#‘I’d love to keep getting to know you as a friend’

[jinxvex]

omg haiii :3 #1 i just found your account and i love your works! the way you write is just… mwahmwahmwah. besides that! i’d love it if u could do a jinx x reader where reader is lowkey oblivious but jinx is super obvious with how much she wants to fuck… and when she finally gets to hit she degrades and dumbifies reader… orrrr am i just thirsty 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

♱ fantasy. ♱

oh girl this is sexy trust, WE IS THIRSTY TEW!! also thank you, you’re so sweet!! i’m glad you enjoy my works :))

syp. the first time jinx set her glowy shimmer-charged eyes on you, she knew she had to have you—and she always gets what she wants. no matter that you were friends and you were oblivious to her constantly undressing you with her eyes, fighting her urges to completely ruin, defile, and destroy you. you’d come to realize soon enough.

cw: nsfw content!!, dom!jinx plotting on that p***y (lol), sub!reader (i'm a switch!jinx truther but let me cook...), a lot of degrading + dumbification, cursing, dirty talk, some praise, teasing, mocking, she forces you to take it!!, mentions of oral/fingering/gun-play, strap-on sex, hair-pulling, pet names (toots, hon, babe, baby, bunny, etc?), possessiveness, nastiness galore (lord forgive me!), reader’s past sex life is purposefully written to be vague, + prob more

wc: 4.2k!!

jinx’s fantasies involving you started a month ago when she was off roaming the rowdy streets of the undercity for a market sale. well, before it. she had begrudgingly taken up silco’s orders to keep tabs on the shipment coming in and out before the market opened to the public. for what? ‘who freakin’ knows?!’ she thought.

in retrospect, jinx was never an overly sexual person. she understood what it was, why people participated in it, and her own sexual preferences but she’d never devoted much time to finding someone to fuck or to fuck her for that matter. she's fucked before, but that was it. plunging her long, slender fingers into her own cunt while reading a racy scene in a shitty romance novel was enough to get her rocks off. she figured something was missing but she brushed it off.

her mind was… elsewhere most of the time.

(a month ago...)

lost in her thoughts, per usual, jinx doesn’t see you standing in all your beautiful glory. she walks right past you, eyes darting along everything she can see to accurately take in the information silco wants her to report back to him. she's still preoccupied with the inner workings of her mind and not too much with the zaunite public.

well, that's bound to change one way or another.

suddenly, she's stopping dead in her tracks. something's changed. the air feels charged, full of opportunity and something else. curly lines, shapes, and colorful graphics fill her vision—overwhelming but she feels as though she can really see clearly for the first time.

her nostrils catch a whiff of something… sweet. inviting. like freshly baked cookies although it's almost incomparable to how truly delectable the scent is. she's taken by surprise at the smell of something so good, good enough to eat, to devour. she’s never smelt anything or anyone so delicious. it intrigued her beyond belief, she knew that whatever it was, she was going to have that thing.

that’s when in her own self-induced frenzy she'd caused by frantically turning and thrashing around to look for where the smell led her, she sees you for the first time. as radiant as ever.

everything's in slow motion.

you're leaning up against a metal post and speaking to a market vendor, your voice as sweet as ever chatting to them about ‘who the fuck cares’. your smile is the brightest she’d ever seen living in a place full of drug addicts, violence, and poverty like you’ve never been subjected to zaun in your entire life.

she watches as you flip your hair to one side, hips swaying and fingers twiddling against your satchel. she watches you so intently, that she can see your eyes blinking slowly, she can count your individual eyelashes and remember the number for the rest of her life.

to say the least, jinx is enamored by the sight of you, let alone your smell. images of how good you'd look naked, and what your skin would feel like against hers cloud her vision, creating the perfect first impression of you in her mind. she looks further at you, specifically your ass and the jeans hugging it perfectly as well as the curve of your hips. the veins in your neck travel further down beneath your shirt and she can't help but wonder what your chest would look like.

bare.

before this moment, she'd never thought of somebody in such a vulgar light; it put her in a state of shock. she let her mind wander even farther off into jinx-landia and she imagines what it would feel like to slide her fingers into your pussy and press the pads of them onto your g-spot. she wants to know what it feels like to feel you get wetter and wetter and what it feels like to make out with your pussy—to push your own juices into your mouth and kiss you dumb. she thinks about testing how deep your cunt could get—how pretty your ass would look riding a cock, tits bouncing in the air.

controlling herself was something jinx always had problems with, so she isn't surprised when she is unable to stop herself from approaching you. her feet seem to be dragging themselves towards you like some sort of magnetic force.

“hiya, toots,” spills from her lips before she can even stop and think about what she's doing.

you pause your conversation with whomever you're speaking to, looking over in her direction to find her staring intently at you. confused and a little petrified, you stand up straighter, as you aren't expecting silco’s adoptive daughter to be staring you down at the beginning of some random ass tuesday morning.

“uhm, hey,” you respond, sounding more like a question rather than a greeting in return.

‘this is gonna be so much fun,’ jinx’s eyes light up and she lets her lips curl up in a friendly smirk, running through ways in her mind how exactly she’d ruin your body, mark you up, and claim you for herself.

because no matter what, nobody else is ever getting a piece of you now that she's sought you out.

no fuckin’ way.

…

somewhere in the present, there’s an idea—a certain narrative established between you and jinx.

you’re friends. good ones.

you don't know what else would explain the obvious liking jinx has taken to you. what else would explain the way she’s always touching you, looking after you, and asking you personal questions? questions so personal they have your eyes widening and gripping the edges of your clothes.

"have you ever, y'know, done it before? had sex?"

"what sorta stuff you into? like, sex stuff."

"you ever touch yourself? what feels the best? just trying to see if i could learn somethin' interesting for myself."

you never answer, often opting to lower your head in silence. how could you? it was wildly inappropriate and quite frankly, jinx made you shy. maybe it's because she's so pretty, and bold, and has a waist so small and touchable that you just want to-

no! 'why does she care so much?' you ask yourself frequently. no friend has ever been so crass...

duh! she gives a shit because she wants to fuck your brains out 'n then maybe cuddle you a bit! but you don't know that...

jinx follows you around too, insisting you need protecting since "you're too pretty 'n perfect" to not have protection.

one day, she started walking you to your god-awful job and never stopped. her excuse was, "can't have anyone takin' advantage of ya so early in the morning, princess. janna knows they'd try with a face 'n a body like that...whew", she whistled to herself.

needless to say, she kept your life interesting. she always seems to find you, no matter where you are. like she can sense your presence anywhere. you figure she doesn't have many people to talk to, everyone's scared of her being silco's daughter and all. but, you don't have anyone either; no parents or friends. no girlfriend.

well that makes two of you. sort of.

you both are currently smushed together on her sofa in her hideout making bracelets—snacks, craft supplies, and sleepover galore surrounding you. earlier on in the day, jinx had swung by your apartment (how she found out where you lived, you had no clue) and invited you over for a sleepover for the first time. you were surprised she was trusting you enough to let you see where she retreats at night and where she spends most of her time eating, sleeping, plotting; scheming.

she has a knack for making you feel special; like it’s just you two in the world and nothing else matters.

she makes you feel alive.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts by a grinning jinx. yes, physically shaken. both of her palms are placed on your shoulders, gripping them tight and looking into your eyes almost as a way to silently ask if you’re having as much fun as her. heat transfers from her usually cold hands to your skin which has you internally reeling. you’re wearing a tank top, comfortable enough with her to show a little something extra, “whatcha thinkin’ about, hon?”

you smile back at her, “nothing.”

you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your chest for a split second but you ignore it. her eyes move quick due to the shimmer, ‘you’re seeing shit, girl’ claims the angel on your shoulder.

“hmm, you’re lying.”

“am not!” you counter.

“are too,” she doubles back.

“whatever.” you finalize, emphasizing the ‘ever’. you’re not interested in arguing with her any further or giving her the satisfaction of proving her right.

you focus on the friendship bracelet you’re creating for her, determined to make it as pretty as you can for her. you want her to wear it—like it. love it, even. it fills you with a sick satisfaction knowing that soon you’d be wearing each other's creations, way more than it would if you just saw her as a friend. you see her pause her movements out of the corner of your eye but you keep going.

the faint sound of her own bracelet dropping to the couch cushion causes your head to rise up, looking at her in slight confusion. you’re not shocked to realize that she’s already looking at you.

“’m bored,” jinx replies blankly, pouting cutely.

“and grass is green. what else is new? you’re always bored, girl,” you playfully nudge her arm.

“well… grass has more of a grey hue down here so-“

the funny but slightly depressing joke nearly flew over your head but the knowing smirk on her face clued you in on her shenanigans.

you gasp in disbelief and nudge her arm a little harder now, fighting to stifle your laugh under your breath, “ha ha. very funny.”

“yeah, toots. i’m extremely hilarious,” she holds her head up high and crosses her arms above her chest.

she pauses, “let’s play somethin’.

she faces you fully now, right knee switching from resting next to your left to mirroring both of your knees, parallel to you. she scoots closer, and by now you know her calculating personality. you know that whatever she’s up to, has to be mischievous.

“ever hear of truth or dare?”

you roll your eyes, “of course i have!”

“then, you know the rules… right?”

“yes, jinx. i know how to play,” you rebuttal.

maybe you should’ve known her attention span wouldn’t last long while bracelet making. even if the speaker blared her favorite music at her gadget station, filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.

she smiles widely, “then let’s fuckin’ play!

“it’ll be so. much. fun,” she gets closer to your face with each word to emphasize her point, biting her lip and giving you intense eye contact. sexually charged eye contact. but again, you don't realize.

“fine. fine! but you’re going first. you're better at this sorta thing.”

she leans back to give you more space, just enough space to where it's socially acceptable to still be incredibly close to your friend. she's clapping her manicured hands together as her smile grows bigger and her shoulders tense with excitement.

"truth or dare?!" she asks in a televised over-dramatic fashion.

"truth."

'too easy' she thought. although, 'this is good,' her thoughts linger further. she figures she should start you off easy.

jinx has now stopped her clapping to put a finger on her chin in a thinking motion, obviously pretending to conjure up an interesting question that she's probably already picked out in her head.

"hmm...have you ever had a boyfriend?" she asks confidently, putting emphasis on the 'boy' part of "boyfriend" in a mocking manner; like how a sibling or family member would tease you about a crush.

your eyes widen, already caught off-guard by her first question.

"uhm... no. i-i don't really like boys like that."

she licks her lower lip and smiles once again, unbeknownst to you because you've just confirmed that she actually has a chance to win you over. although, she had her suspicions when she first met you.

