#maybe roman does but he's already out of the circle

[angelthanatology]

i think maybe it's either kendall and he "wins" and it's a horror story, a cautionary tale. or it's kendall and he "wins" but he purposefully ruins it and it's a bittersweet letter to hope in a cruel world

#succession #idk idk this is what makes most sense to me but maybe it'll be something entirely different #i guess he could also be ruined by someone else like the accident finally biting him in the ass but idk idk how that would play out #i guess shiv could use it and out him. but they will never let her get the top job as a pregnant woman #maybe she gets an abortion or something but i doubt that's something that can happen in a finale idk #maybe roman does but he's already out of the circle #idk idk idk! i don't think that will be the case but who knows. im usually wrong

[whumblr]

Scary words

Continuation from For Science - pt 1 here

-

“Wake up, Dani, darling. Time to learn something new.”

“Don’t call me that,” Dani shot back, scowling up to the ceiling. She was already awake, just lying flat on her back on the bed, staring up, waiting for him to unlock her door. Unfortunately, he lingered. Meaning he had plans. With her.

She turned her head towards him, but didn’t move to get up yet. “Me or you learning something new?”

Roman leaned casually against the doorframe. “I’m sure it will be beneficial to both of us.”

Mostly for him, then. And whatever she learned in the process was also positive for him. Reluctantly, she peeled herself from the bed and strode past him, shoulders held high.

She turned the corner, taking a first step in the direction of the library. She could still hope it was a day for theoretical knowledge instead of practical. But a soft “Uh-uh” made her stop. She turned and Roman was shaking his head, calling her back to him with a two-fingered gesture, nodding down the stairs and her stomach sank.

She should’ve known – he was wearing black, always a bad sign – but hope got her through most days.

Refusing to come with was no option, she’d learned. She could either walk along behind him, or be thrown ahead and be the first one down…

Dread increasing with every step, she followed him down to another set of stairs leading to the basement.

He held the door open for her. “Ladies first,” he said holding out his hand.

Without much choice, Dani went ahead. She braced herself for a shove in the back, hand tightly on the railing to catch herself, but there was nothing of the sort. Merely a soft nudge in the back to encourage her further in downstairs, as she couldn’t help freezing up at the by now familiar sight of the dark basement and the gleam of sharp objects in the sparse light there was.

He brushed past her, guiding her along with a hand on her shoulder blade.

And as he did, the sharp scent of his aftershave hit her. The sickly crisp smell lingered inside of her, unwilling to be expelled even as she exhaled hard. It swirled around, coated her stomach like oil, lining it with a fresh layer of fear.

“Come along,” he crooned, way too upbeat as he walked over to the wall where he had his tools displayed.

His voice snapped her back; lighting the flammable part of the fragrance lingering inside in anger. Though the next words also made her shoulders hitch.

“A wonderful day to experiment with nociception...” he said, fingers eagerly flicking the air as he tried to make a decision. He settled on a long, thin cane, tapping it against the palm of his hand as he turned to her.

“So, I noticed you’ve been reading the book on neuroscience and I want to know what you know about the receptors for sensation and pain.”

More than you, was what she wanted to bite back, but the words stuck somewhere along the way; either held back by some protective barrier in her brain or because something was growing inside her throat. Also, maybe she knew more about the receiving end of those receptors, sure, but unfortunately, he had her on practical know-how.

Not to mention the sadism part…

“I don’t think I’m up to that chapter ye—”

“Do not lie. Then why did you wince at the word nociception?”

“Because it’s a bad sign when you’re throwing big words around.”

Roman merely smiled at the little lie, but his expression turned menacing when he tipped his chin down. “Well, there are all kinds of scary words we could dig into today... Asphyxiation, flagellation..."

“Castration,” she offered.

“Your fire is amusing, but it does not hide your fear. Now…” He raised the cane, pointing at her and asked in a stern voice: “Nociception is...”

“To detect sensations of pain,” Dani droned, feeling it was better to cooperate here.

“Mhm,” he hummed in a neutral tone and he started forward, slowly circling her, tapping the cane in front of him on the ground. Soft taps echoed along with the clicks of his footsteps as he sauntered about. When she didn’t continue, his eyes snapped up, finding hers instantly. “Go on.”

“Erm…” She racked her brain trying to remember what else she’d read in that chapter. Not a whole lot, to be honest; she’d pretty much skipped ahead. In her current situation her life was filled with enough pain already, she didn’t really want to read more about it. Not to mention that she didn’t fully understand it all, either. The book went on and on about the chemical reactions in the body in response to stimuli, about neurons, enzymes, the central—ah.

“It’s a way for the central nervous system to detect stimuli that are damaging to the body and so to avoid further damage.”

“Good enough... you just earned yourself one less lash.”

How nice.

“Now, to put the theory to practice…”

Before she could even recoil, the cane snapped hard against the bare skin of her upper arm. She bit back a yelp and shot back. A red mark already blossomed up that tingled in the afterglow. Goddamn neurons. She covered it with her hand, glaring up at him, clenching her teeth to keep the pain bottled up.

“Oh. That didn’t hurt? You’re right I guess, I don’t need to hold back on you.”

He pulled the cane back in a backhand with a wicked smile. This time it cracked hard against her shoulder. Followed up with another just below the welt on her arm.

“So, your body remembers that pain and will try to avoid it again. Instinctively, you will recoil…” He raised the cane.

But she didn’t. Instead, she snapped forward, twisted her body along with his to avoid the hit and used his momentum as the cane swooshed wide past her to wrench it from his hands. She twirled on the spot and took a few steps back, now pointing the cane at him.

“Maybe you should adjust your hypothesis, asshole.” She couldn’t hold back a smug smile.

He didn’t seem fazed. “Maybe I should put in a punishment for each swear…” But while he still had that smile adorning his lips, the smile he always had when he tolerated – maybe even encouraged – her outbursts, his eyes told a different story.

He stepped forward and she raised the cane in self-defence.

“Try to hit me,” he said calmly, as if she wasn’t holding his weapon, “and I will show you a level of agony we haven’t even touched upon yet.”

Fuck that, she wasn’t even going for the ‘return tenfold’ thing. Instead, she grabbed the cane at both ends, flexing the thin wood lightly and letting it bounce back a few times. She could hear it – feel it – crackle in protest and when she couldn’t bent it any further with her hands, she slowly raised a knee.

“Break it and I’ll revoke your library card.”

Dani actually gaped at that, indignant. The cane sprang back as she let one end go.

His lips pressed together, stifling a smirk. “Now give it back.” He extended a hand and she resisted the urge to snap the cane across his open palm.

She should. She knew she should. But she also knew what would happen as soon as that cane was in his hands again. He was fucking right; both her body and mind did try to avoid that pain. And if she listened to her heart that yelled at her to throw the goddamn stick right in his face, well, that would make matters even worse…

Keeping a fair distance between them, she extended an arm and merely let the tip of the cane gently fall into his palm.

“Thank you.” Roman adjusted his grip on the thing, looking it over, checking for damage.

Then without warning, he snapped forward.

And she couldn't help it. She startled and stumbled backward before her stubbornness could literally put a stop to it.

Where usually he’d saunter up to her, slowly, twirling whatever weapon he was holding, he now marched up, large strides quickly closing the distance.

She backed into the wall. Pushed forward to slip past him. He easily caught her. Shoved her back with such force it slammed the air from her lungs.

Air she couldn't immediately get back. Before she could gasp in, the cane pressed hard against her windpipe, cutting off her air. He stepped in, his body flush with hers, the cane horizontal against her throat. He pressed harder, bending the wood until both ends touched the wall, keeping her contained.

“Maybe we should go for some big words after all,” Roman growled, but with no anger. “We’ll start with the A for asphyxiation.”

Dani snarled. Her lips moved but she had no air to turn into words. She twitched, bucked against him, and gasped hard when he let up to hear her speak.

“O-only if… we c-continue with my C for—”

He pressed the cane back, not letting her finish, and lightly shook his head. “Oh, love. I don’t think we’ll get that far.” He smirked, lowering himself towards her and whispered in her face: “After all, we have to get past B for broken first.”

-

Continued here

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpifi @whumpy-daydreams @whumpyourdamnpears @aurora-gehenna99

#whump #lady whump #defiant whumpee #captivity #creepy captor #caning #bastard whumpee #bastard whumper :) #my writing

[jaebeomsbitch]

Hi! Pls could you write a Roman fic with the following prompt: 36.“i know i said we couldn’t do this anymore, but i need you. please.”? Thank You!

Scotch and Tears

Summary: Comforting Romey and hurting him at the same time or Roman comes to you needing release and the painful reminder that he'll never be loved because he's broken.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Hurt, Crying, Jerking off Roman...

A/N: Not edited and written at 2 AM like every other fic of mine. I never ever intend to make this one so sad but.... Romey is just a sad little boy trapped in a dog cage :( GN!reader

You don’t know who you expected on your front door but it wasn’t him. Maybe a DoorDash delivery person or another Amazon package but not Roman Roy. His hands intertwined in front of him, that cocky smirk of his face. 

“If it isn’t my favorite whore” he says, a little too boisterous for your liking. 

“Welcome in” you say sarcastically as he bulldozes his way inside your apartment despite his small stature. 

“God if I thought you dressed shitty… this is a fucking rat-infested dying Victorian orphans type of shitty” he says, his hazel eyes analyzing every single detail of your apartment. You roll your eyes, leaning against the doorframe of your small living room. You’d never have the type of money he had but you were comfortable. More than the dozens of New Yorkers that couldn’t heat their apartments through winter or the ones that had eleven roommates. 

“Why are you here Romulus?” You ask in a cool toned manner. His head snapping towards yours, he hadn’t heard that name in a while. Not since… well not since his father died. 

“What, not happy to see an old pal?” He grins, taking off his little leather gloves. He makes a face as he uses the sleeve of his jacket to clean your little side table placing the gloves on it.

“Why are you here?” You ask stalking forward. 

“Don’t make me ask you again Romulus” you say with a bit more force in your tone. Roman gulps, those big doe eyes looking up at you with a mixture of fear and something else. That underlying swirl of emotion you were all too used to seeing many years ago. 

“Don’t-“ he says, trying to act strong but his voice slightly wavers under your watchful gaze. He tried to busy himself by taking his coat off. 

“I saw he died” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest standing toe to toe with Roman. He grunts in acknowledgment, afraid of opening his mouth. Afraid that the pent up tears will come crashing down the fragile walls he built. Because truthfully Roman hadn’t been coping. He thought it would get better with time. 

Thought a shrink would fix him, but they never did. No matter how expensive, how experienced they didn’t understand Roman, not in the way you do. So he comes crawling back every time. The pain and loss of memory crushing him into a little ball. 

Your fingers reach out to him holding his bicep lightly but he shrugs you off almost violently. He hates himself for being back here, for needing you. 

“Yeah he’s dead, should’ve gone a danced in his chew toy mausoleum when you had the chance” he tries to joke but it comes out slightly strained, at least to your ears. 

You circle him, reaching for the expensive bottle of scotch he gave you as a parting gift all those years ago. Popping in some ice cubes already prepared for his little digs but surprisingly nothing comes out. He gulps it down like he’s hasn’t had a drink in weeks. He quickly pours another glass taking that one back wincing at the burn

“Slow down,” you say sternly

“I’ll- I’ll fucking buy you another one” he immediately fires looking at you with an intensity. You can tell he hates being here. Well, hates that he has to be here again. He’d been okay for the most part but then every single person he loved had died or left him.

You silently take a seat on your couch, sipping on the scotch savoring the complexities on your tongue. Roman grips the glass tightly, hands shaking. 

“I-“ his voice wavers, that first sense of vulnerability sinking deep into Roman’s bones and it fucking disgusts him. It rips him to shreds that he can’t keep his voice steady. 

“I know I said-” he continues, filling up another glass. Watching the little ice cubes swirl in the amber liquid. 

“I couldn’t… we couldn’t… please,” he says looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes, all wet, as he tries to hold back his tears. 

“C’mere” you say softly spreading your legs and downing your scotch. You place the empty glass on the side table over his gloves as Roman shuffles towards you like a scolded child. 

