#And in that scenario there would have been nobody who could stop the Ghosts at all and they would have run rampant

[bet-on-me-13]

Unknown, the Wandering Hero

So! We all know the typical Vivisection AU, right? Danny is revealed to his parents and they take it in all the wrong ways. They capture him, Vivisect him, and eventually he manages to escape with the help of his friends.

But what about his Rouges?

Sure, we all like to think of some of the more friendly ones like Ember, or Sydney, or Johnny 13 and Kitty, but he has WAY more Evil Rouges than good ones.

Without Danny there to reign them in, the Rouges spread out across the world to fulfill their obsessions, unhampered by the Heroes and Villains of the world that have no means to fight them.

And Danny? He feels responsible. He was the one to open the Gate, he was the Sacrifice, the one to let them through. And when the going got tough he just up and left? No, that won't do.

His Obsession is Protection for a reason, and nothing has changed. All he needs to do is expand his area of focus a little.

Danny, after healing up, starts wandering the world in search of the Ghosts who have escaped into the Mortal Realm. He battles all of his old foes, as well as many new ones who he hadn't met before.

His travels take him far and wide.

He defeats Skulker in Metropolis, as he is trying to hunt down the Super Family for their pelts. They are the last of their race after all, so he is inclined to try and hunt them. Honestly dealing with Skulker was easy, dealing with the Rich Asshole who was funding him was a nightmare.

He chases down Spectra in Gotham as she tries to feed on the misery of an entire City. (Thanks to @impyssadobsessions for the idea, this Prompt specifically). She is actually a very tough fight, especially powered by both the Misery of an Entire City as well as his Own Misery, but he manages.

He defeats Technus is Central City, as he tries to Raid Star Labs for their advanced Tech. It actually took a while to beat him after he amped himself with all that Power, and he did need help from the Local Hero to deal with him. He's just thankful Technus is one of the more "Harmless" ones.

After every Victory, he sends them back to the Realms using the Banishing Spell that Sam taught him a while back (the only bit of magic he ever really managed to master).

He knows they'll eventually find their way back out, but it's all he can do anymore. It's his eternal Punishment for unleashing them out into the World in the first place. He was the Catalyst for this Situation, now he was tasked with Fixing it, no matter how long it took.

...

The Justice League is caught in a tricky situation a the moment.

In the past few months, they have been encountering more and more of these Extra Dimensional Beings known as Realms Ghosts across the World.

Justice League Dark has had some success in battling them, but even they are getting tired of having to deal with every single incident alone.

They did get approached by a Government Agency known as the Ghostly Investigation Ward that seemed to want to help, but it didn't take long to realize that their main Aim was to Genocide the entire Race. The JLA had quickly cut ties after realizing that, and took what little Tech and Information they had been able to gather.

Still, it wasn't easy to deal with these Entities.

Thankfully, they have had some outside help. An Unknown Being has been routinely showing up whenever a Realms Ghost appears and defeating them, before using a (as described by Constantine) "Rudimentary Banishing Spell held together by willpower and luck" to send them back to their home Dimension. There's honestly no way it should be functional, but he did make it work either way.

They don't know much about this Unknown, aside from the fact that he seems to be the only one able to consistently damage the Realms Ghosts. His Powerset leads them to belive he may be from the same Dimension, or at least drawing his power from the same Source, but as he actively avoids the League and takes every opportunity to not talk to them, they know they aren't getting any answers any time soon.

Over the past few months, they had affectionately started referring to him as Unknown, creative they know, because they could never get his Real Name. Sure, some of the Realms Ghosts seemed to recognize him, but they always called him stuff like "Whelp" and "Punk" and "Usurper", which were not very good names to use when referring to him. Although the last one was a bit concerning.

They had only managed to trade a few quick words with Unknown in the past few months, but it was enough to get the Gist of it. He was just doing his job, sending the Realms Ghosts back where they belonged. There was apparently a Tear in Reality letting them through, but he seemed hesitant to reveal what he knew about it.

After a few months of sparse interactions, they eventually managed to convince him to at least take an Emergency Communicator. Just in case. They even let him take it apart to look for any Tracking Devices, which earned them a small bit of trust. They took whatever wins they could.

Fortunately, it seemed he never did need it. In fact he was getting more and more efficient with every battle, defeating his foes in half the time it would have taken before.

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. One day, the Communicator went off, a distorted voice quickly saying, "Need backup, some of them decide to Team Up" before cutting out.

They quickly rushed to his location, finding an active battlefield with no less that a dozen Ghosts battling Unknown. And he seemed to be on the ropes.

With their arrival, the combined force of the Justice League and Unknown eventually managed to defeat the Group of Ghosts. Justice League Dark volunteered to work on the Banishing Spells while the others cleaned up the damage from the Battle.

One of them approached Unknown to make sure he was ok, and froze.

During the battle, Unknown's Mask had been Torn off, and they could finally see the face of the Hero they had been working with for the past few months.

And he was a Child.

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Vivisection AU #Wandering Hero AU #Danny's Hero name is Unknown #Danny isn't in a good place right now #He has an unhealthy mix of a Savior Complex and Survivors Guilt #He believes that this is all his fault and none of this would have ever happened if he hadn't been stupid enough to step in the Portal #Danny is of course Wrong since he parents would have eventually made the Portal work whether he stepped in it or not #And in that scenario there would have been nobody who could stop the Ghosts at all and they would have run rampant #The JLA is horrified that they let a child fight their battles for this long #Of course they understand him since they are the exact same but they still feel bad for not supporting him more #(As if Danny would have let them) #Whether Danny let's himself be taken in by the League or runs away from his problems again is up to whoever picks up this post #I leave it humbly in your hands

[aethelwyneleigh27]

More Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley and Taskforce Moments With Little Ghost

+ Featuring Los Vaqueros Uncles, Meemaw Laswell (and her wife?), Peepaw Nikolai, Aunty Farah and Uncle Alex

Did I use the same pictures as I did with the last posts? Yes, because these pictures are so Ghostie coded. Also there's like a slight ✨sprinkle✨ of Angst in there, good luck <3

Tag list: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui HAS THE BEST FREAKING COMMENTARY AND IS SO SWEET, SHE MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I'M SOME AUTHOR WHO WROTE A FAMOUS BOOK, ILY CONNORSUI <3 (ngl, I go back to read her commentary over and over again because if how nice they make me feel 😭)

Pairings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

This is my personal AU, I don't think anyone has written on little Ghostie before I did. Not to say that there aren't any works on Dad!Ghost and his kids however Ghostie is a character of mine who holds such a special place in my heart, especially after I started writing more about her and how she acts around everyone.

Possible ships: Farah x Alex (Faralex)?? Alejandro x Rudy (Alerudy)?? Price x Nikolai (Nikprice)??

I know Halloween season is over but y'all can't do anything about this, it's been cooking in my brain for a while now. (Some of these are just regular scenarios though) Ghostie is back y'all!!!

❥ Ghostie who simultaneously made her way into convincing the Taskforce to go with her trick or treating, having her little army uniform that was commissioned for her, a bit visible underneath her pink puffy jacket. Yeah I don't think she's going to stop wearing it unless she's outgrown it, in which case, that would just break her big heart :((

❥ Simon holding little Ghostie's hand while she toddles, she would NOT go anywhere without either her dad's, her mum's or her uncle Gaz's hand. Having her tiny chubby fingers gripping onto two of her dad's fingers as he guides her up big steps. Catching her when she accidentally slips on the slippery steps.

❥ The rest of the Taskforce being behind her like a bunch of guard dogs, ain't nobody is gonna try and scare her because of the big burly men next to her. Photo was provided by my favorite artist last Halloween, @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie having the sweetest voice ever, she so polite, so much so that she makes the her dad and uncles chuckle at her. (This is how I imagined her voice to sound like)

"Say trick or treat.." Gaz whispers, coaching her from behind as someone from the house opens the door. Two women in costumes, holding a big candy bowl.

"trwick or trweat.." Little Ghostie mumbles, far too shy and almost hiding behind her uncle.

"What a cute costume you have there, here, take these ones" one of the women said, adding the candy to Ghostie's little basket.

"Thank you!" Ghostie exclaims, making the two girls awe at her politeness and eagerness.

❥ Yeah Ghostie definitely pronounces Halloween as "Ha-Hoween".

❥ I can't help but think that they came across that one house with a sign that said "leave your single dad's number if he's attractive" and as a joke, uncle Gaz threw in a piece of paper with peepaw Price's number on it, only to have peepaw Nikolai fish it out of the candy bowl when he thought no one could see him.. but Ghostie did.

Not Halloween related:

❥ Safe to say that when uncle Gaz doesn't like someone, neither does Ghostie, if you all can recall that cutscene from mw3, Gaz did NOT even bother to acknowledge Philip's existence. That being said, Ghostie gives the nastiest side-eyes to him the moment he even opens his mouth. (Yeah she got from her dad)

❥ Ghostie absolutely loves getting head pats and giving them, to her, it's one of the best forms of praise. Anyone gives her head pats gets to witness her absolutely adorable reaction, the way her eyes light up, those little lips curling into a smile causing her chubby cheeks to be prominent and her eyes squinting. Mostly loves doing it to uncle Soap, because the mohawk is fluffy.

❥ Maybe at some point, when Philip decides to behave then he can earn the head pats from Ghostie.

❥ Meals with the Taskforce and Ghostie are a certified hit, she has quite the appetite and she shows it. Simon takes it upon himself to always does what his wife does at home when he's out with Ghostie, bringing her silicone bib and baby utensils. (Even the bulky ass highchair attachment that he keeps in that back of his car/truck)

"More please..." Ghostie says, making grabby hands, in the middle of chewing after observing that her plate is yet again empty.

Price chuckles, looking at Simon who was now careful about the amount of food to add on Ghostie's plate because the toddler is on her third round of food.

❥ Ghostie enjoys clapping her hands and anything as well, especially after eating and being satisfied.

❥ Ghostie is into tea, her dad got her hooked on it.

"Aye, what about you Ghostie? What'd you like?" Soap asks the little one who's currently keeping herself busy with her custom coloring book.

"Tea!" She says, looking up for a bit to Soap before focusing back on her coloring.

"You heard her Johnny, make that two.." Simon says with a pretty firm pat on the back for Soap.

"Fuckin' Brits..."

❥ Auntie Farah and uncle Alex are the babysitters when uncle Gaz, uncle Soap and peepaw Price ain't around. Farah loves that kid to death, if she was being honest, she saw a lot of resemblance between Simon and Ghostie. Of course there are looks were, she's basically a carbon copy of him but also mannerisms;

❥ Ghostie who copies her dad, being adamant about being cleanly and tidy, oftentimes catching people surprised that she tidies up after herself immediately after playing before moving onto another set of toys, coloring books and coloring materials. She notices and mirrors how Simon is consistent in keeping things tidy and out the way.

❥ Whenever Ghostie is at home with her momma (you) and Simon had to run errands, she always wakes up first, seeing how her dad gets up early too.

