Aegon’s incapacity and by all law and rules, you are the one to carry the heavy sword. You speak the actions and see them true.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed at the reality. 

Aemond’s power lingered. It lingered in this great hall but it was a shell. The Aemond he felt in his bones was still as scared as the one who killed Lucerys. 

“I wish to feel your lips elsewhere,” you whispered, breath fanning his face. He tilted his head upwards and for a split second, his lips touched yours. 

Intoxicating; you would have fallen to your knees had you not already wished to see him on his. 

“I want to see a King on his knees.”

Aemond could only smirk. He planted a quick, brief kiss on your lips before bunching up the skirt of your dress as he knelt down to the floor. A beckoning, ethereal call from above led him to his knees to worship. With his hands collecting the material of your dress, Aemond’s hands met yours and opened them the best he could for you to grab onto it. He used the leverage of your assistance to bring down your stockings, clear the way of his alter as the thunder roared from above.

You let your head fall back against the pillar as his hands roamed your thighs, inching higher and higher but still skimming past the now unguarded temple.

You could not help but look at the exits in view as though someone would walk through them at this hour.

This late hour when all of the good, pious Lord and Ladies, Prince and Princesses, laid in their beds asleep—sans the King he would never fault himself for burning.

“Aemond,” you spoke with a voice that shook. “What if someone were to see us?”

He stopped his hands, gazing up at you from the ground on which he knelt.

“Let them see then,” he kissed the front of your thighs. “If they see, then I will marry you.”

Fuck. It made your heart leap in your chest. A frog in your throat, the honesty in his eye was enough for your anxieties to settle but your excitement to grow.

He would marry you. What a world you wished you lived in.

If all were true, it would have happened the first time he touched you. 

“Drop your dress,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, you dropped the skirt of your dress and he vanished before your eyes.

But you could feel him.

You could feel the breath of his body releasing itself just beyond where you ached for him the most. His grip on your thighs was bruising. Aemond used his position to prop one of your legs on his shoulder, sending you off balance and into the bannister behind you.

But then his hot breath met where you wanted him and the feeling melted you from the inside. Aemond peppered kisses on your mound, waiting until the perfect moment to lick a stripe through your folds and with it, you folded yourself. 

Daydreams of his hands on yours was not enough. The feel of your hand in the solitude of night where the sins of pleasure were trapped behind heavy doors could not compare. Aemond attached himself to your flesh and sucked, hard, before lapping again in a more gentle fashion. He repeated it again and again until the wetness began to gather more audibly. 

There was no stopping the breathless pants escaping your lips. 

You gripped hard on the marbled post. If you were the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms, you could have crushed it beneath your fingertips. Aemond’s tongue laded the wetness and gathered it in a lewd slurping noise to your clit only to run his tongue over it in brisk movements. 

“Aemond-” you swallowed your moan. Knees threatening to buckle, you wanted to grip onto him. Your hands sought his shoulders, his head or hair, and a soft bed. 

The Iron Throne was taunting you in the background. Power so divine, so close yet a million miles away. 

Aemond wouldn’t marry you, but in the moment, you would live sinfully until the Gods caught you in truth. 

He let out a low hum that made your senses tingle. He too was enjoying the pleasure he could bring, growing his own in his trousers that begged for its own mercy. Aemond could feel you palm at his head from the fabric that fell over his head—a delicacy; the rapture of someone he could love one day if he let himself. 

Your helpless want forced you to roll your hips against his face as though his tongue was not enough. Aemond gripped your hips tightly to guide you against his mouth. 

“Shit.” The words fell from your lips freely. 

“Aemond, I don’t think I will fare much longer,” you admitted to him and felt yourself burn from the inside. His accommodations to your wants, the fluidity of his tongue against you in need was sending you barreling toward the edge. 

Your mewls became whines that rivaled the thunder. 

In an instant, he removed his mouth from yours and appeared from under your skirts. Your clit throbbed as the blood began to rush downwards and a sickening wetness that was not your finish began to trickle down your leg. 

“Wha-” 

You could not speak before his lips met yours aggressively. You could taste yourself on his lips and for a second, you wanted to recoil at the thought but his hands cupped the back of your head softly and everything melted into you. 

You wished he would marry you. 

“I am not done,” he broke the kiss and admitted. “But I could not hold that in any longer.” 

His sentiment took you aback. Your eyes searched for a lie; begging for a fallacy to come true and reveal itself in the ugly colors of night but there was nothing. There was nothing but truth and in it, it broke your heart in the slightest. 

Aemond wanted to kiss you. He wanted to please you, pleasure you, hold you tightly as a husband would do but he wouldn’t marry you. 

He couldn’t marry you. 

But he would love you in the depths of darkness as his power soared for a brief moment in time and the hands of a fair lady, opposed by his mother, warmed his bed in the evening. May the throne be his witness, Aemond Targaryen was a sinner. 

He kissed you again before falling to his knees once more. 

As promised, he worked in quick licks to ignite the spark. It lit up the room brighter than the sky as the Gods boomed in discontent but they worked to drown out the sounds of your elation the closer you became. Aemond let you gather the dress back in your hands so you could see him as his tongue circled your clit and he pierced your cunt with two fingers sliding in the wetness easily. Your legs trembled. His other hand ran soft strokes along the muscle to sooth you but it was fruitless. 

His fingers curved inside of you, massaging your walls as they clenched around him and swore to the heavens for a release. 

“Fuck, Aemond.” 

He enjoyed hearing the words no Queen would dare mutter. It dared him to move faster, to move more heavy against your walls, against your lips as he continued to lap the juices that made the ghosts in the halls look away in a blush. 

It was building to a precipice inside of you. As though a volcano was erupting, you let out sounds he had never heard. You were not trying to be quiet. You were letting the castle hear your pleasure that would send you to a horrible fate. 

And you begged him to bring you to the end. His name lost its true meaning as it became lost in the night, falling from your lips breathlessly and your eyes shut tightly as the chills in your spin sent you spiraling. 

He was no God, but Aemond Targaryen gave what he had as a God should. 

“Darling,” he murmured from below. “Let them all see what a King can do.” 

And you did. 

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and thanks for letting me write this little self indulgent fic.

[myriadeyed]

“It’s obviously valid to be bugkin but you also can’t just expect people to get over it when they have a genuine fear!”

I’m afraid of dogs.

Dogs put me extremely on edge. I avoid them while outside and if one’s in a room with me I’ll try to leave or else start to panic. Especially medium-sized and larger breeds. Mere images of dogs may not give me a panic attack, I will admit that, it's not a phobia. But if you want to talk hypocrisy, if you're opening up that discussion:

Hey dog therians, dog otherhearted folks and clinical cynanthropes, what if everywhere you went, the unspoken attitude of the alterhuman community was—

Don’t post dog photos or talk about being a dog in the main alterhuman tags. Don’t talk about your shifts, your instincts, or your kind in the main tags. If you’re a CZ, don’t talk so openly about your biological reality. It’s extremely triggering for people with cynophobia. The idea of physically being or becoming a dog grosses them out to briefly think about, so try not to discuss your literal existence. If you must, at least trigger tag yourself with #tw dogs or #tw dog mention so people can stay safe by censoring things that will hurt their mental health. It’s okay if you’re dogkin but in my DNI I'm going to write something like, don’t follow me if your blog hosts too many graphic close-up images of dogs doing dog things, even if you censor them. Don’t add dog photos to open posts in the alterhuman tags, you have no idea who might be sent into a panic attack by images of yourself so you should play it safe and only put them on your own posts. And stop being so offended by people who comment on posts about pet dogs or dog facts saying they want to bleach their eyes or kill it with fire, they can’t help having a phobia.

Not great, is it? Fortunately, and I do genuinely mean that, this is a sentiment you will only see once, on this post, completely satirically. Except it’s just a real sentiment for bug therians/hearted and other invertebrate alterhumans. Of course what I said was satire. But if it pissed you off when you thought it might not be, please, contemplate on that reaction, really spend some time on it.

Also, if you're wondering what I mean by "other invertebrate alterhumans", (and I'm sorry for how heated I got when I was writing this part last night even after editing it down)

You know I’m a bug zoanthrope too, not just a bird? And see above if you're wondering why I never said shit about it, just said I was a centipede therian and even then said I was just questioning and didn't really talk much about it. Am I allowed to talk about it without tagging it #tw body horror, even though I obviously don’t fucking find my own body to be horror? Can I talk about it without tagging it #tw bugs like just the very thing that I am needs to be censored for people's well-being? I'm sorry if I come across judgmental. Offline I constantly interact with people saying they’re a nature lover but centipedes are the only thing on Earth that they still hate. And I have to come online knowing that any of those people could be bloggers in the alterhuman tags and it’s my responsibility to tiptoe around them. “Because centipedes are scary and disgusting.” Because I’m scary and disgusting. My brain is not capable of hearing a difference and I can’t change that. It is so much my reality that it's the same emotional mix of anger and anxiety and hurt that would be (has been, lol) triggered by someone ranting about how much they hate Jews or trans people to me.

[bizarre-blues]

Curious about your shoumob thoughts 👀👀

Apologies for the essay I am about to write you. Genuinely it's a self indulgent ship for me- I don't particularly see it ever happening in canon, but the potential for their dynamic is so severely underexplored that it drives me insane- not even romantically, just in general. I honestly get why at a glance it doesn't seem like there'd be much between them, but this is fanon and I'm allowed to pour my heart and thoughts into my favorite characters. Lemme break it up into two sections. Platonic Shoumob (something I could see as more canon based):

Even being platonic, I do think this dynamic would only show up post canon. Like there's a long period of time where they're vaguely in each other's circles but don't directly interact. On Mob's end, I think this is purely because he's got his own life and own concerns. Sure, his younger brother's friend hangs around sometimes, but it's not his business to meddle around in Ritsu's business. This is really well stated in August's post. But to add on a bit:

Mob is a good big brother + trusts Ritsu

I don't see Mob holding a grudge against Shou for the house being burnt down. Did Shou aim to stir Mob's emotions a bit? Yeah, it wasn't right. It was ALSO to protect Mob's family since Shou knew Claw was sending folks after them. With the bodies of the remaining Kageyama family burnt, Claw would not longer be after the Kageyamas. I think after fully understanding this, even if there are bitter feelings Mob would let em fade over time

What about the seventh claw division? Saying he's disappointed in Mob? Beating up Ritsu to lure Mob in so they can both be captured? First off Shou's insult pretty easily rolls off of Mob's back. Secondly, I think it would be very interesting to explore the dynamic of Mob discovering Shou's part in the seventh division. Again, I don't think this would really come up for a long time, long enough that Mob wouldn't really be a bitter mess about it.

If Mob can find in his heart of hearts that Toichiro is someone worth saving, I really struggle to think he dislikes Shou in anyway.

On the other hand you have Shou. I already talked about how I think Shou would feel a bit in the tags of August's post above. Also, I really like to keep this post in mind too when thinking of Shou's view of Mob.

Shou entirely wrote Mob off in their initial interaction. He saw he had power and was unwilling to use it- therefore was taking the side of a bystander. He saw that as genuinely a crime to waste such protentional. Shou was raised by Toichiro, and even without agreeing with how Toichiro used his power, Shou does agree that power is power and must be used in some way. For him, he needs to use it for justice. That's why, in my mind, Shou was so quick to like Ritsu. Ritsu wasn't afraid to use his powers for what was needed to be done to protect people, even if it was an uphill battle he couldn't win.

Cut to their second interaction. Shou's fighting his dad, Shou's losing the fight- it's barely even a fight with how bad he's losing. In waltzes Mob who's entirely different from the last time they interacted. He's prepared to fight, to protect everyone else since he's the only one capable of doing so. Hell, he even told everyone else to stay away since they'll only hinder what he has to do. Suddenly Mob is aligning with the moral code Shou WANTED to see in him to begin with.

That entire interaction is so short, but it's genuinely so important to me. Mob stands up for Shou, he gets angry on his behalf. Who knows the last time someone did that for Shou, and it's someone Shou had entirely written off.

Last time they interact is the confession arc. Shou sees the power Mob is capable of, how his dad is no match for him when he's like this without it being fatal. It even convinces Shou to lay off using his powers (though idk how closely he sticks to that post canon)

Basically you have this development of complete dismissal > admiration for his moral code? > a warning sign to how dangerous psychic powers can be. Which is insane given that Shou's SEEN how dangerous they can be his entire childhood

I feel like it leaves us in post canon with a LOT of potential for how they might see each other or interact. Here's some of the thoughts that have been plaguing my mind.

I really feel like Shou would have this torn admiration / uncertainty about Mob. Mob is powerful, more powerful than his dad, and I don't feel like Shou fully knows Mob's strict moral code yet. I think that subconsciously he might be a lil cautious around him to begin with even if he doesn't outwardly acknowledge that in anyway

They get to know each other and now there's potential to actually chat about some of this stuff. One thing in particular I like to think about is the power level they both have. Idk the exact power scaling of all the Mob Psycho espers, but I'm under the impression that Shou is pretty up there and will likely only get more powerful with age. Shou and Mob, having this kinda power, have taken such opposite views to it growing up. Mob believing it can never be used while Shou thinking it MUST be used. This is what's inspired the comic I'm currently working on that I'm SO excited to finish up

Also??? this might be ooc but the potential jealousy Shou might have of how easily Mob and Ritsu appear to get along once it's all said and done. Meanwhile his family dynamic is... complex. Shou obviously cares about his dad, but Toichiro will probably not see life outside of prison and I'm certain there's just some oddness between them. Between Toichiro calling Shou a failure and using his powers to straight up fight him, I just feel like it would be complex for Shou. It could really lead to some interesting conflict, especially given Shou and Ritsu being besties

IDK !!! OTHER STUFF TOO!!! Between em I just see a lot that could be said between the two of em.

I feel like when I first joined the fandom I didn't really see much between Shou and Mob. Of the four main esper boys, obvious it's easy to see how much dynamic there is between Mob and Ritsu (the entire show hinders on the trauma they share) and between Teru and Mob. There's also plenty of interactions between Teru and Ritsu. Same to say with Shou and Ritsu since the majority of Shou's interactions are Ritsu centered. But honestly post canon I really do feel like Shou and Mob's dynamic ought to be explored a lot more, even if I must do it myself.

Romantic Shoumob (way more fanon based but hey what can ya do, we have fun out here):

As a disclaimer, I honestly prefer platonic shoumob. HOWEVER I absolutely think romantic shoumob is adorable so I will happily ramble about it. Take most of what I've said above and apply it down here.

In my mind I think it would be Shou who ends up with a crush on Mob. Mostly cause of the amount of emotions Shou has towards Mob post canon, I feel like it could easily develop into a real curiosity towards Mob. Thinks about him a lot and oops, now it's a crush

Also hilarious to me cause I don't think Shou would know how to handle a crush no matter who it was. The classic "writes you a letter that says 'get out of my school' in attempt to flirt" dynamic

Except I really don't think that would work on Mob?? Mob isn't dumb but I really just. Don't think he'd get the hint that Shou likes him. Just knows for Some Reason Shou acts a certain way around him. He'd probably assume he did something to offend or upset Shou somehow tbh

Cue Mob attempting to do things to make it up / even directly trying to ask Shou about it which would only lead to Shou getting flustered or trying, yet again, to keep playing it off

Whenever Mob DOES realize Shou likes him back I imagine he'd get equally as flustered in the beginning. Mostly cause we know Mob is such a lover who is super easily flustered in most scenarios. Very much just! Cute to me

Outside of just the puppy love phase I really do think there's potential for such sweet or dramatic interactions. Again there's all the complex parts of the platonic parts of their relationship, but something significant would be the way that both Mob and Toichiro have this insane amount of power and yet opposite approaches to it.

I think Shou would find a lot of comfort in seeing how gentle Mob could be. I'm also a HUGE softy for the idea of like- we KNOW Shou isn't super soft. He wasn't raised that way, it's not his ideals, there's not many situations where I think he'd feel comfortable having his guard down, even post canon. But I like the idea that Shou lets himself be soft when it's just him and Mob.

No pressure to be anything he isn't, no need to be snarky or guarded, he KNOWS Mob ain't gonna judge him, hell Shou is probably the safest he ever could be by hanging out with Mob. It's all so SICKENINGLY sweet to me.

On Mob's end, I can see him enjoying having someone who understands him in some ways yet has such a different approach to life? Mob craves human connection throughout the entire series, and by the end he has plenty of it, but to have someone who he can have deeper convos about psychic powers in particular with I think would be a huge relief. Obviously there's other folks in his life, but Shou's just from a unique background.