His heart sinks deep into his gut. The vile thoughts filling up his head, screaming at him not to do it but, he sits on your lap with shaky breath. Your fingers find the familiar path towards his knees. 

Just like that the words dim and his breath picks up. The warmth of your palms seeping into his slacks, you knew that if you could see his eyes you’d see the swirl in them. The pink, smokey, tendrils of lust churning in his brain. 

It wasn’t that Roman hated you, he didn’t. In some sick twisted Roman way he loved you. You were the only person who could touch him, the only person who could untuck his fresh pressed dress shirt and undo his slacks. The only one who could slide his zipper down without him immediately going into a manic state. But after the comfort always came the guilt. That’s what he hated, he hated the crashing of sadness and despair pulling him down after your touch was over. 

Hated that he had to imagine it was your hands on him. That he yearned for you but you never sought him out. Not once, not even after he’d wined and dined you. Not after he let you into his fucked up head. 

Of course Roman never knew the truth. It hurt. It hurt seeing him cry, it hurt seeing him broken beyond repair. You take solace in the fact that you were the only one that brought him relief even if it was momentary. So you press your face into the line of his back, fingers taking his leaking cock out. Roman’s practiced spit falling onto his cock, his eyes closed shut not wanting to look at it. Not right now. 

He hated you for abandoning him. Hated the way he instantly moans when your warm hand wraps around his cock. The pool of heat burning deep in his gut.

“Fuck” he moans at your slow strokes. You wanted to prolong it. Smell his clean scent a little longer, feel the flex of his thighs on yours, memorize the hitch of his breath but Roman hasn’t been able to get off in a long time. 

His breath heavy as more profanities leave this pink lips of his. 

“Oh fuck” he groans, fingers digging into his slacks. You swirl your palm over his sensitive head, his toes curling in his dress shoes, jaw slacked. 

“Fuck I’m- so fucking disgusting” he swallows his spit. Your other hand working at his balls, rolling the skin in between your fingers matching your strokes. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck fuck” he whispers hurriedly, fingers clenching the fabric harder, his head hanging in submission. Giving into the pleasure, his stubbled jaw pressing into the pin-striped light-blue dress shirt. 

You missed him. You missed his stupid quips. Missed the way his dumb little grin would show the dimple on his cheek. You missed that stupid idiot even when he was insulting you. 

“G-god” he chokes.

“Just me” you chuckle, stroking him faster knowing his telltale signs like the back of your hand. You could feel his thighs clenching under your forearms, his back tightening, and his hips trying desperately to follow your movements. 

He finally comes as he heaves for breath. A strangled noise leaving his throat as he ruins his slacks. All the pent up cum spilling on his stomach. You stroke his cock until he’s a whimpering mess. The back of his head tilted back pressing into your shoulder. 

You wanted to hug him. You wanted to tell him everything would be okay but you know he’d only push you off. You hold your tongue as he slowly sits up pushing your hands away and tucking himself back into his pants. He swallows hard, trying to busy himself with wiping the cum off with a napkin. 

You keep your lips sealed when you see his face. That anguished look in his eyes, another painful reminder of why you didn’t do this anymore but his little ‘please’ broke you down. He leaves mumbling some stupid line about you being a whore. His heart aching as he tries to straighten out his wrinkled slacks. 

Your heart hurts, it hurts so much but this is what Roman did. He used and abused because he was broken. You could never fix him not even if you tried but what would happen when you found a partner? When you wouldn’t let him into your apartment again?

The next day another bottle of scotch sits at your doorstep, you tuck it away into the same cupboard, holding his glass as a tear slips down your cheek. 

#roman roy #succession #succession roman #succession hbo #succession spoilers #roman roy x reader #roman roy smut #roman roy imagine #roman roy fanfic #roman roy x you #roman roy / you #roman roy / reader #Im sad #gender neutral reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #smut

[secondhand-snow]

Stalker!Lukas has definitely been on Twitter since day one, and he likes to lurk other profiles even if he doesn't follows them because he thinks knowledge is power, so eventually, one day he's on Stewy Hosseini's page and he's going over his whole feed, because Stewy is a private equity investor and well, you should always follow the money, and that's how he learns about reader, she's barely opened her account and hasn't even been verified, but since Stewy reblogs her and has full conversations with her, Lukas just knows she's well connected. Cut to him actually clicking on her profile and seeing her full name, so, he Googles her, back then he really doesn't know who the Roys are because he's in Sweden and it's a completely different world. Of course he spends the whole night reading about the family and their business. He reads her whole feed and finds every social media account she's ever had and reads everything over a few days, he downloads pictures, videos, anything he can get his mitts on, even content from her friends' accounts. He finds a private investigator in the US to follow her and keep him posted on her activities, Lukas basically puts the PI's kids through college with how much money he pays him over the span a few years. He slowly but surely starts scheming how to approach the Roys, since he had that PI on lock he also has so much info on the family that he knows when to attack and how to make it look like it happened naturally, even getting invited to Ken's party seems like it was not something that was years in the making. He knows he has just one chance to get her, so he makes sure he uses all of his knowledge to make her fall for him

this is so good- literally so accurate to his character

I can just imagine Lukas hunched over his desk in a hoodie going through every piece of information he can find on her for days straight. He makes a ton of dummy accounts to keep things from being traced back to him, he goes far enough to use his technology skills to get into her friends private accounts and get more information that way. He has a whole folder on his desktop full of screenshots and photos and videos and articles. But the folder is just labeled with a heart emoji, not even her name (because he’s already that delusional about her.)

He finds a really well connected PI (maybe pn the dark web lol) to keep tabs on her in person, and he puts this man through the wringer. If he finds out she went to an event and the PI didn’t get pictures of her he gets so upset. Full on “WAKE UP ZOMBIES!!” mode. His obsession just grows and grows, to the point that he starts interacting with entertainment companies in America in order to begin entering the same social and business circles as her. He does it so well that things look natural. By the time he gets the invite to Kendall’s birthday party, he’s more than ready to finally seal the deal.

I’d go as far as saying that even their first meeting is ser up by him. He sees the scene that Roman and Shiv cause at not being let into the VIP area, sees you following Kendall up into the treehouse, and perfectly positions himself in what will be your direct line of sight. And he acts all casual and bored, pulling up the first game on his phone that he can find and quickly drinking his beer to make it look half-full. But when he sees you for the first time in person he’s freaking out internally and having to sneakily hide his growing erection.

#stalker!matsson #lukas matsson #asks #succession #a body of impulses #snow’s headcanons

[multiversstuff]

“Let’s get started” (upcoming project teaser)

So…I’ve been working on a really big project that’s been a goal of mine for YEARS and well, here’s a teaser for the first part of the project.  Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3. Not beta’d; all mistakes are mine.

WARNINGS; 18+ ONLY!!!! Mentions of blood, language (i think?)

WC: 616

Three walls.  The wallpaper looks to be from the early 1900s, maybe older.  Although, there’s no way to be sure; it’s rotting away.  Little flowers appear to be on the wallpaper…dandelions, possibly.  It seems to be peeling, almost melting off with each tick of the clock that’s hanging to the right of the doorway.

The doorway.  That damned doorway holds a dark mahogany door.  Shut and locked at all times.  Except when he’s ready to…it’s not like clockwork.  It’s always random.  And that makes the ticking worse.

The clock.  A circle with a white background, black Roman numerals, and a black border that protrudes out just the slightest bit.  Brand new in the rotting room and right there with its loud ticking.  The ticking is maddening.  Never knowing when he’ll come and watching how long he stays until he leaves…knowing that leaving just may not happen, even if he does get what he wants.  It doesn’t help that he intentionally put his tools right beneath the clock…he’s despicable.

The tools…as clean as he wanted them to be; which isn’t very, they have a tiny bit of rust on them, it’s nearly imperceptible.  They’re laying on a thin cloth on top of a table, which looks to be a coffee table.  It’s funny.  The room isn’t a living room…at least it wouldn’t be constituted as one, it’s more like a bedroom.  Thinking of him having a coffee table on hand is almost laughable.  If only it wasn’t holding both unused tools he has yet to utilize, but also the tools he has been using each time he comes in; various sizes of scalpels, knifes, tweezer like things, needles, and so much more…so many tools – all covered in blood. He’s going to die soon enough…that thought alone has kept me surviving.

Chains.  The things the keep every part of me accessible to him.  Two chains, one for each of my arms, connected to the ceiling to keep me suspended.  The ceiling was already breaking down as it was before the combined weight of the chains and my limp body; it can only hold for so long before it crumbles and crushes me.  Two chains, one for each of my legs, connected to the floor in order to avoid my fighting back.  I lost feeling in my limbs a long time ago…that’s not necessarily true, I can still feel the pain he inflicts onto me; but I just know I wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone kick.

The longest he’s been gone was for twenty-seven hours, forty-seven minutes and five seconds, while the shortest was four minutes and sixteen seconds.  It’s been twenty hours and seven…teen minutes since he left.  He’s due to be here anytime.

The longest he’s been in here, before losing his patience, was exactly ten hours and four minutes.  Fourteen hours, thirty-six minutes and fourteen seconds was the longest he stayed after losing his patience.  I have begged myself to just pass out, but apparently, living a life in constant pain can help build a tolerance…who knew?

He has his little minions bring me water, feed me and tend to the wounds he inflicts just so I don’t die.  Because God forbid that the one person who has information he wants, dies.

My head snaps to the door upon hearing the knob and hinges squeak, finding the door already open with him standing there in the darkness, silent and staring at me…those eyes are so bright and yet so full of darkness, there isn’t a shred of light within.

*Tick*

*Tick*

He closes the door without breaking eye contact.  I slightly rotate my hands to grasp the chains.

*Tick*

*Tick*

“Let’s get started, Y/N.”

———————————————————————————————————

Please let me know what you think, any ideas, any mistakes…anything’s welcomed 🥰 Have a beautiful weekend!

#fanfic teaser #fanfic project #i hope you like this #sending love ❤️

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jorah demanded, once he had caught up to Nathan. “We need to stay here and help find your nephew. Don’t you care about your own nephew?”

“Not really,” Nathan replied, throwing books around, looking for the switch that would lead him into the secret passages in the walls where he felt at home. “The kid’s got the right idea though. I should follow his example and get out of here too.”

Jorah couldn’t think of anything stronger to say than “I’m telling Lucy” to get Nathan to stay. Maybe a few years ago, those words would have stopped him, but Jorah got the distinct impression that Lucy’s brother had unwisely begun to underestimate her.

Just when Jorah had decided to try his luck with the line anyway, he heard a familiar groaning growing closer to him. He turned to see his mother shuffling towards them, a vacant expression on her face.

“Dammit, we’ll do it your way!” Jorah exclaimed, slapping his hand against the bookcase’s secret release, and grabbing Nathan by the arm before the spinning bookcase caught his hand. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered by the remains of his mother.

As the door swung closed once more, Jorah could see the shadow of the woman who had been his mother disappear. Like everyone else in the house, he had succumbed to fear and revulsion, and abandoned his parent, whatever was left of her anyway. He barely had time to process this betrayal before Nathan began pushing him down a narrow passageway.

“Come on, I don’t think they have the brain power, but we’ll want to be out of here just in case they figure out how to turn the switch.”

Jorah reluctantly followed Nathan’s lead. He had already gone this far, and he really didn’t want to be alone with his zombie mother.

Even Lucy abandoned her dad, along with everyone else in the house. It’s okay to do the same. It’s not really like she’s still my mom.

“Where does this go?” he asked, as they turned around a sharp corner. Abraham really had put a lot of effort into building this house.

“Lots of places,” Nathan replied. “You can get pretty much anywhere you want from here, but we’re headed to the safest area from zombies. There’s wards pretty much everywhere. I think the demons put them there, but Grandpa did have a zombie daughter that he needed a place to hide from, so maybe it was him.”

After another few minutes of walking, Jorah stepped into the creepiest cavern he’d ever seen. Old foundations were strewn across the ground which was littered with complex magic circles, and what Jorah really hoped wasn’t actual blood.

“This is underneath your mom’s house?” he gasped, trying to take in his surroundings without showing his horror. “Really?”

“Really. There used to be a locked gate keeping us out, but Lucy demolished it so she could have easier access to down here. Sometimes she has her co-workers over. There’s something dark down here that creeps even them out. They take pictures and murmur a lot, but I don’t think they know much about this place in the end.”