Ghostie rises up with a soft yawn, rubbing her tiny eyes with her hands, she looked around at the still dimly lit room. She turned her head from side to side looking for her dad.

She was met by him standing and dressing himself up in a black hoodie to go out and buy something. She gives him that cheek to cheek smile before leaning her cheek and closing her eyes, mandatory kiss from dad before he left.

"Alright pumpkin, dada's leaving now. I'll be back later, be good and don't give momma a hard time.." Simon reminded her after giving her cheek a kiss.

"Okay dada- promise.." Ghostie yawns mid sentence.

❥ Ghostie who, ever since she way younger, loved to cup her dad's face and nuzzle her nose into his. A tradition that Simon doesn't know if he's ready to see it go when she grows up. Neither is he ready for her to start correcting the words she's been pronouncing wrong;

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart broke once he realizes that the "I love you"s will slowly start to be less and less when she becomes a teen, he's silently wishing to himself that it won't be reduced to not being said at all. You had to reassure him that it won't happen, not when Ghostie's the sweetest little girl anyone could ask for and Simon is the best dad anyone could as for.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Rudy being the seasoned uncles who happened to be absolutely adored by Ghostie, not as much as uncle Gaz but let's be real here, no one is on uncle Gaz's level.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Soap having bets and arguments on who gets to reach their language to Ghostie while she just sits there on uncle Rudy's lap, sipping on her apple juice, quite entertained.

❥ YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT RUDY ISN'T RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING HER TO SLEEP OR NAP, that man is a walking heater. I can just see him standing there while holding her in his arms while she's trying her hardest not to fall asleep, yawning "Uncle Rudy.." before immediately snoring, snuggling her face into his soft blue hoodie shirt. (@icarustypicalfall is living for this, I just know it)

❥ Alejandro who gets smacked in the back of the head by (his husband) Rudy for being too loud and almost waking Ghostie up. (Alerudy when? This is a joke to y'all Alerudy haters, I like the ship, it's cute. Not sure if it's canon here in my AU, up to you guys to decide)

❥ Laswell and her wife absolutely fucking adore Ghostie, shit she makes them want to have kids, she has almost the same effect on almost everyone. Silently making her uncle Gaz wish that he isn't single.

❥ Let's be real here, peepaw Nikolai was the one who Ghostie jammed with while listening to heavy metal. He also got her this mini leather jacket that matched his, with her nationality country/countries flag/s embroidered patch on the side. I can just imagine her little head bangs that peepaw nik taught her 🥺😭.

❥ Also Ghostie has access to almost everyone's prized stuff, uncle Gaz's and peepaw Price's hats, uncle Soap's medals and even peepaw Nik's jacket which looks like she's swimming in it when she's wearing it.

❥ This pic is so Dad!Simon and Ghostie coded:

❥ Something tells me that Simon would send you this pic and you'd probably have a heart attack, your husband isn't the best driver after all but you trust him since he won't put your daughter in imminent danger.

❥ I think most of the time, Ghostie is in her uncle Gaz's arms and/or lap while he sits on the passenger seat, doesn't really matter who's driving.

My past works on Ghostie, in case you haven't seen the posts before this one on my most favorite mini Ghost:

Little Ghost (Drabble)

TF141 Interacting with Little Ghost Hcs

This was far longer than I expected, I just love Ghostie so much and I just have a lot to say regarding her.

A/n: This is now an official taglist for most of my generic CoD works, none of these people asked to be tagged on my mediocre content and I understand that, if y'all wanna be removed from the taglist then y'all could tell me privately or on the replies if you guys prefer it :))

Sidenote: Is it normal to be so excited over something you bought? I literally bought my first ever concealer today, a mascara that I've been looking for and lip oil. I was so excited that I squealed when I got home and immediately used them. Any makeup tips that you guys have? Sort of a beginner at this stuff.. Also does anyone whose had viral posts ever feel like their popular strike is over because none of their works get as much attention? Looking at all my recent posts and hyperventilating because the numbers are lower by so much.

#cod x reader #aethelwyne lia writes #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x plus size reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #john price #cod mwf2 #cod mw3 #cod mwii #alerudy #alejandro x rodolfo #farah x alex #faralex #price x nikolai #nikprice #kate laswell #nikolai belinski

[ghost-bxrd]

ok you said go wild and i will fully embrace that. i wanted to brainstorm about this idea I had and had also posted but like in a sentence, when it’s more of an outline. it’s of a robin!tim that can sense dead people so when the red hood makes his debut he’s naturally curious and tim follows him around and jason obviously realizes, holds up a knife to his throat and startles when tim asks “how are you here” with just no regards for his own safety and genuine curiosity?? literally not knowing he’s jason but jason stops and goes “you know who I am?” and tim whispers “I know you died” and jason coils back because that is as much confirmation as he needs cue panic because the kid knows surely then the bat knows too and that just won’t do, so in his panic he ends up kidnapping the kid and taking him to his safehouse where he keeps pacing because jason needs answers and he refuses to get them torturing the kid (because fucking kid had gone out looking for him despite knowing the red hood had it out of his head, did this kid even have any self preservation skills? he didn’t even seemed fazed jason’s back??which wow, hurt not gonna lie) then when tim wakes up because jason knocked him unconscious the reveal happens and Tim is so shocked that Jason is shocked because bitch I thought you knew!!! what how the fuck would I know!! chaos ensues but then jason abruptly realizes this is great! his plans did not derail *looks at timbo munching his food and watching indiana jones* his plan with the bat he means

Jason, sitting in a room with all his plans on fire: This is fine :’D

No but seriously, I LOVE a Tim with the self preservation instinct of a wet paper towel. He’s a competent teen vigilante, but where it concerns the Bats (and especially his hero, Jason) he’s an absolute human disaster.

Ok but first of all we need to talk a bit more thoroughly about “sensing the dead” thing. Dead as in ghosts? Or dead as in— murder victims and such. Either would apply to Jason if we go with a “Death clings to people who’ve seen beyond the veil” scenario, but Tim’s thoughts would differ vastly upon first meeting the Red Hood.

And Jason, poor Jason, the Pit Madness didn’t stand a chance faced with what is essentially a toddler looking at him with wide and curious eyes, so damn trusting despite that knife to his throat, and he’s just losing his mind because he could have slit Tim’s throat and nobody would have found out until it was too late. What if Jason had been literally anybody else? The kid would have died.

Obviously this Robin can’t be trusted to keep himself safe/alive, that means Jason has to do it for him. Easy. He can do this. It’s cool. Jason is freaking the fuck out.

Tim, upon realizing that the Red Hood is Jason, promptly goes from mildly alarmed over his kidnapping to ✨starstruck✨ and steadfastly refuses to leave Jason’s safehouse unless Jason agrees to come back to the manor. No, he doesn’t care about the multitude of death threats (he totally calls the bluff from the get go).

Jason promptly decides to make the best out of a shitty situation and pretends to be an evil kidnapper and just— keeps dangling the baby bird over Bruce and Dick’s head, slipping them concerning photos (Tim wasn’t exactly happy about the “hostage photo shooting session” but he agreed after Jason promised to make him his special coffee flavored cake) and telling them he’s torturing their Robin with a crowbar (because Jason is a drama queen).

And you know what else would be funny? If, after a few days, Tim slips out to go on patrol with Jason. He completely ignores Bruce and/or Dick when the call out to him and actively helps Hood with his crime stuff (while also sneakily forcing Hood to cut down on the killing by about— 80-90%).

Bruce and Dick are fairly convinced they’re looking at a brainwashing situation.

#brainstorming #jason “’I did not sign up for this’’ Todd #Tim ‘’try getting rid of my NOW bitch’’ drake #and maybe his ability to sense the dead comes in handy with cases #oh who am I kidding it definitely does #Bruce and Dick tearing the city apart looking for Tim #meanwhile Tim: blackmailing Jason into making pancakes with coffee flavor #it’s a disaster from start to finish but somehow it works out #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood

[iwoszareba]

Aqil and Sosiel fluff x5 thanks to everyone who sent prompts, i had a good time thinking up little scenarios and i hope you will enjoy reading them!! timeline is not very specific but i guess the important distinction is that the first two snippets happen before they officially get together and rest is after  

Caring for each other while ill for @lairiend (Sosiel please stop worrying about everyone else for 5 minutes)

Sosiel looked at the Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade fluffing his pillows like it's the most normal thing in the world for someone of that rank.

He wanted to protest, say that there are far more important matters to take care of. That he was fine, really, he received everything he needed to speed up his recovery. Now it was only a matter of rest.

"I'm sorry." was all that came out of his mouth.

"What for?" Commander raised an eyebrow at him as he took two steps backwards to make some space "It's not like you got sick on purpose."

Bed covers felt incredibly inviting, even warmer than expected. Did Aqil use some kind of spell to heat up sheets for him and did it discreetly enough to not have it mentioned? That endearing smile made Sosiel want to believe in this suspected sleight of hand kindness.

But was he allowed to enjoy the pleasant sensations? Could he relax when everyone else was working hard to support the Crusade and ensure their survival?

"I'm no use to you like this."

"No one is useful one hundred percent of the time. There is balance to all things."

Aqil speaks of balance often but as Sosiel found out he rarely frames it as demands of good or the struggle against evil. Adjusting to such a different point of view wasn't easy but with some time and effort he started to understand it better.

"I need to turn the aspect of protection towards myself or I will damage my health further."

His words sounded more hesitant than he would like to but they still earned him a nod and a grin.

"See? You get it. If you destroy yourself you no longer can protect anyone."

The Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade leaned in and left a ghost of a kiss upon Sosiel's brow.

"And I do not wish to see that happen." - - -

Patching up a wound for @turbulentpumpkin43 (i know this isn't the usual direction for this prompt but consider: oracle curses)

Being a healer involves seeing many bodies that are hurt or bruised but distress of it evaporates when Sosiel feels power of his goddess flow through him and sees the wounds close and injuries mend. He was however unsure how he felt about an ailment that completely refused to respond to the positive energy he was channeling... Something about his expression must have betrayed his thoughts.

"You don't have to do it if it's making you uncomfortable."

Usually Aqil would deal with his burned limbs on his own but today he used up all his magic during a particularly nasty fight so he asked for Sosiel's help and the cleric agreed without a second thought. He appreciated the trust that the Commander bestowed upon him and was not about to go back on his word.

"I just wish there was more I could do..."

"You can't heal it, nobody can. I only need some pain alleviated, that will be more than enough."

The gold glow of magic lingered for a while longer, bathing them in a warm light. After it disappeared neither of them seemed in a hurry to separate.

"So you are used to it?"

With some hesitation Sosiel decided to broach the subject. Aqil didn’t look at him and just shrugged with feigned nonchalance.

"I've been like this since the day I was given my oracle powers. The divine magic flows through me: raw, unbridled… burning. I knew it would affect me one way or another, I just… didn't quite expect the severity."

