#@Vastly-Remarkable

[avelera]

*whispers* Viktor never once says anything mean or belittling to Jayce after they become partners. Not one insulting "you" statement, not one disagreement where he doesn't remained focused on the point of contention. He never makes ad hominem attacks, he never insults Jayce's appearance or intelligence.

Literally the single meanest thing he says to Jayce that could be considered a "you" statement is "Your mind has become rigid." Basically, he's saying that Jayce has suffered so much recently that it's closed his mind to broader intellectual possibilities like, that is barely an insult, and clearly Viktor just means it as a statement of fact, if not a challenge for Jayce to joyously consider possibilities again. And by the way? That statement is when Viktor is in his full his villain arc. It's remarkable because it's the only time he's pointed out a perceived flaw in Jayce since the night when he questioned if Jayce signed his notes out of being egotistical.

From the moment Jayce told Viktor about how beautiful magic could be, arguably once Jayce became a person to Viktor rather than a subject of academic discipline or skepticism, Viktor has not once leveled a personal attack against him as a person. Not even during the fight on the bridge. Not even when he called Jayce's Councilor work a waste of our time. Not even when Jayce was considering making Hextech weapons, Viktor still remained focused on the substance of the argument, expressed incredulity, anger, even disgust that Jayce would consider making weapons, but he never said it was because Jayce was stupid or privileged or blind. He pointed out specifically that he knew Jayce felt trapped by the decision, he knew Jayce was being manipulated, and then, in a very pointed manner, Viktor reminded Jayce that there's always a choice, challenging Jayce to stand firm and do what was right.

Even when they parted ways in 2.02, Viktor didn't say there was anything wrong with Jayce. He just said their paths had diverged, again not saying anything was wrong with Jayce, or even his choices, but rather that they're two different people who had stayed together longer than their diverging goals normally would have allowed because of the affection they held for each other.

I don't know, I get why people write Viktor as catty or mean or dismissive of Jayce. There's definitely some quotes from the day they met, before they become partners, that lend to the idea that Viktor can be quite dry and sharp with others. And conflict is the stuff of good fiction so again, totally get putting some conflict between him and Jayce in fic.

But I also think there's a tendency in derivative works like fic to Flanderize the characters, or worse, put them into narrow archetype boxes that are vastly different from their more interesting and nuanced canon selves.

How many times have we seen a wiggly man/straight man or blue vs. red personality partnership duo? How often have we seen those partners not be able to fucking stand each other, who are bickering all the time, who are snide or backtalk, or are perpetually sarcastic?

It's so common that I get why people see it with Jayce and Viktor but that's why it's so damn fascinating to me that they aren't like that.

Jayce and Viktor don't suffer each other unwillingly at any point, even when they're having a goddamn flying superhero fight in the final episode they're talking about how they're happy to see each other and praying that the other will please step away from this destructive path! They don't want to hurt each other, even verbally!

During the years of their partnership, they're constantly delighted by the other's presence, they are instantly comfortable together and never have a bad word to say to or about each other. They actually don't bicker! When they have disagreements, they stay entirely focused on the point of the disagreement and they never dip into personal attacks of any kind.

Even the tone of the time Jayce yells at him on the bridge, arguably their most acrimonious moment in the whole first season, isn't an actual argument, no more than a parent yelling at their child for running into traffic is an argument. Jayce says awful things but it's clear his anger comes from fear for Viktor and for their precarious situation. And it's clear this is a deeply unusual moment for both of them, Viktor is taken aback at how unusual it is, Jayce once called out backs down immediately, arguably because it's so unnatural for them to fight at all that it takes the wind out of the sails of Jayce's anger instantly when he realizes he's crossed a line.

No one can drag a bad word about Viktor out of Jayce, and vice versa! When Singed implies that Viktor might lose loved ones over his choices, Viktor immediately (and correctly!) states that Jayce will understand.

They are rigorously protective of one another too. Arguably all the times Viktor excludes Jayce from his Hexcore experiments in S1 is to protect him from his reckless and likely illegal experiments (as well as not wanting Jayce to stop him and wanting to live, but it can be many things). Jayce constantly cites Viktor as his partner and constantly reiterates that Viktor is his priority in life, that saving Viktor comes first. Jayce overthrows the goddamn founder of the city in order to protect Viktor!

Jayce's love for Viktor is so extreme that literally in S2, the only person who can convince Jayce to hurt Viktor, after seeing the post-apocalyptic Hell of a future that is caused by him, is Viktor himself. Jayce doesn't even get mad at Viktor after he learns Viktor is the cause of what he saw! He is instead desperate to get back, to avert the damage caused by their joint work in Hextech, and saved Viktor from the fate worse than death that is Mage Viktor's total isolation in the aftermath. And every step of the way, even knowing what he knows it's clear he's in agony at the thought of having to raise a hand to Viktor at all.

Now of course I'm getting into just how insane their love for one another gets in S2, but I just feel so baffled sometimes reading fic where Viktor is constantly undercutting, insulting, or belittling Jayce every which way. He never once does that after the partnership begins. And it makes me so insane because we have so many partnerships in media that do devolve into sarcasm, cattiness, and backbiting but Jayce and Viktor aren't one of them and that's really really fucking interesting and worthy of exploration I think.

[ghouljams]

Ceo!Price and his protege Gaz who you, much to Price's chagrin, vastly prefer the company of. Mostly because he actually lets you get your work done and doesn't submit bloated expense reports in the vain hope that you'll go confront him about it and not just submit the reports to accounting and let them yell at him.

Gaz is nice. Gaz is charming. Gaz doesn't stare at your tits even when you're wearing a turtleneck, and he certainly doesn't treat you like you're only around for eye candy. Gaz thanks you for the hard work you do and you're not afraid to tell your boss that with a huff when he grumbles for the thousandth time about how he'd rather have "something else" for lunch.

Mr. Price does not care for that snide remark. He does, in fact, threaten to put you over his knee if you'd like "something to complain about."

You take your complaint straight to HR for the billionth time. They don't even let you in the door.

[wordsarelife]

—gorgeous

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: being in love with your best friend might be a bad idea, but drowning your sorrows in alcohol might be your worst one yet

warnings: underage drinking, partying, no usage of y/n, a few suggestive remarks

notes: this is my official entry for the hogmarch challenge of @thatdammchickennugget using prompt 2: “are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?”

the night was rushing fast away in front of your eyes, easy chatter, at the start of the party, quickly turning into drunken singing and shouting along to the music that was drowning out everything else.

the dim blue light that was shining through the ravenclaw common room did it‘s best to worsen the drunken state many of your classmates were in.

mattheo was sitting on a couch, wearing his usual cool demeanour and being surrounded by his friends. they were known for getting a bit drunk, but never making an embarrassment out of themselves through loud singing or obnoxious dancing.

and normally you were known for sitting right next to them and doing the same.

even though it was dark, you could see mattheo's head turn and his eyes searching the crowd for you. you had excused yourself to get something to drink. that had been over ten minutes ago and you were really debating to just go to bed.

the night had turned out differently than you had expected and you weren't really in the mood to act like it hadn't.

"someone is looking for you" a voice behind you said and you turned around startled.

"harry" you said relieved when you recognized the boy.

it wasn't like the two of you were friends, after all you were coming from vastly different groups, but since a project in astronomy you had become acquaintances, sometimes sharing a few nice words at parties.

"why are you standing here all alone? why aren't you with your friends?"

"why aren't you?" you shot back, making harry quirk an eyebrow.

"well played" he complimented and smiled "i was trying to get away from dean and ginny making out"

"ouch" it wasn't really a well known fact that harry fancied ginny, but you had noticed it right away a few parties ago and he had been able to read you well enough to know that you had known.

"it's alright" he shrugged "i just don't want to sit next to it"

"who would?" you asked sarcastically as you eyes fell on the couple, hungrily making out on the couch, successfully pushing seamus off.

it seemed that a few people felt way too comfortable in the ravenclaw common room.

"oi, it's no fun with these two" seamus complained, sympathetically hitting harry's shoulder on the way to the table with the drinks.

"back to you" harry grinned, seemingly uncomfortable with talking about his secret crush on ginny weasley more than necessary "why are you avoiding riddle? i thought you two were the best of friends"

"i'm not avoiding him" you said defensively, taking a big gulp from the vodka in your cup to prevent yourself from saying any more.

harry took a moment to study your facial expression, before he sighed in a tone that almost made you tear up "oh"

"no" you shook your head "no 'oh', stop looking at me like that, potter"

harry laughed dryly "too late" he shrugged "so, being the best of friends is your actual problem, huh?"

you didn't answer his question, but took another sip from the cup. immediately regretting it.

harry cringed "if you continue drinking at that rate you won't be able to speak a coherent sentence in a few minutes"

"maybe i don't want to speak coherent sentences anymore"

"so we're already at the point of drowning our sorrows in alcohol?" he raised his cup and took a sip "no, you're right, it doesn't look like you're unluckily in love with riddle at all"

you sighed "okay, fine, you're obviously smarter than you look" you rolled your eyes.

"well, ouch" harry said offended, but you could see a hint of mischief in his eyes. "am i allowed to join your little club of self-pity?"

"sure" you nodded "the more the merrier i guess"

"there's no better way to spend a party than drown yourself in self-pity with the girl you're kind of on good terms with"

"yeah, totally" you grinned "but i think if we continue talking at that rate we will be able to call each other friends in an hour"

"deal" harry laughed, before he grabbed the bottle of vodka on the table behind you, filling both your own and his cup back up. he put the bottle back and held his cup in your direction "to unrequited love" he said dramatically.

you grimaced, but raised your cup to clink against his. "to unrequited love" you toasted "and unexpected friendships" you added.

"yeah that too" he smiled before you both took a big sip from your cups.

"vodka is fucking disgusting" you complained and harry nodded, making a face that would allow the assumption that he had been thinking the same thing.

"at least it does the trick"

you and harry spend the next hour recklessly sipping vodka, while you were telling each other ridiculous stories. the vodka had a quicker effect than either of you had thought, making the both of you dance and refer to each other as friends sooner than you had predicted.

just as 'dancing queen' began to play and you were twirling on the dancefloor, did you notice the empty spot on the couch occupied by your friends. there was only one of them missing. before it could really register in your brain who exactly was missing, a voice rang out next to you.

"make room, potter" you and harry both turned around, looking surprised at the arrival of mattheo riddle.

"matty" you laughed after the few seconds it had taken you to recognize your best friend.

mattheo's arm darted to the side, catching you before you could fall to the ground. you had made the attempt to hug him, missing his body by a few feet. you had been closer to hugging cormac mclaggen who was standing off to the side.

"there you are" mattheo noted, gently taking your cup out of your hand, sniffing the contents and grimacing at the strong sent of vodka, mixed with a bit of orange juice.

"do you want some?" you slurred, grinning up at the boy, who's arm was still holding you steady.

"how many of these has she had?" mattheo asked harry, thinking he would be a little less wasted than you.

"like thirty-four thousand?" harry answered before him and you broke into simultaneous laughter.

"had to have been a lot" mattheo muttered, noticing the way you were laughing with the chosen one, gripping his arm, like you were old friends.

he let go of you, taking harry's cup as well, emptying the both into the bucket under the table with the drinks. he came back right in time to witness you saying goodbye to harry with a dramatic hug, kissing both his cheeks and lastly his forehead.

"yeah, that's enough" mattheo said, dragging your body back against his when he noticed you going in to plant more kisses on harry's face. he looked bad enough, the red lipstick you were wearing leaving marks all over his face.

harry smiled before he waved at you and turned around, stumbling through the crowd of students probably in search of his redheaded best friend.

mattheo rolled his eyes. "you're absolutely wasted, darling"

you turned around to look at him and unconsciously bring a bit of space between the both of you "is it that obvious?" you asked.

mattheo watched with a smirk, how you tried to balance yourself out, to just be able to stand. your arm ended up stabilizing your own hip and you almost fell full on to the side, when you moved your leg.

"not really" mattheo grinned "come on, baby" he softly gripped your waist on either side, guiding you in the direction of your friends. you closed your eyes, leaning your head against his shoulder, letting him walk you through the room willingly.

"have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"i am?" he asked laughing.

"so gorgeous that it hurts"

"you're flattering me" he smiled, nudging your arm. "but maybe you should concentrate more on walking in the right direction"

he was right. it was taking you way too long to cross the room, thanks to your inability to still walk in a straight line, even with his help.

"hey" mattheo greeted, making the eyes of his friends turn on him. "i'm bringing her to bed"

"already?" enzo asked skeptically, checking his watch "it's only two a.m."

"hey guys!" you greeted when your eyes snapped open. you bend forward, plastering a kiss onto enzo’s cheek. "how the party you doing? good? good!" you smiled, nodding as your eyes fell closed, as you leaned back onto mattheo again.

"what?" theo laughed at your slurred words that had not made the slightest bit of sense.

"yeah, i get it now" enzo nodded understandingly, trying to rub your lipstick off his cheek.

"she's only been gone for an hour" blaise said unbelievingly "how did she get that drunk?"

"she's had approximately like more than a thousand vodka-o's according to potter" mattheo chuckled.

"potter?" draco repeated disgustingly "what has she been doing with potter?"

"harry and i are best friends" you gushed, giving draco an angry look. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, but without questioning your answer.

"let's not get ahead of ourselves, love" mattheo argued, a bit of jealousy in his voice.

