#He couldn't kill her in a way that mattered

[prongsx]

Lazy Sundays

warning: fluff, f!reader, Jason being a cute guy. English its not my first language. established relationship.

Jason had always been an alert person. It was tiring, but he couldn't help it. Life forced him to never rest.

It started when he was still young, he had to be alert so he wouldn't die in the alley of crime, if he made a false move he could end up in a web of crimes and murders. He had to be alert to keep his own mother from self-destruction, had to be constantly checking her breathing, if she had eaten, if she hadn't used her subsistence money for drugs. He learned that being a heavy sleeper was dangerous when his house was shot at and he had to hide under the table, eyes full of tears.

Then Bruce adopted him, but he had already lost part of his ability to be a child, never carefree. And now he had the burden of showing Bruce that he was good enough, that he wasn't wasting his time training a boy with too many emotions. Always alert. He had too many emotions, he knew that. His love was wide and deep, but so was his anger. His sadness was like sharp claws scratching his skin from the inside out. He needed to stay alert to keep his emotions in check, because they could consume him.

Being Robin kept him alert, he needed to take care of himself and Batman's back. Even Dick, who had years of training, found Jason too vigilant, his eyes never seemed genuinely relaxed and Dick found out the hard way. He went to play a prank on Jason, waking him up in the middle of the night, but the boy reacted in the worst way and before Dick could react, there was a knife pressed against his neck.

When Jason died and came back with Red Hood, his sense of survival became stronger. There were too many people wanting to kill him, the anti-hero had twice as many enemies, sleeping in peace was not an option. He had so many knives and hidden weapons that he would get scared when he went to brush his teeth and found an AK 47 in the bathroom cabinet. He needed to be like that to survive.

Then he met you. And his knees got weak, his heart raced faster than when he had a gun pointed straight at the vigilante's heart. After much difficulty, you started dating, even though Jason warned you that dating him was a death sentence.

You didn't listen to his warnings, forcing him to stop self-deprecating and start acting like a functional adult (as much as possible) to be in a relationship. Jason was right, he was too busy with his double life. He almost never relaxed, worried about taking care of you and protecting you from his enemies.

After a few fights, you decided that for the relationship to work, you would have at least one day a week to be lazy. You started it: Sunday morning. You needed to know that at least one day a week you would have Jason completely. It was hard to live with the distance his night shift required. So he committed to keeping up this new tradition.

"I'm hungry," Jason just mumbled in response to your plea. It was 10 am on a Sunday morning and neither of you were willing to get up, just like you forced them to. Your legs were intertwined, a thin sheet covering you, Jason's hands holding you tightly against him, his soft lips against your shoulder. The sun was coming in through the curtains, Gotham seemed silent, the only noise that mattered to you was each other's breathing.

"The bakery should be delivering by now," Jason replied, sighing contentedly as you drew patterns on his arm. One of the rules of Sunday morning was to make no effort, even cooking. You knew Jason liked to cook and take care of you, but at least one day a week you allowed yourself the luxury of eating ready-made food.

"It should be at the door by now," you mumble, finally opening your eyes and finding your boyfriend's beautiful face. Jason imitated your action, his sapphire eyes seemed clouded with sleep, which pleased you. Yesterday you had gone out to dinner and stayed up late watching movies and kissing on the couch, which explained how tired they both were.

"Let's get it then," Jason's voice was still hoarse, his black hair cutely messy. He let out a groan of complaint when you pulled away from him to get up, causing you to laugh.

As soon as you established lazy Sunday, it was as if a switch had turned in Jason's head. It was impressive to admire how beautiful Jason looked relaxed, his shoulders without all that tension, his features less marked and even his scars relaxed.

Peace would suit Jason, you thought.

The two of you shuffled into the kitchen, talking in whispers, your hands never leaving each other. Jason walked close behind you, his large hands holding your hips close to his body.

Your boyfriend had a silly smile on his lips, the joy of being with you leaving him on cloud nine. He noticed how beautiful you looked in your sweat shorts and with his shirt, you smelled of comfort and love.

"So, our only commitment is to have coffee and kisses at the counter, right?" Jason hummed, a huge smile on his lips, the sun seemed brighter. Then clouds appeared in the glorious sky of the lazy Sunday.

The clouds came in the shapes of three known people invading your window, the largest of them smiling happily. You thought Jason was really sleepy and relaxed, because he didn't even raise a gun towards the intruders, which was customary.

"Good morning, couple." Dick Grayson greeted, closing the window when Damian entered last. You raised an eyebrow, while Jason gave a slight growl behind you. Your hands came up to lightly stroke his hair, urging him to stay calm, he relaxed into your touch, your lazy Sunday Jason returning.

"Okay, Todd, we got some information from that case we were working on." Damian said, being the rude little punk that he is, throwing work papers on their kitchen table. Tim Drake followed suit, leaning against their counter, where Jason planned to kiss you until you forgot your name.

"Boys," you called out to them, clearing your throat. Three pairs of eyes stared at you. "Today is Sunday."

You sighed when none of them reacted. Damn workaholic sons of Bruce Wayne. Your feet shuffled to the kitchen door to get breakfast, leaving Jason to take care of his brothers.

"Jason, we need those other documents you saved." Dick said, sitting down next to Damian. Jason let out a long sigh, he still felt numb from being in bed with you. He wouldn't let his brothers ruin his favorite day of the week.

"Can we fix this tomorrow?" The three brothers stared at Jason, their eyes equally wide. The fearsome red hood's posture was so relaxed, his pajama top slightly torn and loose. His hips leaned on the counter and his blue eyes seemed clearer, almost serene. His hair really looked like a mess, the white lock falling over his forehead in a cute sort of way.

"Jason, did you hear us? It's the case you've been working on for months." Tim said, still looking perplexed. Jason sighed, his features still marked by prolonged sleep.

"Yeah, yeah. So?" He grumbled, a smile appearing on his lips when you came back with the breakfast bag. Handing him a cup and pouring coffee. He whispered a quick, "Thank you, honey."

Damian was the first to recover from the shock, his hands holding a particularly suspicious photo that would solve half of Jason's case.

"Todd, big drug case! You spent months bugging everyone for clues."

Jason just shrugged, sipping his coffee and resting his face on your shoulder, humming with joy.

"One day more, one day less."You could have laughed at how Dick looked like he had been slapped in the face. Your heart was bursting with pride for your boyfriend, who had finally learned the meaning of being at peace and lazy.

"Who are you and what have you done with little wing?" Dick said, blinking those big blue eyes slowly.

You turned your back on the little argument again, not wanting to interfere in the family dynamics, busying yourself with taking your breakfast out of the bag from your favorite bakery.

"Take those papers off the table, let's have breakfast." Jason replied with just that, making Tim's eyes pop out. He looked like a different Jason, without his characteristic sarcastic smile or the tense shoulders.

"Todd, we need to figure this out!"

"Jason, it won't take long..."