There wasn't any easy flowing response to such admission. To uncommon vulnerability in Commander's voice. In a wave of sudden emotion Sosiel raised the cursed hand and gently kissed the delicate skin. Then the moment passed and he found Aqil staring at him wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry, I- forgot myself. If I overstepped…"

His hurried explanation was cut short as the rough palm cradled his jaw.

"I thought you would resent that part of me… it's not the prettiest sight."

Sosiel covered the hand on his cheek with his own, leaning into the touch.

"There is not a single thing about you I could resent." - - -

One character playing with the other’s hair for @spyridonya (you said foxy so this is where my brain went hehee)

"It's getting colder again."

The sun almost completely disappeared behind the horizon and yet Aqil said that with a sense of betrayal worthy of something other than everyday occurrence. Few seconds later he was in his kitsune form, visibly more relaxed.

"That's much better." he said as his tail wagged vigorously.

The sight was so cute Sosiel couldn't help but smile.

"It must be nice to have fur that protects you from the weather."

"You bet. I'm still not sure how you people live without it all the time. Must be quite miserable."

He was teasing, his fox features well suited for a playful expression. It seemed like a waste to not respond in kind.

"It can be less miserable when you share warmth with another person."

"Ha! I see your game. You must be one of those fabled wily humans."

Without a warning Aqil pulled Sosiel towards him and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Close and comfortable. When they parted, Sosiel affectionately stroked his beloved's cheek. Pleasant texture under his fingers.

"So your fur is not only warm but also soft?"

"Mmmm, what can I say? We are perfect like that." - - -

Sharing a dessert for @dujour13 (i mentioned that on discord already but i loved writing that intro dialogue hah)

"...he was known as the master of ice magic. Real serious stuff too, evocation at its finest. But when he eventually decided to retire he publicly announced that all he is interested in now is practicing the art of frozen desserts. You wouldn't believe how big of a controversy it was among Nethys' faithful at the time. One group was adamant that his actions are a waste of his magical talents and therefore a clear heresy, while others argued that since he was using magic to pursue his culinary goals he was free to do so as the All Seeing Eye does not limit what magic should be used for. I personally agree with the latter group, more practical and down-to-earth uses of magic are often devalued in the academic circles which in my opinion is a deliberate attempt to keep magic in the hands of the wealthy elites. Don't you think people would be more interested in studying the arcane arts if they knew this path can lead to frozen treats?"

"About the ice cream…"

"Yes?"

Aqil snapped back to the present moment to look at Sosiel who with a soft smile was pointing at their shared bowl.

"...they are melting."

"Ah! I got carried away… again."

The spoon was in his hand the whole time, he had been waving it around for emphasis, now it was sheepishly returned to its intended role.

"You should have stopped me sooner."

Sosiel chuckled, his head resting in his hand, his eyes full of affection.

"I didn't want to. I like when you are so passionate." - - -

One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/ etc. for @commander-lariel (Aqil is a brat that needs to be wrangled asdfgh)

It felt like several long minutes since Sosiel started adjusting different elements of Aqil's formal attire. Half cape, necklace, earrings… It seemed that nothing would escape cleric's scrutiny.

"Now you are just fussing. I won't be as impeccable as you, no matter how hard you try."

"It's not just fussing and you understand that as well as I do. First impressions matter a lot in diplomatic relations. I want this to go well."

With unyielding determination he went to retrieve a comb from one of the drawers to which Aqil let out a faux gasp.

"I can't even keep my bun? It's not that messy."

Sosiel did not even deign that with a response and simply returned to his previous position.

"It adds to my roguish charm! And that worked on you."

Little smile let Aqil know that his partner is now in on the teasing so he let his arms wrap around his waist and pulled him closer.

"You are not trying to seduce the ambassadors."

There was something incredibly delightful about the sternness of Sosiel's words combined with the playful glint in his eyes.

"I'm not? I'm pretty sure that’s exactly what Daeran suggested."

"Ah yes, Count Arendae, a veritable fount of good ideas."

The unfailing deadpan delivery of that remark made them stand in complete silence for a moment before they both burst out laughing. Aqil reached for his hair tie and pulled it loose.

"Fine, fine. Do your worst."

#pwotr pals #wotr #Sosiel Vaenic #oc: aqil meru #i'm not a writer but i try for them #writing tag #i guess i need one now

[little-diable]

A never ending story (1/13) - Pedro Pascal

Requested by anon. I couldn't stop thinking about this very scenario, hence why I had to start this series with it. Please reblog if you enjoyed reading this. A few chapters are still open, if you want to request something. Enjoy my loves.

Summary: Pedro and the reader have found their way to the beach house days ago, in hopes of curing her depression. Who would have thought that it would just take a bit of rain to lift her spirits.

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f), historic setting, talks of depression, gender norms of the early 20th century

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x fem!reader (1.2k words)

header by @hidingsikki

“Doll?” His voice echoed through the house, met by nothing but silence. He called for her again, hoping that she would appear from their bedroom or the living room, but (y/n) didn’t call back, as if she was no longer around. 

Pedro cleared his throat, he undid his scarf, hung it up next to his cane, and entered the living room. It felt as if nobody had set foot into this room for years, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air, filling every corner of the house like a ghost of older times. 

Weeks ago the two found their way to the beach house, disappearing from the big city to cure her health. The doctors have told them that she needed fresh, salty air, hoping that her mood would lift as soon as the buzzing city would be long forgotten. But her spirit hadn’t been lifted, at least not yet. 

She barely spoke, kept stoically staring out of their windows, watching the waves roll ashore like riders returning from a trod through the forest; like soldiers finding their way home after a long, tiring march through unknown territory. Oh how she longed to live a life like that, a life filled with adventure, a life that allowed her to free herself of her duties as a wife to a working husband.

Deep down he knew how much she detested the rules she had to play by, the fake smile she had to wear whenever he’d drag her to the opera, the kind words she’d speak to his colleagues. She hated them all, hated the words those men would speak about their wives, hated how they spoke of money, new technology and the speculations about the war soon striking Europe. 

“(Y/n)?” Her name rolled off Pedro’s tongue, hoping to hear the small whisper that would tell him about her whereabouts. But she didn’t reply. Was she hiding from him? Hoping that he’d let her be? Was she distracted by yet another book a woman like her shouldn’t read?

Had she left him? 

His heart started picking up its beat, unsure what he should do next, not knowing where he should look first. Just the mere thought of losing (y/n) left his heart clenching in pain, praying to whoever was listening that everything was alright.

By now the rain was falling too hard, no longer giving him a clear view of the beach, the rough shore. Heaven help, may she find her way home without getting lost. Pedro’s palms grew sweatier, mind painting darkening pictures as if night had already reached for her, claiming her body as its own property. A wanderer lost in the shadows. 

But before Pedro could fall deeper into that very thought, the entrance door was pushed open, exposing (y/n)’s frame. With a grin tugging on her lips, she stared at him. She was drenched, completely drenched, her dress stuck to her frame, just like her hair. And yet she smiled, a smile he hadn’t seen in weeks.

“I was looking for you.” Pedro whispered his words, hands tingling, wanting to reach for her, though held back by the mere possibility of overstepping the invisible boundaries she had set up. 

“Come, dance with me.” She didn’t wait for his reply, stepped back out into the rain once again. The sound of her laughter echoed through the air, forcing Pedro to follow her, unsure what was going on inside her head. Nevertheless, seeing her this happy left his heart skipping beats, hoping that this wasn’t just a dream he’d be ripped from any moment now.

She didn’t speak another word as she reached for his hand, pulling him further into the rain. Within seconds he was just as drenched, and yet he couldn’t find it in his heart to care, fully focused on (y/n). 

Pedro started spinning her around, dancing without any music to guide them. Music the two would listen to on a slow Sunday, cuddled into their chairs as he read the newspaper and she’d read yet another novel a woman like her shouldn’t even dare to think about. But nothing of that mattered in that very second. 

Just the two of them, dancing through the rain like children. Lovers reunited in a storm, a storm that had rocked their worlds for weeks, only now did the fog start to slowly lift, allowing them to see clearer. Clearer than ever before. 

For a few more minutes the two kept swaying, relishing in their touch, the heat their bodies produced. Only as the first roar of thunder broke the atmosphere did he pull her back inside. No words rolled off their tongues as he pulled her into the bedroom, helping her out of her wet clothes.

“I love you, I always will, I hope you know that.” Her eyes found his warm ones, slowly getting lost in the colour that reminded her of the soil that would stick to her fingers on a warm summer morning, bearing life to the flowers she’d plant. The rich colour of chocolate they could only sometimes afford. A colour she’d always cherish. 

(Y/n) pressed her lips against his, arms slung around his neck as she pressed her barely dressed frame against his. She helped him out of his wet suit, didn’t let go of Pedro once, desperate to feel him close. And Pedro seemed to understand her body’s call, guiding her to the comfortable bed, gently pressing her against the mattress.

“Let me take care of you, mi amor.” Pedro’s cold lips found her thighs, eyes not breaking contact once, not even as he tugged her undergarments down her legs, exposing her heat. She moaned his name, desperately hoping that he’d never stop touching her, seeking his closeness, the gentle touches and the sweet nothings he’d whisper.

“So beautiful, my pretty girl.” His words vibrated through her body, coaxing curses from her slightly swollen lips. A moan rumbled through her as he pressed his mouth against her heat, tongue brushing her folds, collecting drops of her arousal. Pedro’s thumb found her clit, he gently circled the bundle of nerves, movements in sync with the brushes of his tongue.

“Oh, don’t stop, please.” His reply was drowned out by yet another moan clawing through her, spoken out into the air, accompanied by the sound of rain clashing against their windows. The moment had something so raw to it, so simple, and yet complex. A love born beneath unlucky stars, put to test over the past months, and yet it felt stronger than ever before.

She felt her orgasm creep closer, about to consume her body, lingering in her veins like poison. Pedro picked up the movements of his thumb and tongue, wanting to watch her cum on his tongue. (Y/n) came with his name rumbling through her, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut to relish in the heavenly feeling.

Heavy breaths spluttered from her lips, body slowly relaxing as the moment passed by, letting go of her tense body. Pedro rose from his position, chasing her lips with his to silently communicate all the emotions he wanted to share with her. A never ending story of love and trust.

#Pedro Pascal smut #little-diable13k #Pedro Pascal imagine

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

hii for the ask game 17, 20, 41, 51, and 100!

HIIIII ILLA <3

17. did you have imaginary friends? do you still have them?

yes and like yes-ish! i had a few-- a girl who lived in my closet and had wet hair (she reacted well to pretty by the cranberries) and a guy who lived in our basement who i fondly dubbed brian-- but the more i talk about them with my sibling the more i’m convinced that i was genuinely seeing like ghosts or something, which has only been reinforced by the fact that if the basement lights are flickering, you can tell brian to stop and they will which is. ok then

20. do you want a grand adventure?

tragically yes, but it’s a very soft, half-fufilled desire due to the power of a blank google doc and me making up scenarios. the chicks were soooo right when they said cowboy take me away....

