#without even mentioning what the viewpoints are

[karmaphone]

can u imagine if they tried to make atla today. 'yeah here's my pitch about a child who has the weight of the balance of both the physical world and an ethereal spirit world on his shoulders on top of being the last survivor of a literal genocide. yeah he's spiritually enlightened already in a non Christian religion, and reincarnation happens to him and him alone. yeah no the show's major themes are about how war and imperialism are bad for everyone involved, including the world around us. no, there'll still be cool fight scenes but it will also fundamentally explain the difference between defending oneself from an oppressor vs using that power to oppress and how even children can grasp that- where are you going'

[meanbossart]

Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)

As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.

Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )

I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:

I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.

Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:

Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.

Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.

So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:

Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:

posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.

In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!

While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).

Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.

Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)

Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:

"Can I trace this junk?"

And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.

However,

If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.

Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".

So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.

Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.

A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.

[yandere-3-sagau]

To Take for Granted

Genshin Cult AU x Reader Angst

word count: 862

warning(s): genshin cult au, angst, neglect, death, mentions of suicide

—

They say to never meet your heroes.

Imagine you isekai but as your mortal self with no special divine powers. Only the knowledge of the characters and the game you played.

At first, the acolytes are amazed to be in the presence of the creator. They worship you, give you everything you could ever want and shower you in praise and affection.

However, the more you stay, the more their affection and worship begins to dwindle.

They begin to lose faith.

You don’t meet their godly expectations. You’re not as divine and all knowing as they had originally thought. They don’t gain any divine blessings or power from worshipping or devoting themselves to you.

You are not their perfect creator, you have flaws. You’re human.

The archons no longer prioritize you, choosing to take care of their prospective nations than to cater to you.

Their attitude change is gradual and you notice their declining interest in you pretty early on, but you can’t do anything to stop it. It’s not long before your lively temple becomes desolate with little to no visitors.

Although you’re hurt and disappointed, you are a bit grateful. You’ve read stories of imposters being slaughtered so you feel like being forgotten is better than being hunted. Still, you’re not one to stay where you’re unwanted. You begin to do research on how to return back to your original world. You’ve had your fill of Teyvat and you think it’s time to go home.

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that the only way to return is to die in this world.

Though you’re scared, you push through and find the most peaceful way to pass. A poison that will stop your heart in your sleep.

After traveling to all of the beautiful viewpoints of Teyvat one final time, you return to your temple and consume the poison.

When you open your eyes once more, you’re back home in your bed. The familiar Genshin Impact loading screen is open on your phone.

With a sad smile, you delete the app.

In Teyvat, the archons, adepti, everyone is panicking.

Plants are dying and the weather is unstable. Farmers are unable to yield any crops from the constantly changing weather. Monsters are becoming increasingly violent and restless and no one can seem to find an explanation.

Until one character remembers you.

Their supposed creator. Everyone decides to pay a visit to your temple on the off chance that you may know of a solution to their current issues.

The area around your temple is peaceful. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining along with a soft wind that keeps the area nice and warm. It’s a stark difference from the cold and gloomy weather all around Teyvat.

They knock on the doors to your temple but no one answers. After waiting for a while, they let themselves in.

They find you laying peacefully on the silk sheets of your bed. Your eyes are closed and you have a small smile on your face. If it wasn’t for your cold skin and the absence of a pulse, they would have thought you were sleeping.

When the archons announce the death of the creator, the cause of all of their problems becomes apparent to all.

The land of Teyvat itself, is in mourning.

The period of morning lasts for one whole year.

Even as the mourning period of Teyvat ends and all goes back to normal, the characters are still not at ease.

When they realize that you’re truly gone, the characters have no idea what to feel. They didn’t notice at first how much your presence truly effects the land of Teyvat.

Something about their world now just seems so artificial.

Without the presence of the creator, it seems as if everything’s become stagnant. Water still runs, clouds still float in the sky but for some reason nothing seems real. The characters feel as if they have no purpose, no drive.

They begin to notice things that they’ve never noticed before. The citizens in each of their nations seem to say the same things over and over again. The people they help with tasks, have the same reoccurring problem. It becomes unsettling.

The acolytes that have originally lost faith have become more religious than ever. They pray every single day, hoping that you’d hear them and realize how sorry they are to have neglected you.

Some have become so devoted to the point of studying how to summon or even descend a god. To forcefully bring you back to Teyvat just so they could see you in person once more.

They had beaten themselves up over the layer of dust accumulated on the furniture in your temple. Now, your acolytes come in personally everyday to make sure every inch of your temple is spotless.

But no matter how much time passes or how much they pray, they are unable to feel your presence.

Though disheartened, they understand. You must still be upset with them but how can they prove themselves to you if they never see you again? However, it’s okay if you’re not ready to come back to Teyvat. They will come to you instead.

[blacklunardice]

Request from Ao3: Question: I saw you have x-men on here, what would Logan do as a Yandere? Would he be more romantic or like a dad (I could see both ways) just in the 1st movie alone without his memories he’s very protective Would it be any diffrent if he had the instincts of a wolf? And even with his memories he has quite the past… and the fact that he can’t die…. Would he force stricken to give her a healing factor gene too and the metal so she’s nearly as indestructible as him? … is it bad I’d love to see him use Stryker and them end him and his operations permanently (he could make it so Stryker is the bad guy in all of this and even get the one he likes (romantically or fatherly honestly would love both) to help kill Stryker he’d be like a hero to them, making it that much harder to leave him!

Warning(s): Mentions of murder (not towards Darling), Possessive Behavior/Thoughts, Aggressive Behavior

I can also see it both ways as well! It just really depends on his viewpoint on you. Either way, it doesn't change how protective he is regarding your life and safety.

There's this high need to be by your side, yet he keeps his distance. Given what he's been through and who he's lost, it's his instinct. Even so, he lingers around, making sure you're okay.

Gonna be real here, he acts more like an actual wolverine than a wolf. Wolves are pack animals and aren't that aggressive unless you mess with them. Wolverines, however, are highly aggressive, territorial, and solitary animals (who also take on animals much larger than them but can be aware if the fight is too much for them). Does fit with Logan, unfortunately for anyone who tries to get too close to you.

His jealousy and possessiveness are much higher in the romantic route. You're like his lifeline, his light in the darkness. With such a past like his, you are literally the best thing to ever happen to him. A breath of fresh air. However, he's so... guilt-ridden. There's this sense of self-deprecation and hatred he has within himself that prevents him from getting too close to you. He'd opt to watch from a distance, acting as a protector from afar. 'Cause like hell he's leaving you alone even with the painful thoughts of him not deserving you.

It doesn't matter if you are a mutant or not, Logan will still be overly protective. Both scenarios will have you in a vulnerable spot for danger. Being a mutant just means bouts of discrimination and the possibility of cruel people (like Stryker) taking advantage of you. He would kill that entire facility if they ever try touching you or using you against him (if you're human or mutant in this scenario).

I fully believe he wouldn't go through having the same procedure that Weapon X placed on him done to you. He doesn't want them touching you, period. He'd hate himself if you were ever hurt or put in danger like that. So no, he wouldn't try to do anything like that to you. Maybe another way to keep you with him will arise, even if it is extremely selfish of him to wish for it. 

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.7 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, mentions of pregnancy (rumours), tabloids, media, Jake’s feelings, Apollo making bad decisions <3, wc: 5.8k

…

Jake has been having weird dreams recently. No, weird isn’t the word. Downright unnerving. The kind of dreams that have you waking up breathless, and drenched in sweat, and alone. He has been here before. Not in this particular hotel room is SoCal, but in this position. Alone, and having weird dreams.

The sheet under him is damp, and he can feel one bead of sweat in particular following the length of his spine. It’s a sick kind of feeling, like waiting for a fever to break. He swallows thickly before he even begins to stir. His throat is sore and dry. His legs ache before he even attempts to stretch them

Without opening his eyes, he knows that his bed is empty.

But, even in this empty bed, filled with that sick kind of feeling, Jake would rather be here. Being awake, left with the sobriety of conscious thought, is a far milder form of torture than letting himself drift off again. Here, awake, you’re alive.

You aren’t in danger, screaming out his name and begging for his help. Even here, even awake, the sound of your voice rings in his ears and his forearms tingle like your fingertips are still digging into them.

He can barely sleep now, not until the exhaustion finally comes for him and he knocks out. Even then, even when he finally manages to sleep, he doesn’t rest. He’s met with the same dreams over and over.

This hotel room in San Diego is far from feeling like home. It doesn’t smell right. It smells like air freshener and laundry. He can hear traffic and voices in the hall. The room feels too still. Jake misses that familiar feeling of your restless sleep, your limbs all over him and your face pressing into the crook of his neck, your heart beating against his skin. He misses the smell of you, the soft perfume of your body wash that always lingers from showering with him the night before.

He parts his dry lips and lets out a long exhale. His fingers twitch at his side before he manages to lift his arm and rub at his eyes.

As much as real rest would probably heal the aches in his body — he’s not in his twenties anymore, nature keeps reminding him of that — Jake won’t let himself stay in bed. An hour after sunrise, he’s jogging along the viewpoint by Ocean Beach. He’s listening to his country running playlist that you make fun of him for.

He thinks of all the mornings he let you coax him into staying in bed. Those mischievous little smiles and your legs stretching out across the fabric, tangling between his, your hands adventuring across his muscles. He has always been an early riser, but he misses those lazy mornings. He hates himself for wasting so many — arguing with you or beating himself up for what he was keeping from you. None of it seems worth it now.

This beautiful day, this soaring sun. Clear sky, ocean air, salt on his skin. He would give it all up in an instant.

He’d give anything to come home and find you sprawled out along the couch, a straw between your lips and another one of those mischievous little smiles toying on them too, asking him, “How was the run, cowboy?”

His feet hit the pavement to the beat playing through his ears, his heartbeat starting to quicken through his chest. Faster than normal. He’s a pretty fit guy, he works out regularly. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Or eating great. Sweat beads along his hairline as he pushes himself harder anyway. A simple 5k hasn’t ever stunted him before, and he won’t let it now.

The shore passes him by in his peripheral, traffic on his other side. He wonders if you’re up yet, if this is hitting you as hard as it’s hitting him. There are a hundred and twelve days left of your father’s term, three-sixty-five after that where you’ll still have a service detail. Jake read those papers from back to front twice. Four hundred more days of this is going to kill him.

Twenty minutes into his 5k, something snaps him out of his pity party. Something to his right, barely there in the corner of his vision. He turns his head, brows drawing together. Harvard. Brigham fucking Lennox, a kid who was brought up to be just as pretentious as the people who named him that had hoped.

The Weapons Systems Officer is leaning out of the driver’s side window of a black Jeep Wrangler. Shirtless and wearing sunglasses, probably on his way to some party on the beach that Jake would have been throwing if things had gone down differently. He’s yelling something.

“What?” Jake pants out, plucking the earbud from his ear, squinting through the sun at the ghost of a friend, leaning out of the driver’s side window. Harvard’s smile practically doubles, stretching ear to ear.

“I said congratulations, Hangman!” Harvard’s East-Coast accent booms across the street. Jake’s brows draw together, his mouth pulling into a contradictory frown.

Just like that, the light turns green and Harvard lifts one of those stupid bear paws he’s got for hands and waves, then the Jeep pulls off down the street. Congratulations, Hangman. Jake stares after the car, catching his breath.

It speeds away from him with the flow of traffic, while Jake himself can’t fathom moving from this spot. There’s a twisting, tightening knot in his stomach that threatens to have him heaving on this sidewalk like a hungover teenager.

Straightening up a little, Jake inhales all the sea salt and humidity that this little patch of earth has to offer. It weighs down throat sick feeling just enough for it to sink back to the pit of his stomach. If there’s one thing that Jake will remember about his career in the Navy, it’s how those guys tick. That Cheshire Cat smile doesn’t ever mean anything good.

He stretches his neck side to side and pushes his right hand into his pocket. Jake has to lift his left hand to shield his eyes as he looks down at his phone and finally turns off the do not disturb feature. He hadn’t wanted to listen to his mother’s pity for the second time in a five year period — he loves her, but he won’t ever let her see him with a broken heart again.