Nathan stretched out on the ground casually, like he was still on the couch upstairs and not surrounded by writing that frightened even demons.

“We can wait out our parents down here, either way,” he said, completely calm. “Let Lucy get them out of the house herself, or have Abe hug them or something. It’s not my problem.”

Jorah frowned.

“They’re busy looking for your nephew,” he said sternly. “We should be helping them look for him, not hiding from my mother like a teenager trying to sneak out after curfew.”

Nathan rolled his eyes at this casual attempt to shame him.

“Like you ever snuck out as a teen,” he scoffed. “You spent your whole life chasing Roman around, begging him to even look your way. You were fat, dull and pathetic growing up. Do you really think that finding Roman’s son is going to get him to take you seriously?”

Jorah didn’t know quite how to react to the insult. He’d spent years being the butt of Lucy’s jokes, but at least he knew that she was mean to him for fun. Nathan’s attitude didn’t have any joy or teasing. He was lashing out for a different reason, whatever it was.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of a dick.”

Nathan gave Jorah a curious look in reply.

“Is there are right kind of way to take that?” he asked. “That’s not a very good comeback either way.”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean,” Jorah replied. “I was just stating a fact. Lucy’s been my best friend since we were kids. You’re going to have to do better than call me fat and desperate to even come close to what she’s called me. You’re an amateur.”

This response got Nathan’s full attention. Very few people challenged his cruel remarks. He successfully pushed away most people with his attitude, and people like Abe or Roman scared away the few who had stayed like Gareth.

“You don’t know the first thing about me or my family. Lucy’s the amateur.”

“She pushed me down the stairs at school on picture day because she thought it would be funny,” Jorah replied. “In my grade one school pictures, my glasses are broken, and I have a black eye. In her defense, I guess it was pretty funny.”

“She put a skunk in my room and closed the door,” Nathan exclaimed. “The damn thing tore up my room trying to escape and sprayed me the moment I opened the door. Mom was going to kill her.”

A small laugh escaped Nathan, despite his firm refusal to show another human being his true emotions..

“Do you want to know how I found out I was allergic to shrimp?” Jorah countered. “At least I got to ride in the ambulance. That was kind of fun.”

“No,” Nathan exclaimed breathlessly. “Why the hell are you still friends with her?”

Jorah shrugged.

“It’s a small place to grow up without a best friend. Besides, she means well despite what she’ll have you believe. Deep down, she really does have strong feelings that get hurt pretty often. She lashes out to protect herself. Abe gets his heart crushed all the time expressing himself and she’d rather die than live like that. I’d guess that that’s something you two have in common.”

Nathan froze at the mention of an honest assessment of his feelings. He didn’t have anything that would redirect Jorah’s attention from him, nothing that Lucy hadn’t already done to her friend anyway.

“Anyway, did you have an idea of how long we’re going to be down here? My husband should be calling in a few hours for an update, and I doubt this place gets cell reception.”

Nathan predictably clung to the escape from an honest conversation like Jorah knew he would. Honestly, Nathan didn’t know how wrong he was when he accused Jorah of not knowing the truth about the Chuns. Jorah could write a full psychological write up on his best friend, and he was confident in his ability to predict Abe’s behaviour based on the observations Lucy confided in him over the years. Of course, Roman was the wild card that he might never understand, but as far as the Chun siblings went, Jorah could write a handbook on how to deal with them. After all, he had gotten Lucy to wear the outfit he’d wanted to his wedding despite her many protests. Understanding Nathan was easy when you treated him like a pale imitation of his sister that he was.

And like Lucy, Nathan was hiding a secret hurt that propelled him to be as callous as he was, Jorah was certain of that. It was practically stamped across his forehead when Jorah didn’t immediately become offended by his edge lord comments. It wasn’t like Jorah was looking to start a friendship with Lucy’s little brother, but understanding this weakness of Nathan’s would give him an edge to use against him if he needed. Ulyssa had given him a heavy book filled with advice for being an effective leader and highlighted any advice she’d found particularly helpful. His family was filled with lawyers and leaders, but the future of their family had been entrusted to him, and Jorah wasn’t about to let them down. Standing up to Nathan’s poor attempts at bullying him would send a message that this Durant wasn’t about to be pushed around.

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios university #Jorah Durant #nathan chun #sims 2 pictures

[jeniffercheck]

i truly love all of your shiv takes — always feels on point and like you really understand the nuance of her character.

TW/ i know this comes up in interviews a lot (similarities to kendall, etc) but do you think shiv has struggled with addiction of any kind, if so in what capacity, do you think it’s still something she struggles with, etc.

aw thank u so much 😭 i am very lucky i have some kind people who like to come here and talk about her bc i love getting the chance to analyze the show & ramble about shiv and i don't do it nearly enough!!!!!

tw for talk about addiction/drug/alcohol abuse

this is interesting because it's so difficult to just flat out guess with a lot of the context from shiv's past missing!! i have thought about this though and i use roman to contextualize it because the one time we saw shiv being offered cocaine, she already knew she was pregnant so it was a no go, but we did see roman deny cocaine at argestes & we see him pick up kendall when he did meth (austerlitz maybe?), and the only other time we see either him or shiv taking drugs is when they all smoke at shiv's wedding, so just going based on what the show actually shows us, i guess it's unlikely that shiv or roman would have any interest in hard drugs from going through the hardships of having a brother who is a drug addict, and i don't think they really partake too often by the time we see them on the show. that does seem to be a common consensus from succ circles and i do trust that opinion at least for actual show canon that we have seen on screen!

i do think the show would've given us a lot more info if they wanted us to believe she 100% struggled with that stuff in a very serious manner, but there is always the question of shiv's "london grime" days, and we don't know a lot about that either. while i don't think shiv has struggled with addiction specifically, i could see her having turned to drug abuse or alcohol abuse or maybe just excessive partying during that time period. we don't see her drunk very often but we do see her drink pretty often, so i could lean toward the excessive partying thing, especially if she functions pretty well. i don't think that would be an unfair read for her, especially bc we know she can be a little self-sabotaging at times!!

#i want to know what sarah's backstory for shiv is so badly #she should drop it now that the show is over<3333 #i do wonder if there's anything in the script books that would clarify more of these things #i need to read them #if i only i could read #answered #tw addiction

[thinkatoryprocess]

It would be funny if only Jeryd remembers. Stewy was completely focused only on Kendall. So maybe Jeryd makes the realization, says nothing, and is just like. "Welp. Never saying that out loud." And then he never does. I doubt Stewy would want that information either. It benefits no one....except maybe Jeryd because now he has some insight on what us guarantees to get Stewy off. Plus there's a reason he gave fake name. He wanted guaranteed anonymity and took the extra step. Maybe because he knew he wanted to get into or was already in politics?

Adding this ask into the mix: "Jeryd remembers getting an incredible blow job 20 years ago at some random play party. Realizes that guy was Stewy. Vaguely remembers the dark haired guy with Stewy. Puts two and two together based on Stewy detailing when he was with Kendall in his emotional recap of his tragic love story. Realization hits. Thinks oh god....OH GOD. OH NO. Bites his tongue about it FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. And the entire time he's doing this he's holding Stewy in a comforting embrace so conveniently Stewy cannot see the fascinating face journey Jeryd goes on. Roman is visiting the baby so he's THANKFULLY not there." Yeah, I can see Stewy explaining about the day he was collared, the anniversary, all the events - getting flustered as he does, it's still a pretty strong memory even if it was so long ago and he was so whacked out he can't remember more than the big stuff - and Jeryd putting it together in his own head about a play party, that kind of facility, that year, and this guy with a sub on a leash. It all becomes clear, and Jeryd wishes it hadn't. He CANNOT let anyone know about this, it's tangled up in Kendall too much and neither of his partners needs to be hearing about Kendall, especially the Kenstewy aspect of Kendall.

Bearing in mind that Jeryd was also with his partner at the time, too, and the second-to-last thing Jeryd needs is Roman or anyone else getting too inquisitive about his love life prior to marrying Julie. We'll learn a little about that next chapter of DKAU, but it's very sensitive, even for someone like Jeryd, and has to be what he's ready to tell on his own terms.

"Theo" was a thing because Jeryd was just then stepping into politics and was also unmarried, so he wanted to have it all - a campaign and the play parties where he really felt most like himself. His bachelor status and any rumors would be a problem if people started putting things together. He dropped it once he knew he could basically trust the circle he was with, and that's when Stewy met him as himself.

#asks #dead kendall au

[the-single-element]

Good morning.

We hear today about one of the many miraculous healings Jesus performed during his ministry.

But it's a strange, uncomfortable story. It sees Jesus at his most severe, for no apparent reason other than because he's talking to a foreigner. And that's bizarre, for Jesus! Just a little while ago in Matthew's Good News, when Jesus was on his home turf, he offered to heal a centurion's servant (or daughter, the translation is unclear) without asking any questions about why he should heal a Roman. And we've talked before about his outreach to the Samaritans, with whom the Israelite community had old, bitter rivalries.

So what's going on today, with Jesus and this Canaanite woman? Why does Jesus react to her need with such harsh words - by comparing her request to "taking the childrens' food and feeding it to the dogs" (which, we should remember, are unclean animals by the standards of the Sinai covenant)?

Perhaps the clue we need is in other parts of the Good News where Jesus seems to behave uncharacteristically.

I'm thinking, of course, of the fig tree story, and the scouring of the temple. And I've argued before that the most important thing to draw from that whole situation is that Jesus is a human being. That Jesus may have never knuckled under to sin, but that doesn't mean he didn't experience the exact same swings of emotion that anyone does, especially someone who cares so much and is misunderstood so often.

So what if we look at the surrounding sequence of events in that context - from Jesus's point of view?

Let's start where we left off last week in Matthew's Good News. Jesus, having finally had some time alone to mourn the death of John the Baptist (and we know that Jesus mourns), has met up with his disciples and come back into town. But no sooner does he arrive than he gets into an argument - which the weekly readings this year skip over - with some Torah scholars over Jewish cleanliness laws.

To hear Matthew tell it, by the time of Jesus's ministry, his disciples are already growing a little lax in their strict observance of halakha. This argument over hand-washing before meals isn't the only example; Matthew also reports on a controversy surrounding work on the Sabbath, not to mention Jesus's famous callout post of his own colleagues in the Pharisee community soon before his death, which reads like an airing of grievances over all the misplaced priorities of the religious authorities of the time.

So here we see Jesus getting into another argument about these things - in particular, about washing hands before meals, which for various reasons was expanded by rabbinical decision from being a rule for priests when they eat certain foods, to being a rule for everyone. During this argument, he gets frustrated, and gets more frustrated when his own inner circle comes to him and doesn't understand what he's trying to say either.

And after this, Jesus leaves Galilee. In fact, Jesus - who up until now in Matthew's Good News has advised his disciples when they go preaching to focus on the Jewish people - leaves Jewish territory entirely; in those days, "Tyre and Sidon", 50 miles away from Galilee, was culturally Phoenician. Mark even says that when he arrived there, he tried to keep his presence a secret. What can this mean but Jesus getting so frustrated by all these arguments that he's trying to go off somewhere where he doesn't need to preach, where he can just take a break?

And then, a woman approaches him, and asks him for a miracle. Matthew says she's a Canaanite. Mark says she was Syrophoenician, but at the time, the two seem to have been often conflated.

And we've talked about the Jewish people's beef with Samaritans and especially with Rome, but the beef between the children of Israel and the Canaanites might be the oldest beef in the book, other than maybe with Egypt. It goes back to the time of Joshua - whose name Jesus shares - and the Israelites driving Canaanites out of the Holy Land. It's so deep a beef that the antipathy against the Canaanites was considered a commandment.

And in the moment that Jesus is probably bitterly reflecting on his own people's inability to understand his message, perhaps that's what bubbles to his mind when he's unable to be left alone even in a foreign land. Without turning her away explicitly, he tries to brush her off by repeating his gameplan: that he's focusing on the people of Israel, and leaving preaching to the Gentiles for later.