41. what fundamentally matters to you?

people, i think. humanity. where would be without each other? where would we be without BREAD tbh?????

51. what question could you ask to find out the most about a person?

either “what’s something nobody would guess about you?” or “what non-physical thing do you like about yourself?” because self-esteem provides a lot of insight into a person, i think <3

100. what belief do you have that isn’t logically grounded, but you still firmly believe in?

god, i think. we can never truly know, but also, like. look at the world and tell me it’s not proof of divinity!!!!

#illa! #asks #hollyws #ask games

[ickmick]

ashes in my way

ao3 link twitter link

character/pairing:

jon/The Archivist centric oneshot; implied martin and jonmartin, but neither are directly mentioned.

major tags/warnings:

(see more/in depth detail on ao3 endnotes)

angst , hurt no comfort , implied suicide / death , dehumanization , fear , manipulation

summary:

jon is loath to be acknowledged as he is currently. and yet, he can't stop his descent as he thinks it over. how unfortunate, that he is only a vessel. OR author's first take on an introspective angst scenario, where jon becomes The Archivist. sort of like an 'instead of a coma...' but not really at all, either. take it as you will, i just went at it until i liked it.

yeah... remember this nice drawing? well my first tma fic is the complete opposite of light hearted, rip. heed the tags, i beg of you.

jon feels… he feels like shit. the words won't come easy, even as he tries to sort it out in his head. to determine why he feels this way- what he even feels.

he tells himself to be less dramatic; to stop being selfish. if anything, he's the lucky one in this situation. he's loved, and cared for earnestly despite how utterly unworthy and pointless he is.

i don't know what i'm supposed to say, he'd confessed quietly, brows furrowed, what do you want me to say? it had practically been a plea, a begging cry hidden behind his solemn expression and tone. they hadn't answered.

it's so unbelievably cold, alone as always in his silent flat.

sometimes he pictures them here, by his side. he'd rather enjoy that, he knows it for a fact, as he's wanted so long to have an understanding companion. jon has always been starved for touch, abandoned.

his chest continues to ache, a dull throb that pulses in his ears and drowns out all coherent thought. crying is for people, a honeyed voice reminds him, people who haven't ruined everything. and he is neither of those things.

not even the duvet pulled up to his nose warms him.

part of him whispers in disbelief that hours ago he'd felt proud. he'd been happy today. all through the morning and even afternoon, he’d been productive, and filled with a feather light contentment that he hadn't held for a long time.

but there are no picture perfect days, not for The Archivist. no, it's a creature of grimaces, of secrets held close to it's chest for only itself to Know, of broken promises. it's the maker of all mistakes, past and present.

any and all delights belong to those who don't lurk in the shadows. it feels unfair, to see others practically float through life and make it to their goals. he Knows there's more to it, yet yearns for that kind of freedom blindly.

it's only right, he decides, i deserve to rot alone; i made this mess myself. each of these horrors are my own, and nobody can save me from them. jon doubts that anyone would want to to begin with.

he could See the answers, most times. whether those held weight or could be used in his favor varied. more often than not, recently, he'd fumbled them.

the ceiling is bland, as most are. cracked white texturing, with a faint water stain near one corner. his eyes scan it in the dark regardless, begging for something else to think of.

anything, he assures the ghosts in his withered heart, anything to forget even for a moment. it's his own fault, he knows that. but even so, he searches for just what he did wrong.

maybe it's the dragged out silences, the delayed responses. or maybe it's his incessant rambles, how he goes on and on about whatever holds his fancy at the moment. they used to think it was charming, endearing even as they indulged him.

for a while, he didn't notice how they'd started going quiet. how the nodding smiles and interested questions turned into droning hums and annoyed eyes. jon wishes he'd never noticed.

that would be too simple, too easy, though, even if they likely would've let it go on for months before confronting him. they still had that tendency. it's the coward's way out.

but that's what he was. a coward, forever skirting consequences or responsibility for fear of change. ignoring how that change occurs regardless.

he feels so stupid. playing the fool- and playing it well- jon has managed to convince them that he is worth their time, worth their love. feigning unawareness isn't the same as genuinely missing the point, they'd likely tell him if they found out.

it always felt aggressive, knowing them well enough after the years to understand that the casual comments were actually scathing irritation. he'd pull back, alarmed and confused despite knowing very well what he's done wrong. when did it become a crime, The Archivist grumbles, knowing it's role well after all this time, to lose interest in a project i didn't start?

you should know by now, it continues, undeservingly affronted, you should know i can't predict the future. i don't control when i move on, however much i try! softening, and offering a loving smile, it soothes, i promise i would if i could.

but it never was about the typical situation, he doesn't have to See to know that. it was the disinterest that came after, how he'd pick up the next thing and gleefully talk about it whilst stood in the silenced rubble of the last. spitting in the face of all their hard work, intentionally or not.

he wants to think it's all been entirely unintentional. that's how it goes, jon would shrug, offering a genuinely mournful look, sometimes it's impossible to keep motivation. you understand, don't you?

it's selfish of him, taking and taking while barely giving anything but scraps. it's possibly the closest thing he has to being human anymore. humans are typically selfish beings, aren't they?

his limbs feel heavy, as if he's sinking into the bed.

it's around dinner time, and his stomach gurgles, pulling him from his thoughts. he'd meant to get up and cook a while ago. likely something easy and quick, since he feels so dreadful.

the idea of warm food is a comfort, even if it is just toasted sandwiches. maybe he should get up now, so he can think more clearly. but the voice croons, eating is for people, for people who don't ruin all they touch. and he is neither of those things.

so he doesn't move, and lets the panic-spurring feeling envelope him.

The Archivist can faintly feel his eyes burn as it stares up unblinking at the ceiling faint slivers of light spilling through the blinds. it's Eyes replay the same dread filled scene, stomach dropping and twisting each time he registers the frustration in their words. it feels more visceral, like a fresh laceration stinging, each time.

the silence has become a deafening static, overtaking even the sounds of his heart and stomach. it's a gracious reminder that he is alone. completely and utterly abandoned, like the disease ridden mutt that he is.

it's only right, he thinks again, repeating the phrase like a twisted mantra. i deserve to rot alone, after all. it's just disappointing that they finally realized, and it rings true in his small, empty bedroom.

bed rotting, he recalls, is to spend countless hours in bed during the day voluntarily, typically to avoid stress. jon thinks it's a rather fitting description of his current activity. the sheets are soft, and if he were to roll over and finally let the dark take him, he just may find a brief happiness.

its unfortunate, then, that it's not nearly close enough to midnight. there's time yet to be productive, he swears, urging heavy eyelids to stay open. sure, i’ve worked all morning, but there's still time to prove my worth.

and how fleeting emotions can be. sometimes, it's a blessing; to shrug off inconveniences and turn to brighter things. other times, it's a despairing loss of those same bright things- of happiness.

he knows that if he were to get up, even just roll over, take his phone, he could distract himself online as usual. find a good documentary, or listen to an intriguing podcast while he works on some papers. christ, he thinks, hopeless, i'd settle for even a shitty youtube video to make myself laugh.

jon also knows it won't help him. temporary solutions are temporary for a reason, they don't fix anything long term. so then why could he never discover a permanent fix to his broken parts?

there are so many unsaid things eternally locked inside his chest; behind his ribs.

when was the last time his mouth felt so sticky, he briefly wonders. perhaps it always was this difficult to speak, this impossible to even open his jaws. his tongue sits heavy, unwilling to move even if he had the energy.

his voice is grating anyways, jon assumes, nevertheless longing for conversation. besides, reminds the voice so sweetly, they only want to talk to people, it digs it's claws into him, affectionate, people that don't ignore their anger for their own delusions. and he is neither of those things.

it's not as if there is a soul to speak with anyhow, not tonight.

sometimes, the worst solitude is the one that is self-enforced. a deep, aching dread settles in his chest the longer that his phone is silent. by now they should have called, or at least texted- but isn't it his turn to reach out?

it's nearly funny, in a borderline hysterical way that has The Archivist grinning up at the ceiling. all of it's many eyes are open, seeking through it's catalog of horrors. oh how this could've been worked on if only he'd just offered a real effort, a proper conversation.

it doesn't find room to care, though. there are so many other things it desires, things it values more than frail human connection. any Knowledge that could be garnered from this solution means nothing in its Archives, which feed off fear and pain anyhow.

the bleak ruminating of its vessel is far better than connections.

he desperately wishes he weren't so stubborn, that he'd make the first step for once. but jon, comes that wretched voice, louder than any other thought now, they want people around. people who don't cave to impulsive, foolish, temporary solutions like a coward.

and i, jon acknowledges as it's eyes- the real ones- shut with finality, am neither of those things.

it's only right then, after all, that jon doesn't wake again.

#on my hands and knees PLEASE heed the tags #angst #hurt no comfort #a little bit of a vent #emotional hurt #fear #manipulation #implied character death #implied suicide #(neither of these are graphic or violent) #dehumanization #The Archivist uses it/it's pronouns #<- thats parts of the dehumanization but also he hears a voice multiple times literally telling him he isn't a person so #ive probably missed something #check the ao3 tags #i beg #and the endnotes if any of these are potentially extra sensitive topics for you #the magnus archives #tma #fanfic #jon sims #jonathan sims #the archivist #implied jon martin but only if you squint #implied martin blackwood but also only if you squint #jon is touchstarved #NO BETA WE KAYAK LIKE TIM #ickfics #<- thats my fic tag lol #ok i think i got it all hopefully

[ravetothegrave]

A note to the ghost in my house:

After a couple months time has passed. After we exchanged the last of our things and made small talk. After your bragging upset me and I drew a line between our contact. After I’ve tried dating, made new friends. After I booked concert tickets and got a new dog. After I painted the house and filed away our pictures.

I still love and miss you.

I find myself thinking about you without meaning to. Things just aren’t as fun as they used to be.

I know in my heart that it’s over, and if you were going to rush back you would’ve done it by now.

In many ways I thought I was drifting through life blessed, anything I desire has come easy to me. This experience has reminded me that I can feel pain, and I am not an inherently lucky girl.

I have learned what true heartache is. Some day I will grow in strength and independence. I long for that day when I don’t wake up thinking of you. Some day I will finally wipe your fingerprints off the wardrobe door and say goodbye to the pictures on my phone.

A part of me longs for the phone to ring, or my door to knock. And it be you, and you be sorry, and me too. I can’t help but think that we were meant to be, all the signs pointed in that direction from early on. We were happy, weren’t we?

But if that’s not going to happen, thank you for the fun times. It obviously meant so much more to me, so it feels silly that I can’t move on yet. We experienced one of the worlds weirdest times together and I found love in that. I have so much love to give, maybe next time I’ll give it to the right person.

The idea that I gave so much to someone who in the end could so easily walk away without a fight breaks my heart. I’ve been making peace with the idea of never holding your hands again. But if I knew our time was limited I’d have held them harder.