"you don't have to be jealous" you softly touched his cheek "you know i love you more than anyone, honey"

blaise let out a loud whistling noise "seems likes she's your girl after all, riddle"

"oh shut up" mattheo said at the same time as you said "of course"

"better bring her to bed now" theo advised and you could feel mattheo nod next to you.

"i'll be back in a few minutes" mattheo promised, as he softly turned you around to be able to walk you in the direction of the door.

"no he won't" you slurred, turning your head in the direction your friends, gripping mattheo's neck and winking at them.

enzo hollored and theo laughed, while blaise repeated the whisteling.

"cheers to that" even draco was amused about you, as he raised his cup in your direction.

"i'll be back" mattheo assured again, pushing you forward.

"no you won't" theo shook his head, smirking as he watched his friend roll his eyes and gently guide you through the crowd.

"how about a shot of tequila?" you suggested to mattheo, perfectly awake again. there was no hint of the tiredness that had consumed your body only a few minutes ago.

maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sound of a familiar voice indicating the beginning of the song 'whatta man' by salt-n-pepa, which was now booming through the boxes.

"no, no more alcohol" mattheo shook his head, suddenly being the kind of responsible he had never seen himself to become.

"oh my god!" you gushed when you finally reconized the song "that's my favorite song! let us dance, matty!"

he was distracted by two hufflepuff boys almost running into him, when you saw the perfect opportunity to escape his hold. stupidly enough, that was the only thing you could see, as you had promptly gotten lost in the crowd of people.

mattheo was at your side only a second after, making you realize that you had in fact just turned around, without moving more than a feet away from him.

"if you don't come with me on your own accord, i'll have to carry you" mattheo warned.

you giggled, clasping your hands around his biceps "let us dance" you pleaded, completely ignoring what he had said.

mattheo furrowed his eyebrows, still waiting for you to reply to what he had said, but you were busy watching a few ravenclaws and hufflepuffs downing shots. "or we could down some shots" you mumbled.

mattheo took that as answer enough, clasping one of his hands around your forearm and the other around your leg, as he bend down to throw you over his shoulder.

"matty" you protested, as he began to walk you out of the common room. you gave up arguing and continued to sing along to the chorus of 'whatta man' as mattheo walked you both through the crowd of people.

as soon as the door to the ravenclaw common room fell close behind the two of you, you slumped down on mattheo's shoulder, the tiredness hitting you immediately.

"do you want to walk on your own now, baby?" mattheo asked, but he could feel you shake your head. "can you use you words?" he was growing a bit concerned at your sudden mood shift, trying to make sure that you were still somewhat alright.

"no" you pouted "i don't want to use my words"

"you just did"

"i never let a man tell me what to do" you slurred and mattheo had to chuckle.

"clearly" he muttered under his breath.

he walked through the halls of the castle quickly, making sure that you wouldn't be discovered by one of the teachers. you would probably kill him if one of them saw you like this. you never really got that drunk often, so it was on mattheo to make sure that no one found out about it now.

he should've searched for you immediately after you hadn't come back. he shouldn't have waited an hour. but he was scared of annoying you. you were always together and he had taken your absence as a sign for you needing some space.

if he could, he would follow you around all the time, preferably holding your hand while doing so. maybe in another universe you would want him to do that.

"when are we there?" you asked, your hand wandering across his shoulder, before it finally found it's place in his hair, gripping it tightly.

"any second now" mattheo was trying to make sure not to shake your body too much, as he quickly walked down the steps to the dungeon. he wouldn't want you to throw up. "do you feel sick, sweetheart?"

"no" you muttered "i just want to sleep"

"i know, i know" mattheo patted the back of your leg "we're almost at the door"

he hadn't lied. it only took a few more seconds, before he whispered the password and the door to the slytherin common room opened, revealing the familiar green lighting as he walked you both inside. he crossed the room, climbing the stairs to your dorm.

he took his time to set you down on your bed, making sure that no quick movement could make you feel uncomfortable. he unfolded your blanket, spreading it across your body.

he was ready to leave the room, before you called him back.

"matty" you cried and he perked up, walking back to the bed. you threw the blanket to the side dramatically, revealing your trousers and shirt. "i can't sleep like this"

"oh" mattheo said dumbfounded "do you want me to take them off?" he asked slowly, gripping the waistband of your trousers.

"are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?" you giggled at the joke with your eyes still closed.

"you're really that drunk" mattheo answered, rolling his eyes at your unseriousness "and it's not funny"

"it's a bit funny" you opened your eyes and giggled at his facial expression "why are you so serious, matty?"

"i should've kept an eye on you" he answered "you don't like to be drunk"

"i can make my own decisions" you argued, crossing your arms.

"obviously" mattheo nodded "should i take them off?" he repeated his question from earlier, but the tone of his voice made you sober up immediately, well at least a bit.

"are you really angry at me right now?" you asked surprised.

"i had to leave the party to bring you to bed"

"that's not the reason you're angry" you said, knowing him well enough to see through his lie.

"okay, fine" he sat down on the bed and you sat up, drawing your knees to your chest and hugging them with your arms. "maybe i'm a bit angry that you would rather spend your evening getting drunk with potter than speaking to me"

"matty"

"no, it's fine" he shook his head "i shouldn't be angry about how you choose to spend your time. goodnight" he stood up from the bed, walking to the door quickly, so voice rang out before he was able to twist the doorknob.

"can you please just stay?" you asked and he turned around in surprise.

"what?"

"maybe i chose to spend time with harry, but i'm choosing to spend the night with you. isn't that more important?"

"that's not how it works"

"okay, fine" you said, tired of arguing "do you want to know the truth? spending time with you is super hard while i'm madly in love with you" even though you were a bit more sober than before, he could still recognize the drunkness in your voice, especially because you were never that bold.

"madly in love with me, huh?" mattheo repeated surprised, his signature smirk immediately replacing the frown on his face.

“it’s embarrassing, i know” you buried your face in your hands, hiding your rosy cheeks from his eyes. he softly took your hands in his, freeing your face of them.

"don't hide from me" he smiled "and it’s not embarrassing, because the truth is, that i'm madly in love with you too"

you smiled up at him. “can you kiss me then?” he smiled at your question, but shook his head.

“no more kisses tonight” he muttered, softly stroking your hair “we can do that tomorrow, as often as you want to, when you’re sober again”

“okay” you nodded.

he gently helped you to exchange your trousers for pyjama bottoms, before he took of his shirt and climbed into bed next to you. you cuddled close to his chest, your hair tickling him whenever you moved.

"blaise was right" you said finally "i'm your girl after all"

"you always were" mattheo whispered back, softly kissing your forehead, before the both of you fell asleep, holding onto each other.

[cherienymphe]

There Will Be Blood

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader x Lady Margot Fenring

Summary: Knowing that you are too afraid to ever find yourself alone with the Harkonnen heir, Lady Margot secures his heart's desire for his celebration day.

warnings: Dub-Con (use of the voice), blood, knifeplay, choking, threesome, mentions of cannibalism, non canon ages, spoiler free

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

⭑

“She looks almost good enough to eat,” were the words that reached your ears in that low timbre, head tilted as he gazed at you. “I don’t know whether to feed her to my darlings…”

The feeling of his finger underneath your chin was almost nonexistent as he tilted your head up. You were too anxious to look away—his reputation preceding him—and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed, held captive by that dark blue gaze you swore was actually black as night in certain lighting.

“…or make her one of them.”

You swallowed at that, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the subtle movement.

He was referring to his ‘pets’ as you knew he sometimes called them, the three strikingly beautiful Harkonnen women with an appetite for human flesh. The thought of being killed and fed to the women in question made your heart skip a beat…but the thought of being added to his harem made you shudder.

…and you couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad.

Hands slid over your shoulders from behind, making you shiver again, and your lashes fluttered at the feeling of soft lips grazing your throat. You faintly tried to remember how and why you ended up here, and you could only recall staring into enticing blue eyes. Her familiar face was all that stood out in your memory, features soft and lips curved into an even softer smile. With all of that being said though, you couldn’t remember your thought process behind following her perfect figure down the hall.

Lady Margot Fenring—golden-haired and willowy with that Bene Gesserit serene repose about her that you found subtly disturbing.

Usually.

In this moment, her calm disposition and quiet authority made your heart race. She was a comforting contrast to the man before you, his intense gaze and sharp features serving to make your imagination run wild with what he was capable of. He was so different from his brother, vastly so from his uncle, but he still possessed similarities with the two that made you nervous all the same.

Especially with his hand so close to your throat.

“This one isn’t for consumption.”

Her lips brushed your skin as her soft and even tone filled your ears.

“Not in the literal sense, at least…” mirth colored her voice at this remark. “I saw you watching her.”

Those words made your heart sink, and you were sure that the brief stab of fear you felt passed through your eyes.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. He was the kind of man that would kill someone solely because he felt like it. He had an animalistic stare that made alarm bells go off in your head, telling you to never take your eyes off of him—to always keep him in your line of sight. He was the kind of man you couldn’t let your guard down around.

He was the kind of man you didn’t want watching you.

As if he could read your worrisome thoughts, a glint passed through the man’s eyes, and he leaned in closer. Not one to conceal his feelings in any situation, his expression twisted into one of amusement, a sight that made your hair stand on end. Those soft hands slid over your shoulders and down your arms, gently caressing them.

Don’t be afraid.

A voice that didn’t sound like your own filled your mind, its influence settling into your bones and deep into the crevices of your subconscious. You felt yourself relax, felt the tension leaving you, and her soft hum had you leaning back into her chest. You didn’t want to be afraid, and you felt confident in repeating those words to yourself, confirming that there was nothing to be afraid of.

“You want her,” her fingers grazed your jaw, briefly touching his own. “…but she fears you far too much to ever find yourself alone with her.”

“I like them afraid.”

Those words made you blink, your lips parting at the sincerity in them. By the way he held your gaze, you could tell he wanted you to know he meant it, but that voice in your mind assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of. Not when he leaned in closer, and not when his hand traveled from your chin and down to circle your neck.

“You get too excited,” the blonde woman steadily told him, a hint of authority in her voice. “You would kill her.”

Her fingers on your jaw forced you to turn your head, making you look at her, and when she kissed you, you welcomed it. It was a comforting kiss, one that relaxed you further, and you couldn’t help but to close your eyes and bask in the feel of her lips touching yours. Your skin grew warm, and you touched her arm.

“I’m here to keep you in line.”

She spoke the words into your mouth, but she wasn’t talking to you.

Feyd-Rautha’s lack of protest or anger at her words gave you the impression that you were being included in something that already existed. He let her kiss you, the heat of his gaze burning a hole into the side of your face as she drew you in closer. The feeling in your chest was both light and heavy, and you felt as if you couldn’t get close enough to her.

Lady Margot had an aura about her that you’d always been ensnared by—the way she talked, the way she swayed when she walked, and especially the way those attentive eyes watched everyone and everything so closely. She smelled fresh and crisp, an airy feminine aroma filling your nose as her hand rested on the side of your throat, Feyd-Rautha’s arm long falling back at his side.

When she pulled away, only the tip of her nose lightly touched yours.

“He wants you to touch him.”

Her voice reverberated in your mind, influencing your thoughts and movements, and you found yourself turning to look at the man in question. Your advance was slow, hesitant in reaching out to place your hands on the black fabric of his shirt. He visibly shuddered at the contact, and despite the fact that you were clothed, you felt vulnerable and naked underneath his intense gaze.

“This one is fragile, Feyd-Rautha,” amusement danced around her words. “You have to play gentle if you want to keep her.”

Almost as if he wanted to defy her, his hand quickly wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you closer. Your heart stuttered at the action, and despite that brief bout of adrenaline—your body’s way of telling you that you were in danger—that influential voice in your mind told you that you were safe. Your breathing was shallow as you looked at him with wide eyes.

His own gaze traveled over your form, his perusal slow and his hand tightening. You reached up, grabbing his arm, and the noise of protest he made was a cross between a grunt and a hum. His nose touched yours, and when he spoke again, it sounded like there was gravel in his throat.

“Do you fear me?”

The thought settled in your mind that he wanted you to say yes, and so you did, barely whispering it.

That pleased him, and he presented you with a terrifying smile. His fingers were pressing into the skin of your neck, and his blue gaze studied yours, eyes flickering between your own. There was a carnal excitement there that told you he lusted for more than just your body, and when you winced at the grip he had on your throat, it only grew.

“Good,” he praised in a guttural tone.

Kissing Feyd-Rautha was nothing like kissing Lady Margot.

It wasn’t meant to be a gentle and comforting experience, but instead one that forced you to face every one of your discomforts head on. His teeth pressing into your lips, his hand cutting off your airway, the lack of warning as he pushed you back. Every action was designed to make you squirm, and despite that feeling, heat still settled in the pit of your stomach as his weight pressed down on you.

Lady Margot’s gentle touch made your leg tingle. She was pulling on it, making room for him while her other hand grabbed your arm, and you shuddered at the feel of her lips kissing a path to your wrist. The contrast in their efforts made your head spin, and Feyd-Rautha’s constricting grip on your throat only disappeared when his lips replaced his hand instead.

Pain blossomed beneath where his teeth were, and you gasped, chest arching up into his involuntarily. His hands on your frame were tense, like he wanted to twist and tear you apart, but something disallowed him from doing so. When he kissed you again, the pain in your neck lingered, flaring from spot to spot, and you didn’t doubt that bruises would be there.