"ever had a girlfriend?" she questions further, a serious, eerie edge to her voice appearing at the thought of you ever even romantically touching another girl. hell, in any way, shape, or form.

blinking rapidly, you shut her down quickly, "what, no! never really got the… chance to."

initially, you were going to tease her by mentioning that she was only allowed to ask one question but, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that she wasn't going down without an answer from you.

"awesome, good to know! your turn."

"okay. truth or da-"

"dare," she cuts you off delightedly.

you file through your mind to give her something entertaining to do but you find absolutely nothing, your mind blank like always the very moment you get around her. jinx makes you feel like you don't have to live your life thinking so hard. it's peaceful.

"damn, you are bad at this game," she snorts.

"hey, i can't help it. you've gotta help me here."

she raises a brow, "i mean, you could ask me t'do basically anything. y'know i'd do it," she slowly cocks her head to the side, still gazing deep into your irises. her braids follow the movement of her head.

"make it nasty."

"what the hell am i supposed to do? tell you to take off your clothes?!"

she doesn't waver, "yeah. yeah, that's a good one. do it."

you gulp, throat now dryer than ever and your fingers hurt from tightly grasping the fabric of your sleep shorts, 'here goes nothing.'

"u-uh... i dare you to t-take off your shirt," you order weakly.

jinx doesn't even let you finish your sentence before she's crossing her arms in front of her to tug the tiny, thin tank top off of her body, you follow her hands and you watch her chuck it on the floor carelessly. you look back up at her only to realize that,

she isn’t fucking wearing a bra.

you gasp in shock and secret arousal, eyes darting to the spot below you as you avoid looking at her soft, perky chest any longer, not wanting to over-step or make her uncomfortable.

"hey, you're startin' to hurt my feelings, babe. gave you that idea for a reason. makes shit more... interesting."

you look up to meet her eyes and for the nth time, you see her staring right back at you, gaze charged with something more than usual. you may have been oblivious, but you weren't dumb, something was definitely going on here. something that friends shouldn't do alone.

but you can't stop. it's turning you on.

the game continues on for many rounds after that, you and jinx switching back and forth from truth and dare, learning more and more about each other as time passes by. you start to get the hang of her outlandish questions, answering them shyly but not as reluctant as before. something you'd never get used to was the hypnotizing way her tits bounced with each slight movement, entrancing you. you learn that she's had sex once before and that she likes rope play and getting her hair pulled.

she also mentions other personal traits of hers that make your head spin, "y'know when i get wet, i get reeeally wet. like water wet."

needless to say, you know more than you should. she seemed to not mind telling you these things either, almost excited to clue you in.

"truth or dare, baby?"

"truth," you choose once more, the pet name affecting your better judgment and the seductive tinge to her voice causing the wetness already present in your underwear to leak through to your shorts.

jinx doesn't attempt to pretend to think of a question, "tell me, toots. what turns you on? what gets ya goin'?"

"what do you mean? like some sort of a kink?"

"yeah, like a kink."

embarrassment falls over your face like a dam breaking. you have to lie. this was getting too up close and personal for your own good and the only thing that could save what's left of your dignity is a lie.

"i-i don't know..."

so much for a lie.

her unhappiness with your answer is expressed when you see her narrowing her eyes at you. she leans in close, nose brushing yours and you can feel her warm breath on your face, "i know you're lying," she says real sing-songy-like. she's teasing you, and enjoying it.

her slender finger points in your face, “no fair! showed you my tits, toots! play by the rules."

"okay! okay! god, this is so fucking embarrassing-"

"c'mon..," she urges you on, eager to learn more about your sexual side and what takes you cream. she desired to know what made your pussy wet before she stuffed you full. but again, you don't know that.

"i-um. i read something onc-,”

she cuts you off once again, “don’t got all day!”

you sigh, “okay! i like getting called names. mean ones,” you blurt out quickly—sick of her antics.

“and i think i like it…rougher?”

her seemingly continuous stare falters for a split second before a bubbly laugh escapes her throat, smiling bigger and better than she has all day.

“oh, yeah? you like it… rough? you like getting treated like you’re nothin’?” she laughs out incredulously and somehow she’s gotten closer to you, lips almost close enough to graze yours.

“jinx… i- what are you-“

“what if we… played somethin’ else? somethin’ a little more worth our while.”

she figures, ‘ay, i’ve waited long enough…i need her'.

“like what?” you inquire even though you're no longer oblivious, catching on to what she means by “somethin’ else.” you feign innocence.

you feel a calculating hand travel up your leg, they’re slightly sweaty and cold which makes a shiver crawl down your spine. your chest visibly quickens, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes glossy with desire. jinx, still maintaining eye contact with you, remains calm although internally jumping for joy as she's finally got you where she wanted you the moment she laid eyes on you.

"how wet are ya right now, toots? you look like you're 'bout to cream your fuckin' pants!"

you audibly gasp, and she continues,

"i bet you're just drippin' down there... this whole time i've been sittin' here thinkin' you're being tortured answering all my questions, but, the entire time you've been gettin' off to it, haven't ya?!"

a single tear gathers in your eye out of complete and utter embarrassment. despite that, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love it.

her hand stops at the edge of your top, fiddling softly with it, "you can tell me to stop, baby! but, i have a feeling you don't want that," she whispers against your lips. you feel her tug the bottom of your tank top tighter, balling it in her clammy fist.

"dont! d-dont stop."

and just like that, a switch flips in her head. she's grabbing the back of your neck and smushing her lips against yours, capturing them in a searing kiss that has your lips aching. as soon as you feel her tongue attempt to break into your mouth, you let her in.

you initially jump in surprise but quickly sink into the kiss once you get used to the overwhelming contrast between her cold hands clutching your waist and her warm lips pressed on your lips. soon, she's basically drooling into your mouth, tongue trailing over every detail of the inside of your mouth as if she's trying to memorize the space. it's disgusting, really. but, it makes your cunt sloppy.

jinx breaks the kiss to pull your top over your head. she throws it on top of hers. the same one she abandoned long ago at the start of the game. it creates a small heap on the floor of her cozy abode.

"fuckin' whore," she laughs.

you moan, biting your lip softly as a seductive tactic to keep her kissing you.

"wooow!!" she drags out humorously, pressing her hand against your throat and tightening slowly with each word that comes out of her mouth, "you really are a slut. you like when i'm mean, slut?"

you nod, words seemingly impossible to form at this point.

she tightens her hold on you, bringing your neck closer so her mouth resides next to your ear, "if you don't speak up, i'm gonna make it hurt. 's gonna hurt so bad, bunny. gonna torture you. ‘n i know it’s our first time and all! don’t wanna have to scare ya just yet!"

unable to stop rambling, she continues, "hmm... maybe i'll shove the biggest fucking cock i have into your tight cunt... no prep! betcha you'd take it so well. hell, you'd probably like it! you're nasty like that."

"maybe i'll stuff my gun in there...with the bullets inside."

"please, jinx. fuck me.”

she just smiles, “i thought you’d never ask.”

…

you swear you see your life flash before your eyes because of how hard jinx is pounding your poor, abused cunt into the couch cushion. she has you face down—ass up with your hands held together behind your back by her own hands. your face rests on the couch arm, halfway visible to her so she can marvel at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and crossing achingly.

her own eyes roll at the sight of you in such a lewd state, “fuck, toots! you’re takin’ this cock so good. suckin’ me in your pussy like a good little cockslut. mmph. jus' swallowing it whole, fuck!!"

her pace is fast but calculated; and planned. as always. she’s roughly rolling her hips into yours to produce the addictive whore-ish moans to spill from your mouth. she’s also focused on watching her cock disappear in you, your cunt swallowing her cock like it was supposed to be there. the open space is filled with creamy cunt sounds and skin-slapping noises.

“holy fuckin’ shit, hear that? ya hear that pussy creaming ‘round my dick? she’s talkin’ to me, baby!”

you speak, remembering her resentment towards you not responding to her, “y-yes! i-i do, jinxie.”

“yeah?! you think she’s tryin’ to tell me how much she loves me? how much she loves when i split her open on my dick?” she reaches below your stomach to slap at your clit right where the balls on the faux cock meet your skin and you shudder in pleasure.

“fucking love your dick, ‘s so good, s-shit!”

it’s like her mouth won’t stop. she’s relentless—bullying you with her words as well as her cock. jinx pulls you up by your hair so your upper body mirrors hers. she slows her pace to thrust deeper and harder in you, damn near knocking the wind out of you. that causes to you choke on your breath, and your mouth is open as far as it can go.

“h-hah! aww… ‘s just sooo good, isn’t it?"

"see what happens when you’re good for me? good lil’ whores get good dick, ‘n i love givin’ it to ya, hon.”

you’re uncontrollably moaning, voice echoing loudly as you beg her for more—to wreck you.

“more! m-more please!”

“more?!“ she removes her hand from your head to dig her nails into your hips so she can get deeper, so she can open you up.

“you. want. fuckin’. more?!” she slams into your pussy with each word.

your pussy is drooling with your arousal and the shared sweat between you and jinx. you can feel it squelching down your legs with every thrust and throaty laugh she lets out at your pathetic form.

“god, you should see yourself. such’a perfect slut.”

with every word you feel your pussy quiver, getting closer and closer to cumming around her cock. when you curl your toes and inch off of her to prevent yourself from orgasming a whopping 3 minutes in she’s not having it, quickening her pace but keeping her almost-painful thrusts deep.

“nope! gonna take it all. ya asked for it, toots! you begged me to stick my dick in you. so take all of it.”

“b-but ‘m gonna cum! don't wanna yet! oh my god, p-please!!” you beg her for the slightest bit of mercy.

uncaring, she leans down next to the side of your head, lowering her voice, “you’re gonna fuckin’ cum, ‘n you’re gonna cum telling me whose pussy this is. who’s is it, babe?”

“who’s feedin’ this cunt good dick?!”

“you, you! only you.”

“yeah, ‘s me. cum, toots. soak me—get me wet.”

and that was it, “fuck! ‘m cumming!”

you release a soul-crushing moan and triggered by your sudden high, you grip the edges of the couch arm and fuck your ass back on her to deepen her thrusts if that’s even possible. wetness squirts from your cunt and everywhere around you, soaking the entire space below you including jinx’s lower half. the last thing you remember before you pass the fuck out is the hazy, content look on her face and incoherent mumbles that probably consisted of,

“that was way better than a fuckin’ fantasy.”

…

PLEASE TAKE THIS FOOD WHILE I WORK ON MY SEV REQS!!🙏🏽🫣...

