#but that ive drawn only this bitch for months back in the days

[strawberrystepmom]

malevolent enterprise ch. 2

ceo au series. sukuna and yuji are brothers. gojo x f!reader are endgame but this is backstory/lead up. reader has hair that can be swept off of their face. reader is a lawyer (ive taken creative liberties bc i am not a real lawyer so take it up with god if u find an issue) and has an established platonic relationship with sukuna and has an ex boyfriend that is an oc named shigeo. cw drug and alcohol mentions. wc 1.8k.

masterlist coming soon but in the meantime, ch. 1 can be found here

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune ♡

“Forgot I paid you to stand around, ---.”

Hearing Sukuna use a shortened version of your full name, you roll your eyes and pull your glasses off of your face, holding them between your thumb and index finger. Meeting his gaze with an indignant look of your own, you toss the pen you’re holding with your other hand down on the desk in front of you and groan in frustration. 

You’re only standing in his office because you've been reviewing contract abstracts for hours and could use a break before your brain starts to turn to mush given his absolutely archaic NDA demands that would never be upheld in court. 

“Am I not allowed to pace? Is that one of the workplace rules you’ve set we all have to follow, King Ryomen?”

He appreciates your sharp wit if nothing else so he chuckles, walking around you to plop down behind the heaviest and most ornate looking desk you’ve seen in a modern office. 

Truly fit for a man who sees himself as a king. 

“Can I make all of you start calling me that? Will HR have an issue?”

You scoff and shake your head. 

“Yes. I have a funny feeling they would indeed take issue with you demanding your employees call you king.”

Placing your glasses back on the bridge of your nose, you sweep back a few tendrils of hair that have fallen in front of your face and sigh, raking your fingers through the top of your overgrown layers. You’ve been too busy lately to even get a trim, late nights spent at the revenge motivated Ryomen Enterprises preventing you from doing much but provide general counsel, as your position and official title state. 

You left one incredibly oppressive job for another and you don’t quite regret hitching your wagon to Sukuna but you aren’t proud of it either, especially putting your own goal of having your own firm on hold to do it. 

Leaving the Zen’in firm seemed intelligent three months ago after Naoya was named partner instead of you, the tireless hours you put into the blockbuster Miyamoto v. DTK, Inc. wrongful termination suit, the first of its kind in the country, meaning ultimately nothing when it comes to family ties and misogyny. 

You handed your resignation to Naobito the next day who received it with a knowing smirk, glad to see one less bitch too big for her skirt suit step aside. Two months later Sukuna reached out to you and you assumed you’d be stupid to pass up a comfortable and lucrative in-house counsel position in a well funded company everyone had just started buzzing about. 

It also helps that the founder of said company is someone you’ve known for long enough you have seen him shuffle through several life phases. 

Needless to say the job hasn’t been what you expected it to be since saying yes though, sifting through a bankers box full of Manila envelopes, muttering aloud about all the shit you need to get done and the severe lack of hours in the day. 

“The journalist hasn’t sent back her NDA yet,” you remark and he hums. He knows exactly the pretty little pink haired thing you’re mentioning and he smirks thinking about how easily he pulled her apart in a penthouse suite 8 blocks away a few nights ago but his attention is drawn back to the present when you slam a stack of papers in front of him. 

“Your brother’s company doesn’t even have in-house counsel.”

Sukuna arches a brow, sitting back in his chair and slamming his feet on the desk. You don’t even jump, perhaps too used to his antics after only a couple months of working for him. It’s not like he was a stranger to start with, the senior you helped through your sophomore Contracts course remembering you fondly for your plucky demeanor and willingness to fight when necessary. 

You simply remember him as a smooth talking asshole who charmed you into doing his coursework successfully but he signs your checks so you keep your assessments of his character to yourself as often as possible. 

“How do you know what’s going on at Yuji’s company? Are you a mole?”

A snort is your response and you toss him a glance from over your glasses, one he knows means he’s treading in dangerous territory. Tossing down one of the near bursting envelopes in your hand, you pick up your phone and grimace at the text lighting up the screen. 

Toge: maki wants 2 eat w u at some point this millennium - her words

Rolling your eyes, you text back and Sukuna watches with a grin, wondering what in the world could have you so irritated on your phone. 

“That’s not Gojo is it?”

You scoff again and add nothing further, continuing to focus on your phone despite the second last message Toge sent you containing a link to a headline showing off the man just mentioned wining and dining a pretty dark haired woman across the world last night. 

Quickly, you type a reply to Toge’s message to send the bubble with the news article further out of your periphery.

You: are you guys together? where are you?

“It’s my assistant reminding me to eat since I don’t get a spare second to do it working for you,” you finally remark, locking your phone with a wince. 

You try to pretend you’re too good to be affected by the latest news of Satoru’s careless public hookups but you did lock yourself in the executive bathroom to cry at your own reflection for 45 minutes earlier so you opt for silence rather than digging the hole any deeper. 

Why you care in the first place is beyond you, the two of you only ever orbiting around one another, no serious groundwork for anything beyond neutrality laid. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, though, and while there’s no use in lamenting that you’re nobody to the man you can at least sit down and dye your hair a shade darker to pretend he’d be interested next time you get the chance. 

Sukuna pulls you out of the hole your mind is in, swinging back and forth in his chair, making it squeal with each quarter turn and further annoying you.  

“When’s the last time you went out and did anything besides look at paperwork and smoke with the window cracked? You look like shit.”

The expression on your face is priceless, shifting to glare at your boss while he snickers to himself and shrugs, knuckles wrapped around his opposite bicep. 

“Yuji’s party is the last time I went out.”

Well over a month ago. Sukuna whistles lowly, still shifting idly in his chair. 

“I’m just saying maybe you need more than just a bite to eat to feel better. Text your ex or something, didn’t he just get surgery? He’s probably at home.”

The mention of Shigeo, baseball star, makes you exhale as loudly as possible and throw down another envelope. He’s the last person you want to hear about, given you broke his heart just over six months ago, admitting you didn’t see yourself marrying him when he asked about a shared future for the two of you. He’s sweet, he’s wonderful, he’s a good man but he isn’t your forever man and finally, anger makes your face flush and feel warm, your boss successfully making his way under your skin.

“Don’t you have illicit substances to snort out of someone’s asshole?” You look away and mutter under your breath, much to the amusement of the man watching each irritated step you take. “What are you even doing here anyway? It’s after hours.”

Sukuna takes his feet off of the desk and leans forward on his elbows, sucking his teeth. He isn’t sure why he’s here, actually. Perhaps he’s partied out and tired of hosting giggling girls with nothing better to do than hang on his every word or maybe he wants to look over his kingdom without prying eyes judging his every mood. Both of these are a little true but above all, part of him holds the tiniest bit of fondness for you. At least enough that he’s concerned you’re overworking yourself. 

“Go out tonight. All this shit will be here tomorrow and I’m sure I’ll give you even more to deal with by the time the sun is up again.”

You sigh and look down at your phone, screen lighting up as another message from your personal assistant comes through. 

Toge: den, just sat down. ordered you vodka soda.

“Fine but let your little pink princess know that if her NDA isn’t in by next week I’m going to sit there and watch you two fuck to make sure nothing gets out.”

Sukuna hums, brows raised. 

“I always knew you were a freak.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles, standing up from his chair and letting it roll back far enough it bumps against the glass floor to ceiling window behind it. “You’re one of those girls who wears really sexy underwear but never lets anyone see them, right?”

Tucking documents into a box, you snarl. He’s not 

flirting, he's making nasty observations as he is known to do. He has known you for long enough he feels extremely comfortable doing so and you can hardly argue with him. Who cares even if he is right? You’re a grown woman with a lucrative career and life, if you wanna wear 50,000 yen silk panties that’s your business.

“That’s more than enough out of you.” Another document tucked and you approach Sukuna, looking up at him with your mouth in a line. “I’ll be in by 10 tomorrow. Don’t fuck my night up.”

He nods, holding his hands up in a gesture of mild surrender. 

“I’m serious about the NDA too. I’ll meet with her if you want but I won’t promise to be nice about it.”

Your boss scoffs but smirks.

“You’re always too nice, that's why you don’t have it yet but I’ll talk to her.”

Nodding, you acquiesce, uninterested in arguing while you tie your coat closed. Your phone lights up again and you look down at the message with a groan.

Toge: ice melting…👎🏻

“I mean it, Sukuna Itadori. I do not want to hear a single report of bad behavior in the morning.”

The only person allowed to still call him his family name is you and you turn on your heel, stilettos clacking across the marble floor with each step. 

“Whatever you say, boss.”

His sly remark makes you toss another look over your shoulder while opening the office door but the buzz of your phone catches your attention instead. 

Maki: If you aren’t here in 15 I’m dragging you out of that building myself.

Knowing she means it, you stiffen and rush to leave. 

“No drama, Sukuna!” 

You shout over your shoulder and he chuckles, opening his own phone and scrolling to the contact for the pretty little pink princess he hopes to have back between his jaws tonight. 

#sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #malevolent enterprise

[gobbluthbutagirl]

trying to remember what last june was like for me….um i know towards the beginning of the month i spent over an hour of my one precious life cleaning the single nastiest & most disgusting target cart anyone on this bitch hell of an earth has ever laid eyes on because we only had like 11 in the store at that time. i found a penis drawn in nail polish on the nail polish aisle. hr guy made a “float” for the pride parade that was literally just a target cart with some streamers on it and they didn’t ask me to be in the parade and i was literally soooo offended even though i was in the closet the entire time and then like 3 days before the parade hr guy was like, “holly are you coming to the pride parade with us?” and i was like “well you didn’t invite me so no” and that was how he found out i wasn’t invited so he invited me and i said yes. and then the day of the pride parade the damn a/c was out in the store and it was like 200 degrees hotter in there than it was outside and hr guy literally would not stop sending me on cart runs and the next day was more of the same except i got so dehydrated i literally almost died and i drank like 32oz of electrolytes including a liquid iv at work then went home early and immediately drank 40oz of water in under 2 minutes and still felt like i was dying of thirst all night. and then that wednesday a bald guy came in and tried to steal $1400+ worth of stuff including like 8 pairs of haircutting scissors and hr guy acted like a hypocrite and a fool over register-closing procedures and made me mad as hell and then later i found out there was a bob dylan concert that night from spotify asking me if i went and i was like no spotify i wasn’t at the bob dylan concert i was at target suffering more than jesus LIKE ALWAYS! and then my dad & brother & youngest sister flew in and we rented a hotel room in santa monica that was approximately 1000x nicer than that horrible shithole i called “my apartment” and we drove down to san diego that one day and the homeless guy with the bag of piss came up to us at the intersection and went, “we fucked her good!” which is still my favorite welcome from any city ever and then the last night of the vacation i literally ditched my family in santa monica and took 2 trains back to my horrible shithole apartment at like 10pm and ignored all their attempts to contact me until they were back on the east coast because i was so ashamed of the just everything about my life. and then there was that incident at the end of the month where hr guy made me so so so mad that i really said “well i might have to quit” and then just walked out 2 hours into my shift and then 2 days later i randomly showed up and i was like, “[hr guy], i’m gonna tell you exactly what my problem with you is and exactly why i’m quitting,” and then he was like, “would you like to sit down?” and i was like, “NO!” and then he sat down and i just stood there and yelled at him about how i’m an ideal employee and i have done things for this store that literally nobody else on earth is willing to do and he’s an asshole and nobody likes him and i’ve heard a lot of people say a lot of things about him and none of them have been anything good. and he was just like, “please don’t quit. i will pay you for this,” and i decided to stay because i decided that was objectively really funny. and then either i got a stomach ulcer or i already had a stomach ulcer and it exploded and ruined the rest of my summer. and it was literally the worst of times but it was also the most entertaining of times and oh god what if that’s the best my life ever gets

[mikkock]

Hey hi your murder mystery art is super totally cool and amazing and I'd like to Extra! Extra! hear all about it *rattles bells*

haha wow i cant believe ud ask me THIS! unbelievable! now im gonna have to make a long post!

all info under the cut cause im kind like that ♥

For reasons I felt like making a Fancy Ass murder mystery story, with you know, hella complex secret storylines and everyone having drama and shit, and one person died but the more the story goes the less people care about who did the murder and the more they want tHE JUICY DETAILs. X and Y had an afFAIR you say!!! well that’s thousands time more interesting than that murder that happened, who cares about the culprit its not like any of us are going anywhere anyway! tell me more about the marital issues!

The ultimate Vibes are Clue (the game, ya kno, it had a movie too, and that movie was shot with three different endings -fun fact- so that movie theatres could play one alternatively that way people wouldnt get spoiled or even if they did they would not get the ending they were spoiled or even if all three were spoiled you couldnt know which ending you were getting anyway, big dick move, cause its an old movie and film is expensive, also that movie stupid and campy, ALSO I ONLY LEARNED MAKING THIS AU THAT IN ENGLISH THE GAME’S CALLED “CLUE” wE CALL IT CLUEDO therefore my wip playlist is called cluedo. because. fuck it.)(i just have an emotional attachment to that game i even had a cd rom video game version and it was the spookiest shit for a 6 years old, trust me, i played it so much tho i didnt even understand the rULES i was just making scenarios like gathering the characters in rooms n making conversations outloud cause honestly the banter is the best part of a murder mystery) ANYWAY that sure is a whole paragraph of tangent. 

BUT YE the inspo from the Clue game. you can tell it from the Colours obviously, everyone’s colour codded.(even everyone’s name is colours as well you’ll see it’s real dang fancy! im just remaking that game but with 2932020 characters and more behind the scenes drama and also for gay people.)

So BASIC PLOT!

Sir Belyy, the dude in white, is The Rich Powerful Respected Fancy Boss, and he throws a Fancy Reception Party with his closest friends and associates to celebrate the opening of a new branch of his business. All the lads gather in his wonderful little very isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere, like ok he got a death wish or something or he’s very trusting of his business partners, but not a good move, cause in the middle of the reception, as A Phat Storm Starts (for plot convenience, we going with a campy vibe if you couldnt tell), his body is found, it’s awful, there’s a killer on the loose! All the guests gather, and attempt to maybe contact the authorities, to not avail, since The Storm ya know, phone lines are Broken my dude. Its clear that the culprit is among them, since no one could have entered the house, or left it (cuz once again, ThE sTORm). And then it’s all about interrogating each other, distrust, alliances and betrayal, revealing one’s deepest secrets when they form an alibi and revealing someone else’s deepest secret for they could be a motive! Meanwhile there’s a dead body in the mansion just chillin there. 

.

So as I mentioned, I changed everyone’s name to be colour related (or ya know, food or flowers of that colour cause sometimes a colour in a language would not work as a name given the way names work in that culture all that jazz) which is the trippiest thing cause tHATS NOT YALLS USUAL NAMES but its fun (also changed so many ages hgfhs it was a trip)(still no one’s really old i guess i got boomerphobia). The “Cast” is clearly the most important part, and if ur a True “My OCs” Connaisseur (hdfghd the most useful skill to have, knowing *MY* Charactersdshgd) you may have recognised some faces and can already read some vibes and predict who will be progressing the plot and who will be yelling at people throwing accusations ghdfgd.

(god i wish i hadnt slacked off making the portraits of everyone in that AU i only have 3 tho that’s so sad so ill just make little sketches just cause <3 only text??? i got too many hoes with no attention span for that)

.

Sir BELYY (the one who dIEs lmao)

(bust shot missing the fact that this man is the tallest beefiest lad around)

Intimidating, powerful, composed, wealthy, carries the name of a family who has generations of control to it’s reputation, he’s The Man that hoes who believe in the economy wishes they were. As in, the “self made” man who only just happened to benefit from having a wealthy background to uplift his plans. In his youth, he wanted to prove his worth, seperated himself from his father, started a business, that business became big, then got attached to the family’s business, bam back to square one but with Reputation now. There seemed to be VERY big tension between him and The Father, some speculate it had to do with his unknown mother, and some family drama there, and it never got resolved as old man Belyy died quite young (the jUICY speculations are that current sir Belyy mURDEREd old man sir Belyy, fucked up if true!). People love him though in general, as he has that reputation of “Cold Lad With a Gold Heart” aka he takes people under his wings, donates, doesnt treat his employees like the absolute worst garbage etc... you know, he’s rich and a half decent person, so obviously he’s an angel on earth. But does it matter though, he’s dead! that’s the concept of the story!  

Mr.GRAY (the grey guest)(who could have guessed from the name)

He’s one of Sir Belyy’s oldest employees, and benefits from a high rank in the company. But, sadly for him, he’s been stagnating lately, as newer, youngest employees seem to have Belyy’s favours, and are his prefered associates for important tasks and positions. Therefore he has Some Bitterness, Some Salt, Some Distaste, some unbriddled but professionally muted hatred for Specific people in the company. He can be an antagonistic figure, but the amount of time he spent in Belyy’s circle grants him an immense quantity of information about the man, but mostly, about his business. Anything about the company’s history, dealings, operations, he’s aware of, either having been told of them, or having snooped around to obtain, immune to being questioned due to his legitimacy in the company.

Mr.LIM (the green guest)

Remember when it was said that Gray had beef with some employees cause they were younger and rose to high ranks faster than him and became Belyy’s favourite over him? Yeah well here comes the one he hates the most for that (ofc he’s belyys fave cuz he’s Mine <3) Our lad caught Belyy’s attention for his Exploits in like, em fancy high school tournaments of smart people, it’s a thing its ridiculous, making kids compete on Smart stuff for the pride of their schools n shit, well homie Lim got clout when doing that, and Belyy was extremely interested cause that kid’s main thing was how “this young lad got mad strategic skills tf are u a war general or smth how fancy”, and that’s a coveted skill for ruthless business. So as soon as the kid is an adult, bam, join the company my dude. And because he’s just that Cool n Sexy ofc he met the expectations Belyy had, and old man Belyy got attached cuz it do be such a young lad, a kid, mentally i am adopting. That’s how you get a youngas employee becoming the right hand man of one the phatest CEO in a few years, and even make your way into being a Good Lad on top of a business partner. And that’s how you get Gray to hate your ass too. Now though, fine lad with mad strategic skills, rising to power that fast, and even infiltrating Belyy’s private life? If I were Gray I’d call suspicion there’s surely some shady stuff going no way we’re just dealing with a nice fella who just happens to work good and be friendly to the boss right?

Herra MUSTA (the black “guest”)

Belyy’s newest butler, assistant, house keeper, he multitasks. His family has been tied to Belyy’s for generations, fullfilling roles of help, but also of confidents. He’s been the head butler since only a short time, after his mother passed, and as such is still “in training” you could say, despite having served the family his whole life. There are rumours going around that the contract tying his family to the Belyys may end on his generation and need to be resigned. He known the manor by heart, and carries all keys to any locked room (and mostly, The Master Key, cause in an old house, some doors may be locked beyond all still existing keys). He also knows secrets of the family that no one else knows, but good luck getting em out of him, he’s under contract not to divulge em bro.

Mr. HASSEL (the brown guest)

Belyy’s childhood friend. They grew up together, pictured their dreams together, sworn to flourish together, worked together when starting the company, and then Hassel felt he should create his own thing instead of depending on his friend’s existing wealth, and while Belyy’s business went wild, his never took off. They still stayed very close, despite the massive difference in wealth. Belyy considers him his closest friend, the one person he can trust (fucked if hassel did the murder lemme tell u). So of course, he’s still always invited to the Prestigious meet ups where’s he’s free to feel uncomfortably out of place amongst all the rich and powerful people that he could have been a part of had he had a tiny bit of luck and a small loan from a wealthy relative...People LOVE saying he’s still hanging out with Belyy so much to leech off his wealth, cause of course they do! His bestie status means he has a whole different brand of information of Belyy than his butler does, the Most Intimate Stuff, the Childhood Stuff. The Juicy stuff ya kno...But Bro Code, its all secrets...

Sir RUZH (the red “guest”)

Deep dive into Belyy’s personnal history, the man has many employees working at his house keeping it working, clean, ya know the vibe. They live on the premice, one has a kid who’s just a Joy to be around, all the employees just vibe with that lad, he’s just a born socialite you know? Belyy gets to meet the kid, and also hella vibes with him. And because human are influenced by their feelings, he gives the kid’s mum a bit of a preferencial treatment, in the tasks she fullfils and all, til he gives her an important-as mission, and then there’s an accident n mama dies, and now Belyy got guilt and there’s this kid who just Vibes. So naturally the move is to take the kid in, and play on how his vibes are just so clean, and raise him to be the Perfect Entertainer for guests, bam, its soft power propaganda, if everyone loves your now son’s vibes, they associate them with you too. And also that’s kind of a clean rep, the selfless man who adopted his employee’s son to not have him fall to the streets, how heartwarming. Not at all traumatising for the kid too I bet! But anyway now the lad is just the most charming young adult, mission accomplished. He’s always present at any reception, ready to work his people-pleasing magic, and then going back to a gigantic empty manor to wait for the next and curate the perfect vibes to meet the expectations of dad. On the plus side, he knows everyone, and those who don’t know him cannot wAIT to, he’s just got that aura ya know. People skills for miles, and the insider knowledge that comes with being the son of the CEO, all this hidden behind the personna of the fresh innocent bashful party lad. 