Even more, Shou is blunt and upfront about everything. Communication would come so naturally to them. As someone with autism, nothing is a bigger relief to me than a person who just says what they're thinking straight up.

I can really see a fun balance between them as one person who's calm and kind vs someone who's energetic and chaotic. I feel like there'd be a constant push and pull between Mob's side of simple and sickeningly sweetness and Shou's side of outrageous acts and mayhem.

Hope this all makes sense. Sorry for any typos, I didn't proof read anything. Thank you sm for the ask!

[sordidmusings]

Just a life update and opening!

Brought up because of an ask wondering if I still do stuff here so I figured I'd put out some of whats goin on if anyone is interested! Also throwing it into the void of the internet feels less guilt inducing than forcing it on specific people especially after how overwhelmed folks tend to be cuz I'm bad at metering it out and not just being like 'light jokes about struggle that don't scratch the surface or say anything meaningful' and 'here is all the dark lore' 💀 It's also been a struggle because there really does sometimes feel like theres a whole ass language barrier within your own language when you're AuDHD.

I do still do headcanons and write and draw and yada yada there’s just been quite a bit happening and I’m doing poorly at keeping up with life maintenance let alone things I enjoy 🥴 with writing especially in my hobbies I find myself discouraged in what feels like poor quality of my writing and seeing that reflected back to me because I am Weak 💀 general overview of some of the bigger problems below the cut if you’re interested but I won’t bother y’all with the whole picture! Will be more a summary/overview/alluding to things over getting into gory details. Basically a lot will be covered but I won’t force anything below the broad strokes on y'all.

The end is an ask for people to please reach out if they are struggling so please take that seriously. I offer a space with me but please find wherever in this world you are at least somewhat comfortable and have someone be there with you while you process 🤍 I will have a header above that little piece just incase you'd like to skip to only reading that which is completely fine!

CW for mental health talks, allusions to family issues, references to rape and abuse, death by suicide, and suicidal ideation.

What's Up, Doc?

Between hospitalizations (old and new issues and unfortunate near misses 🤡), my couple jobs (the days my body ain’t tryin to give up and even some days it still is means back to the grindstone. Thank you capitalistic overlords 💀), money stresses (medical debt plus just like y'all know shit ain’t the best for most everyone rn), the spring struggle (nightmares + flashbacks get worse from seasonal + anniversaries of men not caring for consent amongst other things lmaoooo), the mental health slew (diagnosed with AuDHD and most of the big hitters besides a personality disorder), and a few other life happenings and old traumas I’m doing a terrible job at everything 🤡 most of it ain’t new so I know all the proper things to do to help for everything from years of therapy and managing the symptoms and all that but dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s hasn’t been offering any relief for a long while so I’m floundering and quite exhausted.

The health issues making everything difficult and painful ain’t helping but I’m also not being the best at taking care of some of them because Why Bother 💀 Many are issues I’ve had for years that ebb and flow in severity and I’m just tired of feeling them and having to manage them. I’m sure any of you with chronic issues understand the feeling well. Those with years and years of major depressive disorder probably also understand the frustration and exhaustion and guilt with knowing you should enjoy something, you WANT to enjoy it, but your body just can’t produce the reaction it should.

I tend to isolate because I’m managing it poorly enough that the topic tends to crop up with the closer few if they ask and that goes Badly cuz, even if they think they won’t, people get uncomfy with the topics which just makes me feel Worse from guilt and sometimes frustration from it being passed over for their comfort or lack of understanding. I am lucky enough to have more recently found one person who Gets It and a beloved soul from lovely old Jersey came back into my life so the bigger problem in that situation is me allowing myself to consistently receive support from them 🤡 One’s so sweet always telling me I can call any time and the other is of the same vein and my dumbass brain keeps being like “but that would bother them” or the usual “you deserve to get worse not get help” 🤡🤡🤡. Clown ass behavior.

Also some bad coping mechanisms make my typing and communication sloppy as hell and I’m quite ashamed of that so best hide that away while it’s going on 💀 due to insistence that it’s Fine I have forgone that instinct to what feels like very Poor Result 🥴 ah the eternal struggle between needing to be Seen to fight the sense of isolation and worthlessness but also being petrified of being perceived while imperfect. Not having any of the connections really be in person doesn’t help too much with feelings isolation because I don't really have anyone around me besides parents that have literally said "why are you making us deal with this" about the intentional near death miss 💀💀💀 my immediate world feels very much like it wants me gone in explicit and subtle ways but c'est la vie. Beggars can’t be choosers so at this point I’m likely just being ungrateful 🤡

One thing making it harder to keep trying is my folks’ years of insistence that I don’t understand my own experience and I’m just dramatic and make things up. It’s an echo of many painful experiences including a whole group intentionally playing games with my sense of reality to enable their friend’s abuse (they got unconsensual nudes from him out of it so that’s worth the price of treating someone like that right?). Such is life.

One of the new things I’m uncertain how to approach handling properly is the grief and such shifting back to the forefront from the first anniversary of my childhood brother figure being taken from us by his bipolar depression. I have known people taken by suicide before but not this close to home. My childhood wasn’t the happiest but he and his family were a bright place in it. His little sister was my best friend in the whole world through my childhood and their family treated me more like family than my own. He was the best mix of a good and bad influence in an older brother figure I could’ve wished for. He fought long and hard but exhaustion hits us all, sometimes even with proper help. What eternally pains me is knowing how helpless and scared he must have felt and even worse how absolutely alone he felt. That was his last feeling in this life. I can only hope that more than anything, whatever happens next is giving him relief, peace, and rest.

Talk on reaching out below!

On that note, if any of you experience suicidality too, my messages (or ask if you’re more comfy on anon) are always open. This is an issue that’s been in my life in many forms since I was 12, so I will not shy away from you or your thoughts. Even if shared with something uncomfortable or "ugly", I find the discomfort of sitting with someone’s pain negligible in comparison to being the one in pain so why not prioritize that person in their need? It’s also negligible under the importance of truly holding space to process those hurts and stresses instead of just simple little niceties.

I am not the best at being active but if I see any of these messages especially we will truly talk. I know how insanely isolating and disappointing it can feel when someone offers support to be nice and then shoves to the next topic or barely responds because it makes them uncomfortable. It is a bitter pill we must often swallow to forgive those who think they will help for making things worse because they have bit off more than they can chew. It is also a bitter feeling that that reaffirms to us that by our very nature, we are too much to handle and are too much to deal with for sharing our internal space and circumstance. But at the same time, all of us are simply human so who am I to malign someone for making mistakes or being imperfect? So long as someone truly wants to try, there is all the reason in the world to give them grace.

Qualifications kind of???

The one good thing that has come from a lot of the experiences that I’ve gone through is that it has forced perspective on me and forced me to learn skills in holding space, validating, and connecting to others in immense pain. No one is perfect in this skill (even therapists struggle - the number who have said they don’t know where to start untangling the traumas or who have cried at it and in turn needed comfort 💀 a strange experience I know my darling at least gets too lol) but I have found in both giving and receiving that honesty and openness is W A Y more important than being perfect.

This is something I’ve watched more people struggle with than not as life circumstances has not made it so that they must learn the skill at the same time that there are resources to learn it, so I may make more posts with advice for it than the bit I go through here. I’m not a licensed therapist so this isn’t going to be a clinical breakdown of how to be someone’s therapist but I would consider my experience as a confidant, consistent reading up on psychological and related sociological research, and experience going through various forms of therapy worthy of giving solid advice. Unfortunately, co-morbidities and resistant brain chemistry really make using the skills on myself Difficult 💀 but as brief examples of experience for validity speaking on this, I’ve been to a lot of group therapy where licensed therapists literally coach you on this, guided a safe space/group for SA survivors in college, coached friends who couldn’t afford therapy through suicidality or abusive situations, and coached survivors through feelings and decisions when deciding whether or not to charge or going through the process of charging their abuser. All of which is much easier to be effective to people you know irl but the support online can be nothing to snub your nose at either. None of this is to say I'm perfect or exceptional - neither is true - just that I’ve had circumstances and experiences that afford me a bit of extra knowledge in this.

In the vast majority of cases, someone who is struggling and coming to you for help wants you to be there - your thoughts, your feelings, your perspective. They don’t want someone sitting uncomfortably and saying the occasional “sorry” they want engagement because more than anything they don’t want to be alone. In a basic example, if you find yourself freezing when someone comes to you with something you don’t know how to handle, instead of saying nothing or only short cliches due to fear of making a mistake, be honest about that. “I’m not sure what to say right now to be honest because that’s so much to deal with. I can’t imagine having to live with that all the time. Is there anything in it frustrating you the most or that you’re having the most difficulty tackling?”. This is active listening and engagement. You are being honest with where you are at so they aren’t guessing what you’re thinking, you are showing that you see how overwhelming the situation is, especially for the person who has to live with it. If you can’t handle a conversation where these issues exist, how do you think it feels to live with them day in and day out, sometimes for years or the majority of a life?

Asking questions is SUPER important too. Trust the other person to only share what they are comfortable with and don’t assume all questions are bad. Asking questions is one of the truest and simplest ways to show you care because why would you want to know more if you don’t give a shit? Asking questions is also very helpful and one of the reasons talking to others about your issues is important - it gives the person struggling something to react to and give perspective. It helps them process the issue in ways they won’t be able to do by themselves. This may make the process sound slightly manufactured but I promise it’s not, especially as it becomes second nature to know what thing to use when. Communication is a skill so advice around it will inherently make it sound more clinical than the actual process is.

People are also not a monolith so while this type of being there works for the vast majority some people may not like it. That is also where communication comes in - check in with the person on if this is helping and what isn't helpful. Make sure to adjust when you make a mistake.

Conclusion

I’m happy to hold space for other issues as well. I’m no replacement for a therapist but I’ve been a helpful supplement to many people I knew struggling throughout the years so I’m at least okay at that! Since I’m doing pretty bad functionally right now the help won’t be as consistent as I wish but I will give whatever is in my power just like these things deserve. I hope to get better soon so that I can properly offer a stronger foundation of support outward again 🤍

[ezziefae]

This was in my drafts and i forgot to post this during the entire submarine fiasco. enjoy my crazy talk about TFOTA and the sea!! (8/15/23)

all this stuff about the titanic has made me educated on water pressure and implosions. It makes me shocked on how Jude Duarte survived the Undersea physically and emotionally. Were it me, i would’ve had a full on panic attack and died on the spot.

Human bodies physically cannot survive the bottom of the sea, the water pressure is too strong that it can crush a body in miliseconds. This makes me believe that the Undersea palace Jude was kept in isn’t as deep as we thought.

In the wicked king, when Jude gets kidnapped she first describes the intensity of the pressure she feels on her chest.

“At first, I panic. I have water in my lungs and a terrible pressure on my chest.” (TWK, Chap 22, pg 221)

-

“I am not sure how long I float like that, how many times I panic and pull against the chains, how many times the weight of the water over me feels oppressive and I choke on it.” (TWK, Chap 22, page 225)

-

“The merfolk lead me into a banquet room without a ceiling, so that when I look up, I see schools of fish and even a shark above me, and above that, the glimmering light of what must be the surface”

“I guess it’s daytime” (TWK, Chap 22, page 226)

^^^

BINGO

I believe I remember Jude stating somewhere in the folk of the air series how Orlagh has one of many palaces and throne’s scattered around the bottom of the sea. Jude survived because she wasn’t at deeeeep bottom of the undersea.

-

Another thing I’d like to mention is how freaking scary the sea is. We humans have explored the galaxy more than we have our own earth, the sea. A lot of the sea has not been discovered yet. Only 5% has been explored, meaning the 95% of the sea is unknown. CRAZY.

-

Here are some other quotes from TFOTA series in Cardans POV about the sea!!

“He wanted to speak, but when he opened his mouth, water flowed in, shocking his lungs. The magic allowed him to breath, bus his chest felt heavy”

“And even though her enchantment protected him, he could still feel the oppressive cold and the stinging of salt in his eyes. Salt that curbed his own magic. And darkness, all around. It didn’t feel like the expansive of splashing through a pond. It felt like being trapped in a small room.

“He thought to warn her[Nicasia], but when he opened his mouth, he found that speech was impossible. Cardan fought down his panic. His thoughts scattered.”

“The weight of the sea seemed to press down on him. He no longer had a sense of up or down. One was always suspended, fighting against the current or giving in to it.“

“Then he spotted a glow, distant but sure. The sun. Cardan grabbed hold of Nicasia’s hand and made for it, kicking his way to the surface, gasping for air he didn’t need” (HTKOELTHS, pg 67)

-

The sea is a scary place, not for the weak!! Jude is strong for surviving it.

[dawnlotus-draws]

Hello! I’m working on a Quest for Madoka on Sufficient Velocity(if u don’t know what that is, it’s a role play where the readers can interact and basically choose your own adventure with the player character). It takes place during MagiReco, and I’d love to be able to get original Witches to use for enemies in the quest. So, I decided to ask tumblr folks. If you’re comfortable with it, would it be possible for me to use your oc? If not, it’s totally okay! I know it’s a bizarre ask.

Hello! :D First of all sure! What OC of mine are you thinking of? Cuz I haven’t posted about them a ton and I actually have a LOT of Madoka Magica OCs. If you want I can get some of the other original witches I have made. Personally I’m honored to be asked XD I will throw my little guys at everything. I’d love to be linked to whatever you end up making, so please let me know when it’s up!

I’m honestly sorry for infodumping below, but I can’t help anytime I get to talk about my magical girls XD so ignore this if the above permission was all you needed LOL.

———— info on lots of characters below——-

In terms of OCs I’ve got

Dionaea (has a witch design)

Khaori (has a witch design)

Asami (has a witch design)

Mitsu (no witch)

Jundo (no witch)

Haru (no witch)

Bluebell (has a witch design)

To find information on Dionaea, Khaori, and Asami check out my art fight account I’ve got Bios on them there. You need an artfight account to view any page on art fight I think? Anyway here’s what to type if the links are not working. https://artfight.net/~Dawnlotus The rest of the stuff I’ll try to cover very lightly lol.

Khaori’s witch looks like this. Its nature is evasive. The witch resembles an eel skeleton that hides in her labyrinth, her familiars are other sea creatures such as crabs and goldfish with human legs. They collect possessions of emotional importance from in and out side of the labyrinth and bring them back to decorate the hermit shell the main witch hides in. The main witch’s mouth looks like a stump of a severed limb pouring out a dark red photo developing acid. The angler fish bulb suspended over its head flash bangs any suspected danger, allowing the witch to get away, and prints a photo thru the mouth side of the two holes on either side of its head. One side has a mouth with teeth around a eye shaped hole, the other side with eyelashes you can see thru to the brain floating in the acid. Sorry these are just uncolored sketches! These are the only ones I’m happy with LOL.

Asami’s witch looks like this. Its nature is to endure. Fueled by a firey rage it uses its massive arms to climb around its labyrinth, which looks like a toy town where all the buildings are seashells and a couple skyscrapers here and there. The skyscrapers have large pegs or weapons plunged into them that the witch herself climbs on. The sky is a blanket of clouds with silver lining and droplets of gold and silver and glass are suspended on chains like rain. The witch herself has an aggressive nature despite her small size, and can stretch like an accordion. The roots coming from the body can also reach and attack/climb like tendrils. Its familiars are toy mice with different flowers instead of eyes and wheat for fur. These familiars search for a way out of the labyrinth but can never find one, only leading around their witch to taller and taller skyscrapers. I apologize that these are also uncolored.

An image of both Khaori and Asami.

In an effort to keep this post shorter, the more info you would find on their artfight bios I have attached in the Alt Text.

Oh boy I don’t want make this too long so here’s an image of Mitsu and Jundo but I won’t get into their stories n stuff. It’s complicated. All you need to know is that they’re in gay love <3 No witch concepts yet. Mitsu on the left, Jundo on the right.

Haru I’ve got very little on her that’s solid. She’s the youngest magi I have, contacted at 8/9 and currently 12, a veteran who’s every “party” she’s been a part of died. She has the ability to fly and scouts, but because she’s especially young others prioritize her safety, even when they are more at risk. No witch design yet.

Bluebell I made like forever ago for a contest, she is based on the legend of Bluebeard. Image ID for the photo in the Alt Text.