Jason let out a louder sigh now, leaving the Wonder Woman mug in the corner and turning to his brothers, his tone of voice still soft compared to normal. "Today is Sunday." He repeated, pinching his nose slightly to keep his temper from rising. "I'm staying with my girlfriend. I'll figure this out with you guys tomorrow."

He turned to you, almost as if he expected to receive a proud smile, and he got one. Damian let out a snort.

"Todd, be a man for once in your life and stand up for yourself."

"He's too tangled up in the leash." Tim joined in the provocation, unable to contain himself.

"Wrong choice of words, boys," you whispered, knowing what was coming next.

The three of them were startled when Jason's hand slammed on the table they were at.

"I'm only going to say this once. It's Sunday morning. If you little shits are unhappy and girlfriendless, that's your problem. Either you're going to leave now with these papers or I'm going to use the gun I have hidden behind the fridge."

Jason's blue eyes were that darker shade that screamed: danger! It didn't take much more, the three guards took the papers and left muttering, you heard a few words that sounded like "this will come back, Todd" and "I'll tell him where he can stick that gun."

You turned to Jason, your hands going to his tense shoulders.

"Honey, it's okay, I'll accept if you want to help them."

He let out a snort, pulling you against his chest, smoothing the skin under your shirt.

"No. It's our lazy Sunday."You smiled, ridiculously content, pulling him into a lazy kiss.

"Speaking of which, gun behind the fridge?"

He distracted you with a kiss at the base of your neck, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Bastard.

It was a good lazy Sunday.

[tragedy-of-commons]

Good morning, Gwen. Avery reblogged your event and it appeared on my dashboard, so I came running.

"You're not good enough for him. Just break up with him already." + Jean + platonic

"You're not good enough for him. Just break up with him already."

Jean feels her heart plummet in the suffocating confines of her chest, your words stoking a different kind of fear. Had she overshared too much, causing you to finally snap? Are you going to stop being friends with her for good? Will you start to ignore her when she waves to you in the street? Will you tell everyone about what a sorry person she really is?

She knew she couldn't hold a genuine friendship down for long. It was only a matter of time before you became sick of her busy schedule and secretly dysfunctional livelihood--

She's sobered from her panic by the sound of your fingers snapping a scant inch from her face. "Teyvat to Jean! Hello?"

Like you always do, you're the one to ground her when things get particularly rough. Right - she needs to actually respond; being this inarticulate isn't doing her any favors.

"My apologies," Jean breathes, fidgeting with her gloves. She actually needs to be present so she can heed your counsel. "Please continue."

"Archons, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that if he constantly expects you to meet impossibly high standards, you'll never be good enough for him," you jut your thumb out from your clenched fist and swipe it across the expanse of your neck. "You need to kick his ass to the curb, and you need to do it yesterday."

Your (literal) cutthroat gesture makes Jean shift in her seat. You don't mince your words at all - but that's precisely what she needs, precisely why she came to you for advice. Lisa has a terrible habit of sugarcoating things, even when she's at her most proactive... and Kaeya is, well, Kaeya.

She rises and places a hand on the backrest of her chair, rounding it so she can gaze out of the generously sized window that brings her whole office together. The view of Mond Proper, her home, never fails to calm her down.

"...I'm not even courting him, truly," Jean explains, watching the breeze ruffle a patrolling Knight's hair before being lost in the rustling leaves of trees beyond. "My obligations leave no room for that. We're keeping our relationship casual, informal."

She can almost hear the grimace in your voice. "Casual or not, him expecting you to ditch your hobbies or dress a certain way crosses the line. You know that as well as I do. If you're looking for permission or validation, I'm giving it to you right now."

Those words immediately soothe a large chunk of her anxiety. Jean's ramrod straight posture relaxes into something much more tailored for this atmosphere - sharing a cup of (now cold) tea with you, her dear friend.

"You're right," because of course you are, "but I have no idea how to end things. Etiquette classes didn't prepare me for any of this."

You snort as she turns back around to face your judgment. "To hell with etiquette. My suggestion? Kill him," you propose with the seriousness of a soldier about to go to war.

Jean's cheeks burn hotly as she flounders, attempting to deal with your type of humor in a timely fashion. You mercifully wait for her to do so, teacup and saucer perched daintily in your free hand. In all honesty, she wishes she were more like you; brave, uncaring of what others think, the main character of your own story.

She finds it in herself to chuckle. "I value diplomacy."

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes good-naturedly, "but this isn't one of your romance novels, Jean, nor is it a negotiation. You deserve to be treated with respect, full stop."

She really wishes you'd stop bringing up her guilty pleasure so nonchalantly, but then she'd be deluding herself. She also wishes that she could be as confident and point-blank as you are, even if you both share the same sentiments - hers are just hidden under many layers of propriety.

"I believe you're very wise," Jean tells you sincerely. "The people of Mondstadt should elect you as their new Acting Grandmaster."

"You know, they should. I'd have that dickhead fling of yours executed immediately. Do they do that here? If not, they should look into it."

She sighs. "I take it back."

You grin, slamming your empty cup back onto her desk with a clatter. "Really? You don't want me to flay him alive? Or exile him to Dragonspine with nothing but the clothes on his back? Oh, oh, I know! What about electrocution--"

As the sun sinks down even lower in the sky, casting the Knights of Favonius Headquarters in a truly poetic glow, Jean realizes she feels much better. She'll have to get back to work soon, but for now she'll indulge you as long as she's able.

(Electrocution doesn't sound like too bad of an idea.)

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: hi! good morning to you too & i'm glad you chose to take part! thank you for the prompt huehuehue. i decided to go in a little bit of a different direction because i just couldn't bring myself to be too mean to reader or the lovely jean... hope you don't mind!

event post here

[elysiaheaven]

𝗦𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹-𝟭𝟴-(The Fox's wedding)

Words:2212

Moze appeared suddenly, his sharp gaze cutting through the tension like a knife. His presence brought a cold chill as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing at the scene in front of him—your tear-streaked face, the manic look in your eyes, and Jiaoqiu, holding you tightly. You felt exposed, vulnerable, so you scrambled to put on your mask, quickly hiding the remnants of your emotional breakdown behind a cold, detached facade.

Without missing a beat, you straightened yourself, forcing your voice into an icy tone. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time," you said, your voice hollow and devoid of any emotion. Moze raised an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by your sudden shift. Even he, with his vast knowledge of human behavior, seemed unsure of what had just happened.

Jiaoqiu stood silently, watching you with a deep intensity. His eyes followed your every move, searching for a crack in the cold mask you wore. He looked like he wanted to say something, to reach out, but the moment had passed. You were distant again, a ghost of the person you had been just moments before.

"It's time to leave," Jiaoqiu finally said, his voice strained, though he tried to hide it. Moze gave a short nod, casting one last confused glance between the two of you before he led the way.

The three of you walked through the busy streets, the atmosphere felt heavier. You continued your act, speaking in clipped, emotionless tones. You cracked twisted jokes and feigned indifference, pushing Jiaoqiu's buttons at every opportunity. But he didn't respond with anger or annoyance. Instead, he kept staring at you, a silent plea in his eyes, hoping for some sign that the cold mask was just an act.