Blinking, he pulls the phone closer to his face. He’s got almost nine hundred notifications pending on his Home Screen. He swipes briefly into them and reads the top text message.

Hey, man, it’s Rooster. Hope you’re doing okay. Just saw the news.

Jake squints. He didn’t even know that Bradshaw still had his phone number. Jake’s mind instantly thinks of the worst. She’s dead. He’s been gone for a week, and now she’s dead. Swallowing, he continues. His thumb pushes the notification away and unlocks the phone all together.

He opens an internet browser and moves to click on the search bar, but he doesn’t have to. It’s right there staring back at him. Headline news, highlighted on the browser. First Daughter’s illicit affair with bodyguard. Your name plastered across the front page. Then, his eyes land on it. Knocked up.

It’s a picture of you with your hand extending backwards towards Jake in a crowd. It was from before anything had even happened with you. He remembers that dress, and the way your palm fit into his. It’s got emojis edited over it, tabloid-style, babies and bottles.

“Sorry, excuse me.” Jake flinches. His head whips around and finds a woman with a stroller staring at him apologetically. It’s double-wide, and there are two twin girls sitting in the pink and white thing, staring at him too. Twins.

His eyes widen. They aren’t very old. One of them is drooling all over their fist and the other is happily making some kind of cookie turn to mush in their hand. They’re watching him intently.

He’s blocking the sidewalk. That’s all it is. That’s why all three of them are staring at him. He’s just standing like an idiot in the middle of the path.

“Yeah. Sorry. Sorry.” Jake mutters, stumbling back out of her way, turning his attention back to the phone and clicking on a link. He’s zoned out again just as quickly, brows furrowed as he studies the webpage.

Insider source. Going on for months. Fired. Cover-up. Uncovered images. He sits on the wall bordering the beach and gawks.

The leaked security feeds had nothing to do with you, even though you had figured it would all come spilling out eventually. Once the media gets a whiff of a scandal, it’s impressive what they can find. Oddly, you’re okay with the evidence that they found. You know that there must be worse out there.

The worst that they’ve got is you and Jake pictured leaving the same bathroom minutes apart in the White House. Couple of kissing pictures. Old photos of Jake guiding you through busy crowds with his fingertips brushing yours are suddenly front page news.

You might be okay with what the internet has discovered — after all, you were prepared for it. Jake, however, suddenly starts to understand why that sick, twisting feeling won’t leave him alone.

He studies these images for longer than he’ll ever admit, all of these photos of the two of you together, grainy and from a bird’s eye angle. All it does is make that feeling in his chest grow. A simmer spilling over into a full blown boil. His ears hot, his throat thick, his fingers trembling. All of these reminders of how many times he got to touch you, and he sits there by the beach not knowing if he’ll ever get to do it again. Not after this.

It’s far too nice of a day for this. Mid-morning down by the San Diego River Bikeway. Blue skies and a soft, salty breeze cutting through the warming day. Everyone carries on around him.

He stares at the image left on his phone now. It’s a picture of you as a kid, standing next to your father and looking up at him with a big smile on your face. Even then, it’s at a campaign event. He isn’t even looking at you. Right next to that, a stark comparison, is a picture of you at the party you had snuck out to in the hills. You’re wearing a cap sleeve mini dress that hugs your body like a second skin, and Jake’s standing right behind you, smiling, pointing to a table of liquor.

That’s the narrative they’re spinning, and Jake is glad.

He’s panicking, he’s sick and his head feels like it’s going to roll right off of his shoulders, but he’s so glad that it isn’t your name being dragged through the mud. Suddenly, his biggest concern is no longer whether you’re awake and missing him. You’re all alone, probably scared out of your mind.

All those mornings with you keeping him in bed, sure, they were the focus a few minutes ago. Now he’s thinking of the evenings he had spent with you wrapped tight in his arms, calming your worries, soothing you to sleep. He hadn’t once dreamt of leaving you alone with those worries ever again, much less of being the cause of them.

The two of you hadn’t exactly been careful. Jake hadn’t touched you much since the two of you had been here together, four or so weeks ago now. Not since he had gotten that phone call in the Hard Deck. But before that — there were points where the two of you had slept together four times in one day.

Jake’s feet stumble as he goes for his first step, almost tripping over himself. He picks at straws in his mind, finally starting to move, wracking his brain for answers. The downstairs bathroom near the garden in the White House — fuck, Jake hopes he didn’t make a baby in that place.

He’s still thinking about it once he’s stepping out of his car and slamming the door shut. Truthfully, he drove this route on autopilot. If Bradley Bradshaw still has Jake’s number, he probably still lives in the same place. That old bird always had a thing for the sentimental.

Speaking of sentimental, Jake’s got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about this whole thing. It’s not like, if you have this kid, it’s ever going to experience a normal life. Family Christmases seem far from possible after your dad just threatened to send Jake to jail.

He swallows softly, walking up the steps and knocking against the glass pane in the door. This place had seemed weird and old back then. A fifties style bungalow with awkward links to the city and far too much peace and quiet; it paled in comparison to Jake’s bachelor pad near base.

Now, it looks the exact same. Nothing has changed but Jake. Now, he looks at the six foot fence around the backyard and the slightly longer driveway so that it’s quiet and off the road, and it all makes sense. It’s practically perfect.

Jake blinks as the door pulls open. There he is again, for the second time in just over a month after four years of no contact. Bradley stares, eyes wide for a second as he processes who is standing in front of him. It takes a moment to register. He stiffens and grips the door handle tighter.

“Jake.” Bradley realizes, frowning slightly as he bumps the door against his shoulder, blocking the entryway with his body. He gives his old friend a quick look up and down. If there’s one person he hadn’t been expecting to see on his porch, shirtless and looking like hell, today it was Jake. “What’s up?”

“Can I use your phone? I need to make a call.”

“They didn’t have one in your… hotel room?” Bradley frowns. He nudges closer and pulls the door with him. Jake’s expression changes. So, Bradley’s got some girl inside. Jake couldn’t care less. There were times when they were deployed that Jake has heard and seen Bradley do things he’d rather not remember.

Now, he’s standing on Bradley’s front porch and ready to name each and every one of them in alphabetical order if the dumb bird doesn’t get a lot more compliant, quickly.

“I was closer to here. Look, I don’t care who you’ve got in there — can I please just make a call from your phone?” Jake rushes. Bradley sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and turns his head to glance through into the hallway of his apartment.

Rooster has seen the articles. He knows why Jake’s standing at his front door drenched in sweat right now. He also knows that if he was in Jake’s shoes, he would be going out of his mind right now. Hell, if Rooster was in Jake’s shoes, he’s not sure he would have survived the past four years.

“Yeah. Sure. Come in, I’ll grab my phone.” He decides finally, already feeling that this is a bad idea from the second that Jake’s foot crosses the threshold. Bradley’s back is turned for exactly six paces.

“Babe—“

Jake’s head turns as Bradley picks his phone up from the couch. His brows knit together at the sound of a familiar voice — a masculine voice. They both turn their heads to stare at the man standing in Bradley’s hallway.

Javy swallows. He shifts uncomfortably on his weight and crosses his wrists like that will hide the fact that he’s wearing nothing but a charcoal coloured pair of Calvin Klein briefs.

Jake turns his head again, and this time finds Rooster turning beet red. If he wasn’t freaking out so badly, he might have cracked a joke.

“I mean… Rooster.” Javy corrects.

“Bradshaw, phone.” Jake reminds. Rooster blinks, tossing his phone across to Jake. Jake catches it in one hand and heads back out onto the front porch silently.

These people used to be his best friends. Once upon a time, this news would have been ground breaking to him. Rooster and Coyote. This would have taken him weeks to get over. Today, he doesn’t give a shit. Truthfully, from the deepest part of him, he doesn’t care about those people in the slightest.

All he cares about is you, going through exactly what he’s going through, alone.

He taps the number in to Bradley’s phone and it rings once before it is answered.

“Sir, I told you, she won’t speak to y—“

“Allen.” Jake breathed out and the other man stops speaking instantly. This isn’t allowed. This conversation shouldn’t be happening. No one really tried that hard to prevent it though, not really. Not when it was this easy. “Put her on the phone.”

Allen swallows softly as he turns his head and looks into the living room at the furious girl on the couch. Your father has been calling you all day, and now you’re being grilled by a California press representative. You just won’t talk.

“I can’t, sir. She’s in the middle of something right now.” Allen carries on like he’s still speaking to Mr. Head of State himself.

Jake opens his mouth but then quickly decides that he has to sit down before he can say something like this outside. He stumbles forwards and drops down onto Bradley Bradshaw’s porch step. He threw up here once in his twenties. Bradley didn’t invite him back much after that. “Is she pregnant?”

“I’m not sure. Sir.” Allen answers quietly. He presses his lips together in a tight line. With how fragile you’ve been recently, you’re going to lose it if you find out he spoke with Jake today. Currently, you appear to have taken a vow of silence. You’ve been tapping away at a laptop for hours. The entire staff has tried to put you on the phone with your father several times each. You just won’t talk to him.

Allen knows why you’re doing it. You want that selfish old bastard to panic. He can’t say he blames you.

“What do you mean you don’t fucking know? — She is or she isn’t. Allen, put her on the phone, I need to speak to her.” Jake bites. He rubs at his eyes, his head is pounding.

“I can’t do that. I would if I could.” Allen answers softly. Jake could continue to argue, but he knows this old jerk isn’t going to change his mind. His fist clenches around the chipped wooden step.

His throat strains. “Is — Is she okay?”

“No.” Allen answers calmly, leaning his back slightly against the wall behind him. Shooting a quick look in each direction, he lowers his voice again. “I… I think she might have let this get leaked on purpose.

“What?” Jake gawks. For the second time today, his world is turned on his axis and he has to reevaluate all of the information he has seen before. He rubs his knuckle into the socket of his eye, shaking his head like that will unscramble his train of thought.

“She told someone. I don’t see why she would, unless—“

You’re not pregnant. If you were, you wouldn’t tell a stranger. Unless this is the same girl you told before, about you and him. Fuck, he’s not sure what you would do anymore. He doesn’t have a clue.

“Fuck. Fuck. I need to see her. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—“ Jake pushes his fingers into his head and shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t pretend he hadn’t ever thought of what it would be like to have a family with you. Far in the future, he had hopes for plenty of things.

This wasn’t ever how he dreamed of finding out he was going to be a dad, he’s terrified. He can’t imagine how you’re feeling.

He needs to see your face.

“Jake. Don’t.” Allen whispers angrily, making Manny’s head shoot up. The older man turns on his heel and heads for the back door. This conversation can’t continue here, when Jake’s being this ridiculous. “What phone is this? — The house is full of staff right now, you can’t do this now. I could get her to call you. Later.”

“Yeah. I can keep the phone. Get her to call me back on this number. I swear, Allen, if I don’t hear from her today then I’m going to drive up there.”

“Alright!” Allen hisses into the phone, checking over his shoulder. He could be tanking his thirty year career just by having this conversation, much less by aiding and abetting your little affair. “I’ll figure it out. Just calm down. She’s… in a weird place right now and I don’t need you making it worse. This is going to blow over.”

“Making it— are you fucking kidding?”

The line clicks dead. Jake almost throws the phone across the front yard, but he doesn’t. For two reasons. The first, he needs to speak to you — if he doesn’t hear your voice today, he might actually go insane. The second, he knows that Rooster is watching and would be upset if Jake obliterated his phone.

Jake swallows dryly, then pushes himself to stand. Rooster and Coyote spring into action, trying to make it look like they hadn’t been eavesdropping, as Jake walks back into the living room. Javy is wearing sweatpants now. Jake doesn’t take notice of either one of them, not really.

“I need to keep your phone for today.” Jake says, offering no explanation to accompany the statement. They were listening, he doesn’t need to elaborate.

“Uh… alright. Can l… see something on there first?” Rooster asks, shooting an awkward glance across at Javy. Javy’s eyes widen as he turns to look at the phone in Jake’s hand. Jake passes it over compliantly.