When you were forced to sit up, the soft and thin fabric of your dress was pulled at by two sets of hands. A feminine touch loosened the back, her lips following behind where his once were, soothing the irritated skin there. He, on the other hand, was yanking your sleeves down, and the sound of a slight tear or two in the fabric could be heard.

The cold air hit you for half a second before a warm mouth covered a sensitive bud before it even had time to harden. The sharp feeling of his teeth pressing into the skin of your breast made you shy away, but with Lady Margot at your back, you had nowhere to go. Her lips along your neck and shoulder was a welcomed feeling, a soothing contrast against the pain the Harkonnen man was inflicting. It almost faded to the background completely when her hand found its way between your thighs.

Your lips parted, and your lashes fluttered, and you couldn’t help but to lift your hips. Her fingers were soft against your skin, the appendages sliding between your folds and stroking you. One of your hands reached down to rest on hers, riding along with her ministrations while the other reached up to grip the arm of the man intent on breaking skin.

The feel of Lady Margot’s fingers pushing into you and curving against your walls made you circle your hips.  The pain and pleasure were starting to blend together so closely that you couldn’t tell what you liked and didn’t like. His teeth scraping down your torso had your breath hitching, and the Bene Gesserit woman behind you hummed when you clenched around her fingers. It sounded like a noise of approval, and when she spoke, her tone and words confirmed that suspicion.

“She likes that,” she mused, her free hand coming up to run over your chest. “She’s starting to like the pain.”

She was right.

Almost as if that triggered something in him, the blue-eyed man relinquished control completely, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as he pulled you forward. The action caused you to collapse, your head resting in Lady Margot’s lap as he finished removing your dress, the fabric falling around you in tatters. There was only a brief bout of alarm when he brandished a small blade from his waist.

There was that voice again, settling and taking up residence in your mind, telling you not to be afraid.

Pain flared along your skin in a singular path as the tip of the blade just barely grazed your flesh. It was so sharp that a thin line of blood followed the weapon’s descent, but it was gone as quickly as it came as his tongue slipped past his lips, ingesting your essence and soothing that sting. Your eyes closed, and you welcomed her kiss as she leaned over.

Feyd-Rautha’s own lips kissed you too…just before he sank his teeth into your skin.

You were given bites and nips between the kisses—along your hip and along your thighs and eventually in between your thighs. Your hips lifted, and your back arched, and you unintentionally bit Lady Margot’s lip. She smiled into the kiss, and you knew that she could taste the same blood you felt on your own tongue.

Feyd-Rautha was a mad man between your legs, tongue and teeth playing with you, the blade in his hand pressed against your thigh. The soles of your feet pressed into the bed, wanting to both run away from the pain and run towards it. Every shallow cut made into your skin was soothed by his tongue almost immediately, and you wanted to be embarrassed by how wet their combined ministrations made you.

When you found yourself on your knees, the blade at your throat and his naked chest at your back, you could see the way Lady Margot’s gaze held his. Her face was serene and thoughtful, almost as if she were having a silent conversation with the man at your back. The sharpness of his blade drew blood, and by the way his free hand smeared it along your skin, you knew that it turned him on.

“Gentle,” she reminded him, standing.

He wasn’t so gentle when he pushed his way into you, making you sharply inhale, but the blade remained light against your throat. You tilted your head back, both to relieve the sting and because the feel of his cock sliding into you had you submitting. His own deep grunts were right at your ear, and his bloody hand trailed down your frame to roughly knead into your skin.

The sound of skin slapping against skin made your ears twitch, and when he roughly pushed you down with a hand on your back, your fingers twisted into the sheets of the luxurious bed. Your head was bowed, forehead grazing the fabric as he fucked you, power and aggression driving every thrust. Lady Margot was right, you were afraid of the Baron’s sole heir, positive that you’d never find yourself alone with him before today.

Even if you doubted it, you would have never guessed this is how he’d choose to spend his birthday celebration. While fireworks were exploding and food and drink was being passed around, Feyd-Rautha was spending his time burying his cock in you. His fingers twisted painfully into your hair, making you yelp, and the sound only made him fuck you harder.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he roughly asked you, and when you started to nod, he pushed your face down into the bed.

Understanding what he wanted, you managed to force out a small affirmation.

“Yes,” you choked out.

The low laugh that he let out was menacing, and he was aggressive in pushing you onto your back. His hand was tight when it found a home on your throat, pinning you in place as he snapped his hips into yours. The force was enough to make you wince, and his brutal treatment didn’t go unnoticed, the blonde woman coming up behind the man.

Her gaze found yours, holding it as she whispered something into his ear that yours weren’t privy to. Her beautiful hands came around to slide along his smooth chest, her lips still brushing against his ear. Her lips traveled to his throat as he pulled away from you, pulling out and allowing the other woman to guide him to sit back.

He was uncharacteristically still as he watched her take his place.

“Come.”

Her simple command was impossible to disobey, and you sat up, doing as she said. With a hand on the back of your head, she guided you towards the man, an imposing urge to touch him descending over you. With your hands sliding along his lithe frame, her fingers applied pressure, and your head lowered.

Your lips stretched around him as you tasted his cock, tongue flat and cheeks hollowed. Feminine hands were gliding over your curves, fingers eventually sinking into you again. You closed your eyes at the feel, relaxing and heart calming at the 180 from Feyd-Rautha’s earlier brutality. At the thought of him, you peeled your eyes open, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

It amazed you, how he could be so dominant and forceful with you but so obedient and almost subdued with her. With one look into his eyes or the feel of her hands against his skin, he became a momentarily tamed wild animal. The feral glint in his eyes couldn’t be done away with, the desire to cause pain coloring his features whenever his gaze connected with yours.

As Lady Margot gently curved her fingers into you, you found yourself craving that feeling again.

Your neck and torso still faintly stung from where his blade had drawn blood, and you got the feeling that your skin was already starting to bruise from where he’d tightly held you. You recalled her earlier words, about her presence serving to keep him in line, and your mind lingered on the aches you felt from what he’d done while she was here. You wondered what would be in store for you should he ever get you completely alone.

You suspected that she was right.

He would get too excited…and probably kill you.

When his lips curved into a small smirk, you knew then that your thoughts were written on your face—along with your fear. His hand on your head made you nervous, and still you slid your mouth up and down the length of him. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs, Lady Margot’s soft ministrations stroking that fire deep within your stomach. It made you moan around him, and if possible, you swore Feyd-Rautha’s eyes darkened at both the sound and feel.

“She would make a well-behaved pet,” he haughtily said.

The way he stared into your eyes told you that was meant more so for you than her. They both shifted, leaning in and you heard them kiss above your head.

“I knew that you would enjoy her,” the blonde woman confidently said, her even tone unable to hide her satisfaction. “Provided you don’t break her.”

When she pulled away, she pulled away from you too, and with a hand on your chin, she lifted your head. She guided you to kiss him, her own lips resting against your cheek, her soft voice telling you not to be afraid. You wanted to listen, your own mind agreeing, and so you welcomed the pain when blood bloomed along your lips.

Feyd-Rautha enjoyed the taste, roughly grabbing your hands and pinning them behind you at the small of your back. He didn’t tell you to lie down, instead making you, and you winced at the feel of your hands trapped beneath your own body. His lips were stained red when he pulled away, and your mouth parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock started to stretch you out again.

You were completely powerless—at his mercy—and you cried out at the rough curve of his hips. He looked vicious above you, focused not on chasing his high but on seeing the register of pain on your face instead. That was what brought him pleasure, watching you wince and squirm beneath him and his intense thrusts. If his hand wasn’t on your throat then it was yanking your hair or digging into the soft flesh of your breast.

He seemed to like the sight of marking you up whether it be with his teeth or his hand…or that blade.

He held it against your throat while he fucked you, sometimes sliding the flat part down your chest, blue eyes transfixed by the metal pressing against your skin. Occasionally he’d turn it, the edge grazing you, making a cut just shallow enough and then he’d lean down to taste you. Spots of his own flesh was marred by your blood, and he obviously didn’t care as he smeared it over both of you with every movement.

With your hands free, you clutched onto the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head. His hands were painfully tight on your waist, keeping your hips lifted for him as he thrust into you. Lady Margot—silently and appreciatively watching—slid her hands along the bed to grab your hands. Her fingers intertwined with your own, holding them down, and you welcomed the gentle kisses she placed on your wrists and then your cheek before finally your lips.

The man above you made a noise of disapproval, and after some time, she granted him what he wanted, his own rough lips replacing hers. You panted into the kiss, tasting your blood on his lips, and you felt almost delirious. It was a constant cycle of pain and pleasure that had you chasing him when he started to pull away. The laugh he gave at the sight told you his thoughts on the matter, but you didn’t care how much power you were giving him.

His gaze suddenly lifted, and his thrusts didn’t stop as he faced Lady Margot. You felt hypnotized as you watched them, eyes focused on the way Feyd-Rautha stuck out his tongue, elongating it in a way you didn’t think possible. The willowy woman had let you go, taking his own blade and dragging the edge of it down his tongue.

It was then that you realized the man inside of you enjoyed pain almost as much as he liked inflicting it.

You wondered if that was why he was so submissive towards her, why she could order him around and why she was so confident that she could keep him in line. You were unsurprised when they kissed, the brutal man kissing you after a while when they finally parted. You swore that his blood tasted completely different from your own.

A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you felt almost completely spent. You were sure that the celebration of his birth was still being had while he chose to celebrate between your legs. His strength and the knowledge of how easily he could snuff you out played a part in the way you clenched around his cock. You could feel that you were close—and so could he.

His hand completely obstructed your breathing, and you could only hold onto his wrist. With every thrust into your cunt, the heat in the pit of your stomach grew. Your heart was racing, and your eyes struggled to remain open, and your toes curled as he stretched you around him. A noise of appreciation reached your ears, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap your neck.

He could do it. The strength in his hand told you so and that he would probably barely exert himself doing so. You felt your neck strain underneath his fingers, and your nails drew blood over his skin. You knew he liked that because he kissed you again. Your shallow breaths hit his face, and just as you were on the verge of passing out, you came.

…and his hold loosened.

The rush of air into your lungs coinciding with the release of pressure inside of you made your world momentarily go dark. All you could feel was the snug fit of his cock—and the way your walls fluttered around it—and his teeth against your lip. You could faintly feel softer hands on your face, and a choked moan left your lips his hips continued to connect with yours.

His hand tightened again just as your vision started to return to you, and the smile you were met with was chilling. So turned on by watching you straddle death, the fearsome fighter came too but much more violently. He practically growled above you, the noise so animalistic and inhumane sounding. Your neck almost cracked beneath the force of his hand, and the overstimulation from the feel of his cock made you want to clench your thighs together.

You were struggling to breathe when he stilled, chest burning, and when he roughly let you go—pushing himself away from you—you gasped for air. You turned on your side, sweaty and bloody and feeling like you couldn’t breathe deep enough. A hand smoothed along the side of your face—a feminine hand—and when you looked up, the blue-eyed man was cleaning his blade with a crooked smile, terrifying teeth on display.

“I think I will keep this one.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Very

Very—to a high degree; exceedingly; exact, precise

Absolutely - completely or totally

Astonishingly - causing a feeling of great surprise or wonder

Astronomically - enormously or inconceivably large or great

Awfully - informal: exceedingly great

Certainly - in a manner that is certain; indisputably

Chiefly - most importantly; principally, especially

Considerably - large in extent or degree

Decidedly - free from doubt or wavering

Distinctly - presenting a clear unmistakable impression

Especially - used as an intensive

Exceedingly - to an extreme degree

Exceptionally - to an exceptional degree; more than average or usual

Extremely - to an extreme extent (i.e., existing in a very high degree)

Incontestably - not contestable; indisputable

Incredibly - in an incredible manner; extremely

Indubitably - too evident to be doubted; unquestionable

Inordinately - exceeding reasonable limits; immoderate

Largely - to a large extent; mostly, primarily

Notably - in a notable manner; to a high degree

Obviously - as is plainly evident

Particularly - to an unusual degree; in particular; specifically

Profusely - exhibiting great abundance; bountiful

Really - truly, unquestionably—used as an intensifier

Recognizably - to perceive clearly

Significantly - to a significant degree (i.e., of a noticeably or measurably large amount)

Strikingly - attracting attention or notice through unusual or conspicuous qualities

Substantially - being largely but not wholly that which is specified

Surprisingly - to a surprising degree (i.e., something unexpected or unusual)

Tremendously - to a great or tremendous extent; extremely

Uncommonly - unusual; remarkable, exceptional

Unquestionably - not questionable; indisputable

Unequivocally - in an unequivocal manner (i.e., clear, unquestionable)

Unmistakably - not capable of being mistaken or misunderstood; clear

Vastly - to a very great or vast degree or extent; exceedingly

Wonderfully - in a way or to an extent that is extremely or unusually good or pleasing

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[heich0e]

"kats, your tag's stickin' up."

katsuki hums in some kind of recognition, your remark of no particular interest to him at the moment. he's sitting with his back to you at his kitchen table, hunched over a bowl of cereal—the boring kind that's good for you, the kind of stuff your grandma likes—and a textbook that's been meticulously highlighted and has notes written in the margins. you reach towards the back of his neck without thinking, pinching the little tag between your fingers and tucking it back down under the collar of his t-shirt. your fingertips brush against the warm skin at his nape as you do so.

the boy in front of you grunts in surprise at the unexpected contact, his shoulders lifting all the way up to his ears as he pitches himself forward across the table away from you. he almost knocks his bowl of cereal over in the process, and he chokes loudly on the mouthful he's chewing as he goes.