Moze remained quiet, observing from the sidelines, though he could tell something was off. His instinct, honed from years of working in the shadows, told him that whatever had just happened between you and Jiaoqiu was far more complicated than it appeared.

"Acting messed up won't get you anywhere," Jiaoqiu muttered quietly as the group walked ahead. You shot him a sharp glance, but he didn't elaborate. His eyes never left you, filled with a mix of concern, confusion, and something deeper that you didn't want to acknowledge.

You scoffed, keeping up the twisted front. "You think you understand me, Jiaoqiu? You don't know anything," you said with a cold smirk, though your heart felt heavier with each word. 

Even if it hurt. Even if it was killing you.

Timeskip

"Speaking of which, why hasn't she arrived yet? They say the Merlin's Claw strikes like lightning. Being late isn't her style..." a familiar voice rang out. You knew this voice, but couldn't quite place it.

"That's not true, General Huaiyan. She's been here for a while now, but I'm sure you've heard of her... unbridled nature," Jiaoqiu responded, clearly answering the general's curiosity before it could fully form into a question.

"As soon as she disembarked from the star skiff, she mentioned having something to attend to and disappeared," Moze added, his tone more matter-of-fact.

"Miss Feixiao's a silly goose when she's on duty. You don't have to worry," you chimed in from behind your mask, your voice dripping with smugness.

General Huaiyan raised an eyebrow, turning toward your direction. "You must be the messengers from the Xianzhou Yaoqing, I assume... And you are?" His gaze lingered on you, his curiosity piqued as he tried to make out who hid behind the mask.

You met his gaze, your expression unreadable under the mask's fox-like design. Despite the years, his appearance hadn't changed—Jing Yuan still looked as composed and formidable as ever. His long white hair, tied back with a red ribbon, golden eyes sharp as ever, and that same mole under his left eye. He wore his armor like it was second nature, his golden plates reflecting the light, with his lion Snowmoon no doubt nearby.

Jing Yuan's eyes stayed on you, alert and calculating. "A kitsune mask?" General Huaiyan asked, breaking the silence, curiosity flickering in his gaze.

Before you could respond, Jiaoqiu quickly stepped in. "This is my wife," he said smoothly, his hand moving protectively to your arm. "She wanted to join me. She... ran away from her home, and I decided to marry her for her sake." His voice had a calm confidence, but there was a hint of urgency, as if hoping his words would satisfy their questioning gaze.

Jing Yuan's sharp eyes didn't waver, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable. General Huaiyan, on the other hand, looked momentarily satisfied, though intrigue still danced in his eyes.

Jing Yuan's expression darkened as he spoke, his voice cold and measured. "I've always wanted to behead another kitsune girl who once came to Luofu," he said, his golden eyes locking onto you with a sharp, almost predatory glare.

You could feel his gaze piercing through you, a palpable tension in the air. Calmly, you lifted your mask and met his cold stare with a wicked smile. "Yes, such an evil woman should have been beheaded," you replied with a dark chuckle. "But it's a shame... her curse could kill the one she's bonded with."

Your eyes darted toward Jiaoqiu, making it clear who you meant, though Jiaoqiu was oblivious to the exchange, distracted by his conversation with Moze. The implication hung heavy in the air, though. Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as if he were piecing something together.

General Huaiyan, standing nearby, noticed the tension. "Jing Yuan... do you know her?" he asked, his tone filled with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

Jing Yuan's eyes flicked back to yours, as if seeing through your mask of deceit. His lips curled into a tight, bitter smile. "No," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "I don't."

But his gaze betrayed the truth. He knew exactly who you were. 

Jing Yuan's eyes locked onto you, his golden irises shimmering with a strange intensity, as if he had seen a ghost. The cold detachment in his gaze flickered for a brief moment, betraying a deeper recognition. He tried to mask it, but you saw it—the brief flash of something unsettled in his calm demeanor.

You tilted your head, smirking wickedly. Then, in a mocking gesture, you playfully placed your hand over your neck, as if holding it to keep your head in place. "Careful, General," you teased darkly, your voice dripping with false amusement. "Wouldn't want to lose my head over a silly misunderstanding."

Jing Yuan's jaw clenched, the tension thickening between you. He didn't respond, but his expression hardened, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing against the air, unspoken words left to hang between you both. His earlier joke about beheading you now felt like something far more sinister.

General Huaiyan, sensing the undercurrent of hostility, shifted uncomfortably, casting a glance between you and Jing Yuan. "Jing Yuan?" he asked cautiously, trying to break the heavy silence. "Are you alright?"

Jing Yuan didn't immediately respond, still staring at you with that same haunted look, as if he couldn't quite shake the ghost of his own past. Finally, he tore his gaze away and let out a slow breath. "I'm fine," he muttered, though his voice was tight with control. "Just... old memories."

You chuckled softly, lowering your hand from your neck, thoroughly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Old memories have a way of haunting us, don't they?" you purred, your words laced with a venomous sweetness.

Jiaoqiu, still oblivious to the tension, glanced over with a bemused look. "What's so funny?" he asked, looking between you and the generals.

You shot him a sly smile, still feeling the eyes of Jing Yuan burning into you. "Nothing," you said smoothly, sliding your mask back into place. "Just reminiscing about the past..."

"Now this is interesting," General Huaiyan mused with an amused smirk. "A guest who doesn't even bother to visit, but sends a message instead. Tell me, what could possibly be more important to her than showing up in person?"

Jiaoqiu responded casually, his tone light as he answered, "Master heard about a spectacular view at Scale Gorge Waterscape. I believe she went there to... enjoy the scenery."

"A spectacular view, you say?" General Huaiyan's brow lifted as he glanced at Jing Yuan with a mocking chuckle. "Did you hear that? This person must be sarcastic."

"How is this sarcasm, old man?" you interrupted smoothly, masking the rising sadness in your chest with an air of nonchalance. "The view really is breathtaking. I had a Foxian friend who used to follow me around... and a dragon companion too. We'd hang out there. It's truly beautiful..." Your voice trailed off for a moment, but you managed to keep the melancholy well-hidden beneath your smile.

General Huaiyan eyed you curiously, but before he could speak, Jiaoqiu stepped in once more. "Please, don't misunderstand me, General Huaiyan," he said, maintaining his poker face. "I was merely stating the facts. Master thought it would be improper to keep you waiting. So she sent us ahead. Once she's finished admiring the scenery, she will personally come and apologize to both of you."

Jiaoqiu and Moze made their farewells, preparing to leave. Jiaoqiu reached out to catch your hand, but you pulled away sharply, not wanting his touch. Jing Yuan's commanding voice cut through the tension. "Please, stay. I need to speak with you."