Dr.FEN (the pink guest)

Do not get mistaken by the title, he’s no doc, he will not diagnose you with anything, he just studied long enough to get the sexy title. Study in what? Haha. Nothing shady. Just toxicology. He’s a world reknown poison expert basically, that’s his main thing. Oh but don’t worry, of course studying substances that may kill people is only for finding out how to cure them from it of course. What brings him in this circle? Simple, Belyy may or may not have started to suffer some weird illness that no doctor has been able to find the source, let alone cure, of. Him and Dr.Fen had met previously on some event, cause some rich man also love flexing how smart they are and attending sciencey shit, and he was contacted as sort of a shot in the dark. The lad does know how to treat some things, maybe he can treat The Mysterious Unwellness, since no traditional doctor was able to. He knows science, he’s trustworthy, bam, you’re hired to work on My Case Exclusively. Thanks to this, Dr.Fen has access to the whole health history of Belyy and his family, to many mANY dangerous substances, and also has The Respect of the hoes at the party. He HAS a doctorate after all. Epitome of knowledge. And he’s a kind to people and he wears pink like dang how can you nOT pour your wHOLE trust in him. 

Sir MOREVITCH (the blue guest)

Youngest son of an affluent family, who used to be close the the Belyys. The two families fell slightly appart after the death of the previous head of the family on the Belyy side, as they do nOT vibe with the current one (well current, til the first night of the story ig). But, unbeknownst to all, one strong link had been kept, between the youngest of the Morevitch, who dislikes his family and wishes to emancipate himself from them while also assuring his depart will not throw him basically in the streets, and our beloved Sir Belyy, who also dislikes the Morevitches but loves to see the rebellious energy of the young one (and ya know, my enemy’s enemy’s my friend or however you say that). So Belyy’s basically offering tips and helping Morevitch plant himself safely out of his family’s grasp, but it’s all taking quite some time isn’t it, slow and steady is fine until your parents try to arrange a wedding to secure more political power, and suddenly it is all quite urgent that you escape that situation because No Thank You Parents I Do Not Want A Wife I’m Too Young And Also Huh <3 Stuff You Won’t Like Hearing For Sure <3. The people who know they’re working together also know that it’s a big point of argument between them, the difference in vision between “you have to go slow and steady to be safe” and “I have very limited time to get to that safety anyway so I gotta risk it” “hell no you cant i can’t follow through if we’re going that quick that’ll put me at risk and you’re family’s gonna send gunmen to take me down”. A mess, it’d be much quicker to just obtain a few million bucks out of nowhere and bolt for sure...

Mr.GANG (the orange guest)

Morevitch’s trusted assistant. He hears the concerns, he helps the secret businesses, he lies to the parents about the whereabouts, and mostly, he’s basically a budget spy. The lad got that talent where people just don’t notice him popping behind them and catching all their dirty laundry as they confess it to someone they trust, and he always manages to break into places, get the intel he was looking for, and escape, putting everything back into place as if no one was ever there (wonder where he got all those skills from damn!). But what he’s even better at is being sneaky not only to benefit his boss, but himself as well <3. If he can catch all the info in the world, go any places, nothing’s stopping him from playing double agent and also going behind Morevitch’s back. After all the assistant life isn’t the most glamourous and rewarding, who can blame him from going and using his talents to build his own little exit route, right? Everybody sort of knows he cannot be trusted, but also no one managed to really incriminate or stop him, and as much as he has tea on many people, no has it on him, but bet once found that would be heeeella juicy.

M.MOUTARDE (the yellow guest)(this one is straight up the name of the yellow player in the french edition of clue too when i say its my main vibe)

Moutarde was an influential celebrity. He had a big break acting in a movie that the whole country stanned so hard they basically turned the script into their national anthem (they would have if it was a true democracy where the people really decide), he was so handsome and elegant, everyone’s dream husband. And then the fame fiddled out because it’s how fame is, one moment you’re the sexiest dish on the table and the next someone brings in dessert and baam, its all about that fresh cake, and no one pays any mind to your delightful aroma anymore, you’ve gone cold, they had a bite, their interest is somewhere else. Belyy really admires his work though, and mostly finds his image fits with the brand of his company, therefore the two are working on a collaboration to make Moutarde a representative. This WOULD boost Moutarde’s reputation, for his ads would be displayed on every imaginable surface of the country, and it would also benefit the company cause being represented by thAT sexy motherfucker? clearly that’s a deal. The freshness of the partnership means Moutarde is a newcomer in the guests, a fresh face, with no reputation, no relationships, no unfair biases against him. He’s just the new handsome charismatic lad with a squeaky clean image. Emphasis on “image”. After all, no one really knows anything of his background, right?

Kun.LAWENDER (the purple guest)