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. ��It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[holyhaech]

hiiiiii!!! can i request Jisung with the 3rd prompt please

stupid cupid

f!reader x park jisung (fluff, secret admirer)

you wake up on a random monday, normal as ever. everything following your regularly scheduled programming. well, until you get a text. it’s probably just your friends, asking you to join them at the party on friday, it’s valentine’s day after all! you already told them you’d go, but maybe they were just double-checking?

you open the text to see that it’s from a random number with the contact labeled “smu cupid”. what kind of stupid prank was this? i mean sure, you had no valentine. but this was just ridiculous. one of your friends must’ve signed you up for this.

you sigh as you read the text.

“you are beautiful, i love your smile. i see you smile from the back row of prof. lee’s lectures, usually when you talk to your friends. god, i wish i could be the one to make you smile like that one day. - andy.”

odd. i mean, it’s sweet and all, but it has to be written by a bot. there’s no one in your lectures named andy. not to mention the whole back row is usually too busy playing roblox to notice anything in front of them.

so you make it your mission for the next 2 days to track down this andy guy. you look back during your lectures, glancing at the back row, which confirms your suspicions. no one in the back row does anything but play video games.

little do you know, there’s a guy directly behind you 2 rows back. he looks at you every lecture, then hides behind his macbook once you turn around. he wishes he wasn’t so shy. but alas, that’s who park jisung was. the quiet nerd in the back of the lecture hall.

you gave up on the third day, thursday the 13th. there’s no chance that someone was going to as you to be their valentine. you convinced yourself that you were okay with that. the messages didn’t stop though, one per day.

tuesday: “i love the way you did your hair today, if i was yours i’d braid your hair every day if i could.”

wednesday: “you’re so smart it boggles my mind! how did you know the answer when no one else did? you amaze me everyday.”

and now, thursday: “this sounds weird but could you go to the big lawn at 4pm? i get out of my last class at 3:30, so i want to ask you something.”

well here you are, 3:58, standing in the middle of the big lawn, looking like a loser. the clock keeps ticking down, with you doubting this whole thing more and more every second.

at 4:02 he shows up, out of breath with flowers in his hand. your secret admirer was none other than park jisung? the boy you had a crush on for all of freshman year? this had to be a joke.

“you’re…andy?” you ask, suspicious.

“uhh yes! it’s my english name. my korean name is park jisung.” you extend his hand holding the flowers, handing them to you.

“i can’t believe this.” you say incredulously.

“did i do something wrong? ireadthatflowersaregoodforconfessionsandtheseremindedmeofyouand.” he rushes through his words, panicking

you cut him off with a kiss on the cheek. “it’s perfect jisung, thank you.”

his cheeks turn crimson. “oh, you’re welcome.” he responds meekly.

“i just wanted to say that i’ve had a crush on you since two years ago, in english 101. and at first i thought it was just a fleeting thing, i don’t know i’ve never been in love before. but my feelings just kept growing the more and more i saw you. i was just wondering if you would like to be my valentine? sorry that all sounded really creepy.” he stops himself to find you making eye contact with him with a bright smile on your face.

“i like you too, jisung or should i say…andy.”

he looks back at you with wide eyes, obviously not expecting this reaction.

you pull him in for a soft kiss. he melts into your lips, sinking into you with every passing second. you pull back to take a breath, with him panting in front of you.

“i love you, yn.”

“i love you too.”

you come together in an embrace, slowly rocking back and forth, enjoying the sunset behind you both.

a/n: title is inspired by nct dream's stupid cupid. hope you like this anon! i feel like it kinda sucks but oh well! we're our harshest critics ig. made this bc i'm tired of the fuckboy jisung allegations!!! that man is a capital L LOSER. he would cream his pants from just a kiss, its true!

[batarangaroo]

Hi there! Reading about your dynamic with your Daddy has been so amazing. I sincerely hope you keep sharing your journey with us!

I was wondering – do any friends or family know about your recent, ahem, need for pull-ups and diapers? 🤭

Oh my goodness🫠🫠🫠

Thank you for the ask, what a blushy question!!

Uh, hmm. The only one who really knows about my… my training is my daddy. He likes to tease me about scenarios where my family or friends find out, because I get all pink and whiny and squirmy wormy.

I’m starting to wear around my friends and family as I need to be more protected from accidents, and my daddy’s really proud of how brave I’m being, and how good I am at disguising my diapers under clothes. (I’d absolutely write a post about how to do this if anyone’s interested)

I’ve had a number of close calls over the past few months of being padded, and my daddy always loves hearing about them. He’s of the firm belief that my roommates know by now, but I’m pretty sure they don’t. They’re being really nice about it if they do.

Here’s a story of one of my close calls from a few weeks ago: I was in my nighttime diaper with sweatpants over it. I’d just come out of my room to get water for bedtime, and my roommate was in the kitchen. She complimented my sweatpants, which was awesome because they were new! But when I got back to my room, I realized I’d forgotten to tuck my puffy diaper down into my sweatpants, and all I had on top was a loose, cropped sweater. So I’m scared she could see my diaper, but she might not have��� what do you think??

[xlettex]

In This Life and The Next||wakatoshi ushijima Reincarnation + Farmer Au - The Last Lifetime

Some loves are written in the stars. Others take root in the Earth. Wakatoshi Ushijima has never questioned his place in the world. Until you. In a small café in France, something stirs between you, something neither of you can name. A pull, a familiarity, as if you’ve met before. As if you’ve loved before. But love like this has never been simple. And in this life, you are given the rarest of gifts— A love that is yours to keep.

pairing - wakatoshi ushijima x reader genre - fluff, romance rating - 13+ chapter word count - 6.0k

the second lifetime <- the last lifetime

Wakatoshi never expected much from this trip.

He was only in France to visit Tendou, answering one of his best friend’s many enthusiastic invitations. A week away from the countryside, from the quiet rhythm of farm life, from the responsibilities that came with it—it wasn’t something he often allowed himself. But Tendou had insisted—loudly, persistently, with that usual grin of his—promising, “It’ll be fun, Wakatoshi! Just trust me,” and for some reason, he had agreed.

What he hadn’t anticipated was walking into Tendou’s café that morning and having his entire world shift.

The cafe was small but lively, nestled in the heart of Strasbourg, tucked between old stone buildings with ivy curling up their sides. The scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee drifted from the doorway, warm and inviting, and the faint hum of conversation wove through the air. It was different from what he was used to.

His life back home was quiet—fields stretching endlessly before him, mornings that began before the sun, and the rich scent of soil after the rain. His days were spent hands deep in the Earth, harvesting what he had planted, tending to the horses as they stirred in their stalls, and the distant lowing of cattle carried by the wind.

He wasn’t used to places like this—bustling, full of people, full of life. But something about this café felt different. Or maybe it was just you.

You were behind the counter, tying the strings of your apron as you emerged from the kitchen, your hands lightly dusted with flour. The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, catching in your hair, making you look softer and warmer than anything he had ever seen before.

For a moment—just a moment—his breath caught.

Not because of your beauty, though that was undeniable. But because something deep inside him stirred. A feeling he couldn’t name. A strange, quiet pull—like recognition without memory.

“Ah, there she is,” Tendou said, his voice full of something smug—like he had been waiting for this exact moment. With a knowing grin, he clapped a hand on Wakatoshi’s shoulder. "You two are so alike—I figured I’d save fate the trouble and introduce you myself."

At first, Wakatoshi wasn’t sure what he meant. But then you turned to him and smiled. And suddenly, the world tilted—just slightly, just enough for him to notice.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, wiping your hands on a cloth before extending one toward him.

Wakatoshi stared for a moment before reaching out, his grip firm, and steady. The warmth of your palm against his sent a strange sensation curling through his chest, though he didn’t understand why. There was something familiar in your touch. Something like the echo of a memory, long forgotten.

“Tendou’s been talking about you all week,” you continued, your smile teasing but kind. “I was beginning to think he made you up.”

“He tends to exaggerate,” Wakatoshi replied, his voice calm, even.

“Oh, I know.” You shot Tendou a playful look before returning your gaze to him. “But for once, he wasn’t lying about the height.”

A quiet pause stretched between you, filled only by the distant clatter of cups and the soft chatter of customers. Wakatoshi wasn’t sure why he couldn’t look away.

“Come on, Wakatoshi, sit,” Tendou said, nudging him toward a table near the counter. “We’ll get you something to eat—she made fresh croissants this morning.”

You let out a mock gasp. “I make fresh croissants every morning, thank you very much.”

Tendou winked. “Yeah, but today’s batch has a little extra love in them, don’t they?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned back toward the kitchen, but not before glancing at Wakatoshi once more. “Coffee?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Black?”

He nodded.

You hummed. “Figures.”

And just like that, you were gone, disappearing behind the counter, leaving the faint scent of sugar and flour lingering in the air.

Wakatoshi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Tendou dropped into the seat across from Wakatoshi, grinning as he had just set up the greatest prank of his life.

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

Wakatoshi didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on the space you had just occupied, listening as you exchanged greetings with customers, as you moved through the café with practiced ease. He didn’t know why he was so aware of you.

Why his mind was already memorizing the way you moved, the way you smiled, the way your voice carried through the room.

Tendou leaned forward on his elbows, smirking. “I was right,” he said smugly. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Wakatoshi exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

"Am I?" Tendou leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. "You know, I always thought you were a little too serious for your own good. Always so focused on keeping the farm running perfectly—like the whole world depends on it. But life isn’t just about discipline. Sometimes, it’s about moments."

The word lingered, curling around Wakatoshi’s thoughts like a thread tying itself to something long past. He didn’t answer, but his fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table, thoughtfully. And then—

You reappeared, setting down a cup of black coffee in front of him. “There you go,” you said. 

Then, with a smile that felt like it could warm even the coldest morning, you added, “You’ll like it here.”

He wasn’t sure if you meant the café. Or France. Or something else entirely. But he found himself thinking—

Maybe I will.

Wakatoshi’s visit passed too quickly—so quickly that neither of you had time to grasp what it meant. What had started as a casual introduction quickly turned into something more. Something neither of you had a name for yet.

It began with small moments. Wakatoshi kept coming back to the café—not because Tendou had dragged him there, but because he wanted to. Because the way you greeted him, with that easy smile, made it feel as if he had always belonged there. Because you set down his usual coffee without him needing to ask.

One morning, when he finally ordered something other than black coffee, you raised a brow, teasing, “Branching out, are we?”

He only hummed in response, lifting the cup to his lips. The espresso was strong and bold—its richness lingering on his tongue longer than expected.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him expectantly. "Well?"

He lowered the cup, his expression unreadable as he considered. Then, with his usual steadiness, he said, "It’s good."

A slow grin tugged at your lips. “High praise, coming from you.”

Wakatoshi had never been one for unnecessary words, and yet, with you, the quiet moments he was accustomed to never lasted long. You filled them effortlessly, talking about the pastries you were experimenting with, the places in the city you wanted to show him before he left, and the little details of your life that you shared without hesitation.

And slowly, without realizing it, he found himself wanting to listen. To learn. To know more.

The next morning, you met up with Wakatoshi to take him through the streets of Strasbourg. The air was cool, crisp with the lingering scent of fresh bread from the bakeries just beginning to open. You spotted him waiting at the corner near the café, looking effortlessly composed despite the morning chill.

In his hands, he held two cups of coffee. You raised a brow as you approached, rubbing your arms for warmth. "Didn’t take you for a two-cup kind of guy."

Without a word, he extended one to you.

You blinked, taking it hesitantly. "You got me coffee?"

He nodded, taking a sip of his own.

"That’s… nice," you said slowly, surprised. Hesitating for a moment, you glanced down at the cup before murmuring, "I’m not usually one for black coffee, but—"

Then you took a sip. And froze. It wasn’t black coffee. It was exactly how you made it. Your usual order. Right down to the honey.

You stared at the cup in shock before looking up at him. "How did you know?"

Wakatoshi frowned slightly as if realizing it himself for the first time. "I don’t know," he admitted.

Silence stretched between you. There was no logical reason for him to have known. You had never ordered in front of him, never told him the details. And yet—

It was perfect.

You should’ve questioned it further and should’ve pressed for an explanation. But instead, you wrapped your hands around the cup, taking another sip. The warmth bloomed in your chest, lingering even as you exhaled.

"Thank you," you murmured.

He only nodded, his expression unreadable. But for a moment, as you met his steady gaze, something unspoken passed between you. Neither of you said anything more about it. Instead, you fell into step beside him, the quiet rhythm of morning footsteps against cobblestone filling the space between you. 

The city was still waking up, the scent of fresh bread and espresso lingering in the crisp air as the streets slowly came to life. And somehow, walking with him like this—coffee in hand, silence stretching easy between you—felt natural.

As if you had done this before. 

Wakatoshi followed you through ivy-lined alleyways, past storefronts just beginning to open, and through bookstores where the scent of old pages clung to the air. He listened as you translated words from French to Japanese for him, laughing softly when he tried to repeat them back in his deep, steady voice.

When you paused to watch a street musician play, your fingers tapping absently against your thigh in time with the music, he found himself watching you instead.

"Do you always do this?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Stop to admire things."

You turned to him, tilting your head slightly. "Shouldn’t everyone?"

He had never thought about it before. His life had always been about moving forward. There was always something to be done—the fields to tend, the horses to feed, the crops to prepare for the next season. The land didn’t wait, didn’t pause. It demanded patience, resilience, and work. His father had always taught him that the Earth was unforgiving if you didn’t respect its cycles.

The sun dictated his work. The seasons shaped his days. And though it was demanding, though it was relentless, it was a life he had never questioned. But you—

You moved differently.

You weren’t in a rush to get anywhere. You paused—to admire a flower growing between the cracks of a stone wall, to linger by a shop window, to let a song drift through you as if the world had slowed just for you to hear it.

And for the first time, Wakatoshi wondered what it would be like to move through the world the way you did—taking in every detail, living fully in the moment. You noticed things he never did. Maybe that was why, when your gaze finally settled on him, it felt different. More intentional.

Like you were seeing something in him he had never thought to see in himself. And then, you started to learn him, too.

About his discipline, the quiet rhythm of his life—measured not by clocks, but by the land itself. By sunrises and sunsets, by the cycle of planting and harvest, by the unspoken promise that the soil would always demand something of him.

He told you about the weight of responsibility, about how his family had worked the land for generations, about how he had taken it over without hesitation. There had never been a question of what his life would be. The farm had always been there, waiting for him, just as it had waited for his father, and his father before him.

And though his days were uneventful, there was a certainty in them—a purpose written into the soil, into the calluses on his hands, into the way he moved through the world.

You listened. Really listened. Not just to his words, but to the things he didn’t say, the unspoken thoughts lingering behind his quiet demeanor.

"You’re always so serious," you mused one evening, sitting across from him at a quiet café.

"I am not," he replied, though the slight crease in his brow suggested otherwise.

You smiled, shaking your head. "Not a bad thing. Just… you don’t let yourself enjoy things enough."

Wakatoshi looked at you then, his eyes steady, unreadable. "I enjoy farming."

You hummed, stirring your drink absentmindedly. "Yeah, but what about everything else?"

He had no answer to that. But later, when he found himself laughing—actually laughing—at something you said, the sound unfamiliar even to his own ears, he realized what you meant.

The night before he left, you sat together on the riverbank, watching the city lights flicker against the water. It was quiet, and comfortable, a moment neither of you wanted to end.

"So," you said, drawing your knees up to your chest. "Back to the countryside tomorrow."

He nodded. "Yes."

You sighed, resting your chin on your arms. "Time went too fast."

It was an odd thing for Wakatoshi to acknowledge, but he agreed. Before this trip, time had always been dictated by work— measured in tasks, seasons, in things that always made sense. But now, sitting here beside you, it felt different.

Fleeting. Like something slipping through his fingers faster than he could grasp it.

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. "Think you’ll ever come back?"

The question lingered between you, heavier than it should have been.

"I don’t know," he admitted, honest as ever.

You nodded as if you had expected that answer. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you reached for his phone.

He watched as you quickly typed something, saving it before sliding it back toward him.

"My number," you said simply. "In case you ever get bored of all that cattle and feel like talking to a human being for a change."

A pause.

Then, to your surprise, Wakatoshi reached for your phone as well. When he handed it back, you glanced down. His name was saved in your contacts, no fanfare, no embellishment.

Just Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You laughed softly. "You’re really not a nickname guy, huh?"

"I see no point in them."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Figures."

Neither of you said goodbye. It didn’t feel like one. And then, just like that, he was gone.

Back to the countryside.

Back to his duties.

Back to the quiet rhythm of his life.

But the connection you had made did not fade.

It grew.

The texts started slowly.

At first, they were simple. Made it home. Long day on the farm. Tendou won’t stop talking about escargot. Hope he hasn’t converted you.

Then they became longer.

You told him about your days at the café, the new pastries you were testing, and the customers who made you laugh. He told you about the harvest, the stubborn horse that kept breaking out of the stable, and about how the summer storms had been kind this year.

Then came the late-night calls.

You talked about nothing and everything—about cookbooks you were reading, the places you still wanted to visit, and the smallest, most insignificant details that somehow mattered.

And yet, sometimes, there were no words at all. Just silence. Just breathing. Just the quiet sound of knowing the other person was there. It should have felt strange—this closeness that neither of you had expected, this familiarity that didn’t make sense. But it didn’t.

Wakatoshi wasn’t sure when he realized he was in love with you. Maybe it was the first time he heard your sleepy voice through the phone, murmuring good night in a time zone where the sun had just begun to rise for him.

Or maybe it was the first time he caught himself looking forward to your messages more than he looked forward to watching the sunrise.

Or maybe—

Maybe it was when you told him, late one evening, that sometimes you had dreams that felt more like memories.

"Strange things," you had said softly, almost absently. "I’ll dream of being somewhere I know I’ve never been, but I remember it like I lived there once."

He had been silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly around his phone.

"Does it ever feel real?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.

You had hummed, thoughtful. "Sometimes. It’s not the places, though. It’s the people."

The words had settled deep in his chest, heavier than they should have been. Because Wakatoshi knew the feeling. That quiet sense of recognition. That unexplainable pull. It had been there since the moment he met you.

It had been there when he watched you trace your fingers along a shop window when you laughed over the phone as he had always known that sound. It had been there, whispering between every conversation, in the way he somehow knew how you took your coffee without ever being told.

It had always been there.

Maybe that was why, one evening, he found himself staring at his phone, hesitating before typing out something that made his heart pound harder than it should have.

Come to the countryside.

He hesitated. Then deleted it. Reworded it.

Would you ever consider moving to the countryside?

The moment he hit send, he nearly regretted it.

But then, after a long pause, your response came through.

Are you asking me to?

His fingers hovered over the screen, debating. Then, with a confidence that had always come naturally to him, he typed—

Yes.

And, against all logic, all reason, all hesitation—

You did.

Love bloomed quickly after that. It was easy, natural—like it had always been waiting for the right moment to unfold.

Dating him was a dream—not because it was dramatic, not because it was a whirlwind romance, but because it felt like something you had already lived before. Like slipping into a story you had always known, a love that had existed long before either of you could remember.

And in this life, it unfolded in the details—the familiarity of a touch, the rhythm of shared days, and the assurance that no matter how the day ended, it would always end with you beside him.

It was the mornings when you woke before dawn, watching as he pulled on his boots, his brow furrowed in concentration as he laced them up. He never needed an alarm—the rising sun over the fields had always been his signal to begin. And yet, he always paused when you leaned over to kiss his forehead, his hands stilling for just a second before continuing, a small, barely-there smile tugging at his lips.

It was the afternoons spent in the pastures, where he taught you how to ride, patient as ever, steady hands adjusting your grip on the reins. How his voice, low and even, calmed both you and the horse as he walked alongside you, guiding you through the motions. How, when you finally got it right, he simply nodded, that small hint of approval meaning more than words ever could.

It was the slow, quiet evenings on the wraparound porch, where the scent of mowed grass still clung to the air. You sat curled in a rocking chair with a book, while he leaned against the railing, watching the sun dip below the horizon, a mug of coffee warming his hands. Every so often, his gaze would flick to you, as if just having you there made the world feel more at ease. And when he finally moved closer, settling beside you, his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against your knee—warm, steady, never needing to say a word to let you know he loved you.

It was the way he always made sure the fence around the garden was reinforced, knowing you liked to grow berries for your pastries—despite the fact that the rabbits kept getting to the strawberries before you could.

It was the way he always had an extra coat hanging by the door, ready for you when you insisted on helping him with the morning feedings, even when the air was freezing.

It was the way he held you—like something he had been waiting for his whole life. And, in a way, maybe he had.

Because love, with Wakatoshi, was in the way he listened. Truly listened. Even when it was something small, something fleeting—because to him, nothing about you had ever been insignificant.

Like the time you offhandedly mentioned wanting to try baking a homemade apple pie, only to find a basket of freshly picked apples waiting for you on the kitchen counter the next morning. Or the way you once told him, in passing, how you had always dreamed of seeing the cherry blossoms in full bloom. And then, when spring arrived, he was the one who took your hand and led you through a grove of sakura trees on horseback at sunrise, where the petals fell like snow, your fingers curled tightly around his.

"It’s beautiful," you whispered, awestruck by the sight.

But when you looked at him, you found him already watching you.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice steady. "It is."

And then there were the quiet moments—small, ordinary things that should have faded with time but lingered, etched into memory like the scent of rain.

The lazy Sunday mornings, where neither of you rushed to get up, the house quiet except for the occasional soft snort of a horse in the stable, the distant crow of a rooster greeting the sun. Where you remained nestled  beneath the blankets, his arms wrapped securely around you, warmth and laughter filling the space between drowsy kisses.

The evenings when he came in from the fields, exhausted, smelling of hay and sunlight, and let you pull him into your arms. His head resting against your shoulder, his entire body relaxing into yours as if you were the only place he could let his guard down.

The way he kissed you—not hurried, not desperate, but slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world. And maybe, just maybe, he believed he did.

Because love with Wakatoshi didn’t just stay—it blossomed, like a flower reaching for the sun.

It settled in the farmhouse, where the scent of pine and coffee drifted through the halls in the mornings, where the kitchen was always warm—filled with trays of rising dough, jars of homemade jam, and the lingering sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla. 

A house that had once been quiet was now filled with your voice calling him in for breakfast, the soft hum of a song as you worked in the kitchen and the familiar scrape of a wooden spoon against a mixing bowl. It was a warmth that settled into the walls, into the floors, into every moment shared between you.

It lingered in the late-night baking marathons, in the way you baked side by side in the kitchen, in the way he would steal a bite of whatever you were making—even if it wasn’t perfect—he never complained.

It was in the way he remembered the date of the first time you met. In the way he reached for your hand before sunrise, wordlessly inviting you to start the day beside him. In the way, he never let a day pass without some small reminder that he loved you—whether it was through words, through actions, through the way he looked at you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

One evening, months after you had moved in together, Wakatoshi came home late from the fields. You were curled up on a chair, half-asleep, the soft glow of the fireplace flickering against your skin. The low hum of the old radio filled the quiet farmhouse, blending with the rhythmic creak of the rocking chair as you lazily pushed it back and forth with your foot

He stepped inside, boots scuffing against the worn wooden floor, the scent of Earth clinging to him.

And he paused.

There was something about seeing you like this—wrapped in one of his flannels, a mug of coffee resting on the small table beside you, bathed in warm light, waiting for him—that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

A quiet kind of longing, but not for something distant or unattainable. For this. For you. For the life you had built together, so effortlessly, as if it had always been meant to be.

His fingers curled around the delicate silver chain in his pocket, the small pendant cool against his palm. He had carried it with him for weeks now, waiting for the right moment.

He moved toward you, his presence enough to pull you from the edge of sleep. You blinked up at him, drowsy and warm, offering a small, slow smile.

"Hey," you murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. "You’re back."

He sat beside you, his body solid and familiar, the quiet scent of sweat and cologne lingering on his skin.

"I’m back," he confirmed, his voice softer than usual.

You shifted slightly, rubbing your eyes as you adjusted to his presence, blinking in the dim light. That was when he reached for your hand, his touch steady as he pressed something cool and delicate into your palm.

A necklace. A small silver star, gleamed under the soft glow of the fire.

You turned it over between your fingers, studying the way the metal caught the light. It was simple—unassuming—but there was something about it that felt heavy like it carried more than just time.

"What’s this?" you asked, voice still hushed with sleep.

He hesitated.

Then, with quiet certainty, he said, "It’s a family heirloom,” he exhaled softly before continuing. "It’s meant to be given to the woman you love."

His voice was calm, even. But there was something else beneath it—something unreadable, something deep.

You looked at him for a long moment. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but you could feel the weight of this moment between you, silent and unspoken. Then, without a word, you turned slightly, gathering your hair over one shoulder exposing the curve of your neck. A silent request. A quiet kind of trust.

Wakatoshi obliged, his fingers warm and steady as he clasped the chain around you. His knuckles brushed against your skin, the contact brief but lingering, leaving behind something that wasn’t his touch but something deeper.

The star rested just above your heart, its cool weight settling against your skin as if it had always belonged there.

He exhaled softly, his hand grazing your shoulder before falling away.

You glanced down, brushing your fingertips over the pendant. It felt right—inexplicably so. Like something that had been waiting to return to you.

Something warm curled in your chest.

"It feels like…" You trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

Like it had always been yours. Like it had always been his to give.

A pause. Then, in a voice so quiet you almost missed it, he said—

"It suits you, love."

Your breath caught. Wakatoshi had never been one for unnecessary words, never one for nicknames. But this—this was different. Your fingers curled around the pendant, holding it close, as a slow, knowing smile pulled at your lips.

You looked up at him then, your eyes meeting his in the soft, flickering light. And for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was nothing to say. Because some things didn’t need words. Some things were simply known.

So instead, you stood, reaching for him, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips before settling against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

And Wakatoshi wrapped an arm around you, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a silent promise.

A promise neither of you could name. But one that had existed long before this moment. And so, love became something —woven into the fabric of your days.

From leaving behind the life you had known to build a new one beside him. From early mornings spent feeding the horses together to slow evenings spent watching the sunset from the front porch. From learning how to navigate the farm by his side to whispered conversations about the future beneath the stars.

It settled into a rhythm something as natural as breathing. You learned each other’s habits, the little things that made up the pieces of your everyday life.

How he always left a small basket of fresh-picked berries from the garden on the kitchen counter for you to use in your pastries. 

How you folded his flannels just the way he liked, even though he never asked you to.

How he always reached for your hand across the dinner table, thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

How you ran your fingers through his hair after a long day, your touch the only thing that made the tension in his shoulders disappear.

There were no grand declarations. No need for them. Love existed in the quiet—in the small moments, in the act of simply being, of living in the present without the need for more.

And then, one evening, he proposed. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t planned.

It was just you and him, sitting on the porch, the fields stretching endlessly before you, fireflies blinking in the dark You were wrapped in a blanket, curled against his side, absentmindedly playing with the necklace he had given you years ago.

He was watching you, as he always did, with that quiet steadiness in his eyes, as if he was memorizing you in real time. And then, as easily as breathing, he said—

"Marry me."

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a plea. It was a truth he had always known, spoken as simply as if he was stating a fact.

You blinked up at him, a slow smile spreading across your lips. "You’re not even going to get down on one knee?"

He huffed softly, shaking his head. "Do I need to? You knew what I was going to say."

You laughed, resting a hand over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.

"Say it again."

His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together as he brought them to his lips.

"Marry me," he repeated, softer this time.

And you—without hesitation—said yes.

Love had always felt inevitable with him. And now, so did forever.

The wedding was small, intimate—just close friends, Tendou crying in the front row, dramatically dabbing at his eyes as he leaned over to whisper, "Fate should be thanking me for this one."

Wakatoshi exhaled through his nose, unimpressed, but there was no missing the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours. Because maybe—for once—Tendou was right.

You wore white. Wakatoshi wore black. But all he saw was you.

He never liked crowds. Never liked being the center of attention. But that day, none of it mattered. Not when you said his name with your vows, your voice steady, certain.

"I love you. I’m yours. I will always be yours, in this life and the next."

His breath hitched—not enough for anyone to notice. But you did. Because maybe he had always known those words. Maybe they had been written into the fabric of time itself, waiting to be spoken again. Maybe he had never truly understood them.

But now—watching you, hearing you, feeling the weight of the promise that had stretched across lifetimes—

He did.

The silver star necklace still rested against your collarbone, gleaming softly under the afternoon sun. How, when you kissed him for the first time as his wife, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you.

And after that—life unfolded, firm and unshakable.

You had a beautiful home.

A home filled with warmth, with the scent of coffee and fresh pastries drifting through the kitchen, with laughter spilling through open windows, carried by the wind.

A home where his boots were always by the door, mud caked on the soles, where your flour-dusted aprons hung beside them, where the rocking chair on the porch creaked softly in the evenings.

A home where mornings began before the sun, where the fields stretched endlessly around you, where love lived in the smallest moments—hands brushing in passing, quiet conversations over dinner, the rhythm of a life built side by side.

And then—it grew.

A dog came first.

A stray you found shivering near the barn one autumn morning, its ribs faintly visible beneath a coat of dust and neglect. You had crouched beside it, murmuring, holding out a hand, patience laced in every gentle word.

 And Wakatoshi had watched, silent, as you convinced something so wary, so fragile, that it was safe. That it was home. 

And just like that, he stayed.

Napping beneath the kitchen table, waiting by the porch for Wakatoshi to return from the fields, curling up beside the fireplace on cold winter nights.

Love had a way of finding its way into your home—unexpected, but always belonging.

And then—it grew again.

Not one, but two.

Two tiny bundles of joy.

Nestled in your arms, tucked close together, their tiny hands curled into fists, their breaths soft and steady. They were two perfect halves of the same whole. 

Wakatoshi reached out, hesitating for the first time in his life. His hands—so steady, so strong—shook slightly as his fingers brushed over their impossibly small hands.

A breath hitched in his chest.

One twin had his eyes. Deep, steady, unwavering. The other had yours—bright, full of warmth, carrying something softer, something boundless.

His throat tightened. For a moment, he could not speak. Something inside him shattered—then rebuilt itself, stronger, fuller, complete. 

This was love, doubled. 

At that moment, staring down at the tiny lives you had created together, he felt something ancient stir within him. An emotion so deep it did not belong to just this lifetime.

A memory of arms that had never cradled the other in the end, of a love cut short, of lifetimes spent reaching, only to find nothing but silence in return.

But this time, his world was filled with the quiet coos of his children, soft and content in his arms. They curled against his chest, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t known were empty. And he swore he felt the past crack apart, unraveling into dust, breaking like smoke in the wind. This time, there was no cruel hand of fate waiting to take them away.

And as he looked up at you—his wife, the only soul he had ever searched for—he felt the weight of every lifetime, every missed chance, every moment that had slipped through his fingers.

But not this time.

This time, he had held on. This time, the promise he made was fulfilled.

Because love—real love—was infinite.

He had thought he knew it already, thought he had felt it in every way it could be felt. 

But now, with two heartbeats soft against his chest, with the weight of everything he had ever lost finally returned to him, he realized—

There was still more. More love. More life. More of you, wrapped in every moment he had left to live.

So, after lifetimes of fate writing you as a love story meant only for heartbreak–

This time the universe had finally relented.

There was no war to take him from you, no illness to steal your last goodbye, no force strong enough to pull you apart.

The stars aligned. And for the first time in lifetimes—this love was yours to keep

After endless heartbreak, after sorrow woven into every past life—

The universe had finally returned what was stolen from you again and again. 

And finally, after all this time, it granted you the love story it had tried to erase—

But never could.

[writerfae]

@bunnymermaidsblog I told you I’d sink way too deep into “Jonah becoming Aiden’s apprentice” thoughts - here’s what came out of it (a.k.a the backstory I made up in like five minutes max yesterday)

Okay so since Aiden doesn’t have children on his own that he can pass his legacy on to, obviously he needs an apprentice one day. Someone who can become the new village hunter once Aiden can’t do it anymore.

In comes Jonah.

Jonah is, basically, a runaway. He used to live in one of the bigger cities a little farther away from Aiden’s village. When his mother passed because of a flu, Jonah ran off to escape a life in the orphanage and find his father, who he never met before.

So he makes his way to the village he heard his father lives in (Aiden’s village) and after a long eventful journey he arrives there.

But upon his arrival he learns that his father is dead (or potentially taken by the wild fae, everyone has their own assumptions, fact is, he’s not there).

Who is there however is his half-brother, who is only about one and a half year older than him and trying to survive all on his own, together with some friends. And despite not knowing of Jonah’s existence before he turned up at his door, Jonah’s brother takes him in.

But they are always low on money and his half-brother fights to keep their family legacy alive and sometimes that means he’s doing things that are a bit shady. Like stealing and stuff.

And Jonah joins in on that because what other choice does he have and also he loves his new family.

The thing with him is that he’s deep down a good boy with a good heart, but he’s also willing to do what it takes for him and the people he cares about to survive and is also a little bit prone to being reckless/ chasing the thrill/ getting in trouble (that last part often unintentional).

And his life goes on for a while idk and then he meets Aiden. And Aiden like maybe catches him trying to steal food from him or claim that he stole something to protect a friend and he’s like huh I wonder what’s up with this boy.

And then idk, maybe he has a serious talk with him and gets to know his story a bit. Maybe he learns that he’s skilled with the bow. Maybe they only met once and it was an impulsive decision or they cross paths more often and get to know each other more.

But in the end, Aiden offers Jonah that he could become Aiden’s apprentice. He’d pay him and this way he’d always have food and a stable job that he was able to help his family with in a more honest way (and if he wanted to keep playing Robin Hood on the side, really Aiden won’t tell him not to do it)

And Jonah takes up the offer because yay it’s a job but also fun and he likes Aiden so maybe he should give it a try. Aiden tutors him and Jonah starts to consider him part of his family at one point (Aiden does too I believe, I think he might even let Jonah inherit his house)

And this is why I think he’d be almost the perfect candidate for an apprentice of Aiden!

[garbbitch]

i have so many thoughts about this so i apologize if this is scattered.

i saw this originally on TORRES’ story yesterday and it honestly made me sick. this disheartening. and something about the way people have been reacting to julien’s new upcoming project as opposed to how they’re reacting to lucy’s is making my heart hurt

like, idk, they’re both essentially at the same level of fame since they were both in boygenius, and yet lucy is getting article after article and interviews upon interviews about her and julien’s press has been relatively quiet beyond the one podcast and the one magazine. while lucy is doing radio, she is getting written about in multiple articles, her music was used for a fashion show. idk, i just feel like people are reacting so differently to each of them and it’s frustrating.

like people like to act like julien is less talented or something when she’s not! i’d even argue more talented but that’s a whole other conversation.

it’s like when the whole summer boygenius was touring everyone only ever talked about phoebe. idk, it rubs me the wrong way.

connected but unrelated thought,

people’s reactions to lucy’s video yesterday also piss me off quite a bit

like, i keep seeing a lot of the same arguments, some that i agree with and some that i dont.

for one, complaining about a lack of representation. ie, they’re all skinny, they’re all white etc.

to that i think there were a couple of reasons. one, she was looking at the submissions for the video the day of the tiktok ban. now i don’t know how it all went down but i’m assuming she probably wanted to reach out to more people but had trouble.

also! as much as i love boygenius and their solo stuff as poc, i’m aware that most of their fans are not poc. those concerts are white asf and that’s fine. but she can’t pull poc out of her ass. she was casting from her fan base. if it’s mostly white, that’s what you’re gonna get in the video.

and another complaint i saw a lot was that it was mostly people who were her friends or were influencers. ie, mattie, naomi, elio idk how to spell his name. and again, i think this was just cause of the tiktok ban, she probably saw mostly people who got the most views in that short window of time she was looking.

another thing i saw was that these people weren’t masc enough or butch enough. and to that i say, shut your mouth. these are real people. you can be frustrated with the way the casting ended up happening and you can recognize that it wasn’t a full view of the whole spectrum of mascs/ butches in the community but attacking the individual people she put in the video is wrong.

i also saw some people complaining that she had elio in the vid and hes a trans man. if he calls himself masc and he auditioned and she casted him that is between them, not us and them. being masc isn’t inherently lesbian. being butch is. if he called himself butch that would be a different story but he didnt.

i also saw people complaining about cara being in it. i personally don’t care for her, but who cares…? she may not be masc presenting in her public appearances but we don’t know her. so get over it…

i also saw people that it was only influencers and her friends in the vid… i get this one, but again. i blame the tiktok ban. we in america thought it was going to be gone gone for a while leading up and a good chunk of time as it was banned. yes that wasn’t the case but i do think she just picked people with the most views, ie, the influencers. i do wish she would’ve been upfront that it’s gonna be a bunch of her friends but whatever. (sorry if i’m repeating myself i have a lot of thoughts.)

i also keep seeing people in the community being rude to lucy and saying she’s just an annoying bisexual. she’s not bi i dont think. and she is quite publicly unlabeled or pan. you can recognize the very white view she has of the community and recognize that she could’ve been more diverse without mislabeling her or bringing up her label at all.

and idk, it’s also so baffling to me that both of these people are getting attacked for just existing but like, julien is dealing with real homophobia and lucy is dealing with very chronically online biphobic assholes. it just baffles me how no one is talking about the real and scary homophobia that julien is experiencing but i swear i’m seeing everyone and their mom jump to attack or defend lucy.

and another thing. i think the general lack of public support for julien is because she’s masc, everyone wants a masc or a butch until you actually have protect them. idk

i’m thinking to much and if none of this made sense i’m sorry.

[maacbrem]

(I put this in tags then had too many tags so forgive the addition)

The ‘lack’ of an Assembly arc is actually the presence of Caleb Widogast (and thus the presence of Liam in Matt’s world), and I like him way more than any imaginary political coup arc.

The ‘dissatisfaction’ of not seeing the Assembly fall is, as shown, vital to understanding Caleb’s arc and I would ALSO argue that it’s vital to understand Liam’s contributions to the setting itself. All three of his main campaign characters (and a lot of his Exandria oneshot characters) are at the core representations of aspects of grief, and the way they navigate their initial losses and the fallout are what shape the story they are parts of and thus the wider narrative of Exandria. Exandria of course wouldn’t exist as we know it without any of the cast and all the contributors to source books, extratextual material, etc, but let’s talk about Liam via Caleb and let’s talk about tragedy.

I’m using the term tragedy here to mean a story in which failure is inevitable, but inevitability is tricky in the context of ttrpgs. So for the medium I’d say tragedy in practice is a combination of backstory (immovable, malleable perhaps in form/detail but not core concept - Bren always kills his parents, Veth always drowns, Elaina is always killed by a dragon), gameplay and presented narrative (the DM sets the standards of possibility and the players must act within them, but upset is not off the table - see Fjord, whose journey of faith snuck up on everyone at the table including Matt and Travis but could be folded in mechanically and was a natural evolution of the story the players were building for themselves within Matt’s setting), and the players’ instincts (the dice turn up a number, but the player tells us what that means to the character), and Liam has a instinct towards the dramatic.

Which is a lot of words to say: Liam is interested in tragedies and their aftermath, so he asks variations of the question “what do you do when you try and still fail and keep failing, still lose and keep losing?” And the answer has been in essence “love anyway” (Vax) and “make it better for the people who come after you” (Caleb)

(and i get the sense that his angle as Orym was intended to be a sort of combination of the two - you keep living and you keep fighting, but Orym’s greatest flaw was imo his denial of his own potential agency having already failed once, Orym as a shield and a blade, a background extra not an actor, and I see the groundwork of a story in which he learns to balance his sense of responsibility towards others with his ‘selfish’ desire to move forward in the absence of the people he lost- but the structural failures of c3 didn’t give any themes room to breathe and much like the Nana Morri deal lots of character beats got lost. But that’s pretty much speculation on my part, ANYWAY)

Liam asked his questions and answered them with his characters; Matt saw his answers and built parts of the world around and in his own answer to them; the rest of the cast saw Liam and Matt and asked ‘where do i fit?’ Amidst all of their own stories and the world they were also building with Matt and each other. And the interpersonal relationships became the driving force of Caleb’s growth - he was always going to have an arc towards Ikithon and his parents, but the angle of approach was altered by the sudden intrusion of people caring about him and him caring about them in return.

Matt built Exandria. He invited his friends to enter it, to get down in the gears and wires and invent the Briarwoods and the Aramente and the goddamn Rexxentrum Toy Authority. And the setting changed in response to them. Vax made a choice and now the Raven Queen’s Champion is a brother, an uncle, a lost lover, a bit of an asshole who likes practical jokes and once teleported inside a dragon and cut his way out. Caleb made a choice and the Assembly didn’t fall, but Ikithon was brought to justice and then punched to death and trapped in a cursed rock that was eaten by a dragon. Liam proposed a tragedy and acted out the aftermath, and the worldstate responded. His friends as their characters acted on Caleb and Caleb responded. The world changes Caleb and Caleb changes the world; Transmutation.

I think Exandria as a setting would have been less interesting if C2 had an Assembly take down arc. Post-C2 we saw a world in which a powerful institution was temporarily embarrassed but not diminished - and boy isn’t that familiar - and then in C3 we saw what kind of person builds an institution like that in the first place and how they maintain it. For all the campaign’s ultimate flaws the initial political state of C3 Exandria is a fascinating piece of world building. And we don’t get that without the dissatisfaction of watching Trent get locked up while the rest of the Assembly circle like vultures, while Astrid takes her abuser’s seat and props up the system that facilitated her abuse because she can’t, for the sake of her sanity, see another way. They could have done another arc - i also expected it and was at first a bit disappointed that it didn’t happen - but looking back i think the choice not to was the right one. And i think that it shows not just good instincts on Matt’s part, but an understanding of the themes Liam wanted to play with via Caleb - that you can’t take it back, whatever it is you did, and as part of that you can’t shortcut your way through or dodge around the hard parts. You can’t risk reality to save your parents; you can’t dismantle the Assembly with your bare hands. No matter how much better you might feel, you have to bury your book of letters and spend the rest of your life doing the boring, quiet, necessary work of making a world that will no longer tolerate the horrors you lived through.

I am certain that this has been said before, by myself and others, but because we're talking about it, let's look at the Trent situation in some depth, shall we?

I will admit, I was among those who was of the opinion that there might be another arc of campaign 2 to deal with the Assembly, since they were positioned as the entity pulling strings in Wildemount, they had been tangentially associated earlier with a plot to release Tharizdun, and because they were of minor to major interest with regard to character backstories, not least with multiple members being involved in the Aeor arc (and when it was still believed that Veth might've had some relationship to Doolan Tversky). Nevertheless, in hindsight, I don't feel that there's any issue with the positioning of the Assembly by the end of the campaign. They are a problematic entity that continues to exist in the world as grounding, because such entities are not generally one-note villains to be killed and destroyed; they are generally systemic and entrenched, and require sustained and systematic collaboration to dismantle. The same can be said of the Clasp, or the Myriad. And indeed, Caleb will be focused on this dismantling for at least the next six years.

Looking at Trent in particular, though, requires considering Caleb's narrative arc in full, and in particular, the shift that he undergoes from the beginning to the end. He begins the campaign specifying that he is seeking to take down Trent, "among other things", which we know from his later wishes entails turning back time and undoing his parents' deaths—though, given he doesn't give details on the matter at the time, we can't say then whether or not his plan entailed attempting to leave the timeline unaltered, essentially leaving his younger self to succumb to the guilt and subsequent trauma of the Asylum. It's possible that he had considered that then, and it was simply a pragmatic attempt to preserve the timeline and prevent a paradox, but it's also possible that that element only came later, when Caleb found that he was capable of forgiving himself.

By the time he gets to the point of telling the whole group about his history, before they have dinner with Trent, he specifies that his intent was to atone, but "that idea has evolved quite a bit over time, and I'm not sure what the exact answer is. But I mean to atone." It is worth noting that in this conversation also is the exchange with Caduceus about the goal being no more kids on the pyre. This also only comes after the Nein have shifted from their early extreme murder hobo mercenary tendencies to a group with diplomatic ties who have already navigated a minimum of two governments to end a war, so their methods have changed and their options have expanded, not only in terms of their personal abilities but their social influence as well.

At this point, we know, he has not let go of the potential to turn back time—he admits to Essek later that he doesn't know what he would choose if the thing that he wanted was placed in front of him (incidentally, mere hours before it was). Which means that his idea of atonement has shifted in other ways. In that first conversation with Beau and Nott, Beau says that, "There are two options here: you can selfishly try and go after this guy for your own vendetta, or you can use your motives to keep others from getting hurt in a very similar way," and Caleb admits in response that both are appealing. We must infer then, based upon this information, that what has shifted over ninety episodes later in his idea of atonement is that he is no longer motivated by a selfish dedication to his personal vendetta.

In fact, he seems to slip back into that vendetta later, if not in the asylum (where it is unclear how much he is acting out of necessity than due to a regression, but I would suggest it is a bit of both) then when he attempts to convince the Nein and then Essek that they should invite Trent and the scourgers to join them in Aeor, in an effort to eliminate Trent beyond the view of the rest of the Assembly or the Empire. Even as they prepare to go to the asylum, he admits that he wants Trent dead for ruining his life, though only after extensive pressing from Veth as to whether he is avoiding confronting Trent out of fear, and he adds that he does not want to risk the rest of the Nein in the pursuit of it. I've argued previously that Caleb realized when Essek challenged him on it that he was willing to jeopardize their true mission—to prevent Cognouza from wreaking havoc on Exandria in Lucien's hands—in pursuit of this goal, and this was truly his final wake-up call about the dangers of the path he had been on.

The Assembly has a habit of distancing themselves from the responsibilities of their fellow members; the Assembly as a whole turned on Delilah the moment she ran afoul of the law, Ludinus and Vess both distanced themselves from Trent, and later Astrid distances herself from Ludinus, even though we know she is part of the reason he remained untouchable through the trials against Trent. When members are expelled or eliminated, they are framed as fringe criminals, whose actions and activities were unsanctioned by the Assembly and therefore beyond the control of the others, regardless of the truth of that.

Caleb recognizes that there is plenty of evidence to tie Trent's activities to the Assembly, but likely also understands that Trent will not be tried or convicted in death, and as such the scourger program will not come to the attention of the Empire's legal system if he takes revenge before he gets justice. And by this point, what he wants is justice, because only with justice can he prevent further harm. He admits to Essek that, "I know what it means to have other people complicate your desires and wishes," and frames this as not only a good thing, but indeed the only thing that might save either of them. He ultimately neither kills Trent nor returns to the past, and this is what allows him to move forward out from under the weight of his sins and sorrows.

So by the end of the campaign, what Caleb has attained is this: a reorientation of his priorities, a commitment to his own future, and the means to not only gain justice for himself but to ensure that what happened to him will not happen, in this manner at least, again in a manner that is sanctioned by the Assembly.

To argue that the "Assembly plot" was not wrapped up by the end of campaign 2 is to fundamentally misunderstand both the nature of the campaign, which was one driven by character interests and histories rather than external plot, and to additionally further misinterpret Caleb's actual goals. There was no Assembly plot in campaign 2; there was only Caleb's plot. The end state of that plot is determined not by the elimination of one unchanging villain (though it does, technically speaking, still satisfy that requirement, the Solstice blast notwithstanding), but by reaching a point at which Caleb can begin to recognize that he can live with himself and the efforts he is undertaking—but also, more fundamentally, to recognize that he can live.

[rip-vanwinkle]

Toby x Fem!Reader? Your choice on how you want it to go, be it fluffy, angsty or smutty. I just like to suggest the topic and let the writer let their creative juices flow.

I really been lookin’ for a new person to read from is all since I’ve fallen ill to the love for Creepypasta once again lol

it’s a date?

ticci toby/toby rogers x fem!reader (sfw)

(hopefully this isn’t too terrible i’m still feeling things out :’) i’d like to potentially continue this maybe?? BUT thank you so much for the request! <3 toby happens to be my favorite so i’m glad this was my first)

guide:

y/n - your name

y/nn - your nickname

this might have been the dumbest bet you have ever participated in. in fact, you would’ve said no if 1.) the payout hadn’t been semi-decent and 2.) a certain lanky, fluffy-haired man wasn’t involved. it was ridiculous, but doable. act like a couple for the night, split 150 dollars.

as you got ready for your “date”, you thought about the man you had been relatively close with for a while now. Toby was a genuinely nice guy, and a bit of a dork more often than not. goofy at best, downright off-putting at worst. so of course when Tim approached you with this genius idea, you figured it couldn’t hurt.

that was two hours ago. now, doing your makeup in front of your lighted vanity mirror, you felt your stomach turning.

“come on y/n, don’t be ridiculous. you have nothing to be nervous about,” you mumbled to yourself. yet you couldn’t stop your hand from shaking while you were applying your lip gloss. were you… excited? no. that’s silly.

you heard a knock on your bedroom door.

“you can come in,” you said, wiping the excess gloss from the corners of your lips.

“hey (y/n/n), are y-you almost ready to go?” the brunette asked, peering his head into your room.

“you can bring the rest of yourself in here, yknow,” you teased.

Toby pushed the door all the way open, leaning his tall frame against it. he looked good. really good. his navy blue suit hugged him in all the right places, but particularly his arms. you forgot that he actually had muscles under that baggy hoodie he always wears.

“a-are you gonna finish g-getting ready? or are y-you gonna keep s-staring?” he smirked. you rolled your eyes and turned back around, fixing your stray hairs.

when you arrived at your work dinner, you couldn’t help but feel like all eyes were on you. well, on your date at least. none of your colleagues knew that you were bringing a plus-one, and you usually sat out when it came to the typical relationship gossip. you looked up at Toby, and it was clear he felt the spotlight too.

“j-jeez, i know i look good, b-but i didn’t think i looked that g-good,” he chuckled, straightening his suit jacket. you knew he wasn’t loving the attention, so you quickly found a place to sit next to some of your more… tolerable coworkers.

“(y/n)! don’t be rude, introduce us to your friend here,” Amanda smiled, giving a small wave to Toby. the rest of the girls followed suit, clearly enjoying the view.

“well, long time no see ladies! this is my boyfriend, Toby. we just recently started dating,” you replied, motioning to the man of the hour. you couldn’t help but feel somewhat possessive. marking him as “off limits” felt kind of good.

the rest of the evening went just about as you expected. work gossip, drinks, intrusive questions about your new “relationship”, et cetera, et cetera. it wasn’t until the night was coming to an end, and you had definitely had one too many aperol spritzes that things took a slight turn. you weren’t even thinking when you leaned your head onto his shoulder - it felt like pure instinct. you were too occupied giggling at some embarrassing story one of your colleagues brought up to think twice.

as soon as you realized, your face flushed and you mouthed a quick “sorry” as you sat up, smoothing out your hair. without missing a beat Toby wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you back towards him. you struggled to hide the grin spreading across your face, meanwhile he flashed his proudly. that adorable smug little shit.

[emmu5]

Title: A Long Time Coming

Summary: In their seventh year, James Potter and Y/N—both Gryffindors, both secretly in love with each other since third year—find themselves caught between friendship, mischief, and something more. As a Half-Blood and honorary member of the Marauders, Y/N knows the chaos that follows James, but she’s about to discover that he’s not just a prankster—he’s also someone who wears his heart on his sleeve.

September mornings at Hogwarts always felt electric. The castle was waking up for the school year, and Y/N L/N felt it in the air as she walked to the Great Hall. Her robes were slightly disheveled after another chaotic breakfast spent with the Marauders. Being friends with James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter meant that even the simplest meals could turn into near-explosions of pumpkin juice and charmed butter knives.

James Potter, her self-proclaimed partner-in-mischief, had spent the entire breakfast trying to charm a plate of sausages to float over Sirius’s head. Y/N had laughed when Sirius retaliated by levitating a goblet just out of James’s reach.

Now, as she sat at the Gryffindor table with her toast, Y/N found her gaze drifting to James. His black hair—perpetually windswept from either flying or just general chaos—caught the morning light. He was laughing with Remus about something she couldn’t hear, but his eyes darted to her, and their gazes met for half a second. He froze. Then, he smiled.