General Huaiyan nodded, stepping outside as instructed, leaving you alone with Jing Yuan. The room's atmosphere grew heavy as you met his gaze with a cold, unwavering stare, a mix of defiance and weariness in your eyes. You felt a deep frustration, thinking how ironic it was that he might only threaten you instead of offering the resolution you longed for.

Jing Yuan's voice was stern as he began, "How do you live with yourself after having killed an entire village? How do you continue after causing so much suffering to another man?"

His words cut through you, but you tried to maintain your composure. "Adoring," you said softly, almost to yourself. "It's not like the Jing Yuan who used to sneak in during Jingliu's training just to steal my sweets. You were kind then, but now you judge me so harshly."

You walked over to him and handed him a letter. "In this letter, Jingliu wrote about the tragic fate of a kitsune who lived before her Mara struck. It was me who took it to keep others from knowing what truly happened."

As you turned to leave, you added with a quiet, somber tone, "I always cared for all of you, for all ... for our old friends." Your voice broke slightly, revealing the depth of your pain. You didn't wait for his response; instead, you walked away, feeling each step weighed down by the hurt and betrayal that had defined your past.

Jing Yuan's eyes followed you, the weight of his unspoken regrets clear as he read the letter. His thoughts were interrupted by your departing words, which echoed with an anguish that mirrored your own.

You muttered to yourself, your voice barely audible, "Why did I survive through all that suffering, just to be seen as a traitor? Why do I live while others suffered?" Your questions remained unanswered.

Moze mentioned he would be leaving for a while, and with that, he took his leave, leaving you and Jiaoqiu alone. 

Upon returning, Jiaoqiu looked at you with a blend of concern and desire, asking if you'd like to wander around. You were too numb to respond clearly, your eyes showing a depth of pain as you nodded.

Jiaoqiu, sensing something off, gently but firmly took hold of your head, pulling you close. You felt too weak to protest, your mind clouded with tormenting questions and emotions. Suddenly, he enveloped you in a warm embrace, his arms providing a fleeting sense of comfort.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You looked up at him, your gaze twisted and pained. A twisted, broken laugh escaped your lips as you responded, "Kill me, over and over....."

Jiaoqiu's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and frustration. He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours in a feverish, almost desperate kiss. The kiss was intense and hungry, a primal need to silence you, to claim you in this moment of chaos. His lips moved passionately against yours, and his tongue sought to dominate, drawing out the lust that had been simmering between you both.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath mingling with yours. "Be quiet. Just wait," he murmured, his voice husky and laden with an unspoken promise.

Before you could fully process his words, he kissed you again, more fiercely this time. He guided you into a nearby dark alleyway, the shadows embracing you both. In the dim light, the kiss continued, fervent and insatiable. Your hands clung to him, pulling him closer, your body pressed against his in an urgent need for his touch.

Every kiss was a blend of desperation and longing, as if you were starved for his affection and touch. You let out soft, needy moans into his mouth, your heart racing with each heated embrace.

[writerofsorts]

A Funeral and A Secret

(image creds: to the owner)

pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.

summary: 2x05 "the devil you know" episode imagine/rewrite.

warnings: death, funeral.

*read previous part here!

—————

The day after discovering that Ian Thomas was dead, the girls sat in the courtyard of the school, quietly chatting among themselves.

"Is this a suicide note or a confession?" Aria asked. The five girls were looking at a picture of Ian's suicide note that was found next to his body.

"It's both," answered Spencer.

"How do you have this, Em?" [Y/N] asked, confused as to how Emily had a photo of the note on her iPad.

"I sent it to her," Hanna replied. "I took a picture with my phone before we called the cops."

"It's weird," Emily said, a disturbed glint in her eyes. "Why would Ian kill himself just as he was about to skip town with Melissa?"

"Maybe he realized that he was gonna get caught," [Y/N] suggested and Spencer nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he knew he couldn't hide forever. Even with Melissa and Wren's help."

"He was probably desperate," Aria commented.

"Look, who cares why Ian did it?" Hanna spoke, a little annoyed. "The important thing is Ali's killer is dead and we are no longer people of interest."

"Why am I not feeling relieved right now?" Emily asked, still not convinced.

"Oh, Em, come on," Aria sighed. "For months, we've been about as welcome in this town as a cold sore. Now, people know that we've been telling the truth."

"And, Ian is out of our lives for good," [Y/N] added, Aria and Hanna nodding in agreement with her.

"Yes, but A isn't," Emily pressed and Spencer sighed out loud. "Can we please slay one dragon at a time?"

Spencer suddenly sat up and turned off the iPad. Her friends frowned at her behavior but soon understood when Garrett Reynolds stopped next to their table.

"Hey," he greeted simply.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Spencer asked curiously.

"I just came to return some evidence that we took from the field hockey office," he answered and looked around once before lowering his voice further. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry you all had to be the ones who found him."

"Melissa is the one who found him," Spencer replied.

"I'm sorry," Garrett said. "Then again, it could've been worse."

"What do you mean?" Aria asked him.

"Bodies decay. He had been dead for at least a week," he replied, making the girls freeze in their seats.

"Give my best to your family," he told Spencer and gave a nod to the other girls before walking away.

"A week?" Hanna whispered.

"That's impossible," [Y/N] said. "Wasn't he texting Melissa?"

"No, he wasn't," Emily said, realizing that her suspicions might be true after all. "I'm betting it was A."

"Why would A pretend to be Ian and then lead us to his body?" asked Aria.

"Does it matter?" Spencer asked. Although she looked stunned by Garrett's revelation about Ian's death, it was clear she wanted to move on from this topic. "The guy was scum and now, he's dead scum. Who cares if A found him first?"

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why A would be involved?" Emily asked. "I mean, what does A want?"

"You know what I want?" Hanna asked. "I want to enjoy my life again before A finds a way to ruin it."

Hanna got up and walked inside the school with Aria and Spencer following behind. [Y/N] got up to do the same when she noticed Emily making no move from her seat.

"What is it, Em?" she asked softly.

"We now know A is involved," Emily answered. "Doesn't that make you nervous?

"Of course, it does," [Y/N] replied honestly. "Just for today, I wanna forget about A. I'm still recovering from seeing Ian's dead body last night."

Emily's previous apprehension shifted to understanding as she held [Y/N]'s hand. [Y/N] smiled and squeezed Emily's hand in hers.

"But, we'll figure this out," she said, hoping to reassure Emily. "We always do."

…

Later that night, after taking a shower, [Y/N] was dressed in her comfiest pajamas. She was settled comfortably in her bed, reading, when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called out, placing the bookmark on the current page she was reading, and closed the book.

The door opened and her parents appeared in the doorway as she placed the book on her nightstand. It gave her a sense of déjà vu except for her brother's absence, who went back to his apartment.

"Hi honey," they spoke at the same time and [Y/N] smiled.

"Hello," she said back. "You guys haven't slept yet?"

"No," Leslie replied. [Y/N] moved over and Leslie sat in the space next to her while James sat next to his wife. "Your father and I just got off the phone with Veronica."

"Uh oh," [Y/N]'s response was rather automatic.