That is the context of this iconic exchange, where Jesus speaks of dogs in a Jewish way (that is, as an unclean animal) and then the Canaanite woman responds by speaking of them in a Greek way (that is, as a beloved pet and member of the household, no matter how lowly).

Jesus, who just days ago had received only blank stares when trying to explain that the Covenant is about something much more important than "clean" and "unclean", is gently rebuked by his own logic: that in God's household there are no unclean creatures. Jesus, who just moments ago had been despairing over a lack of faith in his home turf, hearing that expression of faith even from a foreigner in a foreign land, is amazed by her and gladly grants her the miracle. Not only that, after this interaction, he goes back to Galilee, and gets back in the saddle of his ministry.

Perhaps the Canaanite woman's words are what Jesus needed to hear at that moment. If I was a mere human preacher in that situation, and heard those words, I'd certainly interpret it as a sign from Heaven trying to slap some sense back into me.

And that's human too. That's human in a way that Jesus so rarely gets to be in the Good News, so focused as it is on convincing us that he was divine. Frustration, bitterness, perhaps unthinkingly trying to blow someone off so you can keep marinating in that misery, before realizing that they're saying what you needed to hear.

So for we who are also human, it's good for us to remember that these kinds of moments were in Jesus's life as well. But even beyond that... I think the takeaway is, yet again, an example that we should try to emulate: to try to keep our ears open, even when we're despairing or despondent. Because what we need to hear to rouse our spirits, or to get us knocked back into the right direction, may come from anyone, even an enemy or a stranger.

[buggie-hagen]

Sermon for Seventh Sunday after Pentecost (7/16/23)

Primary Text | Romans 8:1-11

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

Dear People of God,

        The Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free. This is the Christian message. The gospel that is for you. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, which means there is now no condemnation for you. Always notice when a preacher of grace says this little phrase “for you.” For yes I am speaking to all of you at once, but I am also speaking to you yourself in particular. You are set free. This is a type of speaking that is only found in the church of Jesus Christ—it is gospel-speaking. Maybe you don’t fully realize you are free yet. That is okay. God has already done the thing; he has set you free. And he will be sure to see it through to the very end. For now he is working on you, he wants you to know this thing—to take comfort, confidence and joy and peace that that he has indeed made you free.

To appreciate that we are set free we must know what we are set free from. St. Paul, the great teacher of the church, teaches that we are, “set free from the law of sin and of death” (Rom. 8:2). Sin. It’s something we all have, born deep within us. It forms our thoughts and actions. So each of us is sinful not because of what we do. But because of what we are. We sin because we are sinners. Sin is everything that is hostile to God—we do not want to submit to God-pleasing things—such as the law of loving God and the law of loving our neighbor. Sin is what we call incurvatus in se, “being turned in on ourselves.” We might think sin is freedom, but the law of sin is something that binds us. It wraps us around like we’re spaghetti on a fork—we’re not the ones in control. God once said to Cain, “Sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it” (Gen. 4:7). It mastered Cain. His jealousy led him to kill his brother. Sin masters us until we are set free. It squeezes the life out of us like a snake around a mouse. The law of sin condemns each of us. And the law of sin works side by side with the law of death. You have heard it said, “Death is natural and is simply part of the circle of life.” Death is more akin to an invasive species. It’s like zebra mussels have gotten everywhere. We were never meant to die. Death is the result of sin in the world and in our flesh. It is a foe that we all face.

For now, we feel this in our bodies, we die. Enter God. But the Spirit is life. And just as the Spirit raised Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies also through the Spirit that dwells in you. Sin and death are what Christ sets us free from. Christ has come to you in his holy word and in his holy sacraments—baptism and communion. In these he erases the law of sin and the law of death so that you are no longer bound by them, dear people. He has set you free in his word and in his sacraments. Now you still see sin and death active in you, but they are no longer things that belong to you. They are put to death on the cross. The Biblical Greek for our passage Christ “has set you free” is the word eleutherosen. This is where the reformer Martin Luther got his last name. We are a people who have Lutheran for a namesake. And that really does not point to Luther himself, but rather to the gospel that he proclaimed and we share among one another. For a Lutheran is someone who has been set free. We are also a people called to set others free. We forget this—that we are free, that is why God comes to you by way of another sinner to drum it into your ears! To remind you. This promise: Your sins are forgiven. Forgotten forever. They do not define you. In Christ, they are never held against you. There is no condemnation for you. Death also is not the final word about you. That too is done away with in Christ. So God has set you free.  

Empowered by the Holy Spirit and given the authority of Jesus Christ, I give you his life and his peace. All the guilt and shame you hold on to so tightly cannot defined you. They were buried with Christ when he was buried. There is nothing in all the world that can condemn you now, for you belong to Christ. That’s the only thing that matters at the end of the day. When the world or your conscience condemns you, you can say, “So what! I belong to Christ. And because I belong to Christ, no one can condemn me anymore.” Go ahead then, enjoy your forgiveness this weekend.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mute

Prompt: I absolutely adore your writing! Could I ask for a request too, please? I was thinking of a back-and-forth between Janus and Logan, just lies after truths after lies, until one snaps and accidentally causes the other to lose the ability to speak? Since they can both technically change the reality around them. Either the recipient becomes forcibly mute or the very angsty "sowed up mouth" method. Whoever caused the other to lose their speech freaks out and tries their best to fix their mess while apologising. Either a platonic or romantic ending -whichever you decide- but with at least a happy ending please? - willowaudreykeyes

Thanks for the prompts, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic janus, logan gets his mouth sewn shut but it's okay we fix it

Pairings: can be platonic or romantic I don't care, but we hit logince, rociet, lociet

Word Count: 2922

He doesn’t even remember how it started.

Or, an argument between Logan and Janus spirals dangerously out of hand, and powers in the Mindscape are sometimes more curses than blessings.

It hadn’t been something Thomas knew about, it hadn’t been a group discussion—he doesn’t think the others know where they are. Virgil is probably in his room, Roman is working in the Imagination, Patton is baking with Remus.

He doesn’t remember how it started.

He does know how they got here.

“I fail to see what use this is,” Logan had grumbled, standing up from the library table, “I will be better off figuring this out myself.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because that’s always gone so well for you in the past.”

Logan’s eyes had flashed with anger he still denies he has. “I fail to see what gives you the opinion that you have any right to complain.”

“Because I’m certainly the one saying that I’ve done all my best work alone.”

Janus had smirked cruelly as Logan shoved his glasses back up his nose and pointed a finger at him. “Your track record, may I remind you, has certainly shown that.”

Janus had thrown his head back and cackled, filled with mirth that sat like rot in the pit of his stomach. “And yet I managed to do so much more in the few times I appeared than you.”

“Oh, like that’s the same thing.”

He had held his hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Why, Logan, surely you can’t be insinuating that you think the others are incompetent. How hurtful, what on earth would they say?”

“I did not say that.”

“But you meant it, didn’t you?” Janus had morphed his expression into a mock pout. “They’re all so slow, so irrational, all they do is get in the way, they’re so irritating.”

“You’re attempting to convince me that I said something I did not,” Logan had said firmly, “it will not work. The meaning of my remark, as you are aware, was that you, as your role in the videos, have an easier time disrupting the flow of conversation that I do as a member of the main cast.”

Logan had ignored—or perhaps not noticed—the subtle tightening of Janus’s fist. He had simply sniffed and looked down his nose.

“And even then, it’s a surprise you haven’t been more capable.”

Janus had bared his teeth. “Yes, because obviously, you could’ve done better.”

“Oh, please.” Logan had tucked his notebook into the crook of his arm. “Can you name one of your haphazard schemes that actually worked?”

Janus had gritted his teeth as Logan opened the notebook and began to read down the list.

“Your attempt to get Thomas to lie to Joan failed when Roman started to believe that lying was wrong as well, leading to Thomas discovering your true identity.”

“By all means,” Janus had growled, “keep going.”

“Most notably, your attempt to get Thomas to go to the callback backfired quite spectacularly—something that wouldn’t have happened in quite the same fashion had you actually let me participate—“

“Keep talking, Logan,” he’d said again, inching closer to the nerd, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

“—and of course, led to what is the most disruptive event in recent memory,” Logan had continued, undaunted, “the wedding.”

Janus hadn’t even bothered with words this time, reaching for the notebook with a growl. Logan had tucked it away before he could reach it.

“Tell me,” he had said, “was it worth it? Knowing how much it cost us?”

“Surely,” Janus had growled back, “then you know it’s not because you didn’t do your job well enough.”

Logan had stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well surely you haven’t realized that the reason I was able to make it into that video in the first place,” Janus had said smoothly, sliding back into the ‘villain’ persona Logan has so graciously cast him in, “was that you were so painfully easy to replace.”

“Falsehood,” Logan had said lowly.

Janus had raised his hand again. “Oh, so you did notice. Splendid. Then you know that when it comes to pushing blame around the Mindscape—“

He had leaned closer.

“—you’re where we should be looking too.”

“I am—“

“Easy to overlook,” Janus had sung, prowling around Logan in a circle, “easy to silence. And surely there’s no correlation between when you attempt to override the others and when Thomas gets hurt. You want to talk about my failures? Then let’s not forget getting the others trapped in Patton’s room, shall we?”

Logan’s fists had tightened. “That’s not—“

“After all,” Janus had continued, speaking over him to illustrate his point, “if I’m to blame for knocking all the dominos down, you certainly didn’t give me a hand setting them up.”

“As if that in any way equivocates to what you did,” Logan had spat, the emotionless facade finally giving way as he whirled of Janus, “I did not use, manipulate, and lie to get the others to do what I want.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.”

“And if I did, my lies would be nowhere near as comically obvious.”

“Ah, yes, of course you’re never comical.” Janus had tapped Logan’s flushed cheek. “The possibilities of you being a joke have always been…infinitesimal.”

Logan had bared his teeth as Janus chuckled. “At least my concept of a joke never hurt anyone.”

Logan’s mouth had tugged up cruelly too.

“Setting Remus loose on Thomas when you knew he was already upset, pushing the others to follow on whatever path you decided was best. And let’s not even start on what you did to Roman.”

Janus had flinched.

“Have you ever apologized?” Logan had shaken his head. “For everything that you’ve done to hurt him?”

“Have you?”

The room had dropped several degrees.

Janus had dropped the villain persona, staring directly at Logan.

“You want to talk about hurting the others, hurting Roman,” he had said lowly, “what do you think it is that you do?”

Logan had opened his mouth to speak but Janus had raised a finger.

“No. Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Over how many years you’ve made him ashamed of who he is?” He had shaken his head. “I know I’ve hurt him. But you don’t seem to recognize it.”

He had looked Logan up and down, mouth curled in disgust.

“Maybe I’m not good enough at my job for your liking, but I sure was good at yours.” He had raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they wanted you silenced permanently. They did press the ‘skip’ button, after all.”

He had looked for the shadow of the bruise on Logan’s neck.

“And it was so easy to replace you. To silence you properly.”

He had turned away, not bothering to look at Logan’s face.

“Maybe I should do them a favor and keep you quiet.”

There had been a strangled gasp behind him.

“Oh, what,” Janus had drawled, turning around, “did you finally realize you don’t have a smart comeback for…”

The room had frozen.

…so that’s how they got here.

Janus, standing a few paces from Logan, turning back to face him, the sharp quip dying on the edge of his lips as his mouth drops open in horror, staring back.

Logan, his eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, glasses blurred and obscured by the bright light shining from the golden stitches that sew his mouth shut.

Logan raises trembling hands to his mouth, feeling the stitches, tears rolling down his face. His fingers disappear into the bright golden light as he fumbles with his mouth, until he realizes that he can’t.

The strangled scream lingers in Janus’s head long after Logan shrinks into a crouch on the floor.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no—no, not Logan. Not Logan.

“Oh, god—“ Logan’s hands keep pressing fruitlessly against his mouth— “no, oh, god, Logan—“

He runs back, ready to crouch and pry Logan’s hands away before he hurts himself, chest splitting open from the ache of hurting the poor thing like this.

He doesn’t think it could hurt more.

Like so many other times today, he’s wrong.

The instant Logan catches a glimpse of him moving toward him, he shoves himself away, scrambling backward until his back hits the wall. Eyes wide, breathing as heavily as he can through the stitches, utterly terrified.