A very brief summary of her character is that she’s kind of a merge of Bluebeard and the 7th wife in a twisted bad way. She’s like a Kira deathnote type, who kills people she believes to be evil. Her wish was to know her boyfriends deepest secret, and upon learning he was a serial killer she killed him and starts using her power to kill other criminals, becoming the serial killer. Her morals quickly deteriorate and she becomes extremely judgmental, looking into people heads and taking their intrusive thoughts or any secrets they have and deciding if they should be punished or not. Because she spent her time enacting her “judgment”, detrimental to her magic and her mental health, she witchifies. Her witch is a gargoyle, a guard of nasty secrets. Some of its familiars are gossipers (similar to the uwasa spreaders in magireco) who follow rumors and upon finding someone with a nasty secret brings the other familiars, knights that bring anyone from inside or outside the labyrinth to the witch for their judgement. If they are judged unworthy by the gaze of the gargoyle they are impaled on the layers of fences and gates that guard the witch to set an “example”. I have no image of Bluebell as a magical girl that I am solid on soooo. Yeah. Just have the witch.. made yrs ago and also needs an update..

Dionaea I already have a post on. Read here :D She also has all images I have of her currently on Artfight, but here is her updated magical girl design.

I don’t have a ton of info on her witch, but it’s familiars are like Mario style piranha plants and Venus fly traps with actual teeth l, fangs and molars, whose mouths are shut by belts, general dangerous plants you would find in a jungle, corpse flowers and pitcher plants, as well as monstress flies of varying sizes and mutation. The labyrinth is like a overgrown greenhouse with massive jungle plants.

—————————-

Feel free to ask more questions, or if you would like any character elaborated on. Etc etc im foaming at the mouth. I didn’t know if you wanted info on just witches or also magical girls? So I uhh included both. And I would love to see what project you are working on, anything pmmm or magireco I’m always looking for more cool fan content. Have a nice day. I hope this was a suitable answer.

[idadragonheart]

So today I saw this vid from Hank about the option of transplanting your own hair on different parts of your body; Hank talked about making a hair bracelet or collar or a peace sign, or just a rat tail that actually grows

And first I thought "well you call it a rat tail, I call it a werewolf mane"

When I sent it to a friend she said that she would totally get a werewolf mane, and I joked that with her extremely long and gorgeous hair she better watch out she doesn't become a horse girl

Which gave me an association to horse tails, and I said "hey, I bet some folks would think of transplanting a patch of hair just above their buttocks, like a tail"

And to that she replied, "yeah but that seems quite flimsy, just a floppy bunch of hair"

And then my brain went, "well what if they just had a wire inserted in one of their lower vertebrae, maybe the os sacrum, and use it as a frame for a better shape. The lower hair could then be fixed with different techniques, from braiding to temporary adhesives or thread wrapping or netting. And later, prosthetics would be invented, with some higher end ones even being connected to nerves so that the wearer would be able to move their tail at will. Cyberpunk, here we come! But those who would still transplant their own hair to affix to the wire or the prosthetic would be regarded as 'natural', and one of the greatest shows of trust and intimity from such an individual would be to allow another person to see them with their 'tail' without the artificial backbone, all vulnerable, like when you see someone without makeup or a pushup bra or shaping clothes, but much, much more intense"

I am still waiting for her to read the messages.

[navree]

Hey I saw your post of rhaenys and the dornish letter that her body was returned to aegon and all that stuff but wouldn't that be traumatizing like it s defo bones not even flesh or normal face just abroken skull body not even like full one every piece of her bones.... wouldn't that make aegon more enraged like how you imagine his first reaction while holding her remains ??

Oh, sorry if it wasn't clear but I'm of the opinion that Rhaenys was either returned to Dragonstone still living or having only recently died. So, the sequence of events as I see them is:

1) Rhaenys and Meraxes are shot down but, as seen with Baela and Aegon II, you can survive your dragon falling from the sky so she lived

2) She was then taken into the custody of the Ullers as she was shot down over Hellholt, their keep (whether there was torture or just imprisonment is a complete unknown so I flipflop as is narratively convenient)

3) At some point the Martells, a more egalitarian society in Westeros who at the very least respected the Targaryens as warriors in their own rights and Rhaenys as a warrior in her own right as well, found out that Rhaenys was still alive and captive and were Not Pleased

4) As the Ullers' liege lords, they pulled rank and then took custody of Rhaenys from them and likely attempted to give her better care than she was getting at Hellholt

5) Rhaenys likely wouldn't have survived that fall without serious injuries, and if there was torture involved, the situation would have been even worse, and at some point around the war's stalemate it became clear she wasn't going to live for very long

6) Nymor, as the Prince of Dorne, decides that, while offering peace, he'll make a gesture of good will to Aegon as well to keep Dorne safe from Targaryen wrath for at least his and Deria's reigns

7) Nymor writes a letter to Aegon in which he says that the Martells found Rhaenys at Hellholt and, being decent folks, they're going to be sending her on a ship to Dragonstone so she can at least spend her final days in the place where she was born, or at minimum, can have a funeral there with the family who loved her

8) Deria gives this letter to Aegon, which explains his emotional reaction, his desire to keep things under wraps until he could verify the thing, and his immediate flight to Dragonstone, essentially stalling all peace talks until he returned the next morning, and his immediate agreement to Nymor's terms, as well as his subsequent good relations with the Martells for the rest of his reign - he went to verify the Martells' claim and found it both true and cathartic

9) As mentioned above, Aegon goes to Dragonstone, and considering that a journey both by land to King's Landing and by ship to Dragonstone would take a while but still be of the same length to each other, likely did find Rhaenys either alive on the brink of death or her recently deceased body, had her cremated according to Targaryen tradition, and then went back home

10) Also as mentioned above, Aegon is both sick of the war for various reasons I've outlined in other responses, and grateful that the Martells at least tried to take care of Rhaenys while they had her, kept her in relative comfort in her last days, and allowed him the opportunity for some closure, so agreed to the peace, and because of how they acted when it came to this, was willing to be amicable and even visit Sunspear himself later in his reign.

So, it's not that the Martells were returning to him a couple hunks of shattered bone in my view, they either were giving him a proper and not decomposed corpse that he could honor in accordance to Targaryen funerary customs and other ways that might be important to him, or it was actually Rhaenys herself, allowing him an opportunity to say goodbye and tell her loved her and at least get, as I said, closure, certainly more closure than he got from hearing about her getting shot out of the fuckin sky thousands upon thousands of miles away. As for whether it'd be traumatizing, I don't think so necessarily. For one, Aegon's fought in battle, he's seen dead people, so that's not the issue. For two, even if it's Rhaenys specifically, probably not. Aegon ended the war in 13 AC and Rhaenys died in 10 AC, and for that entire time up until the second he read Nymor's letter, he has very much presumed Rhaenys dead. He has likely gone through the cycle of grief as best as he can, he likely came to some kind of terms with himself over the fact that she was dead, that he loved her dearly and will always love her dearly, but she's gone now and he'll only ever see her again in dragon heaven or whatever. So it was far enough away that it wasn't as incredibly raw as it had been when he was burning the entire countryside over it, but not so far removed that it was ripping open a completely healed wound (not least because that likely never fully healed for him). I'd imagine that his reaction that wasn't enraged, it was relieved, that he was getting this briefest of second chances with Rhaenys before she died for good. We also know that, even if it was just the body, that she'd died en route, that probably still wouldn't have bothered him. The Dornish delegation did bring remains with them canonically, they brought Meraxes's skull as a more public token of goodwill and as a gesture of peace. And while others in his inner circle, like Orys and Visenya, publicly took that badly, Aegon very much didn't, he's not recorded as having had any issue and defended the Dornishmen's ability to be safe while in King's Landing. There's no reason to believe that a more intimate and far more important gesture of good will from the Martells specifically wouldn't have engendered a similar reaction.

As to your question on his reaction, I think he was just likely very sad. Aegon's a private person, and appears to have been reserved just as a trait, not someone who would be open with his emotions even in private, because he keeps things close to the vest (same buddy). So his reaction likely wouldn't have been overt, but moreso akin to quiet devastation. Tears, most definitely, but tears only in utter privacy, and some form of stoic blankness in public (Aegon's reaction to Nymor's letter is emotional for him, and that's just holding onto the barbed monstrosity of the Iron Throne so hard he was bleeding while reading it, this man has a master poker face in public settings). And then I think he went and spent a long time with Aenys, just the two of them.

[afro-elf]

fine, i’ll elaborate on my thoughts about tylor sift but they will be disorganized

disclaimer: i know a few people will read this and be like “op is a hozier fan can she really talk about the cultural obsession with mediocre white art?” and the answer is yes because a) i’m black and i have an english degree so can do whatever i fucking want, b) hozier is a better artist than taylor objectively, like his mediocre tracks would be considered her great ones, and c) the comparison of taylor to hozier is part of the problem Genuinely because i don’t even think white people like half the music they listen to, they just don’t wanna be left behind, we’ll get into this later. i’m sorry to everyone who is tired of hearing about him but hozier will be returning later in this post jsfglsjlgldsjlfd

second note: read this

i don’t just dislike taylor because she’s white. i don’t dislike taylor because she’s a woman. i don’t dislike her because she writes mean and petty lyrics about past relationships and people who wronged her. i don’t dislike taylor because her public circle of friends is almost exclusively blonde white celebrities with their own laundry lists of issues that includes ryan reynolds and blake lively who are poster children for white privilege and pseudo-excellence if i’ve ever seen them. i dislike taylor because the amalgamation of all of those things is so exemplary of a huge problem i have with the music industry in general but also like american society

fuck it, numbered list!

1. taylor swift consistently releases the same mediocre album but in different colors. every album is the same lyrically and tonally. her body of work rarely goes very far above “good for taylor swift”. folklore as both title and musical aesthetic is irrelevant to the actual content of the album, which is just every taylor swift album except set to folk pop and with a bit more cussing, congrats for baby’s first swear. i’ve seen folklore compared to much better bodies of work and even propped up by stans as album of the year, a distinction that rina sawayama and chloe x halle will be battling it out for if there is any justice in the world at all. the fact that she is allowed to do this and still be considered great when this is something that even white male artists are butchered critically for... astounds me. like we all know how well received all of coldplay’s similar sounding albums are.... Come on. 

2. i don’t think taylor or her work is particularly feminist and yet for some reason every time she frowns an army of white women brings her kleenex. i’m not saying taylor’s anger has always been unjustified, but her feminism to me has always felt like “i can do whatever a man can do” feminism, which is utterly fucking useless to me as a black woman. it’s only useful to her because as a wealthy, white, straight, cis white woman her ONLY obstacle in life is her gender. and if she just didn’t have that tricky little bitch then maybe people would take her seriously. like, just think about her music video for the man... what was the thesis of that? what was the point of that? with all of her privileges she’d just be gaining a single extra privilege. she’s a blonde blue eyed thin white girl, the world kisses her feet. i have no interest in proving myself any better or any worse than white men, they are not the standard for how a person should be treated, they’re cautionary tales, and white women are too. i think taylor capitalizes off of white woman victimhood, and it’s all over her writing style. even when she’s trying to be empowered, like in mad woman for example, there is this tone to it of victimization, poking the bear, unleashing the beast if you will. she invokes the imagery of salem witches and even more boldly chooses a noose to write about in the song which is..... surely going to be a white tumblr staple for many gifsets to come but holy shit is it hollow. she also tends to come back to teenage memories in her music and she’s thirty. i don’t think about being seventeen unless i’m being held at gunpoint but she seems to think about it All The Time. and part of this is to keep herself young, at least in her music, which only further ingrains this image of fragile teeny bopper taylor into the mind of the listener, fueling her victim image. this imagery and language means nothing because the world always rallies around taylor. even when she was the butt of jokes for not being beyonce (which she is not and never can be) and writing about her exes (which she does), she was largely supported by the industry and by critics. look at how many fucking awards she has!

3. folk and indie and alternative music is in a moment of transition, where musicians of color are getting the chance to really speak about how they’ve been treated in these overwhelmingly white circles and create their own standards and their own voices. and for taylor swift to swoop in with aaron dessner and jack antonoff fantano and almost reassert that mid-2010s indie sound as The Sound of folk pop in the popular consciousness.... it makes me violent! it! makes! me! violent! 

4. back to hozier! finally, i wanna talk about white standom, fandom, bandom, and womandom. i often see these very superficial comparisons between hozier and taylor (and hozier and florence and hozier and stevie nicks and hozier and whatever other white woman in fashion) and they frustrate me for more than one reason. i know that hozier has met taylor and said she’s cool, which is nice of him and he’s a nice man, but i’m not a nice man so i’m going to just say it: none of the people who have made those posts have listened to more than four hozier songs and it shows. the reason why this matters is because these posts catch on and create an image and preconception of hozier’s music that is divorced from reality and divorced from his influences and most importantly divorced from the deliberate and reverent blackness of his musical style. hozier has his white male privilege in the industry for sure but he’s not as towering of a giant as taylor and taylor’s music is an unsalted chicken, plain oatmeal, white paint drying on a white wall, a stick of unflavored gum. her music is so white it told me that its dad is a cop. i am, as a black hozier fan, exhausted with having to share space with white women who don’t know why hozier’s music kicks me in my lungs sometimes and think that taylor mentioning a tree ONCE in her 3 minute acoustic guitar slog about whatever suburb is the same when it simply is not. i swear some of you are pretending to love taylor because your friends love her and you don’t wanna be left out of the hot new musical discourse but she’s only the hot new musical discourse CONSTANTLY because she’s a white woman, she’s almost the Perfect white woman. like if someone asked me to describe a white woman, it would be taylor swift. her position at the top of the musical pyramid among people who eclipse her musically, vocally, and lyrically is only allowed because she’s The Perfect White Woman. she’s an ideal. white girls relate to her immediately because of it and now we have this unshakable mob of unbearable white women who think that the world has wronged someone who literally wrote fanfiction about the rich oil heiress white woman who owned her rhode island mansion before her aklghlghdhlgs it drives me fucking NUTS 

anyway that’s all. if you made it this far, listen to adia victoria, kaia kater, samantha crain, valerie june, kelsey lu, corinne bailey rae, brittany howard, kimya dawson, japanese breakfast, cold specks, left at london, rhiannon giddens, aisha badru, shea diamond, nadine shah, xenia rubinos, karen o, mirel wagner.... Anyone

[rayofsunas]

otherworldly! s/o

A/n: happy monday! I woke up at 7am and since then I've been grinding out assignments/classes and now this, so I actually feel productive even though I've been staring at my computer for a while. but thank you for requesting anon! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! <33 also to understand this more, I'd like to point out that this connects to the speculation Genshin and Honkai are alternate universes of one another. so for example, Scaramouche is a harbinger from his time, but he may have been a warlord in a different, with a completely different name (keeping his appearance ofc) hope that makes sense. so if you've paid attention to what I've been saying about Scara and his mini-series, etc. you'll understand what I mean in Scara's lol. his reader insert is fem for the same reason as above btw!

Summary: otherworldly! s/o who arrived as a fallen meteor, that can bring back plants to life/heal deep wounds/scars and resurrect people.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, fluff, alternate realities/time traveler au! (reader is not the traveler), death/resurrection

Word count: 1.7k

Albedo

you don't have a vision like some people in Teyvat, because you're not from there; you're from a whole different world itself. instead, you have healing abilities that allow you to any energy you absorb in the form of food/sunlight, and you can use that energy to heal others. though, the healing can only go as far as healing minor injuries such as shallow cuts, scratches, or smoothing out scars. the same can work if you were to heal yourself.

Albedo is so intrigued when he finds you passed out in the pit of a meteor, half of your body hanging out while the other is awkwardly still in it

one, because who is this stranger in a meteor for crying out loud

and two, he notices your wounds on your arms are healing by themselves, slowly though

as someone who studies alchemy, life forms, and such, he's very intrigued that you're able to heal yourself without medicine, and he wonders if you can do the same to others

so he takes you to his lab, and runs a few tests

yes, you're still passed out when this happens, but he's just so curious and couldn't hold back

don't worry though, he's just drawing some blood and testing to see what you can do, because who knows, you may not even speak his language and won't be able to communicate with him (doesn't make a difference Albedo, you need COnSENT-)

so, just for science, he cuts the palm of his hand a little and decides to see if you can heal him

it doesn't take him long to notice the way the tips of your fingers are glowing a light greenish-yellow, so he immediately assumes that's the source of your powers and places a finger on his palm

it takes a second before anything happens, but eventually his cut starts to slowly close

once again he's even more shocked and intrigued

you have the natural ability and he's never come across someone with so much raw strength being able to do that

so you're right up his alley

when you wake up you're confused as hell (obviously) but thankfully, you can speak his language and are able to share your story

Albedo decides to make a deal with you

he'll help you get home if you can educate him more about your ability and your homeland. you agree

it works out perfectly, because you both have something the other needs/can do for the other (you have your power that he's interested in, and he's found a way for you to return home)

it's also easy to work together because of those same common interests, and it helps that he studies alchemy cause he's way more knowledgeable about you and the process can go a tiny bit quicker for you if you wish to return home sooner

at first you're merely friends, co-workers if you wish

but then he starts falling for you and vice versa

you both genuinely enjoy each others company, so you decide to stay in Teyvat a little while longer, even after he finds a way for you to go home

I wouldn't put it past Albedo to want to return to your world if you allow it

he'd be interested in this new or not so new world ;)

Xiao

you're like the traveler in a sense, where as soon as you climbed out of the meteor, you felt this connection to Teyvat and your vision randomly appeared. you have a dendro vision, something you learned was a rarity within liyue and mondstadt. along with that vision, you had the previous ability to grow/heal plants. you can bring back dead plants, though if they've been dead for a very long time, that's beyond your ability. they also can't be brought back if they've been badly burned.