Private investigator, very useful to be around at a party it’s almost like it was expected there’d be a body to investigate, he’s a very close associate of Belyy, as there’s nothing more important to business than investigating the rivals and finding dirt on them to make them fall through infamy. He’s not exactly the PI who goes look for justice to be served, he’s just here for cash bro. He’s got intel on everyone, and will only let it out if offered the right thing in return (money, or sometimes other pieces of very secret intel, trade is good). Wouldn’t advise letting him and Gang team up tbh but they probably wouldnt, as Lawender is really more of a lone wolf player, going on his own for himself. The one thing that negates his usefulness as a PI on an accidental crime of scene is that even if he knew the whole truth of the event he would not spit it out unless he benefitted from saying it. He sure is a polarising lad, but at the same time, an untouchable one, he’s too knowledgeable to be taken down. Rather than sneaky, he’s extremely observant, noticing the tiniest details and engraving them in his memory, ready to be linked up to other details to deduct the big picture. He’s the upfront tea gathered basically (as opposed to Gang’s shadow tea gathering if you will, they are similar forces but using opposite methods)(also one of em got a licence n the other does not hAH).

~~~~

Now the secrets, all of em have them. One of em at least got the secret of having KILLED Belyy that’s that. But that’s to be kept for later (for if i ever use this story for more than daydream material gfhjgh) bet you can imagine what some of em may be just out of Knowing what i do, from having seen the characters in other contexts, or just because you’re a genius and reading the character profiles immediatly lit up the bulbs in your head forming the perfect theory, props to you, mad genius.

Honestly my thoughts are just how lit of a game that would be, you get to pick one hoe (maybe sum are locked til u find their secrets for juicy purposes) and you do your invetigation using your character’s perks and disadvantages, and maybe there could even be Multiple scenarios and outcomes, to spice it up, give replay value, i just think it’d be a game id spend hours on. tryin to get the spicy details of everyone’s life. walking around n digging through a rich man’s stuff, witnessing the drAMA of people fighting cause they’re locked in with a murderer and that’s stressful ngl. That or a long ass show @ netflix wanna give me a show maybe? give me hella budget we’re making it animated cause im too cultured for live action. 

whatever i make of it though, i hope i can make this story Flourish, just so that i can lay down all those secret backstories i’ve written. i want the satisfaction of throwing out the craziest secret drama between character n seeing peeps loose their minds, it just is a tasty experience.

also i gotta say, i plug the hell out of Clue for an inspo but when i was building the basics of the story my mind immediatly went “oH MY GOD THE VIBES,, THE BACKSTABBING AND tEAMING UP and all,,, its The Genius, that one tv show where peeps have to do the wildest games that require strategy n they’re in that fancy set that looks like a rich ppl mansion oh god the vibes” so yeah, i rewatched the whole first two seasons cause they’re my faves and that had an impact if only minimal in the aesthetic.

Anyway hope that quick presentation gave you a lil taste of the story, and maybe,,,, got you curious,,, craving to learn more like you never did before (im exaggerating the only real question we all got is just “so who’s fuckin with whom then how many of yall secretly dating” this the real deal)

#doodlin every lad's face at one rly be like 'welcome to the cheekbone festival' #they got antti AND said at once like the cheekbonage is out of this world! #that's musta n gang btw #also every single time i draw cream (blue lad) im like 'i havent drawn u in ages' n it isnt #that i dont draw him much anymore #but that ive drawn only this bitch for months back in the days #him bein in this without his lover....criminal #cuz his boo wouldnt fit a murder mystery au like #hoes would find the corpse he'd just be like 'welp on that imma go to bed aight bye' #anyway u can tell which of my ocs i simp for v easely #like fr #they the ones i spend the longest drawfigfdj cuz i draw em n then go 'not hot enough do it again' #a struggle! #anyway the secret is that i prepares a motive AND an alibi for all of em #so that i can pick who murdered belyy at the last moment <3 #its all abt the contextual clues on the scene of crime <3 #none of the drama tells u anything its all for the treat of gossip <3 #sad part of this project is how much ive planned n written yet i can barely tell anythin if i want to make it #n ive drawn nothingbhd #i hav a dari n a weiwei in their coloured clothes lookin handsome cuz ofc i do #im predictable i have faves #ask if they're in love in this one too take a fuckin guess #u rly think hoe going to his boss's house so much to see the ceo ???? HAH #the real question isnt if theyre smooshin we all kno that answer the question is if dad white suit knows thATs whats important #are yall secret lovers or is green boy climbing the ladder of the company cuz he's smashing the boss's son #who knows #i do i aint telling pay me

[tteokggukk]

summer heat → jjk

–pairing: twin!jungkook x reader

–genre: fluff, mature (? but no smut), drabble, a minor attempt at humor, best friend’s twin brother type of thing

–words: 2.9k

–warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, tiny bit of humiliation, a hint of jungkook and reader having some sort of “history” if u squint hard enough

–summary: in an attempt to calm you down and prevent your mood from swinging due to the blazing heat, your best friend decides to go out and buy you some ice cream. you’re shocked, however, when he quickly returns and looks different, making you see him in an entirely new light and leaving you trying to resist the urge to give in to your raging hormones and just jump on him.

–a/n: i was thinking of this scenario in the shower but didn’t have the brain power to turn it into a full length story so i might just add this to a pile of drabbles that i may or may not develop heh + ive been in my jungkook feels too lately sigh + also this is unedited 

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum  @mochisjoon​ @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd​ 

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. Sweat was beginning to trickle down your temples and your shirt was getting stuck to your skin, causing an irking feeling of discomfort. Looking around, you quickly grabbed an empty long folder from your best friend’s messy desk and began fanning yourself to cool down. The two of you were just there, sitting in his room in a not-so-comfortable silence.

You were currently plopped down onto a chair with your legs resting on the desk in front of you, too lazy to come up with ideas to kill your boredom.

It was a tradition for your family to travel every summer and visit a new country you hadn’t been to, but this year you had to pass the plane tickets and sight-seeing due to your best friend, Junghan, asking begging you to help him out with a month-long film project. You didn’t have the heart to decline, so you told your parents you’d stay behind and help him out which resulted in you having to stay over at Junghan’s place for the rest of the summer.

You had to admit though, a small part of you felt disinclined to stay because the project sounded like it would’ve been a tedious workload, but working with your best friend was so much more fun than you’d imagined and even the project itself turned out to be enjoyable. So far, your summer break has been spent filming and hanging out with Junghan—though hanging out usually meant staying in his room and watching romcoms all day while crying over fictional characters, ranting about how you two would never meet such perfect men in real life. It was great.

Until the air conditioner broke down.

You glanced over at Junghan, who seemed to be just as spiritless as you were while he sat in front of a fan, eyes looking empty and distant.

“I told you the air conditioner needed to be fixed,” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, completely missing the harsh glare he sent you.

“I said I was gonna get it fixed,” He replies and turns back to the fan, his voice quieting down a little, “But the number for repair wouldn’t answer.”

“Right,” You muttered absent-mindedly, eyes staring at the ceiling while your mind was too busy trying to come up with suggestions to beat the heat, “We could go to the pool?”

“Closed,” Junghan grunts, “The mall?”

“As if we’d both drive in this state,” You rolled your eyes as you tried to get your shirt to stop sticking to your skin. Junghan glances over at you when he hears you grumbling, one of the many cues that you were beginning to feel peevish. Deciding that it was pointless to keep tugging on your shirt, you opt to take it off instead.

“You don’t mind do you?” You asked before completely removing your shirt, only leaving you in your bralette. Though you knew he never did because of the countless times he’s helped you change and pick out different outfits, you always asked out of politeness. Additionally, his zero interest in women made you feel much safer and comfortable enough to undress around him.

“I really don’t care,” He says and stands up. You hear him rumbling for a moment while you were neatly folding your shirt, and seconds later you recognize the jingling sound of keys.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“The nearby grocery. You’re about to get grumpy and I am not going to listen to a rambling bitch for the rest of the day,” He says, rubbing his temples as he makes his way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” You asked, too exhausted to even glance at him. He probably wasn’t, you only asked for the dramatic effect.

“No, dumbass. I’m just gonna go and buy ice cream. See you in a bit.”

And with that Junghan leaves and closes the door shut. Only a few minutes later after the sound of the engine had gone did you decide to exert a little effort and move over to his previous spot to sit in front of the fan, the air immediately cooling your skin. You sighed in relief and grabbed a few tissues to wipe your temples dry before grabbing your phone and texting Junghan to buy some lemonade, followed by a second text telling him you’d pay him back once he returned.

You were surprised to hear, not even ten minutes later, that the car was already back and pulling up in the driveway. It couldn’t have been Junghan’s parents as they were out working, and it was only you and Junghan around—not like you two had many friends who would come and visit. Instead of rationalizing with yourself on how Junghan came back home in supersonic speed, you decide to drop it and wait for him to come up back to his room.

Someone knocks on the door, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. Since when did Junghan knock?

“Come... in?” You answer, though it came out more as a question. Your head turns at the sound of the door opening, and your eyes widen at seeing Junghan standing by the doorframe.

Looking oddly different.

“Dude,” You stood up from your place and stared him up and down, “Is that what you were really wearing when you went out?”

His eyebrows raise in shock and you catch his eyes taking a quick glimpse from your chest before quickly looking back at the perplexed look on your face, a small smirk forming on lips. You decide to ignore it.

“What a warm ‘welcome home’,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t answer me,” you replied, still oblivious to the difference in his tone.

He was wearing an all-black ensemble—a black cap, a black leather jacket, black pants that outlined his toned thighs (how have you never noticed?), and some chunky black boots—a huge contrast to his normally colorful and baggy clothing. You were genuinely curious because you hadn’t noticed what he looked like before he left the house as you were too tired and lazy to even look up and say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah. This is what I was wearing?” He narrows one of his eyes, looking confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know… since when did you wear all black?”

“Since way back then? I don’t know,” He replies, and you now noticed how his voice was unusually low. Junghan steps inside and averts his eyes from you, looking around in his room before scrimmaging through drawers as if in search for something.

“What are you looking for?” You asked, folding your arms and following him around.

“A charger,” He replies, and a chill runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You thought maybe you’d detect how he was just trying to change his manner of speaking, but it was effortlessly low; like he wasn’t faking it or anything. It was weird because Junghan normally sounded a little more high pitched. 

“What charger?”

“A laptop charger, mine broke,” He continues searching and not once does he meet your eyes.

“Oh okay, let me help you then,” You begin to look around and help him search, “Though I don’t know what it looks like, I’ll let you know if I see a charger.”

He looks up at you and smiles, but you don’t catch him watching you as you were already busy searching, “Thanks.”

The two of you continue searching in silence, though occasionally you’d look up and glance at Junghan. What exactly was he doing? Was this for his film? Is he supposed to be in character? This new look and manner of talking that he somehow adopted after a quick trip to the grocery store did things to you. Every time he grunted in annoyance after a failed search, something in your stomach would twist and you found yourself suddenly feeling drawn, or maybe even more than drawn, to your best friend. Your gay best friend.

You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts.

Only a few minutes later did you find something that looked like a charger hiding underneath a pile of unfolded clothes before presenting it to Junghan, “Is it this?”

“Yes! Exactly that,” He jumps up from crouching over one of the drawers at the bedside and walks over to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t know why you took such a long time searching for something in your room, though,” You rolled your eyes.

“My room?” He smiles, voice a little deeper but with a hint of amusement.

God, you could just jump on him right now.

“Yeah?” You knit your brows, “And stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he was looking up at you. He leans back a bit a folds his arms, a smile still tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the summer heat doing things to your head and making you think about all these things that you never thought you’d ever want to do with your gay best friend, but he seemed so in character it was actually beginning to bother you. What store did he go to exactly? And where the hell is the ice cream?

“That! What’s up with your voice? And your outfit? You look so different, it’s weird,” You folded your arms as if to mirror him.

“Weird, huh?” He asks and looks at his clothing before looking back at you.

“Not in a bad way. It looks good, it’s just not you,” You squirmed slightly before shaking your head to snap out of it, “I don’t know what store you went to that made you look like this—and congrats I guess, if you’re trying to switch up your fashion, but you completely missed the ice cream, so good luck trying to handle this rambling bitch.”

He laughs at the words “rambling bitch” and oh god that is not what his laughter sounded like before. When did the sound of his laugh sound so deep and sultry? You subconsciously sucked on and bit your lip at the sound of his laughter, trying your best not to visibly drool in front of him. He catches your subtle action and his brow raises at the sight.

“Despite all the things you said, you think this looks good?” A playful smile rests on his face and your heart beats erratically at his expression.

“Y-yeah, I don’t know,” You mumbled. He shifts on the edge of the bed to move closer to you.

“And because there’s no ice cream, you’re going to turn into some rambling…” He reaches his hand out, the back of his fingers feeling the skin on your exposed waist before resting his hand on your back to pull you in closer.

“…person?” he continues, brows raised and eyes staring intently at yours, not using the vulgar word you had just used to describe yourself (or the word he had just called you before he left to go to the store).

“I...um, we’ll see,” you replied, and he only chuckles deeply. Your voice had transformed into a murmuring mess and it annoyed you, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, right now he reminded you so much of—

“I think you look good too, you know. Maybe I did miss you a lot more than I thought I did,” he whispers, pulling you in even more so you were now standing between his thighs.

Missed you? After an eight minute trip to the grocery store?

You didn’t question it. Your mind was blanking out, malfunctioning, even. Here was your best friend, your gay best friend (as you had to keep reminding yourself), placing his hands on your bare skin in a way that you knew wasn’t going to turn out to be so innocent. Right now you were extremely attracted and possibly even turned on by whatever the fuck he was doing, all you could do to save yourself was blame it on the heat. Was this absolutely weird? Hell yes. Did you want to stop him? Fuck no.

Were you now completely devoid of all reason and logic?

Definitely.

Softly, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into him so you were now sitting on his lap with your hand resting on his chest. One of his hands was still attached to your waist, the other was resting itself on the bed, gripping on a blanket.

Chills run down your spine for the second time now as his mouth moves closer to your ear, “Lucky for you I know the perfect way to handle rambling bitches.”

Your breath hitches for a moment and Junghan moves back to face you, his lips grazing your cheeks a little before you meet each other’s gaze. The summer heat was definitely nothing compared to this, but you didn’t mind. Your faces were only mere centimeters apart now and you could’ve sworn he was beginning to lean in by the look in his eyes, which were now fixated on your lips.

Seriously, you could just grab him by the collar right now and speed things up. He’s the one who pulled you in first, anyway, you just wanted to get things going. Though you haven’t exactly a clue as to where this would end, you wished he would hurry up a little to find out.

But for some strange reason, your senses were enveloped with the distinct smell of a signature fragrance that you knew did not belong to Junghan and it snapped you out of your thoughts. The scent was strong enough to flash some memories back in your mind, making you frown. Did he use this perfume on purpose? Or was your mind just playing tricks on you? In a flash, you could suddenly think straight and you couldn’t help it, the moral side of your brain had turned far stronger than your currently raging hormones (thank goodness). Something was definitely off.

“But, Junghan… aren’t you… gay?” You asked, your voice trailing off a little.

His eyes widen and he pulls back from you. He stares at you for a few seconds before it hits him, and he starts erupting in laughter. You narrowed your eyes at him and got off his lap, moving over to the side and sitting beside him instead.

“Junghan?” He stresses on the name. You’re staring at him blankly now, like you knew he was just messing with you. His laughter eventually dies down and he places a hand on your thigh, though it seemed much more innocent now, “I’m so sorry, ____, you’ve got the wrong person.”

With one hand, he quickly grabs the blanket off the bed. The back of his other free hand endearingly caresses your jaw, and you notice how he lingers for a while as he moves a bit lower down to your neck—before wrapping the fabric around you and covering your whole torso with it. Your face immediately turns pink as you clutched onto the blanket to further cover yourself, feeling slightly humiliated, though you were still confused.

“Wrong person? What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you had no shirt on, I thought that was just a regular thing for you now. But it’s probably cause you’re more comfortable around my brother, huh?”

“Your brother…?”

“Has it really been that long?” He chuckles, and instantly your mind began connecting the pieces together. Could it actually be him? You haven’t seen him in years, and no one even bothered telling you he was coming back today. No way, surely this was Junghan playing a joke on you.

“I’m not Junghan. I’m his twin brother, Jungkook. Remember?”

You hastily stood up in defense, still clutching the blanket close to your chest, “Shut the fuck up, Junghan. No one said anything about Jungkook coming back today!”

Junghan Jungkook only laughs and stands up, the melodious sound filling the room, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the wide open bedroom door. 

“What a shame, but it was a surprise. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home today,” He folds his arms, “And if I am Junghan, then who is that?” He points at the doorframe and true enough, Junghan was standing there holding grocery bags in his arms wearing his usual oversized colorful jacket and khaki colored pants.

You and Junghan both looked at each other with mouths dropped down to the floor before you looked back at Jungkook, who had the same smirk tugged on his lips, clearly amused at the whole situation.

Jungkook bends forward and leans in to your face, his voice in a lower tone but still audible enough for his brother to hear, “Probably shouldn’t take your top off so leisurely around the house anymore, huh?” He grins and winks at you, causing you wince and force an awkward smile, internally cursing yourself at everything that just happened.

“Anyways, I should probably rest up in my room. See you around,” Jungkook flashes you a smile before placing a chaste kiss on your (now dry, because your body had frozen up) forehead before walking away from you, taking the charger and dangling it in his other hand. He taps his confused looking brother on the shoulder before turning his head back to take one last look at you before walking out, leaving you and Junghan staring at each other in shock.

Junghan walks in slowly and sets the bags of grocery on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asks you, eyes wide in anticipation.

Your mind replays everything that had happened between you two. Was Jungkook really just about to kiss you minutes before? Heart racing, you clutch on your chest from underneath the blanket he had covered you with. No way was Jungkook back. No way is he back and looking even more attractive than he did the last time you saw him. Not when you had just gotten over your small crush on him a couple of years ago.

The heat returns to your body, but it mainly pools on your cheeks. You look back at your best friend, but no words of explanation come up. 

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

↣ all rights reserved © 2021 tteokggukk. please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts jk #jungkook x reader #bts oneshot #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #bts fluff #bangtan smut #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #bts au #bts x reader #bts x you #jjk smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

[dr3amofagame]

Since starvation is canon imagine Dream in the future having to deal with the mental effects of it. His armor doesn't fit and feels like carrying hard rocks that hit him in his bones painfully. It's harder to do things that he did so easily before. He used to be able to move freely, whenever he was trapped he could rely on his body to carry him away from any bad situation. He could climb trees and run and swim so eaily but now it's so much harder, so much more tiring. It's a trapping feeling that follows him around constantly.

aww this ask made me sad ,, yeah post-pandora recovery is going to be a Bitch And A Half. just *shakes c!sam* stop violating basic human rights you creeper man you. 

anyway, have some more syndicate c!dream angst!! 

tws: ed mention (kinda), disordered eating, starvation, trauma, torture (mentioned), vomit mention, internalized ableism (? dream makes a few statements that sorta brush off his trauma), pandora’s vault/prison arc

His armor doesn’t fit anymore.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow. Dream may not be like Techno, is hardly as careful with his armor - he’ll slap on a Prot IV, Mending, maybe Unbreaking if he’s feeling generous, but he’s never really managed to shake the careless ambivalence he’s learned to regard most of his belongings with after their inevitable destruction, not after the chaos that made up growing up with Sapnap and George - not to mention the training from manhunts. His armor was a rushed, simple thing, made much the same way as he would craft any set in iron, the extent of its personalization limited to the neatly-printed “Nightmare” he used to mark each piece as his own. Even so - it had once been his, his constant companion as he traveled around the server, as comfortable over his shoulders as a second skin - it wasn’t pretty, or well-crafted, or worth anything much at all, but it was his.

He doesn’t have very many things that were his from before.

Most of the set is still left on the armor stand Techno had left in the room, only the chestplate missing from the wooden dummy so he can hold it up with his own two hands. He brushes his hands over the surface, feeling out the familiar runes scrawled over it back and front, hardly even legible thanks to his rush job. It’s clearly taken a beating or ten, nicks and scrapes covering it back and front - some familiar, most not - and he frowns as he shifts its weight between his hands, heavy and leaving his arms straining even after just a few minutes.

He’s no stranger to proper training - knows, still, after so long without sparring or practice or anything, that the set is too heavy for him. He may lean towards a lighter armor than most to allow for his movement and parkour, but it was still made for someone well-practiced and healthy - nothing like the wreck of bones and skin he’s become after months without proper meals and torture. He can hardly hold up just the chestplate alone - he’s not stupid. Netherite is heavy, and he can hardly manage more than iron for an hour or two.

He bites his lip, before tucking his head to his chest and pulling the chestplate up anyway.

His hands are clumsy as he pulls the straps tight, fumbling weakly with the buckles in a way that makes his teeth grind against each other. The weight immediately presses against his still-healing ribs, making them creak and ache dangerously in his chest, and the sudden, gasping pressure on his lungs nearly sends him into a panic. He ignores it all, focused on the worn leather on either side, pulls each piece as tight as it will go.

He’s not wearing any padding, and the feeling of the hard metal against his bones is hardly what anyone could call “comfortable,” calls back memories of himself, a foot on his back, pressed against unforgiving obsidian. He breathes in another slow, shivering breath, chest struggling to expand against the weight, and stands in front of the mirror.

He looks dumb.

It reminds him of being a kid and trying on Sam’s diamond armor for the first time, completely dwarfed by its height and breadth, waddling around awkwardly from the foreign weight strapped to his chest and the awkward way it hung off of him. His armor is more familiar but no less unfitting, hollow spaces lingering that should’ve been filled by muscle and fat, his sharp edges digging uncomfortably against its surface. It hums with the same feeling of unbelonging, like he’s taken something that belongs to someone else entirely, the same heavy discomfort that comes from wearing someone else’s shirt or drinking from another person’s mug. Hot tears spring to his eyes, and he stubbornly blinks them away; it’s just a stupid set of armor, really, it doesn’t matter at all-

“Hey, nerd.” Techno’s voice is muffled outside the door, and he knocks softly against the doorframe twice - a request to enter. Dream stares at himself a moment longer, debating whether to shuck off the chestplate first, before sighing and kicking at the floor - once, twice, granting permission.

The door opens slowly, but Dream’s traitorous body freezes anyway for a moment, muscles locked and tensed painfully under the heavy armor, and he forces another breath into his lungs to stave off the panic. Thankfully, Techno knows about his stupid brain enough to know to give him some time, leaning against the door frame as he counts off the seconds in his head until he looks back up again to signal that he’s ready for him to come closer.

His eyebrow lifts and he gestures at the armor he’s wearing. “That’s your old set, right?”