Rooster perches on the arm of the couch and gets to work hiding all of the naked photos of Jake’s best friend in a secret album. Silence falls across the three of them. This is especially rough because anyone who knows Javy, knows that he’s a chatterbox. He loves to talk. He could talk to anyone about everything.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to Jake now.

The feeling isn’t good. Jake is the one who left. The one who couldn’t bare to see their faces, or hear their voices, or even think about the Hard Deck. He shut them out on purpose and most days, after he had first lost Dani, Jake had hoped he wouldn’t ever see a single one of them again.

He guesses now that maybe if he wasn’t seeing them, he could pretend that she wasn’t dead. That she was still sitting in that bar, playing pool with her friends, growing older like she was meant to.

Jake and Javy are thinking of the same thing. Dani. What things would be like if she hadn’t died. If Jake might have stayed — that’s not much of a question; he would have. He loved his life back then. But that’s all an if. Jake hates playing the ‘What If’ game. His counselor told him it isn’t healthy.

He could love his life now, maybe even more than he had back then. He doesn’t like to thing about you in the same vein as Danielle — it doesn’t seem right to compare you when you each were so different, and he was so different when he loved you and her.

He can’t keep thinking about it, it still makes him angry. So, he swallows and crosses his arms over his chest, turning his head towards Coyote. “So… you’re fucking Rooster.”

“Actually, I’m the one—“ Bradley stops talking as Jake and Javy turn to look at him together. He just smiles sheepishly, then turns his attention back to the phone.

“Actually, we’ve been dating for four months.” Javy explains, his lips tugging at a smile. He won’t quite let himself give into it. They’re both pretending that he isn’t standing there barely dressed.

Jake raises his brows. “Wow. Dating… you didn’t say anything when I was here last.”

“You didn’t tell us that you were sleeping with the President’s daughter.” Javy retaliates, this time giving into the amusement and letting a smirk plaster itself across his angled features.

Rooster looks up quickly and shoots a stern look across at his boyfriend. When they had discussed what they would say to Jake if they saw him during all of this, they had specifically agreed not to come at him head on.

Jake makes himself smile. “Dating. I guess. More than fucking, anyway.”

Doesn’t feel right to say that he might have found the love of his life, not when they all thought he had found it before.

Javy smiles back at him, arms folded across his bare chest. He gives a small nod. “So… are you really going to be a dad?”

Rooster looks up again, this time handing the phone back to Jake. Both of them stare at him now. The Hangman they knew back then would be taking this news a lot worse.

“I don’t know. I hope not.” The hope isn’t that there’s no baby because he doesn’t want one with you. That’s clear. He just can’t let you go through that without him right by your side. He wants more for you right now. He wants independence, and privacy. He wants whatever you want, and you’ve never once signaled to him that that would be a baby.

“Well… we were just going to watch the game later. If you wanted to hang out here, take your mind off things.” Bradley offers, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. Jake glances over towards Javy, then back. Then, down at the phone in his hand. It’s probably not cool to steal Rooster’s phone.

“Yeah, okay.” Jake decides quietly.

There’re a small clock in the corner of the TV screen. Jake sinks into Bradley’s couch, his arms crossed over his chest, and watches the minutes tick by. Bradley and Javy sit either side of him trying to prompt the conversation onward.

If this was a couple of years ago, Jake would be cracking jokes and this would feel as natural as breathing. Now, even breathing doesn’t feel all that natural. Each inhale feels like winding clock hands into place. Every exhale feels like he’s in flight school feeling that G-Force nausea again for the first time.

He wishes he hadn’t let it get this bad. That he hadn’t let these guys become strangers. He wishes he would have been there when Rooster and Coyote started dating, so he could figure it out before everyone else and bet Phoenix out of twenty dollars. He wonders if she knows yet.

“So, is my phone number gonna get put on a CIA watch list or something?” Rooster asks, one arm tucked behind his head and a beer in his hand. Jake almost scoffs at the idea, then stops to consider it. Maybe, actually. He turns his head to look at Rooster.

“Worried they’re going to hear all those voicemails Mav leaves you reminding you to water your plants?” Javy taunts from the other side of Jake. Jake snorts, looking between the two of them.

“You’re a farmer now, too, huh?” Jake chimes in.

“Oh yeah. Chillies, herbs, tomatoes, zucchini. He’s even got little gloves he wears when he gardens.” Javy spills, making Jake laugh for the first time. This next inhale feels softer, a little more natural. Making fun of Rooster will always feel natural.

Four hours away, your vow of silence still hasn’t let up. For the first time all day, you’ve moved from the couch. Allen had watched you stand up, slamming the laptop lid shut and tucking the thing under your arm. It hasn’t left your side in a day and a half.

If he’s right, and you’ve orchestrated this entire thing so far, he knows that it doesn’t stop with a scandal. No, you’re going right for the jugular with this thing. He trails behind you, footsteps quiet on the rug. And yet, you hear him anyway.

He stumbles as you round on him, doing his best to slow down and not completely mow you over in his stride. Those crows feet and sun-aged freckles aren’t fooling you, that stern-looking old man hasn’t ever been able to stop you doing anything.

“Why are you following me, Allen?”

He narrows those grey eyes at you and leans closer, “What the hell are you up to? — Don’t lie to me.”

Briefly, he’s met with silence. As much silence as is possible in your life. Downstairs is still buzzing with life, with phone calls. The entire house is trying to clean up the mess you made, all at once. Just like you wanted them to. Now, they’re all busy.

“I’m keeping a promise that I made to my dad.” You shrug. It’s the truth, in simple terms. You promised him you were going to ruin him, and that man raised you not to quit.

Allen looks heavenward, resting his hands on his hips. He remembers the day he met you, and how angry you were back then. Far too often since that day, he has found himself thinking of what he would say to you if you were one of his daughters. He sniffs, then exhales, dropping his neck and studying the carpet.

“I spoke to Jake today. He saw the news and he called me.” This time, when he lifts his gaze and looks at you, his jaw sets and his brows knit together. You might not be one of his daughters, but he knows you like you are. “I’m gonna let you speak to him, and you’re going to promise me something, kid.”

For the first time all day, that indifferent, angry look drops from your face and Allen sees you for what you are. Devastated. You nod your head furiously, blinking at him. “Anything.”

His expression dullens, eyes growing stormy. “You’ll drop this. Whatever you’re planning, whatever you’re doing — you’ll let it go.”

Your face blanks in front of him, then calms. You’re poker-facing him, he knows that look. He has known how to recognise it since you were young. Still, he waits for your answer.

“Okay.” You tell him, straightening out your mouth, giving him a curt nod.

Swiftly, he takes one step forwards and invades your space. He has let you get away with too much for too long. He acknowledges now, after he had retired, you would probably be dead if it wasn’t for Jake. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

“No. I’m serious. Swear to me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

If his definition of anything stupid is even remotely similar to Jake’s, you’re confident that you will have already disappointed the both of them. They would never approve. It’s not safe. But you’re not made of glass, and the things you have found could change everything.

It’s scary, really, the way you’re able to relax your face so solemnly. Allen’s been looking at that face almost every day for the last seven years, and you still manage to fool him.

“I swear. I swear that I’ll leave it alone, if you let me speak to him.”

Jake gets the call just after seven. He practically throws Coyote out of the way heading for the door. He staggers out onto the back porch and rests his hand against the stair railing, bracing his weight.

“Jake?”

For the past four nights straight, Jake’s subconscious has subjected him to nothing but your voice, strained in terror and pain, calling out for help. To hear it now, soft and calm — it feels like Jake’s lungs untwist and he can inhale deeper.

“Fuck, honey, I missed you.” He breathes out all at once, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Faintly, he can hear the soft whimper you make on the other end. The slight sniffle. He can’t see you, and he doesn’t ask to confirm, but he knows that you’re laying in his bed. It’s not just wishful thinking. He just knows that if he got in his car and drove there now, that’s where he would find you.

He likes the idea. If he has to wake up alone, at least he knows you’re still waking up in his bed somehow.

“I miss you so much.” You tell him quietly, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, his comforter hugged to your chest. With your eyes closed, it’s easier to pretend that he’s here with you.

“I have to ask. You’re not… — You aren’t—?”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. No.” You remember, giving a quick shake of your head. “I’m not. I’m not.”

Jake exhales and takes two steps down from the porch, shuffling down, settling onto his back on the grass. “I’ve been thinking all day about it. We haven’t talked about kids.”

“No, but it’s fine. I only said—“

“I want that,” Jake tells the sky, the phone pressed so close to his ear that he can listen to you breathing. “One day, I want to hear that news and I want us to be happy. And I want it to be our news, just ours. At least for a while.”

You press your face into the cold fabric of his pillow, letting it soak up the tears on your cheeks. He listens to you breathe a little while longer. It’s not what he’s used to. If you were really here, you’d be closer. Each of your exhales would fan out across his chest.

“I…” You almost tell him that you want that too, and it’s ridiculous but in that split-second, it just sounds too daunting. After all you’ve been through. All that the two of you have faced together. You’re just too scared to tell him. “I’m so sick of living like this.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” Jake murmurs. He’s so close to the phone that your mind fills in that blanks and you swear you feel the rumble in his chest that you only hear when you’re laying on him.

If you ever want any semblance of the life that Jake wants to give you, something has to give. You’ve got to be brave about it. It was never going to be easy.

“I really love you.” You tell him quietly, pulling his pillow close against your body. Jake blinks up at the sky and just for a moment wishes he was back home. At least there, the sky’s dark enough for him to pick out constellations. There, he would have something to focus on other than how empty he feels without you.

“I love you too, so much. I - I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” He’s rambling a little. Salty tears spill onto your lips as they twist into a sad smile. If he wants to hear that you’re okay, that’s what you’ll tell him. The lie comes just as easily to Jake as it had in the promise you had made to Allen.

If you’re brave now, you’ve got the chance to make things right.

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

[yanderegrizzsworld]

saw your post about taking digital circus content so may I request for Pomni or Ragatha or even Jax with a reader who's pretty calm when first entering in the digital circus and doesn't seem to mind everything else happening with how they're just like "hey, that's cool" basically they're pretty chill

Imagine: Platonic Yandere Pomni, Ragatha & Jax with a chill reader

TW/CW: Implied stalking & Mentions of Bullying

Pomni:

With Ragatha's reassurance, Pomni reckoned that everyone acted similarly to her upon their arrival to the Digital Circus. This did ease her perturbation, though not by much & far less upon your arrival to their Digital "home".

Are you alright? Complete & utter calmness is the last reaction the jester expects from a newcomer, yet reasons that you're probably seeking to assess your situation &/or keep focus. It's quite smart really, it means you're less likely to abstract in this world, such an easygoing attitude it quite a quick way to get her attached to you.

She'll strive to stick by you as much as possible, though is willing to give you your space if asked to as she wishes not to be regarded as chafing & will at most watch you from a distance. Expect her coming to you a lot whenever she seeks comfort from one of her paranoid episodes of searching for an exit, while Ragatha is very willing to be a nice shoulder to cry on, Pomni truly feels her anxious thoughts leave whenever she's in your presence & will progressively get more antsy the longer she can't find you in the circus.

Ragatha:

She reckons herself as the peacemaker of the group from being one of the oldest to be there, though one would be forgiven (& correct) for thinking that she seems quite close to losing it at any moment. From this, she always strives to ease newcomers to their new digital home, understanding how nerve-wracking it is.

Ragatha is chiefly clueless upon your arrival. Years of seeing new faces initially scared & addled to this world has made the ragdoll has grown accustomed to introducing the new performers, downplaying the existential dread of their circumstance, whether as so they don't abstract or so her own crisis doesn't get to her is up in the air. She takes her steps forward as she usually does to new people, but doesn't know what to properly say seeing as you're not freaking out about the situation.

Seeing her around you a lot is something you'd best get used to, whether it's a short, simple chat on how you're holding up or talking about nothing within the walls of the tent, getting Ragatha to leave is quite the task. She refuses to leave you alone with Jax, as in her eyes & years of being around him, he might chip away at your sanity, small at first but grows worse over time until it's too late, claiming she's somehow surprised someone hasn't abstracted because of him.

