#And the only thing insisting that it MUST happen will do is stress the fandom out

[coruscant-cosmonaut]

Possibly unpopular opinion (based off what I've seen): I don't think Stranger Things 5 should kill off any of the main characters.

I can't say what they will do, mind you, but I don't think they should or have to kill them.

Often the reasoning people give why they should kill a main character is "consequences" but haven't there been plenty of consequences? They've all gone through immense trauma. A large part of the town was flayed and even more probably died when the gate opened. El will probably always been hunted by the US government, and Joyce, Hopper, and Murray by the Russian one. Their home was ripped apart and we have no idea how that rift will heal. Max is in a coma and, logically, assuming they don't introduce some weird healing magic, will be left disabled and have a long road to healing.

I'm not a big fan of this growing trend that major character death is the only result audiences care about, acting like if one of them doesn't die then nothing in the show effected them.

And honestly? The biggest reason I'm against it is I can't think of a major character whose plot would actually be benefited by dying more than some ending with them alive. Like, yeah, it'd "make other character sad" and "make the audience sad," but I feel like the last 4 seasons have given far more motivation to want the Upside Down beat than "being sad" would.

I don't know. I'm sure people can give a hundred and one reasons that actually the story would awesome if they just killed everyone off, and like, I admit there are stories where that's an acceptable ending. I just don't Stranger Things is one of them.

Yeah they aren't scared of killing off character - even loved ones (Bob) or in mass (the flayed, the kids at the lab, Vecna's gate opening) or even children (flayed, lab kids, and Vecna's gate again) - for darkness. But not major characters, and I don't think they have to change that to have a good story. Especially just because they "have" to because that's how you make a "good" ending.

Of course, I can't say what they would do. After all, hasn't someone on the cast said there will be an "important character death?" I can't say for sure because that's just something I've seen around Tumblr and I can't find its source. But given current trends, I wouldn't be surprised and I'm sure the writings will do it well enough. I just disagree with the idea that the show is ruined if it happens.

[finn-writes-stuff]

Hello :) I must admit I've been binge reading your content. I was hoping I could request a Percy (Vox Machina) x gn reader where he gets very worried when reader either nearly sacrifices themselves for him or they take a risk that he didn't think was necessary? 10/10 worried perce is adorbs but i also feel guilty o.o 👉👈 ngl I live for when he be stressing and overprotective lmao. Poor Percy needs a vacation.

I Need You

Percy hadn't let himself care for someone this much ever since he lost everyone. How had you managed to change that?

Percy de Rolo x Reader

Fandom: The Legend of Vox Machina/ Critical Role

Format: Oneshot (1550 words)

Content Warnings: Fairly light descriptions of injuries, and an argument between Reader and Percy. Talk of potential deadly harm, as this takes place after a battle.

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

Consider the image of Percy on vacation in one of those Hawaiian shirts and big sunglasses. Also I do not apologize for the amount of Pike. She is everything to me<3 -Finn

"Now, I know reckless in a fight," Pike said, carefully wrapping a bandage around the deep wound on your leg. "I have been reckless in a fight. But that? That was not reckless. That was stupid. And stupid will get you killed out there! And then where would we be?" 

You knew her well enough to recognize the concern under the scolding, even as she wrapped the bandage a little tighter than necessary to punctuate her point. You felt bad about letting her look after you even after she had burned the last of her spell slots, but she hadn't been keen on taking no for an answer after getting a look at the injury, dragging you to your room in the keep. According to her, it was a miracle you’d gotten back to the keep at all on that leg after the battle. Even when you insisted you could wrap it yourself, she waved you off. Too kind for her own good with a party like this. Sometimes she was the only thing keeping you all from running headfirst to your demises. (Or at least yanking you all back when you tried.)

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Pike. I just couldn't let Percy take the hit instead, he didn't see it coming, he would be worse off than I am now." You smiled at the cleric, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly. Pike didn’t look all that impressed, but you knew she understood. 

His gun had jammed in the middle of the battle, a familiar flaw of its mechanisms. But instead of teasing your lover about it like usual, you had seen an attacker lunge at him as he let his guard down. He was a ranged fighter, nothing should have been allowed to get that close in the first place. Of course, he dropped his guard for a moment. In any other fight, he would have been fine to unjam his gun while ducking back from the battle. 

It sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine when you imagined what might have happened if you hadn't been so close. Throwing yourself in the way and fighting off the creature had landed you with a blindingly painful wound on your leg and likely a couple of bruised ribs if the ache that came with breathing was anything to go by. It had been stronger than you'd expected, and getting hit with the flat of a weapon may have been better than the edge, but it still hurt like a bitch.

"Both of you were being stupid. If I see that happen again, you'll have Grog patch you up instead. And he hasn't quite gotten a handle on his bedside manner, yet." 

Laughing hurt, but It was good to know Pike was relaxed enough to joke. Meant that you probably weren't dying. 

"Pike! Are they-" Percy bolted into the room, looking for all intents a wild man, before stopping in his tracks at the sight of you. A load of tension dropped from his shoulders, but only for long enough for him to register your injuries. You knew you looked pretty rough. In all fairness, so did he, his white hair shot through with wisps of gray from gunsmoke and the black powder always left on his gloves. He must have been running his hands through it, if it’s messy style was anything to go off of. 

"Hey, Percy," you said softly, doing your best to offer a reassuring smile. It must have been closer to a grimace with the concerned noise he bit off  in response. There was something a little heartbreaking about the open stress and worry in his eyes as he stepped forward, hesitating to touch you. He so often had his emotions in check, that seeing them so openly on display felt unfair to him. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it a moment, and the contact seemed to pull him back out of his thoughts. 

"By the gods, what were you thinking? Are you insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Who just jumps in front of an attack like that?" He wasn't quite yelling, wouldn't yell at you in your own room, but the panic set into his voice was more than a sufficient substitute. 

"Percy, it's not like you were dodging it, you would have been hit instead." You made an attempt at answering reasonably, trying to calm his worries, but if anything, it only made it worse somehow. 

"Then you should have let it hit me instead of throwing yourself at a blade! If it had hit you at a different angle it very well could have gone straight through you! Were you thinking at all?" He had dropped your hand now, pacing a circle in your room. 

"I was thinking about how you were going to get hit. Is it such a crime to look out for you?" 

"At the cost of yourself, yes!"

"I'm not going to sit and watch you get hurt if I can do something about it!"

"And make me watch you nearly die instead?"

Pike spoke up before you could say anything, pushing herself to her feet. "Both of you. Quit it." She was obviously both annoyed and exhausted. You and Percy both wilted under her tone as she turned to look at you. "That was a stupid and dangerous move today. Don't pull that again. Percy, Don't yell at someone who saved you, you sound like an asshole. They need to rest, so shelve your argument for later." 

The wind had been taken out of his sails, leaving him standing back by the wall, thoroughly chastised. "I, yes, of course, Pike."

"Don't walk on that leg today, take it easy," Pike said, looking back at you. "I'll be back in a couple of hours to double-check on you, but I need some rest. I'm plumb out of energy." 

"Don't worry about it, Pike, I'll be alright. Thank you." 

"Good. Now both of you, if I hear anything about you two arguing again, I'm setting Keyleth on your case." With that, she patted your shoulder and swept out of the room. 

There was a moment of awkward silence, Percy glancing around your room rather than meeting your eyes. He seemed to be debating on what to say, or maybe whether to follow Pike out the door to be out of your hair. 

"Percy,"

"I apologize. I shouldn't have been so harsh with you. Especially not while you're injured. I didn't- I, well." Staring fiercely at his feet, his apology was stumbling. There was something endearing about it, in the way there always was when he extended a branch of vulnerability. "I was worried about you. Seeing you get thrown to the ground after taking a hit for me was...terrifying, to say the least."

"Oh, Percy," you sighed, beckoning him over. "It was pretty fucking terrifying to see you about to be hit, too." 

He walked up to you, stopping in front of you and kneeling down so as to look up at you instead of towering over you. "I...can understand that. I simply don't want you getting hurt on my behalf. Or at all, really."

"Wouldn't that be lovely? Being adventurers who never get hurt." You reached a hand out, resting it softly on his cheek. He leaned into your touch, and you could see through the worry to the affection underneath it. "I don't want you hurt either. If today didn't make that obvious."

"I know, dear, I do." He nodded, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. It was achingly soft, like he was still afraid that you would break. You wouldn’t, but the gentle nature of his love still squeezed your heart. "Could I at least look after you while you recover? This is my fault." 

"Don't be an idiot, I moved of my own free will. But, I wouldn't deny some extra time with you. And I'll need the help if I'm supposed to stay off my leg." 

"We can discuss who's at fault tomorrow, love. Tell me what I can do to help?" There was an exasperated fondness in his voice, the familiar pattern the two of you always fell into. It was soothing after the sharp tension of before. 

"Just hold me? We could both use the chance to relax, I think." 

He let out a breathless chuckle, nodding and reluctantly pulling back from your gentle hold. He wasn't fragile either, not like glass ready to break. But you couldn't help but want to treat him with care, the same way he treated you as he carefully helped you lie down in your bed, shedding his coat to slip in beside you and draw you into his arms. 

There would be more fights to come, there would be more injuries and arguments, and worries. But if after them all, you could both be okay enough to end up like this, it would be alright. Your face pressed against his shoulder, his hands steady on your back. You could be safe here, together. 

As your heartbeats fell into synch, you gently pulled off his glasses, setting them aside. It made it easier to lean in and kiss him, slow and tired. 

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[felmonth]

*eating a bag of chips*

Oh! Welcome to my blog, neighbor!

My name is Felmonth but call me Fel, I'm an artist or so I think, I'm from Chile, I don't write or speak English well but I'm learning, so if I make a mistake when writing something in English, correct me so I can learn much better. I dedicate myself to making small comics but just because they are small doesn't mean that they don't take time, it takes me forever to finish the drawings so give me patience with all the content that I have to bring here, it doesn't usually take more than a month, normally it's two weeks difference.

Anonymous Questions!

(It takes me a long time to answer since I usually draw to answer, give me patience with that too)

What I do?

-I draw "Welcome Home" mostly and some other alternative universe of this project.

-I draw small comics of my character interacting with fandom characters (the only fandom I'm in is Welcome Home)

-I draw whatever, mainly my characters (OCs) in such a situation with other characters but never +18 since it makes me uncomfortable (maybe some off-color comments but it doesn't go any further).

-I draw headcanons/scenarios through comics.

-I don't usually draw romantic things but above all it's always romance between boys (so if you don't like it you can leave with a cup of tea and cookies from me)

-If I draw horror I do it as soft as possible.

Social networks:

My Instagram / Tiktok

About my art!

-It takes me forever to draw but I will do my best to bring content.

-Don't trace my drawings.

-I'm not good with my character designs but don't copy the designs I give them, I want to see your creativity not an exact copy.

-You can be inspired by my drawings but not make exact copies of those drawings.

-Yes, you can draw my Ocs with your oc (whether alone, ships, friends or neighbors)

-If you draw them in a romantic way, let them be of legal age since most of my characters are 24 or older.

-You can draw yourself with my character but don't think that by putting my character in a romantic situation, you and me, should be a couple…it's VERY uncomfortable…don't see it as automatically we should be a couple please.

-I clarify this because it has happened to me with some users who fought to the death in the chat for my character and me... and man… it's uncomfortable to see that so I ask you please… if you draw your character with mine. DON'T see it as a relationship between users….

-You can also draw reels or tiktoks, comics with my characters, I have no problem.

About me

-You can give me ideas to draw in the anonymous questions, no problem.

-Don't ask me if you can draw me something, just do it (But if you feel better asking, I have no problem answering).

-If I inspired you, give credits or a mention so I can see it.

-I will not tolerate homophobes looking at my drawings… we must respect everyone equally even if they are just drawings.

-Well… that's it, this blog will be edited over time to add more things. You can ask if you have questions about something.

About "Chats"

I didn't want to make this section about the chats but I am tired that there are people who get angry or sad either if I don't answer or I give them an answer that is not to their liking, I don't want to be a bad person but I want to clarify a few things:

-I can't be 100% chatting.

-I take a long time to respond to chats but that doesn't mean you have to insist with messages for me to respond quickly, if you're going to start with that, better not talk to me.

-Don't talk to me constantly:

-I mean by this, is that you talk to me all the time and every day of the week, do not do it...give me pauses and time to answer because I am not 100% on the phone, do not insist that I answer because it stresses me more not being able to answer, I try but I can't, I have other things to worry about and I'm not on the phone.... sorry.

-My response in chats: usually take days, weeks or even months, either by work, University, energy, mentally, etc..

-Delete messages: If you talk to me on any social network chat .... don't delete your messages...when they come to my phone by notification I read them but if I see that the message you sent me 35 min ago, I see it again 5 minutes later, it makes me feel very bad because you are not being patient with me when I am doing my best.

-Don't give me personal information about yourself and if you insist with chat messages of “why aren't you answering?”, I will not answer.

Byeeee UWU)/!!!!

[sakumasmut]

I wish I had horny thoughts to share, but the head is just full of soft Himeru. Both him being soft and being soft with him. Also the fact that his hair must be super soft. I wanna run my fingers through it so bad. Watch him get so sleepy from a bit of physical affection. Dozing off soundly right then and there. From tense to completely boneless in seconds. Good luck getting him to move. But why move at all? Stay on the couch... or bed... snooze a little too. Might as well when used as a pillow by the pile of vaguely human-shaped goo. There's no going anywhere anyway... because no way you'd ever have the heart to wake him, right?

Also (because this is a smut blog after all lol): sleepy sex best sex, I will die on this hill. It'd be really hard to convince him not to get up early (or would it really? If he doesn't have any urgent work... the protest is little more than keeping up appearances...) but once you do? No one is moving - at least not to get up - anytime soon. The sort of day where being awake and asleep blur into one, much like the lines between your bodies blur when he lazily grinds into you... or just cockwarming... spooning... the good stuff.

Semi-related other way of making him relax and melt? Peg him. I wrote half a novel on that for a reason. It needs to happen. He deserves it.

An oddly specific scenario (maybe one day to be written properly) lives rent free in my head about him just coming home exhausted, but the kind of exhaustion and stress that lingers and won't allow him to relax at all. If he feels like it, he gets to vent, whether it's actual verbal complaints or just him sounding generally disgruntled lol But while that helps (as does the aforementioned playing with his hair or giving him a much deserved backrub) instead of passing out with his head resting on your thighs like he usually would from that alone, it's clear the situation calls for more drastic measures. Cue the strap. Maybe he doesn't ask outright, maybe he doesn't even know how badly he needs it himself, but when a completely unintentional touch on his butt (Can't skimp on that! It's part of the back, so it gets rubbed. It's only right. Doesn't matter that he's flat as a board...) provokes such a sweet (not at all a reason to be embarrassed, Meru!) reaction, how could you not? I don't think him the type to be overly inclined to sub regularly, but after a day like that? No thinking for Himeru please and thank you. And just handing over the reins to be fucked silly is certainly the nicest way to ensure that. It's fine to manhandle and order him around a little, he's happy to do as he's told. But make sure to reward him plenty. He works so hard. Better appreciate him.

Lmao okay, never mind. This did end up horny after all. Mission accomplished.

I did contemplate whether to sign off with the emoji I still have claimed since you asked for a sign of life from your anons, but I feel like after this ramble you as well as anyone who's spent more than 5 minutes on the smut side of the enstars x reader fandom knows who wrote this anyway lmao

- @deepersea

I’d be surprised if his hair wasn’t soft to the touch, he’s got a whole makeup and skincare routine, so fancy shampoo and conditioner seem like they’re hand in hand. Definitely something you wanna run your fingers through rather than ruffle up.