As he has every right to be.

“No, no, Logan,” he murmurs frantically, “no, it’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you—“

Does it matter that you’re not trying? You certainly were earlier.

“—I promise, Logan, please, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Through the pants, the sobs, the shakiness of his chest, Logan huffs, disbelieving.

“I didn’t, Logan, I promise.” Janus drops to his knees in front of the crying man. “I—we went too far. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t mean to, please—“

The poor thing presses himself further against the wall. Janus swallows, feeling guilt press hot and heavy against the underside of his tongue. He reaches out, trying desperately to show him that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t actually believe anything he just said, he’s nothing but a liar, a horrible liar, please—

“I didn’t mean it, Logan, I promise, you’re—you’re not replaceable, I don’t want you silenced, the others don’t hate you, they don’t want you gone, I’m sorry—“

Slowly, too slowly, and not slowly enough, Logan’s breathing begins to settle. His eyes lose that awful whiteness and he slumps a little against the wall. His cheeks are damp, his glasses knocked askew, but he stares at Janus and slowly, slowly, nods.

“L-Logan?”

Another nod, a little less hesitant.

Janus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, Logan, why does it always end up with you being the better person?”

A tiny quirk of the eyebrow, nowhere near Logan’s typical sass levels, but it’s enough. It’s enough. Enough to make a weak smile come to Janus’s face.

“Can I come over, please? Can I come help?”

Logan nods, still wary as Janus shuffles across the floor. Before he makes it all the way there, he tugs off his gloves and stuffs them in his pocket.

“There,” he says quietly, wiggling his fingers to get used to it, “don’t want the fibers getting caught on anything.”

Logan’s wide-eyed stare tells him he knows why Janus really took the gloves off. Something Janus confirms a moment later.

“And I want you to know that I mean it.” He reaches forward. “Can I touch?”

Logan still flinches when Janus runs his thumb carefully over the cruel stitches sewing Logan’s mouth shut. He winces as he takes in how taut the thread is, how many stitches there are.

“Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “does it hurt very badly?”

Another miserable nod.

Then it clicks.

Logan.

The one who submits least to the Imagination. The one who tethers himself tightly to the fact that they are metaphysical, they are subjective, they need not subject themselves to real-world consequences of whatever nonsense the other Sides pull.

Logan still has the stitches.

It threatens to break Janus’s heart all over again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, cupping Logan’s face and slipping his glasses to the top of his head, “I’ve hurt you more than this, haven’t I?”

For indeed, if Logan is too upset to remember how to pull himself out of turns of phrase, then the poor thing is distraught.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, gently wiping away Logan’s tears, “it’s okay, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s over, I’m not angry, I’m going to take care of you.”

And oh, the way Logan pushes shyly into his hands feels warm.

“Does this help, sweetie, is this alright?” At Logan’s nod, he moves, tucking Logan’s legs across his lap with his other hands. “Come here, yes—that’s it, shh, I’ve got you, you just focus on me.”

Logan’s eyes fall closed and a muffled whimper comes from his throat.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m right here,” Janus murmurs, still cupping the poor thing’s head as it leans into him, “shh, shh, let’s get you a little calmer before we have a look, okay?”

Logan gives a huff of ‘what do you think I’m trying to do?’

“I know you know that, sweetie,” he chuckles, lifting Logan’s head to gently knock their foreheads together, “you’re clever. Our resident brain cell.”

He wraps one hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s just like what you taught us, remember? Object impermanence. This won’t last forever. I’m right here. You were so brave, you are so brave, so wonderful, so sweet…just give yourself time, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Logan relaxes a little in his hold as he keeps talking quietly. The poor thing gets over his hesitation and buries his face shamelessly in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Shh, shh, that’s it, sweetie, easy now—“ Janus cradles him as he sets his glasses out of the way— “I’ve got you. I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you. It’s almost over, now, you can do it, shh.”

Another muffled noise from Logan.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Janus says firmly, “you’re not unwanted. You’re not a joke, the others know how much you care about them, how much you help them, how important they are to you, how important you are to them.”

He tilts his head to press a kiss to Logan’s temple.

“How important you are to me.”

The golden light dims, sputters, and vanishes.

“…sweetie?”

Logan pulls back, carefully rubbing his fingers over his stitch-free mouth. He opens and closes a few times.

“Ouch.”

“Are you alright, sweet? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Logan says quietly, “I’m sorry too. That…escalated very quickly. I did not mean the things I said either.”

He squints.

“Oh, here—“ Janus passes him his glasses.

“Thank you. But that’s not why I—what were we arguing about, to begin with?”

Janus huffs a laugh. “I had been meaning to ask you that question.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must not have been very important.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry too,” Logan repeats after that pause, “you are not just a villain, you are not incompetent, and you…you are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong.”

Janus chucks him lightly under the chin. “Neither are you.”

“I know that, intellectually, and yet…somehow, it remains difficult for me to grasp.”

“Because even though you’re Logic, sweetie,” Janus says, “you’re Thomas’s Logic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Thomas is, frankly, something of a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh out of him at any rate.

“I mean, that also makes you a dumbass.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware.”

Logan’s smile is wonderful. “What is it that Roman is quite fond of saying?”

“That he’s pure of heart, dumb of ass?”

“That’s is.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It is.” Logan frowns. “Even if he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for.”

Janus nudges him. “I hope you know that you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.”

“Ah. I see.”

There’s another moment of silence as they reflect on what’s been said. Then Logan nervously adjusts his tie.

“Speaking of Roman…”

“I was about to say.” Janus gives his knee a pat. “Shall we see if we can find him?”

“I believe his business in the Imagination should be done.” They help each other to stand, Logan keeping a grip on Janus’s sleeve. “Should we check his room first?”

“I think so.”

Roman, of course, swings open the door with a cheerful greeting, the role of the pompous prince firmly in place until he takes in their tear-stained faces and he melts, dropping the act almost immediately.

“Oh, my darlings,” he coos, cupping each of their faces in a hand, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”

“May we come in, please?” Indeed, poor Logan looks as if he’s about to melt into Roman’s arms. Janus can’t talk, though, he’s about to do the same.

“Of course, come on, let’s get you sat down—“

Roman bustles about the room, fetching them a glass of water, sitting on his bed with them, almost bursting into tears himself when he hears what’s happened and promptly telling them they’re going to spend the rest of the day right here, in comfy clothes, watching ridiculously obscure documentaries until Patton and Remus call them down for dinner. They keep a hand on each other at all times, laughing at Janus’s snarky responses to awful narrators, Logan’s quick corrections when the information is out of date, and Roman’s impersonations of the strange wildlife. Roman’s room is pleasantly noisy and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t remember how it started, but he will always remember how it ended.

Curled around each other, in the warmth and safety of the people who care about him.

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if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit

[axwalker]

Jealousy--One Shot

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2. Engagement Tour. 

Pairing: Drake Walker x Alexis O’Brien (MC) 

WORDS: I’m using my WD golden ticket so 3,000 words. 

POV: Dual 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUT!! 🍋🍋🍋 A very frustrating Drake and Alexis.  

ALL MY FICS ARE +18 !!!! 

I’m participating in the  @wackydrabbles​   prompts. This week’s prompt is “I can’t do this anymore.” 

I apologize for any grammatical errors.   

Tags in the comments ;) 

DRAKE

Standing next to my window, I admire the Roman ruins of the Palatine hills as the royal train rolls into Rome. I’ve always loved Italy, but something about this trip is getting to me. It might be the woman occupying the cabin next to mine. It might be the fact that my best friend is almost as crazy about her as I am. Almost. He can’t possibly care for her the way I do. I down the rest of my glass and pick up a simple shirt and a pair of pants for tonight’s banquet. Fuck the black tie.

Since O’Brien came back to court, I tried to avoid her as much as I could. As a result, I’d cut off a leg tonight just to lay eyes on her again. I crave her like a drug. I spent the last few days debating with myself, and each day I grow a little more desperate, my arguments growing wilder and less probable by the minute. “Maybe” is how every single thought began, each one borne of desperation. Maybe I can make Liam understand that I’m crazy about the woman he loves. Maybe he’ll understand that I’ve been lying for months. Maybe Alexis will realize that she wants a quiet life with me. It’s a weakness on my part; I just need to get through this banquet without giving into it.

Thank God there’s a bar. I’m going to need something to make this experience tolerable. I grab a whiskey and drink half of it before I even head to my table. I’m halfway there when my eyes meet Kiara’s. She’s been leaving me flirty messages since we built the barn to celebrate Liam’s engagement. She’s a beautiful and smart woman but I couldn’t be less interested. 

“Come with me,” she says, pulling at my elbow. “I saved you a seat.” 

At that very moment, Lexie walks in. She’s wearing a red silk dress that matches her lips, pours over her curves, and reveals only a hint of cleavage while allowing you to imagine what you can’t see too fucking easily. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her back, highlighting her long neck and her gorgeous face. As always, I seem to settle on her mouth. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her wear red lipstick before, and, for some reason, this opens an entire box of fantasies. I want to see it soiled. To kiss her so hard that neither of us can breathe. To pull back and find that mouth ajar, panting, the lipstick a red blur around the edges., I want it so badly I’m not sure how I’ll get through the goddamn night without having it. My hands sliding that silk dress over her head, learning every inch of her the way I’ve dreamed about for months. Except right now, Lexie’s eyes are fixed on the point where Kiara’s arm is linked with mine, and her expression—sad and wounded—is like a knife to my chest. I step away from Kiara, grabbing my drink and draining it. “I’m sitting with Maxwell and Olivia,” I tell her firmly. 

 “Doesn’t Lexie look gorgeous?” Max asks. My eyes move across the room again. Her red dress shimmers, sticks on her curves. `

“She looks like she needs more clothes,” I complain. 

“Olivia helped her choose that dress,” Max says with a brow arched. “It fits her like a glove.” 

“Yeah,” I reply. “That’s sort of the problem.” 

My gaze is still on her, though. Moving up from her hips to her waist to her breasts, back up to that mouth of hers. I picture it again; the lipstick smeared, her breathless under me. And then a single hand cups her hip bone, visible through the thin silk, and I’m ejected from my fantasy at high speed. My lust transforms into rage in a single breath. Fucking Signore Francesco Lombardi. When everyone finally takes their seats, I discover that she and Francesco are at the table on the other side of mine, giving me a painfully direct view of the two of them. Whenever she stands, his eyes are on her, devouring her. He paws at her when she returns, jumping to pull out her chair but managing to get his fucking hands over approximately sixty percent of her body when he does it. And if he tries to look down her dress one more time, I’m definitely taking him out. I don’t give a fuck about our diplomatic relationships with Italy. I go to the bar again and ask for another glass of Macallan. Tonight it’s either get drunk or completely lose my shit in front of hundreds of witnesses. Pretentious food and great speeches are given out that I don’t notice. She is more real to me than anything in this room or out of it, the only thing I can see. No one knows her fears like I do. No one knows how fragile she really is, how deeply sweet. How funny and smart and kind. But I know. And for all the fighting we’ve done, there aren’t two people in this room as made for each other as the two of us. My world is constructed entirely of rules about what I owe Liam –my education, my career, and so many other things. But somehow, it excludes the only thing that matters to me. Her. If it weren’t for how Liam feels about her, she’d be here with me tonight. I watch her say something to Liam, and he nods, his eyes telling her how he feels. Jealousy runs through my veins. 

 “Enough,” I say quietly as I stand. I don’t know what possesses me to follow her. I know, with every bone in my body, that I have no claim on her. But I saw that look in Liam’s eyes, the one that says he’ll do anything for her, and I found myself on my feet. She’s halfway down the hall by the time I reach her. She looks over her shoulder warily when she hears me, but she is too late. I’m already there. I grab her elbow before she has time to react and pull her into an empty office. She stiffens and pulls back, ready as always to fight. Eyes flashing and hands on her hips. Seething before I’ve even said a word. “You have no right to—” That’s when I cup her jaw and capture that mouth I’ve longed for the whole goddamn night.

ALEXIS 

 His mouth comes down on mine, demolishing my pathetic attempt to object. He seizes it thoroughly, with such certainty, as if he’s spent his entire life practicing for this precise moment. His hands raking back through my hair, his tongue finding mine as he presses against me. His mouth moves over my neck, and he groans, a noise of both despair and satisfaction. 