Her heart did that familiar flip-flop, and she quickly looked away.

“What’s going on with you two?” Sirius’s voice cut through her thoughts as he plopped down beside her. “It’s unbearable.”

“Nothing,” she said too quickly.

“Uh-huh.” Sirius raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Y/N, we’ve known each other for years. You’re practically a Marauder. And if you think we haven’t noticed the way you and James have been dancing around each other since third year, you’re mad.”

Y/N tried to argue, but Sirius only smirked and leaned closer. “He likes you. Do something about it before I’m forced to lock you two in a broom cupboard.”

That evening, Y/N found herself pacing in the Gryffindor common room. Sirius’s words had stuck in her head all day. Could it be true? Did James actually like her back?

She didn’t have long to dwell. James walked into the common room, still wearing his Quidditch robes, his broom slung over one shoulder. When he saw her, he hesitated—just for a moment. Then he crossed the room, stopping in front of her.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

There was an awkward pause. For once, James seemed at a loss for words.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“Of course.” She followed him through the portrait hole and out onto the grounds. The air was cool and crisp, and the stars glittered overhead. They stopped under a large oak tree near the lake.

“I’m not great at this,” James admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But I need to tell you something. Since third year, I’ve... liked you. A lot. And I’m not just saying this because Sirius will never let me live it down if I don’t.” He let out a nervous laugh. “You’re one of the smartest, funniest people I know. And you can keep up with all of us—even Sirius.”

Y/N felt her heart thudding.

“And I know I’m not always... subtle,” James continued, “but if you feel the same way, I’d really like to—”

He didn’t get to finish. Y/N closed the distance between them and kissed him, pouring every unsaid feeling into it. James’s arms wrapped around her, and for a moment, the world disappeared.

When they broke apart, James looked dazed but happy.

“I’ve liked you since third year too,” Y/N admitted with a grin. “Took you long enough.”

James laughed. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Nope. And Sirius is going to be unbearable.”

“Worth it.” He laced his fingers through hers, and they headed back to the common room together.

As they walked, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Seventh year was shaping up to be the best one yet.

[devilheartsblog]

i’d love to know your hot take on gantlos and why he’s the most complex villain?

Yes. What I really mean by that is mostly based on his personality, but I’ll talk about the other stuff too.

So Winx villains. We love them until they get annoying. And none of them are particularly deep. All of them are after power: The Trix and the Dragon Flame, Darkar with the Codex, Valtor with becoming the most powerful sorcerer, Selina thinking Eldora’s lame, the list goes on and it’s a standard.

First thing that differs the wizards is they’ve already won with how Earth is magicless, until Roxy sprouts some wings and they become dead set into making her a memory. Then the Winx interrupt, one thing leads to another and the wizards want the White Circle off of the Winx. Sure it COULD give them power but last time they exploded out of a video game so it’s again to secure no magic on earth which is a unique motive other than the Earth Fairies being homicidal.

Now onto Gantlos….I’m not gonna pretend he’s not the worst. We’re talking about the Wizard of destruction who has a vendetta against a dog. Of course he sucks. But on top of treating every stranger like a threat he jumped in front of a train to protect Ogron.

Sure it could be so that Ogron doesn’t die too early for plot convenience and Icy and Tritannus did the same BUT LOOK-

Yep it’s not just Ogron. Anagan was gonna fall to his death and Gantlos yoinked him out of there. I don’t think there’s any other Winx villain that did that, they’d just leave or make a snarky quip while the other one picks themselves back up. Especially since the villains can fly. So bro did this by instinct. I dunno why the writers chose that because they’re the same people who write him being ambushed by Ratatouilles whole lineage.

And one last thing I want to point out is this line from episode 22

…How does he know about fairy law? And why? Either way this writer’s head-cannon making it into the script just makes him more of a character than he needs to be. (Fyi I took that screenshot from the wiki scripts which are pretty accurate so there)

So to recap, bro wants to keep his winning streak and is a dick to everyone but if you’re his friend he’d die for you and probably tell you all the fairy facts he memorized. And that’s a brief summary of why I love this chainsaw with a German Shepherd’s personality.

I’m also pretty sure I’m the only person to know everything about this character in canon, I haven’t even gotten to the part where his friends disrespect him. But maybe that’s a future post idk. Anyways thanks for reading!

[travvymiku]

mouthwashing oc, nobody is reading all of this..

mouthwashing oc, i still might draw SOME peanuts stuff tho idk..

also this may or may not have spelling mistakes, i’m not rereading all of this again 😭😭

anyways her name is peggy jane and she’s a janitor who think she’s better than everyone else (she isn’t and she knows that..)

anyways she’s taiwanese and is bisexual, the only time she ever speaks in her language is when she’s cussing somebody or something out..haha.

she’s 27, she’s allergic to salmon and loves dumplings(she loves it better with noodles), chicken fettuccine and birthday cake ice cream despite being lactose intolerant, she hates the color pink..funny..and her favorite pokémon is sylveon.

she claims her and anya are just friends..but they cuddle, give each other kisses and stuff like that, she even had a little crush on her when she first saw her.

she hates jimmy tho, a lot..they argue almost 24/7 and curly is always the one that has to break up their fights, she often scolds curly for still being friends with him.

she got her ..what i’d like to call her iconic bat onto the ship, idk how that happened 🤷🏽

uhmmmm speaking of curly, he is her best friend..and she always wants something more but is friend zoned by curly a lot..like..badly..she gets frustrated with him. (i have other au’s with them i want to work on, their relationship gets pretty complicated)

she has mixed feelings about her ranky dank apartment, which has almost nothing so struggle meals and tv dinners (she loves them) every night but it’s worth it because she has a football field shower.

after the crash she often talks to curly a lot to keep him company and to keep the both from going insane (she also slept in the medical room once, never again.)

she’s horrible at game night but she doesn’t really care, she just loves to yell at jimmy.

she has a bad habit of forgetting names and replacing them with stupid ones sometimes. (it’s like the jambalaya memes guys‼️‼️)

anyways..she’s everywhere

if you read all of that, i love you and stay safe, thank you! 😚

[ezrasxfics]

If you want, could you do a more angst fic about Jax being an aromantic repulsed by romance(pda) but not able to accept his feelings being like that because it seems weird/abnormal to him? Maybe him lamenting about it alone somewhere?

Sorry if this doesn't make sense, I don't know how to word it but I want to see this represented in something because it never is and I really love your writing

diary entries

-

jax angst

-

[authors note: i myself am not aromantic, but i’m part of the lgbtqia community, so i tried to project some of my own feelings of being ‘wrong’ onto this, along with some knowledge i have from my aromantic friend’s experiences. if any aromantic people have any comments or improvements they want on this, please let me know]

‘hey, it’s me again, writing in this dumb diary pomni made me start when i opened up to her a little. i don’t understand how this is supposed to help, but i’m giving it a shot to humour her. “feelings out on paper” or whatever.

i think there’s something genuinely wrong with me. and i know that sounds dramatic as hell, but, it’s not. everyone around me seems to be in ‘love’ with someone. pomni and ragatha, gangle and zooble, kinger and queenie (well, before she abstracted). and i just.. cant find anyone who sets off ‘sparks’ for me, the thought of it makes me feel sick. i don’t want love, but it feels like i have to want it to feel ‘normal’. i remember when we were in the real world, i’d pretend to fall for people. i wouldn’t lead them on or anything, i’m not that much of a jacka**, but i’d just sorta keep it to myself, trying to find comfort in feeling ‘normal’, and hope that love might become real. but it never did - i think i’m not made for it.

i’d never be happy in a relationship with someone. people assume i’m lonely because i’ve never been in one, but i’m honestly happy not being with anyone. it’s never really bothered me, but whenever i try to look into this sorta thing, i only get one answer: ‘you’ll find the right person eventually’.

so, people expect one person to just ‘fix’ me? i think that’s bullsh*t.

-jax.’

i put down my diary, taking a deep breath as i do so, before picking it up and slamming it against the wall, hard. what’s even the point in writing all this!? i sure don’t see one - it’s just writing. it’s not gonna fix my problems. i don’t think anything can fix me.

-

IM SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT!!!! and, he doesn’t need fixing, he’s (mostly) perfect the way he is<3

reblogs appreciated!!!!

[bcystar]

— THIRD AMENDMENT

you exercise your right to deny soldiers housing

pairing: best friends!Bucky and Steve x best friend!reader

wc: 422

warnings: none, just our favorite super soldiers 🤞🏼

authors note: this idea has been radiating in my mind for like ever ngl 😛😛

The sound of laughter echoed from outside of your door as you stood at the other side with your phone at eye level. You giggled waiting for either Steve or Bucky to open the door. They’d received invitations to attend a gala to celebrate World War II veterans and were thrilled to attend. By the sounds of it, they had a good time. Finally, you heard the door knob twist open and you finally start recording. You were greeted with James’ bright face which then contorted to confusion at the sight of your camera. “Yankee Doodle” echoed throughout your foyer as you closed the door on their faces while wiggling your index finger at them.

Steve pushed his face against the glass door trying to see what you were doing. You took the opportunity to get a close up on his face on the glass, trying to keep your hand steady while giggling hard. The fifteen second audio finally ended and your giggles broke out into laughter. You saved the video to your drafts before cracking the door open slightly.

“Whatcha doing there, doll” Bucky asks with a slight smirk.

“Exercising my rights, Sergeant” you reply slyly

“Yeah well technically this is our home too, so it doesn’t really apply does it” Steve replies

“Whose name is on the lease, Captain?”

“Touché” Steve answers

After a beat, you finally open the door wide and they walk in.

“No seriously though, what was that?” Bucky asks as he takes his shoes off

“This one TikTok trend” You say making space for them to enter

“Basically, people will record their loved one’s coming back from enlistment and shut the door on them while the screen says something like “When my roommates try to come back home but I know my third amendment right” get it?”

You walk back to your couch only a few feet away and plop straight down. You sit down and open TikTok once more. The video plays and you can feel Bucky’s and Steve’s body heat from behind you as they watch along. You can hear their chuckles from behind at your antics.

“I like that, that’s funny” Steve chuckles out

“Let’s hope the internet does too” you say after captioning the video and posting it.

They laughed at this I promise 🤞🏼

comments—

tennesseeprincess- Personally I’d fold immediately if CAPTAIN AMERICA showed up at my door but wtvs 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

hrts444u- SMASH.

bannerslover- now who took my pants

dliflvr- doing that to Captain America and Bucky Barnes is crazy 💀

[himblebo]

Again again thinking

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.