"the hell was that for?" katsuki barks out hoarsely after he's managed to swallow down the cereal lodged in his throat, he doesn't turn to look at you as he says it.

"jeez," you remark incredulously, startled by his reaction to such an innocuous gesture. "i was just tucking in the tag!"

"never asked you to do that," katsuki grumbles as he settles back in his seat. you watch as he fiddles with the spoon in his bowl, but doesn't take another bite, and you can't help but notice the pink flush that's crawled up his throat all the way to his ears.

"hey," you remark curiously, still standing behind him with your hands on your hips. "is your neck ticklish?"

he finally turns in his seat, glaring at you over his shoulder.

"no," he snaps.

his cheeks are pink too.

you and katsuki have only been hooking up for a few months, so there are lots of things you don't yet know about each other. sure, you've been superficially acquainted since high school—at least enough to recognize each others' names—but knowing someone in passing and knowing the intimate intricacies of their body are two vastly different things. hell, this is only your second time spending the night at katsuki's apartment, and the first time ever on a school night.

your eyes glance over to the clock on the stove at the reminder. it's still only 7:30—katsuki had risen at the ass-crack of dawn, much to your horror. his first class isn't even until 11:00 while yours is at 9:30, and you would have happily slept in for another hour if not for him waking you as he crawled out of his bed.

"hey, you mind if i borrow a shirt or something to wear to class?" you ask him, scratching at the warm skin of your tummy under the oversized hoodie you'd pulled on when you rolled out of his sheets that morning. you wouldn't be opposed to keeping it on, but it's a nice brand—and one of his favourites, given how often you've seen him wear it—so you don't dare request it.

katsuki turns to look at you again, cheeks still pink, eyes still narrowed.

"a shirt?" he asks. "why?"

"you got cum—"

"for fucks' sake," katsuki interrupts you, looking away—largely, you suspect, to hide the renewed reddening of his cheeks. "didn't you bring a change of clothes?"

"i would have," you chirp, "but if i recall correctly, the text you sent me at 11:30 last night seemed like me getting here right after i left the library was suuuuuper important."

"just.. wear that one." katsuki waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder, and you stare at his back a little dumbfoundedly. you hadn't expected that at all.

he shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

katsuki sure has been full of surprises these past few months. you learn more about him every day. and not just about his body and what makes him feel good—that's sort of a given with casual, no-strings relationships like this one—but about his likes and dislikes, his quirks and eccentricities too. like what he eats for breakfast, or how his neck is ticklish, or the way he organizes the shoes on the shoe rack just inside his front door. you're not sure you dislike it, either, unravelling him bit by bit.

and katsuki doesn't say it, but he feels largely the same—realizing with every passing day that he's uncovering more about you than he ever thought he would that first night the two of you ended up fooling around after running into each other at a bar near campus.

katsuki had just gotten out of a long-term relationship. well, just meaning five months prior—though his friends often remind him that there's nothing "just" about five months. but contrary to popular belief, katsuki had always been a serial-monogamous dater, going from one long-term relationship to the next without any flings in-between. he had no intention of hooking up with anyone, least of all you, that night.

but one thing lead to another, and now here you are: shuffling around his kitchen as you try to find where he keeps his mugs, wearing his favourite sweatshirt. and katsuki knows you take two sugars in your coffee. knows you'll wait until the absolute last minute to head to campus for your 9:30 class. knows you'll take your notes in purple pen through your lecture because you claim the colour helps you remember the lesson.

but it's not just you who katsuki's learning things about these days.

for example, he's learning that maybe he's just not cut out for casual dating.

because every little thing he learns about you is starting to feel a lot like a string.

[drdemonprince]

how do you get started as a new dom? it feels hard to be sure of yourself when you’re unsure of yourself

You really gotta get the theatrics of it all to work for you.

Use a blindfold. If your sub can't see where you are or what you're doing, their imagination will run wild and they'll find even the smallest touch or action from you to be vastly more exciting. And since they can't see you, you've bought yourself time to think, wander around, and plan your next move.

Use time and setting to your advantage. Be sensual and methodical in getting your sub handcuffed or tied up. Start with simple tools that you know how to use and have practiced with at home, and really draw out the process of getting the sub into position. If you're into impact rather than bondage, bend them over with a broad, warm palm on their back and trace the backs of their thighs. Don't move too quickly. This will hide a lot of your jitters and make everything more intense.

Don't be afraid to ask questions, check in, and remark at what works and what doesn't -- just do not do so in a self-deprecating way. If a command or a gesture just doesn't land in the way that you thought that it would, do not become crestfallen. That a Dom can instantly read their sub's every desire and reaction is just a fantasy. Think of yourself as a scientist who has a brand-new creature under observation. You may find that your sub adores tickling (or hates it), that a hot breath on their neck makes them squeal (or does nothing at all). Every specimen is unique and part of the pleasure is the exploration of their body and testing out their reactions. It's boring and unsexy to have a routine set of moves. Be responsive and curious rather than rote.

Find what you love about Dominance. Do you like fighting to subdue a bratty sub? Or do you prefer a docile good boy/girl/thing that will melt like butter under your touch? Are you handsy? Do you like controlling your sub's every movement, posing them like a doll? Or do you want to see yourself issuing commands and receiving service? Remember that your pleasure matters a great deal and will get the sub going, and orient a lot of your moves around that. Have your sub orally service you or make you a coffee or give you a massage. All kinky play is a negotiation between all parties' desires and limits. Make sure to inject yourself into what's happening -- and into your sub's behaviors and their frame of mind.

Don't worry too much about putting on a fake Dom voice or embodying a persona -- far too many newbie Doms think they need to speak in a deep and emotionless register and have everything figured out. It's far more alluring to be more human. Some people's Dominance looks like the way a proud cat mom talks to her pets. Other people are silly and playful like DeeDee from Dexter's Laboratory torturing her little brother. You can be a primal, snarling creature, a princess upon a throne, or a world-weary worker who takes out their daily frustrations on their living sex toy. Find what feels natural to you because then it will be easier to continue to embody your dominance as the situation evolves and unexpected things come up.

A note on finding partners: It can be difficult to find good submissive when you are an inexperienced Dom, because people understandably want to be placed into safe and competent hands. Try not to take this personally, and keep focusing on building up your skills, which you are entirely in control of. Take a class on shibari or impact. Get some toys. Visit a dungeon and ask questions. Befriend other Dominants and do some service to the broader community, so that you have people you can tap for advice and mentorship.

Once you have established yourself as a familiar face in the scene, then you can work on finding experienced subs who know what they like and can show you the ropes. Newbie Doms sometimes get intimidated by experienced subs, worrying that they cannot possibly match the intensity of those subs' prior sexual encounters-- but this is entirely the wrong way to look at it. Experienced subs know what they like and are experts at entering a submissive headspace. It will be easier to get them to respond to you than a completely unseasoned sub who's head is also not in the moment because they're filled with nerves. Working with someone who is older or more seasoned than you is not a threat to your Dominance. A new rider should start with a very well-trained horse, and doing so will help bolster the rider's confidence.

Have fun out there!

[pastillcs]

i feel like bruce would probably sob when he watches mamma mia for the first time and slipping through my fingers starts playing,, he has a visceral reaction as memories of his kids as young children start flashing through his mind and before he knows it- boom he's crying.

he probably watched it for no particular reason too, probably because he had nothing pressing to attend to that night and just decided to put on a movie to make use of the manor's theater room. bruce didn't particularly care for the first half of the plot. it wasn't anything remarkable to him, really; but he doesn't miss the part where donna makes a remark about not wanting sophie to leave the nest quite yet. a hum rumbles in his chest in agreement, but he otherwise tunes the rest of the scenes out.

it wasn't until sophie asks donna to help her get ready that the movie finally manages to grip him, and the lyrics hit him like a truck. he's heard that goddamn song a few times already, but simply listening to the track versus watching donna sing it while helping her daughter get ready for her wedding is a vastly different experience. the movie is put on pause for a good while as bruce tries to collect himself.

his babies are all grown up now, really. dick and jason are far from the little boys he used to know- the ones that were so full of light and joy and whose smiles lit his chest with such warmth. now they're doing their own things, hardened by life and strong with purpose; bruce aches for a chance to hold them in his arms again. he wonders if they would let him.

then he realizes he's never really been able to hold tim like that before. there is a pang of regret that lingers, and bruce again wonders if it's now too late to ask.

bruce thinks about duke, and his brow furrows in worry. he hopes duke knows how much he cares for him, and fervently prays to whatever god there is up there in the heavens that his situation doesn't force him to grow up as fast as bruce himself was made to back then. bruce knows the feeling all too well, and he won't let his son go through the same thing he did.

and damian.. god, damian.

his youngest is still so young, and yet he's already gone through so much. bruce resents how little he was involved in dami's upbringing, and how he missed out on so many moments that he wishes he was there for. he has to remind himself that he's here now, and that's ultimately what matters. still, he can't help himself from wanting time to slow down somehow, as his son is growing up more and more as the days go by, and as much as he is so proud of who his littlest is growing up to be, he knows that there's so much ahead of them. so much more pain. so much more happiness, perhaps.

his girls don't all see him as their dad, but he views them all the same anyways. he wonders if in the future, they'll ask him to walk them down the aisle as well, just like in the movie- even if he'll probably end up shedding a few tears in secret.

bruce does not tell them any of this though. no, this he keeps to himself, as he does with a lot of things. but he pays closer attention now, watches them all closer than before. he allows himself to smile at them more often, eyes fonder. if any of them notice they keep it to themselves, and bruce is thankful for that.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Many knew you for the fact that you didn’t smile, weren’t exactly a warm personality and often preferred to be alone, but the moment Joaquin entered your life, you found yourself being drawn to his warmth and his ability to have the edges of your mouth twitch upwards.

Many didn’t think you would like Joaquin since you were both vastly different in a plethora of ways, that you wouldn’t meet eye to eye on certain things that would leads to you two inevitably clashing, but you would be found in the doorways as you watched Joaquin as he smiled and laughed with the rest of the team with a flickers of a smile upon your lips and warmth within your eyes.

Many couldn’t help but see the way you and Joaquin interact as interesting. He would always see that you were in the far comer by yourself and come over to join you, making sure that you weren’t missing out on what everyone else had found gossip worthy, watching your every expression as he talked about anything and everything with some hand gestures thrown in here and there. Whereas you would listen to him wholeheartedly, never once interrupting him as you took in anything he gave you with the attentive look you gave him, making him know that he has your undivided attention.

Joaquin would talk and you would listen and remember every last bit right down to the last detail, for everything he said was important to you and you didn’t want him to think anything else, and this was the same with Joaquin towards you as wanted to get to know the you beneath the grump that many people framed you as.

Many didn’t think you and Joaquin would work all that well for he was outgoing and had a way of drawing people in, whereas you had a way of drawing people away with the resting bitch face that you were born with. However you and Joaquin worked in such tandem it was hard to not see you part from one another given how seamless you worked together. Your personalities may differ but they balances the other out somehow, complete each other even.

Many didn’t think Joaquin could crack through your walls, but yet many would soon came to see how easy it was for Joaquin to make you smile, to make you laugh at his jokes and his stories that he had on his fellow teammates that he was dying to tell you about; he made you feel safe in resting your head against his shoulder as he filled you with warmth and a change of perspective on life. And he would do this all the while he kept you close to his side as his eyes twinkled in happiness and fondness that he did what many thought was impossible.

You could fall asleep within his presence and Joaquin would act as though he has just won at life, all the while trying not to move in hopes of not disturbing your sleep, but if someone were to make a comment on it you were wide open and with a sharp remark upon your tongue as your old them to mind their business. Joaquin would naturally take your side, rubbing your side as he ushered you into going back to sleep on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead while doing so.

You were once cold but now you were as warm as the man you were cuddled up with, happy to have found someone who has the patience of a saint to crack through your hard exterior, cradling the person behind it close to his heart and love them no matter what like you loved and cared for him in return.

You were once cold but with him, with Joaquin, you were warm and happy as could be and you had him to thank for the rest of your life.

[societyfolklore]

The Vet Visit

Title: The Vet Visit Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  A chance encounter at the vet’s office with their vastly different cats leads to an unlikely connection between Bucky and you. What starts as a shared experience becomes a tentative friendship and possibly more. Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Blood/Injury (mention) Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, Not Beta Read

A/N: My poor boy (Bean, yes that's him in the left photo) had his desexing appointment in Dec and this idea has been bouncing around since.

Bucky Barnes hated the vet. Not for himself-he could handle his own injuries-but for Alpine. His precious white cat was his soft spot, and the thought of her being poked or prodded made his stomach churn. Still, she needed her annual checkup, and he wasn’t about to let her health slide.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured as he tucked Alpine snugly inside his jacket. Her little head poked out, and she let out a soft meow, seemingly unimpressed by their destination. Her bright eyes darted around as if she knew exactly where they were headed, and her tiny paws kneaded against his chest in a silent protest. “Yeah, I know, but it’ll be quick.” He kissed the top of her head before stepping through the glass doors of the clinic.

The vet’s waiting room was already crowded when he arrived. Parents wrangled overexcited dogs, an elderly man wrestled with a squirming parrot, and at the far corner sat a woman struggling with a black-and-white cat who seemed intent on terrorizing the receptionist.

The cat hissed, swatted at the air, and yowled loudly as the woman apologized profusely, clearly exasperated. She adjusted her grip on the carrier as the cat tried swat at anything coming past the front of the carrier. Green and golden eyes glinting with displeasure. The feline was a striking black with a white chest, jaw, and paws. Its haughty demeanour was only amplified by the disdainful glare it cast at anyone who dared get too close.

“Chess,” she scolded, her voice a mix of sternness and affection. “Behave, you grumpy guts. We talked about this.” She crouched slightly moving his carrier to the floor, peering into the carrier as though reasoning with him might work. It didn’t. He let out another irritated yowl.

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the interaction. Alpine, safely tucked away, poked her head further out of his jacket, observing the chaos with her usual calm demeanour. She let out a soft meow, almost as though she were chastising the other cat for its outburst.

The woman glanced over at the sound, her eyes landing on Bucky and Alpine. Her exasperation softened into amusement, and she raised an eyebrow. “Your cat’s… remarkably chill for a vet visit.”

Bucky shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Alpine’s always like this. Doesn’t mean she’s happy about it, though.” He gently scratched under Alpine’s chin, earning a contented purr that seemed to fill the room. “She which battles are worth fighting, this isn’t one.”

“Wish Chess was half as calm,” the woman muttered, casting an exasperated glance at her cat, who was now attempting to claw his way out of the carrier entirely. The sound of his nails scraping against the plastic, drawing the attention of a few others in the room. “He’s more of a… grumpy old man type, even though he’s only just hit one...” She sighed and shook her head as though used to this behaviour.

Bucky chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Looks like he’s got some fight in him. Spirited.”

“Oh, he does,” she said with a wry smile. “He was born outside to a feral cat. Though I got him inside a few weeks, he’s still..well. Even now, he’s… selective about who he likes.” She emphasized the word ‘selective’ with a slight roll of her eyes, though the affection in her voice was evident.

Bucky nodded, his expression softening as he listened. “I get that. I don’t really ‘people’ much myself.” His words were quiet, almost an afterthought, but they hung in the air like an unspoken truth.

The admission lingered between them, and the woman smiled, her curiosity piqued. “Well, maybe that’s why you two get along so well.” She glanced at Alpine again, noting how the cat’s demeanour matched Bucky’s quiet, composed nature. There was something endearing about the parallel.

For a moment, the waiting room and its chaos seemed to fade into the background. It was just the two of them, exchanging soft smiles over their vastly different but equally loved cats.

The receptionist called Bucky’s name, and he reluctantly got up, Alpine still snug in his jacket. Her tiny head shifted slightly to glance at the woman and Chess, as if unimpressed by their chaos. Bucky couldn’t help but glance back too, noticing how the woman struggled to keep Chess calm. The cat’s carrier rattled as he clawed at the door, his growls low and insistent.

“Good luck,” Bucky said, offering a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually stoic features.

“Thanks,” she replied with a laugh, brushing stray hair from her face. “I’ll need it. He’s about ready to overthrow the vet staff.”

Inside the exam room, Alpine was her usual cooperative self, a perfect contrast to the chaos outside. The vet cooed over her, praising her for being such a ‘model patient,’ and Bucky felt a flicker of pride. She purred quietly as the vet worked, her soft, rhythmic hum a soothing backdrop to the doctor’s instructions. Bucky listened intently, filing away every detail about her diet, her weight, and her follow-up care. He made a mental note to pick up the new treats the vet recommended on his way home. Alpine tilted her head at him as if approving of his attentiveness.

When the exam ended, Bucky gently scooped her back into his jacket, whispering a soft “Good girl” as she nestled in. Stepping back into the waiting room, he scanned for the woman. She was now seated with Chess perched on her lap, the cat’s tail flicking back and forth like a pendulum of barely-contained annoyance.

“Survived?” Bucky asked, nodding toward the now-quiet cat as he approached.

“Barely,” she replied, shaking her head with a mixture of relief and amusement. “He was all hiss and claw then he played dead for half the exam. It’s his go-to drama move when he’s offended.”

Bucky chuckled, sitting down beside her. Alpine stretched lazily in his arms, her bright blue eyes fixated on Chess. The black-and-white cat blinked at her slowly, his tail twitching slightly but without the hostile energy he’d displayed earlier.

“Guess they’re not mortal enemies,” she observed, smiling as Chess finally let out a long sigh and settled down. “That’s something, at least.”

“Progress,” Bucky agreed. He rubbed Alpine’s ears absentmindedly, earning a contented purr. “Looks like she’s won him over.”

The woman laughed, her smile lighting up her tired face. “She’s a charmer, that’s for sure. He usually hisses at everything that moves.” She glanced down at Chess, her hand smoothing over his sleek fur. “I think he’s just too tired to put up much of a fight now. Vet visits take it out of him.”

Bucky’s gaze softened as he watched her fuss over the grumpy cat. “He’s lucky to have you. Not everyone would put up with a … selective companion like him.”

She smiled warmly at that. “Selective is a kind way to put it. But yeah, I guess we’re stuck with each other. He’s picky, but I can’t really blame him. Trust doesn’t come easy when you’ve had a rough start.”

Bucky nodded, his expression unreadable but contemplative. “I get that. Trust takes time. For people… and cats.”

Her brow arched slightly at his candid tone, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Well, looks like you found your match though. She seems pretty chill for a vet patient, though.”

Bucky shrugged lightly. “She’s used to it by now. She’s just good at hiding how she feels. Unlike Chess here.” He smirked, nodding toward the still-sulking cat.

“He’s dramatic, but he gets away with it,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Guess it’s part of his charm.”

“If you say so,” Bucky teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into a rare smile. The two sat quietly for a moment, their respective cats resting peacefully, and for a brief time, the chaos of the waiting room seemed far away.

As they prepared to leave, the woman struggled to juggle Chess’s carrier, a bag of supplies, and her purse. The cat, as if sensing her difficulty, began swaying in his carrier, further throwing off her balance. Bucky stepped in without hesitation, his movements decisive. “Here, let me help,” he said, already reaching for the bag of supplies.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” she started, but her voice trailed off as he effortlessly lifted the bag from her shoulder and steadied the carrier with one hand. The ease with which he handled the load, as if it weighed nothing, made her pause for a moment. There was something comforting in his quiet competence.

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly, adjusting the bag on his arm. “I’m used to carrying stuff.”

Outside, she stopped to set Chess’s carrier down next to her car, letting out a sigh of relief. “Seriously, you’re a lifesaver,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Chess glared up at her through the carrier’s door, tail swishing with irritation. “And not just for me-I think Chess is plotting my demise.”

Bucky smirked, glancing down at the sulking cat. “Well, if Alpine ever needs a friend, maybe they can plot together.” His voice carried a subtle warmth that softened his usual deadpan tone.

She laughed, the sound light and infectious. “Sure, a playdate between the grump and the angel. What could go wrong? Though, knowing Chess, he’d probably just glare at her the whole time.”

Bucky chuckled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small but genuine smile. “Alpine wouldn’t mind. She’s used to giving people their space.”

As she adjusted the strap of her purse, their eyes met briefly, and she hesitated. There was something in his expression-guarded but kind-that made her feel unexpectedly at ease. Bucky shifted slightly, his hand lingering on the strap of the bag he still held. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. “You know, if you ever need help with Chess… or just want to compare notes, here’s my number.”

He pulled a small note book out of his jacket pocket and scribbled down his number, his handwriting surprisingly neat before he tore out the page. Handing it to her, he avoided her gaze briefly, as if unsure of her reaction.

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised but pleased. She took the offered paper with a soft smile. “Thanks. I might just take you up on that.” She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into her pocket, her fingers lingering there for a moment as if to make sure it was secure.

Chess let out a loud, dramatic meow from his carrier, drawing their attention. She glanced down at him, shaking her head with a laugh. “Guess that’s my cue to go. He’s got a lot to complain about on the ride home.” She started to unlock her car.

Bucky nodded, the faint trace of a smirk still on his lips. “Good luck with him.” He stepped back slightly, giving her space but still holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. “And let me know if you need anything. With Chess… or otherwise.”

“I will,” she said, her voice soft but genuine. As she turned putting Chess carrier into the car, she glanced back over her shoulder, her smile lingering in a way that made Bucky feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time-hope. “And tell Alpine she’s officially my role model for good behaviour. Maybe Chess can learn a thing or two from her.”

Bucky watched her go, his blue eyes following her car until it disappeared. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a smile that lingered longer than he expected. Alpine, still tucked snugly in his jacket, let out a soft meow as if in approval. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured to her, scratching her chin gently. Her purr vibrated softly against his chest, a soothing rhythm that mirrored the unusual calm he felt. “She’s not bad, huh?”

Alpine blinked up at him, her gaze filled with a wisdom that only a cat could possess, as if to say, What took you so long to notice? Bucky chuckled, the sound low and almost foreign to his ears. “Alright, Alpine,” he said, adjusting her snugly against him, “guess we both made a new friend today.”

As he stepped out into the crisp air, Bucky’s mind lingered on the woman-her easy laugh, the way her eyes softened when she talked about her grumpy cat, and the warmth in her smile. He hadn’t expected much from the vet visit today, least of all meeting someone who made the world feel a little lighter. For once, he allowed himself to hold onto that feeling as he made his way home, Alpine purring contentedly the whole way.

The first text came later that evening.

Hey, just wanted to say thanks again for your help today at the vets. Hope Alpine’s doing okay.

Bucky stared at his phone longer than he’d admit, rereading the message more times than necessary. He felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest as he typed his response, carefully crafting each word before finally hitting send.

She’s good. Chess didn’t stage a coup, I hope?

Her reply came almost instantly.

Not yet, but he’s giving me the stink eye. Pretty sure he’s plotting something.

Bucky stared at his phone longer than he’d admit, rereading the message more times than necessary. The simple words seemed to carry more weight than he expected, sparking something he wasn’t entirely sure how to name. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the keyboard, rephrasing his response in his mind before finally settling on something that felt right.

He felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest as he carefully crafted each word, considering how his tone might come across. Was it too casual? Too formal? Shaking his head at his own overthinking, he let out a soft huff and finally hit send, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips as he watched the message disappear into the ether.

She’s good. Chess didn’t stage a coup, I hope?

Her reply came almost instantly.

Not yet, but he’s giving me the stink eye. Pretty sure he’s plotting something.

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitched into a small smile. He wasn’t used to this- the casual back-and-forth, the ease of sharing small moments. Over the next few weeks, their conversations became a routine. Texts turned into late-night exchanges about everything from their pets’ quirks to the best spots for coffee in Brooklyn. He found himself looking forward to hearing from her in a way that surprised him. It wasn’t just her sense of humour or her empathy-though those certainly stood out-but the way she made the mundane feel lighter, easier, something he could hold onto.

One evening, after a particularly amusing exchange about Chess’s newest antics, Bucky stared at his phone for a moment, his thumb hovering over the keyboard before typing out a message.

Ever considered a coffee break for the humans while the cats plan their next schemes?

He sent it before he could overthink it, then immediately felt the ripple of nerves that always accompanied putting himself out there.

Her reply came quicker than expected.

Sounds like a plan. Though I’ll warn you… Chess is terrible at sharing secrets. When were you thinking?

Bucky felt a small smile tug at his lips as he typed back.

Your schedule. You’re the one dealing with the evil mastermind.

Thursday afternoon? I’ll need caffeine to recover from whatever chaos he’s cooked up by then.

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound startling him with how easy it felt. Thursday it is. I know a place near the park. It’s quiet, good coffee, and they won’t judge us if we start comparing vet horror stories.

Her next message was a laughing emoji followed by. Perfect. Can’t wait.

He leaned back, rereading their exchange with a sense of quiet anticipation. For someone who had spent years distancing himself from others, keeping connections at arm’s length, he was surprised by how much he looked forward to seeing her. It felt strange but also undeniably good, like the first warmth of spring after a long, brutal winter. Her messages, filled with humour and easy conversation, had become something of a highlight in his otherwise quiet days. It wasn’t just the words themselves but the way she made him feel-seen, in a way he hadn’t been in years.

For once, stepping closer didn’t feel like a risk he wasn’t willing to take. He even found himself imagining the coffee shop they’d meet at, how Alpine might judge him for spending so much time thinking about what to say or do. Would she bring up another of Chess’s antics? Would she laugh that warm, infectious laugh he could almost hear when he read her texts?

But before they could meet, duty called. He’d barely managed a rushed call to her, apologizing as he explained he had to leave town for 'work.' The disappointment in her voice was subtle but unmistakable, and it made something tighten in his chest.

"Oh," she said softly. "That’s a shame. I was really looking forward to catching up."

Bucky hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. He wasn’t used to people being disappointed about not spending time with him.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly. "This came up last minute."

"No, I get it," she replied quickly, her tone brightening slightly as if to brush off her earlier reaction. "Work is work. We’ll have to raincheck that coffee, though. You still owe me stories about Alpine’s kitten days."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That I do."

Her quick recovery eased some of the guilt knotting in his stomach. “Um, I hate to ask,” he said, his voice hesitant, “but could you check on Alpine while I’m gone? Just for a few days. I’d leave food and everything she needs.”

“Of course,” she replied immediately, her tone warm and reassuring. “I’ll make sure she’s spoiled while you’re gone. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Her quick agreement caught him off guard, silencing the instinctive urge to apologize further. The ease with which she said it, as though caring for Alpine was second nature, warmed him more than he expected. She even added, “And I’ll text you updates… maybe even a picture or two, if Alpine’s okay with that.”

He chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “She’ll tolerate it. Thank you. Really.” He ended the call with a quiet “Thank you,” but the gratitude lingered long after, a subtle reminder that letting someone in didn’t always have to be so terrifying.

True to her word, the updates came steadily over the next few days, it was a comfort to have something ‘normal’ while he was doing off in the trenches.

Update 1: Alpine has officially claimed me as her servant. She’s glaring because I’m taking too long to refill her bowl. The picture she sent alongside the text showed Alpine sitting regally by her food dish, her blue eyes fixed with faint disdain at the camera.

Bucky laughed softly and texted back. She’s testing you. Give her a treat and she’ll forgive you.

Her reply came within minutes.

Already ahead of you. She’s currently devouring it like the queen she is.

The next day, she sent a video. Alpine was curled up on the couch beside her, purring loudly as she absently scratched behind her ears. Update 2: She’s making me think I’m worthy of her presence. I think we’re bonding.

Bucky’s chest tightened as he replayed the video, his cat looking utterly content. He replied, You’re officially in her good graces. Not everyone gets that privilege.

It’s an honour, she texted back. How’s your trip?

The shift in the conversation-from Alpine to him-caught him off guard but warmed him in a way he wasn’t used to. He hesitated before replying. Rough, but it’ll be fine. Your updates help.

Alpine and I will keep holding down the fort.

When he returned days later, sore and visibly battered, she was there. His shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion, his jacket streaked with grime and his knuckles bruised from whatever mission had pulled him away. Bandages peeked out from under his shirt sleeves, and he moved stiffly, as if every step sent a dull ache rippling through his body. He hadn’t expected her to stay after feeding Alpine, but she’d lingered, tidying up his apartment and ensuring everything was in order. She turned at the sound of the door opening, her gaze landing on him with immediate concern.

"What happened?" she asked, her brows knitting together as she took in his dishevelled state. Her voice was soft but firm, carrying a note of gentle reprimand that made him feel seen in a way he wasn’t used to.

Bucky waved it off with a muttered, "Just part of the job," but his deflection didn’t faze her. Before he could retreat further into his walls, she was guiding him to the couch, her hands light yet insistent on his arm.

"Sit," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. He obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh as she disappeared briefly, returning with warm damp cloth she have found in his bathroom.

She knelt beside him, her movements careful and deliberate as she cleaned the muck off his face before reaching for his jacket. "Let’s get this off," she murmured, her voice steady but soft as if she were trying not to spook him. He hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening, but the exhaustion in his limbs won out, and he let her help. She slid the jacket off his shoulders, her hands pausing as the metal of his arm came fully into view. Her breath caught slightly, her fingers hovering mid-air, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed her lips together and nodded to herself as if making a silent decision.

"Okay," she said quietly, her tone calm but deliberate. "Let’s clean this too."

Bucky watched her warily, his gaze searching hers for any hint of unease. But all he saw was determination and something else-something warmer. She reached for a clean cloth, dampened it, and began wiping the grime from the Vibranium. Her touch was as gentle as it had been on his skin, the cloth gliding over the sleek, dark metal.

"It’s… impressive," she said after a moment, her voice careful but genuine. "You don’t see craftsmanship like this every day."

He huffed a soft, humourless laugh. "I'll let its maker know, they'll be thrilled to hear that."

She glanced up at him briefly, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "I meant it as a compliment. It’s a part of you, Bucky. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and he felt his throat tighten. She continued cleaning, her focus unwavering, and Bucky couldn’t help but marvel at the tenderness she showed-not just to him but to every part of him. She didn’t pepper him with questions he couldn’t answer; instead, she worked quietly, her presence steady and grounding. Every so often, her eyes flicked to his, silently checking if he was in pain or pushing himself too far. "You need to rest," she said softly when she finished, her fingers brushing his wrist for a moment before she pulled back. "Whatever it is you’re doing-it can wait."

The next morning, she returned with breakfast. “For you and Alpine,” she said with a warm smile, holding up a bag of fresh pastries and a small container of cat treats. Her easy attitude brought an unexpected calm to Bucky, and for a moment, he could only nod in gratitude before gesturing for her to sit beside him.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he murmured, his voice quiet but genuine.

“I wanted to,” she replied, settling in next to him. “And besides, I think Alpine’s already expecting her morning treats from me. You’ve got some competition.” She winked, teasing, as Alpine let out a soft, approving meow.

They ate together in comfortable silence, the sounds of breakfast and Alpine’s contented purring filling the room.  Alpine weaving around their legs under the table. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes softening as he watched their interaction.

“She’s definitely warmed up to you,” he said, reaching out to scratch Alpine’s head. “Not an easy thing to do.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she replied with a grin, her fingers brushing lightly against his as they both reached for Alpine at the same time. The brief touch sent a faint jolt through him, and he pulled back slightly, his gaze flicking to hers. She didn’t seem fazed, only smiled softly, and turned her attention back to Alpine.

For the first time in years, Bucky felt a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he was missing. Her presence filled the quiet spaces in a way that didn’t feel intrusive but comforting. There was a lightness to her-in the way she carried herself, in her laughter, and even in the way she interacted with Alpine-that seemed to chase away the shadows that usually loomed over him.

As they finished eating, she leaned back, laughing at something on her phone and sharing bits of her pastry with Alpine. Her laughter was warm, infectious, and it lingered in the room long after she stopped. Bucky’s chest tightened again-not with fear this time, but with something that felt a lot like hope. He’d spent so long convincing himself that letting people in was a risk he couldn’t afford, but with her, it didn’t feel like a risk. It felt like a promise.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he said after a while, his voice quieter, almost shy. “And for... everything else.”

She looked over at him, her eyes softening. “Anytime, Bucky. Really.”

And for the first time in a long while, Bucky found himself wondering what it might mean to let himself hope for more. She had this way of making his world feel less heavy, less bleak. Letting someone in was something he’d sworn he wouldn’t do again, but with her, it didn’t feel so daunting. In fact, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And for the first time in a long while, Bucky found himself wondering what it might mean to let himself hope for more.

[little-forest-goblin]

Steve blackman i will never not have time to drag you you fucking bitch. You not only ruined a good show with your shitty choices for the fourth season and cut back 6 to 4 but you also blatantly ignored david castenada who tried telling you in the nicest way possible that that fuck ass choice of making a love triangle was uncomfortable and weird. I can't look at any of the interviewings for season 4 because I can feel this thick tension that is awkward between all of them. But lets not just talk about that lets talk about your fucking controversy that has just appeared of you allegedly making a toxic bullying work environment for your staffers. 12 anonymous people gave complaints to HR about your fucking behavior. You pitted staff against each other making an angry and untrustworthy working environment. Oh lets not also talk about the fact there were complaints of your ass making lewd remarks that people said were sexist, homophobic and transphobic. Elliot page praised you for your fucking handling of his characters transition but other sources say you also would praise your team and staff in public and than go behind there back and bully them in private you fucking two faced scumbag. You also would ice out your own fucking staff if they didnt fall in line with what you wanted or would blatantly get rid of them. How fucking power hungry do you have to be to do that shit. Lets not also forget that you were a bastard to a poor pregnant woman who didnt tell you she was pregant when she was hired and had to go on maternity leave so you failed to extend her contract because she didnt make it your business she was pregant you fucking creep. You gossiped and talked shit about your own staff but really you should praise them since they're there to help make this show run. Their there to make this whole operation not fucking crumple and you’d think you’d give them some sort of respect but you wanna act like a little bitch and whine and cry when you dont get your way and get called out when they dont wanna do something that is uncomfortable for not just them but everyone else. Let's also not talk about how you did not give proper credit to those who made scenes and stories for the show and took all that credit for yourself. Your a fucking piece of shit that couldnt come up with your own ideas so you stole everyone else’s because your unoriginal and had nothing good to input within the conversation. On top of all that, I think people should check your computer because you had no problem making a creepy relationship between two vastly differently aged actors. Aidan Gallagher is freshly of age to depict mature romantic relationships within tv shows and you instead of finding someone who is more closely to his age you pick the actress that he GREW UP AROUND. HE WAS A CHILD WHEN THEY FIRST MET. But also fuck Aidans parens too for not maybe coming out and saying that this is fucking creepy. Maybe they where silenced and paid off to stay quiet but looking at Rob gallaghers creepy and controversial fucking behavior anyway, i dont think it took much for them to be silent. The fact that you deny any and all allegations of any of those claims and your representatives tried to save your ass steve and than there was a investigation which surprise sur-fucking-prise was less than comprehensive. You probably paid those investigators off to get off your ass and have your representatives scrambling so you don’t get cancelled and you keep lining your pockets with money that you probably stole from your staff too since you wanna steal their work. so might as well double it and give it back to yourself, right? . Fuck you and everything you stand for steve blackman you toxic, manipulative, predatory, creepy fucking bastard. Fuck you. 

[grandline-fics]

hi! could i request for mihawk and anyone else of your choice reacting to their usually modest s/o wearing something scandalous and getting a lot of attention and they feel jealous or try to hide them away from prying eyes? thanks love you

DESCRIPTION: You’re normally modest and get a lot of attention from others when you wear something scandalous

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit at the end

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 1,285

A/N: Thank you for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy what I came up with for it

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

“Another gala, Crocodile?” Mihawk asked dryly looking at the small decorated piece of paper in his hand. “Is my presence truly necessary for this?” His golden eyes looked at the information blankly and held back the glare to see it would be taking place on the island they were at. Any other time these events were held, Mihawk would refuse to travel so far for a measly party or would take up a bounty mission that would take him in the opposite direction so he couldn’t attend. 

“Oh humour me for once, Mihawk.” Crocodile urged, frowning around his cigar. “I can’t keep bringing that liability of a figurehead. If we want to convince those nobles and backers of our legitimacy I need someone who can actually manoeuvre in these circles. If we want to see Cross Guild succeed and be profitable you’re going. You’re not getting out of it this time.” You bit back a smile to see your lover’s eye twitch. He hated going to these kinds of things. Quickly you acted, stepping behind his seat to place a hand on his shoulder and offer him a smile. “Oh come on, might actually be fun. At least this time you’re not going under Marine orders, it’ll be different. I can go with you if that makes things easier?”

At that Crocodile let out a small scoff, making you and Mihawk look at him in annoyance. The gala invitation was an open one so he couldn’t say you weren’t allowed to go but it was clear you going had irked him in some way which was odd seeing as you and the other founder of Cross Guild were on relatively good terms. You would’t say we was a close friend but he wasn’t someone you loathed. You remained silent as Crocodile stubbed out his cigar into the ashtray on the table and slowly looked you over, his scrutinising stare showing his critical assessment. “No offence, but you’d be more out of place than the clown. Like I said, we need to make a positive impression with these people.”

Your fingers flexed against Mihawk’s shoulder in a silent way of telling him not to react to Crocodile’s remarks. You were more than aware that your appearance was vastly different from his rich fabrics and perfectly tailored style. You’d always preferred simplistic and comfortable over anything else you wore. This wasn’t the first time someone pointed out your modest and almost drab fashion and it never bothered you. At least not until you felt you’d be letting Mihawk down. You knew how important Cross Guild was to him. Quickly you placed a kiss against Mihawk’s cheek and smiled at Crocodile as you left the room, if it was a positive impression he wanted, then that’s what he’d get. “I’ll meet you both at the gala.”

————

Mihawk hated having to interact with people he thought nothing of, he hated having to practically parade himself around in front of rich people like something to be gawked at in order to fulfil their own boring curiosities. He would much rather be in his own quarters with you, enjoying each others company and peace. Sharply he glared at Crocodile for what felt like the hundredth time today as he stepped into the banquet hall of the mansion the gala was being held in. While you’d shown no hint of annoyance for his earlier disrespect, Mihawk was still pissed and no amount of expensive wine was going to change that. 

As he took the glass of wine offered to him, he cast his gaze across the filled room in search of you. Though it was hard to search each face properly especially with the group that had already congregated near the centre of the room, fawning voices spilling from their mouths in a strange chorus. Mihawk and Crocodile shared a look of confusion, as far as they were both aware Cross Guild were the main attraction. While Mihawk was more than happy for someone else to take the attention, Crocodile was less than impressed. Then a familiar laugh sounded from the middle of the group making both men freeze.  

The pair watched as one person moved slightly and it gave them a window to clearly see you talking to the group, allowing the host of the gala lift your hand to press an adoring kiss against your knuckles. Mihawk remained the outward image of calm but inside he was a mess, looking you over intensely. Gone were your usual clothes of comfortable layers of soft and understated fabrics, in their place was the richest material adorning your form like a second skin coloured a deep wine red. Your outfit highlighted your body’s attributes that were usually hidden and accentuated the allure and attractiveness that previous only he was worthy of seeing. 

“Well…”Crocodile managed out with a firm clearing of his throat, even he was caught by your makeover. “Seems I was very wrong.” Mihawk snapped his head away from your direction to throw the fiercest glare yet at his business partner. Oh how he wished he had Yoru with him to slash all of your admirers in one go. Moving briskly he wove himself through the sea of pests buzzing around you and snaked an arm around your waist smoothly in greeting. Upon seeing who you were attending the gala with and felt the murderous aura rolling from his frame, those that had been desperately vying for your attention in the hopes of getting more, promptly became stuttering messes as they made hurried goodbyes and dispersed, scurrying away like the rats Mihawk knew them to be. 

“Hello, love.” You greeted with a pleasant smile. “Something wrong?”

“I despise seeing lesser beings try to sully works of art.”

“Aww, as sweet as that is just say you’re jealous.” You laughed softly, smiling up at him as you let him direct you smoothly away from the centre of the room and away from the appreciative stares you were still getting. “So, have I made a positive enough impression?”

“You know you have. You could wear anything and would be the most attractive person in the room.” Mihawk told you smoothly and you smirked. 

“Then why are you trying to hide me with the edge of your coat?” You asked, looking down to see the hand around your waist also held his coat around your body in an improvised shield. Mihawk didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze down to you once more, fully taking in just how much more enticing you were to him. He thought suffering this gala would be torture enough but to be here with you, looking so ravishing and drawing so much attention was unbearable, even for his resilient will. 

Acting quickly he pulled you close for a kiss and bit back the satisfied smirk when you flinched at the sudden feeling of the wine in his other hand spilled against your shoulder. You pulled back to throw him an accusatory stare while he merely set the now half-empty glass down on the tray of a server walking by and stared at you blankly, completely unapologetic. “Oh, how clumsy of me. Looks like we’ll have to go back and change.”

“You really are childish sometimes you know that?” You muttered with a slow roll of your eyes, walking with him towards the exit. 

“We’ll have to be careful.” Mihawk continued, ignoring your comment, his hand releasing his coat so he could drop his hand to your hip and give you a quick squeeze. “With material this expensive we’d have to make sure it’s taken care of properly. Could take all night.”

Well who were you to argue with that?

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[hellishjoel]

once strangers

929 words / pairing: javier peña x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog | seasons of life challenge masterlist

word: scarf

warnings/information: fluff, meet-cute

a/n: @iknowisoundcrazy inboxed me a super adorable meet-cute a few months back, and I haven't stopped thinking about it! I tweaked it a little with the setting because I also wanted to send some new year's love to @jolapeno and pay homage to her masterpiece, late night texts! I love you both! - my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

Moving to the city felt like an appropriate change. 

Your life before was stagnant. Same friends and hobbies, no new boyfriend, same old job. And in many ways, moving to the city did give you a lot of new opportunities. You were fresh-faced in a new career path, meeting cool people through work and social outings, and you picked up different ways to keep your hands busy while watching TV and stuffing your face with Chinese takeout. 

One constant in your routine has always been taking a moment to step outside for fresh air during the workday. Even in the most corporate of settings, staying cooped up indoors all day is never an option.

Perched on your favorite park bench, you sip a coffee and stare menacingly down at the daily crossword in the paper. You wiggle your pen back and forth between your middle and index finger, glaring at the puzzle as if it offended you. 

“Norma blank. Three letters across,” you mutter to yourself. Norma Jean? Isn’t that a Michael Jackson song? No, that’s Billie Jean. You bite down on the top of your pen and let out a slow sigh. 

“Rae,” a low, raspy voice mutters beside you. The stranger meets your eyeline and tips his chin towards your crossword. “Norma Rae. It’s a movie before your time. Sally Fields plays a factory worker who becomes involved in a trade union at the factory she works at. It’s good.” 

Your crossword lies forgotten on your lap as your attention drifts to the striking man nearby. His black leather jacket shields him from the city’s biting wind, while aviators with yellow-tinted lenses add a touch of intrigue. A ’70s-style mustache frames his face, perfectly complementing his jet-black hair. Handsome, older, and effortlessly confident, he doesn’t hesitate to strike up a conversation, teasing you about your glaring gaps in film trivia.

“Thanks,” you whisper, back in concentration mode as your pen fills in the missing letters r-a-e.  

It’s a rare thing, sharing the same bench with a stranger in this city, but somehow, there he is beside you, his presence an unexpected disruption to the quiet rhythm of your break.

A quiet tension lingers between the two ends of the park bench. Part of you hesitates, worried that breaking the silence might make you seem unhinged. Yet another part of you silently wills him to speak first, hoping he'll bridge the gap.

You both sip your coffees in unison before you’re back at it. 

Frodo’s burden, ring. Bird food, seed. 

The grip on your pen falters as you encounter another impasse. 

Your work break is meant to be a sacred reprieve, but instead, you're faced with a fiendishly challenging crossword that has every mental gear turning at full speed.

“Pen.” The stranger notes. He’s already glancing at you and your half-filled crossword puzzle once again. His shades are off this time, revealing eyes as dark and intoxicating as aged whiskey—both dangerous in excess.

“I’m sorry?”

“Pen.  Bold choice, you must be pretty confident,” He remarks, sliding closer to you on the bench, his voice warm and teasing. He extends his hand, and for a moment, you hesitate, unsure if he’s expecting a handshake or the crossword. Then his smirk deepens, his palm steady and waiting. Without a word, you place the pen in his hand, feeling the brush of his fingers against yours.

“Dryer accumulation, lint. Old hag, witch.” His handwriting is vastly different from yours. He sketches in the letters with messy dashes and capital letters that make your dainty lowercases look sweet and delicate. “Hawaiian volcano, Mauna blank… Mauna Kea.” 

“Loa,” you intercept the pen before he can fill in the empty squares incorrectly. The stranger connects the dots and nods slowly with a stolen smile. “It’s Loa because 38 down is… Lotus for Sacred flower.”

You find yourselves inching closer as you focus on filling in the missing letters. His hand is still holding the ghost of your pen and what was once a casual gesture shifts into a firm handshake, his grip confident, his eyes roaming over you without a hint of hesitation. There's an undeniable weight to his gaze, one that holds no shame.

“Javier. Six letters across, phone number’s ten down,” he murmurs, his voice low and assured. Before you can respond, he takes the pen from your grasp, casually scrawling his name in elegant cursive over the top of your crossword. As he writes, the phone number stretches down the page. Javi. Just like that, he’s left his mark.

“As fun and embarrassing as this was, I should get back to work,” you say, the heat rising from your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears. Wow, was he smooth. 

With your nerves in a jumble, you scramble to pack up your belongings, already bracing yourself to scream about the cute stranger you met when you meet up with your girlfriends later tonight.

Javi is quick to his feet, something familiar outstretched in his hand. “Woah, hold on, hermosa,” his deep, commanding baritone washed over you as the compliment slipped effortlessly from his lips. “Your scarf.” 

You could not be more uncouth if you tried. 

“Thanks,” you say with shy smile, your fingers weaving around the fabric, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’ll call me?” 

He steals a small laugh from you, the wind sending a shiver up your spine. “I think I have to,” you say. “There’s a new crossword every day with nuanced references.”

“So, same time and place tomorrow? Let me buy your coffee.”

Y-e-s.  

[thesunssin]

I’d love to absolutely yap about Gihun and Sangwoo and how Gihun is in this season so here it is ‼️ ( sorry for any spelling mistakes, English isn’t my first language 🙏)

I don’t see a lot of people really talk about just how much of an affect Sangwoo had on Gihun, especially on this season and how he takes his actions, and even the intentions behind it, but I’d love to go on about Gihun first.

Gihun was never a remarkable person, his life before the games was already in shambles. The company he worked under went on a strike, and that’s when he came in touch with death for the first time, witnessing a coworker die right infront of him when their workplace got attacked, the same day his wife gave birth, which he couldn’t attend, since then he’s been losing things more and more, his wife and daughter, and to cope with it all he turned to unhealthy ways, gambling and detaching from the pain by doing so. Lots of people say he was happier back then, but he was just ignoring all his issues. He’s stuck in the past, his mind refuses to register the pain he went through, and in turn to find a way to heal and work on his life. And being stuck on the past means attaching to things in his childhood, one indirectly being Sangwoo, considering he spends a lot of time with his mother. He knows his state, and indulges in it instead of pretending to be something else.

Sangwoo on the other hand, was the opposite of him. Which is everything Gihun admired in him, and everything Sangwoo envied in him. Gihun views him as someone remarkable, and obviously doesn’t shy away from saying so. But Sangwoo isn’t, and doesn’t believe so. Sangwoo his entire life was fixated on a image he wants to put out to the world, and does whatever it takes to do so, betting on everything and even his mother, who just like Gihun, views him as “ the pride of their hometown”. His methods of doing so however, were immoral and illegal, which caused him to be heavily in debt, a physical proof of his failure. Unlike Gihun, his coping mechanism simply is either money or nothing, to be something else or nothing, anything but himself, and something better than him. Because of his failure, he feels like an imposter in a suit, pretending to be everything he’s not, the image he so desperately wants to portray would falter infront of his mother, and already does infront of Gihun, so his instinct is always to run away from the past, to never go back to his hometown, to his mother, because of how ashamed he is of himself. Seeing Gihun again reminds him of everything he couldn’t be, and that reminder is a constant agony to Sangwoo.

Sangwoo envies the authenticity Gihun has, how he unapologetically connects with others in a death game, helps out Oh Ilnam, an old man who is deemed to be a weak link in a game where everyone is out to get each other, and how despite it all, he still keeps his humanity intact and doesn’t let it falter, how even though Gihun treated his mother horribly, he still had her love, while Sangwoo believes his mother only loves the image he put, not himself. Gihun is the only person who saw his image falter, in the scene where he asks him if he’d push him if it was him instead of the glass maker. Sangwoo breaks, immediately arguing back like a defensive child, his argument almost childish when he calls Gihun a “pea head” and a “dumbass”. When Sangwoo mentions how his entire life is pathetic, Gihun replies that he knows the state of his life, and asks why Sangwoo, the pride of their hometown, the graduate of SNU, is right here in the pits with him, despite their vastly different lives, to which Sangwoo replies with nothing. Gihun through the show realises more and more how insecure Sangwoo is, and in turn also perfectly broke down the image he was trying to hard to put to justify his actions. Sangwoo, probably because of the pressure of Gihun’s own admiration, feels like his actions if for the sake of Gihun’s, no matter what, is justified, which he tries to use when arguing with Gihun, but in reality, it’s his own desperation, his own need to present as something else than himself, if it means bringing worth to his life, which he deems meaningless.

When he tries to connect with someone authentically, that person being Ali, he finally tries to allow himself to be without guilt, to help without thinking of any ulterior motives, and to have a relationship that isn’t wholly transactional, but that ultimately shatters when he teams up with Ali, who he ends up actually using his skills ( intelligence and manipulation, which he wanted to use hand in hand with Ali for each other instead of against each other) and like his old clients, cheats and robs him after promising to help. A painful reflection of how Ali, who was always cheated off his money and used in his workplace in unjust ways, the people who were his bosses, now gets cheated off by someone who he used to call from boss to Hyung. That’s when Sangwoo ultimately reverts back to his mindset, that he should be striving to save himself, make worth for himself, to make the blood in his hands make sense, and for the guilt to be worth it in the end, but also sees how Gihun still helps others, how he still helped Saebyeok, and is filled with anger about how he can pretend that he doesn’t also have blood on his hands too, that they’re all gonna die because of each other, but he still moves in the same empathetic way, as if they can afford to be kind.

Season 1 to me really is about how circumstances change the people who you once knew, how capitalism and money twists people, and even the most innocent things to bloody. It’s best portrayed with two childhood friends, Sangwoo and Gihun, who once played together with just fun in their minds, the adrenaline and the joy of childhood innocence and childlike wonder in their minds, to playing the same games for money with life and death in their minds. I’d argue and say they’re both just overgrown kids, two who are stuck in the past, Gihun who refuses to accept it as it is, and stays behind, his personality almost childish and pathetic as a grown man, while Sangwoo who runs after his childhood dreams by any means, stuck in the image that’s already tainted with blood, his personality almost like an angsty teen who pretend to be older than he is, but both come from poverty, both struggling with money, and both their issues starting from that, which shaped them to be who they are, and turned them both to things they don’t recognise anymore when they reunited till and till their last moments together.

Maybe it’s my own point, but I believe that Sangwoo was relieved that Gihun hated him for that brief moments, that they’ve argued and fought, and that the image Gihun had of him was shattered, which in turn also freed him from his own lies and image he tried to convince himself too. He could finally feel angry without any restraint, without acting like he isn’t, without covering up his selfish desires and needs, and projects it all onto Gihun, absolutely shattering the image he tried so hard to keep infront of him on purpose. Their fight was brutal and lacked any real training, both not knowing how to fight properly, and their emotions speaking louder, their movements are sloppy and awkward, and Sangwoo, who’s way more brutal in this fight, gets a hold of the knife for longer and stabs Gihun, while Gihun who when he manages to get a hold of the knife ( which is impaled to his hand ) realises that he can’t complete his actions, Sangwoo realising so when he opened his eyes to see Gihuns sad ones looking back. When Gihun walks right to the very edge of the triangle of the squid, he realises that the money, all of it, would never be worth his friends life, his childhood friends life, waking back limping and bloody to ask the guard, referencing what Sangwoo said to use clause three and for both of them agree to stop the games and leave.

Sangwoos anger waters down with the rain puddles next to him, and he realises the irony of their place. The same two grown adults, who once used to play the same games, and as he says “ When we were younger, we used to play just like this and our moms would call us for dinner” the intensity of their fight, this one being bloody and violent, reflects on how they as kids would imagine their fights to be that intense and bloody, the adrenaline copying one of someone facing life and death, except they are now, and like Sangwoo says. “Nobody is calling us anymore” his voice here ( lovely detail from the actor thank you park haesoo!) broken like a child, and Gihun raises his hand to him, telling him that they can go him, that they will go home. All the anger they had seconds before now gentle and caring, all of it was always once love, all the anger was once love. Gihun gives him is pure clean hand, one without a drop of blood, while Sangwoo stretches his own bloody hand, one that isn’t tainted with his own blood, but the blood of others and the person above him, the one who’s other hand he impaled.