Sometimes I hear a song that reminds me of your family, or I watch something and wonder if it was something you’d seen. The way you could discard me makes me think you never valued me as a person. If you wanted to live elsewhere, do something different, be with someone else, I would have made my peace with that. If only you had said. Someone even hinted you might have been unfaithful, and that has been twisting around in my stomach like a rat.

I know you don’t care whether I live or die, but I still care about you.

I hope your mind drifts and sometimes you think about days on the sofa or in bed laughing and watching scary movies. I hope your heart hurts even a bit, at least reassure me that what we had wasn’t entirely fabricated in my head.

I hope you find it hard to move on, like everyone reminds you of me, and the idea of kissing a stranger makes you sick. I hope it disturbs your sleep and distracts from work. I hope the idea of moving on with your life paralyses you.

Because all of this is me, and I’m right here where you left.

I hope you’ve realised your answers aren’t at the bottom of a bottle. And that I loved you like nobodies business.

I wish you were softer towards me. I know you’ve made it your life to hate the people who’ve hurt you, and I’m in that club now. But don’t you realise there are no victims or persecutors in a game of who can hurt each other the most? If you ever read this letter, god forbid, you’d wince in distaste. Whereas only months ago you would have detested the idea of this scenario, a nightmare playing out.

Remember when you almost crashed to your death, and your family told me I should leave you, but I didn’t. Remember when you used to wake me to change the bed sheets? Remember when you used to stay up all night screaming the house down while I lay in bed? Remember when we got drunk in town and you argued you wanted to drive us home? There is only so much emotional battering a girl can survive. And you stopped trying to get better.

Your memories are probably skewed to suit the narrative that I’m an unlikeable person. At one time you and I said if we didn’t work out we’d be best friends, I guess I was the only one telling the truth on that. I’d have you in any capacity, I’d be a distant friend you never catch up with in exchange for this. So yes, I asked you to leave. The why is obvious. But I’d have gave it every shot again and you said no. Maybe it wasn’t all that deep with you. It was for me. But if you ever needed me, I’d probably be there. Sad to think you wouldn’t be the same. Unless of course you DID cheat on me, then you can go to hell.

I’m going away for a week on Monday, to read books in the sunshine and gather my thoughts. Maybe this will give me the clarity I’ve been looking for.

And I no longer dance with your ghost in the kitchen.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[thekatebridgerton]

Men in Bridgerton + the jealously trope

I felt like talking about my favorite fanfic trope today: the widely famous “someone who actually has a chance of attracting the woman I love, is flirting with her” jealousy trope scenario. 

From most likely to kill a man, to least likely lets start with the obvious. 

1) Colin: most likely to fly off the handle, throw the offending garbage out the window and get away with murder. For some reason it’s been a general consensus along all the people I know that the Bridgerton spouse most likely to kill a bch because he was jealous of anyone making a move on Penelope. is Colin. Since it took him so long to realize he had feelings for her, the idea that she could like someone else would make him murder someone. so beware dear reader. I could write a whole eassay on why Colin is the most susceptible to jealousy. Do. not. touch. HIS WIFE

2) Benedict: Another lose cannon, this guy looks like a easygoing himbo. but if he say someone trying to flirt with Sophie, he would also be driven to violence, not outright murder, but I think very serious maiming and broken limbs with no hope of recovery, Benedict spent two years fixated on this one woman, he does not like to share, she is sunshine incarnate and he is well aware that if Sophie wants, she CAN leave him if she found a better guy. So nope. not going to risk it.  

3) Simon: He wouldn’t actually kill the idiot who dares make a move on Daphne, but he will destroy that bch socially, because he’s a Duke and he can get away with it and nobody will care, he’s a Duke. she’s his Daphne, shoo, go away, she’s his Duchess.

4) Anthony: He would not be as murderous as Colin and lets face it he’s a terrible shot if he wanted to kill whoever tried flirting with Kate, but there would be a good set of punches and hurtful insults hurled at the idiot who had the audacity of trying to get into Kate’s pants and then a jealous Anthony would just hire people to discreetly get his rivals in love out of the way while he distracts  Kate so she doesn’t notice him glaring daggers at every man who tries to flirt with her. Cannon Anthony thought for exactly one second that Kate dating another man might be a good idea and the next thing he knew he was in a library kissing her. So yeah his tactic is just pulling Kate out of the vicinity of his potential rivals and showing her that HE’S the superior option. 

5) Gregory: I feel like Gregory should be higher up this list considering he did actually stop a wedding for love. But Gregory’s jealous bone is more restrained. I mean yeah, he’d be angry at anyone trying to flirt with Lucy and would make no effort to hide it, but also, he wouldn’t resort to that much violence. Gregory would most likely just put the fear of the Bridgerton name and connections into the bch who dared. But he’d never actually maim someone out of jealousy. Maybe just a few punches and a well placed ‘Don’t ever let me see you near Lucy ever again’ ‘but you’re not dating” ‘I still don’t like you! go away, come Lucy, pay attention to me’

6) Gareth: He would get angry at someone flirting with Hyacinth, but he’d be very civilized about it and you’d barely notice the simmering rage. He actually wouldn’t do much about it other than having a talk with Hyacinth later about that person’s true intentions. 

7) Michael: Although he canonically got into a fistfight defending Francesca’s honor from men taking vulgarities about her? (if it’s not cannon, its fannon.) We all know Michael is super secure in his hotness and masculinity, he’s also a former rake and he got to Francesca by madly flirting with her and later outright seducing her into bed with him and would not take kindly to any other dude trying out his formula, especially not with Francesca. the love of his life. But He’s #7 because I don’t see Michael as much of a jealous person, he’s too much of a devil to worry about any man trying to steal Francesca away. And he already went trough that with John’s ghost. 

8) Phillip: Bless his soul the least jealous of all spouses because he doesn’t think he’s that much of a catch. If Phillip and Eloise had met in a ballroom in London, this guy would still be thanking his lucky stars that she accepted to have a conversation with him in the first place. He knows she had options, that they were better than him and he’s under no assumption that those options disappeared just because Eloise miraculously fell inlove with him. Of course he wouldn’t want Eloise to ever leave him for another guy who is better at flirting than him, but he’s the type to swallow his feelings, not do anything about it, and later look for her to talk about his jealousy. As much as I’d like to see my favorite plant daddy pull a ‘she’s mine’ move for Eloise. He’s more the type to walk up, completely ignore the other guy, take her hand and say something like “Excuse me but do you want to dance Eloise? I think this song sounds nice” and then later explain that he was jealous.

So what do you think guys? do you agree with me? who should have been higher? or lower in the ranking. This is just my opinion 

ant that’s the tea for today

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #To Sir Phillip With Love #phillip crane #Simon Basset #Gregory Bridgerton #jealousy trope

[sixeyesgojo]

I’ll Be Your Enemy

Summary: Gojo Satoru is willing to do anything for you. As long as it helps you heal from what haunted your night.

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Word count: 2,019

Content warning: implied but unspecified mental illness, mentions of self-harm (scratching), mentions of character death

A/N: Kind of stumbled upon this masterpiece of a song and I thought it would be ideal for some Gojo HURT. This entire thing takes place after the Cursed Womb Arc, so to say: after Yuji dies.

Song: Be Your Enemy by Taemin ft. Wendy

PREQUEL HERE: Pictures of You

Quickly, quickly. The key was inserted into the keyhole and turned. The door lock clicked faintly, signaling that the door has been unlocked. Satoru made sure to open and close the door softly as he entered the familiar apartment. Putting the spare key into his pocket, he slid out of his shoes. Usually he would have made some big noise to ‘announce his arrival’ but not this time. He left his shoes neatly at the genkan of the residence and slipped into the white slippers that always stood by the wooden door, an extra pair just for him.

23 minutes ago. “Hello?” Satoru had picked up the phone. “Gojo-san! Finally the call went through. I’m glad I am able to reach you now,” the voice on the other end said. “Yo, Ijichi, what’s up?” Satoru greeted. He had been sent to a pretty rural area of Japan to get rid of some pesky curses and the cell phone reception was poor in that place, so it wasn’t surprising that calls didn’t go through at times. In addition to that, some curses that manifested had an electrical ability, which impaired the cell towers at place even more. Almost as if planned. “Gojo-san, I think you need to come back as fast as you can,” the man with glasses on the other end of the line stated calmly. “Why?” was the only thing the white-haired sorcerer said in response. Somehow, he had a strange feeling in his gut. The tone in Ijichi’s voice didn’t do anything to calm this odd feeling either.

“It’s L/N-san. Something horrible happened and I don’t think she is taking it well. I did my best to calm her but I’m at wits’ end too…” Ichiji explained vaguely. Satoru was experiencing a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - his stomach churned, it felt like his guts were wrenching inside him - at the mention of your name. “Ijichi,�� he said in a relatively calm voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t betraying him by showing what he truly felt in that moment. Satoru’s feet were set in rapid motion. “Stay calm. I need you to explain to me what exactly happened.”

Gojo Satoru might be many things. A tease, a teacher (supposedly), a cruel man, a strong sorcerer, a crazy coach, a walking menace to some, protective, an inspiration to a handful, a venti-sized manchild, idiotic, a sweets maniac, a lifelong student to Yaga, playful, a pillar of the Jujutsu world… but most importantly, he was a caring person. This goes without saying for his students and especially his loved ones. What Ijichi just said on the phone had left his heart stinging in his chest. He was in the kitchen, leaving the bag he brought with him on the table.

“Alright. I will tell you what happened, Gojo-san.” “I am listening.” “I am not sure if you are aware that this happened,” the suit-clad man began, “but one of the missions that was originally assigned to you - a case of utmost priority of a cursed womb - was suddenly taken off of your pile and reassigned…” Satoru’s eyes narrowed underneath the black fabric. The beginning already left a bad taste in his mouth; missions assigned to him were usually first grade or even special grade and he knew all too well that there were nowhere enough first grade, let alone special grade, sorcerers around. So who had it been assigned to? “...to your three first-year students,” Ijichi finished with a sigh. The sickening hotness of rage filled Satoru’s whole body. Already having realized the scenario that must have taken place, he still asked for confirmation, “What grade?” “...Special grade. One casualty.” The picture that you had taken of him, his first years and yourself (so carefully hung up on your wall at home) flashed in front of his inner eye. He clenched his teeth so hard as he wordlessly hung up; it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Such an atrocious inhumane act coated in malice. He was going to kill these dirty-playing bastards. However, that would have to wait until later. Much later. Satoru couldn’t leave you to your own devices, not in this state. The scenario he concluded for himself earlier replayed in his mind several times as he made his way through your completely dark apartment. His heart stung with each beat. It was almost as if someone drove a blade through his chest repeatedly.