He nods, worrying his lips between his teeth as he lifts his hands to sign. Yeah. Ranboo brought them from S-N-O-W-C-H-E-S-T-E-R.

“Makes sense.” Techno’s face twists as he struggles to follow Dream’s signs; he’s learned quicker than he would’ve expected, at first, but there’s a few things that Dream needs to fingerspell, still. He looks him up and down, a wry smile on his face. “Isn’t that a bit heavy?”

Dream gnaws on his lips further, trying to decide what to say, explain what has left him staring at the mirror in silence for upwards of ten, fifteen minutes now. If he was more in the mood, he’d make a joke about his self-absorption. Instead, he looks away, signing with quick, overly casual movements.

Wanted to see if it fit. It doesn’t anymore.

“Ah,” Techno’s voice, low and drawling, has picked up that knowing tone that Dream’s learning to hate. “I see.”

He frowns, keeping his eyes trained the bottom half of the mirror, to his too-skinny legs peeking out of the bottom of his sweatpants. He tries not to look at himself too much now, doesn’t know what to make of the near-skeleton that stares back at him when he bothers to look, all sharp edges and unnatural hollows, the foreign ridges of his spine running down his back and his ribs sticking out at his sides. None of it is his - not this armor, not this body, all of it belonging to a Dream that hadn’t been through the fire and brimstone of Pandora, that didn’t recoil at the taste of potatoes, that could eat more than two meals a day without throwing up.

“Dream?”

He shakes himself out of his own thoughts, tasting iron from where he’d torn apart his lips with his teeth. He balls his fist, pulls it to his chest. Sorry.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He can hear the sound of Techno shifting from side to side, awkward in the silence hanging thick and heavy in the room, “Anyway, Phil’s made some stew. You goin’ to join us?”

The question gives him pause for far too long as he weighs his options - he knows he should eat more, knows that it’ll be the only thing that helps him fill out and heal and finally start recovering from everything in Pandora, but no matter how much he knows his mind still recoils harshly at the idea of more food. He’s not hungry at all, or maybe he is and he just doesn’t feel it anymore - it’s hard to tell, in this new normal. Everything’s hard, after Pandora.

In a few minutes, he finally signs, biting back a flush of shame at the clear surprise in Techno’s expression.

“Alright, whenever you want, nerd.”

Techno walks out the room, and Dream sighs, a wheezing heave of breath that leaves him exhausted and makes the chestplate feel heavier than ever. One by one, he reaches for the buckles, maneuvering them open so he can pull the netherite over his head and let it fall onto his bed. He stares at the thing for a few minutes longer, lips pursed, at the messily drawn runes and the unfamiliar dents along the top edge and a gouge carved on one side, deep enough to expose a slight blue line of the diamond underneath, and huffs, turning away.

He’ll have to call up Ranboo or something later to see if anyone wants an old set of netherite armor. He has no use for it, anymore.

#tw ed #tw eating disorder #tw starvation #tw disordered eating #tw trauma #tw torture #tw vomit #tw internalized ableism #tw ableism #pandora's vault #prison arc #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

[us-ugay]

i think ive talked about it on here but idk if i went into much detail

along w those realizing ur sexuality AUs im also a sucker for time travel AUs because i just love history and differences between our modern society and previous historical societies i lose my shit every time but one of the near and dear personal AUs i have at the moment is time travel AU where a modern day arthur and an all american alfred who slowly fall in love in the intolerant and small minded setting of 1950s small town USA

adding a read more cuz i practically turned this bitch into a short story on its own

arthur, a 21-22 year old student researcher at berkley gets involved in an accident in the lab with an experimental time device, sending him back to 1951 (exactly 70 years prior to the day). while dazed and disoriented, he stumbles around for a while until alfred, a 19 year old baby faced server finds him on the side of the road as he’s coming back from a shift. alfred is just as naive as the town he lives in, so of course hes not afraid or concerned like arthur is and gladly extends a helping hand to this friendly looking stranger.

throughout the AU, alfred helps arthur on his feet in the town, gets him a job at the diner, brings him to meet his family and they grow to become best friends. alfred is ecstatic. he’s never met someone like arthur who has an entirely different sense of perspective than the rest of the people around him. he knows so many things that alfred can’t even begin to wrap his head around. he’s open minded and talks about so many new things that alfred hasn’t ever stopped to consider. arthur is so cool to him for reasons he himself cant even begin to explain, and he feels drawn to him. of course, alfred’s constant hanging around w arthur doesnt escape the notice of other folks in town, along w his family

arthur on the other hand, is now in an entirely new place and time with absolutely no way to get back. he thinks that maybe if he stays stuck in one place, someone would come back looking for him, even if it takes the folks in the future trying to find him a while. months after months roll by with nothing. arthur slowly loses hope. he’s been trying to blend in, not stick out in obvious ways. he isn’t any expert in history, let alone how society was even just decades ago. he doesn’t know what others know at this time, and how people think, so he feels completely out of his element. alfred, the eager and excitable boy who keeps helping him out and talking to him, is one of his only sources of comfort.

once a year, year and a half roll by, arthur finally realizes that no one is coming for him. he grieves over it, but comes to the conclusion that he has no other option but to make a new life here in the past. he starts to actually get involved in the town, make some friends, but he’s still the closest with alfred. they become virtually inseparable.

alfred, now having spent the last year and a half-two years with arthur, is starting to have some tension with his family over his place in life. his mom and dad want to see alfred settle into a career, get a house, and bring a girl home to them. his father in particular, starts to grow resentful towards alfred’s friendship with arthur, seeing it as a distraction for alfred preventing him from moving on in life. his mom is just tired of arthur becoming a de-facto new son at the table whenever alfred joins them for their weekly family dinners.

around the 2 and a half, 3 year mark, they hit a breaking point. rumors have been swirling around the small town about the pair, which have gotten back to alfred’s father. he begins to notice that despite his son being a mans man, tall and athletic and works on cars for a living, arthur is the opposite. he doesnt understand why the two spend as much time together as they do when they don’t have almost anything in common. he starts seeing arthur as a corrupting force in alfred’s life, and begins to try and deter alfred from seeing him. as alfred ignores him, he becomes more and more stern and demanding

arthur of course, can see what’s happening around him. he knows people realize that something is off about him. while he was in the present, arthur had no problem with being open with his sexuality. he was secure in himself and never ran into much issues when it came to it. of course he had struggles with internalized societal messages but he never had to deal with targeted bigotry outside of school yard name calling.

however, now is different. he can see people begin to leer at him on the street and hear whispers when he passes by the diner regulars. while he made sure to keep everything private, something must have tipped off everyone around him, and he sees the writing on the wall. he begins to work out plans to move to the bigger city if/when things escalate.

alfred, on the other hand, doesn’t quite understand why things have started to shift. he doesnt understand why his parents are suddenly so eager to see him bring home a girl when he himself isn’t interested in finding a girl. he’s only 21, much too young to be married in his mind, and it’s not like he hasn’t had super close male friendships before. and sure, he’s maybe had a few late night conversations while star gazing with arthur about how other men sometimes fall in love with each other, and how it was weird when he felt something flutter in his stomach when arthur couldnt meet his eyes throughout those entire conversations, but its not like he ever acted upon anything! how dare people be suspicious about him when he’s never done anything that would elicit suspicion?!

the pit in alfred stomach grows more and more each day while the rest of the town slowly becomes darker and darker. him and his dad can hardly speak to each other without it becoming an argument. the late night drives and talks with arthur begin to have an air of tension to them. even arthur seems more serious than usual. they’re parked at their usual scenic point thats overlooking the town where they often have their philosophical talks. arthur is just staring out ahead at the lights of the town, quiet, while alfred tries to chatter away.

while racking his brain to come up with something that could get arthur to talk, a thought crosses his mind. along with losing the town and his family if things keep going down this path as they are, he might lose arthur too.

alfred goes silent at the thought while looking at arthur. arthur, realizing alfred has stopped talking, looks back and meets his gaze. a few moments pass by.

alfred then leans forwards and kisses him.

its just a brief brush of the lips, nothing either boys haven’t experienced and yet, both of their breaths are held as alfred shifts back into his seat and they snap their eyes ahead out of the front wind shield.

alfred drives arthur home in silence, and drops him off at his apartment with a small see ya. alfred then goes home and settles in bed. he doesnt know what he’s feeling. his heart is fluttering and yet he feels sick to his stomach. he now understands why everyone is disgusted with him, and he feels disgusted with himself. the next day, he doesn’t visit arthur at the diner like he usually does.

arthur on the other hand, is dumb founded. alfred has always been curious about a lot of things. of course they talked about how men can be gay, but they also talked about philosophy and life and whether or not soviet russia is as bad as everyone says it is and what the moon could be made out of. alfred loved talking about the stars and would point out all kinds of constellations arthur knew nothing about and arthur in turn would explain to alfred about important it was to be empathetic towards the plight of people that movies and books and the radio didnt talk about. he never expected that alfred, handsome, friendly, perfect picture of 1950s americana alfred, could like men, let alone him. his heart soared as he went to sleep that night.

in the morning, however, the idea that he could just run off whenever the town inevitably turned on him now rocked him with guilt. he would have just left alfred without much fanfare. alfred helped him on his feet when he was alone and scared in a new world, and he would have just severed the relationship they had without regards to how alfred would have felt. he decided then that he would talk with alfred about what was going on and about his plans.

to wrap it up, the rest of the AU is arthur helping alfred work through his internalized homophobia and working on a relationship together as the town and alfred’s parents turns on them. they eventually do flee to san francisco, the closest big city where they would just be faces in the crowd. alfred learns to be in a relationship without set in stone rules and dynamics that he used to expect he’d have to act out one day, while arthur then has to grapple with keeping alfred in the dark about his own history and how he came to be in alfred’s life in the first place.

of course, arthur’s place in then-1958 is discovered by the lab at berkley through historical archives 👀 arthur then has to grapple a little harder about having kept alfred in the dark about everything, and alfred has to decide if once again, he could sever himself from everything he knows to follow arthur

#jesus christ i didnt mean to make this a fucking novel #ive been sitting on this AU for several months now so i had all the major story beats plotted out #but also damn wish i were a writer and could actually make this into something cuz outside of this post that took 2 hours to write #aint nothing tangible coming of tthis lol #uhh i named the other big AUs i came up with so i prolly should get a name for this for tagging purposes #hmmmmmmm #ill call it #back from the past AU #for now #we'll workshop something better maybe if i think about it #ok edit jk its now called #great pretenders AU

[back2themax]

Karate kid part II review -

So this movie is…. Decent? Like it’s not bad but it’s  definitely not as good as the orignal. I don’t any sequel can do that. However I think it did have genuinely great moments that make it worth a watch, even if it drags in certain places. As they really chose to me romantic subplots more major plots in this movie, and that’s where it really tends to drag.

The good-

One of the highlights of this movie is that Daniel and Mr.Miyagi don’t suffer from the usual slump of sequels, typically the charecter’s will be written out of charecter , their potential wasted and so on. However they are just ss strong as the first movie. They’re  characters remain intact and their relationship, if anything is stronger! They both still get some really good lines in too. I think this is mainly do to it being a trilogy, it’s three parts to one story. Not all disjointed trying to recapture something

I like how it takes place literally directly after he wins the  tournament. It allows to see a aftermath thag most properties will just gloss over. I also love that Daniel is shuffling? Basically dragging his leg in a way, I do think it healed but I think it’d be a cool detail If he just… had a weird walk ever since? Also allows for Kreese to be even more of a manic?

He’s very “don’t you see?! Don’t you get it? IM THE REAL VICTIM HERE” *Currently choking a 17 year old to death*

Also Mr. Miyagi just honking his nose will never not be funny to me.

I love that it’s implied Daniel will come over purely to bitch, he just kicks in the door YOU WILL NOT BELLLLIEVE THE DAY IVE HAD. Also forever living for the very very 80s prom suit. However kinda weirded out? The moment is hysterical but it feels very unlike Ali?

“How come every time I feel bad you got work for me to do?” “Cosmic  coincidence”

A refugee from Fresno 💕 the fact that not only was he going to let Daniel stay for the summer but that he would get his own full on little guest house?!

Both Daniels “your more important then anything to me” speech and his one about his dad?

“Dunno, never been attacked by tree”

“How new?” “About ten seconds

“Focus” “alright, what are you gonna do?” “Pray”

seriously there’s some great lines in here

I like how the movie is really one mainly for charecter development and their bond? To learn way more about Mr.Miyagi and some good general wisdom as always. It also further establishes Daniel as genuinely being just a good kid, sure he’s stupid sometimes(which he  acknowledges) but he usually means good. I love that.

The meh-

When I tell you how fucking frustrating Sato and his  nephew are? Just hard headed people in general. Do not get me wrong, he does serve as a great antagonist when it comes thing things ramping up and ramping up and ramping up but he’s so one track it’s kinda hard to redeem him? Like he just turns around “I’m good now :)” ??? Idk I would have liked one more scene.

Are we completely ignoring His wife from the first movie? That he did marry at all (it seams much more focused on if SHE did or not). Like don’t get me wrong it’s a interesting plot point but I feel it sort of takes away from the point made in the orignal about his wife and son. Daniel is the son he never got to have. Now they do at least, in this movie, very much play on to how Mr.Miyagi is very much a father figure to Daniel and I love that.

Also the love side plot is more THE plot… which the scenes are still adorable but at least in the first one their scenes would be spaced out with SOMETHING going on besides a guy coming around and wrecking things every once and awhile. There was a bunch to potential that they really went no where with, like again there’s so many great scenes with Daniel and Mr. Miyagi even Kumiko but they needed- something to happen.

I said it before but to much Kid not enough karate. Again I was mostly fine with this NOT being about training or them fighting, as that’s not really the point or  principles Miyagi teaches- because it’s learn so you don’t HAVE to fight. Defense only. But I want- something to happen, they are give 3 days, which is WAY less then 2 months and somehow it feels longer. I’m not needing a fast paced movie Im not needing drawn out fight scenes just- a bit more then shoving THIS HUGE STORM AND A FIGHT INTO THE LAST TEN FUCKING MINUTES? These two things should be huge points in the movie but they are instead literally shoved in last minute. Im not kidding his fight is the last 8 minutes of the film, 5 of which are him absolutely getting his ass kicked. Which, again I would not mind if there was more then one fight and it happened in the first? Idk it just- it felt like it was a afterthought “oh oh yeah karate uhhhhhhhh the nephew comes back for revenge!” It’s just not it 😔

Great potential but a lot of it was underutilized , good interactions and strong charecters really save the movie

#80s movies #the karate kid #the karate kid 2 #the karate kid part ii #daniel larusso #mr. miyagi #johnny lawrence #john kreese #Sato karate kid #karate kid 1984 #karate kid 1986

[prettyboy-parker]

favorite fics of 2020 (and a goodbye)

hi all!

first, i wanted to say this is inspired by one of my closest friends my bitch @honeybunstarker . thank u for that 

secondly, i wanted to say a final goodbye. i know that i nearly left a few months ago, but i was still on the fence about writing for marvel then. now, ive lost all interest. thank you all for fueling my love for writing, and making these past two (??? i actually don’t know) years full of excitement and encouragement! from the ups (the blocklist, secret santa) to the downs (my favorite blogs and friends deactivating without a word), ive had the greatest time in this fandom. 

in case you were worried, i am NOT deactivating. my fics will be available for you to read whenever you want.

but, i will not be writing for marvel anymore, nor will i be posting on this blog.

now that the sad part is done, i didn't want to leave you guys without anything to entertain yourselves with. so, here are my favorite fics, including some non-marvel, from this year! 

(all descriptions are from the work itself)

my top fic from this year, which is also one of my favorite fics of all time, is a dog named sunshine.

“Bucky Barnes has issues. Mental health issues, and a whole lot of them, to be precise. Bucky is fucked up, and he knows that. His apartment looks like a dumping ground on most days, he can’t sleep through the night, sometimes he doesn’t shower for six days and doesn’t leave the house except to see his therapist once a week. Mostly, Bucky has no idea how the whole “talking about your problems” thing is supposed to help him, but sometimes his therapist has some really great ideas. Like getting a dog. Which is how Bucky meets Steve. Steve has blond hair and shoulders as broad as Bucky’s future if he wouldn’t suffer from depression and multiple mental disorders, and a waist as small as Bucky’s self-esteem. Steve also has a yellowish dog with floppy ears called Sunshine. And sunshine makes its way into Bucky’s life with a bounce in its step.”

a modern stucky fic which portrays depression in the best way i have seen in a fic so far. unfortunately, it has been orphaned before being finished :(

starker:

hey baby, slip between my beta-pleats and get to know my alpha-helix? By @starkerforlife6969​ and @darker-soft-starker​

“Even though Tony can't tell the difference between Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo, Peter really has no other choice.

His heat is around the corner, so even though he loathes the party-going, booze drinking, smug playboy know-it-all that is Tony Stark-

He'll just have to do.”

if you asked me what my favorite starker fic of all time is, i’d tell you it’s this one

raising hybrid puppies by jaypendragon

“A non-powered Tony/Peter coffee shop AU with billionaire Tony and working-class, teenage Peter. Also, Toomes has a bakery and somehow Last Week Tonight is a genuine plot point.”

underage, slowburn, happy ending 

even though it’s one of the most notorious fics for the ship, i never read it until the summer. 

waiting for marriage by tuesday 

“In which Tony gets married and kidnapped in that order.

—

Tony Stark went to Vegas to cause a scandal.”

just super fun!

push you out (pull you back in) by @lovelystarker​

“So basically, Peter's kind of fucked. And not in the way that he wants to be-preferably by his mother's hot new boyfriend who has beautiful brown eyes and a disposition that's more than put-together. It wouldn't be so hard to ignore the crush, really it wouldn't, but Mr. Stark has practically moved in, so Peter can't avoid him if he wants to, and unlike his mom's past boyfriends, this one actually likes to spend time with him. So yeah, Peter's kind of fucked.”

just,,, wow. important to note that it is unfinished.

stucky:

you go to my head by alby_mangroves and brideofquiet

“Why would you do that for a man you don’t know?” Bucky asks.

Steve raises one slow eyebrow at him, then the other, till his expression turns from skepticism to disbelief. His forefinger and thumb reach into his shirt’s front pocket and draw out a wrinkled dollar bill.

Steve looks him in the eye when he says, very patiently, “For money, Bucky.”

40′s stucky is my favorite stucky

that boy is a problem by 2best friends

“In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve's dick and he's really into it.

(The leash is a metaphor. For now.)”

just porn

all the angels and the saints by speranza 

“In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.”

if it makes you cry, it’s probably good!

sugar sweet by colorcoated 

“College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.”

the only slowburn i have tolerated 

my bucky by cleo4u2 and xantissa 

“Bucky finds a feral Alpha in the woods. Rather, the Alpha finds him. Bucky is sure it’s the end of his life as an independant Omega. It turns out to be the beginning of the strangest romance Bucky’s ever known.”

stony:

(i want you to see) the darkest side of me by ann2who

“In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.”

total mindfuck.

ironstrange:

let it be by lucifersfavoritechild

“While dealing with his son's car accident and a rapidly-dissolving marriage, Tony is drawn to Peter's surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange.”

where severus snape is hot, not a stalker, and somehow gets the girl by utopiste

“Or: Peter Parker is sick and wants to cut his Neuroscience class. Tony just wants to help (and maybe date his son's hot teacher). Stephen Strange just wants to give his lecture in peace.”

miscellaneous:

geraskier: who needs plans anyways by NTK

“All witchers are alphas or betas by nature, since no omega has ever survived the Trial of the Grasses. Gerald has never had any problems with satisfying his needs on the occasional rut, for the whores from Poviss to Nilfgard were eager to be of service to a sturdy hunk like him. On the other hand, a certain omega/ bard/ occasional witcher tagalong has always made certain to acquire enough suppressants from local healers before setting out on a new adventure. That is, until the travels with his favourite White Wolf led the unlike pair into uncharted territory for longer than expected… life ensues”

philtriss: bound by sapphiresmoke

“Leashing involves a pupil being bound to their master in body, mind, and magic,” Philippa explained, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “It is not something to undertake lightly, but if you accept, I will be able to share my magic with you, and instruct you in ways that would be otherwise be impossible if I were to only rely on verbal communication. It is intimate, it is at times invasive, but if you consent to this, Triss, it will make you vastlymore powerful, and from the look in your eyes, that seems to be exactly what you are looking for.”

vandermatthews: one more night like this would put me six feet under by jukeboxgraduate

“To be alongside the same person week after week, to share honesty and trust with someone day after day, is a rare treasure in a life that hinges on dishonesty. Hosea holds it close to his heart.”

din/cobb: every wave is a tidal if you hang around by wolfhalls 

“Din comes to Mos Pelgo, and finds a lot more than he was looking for.”

and finally, rough day by @no-droids​, because we all need to be a little indulgent sometimes.

#starker #stony #ironstrange #stucky #fic recs #geraskier #philtriss

[qwertyfingers]

we know that bobby only watched ds9 and dean watched the tos movies for sure which implies he's seen tos as well (plus he calls jack spock). so what do you think everyone's favorite trek is? sam is without a doubt a tng fan first and foremost. i think out of all tos movies cas prefers the wrath of khan because he Feels Things when kirk and spock do the ta'al through the glass. charlie has definitely seen some trek (we've seen her llap), do you think she's into tos first and foremost? anyway let's talk about star trek nights in the bunker.

OKAY SO I HAVE. MANY MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG.

like. like of COURSE bobby only likes ds9 of course he does i could have told you this without the show becuase like. bobby is That Bitch. i think rufus will have watched TOS at least because leonard nimoy worked hard on linking jewish faith and practices into the vulcan lore and i think that would mean something to him. bobby will catch rufus smiling at him sometimes while they’re watching ds9 and ask him what all gruffly and rufus will smirk at him and say something about sisko with jake and bobby with dean and bobby will just cough and take a swig of whiskey and rufus will raise his eyebrows but let it slide. rufus definitely makes a comment once about dean&cas being like jake&nog that totally flies over dean’s head but bobby is all knowing eyebrow raise about.

i think cas and jack would really like discovery. while it has some issues with inconsistency, pacing, being a little dark, it also does better than the other TV treks at utilising the nature of film as a medium to instill a sense of wonder, at space and the world, and that’s something they’d really appreciate. i have my own issues with disco, but an obol for charon is as close to the central core of trek that disco ever gets. cas and jack also like that one in particular because they like listening to all the different languages being spoken. they all love michael (everyone loves michael). cas’ faves are stamets and reno because they’re mean and gay, jack’s fave is tilly because she’s excitable and bright and he latches onto that. dean likes reno because she’s got spunk. sam’s fave is airiam and he will never forgive them for killing her off. sam, cas and dean all feel an uncomfortable kinship with both ash and culber - they’ve both been the one with monster teeming under the surface, controleld by something not themself, but they’ve also all spent that time in hell/purgatory, separated from everyone they love.

thinking about episodes that would really get to them all, darmok is. THE ONE. i have a whole unfinished essay about darmok as the platonic ideal of star trek; the perfect distillation of everything trek is SUPPOSED to be about. it doens’t always get there but by god it tries! that speech michael gives in the disco s2 finale - “There's a whole galaxy of people out there who will reach for you. You have to let them. Find that person who seems farthest from you and reach for them.” - that’s what darmok is about!!! it’s all about a situation where real communication seems impossible, where everything we know about talking and learning has broken down. and picard says, okay, i will find another way. i can’t relate to you, you can’t relate to me, but by god i’m going to try. we all meet people we have trouble communicating with in our lives, and often, those people will not care about changing their own ways to accommodate us. for people with autism, adhd, psychosis, the list goes on, this is a very common occurrence. it’s exhausting and frustrating and alienating. darmok is all about crossing that barrier. about reaching for someone through a world of difficulty and learning how to talk. learning how to share something with someone who seems out of our reach. it’s beautiful, it’s heartwrenching, it means more to me than i can easily put into words! 