Xiao may not be interested at first about what vision you have or even where you came from + why the hell you climbed out of a meteor

he's more interested in getting you home so you can stop asking questions about his own abilities/vision and odd, unfamiliar, but beautiful world

but boy when he catches you bringing back a wilted Glaze Lily?!? shook

he secretly thinks you're so cool and it piques his interest

he's never seen anyone do this before, and though his eyes were deceiving him when he first saw the lily spring to life again

but then when he catches you healing more plants, on your way to Liyue to hopefully find Zhongli for answers, he's so interested

he doesn't ask a crapload of questions, BUT he's going to ask at least one or two

"how're you doing that?"

"what are you?

the questions are kind of vague and require more in-depth explanations than he'd originally hoped, but he's surprisingly willing to listen to your story on the way to the harbor

after he learns your story and calls for Zhongli, he'll immediately leave and claim he has no further interests in you

but he's obviously lying

he finds as he's sitting on top of one the smaller mountains one night, looking down at the glowing Liyue town, he has more questions

way more questions

surprising Zhongli, Xiao shows appears when he's showing you around and getting you accustomed to the people/culture

he finds himself hoving behind you, shyly almost, never asking questions (at least not in Zhongli's presence

his reason for standing behind you is to protect you from any harm, so that way, when he decides to ask you more questions, you'll be there for him to do so and not dead or lost

when you tell Zhongli you'd wish to stay in Teyvat, specifically Liyue, Xiao is happy ngl

he can ask you questions and now that you're somewhat used to Liyue, having been here for four months already and planning to stay forever, he can catch you alone and ask questions without Zhongli hovering or acting as your tour guide lol

slowly, and I mean sluggishly slow, he's going to ask you more questions and he may, emphasis on may, tell you his own story

Scaramouche

you're from an alternate reality of Teyvat, a former doctor in your world. basically, Teyvat hundreds of years in the future. you've studied the human body to become a doctor obviously and you used to be able to bring back the dead using your bare hands. it didn't matter how far back ago they've died, as long as their full-body was still intact (full skeleton needed). though, the further back they died, the more energy you'd use, and if you run out of energy too soon, you couldn't bring them back. but now in this strange land, you can't. in exchange for your powers being lost, you're given an electro vision.

Scaramouche is tasked with finding out more about these odd meteors that keep appearing in various corners of Teyvat

and one very large one

he doesn't care who you are, what you are, what your excuse for being in Teyvat is, but he's been ordered to explore the fallen meteor and since you happened to be passed out inside it upon further exploration, you're part of the mystery he's been told to check out

and, it doesn't further help your situation that you landed in Snezhnaya, in the weirdest, not-so-warm clothing AND he finds you attractive (yes, you heard it here folks), plus you're going to catch hypothermia out here dressed like that

it would suck for a pretty girl such as yourself to be frozen to death

so Scaramouche decides to take you to the Tsaritsa, who leaves you in Scaramouche's care since he found you

she says he can do whatever he wants you, dispose of you, etc.

when you finally come too in an odd room on a couch in front of a fireplace, you're confused, cold as hell despite the flames, and when you see his face, you're immediately angered, which he finds odd

it's almost as if you recognize him... but he doesn't recognize you so he's confused as well

"what're you doing here?"

bold of you, he thinks. to question him with that tone as if you have authority here, over him

"watch yourself. I was going to ask you the same."

you don't seem too pleased with him though

"we agreed to never speak again, or so I thought..."

"are you stupid or are you just playing the stupid card to be released?" he'd say

though as soon as you burst and yell at him about a situation he's not familiar with, he's starting to understand a bit more

you're not from here, not anywhere in Teyvat at least, and by the way you're talking to him as if you know him, he assumed correctly that you're from an alternate reality, where he's also present

though despite his correct assumption, he demands answers and you cannot be allowed any kind of freedom until he gets them

you tell him your story and how in your world, a version of himself exists and that you were briefly married, though split because he was too much of a control/power freak for you and your daughter

he disagrees with the last part about him being a control/power freak ofc but

he decides he'll keep you around, against your wishes

one, because you can become useful if your resurrection abilities are awoken; you'd be able to save many fallen Fatui soldiers, with more training so you don't run out of energy ofc

and two, he doesn't think his other self would miss you very much if you're both on bad terms, he sure would miss such a pretty face if you were to leave though, that's for sure...

so, he's going to keep you around, so he can help train/get used to your electro vision. it works best that way since he has the same vision and can train you more efficiently (I think Scara has electro powers, just an assumption!)

he will also hopefully be able to awaken your resurrection abilities and if you can't, well then sorry you're disposable

overtime, all the Harbingers tease him about his little crush and he either denies it or strongly provokes it cause his ego is through his fucking hat

exhibit a. literally doesn't care that he's caught by childe staring at you train and will say something like, "and? you're just jealous she's not interested in you like she is me."

exhibit b. will throw a fit if someone accuses him and says he has, "no room for crushes or love." even if he was somewhat capable of it in your world...

3.22.21, rayofsunas

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[ptersparkers]

the art of ending things (8)

summary: upon realizing you lack skills in the bedroom when a touron asks you out on a date, you turn to jj, a self-proclaimed sexual deviant, for help.

warnings: smut, folks. and typos, probably. 

notes: yes, i am getting a little emotional. this series is my child and i feel like i’m sending it off to college. i’m utterly grateful that all of you were willing to wait weeks for chapter updates and i’m so happy that this little idea that i had turned into something i’m proud of and something i finished. 

as always, co-authored and co-written with @storiesbymads​. i love her and this story (among other things) brought us closer as friends and i think i love this story more for this reason than anything else. 

You thought it was ironic how the sun was shining brightly in your bedroom when you felt anything but happy.

On the night before you woke, Sarah took the liberty to wipe your makeup off with a washcloth as Kiara assisted you in changing into sleep shorts and a sweater. The brunette sat on your bed with you tucked in her arms as you buried your head to avoid been seen by the girls, but Sarah prompted you to look at her so she could clean your tear-stained cheeks.

You couldn’t remember much of last night when you woke up. When your eyes saw the white paint of your ceiling, you looked beside you at Kiara and Sarah laying on either side of you. Kiara was in a peacefully slumber facing the window while Sarah was on your left, her cheeks squished ungracefully against the side of your arm, allowing you a brief moment of amusement before remembering your heartache.

“Anyone hungry?” you asked, your voice croaking. You cleared your throat when Sarah and Kiara said yes, silently moving to your bathroom to brush your teeth and gave the two girls spare toothbrushes to do the same. 

The downstairs living room was a quiet fortress as you recalled your parents being on the mainland until later that evening. Sarah took the liberty to pour each of you a glass of orange juice while Kiara, knowing you didn’t have the energy to make breakfast, pulled out eggs and bacon, and began to work effortlessly as you sat on the high chairs beside the kitchen island. You couldn’t think. Recalling the last thing you remembered at the Boneyard hurt more than you cared to admit and you couldn’t think about the look on JJ’s face when he said he wanted nothing to do with you without feeling like you were going to cry. You figured you could produce enough tears to wipe out the entirety of the Outer Banks by the end of the day with how much you were trying to hold back. The aching headache you had because of how hard you cried last night rang through your head and you winced when the bacon hit the sizzling pan. “Do you want to talk about it?” Kiara asked as she plated the eggs and bacon. “I feel like an idiot,” you said. “C’mon,” Sarah said, sitting next to you as Kiara stood in front of you. “JJ’s the idiot.” “Maybe we’re both idiots.”

“Don’t say that,” Kiara replied. “We all thought JJ was kind of into you until that stunt he pulled last night.” “No,” you said, putting your head in between your hands. You inhaled heavily before letting out a gargantuan sigh. “We’re both idiots. We made this stupid proposition a few weeks ago and I can’t help but feel like I messed up.” “What proposition?” Kiara asked. You shut your eyes and ran your hands over your face “We’ve been, uh, fooling around?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “You mean that? While you were with Trent?” “I mean,” you began, “it’s complicated. Trent and I were never a ‘thing’ if I’m being honest. JJ was nice enough to, um, teach me things.” “Teach you things?” Kiara asked. “What do you…” Her eyes widened. “Oh.” “It’s bad,” you said. “I didn’t think anything would happen because we swore that we wouldn’t let it affect our friendship.” “But part of you had to know it would, right?” Sarah asked. You made a thin line with your lips as you moved the food around with your fork. “I know, I know,” you mumbled. “JJ never said anything and I thought this was going to be over once Trent and I had sex.” “Did you?” You shook your head. “No,” you replied. “I knew I liked JJ when I couldn’t go through with it. I just can’t help but feel like he felt the same way but when I talked to him last night, he said he wanted me to stop caring about our friendship and that he’d do the same.” Kiara and Sarah shared a knowing look while your gaze was fixed itself onto the plate in front of you. Sarah had spoken to John B. about JJ’s seemingly unrequited feelings and Kiara had her own thoughts about how he felt about you. Both girls, observant in their own right, never wanted to say anything for the sake of your relationship with Trent, but now both of them wished they had. “I don’t need either of you to say it, okay? With hindsight, I should’ve known something bad was going to happen.” “We’re here to be your friends,” Sarah reassured. “Neither of us are judging you.” “Thanks,” you muttered. “I can’t help feel like the dumbest person in the world because everything about this is cliche.” “But you didn’t know what was going to happen,” Kiara reasoned. “Kie--” “Don’t ‘Kie’ me,” she said, waving her fork at you. “You asked JJ for help and he agreed. Maybe what happened between the two of you was unconventional but you two are our friends and I don’t think either of you would intentionally hurt the other.” “I can’t stop thinking about how unfair it was to ask him to help me be more confident for Trent,” you scoffed. “First of all, I don’t ever need to explain myself to men, so I don’t know why I felt a temporary urge to prove myself in the bedroom.” You paused to collect your thoughts. “Secondly?” “If JJ did feel anything for me, I put him in a tough situation because at the end of the day, we both knew I would be going back to Trent with the lessons JJ taught me.” “I can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before,” Sarah said with a frown. You bumped your shoulder with hers. “It’s okay. I think I just want someone to listen because I can’t even think about fixing things with him right now. I just feel like I ruined our friendship by asking him to help me out, you know, sexually.” “Listen,” Kiara said, your attention now on her. “Maybe both of you made mistakes, but you’re young. You have so much more to life than a misunderstanding and if JJ really cares about you, then he’ll want to hear what you have to say and whatever you wanted to tell him last night.” “Yeah,” Sarah piped. “You’ve been friends with JJ since birth and you know how he works. I don’t think he’d throw away all those years of friendship on a misunderstanding, especially considering he was tipsy.” “I don’t know,” you groaned. You pushed your plate, which was half eaten, away from you and slouched with your arms crossed over your chest. “I wanted to be an adult about this and set boundaries with him, you know? But I never thought we had to make a no strings attached’ rule because both of us knew what was going on between us wasn’t a booty call.” “He hasn’t been flirting with anyone either,” Kiara said. “Not since you two started, well, what should we call it?” “I guess we were hooking up,” you replied. “That feels weird to say.” The girls in front of you laughed. “Maybe,” said Sarah. “I never even thought about entertaining the idea that JJ and I might end up together until I took Trent around The Cut because he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. That’s when I really knew all of my feelings that I projected onto Trent were for JJ.” “Love works in mysterious ways,” Sarah said, waving her fork for the dramatics. “You cheesy shit,” Kiara said, sticking her tongue at the blonde. You cracked a smile and both girls felt their heart swell at making you do so in a time when you felt like you couldn’t. “Well, let’s not think about it today,” Sarah suggested. “I know Kie doesn’t have a shift today and I’m free. We could order take out and maybe have a movie marathon? We could go to the beach if you’re feeling up to it?” “Sarah, does your dad still have that huge tent he bought when you were little?” “In the back of my garage.” “And Kie, remember when we bought those lights that we strung around the poles in my backyard and that mini projector we begged your dad to buy?” Kiara clapped. “I already know where you’re going with this.” She pointed at Sarah. “You drive with Sarah and help her get the tent. I’ll grab my lights and we can meet at the supermarket to buy some snacks?” “Sounds like a plan!” Sarah exclaimed. Temporarily, you forgot about the boy who filled your void before making it feel empty again. JJ, on the other hand, woke up an hour before Pope and John B. in the spare bedroom at the Chateau. His plan for the night before had been to drink until he couldn’t feel his emotions anymore, but he’d wound up unsuccessful after having had two cups of beer and a weak shot of expensive, watered down vodka a Kook had brought to the Boneyard. He recalled everything that happened. The girl he sat beside when you came up to him parted ways once she realized things were complicated and that JJ hadn’t made an effort to engage in conversation with anyone else. He opted to head back to the Chateau to sleep it off in hopes of waking up to a different reality. But, when he awoke with the same clothes he wore last night and a few red solo cups on the floor, he knew he had to face the music. JJ wasn’t sure why he was so angry with you. He knew he was annoyed whenever you spoke about Trent, that was for sure, but he knew he didn’t let you explain what you wanted to say before he sent you away. He stared at the ceiling fan above, watching it pathetically spin on the lowest setting before forcing himself to sit upright, a groan forcing its way up his throat as he kicked the covers off his body. His legs dangled on the side of the bed,his head in between his hands, trying to comprehend the mild headache he felt; he wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or his confusing feelings. When he walked out, the first thing he noticed was how the sunny morning was a stark contrast to his despaired feelings and he couldn’t help but wish the sky was as grey as it was when there was about to be a big rain pour. The outside was quiet with the exception of a few birds chirping and a low hum of the grass near John B’s front porch. JJ poured himself a cup of water and ate a slice of whole wheat bread untoasted, not bothering to look in his fridge for something more fulfilling as he pondered whether to return home or to the spare bedroom. John B. was the first to arrive into the kitchen, interrupting JJ’s thoughts. “You’re up early,” he said, yawning. “But you also went to bed early, I guess.” “Wasn’t in the party mood,” JJ’s mumble was muffled by the bread. “You’re gonna choke if you keep eating with your mouth full.” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” John B. laughed at JJ’s joke and rubbed his eyes, making himself a cup of coffee using the machine and coffee beans Sarah gave him. JJ wanted to ask for a cup but felt like it was too much. “Want a cup?” John B. asked nonchalantly as he grabbed the bag from the pantry. “Yeah,” JJ coughed, grateful. “Thanks.” “No problem,” John B. replied, waving the blond off. “Sarah got me enough to last for two months. I think she’s trying to get me to refine my coffee palette.” “Your what?” “Her words, not mine.” A comfortable silence fell over the two boys before John B. spoke again. “What happened last night between you and Y/N?” JJ was quiet. He remembered feeling inexplicably angry last night but it didn’t transfer over to when he woke up. Still, JJ felt hurt and confused, feeling as though you chose Trent over him and wanted to talk about it when he felt most vulnerable because he had just admitted to liking you. He knew he wasn’t angry because he had no right to tell you how to feel, especially when he’d never told you how he felt. Either way, he knew he was hurting. “Y/N chose Trent over me,” JJ said, trying to act casual. John B. raised his eyebrow as he turned on the electric kettle. “Trent?” he asked. JJ nodded. “Are you sure?” “More sure than I’ve been in a while, JB.” John B. was confused because, from all of the things Sarah has told him, and all he had observed, all the signs pointed to you liking JJ. Once Sarah mentioned how the both of you had been acting strange around each other and more attentive when you two were near each other, it all made sense to him. John B. knew JJ wouldn’t be caught dead acting like a gentleman around the clock for anyone, but you were the exception. You were always the exception. That was why John B. couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of you deciding to date Trent over JJ. He knew you just as well as he knew his best friend. John B. knew you were the type of person to put yourself above feeling like you were less than a good human being and he knew that you were aware of who you were and what you deserved. He watched you grow up from a shy kid who would never ask the person who stole your crayons to give them back, to an independent woman who wouldn’t be afraid of barking at a police officer if they looked at Kiara or Pope the wrong way. John B. was starting to think he was becoming more perceptive, and for a moment, he was beginning to doubt that. But it was John B. who looked after you when you hit a low point a few months ago before you regained your willingness to step out of your bedroom, which is how he knew all of this about you. He knew you’d never choose someone who you didn’t connect with and he knew you were, most likely, trying to confess your feelings for JJ. “C’mon,” he reasoned. “She looked pretty happy to see you last night.” “She just wanted to talk to me about Trent,” JJ huffed. “It’s the same thing over and over again, JB. All we talk about is the job Rafe gave me a few weeks back, whatever we talk about with our friends, and Trent. She never even gave me a chance to tell her how I felt about her.” “It’s not too late,” John B. said. “But what if she and Trent are happy together? Who am I to ruin that by confessing?” “Did she tell you that she was with Trent officially?” “Well, no,” said JJ, “but she didn’t have to. I knew she went over to Trent’s hotel, to you know, and that’s why she came to me in the Boneyard.” “But that’s just a theory,” John B. said, pouring the coffee into two cups. He put two sugars and a little bit of cream into his while JJ drank it black. “You don’t really know.” “It’s too fucking early for mind games.” “You don’t know if that’s what she wanted to tell you because you never gave her the chance to say it.” “Again, JB, I don’t know what’s not clicking, but the timeline’s pretty obvious. We hung out, she left and told me she was going to Trent’s, and then she comes a few hours later to tell me she fucked him.” John B. winced at his attitude but tried to keep his composure. He sipped on his coffee and tried to think of something to say, but even he had to admit his mind wasn’t all there due to waking up less than thirty minutes ago. “I don’t know what to tell you,” John B. said as he watched JJ’s shoulders slump. “You should apologize to her, though. You were a bit of a dick last night.” “I will when I get over it,” JJ said. “But right now I don’t even think Y/N and I are friends anymore.” John B. set his cup down. “What?” “She hurt me,” JJ said. “All this time we hung out and then she’d run off to Trent. It sucks knowing the person you love loves somebody else.” “You don’t mean that, JJ. You two have been friends for so long that I don’t think either of you can remember a time when you guys weren’t in each other's lives.” “Everything has to come to an end eventually,” JJ said. “Y/N and I aren’t an exception.” “JJ,” John B. said, turning his body towards his friend. “I know that you’re hurting right now but don’t throw away years of friendship.” “What else can I do? The only other option would be to watch as she and Trent start dating and I’ll have to listen to her talk about what a ‘perfect’ boyfriend he is. It’ll be weird, JB.” “Do you still love her?” “Yeah,” JJ said without pausing. “That’s why I don’t want to be around her. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret and make it awkward for all of us.” JJ sipped on his coffee. “Look, I’m hurt by what she did but I don’t hate her. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” “Which is?” “Making sure things aren’t awkward between us. I don’t want her to think I like her so she can be with Trent, worry free.” John B. kept his mouth sealed, knowing that JJ’s wound was still fresh. He wanted to tell the blond that his plan was cowardly and convince him to talk to you, even if it felt uncomfortable, but John B. knew JJ wanted to talk it out. The boy knew his best friend overthought more than he liked to admit. “Okay,” John B. said. “You do what’s best for you.” The brown-haired boy knew he would have to speak to Pope about this and, hopefully, have Sarah explain your side of the story to him. “Thanks, JB,” said JJ, taking his cup into the spare room. John B. pulled his phone out and texted Sarah, hoping this was all just a big misunderstanding. A day passed without you seeing JJ. It was easy not to see as you refused to step out of your house and you felt extremely lucky your parents had to prepare for some big event at the Thorton’s, leaving you alone with the house for most of the day. Sarah and Kiara had stayed over the previous night but had to part ways per Kiara’s job and Sarah’s obligation to her father’s work, leaving you with your thoughts. You knew you were both at fault for not speaking up sooner and you chastised yourself for not thinking about JJ’s feelings during this proposition. To you, JJ was just a friend helping you learn how to be confident in the bedroom, and the unfortunate side effect was you falling in love with your best friend. Perhaps you were too selfish when you realized it for the first time, caving into the delicious feeling of JJ’s attention on you like there was no one else he would rather look at. On one hand, you knew it wasn’t your fault that JJ wouldn’t listen to what you had to say, but you blame yourself for putting him in that position. You were positive he didn’t like you back and it made you feel even more embarrassed, knowing you had talked JJ into not caring in the slightest about Trent or your love life. 

