#but for that argument to hold weight it would imply there's a right and wrong interpretation of A Movie

[forthewomenonly]

Everything to me

Warnings: NSFW, smut, GAYS, Sam Carpenter x fem reader(implied, no pronouns used), overtimulation, dom Sam, sub r, strapon use (r receiving), stomach bulge, Scream VI references used a/n: 50+ follwers in two days is fucking wild. Tysm my loves, it makes me so happy that people are actually enjoying my work. You knew this was a terrible idea. But when Tara asked you to come with her to a frat party looking up at you with her big brown eyes, how could you say no? Sam didn’t know you were here and you hoped it would stay that way for the rest of the night. She told Tara she couldn’t go and demanded that you didn’t. You felt bad though, why not let Tara have some fun after all she’s been through. It’s not like she’ll get into trouble anyway, shes a responsible girl right? Wrong.

You follow Tara part way up the stairs from where she following a man whom you’re sure she’ll regret sleeping with. “Tara come on, stay downstairs.” 

It’s okay y/n, I want to” the frat boy continues to pull Tara up the stairs, at this she stumbles down a few steps coming down to your place on the staircase. At this point Chad has now joined you, standing at the bottom of the stairs yelling at the man for trying to take advantage of a very tipsy Tara. You pull Tara up onto her feet. The intoxicated frat boy gets frustrated and pushes you by the shoulders, you slip down to the bottom of the stairs, Chad catching you with ease. You don’t notice Sam walk up to the stairs. You don’t notice that she has him doubled over in seconds clutching his groin as she holds her taser. You don’t notice Tara yelling. You only realize she’s there when she drags you harshly by your wrist following Tara out of the house. Sam is fuming when you reach the apartment, her voice clipped and rough from her argument with Tara on the walk home, her shirt sticky from the beverage thrown at her by opinionated pedestrians.  “Sammy...” you mumble reaching out for your girlfriend, trying to calm her down. If Sam was frustrated with Tara, then she was livid with you. She watches Tara slam her door, before marching her way to your shared room. You follow suit quickly, scared to make her any more angry than she already is. You expect her to yell when she turns to face you. To reprimand you for disobeying her, for taking her sister to the party when she strictly forbid it. But she doesn’t. She just glares at you taking in your skimpy outfit, tousled hair, and watery eyes.  “Take your clothes off.” she says gruffly And you do without any hesitation. You’re waiting for her to bend you over her knee and punish you for being such a brat. But she doesn’t do that either. She turns to her closet instead, undressing herself and fastening the harness of the largest strapon she owns to her hips. You look her up and down and can feel your cunt drip. She manhandles you on her bed, forcing you into the position she wants. Pushing you onto your hands and knees, she sinks a finger inside of you. You’re soaked and embarrassed at how easily she’s able to add another. You rock back into her hand and she slaps your ass harshly.  “Stay still.” You nod your head reveling in the feeling of the silicone head rubbing at your glistening folds. You have no time to adjust before Sam slams her hips forward bottoming out inside of you in one thrust. The moan you let out is far too loud for a person who has roommates. Sam presses your face into the mattress effectively silencing you and pounding into you harder. The pace she sets is brutal, her grip on your hips bruising. You’re on the brink of orgasm embarrassingly fast, you feel her so deep inside of you and the weight of her muscular body leaning over you keeps you grounded and completely unable to move out from under her. Not that you would want to anyway. Not when shes making you feel so good. “M’gonna cum Sam.” you mumble out into her pillow. She speeds up her movements and your wetness covers her strap. She fucks you through your orgasm, thrusts never faltering as you very quickly become too sensitive.  “Sam I already came.” “Sam I came.” you cry out reaching behind you trying to push her off. She says nothing and pushes your head further into the plush of her mattress. You’re writhing under her trying to get away from the overwhelming abuse to your cunt. She doesn’t stop and you can start to feel pleasure through the burning sensitivity. You sob into her pillow. As much as you want to get away from the overstimulation, you can’t help but rock your hips back into Sam’s strap. She grins at this, reaching her hand down to rub circles onto your achy clit. You scream out into the pillow, wetting Sam’s cock yet again. Unsurprisingly Sam continues her hammering pace leaving you sobbing and drooling under her touch. She pulls you into her chest snaking her hand around your throat and squeezing tightly.  “Right now you are nothing but a hole for me to fill, we stop when I say we’re done. Understand?” You nod in desperation like a needy bitch. Nonverbal responses aren’t good enough for Sam, they never have been. “Do you understand?” She repeats louder enunciating each word with a sharp thrust.  “Fuck yes Sam, yes please I understand” you babble out, reaching your fingers upwards and tangling them in her dark tresses.  “Mine to fuck. Mine to hold. Mine to love. You don’t need anyone else, not when I make your pretty little pussy feel so good like this.” She rambles on, you can tell she’s close by the way she loses rhythm in her thrusts and groans into your ear. Her moans turn raspy and breathless and she cums, riding out her orgasm, still humping into you.  “God you’re so good. You’re so good for me baby.” Suddenly she focuses on the bulge forming in your stomach every time she thrusts into you. Staring with the utmost fascination, she presses into it. Your body jerks against her own and white hot pleasure consumes you entirely. You go limp on Sam’s cock. You feel like you’re floating, truly an out of body experience. You snap back into reality when you feel Sam lay you on your back, pulling out of you slowly. You whine at the loss of your girlfriends silicone appendage. She lets out a soft chuckle at this, pushing back your sweaty hair to kiss your forehead tenderly. A stark contrast from the activities taking place only mere minutes prior. Sam leaves briefly returning with a water bottle which you swallow down quickly, and a wet cloth to clean you up with. The cool water soothes your dry throat reminding you of just how much bodily fluid you must have spent tonight. Sam takes in your trembling figure and the dried tear tracks on your cheeks, her eyes soften and she swipes any remaining wetness away from your eyes.  “Was I too rough? I’m sorry baby.” she asks, concern lacing her tone. “No Sammy, you weren’t too rough, c’mere.” You say reaching out your hands to your lover. She cuddles into you, holding you tightly making you feel secure and grounded.  “M’sorry for taking Tara to the party, and for going myself” you mumble into her chest. She sighs.  “It’s okay. I’m sorry for being so overprotective. It’s just I- I get scared and feel the need to protect my family. To protect you.” “Ever since Woodsboro I-” her voice cracks. You squeeze her tighter, placing a kiss on her collarbone.  “I know, it’s okay” you whisper into her chest, coaxing her through the vulnerability of the situation. I love you y/n. I love you so much. You are everything to me.” She breathes out. You respond immediately “I love you too Sam.” 

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x y/n #smut #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader

[manjiroscum]

EQUINOX

Character/s: Blade

Warnings: gn!reader, mature language, suggestive content, ooc(?)blade, implied dacryphilia, implied yandere tendencies, headcanons, hsr universe. Minors do not interact.

Note: (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っfirst time writing for hsr! this was supposed to be short but i got carried away lol so have boyfriend blade headcanons and enjoy～☆

BLADE never fails to refuse you each time you ask him to walk you back to your apartment. Why? Not to brag or to shame your methods in saving, but he has a better roof under his head for a criminal. He couldn’t fathom why you would want to return to that apartment where your bedroom doubled as a living room and kitchen. That and your landlord was a nosy son of a bitch. He thought you would be far more comfortable here, next to him. Having you around to a point it was annoying him was far better than worrying about your safety in that shitty place. Your place was close to a dangerous area (albeit he was far more dangerous than those bastards terrorizing the district).

Each time you walk out of the door, his impulse to pull you back in and keep you there would flare up. Of course, he couldn’t beg you to stay. He has never been good with words, opting to stare intently at your back until you feel the weight of it. He reminded you of a grumpy old cat—fleeing at the sight of humans but always coming home to the one person it tolerates. Even now, he was still glaring at the door as you put on your shoes. You couldn’t stay tonight, after all. You had work and he had somewhere to be at tomorrow morning. He will never admit out loud that he loves that you respect his privacy and not meddling with anything concerning his ‘occupation’, yet he sometimes wished you would complain. To start pleading for him to stay with you here rather than go out there and risk getting caught.

“Don’t frown. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know.”

BLADE believes you, he always does. And that, in itself, is something he rarely does. His current standing in society couldn’t afford him to be so trusting towards everyone or anyone. You take pride in yourself that you were able to earn his trust. Whenever you text him that you were home after work and how you would simply wait there for him to come to pick you up, he knows you were telling the truth. It was your honesty that had him caught up in your web, unable to pry himself away nor does he want to. It has been such a long time since he felt the same warmth from another person, especially when they knew what he does and what he has done. No one can blame his cold heart for wanting to figure out how long you could burn in order to thaw its thick barrier.

He continues to test you, though. He did the same when he first felt that spark he tried to snuff out because he didn’t want someone to tie him down to a planet he has been trying to break free from. From those moments of anger to the deafening heated arguments that always end in deathly silence, he lives to see those eyes of yours alight with an emotion he knew all too well. But love behind those irises suited you far better. That is why whenever he was in the wrong, he always found a way to make things right, even if he had to result in methods you usually frown upon. And you know this was him trying to be good for you, acknowledging his efforts to keep you around—to balance out the darkness that has rooted itself in his being ever since the people he always believed in have long since walked out of his life.

“Must you do this?” Your tears have long since dried since the sad movie ended. The credits roll continuously on the screen, his lips pressed against your cheek. His teasing died down on the tip of his tongue, opting to hold you close.

BLADE hates seeing you cry. Whether it is because of pointless things like sad films or because he was too mean, he couldn’t stand seeing tears staining your pretty face. Unless, of course, it was due to something else—like how the sensation of him inside you, stretching your tight walls, was too much for you to take. He takes delight in your messed up face, twisting due to unexplainable ecstasy coursing through both of your veins that sing praises despite the heat. His muscles burned under his flesh as he continued to thrust into you, insatiable to your whines and the sound of his name leaving those sinful lips of yours that saved a sinner like him. Those tears of yours, your moans—everything that happens behind the bedroom door was his and only for his eyes only. Anyone who hopes to take a peek at the paradise he craved shall taste the sword he brandishes after every passion-filled night, taking in the sound of you breathing peacefully next to him. Your naked body underneath his sheets is unmoving as he stares at the weapon in his hand, a cloth in the other.

He will never find another person like you, this he was sure of. And that is why he holds you close while maintaining distance which drives you absolutely crazy. Fear of losing you plagues him at night, yet also questions why you continue to stay with him. You were far better off with someone else. A person who would readily drop everything for you, someone who is strong enough to handle the idea of losing you. He could never be that person. He knew he was selfish. Selfish to take a person’s life who dares to threaten to minimize the hours of the day he should be spending with you. Selfish enough not to let you go because you were the gravity he longed for so long that he forgot he ever dreamed of it.

“I hate how you have such control over me.”

BLADE whispers his adoration in absolute secrecy. However, you didn’t have to ask him or reconfirm that he does share the same feelings as you. He abhors how a human being that could easily be taken away has such an effect on him, but he will never have it any other way. Your constant presence was welcomed and your warmth was a drug no amount of pain can dull. He would try harder and if it isn’t the best, he will go above and beyond. Such an emotion he held for you was the bane of his soul and also was the very thing that kept it from completely dying. And if the Aeons would try to take you away, BLADE will not hesitate to stand before them to do the exact same thing—to take their pitiful lives to bring you back with the dullest weapon he can find to inflict the same pain to a tenfold.

#hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #hsr headcanons #blade hsr #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader headcanons #tw.dacryphilia

[foxy-eva]

Patience & Hope

Summary: Spencer and Luke learn what being a family really means

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Request by @sassymoon: established relationship, having an argument, mental health issues, adopting a pet

Content Warnings: Post-Prison Spencer, implied/referenced mental health issues (Spencer), crying, mentions of not wanting children

Word count: 1.8

Masterlist

Seeing his boyfriend around his godsons always made Luke's heart jump, a warmth spreading through his chest whenever Michael or Henry broke out in giggles at Spencer's goofiness. 

Those moments seemed to be so rare - Spencer smiling and laughing as if he didn't still carry all the weight prison left on his shoulders. More than anything, Luke wished for a life where he could see his partner being that happy every day. 

It was hard not letting his mind wander to a fantasy of seeing Spencer with children of their own. It was something Luke had thought about countless times but managed to keep it in.

Until that day.

On their way home from JJ's house, Luke couldn't hold back any longer. He averted his eyes from the road to find the warm amber of Spencer's irises. 

"You'd be such a great dad," Luke cooed. 

To his surprise, Spencer didn't respond, instead he showed him a shy smile before turning his head to look out of the window of the passenger seat. A knot built in Luke's stomach at the realization that it had not been the right moment to bring up this topic.  

It was still too early in their relationship to have talked about the future a lot. Even though Spencer had never explicitly told him about wanting children, Luke had always assumed that he would want to be a father one day. 

Neither of them dared to speak for the rest of the car ride. It wasn't unlike Spencer to shut down when he was scared to say the wrong thing and it wasn't unlike Luke to hold back so he wouldn't scare his boyfriend away. 

They had both worked hard to carefully take down Spencer's walls when they started dating but things were still so fragile. 

Luke watched Spencer as he sat down on the couch and nervously fidgeted with his fingers. He found his place beside the other man and carefully brushed over the back of his hand, a sigh of relief escaping Luke's throat when Spencer opened his palm to welcome his boyfriend's touch. With fingers intertwined and concern still visible on both of their faces, they found each other's eyes to talk about the inevitable. 

"I'm sorry," Luke mumbled when the silence between the two of them became unbearable for him. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Spencer clarified. "I'm nervous."

Luke gently squeezed his hand to encourage him to keep on talking. "Why are you nervous?"

"Because–" Spencer paused to avert his eyes from Luke, staring at the floor instead.

With a tender motion Luke touched his partner's jaw to turn his head again until they locked eyes once more. 

"Please talk to me, Spencer," he pleaded. 

The glistening in his eyes revealed that Spencer wasn't just nervous about voicing his thoughts, he was terrified. 

"I don't want to have kids and I'm scared you're gonna leave me for someone who does."

Spencer's voice broke at the last syllable as sobs started wrecking through his body. Luke was quick to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, pressing their chests together to keep him close to his heart – exactly where he belonged. 

Spencer became so small inside Luke's arms, his limbs bent and folded to the point where it was impossible to recognize the grown man he was. Right then Luke wasn't comforting his boyfriend, no. He was holding a scared little boy, longing for someone to stay and protect him from the chaos of the world. 

He placed a soft kiss into Spencer's unruly curls before whispering, "I won't leave you. I promise," over and over again until he was sure that his boyfriend had heard him.

After a few moments Luke heard his boyfriend mumble something into the fabric of his shirt. It was inaudible, so he tried to lean back to be able to hear Spencer's words. The man in his arms didn't let him, though, and held onto his body tightly to hinder him from moving away. 

"It's okay, I won't go anywhere," Luke spoke softly. "I just couldn't understand what you were saying." 

"I don't want to be the reason you won't have a family," Spencer muttered as he dared to lean back. 

With eyes rimmed red Spencer looked at his boyfriend, still convinced that this conversation could be the end of what they were. Luke, however, still radiated the same warmth and comfort he did anytime he came to visit in prison. 

It had been him who gave Spencer hope to make it out of his cage alive. He was adamant in showing his love and didn't plan to stop doing that anytime soon. 

"Spencer, I have found all the family I need with you. I'm perfectly happy to spend my future with just you. We don't need kids to be complete."