Sleepy sex!! always good!! I do think meru isn’t the type to stay in bed too long in the morning, even when he has no work he has a sleep schedule to maintain. but a bit of lazy grinding won’t do any harm, maybe it’ll even wake him up. if you reaaaaally insist on clinging to him, he’s not against sleeping with his cock inside you, pulling you close so that he wakes up to your body warmth embracing him in the best way. though trying to pull out without you noticing is a whole separate thing, maybe it’d be better to wake you up with some thrusting instead…

I fully agree with you when you say pegging could fix some of himeru’s problems. getting him to be vulnerable is hard, but I’d assume if you’re already in a relationship with him he’s got lots of trust in his partner. so, if they want to help him relax, after a stressful day, he’s not going to decline. I imagine during foreplay you can run a finger down his spine and get lovely shudders if not moans from him, so while you’re pegging him, stroking his cock and rubbing circles along his lower back, you’ll probably have him cumming in seconds.

and let me know if you still wanna keep the sign off! I usually delete them if the owner reveals themselves like with crow

[archivalofsins]

@seariii I want you to know this is the most wholesome thing I've read regarding someone liking Kotoko in a while.

Also, you were right, the points we're seeing being made are from different places. Most of the defenses for Amane's mother's actions I saw were on twitter directly after the release of Purge March. The misogyny point has come up on multiple platforms though. I do know that people can be very insistent/aggressive when it comes to Amane being Innocent, but I've only heard of that happening. I haven't seen it myself because I'm not in the tag often on here due to reasons.

Although I must admit some of the times that I personally have discussed Amane I've been pushy about it and discussed her case in a way that can come off as self-righteous while comparing it to other prisoners' cases. However, that was directly after seeing people defending her mother's behavior while voting her guilty. Something that is ultimately not a thing I feel should be supported.

Her mother was wrong and it's really unfair to me that the depiction of an abuser is being sympathized with and given more leniency than the person they are portrayed abusing. So, I ended up being more aggressive than I should have been at times as well.

It is stressful to hear things like Kotoko may be beaten up during the intermission. It's a very valid concern for people who care about her character to have but it's a worry that everyone in the fandom shares when it comes to the safety of the prisoners that they care about. Ultimately, we can't really control what the prisoners do after the trial which can be very anxiety inducing for everyone involved. Especially since no one wants any of the characters to be lost before trial three. It's really complicated.

I haven't seen much about Kotoko being attacked outside of the context of Shidou with his "extract that fang" line. Which to be fair given how some within the fandom have discussed Amane's during her second trial he'd probably cease to be a threat to Kotoko's safety if she were voted Innocent. So, in that since Kotoko enjoyers and Amane enjoyers should probably just form an alliance. Logistically it'd be a reasonable course of action even if a bit unfair.

It would also be a better outcome than what occurred with Haruka and Mu this trial. Plus, could have fun narrative implications if brought to the writer's attention I mean this was said in the trial two commencement notice after all-

As they literally made visual allusions to trading and bargaining. Literally this is what comes up when you search bargaining in google.

Milgram isn't really being subtle or slick about it. They're just waiting to see which prisoners' fans are most successful at it at this point. Milgram has sort of been tempting guards to make deals with each other since the start of trial two. Well at least to me that's what it seems like.

The prisoners have even formed some alliances of their own or attempted to do so since the beginning. Milgram has implied we have more of an impact than we know and that some prisoners will change their behavior if they know it will benefit them.

Like this answer of Kotoko's for example,

How would that impact prisoner relationships? The prisoners can hear us after all if they know that we're in support of certain relationships and not others. I wonder how that would go especially attached to positive reinforcement. It could be wild and interesting.

What's a bit of harmless discussion between guards after all? Things like this are much better than going back and forth for each other's throat's tit for tat. Outside of that bit of deluded talk- Because coordination like that in this sort of situation is a pipe dream at this point.

Please keep talking about Kotoko because it's literally restoring my faith in humanity it may be difficult to fully understand but- I thought I was losing it there for a minute.

[gay-jesus-probably]

unpopular opinion: a lot of the LGBT encanto headcanons are bad actually (an accidental essay)

I've decided that actually y'know what I WILL talk about my thoughts on Camilo Madrigal, specifically the Encanto fandom's incredibly bad takes on him. I am so fucking sick of having to see people cheerfully talking about how 'well this shapeshifter turns into men AND women sooo obviously they must be genderfluid, and definitely can't use just the one set of gender pronouns they have in canon'.

I don't know how to explain this to you, but insisting that a character is genderfluid specifically because that character can become biologically male or female at will? Not the progressive statement you think it is. Actually taking us back a few steps there.

You know what's a lot more interesting? Camilo being a cis guy who has no problem shapeshifting into women, because gender is a lie and biology only means what we want it to. The world isn't divided into 'trans people' and 'people who are physically unable to examine their gender identity'. Why the fuck isn't anyone writing about Camilo as a boy that's been able to shapeshift since he was five, and has the perspective to see that his physical form changes nothing about his identity, and he is a boy because that's how we feels, not because he's AMAB? Am I the only enby person that actually WANTS cis people to examine their gender identity and decide that biological sex isn't very important and their assigned gender being correct was just a happy coincidence?

And again, cannot stress this enough, while I understand why the idea of being able to shapeshift away from your dysphoria is appealing, and you want to project that fantasy onto a shapeshifting character, declaring a character genderfluid because they are capable of shapeshifting into men and women has some incredibly fucked up implications, and you should probably put some more thought into that.

Look, if it was just Camilo, I'd give the fandom the benefit of the doubt, but I fucking see how Mirabel and Luisa are the only other characters getting trans/enby headcanons. Especially looking at you, people who saw a character that's very tall and muscular with a deep voice and decided she must be a trans woman, all of you are fucking banned from making gender headcanons until you get your heads out of your asses. And I've definitely noticed the suspicious absence of nonbinary Isabela headcanons, that's not a great look for y'all. The 'Mirabel is enby' team doesn't seem to have quite as much blatant transphobia behind it, but also I do kind of get the vibes that y'all latched on to her specifically because she doesn't qualify as beautiful by eurocentric standards, and I'm not super comfortable with how that ties into the idea that brown/black women don't get recognized as women unless they can perform femininity at a standard that white people deem acceptable, but that's. Not really something I'm qualified to talk about.

And of course all of this ends up coming back to the main problem, which is that this shit is being done by white people whose understanding of intersectionality is shaky at best. So I'm honestly not sure how much of the white Encanto fandom understands that the characters being latine means they will have a different relationship to their gender/sexuality, so things that are progressive in white characters might carry unfortunate implications in brown characters.

Being queer isn't just a white thing of course, and having queer headcanons for non-white characters is great. But a different culture is going to have a different queer culture as well. People aren't getting mad about LGBT Encanto headcanons to be homophobic, they're getting mad about it because white people aren't writing queer latine characters, they're writing characters who read as queer white Americans that happen to live in Colombia. The writers are projecting their own experiences and culture on to the characters, and completely ignore all but the superficial details of their actual racial identities. So yeah. That's why latine people keep yelling at you to stop headcanoning Encanto characters as queer and/or neurodivergent. It's not because they're homophobic/ableist. It's because you don't know what you're doing, and keep whitewashing the characters so you can project onto them.

Fuck, I've seen a genuinely disturbing amount of white fans who assumed a detail in the movie was about them, got informed it was actually a Colombian/latine culture thing, and decided to argue with them and appropriate it anyways. For example, the part in What Else Can I Do where the plant pollen Isabela's throwing around forms a Colombian flag on her dress, which white people have been outright arguing was actually just a messy take on the lesbian flag. The people arguing that like Isabela and can relate her to her exploring who she is and celebrating her sense of identity. It's just that those people can't relate to connecting to their race and culture and finding a defiant joy in celebrating that aspect of their identity. But instead of realizing and accepting that that specific detail isn't meant for them, they're just... twisting the moment to try and make it belong to them anyways. Because acknowledging that the experience of being a white lesbian and the experience of being a brown woman share some similarities, but are ultimately completely different? That's not super fun, and makes it hard to project onto Isabela. But ignoring and twisting the nuance to interpret the character as an extension of yourself, oh, that's both fun and easy, no uncomfortable feelings required! Or how white fans hold up Bruno's habits of knocking on wood, throwing salt over his shoulder, and holding his breath as evidence of him having OCD. But those aren't abnormal behaviours; they're common, socially accepted actions for bringing good luck in Latine culture. The only significance they have for Bruno's character is highlighting that he's very superstitious. He also has a habit of crossing his fingers and avoids stepping on cracks, but those are never brought up as proof of him being neurodivergent, because those aren't considered strange to the people making the headcanons, so they don't register; that just looks like a normal, harmless bit of superstition that just brings a little peace of mind. And again, these headcanons are from white people with OCD who saw a character performing strange rituals to ward off bad luck, and saw themselves in him. But they're missing the wider context, which is that Bruno's actions aren't personal, compulsive rituals that look strange and unnecessary to the people around him, he's just making casual gestures that other character see as being on the same level as crossing your fingers for good luck. They see a character doing things they consider weird, and feel a connection to him, without realizing that they're just projecting their own values onto a different culture.

Honestly, this sort of thing is an especially serious problem for white American fans; they're used to a very self absorbed culture that places America as the default option, the center of the world, so trying to understand another culture just... doesn't come naturally to them. Meanwhile literally everybody else has experience having to put up with stuff that assumes they're American, and therefor gets frequent reminders that other places exist and have different cultures. Like, if I'm writing a fanfic set in another country, I'll do a little bit of research about what their normal is, and I'll try to make sure that stuff I consider standard doesn't slip in unless it's a thing there too. Meanwhile I've seen Americans write fics where prom night is an important high school experience in South Korea, fics where a badly injured Canadian is terrified of the medical bills pilling up while he's in the hospital, fics where going from Denmark to Sweden involved passports and border checkpoints, fics where gun ownership was treated as normal for average civilians in Japan, and fics where Russians living in the city while also owning a second house for vacations in the country was only for crazy rich upper class people. There's just this sort of built in idea that Americans have where the every modern civilization must be just the USA with some cosmetic differences.

I mean, cultural blindness/appropriation is global problem, anywhere you go you'll find people who think their idea of normal is the universal standard. But it's especially common in Americans, and they're the most resistant to accepting that they can connect to the similarities they find in stories from/about other cultures while still acknowledging and respecting the differences.

[demonslayedher]

Buriko-Senpai! This is such a wonderful blog to read, and I love your art so much! It's so nice to see other traditional artists out there! What's your thoughts on the demon slayer marks and their affects after Muzan's defeat? Do you think they're a purely physical effect, or a supernatural curse like Ubuyashiki's? It seems like in the latter case it would be lifted? In Tanjiro's status report, he mentions wanting everyone to be happy "when he's gone", and hints of preparation for the future...

Thank you for the kind words on my art! (≧◡≦) Glad to know people like the style, I like the feel of trad art both for the final product and how the pen feels in my hand, haha~. I love all the additional possibilities in digital art, but will leave that to the people who are good at it. Glad you find my blog a good read too, because we’ve got another lengthy read ahead.

As for the mark and whether it works in a purely physical sense or a curse sense, I'm ok thinking of it in either way, depending on its purposes in post-canon fanwork (but of course, you can do whatever you want in fanwork totally inventing the mark or completely ignoring it too). As Gotouge never states exactly what becomes of Tanjiro, Giyuu, and Sanemi, I don’t feel we can declare it working one way or another. We'll consider it from both angles, but in general, I think canon evidence leans toward an avoidable physical impact. Even that, however, leaves room for interpretation on strict "25" might be or not.

If we approach the curse direction first, the worldbuilding surrounding the Ubuyashiki curse gives a lot of framework for the mark being a curse. The second fanbook even gives us more circumstance and age-related perimeters that seem very arbitrary, like how only one male will survive each generation and how the daughters will also die young by sudden illness or accident if they don’t marry out. As the curse is tied to Muzan’s/demons existence, it is completely lifted once Muzan is eradicated, but Kiriya still anticipates dying in his 20’s and does not feel relieved that it’s gone until he’s in his 30’s. This would put Giyuu and Sanemi in their 50’s if they’re still around, and with their own curses effectively gone, they’d probably have spent the past couple decades insisting to Kiriya that he can relax.

If the rebound of the mark is a supernatural curse, there are a couple other things that make sense about this to me, in the light of cosmic justice at play in this universe. First, it’s a general rule in a lot of philosophies and other works of fiction that to gain something powerful, you must pay the price and sacrifice something. Second, the Ubuyashiki family is cursed to carry the sins of one of its members until they can stop that demon member. While Demon Slayers may not necessarily be carrying the sins of demons, we see demon marks at play in this series first, though its effects are not clear until we see how Nezuko is stronger when her vines appear. A Demon Slayer also gaining extra strength like this is, perhaps, taboo.

As for the mark being a purely physical effect, I think the emphasis on physical effects of the mark (especially how in Chapter 129 Muichiro analyzes its effects on body temperature and the heart), and how throughout the manga it is continually stressed that the Demon Slayers are mere humans even if Breath helps them push the natural limits of human ability, lend to a more physical interpretation that in order to push so far past normal limits, it has to borrow against the natural human lifespan. This is how the characters in-universe also interpret its effects. If we look more into what Muichiro says:

Muichiro: The anger was too strong for me to have any handle on my emotions. I believe that in that moment, my heartrate exceeded 200 beats, and my body felt as hot as though it was burning. My temperature would had measured at least 39 degrees or more. Shinobu: !? Could you move like that? That would be life-threatening. Muichiro: Right. That’s why I think it’s a matter of falling into one category or another. Whether you die or survive that moment is what determines whether a mark will appear or not. Amane: A heartrate of over 200, and why a temperature of 39 degrees? Muichiro: That’s because when I was received treatment at Kocho-san’s place I was running a fever. When my temperature was taken, the thermometer read 39 degrees. At the time I would have been said to have a mark appear, my body was just as feverish.

(For reference, according to searching with the same terms used in the original text, your top heartrate is 220 minus your age, making Muichiro's 206 beats per minute. The average for someone in their 20's is 120~140, somewhat hard exercise would put it at 150, and hard exercise puts it at 170, according to the Borg scale. Normal body temperature in Celsius is 37 degrees; while 39 C = 102.2 F.)

If we look back at when Tanjiro is first facing off against Daki, he considers how he gets more power out of Hinokami Kagura than from Water Breathing because it suits his body better, but he is not yet physically capable of the switch between them. As he psyches himself out in Chapter 77, we see that he has physically been trying to prepare himself for this, and he’s shouting at himself to set his heart ablaze. Clearly, Tanjiro is leaning into that advice from Rengoku-san, and if he’s on his way to getting the mark, he’s been taking that advice somewhat literally.

In Chapter 78, as he purposely raises his own temperature to fight the side effects of switching to Hinokami Kagura, we get a flashback that Kiyo-chan was very worried that Tanjiro was running a temperature of 38 degrees (100.4 F) for three days, but Tanjiro begged her not to tell Shinobu yet because he felt fine in that sustained feverish state, and was able to put more power into Hinokami Kagura that way. (This may also be part of why the mark seems to have a different effect on Sun Breath users, as their body draws from this power in a more sustained way.)