When he stood in front of the closed door of your bedroom, he heard soft sobs coming from inside. Should he knock to let you know someone came? He wasn’t sure what to do. He gave the door two soft knocks and entered the room. It was your hunched form on the bed, no doubt. Satoru could not see your face with the way your back was facing him. Slowly he made his way to your bed and crouched down to face you. Your face was swollen and tear-stained, a sight he didn’t see often. His large hand rested on your shoulder and gently rubbed it, a silent question hung in the air.

Finally, you looked at him with your swollen eyes. Almost instantly, your sobs got louder and you reached out for the tall sorcerer. “S-Satoru…” you hiccuped in-between sobs. “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here,” he reassured you and stroked the wet hair out of your puffy face as you threw yourself around him, relentlessly crying into his broad shoulders. The white-haired man enclosed his arms around you but it wasn’t to hug you for comfort.

He scooped your delicate frame up and wrapped a warm blanket around you before leaning your body against the headboard of the bed. He sat next to you on the bed and guided your head onto his shoulders. Your violent sobbing stopped but tears were still flowing freely. 

If there was someone who understood the agony, bitterness and distress someone in this line of work had to face, it was Gojo Satoru. The path of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was painted black and red by trials and tribulations. This was why Satoru was so hell-bent on resetting the world he called his obligation. “If you feel exhausted, just lean on me for a second,” his calm voice sounded through the room. There was no answer from you. Even if there was silence, your feelings reached his heart and he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Let it go with me. It’ll be easier to shake this burden off and share it, he thought. Of course, he would never dare force you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, as if to get even closer physically.

Ultimately, the woman sucked in a breath and with a shaky voice and recounted everything in her point of view. “I-I.. was on a mission when I… got a call from Ijichi. ‘Something wasn’t right’, he said and… t-told me about the cursed womb. As soon as I heard… that they sent y-your students there, I rushed to the location but…”, you hiccuped, “...I was too late… Y-Yuji, he-” You sobbed hysterically into his shoulder. Satoru turned to you to wipe away the tears and snot with a tissue. “Shhh, I’m here, I’m here”, he reassured once again, “I’ll fix it somehow.” It was just as he thought: those damned higher ups.

“H-How? This is not… something… you can f-fix, Satoru… not even you,” you continued bawling into his shoulders. I’ll kill all the higher ups, he thought to himself. “I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I can’t do something to change this detestable, loathsome and bloody world we live in,” his voice seethed with anger but it quickly died down as he re-focused on the main topic at hand, “there has to be something I can do, I’ll even drag out Sukuna myself if I have to.” “Please, Satoru…” Your whisper was faint and weak, “I… saw Yuji’s corpse... on the ground... I just want to see him one last time…”

Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer undoubtedly put a heavy strain on your mental wellbeing; nobody was spared from it, not even the great Gojo Satoru. Unfortunately, you were one of the people who were much more affected by incidents like these. He realized how badly it hurt your heart, he knew how much all the students meant to you and he knew just how much more fragile you were than you let on in front of other people. Where there is light, there must be shadow. It wasn’t like he was left unscathed by it either but right now, his utmost priority was you.

“Right,” the male sorcerer murmured more to himself. He still had to check something. “I want you to show me your arms, please.” If this had been a command, it had to be the gentlest one you had ever heard. Maybe it was the fact that there was a hint of pain infused in the way he spoke to you just now that made you show your arms so willingly, or maybe it was the fact that he always sounded so earnest when he took care of you like this. He genuinely cared; it was something you shouldn’t be surprised about, considering how long the two of you have known and cared for each other, but it never ceased to leave you in awe. You held out your arms for him to see.

As carefully as possible, the man examined your arms, his touch ghosting over your skin. It was a good thing he came prepared. The angry red lines, dry blood and broken skin on both of your forearms seemed to scream at him: you hurt yourself again. Without a doubt, he felt guilty. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he slipped away from the bed after fixing your position and stroking your hair tenderly. A few moments later, your tall friend was back with a few medical supplies. Sitting back on the bed, he started to clean and treat your injuries. Besides a few hiccups and whimpers from your side, silence befell the room.

“Don’t you want to curse and insult me?” His eyes were still fixed on bandaging your arms. “No,” was all you said in response, fearing that your voice would give in. “You should though. After all, it was technically my fault...” Even though you were hurting, you knew Satoru was hurting all the same deep down in his heart, seeing that his precious students were the victims in this case. Satoru really treasured disciples. You took a few deep breaths before you replied, “Please don’t ever blame yourself for this… I know you wouldn’t have… let this shit happen. I know how much you adore them.”

“If it makes you feel better... if it can help you heal, I’ll take it. Any words are fine. I can deal with all the painful words…” Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. It was rare but his voice… unmistakably cracked for a second. A shaky chuckle left your lungs, “Please Satoru,” you wrapped your arms around him as well and nuzzled into his shirt again, “I could never treat you like that. You are everything to me but an enemy. Have always been.”

“I’ll be anything you need. I’ll even be your enemy if you ask me to… so please tell me, so that it doesn’t hurt you anymore…” he said shakily. The blindfolded man had masked his pain up until now, for your sake. It was your time to comfort him. Giving him shelter, like he had done for you. He had already experienced far too much hurt.

“Satoru, all I’ll ever need you to be in my life… is the important and comforting presence you have always been. Don’t change. If things are too much, too overwhelming and you become tired, you can lean on me too. I will never leave you.”

There was nothing left to say, no need. It was enough for both of you to be in each other’s comforting presence.

Taglist: @gojos-mochi​ @megumifushi @bleueluna

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #angst #gojo satoru angst #song fic #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #tw: death #tw: mentions of death #tw: mental illness #tw: self harm #taemin #inspired by taemin #shinee #ibye series

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg oneshot #mgg x reader

[haikyuu-sins]

Hey!!

Ok, first of all I love your writing, it's just soooo good and second, since I saw the requests are opened I wanted to ask for a little scenario, ok here we go.

So it's Law x fem!Reader from the strawhats and both crews are fighting against some kind of enemy and their army, this enemy it's like a mad scientist and shots the reader with a strange sustance but nobody really notices because they are fighting and she doesn't want them to get preoccupied.

The things is, some days later strange white marks begin to appear on her skin and yes, it's the amber lead, she tries to hide it but at some point Law sees it and when I don't know, I will leave the rest to you.

Thank you so much ❤❤

Thank you! I loved how interesting this request was! I hope you enjoy :) (I realized too late into this thatI didn’t make them a strawhat so my apologies for that! I’ve been trying to work on this one for so long and it slipped my mind :( also I’m sorry that this kind of ends a little abruptly, I wasn’t sure where I really wanted it to go in the end

Warnings: Getting shot/blood

****Law x Reader

This was supposed to be quick. An in, out kind of deal. What was going to be a quick trade, ended up being a ruse. When Law was finished with his end of the deal, which was healing a member of this scientist’s crew and in return he’d give Law a medicine that he had been looking for that he would only be able to get from this island.

But things went south as soon as the deal was finished. It all started happening so quickly that you almost didn’t have time to react. Once the sound of a gunshot filled the air, Law was quick to act. He was already after the ringleader and was telling the rest of the crew to fight and stay alive until he got back from dealing with the scientist.

The once peaceful surroundings were now a small battlefield. You watched Bepo and the rest of the crew fighting with the others and you had your own hands full with a few of the men from the other crew. But what you didn’t notice was that there was a sniper off in the distance with a fresh batch of bullets that were coated and infused with different diseases; new and old.

His sights were set on you as you seemed to be giving his crewmates the most trouble. There was so much noise on the battlefield that you didn’t even know where the next gunshot came from. All you knew was that you felt a sharp pain in your thigh, then moments later, another right above your knee cap. Your mind went white for a moment. The searing pain made your head go blank before you felt a fist connect with your face that brought you back to reality.

You wanted to pass out but Law told you all to stay alive because he knew that you could handle yourselves. That meant you couldn’t afford to lose consciousness. Law put his trust in you and the rest of his crew so you needed to show him that you could be trusted.

Blood trickled down your left leg and your pants were sticking to you uncomfortably. You felt useless not being able to even use one of your legs. But no matter how much it hurt, you put your weight on it and continued to fight. Another bullet came your way but this time you sensed it. There was something different about this one. It almost seemed to have some sort of heavy aura around it.

You deflected it with the knife you held in your hand. The bullet ricocheted off and hit one of the men you were brawling with, and straight into his shoulder.

He hissed in pain, not knowing what exactly had happened, but when you saw what that bullet began doing to his body you realized why it was so different from the other two. His skin started to melt from where the bullet entered and he screamed in agony. Your eyes were wide with fear, hoping that that wouldn’t be your fate. While your skin wasn’t melting off like his, you knew that there had to have been something wrong with this bullet as well.

But you didn’t have much time to process what could happen to you because the fighting continued and now you had the added bonus of trying to figure out if there would be a bullet coming at you. In a moment there was a sharp stinging in your side. You heard no gun shots but there was a clear wound in your abdomen.

Within minutes though, everything suddenly stopped, you and the rest of the crew had taken notice that there was a slight blue tinge that covered the area. In that moment, you knew that you could finally relax. Your legs buckled under you and the next thing you knew, you were in the sub.

You ached. Your entire body ached and you heard a soft beeping noise right beside you. Slowly your eyes began to open and you squint. The bright lights nearly blinding you.

Law glanced over and heard the rustling of the bed sheets. “Don’t touch the IV, Y/n-ya.” he spoke as he watched you reaching for it. You sigh and your hand falls onto the bed. “And don’t even think about moving.” he stood from his chair next to you and gently pushed your shoulder down.

Your voice was hoarse when you spoke softly. “Is everyone okay?” glancing around the room, you noticed that there was no one else but you and Law.

“Everyone is fine. I was able to patch them up. You one the other hand were the one who had the most damage done. You were shot three times. I’m not sure why but I couldn’t find the bullets even though there wasn’t an exit wound.”

He had even used his Scan on you thanks to his Ope-Ope no mi but still wasn’t able to find anything wrong. For some reason, you thought it would be a good idea to omit the fact that a bullet that was aimed for you hit someone else and melting the man’s skin off. There wasn’t anything wrong with you now. But what you didn’t know was that the bullets were still inside you. They had dissolved and a deadly and what was thought to be an incurable disease was now making its way through your body.

“I’m going to run some tests-”

“Please, I’m fine! Will you just let me get back to work?”

The look on Law’s face said it all as he turned to you. ‘Absolutely not’ was plastered all over and you knew better than to argue with him, but you felt like a terrible burden.

“You should be doing Captain things, not treating me.” you slumped back into the bed.

“You seem to forget that your captain is also your doctor.”

Your lips made an ‘O’ and your cheeks flushed slightly. “I didn’t forget...It just slipped my mind for a second.”

“I’m going to run your tests tomorrow. You’ve lost a lot of blood and need rest, so I’ll leave you be for a few hours and come back to check on you. Let me know if you need anything. You shouldn’t be in too much pain but I can put more medicine in your IV-that you better not take out-if you need it.” With that, he left the room while you glared at the IV that was stuck in you. It was best that you left it in and you knew it, It soon didn’t worry you anymore and before you knew it, your eyelids fluttered close with the darkness of a promising sleep overcoming.

It was about a week before Law let you out of the infirmary. He made sure you were okay to walk on your own, and he wanted you to take antibiotics for another week in case of an infection. The tests he had taken all came back normal for now. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but he still wanted you to check in with him every so often.

Law was wary of letting you out of his site, something had been worrying him about the fact he couldn’t find the bullets but you spoke of nothing out of the ordinary no matter how much he knew tried to get the information out of you.

The next time Law saw you, you looked like a ghost. He noticed how your knees were trembling and quickly urged you to sit down, guiding you to a chair. “I told you to come by and see me if there was anything wrong, Y/N-ya.”

“I’m fine… really. I’m just a little tired.”

His grey eyes narrowed slightly at you then his brows furrowed. There was a spot in your hair that hadn’t been there before that was beginning to go white--not grey like a normal aging person, but white. Quickly, he grabbed your arm and shoved the material of your sleeve up. You had no strength to pull back and his eyes now widened when he noticed the white patches that were covering you.

“Law it hurts… Everything hurts. I ache all the time and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to make it stop.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?!” the taller man quickly scooped you out of the chair and rushed you into the infirmary.

“That bullet…I think there was something in it.” you managed to croak out. “One of their guys got shot with a bullet that I dodged and his skin, it started to melt off his body.” You knew that he’d be scolding you after this, not telling him all of the details the first time is one of Law’s pet peeves.

“This could have all been avoided if you told me this in the first place!” While this would be an easy fix for Law, he was still upset that you were putting yourself in unnecessary pain. You didn’t need to suffer and if you weren't stubborn then you wouldn’t be in this position. He knew exactly what it was like to have this incurable disease, but you were lucky enough to have a captain who could cure anything. Including Amber Lead.

He put you on the bed in the infirmary and it didn’t take him long to get this out of your body. On the way there you had passed out which did make it easier for Law work, but he was scared. This disease was supposed to be gone. So how did this scientist get a hold of something this deadly?

One thing he did know--he wasn’t going to lose anyone else to this forsaken illness. Not again. He had already lost his entire family to it and he would be damned if he’d let it happen to his crew.

It only took Law a few minutes to finish this up and make sure that all of the Amber Lead was out of your body. He ran tests on you all throughout the night, almost never leaving your side. It was comforting knowing that the first face you saw when you opened your eyes was him. Though you knew he probably wasn’t the happiest with you, you did know that he would always do his best to save you and that’s why your eyes were opening in the first place.

Besides the quiet beeps of the monitor, the next thing you heard was his gruff voice. “You sure do leave out some important information when it’s needed.”

You bit your lip. “Sorry…”

“I don’t think ‘sorry’ cuts it when you nearly had a death wish. You’d be dead if you weren’t here with me, you know that? What you were shot with was a bullet that had Amber Lead poisoning which is normally incurable.”

“Guess I’m really lucky then, huh?” you smile weakly over to him, hoping that maybe he’ll see the bright side. “I’m alive at least, that counts for something, right?”

“Yeah, you’re lucky enough to be alive so you can do all of the extra chores around the sub.”

“Oh come on!” you groaned out in protest. “This is what I get for pulling thought and making it out alive?!”

“No. This is what you get for nearly getting yourself killed for leaving out information that could have prevented this from getting as bad as it did. Maybe next time you should think twice about being as stubborn as you usually are.”

“But that’s my best quality!”

“Trust me, you have better qualities than that, Y/N-ya.” and with that, he left the room, leaving you with a pink tinted face.

#one piece #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar-law-headcanons #law headcanons #one piece trafalgar law #one piece headcanons #trafalgar law scenario

[meganwritesandthings]

Megan's Master List

All of my works are on AO3 @Geeksquad2o, and all of the stories listed below are links to AO3.

JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS

This Band Is Back Series

Be sure to read these ones in order!

Bring Me To Life

Like with most things, the signs started showing up slowly. So slowly, in fact, that at first nobody noticed. Alex would bite his nails when he was anxious, and they started to grow back. Luke started needing to push his hair out of his eyes. Reggie found himself getting cold without his jacket on. Little things that would have meant nothing if they were still human, but meant quite a lot for ghosts

Or: The boys are starting to change, which they're pretty sure isn't supposed to happen to ghosts. And they are still ghosts. Right?

But I Always Thought That I'd See You Again

When the boys died 25 years ago, there were quite a few people that they left behind. After coming back as ghosts, they'd made their peace that there was nothing they could really do about that now. But now that they've come back to life, they have a chance to reconnect with their old families. The question is: Do they all really want to?

The Singers of the Lullabies

Rose Molina had died with no unfinished business, but a lot of secrets. Tragedies lived and experienced that her family had no idea about. She died with no unfinished business, but a lot of people left behind. She died with no unfinished business, but when her daughter came face to face with the most dangerous ghost in the world, Rose realized she wasn't finished.

All My Life I've Been Good But Now

The stories always stop at the miracle. But what happens when the miracle is over, the ones once dead have been brought back, and now everyone has to return to business as usual? For Luke, Reggie, and Alex, this second life brought with it a whole new set of challenges. First and foremost? High school.

You're Just Harder To See Than Most

Everything about Julie and Luke's relationship was pretty perfect, but the same couldn't be said about the love lives of the other Phantoms. Alex was beginning to realize that he was, essentially, in love with cute air. And Reggie? He was going through a crisis. A couple of crises, actually. At least someone is happy though.

Something's Gone Terribly Wrong

Julie, Luke, Reggie, and Alex had finally started to feel secure. They'd found love, they had each other, and the boys had been settling into the land of the living spectacularly. Which, of course, means that it was time for a certain Caleb Covington to pop back into their lives for one last showdown that would bring all the old ghosts out of the woodwork, and reveal to all who Caleb Covington really was.

Other Jatp Works

So If You're Asking Me I Want You To Know

When Julie finally works up the courage to tell Luke she loves him, it doesn't go quite as she expected. When Luke tries to explain to her exactly what it was that caused him to freak out, he finds he can't really figure out the words. So he does it the best way he knows how: in a song.

I Wanna Feel All That Love and Emotion

Luke struggles to find the right thing to do. Everyone can see what he can't, and Julie can't wait forever. Maybe one day, buddy.

Cobra Kai

Don't Look At Me, You've Got A Girl At Home (And Everybody Knows That)

Hawk's just won the All-Valley, and he feels on top of the world. Despite the fact that not everyone had quite as good of a tournament, Demetri insists that they've gotta celebrate. Things get a bit complicated though, as it turns out that Demetri with a little too much alcohol is a Demetri with way too little thought process.

The Critical Chapter

Phone calls and confessions. "I rewatched your favorite Doctor Who episode" really means "I love you." Maybe Yasmine is right about some things...

Harry Potter

Take What I Can and Then Die in the Dirt

Because who doesn't sit around at 17 with their best friends imagining the end of the world? If only that end of the world scenario wasn't quite so close to home for the Marauders...

Stranger Things

I Think You're Seeing Right Through Me

80s movies, confessions, and confusions. Mike Wheeler deserves emotions. Charlie Sheen, anyone?

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #luke x julie #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #ray molina #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #carlos molina #rose molina #rose jatp #emily pattesron #mitch patterson #juke #original characters #willie jatp #wilex #alex x willie #bobby trevor wilson #original female character #carrie wilson #reggie x oc #flynn julie and the phantoms #flynn jatp #nick jatp #caleb covington #original male character

[triggerhappyimagines]

How about the V3 boys, (the ones who died) with a s/o whos the Ultimate Spirit Medium/Necromancer and they call the spirit of the dead character? I just wanna see some scenarios/hc's of that, if u could do it that'd be gr8! If not thats okay, i understand ^^

hey everyone, long time no see! sorry for sort of vanishing for a while, i’ve been super busy with school and my job and kind of lost interest in danganronpa for a little bit,,,, but i’m back and i’m gonna try my best to get through the requests in our inbox and maybe even try and finish a few more of the october prompts (if you guys would still be interested in seeing those!!).

anyways, sorry for the long wait on your request, anon! this was one i had started a few months ago back when i was writing regularly and i finally buckled down and finished it!! i decided to do all the v3 boys (except kiibo because uhhh hes a robot) instead of just the ones who died in canon to avoid spoilers for anyone who hasn’t finished the game yet!! i apologize if some of these seem repetitive i sorta started running out of ideas by the end lmao. i hope you enjoy, anon!

warnings: mentions of death/dying (obviously), general angst

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Shuichi Saihara

— to say the least, Shuichi is a little shaken up now that he’s gone and you’re... well, not.

— he always told you he’d stay by your side forever, and he feels guilty. he feels like he broke a promise

— but... you talk to him again that first night. you say his name and look straight at him. can you see him? no, it couldn’t be... right?

— of course, once he puts all the pieces together, it all makes sense

— you’re the ultimate spirit medium, for goodness sakes! of course you can see him and speak to him the same way you would any other living person

— after a while, Shuichi stops feeling so guilty for leaving you. partially because it doesn’t feel quite like he’s abandoned you, and also because you reassure him that he didn’t do anything wrong by dying

— i mean, come on, it’s not his fault he got killed! how could you ever hold that against him?

— still, it takes him some time to come to terms with everything.

— though he loves you, he still finds it sad that he can never speak to anyone else ever again. at least, not without your aid.

— but as long as he has you by his side to help him cope... he knows he’ll be alright

— after all, he loves you, and you love him. and that’s enough to give him the strength he needs to keep from falling apart.

Rantaro Amami

— he's still very protective of you, despite the fact he’s merely a spirit now

— he’s always right by your side, no matter what.

— even when you aren’t able to take a moment to talk to him, or even look in his direction, Rantaro is right there

— if he were still alive, the way he now follows you around all the time may seem obsessive and creepy, but you actually appreciate it

— nobody else can see or speak to him but you, which makes his constant presence comforting, in a way

— Rantaro isn’t able to touch you in the same way he could when he was alive, but nonetheless, he still tries

— he’ll try to place his hand atop yours, or wrap his arms around your figure, but he always just passes straight through you

— you find the chill that blossoms on your skin where he touched you comforting; it’s a reminder that even though he’s gone, he’s still there with you

— it breaks his heart that he can’t truly be with you, but he tries not to focus on his own problems too much

— after all, your happiness is much more important to him than his own; you are his priority

— you’ll have to remind him that it’s okay for him to be sad, and that he shouldn’t bottle up his own emotions to be there for you

— he’ll want to keep being the person to take care of you, and watch out for you, but he needs you to be that person for him

Kokichi Ouma

— you didn’t really think Kokichi would start behaving himself just because he’s dead, did you?

— honestly he uses the fact only you can see and speak to him to his advantage

— good luck trying to keep your cool around other people while he’s off being a clown right in front of you

— but of course, he’s not all fun and games

— i mean... he’s dead. and that sucks

— he probably won’t show it, at least not right away, but he doesn’t like the feeling of separation between you two

— sure, he’s still around, but not like before. before, he could surprise you with a kiss or a suffocating hug, but he just can’t do that anymore

— it hurts. really bad.