Jax:

Nobody's sure if Jax's frequent bullying is merely an aspect of who he is or his way of coping with living in the circus, it's doesn't matter either way, he won't give a luculent answer. Jax isn't one to comfort a new face, opting to hectoring them until Ragatha stops him towards causing the other's disquietude.

Your breezy attitude doesn't deter him from his usual antics, including said frolics being thrown at you. Your lack of reaction to the prank both throws off the lavender rabbit & bemuses him, just what goes through that head of yours? His motive shift from wanting a reaction from you to seeking to see what makes you tick, what you experienced to make you have the viewpoint that you do, that makes you merely laugh at your situation rather than panic.

Jax sees fit to insert himself into conversations without a need to explain himself & brushes off any questions thrown at him, every attempt to interrogate him tends to end with Jax dragging you off with him, maybe to not start an argument with Ragatha or Zooble or perhaps he got bored of the conversation, who knows what goes on in his head. Any thought of suspect for his behavior towards you is out his head a second later, you don't seem to mind so his mind discerns no issue with his comportment & is what Jax uses as an excuse, true reason for his frequent presence around you.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Secret Little Rendezvous-5

Summary: The fifth and last part to Secret Little Rendezvous

Words: 3.5k+

Warnings: Angst! There's a lot of angst, fighting and cursing in this one. Hints of smut too, mentions toxic relationship. Alludes to smut.

(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)

Dylan and your relationship was blossoming. It was going well.

Given, you two hadn’t slept together. Yet.

You didn’t want to get physical so early. It had been 2 weeks or so, and the most physical affection was kisses and neck bites, and the one time you had sucked him off.

It was your idea. He was pent-up and frustrated because he was working hard on a project, and most of it was rejected by the client at a glance. That made you so angry. That person didn’t even bother to see his viewpoint, or why he did it the way he did. 

So, you invited him back to your house, right after work. Made him his favorite: macaroni and cheese.

“Hi,” he had greeted you sweetly, even though he had had a shit day. You loved that about him.

“Hi, how was your day?” you asked, even though you already knew how it was. Maybe he would want to talk about it?

“Eh, it was shit. Got rejected on the project proposal I had been working on for the past week or so, and the client threw my report in the dustbin”

“No! Why would he do that?!” you exclaimed. Saying no was one thing. But tossing reports that took so long to prepare right into the trash was another.

“I know. He’s an asshole. How are you, though?”

You smiled.

“I’m good–I had a nice day. The code I was reviewing today was actually good, and I didn’t have to revert. “

“That’s a relief. I hate it when we have to check the whole thing all over again and 

Check the security and data compromises.”

“I know, right? Anyway, go and change. I made you dinner”

His eyes lit up when you said that, and he walked over to you with his arms extended in front of him. He came over to you and hugged you, his face resting perfectly on the alcove of your neck. 

“You’re the best”

“Alright, big guy. I’ll get the food on the plate. Go and get changed”

He eventually let go of you, but not without pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

He came back a few minutes later, face fresh and looking good. He sat back and relaxed, while you brought him the plate and sat on the table adjacent to his.

He took a spoonful of the dish, the yummy smell of cheesy goodness hitting him. As he tasted it, a grin spread across his face.

"Wow," he said, nodding approvingly. "This is amazing. You really did a great job, Y/n."

You felt proud hearing his praise, a warm feeling spreading inside. "Thanks, I'm glad you like it," you said, feeling a bit shy. "It's just a simple recipe, but I'm happy it turned out well."

He kept eating, and you sat across from him, enjoying the moment. It was nice, just being together and sharing a meal. And as you watched him, you couldn't help but feel grateful for these simple, happy times.

After dinner, he wiped his mouth and sat back, his stomach full and he looked happier than before.

“That was good”

“Mhmm, you know, this macaroni wasn’t the only delicious-looking thing tonight”

As soon as you said that, his heartbeat rose, and his mouth fell open. He dropped the napkin on the table and looked at you with wide eyes.

“What–what do you–what do you mean?” he asked, but before he could say anything else, you were already sinking down to your knees in front of him. You smirked, pushing his thighs apart and settling down comfortably.

His hands came to rest on your shoulders softly, asking you if you really wanted to.

“You–you don’t have to do this, babe. I’m perfectly fine going to bed and sleeping, or–or if you want me to leave, I can–I can leave too, you know”

You shook your head, taking his hands from your shoulders and holding them in yours, pressing a kiss to the top of each, “Yeah, I’m sure. And it’s good. I want you to relax. Let some of that tension and frustration go away”

He nodded, but he was still unsure.

But you made all of that go away. Starting slow, you took your time with him, built the pleasure and tension perfectly, licking his cock and fondling his balls, sucking at the tip, till he was cuming inside your mouth.

“You–you don’t have to fuck–oh, you don’t have to swallow–”

He muttered, but you had already done it, smirking up at him as he picked you up and kissed you,wrapping his arms around your waist. He apologized later for not returning the favor because he was so tired. You brushed it off, knowing it wasn’t a give-and-take relationship like you had with Harry.

Harry.

Oh.

You hadn’t thought about him in a while. Sure, you would see him in the office every couple of days, but he ensured no contact between you two. It was good…for the most part.

Olivia acted like you were a witch. She frowned and scowled whenever you were nearby, and she really needed to grow up. She had her ego inflated over the fact that Harry had chosen her instead of you.

Only if she knew how much of a lie it was.

.  .  .

Dylan was up for a promotion.

He had been in line for it too when you had gotten it. He was planning on leaving the company after that, because there would be no open positions for a while. So, he had submitted an application, stating that if he didn't get the promotion, he would leave the company. And given that he was a hardworking employee, who had shown excellent growth in the 4 years he had been in the company, there was no way he wouldn’t get it.

He gave the news to you two days later when he had taken you to dinner at a restaurant.

“Sooo I’ve–I’ve been wanting to talk about something” he said, after you had been talking about each other’s families for a while.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up”

“I–I got the promotion, Y/n.”

“Oh my god! That’s amazing! Come on, give me a hug” you exclaimed, so happy for him. You got up immediately and hugged him, earning a few unwat\nted glances from fellow diners.

“Well, that was awkward” he said after, and you nodded.

The conversation had stopped after that, and you could sense the shift in his demeanor. He wanted to tell you something else too.

“Dylan, what’s wrong?” you asked, your heart throbbing erratically, sensing something wrong.

He sighed, his gaze troubled. "Y/N, I've been offered the promotion, but...it means I have to relocate."

Your heart sank at his words, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. "Relocate? But what about us?"

Dylan hesitated, his expression pained. "I don't know what to do, Y/N. I want this promotion, but I also don't want to lose you."

Tears pooled in your eyes, because you knew where this was headed.

“You–you wanna break up with me?”

Your voice was just above a whisper, and you could see by the look on his face that the answer was yes.

“I don’t know! I want this promotion, and–and this is the only way I can get it. And if I leave the company, I would have to start in the exact position I want to get out from”

You sighed, the gravity of the situation finally settling in.

“But–but, we can–we can go long-distance…”

The words trailed off in your mouth. Long distance was a big thing, and you had been dating for about a month and a half. You two hadn’t been physically involved, and that may have been one of the reasons he wasn’t too reluctant to break up, or think of other options.

“Is–is this about us not having sex? It’s easier for you to break up because we aren’t that close yet. Because we haven’t fucked yet”

He dropped the spoon, and brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes with it.

“No, it’s not about that. I mean, we haven’t been dating for so long, and I–I don’t think our relationship could stand that. It’s a big commitment. And we won’t be able to see each other for months, because I would be working at the same level as you. Work can get hectic, and Y/n, you know that too, right?”

You nodded, staring at the tablecloth.

“And–and I often resort to drinking every three days or so, and God forbid I do something wrong while I’m out at a club, because I don’t have you by my side. I don’t want to call you one morning, telling you that I was unfaithful”

His words sank in, and you sighed. He was right. Your relationship wasn’t that strong to take the toll of long distance, and if one of you made a drunk mistake, the other would be crushed.

With a heavy sigh, you finally spoke up. "I...I guess you're right, Dylan. Maybe it's for the best if we end things now, before it gets too complicated."

Dylan reached out, taking your hand in his, his expression filled with sadness. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you."

You gave him a small, sad smile, squeezing his hand gently. "I know, Dylan. And I'm sorry too."

.  .  .

He left a month later, and you were left with a broken heart.

Why did everyone leave?

Were you just that unlovable that God saved everyone from you?

You found solace in throwing yourself into work, often staying late into the night to distract yourself from those troubling thoughts. While the temptation to drown your sorrows in alcohol was present, you knew it would only serve to bury those long-buried emotions deeper within you.

Little did you know, there was one other employee working late that night.

He knocked at your door, and it was almost 10:00 pm. You were planning on leaving soon, and the thought of who else might stay late made you curious.

“Come in” you yelled, and in came the green eyed guy, whom you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Harry”

He nodded, leaning in on the doorframe.

“Y/n. How are you?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Dylan left a week ago. You’ve been working till late ever since. Wanted to check if you were alright”

“Since when do you care?” you replied, unsure of where all this was coming from, especially for a guy who had no feelings for you.

“You know I’ve always cared for you. Since before we were together till today. I never stopped caring”

Your eyes lifted up, staring into his.

“What do you want?”

He sighed, and walked to your desk. He pulled a chair out, dragged it across to your end, and sat beside you.

“Harry–what are you doing?”

“Nothing”

He took your hand in his, and stared into your eyes. It had been so long since you had done that.

“Listen. I know you feel alone right now. And–I’m here for you if you ever wanna talk”

You were not liking his two-faced behavior.

“Shut up”

“What?!” he exclaimed, as if you had said something wrong.

“Don’t give me that “I’m there for you” crap. You don’t give a fuck about me. And you made that perfectly clear when you threw me away those months ago.”

“That’s not true. I do care for you. And I did not  throw you away, okay? It was–It was you, who dumped me”

Your eyes widened, and you stared at him in disbelief.

“You’ve got that wrong! You said you were just with me for sex. And then you said that you can’t take it further because I was getting the wrong signals.”

“I never said that. I just that I was in love with someone else, and that–that I won’t be able to commit to you in the way you want me to”

You sat back, defeated.

“Why Are you pulling all this crap now? Just leave”

You pushed him back, closing the applications on your computer and getting ready to leave.

“Where–what are you doing?”

“Going home. Saving myself from you”

“But, listen–” he got up, just as you did. He grabbed your hand once again.

“What?!” you yelled.

“Just listen to me, please–”

“I’m done fucking listening. I was done listening three months ago”

“But–I–I want to say something–”

You ignored him, taking your stuff and shoving it in your bag. You fetched your keys, and opened uber to call a cab, because your car was with your sister.

“Y/n listen–”

You picked your stuff, slinging your bag over your shoulders and went to turn the lights off. But, what he said next, made you freeze.

“I love you!”

Your legs stopped working, and your eyes widened.

What the fuck.

“Excuse me?” 

You turned around, your eyes full of anger.

He lowered his gaze to the floor, and the anger within you skyrocketed.

You dropped your things to the table once again, walking to him and standing right in front of him.

“I–I love you”

He said once again, his gaze trained to the floor.

You grabbed his chin, lifting his head up. 

His eyes looked into yours. His, were apologetic. Yours, full of anger and disbelief.

“The fuck do you mean you love me? Did Olivia dump you? Or did the whole city say no to sleeping with you?”

Your words hurt him, and his heart sank.

“No! Why–why would you think that?”

“Or–Oh! Or did Natalia stop loving you? Huh? You over her? Your eternal undying love for her is finished?”

He shook his head, “No, I–I broke up with Olivia a month ago. I–I don’t like her anymore”

“Because you love Natalia, right”

“I–I don’t! I–I love you”

“You know you’re saying that to a void, right? Because you’re not getting one back from me in return. What do you want me to do? I should forget all you did to me and come running into your arms? Is that what you want?”

He gave no response, his gaze lowered, even though you were holding his chin up.

“Speak up, Harry!” you yelled, and he flinched. It was the second time you were yelling at him like that, and it made him genuinely scared.

“No, No–I’m not saying that. I–I just want you–to give me a second chance”

“Huh” you exclaimed in disbelief, letting his face go and took a few steps back.

“I’m not fucking around, Y/n. I swear. I–I just want you to take me back once again. I want you to give me a second chance. And punish me however you feel like. Beat me, throw things at me, yell at me. Please, but—but please, give me a second chance. Please”

His voice sounded broken, and tears welled up in his eyes.

“What happened to you, huh? You were, this Harry with a wall of cement over your heart. You threw away anyone who tried to care about you. You threw me away. And now you’re standing in my office, crying, and you want me to care about you once again? Forget what you did to me!?”

Your voice was breaking too, and you too, were about to cry.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I was an asshole, and I will never forgive myself for that. But–believe me when I say that I have changed, and that–that I love you”

You couldn’t believe him. Not after what you went through after that. He sounded like he was telling the truth, and you wanted to believe him! But you still couldn’t understand why.

“What happened with Natalia, Harry? And Olivia?”

“I–I broke up with her. I wanted to be with you. But you were with Dylan, and–and I was heartbroken. I thought that I lost you forever”

“Would that be so bad?” you asked.

He walked to you, and got down on his knees in front of you. He reached for your hand, and when you didn’t protest, he took it in his, once again.

“I realized just how much I had lost when I let go of you. I lost the one person I trusted the most. I lost you, and I realized I had no one to even talk to. I had no one to laugh with, no one to get wasted with. You were always there for me. You helped me when I couldn’t help myself, and you even went out of your way to do that. You saved me from being fired, and–and I kept believing the wrong people. When I should have believed you. I should have known you were right. I was–I was just frustrated over the fact that Natalia had broken it off with me. I still believed she loved me, and that–she would leave everything to come back to me. And–and I was wrong. I was wrong about Olivia too. All she wanted was sex, and after almost 2 months with her, I realized she was a female version of me”

You would’ve laughed at that, if the circumstances were different.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. Sorry sorry sorry. I will apologize all you want, I’ll do anything, just–just please, please, take me back”

“But–what happened with Natalia?”

He frowned at the mention of her name, and you squinted your eyes.

“You saw Natalia, didn’t you? And she has something to do with you growing up suddenly? And realizing I was right?”

He gritted his teeth, head lowering as he blinked his eyes in shame.

“Knew it. What did she do?” you said.

“She uh–I went to see her on the weekend, couple weeks before, and to my absolute fucking good luck, her whole family was there”

He raised his eyebrows, remembering just how painful and embarrassing it was.

“So—yeah, I approached her, and everyone asked who I was. So, uh, she said I was her brother”

“Yep. That’ll do it” you replied.

His nose was scrunched, lips in a small pout as he whined at you.

“I then realized she never had feelings for me. She might have had all those years ago, but–she definitely doesn’t”

You nodded. 

You sat in silence for a while, no words exchanged between you two. He looked up at you after a while, his eyes searching for an answer.

“You treated me like shit, Harry. Threw me away like trash the minute you were fed up of me–”

“I wasn’t fed up of you–”

“Let me finish! And don't you dare interrupt me once again”

He shut his mouth and nodded.

“You threw me away the second you found someone to replace me. You threw away my feelings, my emotions, everything. You threw away the trust I had for you. And–and I don’t know if I can trust you once again. You were sleeping with two people, and–and you didn’t even bother telling me! What if I got an STD? And you know how expensive healthcare is! I don’t even know if my insurance covers STDs!”

“I’m sorry”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Harry. You know that”

“Then tell me what to do! Please. I’ll do anything you want. Anything. You want me to murder someone, I’ll do it too”

“I’ll do whatever it takes”  his response was instant.

You shook your head once again.

“You’re not going to get me back so easily”

“Okay, first of all, I’m going to treat you like crap. I’m going to call you when I want, I’m going to do whatever I want. I will sleep with multiple guys. And maybe girls too. I will drink and go home with any person I want. I will run away as soon as you’ve orgasmed. I will not give you any aftercare. I will yell at you for caring about me. Understand?”

He hesitated, mouth open and in distress.

“See? How does it feel when the tables are turned? Feels bad? Huh?”

He nodded, pouting.

“Well, I don’t give a fuck. Feels good from where I see it”

He lowered his gaze in defeat, once again.

You grabbed his face, once again, making him look at you.

“It’s not going to go back to what it was in one night, Harry. It will take time. I will take time.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you want”

“Maybe months”

“Of course!”

“Years, even”

“I can wait for eternity if It means I get to be with you once again” he declared, and you cringed.

“Wow. I’m gonna dump you right now for saying that” you teased, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

“Okay–sorry! I’m sorry. I can–I can wait for however long you want, Y/n”

You licked your lips, and he brought your hands to his face, kissing your knuckles.

“Alright. Drop me home. And I want ice cream.”

He smiled, nodding happily, and getting up in an instant.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, and you bit back a smile. He may be a moron, but he was your moron.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[erinwantstowrite]

Do you know roughly how much of chapter 15 are gonna be like content warnings or about peters child abuse? I'm trying to avoid as much of the triggering content as I can but I also want to read as much of the chapter as I safely can

If not do you know roughly where in the chapter that content is gonna be?

i will put be putting trigger warnings before the chapter with more detail (because i haven't written a particular scene yet so i don't know the specifics of what i'll need to mention), but i can give a general idea

(this will be below the cut. please take care of yourself. i will be talking about child abuse in many forms. there's four paragraphs, giving a general statement about the content, but will not be going into detail)

it's going to get very heavy. peter alludes to a lot of things he's been through with foster parents. in the first scene, peter has a physical reaction and starts apologizing, dick and wally both reassure him and have a talk about it, so peter will feel safe. peter does not notice that he even has this reaction. but it opens the door to dick having to ask questions so that he DOESN'T accidentally trigger peter, and that's most of the chapter. scene 1, and scene 3/4 (while there's not a break, this scene will feel like 2 different scenes, and the second part is where this is brought up) will be talking about the child abuse with dick, because dick asks about it

peter will not be having flashbacks or going into extreme detail, but he will be talking about it and some of the specifics with dick. he'll talk about the different foster parents he had, he'll talk about just how many people in his life died, he'll talk about the impact that it had on him, etc. he'll also be talking about various forms of child abuse, both physical and mental, from multiple foster parents. but he won't be talking about what westcott did beyond the day that peter ran away. peter is not ready to talk about the SA, so he won't be doing so. there will be a fic in the LoF series that delves into that (but again I'll say that I will not be including flashbacks nor describing in detail what happened to him. it will be talked about, peter will be having reactions and working through it, but i do not want to write the actual scene of it happening. and in that fic, which is a while from now, dick will also be talking about his own SA).

And I really, really have to mention that Peter's narration on this topic is unreliable and biased. the way that he views his trauma is not the way that he should, he still has a lot to go with healing from his past. His narration could be triggering because of how he views himself. he thinks that how he went about this was stupid, but no one around peter will think the same. dick will talk to him about this and peter's viewpoint will start to shift. but in the beginning, it's very sad to see

I hope to do this topic justice and in a way that doesn't hurt any of my readers. I have people that will look over this chapter to make sure that I do, but that responsibility falls on me. I value you all and I care about your well being. I get a lot of asks talking about how they can relate to Peter in LoF, and please know that even if I don't respond to these asks (potentially triggering topics) I see you and I hear you. I'm so sorry that you were left behind and hurt. You didn't deserve what happened to you, no one does. You are important and I'm glad you're with us today. Please take care of yourself. If you find that reading chapter 15 will be too much, I understand completely. I will be putting a summary of the chapter on my page to give an overview of what happened but without the details. It will be a clinical transcript of sorts.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hello, I’ve got a long winded request for advise that I’d like to ask from you (if you’ll give me a year in advance to ramble lol).

Would just like to state first off that this was something I spent half an hour on cycling between the thoughts of “this is horribly offensive” and “who better to ask” due to some of your posts and because I commonly enjoy and trust your opinions to be at least honest. I know you aren’t obligated to answer this ask but I’d really appreciate it even if it’s simply just a “AITA?” “YTH” situation.

I’ve had an issue recently where I am being ridiculed for making choices for my body and its appearance. The choice is losing weight. I’ve lived my entire life so far as a fat person, for the last 13 or so years I was well above the “class 3 obesity” threshold, right now I’m sitting in the low end of the first class. I don’t really like it, but when I was in the overweight category (I haven’t been an average weight since I was 5, a little more on that later) I got told that by losing weight I was being inherently fatphobic and making other fat people uncomfortable.

I know dieting and the likes can be an uncomfortable topic in general but I never brought it up except for rare mentions of my weight loss, mostly because I was proud of my progress. I’m not wanting to be “thin, “skinny,” whatever etc etc, I would just like to be in the middle of the average category with some visible muscle mass. I was shamed so much that I put myself back up into the obese category, and I’m all for body positivity but it’s not working for me when I know what I want my body to look like. I’m neutral on my body and its functions in general but I’m uncomfortable with the gain I didn’t want and the knowledge that I was on my way to a point of comfort.

As I said before, I haven’t been an average weight since I was 5. That’s because I developed severe binge eating disorder due to trauma. My weight gain was uncontrollable and made me uncomfortable for over a decade. Now that I have some control and a sense of body neutrality, I would like to lose what I gained from my disorder. Not all of it ofc, I’m an adult now and I want a healthy adult body, but I want to be able to make the choices and changes to put my body back into the average weight that I feel was “stolen” from me.

I suppose those thoughts could be considered fatphobic from a certain viewpoint but to me my binge eating disorder and obesity are/were things that I feel the need to heal from. I don’t have these thoughts about anyone else. I don’t want anyone to lose weight if they don’t want to. I love fat bodies. I just want to have the choice to lose weight myself without being considered a bad person.

Do these thoughts and feelings make me a bad/fatphobic person? Does losing weight make me a bad/fatphobic person? I genuinely just want what I believe is best for my body.

Thank you for your time. Stay well.

i have a lot of feelings on this sort of topic, so i appreciate you sending an ask like this, because it's one of the most nuanced, complicated discussions i've tried to have with people recently and a lot of people do not understand the distinction. i'm going to try to break this down to have it make sense to as many people as possible

first of all, people have the right to choose what weight they want their body to be at, so long as it's not causing genuine harm, especially permanent harm. losing weight is not inherently evil, the thing is, a lot of people either need to lose weight or choose to do so for good reasons. i was very heavy at one point, 360 lbs, and i was starting to get new pain i hadn't experienced before. it was hard to stand for any period of time. i couldn't walk much.

after i started walking around the neighborhood and losing that extra weight, that pain went away. i feel a lot better having less of that weight on me. i gained weight in a very unhealthy manner during this time, mostly by not eating well for my dietary needs, sleeping excessively, no exercise, and so on. the thing is that we have to take care of our total health and not everyone who is fat is unhealthy, but some people can and do put on weight that impairs their functioning or health and it's not good to ignore that this is a thing that can and does happen

you're allowed to decide what you feel your body should look like especially if you are not taking this to extremes. i like to keep my weight below a certain range, myself. i keep a close eye on it. fortunately it's easy to stay around a certain healthy range for my body because i cook a lot of meals at home and i mostly eat vegetarian food and fish due to allergies and digestive issues. i'm still about 311 lbs but it's in a much healthier configuration for my body

weight is a complex conversation. both thin and fat bodies are stigmatized. we need to drop our obsession with body image and let people be the arbiters of their own weight, at least, letting people express what they want and helping them reduce harm and find ways to achieve that goal realistically in a healthy manner. shaming people doesn't work. we've proven this decade after decade. shaming skinny people doesn't work. shaming fat people doesn't work. shaming anyone doesn't work

dieting is a very specific thing. everyone's diet is 100% unique to their body. your digestive system works different than the person next to you's. you may not metabolize nutrients as well as someone else. you may process fats and proteins differently. you may need a lot of electrolytes. you may not be able to digest fiber. you may struggle with fructose, glucose and other sugars. you may not be able to eat any meats at all. you may need lots of fruits. it will depend greatly on who you are

it's best to work with your body than against it. you are allowed to decide what weight range you want to be within. best thing you can do is attempt an elimination diet to see if there are foods that just don't do your body any favors, these can and should be done very slowly with one food at a time. but i'm not a health professional, so that's just a suggestion.

either way good luck, i don't like when people try to boil this down to "this is good" or "This is bad". there are good and bad things to all of this. it's worth discussing both sides of that. i hope this helped you in any way

[cdroloisms]

Can we hear more about that theory?

it's less of a theory and more just derangement, and a specific angle of viewing the story. but smth i think that is crucial to how i see the story and something that i think is too-often deemphasized in the fandom, regardless of how much you buy into the derangement lmao, is that c!discduo is not...really a standalone relationship. i mean it is, but in just as many ways it isn't...and the reason why the finale and you know, an actual conversation between the two of them takes so long to get to is precisely because it was overshadowed by the third component of their whole deal. are you following? does this make sense? i dont know.

c!dream + c!tommy are one side of a triangle that supports quite literally everything abt their whole central conflict and narrative, with the third part being, well, c!wilbur. and the c!wilbur-c!tommy-c!dream of it all is quite understandably easy to miss, but it's also what i think leads to some of the most striking differences in c!dream and c!tommy interpretations, not to mention the story as a whole. c!wilbur's relationship with c!dream and c!tommy separately AND together is critical to the ways that the two characters develop and how their conflict evolves--i'd say that that's more just. canon, than a theory. but how far you extend that is where it kinda delves into different interpretations of canon, you know?

but it's just like ... when the whole fucking point of that last stream, the whole damn crux of it is when tommy says "i thought you were just a villain" and dream replies with "i am and i always have been" and the whole damn POINT is that these viewpoints were never true to begin with, when what dream throws to tommyinnit is a picture of lmanburg, when the shit that they have to dismantle to reach out at the end of the fucking world is the hero/villainisms that have DEFINED THEIR STORY independently AND together, it's like. look . when the story is like dismantling the literal source of their conflict and c!wilbur's fingerprints are all over the damn thing, it feels a Little reductive to see the conversation so consistently happen without even invoking his name, you know?

[syrena-del-mar]

Very Rarely Do Men Know How to Be Altogether Good or Altogether Wicked

The last five minutes of today's episode left my mouth gaping, it really felt like I was watching a catastrophic accident happen in front of me and I just couldn't look away.

I wasn't completely sure on how Sand was going to learn about Ray and Mew's history, but I sure wasn't expecting that Ray's feelings would be exposed in such a volatile way. Maybe I’m in the minority here, I’m not exactly sure because I’m seeing a mixed bag of reactions, but I don’t necessarily agree that Sand ever needed to find out about Ray’s feelings for Mew. Much less from Boston.

This is partially going to be a bit of a continuation of my thoughts that Boston has a Machiavellian personality, followed up with SandRay's relationship becoming the unsuspecting 'victim'. Again, I'll be using pulling from Machiavelli's The Prince, but I'm also using his work Discourses on Livy. [Title credit to ch. 27 of Discourses]

Boston, still the Machiavellian 'Prince'

“Another difficulty to be added to the one mentioned above is that a state that becomes free creates for itself enemies rather than friends.”

― Niccolò Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy

Let me be upfront, I don't hate Boston, I actually enjoy the chaos he brings, but he's a fascinating character to break down and really analyze his actions. The last five minutes was, in my opinion, the most chaos that he has caused out in the open. This was never a situation of Boston 'saying what needed to be said.' This was Boston seeing an opportunity to take control of someone and doing so by unfairly outing Ray's feelings. I, again, stand by the idea that Boston is not a narcissist, but rather a Machiavellian personality type. This doesn't make him a 'villain'; Only Friends does a good job at showing that there are no villains in real life, just incredibly shitty people. Boston is simply a dick, who chooses to play with his friends to feel a sense of control when he doesn't have it. Has he ever cared for his friends? Does he keep them around simply for convenience? Hard to say. That doesn't make him evil, it just makes him a first-class jackass.

In my post where I had stated that he was more of a Machiavellian rather than narcissist, I came to the conclusion that, 'In his viewpoint, he is the kingpin, even in his group of friends, because he believes that he's the one that controls how his friends move since he knows how Mew is developing feelings for Top and is aware of Ray's feelings for Mew.' This time around, he practically admits it right after purposefully revealing Ray's feelings for Mew, "I just want to keep track of my best friends' romantic moments.' Boston hoards information so that he can throw it in people's faces when it fits him the best, there's no 'good intentions' on his keeping tabs on his friends.

Boston knows that TopMew are going to sleep together, they're serious and he's out of the running. Is it simply ego or is it because of self-interest? Whatever the catalyst is, he essentially has nothing holding him back anymore. He's seeing his "friends" getting "serious", while he's out there dealing with known (and unknown) filming of one-night stands he had being used as revenge porn. That'd hurt and anger anyone, but from what has been shown, Boston thrives off of control and so having his sex life used against him would feel like an even bigger blow. They're minor events that are snowballing and Boston likely needs to feel that control again. It's why he pushes Nick down without a second thought when Nick is trying to pull him away (opposed to how Ray lets Sand pull him back). So he claims that control back, he deliberately reveals what he knows, purposefully taking Ray down with him. While he may be feeling like shit, at least he'll be better off than Ray, who's left to pick up the pieces.

Sand and Ray, the intentional destruction of the 'kingdom'

“In general you must either pamper people or destroy them; harm them just a little and they’ll hit back; harm them seriously and they won’t be able to. So if you’re going to do people harm, make sure you needn’t worry about their reaction.” ― Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince

Yes, Sand and Ray are in a “situationship.” Yes, they’re constantly getting both physically and emotionally closer. Yes, Sand is developing feelings for Ray (arguably vice versa too). But that’s it. They started off as friends with benefits and while they’ve been shifting around, neither one has fully crossed that line. There was no defined area in the relationship, at least not before the implosion. They’re barely getting to know each other, Sand even calls Ray out because he knew that Ray had never noticed him before, not in a way other than just the Bar Performer.

Ray is working through who he is without Mew, without his crush on Mew. He's come to the realization that while he put Mew as his #1 for many years, he's knows he's not that for Mew, and is slowly coming to the realization that he may have never been. These are his feelings to work out and his alone. Sand and Ray are first and foremost friends, as they had agreed upon and they happen to hook up often. This was what they agreed upon. Even if one or both of them are catching feelings, it does not mean that Ray has an automatic obligation to come clean to Sand.

Arguably, Boston was unaware of this set up, but honestly he didn't need to know. This was not his business, Boston didn't suddenly spill the fact that Ray has had feelings for Mew for years to look out for Sand. No, this was an intentional hit on Ray, where he was positive that it would hurt. Boston has repeatedly used Ray's feelings for Mew for his own convenience (Exhibit A: Meddling at the pool party), whether it be to get Ray to react in a certain way or to have a punching bag. He knew how defensive and reactive Ray would get when he brought up RayMew's kiss and supposed sex (was this ever confirmed?) that they had.

Boston speaks in definite presumptions when he talks about others, he does this to Top and he did it to Ray. He spins realities to how he sees fit and with the confidence that he speaks in, he makes others believe him. It's why Mew never questioned that Top is accustomed to sleeping around and didn't think that Top really wanted anything more than sex, because that's what Boston specifically told him that Top was like. It's why now Sand believes that he has no hour in Ray's life, even when Ray gives him the opening to ask more, because Boston purposefully spoke in definite terms. Even the most secure person would be left feeling unsure and unbalanced.

So when Sand, who knows that their relationship is based on being friends with benefits, is confronted with words from Ray's supposed friend who explicitly states that Ray is in love with Mew and that he's being used as a rebound, what else can he do but believe that?

What little trust and rapport that they had started to build up has come crumbling down. They're frantically gathering the pieces of a 'kingdom' that has been turn into dust, the aftermath of the Prince's wrath. It's why Ray scrambles for the bottle and it's why Sand shuts down. How can they react to what Boston did, when they're struggling to salvage the little remnants left behind of what was supposed to be a blossoming relationship?

[acotarxreader]

Say My Name part 2

Azriel x Reader

Warnings; Angst, smut, sin city

Part 1

------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment the door of your office closed Azriel ran down through the hallway in almost a frantic fashion. He burst through the door of his room before crashing into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet from the sheer adrenaline of that moment. He couldn’t believe he did it, couldn’t believe he admitted what he did. You could have him killed for treason, killed for touching you, killed him for feeling that way about you. 

But the punishment never came, in fact, you had almost entirely avoided him for the two weeks that followed the attempted ambush, throwing yourself into your work and tasks that took you far from Velaris, Azriel undertaking his own tasks for the High Lord. 

Your next assignment had you marking the viewing points for the up-and-coming meeting between the Solar Courts. You studied the small cabin from your hilltop viewpoint, deep within the mountains of the Day and Dawn border, mentally marking all the areas of weakness in this location, despite already knowing them well. 

“Hello YN” You almost leapt from your skin turning on your feet to look at Azriel, his hands raised to chest level in a truce. 

“How do you do that?” “Shadowsinger, remember?” he gave a small laugh before you turned back to look at the cabin, he copied your action joining your side. 

“What are you even doing here, I normally work solo” “The High Lord requested I scope the area too he…he said he didn’t want a repeat of Hewn City” Azriel admitted reluctantly and you rolled your eyes. You began to walk down the hillside to reach the front of the cabin, Azriels shadows tracing the ins and outs of the small almost forgotten structure, the action making you somewhat uncomfortable. The meeting regarding a potential War about mortal rights, a very hot topic issue for all the Courts these days, was to take place here in the coming days.

“So…how’s your neck?” “That’s not what you came here to talk about” you sighed, his proximity to your side taking the chill out of the late evening air. “You’re right but I still want to make sure you’re alright” “Like I told you that night, that's not your job” “Then who’s it because I’d like to interview for the position” he gave a grin as you bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. 

“C’mon Sha-Azriel, it’s clear here I already checked it, if your little friends are happy let’s do the convoy trail again and head home” he nodded, his shadows leaping at merely being mentioned by you.

“This uprising is really starting to gain some steam” Azriel spoke quietly after a moment as you both passed along the tracks the High Lord would soon take, the wildlife hummed around the both of you. 

“Rightfully so” “I agree” You both shared a small glance, Azriels shadows darting back and forth with information on the path ahead. 

“They’re very clever aren’t they” “They say thank you” he returned your smile, the ground crunching beneath your feet, an air of comfortable silence surrounding you both. Silence. Why was it suddenly silent Azriel thought? Without fully being cognisant of his next move, Azriel crashed you into the overgrowth along the path.

“What the fuck Azriel?!” You yelped, his hand instantly covering your mouth, your brows furrowing in rage at the movements. He used his other hand to signal to you to be quiet and look out through the thick brambles covering you both. Two shrouded figures scurried along the path in front of you, Azriel gestured with his head towards their backs, long thick ash arrows hung from between their shoulder blades. You pulled his hand down from your face only to not let go of it when it reached your side. You didn’t take your gaze away from the threats and yet Azriel couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to your hand in his. 

“YN-” he began to whisper before a near-deafening shriek left his throat. You leapt to your feet and straight for the direction the arrow hand flow from, it piercing through one of Azriel’s wings. He tried to push from the ground to follow you, the sickly feeling of ash through his flesh rocking him back to the ground with a yelp, its grip beginning to overwhelm his senses. He could only watch you through the shrubs as you deflected and defended yourself so gracefully from the assailant's onslaught. Azriel threw the dagger strapped to his leg, clipping one of the offenders through his ear, a kill shot if he had been in full health. You fought against the other, snapping their bow over your knee before they got the chance to draw again. Azriel’s shadows dashed across Azriel’s near miss, confusing them enough for you to simultaneously swing your leg outward, sending them straight to the ground with a thud. You slit a blade across the other’s right knee, them joining their counterpart. You snatched up the quivers snapping the remaining arrows, careful not to be caught with a splinter. 

“Sleep” you whispered, before reaching out and touching their temples as they struggled against Azriel’s tightening shadows, sending them both into an unwelcome slumber. You ran to Azriel’s side, pulling him up onto his wobbly legs. 

“Come on Azriel, we have to get that out of you, the cabin is warded if there’s more of them, they won’t see it through the glamour” You supported his weight as you hauled him back towards the cabin, Azriel groaning in growing pain.

“Azriel, stay awake, please stay awake” You gently tapped his face while pulling him along the trail, he fought to keep his head upright, his weight pressing heavy onto you.

“Wh-what di-d you do t-o the-m are they de-ad?” he gritted out through his teeth after a moment, the cabin coming into sight again.

“No, they’ll wake and not remember where they are or who we are, they’ll only have the strong urge to go home” you reassured. 

“Yo-u’re a Daemati?” he finally managed as you waved the door of the cabin open. 

“You’re surprised?” you almost laughed at him, continuing to support his weight until you reached the bathroom of the cabin. He sat on the rim of the bath, just about able to keep from tipping into the empty porcelain. You plugged the bath behind him before turning the tap on, its old pipe work screaming into work. You leant down to retrieve towels from the cupboard, Azriel watching every movement. 

“Does-does the Night Court know?” your movement stilled as his hoarse words.

“Need to know basis Azriel” you smirked, leaving the room to fetch tinctures from the kitchen. You returned quickly, a cup of shimmering liquid in hand, you gestured for Azriel to drink and he took it happily, anything to stop the swirling headache. 

“Oh hey look at the rabbit?” you took the cup from him before you pointed towards the opposite direction from where you stood next to Azriel.

“What rab-FUCK!” Azriel’s hand gripped your shoulder with near bone-crushing force as you pulled the arrow from him.

“You're okay that's the worst of it” you reassured as he bit hard onto his lip to stop any tears before they could fall.

You supported him as he stood again, his body screamed at him as you pulled the shirt from above his head, gaining an apologetic look from you. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you loved pulling that rabbit shit” You found yourself laughing slightly at him, trying to fight off the worry in your chest. You emptied a full bottle of liquid into the bath, bubbles swelling through the tub. You somewhat awkwardly looked down at Azriels torso before your eyes landed on his still-clothed lower body. He coughed to cover his own rising embarrassment before you turned to face the wall, allowing him to fully undress and slip beneath the bubbles of the water, shielding his lower half. You turned back to him when the sound of him groaning into a comfortable position had stopped. You passed back down the mug to him, turned off the tap and then went to retrieve more salve. 

“How do you know the glamour will work, we could see the cabin?” he called to you, the sound of drawers being whipped open. 

“Because I was the one who glamoured the place”

“Oh…well you must come here often, you seem to have a good idea of the inventory?” He questioned as you returned, the water soaking his wings before he rose back up to a sitting position. “This-this was actually where I grew up, I allow the Courts to use it for important meetings” you offered, uncapping the jar, Azriel really felt he knew practically nothing about you but also like he had spent a lifetime with you already. 

“So you are a Daemtri that’s not from the Night Court that has hidden properties, any more secrets?” 

“Lots of secrets Azriel, do you have any to share with me?” you smiled half jokingly, kneeling along the edge of the bath. You coated your fingers in the salve and raised them to Azriel’s wounded wing where you hesitated. 

“I love it when you say my name” You smiled gently at his admission as you began to cover your fingers in the salve.

“Emm-aren’t your wings-do you want to-should I…” you couldn’t find the right way to phrase yourself, Azriel laughing again at the unfamiliar sight of you being flustered. 

“I’m okay with it if you are, it doesn’t mean anything” he offered, your hand then steadying its slight tremble before making contact with the wound. Azriel let out a breath of relief at the feeling of the wounded skin being soothed by the concoction. 

“The High Lord and Rhysand know about my ability, I was sent to him as a child as payment by my father for a debt-” you whispered the words out, your moonstone eyes softening at the memory “-he used to use my ability to win bets, one day he found himself in a room with the High Lord of Night and thought he wouldn’t notice if he used my abilities, Rhysand caught me” 

“That’s terrible YN” “That was my father” you half laughed again, turning to sit so your back was flush with the body of the clawfoot bath, you rolled your head to rest on the rim, Azriel slightly turning in the bath to half rest his head next to yours. 

“And the Dawn Court didn’t have anything to say about losing a Daemtri?” “My mother was from the Night Court, I was equally anyone’s to take” “So that’s why you hate Rhysand?” you scoffed at him, rolling your head to meet his hazel eyes. 

“While trying to impress his own Father, Rhysand caused the death of mine and the beginning of my life sentence to his Father…He and I had a tumultuous relationship before he went to Windhaven…and even more so when he was there, he doesn’t speak of me because a Court with two Daemtri is more powerful than one and I think-I think he regrets alerting his Father to me” you sighed at the politics, standing up again.

“That is definitely something he would regret YN” 

“Maybe so but it won't change my bargain tying me the High Lord” You ran your slightly damp hands down the front of your leathers and tried not to stare at the very beautiful and very naked Illyrian beneath the bubbles in front of you. You noticed the smirk grow across his face and realised you were staring, you began to cough to clear the awkwardness before smiling and making a quick exit, Azriel sank beneath the water again. 

—---------------------------------

A little while later, Azriel rejoined you in the living area of the small cottage as you arranged the small dining room table for the meeting at the end of the week. Azriel now well on the way to recovery drank in his surroundings, the small bits of you and your story decorating the humble cottage. 

“Feeling better Spymaster?” you gave a small smile to him, arms folded across your chest while he surveyed his surroundings. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to ask one another that question?” he smirked, watching you uncross your arms and amble towards him.

“Whatever Spymaster” You rolled your eyes with a grin, stopping an arms reach from him. 

“I also thought we moved on from you calling me by my title” he so cautiously whispered, trying his best to not get lost in the auralescent of your moonstone eyes.

“You think a lot of things, Azriel, I-” That was it he couldn’t push it away any further, the draw of your voice taking hold of him as he closed the distance, hands wrapping around the nape of your neck, pulling you to meet his lips. Your hands caught his wrists, pushing him back from you without losing your grip on his bones. 

“Sorry I-I-” you cut across his rising panic, your brain agreeing with your heart finally as you pulled him back into the kiss, his hands tunnel through your hair to angle your head back, deepening what you had denied one another. 

Your mouth parted slightly causing him to eagerly take the invitation, his tongue conducting teasing strokes that you happily match. Your hands clutch the material of his shirt, afraid to let go of him and the movement. His hands untangle from your hair, dropping to the tops of your thighs to lift you from the ground, if ever so slightly unsteady, the ash arrow’s effects exiting his body at rapid pace. Your legs wrap around his torso, your chests clinging to one another as if your lives depend on it, both becoming more hungry in your actions. He backs the two of you backwards until the back of your legs hits the table, where he places you down gently, all without separating the tangle of teeth and tongues you had both become. Azriel rocks his hips gently against your thighs and you almost lose yourself in the mouth-watering friction. Need pulses through you both as he separated from you just long enough to slide his mouth down your jaw to connect with sweet pressure to your neck.

“Azriel” you nearly gasped out the moan of his name, it nearly sending him over the edge at the sound. He pulled from you, yanking his shirt from over his head in one swift movement before pulling your trousers from you leaving you bare on the table before him. His hand traced up your torso as you watched the painfully slow movements until he sank to his knees at the edge of the table.

You sat up on your elbows to watch him, only to have his scarred hand connect with your stomach, pushing you back flush with the table with a moan. You lay there for a moment, hoping this whole interaction wasn’t a dream, that those assailants from earlier had killed you, that you had entered the heavens with the Gods. 

The vein of thought is interrupted as your pulse nearly hits the roof, the feeling of pleasure shuddering through you, the feeling of his rough but delicate fingers entering you, massaging you as they slide to your core. You dig your nails into his bare shoulders, riding his thrusting fingers as he groans at the sight. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful YN, show me, show me more, release for me” The moan was trapped in your throat as he shot up, connecting again with your lips in ferocious desperate need for you, sending you crashing over in insurmountable pleasure. He couldn’t tear his hazel eyes from the storms of gratification swirling in yours. 

Azriel took his fingers from you and you missed them instantly. You rasped out what air you could until Azriel’s mouth stole the breath away again. He untied his trousers with your help, all without disconnecting from one another. You shuffled further to the edge of the table as the last stretch of fabric freed his thick length, you nearly going over the edge again at the feeling of him in your hands. 

Azriel practically snatched you from the table, back into his strong arms, your legs tangling around him, he backed you against the kitchen wall then, unable to mentally map his way back to the couch to take you there. He allows you to adjust for the first inch of him inside you, almost sending you both undone. 

“Fuck me like I’m yours Azriel” you whisper cautiously into the shell of his ear before nipping him gently, no further encouragement as he takes you entirely in one firm thrust and your blood heats, his breath rasping out for more of you, his movements growing in pace and vigour. 

“Mine, fucking all mine” was all he could manage but it was enough, enough to send the tightening band in your abdomen to its absolute limits. Azriel pulls from you suddenly, turning you both in the direction of the couch, where he crashed on top of you, the full weight giving him more power to reach deep within you, your hands knotting tightly into his hair, his wings splayed for balance. It’s overwhelming, all-encompassing and it's Azriel, the full picture of what was happening sending you bolting towards your second release. You forced your eyes open just in time to witness Azriel unravel and burst with what could only be described as a primal roar. He collapsed alongside you, the both of you trying to find your way back to the earth through the bone-rattling waves of pleasure. Your hand traced across your closed eyes before you burst into laughter.

“What the fuck just happened?” you managed between breaths.

“I interrupted you before you could reprimand me again I-I think” he laughed out as you pulled your tender bones upright on the couch, looking down at the flushed Illyrian, his head resting on the arm bent above his head. 

“Gods, this is bad, really bad” You shot up from your seat, grabbing your discarded clothes and dressing nearly as fast as you got undressed. Azriel watched you carefully, trying not to show his hurt as he caught the clothes you threw at him. 

“We have to go, Spymaster, they’ll be looking for us and I really don’t fancy having to explain”

“Would it be such a bad thing?” you turned to his small words as he stood, tying the last button on his trousers, your eyes softened on him as you closed the space between you.

“They can’t know. For you it would be another notch on your bedpost, they’d probably fucking celebrate you but for me, for me, they’ll call me a whore or weak or accuse me of sleeping my way to the top and shun me” “You’re not just another notch on my bedpost YN, am I to you?” his soft words saddened you, his hand tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, as he had done so carefully the night of the ambush.

“No Azriel of course not but but in this Court we’re not the same, females in my position don’t have the pleasure of being with who they want, no matter how much they want them and Azriel I do want you” You fought away the tears threatening to fall, Azriels arms rubbing your upper arm lovingly. 

“This isn’t fair” “Like I told you, this Court isn’t fair” you half laughed through your croaking voice before pulling from his grasp again.

“YN, if I’m ever in a position of power I will do all I can to make it fair”

“I know” you said with a sad smile before reaching for you coat and slipping it on. You move to Azriel again, kissing his cheek ever so carefully, the action shattering his heart as your earlier words did. 

“C’mon Spymaster, we have to get back”

----------------------------------------------------

Hehe whatcha think?

Tag @5onedirection5

[swdm360]

ORV—Not Supposed to Happen

➡ 〔Kim Dokja x AMAB! KPOP! Reader〕

➡ Letter Content: Where a kpop idol loves to read webtoon after practice. His group's holiday turns into a nightmare fest and now he struggles to accept his reality.

➡ Messenger Note: If I wrote a fanfic lol, TW: Mentions of death, murder, blood. I mean, it's the first scenario cmon.

---

How could the protagonist of ORV adapt so easily? How could he have thought so fast in the matter of a few minutes? How could he be so lucky?

Well, you weren't him.

You didn't have fourth wall like every fanfiction out there may suggest... Why not? You're just as well aware of this fictional world as Kim Dokja is, so why not you?

You asked these questions because unlike him, you had to follow the rules in the first scenario. You had blood on your hands.

The blood of a friend turned traitor. Now, you're desperate to have a peace of mind. Where else other than by the actual protagonist, Kim Dokja's side?