anyway i think the bunker fam would experience a lot of emotions watching it together. there’s defintiely a lot of hugging eachother, sam cries a lot and won’t look at anyone until after the episode ends. jack just asks a lot of questions and talks about his progress learning sign language with cas. dean snakes his hand into cas’ halfway through and doesn’t let go. doesn’t show the emotion on his face, but he clutches harder at the emotional beats. cas runs his fingers through jack’s hair and thinks a lot, and decides not to say anything unless dean talks first. its just a Lot for everyone. 

dean def makes them marathon all the TOS and TNG movies. it’s an experience everyone needs at least once. i think you’re right about cas and TWOK with the ta’al through the glass, but also ‘this simple feeling’ and the hand hold would make him feel crazy. bones being the one that spock entrusts with his katra DEF makes dean feel some type of way because as much as destiel is kirkspock-coded, dean IS bones, and seeing spock trust bones so completely despite how at odds they were when they first knew eachother would dig deep into dean’s psyche and make him more than a little bit nutso. the movies are way too long for jack so he mostly sits and plays animal crossing while they watch and looks at the screen when everyone else gasps or when something exciting is happening that holds his attention for a while. sam’s fave is nemesis precisely because it’s terrible and he loves how camp it is.

dean has definitely seen all of trek. i refuse to believe someone who watches as much tv and films as dean wouldn’t sit and watch the whole shebang. i think he’s probably seen TOS and the TOS movies more than the others because its easier than sitting through 7 seasons, but i think rather than that being his favourite he’d just have really strong opinions about the best episodes of each one? like if you asked him what his favourite is he’d say you can’t answer that because they’re all so different from eachother

VOY - bride of chaotica, non seqitur, macrocosm for the favourite episodes. seven, janeway and tuvok would be his favourite characters. he think toms a bit of a knob but also feels a kinship with him for the similar brand of bab dad-ism but he wouldn’t be able to put that into words. he’s also a fierce defender of threshold being a good episode (he’s right for that)

DS9 - our man bashir it’s our man bashir. he doesn’t dislike ds9 but its very plot heavy and he didn’t care for it when he was younger. rewatching it after living through multiple supernatural wars he’d probably appreciate it more. i know for a fact he cries every time there’s an episode about sisko being a good dad. jadzia and garak are his faves

TNG - he LOVES q. he also absolutely will not be caught dead referencing how much loves q after cas comes into his life because sam will do the little brotherly knowing eyebrow raise at him and he will die of embarrassment. he regularly references ‘there are four lights’ because he’s a fucking nerd. he has made cas watch elementary my dear data and fistful of datas a half dozen times each at LEAST. cas KNEW how dean was going to be about the cowboy hat he’s defintiely got into full cowboy getup at home just for watching movies and in cas’ head star trek is fully to blame.

TOS - oh there are so many good TOS eps to choose from. obv he loves most of the series becuase TOS has MANY banger eps, his favourites are probably like. mirror mirror, amok time (baby dean defintiely had some kind of crisis watching it for the first time; i know the rituals are intricate). i know deep in my bones that dean watched the conscience of the king (introduction of the tarsus iv massacre) once and then spent his entire teenage years writing fic about that in his head, whether he posted it or not. dean related too much to those experiences of shared hunger. city on the edge of forever is one of everyone’s faves for a reason (and i’m STILL mad we never got a closer take on that episode in spn it could have been so fun). 

ENT - he definitely thinks enterprise is stupid and he’s not wrong but he has also definitely watched it and been very repressed about the whole thing. mans was like oh i feel a kinship with malcolm reed the obviously repressed queer man. i will never examine this feeling ever again thank you <3 he also makes fun of archer for being obsessed with, of all sports, water polo. shran is his favourite character because he’s a little shit and makes him laugh, and t’pol, because t’pol is a badass and he’d appreciate that. i can’t remember the title of a single episode off the top of my head though lol.

i can see what you’re saying about sam being a TNG stan. i’m conflicted though, I feel like TNG’s generally the favourite of 1) obnoxious nerds who think knowing trivia facts makes them smart, 2) men desperately trying to seem masculine and 3) people who’ve watched it three times and have extremely complex thoughts on the personhood and rights of robots. i could see sam fitting into the third group, but people who are in it for the robot feelings are a coin flip between voyager and tng being the fave, and i just have a feeling that voyager would be his favourite. i know kid sam is getting gender envy watching voyager in shitty motels while dad and dean are out, trying to find the words for it. his first semester at stanford he talks a friend into giving him the janeway haircut and rides that high for months. sam’s favourite characters are seven and EMH. 

sam and dean have definitely had dozens of long drawn out debates about philosophical topics in star trek. do the holograms deserve rights and if so which ones. are the romulans and vulcans still meaningfully the same people. was spock right for trying to foment reunification by going undercover on romulus. can the borg be redeemed. etc etc.

i haven’t seen any of picard at all so i can’t comment. i also think sam and dean probably read a lot of the trek books? they’re pretty common to find in secondhand bookstores and cheap, would have been even cheaper back in the day. sam probably doesn’t care for them much, dean has a few solid faves though. i’ve only read the disco books so i can’t comment anything specifically (besides the fact that i think dean read dead endless and cried like a baby), but some of the TOS and DS9 books are gay as hell and i know dean was eyes emoji-ing that shit. 

#spn #spn fic #tfw 2.0 #treknatural

[danwhobrowses]

A Personal Rant before Sword and Shield comes out

I’ve sat idly by for months, tried to weather a few negative responses but given that it’s now 6 days from release and I’m hearing that devs are getting literal death threats I’m going to put my foot down

If you’re already shitting on a game that hasn’t been released yet, you are all juvenile bitches, and I’m about to tell you why.

Before we begin, I’m not saying that you’re not allowed to dislike a game, that happens, but usually it happens after you play a game, not before.

You are viewing this game through a keyhole and judging the room and what you’re seeing is not worthy of this much hate. Let’s start with the big one Dexit: Not as Big as You Think Having No National Dex is of course not ideal, but it doesn’t ruin the game. Let’s Go has no National Dex, all it had was Alola forms and nobody whinged about it. Ruby and Sapphire didn’t have a National Dex until FRLG, and nobody whinged about it. Sun and Moon and Ultra Sun and Moon do not have a National Dex And Nobody Whinged About It Do you know why? Because it’s not actually a big deal. People who complain about it are bandwagoning because ‘Dexit’ is a meme, its name literally parodies an event in current Britain that many people don’t actually want to happen.  Now currently, the anger of Dexit is that Bulbasaur and Squirtle are not in it, which frankly is hilarious because the last wave of bitching was ‘Kanto mons are getting all the new stuff’. You wanna know how many main series versions Bulbasaur and Squirtle have not been in? Seven, only way to get them is trade and event. The other complaint is that there’s ‘only 400′ Pokémon. Remember those days where people were fine with 150? 400 is huge, in fact it’s 3 less than USUM and it’s not accounting for the Gigantamax forms Don’t let headlines fool you either, Sun and Moon had 302 Pokémon, it’s far from the ‘lowest dex number since 2003′. Do your own research with these things. Kalos’ regional dex was 151, BW2 was 300, BW 153, Sinnoh 210, RSE has 386 and GSC had 252 Don’t get me wrong, it smarts that some Pokémon isn’t there, but it’s not a dealbreaker, like let’s be honest here. For a good year and a half all your pokémon are gonna do is sit in an unused cartridge or a PC box, you’re literally whining about the fact that you can’t move your perfect IV Pokémon from one box to another. You could simply just let them stay in Let’s Go or USUM, you don’t have to use Bank or Home on continued subscription for that, so your complaints are only set on the foundation that you feel like you have to continually pay to not transfer your Pokémon, Finally, people act like these Pokémon are deleted forever, they’re not, this is for spacing to make sure this game doesn’t break down from the sheer mass of models and textures it has to maintain in a massive open world space, the local and online camping and battles. Just use the Pokémon that are there! There’s new Pokémon don’t you wanna try those? You can also look at FRLG or Emerald and consider that maybe more Pokémon will get patched in once the game proves to be stable. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but the Nintendo Switch isn’t as powerful as the other consoles out there, sometimes it runs like shit. Believe me on that one, Switch is still in a very buggy development phase. Let’s Go was kept small to test it’s capability and Sword and Shield can’t just fly in and give you all 1000 Pokémon just so one of the ones you want can be in there

You have to be much less obtuse with this, I mean this was a long time coming. You’re gonna have to live with the fact that not every Pokémon ever can be supported on one game alone. Disk, Download, Cartridge and Patch Sizes have limits in Compliance, you can’t just throw everything at it. Waah, the New Pokémon Don’t Look Good They do, you’re being petty. It happens every version, the people dislike the starter evolutions or just one in particular. Remember all the Oshawott hate? This all comes and goes because people have simply gone on the first instinct that ‘new and different is scary and should be shunned’ You’re that Simpsons meme when young Homer accuses Grandpa of not being ‘with it’ I won’t spoil to those who haven’t seen it, but I like the new starters, and some of the new Pokémon will need some growing but not every Pokémon looks good at first glance. If Mr Mime, Hypno or Gastly came out nowadays they’d be crapped on so much for lacking creativity or for looking weird. Look at Drampa as well, thing looks like Falkar from The Neverending Story, when I first saw it I thought it look weird but now I like it. You should offer these things time And actually fall back on past experience, you’re reacting like this isn’t the same thing that happens every version; the dex gets leaked, people whine about the evolutions, people get over it and accept that they overreacted. hIgH QuAlItY aNiMaTiOnS I’ve seen that video, 2 clips and you judge a whole game how classy of you? If you don’t see improvement you’re blind. You can’t shit on a game for keeping the battle animations, you can’t expect every Pokémon to move their own unique way to the exact position of the body part the opponent needs to get hit by, that’s just unrealistic. You’re also failing to equate to the new moves and all the new movesets. You have to ensure that each Pokémon is capable of calling this animation as well. The second clip in that video was Hop and Hau having the same rigging, and once again, that’s not abnormal. Rigging is not easy either, do it wrong and it sticks and deforms texture. There’s nothing wrong with Hop having one animation that matches Hau’s, you’ll probably find that many models actually have similar rigging as previous games. Because it’s not that big of a deal and it saves money, as an example look at Disney they copied hand-drawn motion and stuck a different character on them, Robin Hood’s Little John dances just like (animated, for those too young to know otherwise) Jungle Book’s Baloo The thing you’re also ignoring from that clip is the graphical improvement of Hop compared to Hau, Hau looks like a balloon with a smiley face but Hop’s face has depth and his mouth actually moves like a normal person, his clothes have far more contrast and complexity, but no just zero in on one fighting animation and one rigging that’ll surely be worth abusing a game that’s not even out... B-But Charizard I’ve already explained this before but Charizard is Leon’s main, it’s obviously going to have a Gigantamax, ergo it’s also going to be in the Dex. Does Charizard get a lot? Yes, but the reason is because Charizard is popular. One of the rarest cards is a Charizard Hologram Card, Charizard is one of the first version mascots, it is one of the most recognized Pokémon Ash has in the anime Reality of the matter is that like Pikachu, Charizard is a recognized Pokémon for all ages, it appeals to a demographic that’s not playing In Layman’s Terms: that part is not for you A reality you really need to face. Pokémon is a game for all ages, so elements of the game are not always going to be tailored to your age range. The gimmick of Dynamax and Gigantamax is for merch sales and young children because it’s got an audience there, you can’t expect the Biggest Entertainment Brand in the World to simply shut out a large fraction of its demographic just to appeal 100% to you And again, it’s not a big deal, so there’s a Charizard there, just save a Stone Edge and be done with it, if you hate Charizard so much this’ll be catharsis, but in actuality you’re complaining because it’s something to complain about Kanto are getting Everything That went down like a lead balloon didn’t it? Reminder that the first Gigantamax forms were Galar Pokémon, so you can’t really say that anymore. There are Galar forms from non-Gen I Pokémon too I assure you, but the reason Kanto gets a lot of them is because Kanto is the oldest. Let’s not pretend that other gens don’t get love either Or should I remind you of Mega Ampharos, Scizor, Heracross, Houndoom, Tyranitar, Blaziken, Gardevoir, Gallade, Mawile, Aggron, Medicham, Manectric, Banette, Absol, Garchomp, Lucario, Abomasnow, Steelix, Sceptile, Marshtomp, Sableye, Sharpedo, Camerupt, Altaria, Glalie, Salamence, Metagross, Latias, Latios, Rayquaza, Lopunny, Audino and Diancie? It’s true that the Johto starters could use something, but I don’t think they’re being purposefully ignored, perhaps the right design hasn’t come along. Rather it be done right than poorly wouldn’t you agree? The Devs Should’ve Done <Insert Thing Here> People who say this kinda stuff have no idea how a game is made. I have a First Class Bachelor’s degree in Computer Gaming and Animation Technology and I can tell you that none of the stuff you want them to do is easy. Even getting grass right is a complete hassle. You want small insights you should watch Corridor Crew react to Good and Bad VFX, they tell you about the mechanics of CGI a few times on those vids. This is what annoys me with the prior swipe at the Battle animations and rigging, even with 2 years this is a heavily massive workload and Game Freak have only recently expanded the team that work on Pokémon which makes communication much more widespread and difficult to manage, likewise they are working on other games too they are not just Pokémon, currently their next IP is why Toby Fox was able to do a bit of music for Pokémon, because he’s collaborating with them on another game. The work doesn’t stop, most of these people are overworked and still doing overtime, they bring out a good product and all it gets is ‘but it should have this’, and unless it’s a huge part of the game that’s needed to function then that’s really disrespectful Before you start critiquing on what the people making this game ‘should’ve done’ perhaps you should try to make a game yourself, because it is not easy even for pros, I call back to Toby Fox because creating Undertale took 32 Months to create, that’s 2 years and 8 months for those slow with math, it also took 3 years before it could be ported to Switch because the Engine couldn’t support the platform, Pokémon has less time to do that, greater graphical and animation quality to achieve and more characters to battle, attacks to animate and more songs to compose. Conclusion: You’re All Just Bitter I’ve already seen it happen recently but this group of people senselessly bashing something because of ridiculous demands, expectations or arguments based on a lack of understanding all combine into something I’m simply calling the ‘Bitterness Fandom’. It’s people hating for the sake of hating and trying to bring something down just because it’s been a popular force for so long, and it’s not just Pokémon that’s getting it It’s already been happening to Star Wars. The Last Jedi and Solo were great films but the Bitterness sank its fangs in and act like neither are as good as the original trilogy (like killing Snoke without knowing anything about him and Phasma before she could do anything is any different to killing Sidious and Boba Fett in Jedi or Maul in Phantom Menace and Grievous in Revenge of the Sith), a lack of awareness to reality and the desire to complain for the sake of complaining continues to infect Star Wars. We even have a thing called ‘Star Wars Fatigue’ Star Wars can’t release a film every year because of ‘Fatigue’ but Marvel can release 5 MCU films a year and nobody bats an eye. Those frustrations aside, I refuse to let the Bitterness sink in without me calling them out, because you are not Pokémon Fans. If you were you’d know that having no National Dex isn’t new, you’d know that the graphics have improved and leaks of the game happen every time, you’d know why Charizard is popular and that some features are not intended to be targeted at you Shock and Horror to the heavens above but games can’t do everything And if you’re that naive to think so then you’re clearly not doing your homework So let’s throw out an absolutely WILD suggestion shall we? Let’s decide our opinion on a game After playing it? Because shitting on something you don’t even have hands-on experience with it is a fragile pedestal to put yourself on. If we all think it’s bad then, so be it, but I sincerely doubt that is the case When my copy of Pokémon Sword gets delivered to my house I am going to enjoy it because I will not let petty and incorrect statements sway my feelings and I swear to Arceus if you think the Bitterness will bring down Pokémon that easily then you did not see the queue to the London Poké Center that had been amassing since midnight and was forced to stop taking more people when the doors opened What should matter is how you enjoy the game, play it before you judge it And honestly, don’t send death threats, why we need to tell you that is beyond me, the ones who made these games are people who have worked their asses off day in and day out to provide something you aren’t even going to play because one Pokémon isn’t in it, the irony is not lost on me when I say this but deep into the very bottom of my heart: Grow Up. If you don’t like the game, don’t play it, don’t bother people about it, we don’t need your shit here Enjoy the Game People

#pokemon #pokémon #pokemon sword and shield #Pokémon Sword and Shield #pokemon swsh #rant

[janthonyashtoreth]

Another big batch of asks!

Answering a bunch of asks under the cut! Most of them are ink and flowers centric. I hope you all are doing well <3

anonymous asked: wait wait hold up Anathema works in Azra's tattoo parlour?? amazing, when i was thinking of making my own florist/tattoo artist au, i also had Anathema be Aziraphale's apprentice :D i like when these two are friends. do you have any more headcanons about Anathema in ink and flowers?

she does!! she was doing an apprenticeship under him but has since graduated to doing her own thing (but she still works at his parlor). i can’t get into the whole plot because spoilers but angels/demons and agnes nutter’s prophecies still exist in the iaf universe, but anathema isn’t her descendant. instead, anathema is a wickedly smart computer genius and her boyfriend newt is an endearing but kind of inept descendent of agnes. anathema was azra’s good friend-turned-wingwoman once anthony shows up. i love her

anonymous asked: concept: aziraphale seeing crowley presenting femininely for the first time how'd you think he'd react? in your flower shop tattoo artist au

anonymous asked: OKAY totally not asking bc i may or may not have been thinkin abt this for like. too long. but would anthony have to like, come out as genderfluid to azra/how would azra react to seeing anthony present more fem for the first time

ooo ive been thinking about this as well! i dont think anthony would necessarily have a “coming out moment”, they just kind of do what they want. if they feel like presenting fem or using different pronouns they would just. do it. and azra would just kind of roll with it. i like to think that the first time anthony presented fem she got all dressed up for date night and didn’t tell azra and azra just Stares bc,,,, wow anthony is just gorgeous like that!! azra’s dead!!!

anonymous asked: You're a cutie pie. That's it. That's the fact.

:’ ) you’re a sweety pie!!!

anonymous asked: i deadass tried for 20 minutes to make the finger heart...... how did your friend do it......

i have absolutely no idea and it hurts my brain,,,

anonymous asked: Wahoo

wahoo.....

@alligatorsnbats asked: OK, so what's Oscar's thoughts on Anthony?

oscar LOVES anthony... he’s the worlds most apathetic cat but he actively seeks anthony out when hes around. azra is only slightly salty about it

anonymous asked: Is Anthony cross eyed?

he’s not! i made him a little bit cross-eyed in my latest post on purpose bc he was flustered but i dont know if it came across very well ;;

anonymous asked: not to be *THAT* bitch who comes into your ask box and gushes over your art but i love the way you colour things and your clean line work?? mwah. i wish i could draw like you its just so lovely

bfdkjfdh im cry,,,, just keep practicing my friend!!! i promise it’ll get you where you want to go. the last couple of months have been really nice for me in my ~art journey~ because its the first time i’ve ever really liked stuff that i’ve drawn. ive been drawing for about 7-8 years and this is only just happening and it varies so much from person to person!! some people get to where they want to go in 2 years, some people take 20. just don’t stop practicing!!

anonymous asked: your human!crowley deserves infinite appreciation and the fact that he has coloboma: that right there! is! good shit! he has snake eyes,,,, but as a human. u are a genius good sir and your art is a blessing 👌👌👌

haha thank you!! i think coloboma (i know how to spell it now!!) is such an interesting condition and it’s kind of underused for human aus!!! its so dope!!!

@bolitakawaii-senpai asked: what would crowley's and azi's fav emojies from the cursed emojis??

asking the real questions out here..... i think crowley’s would be the one with all of the teeth and aziraphale’s (assuming he knows what they are in the first place) would be the really cute one with big eyes and the pink hairbow

anonymous asked: concept for the ink and flowers au: something happens to crowley (imma b honest i have no idea) and has a lowkey crisis and chops all his hair off and just. joins his pet snake and snakes around the nursery untill azra comes in seeing crowley crying and cuddling his snake and yeah idk enjoy my the weird shit my brain comes up with

jhuyhaijodfaydgsihfujoi RIP TO THE HAIR...... i love the angst potential (and i can come up with a few reasons for the angst, but i digress) but i dont think i could part with anthony’s hair,,, i love it too much

anonymous asked: I can't handle your ink and flowers Aziraphale. I can't. His hair is TOO fluffy. His face is TOO squishy. He is EXTREMELY friend shaped. His glasses and his eyes are bright like SPARKLES. Every time I see him I want to go feral and show all my friends. I would hug him without letting go of given the chance. 1000000000/10. 💜🐝

anonymous asked: I have a cat just like Oscar (big himbo) and I got him some knit hats for Christmas and he's gonna hate me but I can't wait to dress him up like a little bee so: does Azra ever give Oscar like costumes or footies just for fun? If yes, does Oscar love or hate? 💜🐝

isldakfj im grouping these two together bc im assuming ur the same person anon!! i love your signature!!

you’re correct. his hair IS too fluffy, and he IS entirely too friend shaped. he has the BRIGHTEST eyes. i cant contain my rabid love for him and it spills out into the art. i can’t help it. he gives the best hugs

SLADKFJ YES HE DOES..... IVE BEEN MEANING TO DRAW THIS FOR A HOT MINUTE,,,, as i mentioned earlier oscar is the world’s most apathetic cat so i dont think he would care that much but he’s not super happy about it

anonymous asked: Y'know what? I'm too tired so say smth clever so just know that I love you and your art is amazing 💕💕 PS: i love that you also tag them as Ineffable partners (i guess the point is to be gender neutral)

i love you as well anon,,, and yeah i like the ineffable partners tag! i find that it fits more with their relationship for some reason. though i still tag as ineffable husbands since its such a popular tag lksdfjdfknjbh

anonymous asked: Hello! Fist of all thank you for yor art, you are one of my favorite artists in this fandom and I have Feelings about the Ink and Flowers AU. Second: Don't feel pressured to post daily, we understand that life is complicated and art can be difficult sometimes. Take care! You're the best!

anon i would die for you!!! i never imagined that i would ever be one of anyone’s favorite artists,,,,, im speechless,,,,,,,,

and yeah unfortunately i dont think ill be able to post every other day once this coming semester starts :( i’ll probably have to cut back to once every 3. but there’s more ink and flowers coming at u guys so!! stay tuned for that

anonymous asked: Good omens characters having a game night?

i know this was sent in for the au prompts i asked for but. i dont think im physically capable of capturing the pure chaos that would ensue from this. holy shit it would be so feral. 

thank you to anyone who read this whole thing!! i read all of my asks as soon as i get them and i have a lot that i’ve been sitting on for a while. if you sent me something i promise i haven’t forgotten about it!! if you’ve sent something in that you were expecting a response to and i havent responded, just send it again to be safe in case tumblr ate it

i love all of you! <3

#ask me anything #anonymous #not art #ink and flowers au #bolitakawaii-senpai #alligatorsnbats

[undesired-attention]

I’m honestly so thankful for my parents idk what I would do without them.

I had left for work a few minutes later than normal last night and I noticed my car was accelerating funny, and then I felt it start pulling to the right and then started feeling some small thunks kinda fast, so I pulled over to check.

My tire light has been on for... like forever basically, when the weather gets cooler one of my tires gets a little low, my tires are weird and want to be filled to 40 psi, but that makes them ROCK hard and you feel every bump in the road. So my dad previously told me to let it be a little low, like 5 psi lower, just to make the ride a little smoother, mayb a little dumb but sh. I’ve kinda ignored it, it crossed my mind that it could drop too low and with the light already on I wouldn’t notice, but I’ve been working so much that I haven’t even had a second to really spare to check. My b. But when I started feeling the thunks, the tire light started flashing at me so I pulled over. Got out. Yep, tires p flat.

So I called my dad panicking because I had to be at work in about 30 minutes, we only live 20 minutes away but I was still a nervous wreak because I didn’t know what my dad was going to do, if he was going to want me to stay home for the night or if it was going to be out of commission for several days or what. He came and while he was driving over, I called my mom asking for the number to the nurses station to call and let them know I’ll be a little late but she told me not to worry and that she’ll call (which I didn’t want her to do because I’m not a child, but whatever it was one less thing for me to do at the time).