Luke's fingers made contact with his boyfriend's cheeks, carefully wiping away the tears from his face while whispering, "I love you."

It had been Luke who showed him that there were still so many reasons to keep holding on after he got out of prison – the sweetness of his lips being one of them. 

It was a surprising move but Luke welcomed the feeling of Spencer's lips against his nonetheless. 

There was no need for words to be spoken, this kiss expressed everything Spencer wanted Luke to know. 

Thank you for finding me.

Thank you for staying with me.

Thank you for understanding me. 

"I love you," he decided to say out loud. 

The two men found comfort in their new-found realization that they didn't need to expand their family to be complete. Their bond only grew stronger over the next few weeks. Getting this conversation out of the way helped Spencer open up more, finally able to fully show his boyfriend the extent of his love. 

They were wrapped inside each other's arms on the couch in Spencer's apartment when a loud knock disturbed their lazy Sunday afternoon. 

"Are you expecting anyone?" Luke wondered as the other man got up from his place beside him. 

"No I–," he was interrupted by another, more urgent sounding knock against his door. 

He found a wide-eyed Penelope standing in his hallway, a small ball of fur pressed against her chest. She walked in before Spencer had the chance to invite her. 

"I'm so sorry to interrupt you boys but this is an emergency!" She exclaimed while Luke got up from the couch as well. 

The small ball of fur started moving, ears and eyes sticking out from Penelope's arms to reveal she was holding a kitten. 

"I found her beside a dumpster, all freezing and scared. I wanted to take her in but Sergio apparently hates company and kept hissing at her. She's so scared and needs a safe place to stay!" She explained without taking a breath between her words. 

The two men locked eyes with raised eyebrows and mouths agape. 

Spencer turned his head to face Penelope again, voicing his concerns, "I'm not sure I can take care of a cat. Besides, Luke has a dog and they probably wouldn't get along." 

"Actually, Roxy is very fond of kittens," Luke chimed in. 

Spencer thought about it for a moment. It had taken him months to get used to the presence of Luke's dog, it didn't seem rational to make room for another pet in his life.

He laid eyes on the kitten in his friend's arms. It was tiny and fragile and so, so scared. 

"I already gave her a bath and made sure she doesn't have any fleas," Penelope said. "Look at her! She just needs some love."

"And food, a littler box, toys, a scratcher, vet visits…," Spencer added.

"Spencer, just look at her," Luke suggested, his large puppy eyes not unlike his dog's whenever she wanted something. 

Just when Luke wanted to reach out his hand to make contact with the tiny creature, the kitten started to squirm until she escaped Penelope's arms to jump onto the floor instead. After looking around for a split second, she ran into Spencer's bedroom to hide under the bed. 

All of them followed the kitten, crouching down in front of the bed to take a look at the scared ball of fur. After several failed attempts to get her to come out, Penelope got up from the floor and concluded, "Looks like she wants to stay here." 

Spencer had no interest in scaring the poor thing even more by forcefully getting her out from her hiding spot. He slowly warmed up to the thought of sharing his place with a cat. 

"Okay."

Luke showed him a wide smile and excitedly exclaimed, "Okay?! Does this mean she can stay?" 

"Yes, she can stay," Spencer confirmed. 

Penelope was relieved to have found a home for the rescued kitten and promised the men to come by later to bring them cat food and other essentials to make the new roommate as comfortable as possible. 

Spencer sat on the floor of his bedroom, his back leaning against the wall while he watched his partner laying on his stomach, trying to reach under the bed to get the cat to come out. 

"Maybe you should give her some space," Spencer suggested. 

Luke sighed defeatedly and shifted his position to sit beside his boyfriend. 

"Yeah, you're right."

"We just need to stay here and wait. She probably needs some time to get used to our presence. She needs to be sure that we won't hurt her and she can trust us. That'll take some time but I'm sure she will eventually. We just have to be patient," Spencer let him know.

The men locked eyes before Luke confirmed, "Okay. I can do that."

"I know."

Spencer let his fingertips dance over the other man's palm before their fingers interlaced. They were both aware of the parallels of this situation to the beginning of their relationship. 

In fact, Luke had often thought that Spencer resembled a scared animal when he was released from prison. He was desperate for someone to show him love and take care of him but had trouble not to let his claws show when someone got too close, terrified that he could get hurt again. 

Luke softly smiled at Spencer, whispering, "It will be worth the wait."

They sat in comfortable silence as many moments passed. Just when they considered going back to the living room, they noticed some movement under the bed.

Slowly and carefully the furry creature showed herself, step by step coming out from under the bed. She was hesitant but eventually decided to move closer to the men sitting on the floor. Both of them tried not to move while intently watching the kitten. 

After careful consideration the cat decided to sit down right next to Spencer's thigh, rubbing her face against the fabric of his pants. 

Spencer turned his head to look at Luke, whispering, "I think I want to call her Hope."

Thank you so much for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and feedback helps me stay motivated to come up with more stories. Let me know what you think!

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x luke alvez #ralvez #ralvez fanfiction #ralvez fanfic #luke alvez #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

[nomorejust1ce]

hi for the tarot readings. is it going to get better? idk if thats too general of a question. if so just ignore that. 22, 44, 5, 15, 17, 49, 52

thecozy101

7/19/22

“will it get better?”

the devil (44), knight of cups (5), five of swords (15), seven of swords (17), the star (49), ten of wands (52)

briefly..

these cards seem pretty straightforward. i would say there’s probably something holding you back that you don’t necessarily know about, but is keeping you from progressing or otherwise enjoying life. it could also be that you’re feeling hopeless in your situation. maybe you often let your emotions get the best of you, get caught up in idle daydreams, or don’t take care of yourself- or all three of these things. it also seems like there’s a bit of loneliness in your situation. for whatever reason, you’d rather go it alone and take it all on by yourself. maybe you feel like you’ve done something wrong, and are shirking responsibility. however, despite the challenges in front of you, you are on the right track. you may even begin to feel hopeful, and regain some motivation! remember not to take on more than you can handle, and ask for help when you need it.

card breakdowns

the devil: the devil is a major arcana card, so its weight in the reading is more significant. this is about something major in your life. the devil has to do with all the things that hold us back- for some people, it’s addiction, for others it might be materialism, or perhaps unhealthy thought patterns. whatever it is, it’s usually not completely evident to you that it’s keeping you trapped. the devil can also signify hopelessness, which is interesting, because the polar opposite of that also appears in this reading: the star. so, maybe you’re going through it now, but there’s a light at the end of this tunnel!!

knight of cups: knights work in extremes. they may excel in one area, but can do so to the detriment of themselves and others. the knight of cups is loving, imaginative, and thoughtful, but can also be overemotional, stagnant, and reclusive. try to find balance.

five of swords: the five of swords often denotes a feeling of selfishness. maybe you’re in an argument, and all you can see is how you’re right and they’re wrong. you may see the situation as being “us against them”, but, based on the appearance of the knight of cups (focus on the self, introversion) in this reading, this probably isn’t helping you. it might even be making you act cruelly. 

seven of swords: the seven of swords further implies selfishness. you’d rather go and do it on your own. and hey, i get you, i’ve been there, sometimes if you want something done right you do it yourself. but, with the ten of wands also being present, you’re probably taking on more than you can handle. it might be time to reach out for help. this card can also mean that you’re hiding from responsibility, or allowing yourself or others to behave in immoral ways. 

the star: the star is another major arcana card. out of the whole deck, it’s probably my favorite. in this reading, it provides a much needed light at the end of the tunnel. the star is like a burst of clarity after the storm, where, after all seemed lost, you’re able to regain some hope, inspiration, and peace. this energy may already be present in your life, or may be entering it sometime soon. either way, keep an eye out for it!

ten of wands: the ten of wands implies struggle. much of the time, you’re carrying way more than you’re able to, so much so that you’re unable to see where you’re going. you may find it difficult to say no, or you’re afraid that you’ll seem weak if you reach out. it’s cheesy, but it’s true: there’s no shame in asking for help. everyone needs it. 

#fireside chats #ask #tarot reading #thecozy101

[iamanartichoke]

You ever get like 2k words into a post that started off as frustrated venting about the positive vs. negative framing of A Certain Movie’s analyses, only to have it veer off into a really unexpected and surprisingly detailed analysis of the Great Gatsby (which you actually haven’t read in its entirety since you were like 14), until you realize that it’s kind of a false equivalency to the point you originally wanted to make and if you post it you’d just look like an asshole trying to start wank for no reason? Because I have. 

#basically my original intent was that criticizing something #doesn't mean that you're being negative about it #and being 'positive' about something #doesn't mean you should never criticize it at all #but it delved into a right vs wrong interpretation of the great gatsby #which i'm not really even sure how i ended up there #but for that argument to hold weight it would imply there's a right and wrong interpretation of A Movie #which isn't truly what the wank is always about #it's more about whether or not it is objectively a *good* movie #and why #and how one side has significantly more evidence to support its opinion than the other #i think i need to just shut up lmao #i'm just still in a salty mood about discourse #and i think it's bothering me so much bc i know it's bound to get worse as loki and thor 4 come out #and i'm making it personal now but i honestly hate being dismissed and blocked as an entire person #and member of the fandom #the implication being that i have nothing meaningful or positive to contribute #just because i don't agree that This Movie is actually any good #when you get right down to picking it apart #and i like picking it apart bc analysis is fun to me bc i'm a fucking nerd okay #i lost my point several tags ago #do more than like 2 people actually read tags anyway? #idk #tag rambles #fandom wank #mood gif

[omiscurls]

Diluc, zhongli and childe reaction to their s/o breaking up with them after something they said, maybe after a week or so after they argument they think the s/o forgave them but they break up instead? I WANT THE ANGST

consequences

plot: reader decides to break up with the character after not speaking to them

contains: diluc, zhongli, tartaglia (idk how am i going to do this to my special boy but ill try my best)

warnings: angst, breakups, implied past toxic behavior

a/n: OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO HARD- I DONT HAVE THE HEART TO BREAKUP WITH PEOPLE

diluc

hopeless thoughts ran through your head as you fought with yourself about wether to enter angel’s share or not, hand halfway through to the doorknob. your mind hadn’t been made up just yet, you were still in between two very different scenarios - the urge to forgive him for his hurtful words growing stronger each day, as anger and other emotions subdued to loneliness and the feeling of a part of you missing, ever since the two of you stopped talking.

your mind flashed back to the exact moment when you looked into diluc’s eyes, always so soft and calm for you, forming a way of anger he never expressed towards you before. to the feeling you got right then and there that this man is not the same one you’ve met and fell in love with.

the process of coming to terms with that conclusion was as painful as the first strike of his angry glare, and even though he seemed to have realized the weight of his words right after saying them out loud, no matter how hard you tried, you could not erase them from your memory.

one strike of that pain, one memory of that night was enough to make you go through with your plan, door to the bar opening with a little screech.

it was like just another late afternoon, with charles tending the bar, knights and townsfolk filling the hot room, and the smell of alcohol traveling through the air.

“hi” you said to the bartender “is master diluc around?”

charles, busy with his work, quickly replied that he’s out back, opening a barrel. you nodded and went where his directions guided, pushing open yet another door to see the back of the man you loved, looking just as always from this angle, working over said chore. he didn’t even seem to mind the fact that someone walked in on him working.

“diluc” you said with a sigh, and he almost immediately turned around, tools falling from his hands and onto the ground.

“darling, hi” he replied quietly, walking over to you but stopping half way, eyes set to analyze your expression, figure out what was going on in your mind. “i’m glad you’re here safely, i haven’t heard from you in over a week” he added cautiously, as if weighing every word before deciding to say it out loud.

“well” you sighed again, once again going over wether you should actually break things off right then, mind taking pity on his troubled expression, tired eyes, on the obvious eyebags that were much more apparent than before, a sign that he didn’t catch too much sleep. “i had to come to terms with what i’m about to say”

he wanted to tell you he was sorry, he really did, but words didn’t seem to come out of his throat. obviously he was sorry, it was a bad day and he meant none of what he said, but you knew that, right? you knew he always cared for you and loved you… right?

he wasn’t the best with words, hence, the idea of apologizing with a gesture after you were done teaching him his lesson came to mind. a brilliant idea, one could never go wrong with a thoughtful deed for their significant other, just give him one more chance.

“and my conclusion is, we need to take a step back and… reevaluate things in our lives. i’m not saying this is the ultimate end, but what you’ve said, and how you’ve said it made me realize…”

you were making a good point. you were talking about your feelings. he should listen, but the only thing he heard was the blood pumping through his veins, and the two single words

the end

so there won’t be another chance? he won’t be able to prove himself? what do you mean, the end? the best thing that ever happened to him in his sad life was coming to an end because of him? but he was so careful, he treated you like his treasure, because that’s how he truly felt, like his lifeline, something he could never lose…

and all it took was one sentence too much, one glare too intense. for the first time in what, six, maybe seven years, his eyes began to water, as he blinked the tears back at a rapid pace.

“… and that was a shitty thing to do. i hope you know that. i don’t know if i had anything else i wanted to say, perhaps i did, but… that’s all. see you around, i guess” you mumbled, loosing confidence in what you were saying, taking one last glance at his lost eyes before turning around.

turning around from him, from the love of your life, was perhaps the hardest thing you ever had to do, and yet you did do it.

before you could reach the door again, though, a cold hand caught your forearm. your eyes met his, with just a glimmer of hope that he would magically say all the right words and somehow make you stay, you didn’t want to leave, yet knew you had to. if you wanted to preserve the respect you had for yourself, you had to leave.

why were you giving him time to say something?

his helpless gaze seemed to speak with a thousand words, begging, pleading you to not leave through that door, but as much as his lips did part, not a single word left.

he couldn’t say anything to hold you back, and you ripped away from his grip, turned, and walked away.

and just like that,

he was all alone, again.

he was gonna need a drink.

zhongli

tears flooded your vision, blurring every details of zhongli’s face, causing you to only see a pale color palette, instead of your favorite person, ever. maybe it was for the best, maybe it would make it easier, you thought, but that was a foolish thing to hope for.

even through the salty tears, you could make out his eyes, it’s glow never failing to guide you, and comfort you, now seeming to burn their way through you, through your body and soul.

“you’re stuck in another love, zhongli, we both know that!” you exhaled a bit louder than you intended to, the outcome sounding more like an accusation than a fact. “how can you ever say you love me, when it’s so obvious, and so apparent, that every time you look at me, you see someone else? you HOPE for someone else?”

you could only wish the words you spoke didn’t come out as a complete mess, because of those tears you were constantly choking on. desperation seeped through your voice, as the feeling of helplessness rose every time you looked at your lover and at the anguish, and confusion he presented.

how could he make this so hard? it’s not like you’ve presented some statement he didn’t know already, right?

you hoped your eyes would say all the things you didn’t trust your voice to. you hoped he’d somehow hear how all you ever wanted was to be enough, was to meet his standard, how it tore you open that every time he said <i love you> his eyes wandered everywhere but onto yours, how all his touches seemed absent, how all his compliments were truly about some other face, some other smile, some other kind soul.

the worst part was, how could you blame him? how can anyone, ever, blame someone for being in love, of all things? love was something beautiful, and once you’ve experienced it, you’re drowned in it forever, and don’t even want to see the surface again.

love is beautiful. when you’re the one who’s receiving it. love was beautiful, to you, too, when you loved how his wisdom flew through his words, how his kindness hugged your spirit, how his aura brought you comfort. you loved his eyes, you loved his cheeks, his lips, every single detail of his skin.

the love you felt made you complete, made you warm, until you finally realize the thing you should’ve seen much sooner.

that you were merely a mirror for him to look at someone else, someone long gone.

suddenly all the warmth you felt was directed back at you, burning you inside, making you wish you never felt it in the first place.

“aren’t you gonna say something?” you whispered.

his long fingers found their way to your hand, but you snatched it away.

if you fell onto his charms now, you wouldn’t be able to get out once more.

his breath hitched as he gathered himself to speak

“i want nothing more than to love you” he said, although quietly, it rang through your ears like the loudest of screams.

you scoffed.

“we both would’ve wanted that, then”

“and i’m sure i can, if you just—“

now, laughter was all that you were capable of letting out.

“zhongli, you can’t train yourself to love someone. and even if you could, then how do you think that would make me feel? like i’m so unlovable you had to force yourself through it to grow accustomed to a feeling similar to love?”

“that’s not what i—“

“that’s what it means! let it go, please, please just… let me go” you sighed, standing up from the bench over at liyue harbor that you were sitting on. the sun has begun to set on the other side of the sea, and you couldn’t help but notice, it would’ve been the perfect date.

“i do sincerely hope you’ll find someone who’ll love you just the same” he finally stated, as he gave up on trying to make you stay.

“why?” you chuckled “so i could make them suffer the same way you made me?”

tartaglia

(archons give me strength)

you found nothing but guilt, looking into the endless ocean trapped in his eyes. for the first time in forever, they glistened, but not with a spark of joy, like you always hoped they would, they shone a sickly shine, caused by a thin layer of tears, that didn’t dear to spill over his porcelain cheeks, almost as if afraid of making contact with the ruthless face of the number eleven of the fatui harbingers.

he could’ve easily been crying if only he let himself go. he would’ve been in tears, sniffing and coughing, but he just… wasn’t. he held those tears in the gates of his eyes, as if his life depended on it.

the guilt you found inside them, wasn’t his, but yours. you felt guilty, watching this composed, confident man fall into pieces right before you, crumbling before your sight. why were you doing this? you seemed to forget all those terrible things you’ve heard just from the way his irises begged for forgiveness and brows furrowed in inexplicable sadness.

but you couldn’t, no, this time you couldn’t.

“my word” you swore on dear life you’d burst into tears if your voice shook right now “my word is final. we’re over. and that’s… that’s it. you need to understand that there won’t be another chance.”

the moment his lips parted, you knew you were lost.

“i have told you so many times already, but i will say this as much as i need to, it will never happen again! i swear, on everything i love and everything that i am, i swear on life itself, i won’t ever let that happen again! you know i won’t! come on, i promise you, if there’s anything you can say about me is i do keep my promises, don’t i? darling, please…”

“promise yourself to heal and become better, first” you stated coldly, watching faith disappearing slowly from his fixed look.

“im sorry, you know i am, im sorry, im sorry, im so fucking sorry!” a scream left his throat as desperation took over both reason and self-respect.

“sorry isn’t gonna cut it”

“then what will? i’ll do anything, anything in the world, anything to prove myself to you. i get that you can’t love me, i understand that, but please, let me win your trust again.”

he said unnaturally calmly, compared to what he did before, and you got concerned immediately.

i understand that you can’t love me, his words rang through your head. oh god, what were you doing? guilt stroke again, right at where you felt your heart to be.

right when you wanted to turn around and leave, he must’ve sensed that, and pulled you into a tight embrace. not suffocating, as they often describe it, not toxic and desperate, but… as loving as every other hug you’ve ever received from him. as calming and grounding, even though you could feel his heart racing. he didn’t refuse for you to leave, he didn’t trap you.

you understood after a while,

he was saying goodbye. all the love trapped inside his heart seeped out onto you, all his feelings surrounding and engulfing you.

“let me promise you this” he whispered, voice shaking painfully “the next time i’ll see you, i’ll be a better man. someone you will be able to be proud of, someone worthy of both your trust, and love. i won’t stop until i’ll be enough for you to look at me without the disgust and fear you have now. i promise. i’ll be better.”

“until then, then.” was the only thing you were capable of saying before leaving.

as soon as the door shut behind you, you rested against a wall and covered your mouth with a hand, unable to hold your tears any longer.

you heard a cry through the door. so he does have some feelings left, after all

your daily reminder that requests are open [here]

#genshin angst #genshin impact #diluc angst #zhongli angst #childe angst #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral reader

[ddarker-dreams]

Epiphany. Yan Albedo x Reader

Warnings: General yandere themes, implied unhappy previous relationship, and spoilers for Albedo’s story. Word count: 2k.

It wasn’t fair. 

A snowstorm, unlike anything you’ve ever seen rages outside, shards of lustrous ice falling from the sky with the intent to kill. The Dragonspine’s traditionally somber ambiance contorts into something far more sinister. Numerous hues of grays and dark blues blur together, obscuring your view of the mountainous region. It’s difficult to see anything outside Albedo’s workshop save for the storm. 

“Your shaking won’t stop unless you sit by the fire.” 

His matter-of-fact declaration startles you. Albedo hadn’t spoken in some time, his attention devoted to a specimen he had discovered prior to the storm. You would’ve shared in his enthusiasm if not for the overall situation and company. Sighing reluctantly, you stand from your spot, hugging yourself to stave off the biting cold. It’s impossible to settle on which is worse: staring at the blizzard or staring at him. 

Albedo’s fair skin glows from the light of the crackling fire, sandy blonde hair tousled around his face without care. As he studies the new specimen, his lips purse, eyes focusing on nothing but the work before him, like nothing else mattered. This is how you’ve always known him to be. Even if the world was falling apart around him, Albedo would never falter from what catches his interest until he felt sated. 

Sensing how you’re fixating on him, his attention flickers briefly to you, an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. You’re the one to avert your gaze first. Sucrose is going to owe you majorly for this one, why did you even accept her request in the first place? Thinking about it now and cursing your past self does nothing yet you still occupy the time by doing just that. She had come to you panicked, pleading that you take this letter to Albedo in the Dragonspine, claiming it’s urgent. In the heat of the moment, your judgment lapsed and you caved. She spoke of needing to continue her research in Mondstadt or else she would’ve done it herself.

Look where your goodwill has gotten you now, you think. She owes me a week’s worth of dinner. 

You lament giving credence to his advice, but your stubbornness concedes, the cold too miserable to withstand any longer. The fire is right by his side to add insult to injury. Did he do that on purpose to spite you? It’s unlikely, yet your mind wanders to the worst-case scenario. If any other citizen of Mondstadt were privy to your suspicious thoughts, they’d think you unreasonable, as Albedo has established his reputation well. He’s a known eccentric, sure, but a genius one. A few quirks on his behalf that anyone else could overlook. 

Quirks that you used to overlook yourself.

“Would you please grab my bag,” he doesn’t look away from his prized sample but motions to the general area it’s in. “I need to write down my observations.” 

You follow through with what he asks. There was a time you’d have been over the moon to participate in his process, you used to practically trip over yourself to do anything he needed. That enthusiasm has long died off and been replaced by apathy. It’s when he reaches out to take the bag from you that you snap from your trance-like reverie. Whatever remnants of obedience that lingered in your subconscious are brushed away, as you decide to finally challenge him.

Inhaling sharply, you hold the bag just out of his reach, finally earning his recognition for more than a millisecond. 

“I’m not your assistant anymore.” Among other things, you think. 

The words come out more childish than you intended. What you had meant to communicate was your new, critical view on him — he’s a person just the same as anyone else — who held no authority over you. You hold your breath awaiting his response. Albedo doesn’t have an intimidating presence, not in the traditional sense. It’s his mind that you’re wary of. There’s no guessing what sentiments run through his head, yet that’s never stopped you from trying to unravel the mystery that is his thought process.

He gives you a long, hard stare. “I’m aware of that.” 

Where were you going with this again? Albedo doesn’t need to point out your needlessly spiteful behavior with words, his mildly irate facial expression says it just fine. His thin eyebrows threaten to furrow together and the corners of his lips curl down into a frown. You’re unsure of what bothers him more. What you pointed out, or that his work is being interrupted for even the slightest moment. 

The budding confidence you had is all but crushed beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze. Clearing your throat, you decide to take a new approach, straightening your posture in an attempt to be taken more seriously.

“Then tell me, why do you still act like I am?” Your question comes from a genuine place of confusion. Ever since your arrival, you’ve begrudgingly done the odds and ends he’s asked of you, almost like clockwork. You had fallen back into the rhythm that was your life up until a month ago. There was just something about the silent authority he carries that makes it impossible to say no. 

That is, until now. You’re determined to clear up the problems that have plagued your mind. Albedo’s had his time to be nonchalant like nothing happened between you two, but you’re not having it anymore. 

“Force of habit,” he nods his head towards your hand that holds his possessions captive. “Now, would you please…?” 

Your grip tightens and you shake your head defiantly. “No. Or at least, not until you give me a better explanation. Not just about that. How you act in general… none of it makes sense to me.” 

It wouldn’t take much effort from his half to wrangle his bag from you, you’ve seen him in action before after all, so it comes as a surprise when he instead gives in. You blink, gaping when he takes a seat by the roaring fire, and motions for you to do the same. An opportunity like this is hard to come by. The past few weeks, it’s been your code of conduct to avoid any interaction with Albedo, but your frustration can no longer be repressed. 

You take a seat by his side but intentionally leave some distance. 

There’s so much you want to say. Insults, questions, demands, anything. Anything that could give just a hint of closure that he refused to offer himself. It doesn’t help that this familiar area brings memories with it — good and bad alike — painful nostalgia eating away at your heart from the inside out. While you battle with your inner thoughts, he observes you in silence. For a time you hear nothing but the crackling of the fire and wind howling outside.

Finding the courage to speak up, your throat tightens as you force a question out. “Did I… mean so little to you?” 

It’s rare that Albedo ever looks taken aback, but your inquiry managed to do just that. His eyes widen ever so slightly, confusion etching onto his face before he manages to compose himself. Lots of intimate discussions had gone this way. You’d spend hours prepping yourself, meticulously going over what it was you wanted to say, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw him. 

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He appears genuinely perplexed and you can’t help but feel silly. It may have served you better to think long about this, you realize, but now it’s too late. You rush to explain yourself in hopes of making better sense. 

“When I said I wanted to, er, part ways,” you can’t help but cringe at not knowing the proper label for ending whatever was going on between you two, “You just seemed, I don’t know, indifferent…?” 

In your head, this went down in such a different way. 

Your cheeks are set ablaze by the humiliation his silence brings. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this exact way when bringing up your feelings to Albedo, yet it’s just as awful. Archons, does he always have to look at you like you have three heads? 

When he finally gives you an answer, you wish you had never asked. 

“I knew you would come back to me eventually.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him an incredulous look. He says it without an ounce of hesitation, never once breaking eye contact, his resolve holding firm. Sensing a need to clarify, he attempts to do just that. 

“I considered a variety of variables,” he raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over your face, the unexpected tenderness making you shiver. “I know how your mind works very well. When you told me that’s what you wanted, your physical mannerisms didn’t line up with what you were saying.”

Your heart drops but he doesn’t stop there. 

“Biological responses never lie. It wasn’t anxiety that kept you from looking me in the eye then, it was reasonable doubt. You know it as well as I do. There’s something about me that you can’t place, and the natural human response to the unknown is caution.”

He stops caressing your cheek. “So, tell me [First], and maybe then you’ll reach the conclusion you’ve been searching for. Why are you afraid of me?”

Everything feels wrong. How he’s whispering such horrifying ideas into your mind, leading the conversation with expertise. Is it charisma? You don’t think that’s the proper word. No, it’s how damn certain he is, how he never once leaves room for argument. 

Albedo appraises your silence coldly. 

“See? You’re not sure yourself. Thus why I knew you’d return to me,” he retracts his hand and leans back, but the ghost of his touch leaves your face tingling. “When you don’t understand something, you study it. That’s who you are. It’s why I picked you to be my assistant, that quality of exhausting curiosity, much like the one I have myself.”

He’s hypnotizing you with his words, his even tone, his silent authority. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame and trapped in a verbal standoff. Whether it was a result of your Vision flickering subconsciously resulting in the fire diminishing or some other cause, you realize what little warmth in the cave is disappearing, your breath materializing in front of you as a result. 

But it’s only yours. 

That’s when it clicks deep inside the recesses of your mind. Apart of what always bothered you about Albedo was this sense of uncanniness. Whenever you thought you were understanding him better, new mysteries would arise, leaving you worse off than when you started. This combined with his workload and the emotional distance you felt between the two of you is what led to your separation. 

Albedo’s face is but a few inches away from yours. He’s patiently awaiting a response or anything you could muster to challenge him with, though both of you are aware that no such thing exists. 

You manage to surprise him again by asking another question. “Why… why are you not breathing?”

And how could you never have noticed until now?

His long eyelashes flutter shut. “Relationships truly are troublesome. There are unspoken rules and expectations, both of which take effort to satisfy. I hadn’t mind trying to do so to keep you happy, but that approach didn’t work as intended.” 

Had it not been for the hammering of your heart and how lighthearted you feel, you’d challenge him on his definition of trying. Instead, you watch without so much as moving an inch, too in awe to utter a single word. 

“You always asked me to be more romantic, but I guess the phrase you take my breath away won’t suffice here,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you, but once you know… well, I don’t think I can ever let you leave my side.”

“I hope you won’t mind keeping me company a bit longer than you intended to.” 

#albedo #albedo x reader #yandere albedo x reader #genshin impact #albedo genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag 

#six of crows #six of crows x reader #soc #soc imagine #six of crows imagine #six of crows x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x you #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #imagines #kaz brekker imagine #my works #blurb #x reader #grishaverse #grisha x reader #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, infidelity, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is full of angst and built up tension,

part: 3/6

(other parts)   (masterlist)

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing. Some days it makes him feel like he is only a porcelain face on screen. Nothing more than photographs and rumors. He had once told an interviewer he was scared people would never know the real Sebastian. What he meant was that he was worried he’d wake up one day and the real him would be vanished.

The world would have eaten him alive.

Walking you home, in empty streets in a small country makes it all easier. His mind is clear of dazzling thoughts and his heart is not racing up. He can smile and no one will be there to take a picture of him.

Somehow that makes him smile more.

And when he does, it feels like Christmas. And you are certain there will come a day where you’ll be so close to oblivion and unable to remember what mint tastes like or what your favorite color is, but you’ll still have the turned up corners of his mouth painted in your head.

He stops walking. You look at him confused. He’s fidgeting with his fingers.

“Back at the party,” he takes a long breath as if trying to slow down his heartbeat, “You were talking with that tall guy.”

He sounds terrified. You don’t understand why. He thinks it’s better that way.

“Yeah I was.” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice.

“Do you know him well?” You realize you have stopped in front of a pharmacy, the halogen light above you, turning your skin a sick green color.

“I know he’s an actor.” You take a step, finding the courage to walk away from him. “He’s kinda famous here.”

You can hear him move close behind you.

“Do you want me to ask Argyris if he’s single?”

There’s mockery in his voice. It makes you feel intoxicated. It’s your turn to stop walking. Your gaze falls on his face and Sebastian can feel his eyes sting but he keeps them open; wide and pale blue.

Almost green, under this light.

“No.”

“Oh don’t be sh-“

“No, I mean it. I would never date a famous guy.”

“Why?” A hasted breath escapes his trembling lips. And for a moment you think of kissing him right there; in the middle of the street, but you never do.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

That’s what you want to yell back at him, but then you remember;

The evening Sebastian fell asleep in your couch, he was more than a famous guy. He was clutching on your pillow like a kid and he was humming to himself like your father used to.

And he smiled as he fell asleep.

There is no argument left in you. He’s just a boy.

“I’m scared.” Your words slowly suffocate him. He feels the weight of your heart pulling him down.

He nods.

/

The next two days pass in a blur. You can hear him laugh with people as they walk up the stairs to Argyris’ flat. You’re not used to him not stopping at your door. It makes your cheeks red and your eyes filled with salty tears.

You haven’t realized until now, but you’ve become dependent on his presence.

So when you open your eyes at 4am with your phone buzzing with an Instagram message, you bite your cheeks.

Are you awake?

You stare at the screen to make sure you read it all correct, until it turns black and then lights up once again.

Why are you scared?

You don’t have to be scared with me.

I’m trying. You want to answer. Help me. You want to answer. Please.

You put your phone away until the words turn blurry.

/

He’s back at your door the following night. He’s wearing a white tank top and his rings. He must have just finished shooting.

You keep staring at each other, both tongue-tied with the words you’ll never say. He looks worried and desperate. You look tired and desperate. Taylor Swift is playing in the background.

“No more AC/DC?” He laughs and your eyes smile.

“Do you want to talk?” He asks.

You shake your head like you’re at war with yourself.

“Do you want to just stay here?” Your voice is too silent but it’s almost deafening him.

Sebastian thinks that he wants tons of things. He wants to hold you. And he wants to touch you. Everywhere. And he wants to know why there’s sorrow surrounding you. And he wants to take it all away.

And he wants you.

But he knows that he can’t tell you that. These words are too heavy for you to carry on your shoulders. At least for now.

“I’ll stay.” He says with a breath.

You give him an almost smile and all you can feel is gratitude.

/

You lay in your bed together. You’ve slept with other guys in that bed before. And it’s been nude and sloppy and brutal. But this is different. This is intimacy in its purest form. You’re both fully clothed but you both feel naked. And so close. So close.

All Sebastian can hear is the sound of your breathing and every bone inside him is breaking. He is afraid he’s turning paralyzed.

And then you move your body and bring your forehead next to his. Sebastian inhales deeply. You smell of faded vanilla body cream.

You look at him and you know then you can get used to that. You bury your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You want him to come closer. He knows.

“I’ll stay love,” his voice is steady and sincere “Anytime.”

He calls you love because there’s nothing else to call you. He calls you love because you both need him too.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Sebastian thinks you’re always too sensible. It’s something you keep between the hollows of your body. “But it’s okay.”

His hand is in your hair. It soothes you.

“What happened? What broke you?” he whispers.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how everything started. It's hard to remember but there is one image in the back of your eyes that crawls through your skin and makes you shiver. You try to ignore it.

“I don’t know.” He turns his gaze at you but you look at the cold ceiling. It’s so much easier this way.

He doesn’t answer. He just draws circles in the back of your palm and places his lips against the scalp of your head. And while you’ve never been much of a science person, you’re certain this is how a nuclear attack emerges.

/

When the sun rises and you wake up, he’s not there. Earth moves slowly as the cold sheets press against your skin.

It’s early, there is a soft breeze coming in from your open window. A man is bickering with this wife across the street.

You can hear her call him a liar.

I’ll stay love.

You can hear him yell his apologies.

Anytime.

Why do people lie? Why do we lie?

You don’t try to search for him. You take a shower and drink some chocolate milk. You pay attention to the silence in the room. You almost forget your heart is still beating.

/

You bump into Argyris’ girlfriend while taking out the garbage. You like her a lot. She’s strong and pretty and smart. You wonder sometimes, how exactly that feels.

You pray she doesn’t mention him. It doesn’t work.

“He must be flying right now.” Suddenly you feel as if there is something rotten inside your chest. It makes you want to graze your skin and throw away everything that's inside.

You look at her slightly confused.

“He’s flying to Toronto; he has to attend a festival there.” She smiles. You’ve noticed she always smiles.

You just nod and step out of the building. Her voice stops you.

“He’s coming back in some days.”

“I don’t care.” Now she laughs.

“There’s no need to lie.” You take a sharp breath. “He cares too.”

You want to believe her words but they seem like choke chains.

You throw your garbage away.

You keep your rotten chest.

/

Sebastian sits back at his seat and orders a hundred and one drinks. The airplane is chasing the sun. He’s chasing his thoughts. Neither will ever catch up.

He used to like travelling. Airports, suitcases and foreign hotel rooms made him feel free. Now they make him feel the opposite.

The material on his seat is rugged. He wants to go back to your soft sheets. He can’t.

And then he imagines a place and a time where he could just kiss you without any possible consequences. He imagines a place where you could rest your bodies together for a long time without worries weighing you down. He imagines a place where he gets what he wants. A place where that thing between you two is more than enough.

The sun blinds him. He closes the small window and then his eyes.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing.

Some days he can’t take it.

/

You’re sitting on the floor and it’s almost 9 in the morning. You’ve calculated the time difference and it’s 2 in the morning where he is. That sounds wrong. Almost scary.

He left three days ago but he’s everywhere. There are photos of him wearing stupid floral shirts and posing in a sophisticated way. And there’s Nicole Kidman next to him.

God. I’ve become infatuated with a man who plays in movies with Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr.

That’s what you think and you know you’re doomed.

You expect him to send you a message or a picture at first, but he doesn’t. You wonder if your time together was only a blurry puzzle of disconnected memories that somehow fits in his past.

He’ll simply forget all of it.

You try not to think about him but then you meet Argyris in the lobby and you have to bite the inside of your mouth so his name doesn’t jump out from your lips.

You go to bed early that day. You hold onto your pillow and you count the hours that separate you.

(13 hours with a plane)

(25 days with a boat)

You count and you fall asleep.

And you fall in love.

/

It’s not uncommon to rain in Toronto. But today rain feels heavier on Sebastian’s skin. He remembers the day he met you; it was hot and the sun made the window glass look like it was about to melt. That memory is the cause of his shivering.

Once upon a time he was in love. He was in love with a girl who had ethereal written all over her body. He was in love with a girl who was destined for divinity.

But those were the old days; they are dead and gone now. Your skin glistening under the Athenian sun changed it all.

It’s not easy to feel this way. The sky understands so it opens up and pours down on his dark hair. He presses his eyes closed with his fingers. And he tries to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t think about you that often.

He can’t.

Not even when he has a deity as his girlfriend.

/

The next time you see him, his hair is a little longer and much messier than you remember. And you have to devour all the sense that’s left inside you as not to touch it with your bare hand.

He has a cigarette in his fingers and a dark jacket thrown around his shoulders and everyone’s asking him about the festival. You just sit on the corner of your neighbor’s flat and listen to laughter and glasses clicking against each other. And you smile.

Smile; because he’s here.

And then he notices you and you’re pretty sure his eyes linger on your face a little longer than it's normal for humans. And his gaze is so brilliantly blank and loony that you don’t know how to respond. And then he starts to cough. And he never looks at you for the rest of the night.

You want to believe it’s better this way.

But it makes you so angry; you want to clench your teeth hard.

/

It goes like this; you don’t exchange any words for the next two days and it feels like your lips will start to bleed.

And you don’t know but his head feels like battlefield.

“When do you know you can’t stop it?” He asks Argyris. He feels ashamed.

“When you don’t want to stop it.”

He grabs the beer can and drinks his confusion away. He hopes alcohol will send his thoughts to sleep but instead it sends him to your door.

He rests his head against the wooden material. He can hear water running down and he can hear you humming a song.

And the foreign words make no sense to him but somehow they sound like lyrical poetry.

He waits for the water to stop and then he knocks.

/

Your hair is wet and sticks to your blue shirt. Your eyes grow wide when you see him standing there.

“I thought you’d never come at my door again.”

He looks at the floor.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sounds defeated; defeated by his own self. And you can smell the flammable liquid on his breath. And you can see that he has his nails pressed against his palm. You take his hand in yours and he closes his eyes. You caress the little cuts with your fingers. There are no scars but the skin is still red and painted with fear. You understand and it makes you feel dirty and obscene.

You look thoughtful for a moment and then you decide you can’t go on like this. It will split your souls.

“How’s Canada?” His eyes fill with surprise and he laughs. It gives you pride.

“Never been?”

He takes a step inside your place and his eyes fall on the empty bottle of pills at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

You love him for that.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Your cheeks are flushed with a soft raspberry color.

Sebastian realizes then that he wants to show you the entire world. Every corner of it. He wants to hold your hand as you walk beneath the Corsican stars. And he wants to memorize the Northern lights with you by his side. And he wants to see you laugh as he falls off his surf board in New Zealand. And he wants every cliché thing there is to do.

His heart stretches at the thought of it.

“Canada is beautiful in its own way.” He looks out of your window.

You wonder if he’s trying to find some more constellations in the sky, but then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’ve been there a lot of times.”

Of course you have, you think.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ears. It’s still damp and cold.

“Have you been to a lot of places?” He smiles and nods.

And then you can sense it; the sharp feeling of heartbreak crawling under your skin. You try to ignore it.

“I used to be grateful I travel all the time.”

You place your hand on his chest. The beating makes you calm.

“You’re not grateful anymore?”

He rubs his palm over his face.

“I am,” he inhales “But sometimes I just want to stay where I am.”

Yeah, I know.

He leaves an hour later, still drunk.

Still in love.

/

On Sunday, he takes you out for dinner. You tell him you don’t like dates. He promises it’s not a date.

You know you’re both lying.

He orders some red wine and he drinks as he watches you eat. It all feels natural to him. Somewhere at the back of his head though, there’s still some rationality left, that makes him think, this can’t be wrong, when it feels so natural.

He doesn’t drink any more.

/

You’re playing with the maraschino cherry on your dessert when his phone rings and your world comes crashing down.

You don’t intend to but you see the caller ID.

Love.

He had called you love one night.

He feels too guilty to look at you so he grabs the device and gets out of the place.

You want to throw the ice cream on the floor.

And then you want to hit the wall; with your head. But you can’t. So you just bite down at the cherry and wait for him to come back.

And when he does, things are different.

He doesn’t to try to make jokes and you don’t laugh. His eyes are everywhere but on you and your hand stays away from his.

You tell him you’re done with dessert so you can leave.

He has never felt more relieved.

/

Your pace is fast, but he catches up. You can’t outrun him.

His breath quickens as he comes closer. It’s almost innocent and childlike, the look he gives you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and it makes you laugh. You laugh and you shake your head and it’s not enough.

“Why?” He can taste the bitterness all over you. “This wasn’t date. So why are you sorry?”

You keep walking and his breath keeps echoing in your ears. You find the entrance of your building.

You’ve seen the place a hundred times but only now you notice how old it looks. It makes you disgusted. It makes you want to vomit.

It starts with him saying he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

And then you rest your body at the soiled wall, trying to remind yourself you’ve had your heart broken before. And your eyes are not dry anymore. And you can taste salt in your lips. And he comes closer and he holds you.

You swear you see tears in his cheeks too, but he’s too fast to wipe them away.

“Have you ever done anything only to regret it a second later?”

You’re not certain which one of you asks but you can hear your bones breaking as you throw your head around and he arches his back.

His hands touch the dried tears on your face and it stings like sewing needles. And his lips touch yours. And for a brief moment you feel like you’re stealing from life.

And he can taste all of you; raw.

And it feels like fists that punch him.

And when you pull away you both have already regretted everything.

“Now you have something to be sorry for.”

You wonder if perhaps a broken dignity is better than a broken heart.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash​ @drinkfantasy

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes #monday the movie #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #letyoudown

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek day 8! (which I definitely realized was happening and for sure did not forget lmao). The prompt was free day/au, so I picked my own theme of “pets”. The last few fics have been pretty loaded, so please enjoy some pure post canon (literal and figurative) fluff

~*~

“I can’t believe I married a dog person.”

They weren’t even supposed to be in the shelter. They had made no plans to visit a shelter. However, as Jon has been learning over the course of the past couple years, a Martin not under duress and given free time outside will inevitably end up trying to befriend any living nonhuman creature in the immediate vicinity.

“I’m not a dog person.”

“The lapful of beagle puppy would indicate otherwise.”

“Just because I appreciate the company of a very good boy, yes you are, doesn’t mean I’m a dog person. Dog person implies I have a preference. I like cats equally as much as I like dogs. Unlike some of us, my heart is open to all manner of furry friends.”

“I don’t...hate dogs.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you won’t pet Rufio here?”

“He’s nippy, I don’t trust him. And it’s just that dogs are A Lot. I find most of them a bit overwhelming. And needy.”

“Pff, that’s no excuse. You’ve been best friends with overwhelming, and you married needy.”

Martin lets out a distracted giggle as Rufio finally gets in a lick on his face. Okay, maybe it is a pretty adorable sight, but that’s hardly sufficient enough evidence to actually let such an energetic ball of fluff into their home. Still, it’s enough to convince Jon to sit down next to them, and give Rufio a very tentative scritch behind the ears. “I think we both qualify as the needy one in our relationship.”

“Pretty sure that’s called codependency. What would our therapist say?”

“She’d probably say that’s a bit harsh. And that we still need to work on our separation anxiety.”

“Hey, you know what helps with separation anxiety?”

“No.”

“A dog!”

“No!”

They get a dog. Their flat is decently sized and they both have steady incomes and enough free time between them to take proper care of her. They don’t get Rufio, but instead a 7 year old mutt named Daffodil who is, admittedly, the most gentle and sweet creature Jon’s ever met. They also get a cat, a rambunctious 2 year old tabby named Jack (“We can change the name.” “Jon! How dare you! Jack responds to his name, clearly he likes it!”) who had already decided Daffodil was his mom, and they couldn’t possibly bear not adopting them together.

~*~

“You know, we could get a tarantula.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious! They’re not, like, evil in this universe, and some of them have cutest little pink toesie woesies.”

“You’re not serious, you’re being a bastard, and I hate you.”

Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s waist and presses a kiss to the side of his face, which Jon gives a half-hearted swat at, because, again, the man’s being a bastard. Stubbornly ignoring Jon’s pout, Martin presses his cheek to the top of Jon’s head, cheerfully replying, “I’m fine with that, as long as you promise to hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“Well, I certainly can’t make that promise. I won’t even hate you ten seconds from now. I suppose you’ll have to settle for love instead.”

“Hmm. Deal.”

“We’re still not getting a fucking tarantula.”

They do not get a tarantula. Their home remains admirably spider free.

~*~

Martin’s gasp is loud enough to echo, and Jon can feel him begin to vibrate next to him. The excitement is perplexing at first, they’ve been to this bookstore dozens of times, and it’s never elicited this sort of response. Then Jon looks over to the front counter, where a medium-sized cage and a “For adoption” sign have been put on display. With a wild, jubilant glee, Martin asks, “Sonja! Are those baby. Dumbo. Rats?!”

“Sure are! I’ve got a friend who’s a breeder, I take it you’re interested?”

“Yes, absolutely, 100%, we’re getting two immediately.”

“Well…”

Martin snaps his head over to look at Jon with a look of betrayal the likes of which Jon hasn’t seen since the panopticon. “Jonathan, no!”

“Um.”

“You can not tell me you you don’t like rats! Dumbo rats especially!”

“I…”

Ticking off on his fingers, Martin lists, “They’re adorable, they’re smart, they’re cleanly, they’re extremely empathetic, they’re tickilish, which is stupidly cute, they can be trained to use a litter box and do tricks, they’re snuggly and playful and perfect! They’re all the good parts of dogs combined with the best parts of cats in one tiny portable package! Look at their little ears, that are like that because of a slight difference in skull shape that has no negative health effects! Plus, we can set them up in the project room, since Captain Jack isn’t allowed in there anyway. How can you dislike rats?”

“I don’t know! They just sort of..freak me out. Or not all of them, just their feet. I don’t like their little man hands.”

Martin throws his arms in the air, proclaiming, “Their little man hands are one of their best qualities! Look, Jon, are you genuinely afraid of them, or just slightly discomfited?”

“I would say mediumly discomfited. This isn’t like spiders.”

“Cool. ‘Cause in that case, we’re getting the light tan one and the solid white one, their names shall be Peaches and Cream, and you will love them as much as you love our dog and cat children.”

“That’s a rather bold claim.”

“It’s an accurate one. You’ll see.”

Within a week, Jon is transporting Peaches ‘n’ Cream in the pocket of his hoodie, and he can feel Martin’s smug aura from two rooms away. Damn him.

~*~

“Did you know snakes don’t have an amygdala?”

“Okay? You didn’t have to bring me to a reptile store to tell me that.”

“I didn’t bring you to a reptile store to tell you that. I brought you to a reptile store because I want to hold a cornsnake.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but the fondness in his voice somewhat undercuts it. “Of course you do.”

Martin makes a scaly acquaintance in less than two minutes, and as the snake coils around his fingers, he continues, “Anyway, if they don’t have amygladas, do they feel fear in a way similar to us, or is it only a recognition of threats and instinctual response?”

“Martin, my love, I have no idea. Is this going somewhere? It’s fine if not, I’m just checking in.”

“Yes. Because if they don’t feel fear, I’m getting this snake and naming her Georgie.”

That makes Jon let out a sharp bark of laugh, and, for a moment, he’s able to reminisce without any pain. “You know, I think she’d actually love that? She also had a proclivity for all creatures great and small. And a terrible sense of humor.”

“Wow, you really have a type, huh. Also hey! My sense of humor is fantastic! It always makes my husband laugh, and he has very exacting standards.”

“Liar. Your husband finds joy with you at the slightest provocation, no good sense of humor needed.”

“Hmm. He is a bit of a softie, isn’t he? Which is why he’ll let me get this snake.”

“He most certainly will not.”

“But….look at her….”

“It’s not a matter of how cute she is, dear. It’s a matter of you made us get pet rats less than a month ago, there’s absolutely no way you’re going to be able to feed mice to a snake.”

Martin looks at the cornsnake, looks at Jon, looks back, and his shoulders slump. With a wince, he asks, “Maybe frozen mice won’t be too bad?”

“What if she’s picky?”

“...There are species of snake that only eat bugs.”

“Cornsnakes aren’t one of them.”

Waving over an assistant, Martin puts the cornsnake back with a defeated, “Fine. When you’re right, you’re right.”

Jon doesn’t particularly feel like he’s won an argument. In fact, he’s a bit disappointed himself, he always liked snakes. Big fan of reptiles in general, actually, which is probably what drives him to say, “Lizards don’t usually eat mice.”

That’s how they walk out of the store with three leopard geckos.

~*~

Jon’s helping Martin set up the gecko tank in what can now be affectionately called a zoo when all of the sudden it strikes him. Some of the animals in their home right now have life spans of 10-20 years, and never once had the necessary longevity of care come up as a reason to protest against them. Jon had felt so at ease with the concept of a future that he hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t been steeling himself for the other shoe to drop. He’s stopped having bated breath every time something good happens, instead taking reassurance in a sense of permanence that he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel again. Martin must hear his breath hitch, because he immediately stops what he’s doing to take Jon’s hand into his own. “Something wrong, love?”

Jon shakes his head. “No, nothing. I suppose I’m realizing that we have time, don’t we?”

Martin must know exactly what he means, the weight behind the words, because he brings Jon’s hand to his lips and says, “Yes. Yes, we really, really do.”

#jonmartinweek2021 #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #tma #post canon #THIS IS JUST ME PROJECTING ON MARTIN FOR 1500 WORDS LMAO #also to anyone that spots the song lyric: :3 #also also the leopard geckos names are kirk spock and bones #or as jon calls them #captain first officer and CMO

[luimagines]

I’m wondering how the boys would deal with you getting sick/wounded?

Masterlist

A lot of protectiveness that's for sure! Mixed in with some self doubt and anxiety! But lots of care and gentleness just for you!

Since there isn't a specification, I'll try to write platonically but I'm still on a crush roll so if feels come out or are implied, then I'll take full blame and pass it on to the previous prompt.

I’m gonna try something with this prompt and only write three guys per part. The other parts will be out shortly with the others but I don’t want to only post like once every other week even if I’m trying to write everyday because they’re so many of them. I do want to write them all! But it does take awhile.

SO! If I like this system I’ll keep it but it’s a trial run.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, PART 1

Scenario under the cut!

Sky

Sky was running through the forest, slashing down all the monsters that were within his reach.

You, Wild and Twilight on top of Epona ran past him, chasing the black lizalfos that caused this whole mess. He stayed back, knowing that speed wasn't his strong suit. Between all the skeletons, lizards and all the keese that started showing up in the mean time, he was sure that he was more needed here to keep the monsters from reaching you.

He kept his focus on the fight and moved with practiced motions.

Monster began falling under his blade, left and right, front and back. He was no longer paying attention to where his teammates are. Just the motion and and the thrill of the fight to guide him, all other senses forgotten, he missed your cry.

He didn't know you turned back.

He didn't know you came to fight next to him.

He didn't see the monster coming up behind him-

"SKY!" He was suddenly pushed to the side, the ground coming up to meet him with dirt shooting all over his face.

He hears you cry again but in pain, and once again when he hears you hit the ground.

Sky gets to his feet as fast as he can and spins around.

There you are, on the ground, hand clenched around a growing red blotch on your other arm. You're glaring up at the skeleton that came from behind. Your sword is on the opposite side to you, but it doesn't matter much if your dominant arm is out of commission.

The skeleton shakes, as if in laughter even if no sounds comes forth from the monster. Sky sees that the skeleton no longer has its attention on him but on you. It raises its arm, sword raised and sharp and begin to bring it in your direction.

Sky grits his teeth and swings his sword.

Metal clangs against metal and Sky is surprised to see the amount of force that was behind the initial blow. It nearly sends him back to the ground but he merely slides a few inches backwards instead.

He chances a glance down at you and knows that you won't be able to fight beyond what already transpired.

The battle around him lessens somewhat, the sounds dimming until he only hears the blood pumping in his ears.

He's tired.

But Sky was never one to be a quitter. With one final push, he puts al of his weight into his next strike and knocks the skeleton away from their stalemate. While it's struggling to gain its balance, he slices upwards and cuts the entire thing in half.

He takes a step back and glances around the battlefield.

The others are making quick work of the monsters still standing. He trusts them to finish the job so he turns on his heel and kneels beside you.

"Let me see." Sky pulls your hand away from the wound. It goes down your bicep and across your elbow. He can't tell how deep it is, but it's long and bleeding.

"I'll be alright." You try to smile and get up. Sky doesn't let you. "Better me than you anyway."

"Not true." He glares at you. Sky is quick to take out his supplies and bandages and begin to work on your arm. He feels angry even after the monster has been dealt with. You shouldn't have gotten hit. You shouldn't have gotten hit on his account, he amends in his head. "It'll never be true."

"I've had worse." You shrug and hiss when he takes out his personal disinfectant and applies it to your wound. He's running low, but it's the best he can do since he's not the one carrying the healing potions and he can't do what Hyrule does, period.

He doesn't feel good about your answer and by the look on your face, he knows that you know it too.

"Why did you do that?" Sky asks after a moment of silence. He refuses to look at you head on. He knows he's still glaring and he doesn't want to aim it in your direction. He's too tired to try and hide it like he usually would with any other person. You'll just have to put up with it.

"You were gonna get hit." You reply, watching him work. "What was I supposed to do? Just let that happen?"

"You didn't have to take the hit for me. Yelling would have been fine. Let me know that it was there so I could deal with it." He growls.

"I tried." You stress and nearly pull your arm back when he puts a little more pressure on the cut than necessary. He keeps you close though so it's not like you succeed. "I yelled your name like three times. It's not like I wanted to push you face first into the dirt. If I let that thing hit you, you would have been given a way worse hit than this stupid cut on my arm."

Sky flexes his jaw and begins wrapping said stupid cut. He's inclined to believe you and he's sure that you're right. But....

He's allowed to not like it.

"Can you stand?" He asks, letting some of the anger fall from his face. Sky makes a quick evaluation over himself and realizes that he's relatively unharmed. A bit bruised, sure, but nothing worse than that. Certainly no blood drawn on his end.

You nod, grab your sword with your good hand and begin to get up. Out of habit, you instinctually put your wounded hand behind you to stabilize yourself and fall back down in pain.

Sky makes the executive decision to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the others.

"SKY!" You cry and thrash around. "My injury is on my arm! I can stand just fine!"

He takes one good look at you then and shrugs. "You couldn't even get up. I don't mind."

"It's not about if you mind or not!" You continue. "It's the principle of the thing!"

He doesn't reply. Sky just looks away with a smirk, under the guise of looking for the rest of the group.

You catch on and stutter out some kind of argument but he tunes it out.

He sees Wild and Twilight back, angry and lizardless.

It's fine, he thinks. Because you're all together again and getting closer to figuring this whole thing out while putting a stop to it.

You begin to beg to be let down, unless the others make some kind of comment about it. But Sky feels the little voice inside of him to let it happen anyway.

Pay back for taking his hit.

Better you than him, HA! Not if he has anything to say about it.

Wild

Wild was on a roll!

After a successful dungeon raid (he's getting better that those), a great meal enjoyed by the whole team and no lecture about ditching the group, he on a golden streak! Nothing can get him down!

He continues to have a large grin on his face even after everyone has eaten and begins to settle down for the night. Everyone seems to be in good spirits.... except for you.

After you ate, you tried to keep up with everyone's good fortune and attitude but something felt wrong, you said you didn't feel good so you called it a night early, seemingly forgetting that it was your turn to take first watch.

Wild doesn't think much of it at first and continues with his nightly routine.

It's really only when it's right before he plans on going to bed that he notices something. The others that are still awake are quick to notice it as well and each of them share concerned glances.

You began to curl into yourself as you slept. Nothing weird about that, right? Maybe you were just cold but then... You started to whimper and grunt, like you were scared and in pain. A cough here and then but it doesn't spark any idea of what might be bothering you.

Twilight is the first to get up and make his way toward you but you wake up first, shooting to your feet with a frightening speed and all but stumble and crawl away from the camp.

Wild stands at nearly the same speed and begins to make his way towards you as well.

You don't get very far until you start coughing even more. It's a deep and wet cough that leaves you gasping for air but it continues on.

Then you vomit.

Wild sprint towards you then and helps hold whatever hair he can get to back and away from your face. Twilight is right next to him suddenly and he's rubbing circles on your back while you cry and continue to retch.

A few minutes pass but they feel like an eternity to Wild. He looks over to Twilight and grimaces. "Was it something they ate?"

Because if it was then this is on him. And he doesn't like the thought of causing you any sort of discomfort. Let alone getting you sick.

Twilight only shrugs and helps you stand straighter when you're done throwing up everything that you had eaten the day prior.

You're crying, whimpering and hugging yourself but Wild doubts that you're really aware of what's happening.

He places a hand on your forehead and gasps in shock.

You are absolutely burning up.

"You're sick." His eyebrows furrow and he begins to hold you steady when Twilight leaves you to him.

"...I don't feel good." You reply, but you haven't looked at him. You're eyes are still half lidded and it leads him to believe that you're still somewhat asleep.

"Ok. We'll help you, ok?" He says as he begins to lead you back to your bed roll.

" 'm cold." You say as you move back to where you were sleeping before. "An' everythin' hurts."

"I know. We'll make it better, I promise."

Twilight appears out of nowhere with his wolf pelt and places it over you, helping Wild get you back into your spot and tucks you in.

"Guess we'll stay here tomorrow as well." Twilight mutters. "No use pushing them any further, not like this."

"How long-?" Wild begins to ask but he doesn't know if that's even a question that can be answered. He tries anyway. "How long have they been sick?"

"They were a little weird yesterday..." Twilight admits. "But I didn't think much about it."

"What? Why?" Wild turns to his friend, brother, mentor. "Why not call them out on it? If they're sick-"

"I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things. We're all a little weird from time to time. I can smell a lot but this is always a toss up." Twilight glares a little as he defends himself.

"What do we do then?"

"We do what we can." Time answers from beyond the fire pit. "Some of us can make a supply run to the nearby town we were going to stop at. Get something to help that fever and maybe some tea to help that cough. Being at the town would be the better solution, seeing as the outdoors are not exactly illness friendly but the terrain isn't worth hauling them over. It might even do more damage."

Twilight nods in agreement and stands. "I can take a few of the boys and make a supply run. Get some more things that we might being running low on."

"Got any ideas of who to take?"

"Warrior, Legend and Four. They know the best way around merchants and quality buys. I say they're our best bet for the good stuff."

"I'll pay." Wild pipes up, reaching just beyond your bed roll into his for his sheikah slate.

"Cub, that's not necessary-"

"I'm paying." He growls and takes out a good amount of yellow rupees. "They need medicine. Medicine that we don't have and we can't afford their fever to get any worse."

He all but shoves the cash into Twi's arms and leaves it at that.

Time and Twilight share a look but neither comment on the aggressiveness of it.

There's not a lot of words to be spoken after that. Time takes the first watch and Twilight goes to sleep with a call to wake him up if anything happens. To you or to the group, Wild doesn't know. Knowing Twilight, maybe he means both.

Wild has trouble sleeping and has trouble forcing himself to leave your side.

After much deliberation, a long study of your pained face even as you sleep, he gets up and fixes the fire.

Time simply watches and lets him mess around as he pleases, so long as he's quiet.

Wild doesn't pay attention to him and gets his slate out for the ingredients he's looking for.

He starts by making tea. Honey, lemon bark, ginger, all for the your cough but he hopes that it'll help your fever as well.

When the tea sits and begins to steep, he takes out more cooking supplies and begins to cook more meals for you. All light and mostly fluid. It's a lot of soup.

He can't bring himself to sleep when you might need someone by your side again.

They were lucky the first time that some of them were still awake.

The shifts changes out without his notice. Wild is too busy filling up the inventory that he has with meals that are intended to help you fight this infection.

Day light comes and those who missed it learn of the prior nights events, the plan and get ready to carry it out.

Wild makes a belated breakfast when he realizes that most of the group is awake.

They're all staring at him but he shakes it off.

His highest priority right now is helping you come out of this stronger than before.

He's your personal nurse for the day and until you get better.

The others don't try to fight him on this. They couldn’t even if they tried.

Legend

Legend takes a minute to pause from firing his magic rod. The magic in it leaves him feeling a little drained from the amount of shots he’s been taking but the monsters are thinning out, so he continues plowing forward.

He leaves a particularly nasty looking thing, from an era he doesn’t recognize, as a pile of sloppy purple gluck on the ground.

When he looks up, his heart stops in his throat.

You’re right in front of him, fighting one of the biggest moblins on the scene, alone.

You’re trying to keep yourself on your feet and do some damage to the beast in the process but the blood comes back black, staining your sword and ground around you.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

He makes a run for it and fires what he can at the monster’s back until he’s completely tapped out of his magic.

He switches for his sword and activates his Pegasus Boots, charging directly into the monster’s side, plunging the blade deep within the creature up to the hilt.

“Hey Legend. Fancy meeting you here.” You grit out and slash what you can at the beast.

“Sorry, I should have told you I’m known for being fashionably late.” He fires back and attempts to take back his weapon.

His sword gets stuck on something within the monster and he’s forced to leave it in. The moblin has since been made aware of arriving company and takes a swing that would have taken Legend’s head off. He’s quick to duck under it and he calls out to the others for back up. “THIS ONE’S INFECTED! A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!”

“What a concept.” You gasp, out of breath and losing steam. “Back up would have been great like five minutes ago.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Legend knows he’s quick on his feet and dances around the monster and to your side.

But it’s a miscalculation.

The moblins takes another swing at Legend in the process but since he doesn’t hit his target, his arm arcs outwards and knocks you finally off of your feet and sends you flying across the field with a sickening crack.

Legend stops for a second in shock and stares at where you landed.

You’re not getting up.

Now Legend is the one fighting this thing alone, with his sword still in the side of the monster, back up still not arriving yet and worse yet, the group is now down a number.

He doesn’t have time to reflect how it might be his fault that you’re down.

He hopes you’re not out and that the others comes quickly.

There’s a shot that takes the moblin by surprise when it’s imbedded in his head. Legend can’t risk taking glances around anymore but the quick succession of the blows let him know that Wild has appeared from out of the wood work and has joined him in taking this thing out.

Legend makes around circle around it and reaches for the hilt of his sword. IT”s wet and covered in its blood but he manages to get a grip on it.

He pulls.

He knows that it would have taken a lot to take it out but the blood around it seems to have lubricated the wound and it begins to slide out. As it inches out, Legend has to take another dive out of the way since the moblin swings back his way.

The sword is no longer plugging most of the wound, so it’s more  like a fountain of ink that beginning to paint the forest floor.

Legend suspects that he hit something vital and that the blow would be final if he can get the rest of his sword out.

Luckily, despite the lack of communication, Wild and Legend seem to reach a consensus. Wild distracts the moblin for a while and Legend goes for his sword and takes out as much as he can before the moblin takes his aggression out on him.

Somewhere in the middle of this Warrior has also appeared and begins to add to the distraction while using Legend’s fire rod. This allows Legend to get more time out of the small windows that his team is buying them but the progress if slower than he likes.

The blood on his hands makes it harder for him to get a grip on his sword and his boots are having a hard time gaining purchase on the ground as it turns to bloodied mud. 

Legend makes another dive out of the way and glances over to where you are.

You’re still not moving and no one has reached you yet.

Concern fuels him forward and he makes one last attempt to pull the sword free while the other damage it as much as they can.

It releases.

Legend goes flying backward and onto the ground, making quick work of getting back to his feet and attacking the beast.

The blood around his hands and sword are beginning to dry, almost gluing them together this time as he fights and he fights.

Somewhere along the lines of this, the news of an infected monsters reaching the others, Legend assumes, and one by one the others clamor up to the monster and begin to strike it down.

Now with all of them here, Legend takes a step back and steps out of the fray, leaving the killing blow to be dealt by the majority of the group.

Instead, he runs to your side.

Legend drops to his knees by your side and drop his sword somewhere behind him. He’s quick to take out his bag and rummage through it. He takes out a potion just you groan and roll over.

Legend lets out a sigh of relief, and a curse.

The moblin dies somewhere behind him.

“Legend...” You cry out. “Are you dead?”

He has to keep himself from snorting in disbelief. “Of course I’m not dead! It takes a lot more than that to kill me you know.”

His hands are shaking but your eyes are closed so he doesn’t make a show of trying to hide it. Your hands are over where your ribs are, a bit of red seeping through your fingers, but it doesn’t look major considering the amount of time that’s passed.

The potion will take of it.

“Were you not hit? You’re ok?” You ask in delirium, using all the strength you have left to sit up. Legend is quick to help you and places the potion in your lap with the cork off.

“No, it was really just you that took the hit.” Legend sits back and watches you drink it, slowly and robotically. He takes a minute to look over the rest of you and realizes that you don’t actually have a lot of injuries.

Just a few large hits.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You blurt, eyes wide and potion half drunk, threatening to spill over the lip of it with how you’re holding it. “Are you sure you weren’t hit?”

Legend tilts his head and looks down.

He’s absolutely disgusting.

He knows it shows on his face the minute he sees it but he forces himself not to think about it and instead, looks back at you.

“Believe it or not, none of it is mine.”

You stare for a moment or two longer before slowly returning to drink the potion you were given. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

The comment send even more relief through his system, shutting down the last of his adrenaline and he has to laugh. 

Legend has no idea what conclusion you came to but considering the amount of shock and awe on your face by the sight of him, he doesn’t plan on correcting you any time soon.

Part 2 Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #I headcanon that Wild is a stress cooker #he does it for fun #but when he's stressed #he'll use all the ingredients in his slate and just keeping making meals #i bet he'd be a stress baker as well if he had an oven #Legend's always get so long!!! #I guess he's just easy for me to write #i cut it down to three and the whole post is still ridiculously long #I think I like this splitting it up idea #but I don't know in what order they should be written in #or if that even matters #let me know what you guys think! #feed back always welcome! #even if you hate it

[aubreyprc]

safe in these arms of mine

prompt - you’re safe . i’m here

summary - emily gets taken by their recent unsub, someone they named the three day killer. they know they have three days to find her, aaron refuses to let them get to four.

word count - 3.3k

TW / mentions of torture (not graphic), alluded / implied hint of SA (not graphic or mentioned)

He thinks he’s probably watched the CCTV footage more times than he’s ever watched anything, rewinding certain moments in hopes of something that will give them a clue, something that will tell them where she is. who he is. anything.

Watching her drop to the ground, even after seeing it hundreds of times, still makes his heart fall into his stomach, the sight of the man picking her up over his shoulders, carrying her like she was dead weight. like she was nothing still making him feel sick, still making him feel guilty. not that he could ever tell anyone why. Not that he can really act on how terrified he is.

To everyone else’s knowledge, they’re colleagues, friends, just like he is with the rest of the team. He can be worried, they’re all worried, all scared of what could happen, all nauseous at the idea of what she could be going through, but he can’t be anything more. Because to everyone else’s knowledge, they're just friends but in reality, behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, FBI policy’s and fraternization rules, they’re something. They’re more than something.

What started off as casual, turned into coffee and coffee soon turned into dinner, dinner soon turned into staying the night and four months later in the darkness of her bedroom, his fingers tracing patterns on her spine as she lay in his arms, the three words slipped out of his mouth… and ten seconds later she repeated them, a soft smile on her face. a smile he has never forgotten.

A smile he would kill to see again.

They’re eight months in now, getting to the point where keeping them a secret was becoming impossible, Jack far too young and unpredictable to not blurt out something that would cause the penny to drop.

As he watches the footage for the millionth time, the guilt is almost overwhelming, his palms cut to pieces from how harsh he is clenching a fist. He knows if they don’t find her, that if day three comes and they still don’t have a location, that he’d never forgive himself, he wouldn’t know how to. He wouldn’t want to.

He was supposed to be with her.

Jack was with a friend, and they’d had plans to stay at her apartment, order take out and just be without a four year old demanding their attention for most of the night. But they’d argued. A stupid argument. So stupid that he can’t even remember what started it, or what it was even about. All he remembers is her bitter laugh before she walked out of his office, all but slamming the door behind her as she walked back into the bullpen and grabbed her stuff, he remembers watching her go, remembers telling himself that he’d call her when he got home, or maybe he would go over, make it up to her.

He prays he still gets the chance to. Prays that the last memory he has of her… of them… won’t be her walking away from him in anger. That their last conversation won’t be something he can’t even remember.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep watching that.” Dave tells him as he walks into the office, “it won’t bring her back. It won’t give you any more information.”

Aaron remains silent, his eyes peeled on the screen, her facing in the direction of the unsub, her face in full view of the camera.

“Reid has something on the unsub…” he says, but Aaron can’t bring himself to hear it. “I know this is hard but—”

“You don’t know.” he says, turning to face his friend, “you don’t know.” he repeats and the older man nods.

“You’re right. I don’t.” he accepts, before staring at him, “but I know you love her.” he says and Aaron’s eyes widen, “and I know she loves you. And I know she’s counting on us.. on you to focus, to put our feelings and our fear on hold and find her.”

“I can’t even think about what she could be going—”

“Then don’t.” he tells him, “don’t think. Help her. Help her by doing what you can. Here. Now.”

Aaron nods, standing and following the man out of the office and into the briefing room.

They all refuse to go home, refuse to waste time when she has so little of it, refuse to do anything but find her, the thought of what she could be going through knocking every single one of them sick.

The entire building feels eerie, everyone on egg shells around the team, scared to say the wrong thing, scared to say anything. Everyone loved Emily, and her absence noticeable at any time, and so the entire situation has the bullpen in silence, the only sound being the muttering of the agents on the case as they work alongside the team to find their missing member. Their missing friend.

They all know what this unsub does, have all read the case files, seen the pictures of the women he’d taken and killed over the last few weeks, have heard in detail what he does to them before hand, and it becomes the elephant in the room, every single person knowing exactly what Emily was going through, knowing far too much about what could happen if they don’t find her, but no one ever says anything, no one comments, no one even brings it up, because they can’t. The knowing itself is enough, they shouldn’t have to talk about it too.

Aaron is the only one who tortures himself by looking at the other cases, reading over what they went through before he killed them, how he killed them, and what he did to them afterwards. It’s the same every time, the same marks and bruises on each woman they found, all killed the same way around the same time and all found in the same place, beaten, bloody and cold, all with signs of a struggle, as if he’d toyed with them, given them to opportunity to fight him off… each woman died in pain, alone and scared, and the idea that Emily might go through that, the fact that he could be doing to her what he did to all the others makes him nauseous, it makes him murderous but mostly it just makes him want to scream, cry, shout, and he can do neither, not yet, not when he still has the chance to get her back. Not when there’s hope that he can save her.

And he will. He has to. Loosing her is not an option.

“Stop.” Morgan says as he enters his office, “reading the files won’t change this. If anything it will just make it worse.”

“There could—”

“Reid has the files memorised…” he says, “there’s nothing in there.”

He closes the file, rubbing a hand over his face as he leans on the chair.

“How is he this hidden?” he asks, “we’ve been trying to find him for three weeks and all we have is that he’s male, in his thirties and…” he stops, shaking his head as he thinks about what he does to the women he takes.

“I know.” he nods, “but we’ll find him.”

“Will we find him in time?” he asks, the silence between them lingering as the other man remains without an answer.

“We can only try.” he tells him, “and trust that she’s strong enough to wait until we do.” he says softly, before leaving the office.

He sighs as he opens his draw, grabbing his wallet before pulling out a picture he hides behind one of Jack, a picture Penelope took just a few weeks ago when she just had to capture the moment as she stated on the email she forwarded the picture on. He smiles every time he looks at it, her grin sending warmth through him as he looks at it, the blissful happiness on their faces as they sit in their own bubble, his own smile on his face as he looks at her. He rubs a thumb over it, his heart aching in his chest as he swallows.

I’ll find you.

And they do. On day three.

They speed through the traffic, each of them tense with anxiety as they sit in the SUV, neither knowing what they’re going to walk into. If they’ll make it on time.

The warehouse is huge, the smell of blood, sweat and death hits them as soon as their in, each going in a different direction as they search for her. For him. For anything.

Aaron hears them before he sees them, leans against the wall as he calculates what his next move should be, signals for the team to head in his direction as he tries to block out the sound of her choking, dreads to think what he’s going to be met with when he turns the corner.

Reid and Morgan head his way first, are on the other side of the building when he spots them, and on his nod, all three man make themselves known, turning the corner with their guns out, but all can see is her. The way the only reason she is still standing being due to her arms being hung above her, her head lulled to the ground, no movement, not even a groan and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt panic like it before.

He has no intention to chase the man when he runs, grateful that the other two take off in a sprint after him, and he heads towards her.

He stands in front of her, heart hammering in his chest as terror fills his body and slowly cups her face, moving her head up to look at him and when he’s met with her tired, but open eyes, the relief that fills him is enough to make him want to cry. But the fear in her eyes, the sheer terror that stares back at him has him pushing it away, his focus on her.

“You’re okay.” he whispers, quickly freeing her hands from the chains above her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he does, catching her as she all but falls into him, a soft cry leaving her throat as her arms drop, the only reason she doesn’t being that he has her, wraps her protectively into him and all she can do is look at him, shock, exhaustion, pain, terror and everything in between meaning it takes her a few moments to register what’s going on, to register that it’s Aaron but it’s obvious the moment she does. The look of terror turning into relief as she relaxes, letting him pull her into his arms and she goes willingly into them, her face in his chest as she breathes, tears threatening to fall down her face as she allows the last few days to process. There’s a bang from the other side of the room that causes her to flinch, to tense in fear and he runs a hand down her back.

“It’s okay..” his voice is soft, soothing and he smiles at her when she lifts her head to look at him. “You’re okay. It’s over.”

“Can we get out of here?” she asks, her voice dry and rough, a hint that she’s been without water for days and he nods.

“Of course.” he says, gently wrapping an arm around her waist as he helps her walk out of the room.

She gets the all clear from the hospital and is free to go that night, her ribs bruised but not broken, her arms strained but no damage to the ligaments, a concussion she might feel for a few days, but no bleed, no damage, is told she’s lucky, and she wants to scream, feeling anything but luck as she sits in the passenger seat, her mind replaying the last three days on a loop, the man’s face, voice, touch lingering with her, can feel his hands on her skin, can hear his voice as he toys with her, can see his face so clearly he might as well he sat next to her but she’s lucky, because he didn’t break her ribs, she’s lucky because he didn’t kill her, how does she explain that she wishes he did?

Aaron walks them up to her apartment, his hand around her waist as she uses him to hold herself up, a lump in the back of her throat as she tries to pretend as though she hasn’t spent the last three days tortured, laughed at, broken.

“I’ll go and run you a bath,” he says softly as he enters her apartment, she simply stands, her hand clinging to her throbbing ribs as she nods. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” she says with a tired smile, “I’m good. Tired.”

“Would you prefer a shower—”

“No,” she says quickly, before smiling as best she can, “A bath would be great.” she nods and he smiles, slowly walking over to her and waiting for her to lean into him before wrapping an arm around her waist, helping her up the stairs as she winces in pain. He’d do anything to take it from her. For it to have been him instead.

-

He sits on the floor next to the bath at her request, stroking gentle patterns onto her hand as she stares ahead and he waits, knowing she has to be the one to talk first, knowing he can’t rush this.

“The last woman you found… she couldn’t have been older than twenty.” she says, her eyes still staring ahead of her.

“Yeah..” he whispers, “found her just before we…” he stops, “you saw her?”

“He killed her right in front of me…” she says, turning to look at him, “she was begging me to help her, I could hear her crying but…” she stops, looks away from him.

“There’s nothing you could have done, Em.” he tells her, “you know that. It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t answer, simply continues to stare at the wall ahead. He wants to ask, he needs to, but he doesn’t know how. Isn’t sure he wants to know. He’ll have to read the police report anyway, sign off on her being back on duty in a few weeks and he wonders if that might be easier. To read it rather than hear it, but he also knows he needs to hear it from her, needs to let her be the one to tell him, tell him what, he isn’t sure.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he asks her gently, smiling softly when she turns to face him, “I’m not leaving,” he tells her, “but if you want some space tonight, if you want some time to work through this, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She smiles slightly, linking their fingers together as they rest on the side of the bath and she slowly shakes her head.

“I don’t want to be alone.” she whispers, and he nods.

“I’m here,” he tells her. “Whenever you’re ready to talk… I’m here.”

“I know.” she says, “I’m exhausted.”

“Come on.” he says, getting to his feet with a groan that makes her laugh slightly, before he helps her up, wrapping her in a towel before walking them towards the bed. He hands her an old jumper, one that nine months ago, used to belong to him, and a pair of joggers, kissing her head slightly.

“I’ll grab some water, I’ll be right back.” he tells her and she nods, watches him go as she takes a deep breath, focuses on getting into the clothes rather than the silence, rather than the memories of the last few days.

By the time he’s back she’s already in bed, her eyes staring at a spot of the wall across the room as she curls into the duvet and his heart breaks when the creek of the floor makes her jump.

He places the water on her bedside table, runs a gentle finger across her cheek as he passes her and gets himself in bed, turns to face her when she rolls over, taking her hand gently when she rests it on his chest, smiling when he links their fingers.

“Derek said you kept reading the other women’s files.” she says softly, he looks at her and nods. “He pretty much stuck to the script.” she tells him, looking from him to their hands. “I wish you didn’t read them.” she whispers, tracing his fingers with her own.

“When your ready to tell me, I’ll listen.” he says, “I’ll wait for you to tell me.”

“You’ll read the report before—”

“I’ll wait for you to tell me.” he whispers; she nods.

“Okay.” she whispers, “thank you.”

“Get some rest,” he tells her, “I’m right here.”

She smiles before she leans up to kiss him, wrapping herself around him as she inhales, the scent of him calming her, the feeling of safely taking ahold of her as she sighs, closing her eyes.

“I love you.” she whispers as he kisses her head and he smiles.

“I love you too.” he tells her, and waits until shes asleep before allowing himself to fall asleep too.

It’s barley been three hours when her scream jolts him awake. He sits up instantly, terror taking over as he registers what woke him and he turns, slowly reaching out to cup her face as she cries in her sleep, completely taken over by a nightmare, by a memory, by fear.

“Emily,” he whispers, trying to wake her carefully. “Em, sweetheart. Wake up.” he says a little louder, tapping her face gently as she gasps, her eyes opening instantly and she sits up, hyperventilating as she cries, a hand on her chest as she struggles to breathe and he holds her.

“You’re okay.” he whispers, “just breathe. It’s okay.” he soothes, a gentle hand on her back. Her breathing evens out pretty quickly but her tears do not, her entire body shaking with fear as he holds her close.

“You’re safe now,” he tells her, lifting her face to wipe her tears as she looks at him. “I’m here.” he says, “You’re safe.”

He slowly lays them back down, wrapping his arms around her when she clings onto him, resting herself in his arms.

“I love you.” she mutters as she slowly breathes, allowing herself to succumb to sleep.

“I love you too.” he whispers. “You’re safe. I’m here.” he repeats, hoping it soothes her, hoping she feels safe with him.

It’s obvious she does when she doesn’t wake until late that next afternoon and goes searching for him as soon as she realises he’s not next to her.

She finds him on the couch and heads towards him, smiling as she sits next to him and rests her head on his chest, relaxing the minute his arms wrap around her.

“You weren’t in bed.” she mumbles as she closes her eyes.

“I’m right here.” he whispers, “I’ll always be here.” he promises, and he smiles when she mumbles a small I know, before falling back into a dreamless sleep.

#hotchniss fic #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[gol-d-en]

I see a lot of people implying that Glimmer was the only one in the wrong in the conflict between her and Adora and while in the end her mistake turned out to have horrible consequences I am not okay with acting like Adora was entirely in the right here, because she wasn’t.

When Adora and Bow bring up the plan of saving Entrapta from the Beast Island, Glimmer tries to talk it out, but Adora and Bow already made up their minds, the way they see it there is no need to talk. And Glimmer, who already feels insecure about how she isn’t being treated seriously as a queen and feeling like she and all her friends are drifting apart, is rightfully frustrated. She wasn’t with them when they saw what happened to Mara. She wasn’t there and they aren’t exactly explaining it well to her, because they already have their own plan and their own mission and the way they see it, their way is the only way.

And yet, Glimmer still tries to talk to them. And show them that their plan isn’t really a plan at all.

And she makes some very good points.

Adora doesn’t have a plan.

She doesn’t really know how to get there and even when they do get to the Beast Island for the most time they are literally making it up as they go and hoping for the best. 

And in the end, they are lucky. 

Their plan works out, yes, but it gets really close to failing and in the end they are impossibly lucky to have She-ra powers on their side and that Adora finds the strength to overcome her weaknesses and continue to fight.

It’s also important to note that Glimmer specifically is the reason why she chooses to fight. She wants to be, in Adora’s own words, the hero Glimmer deserves.

One other argument that I’ve seen flying around is that Glimmer didn’t really give a fuck about Entrapta and while to some extent I can see where it came from, it isn’t exactly true.

Glimmer even admits - when asked directly - that it’s not like she isn’t planning on rescuing Entrapta, but now is not a good time to do it, especially since from her perspective Entrapta did betray them and Glimmer did already try to save her as soon as she discovered that she’s still alive. And for all they know, Entrapta might be already dead. She has her people and the Alliance to worry about and protect she can’t risk it just because there is a chance that they might find Entrapta and she might help them. She is the queen and she has to learn the hard way that this title in many ways limits her more than she could have ever imagined. She has the power, yes, but responsibility it requires makes her feel useless.

And I mean, I love Entrapta with all my heart, but Glimmer is right. They don’t really know Entrapta as well as we, as the audience, do. Also, when she says that, neither Adora nor Bow have a good answer, they both look away, because they know that even though rescuing Entrapta is the right thing to do - they don’t know if she’ll actually help them. 

Also, Glimmer didn’t really intend to use the full potential of the Heart. 

She wanted to use some of it in hope to defeat people who are responsible for the war she’s known her entire life, the same war that took both of her parents away from her. She isn’t being completely unreasonable here, it’s a war and she is the queen, if the universe puts a powerful weapon at your disposal, one that you could use to end the war and save lives, of course you would at least consider the possibility of using it. 

And in the end, Light Hope used her. 

Should she have seen it coming? Well, yes. Probably. But we as the audience have the luxury of seeing the big picture and having access to the perspective of more than just one character. We can see that she’s going to fail, but we know more than she does and we couldn’t possibly imagine the weight of responsibility and sorrow she’s been carrying around ever since Angella died and left her alone to rule the kingdom which is losing to an evil force while slowly and surely losing her only support group. Glimmer was desperate for something, anything, that would help her win this war. She was the one who started a new Princess Aliance. She was the one who had to sneak out, because Angella kept holding her back. She spent her entire childhood living this war and doing her best to both stand up against the enemy on her own and to make people believe in her cause and join her.

Unlike Catra, Glimmer recognizes her mistake and while it happens too late to take it back - she still tries. The moment she recognizes that what she did was wrong she admits it and she owns it, even though at this point there’s nothing that could be done.

But she doesn’t just sit back and watch it happen.

She tries. She fights. Until the very last moment we see her desperately trying to stop the Heart. She doesn’t lose time trying to convince herself it’s too late, she doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t let go until she passes out. 

We as the audience get to see it happen. And most importantly, Catra - the person who reflects so many of the same mistakes that Glimmer made - sees it happen.

She sees someone who does the exact opposite of what she did. Someone who admits that she was wrong and doesn’t blame the person who told her that. She understands that Adora was right. She understands that what she did was a mistake.

Glimmer isn’t and she never was a bad person.

She never really turned dark, like some people like to imply, because her intentions were always good, all she ever wanted to do was protect her kingdom, save her home and be happy with her friends. Dark Glimmer sounds wrong to me because it’s dangerously close to evil or corrupted, but... It’s not what happened. Even at her darkest moment what motivated her was her love to her kingdom and her friends. I fail to see how it’s dark or wrong. She was dealing with an impossible situation and while she handled things not as well as she probably should have, at no point did this happen because she meant it to go that way.

Until the very last moment she believed she’s doing her best trying to help and as soon as she realized what she’s done - she fought to undo it.

#glimmer #adora #spop #she ra #catra #bow #glimmer spop #spop adora #SheRa and the Princesses of Power #glimmadora #she ra meta #she ra analysis #spop meta #spop analysis #Glimmer did nothing wrong #spop catra #and you can fight me #glimadora #shera #she-ra #analysis #meta

[iamanartichoke]

I'm creating my own post in order to avoid adding negativity to someone else's, but I will link the post that inspired this one for context. This post talks about the theory that King Loki is the one pulling the strings, and it's mostly a theory that I can get behind as laid out by OP, but I have a serious problem with the role Sylvie may play in it, which is what this post is about.

So, okay, I was with [OP] right until this part -

Except, King Loki never met Sylvie. King Loki is everything Show Loki could’ve become if he hadn’t met her. Who he still could be, because it’s possible for him now to kill King Loki and take his place. But he won’t do that, because meeting Sylvie set him on a different path. Because she taught him how to love himself, he can let go of his need to grasp at power to feel special and important and in control of his life.

I'm not saying this is wrong (and my criticism is no reflection whatsoever on OP's theory in general, which is pretty sound overall), but I am saying that if the show chooses to go this way, I'll probably rage quit. It's a lazy trope to fall back on - that the only thing that could prevent Loki from becoming an evil mastermind and/or supervillain is meeting "the one" (in this case, Sylvie) and falling in love with her. It's so over simplified.

For one thing, I don't see how Sylvie taught him anything, let alone how to love himself. They may have a bond even after knowing one another such a short period of time; I'll give them that, since they're variants of one another and that strips away some of the layers and allows them to connect more easily. But Sylvie's existence isn't a lesson and while Loki may admire her for what she's accomplished, it doesn't automatically mean he can see himself capable of the same things. Whether he is capable or not isn't the point. He clearly doesn't hold himself in as high regard as he holds Sylvie (which is super in-character for him, to downplay his own strengths and potential even while recognizing the value in someone else's). Maybe he can learn to view himself as favorably as he views her, but to me, that's not what "teaching someone to love themselves" means.

(It's worth mentioning - but I won't digress too much - that at this point in the show, Sylvie shows no indication that she returns Loki's feelings, nor has she gone out of her way to build him up or show him that he's worthy of love, so it really is just Loki's feelings for her that we're relying on, that this point, to carry the love story.)

To be honest, I don't think he even necessarily views Sylvie as a variant of himself, as much as he views her as a separate person. She may know what it feels like to be a Loki, but her experiences are so different from Loki's and her path is so far diverged that it's more akin to meeting someone who knows what it's like to struggle with depression (or mental health in general): their perspectives are similar, and their emotional cores may align, and meeting may make each of them feel like they're not so alone - but she is Sylvie and Loki is Loki and neither one of them can step into the other's shoes and know exactly what it's like to be them. The way that he interacts with her implies that Loki is aware of this - that is, he's aware that they are two separate people, even as Mobius insists that they're the same.

So my point is, even if Loki admires Sylvie or falls in love with her bc of reasons, I would still fail to see how that put him any closer to loving himself. But say it did, for arguments' sake, since that's what the writers are going for. I still feel like it would be lazy to say that this is the one thing that stops Loki from becoming the most evil version of himself. It undermines Loki's legitimate trauma and layers of issues, like his fear of abandonment, his crippling lack of self-esteem, his belief that his worth has never been equal to that of Thor's, his identity crisis and struggle with the idea that he is "a monster," figuratively and literally. By virtue of all of these things being major contributing factors to Loki's fall and his villainy and his need for power to feel in control - which I believe that they are - it would naturally follow that, unaddressed, these would be the major contributing factors to Loki becoming more and more evil until we have a King Loki masterminding the TVA (and, by extension, the timeline, the multiverse, and free will itself - like, that's some pretty significant evil, or at least power).

(Again, it's worth acknowledging that it didn't go that way for Prime!Loki, who proved more than once that he was a good person at heart, and he never met Sylvie either - but, that's beside the point right now.)

But Sylvie can't be the sole person who inspires Loki to address these things, nor would these things just go away or fail to hold the same weight once Loki meets and falls in love with her. Loving Sylvie doesn't change that Loki is a frost giant and has never come to terms with that. It doesn't mean he's suddenly not afraid of abandonment, or of being alone. It doesn't fix the complicated twist of emotions (understatement) Loki feels when it comes to Thor and the concept of worthiness and the truth of their parents' love for them.

At best, one could argue that Sylvie may act as a support system that Loki might not have otherwise had, which would allow him to then confront and untangle his way through these issues to ultimately suceed in becoming the best version of himself. This still renders her role in Loki's life a supporting one as opposed to the one thing that can stand between Loki as he is now and Loki as he has the potential to be (in this case, a full-fledged supervillain).

Loki's issues are issues that will not go away until Loki faces them head on and does the work. Which is a journey, admittedly, too long and complex to be accurately portrayed on-screen in a limited series, but the narrative can either imply that Loki's journey is one of self-love with his feelings for Sylvie acting as a catalyst to his working through the things standing in the way of that self-love - or, it can skip all of that and say that Loki's self-love journey begins and ends with his love for Sylvie, and not only does this "fix" him but it's also the one thing that prevents him from becoming a supervillain who presumably controls all of these things - the TVA, the timelines, etc - without remorse.

I, personally, would have no interest in the latter option, so if it does go that way, I think that'd be it for me. And I realize that a lot of my argument here is focusing on Loki ending up as King Loki, which is still speculation and it may not go that way at all. But I think that - since the show has confirmed it's going to explore self-love through a romance - my points about Sylvie's ultimate role in Loki's journey of self-acceptance are still worth mentioning, I think.

#loki tv series spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki series negativity #since i'm criticizing a theoretical aspect of the show and not anything concrete #the negativity tag would apply

[oddnub-eye]

The Emer Post

Emer, wife of Cú Chulainn, is fucking rad. Personally, she’s one of my favorite characters in the Ulster Cycle, tied only with Cú Chulainn himself. And this makes sense, given that, at least in my readings, they seem to parallel each other in several ways.

The build up to the introduction of Emer seems to emphasize this, “Cuchulaind said that no woman should go with him but she who was his equal in age and shape and race, and skill and deftness, who was the best handworker of all the maidens in Erin”. The buildup to Emer emphasizes that she is more or less “his equal in her own fields”. Where Cú Chulainn has established himself as the best of the best of warriors, he seeks a wife who is the best of the best among them, with Emer fulfilling those conditions. Their actual “introductions” parallel each other. Emer is introduced with her foster-sisters, the daughters of the lords around Forgall’s dun. She appears to be the leader of the group, as she is teaching them, teaching being a position that implies more experience, or superiority. This is similar to how Cú Chulainn’s interactions with the boy-troop of Ulster is described in The Boyhood Deeds of Cú Chulainn; Cú Chulainn defeating all the other boys in the games they play, and taking them under his protection, proving himself to be the best of the bunch. They both, at separate points, are established as “the best” of their given fields and the best among their peers.

This shared superiority in their fields and abilities is reaffirmed in Bricriu’s Feast. While the major plotline and events of the story focus around Cú Chulainn fighting over the “Champion’s Portion” with Conall Cernach and Loegaire, Emer competes with their wives in a battle of words to try and claim who is the best. Emer takes the opportunity to assert her superiority and that she is the “the standard of women, in figure, in grace, in wisdom; None my equal in beauty, for I am a picture of graces...”. As if to be a visual metaphor of Emer winning, where Conall and Loegaire lift one of the building's pillars to allow their wives to enter the house, Cú Chulainn lifts the entire house off its foundations, “till the stars of heaven were to be seen under the wattle.”

Emer, however, did not view Cú Chulainn in the same favor or equivalence that he saw in her. When Cú Chulainn approached her for marriage, she did not immediately agree to his conditions, laying her three famous marriage conditions, “until he has killed a hundred men at every ford from Scenmenn ford on the river Albine, to Banchung - the “Woman’s Yoke” that can hold a hundred”, “until he has done the feat of the salmon-leap carrying twice his weight in gold, and struck down three groups of nine men in one stroke, leaving the middle man of each nine unharmed,” and “who hasn’t gone sleepless from Samain, when summer goes to its rest, until Imbolc, when the ewes are milked at spring’s beginning.”

She does come around after Cú Chulainn agrees to attempt to fulfill these conditions, even shooting down her father’s attempts to marry her off to Lugaid. She also marries Cú Chulainn after he fulfills her marriage conditions.

Arguably, Emer’s shining moment as a character comes in Serglige Con Culainn, otherwise known as The Wasting Sickness of Cú Chulainn. Which seems strange at the outset, considering that it's arguably the story where she’s at her most unlikable. Most versions of Serglige Con Culainn you can find are pieced together from two separate tellings, with the role of “Emer” being filled by the woman Ethne in the first half. However, Emer begins to be used in the back half as the primary character, and arguably is the protagonist over Cú Chulainn for this portion of the story. And in this half after Emer starts being used, much of her actions don’t come off as those of a particularly likable or even those of a character we would deem as “in the right”; for the some-odd year her husband has been suffering wasting sickness, she’s not been by his side (Ethne was described as such, but Emer explicitly needs to be fetched from Emain Macha by Laeg), she shames Laeg (who traveled to the otherworld to seek information about curing Cú Chulainn) for not returning with a cure, she badmouths the Ulsterman who had stayed by Cú Chulainn’s side for not fixing the problem, she shames Cú Chulainn for “lying prostrate for a woman’s love” despite knowing their was fae bullshit and involved, and then, in probably the crowning moment of “what the fuck” in the story, despite spurring Cú Chulainn to go to Fand, and knowing full well that Fand both beat wasting sickness into her husband and that Fand wants to marry Cú Chulainn, reacts rather violently when she finds out about the tryst between Fand and Cú Chulainn.

Let me repeat this for emphasis. Emer knows that Fand wants her husband’s hand in marriage, having established that as a consequence of him doing what he needs to do to free himself from the wasting sickness, shames Cú Chulainn for having wasting sickness, sends him to Fand, and then reacts violently when all of that ends exactly how you think it does.

However, the interesting thing is, Emer is not portrayed as incorrect, foolish, or negative in any way for that. In fact, it is instead another thing meant to establish Emer as “the bestest wife”. She is “the hero” of this part of the story. In her debate with Cú Chulainn regarding Fand, Emer wins. She’s the one with the most iconic line of the story “Yet fair seems all that's red; seems white what's new alone; and bright what's set o'erhead; and sour are things well known…”

And this is because Emer isn’t actually meant to be the sole hero of this story. Indeed, we are supposed to sympathize with Fand in her plight as well. That is why the detail of Fand’s dissatisfaction in her marriage with Manannan is included. We are supposed to sympathize with Emer for Fand’s interference and her life, and her response to Fand’s status as a threat to her position, as well as sympathizing with the plight of Fand and how it isn’t necessarily wrong of her to seek Cú Chulainn. Fand’s love for Cú Chulainn is equated to Emer’s in the text, shown through both of their attempts to yield him to the other. Likewise, both Emer and Fand are established as “ideal wives”, described as having the traits of one, for the sake of both Cú Chulainn’s arguments to Emer, and to further drive home how both Fand and Emer are meant to be viewed as sympathetic. It is something that is driven home even further when Fand confronts Manannan, reminding him of her status as “the bestest wife” echoing Emer’s assertion to Cú Chulainn during the actual conflict of the story.

A minor thing that’s intriguing about this is how it almost seems to mirror the “myth moral gap” that is present in so many other stories about ancient heroes. The values these heroes adhere to are different from ours, and this is present across nearly all ancient stories. Emer and Fand’s “hero-like” position in this tale proves no different; beating wasting sickness into the object of your affection, shaming your partner for getting his ass beat, badmouthing the people who stayed by his side when you did not would hardly be considered behaviors of a “good” partner, much less supposedly the “best of the best”. But, they are not framed as slights against Emer or Fand within Serglige Con Culainn.

Emer is fucking rad. She’s a pretty interesting character, via her parallels to Cú Chulainn and her proactivity across various stories; even appearing as what could be described as “the hero” of a few of them. Fair is the plain indeed, as Emer stands above several of her compatriots in the Ulster Cycle in terms of interest and being pretty damn awesome.

Source List:

Early Irish Myths and Sages; Jeffery Gatz

The Tain; Thomas Kinsella

Fled Bricrend (The Feast of Bricriu); George Henderson

The Wooing of Emer by Cu Chulainn; Kuno Myer

The Sickbed of Cu Chulainn; Maelmuiri mac Ceileachair

#ulster cycle #celtic mythology #emer #cu chulainn #i love this woman #fand #serglige con culainn #fled bricrend #bricriu's feast #the wooing of emer

[slightlycrunchy]

"don't freak out" with de-aged Dadzawa to Shinsou

I think I took this in a different direction dear...but I hope you like it XD

WC 1900~, rated T, de-aged aizawa, references to child abuse and implied child abuse, happy ending, dadzawa&shinson

There’s a new little boy today.

Hitoshi stares from behind Miss Tanaka’s legs, gripping at her dark blue skirts tightly. He knows she won’t like this, but for now she’s occupied with welcoming the new kid and Hitoshi will take advantage of it for as long as possible.

The boy is dark; dark eyes and dark hair, dark lashes that fan out across his cheeks. Pale skin. It’s been a while since a new boy has come to the orphanage, and this one looks to be about his age. Hitoshi just turned six this year.

“What’s your name, dear?” Miss Tanaka asks in her sickly-sweet tone, the one she uses with certain people that don’t include Hitoshi. It won’t last long. She really likes to yell an awful lot. “What did your parents call you?”

“Shouta,” the boy says immediately. Hitoshi blinks. The boy doesn’t seem shy, unlike most new orphans. Hitoshi is still shy, and he’s been here as long as he can remember.

“Found him in an alley, poor thing,” the social worker says. Hitoshi can’t remember her name. He startles when the boy—Shouta—speaks again.

“I don’t belong here. I have a home—”

“Yes, yes dearie, that’s what they all say,” Miss Tanaka dismisses. Hitoshi looks up at her when he feels her gaze find him, and he fights his natural instinct to cower. Her eyes go cold when she sees the wrinkles his fists have left in her skirt. “Hitoshi, dear,” she grits out between clenched teeth, “why don’t you take Shouta with you upstairs? Show him the boy’s room, yes?”

It’s phrased as a question but Hitoshi knows it isn’t a request. He nods frantically, immediately grabbing one of Shouta’s small wrists in his clammy hand. “Come on, this way.” He can do this. He can be good, useful. They won’t hurt him if they can use him, he’s sure of it.

The boy doesn’t come willingly and yet Hitoshi perseveres, stomping his small socked feet up two flights of stairs to the younger boy’s room; the girls have their own and the older boys as well, across the hall. Every step brings more struggle from the boy behind him but Hitoshi won’t stop, can’t stop when this is him being good. He has to be good.

“Hey kid, stop—”

“No, we have to listen. You’re new here, but I’m telling you, ya’ have to listen or you’ll get in trouble—”

“Kid, stop.”

“My name is Hitoshi.”

“Hitoshi, it’s okay. Just—calm down.”

He hadn’t even realized just how hard he was breathing, and it only dawns on him as they come to a stop in his—theirs, now—slightly rectangular bedroom, filled with bunk beds from corner to corner, with a wide open space in the middle kept meticulously clean. Hitoshi takes a deep breath as he whirls on the boy behind him, the kid’s dark eyes half-hooded with obvious apathy.

Did Hitoshi ever look like that, or was he always afraid? Shouta doesn’t know enough about this place to be scared of it, but fear keeps Hitoshi safe, so he will teach the boy. He’ll teach him. He ignores Shouta’s suggestion that he ‘calm down’.

“You sleep when they say, eat when they say, and play when they say. Do your lessons when Miss Ro says so, and wash behind your ears. They check, believe me…” Hitoshi says darkly. Shouta’s eyebrows are slowly knitting together; that’s fine. It means he’s taking Hitoshi seriously. “It’s alright here, if you follow the rules and stay out of the matrons’ way. The older kids are pretty nice. They’ll help you, if ya’ ask. ‘Specially the ones who have been here a while. They get it.”

Hitoshi wants to tell him about the dark room and the belt, the sly fingers that yank and pull at ears and cheeks and skin without warning, leaving red crescent marks and sometimes blood—but he’s hoping the other boy will never have to experience that.

“I’ll help you. You’ll be alright, with me.” Hitoshi tries to smile reassuringly.

Shouta doesn’t smile back or look relieved like Hitoshi had hoped; if someone had told him this when he first arrived, Hitoshi thinks he himself would have appreciated it. Learning on the fly has ended in too many nights with a raw bottom or aching back when the matrons get too heavy handed with the belt. He cringes inwardly.

Shouta’s face is smooth, impassive. Hitoshi doesn’t like that he can’t read the other boy easily; is that normal for kids their age? Hitoshi can’t seem to hide a single thing from the grown-ups.

Shouta shifts his weight, his eyes narrowing in apparent suspicion. Hitoshi flinches. Did he mess this up, too?

“Do they hurt you, Hitoshi?”

He feels the blood freeze in his veins. Is he that obvious? Oh well, he supposes there’s nothing for it now. He’d rather shelter Shouta from the hard truth of it, but if he already sees it written in the lines of Hitoshi’s tiny body and the sound of his frantic words, then...well the matrons are always telling him to be honest, aren’t they.

“Yeah...but it’s alright. You just gotta be better than me, Shouta. You can do that, right? It’s not so hard. I’ll still help you, I promise, just follow my lead, okay? You don’t have to be scared.”

The thing is, Shouta doesn't look in the least bit scared.

He looks furious.

Hitoshi is about two seconds away from cowering back and finding his bed where he can hide under the blankets and pretend he has some semblance of safety under them. How did he mess this up already? How is Shouta mad at him before he’s even had a chance to get to know Hitoshi?

“Hey, hey kid, no- I…” Hitoshi looks up to see one of Shouta’s small hands, reaching out to him. It’s slow, and this is about the only thing that keeps Hitoshi held fast in place. Once again, he can’t help but think that this boy is strange; he doesn’t hold himself or talk like any other kid Hitoshi has ever met. The confusion only heightens the sense of wrong that all of this brings and it welcomes hot, unbidden tears to his eyes. But it’s been a long time since Hitoshi has let himself cry, so he holds them back and they burn all the more.

Shouta sighs, the little sound echoing out across the bare wooden floors around them. He stares Hitoshi down with a quiet strength that Hitoshi doesn’t know what to do with. “If I tell you something, you have to not freak out, ok?” Hitoshi nods, though he’s not sure if he’ll freak out or not. Shouta nods back resignedly. “I’m not truly a child. My name is Aizawa Shouta and I’m actually...big. A grown up,” he says slowly, as if trying to find the right words to explain himself. Hitoshi on the other hand feels his jaw drop to the floor. “I got hit by a quirk that made me small and I got turned around in the confusion. That stupid woman brought me here, but I’m not an orphan. I’m a pro hero. Eraserhead.” He finishes off by jutting a hand forward, his small fingers poised into a clear invitation for a handshake.

It’s this last detail that settles the thought in Hitoshi’s mind: Shouta is telling the truth.

Hitoshi knows this with every trembling bone in his body for multiple reasons. One, no kid his age has ever talked the way Shouta does, with slow pauses and thoughtful phrases, with fire in his words ready to stand up to even Miss Tanaka downstairs, lacking any and all fear of authority that Hitoshi has quickly learned to cultivate.

Two, the story seems like it could be true. People are affected by quirks all the time and accidents happen a lot. Hitoshi has been on the receiving end of too many quirks to not believe Shouta when he says this is what happened.

And three...well, three is the most convincing of all.

Because Hitoshi knows of Eraserhead. Hitoshi loves Eraserhead.

Hitoshi thinks back to when it happened. He's pretty sure he was five, though the days tend to all run together. Measurements such as weeks, months, years mean very little to him, but he’s almost sure he’s right. In the summer, the matrons find themselves busier than usual--with school being out and all--the kids running rampant with boundless energy. But not Hitoshi. No, he had taken the opportunity to slip away, out the front door and down the street, where the city was somehow blissfully quiet and where he had gone to enjoy his time alone. Well, not entirely alone.

“You back again, kid?” Eraserhead had asked. After the second time of meeting in the alley, the man had finally introduced himself, though Hitoshi never did return the favor. Hitoshi had been floored when he learned the man was a pro hero. Hitoshi nodded in response, kneeling down to observe the real reason the both of them ever found themselves in that alley that smelled of hot, sweltering garbage.

A mother cat had birthed kittens a few weeks back and Hitoshi was fascinated by them. Eraserhead was too.

And now, Eraserhead is a boy with dark hair and dark eyes that Hitoshi recognizes and oh my god it’s real, what are they gonna do--

“Shh, shush, it’s alright Hitoshi.”

The boy pales. “Do you...do you remember me?” He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Shouta says no, it might just break what’s left of his half-starved heart. This is Eraserhead--Shouta, a pro-hero who now knows what happens to Hitoshi in the dark corridors of this place, and he had always wanted to tell Eraserhead but he could never seem to strike up the courage. But now Shouta knows and what if still nothing changes--

“Yes, I remember you, kid. I took one of those cats home, did you know? Never saw you again after that last time.”

Hitoshi didn’t know. One day he went back and the cats were just gone.

“Took the rest to a shelter. They were old enough to be separated from their mother and it just didn’t feel right leaving them on the streets. Bothered me I couldn’t tell you that,” Shouta sighs. Hitoshi blinks, still trying to reconcile the silhouette of the man he had begun to know and bond with, with the figure of a small boy before him. He feels like he needs to sit down.

“Listen, kid,” Shouta begins, his tone leaving no room for argument, “I’m not staying here. I’ve got people out looking for me and for all I know, this quirk has a time limit.” A small hand comes to rest firmly on Hitoshi’s shoulder and he looks up from where he had unknowingly been staring at his shoes. “And when I leave, I’m taking you with me. I know these places aren’t great but...mm," Shouta shakes his head. "I’m not just gonna leave you here, kid. Hitoshi. Do you want to come with me?”

Hitoshi feels numb, his fingers tingling weirdly, but not unpleasantly. He can’t quite get his mouth to work.

For a moment Shouta looks nervous. “I named her Sakura. She’s the one with the blue eye, remember?”

The cat. Shouta is talking about the cat. Hitoshi feels a small smile break onto his face, stealing space like a creeping shadow. Shadows. Hitoshi would like to leave behind his shadows. He finds himself nodding. He licks his lips, voice cracking when he speaks.

“Sakura. I like that name.”

Shouta smiles.

send me prompts!

#and then they lived happily ever after #i dont know what this orphanage is lollll #my writing #dadzawa #age regression #bnha #my hero academia #fic #hurt/comfort