— but he knows he’ll be okay. he know’s he’ll get used to it someday, as long as he has you with him to cheer him up when he gets especially sad

— you’re his sunshine, and he may not show it, but he needs you. so don’t leave him all alone, okay?

Gonta Gokuhara

— lets be honest... Gonta has the hardest time of the bunch adjusting to being nothing more than a spirit

— you’ll likely have to give him a lot of comfort. he’s confused, and he misses being able to be with you for real :(

— the hardest part for him is no longer being able to touch you

— he longs to feel your lips press gently against his cheek, to lay in your lap as your hands comb through his hair... he’d give anything to hold you in his arms again...

— unlike Rantaro, he’s not content with merely passing through your body when he makes contact with you

— it just... upsets him. it’s a cruel reminder that his life ended, and that he will never get to hold you, kiss you, and just love you the way he could before his life ended

— be patient with him, please... he’ll adapt eventually... but it could take a while

— just make sure to remind him how much you love him, he’ll need a lot of reassurance and comfort from you

Kaito Momota

— surprisingly, Kaito adapts to the situation pretty well

— if he is struggling with any sort of major emotions, he’s doing a stellar job of hiding it from you. and you hate that

— you don’t totally believe him when he says he’s okay, or when he tells you not to worry about him

— you know him better than that. it doesn’t make sense to you. he just died for crying out loud! he can never follow his dreams, never have the future he always wanted with you

— and you don’t understand how he can just shrug all that off and continue being your boyfriend like normal

— you confront him about it one night. he’s laying on his back, hovering beside you as you read (Kaito loves being able to float around in midair. perks of being a ghost, right?)

— "how can you be okay?" you blurt out suddenly. he looks at you, confused.

— you continue, asking all the questions that had been gnawing at you for days, and when you finally finish, he just laughs

— "of course i’m upset. but it’s a man’s job to protect the ones he loves! and being there for you is much more important than staying upset about this." he explains

— you can’t help but feel a little stupid. he’d always put you first, always prioritized your needs over anyone else’s, even his own. and he wasn’t about to stop just because he died

— fortunately for you, he isn’t upset with you sort of asking him why the hell he wasn’t a huge, depressed mess.

— in fact, he thinks it’s really sweet that, despite the fact you should be worried about yourself so you don’t end up joining him in the afterlife, you spent your energy fussing over him

Korekiyo Shinguji

— with Kiyo, not much changes. at least, not on his end.

— he’s very fascinated by the mere notion of being a spirit and has the time of his life unlife getting used to his new body

— at first you’re happy for him. i mean, it’s good that he’s not struggling, right? shouldn’t you want him to feel okay? you wouldn’t want him to suffer in sadness like you, right?

— but he’s so enthralled with his new state of being he... almost forgets to check up on you

— and even when he does spend time with you, it almost feels like all he does is talk about himself and the new things he’s discovered about being a spirit

— it’s frustrating, to say the least. you know you didn’t truly lose him, but it feels like you did

— when you finally tell him that you feel like he’s changed, he’s confused

— when Kiyo hears you say how much you miss him, how you feel like he’s so different now, he’s kinda just like ???????

— how could he be different? it’s still him, don’t you know that?

— after a long night of reflecting while you sleep (not needing rest is one of the many perks of being a spirit), Kiyo realizes what he’s been doing wrong

— you used to love when he’d talk to you endlessly about his work, his research, etc.

— but now, when he’d ramble on for hours about new things he’d learned thanks to being a mere spirit, it was just another painful reminder to you that he was dead. that he was gone.

— the moment he gets a chance, he apologizes to you. it’s a bit of an emotional moment for both of you, being the first time either of you have confronted the end of Kiyo’s life head on

— he tries to hold you, but all you feel is an icy chill where his flesh would have met yours, but oddly enough... it doesn’t make you feel worse

— you’d anticipated another tsunami of your own tears after Kiyo’s body passed through yours, but it’s comforting, albeit in a morbid way

— he’s gone, but you haven’t lost him. and you’ll never lose him; he’ll remind you of that every day if he has to

Ryoma Hoshi

— man, if you thought ryoma’s attitude and general outlook on life was depressing before, you’ve got a big storm coming

— for a long time after his death, he’s very... cold. to everyone and everything

— he’s upset. but not because he’s dead, but because he can’t protect you anymore

— being there for you, to defend you and keep you safe, had become his raison d’être, so to speak

— he knows you can still see him and talk to him. he’s not stupid. but he pretends he doesn’t hear you at first. part of him thinks that if he shuts you out long enough, you’ll come to your senses and realize you should be upset with him

— but you never do. despite what he thinks he deserves, you never turn on him, never give up on him, never stop loving him

— with time, he’ll come around and start learning to cope with his own death, and the fact you outlived him

— and you’ll be there with him every step of the way (whether he likes it or not)

#mod nagito #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 imagines #korekiyo shinguji x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #gonta gokuhara x reader #ryoma hoshi x reader #shuichi saihara x reader #rantaro amami x reader #kaito momota x reader #drv3 x reader #danganronpa x reader #drv3

[grimfiendfyre]

Moshang AU where as a kid sqh was lonely and didn’t have any friends so he spent most of his time creating characters and stories since he was young, but he keeps having these strange dreams that feel so life-like where he keeps meeting the same person over and over again. He can’t touch anything in the dreams and nobody seems to be able to see or hear him except one boy. As the years pass and he starts writing more and more, he bases one of his big stories on the world of his dreams. Since he was a kid, he realizes that most people don’t have such reoccuring dreams like he does and a lot of people and other kids think he’s weird or something is wrong with him when he talks about his dreams so he stops talking about them and keeps them to himself. He thinks of the boy in his dreams as an imaginary friend that he must have made up out of his own loneliness. 

Meanwhile, the first time Mobei Jun meets this strange boy who appears to either be dead or some type of spirit is when he is a child in the water prison of Huan Hua Palace. At first Mobei Jun is terrified of the spirit thinking it might harm him too, but then he sees the spirit yell at the cultivator who hit him to leave mbj alone and stop picking on someone smaller than him. Imagine small 6-7 year old sqh just trying to kick the cultivator’s shin, but his leg keeps passing through the person’s body like he’s just a ghost or something. Even though sqh is like ‘this is all a dream’ he can’t help but feel bad for this boy in his ‘dreams’ so he tries to comfort the boy and stays with him until mbj is eventually rescued. Does small mbj hold onto the only kindness and comfort given to him in such a terrifying situation after being betrayed by his uncle? Absolutely. From that moment after the Huan Hua Palace incident, every night sqh falls asleep he appears in mbj’s world usually somewhere close by where mbj is. Young mbj and sqh becoming each other’s only friends. I feel like the more time passes sqh starts questioning what is real and what is fake. Sqh warning mbj of assassination attempts. Sqh spying on suspicious members of the court, uncovering schemes and plots against mbj because he can literally follow them and listen in on their conversations without anyone being able to see or hear him. Mbj being able to trust and confide in sqh without having to doubt if sqh may one day betray him because no one else can even see or hear sqh so even if sqh wanted to betray him he physically wouldn’t be able to. But mbj would trust him even if he was able to be here physically and could interact with others because sqh has shown over and over again that he cares for mbj. Sqh telling mbj all his fears, doubts, and insecurities because he thinks this is all a dream so he’s like ‘I feel safe enough to tell him these things’ because he’s not actually ‘real’.

As they get older there are times when sqh doesn’t show up for one or two days in a row and when he does he always appears tired and weary with dark circles under his eyes and his usual round cheeks a bit thinner than they normally are and it makes mbj worried!! (Sqh needing to pull all nighters to finish chapters of his story to get paid to make enough money for rent and food means no sleep). Does mbj worry that one day sqh will just disappear forever and never come back when he disappears? All the time. Does he also wish that sqh could be alive and living here with mbj in his world? also yes. Mbj falling in love with sqh, pining for a person who can never physically stay with him, but it doesn’t stop mbj from pondering the what-if scenarios of them being married, with sqh as his consort. What it would be like if sqh didn’t have to randomly disappear without any warning (when sqh wakes up)? Sqh also falls in love with mbj too, but he’s still in this weird place where he thinks mbj is just his imaginary friend/crush since he thinks this is all still a dream and also what are the chances that mbj grew up to be exactly his type both physically and in demeanor, sqh is like ‘obviously my lonely brain created the perfect man/crush out of my subconscious’. 

I’m also imagining how cute it is for young mbj to excitedly show sqh around the ice palace and mbj feeling happy to see the other get excited over every little thing. It’s odd how some of the everyday mundane things around the place make sqh gasp in excitement, but mbj finds it oddly endearing. Imagine mbj taking sqh sightseeing around the demon realm and going to festivals together over the years both in the demon realm and also some in the human realm. Sqh telling mbj he just HAS to try this or that food from the food stalls at the festival because he can’t do it himself so mbj has to try it and tell him what it tastes like! Can you just imagine sqh whining that he wants to be able to try all these foods and for some reason mbj feels his heart skip a beat when sqh looks at him with a pout. How much he wishes sqh could really be here with him, that he would buy sqh a whole stall worth of food if sqh asked for it, how much he wishes to dress him in his clan’s colors, to know what it would feel like to touch his hand. He imagines it would feel warm since sqh appears to be human, and warmth should be uncomfortable for an ice demon, and yet it is that warmth that mbj craves and wants so badly.

Things change though when sqh arrives in the middle of an assassination attempt that almost succeeds and a knife is about to stab mbj in his unguarded back that’s moving much too quickly and sqh in desperation moves without thinking to block the knife with his body even though it would have just gone right through him, but something changed and he felt incredible pain as a knife stabs him in the shoulder. Mbj only catches the shocked expression on sqh’s face before he disappears, the knife that was in him only moments ago clattering on the ground still stained with blood. Mbj makes quick work of the assassin killing him and cradles the knife like it might shatter or disappear as well. Mbj keeps the dagger without cleaning the blood off letting it dry permanently onto the blade as it is now a stark reminder and symbol that sqh is real and that somehow if he can bleed and get stabbed in his world that means there is a way that sqh can be here physically. That knife is a symbol of hope to mbj and he keeps it with him like a prized treasure. Meanwhile, right after he got stabbed, sqh wakes up abruptly in his bed in his apartment and feels agonizing pain in his shoulder and looks to see blood quickly soaking his shirt from what appears to be a stab wound, but with no evidence that someone had broken in or that he somehow could have accidentally stabbed himself in his sleep. As he is laying in the hospital getting treated for a stab wound, he is internally panicking and freaking out that his dreams are more real than he ever previously thought and that means that whole world and mbj are real!! On one side, hooray that he wasn’t losing his mind like everyone else used to say about him! On the other hand, holy shit that means he has been half existing in another world for most of his life!!

#svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #scum villain's self saving system