Gihun was so willing, so willing to make it all worthless. Everything they’ve been though, all the scars they got and had, all the deaths they’ve caused indirectly, directly, and witnessed from close or afar, the death of the people he cared for, even Saebyeoks, and his own bleeding wounds and stabs, all if it meant bringing back Sangwoo with him, he’d go penniless willingly, because he couldn’t truly blame him for everything, he couldn’t truly blame him for turning out the way he is, he admired him with his soul, loved him with every fibre of his being, and adored him and saw him as someone so remarkable and great despite it all, so he gave him his hand, his clean, untainted hand, as to tell him that he, Sangwoo, can taint it with all his sins, and he’ll still hold his hand, he’d still want him by his side. Sangwoo almost took it, almost. He wanted to let himself be, to accept that gentleness Gihun so willingly offered, and to accept the hands of his childhood friend.

That’s until he realises they won’t have a single penny for it all. That’s when he retracts his hand, and all he can do is apologise, to say sorry to his Hyung, as he stabs the knife through his neck without any remorse. In that moments, I think that’s when he realised the only way he can truly repay Gihun isn’t by taking his hand, but by leaving all the money for him, to repay his mother, to repay for Ali, Saebyeok, for all the people he caused to suffer, to repay it all with his life that was now worth 45.7B when the last person is eliminated. In the end of it all, he ignores even his own will to live and picks the most reasonable choice, letting his childhood friend win, not any random person, but Gihun. He knows him better than anyone, and within his last moments, calls out for his mother, asking Gihun to help her, to repay her in his behalf, because he couldn’t face her like this, he knows he wouldn’t be able to live with the weight of what he has done, even more-so without a single dim. But he knows Gihun wouldn’t forget him, he wouldn’t forget his mother, he wouldn’t forget his humanity, and he wouldn’t forget to care.

And so Sangwoo dies in a playground, dead in his childhood friends hands, a reflection of how everything he chased for as a kid died there too, and was always stuck in the same playground trying to prove his worth by winning.

By S2, Gihun painfully parallels everything Sangwoo was before the games. Both sharing even the same mother, who they both feel too ashamed and guilty to face, calling their families from a distance, and falling into deep depression, both sharing the same sense feeling like an imposter in their bodies for being things they aren’t ( both being wealthy, but gaining that wealth in unjust ways) their sense of worth less now and both suicidal. ( Sangwoo who tried to commit suicide in the bathtub, and Gihun who doesn’t hesitate to play Russian roulette and shoot himself) the only difference is the reason why they go back to the games.

Gihun in s2 even comes back to the games acting exactly like Sangwoo, even down to the two of them meeting someone from their past within it ( Sangwoo who met Gihun, and Gihun who now met Jungbae) but as vastly different people. Gihun uses what he had learnt directly from Sangwoo to help others ( The red light green light method, Mentioning the third clause, which was even filmed in the same space and manner, and telling others to hide before the fight broke out ) he’d always seen Sangwoo as an example of how to be, and admired him as a figure of something remarkable, so he, who already feels like an imposter in his body, who feels like he shouldn’t be the one who made it out, unconsciously begins to create an image of himself that reflects Sangwoos, one he saw as cold, intelligent, and was human despite it all.

Young Il, who Inho created, is an image of who Gihun wishes Sangwoo was. (Yes ik how that sounds lemme elaborate!) Young-il is someone who is equally as smart, someone who uses that intelligence to help the weaker, who thinks for the community, and is willing to help Gihun help others, unlike Sangwoo who limited his intelligence and help to just those who could also equally benefit him, who held back on trusting Gihun, and in the end acted on his own, and reduced Gihun’s humanity to weakness, something Gihun resented about Sangwoo, and something he sees in Young-il, who Inho knew how to build himself to be someone Gihun trusted, a familiar but strange new face. Oh but Gihun’s intentions aren’t so pure either, his guilt brought him back to the games, back to something he was stuck in, back to the past he can’t move on from and never will, his guilt drives him to think he needs to sacrifice himself for the games to end, even without any real aim or clear goal on how to, or even realising that the players will still suffer anyways, he believes his life will only gain worth if it’s used for something greater, similarly to how Sangwoo also believed his life would be worth something if he gained social status and money, something greater than himself. This time, Gihun gambles with the lives of himself and others ( the people who died for the plan) instead of horses.

Gihuns unwavering trust in others humanity, and in humanity itself, I’d say is purely because of Sangwoo. He witnessed him turn to so many things, from someone he so dearly admired, to a vile person who spat blood and killed for money, to hearing him never speak to him informally even in their angriest moments, and to crying in his arms, uttering out his mothers name as he calls him Hyung for the last time. Sangwoo, who taught him all he knew right now, couldn’t teach him how people could still be harmful, that trusting still blinds, and that being idealistic and naive isn’t good, because Sangwoo was human, Sangwoo wasn’t evil and irredeemable, he still cared for the boy he grew with, for the kid he found charming but annoyingly naive, for the kid who bragged about him every given chance, and for the same guy who he entrusted his mother to, the one who he drove all his actions for. And Gihun? He bet his entire life on that, on the shred of his cold image breaking to reveal his real vulnerability, on his humanity. And because Sangwoo showed him that, he now doesn’t believe anybody is truly evil, that they’re all victims of something bigger than themselves.

And so Gihun goes back to the games, going back to the place that his old self died in, and the one he doesn’t even know if he’ll survive in again, but is willing to gamble his life on ending it.

(sorry for how long I’ve yapped for! and if I’ve made any mistakes ❤️ please have some mercy on me! my English isn’t the best )

[phoenixblaze1412]

Hiii love your page sm! Wondering if I could request Dottore with Fem!reader who is like The Herta from HSR? 💜💜

In the cold, clinical corridors of the Akademiya, brilliance often hid behind veils of eccentricity. You were no exception, with a personality as peculiar as it was captivating. Detached from the world’s expectations and deeply engrossed in your intellectual pursuits, you found fascination in everything strange. Your aloof and deadpan demeanor often put others off—but not Dottore.

Dottore—Zandik, as he was known back then—was equally ostracized, though for vastly different reasons. His methods were merciless, his goals unrelenting. Yet, despite his cold, calculated nature, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you, the odd scholar with a penchant for creating strange automatons and making unsettlingly blunt remarks.

The first time you met, Zandik was dissecting a particularly rare desert creature, his movements precise and methodical. You walked in uninvited, holding a curious automaton in your hands. It was a strange, humanlike small version of you with spindly limbs and an almost lifelike gaze.

“Is this where you hide when you don’t want to deal with people?” you asked flatly, tilting your head as you observed him.

He glanced up briefly, his expression neutral. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

You ignored his question, setting the mini automaton of you on the table beside him and poked its cheek. “Do you think it’s creepy? People keep saying it’s creepy.”

He stared at the automaton for a long moment, then back at you. “What exactly is it supposed to do?”

“Anything I tell it to,” you replied with a shrug. “But mostly, it’s just fun to look at. Like you.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “You have a very symmetrical face. People like symmetrical faces.”

That was the beginning of your strange dynamic—equal parts baffling and fascinating.

Your personality was a study in contrasts. You were perpetually calm, unbothered, and mildly sarcastic. Dottore, on the other hand, was intense, driven, and occasionally prone to fits of anger when things didn’t go his way.

You often made comments that left him speechless.

One day, as you watched him conduct a particularly gruesome experiment, you looked over his shoulder, “You know, most people would find this horrifying.”

He didn’t look up. “And you don’t?”

You shrugged. “It’s gross, sure, but it’s also fascinating. Kind of like you.”

He paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You have a strange way of giving compliments.”

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you,” you said simply, your expression blank. “Just stating facts.”

While you found entertainment in experimentation, Dottore was wholly consumed by it.

“Why do you care so much about proving everyone wrong?” you asked him one night as you tinkered with your automaton.

“Because they are wrong,” he said, his voice cold and sharp. “Their ignorance holds back progress.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re very passionate about being right. It’s almost cute.”

He scowled. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not,” you replied, your tone flat. “You just make it easy.”

Despite your differences—or perhaps because of them—you and Dottore found yourselves gravitating toward each other.

He was often intrigued by your automatons, though he’d never admit it outright.

“What’s that one supposed to do?” he asked one day, gesturing to a new automaton of you that you’d been working on.

“It sings and dances,” you replied, pressing a button on its back. The automaton began to hum a haunting melody, its movements eerily lifelike as it twirled around in one place like a ballerina does.

Dottore raised an eyebrow. “And what purpose does that serve?”

“It doesn’t need a purpose,” you said with a small smile. “Not everything has to be useful.”

He huffed, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

You often found yourself drawn to his intensity, even if you didn’t always understand it.

“Do you ever stop working?” you asked him one evening as you sat on a table, watching him scribble notes.

He didn’t look up. “No.”

“That’s unhealthy, you know,” you said, resting your chin in your hand.

“And yet, I’m perfectly fine,” he replied curtly.

You leaned closer, a small smirk playing on your lips. “You’re fascinating, you know that?”

He finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing. “You have an odd way of showing affection.”

“Who said anything about affection?” you teased.

Centuries later, after the fall of Khaenri’ah and the passage of time, you and Dottore found yourselves in Sumeru under very different circumstances.

You had disappeared from his life long ago, your fate unknown. He assumed you were dead—another casualty of the calamity that had reshaped the world. But as fate would have it, your paths crossed again during the Sumeru Archon Quest.

When you first saw him, standing tall and imposing in his Harbinger robes, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite symmetrical face.”

He froze, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “You.”

“Me,” you replied, as calm and unbothered as ever.

His composure quickly returned, but you could see the flicker of emotion in his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“Everyone thought I was dead,” you said with a shrug. “But here I am. Surprise.”

At first, your interactions were tinged with the same mix of sarcasm and curiosity that had defined your relationship in the Akademiya.

“You’re still as insufferable as ever,” he muttered one day after you teased him about his methods.

“And you’re still as intense as ever,” you shot back. “It’s good to see some things never change.”

Despite your bickering, there was an undeniable tension between you—a connection that neither of you could ignore.

"Oh? I thought you didn't like to study about the way of how I make my automatons yet here you are, having different automatons of yourself. Do they sing and dance as well?" you asked as you looked over at the different segments working, some would stop their work to stare at you (mostly the Akademiya segments) while others would simply give you a small glance and go back to their work.

"They do not do as such. Think of them as replicas of me who acts and thinks the same way I would. They have their purposes." Dottore replied as he went back to looking over his reports.

"Yet you still made them all have a symmetrical face. How endearing." you stared back at the Akademiya segment and cupped his face, your fingers caressing the segment's cheek before pulling your hand away. You swore you could have heard Dottore let out a huff of annoyance.

As you spent more time together, the walls between you began to crumble.

One night, as you worked side by side in his lab, he glanced at you and said, “I missed you.”

You looked up, surprised by his admission. “You did?”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “More than I thought possible.”

For once, you didn’t respond with sarcasm. Instead, you reached out and placed a hand on his. “I missed you too.”

Your relationship was far from conventional, but it worked. You balanced his intensity with your calmness, and he grounded your whimsical nature with his focus.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” he told you one day as you tinkered with an automaton.

“Coming from you, that’s a compliment,” you replied with a grin.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Your post mentioning why #41 is your least favorite, and why a simple one-sentence explanation of Anti-Morphing Ray would improve it tremendously, made me think of one thing that would make #40 *slightly* better for me: if the bees they morphed were solitary carpenter bee type species, which actively DON'T live in hives and presumably don't have a social mindset that would be a PTSD trigger for our protags.

Even better, some of those bees are known for hovering for ages in the same spot certain times of year, which would make them the perfect surveillance bugs for discovering the hidden secrets of new-found Andalite pals!

Yes, that's good point! I gnash my teeth over #40 because it has such wasted potential. It's, like, three lines away from being a damn good Animorphs book. Setting aside a version where Gafinilan introduces Mertil as his husband (I get why that can't happen in a 90s children's book) it could be vastly improved with a few tweaks:

Carpenter bees! You're right that that fixes the continuity, both plot-wise and character-wise, by having non-social bees.

Have Gaf say he and Mert "are vecols." Or else add a line clarifying that "vecol" means "visibly disabled." Either works, and either one has interesting implications for andalite culture, without being ham-fistedly ignorant about invisible disability.

Give Mertil a personality. Which could be done with one line — he only needs one wry comment as he's being rescued, a kind remark about bees, a silly pet name for Gaf. Just... something.

Drop the line about "the girlfriend" supporting Jake no matter what. Marco can be sexist, but that's too far even for him.

REMEMBER TOBIAS EXISTS. Especially when Ax announces that anyone who chooses to become a nothlit is "a coward" and Cassie agrees that Gaf is no coward and thus would never trap himself in morph. Tobias has TWO LINES in that scene, one of which is "Sounds reasonable." He's also there for Jake's and Gaf's conversation about nothlits and vecols, and again barely says a word. Again, you only need one line — just have Marco notice that Tobias isn't weighing in.  #37, #38, and #41 comment on Tobias being dissociated after Taylor fucked him up, so you can explain his near non-existence in this story. But at least explain it, ideally while making Ax look marginally less dickish toward his shorm.