"Nothing bad, we promise," James replied instantly, holding his daughter's hand on top of the comforter. "Veronica asked if we could be there at Ian's funeral for them. For Spencer."

"Of course," [Y/N] nodded and her parents shared a look.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to go if you don't want to," Leslie told her. "No one will say anything if you don't go. Even if someone says something, it doesn't matter."

"I want to be there for Spencer," [Y/N] answered. "Besides, this feels like a closure. The closure my friends and I have been looking for since- since they found Ali."

Her parents nodded, understanding where she was coming from.

"We also wanted to apologize for not believing you and your friends about Ian," Leslie said with guilt in her eyes and [Y/N] shook her head. "It's alright. It didn't help that Ian disappeared from the church that night. We had no proof other than our words and experience."

"That should've been more than enough," James argued, angry at himself. "If that wasn't enough, we agreed with Dr. Sullivan and Veronica when they suggested you girls should spend time apart."

[Y/N] could tell her parents were extremely guilt with everything. She was grateful for their understanding; at the same time, she felt a little guilty as well for meeting with her friends behind her parents' backs.

"I have to tell you both something," she spoke, looking between them sheepishly. "My friends and I didn't stop hanging out… completely. We still met up sometimes to talk about everything that's been going on. So, I'm sorry too."

"I had a feeling you girls might your find your way," Leslie said with a playful glare, ruffling [Y/N]'s hair and the latter laughed. "Dad? Are you upset?"

"Of course not," replied James. "This just means I don't have to drown in guilt anymore."

The three of them laughed and the parents engulfed their daughter in a bear hug. According to them, the town's biggest nightmare was over and they couldn't be more relieved.

…

Next day at school, [Y/N] along with Aria, Hanna and Spencer were sitting in their class and quietly chatting before the teacher arrived.

A few minutes later, Emily entered the classroom and rushed over to her friends.

"Ian didn’t commit suicide," she stated with a finality in her tone. "The entire suicide letter is made up of A texts."

"What?" [Y/N] and Spencer exclaimed at the same time.

"How do you know that?" Aria asked.

"I read the note again and a couple of words stuck out to me," Emily explained. "I checked my old text messages. Come on."

Emily gestured the girls to follow her to the back of the classroom for privacy. She pulled out a paper from her notebook and Aria grabbed it first, reading the content.

"I killed Alison. I lost my temper, because she knew too much."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened at the last sentence. 'She knew too much' was text she and her friends had received after A tried to kill Hanna.

"But, there is only so much you can bury and it won't be that easy," Aria continued reading. "But, I know how to get rid of the pain. I can't run anymore. Come and find me. Ian."

"So, these are the parts from the texts?" Hanna asked, pointing at the parts that were printed and pasted on the paper.

"There are only five people that know about the texts," said Emily. "Us and A."

"How did you figure this out?" Aria asked.

"Please. I've been watching Wheel of Fortune with my mom since I was three," said Emily with a hint of humor.

"If A wrote this, that means Ian never actually confessed to killing Ali," Spencer said, her eyes filling with dread.

"It gets worse," Emily added, making the girls look at her in growing worry. "Logan Reed? The guy who dropped off money for Ian the night of the sting? I know where he works. We need more answers."

…

The day of Ian's funeral arrived.

[Y/N] was dressed in a simple black dress with her hair in a simple half up-half down with some strands framing her face.

She arrived at the church with her family and it didn't take long before she spotted her friends. Except for Spencer as she was already inside the church with her family.

James, Leslie, and Sid went ahead to greet the Hastings while [Y/N] joined Aria, Emily and Hanna.

The four girls walked inside the church and the bells went off.

"Who's ringing it this time?" Hanna asked quietly, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"Hey, thanks for being here," Spencer said, walking over to her friends.

"Of course," [Y/N] smiled. "How's your family holding up?"

Spencer didn't answer and turned to look at Melissa. The girls followed the direction Spencer was looking and saw Melissa standing at the back. She was staring down at the floor with no expression on her face and had one arm wrapped around her protruded stomach.

A wave of sadness washed over [Y/N] as she took in Melissa's state. The older woman's gut-wrenching scream from the night they discovered Ian's dead body still rang in her ear sometimes. Melissa didn't deserve to deal with such tragedy, especially while being pregnant.

"What are the police doing here?" Emily questioned when she noticed several police officers stationed at the entrance and scattered throughout the church.

"Uh, my parents wanted them here in case any uninvited guests showed up," Spencer replied quietly.

"I thought my no-party-crashers policy was strict," Hanna joked lightly.

"I think Spencer means angry mob with torches," said Aria.

"I should get back to my family," Spencer smiled tightly. "Thanks again."

A while later, everyone gathered at the cemetery and watched as Ian's casket was lowered to the ground. The five best friends picked up dirt and threw it on the casket, one by one.

[Y/N] was the last to throw the dirt and dusted her hands. She glanced up and she was taken aback to see Jason sitting on a bench in the distance. He resembled a lost little boy as he sat by himself, staring down at his hands, and her heart went out to him.

Soon, the service was completed and most people had left. The girls' parents stayed behind, catching up, while [Y/N] stood to the side, debating on whether she should go check up on Jason or not.

"You should go talk to him," Hanna spoke, coming to stand next to her.

"What?" [Y/N] asked.

"You should go talk to him," Hanna repeated. "I mean, you were thinking the same, right?"

"Well, I was debating on whether I should or not," [Y/N] admitted. "And, I didn't think he would be here."

"Me neither," replied Hanna.

"Waiting for your parents?" Emily asked, walking up to [Y/N] and Hanna. The girls nodded in response and it didn't take long before Emily noticed Jason's presence in the cemetery. "Who's he waiting for?"

Hanna shrugged while [Y/N] said, "Maybe, he came for the same reason we did."

"To spit on Ian's grave?" Emily scoffed, making her friends laugh a little.

"No, for closure probably," said [Y/N].

"Well, I still think he's creepy," Emily said, crossing her arms across her chest. "Even if he wasn't hiding Ian, the guy's a freak and always has been."

Hanna looked at [Y/N], who pursed her lips.

"Anyway, I should go," Emily said, facing the girls again. "Tell your families I said goodbye."

"See you later, Em," [Y/N] replied just Hanna said, "will do."

Hanna turned to [Y/N] once Emily was out of earshot, "don't take her words to heart."

"I won't," [Y/N] smiled, shaking her head. "But, yes, I'll go talk to him."

"Good," Hanna smiled back. "Talk to you later?"

"Definitely," [Y/N] nodded and Hanna gave her a hug before walking away.

After making sure her parents and brother were still chatting with the Montgomery's, [Y/N] made her way towards Jason.

"Hi Jason," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up at her, surprise crossing his features, "Hey [Y/N]."

"Is it okay if I--" [Y/N] pointed to the seat next to him and he moved over instantly, giving her space. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," she smiled as she sat down and clasped her palms in her lap. "I didn't think you would be here."

"I didn't think you'd be here either," he replied, looking at her.

"For Spencer and her family," she answered and he nodded in understanding. "How are you holding up?"

"He was one of my best friends," he stated solemnly. "And, he killed my sister. I- it's hard to believe it. But, I got to admit that Ian and I stopped being friends after-"

[Y/N] looked at him curiously when he paused, "after he what?"

"Doesn't matter now," he shook his head. "How are you? I heard you and your friends were with Melissa when she found him."

"It was… unexpected," she answered. "We were following Melissa and Wren, because we were afraid Ian might hurt her. But, we didn't think we would find his… corpse, instead. I could still hear Melissa's scream in my head."

"I'm sorry," he said, sympathy lacing his voice, and she smiled a little.

"I just hope Ali can finally rest now," she said and he nodded, hoping for the same.

"She was so fearless," he remarked with a small, fond smile. "She used to threaten me all the time with one thing or another."

"Sounds like Ali," [Y/N] chuckled, Jason joining in.

"She was extremely smart, even as a kid," he continued. "She was fearless when she needed to be. I was always a little jealous of that… of her.

"I guess, that's why my parents can't even look at me anymore. They know they lost the wrong kid," he was holding back tears as he finished speaking and [Y/N]'s eyes widened at his words.

"Don't say that," she said back, grabbing his left hand with her right one on instinct. "Look, maybe you coming here today was a mistake."

"The opposite, to be honest," he replied, holding her hand, accepting the comfort she was giving him with the small gesture. "You don't know how good it feels to know it wasn't me."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, confused.

"I don't remember much from the night Ali died," he explained. "I blacked out and woke up the next morning with a wicked hangover and-"

He paused, reaching into his coat pocket with his free hand. He pulled a piece of paper and held it out to her, "and, this."

She removed her hand from his and took the folded piece of paper. She opened it and her eyes widened as she read the words on it, 'I know what you did.'

"Jason, who gave you this?" she asked, facing him again. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know, but it almost destroyed me," he replied, facing forward.

"You thought you killed Alison?" she whispered, afraid of saying the sentence out loud.

"Like I said, I was jealous of her," he replied quietly. "And, when I got loaded, I got angry."

[Y/N] looked down at the ground, processing the last few minutes.

"But, Ian's confession changed everything," he said, relief visible in his tone. "He did it, not me."

[Y/N] remained silent as her mind was fluttering with thoughts. Not for one moment did she think that Jason killed his sister. However, she also knew that Ian's confession was fake.

So, who really killed Ali? And, who wrote that note for Jason?

She looked down at the paper one more time, her eyes scanning the words. She didn't know if she was being paranoid, but the handwriting looked similar to Ian's 'suicide note' which was actually written by A. So, she couldn't help but wonder if A had been around on the day Ali disappeared and messed with Jason for some reason.

"[Y/N]?" Jason's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "You okay? You've been silent for a while."

"Yeah, I'm okay," she cleared her throat, before passing the note back to him. "I think you should get rid of this. You- you never know with the people in this town."

He stared at her for a couple of seconds before nodding. He took the note from her and tucked it inside his coat pocket again to take care of it later.

Before either could of them could speak more, several footsteps coming in their direction made them look up.

[Y/N] felt her heart drop to her stomach when she saw that it was her parents and brother. The three of them looked confused seeing her sitting with Jason. She stood up once they were closer and so did Jason. Leslie was the first to break the silence as she smiled at Jason kindly.

"Hi Jason, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm good, Mrs. [y/l/n] and you?" Jason replied back politely.

"Good, thank you," said Leslie.

"Are your parents here?" James asked.

"No, they're not," said Jason. "Coming back to Rosewood is not easy for them."

"Give them our best," Leslie said with sympathy and Jason nodded, "I will, thank you."

"Are you planning on staying?" Sid asked next.

[Y/N] was a silent spectator and she felt a little embarrassed with all the questions her family kept asking Jason. But, he was patiently answering them.

"I do," he replied, clearing his throat. "I've been doing some renovations around the house. They're almost complete."

"Good, good," Sid nodded. "Well, reach out if you need anything."

"Absolutely, don't be a stranger," Leslie added.

"I appreciate it, thank you," Jason said with a small smile.

"Well, we should get going now," James said. "Good to see you, Jason."

"Likewise, Mr. [y/l/n]," Jason replied.

"Bye, Jason," [Y/N] said with a small wave and he smiled at her politely, "Bye, [Y/N]."

Leslie and Sid exchanged their goodbyes with Jason as well before the family of four walked to the parking lot.

"Honey, I didn't know you spoke to Jason DiLaurentis," James broke the silence first.

"Oh, I do… occasionally," [Y/N] replied, a little anxious. She didn't think she would have to talk with her family about Jason this soon. "I mean, I just say hello when I see him around."

"So, this was not the first time?" James asked. He was trying to seem nonchalant, but he didn't like seeing his daughter around a… boy.

"No, not really," [Y/N] replied in a small voice. She didn't want to lie, because her family must've noticed the comfort with which she was speaking to Jason.

"How about we stop at the Grille for some lunch?" Leslie asked once they reached the car, trying to change the topic. Just like her husband, she was curious as to when her daughter started talking to Jason like a friend. At the same time, she knew [Y/N] would talk to them when she was ready.

James, who knew what his wife was doing, stared at her. [Y/N] and Sid watched as their parents had a silent conversation before James sighed in defeat.

"To the Grille, it is," he spoke, getting into the driver's side of the car. Leslie smiled in victory and winked playfully at [Y/N] before getting on the passenger's side.

"I'm here if you need anything," Sid told her simply and opened the backdoor of the car for her to go in first.

"Thank you," she smiled at him before getting inside the car.

Sid got in the seat next to her and closed the door. The ride to the Grille was silent but not uncomfortable.

[Y/N] was grateful that her family did not push her to share more about what's been going on with Jason and her. Not much happened for her to talk about anyway… not yet, at least.

—————

*read next part here!

ps: i gave the reader/ofc’s family names because it was getting a little difficult to keep up with the abbreviations. sorry for any inconvenience!

[bonefall]

What kind of dishonor titles would the imposter whip up?

Ok so, in BB!TBC, I'm planning to overhaul many of the cats who get exiled. Ashfur IS a... 'competent' leader this time around, and being in his Clan is hell on Earth. But he does know how to run it without exiling everyone who breathes funny.

I think Blossomfall in particular should comment about how much this reminds her of the Kin, only...

"I hate to say this. But Darktail was more calm lol. Ppl would disappear but he didnt call a meeting every 5 minutes he did it"

The way he gives Dishonor Titles is by finding their insecurities and throwing it back at them. The point of DTs is that they're supposed to make you sit with your mistake and they're supposed to be VERY serious, egregious punishments.

But Ashfur is just trying to break his cats and make them not want to defy him. He wants them to hurt.

Cats who will almost definitely get a Dishonor Title:

Blossomfall = Clearface, because she might as well be invisible. No one wants to hear from her, she's worthless

Sparkpelt = Flickercry. To remind her about her failures, remember that she's made worse mistakes than anybody else and should be mindful of how she chooses to criticize others.

Twigbranch = Fumbleclaw. For a hunting mistake, he says she's clumsy and lazy and doesn't deserve to eat from the pile until she learns how to catch her own food

In addition, I can see him really WANTING to give Briarlight a Dishonor Title, but politically, it's too far. She's defiant, loved, a beacon of light that keeps people united. To brand her would be a mistake, it would make her a martyr.

I may rework the Sparkpelt Dog Situation to be his attempt to get rid of Briarlight. I think that would make a MUCH better sendoff to her, dying as a result of the wonderful person she is, instead of the garbage greencough death back in AVoS.

[fromtheseventhhell]

"It's powerful, it's visceral, it's dark, it's like a Shakespearean tragedy. There’s no Arya — a character everybody's going to love. They're all flawed. They're all human. They do good things. They do bad things. They're driven by lust for power, jealousy, old wounds — just like human beings. Just like I wrote them."

Seeing people debate which grey characters can still be considered "morally good" and somehow Arya never makes the list, so it's the perfect time to bring back this quote from George which shows exactly how he views her character 🫶🏾

[transmascutena]

thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

the problem with dream having a tendency to over-blame himself for things is that it's really hard to ever tell him something wasn't his fault because he's existed since the dawn of time and he is a chronic bad decision maker so no matter the situation, if you go back far enough, it was probably his fault somehow

and that's all he's gonna focus on

[oc-cinematic-universe]

that's right bitches it's time for the daily joe post, i love how much joe is not supposed to be part of this. he's not supposed to have an influence on the plot. the gods themselves don't even consider him to be a factor based on the knowledge they have. and yet !!! he ends up vitally important to the best possible path they all can take. he is not supposed to be this major of an influence, he's literally just some cunt that works here, and then. and then we get to chapter 12 and we get to see another version of him that really proves just how much him being an unknown variable can fuck with things. this other version of him had so much influence over where the story could go, he destroyed the chance at the prophecy ever becoming true and had to be sent to Another Universe just to keep that world safe. THIS GUY. SHOULD NOT HAVE THIS MUCH POWER HERE. but he does, because he was not accounted for. he does because nobody thought he was part of this in a way that mattered. HE didn't even think he was part of this in a way that mattered. he just works here

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

light/moderate spoilers for 3-MS but do you think jenny would have Done That if she and jeremy weren't on camera? because personally i don't

[llycaons]

in a hunger games-style scenario I think that the majority of the cql cast would immediately die because 90% of the main cast are 1. bonkers self-sacrificial for their loved ones and 2. incredibly ready to kill themselves in dramatic ways out of despair. when the dust settles jgy will walk out of it wearing a perfect customer-service smile until nhs snipes him from the shadows

[longagoitwastuesday]

One thing about me is that I will stand by basically every bad deed of my favourite characters fully aware of them being bad deeds. I just don't care

[soutsuji]

Do you even understand what Chiori was to Morisu

[elysiaheaven]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝?-𝟓 -(The Fox's Wedding)

Words:2062

His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—frustration, guilt, fear—but the one constant was the overwhelming sense of dread that you, his new wife, had brought into his life. He didn't even know if "wife" was the right word, but the bond was there, undeniable and suffocating.

"Why did I marry you?" he whispered to himself, staring at his reflection in the bowl. The question had haunted him since that moment in the abandoned part of Luofu, and even more so now.

Saving Moze had been part of it, yes. He couldn't let his friend die. But there was more. Something darker, deeper. A part of him that had made the decision to bind himself to you. A part of him that knew it wasn't just about saving Moze.

Jiaoqiu stared at you, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. You looked so peaceful, so unlike the mischievous, haunting creature that had tormented him just earlier. For a brief moment, he wondered if this was what you had been like before everything went wrong—before the curse, the blood, and the betrayal. But he shook the thought away. You were dangerous. He couldn't afford to soften toward you.

He sat down at the small wooden table, the chair creaking under his weight. The food in front of him looked bland, but he didn't care. He wasn't hungry. His mind was elsewhere.

Jiaoqiu walked over to the table, his footsteps slow and heavy, his mind swirled with guilt and unresolved emotions. He glanced back at you, sprawled on the sofa, sleeping peacefully as if nothing was wrong. You looked almost innocent in that moment, your red wine kimono draping elegantly over your body, your face serene.

But he knew better.

Sitting down, he began to eat alone, the sound of the utensils clinking against the plate echoing in the quiet room. His red eyes flickered with conflicted thoughts He had a deeper reason, one that he couldn't admit out loud, not even to himself.

His gaze drifted back to you, your chest rising and falling in slow breaths, your face so peaceful. He muttered under his breath, his hands tightening around the utensils. "I married you..because to save Feixiao."

The weight of his words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

You didn't deserve kindness, he reminded himself. After all, you were the spirit who had wreaked havoc on the lives of many. You were dangerous, manipulative. You had helped enslave people. He thought back to the legends and how you had betrayed the Foxian clan. That's why you deserved this.

Yet, there was a darker, more personal reason that made his stomach twist. He wanted your soul—no, he needed it. , but for someone else. Someone who mattered to him more than anything else. He promised this person, he would cure her diseases…

Jiaoqiu clenched his jaw. He hated you. He wanted to kill you with his own hands, to end this twisted game once and for all. But he couldn't. Not until the right time. Not until he got what he wanted from you.

For now, he had to play along, keep you close. But every time he looked at you, sleeping so soundly, it reminded him of the growing darkness inside of him, the heavy burden he carried.

With a sigh, he pushed his plate aside, unable to eat any more. His eyes, filled with cold resolve, returned to you.

"Your soul will atleast give that person a chance to do good things," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. "And I'll make sure they get it… no matter what it costs."

The next morning, you wake up and immediately feel something different. Your legs—there was a sensation, a tingling, and you instinctively tried to stand. Slowly, you moved your feet off the sofa, pressing them against the floor, testing your balance. The moment you pushed up to stand, though, your legs gave way, and you stumbled forward, collapsing onto the floor.

The sound of your fall echoed through the house. Jiaoqiu rushed down the stairs, his red eyes wide with concern. "What happened?" he asked, his voice strained.

You lifted your gaze to him, a twisted smile forming on your lips despite the pain of your fall. "I can walk now… it means I'm getting closer. Day by day, I'll become human. Soon enough, I'll haunt you even more."

Jiaoqiu paused for a second, the tension in his expression softening slightly as he sighed, though there was still that haunted look in his eyes. Without a word, he bent down and, to your surprise, scooped you up into his arms.

His touch was careful, almost tender, as he carried you back toward the center of the room. "If you're going to walk," he murmured, "you might as well do it right."

You raised a brow, confused at first, until he shifted his hold, placing you gently on the ground. His hands didn't leave your body, though. Instead, he positioned himself behind you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Then, without saying anything else, he moved your feet onto his own.

"What… what are you doing?" you asked, your voice half curious, half mocking.

"We're going to practice," Jiaoqiu said quietly. "If you want to walk, you'll do it with me."

The warmth of his body pressed against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and the strange mix of emotions confused you. His touch wasn't the cold, distant one you expected, but something softer, something that made your heart pound a little faster. He held you firmly but with an odd gentleness, guiding you as he began to step forward.

Each time he moved, you moved with him. Slowly, awkwardly at first, but as he led you across the room, it became easier. The rhythm between you two was strange yet strangely intimate.

"See?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "It's not so hard when you're not trying to do everything alone."

You could feel the tension in his arms, the same man who said he hated you, who wanted you dead, now carefully guiding your steps, teaching you how to walk. You found yourself laughing quietly, though it wasn't the sinister laugh you usually offered.

"This is almost romantic," you teased, your voice low.

Jiaoqiu didn't respond. He only kept moving, his grip never faltering. You leaned back slightly, letting his strength support you as you continued to walk together, your feet following his in a quiet, synchronized dance.

You continued to move with Jiaoqiu, his arms steady around you, a question formed on your lips, gnawing at the edge of your mind. "Why are you helping me?" you asked softly, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "After everything, why bother?"

He sighed, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he spoke. "Because I'm a healer," he muttered, almost as if the words themselves pained him. "Even if someone's a bad person, if they're hurt, I help. It's just what I do."

You turned your head fully now, facing him with a look that was half confusion, half something else—something curious, maybe even a little vulnerable. "But I don't just need healing. I need affection. Moments like this… they help me become human."

His gaze hardened for a brief second, then softened again as he looked away. The silence between you two hung heavy for a moment before, out of nowhere, he pulled you closer, his lips unexpectedly pressing against yours. The kiss was brief but intense, sending a shockwave of confusion and something more through you.

You pulled back quickly, your face flushing with a rare embarrassment. "What… what are you doing?" you stammered, your usual smugness cracking slightly.

Jiaoqiu didn't meet your eyes as he adjusted his grip on you, still holding you close but with a sense of distance now. "I just want you to leave me alone as soon as you become human," he said, his voice clipped, almost cold. "If kissing you helps that happen faster, then so be it."

But there was something about the way he said it, something that didn't quite add up. You could feel it in the way his hands trembled just slightly, the way he refused to meet your gaze directly.

You frowned, sensing there was more to his actions than he let on. "Is that all there is to it?" you asked, your voice dipping into something more cautious, more knowing.

He didn't answer immediately. His face remained neutral, but deep down, you could feel a crack in the armor he kept so carefully in place. Of course, he wouldn't tell you the real reason—not yet. You were still valuable to him, and you both knew it. Becoming human would make your soul easier to take, easier to control. But he wouldn't tell you that, not now.

Instead, Jiaoqiu merely held you in silence, resuming the slow steps across the room, as if trying to brush off the significance of the moment. His heart, though steady, was beating just a bit faster than before, and you could feel the conflict within him.

And for the first time, you wondered… was there something else hiding behind his cold demeanor? Something more than just a desire to rid himself of you?

Jiaoqiu let out a small, tired sigh as he loosened his hold on you. "I work as a military healer," he said, his voice firm but distant. His eyes held a flicker of something else—a past weight, perhaps, or just the exhaustion of bearing so much.

You gave a soft, almost teasing giggle, trying to lighten the mood. "You must heal everyone with just your presence, then," you joked, though your words were more than just playful; they carried a subtle admiration you didn't quite realize.

He gave you a brief look, almost smiling, but quickly reverted to his usual seriousness. "I'm going out for a bit. I need to pick up a package," he said, his tone making it clear he had something important to attend to. Without waiting for your response, he turned and left, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

The silence echoed around you. You tried to stand up, to continue practicing your slow steps. But as soon as you rose, your legs gave way, and you collapsed onto the floor. Gritting your teeth, you pushed yourself up, determined not to let this body betray you.

Limping over to a nearby mirror, you hesitated for a moment before looking into it. What you saw made your blood run cold.

Instead of your humanizing form, a rotting corpse stared back at you, its eyes hollow, its skin peeling and decayed. You screamed—a raw, terrified sound that filled the room, shattering every mirror in the vicinity. Glass cracked and shattered into pieces, reflecting the horror in your mind.

Panicking, you stumbled out of the room, trying to escape the image of yourself. Your limbs felt weak and foreign as you limped toward the riverbank outside, your body trembling from the sheer terror of what you'd seen. Without thinking, you tripped over the edge and fell into the water, your breath catching as the cold river swallowed you whole.

The water chilled you to the bone, but as you resurfaced, gasping for air, you felt a small hand grab your arm, pulling you up. You sputtered and coughed, disoriented, only to find yourself staring into the large, curious eyes of a small dragon girl.

It was Bailu.

She blinked at you, her expression a mix of confusion and surprise. "What… what happened to you?" she asked, her voice high and soft, but her grip on your arm was strong.

You could barely speak, your body trembling from both the cold and the shock of what you'd seen. You tried to catch your breath, but all you could think about was that horrifying image in the mirror. "I-I saw… something…" you stammered, your words weak and shaky.

Bailu's eyes narrowed slightly, and she helped you up, dragging you out of the water. "You're a mess," she muttered, though her voice held a hint of concern. "Let's get you back on your feet. Jiaoqiu's not going to be happy seeing you like this."

[coffeecatcraze]

It is not lost on me that Charlie and Vaggie were initially not doing great against Adam and Lute...and then proved Carmilla was so fucking right.

Vaggie is absolutely FUCKED here. She's been in this position before, with Lute looming over her spitting vitriolic judgment, Vaggie's blood on the ground. Back then, she couldn't stop Lute from taking away her wings, her eye, her home, and her purpose. But now? She has more than that; she has love, because she has Charlie.

When Lute threatens Charlie, everything changes. Vaggie fucks her up immediately...and shows "mercy" knowing that being forced to live with part of herself gone (her arm was CRUSHED, no way was she getting it back), the shame of defeat, and the knowledge that someone she's been looking down on so completely is responsible for it all is a fate MUCH worse than death for Lute.

And Charlie? Charlie's insanely powerful but has no clue how to use her power to its full potential because she's never had a reason or desire to fight until now. Even when she's being strangled, when she's pissed-off and vengeful, she can't really tap into that power. But then Adam comes at her dad and is about to catch him off-guard.

He's about to hurt—possibly kill—her dad, who she's finally building a good relationship with; her dad, who just showed up to protect her despite the risk of politically turning this battle from an act of defiance by a willful princess to an act of full-on rebellion by the King of Hell himself. She reacts on instinct to protect her father and stops a hit that destroyed Alastor's shield. And she does it effortlessly.

Carmilla was right. For these ladies, at least, the need to protect someone they love, no matter what kind of love it is, is exactly what rallies them to come at enemies who were just kicking their asses and absolutely dominate.

[morganmnemonic]

I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.