Dad confirmed ye that’s flat and pulled it over farther off the road and then drove me to work, even getting me there on time. He came home and got my mom and went and put the spare tire in the trunk on, which was amusing because we both thought it would be a skinny little donut but it was a full size tire. Then they drove to the hospital and called me, I ran downstairs to get my keys and park my car where I usually do. My dad came home with the flat tire and filled it up to see how fast it’s leaking now and it dropped 3 psi overnight, but he thinks it was a loose valve thing so he tightened it and threw it back on my car so I’ll see how it is tomorrow. There wasn’t anything like stuck in it or obviously wrong, just a slow leak that dropped too low.

But I really don’t know what I would do without both of my parents. My mom listens to me bitch about everything and she knows exactly what I’m saying because she works on the same floor as me, and my dad honestly just kinda knows everything. He always helps me with my stupid car stuff and talks to me about cars and paying back my loans and stuff and we agree on things for the most part. My dad even lets me take his car for days at a time to go drive to see mike, which I’m doing later this week and I’m rlly excited because it’s been almost two months since I’ve been able to go down there because of my weird work schedule so far. Since I started I’ve only had 2 times where I had more than 1-2 days off in a row, I had three days off in August but it was like Tuesday-Thursday, and then I had three days off in September, like a Wednesday-Friday but that’s when I got super sick with the 103.5 fever so I didn’t do anything.

But because of the way my schedule worked out this weekend, Friday-Sunday night working and then I’m gunna work Tuesday and Wednesday night, I have a full week off. Three days in a row wasn’t that bad, I’m starting to really get stuff now and I was basically independent last night because my preceptor was also charge nurse and had her own responsibilities, the only thing I had to ask her for help with was my one patient had a heparin drip and you have to release labs to be drawn every six hours to make sure the level is therapeutic, and how to hang an IV antibiotic without pushing a full line of heparin into her.

And I’m excited to see mike. It puts my mind at ease that I won’t be driving the bug down there, my dads car is really nice and still pretty new so I’m happy my dad trusts me enough to cross state lines alone with it lol. I’m only going down for four days kinda (get there Thursday night probably and then leave Sunday around noon because I have to watch my aunts dog for a week while they go on a cruise, I’m the only one willing to watch her because she has to get insulin every 12 hours) but it’ll still be really really nice, I miss him.

This is already a long post of sorting my thoughts so let’s make it a lil longer. The used cars I had been looking at to buy are all like around 20k, 1-2 years old, with around 30-40k miles on them already, so my dad and I sat down and looked at “okay, what if I buy one brand new?” And it’s only a little more expensive to buy new, but it’s NEW, even if I take a 5 year payment plan, at the end of it the car will be five years old instead of seven or more. I will put all the miles on it. No shady mysterious history of what’s happened to the car before. After dealing with the bug breaking something every 3-5 months, the thought of having a car that won’t have more than 1-2 (if that) oopsies in a span of several years excites me. I’m looking to put a massive massive down payment on the car, like half of the total cost down, to make my payments minimal because my student loan payments start soon too. I’ve saved up quite a bit so far from working, p much throwing my entire paycheck into my savings for a car except for like 200-300 or even less, just to maintain around $500 in my checking as my spending bank for food and gas, I don’t buy anything else, I can’t convince myself to spend the money. I guess what happened last night convinced my mom it’s really coming time for me to get a new car (although any and all cars can get flats.. my tires have been shit for over a year, this winter they actually are going to need new ones). I’ll see what happens though, I’m looking at 2019 Mazda cx-3 tourings and 2019 Subaru crosstrek premiums, they cost about the same, so I’m trying to save up as much as possible to throw at it off the bat.

Anyway that’s my spiel, ty for listening.

[rise-above-the-grave]

Headcanons about Han’s and Leia’s *friendship*?

THANK YOU

They may bitch about each other to anyone who’ll listen, but woe betide anyone who criticizes the other in their hearing. They’ll go from “They’re the worst person on the planet” to “How dARE you even–” in .2 seconds flat.

Han is one of the few people who Leia truly lets her guard down around. (Him, Luke, and Chewie are about it.) This means allowing herself to sleep in his presence, means allowing him to touch her (and it is blessedly few people who can touch her, after the Death Star), means turning her back on him without being on high alert.

They really bond first over philosophy. Philosophy was a pet hobby of Han’s, and was something Leia studied pretty extensively throughout her adolescence. It all starts because Leia quotes a semi-famous philosopher while talking to the Rogues and Han, and Han calls her on it. Later that evening, over dinner, she asks him how he knew what she had been quoting–and the rest is, as they say, history.

On the very worst nights, after Leia has exhausted herself in the gym but still can’t sleep (oh gods, oh gods, they tortured you, and made you watch the death of your people and your planet and your gods, and it’s your fault, your fault, YOUR FAULT) she goes to the Falcon and curls up on the couch. She does this four times before Han finds her. He came out of his room to get a drink and found that the lights were on in the lounge. He is surprised to see Leia curled up against the arm of the circular couch, legs drawn to her chest and face buried in her knees. She is shaking, Han sees.“Hey, your Worship,” Han says, frowning and taking a hesitant step forward. “Everything okay?”And Leia looks up at him, and her dark, dark eyes are drowning with pain. There is sweat drying on her face and dampening her shirt, and Han thinks she must be freezing. It is not warm in the hold.And Leia–Leia looks at him, and utters a single, heartbreaking word.“No.”Silently Han crosses to her, sits, and opens his arms. Leia falls into them, burying herself in his chest and in his warmth, and she does not cry, does not cry, does not cry. She does, however, sleep.

When Leia gets drunk (very, very, very drunk) the night after they flee Yavin IV, it is Han who finds and takes care of her. (It is the first time Leia has had a chance to get away from her leadership responsibilities–the first time she’s slowed enough for it to really sink in what happened to her on the Death Star–what happened to Alderaan.) She throws up on his boots, apologizes, bursts into tears, and then won’t stop apologizing. It takes Han approximately thirty seconds to realize she’s apologizing for more than just throwing up on his boots. He holds her while she cries, helps her clean herself up, and puts her to bed with a glass of water in easy reach. She doesn’t remember any of it the next morning.

Sometimes Han gives Leia piggy-back rides.

Han and Leia team up against Luke and the Rogues in a prank war that lasts for three months and spans two bases. It only ends when Mon herself steps in and orders them to cease and desist. Even so, all anyone has to do is say “Chickens”, and they’ll burst out laughing. (There was an incident with chickens, Leia, and High Command that no one ever officially takes credit for.)

It is to Han that Leia confesses that she believes she killed her gods. (Luke is too bright and optimistic. She doesn’t think he’ll understand.)“You can’t kill the unkillable,” Han says.“But how could they have survived?”“Because gods are more than flesh and blood,” Han says. “They’re as much made of belief as they are liturgical practice. And you can’t kill belief.”Leia shakes her head. “What if I told you that it was foretold that the gods would be slain?”“Were they?”“Yes.”“And what, exactly, does that prophecy say?”“That the world will end in green fire, and that it will burn the gods to ash and dust.”“Okay,” says Han. “And is that the end?”Leia hesitates. “No,” she says at last. “It also says that Child Hope, along with The Son, will bring the gods back to life on a new heaven and new earth.”“So there’s hope yet.”“Maybe,” Leia says. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I killed them. That I was the Destroyer that brought about their deaths.”“I don’t know enough about Alderaanian mythology to speak to that,” says Han. “But I do know it wasn’t your fault, Leia.”Leia shakes her head. “It was,” she says stubbornly.“No,” says Han patiently, “it wasn’t.”He can tell Leia doesn’t believe him, but she does drops the issue.

Han and Leia go on many missions together. They save each other countless times, both physically and emotionally. After only a month after meeting, they know that they can trust each other implicitly, completely, wholly, even when they’re in the middle of a fight.

Even though they fight, Han and Leia always come back to each other. They are suns caught in each other’s orbit, unable to break free, unable to do anything but sink closer and closer together until, at last, they meet. They lighten each other’s lives, bringing brightness and warmth, and stability–even in spite of their heated arguments. They are loyal to each other, even from the early days, and the only other one they allow into their inner circle is Luke. Even Chewie, who is Han’s best friend, isn’t quite as close to him as the three of them are together. They are bound together eternal, as surely as the force of gravity binds the universe.

send me a fandom and a topic and I’ll write 10 headcanons

#the last one kind of devolved into me waxing poetic about their relationship rather than an actual headcanon #oh well #leia organa #han solo #luke skywalker #chewbacca #10 headcanons #seren writes #bel-eriand

[thehuggamugcafe]

The Charlatan: Transfer Student IV

OOC: Holy hell. Am I in a mood today! Big Barista mood today indeed!

Do enjoy part 4, my dear customers! Cheers to each and every one of you marvellous people! ☕

Part 3 is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/179489187227/the-charlatan-transfer-student-iii

Your (e/c) irises eyeballed the long-nosed, grinning man as his wide, bloodshot eyes stared at you in quiet contemplation, silently valuing your worth as though you were an antique he hadn’t seen before, and he was a master appraiser. Your fingers found the long and cold bars of the cell you resided in, wrapping around the icy steel as a simpering snicker came from the warden standing on your left.

When you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but notice several key differences between him and his carbon copy standing on your right. The other warden’s eye was cold and indifferent whenever his stare honed on you, and the other warden’s eye sparked with warmth and interest. The smirk that pulled at his lips twitched, threatening to widen as your eyes met his one-eyed leer.

“Ah... So Sleeping Beauty finally awakens, and not to kisses?” he asked, more to himself than to you.

The frizzy-haired warden breathed a laugh, chuckling as he caught the soft hum of irritation that tickled the back of your throat. You stared at him as he lost the smirk, staring at you as his obsidian eye shone with open interest in you, acting—and looking—serious enough to fit the situation.

“The ‘you’ in reality is currently fast asleep; you are only experiencing this as a dream, my dear prisoner.”

“Your posture is horrible. You are in the presence of our master, so straighten your back, Inmate.”

You glanced at the noiret, onyx-eyed warden standing on your right, watching as he tapped a thin, but decidedly deadly-looking baton in the palm of his gloved hand. His left eye stared at you critically, narrowing to an icy slit of gray and white, watching you as your eyes strayed back on the grinning man.

“Welcome. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is a room that only those who are bound by a “contract” may enter. I am Igor, the master of this place. Remember it well.”

The man tapped his glove-covered fingers on the wooden desk he sat in front of, one thin, bony-looking leg crossed on a knee as he sat in a cushioned chair, wide, bloodshot eyes ogling you as he spoke.

“I summoned you here to speak of important matters. It involves your life as well.”

Swallowing, you cast a glance around what little of this space you could successfully glean with your vision. Across from you, around you, on your left and on your right, you saw cramped cells that mirrored the one you resided in. You watched as shackles lazily swung back and forth from the mantles that were bolted into the padded walls they hung from, making a faint metallic noise that sent chills up and down your spine. You saw empty food trays. You saw empty beds, the lumpy mattresses not holding any sleeping bodies. You saw cell doors that were flung open, unlike the door belonging to your personal cell.

Even if you could escape from this hellish place, you doubted you could break yourself free from the padded cell that surrounded you. The lock was quite sturdy, the chains that interwove across each other on the cell looked durable, hefty enough so that you didn’t have a prayer in Hell to so much as dent them.

The cold steel shackles on your wrists reminded you of the cell you had briefly owned in reality, and the bitter irony of leaving one cell and winding up in another wasn’t lost on you. The shackle that adorned your ankle, constantly reminding you of its chilling presence each time you shifted your feet, each time you took a baby step—however, the iron ball that connected your left ankle to it ensured that your mobility remained as it was: limited.

Forced confinement. Isolation. No freedom. Stern glares. Coy, flirtatious looks. Drawling hums of interest. Orders being hissed to you, and like it or not, you were expected to follow them to the letter, or risk facing severe punishment. Eyes constantly watching you. Eyes always quietly judging your worth, what little value you may have at the moment.

This strange place was no different than the juvenile hall you had been in reality for a short time.

If there was indeed a place called Hell, you were certain that was where you were in the present.

Anxiety threatened to overpower you, and you felt a cold sweat beginning to break out across your forehead. A few icy droplets trickled down your cheeks, causing a few strands of hair to stick to your worried, high-strung expression. (E/c) irises nervously glanced around, looking for a way out, an escape route out of the odd place you found yourself residing in. Frustrated, the apprehension piquing, your fingers gripped the cold steel bars as your jaw became set, as you narrowed your eyes and breathed a long, drawling growl.

“Dammit! Let me out of here!” you seethed, gripping and tugging at the steel bars as you spoke.

A chilling one-eyed stare was the only forewarning you received before an arm was swung back and forward, slamming the baton into the bars of your cell. Gloved fingers gripped the thin weapon, electricity crackled along and around the thin weapon. The noise the weapon made as it struck your cell created a ear-ringing clang, the sound echoing for a few moments.

You breathed a gasp as your hands left the cell bars, jumping back as though a jolt of electricity had coursed through the cold steel rods. Your nervous, on-edge visage met the stern, no-nonsense glare of the frizzy-haired warden.

You recognized the action for what it was. You recognized the stare the other, more standoffish warden gave you as he kept his cold one-eyed glare on you. It was a warning. A warning for you to acknowledge the position you were in. A warning for you not to toe or cross the invisible line, the invisible line that had been drawn in the sand for you.

Keep your head down.

Smile and nod.

Be obedient.

Do as you’re told.

Abide by the rules and you’ll scrape by unharmed.

It was nothing new; it had been your day-to-day routine before and during your stint in juvie, but especially after your brief stay in jail.

“Hold your tongue, Inmate. Be mindful of what you say to our master, do you understand?”

The warden didn’t shout at you, and he didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. What he did and said to you was enough of a warning as it was.

The other warden voiced a few teasing “tsk’s,” raising a hand and crooking a leather-covered index finger back and forth, slowly, the smirk pulling at his lips as he did so.

“Now, now... You’d best behave yourself, my dear jailbird. I’d hate to have to punish you for misbehaving.”

The other, more warmhearted warden finished his statement off with a simpering chuckle.

“Still, this is a surprise...”

Igor’s wide, bloodshot eyes stared at his surroundings, the wide grin eternally stretching his lips apart.

“The state of this room reflects the state of your own heart. To think a prison would appear as such.”

Soft, shaky breaths left you as you slowly walked forwards, hands reaching for the cell bars, which your fingers gently held.

“You truly are a “prisoner” of fate. There is no doubt that in the future, ruin awaits you.”

“...Ruin?”

You quietly took notice of how much your voice shook as you uttered that single word.

It certainly sounded ominous, but especially so whenever you spoke it.

“I speak of the end of everything. However, you have no need to worry; there is a means to avoid such a fate. You must be “rehabilitated.” Rehabilitated toward freedom. That is your only means to avoid ruin... Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?”

You fell silent, your (h/c) bangs brushing against your cheeks as you bowed your head, lost in your thoughts.

Rehabilitation... Ruin... I don’t get what this old geezer’s saying, but...

“Please, help!”

“You little bitch... I’ll sue!”

“Years, years, of hard work, gone, wasted! Because of you!”

“Tch... Daddy’s little girl... You can’t do anything wrong in his eyes, can you? You little bitch!”

“Sister, it’ll be okay. I’m here for you!”

“Just behave yourself and don’t get into any trouble. A year will go by before you know it, and then you’ll be able to come home, honey.”

“Oh, and you heard what I said, didn’t you? Cause me any grief, and I’ll toss you out onto the streets like the troublemaker you are. Got it?”

Several voices, several faces popped into your mind. The face of the woman you saved. The glaring eyes of the man as he spat threats of suing you. Your parents’ faces. Your sister’s. Your brother’s. Hell, even Sojiro’s face came to mind.

The majority of their expressions were cold, uncaring, their eyes showing either disapproval, disappointment, a sneering haughtiness, but the few that didn’t quietly express his or her dislike of you were kind, worried for your well-being.

If there’s a chance I can... I can fix things, maybe get back at the shitty society somehow... I’m all in!

(E/c) irises glinted with determination, burning with resolve as you raised your head, staring long and hard at the wide-eyed, grinning elderly man.

“Oh?” Igor drawled lazily, breathing a deep chuckle. He seemed to be amused at the look you gave him...

“Yes, I do,” you said, polishing off your statement with a sure-fire nod.

For the first time in weeks, in months, you felt confident of what you had decided upon.

“I mean I...”

You faltered, the boost of self-confidence ebbing away no sooner had it come to you.

“I’d rather avoid ruin, if it’s possible to do so.”

Igor voiced another throaty laugh, raising his hands and bringing them together once, twice in a clap.

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it. Now... Allow me to observe the path of your rehabilitation...”

The wide-eyed, grinning man paused as the two warden moved as one. They turned around, stepped forward, their backs straight as they stared at you through the cold steel bars of your cell.

“Ah, pardon me for not introducing the others. To your right is Ren; to your left, Akira. They serve as wardens here.”

“What’s that defiant look for, Inmate? Would you like your freedom to be restricted further than it already is?”

Ren’s stone-cold stare bore right into you, cutting deep like the glinting blade of a knife.

Meanwhile, Akira’s warm laugh slowly soothed you, the smirk switching for a smile.

“Now, now... Be nice to the prisoner, Ren. It’s her first time visiting us, after all.”

Akira’s joking undertone earned him a bored askance from Ren, the former smirking as his twin shook his head.

“As wardens, it is our duty to ensure that your safety is guaranteed; we are also your collaborators, should the need arise. Of course,” Akira paused, his right eye twinkling with merriment as he laughed, “so long as you behave yourself, that is.”

“I shall explain the roles of these two at another occasion.”

Akira and Ren pivoted on their heels, their one-eyed stares pointed at their master, Igor, as he talked.

“Now then, it seems the night is waning. It is almost time... Take your time to slowly come to understand this place. We will surely meet again, eventually.”

The grinning man raised a gloved hand, and you glanced up and around as a blaring alarm rang shrilly.

“Your business is done here.”

You glanced at Ren, watching him as he spoke, turning back around, stepping forward with his hands folded behind his back. Your eyes fell on the baton the frizzy-haired warden held, causing a chill to run down your spine.

“Hurry up and go back to sleep already.”

“Sweet dreams, my lovely detainee.”

“W-Wait a minute...! I still have questions!”

Your voice echoed as you shot forward, fingers gripping the bars with a renewed vigour, but it was pointless. You felt a dizzying spell of exhaustion creeping up on you, and you slowly released your iron-clad grip on the cold cell bars, slumping to your knees as your eyes grew heavy.

You passed out before you hit the icy floor of your confinement cell, but the last thing you saw...

Ren’s coolly collected stare and Akira’s soft smile stared back at you.

“W-Wait!” you gasped as your eyes flew open, shooting up in bed.

You glanced around, your shivering gaze taking in the familiar sight of dust floating in the air. As surprising as it was, seeing the cobwebs, the plastic sheets, the old books, and feeling a gentle spring breeze wafting in through the attic window comforted you.

It was a relief to be back in your attic room once again, and the spring breeze that cooled your sweating face was a welcomed relief. You breathed a sigh as you sat up in bed, your nightshirt and pyjama pants rubbing against your warm skin as the (f/c) sleeping bag was tossed off of you. Despite your sluggish demeanour, your body wailing in protest whenever you moved, thoughts ran through your mind as you got dressed for your first-time visit to Shujin Academy.

What a strange dream that was... Ruin... Rehabilitation... That old man... Those twin wardens... Maybe the transfer to the big city was a bigger shock than I thought it was...?

You breathed a second sigh as you buttoned the black blazer, pulling (f/c) leggings over your thighs, and shrugging your sock-covered feet into the black dress shoes.

Yeah, that... That has to be it. What else would it be?

You spared a glance down at your wrists, pursing your lips as you brushed your fingers over the skin.

I can still feel those damn shackles on my skin...

The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs pulled you from your musings, and your gaze met Sojiro’s. All in all, the only differences between his barista outfit and what he wore at the moment were a two-button blazer, and a white trilby with a red-white-and-blue striped hat band. The pale pink shirt, the pale rolled-up khakis, the white leather belt, and the white loafers remained.

“Looks like you’re up. Well, let’s go introduce ourselves properly to the staff about your transfer. The school you’ll be attending is in the Aoyama district. It costs you a bit to ride the train there, and the route transfers are a pain. I’ll drive you there, but just for today. Let’s go.”  

You nodded as you got up off of the bed. The lumpy mattress shifted, and the (f/c) sleeping bag rustled as you moved. However, when you followed Sojiro down the attic steps, you heard him mutter to himself.

“Sheesh... Women your age aren’t usually allowed in my passenger seat.”

Your eyes stared up at the prestigious Shujin Academy, (e/c) irises shimmering with intrigue. It was a hell of a lot more impressive in person. You figured that your old school back home could fit twice, three times into a college-prep school the size of Shujin Academy easily!

I guess they don’t call Tokyo the big city for nothing.

You were pulled back to reality with an all too familiar, stern-sounding “hey” from Sojiro. You blinked your eyes—framed by (f/c)-coloured glasses—once, and tilted your head, silently telling him that he had your full attention.

“Do me a favour and behave yourself, all right? Don’t get me wrong—I don’t care what happens to you. Just don’t cause me any trouble.”

“...Yes, sir,” you replied softly, nodding once.

“Let’s go.”

You breathed a silent sigh, nodding as you followed him up the steps of the labyrinth-style school. Your eyes glanced around as you took in the sight of spotless windows, the wooden floor that shone with a mirror polish, the trophy cases that boasted of students’ accomplishments, both past and present. Everything in the school was clean, almost unbearably so.

How does anyone find their way without getting lost? It’s like a maze!

It was sooner than you would have liked, but you felt the nostalgic sense of being judged, of being leered at with distrust—but by the principal this time. You bit back several choice titles as he watched you, as you watched his several chins wobbling as his mouth moved, his thick brows pinching the slant of his narrow eyes as he talked.

“To reiterate, just so we’re clear, you’ll be immediately expelled if you cause any problems. Honestly, I hesitated on accepting someone like you, but there were some circumstances on our side...”

The sound of a pen clattering as it was set back on the principal’s desk was clear. Sojiro had finished signing the small stack of forms. Clearing his throat, the pot-bellied man continued speaking.

“You may have done a variety of things in hiding in your hometown, but you will behave yourself here. If you are thrown out from our school, there will be no place for you to go. Keep that in mind.”

Turning to the brunette standing beside him, he nodded.

“This is the teacher in charge of your class.”

“I’m Sadayo Kawakami. Here’s your student ID.”

She set a red ID holder on the desk, and you reached forward, taking it and stuffing it in one of the front pockets of your blazer.

“Be sure to read the school rules. Any violations will send you straight to the guidance office. And, if by chance you cause any problems, I won’t be able to protect you at all.”

Turning to the bald head of the school, she asked, “That is your promise, yes, Principal Kobayakawa?”

“Mm-hm. She is responsible for all her actions.”

Kawakami’s face fell as she folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t look or sound pleased.

“But really though, why me...? There should’ve been better candidates.”

I’m standing right here, you know.

“It was a sudden transfer, and your class was the only one that had an opening. Besides,” he paused, sparing you a quick glance before looking back at the drowsy-eyed teacher.

“Wouldn’t you feel more at ease having a transfer student in your class? A female transfer student at that—she shouldn’t be too much of a handful for you, Ms. Kawakami.”

Kawakami sighed, raising a hand and scratching at her head. “I hope not...”

“If you’re done explaining things, mind if we get going? I got a store to get back to.”

“Mr. Sakura, please keep a close eye on her... Don’t let her cause any trouble outside.”

It took everything you had not to narrow your eyes, not to let a particularly snarky comment roll off of your tongue.

“I’ll be sure to have a serious talk about the situation she’s in.”

“Come to the faculty office when you arrive at school tomorrow. I’ll show you to your classroom.”

You nodded, pausing to bow respectfully before leaving the principal’s office with Sojiro. It wasn’t until you two were halfway to the school entrance that he stopped, breathing a sigh as he scratched at his balding head of black hair.

“They’re treating you like some kinda nuisance... I guess that what it means to have a criminal record.”

Turning on you, he continued, “Turns out your past follows you wherever you go.”

Sojiro paused, his brows pinching the slant of his eyes as his gray irises coldly leered at you.

“By the way, if you get expelled now, I won’t hesitate to kick you out. Got it?”

“I’ll be careful, Mr. Sakura.”

You polished your statement off by toying with a stray bang of (h/l) (h/c) hair.

“Hmph.”

He didn’t look convinced, breathing a sigh before he softly muttered, “School never changes, huh?”

“Come on, we’re going home.”