You knew you’d have to face him eventually, but you were putting it off as much as you could. You’d brave it for your friends and you’d try your best not to feel affected by the way JJ dismissed you like you two hadn’t been best friends since birth. But it would be hard and you knew that when your eyes landed on a photo of you and him, framed on the top of your dresser from last summer after you two had jumped off of a tall cliff. He had convinced you to face the height and offered to jump in with you and it was such a fulfilling moment that you wanted to commemorate that glorious day by framing a photo of you and JJ after emerging from the lake. 

That memory felt like it was created in another lifetime. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d miss the way JJ would encourage you to face your fears and break your habit of choosing not to pursue something if it seemed too difficult. He, physically and metaphorically, held your hand through thick and thin, and never once made you feel like your problems were insignificant. 

Of course, you both knew you were a Kook by birth and the stereotypes that came with that status. Neither you nor JJ were aware what titles meant until you both got older and started to care about what others thought of you, and there was a moment when you were worried about what the future of your friendship would look like. You knew how JJ was, brash and hot-headed, but JJ never treated you like he did with other Kooks. JJ always reminded you he knew who you were, deep down, and never wanted to ruin a friendship because of what other people had to say. 

You wished you could go back to simpler times when you didn’t worry about having feelings for your best friend and ruining the friendship in the process. You wished you never gave Trent your number and you wished that someone else had picked up Kiara the night he approached you. You wished that summer was going to end on a happy note before everybody left for college, just like you had planned months ago. But you were sitting in the middle of your bed, blinking rapidly to prevent tears from falling after having desperately tried not to cry for the past hour. 

For a moment, your mind wandered to how JJ was dealing with the aftermath of the night before. Was he torn apart like you were? Was he overthinking what he said and how he reacted like you were? Or was he nonchalant, barely thinking about you because he meant what he said? You couldn’t decide which of the three scenarios were worse and didn’t want to dwell on feeling sorry for yourself for too long. Part of you wanted to tell your mother everything that happened in the past few weeks and how this situation made you confront your feelings for JJ, like she had always hinted at, but you knew she’d react terribly if she knew the whole truth. 

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard in the group chat message you had with Kiara and Sarah, but you tossed your phone to the side after coming to the conclusion that you were being bothersome by reaching out to them after they had comforted you all morning. You already lost one friend and you didn’t want to risk losing two more. 

You had considered asking Pope to talk to JJ for you, after talking yourself out of calling JJ, to have him explain your side of the story. But the thought was ludicrous; Pope was close with JJ and you thought he’d most likely believe his story over yours. Your mind wandered to the idea of JJ telling Pope everything he told you last night and you anticipated feeling embarrassed upon realizing Pope would side with him. He was a close friend, sure, but you knew he and JJ were closer. You weren’t sure if he would play the middleman this time and bridge the gap between you and JJ, so you disregarded asking Pope for a favor. 

John B. was your last resort and you were putting asking him for help on hold. He was equally close with you and JJ, and John B. expressed numerous times how he viewed you as his younger sister during the many years you two had been friends despite being a few months younger than him. He had always been of sound mind when you felt like you couldn’t think properly, acting as your guide to bring the best out of you. John B. was always gentle, knowing that you always wanted to please everyone while navigating your way through your own life, especially when it came to learning how to put people in their place when it was needed. 

But again, you came to the conclusion that he’d most likely side with JJ. The boy loved him like a brother and they were the two “founding” members of the friend group. John B. and JJ, two peas in a pod. You knew that they were inseparable and they always managed to fix each argument within the hour. It hurt to know that John B. would likely believe JJ without hearing your story, but in that moment, you decided the best idea was to keep your thoughts to yourself and wait until you felt less emotional to act. 

“Life is so fucking unfair,” you complained, staring at the framed photo across your bed before walking towards it, facing the photo down. You were, metaphorically, trying to get over the embarrassment of your failed attempt at confessing your feelings to JJ, and you were trying not to think about how either of you would react when you both saw each other for the first time since you left him at the Boneyard. 

You genuinely didn’t know if you’d be friends with the Pogues after that day. The group would never be the same and you anticipated the both you and JJ acting awkward around each other if you continued to hang out together. While you were willing to put your pride and feelings aside to keep the group together, you knew that JJ would pretend you weren’t there and try his best not to interact with you. You didn’t know how you’d react if he brought a girl with him or what you’d do if JJ talked about liking another girl. 

The whirlpool of thoughts made your head dizzy and you opted to lay on your pillow, choosing to fall fast asleep to avoid overthinking.  

JJ counted the days that he hadn’t seen you. It had been four days since the Boneyard incident and he had successfully avoided you and the embarrassment that came with realizing he was utterly in love with you while you showed romantic feelings for someone else. JJ knew he was being irrationally idiotic when he decided the best way to deal with his feelings was to avoid you because he knew he’d have to talk to you at some point. He didn’t know what the friendship between the six of you would look like and he wasn’t too eager to find out. 

His mind was preoccupied with finding ways to avoid you -- and talking about you -- that he hadn’t spent any time thinking about how he’s act, and how you’d act, when you two saw each other for the first time. JJ figured you’d try to avoid him and make small talk when necessary, and if he was being honest with himself, he might’ve done the same. When he woke up earlier that morning, it seemed as if JJ couldn’t forget the friendship that was lost between the both of you. Instead, his mind kept replaying the moment he looked away from you and the conversation he had with John B. JJ was sure Kiara and Sarah had comforted you, and that you confided in both girls, causing the blond to become fearful that he might’ve lost three friends in the process. 

Everything about you captivated him and JJ cursed this because the both of you weren’t on speaking terms. He did his best to preoccupy himself with working at the garage shop, hanging out with John B. and Pope, or sitting by himself in a clearing where nobody would bother him, but it was no use. Neither being alone nor being around other people prevented JJ from thinking about you and it hurt him to know you might not be thinking about him the way he thought about you. 

Pope had put two and two together after Sarah explained what happened between you and Trent. She had found Pope walking by The Wreck the day after she looked after you and told him everything you told her, including how Trent was someone you thought you liked until you realized you were projecting your feelings for JJ onto him because you were scared about ruining a friendship. The boy sat with his mouth wide open and Sarah desperately asked him to talk to JJ, knowing that neither one of you would be the first to say ‘I’m sorry.’ “I’m just going to say it even if it’s the last thing you want to hear,” Pope said angrily, his voice raised. “Then why say it at all?” JJ barked back. “Because you’re my best friend and Y/N is the little sister I never had,” Pope replied with his nose flaring. He could feel his throat growing sore but paid no mind. JJ stood and leaned back, waiting for Pope to speak. “When things seem to be working out for you, you pull away. You hate it when it seems like your life’s going the way you want it to because you think something bad’s gonna happen. You reject people before they have the chance to do it to you because you’re afraid of feeling like something is being taken away from you. “And, man, I get it. You don’t have a perfect life and you’re used to things going south. You’re used to giving that you can’t enjoy a good thing while it’s happening. Your first instinct is to cut people off and shut them out before you even consider listening to what they have to say and working things out.” JJ looked at the wooden floor and noticed the few splinters sticking up. He made mental notes of where to avoid stepping until John B. got them fixed or filed them down.

“On the night of the last kegger, Y/N broke things off with Trent before seeing you,” Pope explained. “She told him nothing about their relationship felt right because she likes you, JJ. Y/N was at The Boneyard to tell her how she felt about you.” 

JJ’s eyes widened with surprise and he, for once, felt like he wasn’t able to refute what his best friend was saying. Of all the things he imagined in his head, you confessing you liked him more than a friend was not remotely on his list. “Y/N is good for you,” Pope said. “She’s been your best friend since you could walk. She knows how you operate, what you like and don’t like, and how to help you when you’re going through it with your dad. She deals with all of your shit because she loves you, JJ. If you love her like you say you do, you need to accept that she’s going to see things you don’t want her to see.” “Pope,” JJ said, his voice cracking. His body didn’t move and he felt paralyzed in his spot. Pope didn’t hesitate to react and pulled JJ into a hug, patting him on the back for assurance. “You know you’re good for her too. You wouldn’t have agreed to whatever it was that was going on between you two if you didn’t think you were good enough for her. JJ, I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who thinks you’re not good enough for her. You’re not a screw up either. We all have things we’re dealing with on our own even if we don’t show other people. You don’t want to waste your friendship with her over something as stupid as a misunderstanding, right?” “No,” JJ said, wiping his eyes. “No, I don’t.” “Then get your ass out of here and tell Y/N you love her,” Pope said, pointing at the door. “Apologize to her and listen to what she has to say.” “What if I feel like I’m starting to shut her out again?” “Breath and tell yourself you deserve good things to happen. There’s always gonna be something that doesn’t go your way but it doesn’t mean your life has to end there.” “Thanks, Pope,” JJ said. He walked towards the door and Pope followed, watching as his friend walked outside and took John B’s bicycle to your house. Pope couldn’t help but smile because he knew JJ was willing to be vulnerable if that meant mending two broken hearts. When your doorbell rang, you ignored it, thinking it was overnight mail. You paid no mind to the sound and continued to scroll on Instagram on your phone but you were pulled out of your concentration when you heard the doorbell ring for a third, fourth, and fifth time. Angrily, you lifted the covers of your comforter off of your body and marched downstairs with your hand gripping your phone tightly, ready to raise your voice at whoever was bothering you while you tried to forget about a boy who forgot about you. 

But when you opened the door, JJ stood with John B’s bicycle, his chest rising and falling. 

“Hey,” he said casually, his eyes darting anywhere but you. 

“Hi,” you replied, a frown apparent on your lips as your eyebrows creased. 

“I, uh, biked all the way here from The Cut,” he said awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Am I supposed to congratulate you, or something?” you asked sarcastically after a brief pause, crossing your arms over your chest while you waited for JJ to answer you.

“No, you’re not,” he retorted. “I’m trying to apologize but I didn’t think about how I’d start this conversation.” 

When JJ realized you weren’t saying anything and opted to listen, he spoke again. 

“Pope told me why you were at The Boneyard,” he began. 

“What did he tell you exactly?” 

“He told me you broke things off with Trent and came to the party to tell me you liked me,” JJ finished. He looked at you. “And I assumed the worst before you could say anything.” 

“You never let me explain myself,” you said, straightening your posture. “You told me you didn’t want anything to do with me and that you’d stop worrying about what I did if I did the same for you.”

“I was hurt,” he explained. “There’s no good excuse for me to say that and I know it. But what I said was because I was hurt by you talking about Trent when I wanted to tell you I was in love with you.” 

JJ’s confession made your eyes widen. 

“What?” 

“I’m not saying that just because Pope told me you liked me either,” JJ said confidently. “You know I’m not good at this ‘talking about your feelings’ shit, but you know I tell you everything. I waited too damn long to tell you how I feel and it caused us to nearly lose our friendship.

“And I’m sorry for saying those things because it’s not right to make your best friend feel like they’re replaceable. I’m sorry for not letting you tell your side of the story because it’s unfair to let my voice be heard and not yours. I’m sorry for waiting this long to tell you how I feel about you, but I’m not sorry for loving you in the first place.” 

The both of you looked at one another and JJ was scared for your reaction. 

“That’s one hell of an apology,” you said after a moment of silence. JJ laughed. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think that one out. I probably could’ve done better.” 

You shook your head. “It means more to me that you didn’t plan it out because it lets me know that’s how you really feel.”

“I love you,” he said. “It’s not some casual thing I’m saying, Y/N. I can’t remember a time when you weren’t the most important person in my life and I can’t help but love you.” 

“I love you too, idiot,” you said. JJ smiled at the nickname. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position when I was with Trent. You didn’t deserve to watch me go after some guy when you liked me more than a friend.” 

“Thanks,” said JJ. He chuckled. “Things would’ve been easier if I had let you talk at The Boneyard, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you replied with a delicate smile. 

“Would it be weird if I asked you if I could kiss you?” 

“Only if you didn’t kiss me.” 

JJ leaned forward, not caring that he was tossing John B’s bike into your bushes. He hastily put both of his hands on either side of your jaw, letting his lips press onto yours with the euphoric feeling of kissing his best friend after having confessed. 

“Do you want to come in?” you asked him, stepping inside of your house as you pulled his hands away from your jaw so that you could hold them. You bit your lip and JJ’s eyes widened, understanding your subtle hint. 