We can probably think of most of the other Breath Users who attained the mark as having gotten it in a similar way to Muichiro. In a fit of high emotion and desperate battle, their body pulled from its natural reserves, and similar to a human and/or demon being exposed to lots of Muzan’s cells all at once and either dying or quickly adapting, they attained a mark and relied on that temporary extra burst of strength. While it either happens or doesn’t happen for the others (Muichiro plainly states he was unaware of a mark’s appearance) based on being the flow of tense battle, Himejima seemed to have gained enough ability that he could choose when he wanted to tap into that power. When we’re first left not knowing what else Amane told the Pillars, Himejima openly wonders what would happen in his case (seeing as he is over the age of 25). In the third light novel, we get a brief scene of Himejima pulling Muichiro aside after that meeting to ask if he’s alright with this, since he’s just found out that he has no chance already of living a long life. Muichiro is fine and wonders about Himejima, who is also fine with this. They both are willing to do whatever it takes to fight Upper Moons and know their survival has never been assured. Himejima goes on to say similar things to Kokushibo in Chapters 169 and 170, when we the readers are finally told about the limited life expectancy. The two of them both sort of expect Himejima to drop dead that night because of his limited stores to draw from. Himejima would had preferred to not raise his temperature so much until facing Muzan (seeing as he knows he’ll be racing against time), but knows he has no choice but to start while facing Kokushibo. Kokushibo is somewhat impressed with his control of getting a mark and his preparation to die, and he finds it a waste of Himejima’s ability and likewise is like, “why not preserve your flesh as a demon” because, as we find out in Kokushibo’s flashbacks in Chapter 178, this was part of what motivated him to accept Muzan’s blood. He couldn’t handle the frustration of his polished techniques being wiped out by a short life span, especially since it would mean he was soon out of time to match or best Yoriichi. If we go back to that conversation between Himejima and Kokushibo, Kokushibo loses his cool (hahaha, that feels like a bit of a pun here) the moment Himejima is like, “there was one exception to the rule though, wasn’t there?” I suspect that Yoriichi was the exception partly due to Sun Breathing being a more perfected, sustained form of pushing the limits of human capability, and Yoriichi being born naturally perfect at it, so his body didn’t need to scramble looking for extras sources of power like hastily (or slowly) borrowing against his lifespan. What’s very interesting about Kokushibo is that he also regularly sustained his mark, so perhaps it’s possible he could had lived past 25? Here's what really key: We also don’t know about these early marked users. Did they regularly sustain their marks, or did they only show up regularly when they battled demons, repeatedly borrowing against their future lifespan? Or was it a one-off thing for each of them, like it was for Giyuu and Sanemi? It’s possible that even if Giyuu and Sanemi are doomed to shorter lives, since they both only had the marks for relatively short periods of time on a single night, they might well exceed 25 years. The fact that Gotouge gave them descendants (as opposed to only implied reincarnations), and because they are both characters generally written as dense in the ways of love and close personal relationships, that sort of implies they needed some time before leaving behind offspring, and I hear a lot of voices in the fandom displeased with the idea of them leaving children behind when they know they won't be around to raise them. Since we don't know any canon details on this, let's cut the boys some slack and say they took a chance on being happy. After all, all their time in the Corp already teaches them tomorrow is never assured.

Side note while we’re on the Sanemi topic, he attains his mark right after Himejima brings his own forth (because Himejima is a badass who can just be like, “ok, now”). While he comments to Himejima what a good idea it was to do Pillar Training so he could attain that powerful state, it’s also possible that being in the presence of someone who already had one was part of what triggered Sanemi’s body to access that state as well. The nature of the mark’s spread from person to person is another tick in the “supernatural curse” box if people like that interpretation more.

Let’s take a look back at Tanjiro, though.

Tanjiro, our special Hinokami Kagura boy, was already a special case for his own knowledge of Sun Breathing (however imperfect), and his own sustained mark (though as Genya notes in Chapter 134, it tends to transform slowly, and as Tanjiro remarks in response to Shinjuro’s comments in Chapter 81, his mark was not something he was born with like the original Sun Breath user was, it was but a childhood injury which took on a different shape when he was injured at the Final Selection). While Amane cites him as the one who started the trickle of marks appearing again, we know in the Pleasure Quarter arc than Tanjiro was been unknowingly training himself to make the mark appear, like the Pillars later tried to do in training.

Tanjiro also, however, has the very unique experience of undergoing repeated cruel and unusual suffering in battle against Muzan, basically dying, turning into a demon with more of Muzan’s cells than any other demon in history, and turning human again with man-made medicine all in the span of about two hours.

We can’t really compare Tanjiro’s case to Giyuu’s and Sanemi’s very easily. Besides the slightly different nature of his mark (which Muzan says will still kill him anyway if he becomes human again, but whether he says that based on a cosmic rule or historical precident, we don't know), we simply don’t know all the details of how Tanjiro's flesh has been affected by everything that happened to him in that two hour period. It seems safe to say that becoming a demon is what saved his life since it rebuilt his flesh and supercharged life back into him, but since he wasn’t a demon long enough to have fully integrated those new cells, the entirely reconstructed parts of him (his left arm and right eye) are essentially lifeless. However, there may still be some amount of reclaiming that his body did during his demon minutes, for the whole right side of his face should be paralyzed (yet he can still use it expressively), and there was probably internal damage throughout his entire body and other various injuries (like stabbing himself) which were repaired enough for him to survive. Had he been a demon longer (long enough that his body with Muzan’s memories likely would had broken down the medicine Kanao gave him), my guess is that he would had fully integrated these body parts, like how Nezuko gets to keep her legs despite all the times they were blown or chopped off.

But we also know that Tanjiro had to take a few months to recover (his visitors looked like they waited the whole three months before getting permission to see him), and that his condition allows him to live and work, but he generally is in a weakened state. Again, rather than only having borrowed (on multiple occasions) against his own lifespan, we don't know the extent of the damage and repair he's undergone.

While he’s got 25 as a historical benchmark to anticipate, and as you mention, he does seem to fully anticipate that early demise, his case is so unique that it could go in any direction. Tanjiro might live longer than 25, as this would give him time to pass on Hinokami Kagura to at least his eldest son, but like Tanjuro, he’d probably have a pretty weak constitution for the rest of his dwindling life. But also worth noting, the phrase is that they die by at least age 25. That means some of the Warring States era swordsmen probably died before that age. (｡•́︿•̀｡) I don't feel this is likely for Tanjiro, Giyuu, and Sanemi, but it is worth noting as a possibility.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 8

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language? Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: Bit of fluff with some anxiety/update on primary conflict. Next chapter will be a cute date with Dani, the one after that will be maximum h*rny, and then what will likely be the finale. Music for this chapter here. PS this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony

Chapter 8: Obbligato

(Obbligato: An instrumental part which is essential in a piece of music)

“Okay, okay, serious this time, please? I’ll give you a kiss if you try hard enough,” you promised, grinning up at Daniela as you did. A week had passed since your talk in the library, with the two of you spending most days together, and you were progressing nicely with the musical lessons. Still, your girlfriend (you would never get tired of saying that word) was prone to getting a tad ‘distracted’. By you, usually. Not that it was intentional by any means. There was only so much you could do to keep her focused when the two of you were this close together.

“I could just kiss you anyway,” Daniela teased, leaning in with familiar intent. Right before your lips touch, however, she pulls back and smirks. “But if you insist, I can handle the challenge.” Then she’s turning back towards the piano, carefully finding the starting position. Even with her prior experience, you were impressed with how much she had already learned, and couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her. If anyone could meet Lady Dimitrescu’s expectations within a three month timeframe, it was the two of you. Except, of course, you still had to double-check just what her expectations were.

In the meantime, you were excited to hear your girlfriend play through the sheet music you had written up. Most of what you were working with had come from the family’s storage room, but you had also found some blank sheets, and figured it couldn’t hurt to create songs of your own. This particular one was relatively simple. It had been based on a song from a game you had played years ago, and only posed a moderate challenge due to its interesting rhythm. Daniela had seemed to enjoy playing it, with you even hearing her practice the song outside of your lessons, but had so far today refused to play it seriously.

Finally that was going to change. Once she found the starting notes, she nodded to herself, then started playing. For the first time today her expression is stern, focused. Seeing her like this was nice. She was always cute, you just thought that she was extra cute like this. But you tried not to let yourself get too distracted, knowing that you couldn’t give her feedback if you didn’t pay attention. In your head you “play along”, fingers miming the movements, knowing that it would help you catch any possible mistakes. Throughout the piece there are only a couple that you catch, none of them being severe enough to ruin the experience. Finishing with a little flourish, Daniela returns her gaze to you, grinning expectantly.

“Well? I seem to recall you promising me a reward,” she said, perking a brow. Laughing a little, you roll your eyes, before moving in to give her exactly what she wanted. Both of you are smiling into the kiss, enjoying every moment of it. Soon enough Daniela is running a hand through your hair, and pressing against you more, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. You’re blushing hard now, thoughts going everywhere other than music. It’s not until you pull back for air that you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“As wonderful as this is… we still have a few more songs to go over,” you murmured, despite how much you wanted to keep kissing Daniela. By the way she groaned in frustration, you figured she felt the same way, more or less. “Hey, don’t fret too much. Think of this as an opportunity to earn a few more rewards,” you teased, gently patting her on the shoulder. For a moment she simply pouts, but eventually she sighs and gets ready to play another song…

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

Rushing up the steps, practically two at a time, you desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be late. This was your third “update meeting” with Lady Dimitrescu, which by itself was enough to make you a nervous wreck. Add in the fact that this was the first time you’d be meeting alone? And in her personal study, no less? Well, it was safe to say that you were terrified. You hadn’t even been told why things were different this time. No, you were about as clueless as could be, given the circumstances.

By the time you make it your Lady’s study, you cannot tell whether your heart is racing due to stress or physical exertion. Regardless, you make it there in short time, arriving precisely at the scheduled hour. After taking a moment to settle your nerves, you briefly knock on the chamber door. There’s the sound of movement from inside before the way opens. Lady Dimitrescu has to bend a little to see out, but quickly smiles when she meets your gaze. Which was rather unexpected. The last time you had met with her she had been distanced, although still polite. Then again, Daniela had also been with you, and the focus was, as always, on her.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you greeted, giving a short bow per customs. Then you were being waved in, brought over to a small sitting area, where you waited for permission to sit down. Once it was given, you relaxed a little. Maybe I don’t have as much reason to be nervous as I thought, you muse.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. There are no reasons for you to be unsettled, as far as I am aware,” Lady Dimitrescu said, smile disappearing for a moment at the end. But it’s back as quickly as it had vanished. Did she suspect something? Perhaps she had seen the way Daniela looked at you, or even overheard the whisperings of your roommates. Both thoughts do little other than renew your anxiety. Noticing this, Alcina frowns and shakes her head. “I was merely joking. Now, let us get to the reason for our meeting: How are Daniela’s lessons fairing? There is only so much I can glean from listening.” Glad to have something to think about other than your secret relationship with your boss’ daughter, you nodded and began explaining.

“Lady Daniela is making outstanding progress, in my opinion. Even with her occasional… lapses in attention, once she puts her mind to something, she’s quick to master it. At this point she can sight read nearly as fast and accurately as myself. However, we’re still going over vocabulary, as well as keys and their corresponding chords,” you answered, barely able to maintain eye contact with your employer. Thankfully, she seems to have accepted the inevitability of your nervousness. You were especially thankful now that you prepared to ask her a question. “My Lady, may I inquire about what specifically you expect from my teachings? If there are certain genres you wish for Daniela to be familiar with, or techniques-... I must admit I am unsure as to how to best meet your requirements.”

Slowly reclining in her chair, Alcina appears to ponder your question. In the meantime she sips at her beverage, holding the cup as if it were a fragile heirloom (which it could very well be), eyes looking into the middle distance. Then she gives a soft hum, setting her cup down and returning her attention to you.

“I suppose I can understand your concern. In some ways you have already exceeded my expectations,” she said, expression oddly plain in comparison to her positive phrasing. “My daughter has rarely invested herself in anything as much as she has in your lessons. For this, I am left wondering what she finds so captivating- the music, or the one who pulls the strings?... But that is not the answer to your inquiry, is it?” In that moment, you are incredibly still, willing yourself to keep a straight face, despite the racing of your heart. At your silence, Alcina perks a brow, expecting you to respond. You can’t, your mouth suddenly dry. “What I expect is a passion to educate, a drive to see my daughter flourish. I expect you to teach her exactly as much as she wants you to, focusing on whatever brings her the most joy. But I expect professionalism. Your duties come first, above your health, happiness, and all other desires. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Lady. Of course, my Lady,” you replied, stuttering, eyes wide. Did she know? Or merely suspect?... There’s another thought, one you try desperately not to voice, only to hear the words fill the room before you can stop yourself. “May I ask where Lady Daniela’s desires fit into this?” Silence hangs heavy over the room for several seconds. Your employer has narrowed her eyes, lips curled downwards into a sharp scowl, watching you with thinly-veiled anger. All you can do is gulp and wait for her response. When it comes, you are surprised by the stability of her tone. It was almost as if she respected your gall.

“She is young still, with the mind of a lovesick maiden. Daniela does not know what she wants, not really, nor does she understand what she needs. If her… flirtatious nature begins to interrupt your instruction, then your response must be swift, and uninterested. Regardless of how unkindly she takes your rejection, I will ensure that she does not harm you,” Lady Dimitrescu said, giving a stern nod at the end. Though her tone was reassuring, you hardly felt better, considering you were far past the point of turning Daniela down (if anything, you had only turned her on). “Now, with that settled, I believe I should let you return to your duties. Oh, and do tell Cynthia that the tea she brewed was perfect, should you happen to see her.”

Then she looked away, practically ignoring your continued existence. So you rose to your feet, gave another bow, and left before your panic could devolve into a breakdown. Daniela is not going to be happy about this.

[fieryghxul]

Margaritas, reunions and confessions. [a.h.]

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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Warning(s): fem!reader – dom!hotch (well i tried) – last season’s spoilers – drinking – cursing – smut –  unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it tho) – oral sex (fem receiving) – slight chocking – a bit fluff at the end.

A/N: hello everyone! this is super random but i came up with this in the middle of the night and i couldn't shake the idea out of my head. i am not a writer and english is not my first language so if there’s any mistake, i apologize in advance. also, this is my first hotch smut so i hope it’s good. enjoy!

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[March 14th, 2020. 8:30 pm.]

“I have to go but promise me that you’re going to stop thinking about work and that you’re going to have fun these days.” You heard the pleading voice of Penelope Garcia on the phone as you walked out of the bathroom.

“I promise. I love you and I’ll see you when I get back.” You smiled and you knew that she was smiling too.

“It’s a date, angel. Love you more.” And with that, the line went silent.

You put your cell phone aside and took a look at the open suitcases on the bed. You didn't have anything planned but you knew you have to go out to clear your head and relax, things at work have been very stressful lately so when Prentiss told the team about taking some vacation time, you didn't hesitate to get a ticket and get on the first plane you found.

And that's why you were currently in a hotel room in Santorini, Greece. Yes, it seems like a lot, but nothing you can't afford.

A few minutes later, you finished applying some mascara and lip gloss, and took a few steps back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The navy-blue self-tie slit dress hugged every curve of your body perfectly; you paired it with a pair of black heels and a black jacket, just in case it gets cold at night. After taking one last look and smiling slightly at the reflection, you turned to grab your bag and left the room, hoping to have a good night once you were out of the hotel.

                                                       ▪ ▪ ▪

People flooded the streets and it was understandable, the night was really beautiful, there was a light breeze and the full moon was perfectly reflected in the sea. You have been walking for almost 2 hours, taking photos of almost everything and enjoying the night until you came across a bar, the word "cocktail" in the name of the place definitely caught your attention so you didn't think twice before walking into the place.

You walked to the bar and waited for the bartender to come up to you. While you were waiting, you could feel the back of your neck burning, someone was watching you but you didn’t want to deal with anyone yet, so you just ignored it, concentrating on reading the menu even though you already knew what you were going to order.

“Good evening, ma'am. Are you ready to order?” You look up from the menu, a brunette in her 20s is at the other side of the bar was smiling at you.

“Uh, yes, a margarita would be fine.” You ordered, mirroring her smile, and the girl gave you a little nod before walking away.

In the meantime you took your phone out of your bag and opened the ‘bau ladies’ group chat to send one or two of the photos you took a few hours ago with a “next time, i’m bringing all of your cute asses with me.” below them.

JJ was the first to reply, “oh my god, it’s gorgeous!”

Followed by Emily’s “look at that and some of us are still doing paperwork :( get drunk on my behalf please.”

You chuckled under your breath at her text and the margarita arrives just in time, “i’m on it, boss ;) isn't it a little late to be doing paperwork?"

Penelope replies next, “paperwork hahaha what a weird way to spell tara’s name“ and two “PENELOPE!” appear automatically in chat.

“you two are so obvious and spencer owns me 20 now.” You hit the send button before graving the margarita, taking a few sips of it. It takes about 3 minutes for your phone to vibrate again and you were about to answered but you are interrupted by the bartender.

“From the man at that table, ma'am.” She says placing another margarita in front of you and discreetly pointing at one of the tables that were on the patio of the place, you turned around but the only thing you see from the bar is his back. “Don’t worry; it doesn’t have anything weird on it.”

“Thank you...” The bartender walks away again and you stare at the drink, debating for a moment about whether or not to go and face the mysterious man. Fuck it. You decided before putting you phone back in your bag, forgetting about the messages and graving that and the drink before making your way to the table.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat once you reached said table, "can I seat here or are you waiting for someone?"

“Please.” He murmur in a low voice while gesturing toward the empty chair, indicating that you can sit down and a strange feeling of familiarity floods your body at that gesture. You shock your head trying to ignore that before placing your bag aside and sitting down in front of the man.

“I just wanted to thank you for the—“

The words got stuck on your throat and the world seemed to have stopped when you finally laid your eyes on the suited man that you thought you'd never see again.

Holy shit.

You stood still, a part of you fearing that if you moved he might disappear. Your face probably showing clear signs of confusion and shock as Aaron Hotchner sit right there in front of you.

He still looked serious and intimidating, his gaze reimaging cold to those who didn't know him and you remember all of those times you teased him about being a robot, there were times when you actually managed to make him laugh.

Yet at the same time there was something different about him. There was a different glow around him, he seems more relaxed and you could see it in his expressions, even in his posture.

“Hello, Y/N.” Hotchner said, voice still low but strong enough to bring you back to the present.

“Hey.” You said, still processing the fact that he was here with you and in the most unexpected place. “I, uh, it’s been a long time.”

“Almost 3 years.” He said before taking a sip of the glass that rested on his hand, you assumed that it was scotch.

3 years in 6 months, 13 days, 1 hour and 65 seconds. Give it or take.

“Almost, yeah… so what are you doing here?” You asked, “I mean, you were more a city type of guy.”

“I still am, Y/N, but Jack and Jessica insisted on me going on a little vacation because apparently it’s been a while since I had some ‘me-time’.”

Your face light up a bit at the mention of the kid, Hotch noticed it. “How’s Jack? I can barely remember when the last time I saw him was was but he must be so big now.”

“He’s 14 and almost as tall as me.” A smile appeared on Hotch's face, he didn't used to smile a lot and you thought it was a bit normal considering the work that you two shared, but those times that he did you used to felt butterflies in your stomach. Still do apparently. “What about you? What are you doing here? I mean, you were more a city type of girl.”

You chuckled softly when you heard him repeating your words and you shrugged slightly, “I'm having some vacation time, it's rare to have free time at the BAU, you know? So when you do, you take it without thinking twice.”

“How’s the team doing?”

“Good. We're working on some things, going through a few changes, the usual I guess.” This time it was you who drank, taking a long sip of the margarita that was still in your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to hear me talk about it?”

“Of course, unless, do you have somewhere else to be, Y/N?”

“Not anymore. We might need a few more of this though.” You pointed to the drinks on the table and flashing him a smile, catching a glimpse of his before calling the bartender and ordering another round of drinks.

And then you started talking, Hotch listening carefully to every word that came out of your mouth. You started with the cult that kidnapped Spencer and Garcia and then launching into the saga of the Everett Lynch a.k.a "The Chameleon", you mentioned how Emily is now shortlisted to be the next FBI director and how she would name JJ as the next unit chief of BAU unit, but that remains to be seen; you also talked about Garcia leaving the team to work in Silicon Valley and Hotch noticed the sad tone in your voice when you mentioned that but in part he was happy that everyone was moving forward with their lives, making new decisions and following different paths. You continued with Spencer being a consultant and teaching at the same time and finished with Rossi getting married again then talking about retirement but not fully doing it.

“That’s because Rossi’s never going to retired.” You and Hotch said in unison, laughing after noticing that.

“A lot of things had happened then.” He said, not very surprise and titling his head to one side, you nodded mutely. “But you forgot of someone, Y/N.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you. What about you? How are you?” He asked, his tone of voice changing to a concerned one.

“Oh… I, uh, I’m good.” You began but more hesitant this time, “I will never get used to the changes but its part of life so I just have to suck it up and live with it. I don’t have an outer motive yet so I'm not leaving the BAU, that's for sure. I always knew that that's where I belong and I can’t even bring myself to think about other options.”

“You have always been an important asset to the team, Y/N. The BAU is still lucky to have you.” Hotch said, still sounded like the boss but you didn’t comment anything out loud about it. Instead, you smiled kindly at him and both went silent after that, staring at each other every now and then and finishing the rest of your drinks. It was a comfortable and familiar silence, one of the many that you two used to share while working together in the office or in the long nights in the jet after finishing a case.

Your gaze swept over the bar, noticing the few people that was still there and the employees staring to clean up the place. You took at deep breath, pulling out your wallet.

“Well, Hotch, this was fun. Unexpected but fun.” You left some money under your empty cup, paying for your part of the drinks and Hotch did the same thing. “I should get going now, so—“

“Let me walk you over to your hotel.” He cut you off, grabbing his blazer from the chair and turning to look at you.

“Hotch you don’t ha—“

“Please, Y/N. I insist.” He said and his voice serious once again, just like when he used to get too bossy with the team but with a smile that contradicted that tone and you couldn’t say “no” to that.

“Alright, Sir. Let’s go.”

You grabbed your things and started walking out of the bar, Hotchner walking behind you.

                                                          ▪ ▪ ▪

The walk back to the hotel was shorter than you thought; maybe it was because you were so focused on Hotchner and the small talk that you stopped paying attention to your surroundings.

“Thank you, Aaron.” You murmur while grabbing the room key from you bag, “But you didn’t have to come up here though.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

You could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't dare to do it and it doesn't feel good to pressure him, so you settled for just smiling at him.

And in that moment, standing in outside of you room and looking closely at him, you realized how much you missed him. You didn’t admitted that out loud after he left the BAU, you couldn’t do it because you also never fully admitted your feeling for him. Partially it was your fault, feelings were never your thing and you were afraid of what might happen if you confronted him about it so looking for excuses and reasons to not doing it always seemed easier.

For a while you truly did believed that it was just a stupid crush on your boss, something temporary, until the days turned into weeks and then months, years even, but then… he was gone.

You couldn’t really blame him for that though; he had a good reason for leaving so suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Hotch finally mumbled.

You looked at him in confusion, “For what?”

“Leaving.”

“You did it to protect Jack; it was the right thing to do.” You reassure him with a smile, you unconsciously took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away. “Don’t ever apologize for keeping your son safe, Hotch.”

“I know, choosing to be a full time dad to Jack is something I do not regret. It was something that we both needed it, especially after everything that happened with Haley.” You gulped at the mention of the name, remembering how devastated he was after her death. He took a deep breath, “But what I am trying to say is that I am sorry I didn't came back to you or the team, I should at least have called to let you know that we were fine but I got so caught up with the mundane life that it was a little too late by the time I realized about everything I left behind.”

To you.

Those two little words echoed in your head as you look at those chocolate eyes that used to drive you crazy without knowing it. You noticed that he was even closer now, slightly towering over you. It’s now or never, Y/N. You thought to yourself before speaking.

“I waited for you. I never told anyone but for a whole I waited for you to come back, hoping one day to see your demanding self in an expensive suit walking through the BAU doors again but deep down I knew that eventually I had to let you go.” You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding until now and smiled sadly, “That was easier said than done considering that I never stopped thing about it, about you. Because the true is that I loved you, Aaron. Maybe I still fucking do… but I doubt that this makes any difference now because maybe you never saw me in the same way that I saw you or just because it’s a little too late now.”

You finished and Hotch frowned, probably processing what you just admitted to him. He was silent for a few more seconds and you took it as your cue, letting go of his hand and turning around to open the door of you room. “I had an amazing night, thank you. See you around.”

But before you could even step foot in the room, you felt his hand grabbing your wrist and your chest hitting his. The next thing you knew after that was that his lips were on yours.

Aaron Hotchner was fucking kissing you after admitting your feelings for him.

He pulled away before you could react properly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours; this time he looked at you in a way that you had only fantasized about until now, there was love and lust on them and you could feel it, just all those feelings that you tried so hard to keep locked in the deepest part of you.

And that's all you needed before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again, in a matter of seconds you two were inside the room. His lips were warm and the kiss quickly turned into a desperate one once the door was locked behind you, you could already feel yourself melting in his arms.

You didn’t even realize how it happened, but in one quick moment you were being totally pinned against the door with Aaron holding you by your thighs as your legs were wrapped around his waist. The position was now lifting your short dress, leaving your thighs even more naked but you didn't mind considering that now you could perfectly feel Aaron's hand caressing your hot skin. You move your hands from his shoulders to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt and stripping him off it, dropping the piece of clothing somewhere in the room. As you were doing that, he broke the kiss and moved his lips to your neck, nipping and teasing the area just under your ear, turning you into a moaning mess almost immediately. The sounds being like music to his ears.

“Aaron , please.“ You moaned, this was good but you need it more. You needed him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He asks, slightly biting the skin of your neck and you bite your bottom lip.

“Please, Sir. Fuck me.” You let out, noticing a sparkle in his eyes that you've never seen before and that only turned you on even more.

“Since you ask so nicely…” He said before walking to the other side of the room where the was a big bed in the center of it, Aaron kissed you lips and put you down in front of him, his hands moving to the zipper of your dress. “Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

“You’re kidding, right?” You asked and Aaron stares deeply at you, the sudden seriousness on his eyes making you gulp. You nodded.

“Words, Y/N. I need words.”

“I’m sure of this, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Fuck, he was hot.

“Yes, sir.”

He bent down, his hands working on your zipper as he whisper “Good girl.” in your ear and you bite your lip once more, muffling down a moan.

He finally pulled down your dress, tossing it onto the floor completely and leaving you with only your red lace underwear; you weren't wearing a bra tonight, so you were much more exposed to him than you thought. He took one really good look at you before throwing you onto the bed, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Guess that we’re done playing around.

He kneels down on the bed, moving your legs with his knees and positioning himself between them. His hands are caressing your legs again, making their way up to the sides of your body and he leans in, kissing you again, your hands flew up to grab his hair, eagerly responding the kiss. You didn’t care how needy you seem right now, you’ve been waiting year for this, fantasizing about it, and now you had it, not really knowing for how long and that only gave you more reasons to enjoy every second of it.

“You know?,” Aaron began, his lips leaving yours and making his way down your neck, placing kisses all over your skin, “if I had know about how much you wanted me, I’ve would done something about it earlier.”

“Yeah?” You asked, arching your back as he bites one of your nipples gently, his other hand working on the other one.

“I would've pinned you down on my desk and take you right there on the office, baby. Not caring about anyone who could hear us.” He casually said, like he thought about it before and you moaned. You definitely thought about that particular situation too.

When he finally reached the place where you needed the most, he stopped and you were about to complain but Aaron shut you up by grabbing your ankles and yanking you down the end of the bed. He kneels again, parting your legs a bit more, placing one of your legs over his broad shoulders and kissing you inner thighs, slowly making his way to your soaked panties.

“I barely touch you and you’re so wet for me already?” Hotchner asked teasingly, rubbing circles with his thumb on your clit but over the fabric before taking a hold of them and ripping them out. And with no more words, Hotch held both your legs open and buried his face between them, making you moan in a matter of seconds.

He swept his tongue over you pussy swiftly, tasting my arousal first and groaning again your skin. A shiver ran through you as he stared circling your clit with his tongue and then moving down between your folds before going up again, alternating his speed and pressure.

When you thought that it couldn’t get better, Aaron proved you wrong by teasing your entrance with one of his finger and looking up at you, locking his eyes with yours. He wanted to see your reaction. You try to maintain the eye contact as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of you, curling them an hitting the right spot, a string of cursings leaving your mouth.

It didn’t take much for your legs to start shaking around his head, the knot forming on your lower stomach.

“I’m- fuck, I’m close.” You breathed betweens moans and just when you were about to reach your high, he pulled away.

“Hold that thought, sweetheart.” He shortly kissed your mouth and you tasted yourself in his before he got up off bed, his hands immediately went to unbuckle his belt and now you took your time to watch him. From his messy hair, to the red marks on his shoulders caused by your heels -oops- and then stopped at the large bulge formed in his pants, you groaned at the sight of that.

Fuck, he is big. God, if you weren't so desperate to feel him inside you, you wouldn't hesitate to drop on your knees and start sucking him.

“Do you like what you see, sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk on his face while taking off the rest of his clothes.

“Just fuck me already, please.” You begged and he positioned himself between your legs again, but he was hesitant. “Hotch?”

“I don’t have condom on me and I doubt that you have one, Y/N. I’m clean but if you—”

“I’m clean too and on the pill so don’t worry.” You smiled at him and gave a little nod.

And apparently he was as desperate as you because at all at once, Hotch took grip of your hips and pushed inside you. You immediately arched your back, moaning loudly in both pain and pleasure, your hands grabbing the sheets at your side. You were surprise that you didn’t ripped them apart yet.

“Fuck, Hotchner.” You screamed and he didn’t move for a few seconds, letting you adjust to his size. He really is big.

“You’re so thigh, baby.” He moaned in your ear, the raspy voice sending shocks straight to your core. He was capable of making you cum by just talking.

That’s how much power he had.

And then he finally started moving, pounding in and out of you slowly at first and working his way up, picking up a pace that had you both groaning and moaning.

“F-fuck, Y/N. I love hearing you scream my name.” His lips attacked your neck again and you threw your head back against the pillows, giving him all the space that he needed to play with your neck. And he took this as a perfect opportunity to sneak his hand around it, squeezing under your jaw around enough for your eyes to roll back in total pleasure as you instinctively wrapped your finger around his wrist, holding him in place. You didn’t expect him to be into chocking but you were definitely not against it.

“Harder, S-sir. Please.”

“You’re taking it so good, just like I expected it.” He growled, pulling away enough to look at the whimpering mess that you were right now, his hand never leaving your neck as he pounded even harder into you with every word. “Calling me ‘sir’ and everything, I didn’t even had to ask you to do that. You’re such a slutty responsive whore for me, aren’t you Y/N?”

The sudden dirty words coming out of your ex-boss’s mouth did nothing but to turn you on even more, if that was possible at this point. You weren’t able to form a proper sentence so you limited to nodding and moaning his name. He didn’t like that.

“I asked you a fucking question, sweetheart, answered it.”

“Y-yes, I am, S-sir.” You chocked, the knot on your stomach forming once more and by the way that his pace flickered you knew that he was close too. “I’m close, Aaron.”

“Then cum for me, baby.” He commanded, continuing his thrusts and you were already oversensitive from his earlier work so it didn’t took you long before you started clenching around him.

“Fuck, Aaron.”

“Say it louder, Y/N.”

“Aaron!” He bottom out inside of you again and you moaned loudly one last time as your body reached its limit, hitting your climax with every nerve in you tired body.

“That’s a good girl.” He said between moans, his dick twitching softly as he release himself inside of you with one last and hard thrust.

He let go of your throat but didn’t’ pull out immediately after that. His breathing was a little erratic, his lips were red and swollen, and there was a thin layer of sweat all over his body. He looked disturbingly hot.

Of course he did. He’s Aaron fucking Hotchner.

It was as if these last 3 years had never existed.

Neither of you said a word as he slowly got up and walked into the bathroom of the room to grabbed a wet towel to clean you up, doing the same thing on him before putting back his boxers, you didn’t have the strength to grab your clothes so you just put the sheets of the bed on top of you, covering you nudity.

“Oh, sp now you’re shy?” He snorted, chuckling softly and you smiled.

“Shut up and come here.” You patted the bed and he didn’t hesitate on laying next to you, wrapping his arms around you. You felt safe, like there’s was nowhere else you rather be in that moment.

“Thank you.” He whispered after a moment breaking the silence, his face resting on your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For all of… that.”

“You’ve always have such a ways with words, Hotch.” You chuckled as you looked down at him. “Thank you for ordering my margarita in the first place.”

“It was a pleasure.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him in a playful way.

“How long are you staying here, Y/N?” He finally asked and you let out a tiny sigh at the question.

You knew you weren't here for a long vacation and neither was Aaron, you two have your lives outside this room , but being here now felt so good and peaceful. So… right. This, also, was probably a one-time thing, something that was destined to happen eventually, no matter how long it took.

But you didn’t want- no, you couldn’t face the fact that you may have to let him go again. Especially not after what just happened. I mean, how could you?

And little did you know that Aaron was feeling the exact same thing.

“Enough not to have to worry about it right now.” You answered with a shrug while your fingertips trace invisible circles on his back.

“Good. I can live with that, for now at least.” And then he broke the comfortable embrace by getting up and out of the bed, you furrowed you eyebrows and he extended on his hands towards you, “Come on, let’s take a shower so we can sleep properly.”

“Yes, sir.” You took his hand, getting up with his help and trying your best not to limp as you made your way to the bathroom, “By the way, where are you staying while you’re here?”

He turned around at the question, pulling you closer to him and softly kissing your lips before using a more serious tone to say, “In the room above this one.”

Of course he was. You thought while you watched as he began to prepare the bath for the both of you.

Funny how destiny works sometimes.

[the-galaxy-collector]

heart/beats

Pairing: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning(s): fluff, sick stiles, derek hale is bad at feelings

Summary: Stiles gets sick while the gang is away. Derek comes back to check on him. 

A/N: I think as is becoming common for me in the Teen Wolf fandom, this just poured out of me with no prior warning and I regret nothing. 

Stiles stood up, or he tried, before his body forced him to sit back down on the edge of his bed. He’d been trying to work up both the strength and the courage to take a shower for the past thirty minutes, but he was still here. In the exact same position. Trying not to puke all over his pajamas. 

A very attractive look, if he did say so himself. 

He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been sick for the last two days and whatever the hell this shit was, it didn't seem to be going anywhere. 

Everyone was gone too, which made it worse. They were off saving the world from… something. He couldn’t remember now. Something way more important than Stiles, though. And he wasn’t bitter about it. He knew what they were doing was a big deal. It was just that right now he wanted chicken soup like his mom used to make and someone to tuck him back into bed. 

After a shower, he reminded himself. The shower was still a must. 

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself up with shaky limbs. He held out his arms, forcing himself to remain balanced and upright, as he started to walk forward gingerly. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

He yelped as his eyes popped back open at the noise. He didn’t know he wasn’t alone, and his heart was racing uncomfortably as he clutched his chest now over it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He gulped. “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here?”

“You’re sick,” Derek explained bluntly. 

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Stiles bit back. “Go. I’m fine.”

“You definitely are not. We need to go to the hospital, Stiles.”

“We need to go to the hospital, Stiles,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You sound like that, you know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Derek. You guys are off, ya know, saving the world or whatever. And I’ll be fine. Just go help them.”

“They don’t need my help.”

“And neither do I,” Stiles insisted. 

“Why are you like this?” he said, a smile in his voice. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

“No,” he replied sarcastically. “Really?”

When he went to roll his eyes at Derek’s stubborn nature, like he’d done a million and a half times, his head pulsed suddenly with a headache so severe it caused him to fall to his knees. Derek was by his side within seconds, his hands on either side of his face as he forced Stiles to look at him. 

He pulled back his eyelids one at a time, and whatever he saw there made him hoist Stiles off the floor without a word, and carry him from the room. Stiles wanted to put up a fight, tell Derek to put him down, that he was going to be fine. It was just the flu or something non-lethal to teenagers, but pressed up against Derek’s chest like this was warm and comfortable and he found it very difficult to hold other thoughts in his brain right now. 

Derek took him straight outside and propped him up in the front seat of his own car before buckling him in and rushing around to the driver’s side. He knew how much Derek hated the Jeep, which meant that he either was doing it for Stiles’ sake or because he had run all the way here without his own car because it wasn’t fast enough. Stiles wasn’t sure which one was sweeter. 

“Stiles, I swear to God,” Derek growled, “if you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles snorted his laughter despite the pounding in his head, currently radiating out from behind his left eye. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Derek asked softly. 

Too softly. Like he was actually worried. Which stressed out Stiles more than he thought it would. Or should. 

Stiles shrugged his answer, and even that tiny movement sent a jolt of pain down his spine. But he wasn’t lying. He honestly couldn’t remember when he had put food in his mouth last, which was probably not great. 

Derek growled again, and while it was affecting Stiles like it always did, the dull ache covering his entire body pushed any stupid, horny thoughts out of his brain. 

At least for now. 

He knew they’d be back, especially if Derek was going to stick around. Stiles sort of hated that. Especially since Derek could tell. Hiding things from werewolves, as he’d learned, was not possible. It wasn’t awkward at all. 

Yep, he definitely hated that. 

Derek continued to slam his foot and the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard as he drove, but it didn’t do any good. It never did. The Jeep was ancient, one of the things Stiles loved about it, and it wasn’t ever going to go faster than this. But Derek was wonderfully impatient, often with Stiles, or things that involved  Stiles. 

Another endearing quality that would normally make his heart all aflutter. But right now, he was in too much pain. 

The sunlight streaming in was making his head hurt worse, though, so he laid it down on the console in between him and Derek and tried not to focus on the fact that the traditionally very grumpy man was rubbing Stiles’ leg absentmindedly as he made his way through the streets of Beacon Hills. 

Derek had never been one to touch anyone for any reason, so clearly Stiles was dying. Or Derek thought he was. He couldn’t think of any other reason why he might be doing that, but again, he had no strength left to even ask.

Stiles didn’t think he was ready for the answer. Or, more appropriately, he knew he wasn’t ready for the brush off. 

Stiles half expected Derek to pull straight into the emergency room bay where only the ambulances are supposed to go with the way he was acting, but he found a normal spot. And just like when they got into the car, he rushed around and helped Stiles out. Like being away from Stiles for even the shortest amount of time was too much for Derek to handle. Yeah, Stiles was dying and Derek felt bad for him. There were no other explanations.

He even tried to carry him bridal style again, but Stiles managed to put his foot down. 

Well, not literally. But he made it clear that wasn’t happening in front of all these people. 

He had some dignity left.

The harsh fluorescents assaulted his eyes worse than the sunlight, and he found, once again, that he needed to slam his eyes shut to keep from hurling all over himself. And Derek. 

“Oh my God,” Melissa asked from somewhere nearby. “What happened?”

“Well, my idiot has been sick for the last two days and he didn’t call anyone and now I’m afraid he’s dehydrated and about to pass out.”

Melissa giggled at Derek’s assessment as she ushered them back to what Stiles was sure was a room, but all he could concentrate on was the fact that Derek had said my idiot. My idiot. Like Stiles belonged to him. 

Not that Stiles would complain if that were true. 

Derek put him down on the bed as soon as the door shut behind them and dimmed the lights, allowing Stiles to open his eyes again. Melissa was already rushing around getting things set up as Derek forced him to lay down. He hadn’t even stopped to put shoes on, so when he pulled the covers up to Stiles’ chin, he couldn’t really protest. 

Too much anyway. 

“Derek, stop,” he said, pushing his hands away. “I’m not an invalid.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair, pulling it up as close to the side of Stiles’ bed as he could get without actually being in the bed. 

“All right, Stiles. You ready?”

He nodded as he felt the coolness from an alcohol prep pad next and then hissed loudly as the IV slid into his arm. No matter how many times he’d been forced to do this, it didn’t get easier. And it should be by now, he reasoned, since hanging out with werewolves had some disadvantages. Not many, but some. If you were unlucky enough to be the only human anyway. 

Stiles didn’t miss the way that Derek flinched a little at his pain, though, causing his eyebrows to pull in the middle. He was getting more confused, and more concerned, by the second. 

Something was definitely going on. 

“Honey, I’m gonna take some blood, give you some fluids, and bring some food. Do you think you can eat?”

Stiles shrugged again, swallowing hard as his mouth filled with saliva. The thought of eating anything made his stomach do a flip, which probably wasn’t a good sign, but he could try. He certainly knew he should try. 

“I can give you something to help you sleep, if you wanna do that instead, but we’re gonna have to wake you up in, like, an hour to try to get something in your stomach. Or I’m gonna have to feed you some Ensure.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Like they give old people?”

Melissa nodded. “No. Just knock me out and then wake me up later. I promise I’ll try. But do not give me that shi… stuff.”

It didn’t matter how old he got, cussing in front of Melissa always felt wrong somehow. She just laughed quietly, though, and shook her head as she finished hooking him up to everything, forcing Derek to move only when it was absolutely necessary. 

A couple minutes after she pushed something directly into his line, he started to feel sleepy. Like actually sleepy. Not this fitful mess he’d been enjoying for over 48 hours. 

And he let his eyes close without a word. 

He couldn’t be sure if it had been a few minutes or hours, but when he started to wake back up, he heard Derek’s soft voice beside him. He sounded like he might be talking to someone, but since Stiles’ eyelids were still way too heavy to open, he just listened. 

As the grogginess slowly lifted, he noticed Derek was holding his hand. Actually holding his hand. In both of his. His head and, more importantly, his lips were resting next to Stiles’ skin. He could feel Derek’s breath.  

Wait, am I dead? 

“Does he know yet?” Melissa whispered. 

“No,” Derek said, just as quiet. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Well, I came back to do that and he was about to pass out. I got distracted,” he explained, exasperation taking over momentarily. “But I guess I knew something was wrong.” 

“Of course you did,” Melissa insisted. “He’s your mate.” 

Mate?! 

Okay, Stiles was definitely dead. Or dreaming. Hopefully dreaming. At least that way he could still wake up. 

Melissa didn’t wait for Derek to respond before she asked another question. “Talk to Noah yet?” 

“Yeah.”

Once again, Derek lapsed into silence. But it wasn’t long before Melissa got irritated with his lack of information on the topic. 

“And?” she huffed.

“He told me he’d kill me if I hurt him.”

She laughed again, still as softly as before. Stiles could hear her walk back to the door, enjoying her little private joke.

“Well, you’re safe,” she said, pausing at the threshold. “We both know you’re not capable of that.”

“Mhmm,” he answered. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?” he asked, moving his head to the side.

And suddenly Stiles had a new thing he hated now. The way Derek sounded asking that one question. It was vulnerable, like Derek’s entire nervous system was on the outside. All exposed and raw. He wanted very much to get out of this bed and protect him, but that didn’t make any sense. Derek didn’t need to be protected. It was Derek. 

“You’re gonna be great,” Melissa declared. 

And then she left him with that, allowing the door to close behind her without waiting for him to argue. 

After a few seconds, Derek cleared his throat. “How, uh, much of that did you hear?”

Stiles forced himself to remain as still and quiet as possible, not even allowing his breathing to pick up. He would give Derek an out. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles,” Derek explained. “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk. It was his go-to response, sure, but it also seemed to fit the occasion. 

“Mate, huh?” 

Derek groaned loudly and Stiles opened his eyes slowly. “When did you plan on telling me, Sourwolf?”

[come join all the Teen Wolf fandom shenanigans over at the Beacon Hills Preserve Discord Server]

[alia-turin]

Finally chapter 6! This is actually the only fic I will continue updating on this blog, everything else will go to my writing blog and once that is finished, everything goes there.

I’m sorry for the slow update, yesterday and the day before were a bit buy and stressful so I didn’t have a chance to update.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 6) Previous Chapters: Somewhere in Time - Caranthir/F!OC - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter, mention of scars, angst AO3 Link

It had been a few days since he came to the Winter tower after the reception. He spent his time reading and experimenting. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the few moments when he had been close to her and with her, the way her eyes had looked at him...he wanted to forget, but the more he tried to do it the worse it became.

He felt as if he was becoming obsessive and probably he was. Last time he came here she had been in Tir na Lia behind a door he had enchanted so she could not leave. He had missed her, but he knew exactly where she was. Now it was different. She could be anywhere, with anybody. He still could use the tracking spell but he had also told himself that he was the one to let her go, he would not chase her unless she was in need of him.

Somewhere deep he knew that his behavior was probably wrong, putting spells and curses on her so he knew what was going on, but what choice did he have? The first woman he ever liked died because he didn’t pay enough attention, his only example of true love in his life was a story everyone probably knew, ending in a great tragedy. He neither wanted to see her death nor was going to allow his heart to be shattered, not the way Avallac’h’s had been.

He had gone as far as to dig information on her family which wasn’t that difficult, noble families record keeping was exceptional. Mother was never mentioned, even Aine’s name was not mentioned anywhere officially which made sense, half human bastards were not really a popular topic. Her father had only one legal child, a son, not surprising either, elves rarely had more. The man had a lot of resources, which explained a lot. That was when he had stopped looking, realizing how ridiculous and obsessive his actions had been. He knew a lot about her, some of it not even disclosed by her, and he had volunteered little to nothing about himself.

Caranthir suddenly stopped in the middle of the room feeling the unpleasant sensation going through his body, he had felt that once before, he was younger and he cast a spell he was not ready for, every inch of his body had cramped at the same time. Then feeling the sharp pain in his right leg as if something was ripping him apart, skin muscle and probably even bone hurt in a way he had never felt before. He had to steady himself by grabbing a chair because the pain was so bad he could barely stand on his leg. Took him a second to pull himself together, nothing was wrong with his leg, that was the curse he put on himself in order to feel what she was feeling, but the pain was so bad he felt dizzy. He had to remind himself it wasn’t his leg that was hurting it was all in his mind.  

“Aine…” he whispered as he finally managed to get his thoughts together, he had been injured many times, but that was a level he had never felt, worse if he was feeling it that bad, it meant it felt the same for her. Caranthir opened a portal and it took him just a second to find himself where she was, in the woods where he had first seen her. She was on the ground, her back pressed against a tree, her right leg bleeding and two ugly creatures coming close to her, both of them standing on their hind legs, beastly claws sticking out of their limbs, Caranthir saw a third one lying on the ground, vines pulling him deeper and the earth, she must have cast a spell, that was the first jolt he had felt, spell too powerful for her at her current level. He waved his hand and the two creatures turned into ice sculptures, he cast another spell and they broke into dust.

“Caranthir…” she looked at him in fear and shock, her leg bleeding badly and just now he noticed her arm was also injured, strange he had not felt that probably because of the shock going through her body. Her eyes were glassy, not really focused on anything. He cast a healing spell, those were never his strongest point, but it was enough for now to stop the bleeding and he was going to take care of the rest later.

“Don’t move.” his heart sank seeing how bad the wound was. Skin and flesh had been torn but he could not see the bone, which was probably positive. He wasn’t going to waste time, he took her in his arms and opened a portal.

“I don’t want to...leave me…” she tried to push herself away from him but there was no strength in her body.

He stepped through the portal and found himself in his bedroom in the Winter Tower. He left her gentle on his bed, her face wincing in pain as soon as he let go of her. He tore the pants she was wearing around the wound. Silly girl, she should have listened to him when he told her not to leave. For a second he wondered if that was his fault - did he push  her too far and she left because of him, and if he had acted in a different way, she wouldn’t have left and that wouldn’t have happened...

“No, stop.” Somehow she found strength to try to push him away, but even if she was not injured she was not as strong as he was. Caranthir placed his palm on her leg and cast his spell again, the wound slowly closing not even leaving a scar. Aine’s eyes however still lacked focus, she had lost too much blood and he couldn’t do anything about that. .

“Get off me.” she moaned in his bed. Caranthir raised an eyebrow as he had stepped away, he wasn’t anywhere near her, he needed to go to his lab for some herbs that could help her. She was delirious, he went back to the bed and touched her forehead burning with fever. The creatures that attacked her were unfamiliar to him, and he wondered if their claws were poisonous. A chilling thought crossed his mind.  That couldn’t be happening to him not again. This time he did everything right. He prepared he knew he would be there if she was in danger and he was but he had been moments too late.

He rushed out of the room, running down the stairs to his lab and frantically started going through all his herbs and potions. Healing wasn’t a matter that interested him, he had very few things that could help, but he grabbed everything he could. When he walked back to his bedroom she was attempting to get off the bed, almost sitting.

“I don’t want to be here…” the words were swirling her mouth. Caranthir ignored how he felt about her being so persistent to be as far as possible from him.

“You need to drink that.” he passed one of the potions he was carrying to her pale lips, she turned her head away. He could make her, he could force it down her throat, but somehow he felt like he had already done enough damage to his image, even if he was also sure that once she woke up, she would not remember anything of what is happening here. She pulled away again almost as if she was drunk, no grace in her moves and he used a spell to turn her head toward him and pour the liquid down her throat.

Caranthir walked to the nearest drawer and took out a clean blanket as everything on the bed was soaked in blood. He covered her with the blank and then just sat on the bed next to her. If she had listened to him, that wouldn’t have happened. No, if he had insisted. That’s what the problem was, he could have kept her safe if she had stayed with him and when she said no he should have just made her do so. What did it matter if she wanted or didn’t want as long as she was safe? He sighed, it did matter.  He ran his fingers through the feverish skin on her cheek. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake a third time.

Aine woke up, not really recognizing the place where she was. Memories slowly started coming to her, she somehow had managed to reach her house which did not exist anymore. All that time she had hoped he had been lying, that was just a manipulation, but it was not. He had been truthful. Then the creatures attacked her and then... he had come to rescue her. She looked around in panic again fearing she was in Tir na Lia. The room was very similar, stone walls, bed, dresser, but somewhat smaller. She jumped out of the bed in panic, but her leg was cut by sharp pain. She looked at it, she remembered the creatures attacking her in the forest, she summoned a spell to stop one of them but the other one dug its nails in her leg. There was no injury however just an odd feeling of dull passing pain.

She walked to the dresser, her leg feeling better with each step she made as if remembering how to walk. She opened the old wooden doors - white shirts and dark coats were hanging from the line. Some of the coats had different embroideries on them but the black, white and grey was predominant. She grabbed one of the shirts, it was large enough to fit her as a very short dress and it was cleaner than everything else she was wearing now. Once she changed she looked through the window - that was definitely not Tir na Lia. There were mountains as far as her eyes could see covered in snow and ice. The sun was shining but none of that seemed warm in any way. Where was she?

Aine walked to the door, half expecting not to be able to open it. She had been through that once. She pressed on the handle and...the door opened. She stood for a moment wondering if that was a dream - was she imagining things? She stepped through the door in a small hallway that was empty beside a stairway leading down. She stepped further but beside the coldness of the stone under her feet, nothing else happened. She followed the stairs down, they were twisting until she ended in another room, no hallway this time just a room filled with bookshelves, cupboards and two tables. That was when she screamed.

Caranthir heard the scream upstairs and ran as fast as he could only to see Aine in his lab staring at the creature chained to one of the tables.

“It is dead.” Caranthir placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked at him terrified, but didn’t pull away. Apparently seeing the creature that attacked her all opened up was more shocking than he was which he guessed was some sort of progress.

“What…” she looked back at the creature, chained to the table, gut wide open, blood spilled all over the place.

“Ignore it.” just now he noticed she was wearing one of his shirts, so long on her that it was almost reaching her knees. Caranthir stared, not sure what was making him more aroused right now the fact that this was his short or realizing she had nothing under it.

“What happened to it?” her words brought him back to the creature and that was not what he wanted to think about now. “Why is it chained?”

It was chained because he dragged it here after he finally managed to calm her down. That was the one creature she stopped with magic and he went to look for it. He brought it here, chained it to the table, still alive, and opened it. It did die eventually, but he was angry and he needed to make that ugly thing suffer as much as she had suffered even worse.

“Their organs are good for magic but they are very tough to cut through so I had to make sure it doesn’t fall from the table.” The lie came easy to him, he was not going to admit that he didn’t have an idea where that thing came from, nor was going to tell her he made it painful for the ugly creature on purpose, because that was how he kew to solve his problems, the only way Eredin had taught him, make them suffer and everything will be alright. He did learn something however, whatever these creatures were, certainly did not come from this world which was curious. She was still looking at it, her eyes shifting to the massive head filled with sharp fangs. Caranthir could feel himself getting angry again, the same anger he had felt once he made sure she was safe and wanted to find every single one of these things and just destroy their kind. He had to satisfy himself with one. “Come I need to look at your leg.” he pointed at the empty table on the other end of the room.

“I’m fine.” Aine could feel herself blushing realizing that most likely he had healed her, she barely remembered things after she found the creatures, she remembered casting a spell, in fact she wasn’t even sure if it worked as that was when the other two attacked her before she could even realize what had happened.

Caranthir did not answer her but nodded at the table again and she had no choice to but comply. It was easier to do as he said. She jumped on the table and he stood in front of her, his warm hand almost gently moving the shirt away. She realized she was blushing, she had nothing under the shirt and even if his touch right now was almost medical her stomach curled in a ball thinking of the situation they were in. She pinned her eyes on his hand not wanting to look at him, his tattooed fingers gently brushing where the wound was supposed to be on her thigh but now was gone.

He stepped back realizing how dangerous it was what he was doing. He knew her wound would be healed, he healed it, he was terrible with medicinal magic and he was still better than everyone he knew, of course her leg would be fine.

“My office is downstairs, I bought some clothes for you from Tir na Lia.” there he was again feeling completely inept and unsure what to do or how. He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs that he liked her, that he felt her presence filled a gap in him he wasn’t even sure existed until two weeks ago. The way she reminded him of himself, but also the way she was different from him. He clutched his fists in frustration at his inability to just be normal, it had never bothered him as much as it did around her.

“Caranthir…” she was standing by the staircase, one foot already on the lower step as she turned toward him. “Thank you. For saving me.”

She walked down and he stared, mouth slightly opened, fingers no longer bundled in fists. When was the last time someone said ‘Thank you’ to him? Not Avallac’h, maybe a nod from him when he was younger or pat on the shoulder, never the actual words. Not Eredin either, everything Caranthir did for his king was his duty, they  both knew it and understood it, the navigator did not need to be thanked for what was his job, not Eredin was ever going to thank him for it. He didn’t need anyone’s gratitude and yet...it felt nice. Coming from her, knowing she actually found something nice to say to him.

Aine found the clothes easily, the room downstairs was a study, a large desk in the center and bookshelves circling the wall. She had figured out that wherever they were was a tower and every floor was some sort of a room. She changed as quickly as she could, the clothes that were nicely folded on the desk were the same his servants had brought to her when she was in Tir na Lia, cleaned...she assumed that was hers now or at least until someone decided so. Defgently the riding pants and boots were more suitable for the coldness compared to the oversized shirt.

Once she was done changing she walked to the only window in the room, it had started snowing again, she had never seen so much snow in her life. Her father’s lands were further south and any snow that fell melted almost immediately. She heard Caranthir’s boots tapping on the cold stone as he walked downstairs.

“Where are we?” she asked as she turned to face him.

“The Winter Tower.” he answered, his blue eyes fixed on her. “It used to be a signalling tower for Tir na Lia, many years ago. It’s difficult to access so our ancestors would have made four - five guardsmen living here for a full year. The snows make it almost impossible to reach. Nobody has used it for that purpose in years, I have made it my...laboratory in a sense.”

She looked out again, she could see the lower lands somewhere in the distance, but the snow was reducing the visibility.

“Am I your prisoner again?” she asked not even sure she wanted to hear the answer. If he was to say no and that she can leave...where was she to go? Her home was destroyed and who knew how many of these creatures were there now. She had nowhere to go.

“No.” took him a moment to answer and she might be imagining that but she could see the conflict in his eyes. Did he want to say ‘yes’? What would be the purpose of that? “But I want you to stay as my student. You can leave whenever.”

Caranthir spoke the last words with pain as he knew what had happened last time he allowed her to leave. Despite that, Avallac’h was right, as always. Caging her was not going to bring anything good eventually would kill her.

“How did you find me?” she suddenly asked, that was not what he expected. “In the forest, how did you know I was in danger?”

He forced a smile on his lips that was mostly teeth rather than a grin. Another good intention that he had which was going to backfire on him.

“Put a curse on myself, if you were to feel pain, I would feel it the same way you do.” that and a tracking spell, but he kept that information to himself. It sounded bad as it was, but again he had no idea what else to do. He had never had such a strong desire to protect someone in his life.

Silence followed and he could feel the seconds dragging forever. He would give anything to know what was in her head. It would be so easy wouldn’t it? Everything he had done so far was because he was attracted, but he had to admit he had no idea how to express it or show it. Avallac’h taught him magic, Eredin taught him to kill. That was all he knew, neither skill useful in his predicament.

“If...I stay…” her words made him raise an eyebrow. “I still can leave whenever I decide. Even if I wake up tomorrow and change my mind?”

“Yes.” he nodded. He hoped that won’t happen, he was going to show her the fun part of magic tomorrow, not just moving objects around the room, but the real excitement and power magic could give someone and hopefully after that she would be sufficiently hooked to stay with him a bit longer. All he needed. Just a bit longer.

[knowledgequeenabc]

you belong to me, my snow white queen, there’s nowhere to run

I’ve been so dead inside I never posted my NNQ fics but, happy belated tenth, Ninjago! the fandom has been wonderful and I’ve made so many friends, seen so much beautiful work, made it through so much because of this silly little plastic ninja show. <3 This fic’s title comes from “Snow White Queen” by Evanescence (yeah I know don’t @ me), if you wanna. set the mood for this one. We’re gonna be following Nya after Skybound for a bit and it won’t be pretty.

Nya remembers it all.

It never happened, of course. That was the condition of Jay���s last wish: that none of it had ever happened in the first place. 

Yet she remembers.

It’s good that she does, honestly. She’ll recognize the threat if it ever presents itself again. Plus, the others don’t remember, so they can’t worry themselves about it.

Jay wanted to tell them. “No more secrets,” he said. She’s proud of him, she really is, at least he’s learned from dragging them through hell and back …

But she can’t do it.

She remembers Jay’s eyes, glinting bright and worried in a dim room, as he asks if she’s sure about this; Nya remembers her voice hardening to keep vulnerability from bleeding through as she nods. She’s well aware it’s unwise to keep a secret this heavy, thank you, but they’re both heart-wrenchingly familiar with secrets. What’s one more?

Getting angry at Jay for keeping secrets and then turning around and asking to keep this one … it’s hypocritical. She sees the recognition of the fact in his eyes, but there’s understanding mixed with it; it’s his secret, too. It’s their burden to shoulder behind closed doors, afraid to face their family. After losing Zane and getting him back, after Chen and Garmadon, after Morro, peace feels fraught, like walking a tightrope over another storm. How would the others react to knowing they’d broken again? She doesn’t want to deal with the answer to that question.

So Nya does what she does best. She squares her shoulders and marches through each day, reminding herself with each skip of her heart, each flash of her life before her eyes, each time the world blurs that it’s over now. It spits in the face of every lesson life’s beaten into her bones, reverting to stubbornness and pride and the kind of independence that would rather see her amputate an injured limb than get help for it, but it’s a twisted kind of easier to wrestle her pain in silence. The sky pirates made it clear that she needs to stop being afraid to rely on her team, and with a distant sense of guilt it occurs to her that applies to her emotions about this situation, too, but ...

But that fight’s over. And Nya honestly wants nothing more than to take the lesson to heart and put the rest behind her. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all.

Slight problem with that plan: she’s beginning to get the feeling they don’t want to stay asleep. Nya’s good at compartmentalizing, and has been ever since she was an orphan child balancing school and keeping the forge afloat, but the neat dividers are starting to give.

All she can do is watch as the cracks spider out like the Tiger Widow’s web.

~~~~

Lloyd sits on the edge of the ship’s deck at night, sometimes.

Who knows what he’s thinking. Nya knows her little brother would rather sort through his feelings behind curtains, and they’re all working on helping him open up, but sometimes there’s nothing to do but be there with someone while they watch the world turn.

Tonight, thoughts zipping through her head with manic intensity and no distraction to stop them, she joins him, letting her legs hang over the edge of the Bounty. He acknowledges her with a smile and inches closer, then turns back to face the clouds, eyes searching the scene like there’s a cosmic answer somewhere in the moonlight poking through the blanket of grey. The sky roils in dark, angry sheets, air thick enough to slice with a knife. Nya remembers another storm out at churning sea, splinters from a shipwreck, a missing friend and her bubbling fury in the aftermath, and shudders.

Lloyd doesn’t speak, but he’s gripping a photo of his father with white knuckles and a pinched face. And she understands.

Never once has Lloyd gotten to choose his path. His only crime was wanting Garmadon in his life, and the gift he received in return for it was becoming fated to finish his father off, once, then twice. It’s a painful game, to be destiny’s plaything.

Self-centered as it is, Nya wants to think she gets it. Rarely does she get to choose, either. Being folded into the fate of Ninjago via kidnapping from blacksmith shop had been exciting until she was relegated to damsel in distress and left on the wayside. Then when she’d forged her own path as Samurai X, she had to give it up and be the water ninja instead. Water ninja. Kai’s sister. Jay’s love interest. The girl. Nadakhan’s prize.

Never a thought for what Nya wants to be. Just roles and labels to live up to whether she likes it or not, forced upon her like a wedding dress sewn for someone else.

And the one choice she could make ended up …

Her chest tightens until she’s dizzy.

Once the world sharpens back into focus, Nya casts Lloyd a sympathetic glance and quietly traces the feathery outlines of the clouds with her eyes. It’s a good night for commiserating, and she’s not feeling talkative, either.

She wonders what she is now, and her throat tightens.

~~~~

Nya catches, out of the corner of her eye, the breathless headline on the tabloid lining the rack at the grocery store—“DEVASTATING FACTS ABOUT THE GIRL NINJA!!” —and bites back the urge to scream herself hoarse.

The public eye is an unforgiving one, she knows that, she’s long since resigned herself to it. But sometimes it grates, the way everyone seems to presume they can weigh in on Nya.

The people out there don’t know anything about her.  All they care about is that she’s the girl, and there’s drama behind her they can gobble up like starved mutts.

She doesn’t let on about it much, because being imperfect is kind of one of her worst nightmares, but she knows she’s made mistakes in the past. She was prideful, even haughty. She strung Jay and Cole along for way too long because the attention got to her head, and the paparazzi will never let her forget it. Nya should have been the bigger person and cut it short, instead of letting Cole keep going with it because he was mad Jay didn’t trust him, or letting Jay’s jealousy fester as long as it did. Bit late for that, though.

It’s hardly like her faults stop there. Being hunted by Nadakhan and upset by Jay’s refusal to understand her “no” meant no, on top of the fact that her independence would only ever be conditional sinking in from becoming the water ninja … it was a perfect storm of stress, and it made her nasty. Jay keeping secrets and endangering them all was the last straw. She blew up, lashed out, furious that she couldn’t trust anything to go right.

She still regrets it. The bruises on his skin after his rescue are still imprinted on her eyelids when she wakes up, sometimes.

So she’s not perfect, by a long shot. But …

(Greedy eyes following her every movement, wanting her as she runs. Blinking to find another family member gone. Fighting for her life as the pirates capture her. Being wrestled into someone else’s gown. Pushing desperately against Dilara’s spirit snatching away her autonomy. Venom seeping into her gown, frigid then BURNING, the ability to think slipping—)

Nya loosens the death grip she has on her basket. Takes a deep breath in, then out.

They don’t know anything about her. Tabloids and TV hosts and publicists can gossip all they want about Nya’s mistakes; they’ll never convince her she deserved to die for them.

~~~~

Kai is many things, and stupid is definitely one of them, sometimes. But he isn’t stupid when it comes to how Nya’s doing, and she knows this. If anything, she’s the idiot for thinking she could keep herself under wraps from him for long. Kai must have noticed the tough veneer she’s painted over herself, and how secretive she’s being with them, because Kai knows she doesn’t like to be open about feeling unwell, and Nya knows that it worries him.

Ironically enough, that worry is why she knows she can’t ever tell Kai what happened. Ever since she revealed herself as Samurai X, he’d learned not to hover, and Nya’s endlessly grateful that he’s understanding enough to trust in her strength. Nowadays, Kai’s concern manifests in significant glances, questioning hands on her shoulder, hugs a little tighter and lingering longer than normal, discreetly asking if there’s anything she wants to tell him.

He’s taken to all that behavior in hyperdrive, of course, because there is no way Nya’s snippiness and constant tension and nights in the kitchen making tea after nightmares slipped his notice.

But that’s fine. Nya would rather deal with the quiet apprehension radiating off him now than the full-blown panic she’s bound to have on her hands if Kai ever found out that she’d lost her life and he’d been helpless to do anything but watch.

She has an idea what it’ll look like, too. He’d taken Lloyd’s possession hard enough—Nya had caught him pummeling punching bags in the training room until his knuckles bled, noticed the heaviness in his eyes when he looked at their little brother, or at Cole, and no matter how much she insisted that he hadn’t failed, Kai refused to let himself believe it. Uttering a word about the Sky Pirates to her older brother, Kai who had practically raised them both, Kai who had only ever become a ninja to save her, Kai who had blamed himself so ruthlessly for Zane and Lloyd and Cole?

It would break him.

She just can’t do that to him. She’ll stitch her lips shut if that’s what it takes to make sure he never finds out.

So when Kai fixes them both mugs of chamomile tea at 2 in the morning, and casually remarks on the strange amount of repairs she’s been doing on the perfectly intact Bounty, Nya just smiles tiredly at him and fires off some sarcastic retort that’s sure to rile him up.

She loves her older brother, which is why she made the decision to take this secret to her grave.

~~~~

Nya notices while brushing her hair, one day, that she’s neglected to pay attention to it; the sleek black strands are almost to her shoulder, rather than brushing against her chin like she’s used to. Once she’s teased out every last snarl, she goes to cut her hair, but hesitates right before the scissors snip.

When she looks in the mirror, sometimes it’s Dilara’s face flashing before her eyes, not her own. She has to look for the minutiae, the details that count, like the flinty sharpness in her own eyes, the scar near her chin, the odd mark forming on her cheek, obsessively contrasting them to wide, sweet eyes on a deceptively cherubic face.

Nya wishes—no, not wishes, look where wishing had gotten them all—that Nadakhan had cared to see the differences. Maybe that way, she wouldn’t have felt the eyes on her back, always following her, waiting for her to fall into his grasp. Maybe she could have avoided the desperate game of cat-and-mouse. And just maybe, she wouldn’t have been grappled into a suffocating gown, or had her agency ripped from her as Dilara took her face, or died—

Right, that had happened. How Cole and Zane go about their days knowing they’ve walked through the doors of death, she can't begin to fathom. Nya wonders when she’ll stop feeling like she has to hide in her own home from eyes that are no longer watching, wonders when she’ll stop feeling the white-hot burn of venom leaching into her blood, and it’s Dilara’s face that brought it upon her.

Nya sets the scissors down, and tries not to flinch at the way they klink against the counter. She doesn’t want Dilara’s face anymore.

Maybe she’ll let it grow out.

~~~~~

It wasn’t even that rough of a touch, Nya despairs later. Cole, even in spars, always knew his strength, and he barely glanced her sternum with a ghostly hand as she knocked him off balance.

Apparently, on a bad day, that chilly touch was enough to send the phantom shock of Tiger Widow venom racing through her system; Nya forgot how to breathe for a second, and the next she broke her stance and pushed. Already off-kilter, Cole stumbled, his back hitting the ground with a heavy thud. In the instant before the others could be alarmed, they locked eyes, concerned meeting terrified. She forced her voice to stay even as she said, “I think that’s enough training for today.” Then she ran.

Now, here she is, her door slammed shut and locked, and her back’s pressed against it as she tries to remember what it feels like not to buzz like an entire hornet’s nest. She’s fine, she repeats to herself. The mantra is soothing simply in its repetitiveness; it gets her mind off of the sensation that won’t leave her alone ever since she lived it. She’s fine, she’s alive, and she’s not losing her grip on consciousness because all her organs are shutting down. Nya is fine, not actually feeling the venom seep into her skin through the coarse fabric of the wedding dress, cold for just a millisecond before erupting into white-hot pain across her skin. If her vision is off, it’s because of the tears welling up despite her stubborn efforts to blink them away, not the spots that danced across her world as Flintlocke’s fatal accident slowly claimed her life-

Her breath catches in a sob. Nya furiously muffles it behind her hand.

It didn’t even happen. She’s been through so much, she’s been in danger so many times, and this is the one that sticks? So it killed her, yeah, admittedly that’s a big step above the other times, but it hadn’t happened to anyone else except her, and Jay, and she can’t, won’t, make those words leave her lips. Every other problem in her life, she’d risen above, she’d fixed and wrestled back into her control, and then she’d gotten to square her shoulders and quip to the boys how easy it had been.

How does she fix something that’s only broken in her memories?

~~~~~

Nya remembers it all.

She almost wishes she didn’t.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

all this time been burnin’ with a fever

prompt: labor (leftover from day 6, used as an alt)

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

heyo! i am gonna be honest i cannot figure out whether this fic sucks or is okay. i straight up have no idea. but oh well. hopefully it’s ok! this fic is pre-buddie but i suppose it doesn’t have to be? idk its a lil different from the usual pre-buddie stuff i write. also i don’t mention it in the fic but i don’t want people to worry about him so chris is like, at a sleepover :) hope you enjoy this! (title from deleter by grouplove)

When Eddie had laid down in the bunk room, he’d felt just a little bit off. He had attributed this to the current heat wave sweeping through Los Angeles, but now, he’s not so sure. 

The alarm is going off and around him, his fellow firefighters are climbing out of their bunks to respond to a worker trapped under heavy equipment at a factory. Eddie gets out of bed with the rest of them, trying to pretend like his head isn’t spinning from the movement. He takes the stairs down to the truck, not liking his chances of going down the pole with his weirdly-sweaty hands. 

He feels very slightly better when he sits down in the truck across from Buck. Slightly. His head has stopped spinning. Other than that, he still feels like absolute shit. He’s hot, and horribly sweaty (he can feel his hair sticking unpleasantly to his forehead), and his whole body aches like...like something. His head hurts too much to think of an appropriate metaphor. 

“You okay?” Buck asks. It takes Eddie a moment to register the fact that anyone has spoken at all, and another moment to figure out a reply. By the time he says, “I’m fine,” he’s pretty sure there’s no way in hell that Buck believes him. 

“Are you sure?” Buck asks, immediately after Eddie says he’s fine. Eddie sighs. He really doesn’t have the strength to insist right now. 

“Yes,” he says, and hopes that it’s enough. 

“Really? Cause, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but you look kind of terrible.”

I know, Eddie thinks. I feel it, too. He says, “thanks, Buck. You’re so nice,” instead, and Buck just shakes his head. 

A few minutes later, they arrive at the factory. Wanting to prove to Buck that he’s okay, Eddie shoots up from his seat as soon as the truck parks and determinedly makes his way outside, fighting through a rush of lightheadedness and forcing himself to keep moving normally. 

The team heads into the building, the 911 dispatcher relaying information about their victim’s location. 

“First floor, back right corner.”

Bobby leads the way, and Eddie sticks close behind him. The air-conditioning in the building has been turned off, and the atmosphere inside is choking and dry. He feels himself start to sweat even more, and wonders how that’s possible.

“Wow,” is the first thing anyone - Buck - says, when the victim comes into view. Both of his legs are pinned under a very large machine, which appears to have fallen on its side. He’s conscious, but clearly going into shock. Hen and Chim get to work on him right away, as the rest of the team analyzes the machine and waits for the paramedics to give the go-ahead to lift it away. 

“You’re good to go, Cap,” Chim says, after a moment. “He’s stable for now.”

“We’re gonna need all available hands on deck for this one,” Bobby says. Hen stands up from next to the patient to join in the effort, while Chim remains with him, monitoring his vitals. 

Bobby instructs everyone to different positions around the machine. Eddie is at a corner, and he braces a hand against it as they prepare to lift. He can’t remember a time when he felt this weak, but he knows he has to fight through this, has to give everything he’s got and more, to make sure that they get this man free. 

“On the count of three,” Bobby says, and Eddie puts his hands on either side of the corner, pressing his feet firmly into the ground. He can do this. He has to do this. He feels so, so bad. 

“Three, two, one!”

They all lift simultaneously. The machine creaks and squeaks and comes up off of the ground, and there’s a dragging sound, and Eddie’s legs are starting to shake, and his vision is going dark around the corners and his head is hurting more and more and -

“He’s out!” 

They settle the machine to the floor. The second Eddie’s hands leave the metal, everything goes dark.

--

Eddie wakes up to the overpowering smell of ammonia. He reaches out a clumsy hand to bat the source of the smell away and hears Buck’s voice.

“He’s awake!” This is not directed at Eddie, but the next thing he says is. “I can’t believe you.” 

Eddie opens his eyes and finds himself staring up at Buck’s face, half-illuminated by what he assumes is a flashlight. “What happened?” he asks, trying to sit up. 

Buck’s hand presses him back to the ground, which is where he was heading anyway - even moving slightly upwards had made his head start to feel funny, and he really doesn’t want to pass out. Wait - 

“You passed out,” Buck says, his voice not quite snapping at Eddie, but getting there. “We set down that machine, and you hit the floor. You wanna explain that?”

Not really, Eddie thinks. “Don’t feel good,” he says, and this time it’s Bobby who speaks to him, stepping into his field of view for the first time and bending to crouch next to him. 

“I bet you don’t. You’re dehydrated and running a fever.” Eddie senses that there’s something else Bobby is going to say, but he’s interrupted by Buck.

“Even though you told me you were fine,” Buck says. “You passed out, Eddie. You’re just lucky that the patient was stable enough for Hen and Chim to check you over and make sure you weren’t, you know, dying or anything.” He sounds angry, and Eddie doesn’t blame him. He can’t believe he passed out on the job. He’s stronger than that, better than that. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“Save it,” Buck says. “You think you can get up without passing out again? We need to get you back to the station.”

Eddie shrugs against the ground. This must be a good enough answer, though, because the next thing he knows, Buck’s hands are grabbing onto his own, and then Buck’s standing and pulling Eddie to his feet. 

Everything starts to spin, but Eddie resolutely does not pass out. He does lean forward until Buck is practically supporting all of his weight. They walk back to the truck, awkwardly, Buck all but carrying Eddie, Bobby walking next to them. 

The ride to the station is quiet. Eddie leans his head against the window and wishes that the glass was cool. But it’s warm, just like everything else, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so hot in his life. I want to go home, he thinks, and it’s not until Buck replies that he realizes he’s spoken out loud.

“You’ll go home,” he says. “We’re just going back to the station to get your stuff, and then I’m driving you there.”

Some kind of hopeful feeling rises in Eddie at the thought of Buck bringing him home, caring for him, even, but he squashes it down and protests because he has to. “You don’t have to -”

“I’m doing it. End of story,” Buck says. Eddie flinches a little at the hardness in his voice, but he knows he deserves it. 

They arrive back at the station, and Buck tells Eddie to wait in the truck while he gets their stuff. Eddie slumps down in his seat and closes his eyes and tries to tell himself that he’s going to be fine, that it’s just a fever, but he’s aching and sweaty and exhausted and frankly miserable, and having a hard time believing that anything is ever going to be fine again. 

“Hey,” Bobby’s voice distracts him from his rapidly darkening thoughts. Eddie opens his eyes and sits up a little on the seat. Bobby sits down across from him and touches a hand to his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?”

That is...not what Eddie had been expecting him to say. He’d expected a stern talking-to, at the very least. Maybe some yelling. Not concern. 

He finds he doesn’t have it in him to lie. “Not really.”

“How long have you been feeling sick?”

Eddie shrugs. “I only felt a little off before going to sleep. I thought it was just the heat. It wasn’t bad until I woke up.”

Bobby nods sympathetically, and Eddie wonders why he’s not mad. Before he can think the better of it, he’s asking. 

“I am upset with you,” Bobby says, but his voice is gentle. “Coming to work sick doesn’t just put you in danger. It puts the team and the people we save in danger too. You should have told me how you were feeling before we went out on that call.”

Eddie nods. “I know,” he says, “it was stupid.”

“I won't argue with that,” Bobby replies. “I want you to get home and get some rest and plenty of fluids, and don’t even think about coming back here until you’re feeling a hundred percent.”

“Okay.”

Bobby stands to leave the truck at the same moment that Buck returns, his and Eddie’s duffle bags thrown over his shoulder, keys to his Jeep in hand. “You ready to go?” he asks, voice still distant but slightly less cold. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, carefully making his way out of the truck, bracing his hands against it to keep his balance. Buck steps closer and takes on some of Eddie’s weight without either of them saying a thing, and they walk out into the parking lot. 

For the first few minutes of the drive, neither of them says anything. Then, they stop at a red light, and Buck turns to look at Eddie. 

“You passed out,” he says, stressing the words. 

“I know,” Eddie replies. “Don’t have to remind me.”

“We were on a call, and you just passed out,” Buck continues. “Do you know what that was like? Hearing something fall to the ground and realizing it was you?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He’s too tired to formulate any kind of response, and anyway, he’s pretty sure that these are rhetorical questions.

The light turns green, and Buck starts driving again. “It was terrifying, Eds,” and a bit of softness creeps back into his voice with the use of the nickname. “We didn’t know why you collapsed. Honestly, you’re lucky that the ambulance already had a passenger, or you’d probably be at the hospital right now.”

“It wasn’t...wasn’t that bad,” Eddie says, suddenly realizing how much worse things could be - he could be in the hospital, for what is nothing more than a fever. 

“Yeah, we figured that out pretty quick when Chim started checking you over. Your fever wasn’t dangerously high or anything. You’re just sick. Normal sick, nothing scary. Chim said all you needed was some rest and some water and someone watching over you to make sure you actually got those things.”

Eddie nods, although Buck is looking at the road and can’t see him. “Glad it’s you,” he says. 

“What?”

“Glad it’s you,” he repeats. “Watching over me. I didn’t think...I mean...you’re mad at me. But you’re doing it anyway.”

Buck pulls into the driveway. “Of course I am,” he says. “Watching over you. And, I mean, I’m mad at you, too. Do you have any idea how stupid it was to go on a call like this?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I just…”

“I know.”

Buck parks the car and gets out, and he’s opening Eddie’s door for him before Eddie’s hands have even found his seatbelt. Buck reaches across him and undoes it, wincing when his hand touches Eddie’s skin. 

“You really are burning up,” he says. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

A few minutes later, Eddie is in bed, dressed in lightweight pajamas and lying on top of the covers because it’s way too hot beneath them. There’s a large glass of water and a bottle of tylenol sitting on the bedside table, and Buck is in his bathroom getting a damp washcloth that Eddie had tried to insist wasn’t necessary. 

As soon as the cloth touches his forehead, though, he changes his mind. It feels wonderful against his overheated skin, and he sighs contentedly.

“Told you that would make you feel better,” Buck says, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “You need anything else?”

You, Eddie thinks, but Buck is already here, taking care of him and worrying over him and making sure he’s comfortable even though he’s also still a little mad at him. It should be enough, Eddie thinks, but all he really wants is for Buck to lie down next to him. He can’t quite bring himself to ask, though. Even in his feverish state his inhibitions haven’t been lowered that much. 

So he doesn’t ask Buck to lie down next to him. The extra body heat would probably be unbearable anyway. But that doesn’t mean that Buck doesn’t stay. He does, and doesn’t give Eddie much of a choice in the matter. 

“I’m gonna go crash on the couch,” he says. “If you need anything, if you wake up and feel worse, anything, I’m right here, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and closes his eyes. “Thank you.”

He can hear the soft smile in Buck’s voice when he replies, “always, Eds.”

thanks for reading!!!!! i hope you liked this fic :) i feel like i usually write something that is like a little more hopefully pre-ship but i have become such a slut for pining!eddie so. here. 

[glorytoukraine2022]

For salty ask list-elena of avalor-4,22,23

4. I have three, actually, and yes, one of them is a popular OTP. My three NoTP’s in this fandom are Carla x Alonso, Carzel and Eleteo. Given that I’m a Carteo shipper, this isn’t unsurprising. Even before I started shipping Carteo though, I never shipped Eleteo. I love Mateo and Elena’s relationship, but I’ve never seen it as something that could go beyond friendship.

Carzel though? With Eleteo I can at least understand where people are coming from. We’ve seen Mateo and Elena interact several times throughout the series. Enough times, that if they fell in love it wouldn’t be completely out of the blue.

A lot of times when people tend to ship a couple, their fondness of the ship and the dynamic of the couple is based on their on Screen interactions, even if romance was never intended. We’ve never seen Carla and Marzel interact even once. And all of a sudden people are expecting them to fall in love and have a future together? I cannot even understand where people are getting a dynamic from. I just don’t see the chemistry. At all.

While this pairing doesn’t seem to be shipped as often as the two I mentioned above, I’m also not a big fan of the Carla x Alonso pairing either. Alonso is somebody who would spend more time staring at his reflection than paying attention to his girlfriend. Carla doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would be attracted to somebody like that. Especially reformed Carla. I don’t think many people in the fandom understand just how deeply Carla has changed (expect a post on this in the future).

Post reformation Carla is a very kind, sweet, selfless and caring person. She would not want to be in a relationship with somebody that self absorbed. I would also like to issue out a friendly reminder that Carla saw the falling out of her own parents’ relationship firsthand. A big part of the reason for that falling out is because of Ash’s egotistical, self absorbed nature. So I would like to think that Carla would be weary of somebody who exhibits those traits.

Now, I’m not comparing Alonso to Ash by any means. He’s definitely a better person than she is by the end of the series. He’s learned to care for his people and others beyond himself. He has learned to be humble and take responsibility for his own actions. Yet as I mentioned above, he is still somewhat self absorbed, so I still do not think Carla would be attracted to him.

I think I understand why people ship this couple. I think it’s because people Carla as a girl that’s super focused on her looks and appearance. I understand why people get that impression from Carla, but I personally never did. Yes, she wears jewelry, but she never struck me as the type of girl who overly invested herself into her appearance.

She doesn’t wear makeup, and if she does, and I just never noticed it, she clearly doesnt wear much. Her yellow dress isn’t particularly fancy or gaudy either. So she never struck me as the type. It doesn’t seem to match her personality either.

22. I…..honestly can’t think of any! Any characters I hate, you’re supposed to hate because they are villain. Sure, there might be some characters who I’m not as enthusiastic about as other members of the fandom, but I would never say I hate them. I still enjoy them and what they contribute to the show, just like everyone else. For me, any flaws the characters in the show have only add to both the characters and their arcs, and I wouldn’t want them any other way.

23. Victor Delgado-he’s one of my favorite characters in the series. He’s such a fun, entertaining character, with a great sense of humor. He’s also the best father to Carla and I love their bond like nothing else. He’s the best father in the entire show in my opinion. He’s always there for Carla and knows exactly what she needs and when. I love him❤️

However, I feel like he always gets a lot of hate from this fandom, especially in comparison to Esteban. He is always seen as the ultimate bad guy, because he worked for Shuriki in season 2 and was a villain for the majority of the series. It also stems from his untrustworthy depiction ever since his debut in “King of the Carnival.” Whenever I read pre Shuriki fan fiction, Victor is ALWAYS depicted as the untrustworthy one, the power hungry one, and the most eager participant in their deal with Shuriki, if not the one to contact her. I also hear people insist that he was a bad father to Carla growing up because they lived a life of crime.

I’ll admit, hearing all of this frustrates and even angers me at times. Hearing and seeing all of this makes it clear to me that there is a huge bias against Victor in this fandom. It is unfair to assume that Victor is the one who first came into contact with Shuriki and put more “heart“ into the deal. Esteban too agreed and wanted the power that Shuriki offered. Victor and his family suffered just as much as Esteban’s when Shuriki took over. Him and his family were banished from Avalor.

Also, let’s not forget that Esteban was the one who joined up with Ash, whereas Victor refused to go with her. Even after what happened with Shuriki, it took Esteban over 41 years to stop trusting people who promised him power. Trusting those who “pretend to listen” as Cahu correctly said. First he trusted Shuriki, then Ash, and then the Shadows of the Night. It took all of this to happen just to make Esteban realize the mistake that he kept making over and over. Victor wanted power because he was bitter. He was genuinely treated with disrespect. Once he realized that this life of crime was endangering Carla, he didn’t hesitate to back out of it. I swear, I love Esteban and am not trying to hate on him. But he’s not exactly a Saint either, despite the fandom constantly trying to depict him as the better person.

Though the one thing that makes me the most angry, is when I see people say that Victor isn’t a good father to Carla. Hello? Where have you guys been Throughout the entire series? He’s always loved and cared for Carla. She means EVERYTHING to him. If you didn’t understand it in the beginning of the series, than it should have been hammered home to you by the second half of season 2 and the beginning of season 3. Victor stood up to Ash to protect Carla! Yet you’re all saying he isn’t a good father to her?!

We don’t know enough about Victor and Carla’s past beyond the fact that they were mistreated. Victor was never evil, yet the fandom always tries to frame him as being the more “evil” of the two because they assume, that because he’s Carla’s father, that he must have been using and influencing her this entire time! In “The Lightning Warrior“, it is shown that Victor and Carla weren’t always criminals and for a moment, Carla’s childhood was quite peaceful. But at some point, Victor and Carla clearly fell on hard times. Did any of you consider that Victor was a single parent, who had to provide for himself and his daughter after his wife left them? Did you think that was easy and wouldn’t be stressful or challenging in any ways? He had to provide for himself and Carla. How do you know that necessity had nothing to do with Victor and Carla’s life of crime?

[daesungindistress]

Sorry if this is kinda old news but it's been on my mind for a while. Do you think ot5 stans are clinging onto seungri because they're holding onto bigbang's "kings of kpop" title? Like they're afraid bigbang won't be attached to that title anymore..if they forget about seungri.

???

Once upon a time there were five kings. One broke his crown, gave up his throne, relinquished his title, and was banished from the kingdom for being a crook. Now there are four kings. GD, TOP, Taeyang, and Daesung are very much still kings without him. The decline of one, from sovereign to sleaze, does not negate the power and presence of the others.

Except... in the short term I suppose it does. if only they would come back and reclaim their thrones! I’m tired of seeing the “kings” lie so low, even knowing why it has to be so. Seungri was only 1/5 of the group but 4/5 of BIGBANG’s sunken reputation is his doing. It was quite the parting gift. I cannot stress enough the devastation he dealt them before, during, and after his departure... the damage his followers are still inflicting today. The only way for BIGBANG to work themselves up and out of the disgraceful state he left them in is to bring this interminable hiatus of theirs to an end. The title “kings of kpop” is one hundred percent theirs for the (re)taking... and rest assured, they will do it without him.

It’s not that complicated. The main reason most OT5 fans still cling to Seungri is because they are uniformly uninformed. And for those who fancy themselves informed, misinformed. And the scant few who are actually aware? They don't care; they spend their days chasing down damning information and hoping no one will notice as they find new ways to sweep it under the rug. Dumped their dignity down the drain. All the halfway decent Seungri stans saw the writing on the wall and left the fandom years ago, taking what remained of their dignity with them. I am sympathetic to those fans -- or to their memory, anyway. They did the right thing; they saw what he’d become and accepted that his time here had come to an end. His and theirs, and away they went.

The repugnant few who refused to go were bottom of the barrel, even back then. Now, years later, we have a whole new generation of VIPs who don’t have the faintest idea about what really happened during Burning Sun. As international fans all that old news is practically unreachable, except from sources who will never be forthcoming about their fave at his absolute worst. Since their first day here they’ve been raised on lies, like sheep being fattened for slaughter by wolves. “OT5” fans are just Seungri stans’ sad recruits. OT5 as it exists now is a farce and a gross distortion of what it used to be. The old souls know.

Since we’re on this topic... and I know I don’t talk about it much these days but... I’d like to take this opportunity to draw attention to what I think is an interesting update in “the case” as everyone loves to call it. The other day a hearing was held for Seungri’s violence instigation charge, in which (long story short) one victim said he hadn’t felt very threatened at the time and wasn’t interested in pressing charges (okay), while the other said he had felt threatened and verified that the men who took him outside and roughed him up that night had arrived in Seungri’s defense, "talking like gangsters" and saying things like "Don't you know who that was?" inside the room they'd forced him out of. The message being that the person they were shielding (Seungri) was someone of significance. Threats and intimidation to satisfy the up-and-coming CEO’s out-of-control ego, what else is new?

That said, there was an interesting point made at the end of the report: something to the effect of “This is a clear case in which, although the victims did not come forward on their own (they were found through CCTV footage and brought forward by investigators) the incident did happen, there were victims, and it’s confirmed that Seungri was at the center of the conflict.” Not only that, he was the cause of it -- the reason for the disturbance. All these people involved, and for what? To pacify him and his “bad attitude”.

This is important. This goes beyond his violence charge; this has far-reaching implications for several of his other charges: prostitution for himself and others, financial crimes, etc. And did I not say, back in January when this charge was brought against him, that this must be the reason? The argument prosecutors appear to making is that there is a pattern of crimes with Seungri at the center, committed on his behalf, with action taken at his urging. As a high-profile celebrity and a person of influence he managed to keep his hands relatively clean by calling on his connections to do his bidding -- which they did readily.

Funny, because I’ve long been bothered by what I saw in him as a tendency to use others as a means to an end. Including his own fans who, strangely, don’t seem to mind being yanked around by their puppet strings.

Another thing: Seungri is charged with sharing an illicit/illegal photo in the group chat -- that of a woman (women?), naked, from behind. His fans insist it isn’t molka (taken and/or shared in secret, without consent) but that has always been up for debate; because the photo was taken from behind the subject, the victim, could not be identified and contacted for questioning. Seungri claims the photo was sent to him by someone else as an advertisement “for business purposes.” Well, Jung Joonyoung doesn’t agree; not long ago he testified that he believed Seungri took the photo himself. Which makes it molka. And makes him just like his friends. It also makes him a filthy liar, and not for the first time.

This aligns with the chat transcript, by the way; when Seungri posted the photo in the chat his friends thought it was his own and that he was sharing with them who he was with and what he was doing at the time, replying, “Now? ㅋㅋㅋ” Seungri’s response? Not clarification. Nothing about business. Just laughter.

All his attorney could say about the matter was suggest that JJY’s memory of the incident may be faulty. Going the doubt route, I see. Weak.

I just think it’s funny because of course JJY would be the one to rat him out -- after all, we have him to thank (partly) for his role in revealing the truth about Seungri. Back in 2015-2016 when Seungri created the group chat and instructed his friends to exit it routinely, erasing its criminal content as long as everyone did as told, JJY was the one person who didn't listen. Only because JJY did not follow the orders he was given the chats were retained, quietly and carefully investigated, and years later released in a firestorm, leading to every incriminating thing we know now.

Last tidbit: the court also asked, “How is it possible that everyone (in the chat) knew prostitution was being arranged but Seungri alone did not?” Sounds to me like they’re not buying his dumb excuses lol

That’s all :)

[since-it-must-be-so]

End of the Curse: “It was Mikasa.”

In the biggest recontextualization of the entire series, Isayama reveals that the reason is that everything has to happen... because it will remove the titan powers from this world. It was also revealed that single, most important key to ending the world of titans was Mikasa. This explains the smile Ymir gave at the end of Chapter 138, as Mikasa kissed Eren. 

It’s so beautiful and tragic that Mikasa really was they key all along... and how this made a lot of things about Attack on Titan click for me.

I think the questions people raise ever since Eren decided to attack Liberio: Why is Eren doing this? Why is he resorting to do the Rumbling? Couldn’t there have been another way? Surely, killing the rest of the world won’t really make the world a better place? It’s the same way we were asking before, when RBA were yet to be revealed: Why are they doing this? Why do they want Eren? etc.  and we get the answers, which reframe the story entirely.

It answers: “If he knew the horrible things Eren will do, why did Grisha let Eren inherit his titan? If he loved all his friends, why did he do the Rumbling?”

Eren's will and determination to save Mikasa and Armin, this message has been sent to Grisha and Kruger through the power of the Attack Titan. Yet, it was confusing, and as Jean pointed out in Chapter 108, why would he call Mikasa to the battle of LIbero if Eren cared about them still? The answer is now obvious: Eren at least knew that Mikasa (and possibly also Armin) will survive those battles. However, for the rest, such as Sasha and Hange, Eren didn't know if they would survive it...

(While this reason of Eren for moving forward explains many of the events which were confusing or which was contradictory to Eren's will of saving Eren and Mikasa, this is not to say that saving his Mikasa, Armin and friends was his only reason as I will discuss in another post...)

But back to Mikasa and Ymir. Eren mentions that when Ymir and Eren touched at the Paths (I'm assuming this is similar to how Eren and Zeke touched), Eren saw through Ymir's life. He saw the horrible things Fritz did to Ymir, but also saw that Ymir loved him nonetheless. In the same way that Eren saw Ymir's life, Ymir saw Eren's. Of course, a big part of Eren's life was Mikasa. Ymir saw Mikasa's love for Eren, and I believe this is what drew her to Mikasa... She looked to Mikasa in how she loves Eren. But not only that: how she will let him go for the sake of humanity... and continue to love him even after letting him go. So, I've been saying, that the "choice" of Mikasa involved killing Eren and kissing him, as if to say, I'm letting you go, but I will love you still.

But this isn't to say that Ymir and Fritz's relationship are parallels of Eren and Mikasa's. For starters, Eren and Mikasa loved each other; Fritz didn't love Ymir. But Ymir suffers from, as many have said, Stockholm syndrome. Also, I suspect she may also suffer from "battered woman syndrome" (i.e., psychological symptoms develop in some women who are victims of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse, making it difficult for them to regain control). So basically, Ymir suffers from learned helplessness and inability to break free from the abuse. I'm not a major in psychology or anything, but obviously, Ymir is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder from the relationship with Fritz. Obviously, this isn't present in Mikasa and Eren's relationship. However, as I said, Ymir may have seen herself in that, Mikasa's love for Eren is as deep as the love Ymir had for Fritz.

Where does Eren play into this? I think though, the person of Eren is akin to Fritz, in that he is inflicting so much suffering over the world using the titan powers. In Chapter 131, we see that Ymir looked at Ramzi and saw said suffering. It is the same rage that Fritz has released against the world, and I don't think she wants that anymore. I think this is why Ymir has flip-flopped in Chapter 136-137, when she kidnapped Armin and allowed the other titans (Grisha, etc.) to be awakened. Ymir must have doubted the rage that was being unleashed upon the world... but still, she finds herself powerless to fully stop it, as she still felt like she was bound to do Fritz's bidding, as she still loved him.

So what Ymir needed is someone to show her the way. To see Mikasa let go of Eren despite the love she held for Eren... and subsequently to also see her kiss Eren like that... Ymir finally understands that it is possible to choose the rest of humanity over the person you love, and still continue to love that person, remember that person anyway. That, such a choice doesn't mean you love that person any less...

Unfortunately by this logic, what this entails is that as Ymir chooses to end the power of the titans, she tragically still may love Fritz. So, yes... Ymir loving Fritz was truly, truly tragic... And when Armin asked Eren why Mikasa was Ymir and he answered, "well only Ymir knows about that one" --- well he said this because simply, Eren didn't know yet what Mikasa will do. And, it's possible that even if he had an inkling that Mikasa will be the one to kill him, Eren didn't expect that Mikasa will do that out of love... or that she will continue to love and remember him even after his death, since in Chapter 138, he had asked her to forget about him and be free after his death. 

This goes to show that fundamentally, Eren ties freedom in the absolute sense... It’s always either “all or nothing” for Eren and, in the context of romance, I think he thinks it works like, “forget about me because if you don’t, how can you be happy?” Eren never considered that it’s possible to hold someone close to your heart even after death, and still be free to be happy again. This is something Mikasa understands. Especially after seeing all those family reunions in 138.. seeing the terror of all the Eldians there turning into titans... She hates that. That really broke her heart... Those events emphasized that they can fight all they want but if titans are there, there will always be that fear of Eldians... Finally, I think that dream in 138, she finally was able to accept that killing Eren is the only way... And that dream allowed her to have closure on this because “I’ve always hated you” isn’t his last words... and though Eren still insists that she should forget about him after he dies, Mikasa was able to let go of Eren, knowing now his truth: that Eren always loved Mikasa...

But we know why Ymir waited for Mikasa. It's unfortunate that it's become an annoying meme in the fandom ("only Ymir knows"), as if we need the characters to be the one to explain another character's reasons. IMO some of those comments are just borne out of spite against why Mikasa's decision to kill Eren is instrumental.

I think I might discuss Eren and Mikasa in another post because I just have too many feelings about them together.