---

This wasn't how the holiday was supposed to go.

This wasn't a dream, you've tested it. The pain is real, the squeeze in your heart felt real, the blood trickling down from your cheek to the floor felt and so did the multiple wounds on your arms felt real.

【The constellations applaud your tenacity.】

This... Was supposed to be fictional, a fun little webtoon to read after practice.

So why were your friend... Your family sitting in a sea of their own blood? Why did you hold the knife and why was it lodged into your mates' head?

Why are your hands red?

Why are you trembling, crying?

【Congratulations! You're the only survivor in this room!】

【300 coins gifted for completion. 】

A scream echoed in the hotel room.

Was that screaming you?

Was that why your throat is parched?

Shit.

You let out a sob, your hands smudging the large window panes overlooking Seoul with red. Your body felt weak as if you were contracting the worst of covid-19's symptoms kind of weak. The 'running a 5 lap, 1000m marathon' kind of weak, the 'danced everyday, without sleep, without rests and without food for hours on end' kind of weak.

I mean, how could you not feel exhausted? You were roomed with the main dancer in your group who regularly exercised—in addition to that, one of the former gymnast champions in all of Japan.

It's a surprise you survived instead of him.

A weakling, only ever locking yourself in your room despite being the lead dancer just to get a chance of reading the ever-so-popular omniscient reader's viewpoint.

ORV in short.

You were close to the main dancer, someone who you won't name as a friend anymore; He who jumped at the butter knife and launched at you to survive. He who screamed for you to give in because he would make sure to avenge you.

Avenge you?

You weren't even dead.

Of course you'd fight for your life.

How could he attack you in your most vulnerable state? You thought you could trust him. He was your friend after all. He was supposed to protect you. How could he try and kill you?Ha. You didn't even know you had it in you to break his wrist, to pick up the knife and stab it through his head whilst he was strangling you.

You didn't know you had the guts in you to kill.

To kill your own.

You stumbled into the wall, your breathe barely catching the needed oxygen for you to survive as the sobs successfully slipped out through your lips.

Staggering, you approached the doorway. Dismissive that you would regret not collecting the items you needed for survival going forward as all there was in your mind was your other group members.

What about the leader and the youngest? What about the staff members and the assistant trainees? Are they alive? Are they dead? Did they kill to survive too?

Your hand twisted the doorknob, but you didn't open it.

"(Name)...? Y-you're alive?"

It's your leader. Your eyes were getting heavy, either way you willed yourself to look into theirs.

He must've been expecting him...

【The Constellation 'Blind Hunter with Lion Skin' is interested on how you will take care of this one. 】 【The Prophet whose prophecies were not believed bets that you will spare him. 】

"...Sunbae."

Your knees buckled below you. A headache forming in your head from the messages.

Luckily, your leader catches you, his hands trembling as well but his face steeled at your state.

"I... I killed him." You stuttered out, body flinching as his hands gripped your shoulders.

"Shh... It's okay now." His voice spoke ever so softly, as if you would break if handled roughly. He placed your head onto his shoulders as he rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

"He tried to—he went for me."

"I know. I know."

"I'm scared."

"I'll protect you. Your sunbae will take care of you." Liar.

His voice hitched.

He's as scared as you were.

His hands... They're red too.

Flashback? Idk yet, these two constellations are my fav.

[larkingame]

Hello!! Are you having a nice day? I hope you do!!! I wanted to ask, could u maybe tell us what the different classes are? Tumblr's search function always lets a girl down and the detailed info is not in the pinned post as far as I can tell, so I can't find the info :( Thank u and have a lovely weekend 💕💕💕

hi! today's going okay so far! thank you for the ask :)

so there are seven classes in larkin! in the game they kind of function like the traditional class system in a game like dnd combined with their background system, meaning they not only shape the players skills and abilities, but they also have an effect on some of their viewpoints and values, as well as having an impact on their relationships with other people in the world!

the outlaw - this is your traditional criminal class/background. an outlaw abrams has managed to survive through any means necessary--something that Wyatt doesn't exactly approve of, given his own 'moral code' 🙄this class is great with intimidation and making connections in the various underworlds that larkin's version of the US has to offer. character's like Nash might not take too kindly to some of their methods, but he would have to admit--they're effective.

the healer - this is your 'doctor' class, well, as close as one can come to being a doctor without any formal training. an expert in traditional medicine, a healer Abrams has survived on the kindness of others after delivering babies, pulling bullets out of rogues and tending to sick kids. Wyatt is particularly proud to call a healer Abrams his kid! Cassidy and Ethel would find you particularly valuable--as the Ward gang is currently down a healer.

the showman - this is Larkin's version of a bard. An expert musician and storyteller, you live for the stage, you shine best when you're entertaining, swaying an audience. Wyatt isn't particularly favorable towards your selected path in life--he thinks your talents could be put to better use doing something else--but you're his kid no matter what. Already kind of mentioned this, but Cyrus has a soft spot for musicians!

the conartist - this class aligns the best with the barest bones version of the MC, when they were first being developed in 2020. They've followed in Wyatt's footsteps, selling forged land-deeds and miracle tonics, swindling unsuspecting bleeding hearts out of their pocket change and making a big old show of it all the while. An expert at manipulation, Wyatt couldn't be prouder of the little conman you've turned out to be. Rose finds the conartist a little suspicious--like people trust them far too easily, but Dominic on the other hand, loves the way Abrams can get people eating right out of their palms.

the thief - this Abrams has sticky-fingers, great with pick-pocketing and breaking into places they shouldn't be, they'd consider themselves something of an expert thief. with a boost to dexterity, this Abrams has nimble fingers that help in terms of picking locks and other delicate tasks. Wyatt thinks you could be doing something a little more honorable, but he'd be lying if those nimble hands of yours didn't come in handy from time to time. Reyes absolutely adores the way this Abrams can rob a man blind without them even realizing.

the gambler - holding 'em and folding 'em is this Abrams' specialty. They've been counting cards since before they could read, shooting dice before they were old enough to enter a casino and hustling pool long before their twenty-first birthday. Wyatt is pretty happy with the little cardshark Abrams' has turned out to be, he admires how well the can keep a lid on things--well, usually. Hollis is hesitant around this version of Abrams. They usually have people figured out the moment they've met them. But this Abrams? This Abrams is unreadable--and they hate going in blind.

the slayer - now, every version of Abrams is a vampire hunter, though the slayer takes a different approach to the craft. Vampire hunter is all they are, it's all they'll ever be, it's what'll kill them one day--but they've long accepted that. Their knowledge of the Vamp world is unparalelled, their dedication to slaying all of Vampire kind rivalling that of the Pope's dedication to Christ. Wyatt is...well, Wyatt worries more about the slayer than he does the other Abrams'. Montero and Adam, both being Vampires themselves have differing opinions of the slayer, but--they'd be lying if they didn't say they weren't at least a little wary of them.

[kwyw]

Here’s a little something for all the anons you’re getting about Robin from someone who is a parent.

There are just certain feelings and emotions that are so profound and specific to a situation that you can’t even imagine them until you’ve been there. Taylor has expressed this herself previously when she’s talked about writing ‘Soon you’ll get better’. Some things you don’t think about until they’re on your doorstep. Like cancer. Or pregnancy loss. And you certainly don’t have the unique insight into all of the emotions attached to those things until it affects you. I have unfortunately experienced both of them and I can absolutely tell the difference between someone who has been there and someone who’s empathetic to a friend’s experience. You cannot feel other people’s feelings no matter how close you are to them. These are her own experiences.

Parenthood is the same. The viewpoint changes when you are the parent yourself. Yes she’s written about childhood before, a ton in fact. But this is different. Those were songs reminiscent or mournful of her own childhood. Growing up too soon, missing the childhood innocence and screaming at those people that took her girlhood at an early age. That’s what Peter is about. She’s still grappling with that but Robin is very different. This is a parent’s view of a child and if you are not one you might not see that (and that’s fine). It’s one of those ‘you don’t see it until you’re in it’ moments. It’s the level of love where you’d be willing to tether clocks (even though it’s obviously futile) just to keep the sweet innocence a little longer. It’s that “I would do anything for you” love that really only exists between a parent and a child.

It’s also definitely about a boy because tigers/dinosaurs/muddy faces (without being too stereotypical) are very common toddler boy things, I can confirm, I’ve had two. And no mention of dolls houses or princess dresses from her own childhood.

I’m not ever going to defend this song from other people’s interpretations because Taylor clearly wants it disguised, I’m just saying if you are a parent, you know.

Thank you for this message. I’m not a parent myself, but it’s the only way I have ever been able hear it. It’s just so… specific.

[cruyuu]

Hi!

My thoughts about what I'm about to point out aren't coherent yet but you're the first person I thought of when it came to me

So Yuuji's still missing his left pinky finger after Sukuna changed vessel and RCT can't fix that because that's a piece of Yuuji's soul that was ripped off

And now I'm following the theory that the finger in the last panel is the one that was imbued in Yuuji from birth that he removed himself through his ring finger

And in my brain it's like 'there's some skit bs going on here' and idk if I'm making sense because I'm not sure of where this is going 😅 but with the left ring finger being associated with engagements and weddings getting rind of the last piece of the other's soul through that finger could be akin to throwing away your wedding ring (the divorce era is real) but maybe they've rotten my brain a bit too much

In any case I'm looking forward to any thoughts you have on this chapter (and thank you for reading my ramblings) <3

Hi there anon!

I love your thought process and the fact that you remembered that! It would be extremely fitting (even if far-fetched for those who are not as insane as we are) because they just big sigh. They just have to act like that and be that way lol. I wouldn't put it past our dear author who delivered a lot on sukuita week no less (that is still some crazy coincidence) to again make something about them both. If not the finger, then the soul connection, if not that then something else. Like Gege definitely didn't need to write Yuuji chasing after his inner demon and spending time with him (hell, saying he was frantic and wanting Sukuna to indulge him), especially not when that same demon is someone who continually kept ruining his life and took the very person Yuuji confessed he feels lonely without, but here we are.

I'm waiting for the official chapter to drop so I can really get the whole picture since leaks are just a tiny piece. Shipping aside, I don't know what to make of that panel with Sukuna's finger. jjk is pretty close to ending now and hence, I am skeptical. I really wish for there to be another arc after Shinjuku because it feels very off to me to end everything in like two more chapters. I'm hoping for more because it still feels like there's more left. Maybe I'm just insane and will be missing this manga a lot which is why I'm sensing that, idk.

Divorce arc has never been realer now and it's lowkey slightly painful to me since Yuuji wanted a compromise. What's very fucking funny still is that Yuuji reached out to him, first and foremost, realized he can't affect him (that sad look in his eyes) and then switched back to his usual response. Meanwhile Sukuna's still pretending he doesn't care even though he indulged Yuuji and spent nearly an entire day with him before he finally snapped when he realized Yuuji was sad about him lol. Still, the vehement anger Sukuna feels is keeping me rather well fed because Sukuna has no business being so against Yuuji saving Megumi. Like why?? He had no trouble being patient and even explaining his viewpoint when Yuuji DE-ed them away and talked about himself, but then the second Yuuji mentioned saving Fushiguro, he's shaking with rage and promising to kill everyone Yuuji loves.

Chapter 265 is literally:

yuuji: spend some time with me

sukuna: ok

yuuji: so here's what i realized

sukuna: why are you telling this to me oh my god i don't care like i understand your point but i don't feel anyth—

yuuji: i want to save fushiguro

sukuna: 😡🤬😡🤬😠😠🤬😡🤬😡😠🤬 (that wasn't meant for me?!?!?!?!)

I am also brain rotting hard about everything. 266 fueled my brain and filled it with one-sided sukuita fic ideas which are just peak angst and I live for angst so yeah. I'll have to get to writing soon because I have a lot of ideas for these two (the writers block is keeping me away from that, as is my slightly limited english vocabulary and real life unfortunately).

Thank you for sending this ask, anon, and also thank you for listening to me ramble about these two as well! <3 I'm more than happy to discuss these two for eternity because they just make me insane.