“What about your parents?”

“They’ll be gone all weekend for an event,” you explained, pulling him inside. JJ closed the door behind him and you locked it without breaking eye contact, walking forward until you felt JJ’s back pressed against the doorframe. 

“It’s convenient that they’ve been out of town for the past month,” he said, looking down at you. 

“I say we take advantage of the house,” you said. JJ raised his eyebrow. 

“Do you?” 

“It’s my house, Maybank,” you said as you licked your lips, pulling him up the stairwell. “If I want you to take me to my bedroom, you’ll take me to my bedroom.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed as he watched you lead him to the familiar door he’d seen many times before. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked you once you both were inside your room, your hands tracing along the sides of his torso. You pushed up the fabric of his t-shirt as they went and he could feel the coldness of your fingertips grazing along his skin. You nodded, your bottom lip finding refuge between your teeth. 

“We’ve already slept together, J,” you said. He raised his arms up over his head to allow you to pull the shirt fully over his head and toss it onto the floor beside your bed. Once it was off, he hand found your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. 

“This is different and you know it,” he sighed. Your eyes flickered down to his slightly parted lips. 

“Is it now?” you asked, your shaky breathing betraying whatever confidence you’d previously displayed. It only took him a second to capture your mouth on his own. You could feel the yearning through his skin with his grip on your jaw apparent. 

His fingers danced down your body until they rested just underneath your shorts, toying with the hem of your cut-offs as his tongue made its way down your throat. Everything about him just felt so much better than before, like he wasn’t holding anything back; and it was incredible. JJ knew he didn’t have to hide his feelings for you anymore and he knew he didn’t have to metaphorically show his love and appreciation for you as his best friend and lover. JJ could show you how he felt about you and he wasn’t about to waste any time. 

“Take these off,” he grumbled against your lips as he snapped the waistband of your shorts. You nodded, distancing yourself from him with a pout so that you could shimmy the shorts down your legs, missing the feelings of his hands around your jaw. 

“Your turn,” you said, motioning towards the cargo shorts on his legs. 

“You’re hot when you’re bossy,” he said, tossing his shorts in the same general direction of his shirt before reconnecting your lips. The two of you somehow managed to maneuver yourselves to the foot of your bed, your knees buckling as he sat you down on the down filled comforter. Your hand found his clothed length as he stared down at you. 

“I want you,” you said. 

“That’s good, because I’m desperate for you,” he said. You could feel him hardening under your touch. “You’ve got too many clothes on, don’t you think?”

You hummed in response before slipping your tube top over your head gingerly, watching as JJ’s eyes never left your body. It hadn’t really crossed his mind that you hadn’t been wearing a bra under it until he saw your breasts in full, your nipples standing at attention from the feeling of the cool air hitting them. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned before pulling on of them between his teeth. The other was quickly taken care of by his right hand, his index and thumb twisting and rolling the peak. A whine slipped out of you before you could stop it and JJ felt his cock twitch at the sound. He pulled back from you with a pop as he leaned you back against the duvet, your legs still dangling over the side as he looked down at you. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked again. 

“I trust you, JJ,” you groaned. “Now, please do something.”  

“I’m gonna do so much more than fuck you,” he said before removing his blue boxer briefs, his cock slapping against his torso. You lipcked your lips at the sight and gripped the bedsheets. “I’m gonna make you feel so good you’re gonna beg for another round.”

“Please,” you mumbled as his lips slanted against your throat. “I need you so bad.”

You felt him bite down on your pulse point, his canines nearly piercing the skin. He pulled back to admire the bruise before making his way down your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on your skin. The fabric of your panties grew damper, both from your own juices and his saliva as he kissed your clit through them. JJ’s hand slowly stroked his cock as he teased you and he moaned when he felt your hips push themselves forward underneath his tongue. Your hands found his tousled blond locks as the two of you made eye contact, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you from between your thighs. 

“JJ,” you whined. 

“Patience, baby. I’m just getting started,” he said. Still, he moved back from where he was so that he could pull the flimsy piece of clothing down your legs as his middle finger delved between your folds. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Only for you,” you said. 

“I have so much I want to do with you, baby, but I’m so hard right now. I don’t know if I can resist not being inside of you much longer,” he punctuated the sentence with a moan. 

Your hand wrapped itself around his cock, desperately trying to push him inside of you. He let you pull him close enough so that the head was just barely pressing into your entrance before slapping your hand away. 

“Do I need to say it again?” he asked, grabbing your hips and tugging you so that you were mere inches away from falling off the edge of the bed.  

“Patience is a virtue,” you said. “One I don’t have.”

He paused for a moment. “Do you remember that time you called me and asked me to teach you how to touch yourself?”

“Yeah, what does that have-”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do,” you sighed, bucking your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you. 

“You think you can show me what you learned while I fuck you?” he asked. You nodded as your hand slipped between the two of you, ghosting over your clit. You would’ve done anything he asked in that moment if it meant he had his way with you. 

The head of his cock dipped into you fully at that point, the rest of his length following shortly after until he was bottomed out. He stalled with a groan. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said before starting up a steady rhythm with his hips. It seemed that every snap of his hips sent your mind spiraling deeper into the haze that was JJ Maybank. 

“J, I’m not gonna last much longer,” you whimpered, clenching around him. From the way you felt his cock twitching, you knew he wasn’t going to either. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, J,” you moaned as you felt your orgasm wash over you, the pleasure rolling over you in waves. His hips stuttered for a moment, his cum coating your walls in thick, hot ropes. The euphoric mixture of being able to finish inside of you while simultaneously allowing himself to show you how much he loved you washed over him like a newfound grace. 

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” you said with a small laugh. He leaned back to pull out of you, his gaze dropping as he watched a mix of both of your cum drip out of you. 

“I’m gonna get hard again, holy shit,” he said as he pushed it back up into you with his fingers. 

“We’ve got all night,” you said. 

JJ smiled. 

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

***

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@wunderbaerchensahnehaeupchen @whoeverineedtobe @croissantpants @snflowerr @emdavis2634 @starswin @summerkaulitz @halpertstuna @natalie-03 @seaweedthewhale @poguesforlife13 @girlwiththerubyslippers @harryswigss @hotel-colson @summerkaulitz @ahavatia @honeylipshoneymind @idocarealot @beacnhlls @niya-savage @thesadgirl5455 @@eideticcmgg @jooordanharrrop @tempestuousjj @characterobsessed @jjmxybnk @thenextteen @iixbella @abbiesthings @popcrone818 @miapotpot197 @justsomerandompersonintheworld @yourlocalemodad @spidergirla5 @thatshithurted8. 

[wisteriabookss]

An Extensive Analysis of Eris

The recent excerpt from ACOSF has got this fandom spinning on it’s head because it includes a feral-smiling Eris waltzing with Nesta. As a result, people have now delved deeper into his character and whether or not he deserves a redemption arc (or an arc of any kind). 

So naturally, he has been compared to Rhys, because Rhys also appeared to us in the beginning as a cruel, cunning person, who was eventually revealed to have a bigger heart, and a valid excuse (at least amongst the IC) for his behavior.

I made this post to mainly catalogue all that Eris has done, analyze his actions, see if he indeed can be compared to Rhys, and to determine whether or not he should have a redemption arc. 

What We Know So Far

Our first mention of Eris is in ACOMAF, when Rhysand is explaining to Feyre what happened to Mor. I could put the quotes here, but just to save some time I’m gonna make a long story short.

Mor’s father, Keir, declared that she was to be sold in marriage to Eris. Eris is known for being cruel, and Mor begged Rhys to stop it. Rhys brought her to the Illyrian camp for a few days, and she decided to sleep with Cassian in order to ruin her “pure” image. Because she slept with Cassian, Eris refused to marry her. Said, “she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow.” Her family, although it’s not said explicitly, basically beat her, and then dumped her body on the Autumn court border with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem now. Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods.

Now, we’re going to look at what he exactly said during this event, given to us from Mor’s POV in ACOFAS:

“Don’t touch her.” Those steps stopped. It was not a warning to protect her. Defend her.

“No one touches her,” he said. Eris. “The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.” 

Cold, unfeeling words. “But—but they nailed a—” 

“No one touches her.”

A pale, beautiful face appeared above her, blocking out the jewel-like leaves above. Unmoved. Impassive. “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”

He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”

Eris took a step away. Someone behind him blurted, “We can’t just leave her to—” 

“We can, and we will,” Eris said simply, his pace unfaltering as he strode away. 

“She chose to sully herself; her family chose to deal with her like garbage. I have already told them my decision in this matter.” A long pause, crueler than the rest. “And I am not in the habit of fucking Illyrian leftovers.”

Now that we have Mor’s side of the story, we’re going to look at what Eris has said about that fateful day during a discussion with the IC in ACOWAR:

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

. . . .

A frown at Mor as he drained his wine and set down the goblet. “I’m surprised you still can’t control yourself around him. You had every emotion written right on that pretty face of yours.”

“Watch it,” Azriel warned.

Eris looked between them, smiling faintly. Secretly. As if he knew something that Azriel didn’t. “I wouldn’t have touched you,” he said to Mor, who blanched again. “But when you fucked that other bastard—” A snarl ripped from Rhys’s throat at that. And my own. “I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”

“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.

A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

A main takeaway from this is that there seems to be much more to story of what happened between Eris and Mor.

Does that mean him leaving her in the woods is excusable? No. Absolutely not. He didn’t try to take the nail out of her (which would’ve been the bare minimum), he didn’t alert Rhys that she was there, he didn’t do anything to help her. He started to make the situation even more traumatic by saying vile things to her. Whatever reason he gives for not helping her will be just that: a reason. But not an excuse. Those are two very different things.

Eris say’s that leaving her there is one of the few things he regrets. There’s something in that. I’m not saying under any circumstance that he should be forgiven because he feels guilty, thats stupid as hell, but it is showing that he’s not some apathetic, other-worldy evil person. There’s some semblance of a conscious in him. 

He also say’s that one day he’ll tell them why he did it and what it cost him. By what it cost him, I’m guessing he’s talking about the cost of ending his betrothal to Mor, because I can’t think of what he lost by leaving her there. 

I don’t think there’s been any mention of someone getting revenge on Eris because A.) Rhys told Feyre that, “Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.” and B) her family was obviously going to do nothing cause they’re the ones who hurt her.

I’m not going to try and theorize what cost Eris had to pay. It obviously is something (or someone) important to him.

But to me, one of the biggest things we got from this discussion is that it seems Eris knows Mor is gay. That secret smile of his that had Mor shrinking, the way he says he knows why she slept with Cassian, and that he gave Mor her freedom by ending the betrothal without giving a reason . . . he knows.

He knew she was gay, so he ended their engagement, no questions asked. And then Mor was dumped in his woods, and he did nothing to help. 

Morally grey, indeed.

(P.S. To the person that posted something along the lines of, “I can’t wait to see Mor’s face when she see’s Eris dancing with Nesta,” . . . get help)

Another excerpt I wanna look at also happens during the recent discussion we’ve just seen, but it has to do with Feyre and Lucien.

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

That little hesitation before he says ‘brothers’. . . sus. That’s all imma say. (maybe there’s more than one illegitimate son in that family . . .)

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?”

Eris laid a hand flat on the table. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

Silence.

“Indulge me,” was all I said.

Eris stared me down. I stared right back.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there— when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the first and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free … They were going to kill him, too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word—anonymously—to get the hell over to his own border.”

Where two of Eris’s brothers had been killed. By Lucien and Tamlin.

Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket. “Not all of us were so lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

We see another semblance of conscious here when Eris refuses to take part in the slaughtering of Jesminda. To even be in the same room as it. He then made sure that Lucien wasn’t going to die by making sure Tamlin was at his border. 

I’m not putting these quotes here to say, “Look, he cares about stuff , so let’s excuse everything he’s done.” No. There is no excusing any of his actions. Just like we can’t excuse Rhysand’s behavior in the first two books, or Cassian’s, or Nesta’s, or even Feyre’s, etc. But what we can do is see the reasons for their actions, and try and understand why they acted the way they did. They have their reasons, and Eris has his. (P.S. I’m not trying to compare what they’ve done, I’m just noting that they all had reasons to do what they’ve done, and they all deserve to be heard out.)

Comparison To Rhys

As I said earlier, Eris has drawn a lot of comparisons to Rhys. I agree with most of them.

This fandom has catalogued all of Rhys’s questionable actions like . . .

*TRIGGER WARNING: words like sexually assaulted*

Rhys sexually assaulting Feyre three times in the first book by drugging her, and then compelling her to give him lap dances in front of the folks Under The Mountain. He then displayed Feyre again in a sexual manner in the second book in front of The Court of Nightmares as, and I quote, “The High Lords Whore.” 

In both situations he could’ve done things so much differently. In the first book, he could’ve just, oh I don’t know, kept her in her cell? Or maybe brought her upstairs as a normal person?

And in the second one she literally could have been ANYTHING else. Everyone thinks she’s his prisoner, so why didn’t they go with that? Why couldn’t he have just dressed her in some raggedy-ass clothing, messed up her hair, and then tell her to act super stoic or frightened? Really Rhys, she just had to be your whore? (I know it was consensual but that doesn’t make her persona okay. He could’ve picked literally anything else)

Did he have his reasons for doing this? Yes. Does his reasons excuse what he did? No. You don’t have to make everyone else around you act a part just because you do.

So while we may not excuse Rhys’s actions, we can understand his reasons even if we don’t agree with them. Same with Eris. We know Eris has his reasons, and I doubt we’ll all agree with them, but he still has them.

Let’s also not forget that Rhysand made a deal with Eris and Keir that he would support Eris’s claim to the Autumn Court throne when Eris decides to kill his father for it. He also allowed Keir and his court to come into Velaris, and even though they’ll be turned away by every vendor, he still allowed them in. While he had his reasons for doing this (the Darkling army for ACOWAR) he still did it. It still hurt Mor.

Redemption Arc 

My biggest hesitation in thinking Eris will get a redemption arc is wondering where it would fit in the books for him to have one. We don’t know how if his waltz with Nesta is just a one-time thing or if it’s a result of a friendship between the two. The second book is supposed to be centered around Elain, Azriel, and Lucien, so that could also be a spot where he get’s an arc, maybe through a relationship with Lucian or Azriel. 

Either way, I’m not gonna bring down the hammer and say that he shouldn’t get a redemption arc. Tbh, the term ‘redemption arc’ kinda annoys me because it shouldn’t be about redeeming what was done in the past, but more about learning from past mistakes and taking the initiative to grow into a better person. That’s what I want for Eris. He’s not going to magically be revealed to be this super sweet fun-loving guy like Rhys. I don’t want him to be revealed like that either. 

I just want to see more of his character, see why he is the way he is, and, like i’ve said a million times in this post, know his reasons for acting the way he does. 

One last thing before I go. I’m not interested in seeing any relationship blossom between Eris and the IC, or Nesta, and I think it’s unlikely anyways. There’s a possibility for them to have an understanding, sure, but no friendship. I know there are some people who automatically adore Eris because they hate Mor and that’s just stupid. Mor isn’t my fav either, but I won’t cheer Eris on just because he hurt her. 

That’s all I’ve got. If you’ve made it this far, I appreciate you. Really.

[fruitcoops]

part 2 to the disownment fic pretty please

Here we go, folks. Grab some tissues and some water if you think you’ll need it. This is the first fic I’ve almost cried while writing (it has a happy ending, though, bc of course it does). Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove! Haz, I’m so sorry for putting your boy through this.

Part 1

TW for disownment, grief, vague mention of past abuse, and truly terrible parenting

The house was terribly quiet, save for the rustle of paperwork as Sirius set it down. Next to him, Hattie whined, and he gently put his hand on top of her head.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, folding his legs in tighter. Sirius stayed silent across from him. “I’m sorry I didn’t take them that night she came to the house—”

“Don’t be.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Don’t—don’t be sorry for that. I’m glad you stood up to her.”

“Are you okay?” Remus asked again, quieter.

“Not really. I kind of knew this was coming, but it still hurts.” A tear dripped down Sirius’ chin and he swiped it away with a bitter laugh. “This fucking sucks. I shouldn’t be this upset.”

“Sirius—”

“They hurt me. They hurt me so many times and I hate them.” The last words came out on a harsh breath and he bit his lip, staring at the floor. “They never wanted me, anyway.”

“Honey.” Remus barely raised his voice above a whisper.

“It’s true. I wasn’t anything more than a tool to them,” Sirius hiccupped around a clog in his throat. “This proves it, right? This stupid fucking paper proves that they never wanted me outside of perfect hockey. And I—and I couldn’t be perfect.”

He held his hand tight over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut as shuddering breaths rippled through his body; Remus stood and padded over to the couch, pressing their shoulders together until Sirius leaned into him with a heartbreaking sniffle. “It’s going to be alright, love,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around him and holding him close. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I hate them so much, but I just want them to want me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t understand.” Sirius wiped his eyes with his forearm, but it didn’t do much more than spread his tears around. “I don’t—why would they do this?”

A pang hit Remus’ heart and his comforting circles on Sirius’ arm stuttered. Because of me. “Because they’re terrible people who don’t appreciate everything wonderful that you are.”

“They are,” Sirius’ voice cracked and he curled tighter into Remus’ side. He looked so small, suddenly. “It’s not fair.”

Remus wound his other arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “It’s not.”

“It’s not fair!” he half-shouted, half-sobbed.

Hattie’s ears pricked up at his sudden volume and she glanced up at Remus; for a moment, he had never been more sure she was a human trapped in a dog’s body, and he nodded to her. She crawled up onto the cushion next to Sirius and gently nosed at his arm until he lifted it, then wiggled underneath so her head rested on his lap.

“I shouldn’t feel like this,” he croaked after a moment.

“Says who?”

“They never loved me and I knew that. It shouldn’t hurt this much.” A furious edge turned sharp in his voice. “I should be fucking celebrating, not sitting here crying over people that didn’t want me in the first place.”

“Don’t do that,” Remus said, running his fingers through the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

Sirius pulled away, sudden and harsh as he scrubbed away the mess on his face. “Don’t do what? Talk about my feelings? You don’t get it, Remus. You have a cookie cutter family and you have no idea what my life was like. You barely even know me.”

Remus kept his face passive and his tone even. He doesn’t mean that, he told himself, forcing the waves of hurt to roll right past. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you all the same.”

A sob caught in Sirius’ chest, then another in his throat, until he was breathing hard with the effort of keeping them down. Hattie sighed, and Remus reached for his hand. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay.”

More tears tracked down Sirius’ cheeks as he tried to choke back the feelings and it took every iota of self-control in Remus’ body not to wipe them away. He saw the panic and desperation in Sirius’ quicksilver eyes; he saw the tremors in his body, heralds of the repression he had worked to overcome for years. “I don’t want to feel like this.” Sirius glanced down at Remus’ hands and tucked his own under his arms, shivering slightly. “Don’t touch me or I’ll cry. I don’t want to feel like this.”

“Baby, I don’t think you can stop it,” Remus said softly.

Sirius’ face crumpled and a small whine slipped out; Hattie’s eyes flickered to his face in clear concern. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to stop feeling things when you’re here?” He laced his fingers in his hair, covering his ears. “It’s like everything explodes, and I don’t want that to happen.”

Remus crossed his legs and faced Sirius fully, laying his hands palm-up on the couch cushions. “If you tell me to, I’ll leave. But I need to know you’re alright first.”

“Why do you care so fucking much?” he asked angrily.

“Because I love you.” It was easy to say. There was no hesitation, no catch, no ‘gotcha’ moment. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and I love you. Something fractured in Sirius’ expression.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he gasped through fresh tears. “About—about your family. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“And I’m so tired of shoving everything down.” His lower lip wobbled, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Remus burned with the need to shield him from everything that taught him to do that.

“Okay.”

“And I love you so much.” The fracture turned to a shatter and Sirius fell into Remus’ arms, clutching the back of his oversized sweater like a drowning man holding a raft. Remus held him just as tight, feeling a prickle in the corners of his eyes. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“It’s allowed to hurt,” Remus’ voice broke a little and he swallowed hard, burying his face in Sirius’ hair. “You’re allowed to feel things, Sirius.”

“Don’t let me go. Don’t you dare.”

Something fierce flamed in Remus’ chest. “I won’t.”

Sirius continued mumbling for a few minutes, but he was crying too hard and Remus’ sweater muffled the sound too much for him to understand anything. Eventually, the aching sobs became slow breaths and the occasional sniffle. Neither of them loosened their grip until Sirius scooted closer to tuck his face against Remus’ shoulder. “I don’t have parents anymore.”

“Who made our wedding cake?” Remus asked, drying the closest cheek with his sleeve. “Whose kids did you watch the other night, even though you had to sing Disney songs for three and a half hours and lost your voice? Who walked you down the aisle? Baby, you are so wanted. By them, by me, and by everyone else who loves you for exactly who you are.”

A few half-shivers rocked through him. “Dumo and Celeste have been better parents in seven years than they ever were.”

Remus pressed a light kiss to the shell of his ear. “Can I be really honest with you, baby?”

“Of course.”

“A flaming dumpster fire and a dead fish would’ve been better parents than the ones you grew up with.”

A startled snort escaped Sirius’ mouth, followed by a tumble of laughter that made him rest his forehead on Remus’ collarbone. “They would hate hearing that,” he said, almost gleefully.

“But it’s true.”

“It’s so true, mon dieu.” Sirius leaned back, smiling through the clear exhaustion on his face until Remus reached up and gently took it between his palms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Sirius closed his eyes and melted into the touch. “Being here.”

“That’s what I promised, right?” He tapped his left ring finger lightly against Sirius’ cheek. “You don’t deserve to hurt like this, and it’s not fair of them to do this to you, but I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

“I’m always going to want you.”

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.” He guided Sirius closer until their foreheads touched and traced his temples with his thumbs. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No. But I think I will be, later.” His chest caved a little. “I’m sorry for getting angry with you.”

Remus lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I know you didn’t mean what you said, and I forgive you. For the record, though, I think I know you pretty well.”

A small smile lifted the side of Sirius’ mouth. “Better than anyone.”

A sudden thought struck Remus and he bit his lip. “Are you going to tell Regulus?”

“M—” He clenched his jaw for a moment. “Walburga said she’d call him.”

“Do you want to call him first?”

“That would give him time to think of some good insults,” Sirius mused. “I’m going to take a shower first, I think. I feel gross and snotty.”

“You’re gorgeous. Do you want company?”

Sirius blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, actually. That sounds nice. Can I have a kiss?”

His lips were a little salty from tears, but that didn’t stop Remus as he cradled his jaw and poured all the love he could muster into the kiss. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears and he slid his hands around to Sirius’ back, pulling him in for one more hug before they stood and headed upstairs, leaving the stark white papers far behind.

[acourtofsnakes]

Haalur - Rogue, Chapter 17| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Din begins the frantic race for your life, desperate not to lose you. 

Warnings: Swearing, injury, drowning, talks of death, brief mention of suicide, angst, fluff

AN: The good times start from here, folks. I’ve put you all through enough ♥︎

AN: I highly recommend listening to Bruises by Lewis Capaldi for this chapter for the vibes 🖤

Credit to whoever owns the gif 🖤

Word count: 5.5k +

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar​   @weirdowithnobeardo​  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jackgrzs  @sarahjkl82-blog  @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004  @seninjakitey  @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless  @rosiefridayrogersunday  @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly  @welcometothepedroverse​

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome | 11: Aliit ori'shya tal'din| 12: Mar’eyce | 13: Kov’nyn| 14: Ne’tra| 15: Or’dinii| 16: Dar| 17: Haalur| 

Mando’a Translation: Haalur - Breathe

As soon as you were sucked into the water, Din felt a terror so potent that he was sure he had just died. It gripped his heart, pulverising it in his chest and making it hard to think, breathe or even see. 

He was rigid, unable to comprehend what was happening, before Grogu’s repeated warning cry jolted him awake. 

Din hesitated no longer. 

He sprinted across the surface of the lake, going too fast to worry about the huge cracks forming under his feet. 

The stretch to where you had fallen seemed like miles, like you were getting further and further away despite the closing distance. 

By the time he made it, the hole had already begun to freeze back over, and Din frantically smashed at it with the heel of his boot. He couldn’t risk shooting at it, in case he caught you in the firing line. 

With a suitable hole made, he turned on the flashlight on his helmet, sucked in a deep breath, and then dived straight in. 

Immediately, the sub-zero temperature of the water gripped his ribs like a vice, a cold so intense it felt like his bones would snap under the force of it.

Glacial water immediately gushed in under his helmet, choking him with the bitter taste, burning his eyes and rendering him blind for a moment. 

He choked, thrashing around for a moment as he struggled to breathe.

“Calm down.” He snapped at himself, “Stop panicking. Breathe. This isn’t about you.”

 Saving you, that’s all that mattered. 

Din allowed his body to relax, to will his heart to slow down. 

He moved his head around, searching the cloudy, pitch-black depths for any trace of you. 

The weight of your clothes and the force of your drop would have sucked you down quickly, and Din felt the clock begin to tick down, the timer of your life being thrust into his hands. 

He shifted his body around, using the ice above his head to push himself down and begin to swim for you. 

It was just so dark down here, like he’d gone through the ice and emerged up into space, blindly navigating the cloudy abyss whilst searching for the one person he wanted to give everything to. 

Panic and terror fuelled his strokes, the weight of his armour aided him in sinking deeper. 

It might have been hours; it may only have been seconds. 

Din’s lungs burned, and his head throbbed with the pressure of the arctic water. 

Every pound of his heart reminded him that your own may have stopped - 

There!

Sinking slowly to the bottom of the water, looking like you were plucked straight from the stories the elders used to tell him, there you were. 

Eyes closed and lashes brushing your cheekbones… like this, in the dim light from his helmet, you could simply be asleep. 

He nearly sobbed in relief, scrabbling in the water and he tugged you gently to his body, holding you against him and he started to kick toward the surface. 

But it was harder, more of an effort this time.

He was graceful on land, able to move with the ease of a shadow even with the armour but underwater, his beloved protective shell made him cumbersome, the weight combining with your limp body threatening to drag him down. 

He kicked his legs harder, keeping his head focused on the ice above. He was desperate to open his mouth, to suck in air, even though it would only be a mouthful of bitter, icy water. 

Din didn’t have the time to worry about his own rapidly clouding vision. 

Your clock was nearing its end, the thread of your life fraying and unwinding from his own.

Just when he thought he might simply pass out, that the pair of you would sink back down, maybe be devoured by the creatures that he had luckily avoided so far, he saw it. The opening. 

Though it had begun to freeze, it was just visible with the strange light filtering through. He fumbled for his blaster, shielding your head and he shot at the ice, quickly rushing up to the gap it opened. 

He hauled himself up, depositing you gently onto the side of the ice and then he dragged himself over the edge, sodden fingers scrabbling on the ice as he collapsed next to you. 

Din sucked in a few deep breaths for a moment, coughing and spluttering but then he turned his attention back to you. 

He rolled you gently on your back, and his heart constricted at what he saw. 

Your lips were already a purple-blue colour, like a bruise. The water on your skin had already frosted over, giving you the appearance of being encased. Your hair crackled as it froze together in matted knots and you just looked… well, dead. 

He fumbled with his gloves, willing his numb fingers to cooperate and he eventually yanked them off, pressing them against the soft, cold skin of your neck. 

Nothing.

Din blinked a few times. 

That’s not possible… You’re just unconscious, you’re just… you’re not-

He shook his hands out, trying to get the blood flowing in them again, that’s all it was. His hands were too cold. 

He pressed them to your neck again, but… your pulse that usually beat so strongly, so familiarly… it wasn’t there. 

You were dead.

“No, no, no, no, no-“ He burst into a frenzy, ripping your cloak out of the way and he begun to do compressions on your chest, remembering the movement from battles far and wide. When all the tech failed, when the sprays and med-kits didn’t work, this was the last resort. Manually encouraging a heart to begin to beat again. 

But what if it didn’t want to?

No. 

He couldn’t think like that. 

He kept the compressions in time with the counting in his head, pausing every now and then to pinch your nose shut and blow air into your lungs. 

Except the more he did, the more he heard the bubbly sound of the air hitting water. 

Your lungs…you must have somehow swallowed the icy water, which was stopping you from being able to breathe. 

“Okay, okay... lift her up. Get rid of the water.” He whispered the instructions to himself, and then followed them. 

He braced your chest against his arm, leaning you forward so your head was tilted and then he delivered a harsh smack between your shoulder blades. 

The movement jolted your body but did nothing to remove the water. 

So, he tried again, and then again harder. 

He heard it shift, and a small trickle of water just slightly dripped form your lips, so he began a frantic routine of compressions, mouth-to-mouth and then smacking the water from your lungs. 

It might have been hours, or only minutes, but his instinct was telling him what his heart couldn’t bear to acknowledge. 

It wasn’t working. 

He couldn’t lose you. 

He just couldn’t. 

You were everything he needed, every single possible thing. You both slotted together, the cracks and dents in your souls fitting and securing each other. 

This couldn’t be it. 

The relentless hand of the clock was slowing, each tick becoming heavy and tolling, taunting him. 

Din sobbed, gripping you against his chest, rocking from side to side, “You can’t leave me. You can’t do this.” The tears that slid down his cheeks were hot, almost stinging against is frigid skin, “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me. It was supposed to be me, you and the kids remember? A clan of three. Clans don’t just leave each other.” He rested the forehead of his helmet on the top of your head, his chest aching, everything in him just hurting as he held the dead weight of you against his body. 

Grogu’s sniffling sobs, and Duru’s broken yowling provided the only other noise in this barren, frozen land of death. A heartbreaking symphony to the scene unfolding. 

Over and over, Din mumbled to you, “You promised, you promised, you promised-“

How could you do this to him? How could he have let you be ripped out from under him?

He was going to do it. He was going to tell you how he felt when you’d left this planet. 

It was all planned in his head, exactly what he wanted to say. 

He’d even splashed out some extra credits and bought the sweet treats you loved, storing them safely away so they’d stay fresh. 

He didn’t even get to show you his true face…

A frustrated, desperate growl slipped from his clenched jaw, and he braced you over his arm again, delivering one final blow to the middle of your back that he knew would leave a bruise, that even stung his hand. 

Silence. 

Din closed his eyes, feeling his entire being split in two, everything he had built and hoped for shatter in front of him like the ice that had stolen you. 

What was he supposed to do now?

The clock had stopped ticking. 

~~

~~~

You were floating. 

It was quiet here, peaceful. 

There wasn’t a darkness, so much as an absence of light and… things. It wasn’t warm and it wasn’t cold… and there was noise yet… silence, all at the same time. 

You don’t know how long you floated for, just being at peace, but you felt a warm breeze wash over your face, smelling of flowers and something sweet. 

It was a smell from your childhood, one you hadn’t been near in… too long. 

Your mother. 

“Hello, my sweet darling.” 

“Hello, mama… I’ve missed you so much...”

“I know, my dear. We’ve missed you too. We’ve always been watching… So, so proud of you.” 

“Proud of me? Mama, how can you be proud of me? The things I’ve done… the people I’ve hurt... you didn’t raise me to hurt people, mama. You shouldn’t be proud.” 

A new scent suddenly appeared, rich, earthy and a little spicy almost, “We raised you to take care of yourself, starlight. However, you need to. You’ve grown, sweetheart. You’re a warrior.” 

“But papa… I don’t want to keep hurting people. I… I hurt people every day by lying to them. By putting them in danger-” You felt your throat close, tears springing to your eyes even though you were both everything and also nothing in this floating world. 

You felt a phantom caress over the top of your head, the same feeling you used to have when your father brushed back your hair, “My sweet starlight, you do not bring danger to people. You are a joy to them; you help them see the world through a different set of eyes. Through eyes that see wonder and beauty even in the darkest of places.” 

You felt the brush of your mother, stroking her fingers on the back of your cheek, “You have always been such a wonder, darling. You feel everything so intensely. Such happiness that shines from you like sunlight, sadness that drowns you like a wave, anger that burns as fierce as the brightest flame in the darkest night… I know it’s hard sometimes, sweetheart, I know that sometimes you want to give up… But there are people that need you.” 

Your heart ached in your chest, feeling both heavy and light, “But… I can’t help but feel…” 

You might have seen your mother smile in the darkness, her head resting on your father’s shoulder, “You feel that you are a burden… Darling, you’re not. I assure you. People need you in their life… The Mandalorian needs you...” 

That surprised you. “Din… needs me?” 

A gentle, rough chuckle that belonged to your father, “Of course, starlight. He needs you far more than you know. Do not let go of him… The threads of your life are so tightly entwined... you have belonged to each other since the Maker and the stars decided it.” 

“Okay…” 

“It’s time to wake up now, sweetheart…” Your mother’s voice was sweet, fading a little. 

“Can’t I stay here with you and papa? It’s been so long…” 

Your father’s voice faded as well, “I know, starlight… But we’ll see you again. There are other people that need you more now… We love you, starlight..” 

“I love you too, mama, and you too, papa..” 

“Goodbye, my love...” 

~~

~~~

Awareness came rushing back to you with complete and utter sheer intensity. 

The biting cold wind, the ice beneath your limp body.

You could hear frantic sobs, mumbling in a familiar deep baritone, “Haalur, haalur, haalur, haalur. Come on, princess, please… Please. You promised me.” The voice was tight, leashed emotion barely restrained. 

There was a sharp thud on your back, and then another, right between your shoulder blades. 

Something inside your lungs shifted, and then exploded as you erupted into deep coughing, choking up the bitter water. 

That power inside you seemed to me forcing the water up as well, pushing it up out of your chest, aiding in helping you breathe. 

It came pouring out of you, coming out of your mouth and your nose in a vast torrent, choking you and burning like fire despite how cold it was. 

Dimly, you heard a strangled noise of relief, “Oh.” And arm leaning you even further forward, supporting your body and rubbing your back, over the bruise already forming, “Easy, princess…”

Everything hurt. 

But it wasn’t “I’ve just been punched whilst fighting for my life” sort of hurt. 

This was… so much deeper than that. 

This kind of pain lived in every weak thud of your heart. 

The frantic shivering of your body only jolted each broken part, but you couldn’t stop shaking. You were just so cold. 

It ravaged your lungs raw with each gasping breath, but you were unable to slow it down, because you needed the oxygen now that you had emptied half of the lake from your body. 

You needed more. 

There simply wasn’t enough, you were drowning again, sucked under into that deep abyss and trapped beneath the surface, your lungs filling up and freezing – 

“Easy, easy, darling.” A hand rubbed your back, coaxing your airways to open up, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now… Haalur…” 

Of course, it was Din… who else would dive headfirst into a frozen lake to save you. 

You became aware of his arms, one supporting your chest to lean your limp body forward, and the other across your back. His hand continued to rub soothing circles on your back, mumbling, “Haalur…” softly, over and over. You had a feeling he wasn’t just doing it for you, but for himself as well, like he was using the rhythmic motions to hold back some kind of flood of emotion. 

You forced your sluggish brain to focus on the parts of him you could feel, your eyes still a little too blurry and just… so heavy. You were so tired. And so damn cold. 

You tried to speak, to ask him if he was okay, but your aching throat cracked and gave out on the first syllable of his name. A soft whimper escaped your lips, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks and you tapped at his hand. 

Din understood, because he gently eased his arm under your legs, scooping you up into his arms and keeping both sodden capes around you. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.” His voice sounded all funny, all bubbly and full of static, presumably from the water. 

Guilt wracked through your body, and you tilted your head up to look at his helmet. You wanted to touch it, but your arms felt too heavy to move. You swallowed, managing to barely croak, “Y-your helmet…” 

Din shook his head slightly, whistling for Duru and Grogu and he began to carefully and quickly make his way across the lake toward the bank, “Don’t worry about it.” 

Ice sparkled on your lashes as you blinked, dancing across your vision like little sprites lulling you to sleep, “But...” 

Din shook his head harder, helmet focused forward, not looking at you, “Helmets can be fixed. You cannot.” Below the static, his voice was hoarse, from the crying you’d heard before you fully came back to yourself. 

But… there was something else. An underlying note of… anger? 

You decided to keep silent. 

The gentle sway of Din’s body didn’t help the internal struggle you were having not to fall asleep.

With his footsteps as a steady ambience, you allowed yourself to succumb to the darkness, where there was no pain. Only peace and the scent of leather, metal and something woodsy that was distinctly him. 

~~

“Cyar'ika?”

That familiar voice was reaching through the darkness again, pulling you back toward the surface.

“Hey, open your eyes…” 

A gentle tap against your face tugged you upward, and you struggled through the veil for a moment before it all came rushing back in at once. 

The fuzziness cleared and you saw that Din was looking down at you, the planet too dark to allow you to see your refection in his visor. 

His shoulders seemed to slump in relief when he saw you awake, and he looked away quickly. He fiddled with something and then you heard the ramp open, “Keep your eyes open.” There was a trace of command in his voice, enough that it riled you just a little. 

You had just died after all. 

“Why? I’m freezing and I’m tired.” Your voice was still hoarse, but the rest he had dragged you out of seemed to have helped. 

Din walked up the ramp, closing it behind him, “Because I don’t want you dying on me again. That’s why.” His voice was thick, a little ragged. He propped you up on a low crate, leaning your back against the wall of the Crest. He reached into a box, and then removed the two sodden cloaks, and replaced it with a thick, dry blanket. 

Duru jumped up opposite, with Grogu in her mouth and pair watched you with large, worried eyes. 

The warmth surrounded you, making you audibly sigh in relief and it perked you up just a little, despite the shivers that still wracked your body – and the strange atmosphere coming off of Din. You tugged the blanket a little higher, leaning into the wall. 

Little did you know, now that you were… somewhat okay, his fear had turned into absolute seething frustration. Not directly at you, more the situation. 

You watched silently as he rummaged in the med-kit for something, the line of his shoulders taut beneath the frosty armour that was slowly beginning to thaw. 

Din turned to face you, holding a bacta-injection in his hands, “Show me.” He motioned to your side, where Haran had driven his lightsaber through you. 

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of your chest, “You’re kidding, right? There is no way you’re coming near me with that.” You would have crossed your arms, if you’d had the energy. But you didn’t, so you settled for raising your eyebrows at him in a disbelieving manner. 

He walked over to you, stopping in front of you. “I need to make sure it isn’t infected. I know it’s already cauterised but who knows what you picked up in that lake. Show me.” His voice was firm, no room for argument. 

You swallowed, watching the frost on his armour melt and roll down the armour in rivulets. “We might need it some other time. It’s expensive… I don’t need it. I’m fine. Truly.” You shivered again, a wave of cold washing over your body as water ran off of your hair and down your back. 

Din sighed, “You’ll face off against a creature four times the size of you, but you won’t face one tiny injection?” That strange, clipped tone was back in his voice and you started to realise he might be mad at you. 

Still avoiding his stare, you nodded once, still watching those water droplets. 

Din muttered something you didn’t hear from the static in the modulator and made as if to turn around. 

You relaxed, closing your eyes but then suddenly, you felt a sharp stinging just under your ribs and then a push of liquid being forced into your body. 

That bastard!

A snarl worked its way up from your chest and your eyes snapped open. “Hey!” You glared at him, eyes spitting fire and a little hurt, “What the hell did you do that for! I said no!” 

Din growled himself, pointing a finger in your direction, “You don’t get to make the decisions tonight. I do.” He threw the empty syringe to the side, and then scooped you back into his arms. 

Struggling slightly, you made a noise of dissent, “So, you’re going to lock me up somewhere now, are you?” 

He practically stomped through the levels of the ship, making his way to the living area, “No.” He walked down the hall and opened the door to the ‘fresher, “I’m warming you up considering you’re still shivering so hard I can hear your teeth grinding.” He swiped the small collection of cleaning supplies off of the ledge, and then set you down inside, leaning you against the wall and the small ledge. 

Okay, so he had a point there.

But that didn’t mean he had to be so… Din about it. 

“I can get myself in here you know.” 

Din turned his attention to the taps, “Mmhm. I’ll believe you when you can take off your tunic.” 

Your cheeks coloured just slightly at that, but ever the stubborn one, you reached down and fumbled with the ties that held the outer tunic together. 

It was just a simple knot holding the lacing together, but your hands were still numb and uncooperative, and you couldn’t gather the strength to grip the string. 

You clenched your jaw, knowing Din was watching you and you absolutely hated it when he was right. 

Almost as much as you hated being this weak and helpless. 

Gloved hands gently pushed yours out of the way, and within seconds, he had freed the laces and tugged the tunic off of your body, leaving you in the long-sleeved undershirt. He threw it out of the shower with a wet thump, “You were saying?” He fiddled with the taps again, and then warm water cascaded down over your body. 

Despite Din’s frustration with you, you sighed in delight. The water probably wasn’t even that warm in reality, but compared to your icy body, it felt like absolute heaven. 

After a few moments, you couldn’t bear the tense silence. 

Peering at Din, you saw that he was leaning against the wall watching you, overly tense and you realised he was trying to hide the fact he was shivering himself. The armour would have been like cubes of ice on his body, trapping the cold in the damp underclothes that clung to his skin. 

You cocked your head, feeling coming back into your body now, “You should be in here too… You must be as cold as I am.” 

He shook his head, “I’ll wait.” 

Stubborn. 

“Din, you and I know both know the hot water won’t last. Stop being a stubborn ass and get in here.” You pointedly closed your eyes, to show you wouldn’t look. 

You heard him hesitate, but a few seconds later, you heard the sounds of metal on the floor as he shed his armour, and then felt his presence as he stepped in with you. 

A soft sigh escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help the smile that just tugged at your lips, “See, I told you.” 

Din snarled again, very quietly, “Shut up.” 

Surprise filtered across your expression, making you raise your eyebrows, “Excuse m-“

“I said, shut up. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to make jokes after what just happened. Not this time.” There was something behind his words, the sense of that breakdown that he had been holding back on the ice. 

But still, how was this your fault? “Why am I getting the blame? What could I possibly have done wrong? I didn’t ask to be stabbed with a lightsaber, or fucking drown! If you have a problem, go and sort it out with Rena, Haran – whatever the fuck his name is. Not me!”

Din laughed, but it was cold, almost somewhat hysterical, “Oh don’t worry, princess. I plan to.” He moved closer to you, creating a darker shadow across your darkened eyelids. “But I am mad at you. I am… furious with you.” He stopped just in front of you, the slight raggedness of his breathing audible, “I warned you not to call him, or get involved with him. And you didn’t listen to me.”

You opened your mouth in protest but felt his bare finger press against your lips. 

“No.” There was that tone from that night, in the kitchen when it was all command and pent-up emotion. “You talk when I say.” He removed his finger, but stayed close, “You went ahead and called him anyway. I don’t know why, and I’m not going to ask, but how could you not think something would happen? All I knew, was being in this damn shower, and then everything exploded. I felt the Crest go down, I heard you scream. By the time I got my armour back on and got out of here, I didn’t even know which way was up. I couldn’t get to you.” 

His words were slowly getting a little quicker, and it floored you because in the entire time you had known him… this was the most he had ever spoken. 

That was the only reason you bit back your retorts and stayed silent. 

You heard him suck in another breath, “When I woke up, I searched this whole ship, this whole fucking ship three times over. I couldn’t find you, or Grogu, or even Duru. You were all just… gone. I didn’t know if any of you were alive, if you’d been hurt, if you were stuck somewhere, if someone had taken you. 

I went out straight away, and all I could think was… what if I couldn’t get to you in time?” His voice was choked a little, still mixed with frustration and you heard him pace across the tiny area of the refresher. This had really shaken him, allowed him to feel a fear so potent he didn’t think it was possible. 

If you opened your eyes, he would still have his helmet on, but you would see the rapid rise and fall of his armourless chest, see the way he held his body, like he was preparing for battle as all of these emotions and words tore out of him, like he could no longer stop them. 

The water still poured down over the pair of you as all of this emotion cascaded out of him, “When I saw your arrows on the floor and the dead Trooper, I knew you were alive.” He paused for a breath, or maybe to try and stop his outpouring?

Either way, you took the advantage, “How? How could you know I’m alive just from arrows and a dead Stormtrooper?” 

You felt him look at you, his voice softening for a moment and sounding sort of… proud? “Because if you were killed, there would have been a hell of a lot more mess. You wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. It was too clean, so I knew you were hurt. And then… Then I felt it. A pull toward you. I ran, so hard, so fast and when I saw you, trapped on that lake-” He cut off with a soft noise, “My entire world stopped. He had you. He had you there and I couldn’t do anything to stop It without risking you or the kid. And I shouldn’t have hesitated like I did, I shouldn’t have sat there and let him dictate his terms. I should have just killed him as soon as I saw you and none of this would have happened.” 

He was starting to spiral into guilt, you could feel it, and it physically pained you to hear him blame himself, “Din, stop. Please. None of this was your fault, none of it at all.”

“No! It is my fault!” His cry was so different to his usual lower baritone, that for a moment you thought he was someone different. “The only reason you went to him, is because I haven’t made you comfortable enough to trust me. To trust me with… whatever it is you went to him for.”

He carried on too quickly for you to register where he was going with that. “You were kidnapped by him, because of me. He hurt you, and did Maker knows what to you, because I couldn’t protect you. You went into that lake, you nearly died… because of me.” His voice cracked on the word ‘died’ and broke to a whisper at the end. 

It tore straight through you, and you pushed off from the wall, stumbling the few steps to him blindly and you rested your hands up onto his helmet, “Din…”

His hands flew up, grasping your wrists by instinct but then they softened, holding them gently, “Please don’t tell me otherwise.” You could barely hear him over the sound of the water. 

Ignoring him anyway, you forged on, willing him to understand with your words since you couldn’t let him read your eyes, “None of this was because of you. You have made me feel comfortable and safer than I ever have before, in my entire life. I trust you, completely. What happened to me, today, it was my fault. My foolishness, so please, please stop blaming yourself.” 

It was like Din didn’t even hear you, like your words floated in one side of his helmet and dropped out the other, “Do you know what I would have done? If I hadn’t been able to save you on the ice?” 

Tightness gripped your heart, and you shook your head, “Don’t.”

He grasped your wrists a little tighter, “I would have hunted Haran down and killed him and then I would have taken Grogu and Duru to Peli. And given her the Crest, she’d look after it. Or sell it for parts. Either way, it would have been in good hands. And then I would have lain you to rest, somewhere beautiful and peaceful, like you always talked about.” 

You tried to pull your hands away, but he held fast to you, gently, “Din, stop. Please don’t say it, please-“

“And then I would have laid down next you, taken off all my armour and I would have driven a blade into my own heart.” 

A hard flinch ran across your body, and you shook your head fiercely even though the action made your head swim, “Don’t you dare say that again. I don’t even want to think about you doing that, Din. Why would you even do that? Why wouldn’t you just live out the rest of your life in peace? Go to that Sanctuary planet you talked about and be free? Don’t throw away everything you’ve been through because of my own stupidity.” You yanked your arms free, backing up a few steps and stumbling up against the wall again. 

The shadows shifted and you knew Din was following you forward, “Because I would have failed you. I do not deserve to live after it’s my fault you died. Grogu shouldn’t be brought up by someone who can’t save the people he lo – cares about.”

You made a noise of frustration, turning away so your back was to him, opening your eyes and you glared at the wall, tears stinging your eyes, “Just stop!! I don’t deserve that! How can you talk so easily of throwing your life away for someone like me! Just stop, Din – it’s ridiculous.” 

Even though your parents words echoed in your mind, you just… couldn’t believe them. 

Din’s hands rested on your shoulders, “It’s not ridiculous, cyar'ika. It’s the truth.” He said it so simply, so easily and that just made you even more frustrated. 

“No!” You shook your shoulders, ignoring the bolt of paint hat ran through your side, “It’s not the truth. You can’t just leave the kids without a father; you can’t just lay down and die just because I’m not here. I don’t mean that much to you, Din, honestly.  I’m a pain. All I’ve done since I came here is cause you more grief. So, if you say one more time that you’ll die for me, I’ll – I’ll..”

“You’ll what?” 

You swallowed, a tear rolling down your cheek, “I’ll leave.” The words stung, low words that hit below the belt, but Din had to understand. “You have to understand, Din. I am not worth that.”

He remained close but didn’t touch you. His words were in that rumbly baritone again, the one that shot straight through you, “You have to understand, princess, that I can’t stand here and listen to you talk about yourself like that. You are worth everything. All of this, all these people after us, the old and the new, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t care.” 

You groaned, raking your fingers through your knotted hair in frustration, “You’re not listening to me!!” 

Din’s voice rose, equally as riled up again, “No, you’re not listening to me! I’m trying to tell you what I’ve been thinking about for… fuck, for months. And you’re not hearing it, you’re not listening to what I’m saying!! Just like always.” 

Without thinking, you spun round, eyes blazing, and you waved your hands in the air, even if it did make the floor feel like it was swaying, “Then what do you have to say, Din? What are you so desperately trying to tell me? Huh?” 

Din didn’t react to you seeing him in his helmet and black underclothes. It was like he didn’t care. 

His hands were shaking at his sides, curling and uncurling into fists, “I’m trying to say that – that I..”

You rose your eyebrows, “Well? Come on, spit it out if it’s bothering you so much that I won’t understand. The floors all yours, Din. You have something to say-” 

Before you’d even finished speaking, he cut you off, shouting above you and the water, 

“I love you.”

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