You said nothing, opting to remain silent as you followed him out of the school, and to where Sojiro had parked his car.

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 au #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #reader #akiraxreader #renxreader #akiraxreaderxren #ryuji sakamoto #morgana #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #haru okumura #goro akechi

[manonblckbeak]

Temptation: Part VI

wow. whoa, what? Gin’s actually finally posting another part of temptation? 

okay, kidding aside, i just wanted to say how sorry i am about the time it took to post this. i explained before that i was going through some weird things in my life and i wasn’t feeling any of my writing and to be honest i didn’t want to post anything for you guys if i didn’t actually love it. i’m better now, and i managed to write something i’m really proud of and i hope you guys like it! Thanks to @nightcourthighlordrhysand for everything really.

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

As winter grew colder and Christmas drew closer, Feyre dove into her art projects like they were her only means of survival. She knew she should use this time, this magical time of year to get closer yet to her friends, but after that day at Hiems… she just didn’t trust herself around Rhys. Didn’t trust herself to make the right calls, to be strong, to keep her heart safe.

               So she did homework, practiced her drawing and her painting and her sketching, but never, not even as she realized the very thing that was supposed to keep her mind off of him had betrayed her once more—not even as she realized she had drawn his face, his body, his lips—thought of him.

               It was for the best. This, all this, was for the best. She knew where the road that lead her to him would take her, and it was not a peaceful or pretty place.

               And it was not selfish, she had come to realize. Because she was no longer thinking about herself, no longer thinking about how much she would hurt and bleed and suffer. No, not at all. She thought of him, of how she would ruin a… piece of art. Rhys—Rhys was so pure, so perfect—like a painting: splashes of colors and feelings and pain. And she couldn’t add up to that. Couldn’t change it, no matter how much she wanted to…

No. She wouldn’t go down that road.

               Feyre sighed, dropping the charcoal she had been drawing with. She could start to make out an elegant face on the paper beneath it, the lines on it beautiful and strong. Again. She had done it again. With a growl of irritation, Feyre ripped out the page off her drawing pad—which, if she was to be honest, had seen better days. She had been doing this too much lately.

               Dropping the balled up paper in the trashcan beside the desk, Feyre stood up, arching her back in an effort to stretch cramped up muscles. She wondered for a moment when Mor would be back, if she would find her asleep again, if she would complain the next morning about how they never got to spend time together anymore.

               Things between her roommate and her had been… complicated since the visit to Hiems. She’d tried at first. After all Mor had told her, after what she had shared as well, it had seemed like they would be stronger than ever, but—Mor could relentless in trying to make things right. And right for her wasn’t the same as it was for Feyre.

               So she had started to avoid her, avoid her plots and plans, her matchmaking, her efforts that, despite seeming well-intentioned and harmless, could hurt her so deeply. And with avoiding Mor, came avoiding Azriel, Amren, Cassian and, of course, Rhysand.

               And she had never felt so lonely. This, this was what she had expected her life at Prythian Academy to be like. It was like the world was collapsing in on itself and she couldn’t help but stand in the middle of the crossfire.

               She sighed again, checking her phone for the time. 7:30. Too early to go to bed yet, but definitely too late to go to the cafeteria for any remnants of dinner. Gods, what was she doing with her life? Mor was probably somewhere with the gang drinking the expensive wine she’d bought at Hiems—a never ending amount, it seemed, for she was always taking more and more and more from the bottom drawer of her closet. And yet, here she was: alone, unhappy, and fully aware that this—all of this—was her own choice.

               She was about to put her phone away when the ringing tone sounded.

***

               Feyre had come to fear the ringing of her phone. In the bitter, lonely weeks that followed Hiems, not once had Tamlin called, and yet, every time the damned thing buzzed, it was a near heart-stopping phenomena.

               It was not that she disliked having the thing with her. The phone was a commodity, a privilege. It kept her company when humans did not. But even when said nightmare did not happen, the phone itself, old and battered, held so many memories. Photographs and messages and even a makeshift love letter typed into the notes of the phone, signed with “much love, Tamlin”.

               It was a constant reminder of a life she did not want, did not need, did not deserve. But a reminder she kept close, for it let her know, with each touch of her skin against the cold screen, that love could be a poison. That love could be dangerous. That love could be wild and hurtful and tricky.

               So when her phone rang, the buzzing sending shivers up and down her spine, she jumped. Because she wasn’t ready to keep the reminder that close to her heart. She wasn’t ready to talk to Tamlin again, especially not alone, not after everything she’d done to bring herself up from the blind panic he’d set her upon at Hiems.

               But her fast breathing slowed down to a stop when she saw the number on the screen. For it was not Tamlin calling… But Nesta.

               “H-hello?” Feyre said, hands trembling with the fear of yet another heart-breaking moment, another piece of news that could change her life as she knew it, another slap in the face. You know, figuratively.

               “Hey, Feyre.” Her sister’s voice was as rough as she remembered. But oh, it was so nice to hear it. If not for the feeling of being home, for the simple reason that she had not talked, properly talked to another human being in so long. Weeks. It’d been weeks since she’d last had a conversation that hadn’t involved how absent she was or how her projects were going or what the fresh hell she was doing with her life. So, yes, the roughness and familiarity and just the fact that this was a simple, non-Rhysand related conversation was… nice. Very nice. “I trust you’re doing well?”

               Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall out into the planes of her face. Oh, how simple it would be to tell the truth. How simple it would be to confess that everything had turned, most definitely, to shit, and she was not well, not in any way. But things were not simple. Life was not simple.

               And so, she simply said, “Yes.” Feyre reached over to turn the light of her drawing table off, leaving only the room light on. She stood and walked over to her bed, throwing herself at the linen sheets before adding, “Yes, everything’s fine.”

               “I’m glad. But Feyre,” Nesta said, voice sharp. “You haven’t called in months. Dad’s been worried sick. You don’t call, don’t answer our texts, even Dean Falsum seemed helpless trying to get ahold of you.”

               Guilt buried itself deep inside of Feyre. She’d been trying so hard to make it all bearable for herself that she had forgotten about everyone else, it seemed. But she guessed she couldn’t pin it all on Tamlin or even Rhys. This was months of carelessness. This was just her avoiding her family for the very reason she was avoiding Mor: they, too, thought they knew what was best for her and she knew what was best for herself. “I’m sorry, Nesta.” She said quietly. “It’s just been… hard.”

               “Yes, well,” Nesta seemed angry at her. Not that she could really blame her. Her sister could be a bitch sometimes, but she was nothing if not protective of her family. “It’s been hard for us, too, you know? Dad’s rarely ever around, and since you aren’t here anymore…” she sighed, as if reminding herself that that hadn’t exactly been Feyre choice for starters. “Since you aren’t here anymore, I have to take care of Elain.”

               “How’s—”

               “And your beau,” Nesta ground out. “He keeps coming around. Begging—begging for us to bring you home.”

               Feyre trembled. Oh, Gods.

               “I can’t take it, Feyre.” She said, and Feyre could swear she heard some desperation in her sister’s voice. “I can’t take it anymore. Elain’s scared to bits. The last time I had to call the cops on him.” There was a sigh here, and it sounded so tired, so distraught, that Feyre wondered for a second if it had been herself that had breathed it out. “I don’t deserve this, Elain doesn’t deserve this. We can’t keep suffering the consequences of your mistakes.”

               “What—what are you saying?”

               “It’s time for you to come home.”

***

               Breakfast came all too soon.

               But Feyre didn’t talk as she picked up her food. Didn’t speak as she tried, and failed, to eat, and stared out the window beside their usual table, and blatantly ignored everybody. Her mind was still reeling with Nesta’s words, with the promise in them, with what the future now held for her.

               She went about her day as if everything was still the same, walking the halls of the Academy like a zombie out for brains. It had taken its time, but by now, the confusing halls made some sense to her. It wasn’t like she could trust Mor to be her guide anymore.

               Art class was usually the one joy in her life these days, Alis being the one support she needed most. The teacher was so giving, so kind… But her mind was elsewhere today. Miles away, actually. Back where she could still hear Nesta’s voice calling, as if a hair’s breadth away, I don’t deserve this.

               And she didn’t. Not really.

               Nesta had never been the best sister, had never cared for her as she had obviously cared for Elain, but Feyre loved her all the same. She was her sister, Gods damn it. And she was right, she didn’t have to keep paying and paying for what was surely Feyre’s momentary lapse of judgement. No matter that it was much more than that. No matter that it was haunting her, turning her life into shit.

               Because that, well that Feyre could deal with. She could deal with Tamlin ruining her life if it came to that. But her sisters… She had done too much to keep them healthy of mind and body and soul to lose them to him now. She had simply done too much. Tamlin could take her pride and her innocence and her youth, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t take her sisters.

               She knew what she had to do. Because she knew how his mind worked, knew how guys like him ticked. It was simply a matter of how to do what was necessary, because she had pushed everyone away and now… now everything had just turned to shit. And she couldn’t do this alone. She knew this now. Together we stand, alone we fall and all that shit, right?

               Right.

***

               I need a favor.

               Feyre didn’t look as Rhysand unfolded the note she threw at his desk, her rushed calligraphy shaky with the thought of what she was about to ask him. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see one groomed brow tilting upwards at the words before he wrote something down in his own notebook, ripped it out and threw it back at her.

               So, you’re talking to me, now, are you?

               Great. This was going to be phenomenal if this is how it was going to start out.

               Rhys… Just, meet me in my dorm room after class. Please.

               This time she did look. She stared deep into those violet orbs as they read the words scribbled into the note and the smirk on that exquisite face faded—just a tiny bit. Yes, they seemed to say to her. I will.

               As the bell rang, Feyre didn’t bother getting a written confirmation that Rhys would show, trusting him out of pure will. She would have to trust him, or this wouldn’t work. Or this would just crumble into dust.

               Gods, maybe she should’ve asked someone—anyone—else.

               But, alas, now it was too late for that.

And she wouldn’t regret it. This was the obvious choice. She had something with Rhys, be it something she wanted or not. And she could work with that. That spark, that flame that sprung to life every time they touched… it would save her. It would save her sisters. Because if she knew something about people like Tamlin, if she knew something about territorial, abusive bastards was that they didn’t touch what was someone else’s.

***

               “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

               Nine words. The first nine words that she said to him in weeks and they were… a mess. Gods, what was she playing at? What was she thinking? But no, she knew what she was doing, she reassured herself.

Still her gut felt like it was hanging out by a thread, and her head spun and she couldn’t think besides the feeling of second guessing every decision she had made since coming to Prythian Academy. She couldn’t help but think about how badly this could end, how incredibly wrong. Still she needed it. Needed it to work. Because if it didn’t… well, that wasn’t a choice.

               “What?” Rhys was caught between laughing and staring incredulously at her, hand messing up his blue-black hair.

               “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” She repeated, walking her way around him to sit on the bed. She patted the space next to her for him to sit down and, when he didn’t move, sighed impatiently.

               “No, I—” Rhys said. “I heard you the first time. I just can’t understand you around all the crazy of what you’re saying.”

               Feyre laughed bitterly. Rhys thought about how much it didn’t suit her, that laugh, and for a second they were just two people having a normal conversation, before he remembered what they were actually talking about. “Well, the situation is a bit… crazy. So, what is it they say?” Feyre smiled sadly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

               “Oh? So dating me is desperate, now, is it?”

               Feyre punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

                 “Feyre, I—”

               “No,” She said, begging him with her eyes, all blue and sad and woeful. “Please, Rhys. I need this.”

               “But why?” Rhys finally sat down next to her, taking her hand in his, holding it tightly, like it would spill all her secrets. “What could you possibly gain from this? Everyone here at the Academy already kind of thinks of us as an Item. What could come of this?”

               Feyre sighed. “That’s just it. I need you to come home with me.”

               Rhys stared at her with his violet eyes, understanding and not. “You’re—you’re leaving?”

               Feyre sighed, looking down. This—this was where it got complicated. If this didn’t work—and she had to be practical about this, because these were her sisters and she couldn’t leave any room for the unexpected, she had to work, had to think and feel and plan strategically—well, if this didn’t work, it’d come down to Feyre going back. For good.

               She didn’t want it to come to that. She didn’t want to leave. As lonely as Prythian Academy had become, as much as she’d never wanted to come here in the first place, the thought of going home—going anywhere else besides right here, right next to this man besides her had become unbearable.

               “Yes.”

Feyre was distracted. It was all Rhysand’s fault, really. All his damn fault. His damn eyes, and his damn lips, and his damn hands. She followed the lines of his face and how the light illuminated each inch of his sun kissed skin, down to his neck, to his collarbone, to the planes of his chest and the tattoos that lay beneath his shirt just a hair’s breadth away. Her breath trembled.

“Feyre?” He said, waving a hand in front of her face, startling her out of her reverie.

“Sorry,” Feyre sounded sheepish, almost shy as she blushed deep red, betrayed by her own thoughts. Her feelings were everywhere, it seemed. Splattered out into the world and crashed into nothingness, leaving her feeling empty and full all at once. She felt so afraid. For her, for her heart—for Rhys.

               “When do we leave?” Rhysand asked. It was the first confirmation he’d given her that he’d actually go, and she could’ve sworn she had actually felt her heart skip a beat. So selfless, this man. So—giving. He had asked her nothing in return as she told her the story of her life with Tamlin. How they had met—in a school camp out in eighth grade—and fallen deeply in love, and how that had been lovely and warm and good for a while. And how bitter it had all become, how sad.

               She smiled, “Next weekend,” grabbing both his hands in hers, she squeezed them tightly before saying, “You have no idea how much this means to me, Rhys. I won’t forget this.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to let him see just how much he could affect her. “Thank you.”

               “I would go to the stars and back for you, Feyre Archeron.” He simply answered. “This is nothing.”

***

               The week went by without much incident. Feyre wished she could somehow apologize to Mor, but she didn’t know how—didn’t know what to say, how to say it. She was just lost, broken. And perhaps it was just too late. Mor had opened up to her and she had closed down. She had shut her out completely, and for what? The fear, constant and unwavering, of being hurt, of hurting, of everything in between. Feyre had been a terrible friend, and she knew it.

               It was Saturday morning when Feyre decided that she had to put an end to this. She could not stand the silence anymore. This room, their room, had been a safe haven for so long and now—now it was a cage. It contained her, it provided her with a place to hide and sleep and draw but she could no longer be happy in it, no longer laugh or share any sort fond memories here.

               So as she prepared for the day, hauling a simple red sweater and ripped jeans over her head, and put on some mascara and red lipstick, Feyre made a decision. Today, she was ending this miserable phase of her life, be it for good or for bad.

               She shook Mor awake. It was early, earlier than her roommate would probably like to be woken up on a Saturday, but she didn’t have much time before she had to leave for her trip with Rhysand and she had to do this before she left—had to, or she wouldn’t have the strength, wouldn’t have the courage to do what was necessary. You see, your courage didn’t lie in your actions, not really. You gathered it up in every one of your bonds, be it with family or friends or lovers. That’s what gave you courage.

               “Mor,” Feyre said, a hand on her friend’s shoulder. One brown eye opened to look at her sleepily, brow furrowing. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

               “Feyre?” Mor wiped a hand over her face, blinking the sleep away. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms and back, looking at Feyre confusedly. “What is it? Are you okay?”

               “Oh—yeah. I’m fine.” Feyre didn’t know what to say now. Mor was still looking at her with a confused look in her eyes, like Feyre had grown an extra head. It was weird, for Feyre to wake her like this, after weeks and weeks of silence and avoidance, she knew. But she also knew that her roommate deserved this, even if she didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Mor deserved so much better than her, so much more. “It’s, um—can we talk?”

               “Um, sure,” Mor patted the place on the bed next to her. “What is it?”

               “I wanted to talk to you before I left…” Feyre sat down, wondering what on Earth she could say to make this better, what she could say that wouldn’t sound completely selfish and cruel and self-centered. She came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I’m so sorry I’ve been distant. I—I was trying to protect myself, and you, and everyone, but I just made a mess of things.”

               Mor put a hand over hers. “Feyre,” she looked into her blue eyes, trying to capture some semblance of meaning in those words, trying to understand. “We would never hurt you, not on purpose anyway. And don’t you know by now?”

               “What?”

               “Sometimes, the ride is worth the risk of getting hurt.”

***

               The drive home went smoothly.

               Feyre had met Rhys outside the gates of Prythian Academy since, for once, she did not feel like meeting everyone for breakfast. Patching things up with Mor had gone okay, great even, but it was all she could take for one day, she guessed. She had texted him and gone outside, barefoot once more, to feel the wind on her skin, the earth on her feet, the sun on her face.

               She was happy right now. Right now—because time, for her, was a very fragile thing. At any moment things could change. And they probably would, too. She just hoped it was for the better.

               Feyre hadn’t explained to Mor what exactly her and Rhys were going to be doing. She could only guess her roommate would be questioning him at breakfast, and hoped he wouldn’t say anything too incriminating. She couldn’t take it if she knew how dangerous her situation was—Mor knew about Tamlin, about how he had treated her, or rather, mistreated her, and how he still thought she was something of his to just take as he pleased. And her friends, well… if she knew her friends, she knew that they would stop at nothing to keep her from going home when she didn’t want to. Because they were good people, and that’s just what good people did, even when the people they did it for didn’t really deserve it.

               She didn’t say much to Rhys as he arrived, hurrying inside the car for the long journey back home. But she wondered if he had told their friends about what they would be doing, what lay ahead for them. It would be easy to ask him, to just say the words, but the silence was so welcoming, so simple that she did not dare break it.

               “Penny for your thoughts?” Rhysand’s eyes were on the road ahead, his voice low and smooth, like a stream of warm water.

               Feyre blinked, shaken out of her reverie. She’d been watching the plains of trees outside the window, how they blurred into splashes of greens and browns and blacks, doing anything she could to ignore the warmth that radiated from the man beside her. The smell of citrus and the sea. And the thoughts that seemed to plague her mind, those dangerous, betraying thoughts of how those arms had felt wrapped around her, how those lips had touched and burned and kissed, how those hands had marked her. “Oh,” she tried to think of what to say, what to do besides tell him the truth, and came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I was just thinking—I haven’t told you much about my sisters. I think I should prep you for this meeting.”

               “I need… prepping?” he smirked, aware of her blush, and put a hand on top of hers. “I’m kidding. Prep me up, darling.”

               “Prick.” Feyre laughed. She slapped his shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes. But her mind was reeling, wondering how to do this, how to begin explaining things. Her relationship with her sisters was so—complicated. So strained. And she didn’t want his pity, and didn’t want him to think she didn’t love them or that they didn’t love her either. They did, they all did. It was just—complex. And weird. And hard.

               Relationships, Feyre had come to realize, took work. Especially when the people in question didn’t fully trust you with their heart. And Nesta—well, Nesta didn’t trust anyone with her heart, not even her own sister. There was only one person that truly had hold of her soul, and that was Elain.

               But even with Elain’s help and the years of building up trust, after Tamlin, there was too much anger, too much disappointment, too many secrets between them. You see, for Nesta, there was no such thing as water under the bridge. And she wished she could fix this, she wished Elain could stop walking on eggshells and Nesta could stop her quiet bravado, but there was nothing she could do. Nesta wouldn’t listen, not to words or promises. But actions—well, actions were another thing.

               And that was her plan. Not only to stop Tamlin—though, that was the most important part. But these months of being alone at the Academy had taught her one thing, and that was that alone, she was nothing. She was just a shell of a girl. Without friends, without family, without the loving of those around her, she didn’t have a reason to live at all.

               So, yes, she did want to scare Tamlin away. But her plan, well, it consisted of more than that. She wanted to show Nesta that she was not weak, she was no longer the girl Tamlin had strung along and hurt and fucked up, over and over and over. She was her own woman, she was strong and smart and worth something. She had friends that would fight for her, friends that would be with her as she fought for herself—friends that would even pretend for her, it seemed.

               And it didn’t matter that Tamlin still haunted her, it didn’t matter that everything he did and everything that happened the following months was still embedded deep within her, because she was all the more valiant for it. All the anxiety it had caused was just a misfortune of fate. And she would show them, she would show them all.

***

               It was about midday when Rhysand pulled up at the Archeron driveway. He stretched his neck to look at the house, his violet eyes focusing on the creamy walls and clear windows of the property.

               On the drive here, Feyre’d told him everything there was to know about her sisters. He categorized what she’d told him, or, at least, what he’d gotten from it. Elain Archeron—sweet and gentle, worked at a dog pound and could always be found gardening. Nesta Archeron—hard as steel, cold as ice, book andstreet smart.

               He was not sure he was ready to meet them. The people that had so completely undone Feyre, the people that had told her she was not enough, that she was entirely to blame for whatever mistakes she had made in the past. But he had to do it. For Feyre, for himself, for a future where her family was united and strong. So he said, “You ready?” He looked at Feyre, violet eyes flashing with emotion.

               Feyre took a deep breath, looking at the house where she had grown up, where so many memories and so many emotions had occurred. She blinked, “Y—yeah.”

               He seemed to read the nervousness in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, because he put a hand on top of hers as he said, “It’s going to be fine, Feyre.”

               “No, I—I know.” Feyre shook her head, seeming to shake away some kind of thought as well, and he didn’t think he should ask what had been on her mind. Her eyes looked sad, forlorn. Like she had been remembering a life not so long ago.

               Rhys sighed, stroking her hand before he let it go, moving out of the car and around it to open her door for her. “Milady,”

               “Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling that swept over her when he called her ‘milady’, as if she were his, as if she were more than just a girl that had nothing at all to offer him other than hurt and poor excuses and unhappiness.

               As they walked to the door, Feyre’s hands trembling with nervousness. He grabbed a hold of her hand, squeezing it tight in his own. “Hey,” he said, “It’s okay.”

               She nodded, taking another deep breath before moving forward and into the doorway. “Are you sure you want to involve your sisters in this lie?” he finally said, before Feyre could ring the doorbell. “It’d be easier to just tell them we were involved as well.”

               She seemed to think it over, even though they’d talked about it before, but eventually said, “No, I—I want them to know the truth.” She looked at their hands as if she were about to let go of his, but, for his surprise and wonderment, didn’t. “There’s too much between us—between Nesta and Elain and me, for me to lie to them. They’re my sisters, Rhys. As easy as it would be to just lie, I need them to support me.”

               It was his turn to nod.

               Feyre rang the doorbell, squeezing his hand for reassurance. “Just a minute!” comes a voice from inside that she recognized as her sister’s. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a breathless Elain, holding her cat, White Socks, in her hands. She smiled widely and said, “Feyre!”