“You didn’t want me a week ago, but now you do?” I start to push back, but he holds me tight against him. 

“I just don’t want you stuck in a shitty ranch with a poor veterinarian when it all ends. It was never about not wanting you.” I know there are other reasons why I’m supposed to object, but they escape me. I’ve wanted this too long, his hands on my body, my skin pressed against his, and his mouth creating a trail of kisses down my neck. It’s right. I’ve known nothing in my life with such certainty as the fact that nothing in the world matters more to me. His hands move from my hips to my breasts, and then he pulls one strap of my dress down, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses over my shoulder and collarbone, almost reverently. Nipping with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. He pulls the dress down to my waist, unclasps my bra with a single hand. He cups my breasts, bringing his mouth to them in the same way, sharp and sweet at once and creating a need in me so intense that it borders on pain. I gasp and arch toward him, submitting entirely as my head falls backward against the wall. He pulls back just enough to see my face. His chocolate eyes are dark now as he searches mine, looking there for something he desperately needs. Permission. He wants permission. As if I’d ever tell him no. 

“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.” 

“You’re sure?” His voice is gruff with desire. And when I nod, he pushes the dress over my hips and allows it to slide to the floor. His hands follow, skating over my hips, down my thighs, and I stand before him now in nothing but panties and heels. “That fucking dress nearly killed me,” he says, smoothing my skin as he kisses me again. He pushes against me, his shirt against my bare skin, his erection pressed hard to my stomach, a quick pulse there as if he is desperate for friction. He slides his index finger under the elastic of my panties. The moment he touches me, my whole body jolts. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “You’re already soaked.” His finger slips back and forth, lightly, in torturous circles before it pushes inside me. 

“Oh God,” I whisper, my body bowing toward him. He adds a second finger, and this time his groan is louder than mine. 

“Jesus, Lex,” he growls. “You’re going to be the end of me.” 

I unclasp his belt and unzip his pants reaching down to pull him from the confines of his boxers. He is thick and heavy in my hands, hissing as my fingers wrap around him, tugging gently. 

“Stop,” he exhales after a minute. “I’m not gonna last if you do that, and there are so many things I want to do to you first.” 

He pushes my panties down and lifts me up almost simultaneously, turning to deposit me on the table behind us. He kisses me once, hard. “Lie back,” he commands. He drops to his knees, spreading my legs so I’m displayed before him. Suddenly, his fingers are joined by quick swipes of his tongue. 

“Oh my God,” I gasp. “Drake … just—”

 His mouth and tongue lick and brush and pull, creating flames that begin there and spread all the way to my toes. I try to move, but his free hand clamps down on my thigh, holding me in place. 

“I’ve dreamed about doing this every goddamn night for months, Alexis. So let me.” 

I can’t even nod in agreement because suddenly, everything inside me is building so quickly that I can’t tell where I am or where I’m going. 

“Oh,” I gasp. And then his fingers push inside me and I explode with a cry of ecstasy and surprise, arching against his mouth. He doesn’t pull back, but instead slides his hands beneath my legs and tugs me closer, buries his face to create wave after wave of something I never thought would happen in the first place. 

“Holy shit,” I breathe. He leans over to kiss me and when he does, I wrap my legs around his waist, bringing him against me so suddenly that he gasps in my mouth. 

“Lexie,” he groans. 

“Please,” I whisper. It seems impossible for anyone to be more satisfied than I am now, yet I still need the very thing Drake wants most, the thing he is so sure he shouldn’t give. He looks tortured and pulls back, but I tighten around him, pressing him against me. “Don’t even think about stopping right now.” He shifts his hips just enough that he is pressing right there, not inside me but mere seconds away from it. In a single pulse, he could be buried deep inside me. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice tight. “Do we need …” 

“No,” I beg. “Just do it. I’m on the pill.”

He pushes in, barely. He’s so thick that already I’m stretched to the point of pain. 

“Oh fuck, Lexie,” he whispers. “God, that’s so good. Just give me a minute, or this is going to be over before it starts.” 

Finally, he moves once more, going slowly, a low noise deep in his chest as he finally shoves all the way in. 

“Are you okay?” he asks between clenched teeth. I nod as I adjust to the size of him, pain still outweighing the pleasure. It’s when he starts to withdraw that the pain recedes as a burst of pleasure sucks the air from my lungs. It feels too good, something so vast and all-consuming it can’t possibly end well. I never finish this way but oh my God… If it were ever going to happen, it would be now. His next thrust is faster, more certain, but he stops entirely at my sharp inhale. “Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks. 

“No.” He didn’t hurt me. He stunned me. His strokes come slow and rhythmic then, as he leans over, finding my mouth with the table bracing his weight, his arms taut. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he says, holding still inside me. 

“Keep going,” I beg. “Don’t stop.” 

“Patience,” he grins. “You have no idea how hard it is not to come right now.” 

I grab his ass and push upward, ignoring his warning, thrilling at the low grunt he makes. “Alexis,” he growls, “goddammit.” 

His hips jerk back and then forward, almost involuntarily. It’s all I need. I cry out as it happens again, everything inside me bursting. He thrusts quick and hard, desperate now, and then stiffens with a single guttural noise as he pushes in one final time. He falls against me, his mouth against my neck, his breath warm on my skin. It’s closer than I’ve ever been to another person, and I would like to stay here, just like this, forever. But after a moment, I open my eyes when I realize what we’ve done. 

It’s a little like waking from a dream. What the fuck have I done? The best sex I’ve ever had and the biggest mistake I’ve ever made just occurred simultaneously. The guilt and astonishment collide with each other. It was wrong. No matter what other considerations there are, I just slept with Liam’s best friend.

I know I don’t owe Liam anything. I came to Cordonia to see if there was something between us beyond that kiss in New York, and there wasn’t. He’s engaged to Madeleine and I’m hopelessly in love with his best friend. Bu this isn’t about me. This is about Drake. 

I just became that woman. The kind of woman that would stand between two brothers. The type of woman capable of breaking a lifelong friendship in a moment of lust. 

I know that sooner or later, Drake will resent me, us, if he loses Liam. Somewhere inside, I knew that, but because I wanted him and was jealous of Kiara, I chose to ignore it. He looks up at me, and his smile fades. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. There’s dread in his voice. His jaw hardens. “You regret it.” 

“Drake,” I sigh, nestling in his chest. “It’s not that. It was…amazing. I just need to figure this out.” 

“Figure what out?” 

I bury my face in his neck. I don’t want to be having this conversation with him. I wish there was a way he could just hold me and take me to his cabin and work this all out on my own later. But there’s not. “What happens next. I mean, it shouldn’t have happened. We both know that. Liam… “

“No,” he snaps, pulling away. “Do not bring him up. Are you really going to let the way it might look to everyone outside this room dictate whether or not it’s okay? This is about us, Lexie. No one else.” 

Except it’s not everyone outside this room. It’s him. Until a week ago, Drake was determined to push me away. He didn’t want to betray his best friend. He told me over and over again that he wasn’t that kind of man. That he would never forgive himself. 

I let my need obliterate every reasonable thought, as usual. And in doing so, I’ve let myself down and—far worse—I may have put Drake’s friendship with Liam at risk. I pull away and grab my dress and bra off the floor. 

“We have to get back out there before someone notices we’re gone.” 

He buttons his shirt. “So you want to go back and continue flirting with Liam like this didn’t just happen?” he asks.

.

It’s right then, at that precise moment, that I realize that no matter what happens, Drake and I will never be together. Liam will always be there, between us. Right now, in our post-orgasmic bliss, Drake is not thinking straight, but I know what he will be telling me tomorrow morning. Or at least how he will be feeling. Guilty. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” I take a deep breath to calm myself. “So what matters most is that we both get through the banquet like nothing happened.” 

“And then what?” He growls.

His anger doesn’t scare me. “Can we please just get through the next hour?” I ask. “Liam is out there. Olivia, Max, Kiara are out there. The most important thing either of us can do right now is to act like nothing’s wrong.” 

He fastens his belt and moves to the door, his jaw rigid. He’s doing what I asked, but I hate that he’s leaving mad. I’m doing this for him. I don’t want him to lose the only relationship in his life that matters to him. “Drake, wait—” 

 “For what?” he demands. “I just fucked you on a table, and now you’re sending me on my way. What more could you possibly need to add to that?” With those parting words, he crosses the door and walks out, leaving me heartbroken. 

#axwalker writes #drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake x mc #trr fanfic #drake x lexie #n*sfw #🍋🍋🍋 #trr fanfiction

[starshard17]

Ahahah... @not-exactly-laborious .... really killing me with the new episode huh..

To start things off, Happy Halloween everyone!

Let's move into analyzing!

Already started off very messed up, seeing as how the music behind the warning screen is jumbled and warbled.

After the warning screen, we can see a recap of the times when Janus helped cleaned up the messes caused by each sides video. Putting the "Out of Service" note on Logan's Monitor, slamming Roman's fairytale book closed, cleaning up Patton's cookie catastrophe, cutting the Virgil doll free from the rope and finally slamming the door in Remus' face.

These could all very well represent how Janus feels. Constantly having to swoop in and clean up the others problems. Hiding away the bad attributes of each of them...

Moving forward we are met with a black screen. Words slowly appear on the screen in order, saying

>No no no

>I'm fine. I'm alright.

>I'm just. . .

>I'm just tired.

>I'll fix it tomorrow, okay?

>I promise.

As these words appear, in the background a face can be seen slowly appearing.

Soon enough the face jumps out at us, screeching, as the words

"How much more do you need to see?"

appear at the bottom of the screen.

This whole section could refer to how tired Janus is from doing his work. Constantly cleaning things up that the others couldn't themselves and keeping Thomas comfortable while doing so. And perhaps the words that appear with the jumpscare could be Janus asking how much more he should have to prove himself for the others to actually trust he's there for a good cause.

As this scene ends a new one begins, where a shadow outline of Janus can be seen opening a doorway, which leads to a room with a baby basonet. The sounds of a baby crying can be heard as the door opens.

"What a shame

things turned out this way

isn't it?

If only someone

had warned you about it."

These words appear on the screen as the basonet rocks back and forth and the baby cries

As the last sentence appears on the screen, the crying ceases and you can hear someone else breathing heavily.

The door then closes.

I feel as if the baby is there to represent Janus feeling as if he's babying the others. Then when Janus speaks of "being warned" about how bad things had turned out correlates to Janus believing that he had said the right things to prepare Thomas, and ensure that it was possible for things to be better if everyone had just listened to him.

He's trying to make it clear that if hadn't been looked at as a dirty liar the whole time, perhaps Thomas wouldn't feel as bad as he does right now. He's being petty... getting after Thomas because he had in fact said what needed to be said in order for things to fall nicely into place, but he didn't listen.

Moving through the video, we are brought to a scene where it can be seen that we are running through the forest. Screaming can be heard as words occasionally appear on screen.

"You've been walking in circles."

The words slowly turn red. As if to appear in a malicious tone.

"You're running away from yourself"

Maybe Janus is referring to Thomas in this sense. He's been walking in circles while trying to run away from himself. He's stuck in a never ending loop of unsuccessfully running away from himself... his sides... his problems.

As we move on further, the loud noises of strain persist but you can see a red hue forming around the border of the screen. It reminds me much of video games. When you get hurt your screen becomes more muddled by something. Whether it be blood, or a color change on the screen.

As we're running in these circles, it seems we're also getting hurt, as if the process of trying to avoid yourself is a dangerous or painful loop that you shouldn't find yourself stuck in.

I also decided to look up the meaning of feeling lost in the woods, since we are running in circles! A sense of feeling that you don't fit in huh? I do feel Thomas has definitely mentioned this in a video before.

🤨

As time has progressed, this sense of "Fitting in" hasn't stuck as much with Thomas as it did before. So as he's running through the woods, running away from himself, it's because he wants to fit himself into this "box" that will help him fit in better, because that's all he wants. Much like how Virgil wanted to fit in in that episode by shoving himself into a box of labels.

Moving right along, we are soon brought out of the woods and into a field of Daisies, where ladybugs can be seen buzzing around.

Both Daisies and Ladybugs symbolise innocence and truth and new hope it seems.

I'm not sure if the flowers were meant to really mean anything, but each main flower that the ladybug passed by had something to do with a past issue that Thomas spoke of.

When looking at the meaning of the sunflower I think of Thomas and his friends, and how he wants to know that he's able to trust them and cherish them for a long time.

Then in the "Moving On" episodes, when Thomas was trying to get over a breakup and Roman kept bringing up lying as a solution for covering up things he said that the others didn't agree with.

Back to the video. The ladybug lands and we sit there watching it for a few seconds before we see Janus' signature gloved hand move in and squish the ladybug under his finger.

The words "It's time to move on and forgive yourself" appear on the screen with the squished ladybug beneath it. This could represent how Thomas isn't quite as innocent as the others may hope but Janus is trying to tell him that he can finally forgive himself for that. You shouldn't dwell on it anymore... it's a normal part of life. Or maybe it represents how Thomas hasn't made the right choices up to this point.. but he still has time to make things right.. there's still time for new beginnings.

We are then brought to the end screen, where a faint picture can be seen in the black background.

But what is it?

While looking closely, you can clearly see strips of brighter color running along the edges, presumably yellow strips. This leads me to believe that maybe Janus is standing there. Perhaps watching over us? Or maybe it's just his suit, hung up in waiting.

As we near the end, a link can be seen appearing in the upper right-hand corner.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Kkn3k6vh5XE

This is the link ^ (thank you to the person who ended up pointing this out on the blog earlier!)

We are brought to a video titled

"Guilty Tears - Happy_BirthDay.mp4"

The whole video is just of a slice of seemingly normal cake set on a table in a dark room. Light can be seen flaring up as who I can only assume is Janus trying to light a match. You can see Janus' shadow on the wall as the candle light illuminates the room.

After the cake video is over, we are met with a black screen that has writing at the bottom.

The writing reads "today is another day"

I believe the symbolism could mean that Janus is celebrating the "birth" of a new emotional standpoint for Thomas. This is Janus' way of telling Thomas

"You may have had a bad day before, but let's celebrate the chance of a new beginning."

This is Janus telling Thomas

"It's okay you made mistakes. Let's keep moving forward"

Janus has just been trying to help Thomas this whole time... even if he didn't notice it at first there's still time to fix the mistakes he made.

I'm very sad that the series is over but I'm so happy I got to experience it! Thank you very much Mr. Laborious. This has been an exciting journey.

Even still... What does it mean? What does it mean? Was Janus the one who created each of these scenes? Was this all an elaborate way of making himself appear as a good person to Thomas? By showing him his bad attributes but later assuring him that there's still time to fix it? We could see that in Roman, Patton and Virgil's videos that they tried to do the right thing but still got punished for it...

What was Janus trying to show Thomas? What was it all for if only to just tell him that things could be easily worked on and fixed?

What was the point?

#moonblade talk #guilty tears au #ahh i love theorizing about things like this ❤ #But what does it MEAN Mr. Laborious... WHAT WAS IT ALL FOR

[vash-the-trans-catboy]

Cake and Impersonating Your Enemies

Summary: Dukeceit fluff for Janus’ birthday

Taglist: @sanderdarksides @moons-the-nightmare @heirm @lost-in-thought-20 @1stressedanddepressed @xoaningout @lily-janus @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @thebittybonesaddict @just-a-little-anxious (ask if you want to be added)

Word count: 1269

Ao3

Janus pushes his face deeper into the pillow as the sun streams through his window. It is the worst day of the year, again. He can’t believe this day came so quickly back around. His birthday. Birthdays over at the light sides part of the mind are a sacred celebration. Patton and Roman always make sure every birthday is perfect. Unfortunately, Janus is not one of them. The light sides had forbidden Janus or Remus from celebrating their birthdays. They would hate for the dark sides to feel special, even just for one day.

Janus takes this very harshly. He plans on sleeping the entire day. Remus, on the other hand, does not give a shit what the light sides say.

“Sneky! Sneky! Sneky!” Remus tosses the covers off of his grumpy boyfriend. Janus grumbles under his breath while trying to hide behind his arm, “Wake up! Don’t you know what day it is?”

Janus glares at Remus, “You shouldn’t throw someone’s blanket off them. I could have been naked under there.”

“Like I haven’t seen that before.” Janus hisses and chucks a pillow at him, “Come up! Birthday celebration starts now. Fuck the light sides.” Remus pulls Janus off the bed into a hug.

“Fine.” Janus sighs in defeat. Maybe one birthday wouldn’t be that bad.

“We can do anything you want today.” Janus lights up at that.

“Anything, huh? Well then. I have a few ideas, that may or may not have to do with the light sides.” The gears in Janus’ mind start to plot how to get back at the light sides while having the best birthday possible.

“Tell me, snake boy!” Janus summons a whiteboard to write out his plan.

“We are going to make a cake.” Janus draws a small cake in pink and circles it. This doesn’t seem like the most evil of schemes at first glance, but it is more mischievous than it appears. The light and dark sides share a kitchen but the dark sides are forbidden from making anything for a celebration. Patton is very strict about this rule. There is only one way around this, “We need to impersonate two of the light sides to get into the kitchen. Today happens to be the day Roman is taking Patton to the Imagination as a thank you gift for something, I didn’t care to get all the details.”

The last part isn’t quite true. Janus knows exactly why Roman is taking Patton into the Imagination but he might as well save his dignity and pretend he didn’t learn that information. When Janus gets bored he has a bit of a habit of stalk-no, information gathering from the light sides. He can’t really be blamed, Remus is great company, but their side of the mind palace gets lonely.

“Here’s the plan: I will impersonate Patton and you will pretend to be your brother.” Janus adds a light blue and red stick figure next to a door label ‘Imagination’, “While I work on the shapeshifting and potions to look like Roman and Patton. I need you to steal a few things from them to perfect our appearances.”

“Yes! I love stealing stuff. Especially from Roman.” Right as Remus is about to sink out to Roman’s room, Janus stops him.

“Not so fast Dukey.” Remus whines that he wants to steal already, “At least let me explain what I need you to steal first. We are going to an exact copy of both of their regular day outfits. Along with Patton’s extra glasses and Roman’s spare crown.”

“I’m on it, Captain.” Remus salutes to Janus as he sinks out. While Janus waits for Remus to return, he creates small sketches on the whiteboard of little green Remus stealing from the light sides. Janus would never admit it out loud but he is a bit of an artist.

A few minutes later, Remus returns with the stolen items along with a few extra things to mess with Roman. He puts the glasses on Janus’ face and laughs.

“Do I look that bad?” Janus asks self-consciously.

“You look like a nerd, Sneky.” They both break out into hysterical laughter, “Now time for committing crimes!”

“Oh eager, are we?” Janus lightly makes fun of Remus as he transforms into the dad-like side. His scales are replaced with freckles and his dark black greasy hair is replaced with fluffy brown curly hair.

“Yellow does not suit Patton at all.” Remus tosses Janus the clothes he stole from Patton’s wardrobe, “Only hot people can pull off the yellow.” Janus’ cheeks flush a ruby red.

“Here drink this.” Janus hands Remus a bubbling potion swirling with red and gold. Without hesitating Remus chugs it down as if it is a shot.

“I feel funny.” Remus tetters back and forth, falling into Janus’ arms. The white streak in his disappears turning into auburn brown hair. He shrinks an inch and his mustache disappears. Janus helps Remus back to his feet, “I’m good now. I thought for a second you were trying to poison me, snake boy.” Janus chuckles before heading off to his bedroom to get changed.

As Remus is putting Roman’s crown on his head, Janus comes stumbling out of his room in full Patton attire, “Why does he have such bad eyesight?” Janus takes Remus’ hand for balance as he sinks them into the kitchen.

They gather the ingredients, occasionally ‘accidentally’ bumping into each other. Janus claims it was the lack of sight from the glasses but Remus knows that isn’t true.

Flour is over the floor, sugar dusts the counters, and every single cabinet is open. Janus pulls the cake out of the oven and sets it on the cooling rack.

“Now for the best part….. decorating!” Janus smiles as he pulls out frosting and mini chocolate chips. He coats the base of the cake in vanilla frosting, letting Remus do the honors of placing the topping on it. He turns around to be surprised as Remus places the treats on the cake. He excepts something disturbing from the amount of laughter coming from Remus but the picture in chocolate chips is simply obscene, “I love it, Remus. Just like you.”

“There is some frosting left. And ya know there is only one thing to do with leftover frosting.” Remus takes a scoop of frosting and smears it Janus’ lips, “Wait! Don’t lick it off.” Janus gives his boyfriend a confused look, but quickly understands why. As Remus leans in to kiss the frosting off of his lips, they both hear a small hurt gasp coming from the bottom of the steps.

Light footsteps attempt to storm angrily over to the two of them, “Ro-Roman?” Virgil’s voice breaks, “You’re you’re cheating on me?”

“Oh shit,” Remus mumbles under his breath to Janus.

Virgil holds back his tears as he goes to rip Patton off his boyfriend. He stops short once Roman is facing him, “Why do you have a mustache? Roman doesn’t have a mustache.” Virgil shoves Remus into Janus and runs back up the stairs screaming for Logan.

Janus grabs the cake with one hand and Remus with the other, “Well this seems like a good sign to head home.” He sinks out with Remus before Virgil or Logan can come back.

Back in the dark side dining room, Janus cuts them both a piece of cake, “Thank you for a great birthday. I forgot how good they could be.”

“Anything for my scaly boyfriend.” Remus pulls Janus closer by his collar, whispering, “May I?” Janus eagerly nods before closing the gap and kissing Remus.

#happy birthday janus! #janus sanders #remus sanders #ts janus #dukeceit #romantic dukeceit #ts dukeceit #ts remus #ts fic #thegayemo writing

[professorspork]

superhell fic prompt: JAUNE RUNS INTO PYRRHA

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

It doesn’t occur to that she’s allowed to talk to them until Torchwick reveals himself to Neo. And even then, well-- Roman Torchwick isn’t exactly a shining paragon when it comes to setting a good example of what’s allowed.

But the idea refuses to stop hounding her footsteps, once it’s come. Once she’s seen it’s possible, without consequences. Still, she waits, and keeps her distance. There’s no sunset, here on the island, no night, but there are shady places beneath the towering roots of the Tree; eventually, they all bed down, and Jaune-- as she’d known he would-- volunteers to take first watch. It’s a heartening display: Yang and Blake twined together like ivy on a wrought iron gate, but each clinging to the hands of their teammates, chained together by grasping fingers. Otters in a stream, unwilling to be separated.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to hear her own voice when she approaches.

...I know this can be frustrating, and it can feel like so much effort to progress such a small amount, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I've never met someone so determined to better themselves...

“You’ll drain your battery,” she cautions, reaching out with her mind to press the off button on his scroll. His head whips up, expression aghast, and she smiles at him softly. “I’d have thought you’d have it memorized by now anyhow; you haven’t seemed to need it in some time.”

She expects disbelief, perhaps, or shock. Joy would have been nice, but she’d have understood anger. So she’s surprised and---bizarrely proud, actually-- when instead his eyes narrow in suspicion and the first thing he says is, “Your Semblance works.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why does your Semblance work?”

“Because I’m where I’m supposed to be. A soul knows when it’s in the right place. Or the wrong one, as the case may be.”

“Or I’m dreaming.”

“Or you’re dreaming,” she agrees, keeping her voice mild, but feeling it like a punch to the stomach when his shoulders relax at the idea. Does he... not want her here? Goodness, but she’s out of practice. She’d forgotten it was like this; how talking to him had been both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. “Would you-- prefer that? If I weren’t really here?”

“The real Pyrrha would know better than to ask me that.”

Despite herself, she laughs. “Oh, I wish that were true. I asked myself that every day. Every class, every glance, every study session on the roof. I’m afraid I was never as confident as I should have been.” It’s an embarrassing admission, but an effective one; the walled-up caution behind his eyes dissipates... only for tears to well up in its stead.

“Are you-- can I touch you?”

“I hope so.” (She’d left Torchwick and Neo behind before they’d gotten that far, for obvious reasons.)

“I--” He scrambles to his feet and crosses the distance between them, enveloping her in a crushing hug. It doesn’t feel like she remembers, but then, that’s no surprise-- he’s taller than he used to be, and her body isn’t exactly a body, per se. She’s grateful, even so. Happy just to have the chance to hold him up. She keeps quiet at first, letting him get it all out as he sobs incoherent apologies into her shoulder--

(IloveyouImissyouIloveyouImissyouI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry)

--and contents herself with playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Eventually, he calms.

“I like the haircut,” she says, when he pulls away. “It’s handsome. You look so grown up.”

“You look so young,” he croaks in response, and-- she supposes she must, to his eyes. It’s strange to think that she’s the same age as Ruby now; that they’ve kept going on without her, and they’ll continue to do so, once she’s led them out. “Are you--? Have you--?” He wipes at his eyes, laughing at himself a little. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start. I just-- I can't believe you're here with me.”

“I'm always with you,” she assures him, unable to suppress the urge to thumb away a tear he’s missed. She keeps her hand there, at his cheek, as she she speaks: “Even when you can’t sense me, I... oh, Jaune. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

He sighs and steps out of the circle of her arms, hanging his head to stare at Crocea Mors where it rests in its sheath. You’d never know it to be broken, just by looking. The scabbard hides the damage-- giving him the appearance of being armed and ready though all he carries is a shattered hilt. “Yeah, maybe. I-- I thought I had, but...” He swallows, face filled with shame.

She starts to reach for him again, unwilling to waste even a moment of their time not touching him, but forces herself to relax and drop her hands to her sides. It has to be his choice, doesn’t it? “Tell me. You can tell me anything; you know that.”

His voice falters terribly when he finally speaks: 

“I mean, I feel like you already know. For the longest time, I wanted to be this... I dunno. This warrior, or whatever. And it never fit, no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, and I just-- I resented it so much. Being...” He shakes his head. “I just felt useless. But when I unlocked my Semblance, I had to let that go. And it was hard at first, it took time, but for a second there it finally started to feel like... like I knew my place. Where I belonged; what everyone needed from me. I was good at it. But then Penny needed--” He chokes on a sob, and has to stop and take several deep breaths before he can continue. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still useless. The idiot stuck on the wrong side of the glass, out of his league and forced to watch because someone else has to be the Maiden now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Only this time it’s worse, because this time I actually-- I--”

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she reaches for his hands; he squeezes her fingers tight, like a lifeline. “I understand,” she soothes, voice heavy like a vow. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I don’t think I have to remind you that I’m the only other person who knows what that feels like. To have been the one who killed her.”

He lets out an awful, cynical noise; a parody of a laugh. “Depends on who you ask,” he says in explanation, looking askance towards Ruby. Pyrrha sadly follows his gaze. Ruby’s shifted in her sleep, curled under her cape to be as small as possible with her head nestled in the crooks of Yang’s bent knees. Her arms are wrapped around Yang’s shins in a death grip, as though she fears her sister might fly away at any moment. Pyrrha’s heart aches for her; for the responsibility she carries. Weight Pyrrha could have helped shoulder... if only she’d been a little faster, a little more clever.

She shakes off the feeling; now’s not the time for regret. “But things have changed,” she says, bringing Jaune’s hands up to her mouth and kissing the knuckles. It will be a long time, she knows, before he believes there isn’t blood on them; maybe this small act can help. And if it doesn’t... she has other options. Maybe even a little levity, for once. “You’re not useless. You’re amazing. You’re a licensed Huntsman now; you’re accomplishing things you’d only dreamed of. All the mothers of Mantle adore you. You even got to go on a date with Weiss!”

He boggles at her, wrenching his hands away. “What?! That wasn’t a date, we were just hanging out with Oscar, we--” His jaw falls open, suddenly, and his eyes narrow once more. “Wait a minute. Are you teasing me?”

She grins, sheepish and caught. “I figured it was now or never to give it a go; I didn’t want to waste my last chance to try it. Nora always said it would be good for me.”

“To make fun of me?” he squawks, indignant.

She laughs. “To remind myself it’s okay to be a novice sometimes; that there are things I won’t instantly be good at.” She bites her lip, unable to stop her grin. “...And also to make fun of you, yes.”

He surges forward, then-- wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to her forehead. Then he does it again; then once more, at the bridge of her nose. And then a final time, against her lips. Quick; intense. Filled with meaning.

She’s got not breath in her, and still she’s breathless.

“I miss you so much,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against hers. His fingers thread themselves into the hair at the back of her skull, tangled into the base of her ponytail. “So much. I think about you all the time. Every day. Wondering how different things would be, if only...”

“I know,” she says, because she does. There’s more that she should say, probably-- that it’s good that he’s started to move on; that none of them can hold onto her forever. But she can’t quite bring herself to voice the words.

“It’s not fair,” he mutters, then sighs at the sound of it. “I mean, none of it is fair, but-- I feel like a jerk, I guess. That I’m the one who gets to see you, of all of us.”

“You’ll tell them I love them, won’t you? Ren and Nora. They...” They’re doing things she never did, is the thing. Maturing in ways she’ll never have the chance to. Learning that responsibility doesn’t mean putting it all on your own shoulders; that love doesn’t mean giving all of yourself away. It’s overwhelming, how proud she is of them for that. “They were on the right path, in Atlas. Don’t let them convince themselves otherwise.”

He nods, the movement of it levering her own head in shared agreement. “Anything else? Anyone else you’d like me to...?”

So many; too many. But one rises above the rest. “Tell my mother to stop leaving flowers,” she murmurs, wishing she had more to offer than that. “Tell her they belong in the garden; that I like to watch them grow. That’s-- the way it should be.”

“Okay,” he says, and relief rushes through her. “Okay. I will.”

Slowly, they both become aware once more of the gaggle of Huntresses sleeping just a few yards off. Pyrrha could leave dozens of messages with Jaune, if she wanted, but the people she most needs to speak to are right here, within arm’s reach. They need her guidance; it’s selfish not to provide it. She’s taken so long already. And yet...

Jaune beats her to voicing the thought: “I know we should probably wake them, but-- can it be just the two of us, for just a little longer? Please?”

She smiles, and brings a hand up to caress his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#Anonymous #arkos #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #rwby #fic what i wrote

[thatlowiqbabe]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something for HoO boys being your boy friend? Also, do you think it’s possible for you to do a trans (ftm) hispanic demiboy? Thanks!

Oh yeah sure! As a Demi-Boy it's my duty!

This is over 900 words so there's gonna be a part two (sorry bout that)

HOO Boys with A Hispanic!Demi-Boy! S/O

Frank Zhang

"Wait your a demi-boy? Like cause you're a demi-god orr"

"Oh okay, totally unrelated gotcha."

You probably came out to Frank after the Son of neptune, scared you'd never get the chance to tell him.

He asked some silly questions but obviously accepted you! He would do more research via internet but demi-gods and phones don't mix

(What do you mean he's been asking other trans demi-gods how to better understand, you obviously got the wrong chinese-canadian shape-shifting son of mars)

Anyway he loves you, and tries to switch pronouns often ❤️ (if you use multiple)

If you're ever feeling dysphoric, he'll turn into an cuddly animal of your choice to make you feel better.

Will turn into a bear and (threaten to)  eat a transphobe

(They probably taste funny lol)

(If you're bilingual) You, him and Jason sit in a circle and speak in spanish, canadian french, and latin, knowing damn well y'all don't understand each other.

Y'all be looking like this

Don't even try having Thanksgiving with him

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

".... I'm canadian."

"Oh, uhhh happy thursday then??"

Like sir, do you want some turkey or not?

Jason Grace

"So wait, if you're a demi-god and a demi-boy do they like cancel each other out?"

"I- baby no—"

"Can I call you God-Boy?"

Y'all give him a minute, boy brain ain't right after getting knocked out so many times 🤣

Being called God-Boy does make you feel powerful ngl

You probably "dated" during hoo, and after you started dating for real came out to him.

Uses both pronouns, like every other paragraph. (If you use multiple)

If you're a greek demi-god, he loves to take you over to Camp Jupiter, and take you on tours around the parthenon and go on dates

If you're roman, he takes you out to Camp half-blood and maybe even tour manhattan!

(Gotta be a group date though, he's been at Camp Jupiter since he was 3 and only left on quests, he don't know where he going)

(If your bilingual) He'll teach you latin if you teach him spanish! It's always cool to know another language, especially if you're partner speaks it.

If you're dysphoric, y'all take naps together.

You don't have to stress, whatever's outside can wait a while, right now it's just you and him ❤️

You're his little God-Boy, he loves you

What do you mean he specifically asked to do whatever chores you had that day? Uh-huh couldn't be him 🛑🖐️ stop playing

Don't let him meet your mortal parent

Boy be so nervous he don't know what to do

"Jason, dear could you pass me the (fav. Food) "

"Yes  (Mr./Mrs/Mx.) L/n, I will have a ham sandwich "

"..."

"..."

"..."

He left with a ham sandwich and a red face

He got invited back over, so it wasn't too bad tho lol

Leo Valdez

He already knew you were a demi-boy!

You probably came out to Leo before y'all started dating, and maybe before y'all knew you were demi-gods, he just has that "yes I'd beat a bitch's ass and lose, and what about it?" Energy y'know??

Obviously you could trust him.

Will try to to use both pronouns, but might stick with one for a while before switching it up and then sticking to one again

Y'all probably talk shit about people together honestly.

Let's be honest, if you were bilingual, with a boyfriend who was also bilingual, and y'all didn't like this one person you'd talk shit right in front of them.

If you're really petty you'd make it obvious too.

If you're ever feeling some dysphoria, don't worry cause Leo got dis-for-ya!

Iamsosorry

But seriously he'll build you tiny trinkets and stuff to help you feel better

Greatifyoureahoarderlikemelol

If you want, you could help him with building, or even build something yourself!

(You: somehow builds a bomb or something equally dangerous

Leo:

)

Y'all like to make smores, and probably sing the campfire song from spongebob while doing it

(Whether it's on Leo or an actual campfire depends on y'all mood)

"OUR C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E  S-O-N-G SONG"

"Hey, you did it without stuttering this time!"

Nico di Angelo

"So you trans your gender??"

"Uh no, I'm transgender, it doesn't work like that—"

"How do you trans your gender?? Is it a like a process to get your gender trans or does it happen all at once?"

This boy a whole boomer, lord have mercy 😭🖐️

Growing up in early 1900's he doesn't really understand, but he'll try.

If he feels like he's bothering you with too many with questions, he'll go bother Annabeth instead.

Uses both pronouns, despite not knowing how you can have more than one. (If you use multiple)

Will do his best to get rid of any internalized transphobia he might have. Even if he grew up around Bianca, it was a hateful time back then and he might have biases.

You're dysphoric, but how??

He understands how dysphoria works, as much as it pains him to know that you're hurting, he didn't understand how it could effect someone like you.

You were much braver than he was, not being outed and actually coming out on your own. You were the man you said you were and more.

Sometimes y'all just lay down outside under a tree and he'll sing to you.

(Y'all know I'm talking about Soldatino don't even play)

Those days can go from bad to okay to great, depending on what y'all do afterward.

Sometimes y'all go out to eat at McDonald's via shadow travel, and I hope you got cash cause the seven gonna want some too lol (this includes Rachel and Will btw)

"So you're ordering (big af order) to go, for just the two of you?"

"We're eating for nine."

"No baby we're eating for eleven remember?"

Cashier, who's just trying to earn they minimum wage:

I don't know how to end this lol

Um part 2 will be out soon, maybe like a day from now if I don't forget lol

Thank you for requesting! I hope it was up to your standards, if not then I hope you enjoyed it anyway, cause I enjoyed writing it!

If you're interested in my writing pls request, I only have one other to do so it might be done soon!

Also, I hope Leo's bilingual hc isn't offensive in anyway. I'm just realizing how rude that may sound. If it is I'll write a new one. I'm not bilingual but if I was that's what I'd do. Again, I hope I didn't come off as ignorant on that hc.

#percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #heros of olympus #headcanon #poc reader #request #jason grace #frank zhang #Leo Valdez #nico di angelo #x trans reader #trans boy #non binary #non binary reader #male reader #black writers #hispanic reader