#success is debatable but close enough probably

[kingkatsuki]

— when it’s raining outside

Masterlist.

I know it’s been a while, but I’m falling back in love with this Bakugou specifically.

Warnings: none.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

Regardless of Pro-Hero Dynamight being one of the most successful fire quirk users in Japan, his agency isn’t exempt from Health and Safety. Some may argue that his team are far more strict compared to the likes of Shouto’s building which is only a few blocks away, and it’s definitely not because the Number Two Hero almost set fire to an entire floor when testing out new grenade designs.

But since that incident, there have been consistent fire drills weekly to ensure that the building and its staff are protected. Along with new fire safety robots that have been deployed to ensure that each individual makes it out safely.

“Another dumb fuckin’ tick box exercise.” Bakugou would always say, and he was probably right. The Pro-Hero alone could probably rescue each person trapped inside the building if something did happen, but it’s always good to be precautious right?

Or so you would say, until the fire alarms were blaring on a particularly bleary Monday while you were trying to unjam the photocopier. Groaning at the abrasive noise as you debated running back to your desk for your coat (and coffee) before being forced out of the warmth of the agency into the torrential downpour outside.

“Do not panic! We are here for your safety.” You scrunched your nose at the voice that was arguably worse than the alarm as you turned to face the fire Marshall robots which were now skimming the floor. The red flashing lights swirling angrily as the computerised smile on the machine that was surely there to calm you did the exact opposite.

“Stop. In case of emergency do not take the elevator.” The robot continued to blare. The designated fire drills always happened on a Friday afternoon (conveniently when Dynamight left for his evening patrol), so you wondered whether this may be a real incident as you made your way towards the stairs.

You had further to go compared to anyone else, working on the top floor alone with Dynamight so the lower you descended you began to see other employees— some lucky enough to be carrying coats and umbrellas as you followed them further. The noise from the alarm echoed in the hall as it mixed with the chatter, wondering what had happened and if they were safe. But at that moment you were more irritated that you’d be going outside in nothing but a thin cotton shirt and trousers.

The cold was bitter as you finally made it to the bottom floor of the sky scraper, thankful you wouldn’t have to ascend them after as you stepped into the heavy rain. Wrapping your arms around yourself to try and provide some comfort as you tried to look for any space under the shelter surrounding the building. The majority which was already taken by the employees that worked on the lower floors, huddled together and squeezed under umbrellas to shield themselves from the wet. Although, there were plenty like you who had not been fortunate enough to grab something on their way down and were just as exposed to the elements.

Resigning to defeat you huddled as close to a neighbouring building as you could, thankful it at least shielded you enough from the wild tunnel Dynamight’s Agency created to prevent being pelted with rain.

But it was still freezing.

Shimmying from toe to toe as you tried to keep yourself warm, watching as Backdraft turned up with the local fire service to scout the building.

“What’s goin’ on?” You heard a voice behind you as you turned to face your boss standing there, gym bag slung over his shoulder and a black hoodie pulled over his messy blond spikes.

“Shouldn’t you be saving us from the fire?” You laughed.

“Shut up, dumbass.” He scoffed, before his voice softened, “Where’s your coat?”

“In there.” You nodded towards his agency as he shook his head.

“Why didn’t you grab it?”

“Those stupid robots wouldn’t let me,” You pouted, now so wet you could no longer feel the rain dampening your skin.

Bakugou’s lip curled into the faintest hint of a smile at this, unbothered about the rain as he dumped his gym bag to the ground in favour of reaching back to tug his hoodie up and over his head. The movement pulled his black shirt up along with it, and you shamelessly ogled the exposed skin as you followed the wispy hairs of his happy trail disappear beneath black sweatpants. The hem of his boxers peeking out from under them as you felt a heat rise to your cheeks and flurry through you all the way down between your thighs.

Turning your head just in time as he pulled his shirt back down over his stomach before holding the hoodie out to you, pushing it into your side.

“What are you doing?” You looked down at the hoodie before glancing up at him.

“Put it on.” He replied bluntly.

“But you’ll get wet—”

“Put it on.” He ignored your objection, reaching up to ruffle his messy hair as the rain now began to dampen it.

“Thank you.” You murmured, instantly feeling the relief as you tugged it over your head.

The heat that radiated from Bakugou’s body now encapsulating you as you pulled your arms through the sleeves, burying your nose in the fabric as you inhaled the scent of him. A mixture of sweat and cologne as you almost forgot that you were standing outside in the pouring rain. No longer in a rush to get back inside the warm building as you let yourself be surrounded by him.

“Is it a drill?” You asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to begin calling a number.

“No idea.” He rasped while holding it up to his ear.

You tried to listen in on the conversation but the mixture of wind, chatter and the alarms in the distance made it difficult to decipher what was being said on the other line.

“It’s a false alarm.” Bakugou scoffed as he hung up, “Someone triggered the alarm in the canteen.”

“See what happens when you’re not around,” You smiled to yourself as Bakugou pushed his wet spikes back, exposing his forehead as he smirked back, “All hell breaks loose.”

“Yeah, can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes, can I?” He scoffed.

When you were finally let back inside the building, you offered to take Bakugou’s hoodie home to wash it before giving it back to him but he wouldn’t allow it. Telling you it was just an old hoodie and it didn’t matter— but the real reason he wanted to take it back like it was because after wearing it outside the scent of your perfume still lingered on the fabric.

#bakugou x reader #soft bakugou

[pseudowho]

In Flagrante Delicto

Higuruma Hiromi will fight your help and guidance every step of the way...until one night, he catches himself needing you desperately.

An AU where Higuruma is forced into the employ of Jujutsu High after his role in The Culling Games.

Warnings: 18+, sex pollen!, angst, smut and fluff, Hiromi being willing to argue with anyone about anything, with a little bit of sex pollen needy Hiromi

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Higuruma Hiromi was undoubtedly the most difficult mission you had ever been given.

Tasked with walking Hiromi through 'the systems' of the Jujutsu world, you, a sorcerer who had been introduced to this world more conventionally, had absolutely nothing in your armory to counter the veritable force of nature that this man was.

You argued, constantly. He forced you to acknowledge the hideous insufficiencies and injustices in the system you worked for, at the most inconvenient of times.

Your patience was a finely tuned machine. You had perfected your ability to debate and discuss the ethics and morality of Jujutsu sorcerer activity, both legal and illegal, over a number of years.

But Higuruma Hiromi had driven you to drink. One evening, sat at home, deeper into a bottle of wine than you had anticipated, you received two messages in quick succession; one, from Yaga ("Mission with Higuruma tomorrow. Details to be sent over by Ijichi") and the other, from Higuruma ("I look forward to continuing our discussion tomorrow"), and you groaned, sinking the rest of your wine, and hoping it was enough to get you through the chaos of Higuruma's mind.

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"So," you started, approaching the subway with Higuruma, "lots of late-night civilian disappearances on this one line," you pointed to your map, "and two Second-Grade sorcerers have already disappeared in separate incidents. What does this tell you?"

Higuruma was silent, musing as he tapped his gavel lightly against his hip. Reaching his conclusion, he turned to you with a wry smile: "That your higher-ups knew, by the first Second-Grade's death, that a Second-Grade wasn't strong enough, but sent another Second-Grade anyway."

You sighed, deep and weary, "While that's probably true, we don't know they're dead--"

"Well they're not playing Scrabble, are they--"

"--and that's not the answer I'm looking for--"

"Well, I'm not here to be charitable, or unrealistic."

"Oh, are you here to be insufferable?"

Higuruma half-laughed, "Preferably. God forbid I should be sufferable--"

You swiped his gavel from his hand, and tapped him sharply on the forehead, "Higuruma. Please. I'm begging you," you clasped your hands for dramatic effect as he assessed you, a sardonic half-smile in his hooded eyes, "the quicker you play the game, the quicker you and I can go our separate ways and you can just go out and do this by yourself."

Higuruma's lip curled up in bitter distaste. He wiggled one finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it with an irritated twist of his neck. "I'll reiterate," he said, considered and flat, "that my joining the Jujutsu sorcerer's established hierarchy is a Hobson's Choice."

"If I want to go about making some positive changes to this cesspit," he spat, "I have to prove myself trustworthy in their eyes, and atone for my crimes by playing their game." Higuruma approached you, his chin tilted down as he looked through you, with sombre eyes.

"And the sad thing is," he said softly, now inches from you as you burned under his scrutiny, "you've been playing their game for so many years, you've convinced yourself that the rules are fair."

You swallowed, meeting his gaze; your agreement with him passed as an unspoken pact, but you were, as of yet, unable to betray your established part in this system with words. Higuruma nodded, slowly, understanding.

"So I'll inconvenience you as little as possible," he reassured, "and try to be a good boy today." You closed your eyes, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, counting to ten. Opening your eyes, you caught up to Higuruma, who was already halfway down the empty subway steps.

"Please don't go ahead without me," you pressed, "I know you're not completely inexperienced, but fighting Curses is much more nuanced than fighting Curse-users."

"But they're brainless, right? By all means they're probably easier." You tilted your hand from side to side.

"They fight on instinct. We can be guilty of overthinking something that's primal for them. I'd never assume I can out-think evolution."

Higuruma hummed, satisfied with your answer. You were relieved to have averted another argument. Reaching the bottom of the steps together, your shadows were short in the low eerie glow of the empty subway system.

"So the victims got on a train, but never got off it," Higuruma confirmed with you.

"But it hasn't been the same train every time, so it seems to--"

"--pick a host. Right. And you've asked the station master to keep to the same train schedule tonight?"

"Mhm. No people around though."

"So, we could always just get on trains until we're attacked."

"That is completely reckless, and I won't--"

Higuruma breezed away down the corridor, his slim suited figure sloping away so lackadaisically that you felt annoyance bubble up in your throat.

"You don't have to come," he called back, relaxed and confident, "I've got this covered." You ran after him, grabbing his upper arm. He stopped, annoyed and impatient.

"Just...trust me," Higuruma urged, "try something new. You may be pleasantly surprised." He gripped your hand, firmly breaking your grip as he stared you down.

"How can I trust you? I barely know you."

"Then why are you worried about me?" He taunted, heated and scathing, "Not really what you lot do, is it? Worry about each other?"

"Well I worry about you," you snapped, "I worry about you every day and every night since they tasked me with taking care of you." You swallowed, embarrassed by your outburst. Higuruma hesitated briefly, looking...touched? He spun round, his back to you now, tapping his gavel in irritation against his thigh.

"That settles it then," he said, convicted and grabbing you by the hand, "you've got to come with me. It would be cruel not to let you worry. Come along."

You were pulled through the dim corridors of the subway system by Higuruma Hiromi, protesting the whole way.

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"-- so stupid, you could have died--"

"-- but I didn't, and I'm fine, so stop worr--"

You slapped the wounded shoulder you were currently patching up for Higuruma, and he made a noise of protest as you scolded him, "Stop telling me to stop worrying," you cried, pressing gauze to his cuts, "because I've worked in this shitty system for years, so I know that if we don't worry about each other, nobody else will worry about us, and you have no regard for your own wellbeing--"

Higuruma's head snapped up, smiling, "So you agree," he pressed, excited by the new development, "that the higher-ups have no intention to safeguard any of you--"

"--I never disagreed with you, Higuruma. You just...missed the point. As usual."

Higuruma turned, unable to look you in the eye as you continued dabbing the back of his shoulder. His eyes beseeched you to continue, dark and quizzical.

You continued, your voice tight and upset, "Whether or not we fight back against the higher-ups, makes no difference. Almost every sorcerer in this wreck would go where they were sent anyway, because at least we have a chance of defending ourselves against the monsters out here."

You sighed, taping bandages down, Higuruma's bleeding now settled, "So that's what I decided to do. I expend my energy protecting the non-sorcerers because they're the weakest link in the equation. They can't defend themselves. It's the right thing to do. I'll fight the big fight on my days off."

Higuruma was quiet, allowing himself to be chastised. He rolled the gavel between his hands. He suddenly felt so exposed, shirtless in front of you, feeling every touch of your soft hands as they assessed his ribs, and he gulped, unusually unable to find the words to say.

"Do you, uh...do you want to grab a drink? After we're done here," he offered weakly, eager to spend time with you outside of these roles you were forced to play.

"No," you emphasised as he rubbed his nose, "you'd probably tell me my drink order was wrong." Higuruma sunk his face into his hands, laughing.

"I'm not that bad--"

"You are dreadful. I love the...the passion you have, but I'm just...I'm tired. I'd rather go home." Higuruma nodded, thoroughly shot-down, respecting your refusal.

Sloping home that night, insisting he'd prefer to walk over being dropped home by Nitta, Higuruma considered he may have been fighting the wrong person for weeks now. Torn between 'playing the game' to get out from under your feet as soon as possible, and resisting becoming part of another broken, unjust system, Higuruma found himself erring unusually on the side which benefitted you over anyone else.

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In the midst of battle, you found yourself separated from Higuruma, cold dread seeping into your belly as you realised there was nobody else here to save him from himself. Distracted, you took a major hit, thrown by some sordid thrashing beast down an old brick staircase.

You had largely protected your body in swathes of your own Cursed-energy, but still had the breath forced out of your lungs as you had hit the wall below. The Curse, enormous and puce-coloured, roared down the stairs after you.

Trying to stand on a dice roll, your numbers came up short and you stumbled, heart lurching into your mouth.

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You and Higuruma had been assigned to clear out a growing populace of curses in an abandoned block of flats. Trying to talk to him, to plan tactics and methodology, Higuruma had seemed quietly indifferent towards you on the journey there. Refusing to engage with you on any serious level, he seemed almost bored of you, staring impassively out of the window throughout.

You tried not to be hurt, reminding yourself you were here to assess whether or not Higuruma was safe to act independently as a sorcerer. After his series of murders in the Culling Games and before, he was offered two choices: work for Jujutsu High, or refuse and face being hunted down and executed. But, he was an adult, and his safety was ultimately not your jurisdiction if he refused to take your advice.

And yet...the thought of his death by any means filled you with a sickly dread.

Because in reality, Higuruma represented the idealism, the ethical standards that working within a broken system had steadily stamped out of you. Your anger towards him was a projection of your own shame at having fallen into line when you wanted nothing more than to rebel, to protect the weak, including your own colleagues, despite the resistance.

Even worse, Higuruma saw this, and his disappointment in you only deepened your shame. You were meant to be 'helping him' to adapt to your world, and you felt sick to your stomach as you tried to contaminate this man. You felt sicker still as you felt yourself creep closer and closer to his way of thinking, wondering if you fit in this world anymore.

You couldn't tell him how deeply you admired him for being everything you had fallen so far from.

After efforts to interact had fallen flat, you sat beside each other in stony silence. Still, you felt, despite his feigned indifference, anger poured off him, not cold, but white hot.

"What have I...what have I done?" you asked, afraid of the answer.

Higuruma looked at you, eyes still glowing like little coals in his impassive face; "What have you done?" he retaliated. You sighed, a short breath out of your nose.

"...you're not ready to be sent out alone yet. You're reckless and you've got by on luck so far, but--"

"--so you saw fit to carry on this babysitting charade by telling the higher-ups that I'm a danger to myself and others around me." Higuruma scowled at you, not trying to conceal his fury anymore. You blushed, feeling the shame twist in your throat.

"...you...assume you're going to come out on top in every fight, so you don't assess the danger before you jump in, and it's just a matter of time before-- before you--" You reached out to take his hand, desperate to communicate your fear for him in a way he would understand. Higuruma moved to pull his hand away and you held on harder.

"I just...couldn't stand to see you die some pointless death," you urged, "I need-- we need men like you." Higuruma appeared unmoved, silently allowing you to squeeze his hand. Eventually, his long fingers slowly closed around yours.

"I don't think anyone's cared about me this much in years," he replied, as lightly as if he were talking about the weather.

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Brickwork and rubble clouded your vision as the floor rumbled beneath your feet, the Curse blown sideways, shunted by a comedically large gavel. You felt a taut-muscled arm loop around your waist, yanking you to stand-- "get up, come on-- NOW!" -- and you half-ran, half-staggered through a devastated corridor. Your heart sank as you spotted the staircases downward completely collapsed, leaving you both stranded on the fifth floor.

Higuruma appeared, dusty and spitting, wiping residue out of his eyes and slamming his hand to a button on the wall. In a wild flurry, the Curse turned the corner, screeching and hissing, and with a *ping* the lift doors opened. Not looking back at you, Higuruma shoved you into the open lift, slamming his hand on the button again for the doors to close.

"No-- Higuruma! Hiromi!" You skidded across the lift on grazed knees, wedging your arm between the doors with a yell as they closed around it. The lift didn't move down, and you heard Higuruma's incoherent shout of rage at you as you forced the doors open, reaching out for him and dragging him in by the back of his collar, and hammering the 'close doors' button repeatedly as the Curse, still dazed and staggered, made its headlong rush towards you.

As you fell into the lift with Higuruma, you felt a hand press behind your head, its fine bones crunching as it cushioned your head's strike against the wall. You sat, slumped, Higuruma's body over yours in a protective cage, as the doors slid closed, denting inwards as the Curse hit them with a metallic thud, and a roar.

Silence. Higuruma, silent and seething, reached behind him to press another button. The lift started a smooth descent downwards.

"I had it," he spat, lips curled upwards, nose wrinkled in animated fury, "and you stopped me-- for what? Why?"

You gulped, coughing brick dust out of your lungs as you croaked, "You were lunch. You were that close to being killed--"

"--do you really think I'm that inept--"

"--you're not inept, just inexperienced--"

"I'm not a fucking child!" Higuruma's voice rang, deep and final, around the lift. The lift pinged as you reached the bottom floor. You sighed again, pushing him away from you as you stood, moving towards the doors.

"We'll regroup and consider our plan of--" A wiry arm blocked your path, holding down the 'close doors' button.

"We are not finished," Higuruma pressed, enunciating every syllable with gritted teeth. You rested your hand on his forearm, gentle and weary.

"I am. I'm finished." Higuruma stared at you incredulously, hackles still raised. You continued, "I can't coddle you anymore. You're a smart man, you're happy you know what you're doing. So I'm finished. I won't keep fighting you for your own life, Hiromi."

Hiromi deflated slowly, unable to fight without an opponent. His lip still curled, he refused to move his arm from blocking the door, looking away from you as his fury simmered low.

"I'll clear you with the higher ups. Do what you want to finish up here. I'm done." Still, Hiromi didn't let you go, silent as your hand stayed tenderly on his forearm. A few heartbeats passed between you.

"The thing is, Hiromi...you've already lost the fight when you think the result is the most important thing. Being willing to put yourself forward to defend people, going through that fight for them...that's the really noble thing. Any idiot can win a fight. It takes guts to stand up and decide to fight in the first place."

Reaching past Hiromi to press the 'open doors' button, the lift flooded with daylight, muted by the external veil. Hiromi's arm dropped, beaten. As you moved to step past him, his fingers gently tangled in yours, your hands ghosting together between your bodies.

"Can I...can I buy you a drink? To thank you." You swallowed, throat thick with conflicting emotion. You hesitated, then nodded. Hiromi smiled down at you, something unreadably tender in his eyes.

He leaned slowly down, and pressed a soft-lipped kiss to your forehead; "thank you."

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You didn't get to go out for that drink. After giving the higher-ups your approval for Higuruma to be released, he was thrown headlong into mission after mission.

You sent him occasional texts, and he messaged back, usually dry witty commentaries on the jobs he'd been given. You found yourself missing him, feeling little golden bubbles of joy when your phone pinged, his name on the screen.

It had been a week since your disastrous argument in the lift. You still felt guilty for having abandoned him, still not feeling he was ready, but knowing he had to find his own footing at this point.

Late one evening, you dried your hair with a towel, padding around your apartment in just your underwear as you got ready for bed. You jumped and squeaked with alarm as someone hammered on your door. Grabbing an oversized t-shirt from a pile of laundry, you pulled it on over your head. Approaching the door, cautious, you were alarmed to feel--

"...Hiromi?"

Hiromi leaned against your doorframe, his head on his forearm, and he looked at you with feverish eyes, panting, apparently in pain. His dishevelled suit, and a blossoming bruise beneath his right eye placed him as a man fresh from a mission.

Without hesitation, you gripped Hiromi by the hand and pulled him into your apartment, closing and locking the door. Immediately your hands grasped his cheeks, looking deeply into his eyes, a look of such sweet concern on your face that he gulped, overwhelmed, desperate.

"What happened? Why are you here? You should get to Shoko--"

"I don't want Shoko," he spat, chest heaving as he turned away again, pressing his forehead to his fist against the door, "I want...I want you." You blushed, pleased he had come to you for help, but your medical knowledge was limited.

"What happened?" You asked again, hands cautiously ghosting over his abdomen, checking for injuries.

Hiromi groaned, low and slow, as he burned from the inside out. Your touch shot through him like a thousand arrows. His fingers seared his skin as he fumbled, trying to undo his own tie, and you took pity, reaching round him, your small hands cool against his neck as you removed his tie for him. You felt him tremble against you.

As his collar opened, you spotted a narrow, inch-long dart in his neck, like a cactus prickle. Curious, you plucked it out and dropped it onto the sideboard near the door. Is he poisoned? You questioned yourself in a panic, and you grasped him by the cheeks again, looking deeply into his eyes, terrified you'd watch the life ebb out of him, unable to do anything.

"What do you...what are you feeling?" You took him by the hand, guiding him to your sofa and forcing him to sit as you stood in front of him. His sloped eyes were narrow, taking in your barely-covered legs, the barely-concealed nubs of your nipples beneath the t-shirt fabric. Hiromi reached out with a shaking hand, grazing his fingers up your calf and your breath hitched.

"...Hiromi?" His hooded eyes flicked up to yours as his fingers stayed on your calf. Oh, you looked so uncertain, so concerned for him, and it was...delicious.

"It hurts," Hiromi croaked, "I need-- I-- I need--" His throat was tight, and you took him in, how desperate he looked, how needy, and the realisation clicked into place.

"You need...me?" Hiromi shuddered, recalling how he'd walked directly into an obvious trap while hunting down this godforsaken Curse, not taking in his surroundings, stubborn and certain in his ability to prevail--

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, cock throbbing, trapped against his thigh, his whole body burning from the inside out, "I was wrong."

"Oh, so you do know how to flirt," you teased and he huffed out a laugh, groaning again, in agony, and he begged, shameless, his head leant forward to press against your tummy as his hands crept up, eager to grasp your hips and pull you straight to his mouth.

"Please...please--" he whined, and you shivered feeling his hot breath on your belly through the fabric of your t-shirt, tangling your hands into his hair. Hiromi trembled, letting out a sandy growl against your clothes.

"Don't stop me, please," he urged, "I can't...I can't stop myself." He flipped your t-shirt up and you gasped, his strong hands sinking into the plush of your hips, holding you to his mouth, his tongue tasting you as he swiped open-mouthed kisses just above your underwear.

You felt sweet pleasure throb between your legs, all good sense thrown out of the window as you felt how deeply you had missed Hiromi, how ridiculously grateful you felt to be needed by him in this way, and you breathed to him, "You know I'd always help you."

Hiromi moaned his appreciation, his mouth now slipping down to the front of your underwear, and his tongue traced the shape of your pussy, groaning at the taste of you on the tip of his tongue. Your knees buckled, weak with the feeling of his mouth against you.

His lean arms hooked around the back of your knees, lifting them over his shoulders as he leaned you back against him. You cried out, when leaning forwards to grasp the back of the sofa, your clothed pussy pressed firmly against Hiromi's face.

You blushed as he breathed you in, his hips bucking instinctively upwards, aching to be inside you, cum heavy in his balls and desperate for release. His teeth grazed your pussy through your underwear, and he nuzzled into you, trying to part your folds with his nose through the fabric. Impatient, and feeling your hand sink into his hair again, he used two fingers to swipe your underwear aside, sinking his tongue instantly between your folds.

You whined so beautifully above him, and he undid his trousers, pulling his cock out of his trousers, gripping it tightly as he rubbed his nose and tongue urgently between your soft lips. Hiromi began to stroke himself furiously, squeezing hard at the tip, pre-cum dripping down his fist, shivering at the pleasure.

You allowed Hiromi to use you, your keening voice rising as he latched onto your clit, sinking two fingers into your pussy with no warning, thrusting them roughly into you. You bucked your hips against his face as he whimpered his approval. You blushed as you heard the frantic plaps of Hiromi pleasuring himself, your brain foggy with bliss.

Hiromi's fingers bullied into you, desperate to study you, imagining how deliciously his cock would stretch those plush walls. The constant pressure of his fingers against your cervix and his desperately nuzzling tongue and nose between your folds had you reeling, humping his face as you trembled and shook, Hiromi encouraging it as you approached your orgasm.

Your pleasure peaked, sharp and sweet, and Hiromi held you tightly to his face, still determined to taste you, drawing your orgasm out until you quivered, overstimulated, feeling your heart pulse between your legs. As Hiromi shook from his own orgasm, but not at all relieved and panting, cum dribbling down the front of his shirt, he dropped you into his lap.

You gripped the front of his shirt, his cum sticky against your belly. His hand tangled into your hair as he crushed his lips to yours with bruising force, forcing you to taste him. Nipping your bottom lip between his teeth, he whispered, begging again.

"Inside you...please, please..." You nodded again, and Hiromi threw your shirt off over your head, leaning back to drink you in; panting, trembling, straddling his lap, what the fuck was he playing at by fighting with you for so long--

Your hands worked nimbly at the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning and pressing it down his arms and you leaned forwards, almost as hungry as him as you took his nipple into your mouth. Hiromi hissed with delight, kicking off his trousers, shoes and socks and rocking your hips against him.

Hiromi grasped your hands, pressing one to his cheek, and one to his chest, forcing you to lean forwards as you shamelessly cast your eyes up and down his lean body, his muscles twitching with the electricity of your core on his aching cock. His teeth scraped against the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, your shivers like a sedative to him.

His eyes burned into yours, hot and pleading in the dark. His body was a furnace against yours, desperately craving a cure for the agony he was in. You lifted one leg off him, intending to stand to remove your underwear, but stopped as Hiromi all but sobbed against your wrist at the sudden loss of pressure on his cock, throbbing and sticky with cum against the neat, black hair on his belly. His fine-boned hands pressed you hard against him, before methodically tearing the sides of your underwear, flinging the scrap of fabric to the side.

When you grasped his aching cock, Hiromi was almost blinded by the anticipation, his hands flinging out sideways to grip the fabric of the sofa, and he panted, whimpering and pleading as you rubbed the angry red head of his cock between your folds, gathering wetness.

When you sank slowly down onto him, crying out as your walls fluttered around him like wet velvet, Hiromi came again with  a shout, faint with bliss and temporary relief, feeling his own seed drip out of you and onto his thighs. He growled in frustration when, after his cock had stopped twitching inside you, he felt the need to cum again build up within his belly, overwhelming him with an almost violent urge to pursue it.

"...Hiromi? Do you...is this...?" You rode him slowly as he twisted in pleasure and anguish beneath you. Reaching up to grasp your breasts like stress-balls, Hiromi shook his head desperately at you, feeling pathetic and helpless. He was corseted by his intense need to not hurt you. You leaned into him, whispering reassurance and soft nothings in his ear.

Hiromi couldn't take it anymore. Standing up, holding himself inside you and locking your ankles behind his hips, he flipped you over, crushing your thighs to your chest. Grasping the back of the sofa, Hiromi snapped his hips against yours with determined precision, his shoulders tight and mouth slack as with every thrust he felt the urge to push harder, deeper, to empty himself inside you again and again, until you were putty in his hands, until he had cleansed himself of this unscratchable itch.

You clawed for purchase on anything as you were pounded into the sofa, drunk on the sensation of being so full, your insides feeling thrillingly bruised, the tenderness building, slow and intense. Reaching up, you plaited your fingers in Hiromi's at the top of the sofa, and he leaned down, nipping and kissing your knuckles in grateful affection.

The air was filled with the wet slaps of your joint bodies, and Hiromi's constant soft whimpers as you came again, this orgasm burning through your body as you hiccuped, tears streaming into your hair.

"Please please please...please, please," Hiromi begged as his next orgasm surged ruinously through him, dropping him to his knees on the edge of the sofa. Hiromi felt his senses return to him with each pulse of cum that left his body, relieved...for now.

Weak, exhausted, Hiromi flopped onto you, wrapping your arms and legs around him in a full-body embrace, suddenly feeling so touch-starved. Hiromi almost wept his thanks into your hair, and you stroked his hair in soft circles with your nails, all reassurance and acceptance.

By the time you had made it to your bedroom and slipped, sticky and spent, between the soft covers, Hiromi's eyes had returned to you, hungry and burning, his fingers stroking through your folds, fascinated by the drips of his seed still leaking out of you. He had flipped you over and pinned you prone to the mattress, sinking into you and moaning your praises as you had clenched, trembling with overstimulation, sucking his cock into your aching body.

Throughout the night, his relief had waned, with longer and longer gaps between him seeking out the warm acceptance of your body. You would wake to his body flush against yours, Hiromi lifting your leg over his hip as he sunk into you, mewling and panting in the night.

Finally, you had woken with sunlight streaming through the windows, Hiromi draped around you, looking soft and exhausted as he slept; Hiromi woke to the smell of coffee and you, very much ready to be cared for...and, occasionally, argued with.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Ugh, yes. Debate me, lawyer daddy.

#jjk #jjk hiromi #hiromi jjk #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #higuruma hiromi #higuruma #higuruma smut #jujustu kaisen #higuruma angst #higuruma fluff #higuruma hiromi x reader #hiromi higuruma #hiromi higuruma x reader #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma hiromi x you #higuruma hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi fluff #hiromi hiromi hiromi #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #hiromi higuruma smut #hiromi higuruma x you #Pseudowho #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader

[plutoccult]

HOW CAN I SNOOZE AND MISS THE MOMENT? YOU JUST TOO IMPORTANT

pairing: kei tsukishima x gender neutral reader

description: even after a long and frustrating day at work, you can’t help but fight to stay up with your favorite person on earth.

word count: 1.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: i wrote this because i hated my job at the time (i have since quit and found a job that pays me way more), and this idea spurred after a draining day at work. i debated on who to write it for, but ironically the #1 tsukishima anti (/j) @heavenfilm suggested i write it for tsukishima. i mean, since no. 1 party anthem was so successful, it makes sense for me to write for him once more. plus, the fandom is probably bumping again thanks to the new movie. i know this is short, but don’t most people want that? anyway, i hope you enjoy!

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @mayariviolet @dragon-slayer5 @darthferbert @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @intheewrld @localgaytrainwreck @rasisarchive

taglist form here

the second you walked through the door and slammed it shut behind you, you wanted to fall to the floor and rot there. it was incredibly overdramatic, you were well aware of that, but you felt such theatrics were more than valid after the hellish day you had at work.

your job was easy for the most part. while you knew you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life working there, you at least wanted it to be somewhat tolerable. sometimes you dealt with annoying customers, treating you as if you were an idiot despite knowing the policies like the back of your hand. but today wasn’t one of those days where you put up with some snotty karen, funnily enough. the villain of your work day happened to be your manager.

when things are going their way, they’re the coolest person in the world. but whenever there was the most minuscule inconvenience, it turned into everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t stand it. it was like playing survival mode on the hardest level. many a time were you tempted to put your foot down and quit, but you were too afraid of being jobless for too long and leaving your boyfriend to pay all the bills. it didn’t help that applying for jobs was such a pain in the ass either.

after a long day at work, you scrunch your face in frustration then let out a long sigh, sliding your back against the door as you found comfort sitting on the carpet. too lazy to do anything else, even kick off your shoes, you sit there for a few moments with your eyes closed. it was the most relaxing moment you’ve had all day, but that title would soon be taken over once your boyfriend tsukishima emerged from your shared bedroom, having heard you come through the door just moments ago.

“y/n?” he pattered down the hall, finding you in your current position. “why are you on the floor?”

you open your eyes and see tsukishima’s face. it was hard to read him most times when you first met, but you had learned him inside and out, down to the way he let out a sigh once agreeing to something he didn’t really want to do. the sight of him just standing there, looking down at you with his head slightly tilted brought you utter joy. his face was the one thing you always looked forward to see after days like these.

“hi, my love.” you say. “it’s been a long day…”

“your manager again?” tsukishima asked. he knew you all too well.

“a pain as always.” you groan. it didn’t require any more detail than that for him to understand your struggle. days like these had been going on for a while, and it pained him to see you like this.

“well,” tsukishima offered his hand, you taking it immediately as he pulled you to your feet, bringing you close to him by wrapping an arm around your shoulder, all in such slick movements. “you should probably have some food then get to bed.”

you quickly shake your head in protest. you didn’t want to go to bed yet. you just got home. you wanted to spend time with him.

“go to bed? but i wanna stay up with you…” you pout.

while your puppy face was one of tsukishima’s weaknesses, he valued your wellbeing far too much than to be selfish and let you sacrifice time that could be spent resting.

“you need to rest.” he insisted.

“but—”

“you’ll fall over if you stand a second longer.” tsukishima interrupted you, gently running a hand through your hair, which almost lulled you to sleep on the spot despite your resistance. “i’ll bring you something to eat as long as you get to bed, okay?”

“okay…” you let out a sigh, looking down to the floor as you dragged your feet to your bedroom. you stop for a moment, your feet aching too much for you to bother taking another step.

“tsukki?” you turn around, tsukishima saying “hm?” as he anticipated your next words. “carry me?”

ah, of course. he couldn’t ever say no to that. “alright…”

tsukishima lifted you up with ease, a given considering he always stayed in tip-top shape throughout the years thanks to playing volleyball. as relaxing as it was to be in his arms, you fought like hell to stay awake, wanting to keep your eyes on that gorgeous face as long as humanly possible.

he placed you down on the bed, going as far as to take your shoes off your feet and set them aside. the constraint of your shoes were killing you all day, so you felt immediate relief upon their removal. you were thankful for tsukishima doing such things for you without you even having to ask. he truly understood you through and through, his love shown in his acts of service rather than words spoken.

“get comfy while i bring you a plate.” tsukishima placed a kiss on your cheek and ruffled your hair before leaving the room. you were tempted to get under those cozy blankets, but you knew it would only make you sleepy, and you couldn’t have that. you didn’t work all day just to fall asleep before you could spent more than just a moment with the one you love.

tsukishima found you yawning as you tried sitting up as straight as possible. he came in with a bowl of fettuccine alfredo, having made it earlier with you in mind, just freshly reheated for your enjoyment. but tsukishima couldn’t help but sigh at the display in front of him.

“didn’t i tell you to get comfy?” he rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed next to you. “here. i’m sure you’re starving after a long day.”

“i’d start gnawing on your arm soon enough.” you joke and take the bowl from his hands. “but thank you.”

“i’d rather you didn’t.” tsukishima cringed at the thought. funnily enough, he thought that such a thing would affect his performance at games. he wasn’t the same as he was as a teenager, that’s for sure.

you’re too busy to even respond, inhaling your food like it was going out of style. sometimes you’re just too caught up at work to even think about taking a snack break. even if you did relax for once, someone was always bound to ask for your help because they either didn’t 1. have a clue on what to do or 2. feel like doing their job. you were truly stuck to a ball and chain because of these people.

once you finished the last bite, you didn’t have to say a thing as tsukishima took the bowl out of your hands, already thinking to wash the dishes for you later so you didn’t have to lift a finger. he placed the bowl down on the nightstand for a moment, grabbing the edge of your shared comforter, which you immediately took notice to.

“woah, woah, woah!” you exclaim and grab tsukishima’s wrist. “i’m not lying down!”

“you think just grabbing my wrist can stop me?” he snickered, harshly tugging the blanket like a magician pulling a tablecloth off the table while leaving the dishes unscathed. you plop over face first onto the bed as you try to scramble for the blanket, but fail miserably. tsukishima couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

you roll onto your back and pout over his laughter. “what’s so funny?”

“i just don’t understand why you want to stay awake so bad. you’re clearly exhausted.” tsukishima said as he gently stroked your hair, almost trying to lull you to sleep. had he scratched a certain part of your head, you would’ve been a goner and he knew it.

“because i…” you sit up, continuing to resist your inevitable slumber. “i wanna spend more time just with you. you’re too important to me.”

“you’re important to me too.” he replied. “and if you weren’t, i wouldn’t care about your health.”

you can’t help but smile at his words. curse him for caring so much, you almost want to say, but how could you? it’s not like you’d rather he didn’t give a damn at all, you would never. but still, you can’t resist wanting to lay your eyes on him as long as you humanly could.

“ass.” you say, a giggle escaping your mouth with ease.

“butt.” tsukishima grinned, leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. his kiss felt like a spell to you, and you’d be pulled in each and every time.

as you lay down now, the only source of light being the lamp on the bedside table, you find yourself starting to succumb to the sleep you fought so hard to resist. tsukishima took notice, pulling the blanket over your body and reaching his hands to scratch your head. you fell asleep within seconds, just as he predicted.

tsukishima couldn’t be mad seeing you in this state. sure, he missed you like hell all day, but watching you now, looking so peaceful, tsukishima knew this was one of his favorite sights in the world. if he could sit here and just stare at you like this all day, he would do it instantly.

“i love you, y/n.” he said, gently caressing your cheek, hoping he wouldn’t wake you up. “i know i should say it out loud more often, but i hope you know that i do. there aren’t enough words to describe the feeling, but i love you.“

even if you didn’t hear tsukishima, you could still feel his love just from him sitting beside you. you feel it when you look at his face down to when you yap your mouth off while he just listens. you would never feel this with anyone else, and you would forever try to savor it.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #pluto writes 📝

[drefear]

Kitten Licks

Summary: You work with your friend with benefits, Miguel O'Hara in a restaurant in Nueva York as a bartender, but you both have secrets you cannot share. Will you be able to keep it, or will the cat come out of the bag?

part 1 - part 2

TW: alcohol, work, tiny bit of violence, stealing.

The black night sky made the air cold against your skin, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. The soft, shiny material of your catsuit made you warm against the cool breeze of the wind that hit your face and you heard the sirens in the distance. You had about 15 minutes before they realized that the most precious gem of the new egyptian display at the Met was stolen, and you had 16 minutes before Spider-man

 would be on your ass and barreling towards you like a battering ram at the speed of a jaguar, swinging with the pure intention of justice or whatever crap he spouted to the press. 

The adrenaline was completely worth it and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement flow through you as you thought of the large man coming to find and apprehend you. He almost always won, but you were never taken away. 

On top of this all, you worked tonight with your friend with benefits and coworker, which meant you’d probably end up hooking up with him and staying at his house, which meant you needed to shower about your heist. 

The gem in your bag was worth a couple million dollars, and you’d definitely add a delivery fee to whatever price Kingpin was going to throw at you. You weren’t some errand girl, you were a professional thief, a real life Lupen, a cat burglar for the rich and famous.

That is how you got your name. Well, that, and your super powers, but those were an accident. 

“Gatito.” A voice rang through your ears as your turned a corner and saw the glowing red mask you knew would be making an appearance soon., But this was too soon. 

“What took you so long, Spidey? I was starting to think you retired.” You tossed the stone from one hand to the other, balancing on one leg and quickly judging your surroundings for an exit strategy. 

“That would make your life too boring.” He replied, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. You’d debated hooking a clawed finger into the fabric of that holographic suit and revealing his face, but he would never let you get that close. Only once had you gotten that close to him, and both of your hands had been restrained. He was strong. “Give me the gem.” 

“Fine, how much are you willing to pay?” 

“Your bail.” His sarcasm made your body feel like it was on fire, and you smiled playfully, showing off your unnecessarily sharp canines. 

“Not enough. See, my other client is paying me that tenfold and not putting me in jail, so I’ll have to pass, but thanks for the offer!” You waved and backflipped onto the rooftop below, sliding into an open window and shifting throughout the house quickly, as quiet as a mouse. Your heart pounded as you saw flashes of red and blue against the window, but you knew he wouldn’t risk barging into a household for you and the stone. Your feet pattered against the hard floor as you found a window on the opposite side of the apartment you’d broken into and you slipped down onto the fire escape, shimmying around the metal beams to hop across to the next building. 

You’d thought you’d lost him until an arm grabbed you mid air and yanked you onto a fire escape, your body pressed against his as you heard his breathing begin to relax. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are.” He mumbled and pulled your bag open, only to see it was empty. 

“And you’re not as smart as you think you are.” You growled back and jumped over him, climbing the ladder of the fire escape and kicking him onto the railing, hearing a soft ‘oof’ before jumping into the night and landing on the sidewalk. 

With that, you ripped your mask off and fluffed your hair to blend in with the masses of people in Nueva York and your job was complete. You escaped with the artifact and got past spiderman. Success tasted good. 

You’d give the stone to Kingpin that same week, but the only goal you had for the rest of the night was to sleep so you could function at your job in a handful of hours, and sleep evaded you almost immediately when you got into bed that night. 

The next day, you walked into work with your bag on your shoulder and heard a deep voice call out your name. 

“Late night?” Miguel called over the bar as you set down your bag and glanced behind you to his register. 

“Sorta.” You answered and shoved your bag under the countertop, looking up at him as he poured vodka into a tin to prepare whatever cocktail he was making. You tugged off your sweatshirt and dropped it into your bag, then closed the cabinet and stood up straighter as he looked you over. “How’d you know?” 

“Your eyes are glassy.” He concluded as he shook the drink and poured it out into a short glass. His eyes found yours and you furrowed your brows while scoffing at his comment. 

“Thanks.” You answered and he rolled his eyes, making you catch a glimpse of a large bruise on the back of his neck. “What about you? Get some action last night?” 

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Why would you even-” He turned to you defensively and glared at you with annoyance as you interrupted. 

“The back of your neck. Is it a bruise or a hickey?” You wiped your hands with a rag and studied his reaction as he suddenly got a bit nervous. 

“Bruise. I walked into something.”

“Backwards?” 

“No, just-” He sighed, stuttering a bit now, “I bent down and hit my neck on something.” 

“Then you didn’t walk into anything.” You added, poking him in the side and laughing. 

“What are you, a cop?”

“Nah, just concerned. Seems like you’ve got some memory loss from that hit.” You continued to joke until he splashed you with water from the sink as your manager walked out and sighed. 

“Can you two stop flirting and get back to work?” Ben sulked and pinched his nose, still wearing sunglasses. 

“Ben, I’m not even clocked in.“ You answered and he looked up while flaring his nostrils. 

“Then fucking do it.” He barked and you just ignored him, tapping the register screen and watching him storm away as an older couple sat at the bar while you tied on a little apron, moving to grab a tray and looking around for any new tables. “You’re on bar tonight!” Ben yelled across the restaurant as you huffed. Turning to face Miguel, he waved at you and tossed a bar key to you as you made your way back to the bar. 

“You’re at service bar.” 

“You are my greatest enemy.” You answered as he smiled and winked, wiping down a martini glass as you hung your head.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel

[themanifestingbrat]

What affirm n persist means...

It seems affirm and persist has many interpretations which is probably why there’s so much confusion and drama around it.

It could mean affirming for 10 minutes every hour to one person while to another person, it’s just affirming once and whenever it comes up, affirm again.

I said in my other post, persisting is not a method. If my phone is in my room and I’m in the kitchen, and I acknowledge or remember I have a phone. I’m persisting in the fact that I have a phone and that it’s in my room. If I want my sp to be my partner, every time I think of them or catch myself noticing the lack of their presence, I’m going to tell myself that everything’s all good, sp is my partner and we’re happy. Or in other words, I persist in the fact that sp is my partner.

Persisting doesn’t mean persisting in techniques. It means sticking to the assumption that it’s done.

Affirming is thought. A thought repeated becomes a dominant thought. A dominant thought becomes a belief. Which is why we stress the importance of repeating your affirmations, i.e. desirable thoughts, so it can become a belief and reflect.

So, when you’re setting a timer of 10min to affirm, why? Is it just because someone said so and they had success doing it? Or, do you actually believe it helps you focus on the feeling and get faster results?

Maybe you feel all you need to do was affirm until you got the feeling and let go and it reflected. Maybe you feel you need to continuously repeat a sentence for a certain amount of time for something to reflect. Maybe you feel affirmations are so stupid and don’t work no matter how many times you say it so you yell and shout, “IT DOESN’T WORK FOR ME!”

Look closely…You might notice I used the word feeling a lot. Because that’s the whole point.

DO YOU FEEL AFFIRMING NUMEROUS TIMES WORK FOR YOU? DO YOU FEEL YOUR AFFIRMATIONS TO BE TRUE? DO YOU FEEL THAT YOU DON’T NEED TO BELIEVE OR FEEL YOUR AFFIRMATIONS AND IT STILL WORKS?

So, enough with the whole debate if a+p works or not. It can always work if you make it work for you. If you don’t want to do it, guess what? Don’t fucking do it.

How I apply "affirm and persist":

I don’t use timers or count or set reminders, because I’m lazy and it feels like a chore. If you like it, more power to you!

I use affirmations to calm me down and to remind me. Say, I was anxious for the results of a test. I’m gonna keep affirming, “I passed, I got 100%, I have the results I want,” until I don’t feel anxious anymore and then I move on. When I start to feel anxious again, I affirm. Then, it just manifests. I get the desired results and it happens exactly how I affirmed or visualized it to be.

Now, me explaining this might seem like a step by step method I follow, when in reality, it’s something I naturally do. I naturally say/think something in my favor to make me feel better and release any bad feeling.

If there’s anything to take away from this is to not downplay something just because it didn’t work for you. Try again or tweak something you did to make it feel fun and fulfilling. Cause the last thing we need to be doing is going back n forth if a+p really works or not when everybody’s different.

#loa #law of assumption #manifesting #loassumption #loa manifestation #manifesation #neville goddard #manifest #loa success #loa blog #mine<3 #edward art #affirmations #affirm and persist #assume and persist #mental diet #loa advice #loa affirmations #loa methods #loa assumptions

[infernalodie]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 || 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳

“𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘚𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩“

Inspo: Rex Orange County - Pluto Projector

Pairing: Maddy Perez x Son!reader

Summary: You would carry the weight

Warnings: character’s aged up, brief talk of abuse, and just fluffy and angsty throughout.

Words: 1623

DNI IF YOU’RE SENSITIVES TO THE WARNINGS ABOVE!

Maddy found out she was pregnant at probably the worst time in her life. The school was starting and she was dealing with Cassie dating Nate. Overall, it had been a stressful time for her to even have a baby on her mind. But she knew abortion wasn’t an option as having a kid had been a dream of hers since she could fully understand the concept.

Raising her own son or daughter. Able to teach them all that she knows. Help them through difficult times. See them rise to success and fall just for her to pick them up and support them. Be able to have grandkids. And see what her child has made of themselves and be incredibly proud.

That was all she had ever wanted. She never received that fully from her parents and she just wanted the best life she could provide for her child. So, it only made sense that she was able to follow through on those dreams.

Kids around town and parents alike did scrutinize her silently for her decision. Being labelled as the pregnant teenager, who had fucked someone who didn’t decide to pull out. It was a lot to handle. Even her parents weren’t sure it had been the best idea for her at the time in her life. She was still young and still had so much life to experience.

But her response was always so simple and full of love.

“Then I get to experience it with my baby.”

When you were conceived, Maddy knew the moment she held you in her arms, you were a gift that she never deserved. Not in a million had she ever seen such a beautiful baby boy with the brightest eyes and goofiest smile. You were her angel. Her gift. Her reason to live and to fight for what she held close.

There hadn’t been much in Maddy’s life that she saw as a core memory. It was debatable that her years as a kid were her best, but none of them came close to when you looked up at her for the first time inside that hospital room. It seemed like for around a minute, you were old enough to know who she was and understand what was happening around you. Because all she was love within your brown eyes that had begun to tear up.

You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t done anything but stare up at her.

It had been the most extraordinary thing that Maddy had ever seen. She knew that every parent felt like their kid was special and greater than any other she had seen. But it felt like you had proven that you were something else. Because as she stared back down at you with a smile, tears rolling down her cheeks. Your tiny little hands grabbed ahold of her gown and pulled your head into her chest.

That had not only been the greatest moment of her life. But a moment that she would never forget and would tell you about when you were older and could fully realize how special you were.

The moment that she took you home, all her friends visited to see you. Smiling and talking in their amusing baby voices as you laughed and smiled. One thing she knew was that you were completely different from her and your father. A joyful, smart, and extraordinary baby boy.

And you seemed to like the idea of meeting new people that would become family figures for you. Rue is your cool aunt that would let you get away with a lot of your shenanigans and often participate. Jules is the overbearing loveable aunt. Lexi is the aunt that helped you with school and someone you could watch movies with for hours on end. Kat would help you find your fashion sense. Fez would plainly be the cool uncle. And Elliot would be the uncle to get you into music. It was a good variety that Maddy knew you deserved. Far better than whatever Nate could ever give you.

That family that she wanted for you grew with your age and your understanding of life growing. Maddy got through school and got a scholarship at NYU where most of your aunts and uncles were heading for their own dreams. You had everything Maddy wanted to give you. There was nothing else that she wanted except to see you happy with your life.

But there was one part of her that felt shoved away. A side of her past that you had no idea of and would likely be enraged from. That was your father, Nate. Maddy never wanted you to know the things your Nate had done to her and probably countless other girls throughout the years you grew up and the two of them went their separate ways. Hell, she never wanted you to know who he was or to ever see him. It just felt like a disservice to you as she kept it from you and you were nothing like him. You were so different from the both of them that it made her afraid you would see yourself differently after you found out.

The front door to the apartment opening and slamming shut alerted Maddy from her spot on the living room couch. Her head snapped in the direction to see you place your skateboard near the front door and adjust the strap of your backpack around your shoulder. But instead of your beaming smile that she was so accustomed to, she found your hood up with a solum look on your face.

“Hey, honey-” You walked straight up to the coffee table and took the remote and shut off the TV. Ruining her position that she was at with House of the Dragons. But even before she could say a word, you were already speaking.

“What did he do to you?”

It was a rather abrupt question but Maddy had known what you were referring to in an instant. He. No name was needed to know what asshole you spoke of. The man you had never seen except through pictures of him online. Living a lavish life with Aunt Lex’s sister whom you hadn’t ever met either.

But although Maddy knew who you spoke of, she wasn’t even sure she was ever going to be ready for the talk. She never wanted to shine a bad light on Nate even though he deserved it. What she had wanted was for you to have a hopeful outlook on the man. Maybe he would reach out to see you one of these times. Maddy wouldn’t be against it as you deserved to have a father figure in your life. Even then, Fez and Elliot were doing an excellent job as it is.

Maddy’s mouth sat agape, unsure of how to answer. That only made you drop your backpack at the end of the couch and crouch down in front of your mother. Taking her hands in yours as you bowed your head. Sniffling as you shook your head. “What did he do to you, mom?”

Hearing your broken voice made it even harder for Maddy to speak. The back of her throat closed as she inhaled deeply with a set of her own tears beginning to brim in her eyes. “He hurt me, Y/n. He was abusive to me and many others.”

And hearing for the first time, it finally broke you. He hurt her. Your own father laid hands on your mother. There were many questions running through your head that you were sure you would never get the answers to. Albeit, you wouldn’t listen to Nate if he gave answers because you would likely be taking your skateboard to his head, but you just wanted to understand why. Why her?

It felt like Maddy was transported back to that hospital bed as you looked up at her. Tears in your eyes with nothing but love within them. Genuine unconditional love for the woman who had given you everything she could just to make you happy. She felt Deja Vu. Like you had known since you were born the type of war she had been through. It broke her.

“Baby-” Before Maddy could get a further explanation out, you had devoured her into one of your hugs. Ones that held nothing but care and warmth. Every little feeling she had been putting off- Dread, shame, and maybe even a bit of sorrow was washed away.

One of your hands held the back of her head as she cried in your chest. “You’ve been my anchor since I was born mom. You’ve carried weight across oceans that I would never even begin to fathom. You’ve walked through fires to get here,” you whispered softly. “Let me take that weight from you, please.”

It was a plea. A chance to repay the woman that had been your guardian angel. Your light at the end of every tunnel. Your entire reason to smile every morning you got up after doing karaoke with the rest of the family. You were the one taking care of her now. Opening up the book she had put a lock to until now. Allowing her to write the final page and place it back on the farthest shelf within her mind where it would be forgotten.

“I can’t do that to you, baby.” Maddy shook her head, parting from your hug. “You’re still so young. I can’t do that-”

“Mom.” That damn weightless laugh made the woman softly gasp and look up at you. Your eyes were as bright as the day she first held you and your adorably goofy smile filled her eyes. “I’m old enough to understand.”

#maddy perez #maddy perez euphoria #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez x son!reader #maddy perez x male reader #maddy perez x male!reader #maddy perez x you #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez x y/n #maddy perez x son reader #x son reader #x son!reader #euphoria x son!reader #euphoria #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria imagine #euphoria fanfic

[xoxotifia]

╭─────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡ ───

╰─────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡ ───

OCTONAUTS HEADCANONS: WORLD EDITION

HEAVILY BASED ON THIS POST, FULL CREDITS !

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

— there are parallel cities and countries to our world, and the locations of their major cities and counties are all the same

— most animals live in places close to or in their natural habitat, but cities like London and New York have animals from all over the place mingling (but to a certain level of logic like you’re less likely to see a polar bear or a reindeer living in South America)

— many of the cities have slightly different designs to accommodate for the variety of species living in them

— the world population is split between anthro and non-anthro animals, because the Octonauts are clearly anthro but the animals they rescue aren’t

— there used to be a lot of conflict between the two, but now most places don’t care and are designed to accommodate both kinds of animals (like Tweak and Sandy are friends)

— whether or not predation of other animals (especially the non-anthro) is okay is a pretty heated debate in their society

— it’s possible for some non-anthro animals (most likely mammals) to learn to walk and to use their paws (hands?) like anthro’s but it’s very difficult (and vice versa if an anthro wants to learn to be more like a non-anthro)

— there’s also a United Nations equivalent who are tasked with keeping peace between species— they have a representative for each major species of each biome and with groups such as rainforest or polar regions working as groups, or having one collective vote on large scale issues (they’re also the ones who fund the Octonauts)

— their world is just as, if not more technologically advanced in some areas than ours (I mean hey, they manage to hide whole helmets in small collars!)

— humans never existed so many animals evolved in almost identical ways to fill that niche; some did, but some didn’t, which is why there are non-anthro animals as well

— most of, if not all, the world share a collective language that basically makes cross-species communication easier

— adding: each genus shares a language (with species having, like, slightly different versions, e.g.: wolves and dogs have slightly different pronunciations or slang, but sound very similar when compared to a fox) but all animals are taught the universal language

— like all things, the Octonauts probably have a few haters and enemies (because no world is perfect) and they sometimes have to watch their backs when at ports to resupply

— adding: they probably get into conflict with people who overfish, or people who pollute the ocean or oil rig people

— most animals have extended lifespans that are closer in length to humans

— some objects we use that usually have simple handles have grips, or whole shaped loops for paws to make holding them easier

— coat colour possibility and variations are far greater than in our world (I mean— Tweak’s GREEN and she also glows in the dark), and it either developed as a result of evolution, OR there was a nuclear war and some species’ genes were affected by nuclear radiation several generations ago; or both

— the Polar Scouts, in terms of world history, are a very recent invention—they were, most likely, introduced as a way to get young polar bear cubs to grow up in an environment that encourages equality and helping others (based on this post)

— the Polar Scouts programme was put in place by a Polar/Arctic sector of that United Nations style group, and whilst it HAS BEEN very successful (crime rates and the amount of violent polar bears has dropped A LOT), there are still quite a few bad eggs

— there are stereotypes about different animals; e.g. polar bears are expected to be violent and cruel, and enough live up to this stereotype that it persists

— adding: which is why Barnacles is really careful, patient, and understanding when helping other creatures

— although some countries are still using oils and plastics, society is gradually switching to sources more helpful to the environment

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

NOTE : WILL BE UPDATED WHEN I FIND / COME UP WITH NEW STUFF !

#octonauts #octonauts headcanons

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #30

The Old Guard - #30 - Buried Alive

*

“I’m just saying, he should’ve been back by now,” Joe said, pacing by the door of the safehouse. “I’m going to look for him. I don’t like this.”

Andy caught his arm. “Joe-”

“Quynh is free and she’s angry, Andy!” he said. “What if she…what if she found him?”

“She wouldn’t hurt Nicky,” Andy said firmly.

“No, the old Quynh wouldn’t hurt Nicky. The Quynh who’s been suffering underwater for hundreds of years? We don’t know her. You heard Nile; she’s free and she’s furious.” Joe yanked the door open. “He shouldn’t have gone out on his own. I knew it was a bad idea.”

Nile ran into the room so fast that she tripped over the coffee table and Joe just barely managed to catch her before she fell. She was covered in cold sweat, her eyes wide and frantic, hair messy from sleep.

“She has him,” she said, gripping Joe’s arms. “Oh, god, she has him.”

The color drained from Joe’s face. “Where?”

“I don’t know. She tricked him.” Nile pulled away and put her face in her hands. “Pretended to run to him for help. He was comforting her when she killed him.”

“How did she know where he-” Joe froze. Andy subtly pushed Nile behind herself. “Fuck! Nile! You drove us to the safehouse! You led her right to him!”

“Stop,” Andy snapped. “Nile is new to this. You and I should’ve been the ones to know better, Joe. Focus. We can use Nile to track Quynh, just like Quynh used her to track us.” 

Andy fought down the feelings rising rapidly inside of her. Quynh, her Quynh, back after all these years. 

But what was she going to do with Nicky? Surely she’d never hurt Nicky. The two had been close friends. Quynh had always admired Nicky’s kindness and bravery. Nicky didn’t laugh often, but Quynh got him to laugh almost as much as Joe sometimes. 

She must be using Nicky to lure Andy in. Andy was the one she was angry at, surely. It was ultimately Andy who had failed her, not Nicky or Joe. 

“She’ll trade him for me,” Andy said, because she couldn’t have Joe losing his composure now. “That has to be her plan. What else would she want with Nicky? She’s probably been waiting for one of us to be alone, and Nicky just happened to be the first one.”

“Where did she take him? What did you see?” Joe demanded, ignoring Andy.

But Nile just shook her head. “She had him in the back of a van. She wasn’t driving and there were no windows. She…she had a gun pointed at him. He was dead and bound.” She looked at Andy with that mix of desperation and fierce resolve that made her such a good addition to the team. “We have to find him, Andy. That rage she feels isn’t just directed at you. She blames all of you, even Nicky.” 

“Nile, call Copley. We’ll go see what we can find. And I am calling Booker. He can’t be on his own out there right now, not if she’s going after us,” Andy said, kicking the door all the way open and grabbing the car keys. 

Joe and Nile hurried to follow her out. She didn’t need to ask to know they were armed. 

She was heartbroken over Quynh’s fate. But it was no fault of Nicky’s, and Andy would do anything to get him back safely and take the consequences herself. 

***

Booker met up with them the next day, drunk enough that they smelled the booze on him before he even entered the safehouse. Joe had roughly taken him to sober up, yelling at Booker about how they all needed to be ready for anything and on guard. Booker did not drink again.

Copley tried to track down Quynh. When he showed no signs of success, Booker joined in the search. They debated moving safehouses, but decided to stay in case Quynh sent a ransom or anything of the sort for Nicky. They set up a strict watch rotation and ensured everyone was armed at all times. 

It was three days before the letter arrived.

Andy unfolded it. Joe reached for it, but Andy held it away as her eyes scanned over the words and her heart shriveled in her chest at them.

“Andy!” Joe said, pleading. “What does it say?”

She swallowed down bile and read it aloud, her voice monotonous despite the horror threatening to choke her. “You will not find Nicolo. I thought of the perfect way to hurt all three of you at once. You and Yusuf will suffer, knowing you can never save him. He will suffer as I did. I can think of no more perfect revenge than this. He will cry out for Yusuf with every dying breath, and Yusuf will sob for him with every passing minute, and you will live with the knowledge that you were responsible to protect them both. As you read this, Nicolo is dying yet another death, buried alive deep beneath the earth, waiting for help that will not come just as I did. Every time you think of his agony, know you caused it by abandoning me.”

Joe sat down heavily. Nile put a hand over her mouth. Booker pushed a shaking hand through his hair.

“No,” Joe whispered. “She wouldn’t. Not Nicolo. Not him.”

“Get up,” Nile whispered. “Joe, get up. He needs us. I don’t give a fuck what she says. We’re going to find him. We’re going to save Nicky. Get up!” 

Andy felt numb inside. Nicky, her kind, caring Nicky, was buried alive somewhere right now, waiting for them to find him and save him. Trusting them to save him. Just like Quynh.

She felt like she was spiraling. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

“Andy!” Nile shook her and ripped the letter from her hands, crumpling it up and tossing it off to the side. “Andy, he needs us. We cannot fall to pieces right now.”

“She could have buried him anywhere,” Booker said, shaking his head helplessly. “Where do we even start?”

“Nicolo,” Joe whispered, and began muttering to himself, clasping his hands together and pressing his face to them. 

Nile placed a firm, comforting hand on his back. “Andy, think. You knew her best. Where would she take him?”

Andy honestly had no idea. She thought and thought, but they had traveled so many places that she couldn’t pinpoint one. The world had changed too much in the centuries that Quynh had been trapped in the ocean; she had no idea what Quynh would do or where she would go. 

Nile waited only another moment before nodding to herself. “Then we focus on surveillance videos. We try to find the van they took Nicky in. It’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

“Andy,” Joe said, picking his head up. Tears were already dragging tracks down his cheeks. “We can’t fail him. He’s alone. He must be so scared.” 

And who wouldn’t be, buried alive by your own friend, knowing you would never truly die? Forced to suffocate in the cold, lonely dark again and again for eternity. 

So they got to work, even if the weight of the letter threatened to drag them all down into despair. They searched and searched, abandoning sleep whenever possible to keep going. Nile and Booker took over care for Joe, who would not eat or sleep or stop for a moment unless forced to. Andy was barely keeping herself together, but she managed to cling to her fractured pieces for the sake of her team.

Nine days after getting the letter, they found him.

It was Booker who got the idea when he saw Nile on her phone with Copley. Nicky had been carrying a cell phone with him when he left the safehouse that day.

The phone was no doubt long dead, but Booker managed to track it using something which Andy did not understand but which gave them a general location.

It was just outside a nearly abandoned town, with miles and miles of ground that no longer bore crops. Condemned land left to the wildlife to roam.

They forced themselves to be methodical, mapping the area and breaking it into a grid pattern, each of them assigned grids to dig up. They checked for signs of recently turned over ground, but found none as snow had recently fallen over the area. So they dug and dug, for two days. 

And on that second day, nine days after the letter, Andy cried out with relief as her shovel struck a tarp.

She cried for the others, who rushed over and helped her dig it up. Wrapped in the tarp was the lifeless body of Nicky.

“Nicolo!” Joe cried, holding his love to him and sobbing into his motionless chest. He rocked with Nicky as Booker, Nile, and Andy dropped to their knees around them. 

He held Nicky until Nicky took a frightened gasp of breath, hands already coming up to try and claw away a tarp that was no longer there.

“Nicolo,” Joe said, cupping the back of his head. “It’s alright. It’s alright now. We’ve got you.”

“Are you real?” Nicky croaked out.

Joe made a pained noise. “Yes, my heart. I’m real. We all are. I’ve got you, Nicolo.”

Andy pulled her jacket off and draped it over Nicky’s shoulders carefully. She reached out and stroked his filthy hair.

“Nicky,” she said quietly. “Oh, Nicky. I’m so sorry.”

Andy could think of no words to describe the trauma Nicky had been through. Buried alive, wrapped in a tarp, dying over and over again for nine days.

The trauma made itself apparent as Nicky began to cry silently, pressing his face forcefully into Joe’s neck and grabbing onto Joe until his knuckles turned white. His whole body shook, shoulders heaving with silent sobs. 

“Nicolo, Nicolo,” Joe whispered, crying again himself, stroking Nicky’s hair, holding him as tightly as he could. 

Andy finally felt her own tears come as she touched Nicky’s back and felt him flinch beneath her hand. They had saved his body, but Quynh had gotten her revenge by damaging his mind.

#june of doom #june of doom 2023 #the old guard #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #joe x nicky #yusuf x nicolo #andromache the scythian #nile freeman #sebastien le livre #quynh the old guard #jtdoesjuneofdoom

[reve-writes]

—not letting go. | grishaverse kaz brekker x reader.

you were packing up your things at the slat, until kaz brekker came to complicate things. | slight crooked kingdom spoilers.

THIS WAS IT.

For all it was worth, your little room on the second floor of the Slat had been home to you for the longest time. It had been the warm hands that embraced you when the cold streets of Ketterdam did not. It was the anchor that had tied you to some semblance of sanity when your life had spiraled out of control.

You had liked it, despite all its perks, like the old windows that creaked so loud when you pushed them open, and the door that seemed to only close if you pushed or kicked it hard enough, and the never-ending rowdiness coming from downstairs. You had missed being able to find Inej just in the next room, asking her to braid your hair before jobs, but she hadn't been here for some time.

You piled your things into two heaps: one to throw away, one to leave for the Dregs. The ones you would take with you were thrown into your bags. Being a stupidly emotional person, you had to limit yourself to three bags. If not, you would take absolutely anything that had any inkling of sentimental value.

Then, you had heard him. A thump of a boot, followed by a knock—cane striking against wooden floor accompanied with a soft thump, then another, and another, until he stood at your doorway.

He didn't have to say anything for you to know that it was him. Kaz Brekker had always managed to be an obtrusive presence. It was hard not to notice him. You couldn't lie and say that a small part of you hadn't wanted to run into him, perhaps trade a few parting words. Ghezen knew when you would ever see him again.

Kaz, on the other hand, knew he should not have come. He never said goodbyes. Dirtyhands only ever let go. Though, when he heard that you had returned, he found himself being restless, in turmoil. After half an hour of debating with himself, he decided to seek you out.

“Kaz,” you acknowledged his presence.

”It is safe to assume that you're leaving?” The last few syllables were pitched higher, as if he was asking a hopeful question. You only hummed in response, busying yourself with a couple of vests from your cupboard. Folding them, unfolding them and folding them all over again.

He sauntered into your room, now bare and devoid of your little trinkets. You had a knack for souvenirs of sentimental value. The first knife he had gotten for you used to hang by the door. You had probably packed it somewhere, or perhaps thrown it in one of the growing heaps on the floor.

He plopped on your mattress nonchalantly. As if he had done it a hundred times before. Because he had. On days when being Per Haskell's lieutenant were overwhelming. On nights when he was plagued by his nightmares. Water. The gross, sticky feeling of damp, floating bodies. The smell of salt air mixing with rotting flesh. On evenings after successful jobs, when he wasn't really up for celebrating. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

You stopped busying your hands and turned to look at him, leaning against the opened door of your cupboard, hugging an unfolded tunic to your chest.

And there he was.

“What is next for you?” You asked.

“Make profit where I can. Keep things running,” he shrugged, letting his cane lean against the wall. “You?”

“Ravka,” you replied. “I've always wanted to go there. Perhaps find Nina, too.”

Then you were silent. A part of you wanted to ask him to come with you, but another part—the more prideful one, knew that he would say no, anyway. Why bother?

You thought that it would be easy to leave, but with him here, it was hard for you to even comprehend walking out of that door and leaving the harbours of Ketterdam. You sighed, trudging toward the mattress and sat on the other side of it, diagonal from him, and leaned against the wall. His eyes followed your every move, as if he was studying you, as if you were an anomaly he wanted to break down and understand bit by bit.

You recalled the clock tower, the two of you were overlooking the city with its connected rooftops and overcrowded streets. A few hours before Kaz was going back down to the Slat, possibly getting himself killed. Everything had seemed so small from up there. There were gang leaders everywhere with men and women following them, ready to fight for them.

You sighed wistfully. “It must be nice to be seen.”

Kaz frowned, as if your words had offended him personally. “I see you.”

You half-chuckled drily. “As one of your gang members. Another person to help you carve out your empire in this city. Another expendable resource.”

There were moments, a slither of hope, where you thought maybe you were more. A friend, perhaps, although you couldn't lie that you wished for more. You wished his heart quickened the way yours did when he entered the room. You wished he would find you as intrusive as you found him. But he was, well, him. Everything he did, he did with precise calculations, and you were just another number to add, another value to substract until he got his sum.

That was why his answer had surprised you.

”You are not simply another expendable resource.”

”So what am I?”

He was silent for a while. You had almost turned your back, ready to descend down the staircase and back into Colm Fahey's suite, perhaps chug a few glasses of brandy. You'd ask Jesper to join you, too. The Zemeni sharpshooter had a knack for cheering people up.

His gloved hand had caught your arm. He still didn't say anything. His brows furrowed, his lips parted as if he was about to say something, but he closed them again. It took a while to register, but you'd realized that Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, was speechless for a moment.

“You are many things,” he said, his voice sounded strained, uncertain. “Obnoxious, yes. Resilient, or, dare I say, extremely stubborn —you had rolled your eyes at this, he was one to talk—, but you're caring. You take care of people, of me.”

You joked, “You would've died without me.”

He chuckled. It was the first time you had heard the sound. You wanted to hear it over and over and over again, to record the sound in your head and play it every second.

“I wouldn't go that far.”

Then, you had tentatively grabbed his gloved hand that was on your elbow, linking your arm with his. He hadn't pulled away, despite the sudden stiffness on his arm. You waited for him to move away, push you off, and when he didn't, you leaned against his shoulder, letting the wind blow past the two of you. Your heart was beating so fast, but it was a pleasant kind of beating, unlike the adrenaline filled rush whenever you were fighting for your life.

The clock tower felt like a lifetime ago.

“I—” the two of you had started your sentence at the same time and immediately stopped.

“You first,” you said.

Perhaps he would ask you to stay. You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you knew you couldn't say no. You wanted to stay by him. You just weren't sure if he wanted you to.

“You will always have a home here,” he said.

You nodded, standing to shove more things into your bags.

This is it. You thought, as he moved to grab his cane, clutching the crow head. This is goodbye.

You expected him to walk out of the door, but he approached you, standing half a step away from you. Your bodies were almost touching. Too close. It was too close for him, too, because his breath caught and sweat broke out on his forehead. His shoulders tensed, the same way they always did when he was in close proximity to someone.

You took a step back, but he pressed forward, his free hand grabbing your elbow.

His voice was hoarse, “I'm fine.”

He wasn't fine. You saw the tremble of his hands, but he gripped the cane tighter.

“It's okay, Kaz. You don't have to—”

His lips brushed the crown of your head lightly. It was so brief that you almost didn't register it happening, until he bent down and whispered in your ear.

“I will always welcome you home,” he said, and he jolted, pulling away. He seemed to lean harder on his cane, catching his breath in shallow gasps.

You blinked at him.

“You're making this harder, Brekker,” you huffed.

“That's the idea,” he replied, seeming to have recovered because he had the charming, arrogant look on his face again. “I'll see you off later.”

With that, he was gone. Kaz Brekker didn't really say goodbyes. He wasn't one for words. Dirtyhands always simply let go, but not this time.

[ ]

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you

[fideidefenswhore]

Who is your most hated Seymour? For me, it's John, Thomas, Edward and Jane.

roflmao, tbf, i know intellectually that there's not enough there there to justify hating john seymour, but he does give me bad vibes...whatever happened with catherine fillol was weird and i do get the sense he was involved even if not in the rumored way. and also, when siblings hate each other to such an extent, it's often bcus they were pit against each other by their parents, so i get the sense he was not a good father (there's some debate on whether he died late 1536 or 1535, tbf, but if it was the former it's strange that none of children seemed to mourn his death, that he wasn't mourned at court as the queen's father, etc) . margery doesn't have enough about her known for me to judge; it's sort of weird to me that this stereotype has fallen she and jane had a bad relationship and her favorite child/daughter was elizabeth (this occurs in like...several...novels). we don't have an equivalent positive remark to 'next to mine own mother, no woman alive i know better' (AB, about her own, and to bridget wingfield), nor any records of them often being in each other's company during significant events or eras, but we don't have anything negative either. i get you have to make choices in fiction and 'neutral' is not an interesting one but like...damn.

what's interesting about edward and thomas is that, even before their sister becomes queen, edward is not spoken of well by his contemporaries. very early (iirc, 1535) on, his 'small conscience' is decried, and he becomes such an avaricious figure that cromwell and the king have to interfere in his attempts to manipulate and loophole property laws to his own advantage and the impoverishment of others (and, not usually in his favor, despite him being a royal in-law). thomas, however, seems like he's better liked in the 1530s, although this can maybe be attributed to him being more of a nonentity (a comparative example is some tudor authors insisting GB was 'better liked' than his sister anne-- not true, it seems-- or more often, that their sister mary was...which is probably true, but also probably more indicative of relative lack of power and positions and leverage than 'kinder' personality)...it's not until the 1540s that we get comments of the same genre ("somewhat empty of manner"). thomas thus seems more like a figure of gradual corruption, his arrogance was increased was by his nephew becoming king, it seems, and resentment brought out an ugly side of his character (arguably, the same with edward, just earlier on).

it's extremely unpopular to say this on here, but yeah, jane is definitely not a favourite of mine, either. but i don't think my reasons for this are really common...i don't care if she slept with henry before marriage, i don't care if she didn't, i just find her biographers weirdly contradictory in their judgements of her character, the nature of her rise, and her own beliefs. there's also like, this sense of historic illiteracy from some of her defenders...joining a royal household (as far as the most prestigious positions, that is) was not the equivalent of serfdom (as in, they could leave at any time). jane's supporters were courtiers who hated anne, so it's reasonable to assume she did, as well. so, there's this sort of moral hypocrisy about jane as a figure and her advancement and how she came to her position that has always prevented me from warming to her as a figure. 'she hated anne and all she stood for' explains her involvement in her downfall, but not her securing the position in her household in the first place. and by virtue of her close proximity to anne as queen, she also knew that it was nigh impossible that she was actually guilty of the accusations of adultery.

what else...her defenders insist that the oaths of supremacy and succession were anathema to her moral compass, yet she likely did have to have had taken them herself, just as a subject, and if not that then definitely as a member of anne's household. this wouldn't have martyred/imperiled her life, althought it probably would have her career (elizabeth darrell never took these, so i wonder if the penalty for women was different...? barton is often cited as an example but this was not in her indictment. princess mary seems to almost have been a victim of this, but it might've been more that her signing was more important since she was a rallying point for dissenters).

and even if jane never took these, the presence of noblewomen serving anne as queen lent to her greater image of royal legitimacy. she had to have known that, and if she didn't believe her position was legitimate...then why be part of that tapestry? there's not an equivalent to her predecessor to be made here, not when anne left her own predecessor's household and began her own as soon as she came to believe catherine was not legitimately queen or henry's wife. any credulousness towards contemporary report of this time would suggest anne was extremely hostile towards her rival, but there is a difference between declaring that you'd sooner watch your rival hanged before revering them and, well...actually doing that (...essentially, if not literally).

actually, i don't think there's actually much to suggest jane was set against the religious supremacy unless you make some suppositional leaps (the dissolution wasn't so explicitly connected here, her support of mary as princess, even if rather cosmetic, could be seen as support for her decision not to take those oaths herself for nigh on two years...). nor against succession acts as brought by parliament, since the same illegitimized any potential rivals to her future children, and she seemed to make a point in one of her only pieces of writing we have in emphasizing edward's legitimacy (implicitly, at the expense of her stepdaughters).

the narrative fiction i probably dislike about jane the most is this idea that she was so reverent of catherine's memory, it's really fucking weird, honestly... it bothers me because i know it's embellished to increase reader/viewer (the tudors comes to mind) sympathy and somehow for me it does the opposite, lol. there's something about the concept of her trading on the memory of this beloved woman (who, herself, probably didn't even remember jane, there's nothing to suggest any kind of friendship between them) who was exiled, this woman whom jane did not a single thing for (not even abstaining from joining the household of her rival), that just really grosses me out. henry was the one who was her husband, and obviously he was a fucking asshole to and about her, but there's at least something more...direct, in his attempted erasure of her memory. it's always bothered me that it's never acknowledged that the antecedent (which was carried on throughout) to jane's queenship was the erasure of both her predecessors, the illegitimization of both their daughters, both of them being subordinated, and, more or less (mary present for christmas, elizabeth not, but both there during the rebellions) equally expelled from court.

#purplefictionlover #tl; dr that got way longer than i expected . lol #but yeah honestly jane would be a more appealing figure to me were this not the case #if she were sort of neutral about coa. idt i have hated a fictional character as much as i hated weir's iteration of her lmao #sobbing in her bed for 24 hours straight the day of anne's coronation... #sobbing in her bed for 24 hours straight the day of coa's death.... #i felt oh so kh in the tudors #'it's not aBOUT YOUUUUUU ' #bcus the thing is that if she was... how did she justify. any of that? #did she just hate herself? the answer alison weir gives us is yes and that was exhausting to read #she is very very self-loathing in not having been able to do anything for catherine and she hates her family for 'making' her join anne's #household and i fell asleep and snored so deeply it registered on the richter scale #the belief from this genre of tudor authors seems to be women are just disgusting if they had any sort of agency #(weir really reduces anne's agency as well...at least early on #and they're both very very dull as a result)

[animebw]

So I'm gonna try not to make too many comparisons between Sunshine and School Idol Project, cause this is its own series and it can stand or fall on its own merits. But episode 3 is very clearly trying to recapture the magic of SIP's episode 3, with the group's first ever concert toward a mostly empty auditorium as the first big "Oh fuck, all is lost" moment before rallying to a triumphant finish and telling the disapproving student council president that they intend to carry on... and it's just so much weaker in every respect.

Part of that's the repetition itself. A huge part of what made SIP's empty auditorium gut punch work so well is it that it wallops you out of nowhere; none of the other characters bring it up as a possibility beforehand, and while you probably don't expect a very high turnout for this freshly formed idol group, the fact that nobody's there at first is genuinely shocking. And you can't capture that kind of shock a second time now that your audience knows to expect it. Sunshine tries to mix it up with a power line blowing mid-concert as well as the initial low turnout, but the impact just isn't there. Especially when the whole town shows up seconds later.

Which brings me to another point: even when Muse turned it around, their first event was still realistically miniscule. They could count the number of people at that concert on their fingers. But even that small level of support was enough to keep them striving onward and soaring higher until they became icons. Maybe it wasn't the most realistic zero-to-hero story ever, but it grounded their future success with a baseline of how far they had to grow to get to that point. The whole town showing up for Aqours' first concert, on the other hand? I'm sorry, no matter how close-knit a rural community might be, I don't but that much support for them right off the bat. I can't root for that success as easily because it doesn't feel nearly as believable. Muse made a sub-ten-person audience count feel electric; Aquors packing its stadium full just feels cheap.

And as for that big confrontation with the student council president... look, there's a difference between having that conversation in a mostly empty auditorium and having that conversation in front of an adoring audience. Eri and Honoka's talk made sense in context because they were basically the only people in the room anyway, but Dia's got a whole crowd of people listening to her rant about not liking idols. Imagine how fucking awkward it must be to be in the audience, cheering for these girls on stage, and all of a sudden this weirdo's pushing through the audience telling them they're not gonna make it? Like, what? It just doesn't make sense for Dia to try and have that debate right there and then, nor does it make sense for the audience to have no reaction to it beyond clapping for Aquors. It turns the people in that crowd into faceless window dressing instead of, well, people, and it shatters the reality of the moment just as much as such a big crowd being there in the first place.

(Also I could rant about Eri's reasons for disapproving of Muse making so much more sense than Dia's thus far but I will save that for another day)

Maybe it seems overly nitpicky to spend this many words on a single scene. But I need you to understand that Muse's first concert was the moment I started to love this series. The fact it was able to sucker-punch me so effectively, to make me feel genuinely upset for Honoka and genuinely relieved when they were able to keep their dreams alive, is what made me realize that Love Live might just be something really special. It's what made me realize this series could sink its claws into me and make me care so much more than I ever could have imagined. That scene matters to me. It matters to Love Live. And if Sunshine wants to end up more as than a derivative, it cannot rely on ripping off its predecessor's triumphs without the skill of its own to justify them. It needs to carve its own path without the shadow of School Idol Project hanging over its every decision. And the sooner it starts doing that, the better.

#anime #tabw #the anime binge watcher #love live! sunshine!! #love live! #love live #2013 aniwatch

[yen-doodles]

Couldn't sleep so I spent hours writing a fic instead enjoy

--

Macaque had prompt himself leisurely on a nearby tree as he watched the others bust and jump around excitedly. He had been invited to join on an adventure a few weeks ago and were just celebrating the outcome of it.

Ever since the Lady Bone Demon fiasco, MK had taken to involving him in things with the others. As if the little contribution he had made to aid them in her fight was enough to forget all of what he had done, wipe the slate clean, like hadn't been working with her originally.

He had convinced himself that they were being silly, delusional even, that someone could change that quickly. Maybe in the same sense the demon money had made himself believe that he only stuck around because it benefited him to. That he didn't secretly enjoy or yearn for this kind of connection with someone.

Sun Wukong, The Great Sage Equal To Heaven, hadn't been as welcome but he had expected as much. They were less hostile with each other, yes, but they weren't buddy-buddy per sé. Just civil, for the kid's sake and the others' sanity. He could still catch the monkey king's golden eyes watching him carefully whenever he made a move to leave.

The shadow weaver broke from his trance, having zoned out staring, to notice the golden monkey's successor was making his way towards him. His ears were always a little sensitive to noise, due to having six of them, making it easy to hear the shuffle of the older teen's worn out shoes on the grass; even if he wasn't paying full attention. Gift and a curse really.

"Macaque!" MK announced happily as he approached the other, smiling rather widely.

The darker monkey smirked, "heya kid! What's up?" bringing his body off of the tree as to be standing infront of boy. He had grown a, sort of, fondness for the kid over the time they spent with one another. Though he wouldn't dare admit it.

"We were just thinking of bringing the celebration of our success to Flower Fruit Mountain, and I was wondering if you'd join us" MK said while practically bouncing up and down where he stood, "it'll be fun I promise!"

Macaque hesitated, his expression faltering very slightly as he battled the inner turmoil in his head. He hadn't been invited to Flower Fruit Mountain in centuries, not since...his and Wukong's falling out. Close to a thousand years probably at this point.

The thought of going back there now, made old feelings resurface and painful memories be relived. It all happened in ancient times but the wounds still felt too new, not yet mended.

He looked at the kid's face as he peered back patiently waiting for the show monkey's answer. MK wanted him to be there. He wanted to go too, live a little, but no. It was too fresh, too much, too painful to go back.

The monkey could feel the other monkey's eyes on him, watching. Macaque glanced up and they're eyes meet, neither dare blink. He gulped as quickly looked away and back at the kid.

He smiled nervously, putting on a fake bravado to sound confident. "Sorry kid, can't" he replied simply, wincing as the boy pouted sadly.

"why not?! You were apart of all this, you should enjoy in the success too!" MK said, appearing to be pleading with the monkey to change his mind. "Nothin' personal, just tired and I wanna go home and rest, that adventure kinda took a lot of of me" he replied rather blandly, hoping the kid would take the bait and let him leave.

Mei, seemingly coming out of nowhere, loudly booed the warrior in his lacking of willingness to join them. "You can't be seriously! How could you not want to celebrate at all?!" The dragon-pony said in disbelief which caused the dark monkey to groan. Where's a friend trying to kill us when need it. "Can't sleep be my celebration?" He inquired tiredly, his tail swishing against the ground in an agitated manner, considering just creating a shadow portal to escape instead of humouring the gang with this debate for a second longer.

He raised his hand to summon one, but before he could he felt the two friends wrap their arms around his shoulders; being squished between the pair. He felt himself flinch before becoming frozen in place. "C'mon that's sounds so anticlimactic for someone as theatrical as you!" Mei remarked, which the brunette nodded to in agreement. "Mei's right, it's going to be a lot of fun so just join us!" He announced as he shooked Macaque's shoulder in his excitement, but the monkey just stood in place as fear overtook his face.

"Macaque?" The kid called out quietly though the demon had become a hollow shell in their arms.

The hold the teen's had on his frame, though gentle, felt restricting. Almost like chains. It seemed his bones were covered in ice, her ice. Macaque wanted to scream.

The demon monkey had always had issues being touched, now especially after the LBD incident. Being touched hurt without really hurting, like having sores all over, even the most gentle of touches. It was so overwhelming that he almost wanted to cry, he won't, he shan't.

The others asked with growing worry about what was wrong, it all felt too loud and wanted to become as small as a pebble so no one could see him—to see him like this. He covered his ears to try and lessen the noise even a little, his own breathing heavy in his own ears.

With the little strength he could muster, he pushed the two off him and practically crumpling to the ground without their forms to hold him up. Macaque brought his legs closer to his chest, his hands remaining at his ears defensively, the monkey felt so fragile as if the wind blow anyway harder he would shatter under it.

MK tried to approach him carefully, to try and comfort him. The demon monkey flinched once more and backed away, "don't touch me, don't near me, don't come any closer ya hear?!" He shouted in a panic. Somehow even having someone at a small distance felt as though they were breathing down his neck.

The kid tried to question further when he felt a firm grip on his left shoulder, and when he looked up he saw it was his mentor. The young adult had noticed The Great Sage had been keeping a close eye on the monkey since he had been spending more time with the group, he had chalked it up to him being cautious but looking at him now made MK think it was more than just that. The golden monkey's face was serious though he could see he was clouding his worry for Macaque under a straight face.

"I think it might be best ya leave this one to me bud" he said, patting the boy's shoulder lightly. MK pouted, little sad he couldn't help, but nodded to show he understood.

As the gang left, Monkey King sighed. Glancing over to the other monkey it became apparent that them leaving didn't improve the other's stance. He pondered what his next move should be, Macaque had freaked out further when MK had tried to approach him so that was out of the question. Touching was obviously a no go as well. Sun Wukong decided on seating himself where he was, sitting his hands on his knees as he kneeled down. "The others have left upon my request, you seemed overwhelmed, do you wish me to move further back Macaque?" He asked the shadow in the softest voice he could manage, cringing at how formal the words had come out.

Macaque peered at the golden monkey across from him, hesitantly beginning to uncover his hands from his ears. He looked upon Wukong suspiciously, "what are you getting at Peaches?" the warrior asked the hero.

"There's no angle that I'm trying to get at here, I'm concerned for you is all," Sun said in a voice that sounded almost genuine to the other "as hard as it may be to believe Mac but I still harbour some semblance of care for you; whether you believe me or not."

Six-eared Macaque didn't meet the Great Sage's eyes, the thought of him still caring for the demon monkey after all that transpired between them. The hurt that Sun Wukong had put him through the centuries, it was difficult to believe.

The stone monkey sighed, bowing his head "I'm not asking you to believe me, or forgive me. Merely allow me to help you in this moment."

This was new, Monkey showing humility. Not the Monkey he had been friends with. If he didn't so overwhelmed currently, he may have cracked a snarky remark about it. Alas, the shadow weaver pursed his lips as he hesitated answering for a moment. "Macaque, please.. let me help you" the hero pleaded. Normally he would say something like "oh now you wanna help me" or something similar, but right now he didn't. He groaned, mumbling a "fine."

"Can I move closer?"

The darker of the two monkeys nodded, his voice too weak for words. Sun Wukong moved closer, keeping a small distance between them as to not have even their clothes touch. "So," the golden monkey began, awkwardly scratching the fur at his neck, "what exactly made you freak out?"

Macaque turned away from him, hiding all beneath his eye level in his scarf, seemingly reluctant to say. Putting a front infront of Wukong, something the hero had grown accustomed to ever since they had fallen out with eachother. Regardless of how strong the shadow monkey tried to act, the sage could easily see how bad his body was shaking.

"Being touched," the demon monkey had answered suddenly, taking the other off guard. "What?" He sputtered, looking confusingly at his rival.

Macaque groaned, "I freaked out because I was being touched" he reiterated. Sun Wukong opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it, care with what he wanted to say.

Placing his hands in his lap, "does it have to do with..." He asked though not able to ask the full question. "the Lady Bone Demon? Yeah" the shadow demon said this matter-of-factly, as if everyone was already aware of it. Monkey had originally thought it was himself who the darker monkey unable to be touched, though he didn't don't it might've contributed to it, though he wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be by Macaque saying LBD. He didn't know the full of what happened to the other monkey after they went separate ways.

"Earlier, when Mei and MK had held me, it had made me remember the chains she had spawn around me before taking over my consciousness..." Macaque took a second to take a breathe. He was questioning if he should even be telling this to the so called "Great Sage Equal To Heaven." He wasn't even sure if he could trust said monkey, he had acted so humble and genuine earlier but it could've all been a rouge to betray him again.

He runs a hand through his messy fur, an attempt to calm himself down, he probably looked absolutely pathetic in the golden monkey's eyes. He felt pathetic.

"I feel like I wanna scream whenever I'm touched," the darker monkey mumbled as his nose scrunched up, even though I secretly want to be he had added in his mind. "I feel bad about pushing those kids away in the manner that I did, they hadn't meant to do anything wrong.." he sorrowfully said.

Wukong nodded, not haven't much to add. He could and couldn't relate. The Monkey King never experienced hating touch like Macaque, but knew how it felt to both be possessed by LBD and feel guilty when someone hasn't done anything wrong.

The golden monkey however was never good with feelings or comforting, even the Bull Demon King was probably better than him. Usually he'd hug the person but it didn't really seem like that'd work in this scenario.

He wondered how he may comfort a person without physical comfort. His mind drew a blank until eventually an idea popped into his head.

He grabbed a tuft of his fur and made it transform into a weighted blanket. Wukong, without warning, wrapped it around the darker monkey's shoulders; being extra careful not to accidentally touch him in the process. "Wha-" Macaque had looked ready to fight him until momentarily stopped to look at what had been draped over him.

Wukong smiled upon the other looking accusatory towards him. "Weighted blankets provides a way to have a person feel safe, like how a hug does without being touched" the stone monkey said, sounding proud of himself.

Suddenly, the hero had felt weight being put on his shoulder. When he went to look he notice Macaque had laid his head. "Are you sure you should be....?" He began to ask the other, though too dumbfounded to finish the question.

"I initiated so it's fine," Macaque stated grumpily, "plus your blanket idea helped.." he added in a mumble though Wukong heard just find. The sage shrugged, "if you say so."

"If you tell the others about this I'll kill you where you stand Peaches" the shadow monkey threatened. The golden monkey chuckled, "same to you."

#lmk macaque #lmk #lego monkie king #lmk wukong #lmk season 3 spoilers? #shadowpeach #if you squint #angst #ptsd #fic #idk if this is OOC or not but i tried :') #probably really bad #lmk red son #lmk tang #lmk sandy #lmk pigsy #drabble

[rijl]

I was going to submit this as an ask to @levok but there weren't enough characters. People are arguing about Lisa Ambjörn's recent tweets. Some are saying we should let the fandom be the fandom, and everyone is entitled to their opinions and theories. This is true! Fan theories, ships, AUs, speculations are all part of the fandom and rightfully out of Lisa's hands.

I think the issue #1 is when fans start to feel entitled to the control of the canon. Shortly before Lisa tweeted, several people were tweeting at her, saying "we were robbed" and demanding she drop the deleted scenes. We need to accept that the story is Lisa's and the other writers' to create as they will, and ours to enjoy and play with once it's given to us. Like Lisa said in her live, if you think the story should have gone a different way, take that and write your own story! I would be so frustrated too if a bunch of people who supposedly love my creation also don't trust or accept certain decisions I made within that creation. Sure, imagine and discuss different ways the story could have gone, but please don't say the creators were wrong to make it the way they did. (This applies not just to the new ending drama, but also to debates about Sargust, Simon's storyline, etc.)

I think issue #2 is fans forgetting that creators are human beings with feelings, even when they become super successful. The tweets directed at Lisa were pretty intense. They were probably made in good humor and maybe even with the assumption that she wouldn't see them. Social media lets fans get close to creators in weird, warped way. We have to be careful with that and respect people's humanity.

Lastly, I don't feel like Lisa has been overly defensive! Every time she's responded to fandom stuff it's felt like she's just offering her own info on how TV works and her own guidance on how to enjoy media well.

#young royals #lisa ambjörn #sorry to my 11 followers that I keep posting about young royals #yr season 2

[coffeeangelinabox]

Whumpril #24: No Time To Rest

It’s impossible that they have all made it back here, that they are all sitting around the scrubbed wooden table in the mess eating as they have a hundred times before. The Valjean is drifting in the empty, no stars for miles and precious little traffic this far off the main shipping lanes. The computer will warn them if anything unexpected does come within range - and long before it can see them thanks to Gene’s modifications, but the autopilot can handle it.

They can sit, eat, rest. The whole family back together against impossible odds.

Darrow pulled out of an interrogation chamber and Lee from a prison cell. Gene and David and Jemma all in detention blocks, all subject to the Domain’s various flavours of mental torture, but here and whole and hearty and knowing themselves. He and Rosie and Nico and Casey, no damage but a few bruises and glancing lazer burns, a twisted ankle and lacerated tendril. Their impossible rescue a success. 

They should be able to stop.

And yet, Jay can’t. Some is the residual adrenaline, the nightmares and shakes. The memory every time he closes his eyes of that exo-steel wall that they’d come within millimetres of smearing themselves across, the blast that had missed Nico and Casey by a mere hair with him too far away to do anything, the electrical stun that had nearly ended his too-brief stint in command. More is that the men he has followed much of his life are falling apart.

Lee’s actions have trickled through the crew by now. He keeps to himself, locked in his cabin - for his own safety. Jay would have no hesitation is spacing him. Darrow is almost as reclusive. The betrayal by the man he considered a son has emptied him of spirit far more effectively than the Domain has ever managed. 

David, Gene and Jemma haven’t spoken about their experiences, but they’re all pale, twitchy, jumping at shadows. David had ushered Jay and Rosie and Nico and Casey to the medbay, as he always does, taken one look at his equipment and bolted. Jay had patched them up best he can, guiding Rosie through putting surgical staples down his own clavicle where he couldn’t reach with the help of a mirror and a double dose of pain killers. 

The autopilot can probably handle anything in this area of space, and Jay fervently hopes that that is the case, because no one but him is in any state to answer the alarms. He’s taken to dozing on the bridge, lulled by the gentle beep and whir of the scanners, afraid that if he falls deeply to rest in his cabin he won’t be able to respond to an emergency. When the pull of sleep becomes too seductive, too much the promise of a tide to sweep him away rather than a simple, brief moment, he gets up and walks around.  

He checks and inventories their supplies, determined they can stay here for some time yet. Time enough for someone to heal. 

If they do.

Jay has no idea how to help them. Put a ship and a course before him and there’s no one better, a blaster in hand and a plan of attack - well, hadn’t he proved his skills? Even injuries (his staples pull and itch, but they’ll do, and he knows that the ones he placed in Nico and Casey were far more expert. But this? The terrible loss of self and respect and everything yo u build yourself on that the Domain inflicts?

Darrow and Gene and David have always been so solid, the walls against which Jay has always sheltered. How now to shore up those battlements when their foundations turn out to be made of sand?

He sighs. Checks the plotter once more. Debates weighing anchor and risking the sleep that is weighing down both eyes and mind. 

But they can’t take another battle and the Domain must be searching for them. They are unlikely to simply let half a dozen prisoners including the infamous Darrow slip through their grasp without a murmur. 

How could Lee do this to them? He’s grown up with him, thought him a brother…cousin at least. And more, how can one man destroy everything Jay has built his life on with such catastrophic ease? He’d never thought of Darrow as old before, but now it is easy to see his decades, skin haggard and eyes dimmed. 

Jay checks the board again, determines that nothing will need his attention in the next few minutes and goes to check the engine room. Half his life, the engine room has been Gene’s private domain, entry by invitation only, but Gene too is aged by whatever the Domain did to him. Timid, prone to anxiety and completely shutting down if Jemma is not in immediate sight. She’d cut herself cooking one night, and the engineer had cried. 

Jay never thought he’d bought into the idea that men should act a certain way. Stars know, he cries. Jemma is the strongest of them all. He’s never thought about it, but he’d been horrified by the brawny man’s breakdown as he’d curled against the wall, weeping like a child.

He should have rescued them sooner. Not a mistake he’ll make again, if it drives him mad and sleep deprivation liquifies his brain, he’ll keep the Valjean in perfect working order, on his own if need be. He’ll be ready to go and get them, before they can be hurt like this again. 

#my writing #whump #whumpril2024 #coffeeangelinabox's space opera ocs #sleep deprivation #anxiety #protective character #posted after midnight #whumprilday24 #no time to rest

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

i always see u debating about kaiser and cars on my tl

can you write a snippet of a scenario involving those two of you ever feel up for it?

RPM!

formula one racer kaiser hcs

gender neutral reader

Kaiser lives for the thrill that comes with professional racing. It’s fast, it’s exhilarating, and if he manages to emerge victorious (as he often does, given that he’s the irreplaceable ace of his team), he gets to hog all of the glory for himself. The high stakes of the sport aside, Formula One lets him drive around in all the cool sports cars that people couldn’t even dream about getting into otherwise, and the amount of sponsors and important people he has wrapped around his little finger goes a long way to stroke his already intolerable ego.

He tends to be a very aggressive driver, with his style being focused solely on himself and gaining the fastest time possible. He isn’t the type of driver to play nice just so someone else on his team can get a better time—nah, he always wants to be the first one across the finish line, and that’s how he trains and invests himself into becoming. Even his own management has given up on trying to teach him some manners; as long as Kaiser continually dominates the races, they can rake in even bigger prospects. So, as annoying as it might be to face off against a driver as incessant as Kaiser, people still have to acknowledge his formidable ambition and his skill behind the wheel.

His fellow racer is none other than Ness, and unlike Kaiser who has a very offensive driving style, Ness tends to clean up after Kaiser on the defensive end. Once Kaiser gets in the front and in a good position to either steal or retain the first place spot, Ness ends up following him closely from the back and calmly driving defensively so that nobody else can pass him. The Emperor and the Magician are a scary duo to face off against on the track, and thanks to the perfected chemistry between the two, Kaiser and Ness usually come in first and second respectively to place both drivers on the podium. Kaiser likes having Ness as his other racer the most thanks to how well their playstyles mesh together. 

Despite being one of the world’s best race car drivers, no one trusts him to drive off the track. Poor boy loves speeding and making the sharpest turns ever, and he ends up getting confined to the passenger seat when he’s not driving professionally. He probably even tried to buy one of his professional cars to use for everyday purposes, only for the company president to chew him out and tell him that he can buy whatever expensive car he wants with his salary, but the very fragile, not-built-for-regular-usage race cars are not up for purchase for him to do as he pleases. Still, you bet he’s on the lookout for the first opportunity where he can go cruising down his neighborhood in one of his babies.

Loves, loves, LOVES all the attention he gets from his fans. The very first thing he does after winning a race is prancing out of his car, taking his helmet off, and shaking his long hair out slightly just to listen to everyone screaming at him. Let’s face it, he has everything going for him: a successful career, the skills to back it up, and he’s ridiculously handsome on top of it. Fans are always asking him questions, begging for an autograph, and snapping pictures of him whenever he walks past, and photographs of him post-race all smug and fitted in that skin-tight F1 uniform of his are plastered all over the corners of the Internet for everyone to enjoy. 

Even in this AU, his tattoos are probably sensational too. It’s hard for people to catch a glimpse of it thanks to how much of his body his uniform covers, but catching a glimpse of his signature blue rose and inked thorns peeking over the collar of his suit or the pretty crown on the back of his hand is enough to drive people wild. Kaiser knows this, and being the cheeky tease he is, he’ll sometimes take pictures for his social media where he’ll deliberately show bits and pieces of his tattoo. God forbid he ever shows the entire thing someday—the entire racing stadium would be stuffed with his fans in the seats attempting to see it in real life.

Kaiser has a potty mouth when it comes to talking into his radio while driving. Once he’s behind the wheel and on the racetrack, the boy does whatever he pleases. His team could be begging him to slow down or change his tires, but if he thinks that’ll only hinder his performance, he’s quick to ignore them and cuss them out over the radio. Kaiser tends to make the right call about whether or not he needs something, so the team is used to turning a blind eye to his snappy manner on the racetrack. But if they really need someone to bring him in and put him in his place, they usually ask one of the senior racers and Kaiser’s mentor, Noel Noa, to take over the radio and scold Kaiser for a bit. No matter how much of a talented racer as Kaiser might be, he can’t win over someone like Noa. Kaiser also has a tendency to slip into talking in German once he gets in the groove, so it’s expected of anyone joining his team to be fluent in the language.

“Didn’t I do great? No need to be shy in praising me. We both know there’s no one else out there who races as well as I do. Hey, even someone like me needs some motivation to keep going. And where better to get it than from my favorite person? I don’t have all day, you know!”

x

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #formula one is sm fun to watch AOUGIHAGUASUHDGHIASD ofc i have to stuff my faves into an f1 au #i can already hear slay lock server preparing my kaiserkisser allegations (sigh)

[lemonhemlock]

I'm the prev anon, I'm glad you like the theory! It also just hit me like lightning when I was thinking about Maegor and if he was motivated by prophecy, and then suddenly it dawned on me, "what if Maegor is why the prophecy is only told to heirs?" Because I did see a lot of people talking about the HotD prophecy thinking it didn't make sense for only kings and heirs to know about it, because of both how Maegor messed up the line of succession and the question of what if something happened to the king before they managed to tell their heir? It seemed like an inefficient and flimsy system for something that seems so important, but idea that Maegor's usurping the throne was what caused that system in the first place makes a lot of sense to me!

You also brought up a good point about how it's probable that whole Targaryen family might have known prior to Maegor. Beforehand, people were asking how Jaehaerys I was able to know the prophecy when only the heirs were told, despite Jaehaerys never having been officially named heir, I thought it was either his mother Alyssa Velaryon or his sister Rhaena who told him, because they were told by their husbands who were both named heirs. But honestly? Maybe Aegon I just told them all lmao. Maybe Jaehaerys and Alysanne knew all along, because at that point in time the whole family was close enough that they thought they could just keep the secret. And it was only afterwards when they started having children that they established the tradition to only tell the heirs. It explains a lot, I think.

It also adds something to Viserys and Daemon's relationship in the show, and the fact that Viserys didn't tell Daemon about it. It shows that Viserys never really saw him as worthy enough to be his heir, but is it because maybe Viserys was a little afraid? Did he fear that Daemon knowing would cause him to try and usurp him? They do have some similarities to the brotherly pairing of Aenys and Maegor, so did Viserys fear the same thing? (Which is ironic, considering that I do genuinely think that Daemon would never overthrow his brother, even if he did know)

Finally, a tiny question I've also been pondering: do you think Aemma Arryn knew? Obviously very few people being told was supposed to keep the secret secure, but I feel like maaaaybe Viserys would have trusted her enough to tell her about it. Maybe her knowing could have been intended to be a back-up in case something happened to him. Could also add something to their relationship as well.

Hello again! I also think it's probable that Aenys just told all of his children and his wife. Makes more sense if everyone knew, as opposed to Aenys only telling Prince Aegon. Then Aegon must have broken the system for some reason, went rogue and told Rhaena. So far in the dynastic history, I don't see any reason why Egg 1 would decide to gatekeep this information within his own family. Succession was supposed to happen in accordance with normal Andal customs: Conqueror -> eldest son Aenys -> his eldest son, Aegon. Maegor was the one who upset this balance, since he was way down the line, behind Prince Aegon's children Aerea and Rhaella and, after that, behind all of Aenys' other children. The audacity, right?

RE: Daemon - perhaps it's true that Viserys never really saw Daemon as his heir. But I think that was borne more from this genuine, stalwart, blind belief he had that he was going to get sons eventually. Like that dream visited him at one point and he became 100% convinced by its validity - though it's debatable whether it was an actual dragon dream (he has had none other than that one - seems suspicious) or just a regular dream he put too much credence in, because he wanted so, so much to be a dragon dreamer himself. So, in that sense, maybe it explains more how he wasn't really bothered about Daemon's shenanigans and was so indulgent with him. He can misbehave all he wants, he's never going to be King, so what does it matter? Let him have his fun, right?

RE: Aemma. Hmm. Honestly, this could go both ways. Viserys would be the only way for her to find out - Daella dies in childbed and no way would Alysanne have a reason to tell her, I don't think. I could see Viserys both keeping to "the system" (lol) - if Jaehaerys told him on his deathbed, after the Great Council of 101, and impressed upon him the necessity of the king-to-heir pipeline. I can also see him confiding in Aemma, since he did love her, and this making her more resolute towards "doing her duty" and producing a son for Viserys - to echo her words to Rhaenyra about how the birthing bed is their battlefield.

It's interesting to think that Rhaenys could have known, too! Aemon was the heir for years and she was his only child - 18 when he died, married and pregnant. On the one hand, if she knew, she must have not told her children for some reason, because Laena would have told Daemon if she knew. Anyway, this is just show-only. Textually, Daemon could have very well found out via the Laena/Rhaenys pipeline.

There is also the question of how Aegon III found out so as to pass it on - Rhaenyra must have told him after Joffrey died and they fled King's Landing, just before she met her death on Dragonstone. What a roller coaster!

Of course, in the books, GRRM can decide to make the secret less gatekeep-y according to the needs of each generation, so as to make sure the prophecy does somehow pass on to Rhaegar - who was nothing if not prophecy-obsessed. But Prince Viserys never gets told and, thus, he can't tell Daenerys in turn. We don't know what Lyanna knew and what she told Ned, since Ned never specifies in his POV and, most importantly, never tells Jon. BUT. Perhaps he told Howland Reed?

It would make sense that the history books haven't recorded this, since the maesters writing the histories wouldn't have been in on it.

#ask #anon #maegor the cruel #maegor i targaryen #aegon's prophecy #the prince that was promised #viserys i targaryen #aemma arryn #daemon targaryen