               “Hello, Elain.”

***

               Feyre could tell how uncomfortable Rhysand was.

Nesta held him under an unwavering stare, eyes steely and cold. “So,” she said, moving her gaze to his hand, currently intertwined with her sister’s for some kind of comfort in this strange, somewhat hostile situation. “You’re not together?”

“That’s right.” Rhys answered, all business. Feyre squeezed his hand, as if to say Relax, you’re safe, and nodded her agreement to her sister. Nesta didn’t seem much convinced, not with their weird displays of affection, but then again, nobody ever was. They had a—special connection. A bond that most people would think went beyond friendship and maybe—maybe it did. But it didn’t exactly mean the opposite either. They weren’t lovers, weren’t anything but two people who would fight for each other no matter what, even if it meant that they wouldn’t be together at the end of the day.

“You seem pretty chummy to me.” Nesta drawled out, eyes still on their hands.

Feyre sighed, letting go of her friend’s hand to bury her face in it for a moment. She recomposed herself as she said, “Look, Nesta,” she looked at Rhys for support, and he smiled encouragingly at her. “The situation is this—Tamlin won’t ever stop. He won’t ever give up chasing after me, not while he thinks I’m still his.” She gave her friend a little grateful smile, because she was so thankful, so incredibly thankful that he had agreed to do this. “And that’s why Rhys is here. My relationship with him has nothing to do with it.”

Nesta snorted deprecatingly before saying, “So you admit,” she drawled, “There is a relationship?” her gaze was studious, as if she wanted to pick apart any and all information she could from the sight before her. But there was nothing to see, nothing to discover—was there?

No, Feyre was clear on one thing and that was that her relationship with Rhys was just friendship and nothing more, no matter her feelings. No matter how much she—no. She wouldn’t go there.

Feyre sighed once more, exasperated. “No,” she ground out. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying at all?”

“Fine.” Nesta moved her gaze to Rhys again, exploring the planes of his face with that careful mistrust, “And you?” she asked. “What’s in this for you?”

“I’m sorry?” he spluttered, looking at Feyre for help, unsure of what to say, how to explain that while for her there was nothing in this, no feelings, no relationship, no love—well, for him it was different. Rhysand was deeply embedded in his friend’s life, for better or for worse and he wished, oh, how he wished, there was more for them, and he would do anything for her. He loved her, he was in love with her, he had fallen and she had not caught him, but that was okay, too, because he was more than equipped to deal with pain.

“Well,” Nesta said, studying him once more, that fatal curiosity filling her steely eyes. “You come here to help us having nothing offered to you other than friendship. What is your angle here?”

“I think you undervalue your sister.” He said, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He figured it just got to him, seeing the very people who were supposed to protect and provide a home for Feyre treat her with such disregard, but he knew it wasn’t his place to judge. He’d come to help, to make amends between them, not to harm their relationship further. “I do what I must to keep my friend where she wants to be.”

“Can I—” Elain finally quipped up from where she sat at the end of the living room, propped up on a chair with White Socks on her lap. “Feyre, why don’t you just come home? You didn’t even want to go there in the first place—you say you want to keep her where she wants to be, but isn’t that with us?”

               It seemed to pain Feyre to answer the question, seemed to burn her with every breath she took, but she gathered herself up and said, “I wish—I wish that I wanted to come home. But home, for me, home is elsewhere now.” She begged her sister to understand with her blue, deep eyes, and continued, “I didn’t want it to be like this. When I first went to the Academy, I thought it was going to be hell. But I found the best friends I could ever wish for and—Elain, I can’t begin to explain or apologize or—”

               “Then don’t.” Nesta interrupted, softer this time. “Just—fix this.”

***

               “Are you sure about this?”

               Feyre couldn’t think. Not with him standing so close to her, not with the smell of him, the citrus and the sea, the overwhelming sureness that this was wrong, so wrong, yet—it just felt right. Rhysand let out a breath, leaning over to put a hand on the tree trunk behind her as she stepped back, not allowing her an inch of detachment from him. She could almost laugh at the irony, almost feel the mockery of how alike this was from the first time they had kissed. It mimicked the very surroundings, the feel of the bark against her skin, the wet grass under her feet, the warmth of his body against hers.

               “Yes,” she couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep her eyes from his violet orbs, staring at her with a hunger she almost wished she didn’t know. This is just for show, this is just for show, she reminded herself over and over, gulping. “I’m sure.”

               Rhysand nodded, finally looking away to the building in front of the small park they stood in. “When does he get off again?”

               Feyre exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the presence of him, feeling like she could not stand on her own, without the tree, without his arm around her middle, without the grass supporting her up. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of him—as if that were possible. She’d been trying for months now. Sighing, she took her phone off her back pocket and checked the time. “In about five minutes.”

               He nodded again, still looking at the building.

               It was a law firm, one of those that never did pro-bono jobs unless they had to because that never led to any “progress” for the firm. Or, as Rhys liked to call them, douchebags in suits. Feyre had explained to him that Tamlin’s father had worked there all his life and finally bought out a part of the company a few years back. He’d wanted his only son to continue his work once he retired and so, he’d managed to get him an internship. At the time, Feyre’d found it wonderful.

               But that’s when it’d started.

               Tamlin’d screw up or drink too much with his office buddies and his father, being the proper, old style kind of guy he was, thought he could beat it out of him. He’d changed so much in a matter of months. Become hollow, and angry, and sad. And then there had been the drinking.

               Tamlin had never been one to drink too much. He’d liked beer, sure, but never gone for vodka or anything like that. But afterwards, Feyre would find him outside her house with a bottle of scotch, mumbling about how much he loved her and how she could never leave him and how he would tear apart anyone that dared come between them.

               After a while it started to scare her. And she tried to break things off, she did. But he just kept coming around and calling and making these damn threats and promises that she wasn’t sure he would keep and was honestly scared he would because he had become scary and she was now so unsure of how exactly she had fallen for him. But she knew, she knew that this—this was a different person than she had once knew. Occasion and fate and terrible choices had made him into a monster and she did not deserve him. Not anymore. Or maybe—maybe she did, because she didn’t help, either. She’d just run, scared. She didn’t call the cops when she’d seen the scars or the bruises on him, she didn’t do a thing.

               “Feyre?” Rhys’ voice shook her out of her reverie. She noticed how wet her eyes had become, and shame swept over her. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not right now—not ever. “Hey, it’s okay.”

               “I know,” She shook her head, “I just—I wish I could just forget all this.” Feyre sighed, wiping at her eyes, before saying, “It’s fine.”

               “No, it’s not fine,” he said, hand coming up to cup her face. He stroked her cheek gently, like he was going to lean in and kiss her at any moment, but just whispered. “You don’t deserve to suffer. You don’t deserve to have your past follow you around wherever you go.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Because this, this wasn’t for show. This was the two of them—the two of them against the world. “You are a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, Feyre Archeron. And we will set you free.”

               “Here he comes.” She whispered, a hair’s breadth from his lips.

               Rhys studied her face, looking for any trace of doubt, of fear, of second guessing. She tried to convey certainty, but she could only guess her eyes were as sad as she felt as he hesitated.

               She wasn’t sad for herself. She wasn’t unsure or confused or afraid. In fact, she wanted this, and her reasons for wanting it were quite selfish. But she knew how much it would hurt him, how much it would mean to him to have her and then not.

               And yes, Feyre knew how self-centered that sounded, but that was simply true. She was aware of his loyalty and his affections for her. And that’s what made this that much harder. To dangle herself in front of someone who could never have her. At least, not while she was so broken. So sad, so unbelievably unfixable.

               She glanced at the man approaching, tall and blonde and muscular. Before Tamlin could notice her looking, she turned back to Rhys, cupping his face, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s okay, Rhys.” She said, resting her forehead against his and closing her eyes, breathing deep. She took in the intoxicating smell of him, the warmth of his body, the solid feel of him against her as she added, “Set me free.”

               And then, it was just the feel of lips against lips, their tongues clashing and claiming, and the taste of each other, the touch of his hands to her hips and neck as he pushed her against the tree trunk, the pulsating heat of their bodies as they moved ever so slightly. She forgot where she was, who she was, why she was here. She forgot just why—why on earth this couldn’t be.

               Rhys let one hand wander under her sweater, feeling the warm, creamy skin beneath, and Feyre let out a low moan. As another mimicked action from the night in the woods, she came up for air and he didn’t stop kissing her, trailing a line down her throat, to her neck, to her collarbone. He licked upward and nibbled on her ear and Feyre giggled—a strange new sound. “Ticklish,” she whispered, smile visible in her voice.

               He just engulfed her in another kiss, biting down her bottom lip, running his tongue through her teeth, the roof of her mouth. She had to remind herself that they were in public, that they were here for a purpose besides this—whatever this was. Because she was not sure it was a ruse anymore at all. And maybe it hadn’t been for a while now. Maybe she felt for him, maybe—

               “What the hell is going on here?”

               Feyre pulled back as if burned, Tamlin’s very voice scaring her beyond measure. But she wasn’t paying attention to him at all, didn’t care for once that he was here because the man before her, because Rhys, still had his arms around her and his eyes on her lips and—

               She almost gasped as the realization ran through her, as it hit her.

               Feyre was in love with him.

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#ACOTAR #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feyre Archeron #Rhysand #ACOTAR fanfic #Mor #my writing #Temptation #long post for ts #text post

[goffilolo]

Demise of Midoriya Izuku (part 7)

I’m back! sorry it took so long to updat,e however ive seen very busy with school. also this chapter is over twice as long as usual, because its a very intense one, so it took me a very long time to write. hope you dont mind. The chapter is also posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557743/chapters/28807050

“All I’m saying is, next time he comes over we grab a couple of those buckets, fill them with water and drown the bitch into submission!” exclaimed Izuku, while excitedly pointing to the empty buckets in the corridor that were left there by a janitor.

“Izuku, no, just no” said Mrs. Todoroki with the exhaustion of a person who has listened through a hundred and one plans on how to torture her husband.

“You never like any of my plans!” replied Izuku.

“Because they’re not plans, they’re random impulses of vandalism and violent behaviour” she continued “Besides, not that I don’t enjoy your company, but aren’t you supposed meet with piece of shit, or whatever his name was?”

“How did you-”

“It’s a small ward honey. The word gets round quickly” interrupted Mrs. Todoroki while looking pointedly at the four armed nurse, who was currently pretending to be busy writing something in her clipboard and holding the handles of Izuku’s wheelchair.

“Tch, typical” scoffed Izuku.

Now, going back to the topic, YES, he was going to meet ‘piece of shit’ today. The decision was made by his mother who had gone to the Bakugous’ house the previous day and told them about their son’s actions in hopes of resolving the situation (bless her soul) despite the strain it would inevitably put on their friendship. The adults have decided that the best thing to do would be to all go to the hospital and talk things out, to which Izuku’s initial reaction was “not today Satan”, but not much could be done on his side to avoid this trainwreck.

And here he was now, in the common room, killing time with some good old escapism; focusing on all the different ways to torture Mrs. Todoroki’s shitty husband, rather than the ticking clock on the wall above him, mocking him, playing the role of a countdown to the start of what he calls ‘The Bakugou-shitshow’. The sleep deprivation from his meds was definitely not helping.

This was going to be a long fucking day.

“So it’s starting soon, huh? The Bakugou-shitshow” said Shin as he seemingly materialized out of thin air, rubbing his hands in a mischievous manner.

“You’ve read my journal” replied the boy in a cold, flat tone that the doctor hated so much. Honestly, is there no such thing as privacy in this loony bin?

“And you’ve read my medical notes about your case, which may I remind you are for medical staff only” retaliated the doctor, his unwillingness to put up with Izuku’s shit at this point very apparent in his voice. He then turned to the nurse and motioned towards the handles of his patient’s wheelchair “Do you mind if I borrow this little gremlin for a second?”

“Fuck you!” interrupted Izuku.

“See? A little gremlin right here” sneered Shin.

He then grabbed the handles and wordlessly started to wheel Izuku out of the common room in the direction of his office as Mrs. Todoroki and the nurse waved them goodbye.

“So, you’re seeing Bakugou today, aren’t you?”

“Yep”

“Are you mentally ready for it?”

“Fuck no!”

“Thought so, which is why we’re going to have a little chat now” said the doctor as he reached their destination.

Once inside the confines of Shin’s office, the doctor has dropped his cheeky facade in favour of the more uncommon, nevertheless much needed; that of a professional.

“Tell me Izuku, how do you feel about meeting Bakugou?” asked Shin, hoping to go straight to the topic, but leaving the question open enough for his patient.

“I-it’s a lot of-” started Izuku, not yet knowing how to articulate all of the complex feelings swirling together in his psyche, into some sort of a coherent answer “-uugh!” he finished, voice full of helplessness, his posture speaking “I don’t know”, which is still more than he managed to say out loud.

“Okay, that’s...something” replied the doctor, a bit disappointed in the lack of coherent response.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, a lot. Honestly, I don’t know what to expect. He has way too much pride to apologise, although our parents will be there so he’ll probably try to behave more decent with them around. But even if he does apologise, do I want to hear it? Is it going to change anything?” asked Izuku, not expecting an answer.

“You know, my dream of being a hero is dead, and I’m alright with that. I felt like I was on a good path of making peace with myself about that fact, like one day I could look back on it and think fondly of it as in ‘oh, every kid wanted to be a hero and save people’ and not be bitter about it-” continued the boy, his fists clenched, the frustration in his voice growing every second, like a volcano, waiting to erupt “-but he ruined it for me” he spat, full of venom.

“In what way did he ruin it for you?” prompted the doctor.

“To me a hero was someone who could always save everyone, someone who could always make you feel relief upon their arrival no matter how bad the situation was. And Kacchan, he’s-he’s anything BUT that. Having to see him will just remind me of this dream, of all the heroic qualities I aspired for and couldn’t reach, and how someone like HIM, who only knows how to hurt others will be able to reach that dream and ruin it! HE WILL TAKE EVERYTHING IT TAKES TO BE A HERO AND RUIN IT!” screamed Izuku, breathing labored as he became overtaken by his frustration and helplessness.

The doctor did not grace Izuku’s outburst with much of a reaction beyond widening his eyes ever so slightly before looking back down to write some notes, already used to such behaviour on his patient’s part. It tells him a lot about the boy’s repressed rage, caused by what he suspects is a mix of admiration, envy and rather justifiable bitterness, which Izuku himself seems to be in denial of.

Speaking of, as the boy slowly regained his breath his face morphed into one full of fear rather than anger as he became aware of is surroundings, the laughing clock, and the inevitable Bakugou-shitshow that’s just around the corner.

“I-I, wh-what would I even say to him when I see him?!” asked Izuku, eyes full of panic.

“I think everything you said just now” replied Shin.

He then stood up from his chair and started to wheel Izuku out of his office, in the direction of his hospital room, the atmosphere between them clear from any traces of Izuku’s outburst.

“Do you want me to be in the room with you for moral support? Or do you want me to wait outside?”

“I think I want you to be there with me”

“That’s fine then. Let’s get this shitshow started”

“Hey! That’s my line”

Soon they have found themselves back in Izuku’s room, who was hoisted up back onto the bed with the help of one of the nurses, his leg elevated like when he first woke up. Shin was keeping himself busy in the corner by reading through Izuku’s hero notebooks, his face solemn, but eyes full of wonder. It was a face Izuku has never seen before, but he wasn’t going to ask about it now, not when the peace within the room was nothing more than a bubble, ready to burst any minute.

Just because he was expecting it did not mean he was prepared, so when the door opened Izuku’s attention was drawn instantly.

Izuku looked like shit, he knew that much. The bags under his eyes told the tales of sleepless nights spent on nothing but staring at the piles upon piles of notebooks, never to be read again. His hair was a mess, like a bird’s nest, nothing unusual, except it was longer, the extra length swirling at the sides, on his face; the proof on an inevitable passage of time. Has it really been a month?

Well, here goes nothing.

He looked like shit, and he wasn’t going to pretend any different. He didn’t know what to expect when Kacchan made an entrance, but it certainly wasn’t for his childhood friend tormentor’s face to mirror the misery he felt, instead of the usual scowl matched with the condescending look.

It made him somewhat angry.

A lot things made him angry recently.

Upon Kacchan’s entrance, Shin acknowledged his presence ever so briefly before going back to flipping through Izuku’s hero notes, volume 13 to be exact. If he didn’t know better Izuku would’ve thought that Shin was trying to rub it in Kacchan’s face.

He was soon followed in by his parents and last but not least, Izuku’s mother who quickly went and sat by Izuku’s side and held his hand to provide some motherly comfort.

The room was soon filled with a strangled silence, neither of the parties knowing what to say, not wanting to start this rollercoaster.

The problem was soon solved as Mrs. Bakugou elbowed her son roughly on the side “Don’t you have something to say, you little shit?” she whispered, her powerful voice making it loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Izuku was going to give it to Bakugou, he looked guilty enough, alright. Quite uncomfortable as well, reminding him of all the visits his homeroom teacher has paid him over the course of the last month. Since walking in he hasn’t looked at Izuku even once, instead trying to find something to focus on in his surroundings. It definitely wasn’t his smartest idea. As soon Bakugou focused on the volume 13, another reminder jabbing at his sides, he dared to trail his eyes up to the man holding it, and was quickly met with the coldest, most cruel look he has ever experienced, that physically makes him flinch.

‘Oh, so that’s what Shin meant when he said moral support’ thought Izuku.

Really, he almost felt bad for Kacchan. Almost.

“Oh, this better be good” said Izuku in spite of himself, with that dead flat tone, hoping it was going to have the same effect on Bakugou as it does on Shin and make this shitshow a bit more interesting.

It was enough to bring Bakugou’s attention back to Izuku, but before he could say anything he was beat to it by Izuku.

“Listen, whatever you’ve got to say, frankly I don’t want to hear it. I’m not letting this trainwreck become a sappy continuous wailing of ‘i’m sorry’s. I don’t care what issues you have with quirkless people, or with your own anger, that’s something for you to deal with yourself. If my forgiveness is just for you to soothe your bruised ego and lessen your guilt, then you sure as hell ain’t getting it!” said Izuku, his tone cold, but harsh; harsher than what he was originally going for, but it seemed to work just fine given that Bakugou looked taken aback by the spiteful attitude displayed by his childhood friend, if he could even still be called that.

“But that’s not what you’re really here for, is it?” continued Izuku, this time more collected, as he slowly turned in the direction of Bakugou’s parents putting on the most obnoxiously fake smile he could muster.

“Kacchan’s quite great isn’t he? So smart, so athletic, and a strong quirk to boot it all, a hero material no matter how you look at it” said Izuku in faux admiration as he listed off Bakugou’s good qualities, as if he wasn’t in the room, having heard those complements one too many times “He’ll surely get into UA without a problem, unless…” he trailed off, pretending to be deep in thought “...unless all the bullying he’s done ends up in his record. After all, no school would accept someone who encouraged their classmate to attempt suicide, and his chances of getting into UA and becoming a hero will be as good as gone. Wouldn’t that be awful?” he finished, voice coated with fake worry.

“So that’s what you want, take a fucking revenge on me, huh?! FINE, HAVE AT IT THEN! I SURE HELL DESERVE IT DON’T I?!” screamed Bakugou, in what most would perceive as his usual angry manner, but Izuku knew there was more to it. Rather than anger it came across as more of a panic. Ah yes, panicked but not surprised. So even the ‘oh so great’ Bakugou knew he had it coming, thought Izuku. Now, THIS was fun.

“You do. And I’m really tempted to get my revenge, but I won’t” stated Izuku.

“Why not? Where’s the catch?” asked Bakugou, getting slightly suspicious.

“Because becoming a hero was always your dream, just as it has been mine and I don’t make it a habit of destroying people’s dreams-” answered Izuku in a slightly more neutral tone, preparing to deliver the ultimate blow “-I’m not YOU” he finished, gathering all of his viciousness into this one, final word.

That seemed to do it, Bakugou looked outright ashamed, having lost all of his desire to argue. Pretty close to crying as well, if the trembling lip and twitch in his eye was anything to go by.

“Just so you know, I’m not letting you off the hook, you should fully appreciate the feeling of guilt you know? It’s the only proof that you’re not a total scumbag if you’re feeling any remorse for your actions. So how about this? Why don’t you repeat what you said to me that day, right here, in front of your parents, my mum, my psychiatrist?” teased Izuku, feeling brave all of a sudden. It was the first time since he met Bakugou, where he was the one in control. He could kind of understand why Bakugou was such an ass all the time if this was the feeling that went with it. And to think he literally had to brush against death to get to this point. He better be careful.

“Fuck no!” shouted Bakugou. He was getting annoyed, but also slightly scared if he was being honest with himself. ‘Deku’ that he knew would never behave like that, he held no sadistic streak, no guts to try and challenge him in such way. And this one, this one was unpredictable, so angry, so vicious in the most passive-aggressive way. Is this what was left of Izuku once he snapped and fell? For all he knew, the Midoriya Izuku that he knew all his life was already dead.

“Oh, you’re not fun!” complained Izuku. “Alright, how about I help you, yeah? C’mon, let’s say it together!” explained the boy as he started moving his hands like a band director in Bakugou’s direction, as if trying to get him to sing his part of the song.

Inko grabbed one of her son’s arms, trying to talk some sense into him “Izuku, don’t you think that’s enough?” she said, while Bakugou looked at her with some sort of hope in his eyes.

“Nope, if anything I think Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou deserve to hear it for themselves, they deserve to know what their son is capable of” he stated and turned back to Bakugou.

“Alright then, let’s say it at three, okay? One...two...three…”

“If you believe they’re holding your quirk over in the next world you should just dive off the rooftop” the boys said in unison; Izuku in an overly cheerful voice, Bakugou in a flat, resigned tone as he kept his eyes down, staring at the floor, not being able to bear the scandalised look on his parents’ faces.

He was now crying, still refusing to look up.

“Now that that’s done, let’s get back to business. As I said, I won’t come forward and tarnish Kacchan’s report, although I do expect some sort of compensation, after all my medical bills won’t pay themselves. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?” said Izuku, as he addressed Kacchan’s parents. Really, it’s the least they could do, especially since it wasn’t exactly a secret that his mother wasn’t doing doing so well financially, the monthly payments sent by his father only being able to cover so much.

The Bakugou couple nodded quickly as they made their way towards their son in an effort to comfort him.

“Oh, and Kacchan?” said Izuku as he addressed the distressed boy, this time more soft, more sincere. He quickly turned to Shin, who stayed the entire time, quietly watching the situation unfold. He gave Izuku a quick nod and a little smile to encourage him.

Bakugou who was now engulfed in his parents’ embrace looked over uncertainly.

“Ever since I was little I looked up to All Might, the number one hero who could save everyone with a smile on his face. He became my ideal, my goal, something to aspire for, my definition of heroism” Izuku said solemnly, the feeling of nostalgia creeping up on him “I’m still bitter about having to give up on my dream, not because I’m lamenting about the unfairness of being born quirkless, but because I live with knowledge that someone like you; for as strong as you are, you’re equally self-centered, unbothered by well-being of others, only caring about fighting, will be able to become a hero and contradict everything it always meant to be one. Congratulations Katsuki, you’ve ruined it for me” said Izuku, the feeling of Kacchan’s full name on is tongue uncanny, but fitting the current situation.

“So when you walk out of this room, I want you to work your ass off till the brink of exhaustion, until you become the number one hero and rub it in my face, so that I won’t feel bad about loosing my dream, knowing that it’s been tainted by you” said Izuku, his eyes filled with determination “You’ve already ruined so many things, so why not go all the way?”

Bakugou, who seemed to regain some of the usually present fire in his eyes was quick to reply “FUCK YOU DEKU, I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m gonna become number one, regardless of what you say!”

“That’s what I wanted to hear”

#demise!au #bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfic #demise of midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki