#I PROMISE I AM NOT TRYING TO VAGUE-POST ABOUT ANYONE

[fruitsyrups]

this is probably a weird thing to have strong opinions about but I don't like when people draw Finn wearing a blue hoodie. THIS IS LIGHT YELLOW SWEATER ERASURE!!!

[necrotic-nephilim]

i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.

i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)

but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.

and the peace offering is Tim.

Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.

and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.

and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.

i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.

also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.

[salsa-di-pomodoro]

Alright. Guess the submas tag is still full of angst 👍🏼

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part II)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: 18+, smut, canon typical violence, cursing 

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood return to the woods where your story began. Things get heated. 

word count: 3.6k

author note: Thanks so much to everyone for your kind words about this little story. This is my first time posting fanfiction, and I am overwhelmed by the response. And in case anyone is curious, I pretty much listened exclusively to Taylor Swift’s “Guilty as Sin?” while writing this. Love you babes. Happy reading! 

part I can be found here. part III can be found here. part iv can be found here.

A madness plagued you, of that there could be no doubt.  

Days had passed since the boundary stone incident. But you could barely bring yourself to leave the confines of your chambers. You did not want to see anyone. Not your father. Not your fellow ladies or maids. And certainly not Aeron. 

You only wanted to see Benjicot. Lay eyes on him and hold him and confirm that you were not alone with these feelings. 

In your heart, you knew that he must feel something. No Blackwood would withdraw from a challenge with a Bracken as quickly as he did after your plea without feeling anything. But your mind played tricks on you, turning over every interaction, every look, every word between the two of you.No promises had been made. No tender feelings shared. 

What if you had imagined it all? That thought alone kept you awake at night, tossing and turning with no relief. 

And gods, did you crave relief from this sweet torture. 

You felt trapped beneath your own skin, aching and longing for something that you could not fully name. But even though you did not know the full language of lovers, did not know exactly what happened between a couple when they lied together, you knew enough. Knew that pleasure could be found between your thighs with a twirl of your fingers. Knew it was a sin, but could not bring yourself to care. 

You could not get the look of Benjicot’s enraged face out of your mind. Flushed cheeks, wide eyes, snarling mouth. Even the cuts, bruises, and blood on his hands called to some primal part of you. The way he defended you, fought for you. He was a force, and the thought of having all that frenzied energy focused on you was enough to send you over the edge. 

You touched yourself to images of Benjicot that flashed through your mind. His face hovering over you. His arms encircling your body. His hands touching you. Unlacing your dress and removing your small clothes. Warm, strong, calloused hands traveling across your breasts, hips, and thighs. Moving higher and higher until he reached the core of you. 

And when you reached that pentacle of release, it was his name you sighed allowed. 

This madness had to end. 

So, in the early morning hours before Stone Hedge woke, you made your way back to the woods where it all began.  

You did not know how long you walked but you suspected hours. The sun was steadily rising in the sky, warming the air and casting shadows through the trees. You only vaguely knew the right direction to Raventree Hall and prayed to both the old gods and the new that you were on the right path. 

Not that you really had a plan once you reached Raventree Hall. It was not as if you could march up to the front door, knock, and demand to see the heir. The fact that you were a Bracken almost guaranteed that at best, such a request would be refused, or at worst, end with your head on a spike. 

But even when your legs began to tire and sweat dripped down your brow, you pushed forward—determined that today would be the day you received answers. 

That is until you tripped over a tree root, stumbling to the ground. You landed awkwardly on your front, both hands throbbing from cuts and scrapes you gained while trying to break your fall. But at least you had not rolled your ankle this time. 

Just as you began to pick yourself up, you felt a presence behind you. You were not sure if your imagination was playing tricks on you, but the forest itself seemed to quiet. You could no longer hear the wind rustling the leaves, nor birds chirping or insects humming. 

All your attention focused on one thing. Him. Benjicot. Every part of your being knew he was the one behind you. 

You felt the ghost of his touch before he surrounded you. His front to your back, both kneeling on the ground. His hand brushed against your hip before he leaned in and whispered, “Didn’t I tell you that these lands were not for Brackens, my lady?” 

You tried to turn to face him, but Benjicot stopped the motion by bringing his arm across your stomach, caging you against him. “How typical,” he scolded. “A Bracken who can’t do what they are told.” 

Your senses were overloaded. You could practically hear your heart pounding against your chest. Everything about Benjicot pulled you further and further into his snare—his touch, his scent, his voice. You had never felt so helpless. And you liked it.

But as quickly as Benjicot had trapped you, he let you go. One moment, he was supporting your weight against him, and the next, you were unmoored and alone. Leaping to your feet, you turned to finally face the man who had singlehandedly ruined your sanity and good sense. 

Benjicot had put distance between the two of you. At least two strides away, he was no longer within your reach. A part of you rebelled at the distance. For six years you had longed to be in his presence and have his attention focused on you. And now that you were here, in this place where your fates first intertwined, you could not bear the space. 

But something held you back. The look on Benjicot’s face. He’s angry.

You had witnessed his legendary temper in action, had seen the bloody results. But Benjicot’s anger had never been directed toward you. Even when you first encountered him in these woods all those years ago, he had not been angry. Exasperated and intrigued, sure. But never angry. 

Yet there was no mistaking the look on his face now. His eyes were cold and distant, his lips turned down. He looked at you as if you were a stranger. And you did not care for that at all. 

Breaking the silence, Benjicot asked, “What are you doing here?”

His gruff voice sent a thrill down your spine. For a fleeting moment, you tried to keep your composure, tried to mold your face into a mask of indifference as he had done. But you had neither the patience nor skill to do so. Your emotions always stayed close to the surface, threatening to unleash and break free at any moment. 

“What am I doing here?” you repeated back to him. “I’m here to see you. I thought that was rather obvious.”

Benjicot’s eyes narrowed at your tone. A break in the unfeeling facade he had erected. “I told you that these woods were not safe. I told you to not come back here. I told you—”

“I know what you told me!” Your own anger rising to meet his. “I have thought about what you said to me in these woods every godsdamn day for the last six years,” you seethed. 

Benjicot rolled his eyes at your tantrum. “And yet, here you are.”

Unbelievable. You threw your hands into the air in frustration, eyes seeking the sky for patience. “Well maybe I would not have had to go traipsing through the woods if you had bothered to do something about our situation!” 

A beat passed before Benjicot responded. “Our situation?” he asked, amusement echoing in this tone. “And what situation might that be, my lady?  

You, once again trespassing on Blackwood land in violation of the assize? You, who apparently has no care for your own wellbeing, wandering into these woods alone and defenseless? As helpless as a newborn fawn, completely at the mercy of those who would strike first and ask questions later? That situation?” 

You wanted to tear the smug look off his face. Maybe you really were a Bracken through and through. Because at the moment, you understood with perfect clarity why your ancestors had feuded since time in memoriam. 

You did not know why he was acting this way. Why he was trying to push you away. Why he refused to acknowledge the meaning behind your words. Except— 

What if he did not share your feelings? What if you had really imagined it all?

Your anger fled as quickly as it had appeared; replaced instead by a wave of nausea at your own foolishness. Of course, he did not feel the same way. You were a Bracken. Maybe he thought you were a pretty face to look at, maybe he would have had you warm his bed, but he could never love you. 

You felt the color drain from your face. Trembling, you turned away from him. You could no longer bear to look at him. You needed to get away. Needed to leave this place while you still had the strength to stand. 

You fled. Running as fast your legs could carry you, you weaved through the trees with no thought for direction or destination other than away, away, away. 

The moment you turned away, Benjicot realized his mistake, letting his anger over your lack of self preservation win out over the joy he felt when he found you again in these woods. 

And perhaps his anger was a result of the shame he felt. Shame for waiting so long to go to you that you had felt the need to put yourself at risk to seek him out. 

Benjicot had faced countless opponents and impossible odds, and never once had he wavered. Never once had he questioned his skill or fortitude. But the thought of you being in danger, or gods, someone hurting you, was enough to send him into a panic. 

He chased after you. 

You might have gotten a head start, but Benjicot was faster. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, and there was no place you could go, no place you could hide, where he would not find you. 

Spotting you up ahead, Benjicot surged forward, grasping your arm and pulling you into him. You collided into his chest, nearly sending you both to the forest floor. But Benjicot caught you, both of his hands now resting on your arms to steady you. 

You were both breathing heavily. No space existed between you now. You did not understand him. Did not understand why he did not let you escape in peace. You were close to tears but refused to allow Benjicot Blackwood to steal anymore of your dignity. 

“Let me go, Blackwood,” you demanded, trying to pull away from his grasp. But Benjicot held firm, tightening his bruising grip on you. 

Shaking his head, Benjicot pulled you further into arms, until you stood chest to chest, with your arms caged in between. He was a good head taller than you, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. 

Your breaths mixed together as the silence dragged out between you. Only when you tried to pull away again did Benjicot finally say, “I have watched you from afar.”

You finally stilled. Eyes widening, you waited for him to continue. “And I know you have watched me, too.”

Color returned to your face, as you tore your eyes away from his searching gaze. “Do not hide from me now, Bracken.” When you failed to respond, Benjicot scoffed, “I never took you for a craven.”

You felt your blood begin to boil. How dare he call you craven. Shoving at his chest with all your strength, you shouted, “The only one craven here is you, Blackwood!” 

“Oh, please enlighten me, how am I craven?” 

You stopped shoving at his chest, letting all of your frustration and ire rise until all you could see was red. “You dare admit to watching me, yet you refuse to acknowledge my feelings!” 

Benjicot flinched at your accusation. Now it was he who refused to look you in the eye. 

But you pressed on, “Because if you have been watching me for as long as I have watched you, then there can be no doubt as to my feelings. No doubt as to where my heart lies. But you ignored me for years. And now you have the audacity to mock me when I seek you out?” 

Benjicot’s eyes were back on your face, his gaze soft and pleading. A complete departure from the anger and fury he had shown you earlier. This man looked like your Benjicot. The boy who had rescued you. The man who had defended you. The one you loved with all your heart. 

His voice was quiet but his words strong, “I am a simple man, my lady. A simple man who needs plain words. What are these feelings of which you speak?”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you sucked in a breath. You swore that he would have no more pieces of you. Swore that would you put an end to this madness. But your heart would always rule over your head. 

Finding your courage, you opened your eyes, and reached for his hand. Bringing his hand to your lips, you pressed a kiss to the cracked knuckles and whispered, “I have loved you ever since we met in these woods all those years ago.” 

Benjicot stilled. You were not sure if he was even breathing, but you pushed on, “You occupy all my thoughts and haunt my dreams. You consume me, and I—” You cut yourself off before you could continue. 

You tried to remain unaffected, but the longer Benjicot held you, the more your body betrayed you. You felt your blood racing through your veins, felt the heat rising to your cheeks, felt a slickness begin to gather between your legs. You tried to pull away again to give yourself a moment of respite from this torture. 

But Benjicot was having none of it. 

He watched the way you squirmed under his gaze. Watched the way your chest heaved from the force of your confession. Watched your cheeks grow flush and warm. And when he caught your eyes again and saw your gaze drift to his lips before licking your own, he knew he was a goner. 

“My lady,” Benjicot’s voice was like gravel, “had I known you were so afflicted, I never would have left you alone for so long.” 

Hauling you closer, Benjicot traced his fingers from your collarbone up your neck, watching as your pulse jumped. Cupping your cheek, he brought his face close to yours, mere inches separating the two of you, and confessed, “From the moment you cut yourself on my dagger, I have loved you.”

Now it was your turn to still. For so long you had waited to hear these words, waited to be in his arms. 

Benjicot kissed your forehead, mumbling against your skin, “No one else could ever compare to you, my lady.” He moved to kiss your jaw. “You are the bravest”—a kiss to your cheek—“strongest”—a kiss to your temple—“most beautiful woman I ever met.” 

Kissing the corner of your mouth, Benjicot pulled back momentarily to stare into your eyes. “From that day until the end of my days, there will only ever be you.”

You were at your breaking point. You could not hold yourself back any longer. Flinging your arms around his neck, you pulled Benjicot toward you and kissed him. 

And oh, what a kiss. 

Your advance might have thrown Benjicot initially off guard, but he recovered quickly, remedying the situation and taking control. One hand in your hair and the other at your waist, he moved your head to the position he wanted, slanting his lips over yours and feasting. 

His kisses left your breathless. Your head held no thoughts other than more, more, more. Benjicot’s teeth nipped at your lips, forcing your mouth to open and surrender. He wasted no time in stroking his tongue against yours, exploring and claiming. And when his hand moved from your waist to knead your breasts, you moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer. 

Your taste, your sounds, your very being—Benjicot wanted it all for himself. You owned him, body and soul. And he was greedy to own you in return. 

In the haze of his kisses, you did not realize that your feet no longer touched the ground. Benjicot had lifted you in the air. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, bringing the hardness of him against the softness of you. 

Your back was against a tree, but you did not feel the rough bark. You only felt Benjicot’s lips and hands, moving across your flesh, mapping and exploring. But when Benjicot made his way to the bottom of your dress, running his hand over your delicate ankle, he paused and pulled back. There was a question in his eyes—did you wish to continue?

You nodded eagerly. No doubt or hesitation with your choice. 

And Benjicot smiled. That wicked, feral smile he donned just before a fight. Another searing kiss to your lips before his hand began to move up your calf to your thigh. He was so close to where wanted him. Where you ached for him. 

But Benjicot paused just short of your cunt. And when you whined at his delay, he laughed and asked, “Tell me, my lady. Have you ever touched yourself before?”

Words were beyond you. You felt dizzied and dazed, but you managed a nod. 

Benjicot moved his hand another inch higher. Lips grazing your ear and hot breath on your neck. “And tell me, what did you think of when you touched yourself? What did you imagine when you brought your fingers to your warm, wet cunt?”

You wanted to die. This surely must be hell. You shook your heard, too embarrassed and flustered to answer. 

Benjicot started to move his hand back down your leg, but you clenched your thighs, trapping his hand between them. Raising your head, you glared at him, but all he did was smile. “I know what you want, my lady. And I am eager to please. All I ask is that you answer the question.”

Wicked, cruel, insufferable man. 

But you were desperate. An impossible ache had built inside you, and you knew that Benjicot was the only one who would relieve you.

So you put aside your pride. Clearing your throat, you whispered, “You. I thought of you, Benjicot Blackwood.”

And that was all he needed. Pushing aside your small clothes, he exposed your cunt to the air. You cried out at the feeling, arching against him as he finally slid his hand between your folds. 

The first brush of him against you dragged a groan from deep in your throat. Benjicot groaned in reply, delighted at the wetness he found waiting for him. His thumb circled your clit, pressing and dragging and teasing. His other hand worked your breast while his lips pressed into your neck. 

It was an assault on all fronts. Your body had never felt so hot. And when he plunged one finger into your core, you bucked your hips in response. 

“I thought of you, too.” How he managed to talk, you had no idea. But even through the haze of lust, you heard him. “Thought of you spread naked on my bed when I took myself in hand. Thought of your tight, wet heat on my cock. Thought of how soft you would feel, how perfect you would be for me.”

“Benji—” You whined as he added a second finger.  You had never felt so full in your life. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips against your ears. 

You pulled Benjicot’s face away from your neck and captured his lips with your own, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Benjicot groaned, plunging his fingers in and out, hard and fast. Your existence narrowed to the feeling. You were so close, the tightness becoming nearly unbearable. You just needed one final—

The sound of your name on his lips was your undoing. Release barreled down upon you, so much so that you felt like you could break in half. You cried out Benjicot’s name, as his lips covered yours once again. The kiss was all teeth and tongue. You felt as though you were being devoured. 

You clenched around his fingers again, and Benjicot let out a curse. He stroked you through your release until you were limp in his arms, kissing you all the while. 

You could barely catch you breath. And when Benjicot finally pulled away and withdrew his hand, you met his stare and lost your breath all over again. Because the smile he gave you now was one you had never seen before. It was soft and tender and just for you. His lady. 

You wanted to stay in these woods forever. Your own sanctuary that could not be touched by outside forces. Just when you were about to express that desire, you felt Benjicot tense against you. 

And that’s when you heard. Voices. Loud and angry and coming closer by the second. 

You shot Benjicot a panicked look and watched as he transformed in front of your eyes. Gone was any trace of softness or warmth, replaced instead by a hard and vicious look that had you trembling.

Bloody Ben now stood before you. 

Lowering you to the ground, Benjicot tucked you between his body and the tree. He looked around, trying to decide the best course of action. You could practically see his mind at work, thinking through the various scenarios to get you to safety. 

You saw the moment he reached a decision. Leaning down, he pressed one final kiss to your lips and asked, “Do you trust me?”

You did not hesitate. “Of course, I trust—” But before you could finish, your world went dark. Benjicot Blackwood had once again knocked you unconscious. 

He only hoped that you would forgive him for what he was about to do. 

-- Let me know what you think! And don't worry lovelies--I'm already working on part 3.

taglist: @painted-flag @majoso12 @strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

[a-bright-comet]

Jade Shadows Thoughts

(NOTICE: I have edited this post after a few days and many lovely replies and tags giving me more insight and opinions, overall my view of this quest has gotten a lot more positive, thank you all <3) okaaayyyy I am utterly rattled rn lmao also made the mistake of looking at tumblr after doing the quest and as expected it seems to be a 50/50 of hating or loving it. so here are my personal thoughts, I am a little scared but talk seems to be civil thankfully. I can definitely agree on the sentiment that this quest needed more time, cause let's be honest the people hating this quest wouldn't be jumping to the things they're jumping to if Jade herself got more screen-time before the big drop, warframe's style has always been vague and never 100% straight-forward and I think that unfortunately hurt it a bit this time, as what they didn't show came off wrong to many people and while I sorta see why I disagree on some parts. I also feel like the quest kinda got a bit *too* hyped both by DE and the fanbase's theories, way too short, it deserved and needed to be a bit longer for it's special narrative. Jade kinda got a weird spot, both being the main focus alongside Stalker but also hardly explored. But let's be honest, most of the negativity is caused by this outside-circumstance alone. Now, what I absolutely disagree with is people insisting that DE was trying to say "bodily autonomy bad" or that Stalker didn't care about her and only the child, thing is I thought it was pretty fucking clear that she *wanted* the child in what little was shown and she was going to die no matter the outcome (thanks to the orokin to absolutely no one's surprise) and Stalker in his guilt for all she's done for him wanted to make sure that he at least kept this one promise to Her, cause She wanted it. she still had bodily autonomy in the fact She wanted this, she wanted the child no matter what. and she wanted stalker to protect her and the kid. And he did, like a true loving partner. DE has a long track record of being very autonomy-positive. A point they make time and time again is that ripping it away is *bad* and horrifying, the quest is a bittersweet tragedy, not a horror. Honestly there would be 0 issue if DE had given us a Jade-only quest before this one, I personally would've preferred it as well, she's cool as hell she deserves it. who knows maybe DE will see all of this and make prequel quests? we can only hope. I do not want to assume the worst of anyone or anything cause that's a miserable existence. Look I personally enjoyed the quest and get the feeling whoever wrote it did it out of some personal experience or sorrow, that's at least the vibe I got. It's a tragedy, but her choice was seen till the end, many women choose to still have a child despite knowing they won't make it, many also don't, that's why choice is important. and she did, she chose her child that she was having while likely forcibly infested and turned into a warframe. (also remember there are women on the team who likely looked at this.) there are some other iffy parts of the quest, (really should've been the drifter instead of the operator if they were gonna do that, but that's personal discomfort.) but overall I enjoyed it and open to explore the implications of a born-warframe-child and Stalker healing as they both grow together. These are my thoughts, and I can understand why people like or dislike this quest, but I think it's fine and just ended up in a very unfortunate spot due to outside circumstances beyond it's control. (sorry if any of this comes off as aggressive it is not my intention despite how riled I am by some folk online, I disagree with you but I do not hate you, I don't even know you.)

Her choice, His promise, Their light.

Thank you for reading my first ever text post about something I care about, not sure I'll be doing this again any time soon out of anxiety lol (Edit: and thanks to everyone responding to this post wonderfully, ya'll are great and have lessened my anxiety and have made me appreciate this quest more <3)

[qsycomplainsalot]

So as a good NB bisexual trad wife married to a Jewish trans person I was in church this morning trying my hardest not to fall asleep on the good lord's shittiest seating arrangement, as is custom. Cutting right to it, the sermon was weird. What I listened to was a French translation of a text by one Gary Heinz, whom I've been told is a Canadian pastor but the only one I could find online is from the Carolinas, with a degree from Charleston, so for the purpose of this post I'll just say he's American in the same vague way as his tomato-based namesake.

The sermon was talking about the tale of the good Samaritan, which most people know about, and was composed thuszthly. First it goes over the tale again, then it helps define the elements of it and how they're relevant to the point made by our boy Jesus. The priest sees a naked beat-up man on the side of the rode, presumably from a mount, and decides not to get involved even though if he had any way to know the man had been Jewish he would have been bound to help him. The second man is a Levite, traditionally someone who helps priests and knows the law just as well, but decides not to get involved either. The third guy of course is a Samaritan. The Samaritans are a distinct but very closely related ethnoreligious group to the Hebrews/Jews, who we are often told hate them. The Samaritan helps the person, provides first aid, props him up on his horse and walks him to an inn where he houses him by giving the innkeeper two pieces of silver and promising to pay any extra cost on his next trip back. This according to the preacher is a symbol of limitless charity, we'll get back to that. The context of the tale was a smartass asking Jesus what to do to be saved and when being told to do unto thy neighbor as you would doeth unto thineselfe (in Middle English, which was very confusing at the time), follows up by asking who his neighbor was, aka who he should apply the law to. The point being made is that although the law could be read and almost bent into only applying to people you care about, only people you're explicitly meant to treat well and even then only once you're absolutely sure they're marked as such, it's more important to follow the spirit of the law which is to be kind to everyone. Which is a good message.

So why am I kvetching ? That was only the first part of the sermon, and if you thought the second part would be about linking that message to current event you'd unfortunately be wrong. It's instead focused on finding, or making up really, symbolism in the story that foretells the passion of Jesus. You see the Samaritan was really a stand-in for anyone you might hate, including, and I quote, "a Nazi or a member of ISIS", because even they can be saved and be your neighbor for the purpose of doing unto them like unto thyself. And the two silver coins well you see they would pay for two nights and on the third one Jesus comes back from the dead. Now I'm not an expert on the cost of living in Ancient Judea. But Gary Heinz isn't either so I'm gonna say it, he pulled that number out of his ass. Also a little confused about the same storytelling element being earlier compared to limitless charity, only now to be quantified as worth two nights at a B&B. But that's just nitpicking, what I'm really tired of is every reading of the holy texts [cut to meme] by Christian preachers devolving into improv rapping about Jesus and how he died for us. The lessons in the Bible stop being broadly applicable to daily life and are instead contrived into fifty different ways to say "he is risen" like it's isn't the sole fucking reason we're in church to begin with. That's usually bad enough, but when a pastor says that the Samaritan in the tale of the good Samaritan was here for shock value and could be "a Nazi or a member of ISIS", this changes the meaning of the tale to "be kind to everyone regardless of who they are, including Nazis apparently", from the original condemnation of prejudices. The Samaritan didn't chose to be a Samaritan, he's not doing any harm being a Samaritan, and the tale shows that his religion being slightly removed from orthodox Judaism isn't as important as his doing good and helping his fellow man. I don't think someone who joined a political party predicated on the extermination of minorities would fit that message, and I think changing said message to a more broad declaration of love from Jesus is ignoring what people need to hear these days where prejudice against minorities makes up 90% of the news.

And you might say it's not really a preacher's job to raise awareness for current events, but I'll ask you this: is hearing about how Jesus totally died for you every week supposed to make me a better Christian ? Or is learning that he told us pretty much in clear text not to hate minorities based on prejudice gonna do that. Cause I think most Christians need to hear the later more.

[angellurgy2]

idek what im supposed to do to backtrack any of this.

I don't think anyone wants to see these posts. but if i can make anything better to anyone please, please lmk. part of me wants to just go into hiding but ik the bad memories will just stain that way. i dont want it to be too late to change it. it feels so hard to make any change socially like this when everyone knows youre this suicidal anyway.

im sorry. genuinely. all i can think about is how sorry i am. for accidentally misgendering rook the one time and for being mean to the people who left and doing it vaguely enough where some1 could take it as being them, and for using the word murderers over social drama/ruin like that. and for not trying a better nicer method of all this. ill delete all my posts and try to wipe it away but idk what else i can do. im confused and scared and i want to apologize better but no one will see it if i do that. im sorry. i really really really dont wanna be rotten to everyone already, i really just wanna be allowed to be a part of anything again. ill be nice. i promise. i really really seriously promise. if i can just be given a chance at all. im sorry.

[ratcandy]

Big Huge Irritated Rant About The Latest COTL Update's Story Choices and the Implications

So the lore drop in the new Cult of the Lamb update, Unholy Alliance, pisses me off. The writer's confirmation of what that lore drop means pisses me off more.

Why? Because it's unnecessary recontextualization that was made pretty obviously in favor in one character in particular, and somehow in that process makes that very same character way less interesting. I think it's incredibly detrimental to the story and I will Explain Why in a second.

But before I do, I just want to put this out there: Prior to this update, my opinions on the Bishops and Narinder and that entire plotline were pretty neutral. I'm an NPC enjoyer, I spend my time thinking about that moth with two lines of dialogue. I did not previously have strong opinions on Narinder or Shamura outside of mild dislike for fandom treatment. So I'm not coming from a place of bias here (or at the very least I'm not trying to be). I genuinely, wholeheartedly, 100% believe this writing decision was unnecessary and the Wrong one to make, and I think it severely undercuts the original plotline because this was a retcon and one that sucks pretty bad.

Ok we're on the same page here? Ok awesome. Long rant ahead, and obvs spoilers for the Unholy Alliance update

So first, what the hell am I talking about? What part of the update do I not like? Let's clarify that first.

It's Shamura's dialogue. Like, all of it. For ease of understanding, here is all the dialogue I will be talking about:

"Ah... we gathered here, the four of us, a council of war and I the general. I have not forgot. I did not tell them that chains to bind a God must be forged of Godly matters. What matter of Gods? What matters of Gods? I have not forgot. The betrayal of kin, the breaking of spirits, blood spilled, his and ours. ...the sacrifice of what we had sacrificed so much for... ...shaped into shackles for our own brother. And our wounds always to weep. Such sharp claws..."

--

"He sought to break nature's own laws. Death was his, yet he placed his sacred duty in peril. His experiments... Experiments I encouraged. I am not... blameless. My soul, stained... yet I do not... Ah, The story. Yes the story... He wanted to open the doors between Life and Death, to... to allow their return. Those mere... mortals. Even though he knew their sacrifices, their faith, their fears sustain us. Death must be the end. Otherwise, what use would they have for Gods? They began to flock to him. What he promised, we could not match. He swelled with devotion... while we waned. Would he have let us perish? I could not take... the risk... the hunger... You are lucky there are none left to force such a choice on you. Hail, Lamb. Last God... lonely God... Ah... I feel... unburdened..."

And for fun, before anyone tells me I'm misinterpreting any of this or that it's left up to interpretation or is intentionally vague, Word of God (the writer of CoTL):

And it's this being Word of God that's spurred me into making this post to begin with. Because prior to this, I just seethed about this dialogue's implications in my server and hoped I was wrong. But now it's been confirmed what this means, and I'm . Disgruntled, to say the least!

And since I've started writing this post, there's been another addition made to further clarify parts of this. But I'm going to go over that addition more towards the end, because it also irritates me for separate reasons.

So, let's get this straight.

Prior to this update, the specifics of what happens between Narinder and the Bishops were pretty vague. We were told Narinder was "gluttonous in his ambition," per Shamura's previous dialogue, and that they "introduced him to ideas of change" but "Death cannot flow backward." Heket somewhat elaborates on this by saying he preached "heresy" and "noxious ideals" that would not be tolerated. Heket also notably refers to Narinder as a flat-out "monster." Narinder attacked his siblings and left them each with a big, symbolic wound. Then he was chained by the four of them, with Shamura the one to lead it (in their own words).

There's a lot of talk of betrayal, but before this update, it was unclear if the betrayal was meant to just be Narinder's experimenting with death (which even then was pretty heavily suggested to be resurrections) or the wounds inflicted upon his siblings. There's also a lot of talk of sacrifice, i.e. from Leshy if you kill Heket before him: "After everything we did. After everything we sacrificed. He will not be satiated."

Regardless, the picture this painted was of Narinder being this ambitious, evil, violent God that even his fellow Gods (Kallamar) feared and felt needed controlling. The idea that the wounds could have been in the nail in the coffin to this entire ordeal made sense; as they were obviously planned by Narinder to some extent (otherwise why be so intentional about who got what wound?) and a fair reaction to Being Mutilated would of course be to chain him.

Then of course there's the idea that the wounds were given while he was being chained and in self-defense, which only seems possible if you think Narinder could take on all four of his siblings at once like that and only manage to lose his claws in the ordeal (which was only revealed in this update to be something he's implied to have lost thru the relic). I thought this at first too, but realized it seems pretty impractical for that to have been the case if the wounds were also purposeful in who got what. I mean, sure, they could all be coincidentally symbolically appropriate for each Bishop, but I have doouuubts?

but now we're here, with this update, and all has been revealed.

And what's been revealed exactly?

Narinder's thing he was doing was indeed resurrections (we knew that)

Shamura encouraged him to do it (we also already knew this)

It seems like he did literally nothing else outside of that

His siblings got pissy about this because it made their domains purposeless and got all their followers to flock to him

"Would he let us perish? I could not take the risk" - Implies they literally did not even ask him

Shamura knew that in order to forge chains that could keep Narinder down, it would require a sacrifice of their bonds AND their flesh

They DID NOT tell the other Bishops this

Their wounds were requirements to chain him. They had to get the wounds they bear now in order to chain him. ONLY Shamura knew this. That means they allowed their siblings (and themself) to get attacked knowing full well what would happen. They may have even encouraged it, perhaps provoked Narinder into it, seeing as they knew the wounds were necessary to have him chained. (Or they just knew he would retaliate. Which, like. Yeah. They're condemning him after he went down a path they encouraged and, as far as we can tell, nothing else.)

And for... what?

In this version of the story, Narinder was experimenting with resurrections, and Shamura told him to keep doing that. Then he was successful, mortals turned to him, and his siblings (including Shamura, the one who told him to do it) got mad. That's it. That's their reasoning for chaining him. There's nothing else given. "Would they perish?" We have no idea. Is that how it works? Seems like Shamura doesn't know either. Or at the very least doesn't know if Narinder intended for that at all. Gives the vibe that literally no effort was made to talk to him and figure this out. They don't even really go down the "it puts nature out of balance!" path, which would at least have some merit, maybe. It's literally just "we are no longer sustained. What's the point of Gods in this world?" <- idk babe you had all the other ones slaughtered. So you tell me

And then Shamura just took it into their own hands, leading their siblings to their shared wounds (WITHOUT consulting them) and their inevitable destruction because of........... reasons, I guess. (I mean, if you think about it really hard, they probably also already knew what would happen following all this. With the lamb genocide and Narinder's resurfacing and etc. And they had their siblings wounded anyway. For no god damn reason)

And now why does this make me mad?

Because, honestly, in and of itself, there's not anything necessarily wrong with this added context. It's not contradicting anything in the main game. Shamura knowing what was needed makes sense, after all.

But it's... unnecessary. It screws up the motives and makes them more shallow, less nuanced, more... petty. Making gods petty is cool and all, I love doing that honestly, but in this case it just feels like a waste of potential.

But beyond all that. But most importantly.

This entire recontextualization of events REEKS of being made specifically to absolve Narinder.

I mean, come on. He's made out to be the victim, here. Shamura knew what he would do, knew what he would become, and knew exactly what would happen to their siblings if they sought to chain him (without doing so much as talking to him beforehand), and yet they encouraged it.

All blame is being shifted on Shamura. All Narinder did specifically against his siblings was inflict the wounds, which at this point seems to be hinted as self defense or a retaliation against threat or insult (assuming he was provoked into attacking, somehow). Because the wounds were part of the process.

And almost equally irritating, this seeks to arbitrarily absolve Leshy, Kallamar, and Heket as well, as they had no idea what the plan was and were just strung along. Which is just kinda worse, right? As far as they are aware, Narinder did just randomly attack them for no reason, and this wasn't foreseen, and surely couldn't have been stopped. All because Shamura didn't tell them any of it.

Shamura is being made into the big bad. Shamura is at fault for everything, for all of it. Narinder is a victim of Shamura encouraging him down a path they later condemn him for, their siblings are victims of Shamura and Narinder both (the latter of which could have been resolved at any point prior), and now any possible intrigue about Narinder being this big bad guy who tore apart his siblings due to his own ambition getting the best of him is ERASED.

It's GONE. All in favor of making him more sympathetic.

And sure, about a million different excuses could be made for Shamura, or could be used to headcanon whatever you want about exactly what happened. But with what we're given right now, just from the source, no attempt as made to stop Narinder before it got to this point. It is literally suggested they didn't even talk to him.

"Maybe they were too scared" - For the other three, maybe. Shamura is the eldest and clearly the most respected one, by Narinder as well (he holds some amount of respect for them even STILL. After EVERYTHING). They at any point could have stopped this.

"Narinder could still have been a bad guy outside of the attacks" - Sure, but we're given little to nothing on that front. In the old dialogue, literally all that's mentioned is the resurrection stuff and the wounds. Shamura is the one who said his ambition made a glutton of him, by the way. And hell, this isn't even touching the very real possibility that all of the Bishops (Narinder included!) are unreliable as hell.

"But Kallamar feared him even before his chaining, that suggests he was still a bad guy beforehand" - Sure, it could! But that's about all we get! And hell, in this new update, Kallamar's fears are fucked with, too. He states:

"Once, long ago, Followers would worship at my altar just to glimpse the beauty of my temple… of course, it could not last forever. Perhaps my siblings did not understand this, but I have always known. It did not make me less afraid. Cowardly Kallamar, ha…"

Here, it seems Kallamar's fears have been changed to be more about the decline of his temple and the loss of his followers, which was happening because of Narinder. He refers to Narinder's plans as "foolish" as opposed to... idk, horrifying, or threatening, or whatever. He also fully takes on the 'cowardly' title, giving the impression that his fears were somehow unfounded, which wouldn't make a lick of sense if Narinder indeed sucked ass outside of the wounds.

Not to mention he "didn't want to hear it" when Shamura "revealed the plan," but we know because of Shamura that they didn't mention anything about the wounds, so Kallamar didn't want to hear that they... had to chain Narinder? That's literally all he could've been told about the plan. Why wouldn't he want to chain Narinder if he was scared of him up until that point?? Doesn't make any sense!!! EDIT AFTER I POSTED: On reconsideration this might just be referring the lamb genocide plan, but that's hardly better, because now this update absolves Narinder, Leshy, AND Kallamar by making them blameless in everything (both Leshy and Kallamar expressed not fully understanding the plan for the slaughter or, in this case, not wanting part in it). What's up with THAT. Why is Shamura getting the blame for LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

Anyway, my point is

This was a story decision made to make Narinder sympathetic. It's so blatant. And it's so, so irritating. It gets rid of so many potential cool flaws of Narinder and replaces it with "Actually, Shamura was the bad guy the whole time! Huzzah!"

And honestly, had the entire game come out like this to begin with, released at the start how it is right now, I don't think I'd care this much. But being added now, as an afterthought, after the fandom and devs alike have grown to favor Narinder above all others, it just...

It reeks of favoritism. It smells of revising the story to make Narinder more likeable. It's just erasure.

And for what. Like, I don't want to be That Guy, but I cannot help but notice that one of two nonbinary characters (outside of the Lamb/Goat themselves) is being this heavily demonized in favor of absolving a Man of his crimes. What's, uh. What's up with that.

Oh, and that addition by the writer I mentioned was made while I was writing this.

This was made after Jojo was questioned whether this was a retcon as to who caused the wounds, as this whole thing could also certainly be read as Shamura being the one to directly wound their siblings (which I didn't think was the case, but still).

"I don't know if they thought it would be so severe" - How do I put this in a nice way. This feels like a weaseling out answer. This feels like giving Shamura an out only after being questioned on this writing choice. How could they possibly not know how severe it would be. This spider is Knowledge. This spider has Foresight of some kind. And how do you not know what they thought. You are the Writer. If you want to clarify something like this you gotta say it with your full chest.

Not to mention a good portion of the fandom probably won't even see these tweets, so this context is all missing from the story presented in the game. This is Tacked On Context on top of already Tacked On Context. It's unnecessary retconning all the way down.

Anyway. I realize the fandom at large will not care about this, because (and I mean this in the nicest way I can manage) the Narinder favoritism in this fandom is already impenetrable, but for me personally? This retconning that was so clearly done out of that favoritism?

It ruined Narinder's character for me. More than the fandom possibly could have. I mean, if it's fanon, it can be ignored. But this was canonized. Because Narinder is the dev team's favorite guy.

And I can't stand it.

[katerina-marie]

The Hot Mic Incident (Feel Like Falling in Love)

Sukuna x Reader

Part 3

If someone asked you who was most likely to accidentally spill the beans about your new (and still secret) relationship with Sukuna, your answer would have to be your white-haired co-star. But when an unintentional hot mic reveals to the world what wasn't ready to be shared, let's just say it wasn't Gojo Satoru at fault for once.

Notes: A continuation of my Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au inspired by music (though only loosely, so don't look too closely at lyrical meaning). In this case, it's Feel Like Falling in Love by MeloMance. I'm writing this series as inspiration strikes, so these fics may not always be posted according to the series' linear timeline. I will make sure to note when each chapter takes place in relation to the others (this one takes place a couple months after part 2).

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, other favorites who have small supporting rolls, all fluff, crack, and humor, innuendos, illusions to sexting, but no actual sexting occurs (sorry), so please avoid accordingly, out of character and fluffy Sukuna. Please let me know if I miss something!

WC: 4.3k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Isn’t it a little early in the morning to be sending naughty pictures to your boyfriend? It’s like 7:00 am.” 

You jumped half a foot in the air and clambered to juggle your phone in your hands before it tumbled out and slid four feet across the backstage floor of the talk show studio. 

“You need to be wearing a bell, Satoru,” you hissed over your shoulder at the menace that had appeared behind you so suddenly, “and it was not an inappropriate photo. I was completely dressed.” 

You teetered over in your heels to grab your phone off the floor and prayed that it wasn’t cracked down the middle, lest you make Satoru cough up punitive damages to make up for it. 

“In my experience, being fully clothed is not a prohibiting factor.”

Satoru snickered at the look of disgust on your face and gave you a small shrug, “Who knows, maybe Sukuna’s into th—,”

You threw yourself forward to try and cover his mouth with your hands, but even in heels you still lacked the necessary height to make contact. You settled for pinning him in place with a glare.

“Will you keep quiet please? I swear, if you and your fat mouth reveal this to anyone, I’m going to have Toji leak that photo of you from one of our nights working on that period piece last year!”

You watched with glee as Satoru’s eyes widened in abject horror, and he reached out to grip the tops of your arms and drag you close to his face. A quick peek from your peripheral confirmed that the staff lingering around the studio probably hadn’t been close enough to hear, but they were certainly watching with poorly disguised interest. 

Were you and Satoru contracted into a false relationship in order to help promote the upcoming movie the two of you were co-starring in? No, that only happened in fiction. Was it firmly implied by the producer that some offscreen tension and chemistry during the course of the film would promise to be advantageous to you both? Yes, and you presumed that in the pursuit of a paycheck some simple flirting couldn’t hurt anyone…though that was a year or so ago, and you were now closer to sending Satoru to an early grave than jumping in bed with him like fans and media were hoping for. 

“Suguru swore he made you delete any evidence of that!” 

You stuck your tongue out at him and pulled back against the hold he had on your arms, but he didn’t loosen his grip in the slightest. 

“He did, but didn’t bother to check with Toji. Looks like that weird phobia you two have of him is coming to bite you in the ass now.” 

Satoru released you with a shiver and took a large step back, his eyes roaming the expanse of the studio as if he expected your bodyguard to be summoned out of thin air at the sheer mention of his name. You didn’t blame him, however, because Toji had a habit of doing just that. 

“It’s not a weird phobia,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his throat absentmindedly and pouting down at you, “it’s PTSD.” 

You snorted. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was too!” Satoru cried, “He punched me in the throat and nearly sent Suguru through a wall!” 

“You and your idiot manager were trying to break into my house at 2:00am, drunk as skunks I might add! What did you think was going to happen? We barely knew each other then.” 

Satoru looked down at you aghast, stunned that you didn’t sympathize with his emotions. You considered it even more bewildering that he seriously thought that you would pick his side. You were about to let him know such when your phone dinged twice in quick succession, effectively capturing your attention. 

“Look,” you huffed at him, waving your phone in front of his face so he could catch a glimpse of the time (and hopefully ignore who’s name had popped up under it), “we only have like thirty more minutes before we have to get out there and I need some time to decompress, so I’m going back to the dressing room.” You started to turn away before throwing over your shoulder, “Don’t get into any trouble in the meantime.” 

Satoru rolled his eyes at you, and—in that intolerable way of his—couldn’t let you possibly have the last dig at him and jerked his head to the phone in your hand. 

“It’s not me I’m worried about. Have fun sext—,” 

“Goodbye, Satoru!” You made yourself scarce before he could say anything else, eager to find the privacy of your dressing room so you could fawn over your boyfriend in peace. 

By the time you made it into the safety of your dressing room a few minutes later, your heart was pounding—and not just from getting lost in all the maze-like hallways—and you tried to decide if hiding in the attached closet to talk with Sukuna on the phone or sitting on the couch in the open with a lovesick grin on your face would look less suspicious should someone walk in. Neither option promised much. 

Before you could make up your mind, your phone was ringing, so in order to be able to answer the call as quickly as you could, you dove for the couch and tried not to sound completely breathless when you answered with a quiet, “hi, good morning.” 

“Hey,” Sukuna replied back to you, voice equally soft but tinged with a dry hoarseness that usually followed him out of sleep. It made your toes wiggle uncontrollably against the floor. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you with the picture? That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to keep you up to date with my day,” you murmured to him. 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. And besides, even if it did, it’s not a bad way to start my day.” His words made you melt back into the cushions and you kicked your feet in silent giddiness before tucking them underneath you. “You look stunning, by the way.” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, “though getting here to get ready while it was still dark outside was borderline torture. I’d say that it’s an unfair slight against women, but I’m pretty sure Satoru’s hair and skincare routine took just as long.” 

Your boyfriend let out a disgusted scoff at the mention of your costar’s name, “Please tell me that q-tip is behaving himself.” 

“Sukuna!” You chastised, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your throat at the comparison, “You can’t call him that…even if it is somewhat accurate.” 

“It’s one hundred percent accurate,” he argued, “but I won’t call him that to his face…probably.” 

You shook your head in exasperated amusement, nibbling on the bottom skin of your lip before continuing on, “He’s behaving for the most part, aside from his two insinuations that our conversations this morning were of a sexual nature.” 

Sukuna was silent on the other end for a moment before replying back in a low voice with something that had you choking on your spit, “Would you like them to be?” 

He could be heard laughing as you nearly coughed your way into a premature death.

“I’m about to go in front of a live audience and on live tv!” You exclaimed.

“That’s not a ‘no’,” Sukuna pointed out hopefully.

“No.” 

He let out a dramatic sigh and you reached over to a nearby coffee table to unscrew a bottle of water and chug half of it down in the hopes it would help cool you off. 

“Speaking of,” he said, sounding just a tad hesitant, “I’ll uh, tune in to the show to watch if that’s okay with you.” 

You heart skipped a silly little beat at the idea that he wanted to watch some cheesy talk show just to get a glimpse of you. 

“I don’t mind,” you told him, “but it’s going to make me a little nervous knowing you’ll be watching as I stumble through this interview.” 

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, though something in his voice sounded just slightly wicked, “now you’ll get an idea of how I feel when I have to perform.” 

The innuendo had whatever sweet reassurance you had poised at the tip of your tongue fly out of your head, and you scrambled to come with a response that could be said back without implying anything further. The swinging open of your door, however, saved you from the task. 

“Hey, Princess,” Toji called as he leaned his torso around the door, “you need to be out there in five.” 

You startled from your spot on the couch, surprised to realize that your leg was bouncing from where it was propped up on your knee and your finger was twirling a piece of your hair.

Love made you stupid. 

“Toji,” you snapped, “have you ever heard of knocking?”

Your bodyguard rolled his eyes, “I did. Twice.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, especially because you could hear Sukuna cackling through the phone, confirming he heard what Toji just said. 

“Oh…I’ll be right there, okay?” You shooed him off with a flick of your fingers and Toji smirked at you as he began closing the door.

“Don’t be late or I’m sending Gojo in to fetch you.” 

The door closed shut before you could get a word in and you leaned back with a heavy sigh before returning your attention to your phone call, “I’ve to go. I’ll call you when the whole thing is over and I’m back home, yeah?” 

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be waiting for you. Good luck, okay?” 

You weren’t sure if it was all in your head, but you swore you heard a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Thank you. Bye, Sukuna,” 

“Bye, Princess,” he sing-songed, and you couldn’t help but smile as you clicked off the call. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Twenty minutes later found you and Satoru sitting next to each other on a platform stage surrounded by bright lights, a large live audience sprawled in front of you, and an all too perceptive interviewer who had started the interrogation just a couple minutes prior. You wiggled in your seat, uncomfortable from the various wires and clips that secured your mic to your back under your dress. 

“So,” she began, nailing you with a look that promised nothing good, “you and Satoru were supposed to film an advert on the beach early this last summer, but it ended up being you and the so-called ‘King of Curses.’ Tell me, how did that come about?” 

You hesitated a moment, thankful the question wasn’t anything too invasive, but you were still hoping to avoid talking about Sukuna altogether. Usually Nanami would heavily emphasize what could and couldn’t be spoken of before these appearances, but since he wasn’t here, you assumed it had been left to Geto. In that case, you knew he couldn’t be bothered since predicting whatever was going to come out of Satoru’s mouth during these things was an art not yet mastered.

 “Well,” you started, clasping your hands together so they didn’t shake, “it really just came about out of well-timed convenience and a favor to the director. We didn’t want to waste any of the crew’s time or have to worry about re-aligning schedules, so Sukuna saved the day by offering to help. Plus, ‘The Curses’ new song at the time got to debut in it, so it was a win-win for everyone! Except for maybe Satoru, of course.” 

In an effort to divert attention from your answer, you threw Satoru a faux-friendly smile and urged him with a widening of your eyes to explain his part. 

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, adjusting himself in the seat and setting a convincing pout on his face. “I just happened to get pulled into something personal last minute and was going to be late to the shoot. I’m appreciative that the “King of Curses” was able to step in and save the day.” 

You didn’t miss the obvious sarcasm dripping from Sukuna’s nickname when it came out of Satoru’s mouth, and you had to hide a giggle behind your hand at the thought of your boyfriend cursing at his TV at home. 

“But,” Satoru continued, jolting you into awareness when he turned to you and ran a long finger down the bare skin of your arm, “I’m super bummed I missed our chance to get wet together.” The smirk on his face was downright evil, and you just knew your face was a picture of stunned disbelief. The audience was tittering with amusement.

“You wear me out, Satoru,” you hissed at him, batting his hand away from where it still traced slowly over your skin. 

Satoru laughed and threw his head back against his chair before taking a quick look at the camera and then leaning in towards you until your noses nearly touched, “I’m flattered you’d admit that on live television.” 

Your jaw, and everyone else’s for that matter, fell to the floor and you could only gawk at him. Over the interviewer’s shoulder, you could see Toji backstage laughing his ass off as Geto stood at a respectable distance next to him shaking his head. 

We better get those damned bonuses from the producer.

“Well!” The interviewer laughed a bit nervously, breaking the tension in the room and turning to the main camera in front of you all, “That was surely something. We have to go to a commercial, but we’ll be back with these two in just a couple minutes!”

The outro music sounded over the speakers and you and Satoru were released from your chairs to scurry backstage. In between sending friendly waves to the audience and starting the walk backstage, you flipped the switch on your mic off. 

“I’m going to kill you, Satoru,” you spat under your breath as the two of you left stage.

The idiot had the gall to laugh, and in your frustration you took a couple large steps to get a head of him. And because the universe didn’t hate you enough, you felt the toe of your heel catch on a stray cable on the floor, pitching you off balance. In your flailing, you reached out to grasp at whatever object could possibly break your fall, and in doing so latched on to Satoru’s sleeve, jerking the poor bastard off his feet and onto you as you both tumbled to floor in a heap of tangled limbs. 

Your back hit the ground first, your mic digging painfully into your back with a suspicious crack of plastic followed by Satoru landing on your front, pushing all the air from your lungs with a painful “oomph.” 

You stared at the ceiling of the studio, wondering how quickly things would go if one of the giant studio lights fell from above and crushed you under it. You were never going to live this down, especially since it happened still in view of the cameras and the audience if the raucous laughter was anything to go by.

“You know, I never imagined I would actually get you under me,” Satoru mused, staring down at you for a second before lifting his giant self off and then pulling you up to follow. He held a hand against your lower back as the two of you made it to the cover of backstage. 

“Honestly,” you admitted, still a little dazed, “I never would have thought so either.”

Staff fluttered around you a minute later, offering water, smoothing your hair out, and ensuring neither of you were hurt…at least not physically. Your pride was a whole other matter. 

“Oh no,” you groaned, catching Satoru’s attention once everyone had cleared out around you, “he was watching. He just saw me eat it on live television.” 

Your co-star cocked a confused eyebrow at you, “You mean Sukuna was watching?”

“Oh please,” you muttered, “like you didn’t guess. And yes, Sukuna was watching, and now I’m not going to be able to look him in the eye this evening.” 

There was a general increased noise coming from the front of the studio, but you were too preoccupied with your own embarrassment to think much of it. 

“And why is that?” Satoru asked. 

You threw your hands up purely because you didn’t know what else to do with them, “I don’t really know exactly, but there is still something supremely humiliating about doing something embarrassing like that in front of my new boyfriend. He makes me nervous enough as is.” 

There was a sudden outbreak of hollers and clapping from out front, and you swung your head around to look and see if anyone had a clue as to what was going on. It took you a minute before you could see Toji running at you with a wild look on his face. 

“Toji, what the hell—?” You didn’t get to finish your question before he was spinning you around by the shoulders, yanking down the zipper of your dress, and ripping the mic from your back. You shrieked in disbelief as you whirled back around to figure out what in the world he had been thinking. 

“Toji!”

“Your mic has been on this whole time,” he growled, showing you the blinking green light on the cracked plastic box. You swore you had turned it off, but seeing as how it took the brunt of the impact when you fell on it earlier, you supposed it wasn’t unlikely that it had turned back on. 

With sudden cold rushing through your body and a sick ball of dread settling into your gut, you looked between Satoru’s dumbfounded expression and Toji’s face of pure exhaustion and immediately decided that if the ground wasn’t going to swallow you up whole, you were going home.

“Get me out of here!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

After finally making it to some undisclosed back alley across from the talk show studio, you were assisted out from your crouch in a trash bin by studio security and ushered to a small nearby out-cove to wait for your bodyguard. 

And you just wanted to be famous soooo bad. Glamorous life, my ass.

As luck would have it, you were made aware today of just how famous you, and especially Sukuna, were. For all the grief you gave Satoru about not accidentally spilling the beans about your newly minted—and still secret—relationship with Sukuna, you were the one that had the unintended pleasure of doing the grand reveal. So now the world was free to stir whatever frenzy they saw fit, from the intensely devoted fangirls of Sukuna’s band, to the entire acting community, and the worst of all…your mother. You suspected you were a couple minutes away from an angry phone call demanding an explanation as to why she had to find out from the internet that you were dating a boy with pink hair and face tattoos and how much longer it would be until she had grandchildren. 

All of this chaos and Nanami just happened to be in a whole other country. 

You suddenly regretted sending him on that vacation.

A sharp squeal of tires caught your attention and you looked up to see a shiny sports car peal around the corner and come to a rumbling stop a couple feet in front of you. Before you could even begin to guess who it could be, the head of your bodyguard appeared as the tinted black window of the passenger side door rolled down.

“Get in the car,” Toji hissed, eyes darting to and fro. 

You wasted no time and nearly dove through the open window in your haste to escape broad daylight. You had just finished buckling your seatbelt in the back when Toji mashed the gas pedal and the car leapt forward.

“Christ, Toji!” You gasped, clasping the headrest of the seat you were just flung into, “Whose car is this? It’s certainly not yours.”

He snorted. “Yeah, cause you don’t pay me enough.”

“Rude,” you muttered back to him, “and not true.” 

You tried to squint out the front windshield to determine where you might be, but brick buildings towered on either side of you still, and you assumed Toji was taking some alternative route home. “Seriously though, whose car is this? It’s not one of mine.” 

“Does it matter?”

You rolled your eyes at his bored tone, “Yes, it does. Toji, I’m not your wife, but—”

“Thank God.” He sounded entirely too relieved about that.

“Still rude!” You yelped, but brushed aside the sting of offense to figure out whose leather seats your dress was currently dropping glitter all over. “I’m not your wife, so I don’t particularly care to know what unscrupulous activities you get up to when I’m not keeping you busy—,”

“None,” he deadpanned, shooting you a glare through the rear view mirror.

“—which I’m pretty sure I had you sign a non-compete, but that’s besides the point. I really need you to tell me where you got this car. In case you aren’t aware, my name is going to be plastered on every social media post, blog page, and headline in the next 24 hours and I’d rather that not include my mugshot with “accomplice to grand theft auto” under it. So tell me who this car belongs to right now or I’m jumping out.”

Toji had the audacity to chuckle at you before reaching back to pat your knee.

“Relax a bit. You know I wouldn’t ever put you in harm’s way on purpose. This is Gojo’s car. Ours was being swarmed by the media out front after your little slip up, so I threatened Geto for the idiot’s keys cause I knew it was out back and the quickest way I could get to our little rendezvous point.” 

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out. Letting your racing mind settle down a bit, you snuggled deeper into the plush leather seats and kicked your feet up onto the center console. You got two seconds of peace before Toji opened his mouth again.

“I’m going to have to call Nanami.” 

“No!” You gasped, springing upright again and feeling a warm sting creep to your eyes as your throat began to tense up. “He’s on vacation! I promised we wouldn’t bother him unless one of us was dying. I’d never forgive myself if he had to come home to clean up my sloppy love life!” 

Toji shook his head and shot you a sad smile over his shoulder as he reached for his phone sitting in the front cup holder.

“We may not really have an option, Sweetheart. Not only is Uraume going to be a huge pain to deal with since this could affect Sukuna’s band, but you’ve also got contracts and appearances promised that may get shaken by the fact it’s been revealed to the world that you've been secretly dating the music industry’s favorite ‘hate to love’ rockstar. We can’t fix this without Nanami.” 

The panic that had been brewing in your stomach this whole time was starting to make your head spin up, so you blamed it on that when you lurched out of your seat and nearly over Toji’s shoulder to snatch the phone out of his hand before he could hit ‘dial’ on Nanami’s contact. 

Your bodyguard swore when you knocked him in the face with your elbow in your clamber and his hand gave a vicious jerk of the wheel that had horns blaring from either side of your car as Toji swerved to correct it. You were thrown back into the seat you had just previously been in and you waited with heaving breaths as the car jolted sideways once more before continuing on straight. The fact you barely missed crashing was a testament to Toji’s reflexes.

“Don’t you ever do stupid shit like that again, you hear me?!” You’d never heard Toji raise his voice at you and it did nothing to help quell the tears about to start pouring from your eyes, “I know you’re stressed and something big has just happened to you, I get it, but that’s no excuse to do something dumb! You just about gave me a heart attack,” he finished, his voice still at a higher volume than normal, but it was softened by the edge of panicked concern and the worried glances he was giving you. 

That was enough to push you over the edge.

“I-I’m sorry, Toji,” you sobbed, upset at yourself for messing up again, “I wasn’t thinking, and I don’t want Nanami to feel like he has to babysit me for the rest of his life, or you to think I’m an airhead or something. I also really like Sukuna and I don’t want him to hate me because of what I did!” 

You let your head fall into your hands and hiccuped through another shuddering cry as you struggled to get ahold of the overwhelming-ness of it all. You felt Toji’s hand on your knee again. 

“Hey, hey, take deep breaths for me. No one’s thinking that, I promise you. And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. It was wrong. It’s no excuse, but that scared the crap out of me and I thought we for sure were getting into an accident,” he admitted. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

You nodded through your tears, unable to respond to him in any way that was legible. 

“Look, we’re almost home. Try and deep breathe for me. Once we get there I’ll help you get comfortable and we’ll figure this out together, okay?” 

As was frequent with Toji, you valued his ability to keep you calm when you got into the worst of yourself and you were grateful for his steady confidence. You reached out and clasped the hand he still had stretched back on your knee to give it a squeeze, hoping it could convey all the thanks you had for him. The two of you kept driving in comfortable silence until you felt the car slow and saw a flash of a familiar gate out the front windshield.

“Hey,” Toji started, his voice suspiciously light, “you think Gojo would realize if we never returned his car?” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! I've got ideas for parts 3 and 4 already, so I'm hoping to work on those in the next coming days.

I'll also be posting this series on AO3 under Katerina_Mar if you would prefer to read there:)

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/22/2024 Daily Recap

Hey all! It's been a long day huh? I wanna apologize ahead of time, whatever sickness my kiddo had last week finally got me so I'm not feeling terribly well. I'm gonna do my best to articulate todays events for ya!

===Renew As A Crew====

So the very first thing I want to touch on today is updates from @renewasacrew. As you may have heard, they were going to be changing leadership as the shift in priorities changed from renewing to saving OFMD. That being said, the leadership change happened over this weekend with some hiccups (I don't know what the hiccups were entirely and I'm not going to speculate, if you wanna delve down that twitter hole you can, but having been in it for today I'd recommend against it for your mental health, and we don't want to be drawing a bunch of media attention to it) there's a lot of confusing information, and as we know things can get conflated fast if we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle-- let's not speculate and wait for the to come out with more info.

So what I'm focusing on today is @renewasacrew's message to please give them some time and practice some patience while they get back up and running. This also includes anyone you happen to know on twitter working with them, for example: @TheCozyPirate. Let's give them some grace, they've been steering us well so far.

The good news is, several folks, on tumblr: @iamadequate1, @quirkysubject, @asgardian--angels, On twitter: @havethisonelife @yougotoofast @Lcmwriter100, we have all we need to keep going for a few days while things get ironed out. (If I forgot someone please let me know, sorry I am half awake tonight)-- see the HOW CAN YOU HELP section below.

One thing I will mention-- we are moving so very fast right now. It's only been 13 days since the announcement that OFMD wasn't renewed, and we've accomplished SO MUCH. So when there's a lull, it's going to feel like things are standing still and maybe something is going wrong. Don't fall into despair, that's just how things go with negotiations. Take a break, take a breath, and just keep on Polite Menacing until we hear more from the leadership team.

===How can you help?===

**Go to visit the DAILY RENEWAL TASK LIST there's lots of ideas and ways you can help! Have more? Shoot me a dm! I'm happy to add stuff!**

*Note: To our international fans, I promise I'm working on a write up for you as well I've just been sick today and have been able to finish!*

Something new today-- a lot of you have expressed your desire to help in the @renewasacrew efforts. Well if you did-- and still want to, now you can volunteer! Many thanks to @redshiftsinger for getting this up so quick!

Please visit their survey: Volunteer Intake form and fill out how you may be able to help!

=== Cast and Crew Sightings ===

As if on cue, Chaos dad reached out to everyone on twitter today to express some encouragement!

He also saw we were at 77K and posted his astonishment!

Some folks have been a bit weary about his vagueness today, but as we know, Daddy Jenkins is the king of vague-- and he has to be! If there are contracts in the works, he can't be hinting at things. Don't lose hope!

===Samson Kayo ===

Our beloved Oluwande updated his IG with some pictures and a message. If you have IG I'm sure he'd appreciate some love!

Next up was our favorite Captain, Rhys Darby, promoting a fellow comic @jamesroguecomedy over on IG!

And our pirate queen Ruibo Qian was making posts about saving ofmd and fanart about Zheng! Featuring folks you probably know around tumblr: @mistysblueboxstuff and @tsutsu_ya over on twitter

=REMINDER: Cross Fandom Watch Party! on 01/23/2024 1 PM PT, 4PM ET=

Looks like there's gonna be some cross fandom watch parties on twitter you're welcome to tune in for Jan 23-26 on twitter. They'll be watching good omens in an effort to try and get engagement up with PrimeVideo. It sounds like it'll be similar to the LubeAsACrew but with Good Omens fans! Thank you to @Dandeebakes on Twitter for getting these organised!

Hashtags to use: #PirateOmens #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD, and helps to @PrimeVideo

===Articles===

New article, but take it with a grain of salt, see @TheCozyPirate's message:

Our Flag Means Death's marketing was concerned about the shock of violence in the show

===============================================

Alright lovelies. Here we are again, I told you it'd be quick. Today was very very very busy. Take a break and get some sleep ya? Lean on your crew, we are here to support each other. I'll end with a quote from Tolkien (it being all of us in your crew):

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Tonight picture features Taika and his "I love you eyes" at Rhys. Thats me, I'm Taika, I love you all.

PS: Idk why this isnt showing up in my recaps repository but ill figure it out in the morning.

[babytarttdoodoo]

not sure if u do ship prompts so feel free to ignore this 💕 but maybe something where royjamie are caught making out by the himbos and there is much teasing. flustered jamie is a bonus. but honestly you could literally write anything and i’d read it💕💕

I absolutely do! Hope it’s to your liking 🙂 (I accidentally let some feelings get in here. Oops.)

Roy/Jamie, post-canon

Song rec: Do Ya

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

-

“We’re at work.” Roy reminded Jamie lightly, not sounding nearly as annoyed as he wanted to be. It was hard when he had a lapful of gorgeous, handsy footballer.

“Training’s over.” Jamie countered, eagerly pressing Roy back into his chair, one knee propped on the seat between his legs and arms braced to stop him from rolling away. “Plus, it’s your birthday, you grumpy twat. Let me kiss you.”

“That’s the rule, is it?” Roy fought the grin trying to break free. He wasn’t very successful.

Jamie hummed an affirmative, eyes bright and smile wide, before leaning in to seal their lips together. He licked into Roy’s mouth with another happy sound, deep in his throat, when he was met with equal enthusiasm.

Despite his reservations about location, Roy would never actually be able to turn down being kissed by Jamie Fucking Tartt.

He did cut it short, though, when Jamie moved his hands up to Roy’s face and, without his grip as an anchor, the wheeled chair scooted back with wild momentum. To his credit, Jamie still tried to follow him but promptly sent a stapler to the floor with a loud clatter in his haste.

“Alright, alright.” Roy broke away with a placating hand to Jamie’s chest, breathing hard and glad he was wearing his loose tracksuit bottoms. He glanced at the closed blinds of his office. “Not fucking here. Anyone could come in.”

“Part of the fun, innit?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows but relented and straightened up. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of golden skin. Roy’s eyes followed the movement of their own accord and he licked his still slick lips, only half aware that he was doing so.

Jamie, on the other hand, clearly knew exactly what he was doing and smirked like the little prick he was.

“Y’know, I were the last in the gym. No one in the locker room when I came through. Haven’t seen the lads in, like, 20 minutes.”

Fuck. It was tempting.

Roy reached out and gripped Jamie’s waist, tugging him in. He came happily but pouted when Roy just used him as leverage to stand. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“Sorry, coach, but you knew that already.” Jamie grinned, no hint of remorse.

“My fucking fault, then?” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned in for another brief press of lips, forcibly keeping it chaste. It was ridiculous, how quickly Jamie could rile him up. “Suppose that means I’m taking you back to mine.”

Jamie’s face lit up. “You’re leaving early?” he confirmed, clearly delighted.

“Not going to get anything else done, now, am I?” Roy sighed, digging his thumbs pointedly into Jamie’s hips.

Jamie laughed and pulled him towards the door.

“I promise to be the sexiest little present you could ever unwrap to make up for it.”

“Is that right?”

Jamie stuck out his tongue cheekily and Roy couldn’t help himself. He wound one arm tightly around Jamie’s waist, the other hand going to the back of his head so he could hold him close and put that tongue to better use.

It was intoxicating, getting to have this after thinking about it for so long. He was only vaguely aware that they were still moving.

One of Jamie’s hands flailed around until he found the door handle, grabbing both it and the front of Roy’s shirt to manoeuvre them through the entryway without needing to break contact.

He was clearly eager to get them home. Roy was enjoying this moment just fine, though, and pinned Jamie against the now open doorframe. He pushed up against him and tugged on his hair as he deepened the kiss even further.

Jamie’s answering moan cut off midway, morphing into an urgent, distressed sound. He batted at Roy’s chest and he pulled back immediately, concern like a wash of ice in his gut.

Too much? Too aggressive? This was still so fucking new.

“What’s wrong?”

Jamie had gone pale, eyes fixed to his right. Oh no. Roy followed his gaze reluctantly, a growing sense of dread making each second stretch.

The whole team. The whole fucking team. Plus Keeley. And Rebecca. Oh, fuck, the Diamond Dogs too.

All of them, gathered together in the locker room, seemingly frozen in the act of lighting candles on a black-frosted birthday cake.

Shit shit shit.

“Uh.” A grunt was all he could manage. Unfortunately, a quick glance at Jamie confirmed that he was in no state to talk them out of this either.

The moment stretched.

“Surprise?” Keeley finally ventured, voice high and breathy. She shimmied her hands and it broke the spell.

Rebecca broke into loud, unrestrained laughter. A few others joined in, more still shouting over each other in a sudden explosion of sound. The words Roy managed to make out amidst the cacophony seemed split between declarations of being proven right, or complaints that this was why surprise parties were stupid.

No one looked angry. Trent Crimm looked entirely too fucking smug. But there wasn’t a trace of disgust or outrage on any face that Roy could see.

A weight he hadn’t really been brave enough to acknowledge floated right off his shoulders.

Reassured that they weren’t about to have to fight for their jobs, Roy turned his attention back to Jamie, who had startled when the noise started up and still had a vice grip on the front of Roy’s shirt.

He wasn’t pale now, a flush painting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. His eyes were darting around, looking, Roy knew, for the same signs of rejection he had.

“Oi.” Roy squeezed his wrist gently. Jamie jumped again and snatched back his hands at the reminder of their proximity. He met Roy’s eyes though, a tremulous, hopeless smile in place.

Before either of them could say anything, Isaac’s booming voice cut through the room.

“Is this what all that ‘extra training’ was about?”

“Eh, no!” Jamie shot back, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Look at me, you think you put on this kind of muscle in the bedroom?”

“Depends how you’re doing it.” Jan offered, which was a mildly terrifying train of thought Roy was not going to pursue.

“I can’t believe neither of you told me!” That was Keeley, somehow managing to look elated and put out at the same time.

“We haven’t told anyone.” Jamie whined. “Haven’t even told me mum yet. She’s never gonna forgive me.”

“I’m sure introducing her to Roy Kent will help smooth that over.” Rebecca said, eyes still bright with laughter and smirk firmly in place as she gave Roy the once over.

“I’ve already met her,” he snapped, the attention grating at him. “And it’s fucking new, alright? We didn’t need you lot sticking your noses in, and we still fucking don’t.”

There were a few grumbles but his typical Kentian reaction seemed to calm the rabble a bit.

“Question?” Sam raised a hand politely. “How long has this been going on, exactly?”

“About a month, I think.” Roy did a double-take and stared at Will, who had just cheerfully chipped in that (accurate) information from the corner.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jamie covered his face with his hands. “Boot room?”

“Boot room.” Will confirmed sagely and Roy just knew his own face was turning red now.

“Boot room?” Trent sounded even more smug than he looked. Roy growled at him.

He was quickly distracted, however, when he noticed cash changing hands among the players and - in a mortifying twist of events - Higgins.

“You had a fucking betting pool?” Jamie’s voice rose in pitch and volume, incredulous and offended. “I were over here, having a crisis about a crush on our manager and you were betting on it?”

He was looking specifically at Colin and Dani, who both shrugged.

“It was not a crush.” Dani argued. “You’ve been head over heels for years. It just took you longer than everyone else to realise it.”

“Look at it this way.” Colin continued, blithely accepting a wad of notes from Richard. “At least we were confident it was going to happen.”

Jamie glowered and threw up his hands.

“I regret everything. I never should have fucking come out to you lot. You- Wait a minute.” He stopped mid-rant, blinking at the all but forgotten cake. “Did you all plan a surprise party for Roy and not invite me?!”

A few people did at least have the grace to wince at that.

“Thing is, babe,” Keeley started gently. “You tell Roy everything.”

“Kind of ruins the ‘surprise’ part.” Moe agreed. “We figured you’d be with him, anyway. You usually are.”

“Which makes all the sense in the world, now.” Trent observed and didn’t cower nearly enough under Roy’s vicious glare.

Jamie pouted, tucking his hands into the ends of his sleeves. “Don’t tell him everything.” he objected petulantly. “I can keep a secret.”

“We know.” Sam sidled a bit closer, smile genuine and voice cajoling. “The point is, we didn’t want you to have to. Even if it’s a nice thing, it can be hard to keep something from someone you, ah…”

He trailed off, glancing between the two of them.

“Care about.”

That was oddly touching, Roy thought, but Jamie still looked on the verge of being genuinely upset. This wasn’t when or how they’d talked about telling people.

“Right.” He clapped his hands together, bringing all the eyes in the room back to himself. “If it’s my fucking party, then what I say goes. First off, no one breathes a word about this outside of the people in this room.”

He glared around, making sure the gravity of that statement set in. There wasn’t as much fear as there might have been a year ago but he thought there was a tad more respect, at least.

“Second, we’re going to cut the fucking cake now. I will blow out a single candle. No bloody singing.”

A round of nodding. More than they’d expected, probably.

“And third.” He slipped his hand into Jamie’s, easing his fingers out of their grip on his shirt’s fabric with the movement. “I don’t want to hear a single fucking catcall, innuendo or double entendre when we leave together, got it? Today or any other day.”

The team especially looked disappointed but enough of them seemed to have taken notice of Jamie’s defensive posture that there wasn’t too much outcry. Keeley raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, hoping his blush had died down.

“Glad we’re all on the same page. Now get to it.”

A hubbub of activity took over again as everyone returned to what they had been doing when Roy and Jamie unexpectedly burst into their party preparations. Music started up from someone’s phone and the sound of a champagne bottle being opened triggered a bunch of cheers.

Jamie shuffled in close again.

“Thanks.” he said quietly, swinging their joined hands a little. “You didn’t have to.”

“They’re a bunch of muppets.” Roy told him. “But no one here’s out to get us. It’s not… I know it’s not what we talked about but. It’s okay, right?”

Jamie nodded, chewing his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, course it is.” He huffed. “Can’t believe those two just made a mint off of me misery.”

“Misery?”

Jamie turned a little pink again and knocked his hip against Roy’s. “Got drunk at the end of season party last year. Ended up spilling my guts to Dani about how I felt about you. He roped in Colin to deal with the whole bisexuality thing, and both of them were sworn to secrecy.”

It pained Roy a little bit, to think of Jamie pining unhappily while he was still getting his head on straight. Or not straight, as it were.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make them pay for it.” Roy offered and Jamie’s expression cleared. He narrowed his eyes at the lads in question and hummed.

That didn’t bode well for them.

“And, since it’s a special occasion, I won’t mind you having a drink and a bit of cake.”

Jamie properly brightened at that and (quickly, shyly) kissed Roy’s cheek. It was so much more innocent than what they’d been doing just a few minutes ago but it threatened to make Roy weak at the knees.

He shoved at Jamie playfully and he grinned as he moved away and let himself be absorbed into the throng of people. Sam slung an arm around his shoulders immediately.

Beard sidled up into the now vacant space next to Roy.

“I’m going to tell Ted,” he informed him, sounding almost apologetic. Almost.

Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. But if he sends me anything with rainbows on it, you’ll be the one fucking burning it.”

[madamekaji]

— Does Heiji Shindo hate Abijah Fowler?

Yappathon incoming… Fowdo posting, unsurprising, but mostly focusing on my view of Heiji’s character and “feelings.”

CW • Old man yaoi /j

Then why would he betray him? Why would he attempt to scheme behind his back, and plot his murder? Does this not scream hatred?

No. Rather, I believe it screams survival. I believe it was, in Heiji’s mind, the smartest move to play to ensure that he ended up on top. Though, let’s start from the beginning.

They live together in an oddly culturally blended home for 1600s Japan. And while Fowler has to remain in this castle, as it is- in his words, “his cage”- Heiji is by no means held to this same standard. He can come and go as he pleases, and yet he has his very own furnishings in the castle of the man he claims to despise.

When does this point of contempt get mentioned first, anyways? It is during the tea party with Mizu in 01x03. And why is it mentioned? Once again, survival. It is worth noting that rather than being upfront with such a proposition, he tries to manipulate Mizu out of hunting him- And Fowler- down with bribes of great wealth and a strong title. Though, when this offer does not work- as I am sure he had hoped it would- he is then forced to come up with another plan. And what better way than to play off of then someone’s feelings?

Mizu hates Fowler, this much is obvious. Heiji is trapped down in a canyon with two well trained and skilled fighters, and while he does have archers hidden in the cliff face around them, there is surely no way that they can fire their arrows without either him being killed before they even get the chance, or him being killed by the barrage of arrows from above. He realizes that he can’t influence this impending storm with commerce, so he instead chooses the next best thing, and attempts to align himself with Mizu, believing that this would earn him her favor.

Once inquired why he wants Fowler dead, his response is that it is personal. And once further inquired, he states that his reasons are his own. Then, there is a pause; and after the pause, he contradicts his original statement by saying “no.. no, they’re not.” Every one of his reasons for “hating” Abijah are vague in nature and enunciated with far too much drama, as if he is trying to convince Mizu that he was being truthful. While I would never expect someone such as Heiji to pour his heart and soul out to… Anyone, it is interesting to note that he can’t seem to come up with any real reason as to wishing him killed.

His promises are flimsy. He can’t commit to the idea of genuinely helping Mizu, and it’s apparent. Once questioned by Taigen about what would happen once Mizu kills Fowler, all Heiji can muster is that he can guarantee “her safety to a blades length of Fowler’s neck.” He wipes his hands together indicate that business is done, before walking away. It is notable, that from Taigen inquiring on, Heiji begins to become more agitated; indicating that he most likely never intended for Mizu to leave the castle. If he even would somehow slip Mizu through all 8 levels of security to get to where Fowler was, I do truly believe Heiji expected Fowler to kill her. However, he needs her to believe that he is on her side; because if she doesn’t, it very well could be his head.

Maybe if he had stuck with his original statement- “My reasons are my own”- it could have been believable. Maybe, if Mizu had not approached him and asked the question that essentially sealed his fate, things could have worked out for him. Maybe, if he didn’t continue to wear the flower Abijah had pinned oh so lovingly to his robe, his lie wouldn’t have been so obviously seen though.

If Heiji truly hated Abijah he wouldn’t be living in his castle, wearing his flowers, eating at his dining table and having any level of faith in his overarching plans. If Heiji hated Abijah, surely his lip would curl upon being so up close and personal with “That Stink.” If Heiji hated Abijah, surely some level of distaste for his explosive tantrums and overtly offensive.. Everything, would put him off. Heiji has not been shy to complain, to express agitation and distaste. Surely, if he truthfully hated Abijah, he wouldn’t have put himself on the line for something that- ultimately- had nothing to do with him. He didn’t hate Abijah, and it cost him his arm. It almost costed him his life.

So now we ask the question again. Why does Heiji betray Abijah?

Understandably, his faith in Abijah is flimsy. Nothing about a human trafficking murderous drug lord with a sick kick for sadomasochistic tendencies screams trustworthy. Though while he was not off put by the things he should have been- if anything, probably finding solidarity with it- he was rattled by the fact that his relationship with this man had nearly killed him. And while I definitely think the illusion of being untouchable shattering right in front of him was the final straw, It is worth looking at who Heiji is as a person.

He is self serving, weasly, charismatic, cunning and a complete and total control freak. And while he isn’t as obvious about it as Fowler is, it is displayed multiple times in the show. When he feels as if he is not being listened to, he responds explosively, and being foolish enough to grab the arm of an armed stranger while trying to force them into a barrel is a pretty good example of how reason is lost whenever he begins to panic.

Fowler is not ideal or trustworthy. And while he is.. Fond of him, so to speak, he doesn’t mean much more to him other than an avenue to success, with bonus perks like flattering attention.

Now this is where we start to get into speculation.

Heiji is dependent on Abijah for success, to attain his goal. Without his European asset smuggling in trump cards, there would be no way to overthrow the shogunate; at least nothing someone like Heiji could string together on his own. Abijah, for years, made him richer than imaginable and essentially promised him the world and more. And Heiji lived lavishly in luxury and comfort, anxiously anticipating his future role as the Shogun. Though why would he ever put all of his faith into a man who thinks just as he does?

I think Heiji believed that their relationship was only a transactional one (in a way he is most definitely right) and that Abijah saw him just as he saw Abijah: an Asset. Why would such a domineering and controlling man ever share such power? He’s a remorseless killer, Heiji has seen what he is capable of. He never truly knows if he’s safe with Fowler because he is incapable of trusting him, and that is safest. For him, it was kill or be killed. And the closer to their metaphorical D-Day, the more this realization dawns on Heiji. Their time together is running up.

But even if Fowler didn’t kill Heiji when his usefulness expired, surely someone would. To have a foreigner in such a position of power would be certain to cause revolts, and their siege of the shogunate would surely inspire many. Even if he didn’t die in some coup, his connection with such a controversial face would surely put a target on his back. So with the combination of (fair) paranoia and of being scorned, as well as a lack of any real emotional connection in the first place, it would be easy to turn on him so quickly.

Then why would he want to kill him? He specifies in his letter to Chiba that he would have the pleasure of killing Fowler himself.

Personally, I think it is because he believes that he is the only one who should be able to. Their relationship, however you wish to view it, runs deep and is as personal as someone with the emotional capacity of a grape can get. They have been up each other’s asses for AT LEAST ten years, possibly longer. Heiji is just as sadistic as Fowler is, and watching the life drain from those green eyes is probably something he has fantasized of for a long time. No one else deserves such a privilege other them him.

Does Heiji Love Abijah? No, he’s incapable. But does he hate him? No. Abijah is a means to an end. An interesting and attractive (to him) means to an end, an entertaining one, but at the end of it all he was just a chance that Heiji took to actually become something more then what he was, a pathetic salesman.

Unfortunately for him, he got to learn the hard way that he was never the one in control. Fortunately (?) for him, Abijah decided to give him another chance. And Heiji learned very quickly to not make a mistake like that again.

[aimedis]

redacted characters as things in my journal 🎀

relatively big tw - there's like vague to explicit mentions of su!cid3 and heavily implied mental self-esteem struggles in this one (i'm alright at the moment, promise) so if that's triggering to you, don't read. this is kinda heavy and maybe disturbing to read to some people i think.

i decided to do this because i though it was kinda fun and cool to like analyse my stuff and the characters a little bit. sorry if this offends anyone ig? idk 😭 i'll be back with the more lighthearted stuff in a couple days okay let's go ->

darlin: "my feelings aren't in my control most of the time. i don't know why i feel this way."

angel before they broke up with micheal: "i think is funny (but i also feel bad) that he's always talking about "getting married" and "forever" when i have a break up letter sitting in my notes."

freelancer: lyrics to "making the bed - olivia rodirgo"

darlin: "i don't wanna talk about him anymore."

damien: "i just want my mom. and i wish i could go up to her just bawling my fucking eyes out like i'm five-years-old without feeling like a fucking failure but i can't... i've survived long enough and i can do it some more."

darlin before sam: "and a part of me will always miss what once was or could have been. but i know they will never be long term, permanent, or reality. i wasn't created to have a happy ending... but i'm okay with this. it makes it easier to slip away and disappear."

cutie: i don't know what so say really. i just feel empty and alone often. i feel out of place. i feel like everything i do is humiliating or straight up wrong. i don't know what's wrong with me."

gavin: "try as i might, i still feel like i am not in my body. living vicariously... through myself?"

baabe: "i should know. my dad didn't want me enough to stay."

lasko: "man what a fucking baby. stop crying over shit that hasn't even happened."

damien before huxley: "i wish i was dead. do you think if [mom] knew she'd wish that too?" (knew that he was gay)

lovely: lyrics to "strangers - ethel cain"

darlin: "i hope it's not my fault when it's all over. i want one thing to not be my fault. but it probably will be."

angel: "why am i crying. again. over and over and over again. it's all i ever do. cry about this or cry about that."

milo post-inversion: "this hurts a lot more than i thought. the thought of feeling like this forever? it sucks."

freelancer: "fucking kill me. i can't breathe."

sam: "is it wrong to think i don't deserve this or that it's not my fault?"

lasko: "it feels like i'm always apologizing."

david: "it really hurts when i need to talk to [him] so bad but i can't."

huxley post-inversion/xavier's death: "is it just always going to feel like this? holy shit this hurts."

damien: "i'm sorry, mom, i'm sorry."

vincent: "the real me? i don't know who that is anymore."

angel: "one more or one less, nobody's worried. my tummy hurts."

darlin before sam: "i don't plan on feeling like this again. i don't plan on "being in love" ever again. as if i know what that feels like... it makes me feel like shit all the time."

cutie: "after this, i'll go back to being alone. like god intended."

asset: "it's kind of sad how i don't even feel like a person sometimes."

lovely: "every so often it hurts so much i think it's gonna rip me apart from the inside."

asher post-inversion: "and it's like, sometimes it straight up feels like i'm gonna die in that moment."

sweetheart: "my greatest sin to men was being a child."

damien: lyrics to "forwards beckon rebound - adrianne lenker"

[shewrites02]

400 FOLLOWER ONE PIECE EVENT !!!

Thank you so much for all the love and support ! I really can't express how much serotonin you all give me on daily basis. This event is for me to give back to all of you !

Request: Closed

Rules:

Submit an ask with character and prompt. You can be as vague or as detailed as you would like in your requests. I love angst if you can't tell by my other stories , so I can't always promise a happy ending. Please specify if that is something important to you.

I am currently watching the Wano arc so I my writing tends to leans more post- time skip. If you would like to avoid spoilers just let me know what arc you are currently at!

I am not very confident in my ability to write gender neutral, just because it is not something I do often, but I am defiantly willing to give it m best try.

No NSFW. I can make it suggestive but that's like the most I have in me lol.

Characters I'm so confident in: Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Robin,

Characters I'm terrified to write for but will : Luffy , Ace, Law, Shanks

“Be honest. I’m not the one you want to grow old with, right?”

“I don’t think I can ever experience love like I’ve experienced it with you.”

“You really were my everything, and what’s worse is you’ll always be; even if being with you hurt me.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

"You want me, don't you?"

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“Don’t say that to me. That’s not fair.” -Luffy

“Don’t lie to me. I was there.” 

“What a disappointment I must be to you.”

“It is a Captain’s duty, after all, to mind for the worst case, not for the one he hopes for.”

“There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is the time to be quiet, [_].”

“I’m only going to say this once. You’re the only one I think about, day in, day out. And it’s so fucking scary, feeling like this.”

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.”

“You said you loved me last night.” “Drunk words don’t mean shit.” -Zoro

“Shouldn’t a happy relationship heal you rather than destroy you?”

“I wish I hated you. It would make things so much simpler.” 

Prompt Creds:

@dumplingsjinson (1-3)(13-16) @belatedbday69 (4-8) @thunderprompts (9-11)

Operation Olive Branch Spreadsheet

I know everyone may not have the means to donate, but if by some chance you have an extra $5 to spare please consider donating it to the families trying to escape the Gaza strip.

Please be patient with me when it comes to wait time. I will be filling request in between finishing my series Forgive Me, if I break You. So it may take me some time. Again thank you to everyone that does make a submission. I am so excited, I hope that this goes well. lol

[clover-system]

Allow us to introduce ourselves

Half a year active, over a hundred followers, the majority of which are veteran tumblers from that one 60k note explosion, and we still haven't properly introduced ourselves. Time to fix that.

We are Clover, an endogenic plural system. That means we are multiple people sharing one brain and body, and we aren't plural because of trauma. We do not have DID. (nor do the vast majority of endos)

I am Quincy, the headmate who fronts the most. Quincy is not my real name, but it could've been, and it's an alias I've been using for a few years.

Edit 2024 August 1: Quincy split into Eliza and Mia. Eliza's egg opened easily. Mine crumbled painfully. We now share the host role and this blog. There isn't much difference between us; we both inherited Quincy's memories.

Edit September 18: I live.

There are a lot of people on here who say that it's impossible for a plural system to form without trauma, but as you may have seen from our syscourse (system discourse (expect a lot of sys- compounds)) reblogs, they rarely cite any credible sources, and that's because they're wrong. I am not a LARPer and I do not claim to have DID. This really is every hour of my life, online and offline. If you have any more questions about plurality, feel free to send me an ask.

Though if we're talking about origins, "not from trauma" is overly vague for my taste. If we're really talking about how the system formed, I prefer "dreamgenic", because everyone originated from some combination of nightdreams and immersive daydreams which I had varying levels of control over.

The second most active headmate, Victoria Penelope, has her own blog @victoria-penelope-clover. She posts more infrequently, when she's able to front/cofront/proxy, and is currently mostly focused on syscourse, with occasional slices of life. She's my older syster.

Headcount is currently in the upper teens. Some more may be mentioned occasionally but I'd rather not have a list of private details about everyone easily accessible here for anyone to see. For the most part, all you'll see every once in a while is some colored text indicating a distinct voice.

Anyway, enough plural stuff! Now for typical bio stuff!

Fleed Reddit to come here and wow Tumblr is way better. Always happy to commune with fellow Rexxitors!

For obsession I circle between Chess, Minecraft, Geometry Dash, Warrior Cats, and Undertale. Fandoms I am on the edge of getting sucked into include The Amazing Digital Circus and Death Note. I also plan to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender at some point. Ever since our syscovery, I've consumed next to no fiction for fear of more headmates.

I have a few projects in the works but I've promised myself that I won't post them publicly until I've actually made substantial progress!

No DNI! Maybe it's just because I'm not jaded by years of wasted time with unproductive trolls, but I think assuming someone is in bad faith just because they disagree with you about something heated is bad actually, partly because I've seen what happens and how long progress takes when left-of-center people generally refuse to interact with, for example, transphobes. Relatedly, I will only block you if I think you're a bot or if you really, really fuck up.

Do not be surprised if I casually shit on something you believe in without warning.

I have an ever-growing queue set to post five times per day, and I try not to post too much more than that. I also try to keep my dash at less than 100 posts per day, which is apparently uncommon here.

Reblog reblog reblog! Not just my posts, but everyone (unless you have a good reason not to, like with this intro post). Reblogs are what keep Tumblr alive! Likes do next to nothing.

That's all for now! If you have any more questions, send me an ask and I might add it to this post!

[leiawritesstories]

Ahaha, I have another because I’m greedy 🙈 But this prompt for Rowaelin, please??:

I put you down as my emergency contact because I don’t know anyone else in the city, and we literally only met in passing, please forgive me but I am stuck at the ER and they won’t let me leave without you.

Thank you!

hehehehe okay so both you and @tomtenadia asked for this one and I really really hope this delivers 😈😁🥰

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 2.2k oops

Warnings: some angst and hurt BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT I PROMISE and it's followed by so much comfort

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin blinked back into reality and found herself in a hospital bed, her body covered in a cotton gown, aches and dulled pains creeping back into her consciousness as her head cleared. She shifted and found her left arm in a sling, immobilized. She shook her head gently, trying to bring up the memories of just how the hell she'd ended up in the emergency room instead of back at her hotel.

"Good to see you awake," a woman's voice said from her right. Aelin turned her head to find a nurse, about her own age, clad in the same blue scrubs as the other staff. "You've been asleep for a solid few hours, probably thanks to the medication."

"Wh-what happened?" Aelin croaked.

The nurse pressed her lips together. "Do you remember a car accident?"

Oh.

Just like that, the memories flooded back. Aelin had been sitting in the back of a taxi, heading from a coffee shop where she'd been at a casual post-session meeting back to her hotel in downtown Doranelle. As the taxi had driven through an intersection, a driver had run the red light in the opposite direction and hit the rear side of the taxi. Her memories got a little fuzzy after that, mostly just snippets of shock, confusion, flashing lights and sirens, and a vague recollection of being loaded into an ambulance.

"You remember?" the nurse asked. Aelin nodded. "Good. That's a good sign that you likely don't have a concussion." She scratched a few notes onto her clipboard. "Now that you're awake, we can finish discharging you. You're stable, so we won't need you to stay here."

"So I can go home?" Aelin signed the papers the nurse handed her.

"No."

"What do you mean, I can't go home?" Still a little out of it from the medication they'd given her, Aelin blinked at the ER nurse. "You just told me I don't need to stay."

"Let me clarify, then," the nurse replied. "You've been cleared to go home, but you have not been cleared to go home alone. You'll need someone to take you--and no, a taxi or an Uber doesn't count." A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips at Aelin's disgruntled frown. "It's for your safety, Miss Galathynius. We don't want to see our ER patients back here within a few hours because they tried to do something they shouldn't have done."

Aelin sighed. "All right. You can call my emergency contact." She leaned back into the hospital bed. "I'd ask you to call my parents, but they live over a thousand miles away, so that isn't possible."

"As long as you have an emergency contact on file, that will be fine." The nurse placed Aelin's normal clothes in a small pile on the chair next to the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes to let you know who's coming for you."

"Thanks." Aelin managed a half smile before tilting her head back and groaning. Gods. Of all the days and times to wind up in the ER, it had to be now, during her work trip to Doranelle. At least their healthcare system was well-funded and well-run; the staff who she vaguely remembered tending to her when she came in were polite, professional, and expertly trained. Muffling a grunt, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripped the handrail, and stood up slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her legs at once. Shakily, she managed to stand up and reach for her clothes.

There, she got stuck. She couldn't get out of her hospital gown alone because the damn thing was tied in the back and her damn arm was in a sling to immobilize her injured shoulder.

She'd just screamed a string of foul curses into the pillow when there was a knock on the door and the nurse reappeared. "Good news, Miss Galathynius! A Mr. Rowan Whitethorn is on his way to pick you up."

Ah, shit. The thought of Rowan Whitethorn seeing her like this was almost enough to make her wish she'd been kept at the hospital.

"All right," was what she told the nurse. "I hope he's bringing food, because I am bloody hungry."

The nurse laughed. "I'm sure he'll be able to get you all the food you want once you're out of here." She handed Aelin a small paper bag. "There is a small quantity of pain medicine in here. I'd recommend taking it once or twice a day, depending on how severe your pain is, for the next four to seven days. You can take over-the-counter pain medications as well. After seven days, stop taking the prescription medication. If there's any left, you can bring it to any pharmacy here and they'll discard it."

Aelin nodded along. "Okay. Thank you." She flashed a soft smile at the nurse, who'd been nothing but kind to her.

"Of course." The nurse offered her a small smile in return and left the room.

Aelin considered whether or not it would be worth attempting to get into her normal clothes before Rowan got there and decided that it wasn't. If he had to walk her out of the hospital still wearing the godsdamned gown, then he would. Damn shoulder.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Rowan Whitethorn pushed open the door and burst into the hospital room. His crisply pressed suit was disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, his collar undone, and his eyes were wild, almost panicky, as he crossed the room in two long strides and cupped Aelin's face in his hands.

"What the hell?!" She pulled away from him, hissing at the sharp twinge of pain caused by the sudden movement.

He stepped back, hands up. "You what the hell? Give me a fucking heart attack, why don't you, Galathynius?"

She rolled her eyes. "You barely even know me, Whitethorn. Shut it with the heart attack nonsense."

"No." He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "Why the hell am I your emergency contact?"

"Because I'm a thousand miles from home, I don't live here, and you're the only person at this fucking seminar that's bothered to learn my name." The small rant spilled out of Aelin before she could stop it. "I needed to have someone on file, and your stupid face is the first name I thought of. You're lucky I had your business card, or I'd be stuck here until I convinced the nurse that I could Uber back to my hotel without dying."

Rowan's cranky expression morphed into mild shock, then concern. "So you weren't going to explain why in all hell your arm is in a sling and there's bruises all over you?"

"They're not all over me," she huffed. "There's some minor bruising on my clavicles, arms, and left cheek. And anyone who asks why I'm wearing a sling deserves to be told to shut the fuck up."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "Fine. I'll drive you back to your hotel." He offered one hand.

She held up her good hand. "Not so fast, Mr. Business. I need to change into my own clothes." She frowned. "But with this bloody sling, I can't get the gown untied."

To her immense shock, a blush spread up his angled cheekbones. "Um...should I call the nurse?"

"This is an ER, Whitethorn, not the regular hospital ward," she deadpanned. "I've been discharged, so as far as they're concerned, I'm no longer their patient. You can help me."

His blush deepened. "I..." He cleared his throat, schooling his face back into its usual impassive mask. "Fine. Tell me what you need help with."

She turned, presenting her back. "Untie the gown, please."

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "she's trying to kill me" and carefully untied the gown, keeping his hands as far from her skin as possible. Which wasn't very far, since he was literally undressing her.

Aelin was still wearing her bra and underwear beneath the gown, and because she wanted to have a little fun, she let the gown drop to the floor instead of holding it up to herself. Rowan emitted a strangled cough and wheezed behind her. She smirked. "Is something wrong, Whitethorn?"

"Nothing," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Where are your clothes?"

"On the chair. Hand me my pants, please." He did, and she pulled on her slacks. "Blouse." The blouse was a little more trouble. Aelin got it halfway on and stopped, unable to wrangle her sling arm into the unbuttoned blouse. "Shit."

"Here." Unexpectedly, Rowan had picked up her sweater and draped it over her injured arm, careful to keep his touch light. He let her slip her good arm into the other sleeve, then buttoned the three big buttons on the front of the loose sweater. "Does that help?"

"Yes." She flashed him a small, hesitant grin. "Thanks."

He clutched his chest. "Polite words from Aelin Galathynius? What world is this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a jackass, Whitethorn, just let me grab my purse and we can get the hell out of here."

"Not so fast." He snatched her purse before she could reach it. "Are you supposed to be carrying this?"

"I still have one good arm," she sighed. "Give it to me." He raised one pale brow in disbelief. "Yes, Whitethorn, I can carry my purse. It's not too heavy for the limit they gave me."

Satisfied with that answer, he handed her her purse and held the door open as she walked out. "I'm parked kind of far away," he admitted as they left the ER building. "Couldn't find a closer spot."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "It's my arm that's injured, not my legs."

Her traitorous legs chose that very moment to wobble, betraying her strong façade.

"Mhmm," Rowan drawled, a smirk curving his lips.

She scowled. "Shut it."

He mumbled something indecipherable and, without warning, lifted her off her feet. "We'll actually get somewhere if I don't have to put up with your toddling," he teased.

Aelin's mouth dropped open. "Toddling?!"

His smirk grew. "Tell me you weren't as unsteady as a toddler and I'll call you a liar, Ae." The nickname fell from his lips as easily as his dry sarcasm.

"You're horrid," she grumbled, folding her arms.

"And look at that, we're already at my car!" he announced, triumphant. She sighed and let him help her into the passenger seat.

As they headed down the streets towards downtown Doranelle, Rowan flicked a glance over at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Remember the accident that blocked up half of downtown earlier this afternoon?" she asked. He nodded. "I was in the taxi that got hit."

If he hadn't been driving, he would have stopped in his tracks. "You--what?"

"Rowan." Instinctively, she reached over and placed her good hand on his forearm. "I'm okay. It wasn't a huge crash."

"It wasn't--Aelin, do you know what happened at that intersection?"

"I remember my taxi getting hit."

His throat bobbed. "The driver that hit your taxi skidded on black ice and T-boned another vehicle. It was...it was bad."

She gasped. "I had no idea."

"Of course not," he murmured. "You were injured, Ae." He shifted one hand off the steering wheel so he could wrap it around her good hand. "There were some serious injuries, but everyone made it to the hospital in time and it seems like they're all stable. Police arrested the driver for DUII and reckless driving." His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand. "It's been all over the news and social media."

"I had no idea," she repeated, softly. "I...I'm glad everyone seems to be okay." She leaned back into the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive back to her hotel.

At the hotel, Rowan surprised her again by parking, helping her out of the car, and grabbing a small duffle bag from the backseat of his car before accompanying her inside.

"What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath as he walked beside her to the elevator, his steadying hand on her lower back.

"I've been given orders to see you safely home," he drawled, mirth lighting his eyes.

She frowned. "I'm at my hotel, in case you haven't noticed."

He nodded. "You are. And I'm going to make sure you get to your room safe and sound."

"You going to pat me on the head and tuck me into bed, too?" she griped.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind putting you to bed, Aelin," he whispered into her ear. The heat concealed in his lazy words barreled down her spine, awakening a part of her that had absolutely no business being so active when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.

She stepped out of the elevator before Rowan and led him down the hall to her room, where she stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed her key card to the lock. The small screen flashed green, the door unlocked, and with her hand on the half-open door, Aelin turned to face Rowan, her calm voice belying her thundering heart.

"Stay with me, Ro?"

More emotions than she could count flashed across his face. He followed her into the hotel room, closed the door, and leaned himself against the door frame, resting the weight of his gaze on her.

"I'd love to."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz