#I had never done enough damage to myself then for any of it to be permanent

[drdemonprince]

The conversations about accountability & apologies that we've been having in social justice circles these last few years have basically trained everybody to fawn.

We've been telling people that if they are accused of any wrongdoing or of hurting anybody's feelings, it is their obligation to apologize immediately, and never to hedge, disagree, or to explain their rationale what they've done.

In their apology, we expect them to articulate every single thing that they have done that was damaging in the strongest language possible and to declare outright that they have harmed someone, often multiple groups of people, even if they are not sure of the impact (or could not even possibly be sure).

If a person's apology is anything but immediate and entirely self-excoriating, we accuse the person of downplaying the damage they have done, failing to be accountable, and manipulating others.

In this way, we've made it impossible for a person to ever take their own side lest that be taken itself as a form of wrongdoing. We have trained our fellow social-justice-minded people to believe that if they do anything but worsen the case against themselves, they are being irresponsible.

I say we, in all of this, because I have partaken in all of this rhetoric, made these kinds of criticism, given accused people this type of advice.

And I have followed it myself, often to a damaging effect.

I have taken responsibility for problems in which I truly did not believe I played a part, I've overstated the damage that I've done so as not to risk understating it, I've ascribed malice to my intentions when I knew it wasn't there, I've agreed with people's most negative, bad-faith narratives about conflicts involving me that they were not even present for, offered up information about myself that was not a third party's business in the name of transparency, apologized for things I haven't done -- and in doing all of this, I have denied my loved ones the opportunity to really hear me about what I was going through and my motivations when I was in conflict with them, things that any true friend or close associate would obviously want to hear about if they cared about me.

This aim of giving the perfect apology and taking perfect accountability has been nothing but an isolating force in my life, because it has barred me from openly entering into necessary conflict with people when our needs were incompatible or they had hurt me just as much as I'd hurt them. The fear of being a manipulative, unaccountable DARVO-er has led me to roll onto my back and expose my belly, falling over myself with panicked apologies and the most unflattering information possible cast in the least explicable light, almost outright begging for others to become angrier at me and believing that it was only way I could ever possibly be accepted back.

We've drilled into people that the way to be good and responsible is to allow people to view us as negatively as possible, to even arm others with information that will confirm that point of view, and to never insert our own perspective or needs on the matter at all.

And yeah, there are a lot of shitty people out there who dodge accountability easily because their power ensconces them from any consequences. but the primary problem with that was never that they wrote a shitty notesapp apology that used the unforgivable phrase "I am sorry if you felt XYZ." The real problem was that there was no community that held enough influence to hold them to account, and for their victims there weren't ever adequate supports or protections.

instead of addressing any of that in a remotely systematic way, we have taken to picking apart every accused person's every word and deed for evidence of inner moral failure and created a culture in which we think we can determine a person's safety by how artfully they put words together when they are under threat. and what do you know, plenty of bad faith actors and conflict avoidant cowards and people who just dont understand what they are even being accused of can do that just fine.

[quokkaholic]

Otaku Hot Boys minsung

Warnings/tags: MDNI, smut w/plot, friends to ?poly?, picking on reader, cussing, light degradation, some mxm but like its not the focus, giggly, sweet, threesome with some body worship, oral both, protected👏 p in v, subby!Han bc i can’t stop myself, dom!Lee know the dynamics only extend to the reader, shy/embarrassed reader, weeb slander. This is biased towards Han bc I too am biased towards Han. Lightly edited

Synopsis: At your weekly "otaku club" to discuss all things manga/anime with your two close friends, they seem to be a bit too interested in your recent spike in bl media enjoyment. 

Terms for you non-losers: bl/yaoi- boys love or media centered on gay relationships, gl/yuri- girls love or media centered on lesbian relationships, otaku- person consumed by their interests (typically anime, manga, video games, etc.), fujoshi-means rotten girl, it's typically a girl who is really into bl media

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Tonight is the night. The night you look forward to every week. It's your friends’ otaku club, the night where you and your two fellow weebs get together to talk about any new media you’ve consumed usually centered around anime and manga. You've been steeped in this type of media since the moment you were introduced to it years ago. So much so that, you even became a part time worker at your local manga cafe/bookstore. Beyond supplying some extra income, the employee discount is unbeatable. At work is actually where you met the guys.

Minho wandered in one day, drawn in by the cheerful anime themes bumping through the speakers and the promise of cute, themed drinks. After ordering a pudding latte, he browsed the isles for what seemed like an eternity, long enough that you actually went to offer assistance, which you never do. Generally speaking, anime lovers aren’t the most comfortable in social situations, and you were no exception. Plus, the type of person that comes to a manga cafe tends to know what they like, or came in for a specific title. 

He had done a few laps around the place before you decided it was enough, you had to say something. Begrudgingly, you placed down the volume you were enjoying, being careful to keep your spot but not damage the book, as you weren’t intending on buying it. If you bought every volume of every manga you read, you’d be hugely indebted to this place, more than you already are; the owner, luckily, is cool enough to allow you to take some books home and just deduct the total from your next paycheck. After cautiously approaching the seemingly lost Minho, you greeted him,

“Hi, is there something I can help you find?” your ears heated at simply having to speak to him. 

“Oh no!” he responded quickly, surprised as you had pulled him out of his mind and back to reality, 

“I’ve never been here and was just looking around; you guys have a great selection, good mix of the new, classic, and obscure,” he complimented between sips. The nerves had you briefly spacing out on the chunks of pudding rising up the straw, snapping out of it when you noticed the silence. It was your turn to talk, 

“Yes, thank you, I’ll be sure to tell the owner. She’ll really appreciate that. Well—let me know if you need anything,” you rushed away, retreating back to the stool behind the counter to pick up reading where you left off. Minho continued to look around for a while, occasionally picking up a book to read the back cover or sample the art style. He remained until he finally checked his phone, eyes bugging at the time displayed. He practically ran out the door, but not before apologizing for not buying anything and promising he would return with his roommate, and he did later that week. 

You three were not fast friends. They, like your typical customer, kept to themselves. Similar to Minho, Han’s first time in the store was spent in awe, walking up and down the same isles trying to take in the entire stock while sucking down the chocolatiest drink on the menu. After that, they were regulars. Visiting at least once a week, buying a few volumes or anime merch each but sometimes just visiting for a sweet treat of tea or coffee.

Though you never talked to them outside of your scripted retail speech, you were always happy to see them in the store. They were admittedly pleasant to look at, but beyond that they were always kind and friendly to you, and it was cute to see the best friends interact.

You longed for a relationship like that. You had a few good friends, but none of them shared your interest in this form of media. You could talk about it with customers, but you could never share your unadulterated opinions or gossip about characters with the strangers. On top of being a joy to look at and interact with, the guys actually had good and diverse tastes, not just solely interested in shonen, action, and fanservice. You had actually picked up a few of the stories they had bought from you. Some you had heard of and some were definitely outside of your typical genres, but they were all shockingly good, one of them even making it into your top tier. After finishing their unknowing recommendations, you’d toy with the idea of complementing their choices, practicing what you’d say if you saw them at work. 

Of course, they would never come in on the days where you had built up the courage to say something, and you’d tell yourself you were disappointed, but it was secretly a relief. Then, when they would be there, you’d find some other reason not to say anything, maybe they looked like they were in a hurry, or were too deep in their own conversation, or you’d simply psyched yourself out of it by convincing yourself that they would be weirded out by how much attention you pay to their purchases.

This went on for weeks until finally Jisung crossed that customer/employee line for you. He eagerly strode up to the counter, Minho following leisurely in toe, with the first volume of the manga you were currently enjoying at your post by the register, 

“I’ve seen you reading this series the last few times we’ve come in, is it any good?” he’d asked cooly, placing it along with a few others in front of you to ring up. His impassioned energy and deviation from your usual interaction, made your heart race and stomach flip. You didn’t or maybe couldn’t respond, just stared as he minorly fumbled around checking all his pockets for his wallet. You stayed like that for a few moments until Minho finally arrived at the counter, casually reaching into his jacket and pulling out the man's wallet and handing it to him only after bumping him with his elbow in a silent scold for misplacing the wallet for the umpteenth time. 

“Oh— yeah. It’s definitely worth a read; I have my issues with the plot, but stunning art makes up for it,” you’ve probably already said too much. You’re paid to make sales, not to be a manga critic, but Jisung doesn’t make any moves to put the book back. He just hands you his card like always, before asking,

“Really, like what?” That’s where the friendship started. That day, they stayed leaned up against the counter until the end of your shift discussing their recent reads and watches and asking your opinions on the classics to gauge how similar your tastes were, of which they were shockingly similar.

Although you were nervous at first, you had built at least a little rapport with them through the months of being their cashier, and talking about a major interest of yours made it that much easier to overcome any sort of social anxiety on both yours and their parts. Even after it was time for you to head home, Minho bought you a drink from the cafe, and you all found a quiet corner to continue your discussion. This became a regular occurrence. If you were there when they came in, and they didn’t have somewhere else to be, they’d spend time nerding out with you. Eventually, they learned your schedule, and made sure to come in on your shifts to hangout. It was never an issue beyond the occasional shush from reading customers when your “friendly” debates got a bit too rowdy.

You never liked the shift manager; they were unsympathetic and rude, doing things like denying time off requests for no good reason and timing breaks just to excerpt any semblance of power they had over the other workers. They even tried to get you in trouble for reading on the job, when you first started, but luckily the owner was able to pick up on the blatant absurdity of the complaint. Since then you didn’t have any more problems with them, but at the staff meeting when they made a “completely general” and “unpointed” comment about ensuring we weren’t neglecting job duties to “flirt with hot boys”, you knew they were talking straight at you. Despite always getting all you work done and then some, you knew you had to put an end to the on-the-clock book club, or it would become an actual problem, warranted or not. 

The thought of not getting to hang out with Jisung and Minho circulated your mind non-stop after the initial embarrassment and anger over getting indirectly called out at work. Not only were you anxious to have a weird friend breakup, you were sad that you could be back to having no one to talk to about your more niche interests. They’d never seemed interested in seeing you outside of work; would this be the end?

You endlessly mulled over how to deal with it until the very second they walked through the door on your next shift, their cheery faces dropped upon laying eyes on your obviously stressed demeanor. They’d whisper something back and forth before speed walking straight over to cautiously greet you.

“Hey guys,” you say, cringing at the thought of what you’re gonna say next, “so I may have gotten in some pseudo trouble and was told I can’t hangout at work any more,” you quickly spat out, trying to get it over with as soon as possible, and they just stared back expectedly, waiting for whatever has you so visibly upset, as if you didn’t just say it.

“That’s it?” Jisung asks as almost simultaneously Minho snarkily remarked,

“It's about time. You don’t get anything done when we’re here.” sending you a mocking disappointed glare. 

“I will not stand for the slander. Maybe from the manager, but not from you. I always get my tasks done while providing satisfactory customer service. It’s usually a race against the clock after you guys leave, but it always gets done,” you drone on, finding yourself getting a little defensive at his jest causing his smirk to widen to a full smile. You’ve grown to learn that Minho enjoys playful arguments maybe a little too much, but you attempt put an end to it before it can spiral,

“Whatever, I don’t need to defend myself to you,” 

“Not me, but maybe this manager of yours,” mocking you for not standing up for yourself. He’s poked fun at you before, so you know its a sign of his friendship, but as if on cue, sensing that you are taking the bait, Jisung butts back in,

“Really though is that it? Is that what has you worried?” You were the one staring back in anticipating and stunned,

“Of course I’m upset; I just said we can’t hangout anymore,” you tried to explain calmly, but you were feeling frantic due to their apparent lack of care at the idea of not talking anymore. Ji’s eyebrows knit together in utter confusion before looking over to his best friend who was looking once again disappointed in you with a slow shaking of his head.

“We can’t hang out here while you’re working,” he slows down his speech emphasizing the key parts of your mandate, hoping you can gather why they aren’t worried about the future of your relationship. While you remained confused, Jisung’s forehead relaxes as his face turns to one of realization, mouth forming a perfect O before returning to his just-entered-my-favorite-bookstore smile and shrugs his shoulders to brush off your concern before he offered the most obvious solution,

 “You’ll just start coming over to our place,” he stated, as if it were nothing. He didn’t ask, it was plain to them. You weren’t exiting their life, you were entering their apartment. Minho’s lazy shaking turned to nobbing as if he had been just waiting for you two to finally catch up. That was the end of that. They quickly grabbed what they came for but did stay and chat for a little, but only to make plans for you to come to their place that weekend. 

Such was the inception of your weekly otaku club, meeting at their place once a week or having a group call when schedules got too hectic. With weekly meetings, they quickly climbed the ranks, and have become some of your best friends.

This week was the first in person session you had in weeks, and you were beyond ecstatic, stopping at the store to grab drinks and desserts as they were providing the meal and snacks. Upon entering the familiar flat, you remove your shoes and head to the source of the delicious smell and friendly voices. You find the guys setting out the snack and plates for the food Minho must’ve cooked, it looks too good for Jisung to be responsible. 

After the meal, you all follow the cute book club ritual of pulling out the books you have been enjoying, and have a show and tell, even though you all already know what eachother are reading. Jisung is working through a sports drama you had recommended, and Minho explained the convoluted plot of the isekai he just got into. When it was your turn you lifted the brightly colored, second to last, volume of the series, you’ve absolutely flown through over the past week,

“I’m almost done with this romance. It’s kind of short, but I have really enjoyed it, and I feel like they took the story in a new and interesting direction,” you continue to give a brief synopsis of the story, leaving out any spoilers, in case they want to read it after you. They had a few questions about the plot and your feelings on it, but there was one blaring question they really wanted to know the answer to,

“What kind of romance?” Ji asked with an inquisitive expression, but it wasn’t pure, there was just a twinge of mischief in his eyes,

“It's an office romance,” you explain hesitantly, trying not to sound condescending as you just gave the summary. 

“Yeah?” Minho chimes in trying to draw the answer they really want out of you.

“Well the main guys are salarymen, so its an adult office romance,” your statement sound more like a question as the last words pitch up and die off. You go on, thinking there’s no way they are this dense, and they aren’t, but you might be. At the mention of the main characters being guys, they share a knowing look, silently communicating something to each other, leaving you out of their telepathic conversion. 

“Don’t make it weird! I read romance about all sorts of relationships,” they have matching stupid grins as they go back to munching on their food, letting you sit in your slight embarrassment at their implicative shared look. Minho gives that look that says, he’s trying to rile you up before askings nonchalantly, as if there are no intentions behind his words, 

“Wasn’t the last series you read yaoi as well?”

“I mean yeah, but Jisung recommended it! It was a good story,” Minho just gives a grunt of acknowledgement to say ‘sure whatever’. Jisung giggles at Minho’s antics, but doesn’t comment. He looks at you with a goofy smile and slight sympathy for the teasing as he searches your face for any signs that Minho is getting to you, but he of course is not. You’re used to banter from Minho, and honestly Jisung too. Maybe being away from you for so long had softened him up a bit, or maybe it was his favorite beer you had brought a case of. 

You thought it was the alcohol that buttered Jisung up, but instead the drinks just opened the razzing flood gates. The “bl lover” schtick continues through the evening. The poking fun is usually spread evenly among you three, and if one person becomes the butt of the joke for the night, it never continues to next week so as to not make anyone the punching bag. They love to tease, but are also very considerate about not crossing the line.

The hippocritic taunting continues no matter how many times you remind them of all the yuri, yaoi, and straight romances they themselves had brought to book club. Later, when you play a few rounds of video games, they add ‘fujoshi’ to the normal colorful language they use to curse your name the times you end up winning.

Sometimes you will pick a show to watch together, and although you guys decided to forgo that tonight in favor of catching up, you still pursue the streaming sites sharing insights to for next week, and they hover over every bl they come across and jokingly suggest it or ask you opinion as if you had already seen them all, or simply just stare in your direction with raised eyebrows. 

Around the time you usually excuse yourself and head home, you are all sitting around the coffee table finishing off the beer and munching on the snacks. You begin gathering your empty cans and miscellaneous trash, and the conversation abruptly halts as Min sternly questions your actions.

“Just wanted to clean up a bit before heading out,” you explain, rising to your knees to reach for some of their garbage since you’re already headed to the kitchen.

“You should stay here,” he says matter of factly shoving another chip into his mouth and gesturing to the empty beers in your arms, taking the rational approach. Jisung, with his sweet round eyes staring up at you, chimes in with the emotional persuasion. They make a great team.

“The couch is really comfy, I promise.”

“I’ve only had four of these beers over the past few hours, plus I took the bus here anyway,” attempting to politely decline. It would be nice not having to make the commute home at this hour, but you’d hate to burden them.

“The last bus is in 20 minutes, you’d have to run to the nearest stop,” Minho makes a good point, but the cringey thought of them having to kick you out the next morning allows you to remain stubborn, but before you can refuse again, Han’s words make your heart squeeze,

“We don’t want you to leave,” now you’re definitely staying. You still take the trash to the kitchen and sort out the recycling before grabbing one more round of beers from their stash upon the guys’ request. You resume chatting over some background music, occasionally singing along. While you are far from drunk, with the alcohol in your system, it's getting harder and harder to ignore how devastatingly good looking your two friends are. It doesn’t help that their frequent whispering back and forth gives you ample uninterrupted time to gawk. They are of course closer to each other than they are with you, but it does seem like they’ve been conspiring quite a bit more than usual. 

A chaste glance from Jisung breaks your trance. He turns back to Minho and it is your turn to look anywhere but at them, studying the rug, reading the nutrition facts on your drink, admiring the wall decor, looking away until you can get your blushing under control. Your efforts were all in vain, as when you finally look back towards the men across the table, you lock eyes with them as if they were waiting for your gaze to fall on them before doing the very last thing you ever would’ve expected. They stare back at you with a look commanding your eyes to remain locked on them as they turn to each other, already closer to one another than the last time you looked their way. Minho looks down to Han’s plush lips just as his tongue peaks out to moisten them putting on a sultry show for you. Minho gives a miniscule nod before they lean closer impossibly slow to drag out your suspense. 

Are they really doing this? Talk about committed to the bit. The moment their lips meet, you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, causing the corners of their connected lips to quirk up. This is exactly what they wanted. The kiss wasn’t long, but to you watching, it felt like an eternity. You tried to look away, but you just couldn't, maybe due to your own curiosity or maybe as to not disobey their silent order to watch. When they pull away a thin string of saliva still connecting them, the slightly raised corners of their spread to full faced grins at the sight of your hands shooting up to cover your flushing face.

“I think she liked it,” Jisung remarks, running his hands through his hair, pushing back the stands that fell out of place during the kiss. His typical silly, awkward self melting away leaving behind his confident, charismatic side you had seen on a few occasions, emboldened by him and his best friends scheme going just as they had hoped.

“I knew it,” Minho adds, even though you haven’t built up the courage to look at them, he sounds closer to you than before.

“She’s a freak just like we thought,” he adds, definitely closer. Once you gather the strength to uncover your face, you find your friends have moved to join you on your side of the table, one on either side near enough to feel the heat radiating off their bodies. Though they haven’t explicitly stated it, their intentions are beyond clear, their eyes hungrily wandering over you,

“Do you want this?” Minho questioned in a low and calm tone, tamping down his eagerness until you give him an answer,

“If not, we can blame this on the liquor and just move past it, pretend nothing even happened,” Jisung assures you, unable to conceal his brimming desire as well as Minho, his eyes locked on your lips as he reaches for your hand for support. Staring down at your intertwined fingers, you contemplate for a moment,

“I do, but—” you start, Minho’s hand slipping into your field to rest on your mid thigh, softly moving his fingers side to side in reassurance,

“What about our friendship? What about otaku club?” your query makes them giggle, embuing you with the strength to look up to their eyes. They are quick to answer, as if they prepared for this exact question beforehand, Jisung talks first,

“Nothing has to change if we don’t want it to,” he speaks into your hair as he leans in to plant a sweet kiss to the side of your skull, when Minho picks up where he left off,

“We really like you y/n, and love spending time with you. Whether we go back to the way it was or forge something new, we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not sure of anything beyond that, and that we’ve wanted this for a long time,” his words make your heart lurch. God you’ve wanted them too, but didn’t want to jeopardize the amazing relationship you had built. You know them. You trust them. You can navigate this together. A small nod of your head has Minho smashing his lips to yours, passionately enough to suck the air from your lungs.

His kiss is powerful and demanding while still being highly cognisant of your response and adjusting his fire to keep you comfortable. Your mingling lips quickly find timing against each other, his tongue gently coaxing your lips to part for him to explore you. Tingles flooding your body when his warm tongue finally touches yours. 

Jisung continues to kiss along the side of your head and down to your ear. He places feathery kisses over the cartilage, playfully nipping at your earlobe, careful to avoid your piercing. He lets out a happy sound when you squeeze the hand he’s still loyally gripping. He trails his kisses down to the soft spot below your ear before peppering your cheek, inching to your lips ready for his turn with your mouth. He gets close enough to catch the corner of your mouth in his before he’s able to bully Minho off you. You’re barely able to take a breath before Jisung’s lips are on yours. His movements are more timid but also more desperate, his need evident in his pace and little groans. This moment is better than you could've ever imagined. Despite Ji’s neediness, you are the one giving short licks at his full bottom lip asking for entrance, which he grants immediately. 

Minho has moved to your neck, sucking and kissing, his arm snaking around your waist pulling you closer to them. Arching into them, your hands slide up to rest on their built chests, and you can feel them both smiling against your skin. Your chest is heaving from the lack of oxygen and immense lust thick in the air.

“We should get off the floor; I fear if we don’t do it now, you’ll be bent over the coffee table,” Jisung suggests causing Minho to let out a hushed laugh. Despite knowing full well that is where the night is headed, you can’t help your coyness at his words. It’s hard to believe this is actually happening. Both men rise and extend hands to help your ascent, which you are more than grateful as the heady desire coursing through your veins has you feeling unsteady. They guide you to the hallway, shooting glances between one another, having one of their classic silent talks, but this time it seems more like an argument as you all stand at the point of the walkway where you have to decide which path to take to each of their rooms, knowing you will probably end up sleeping in whichever bed you land in. They attempt to make you choose, but you refuse to pick sides, both rooms are lovely and each bed equally comfortable. You just want to be with them. Minho makes the decision for you all when he drags you towards his room, just tired of trying to get two indecisive people to make a simple choice. 

Minho’s room is just as you remembered, simultaneously minimal but full of little pieces that make it full of character. There's no time to look at the new photos on the mirror or trinkets on the desk before you're playfully pushed towards the bed urging you to jump on, crawling to the center in order to make room for them, expecting them to follow you. But when you turn your back to the luxe pillows, you find yourself alone in the big bed with a cheek cramping grin on your face that melts when you see them removing their shirts and tossing them to the corner before approaching the end of the mattress staring down at you. Your mouth slightly agape as you take in their tan skin and sculpted builds, 

“This is so fucked up,” you strangle out of your drying throat, shaking your head in disbelief, and they just chuckle and move to join you. You sit legs outstretched in front of you, and they’re each on their knees sitting back on their ankles. They get you high on love, taking turns passing your lips back and forth, as the other plays with your hair, or rubs your shoulders, or simply lets their hands roam your torso. It is impossible to tell how long this went on, the only moments of clarity being when a gentle hand would guide you off one with a brief second for you to fill your lungs before connecting to the other. However, the makeout session is punctuated by the tug you feel on the bottom of your shirt to which to instinctively raise your arms for its removal which immediately follows, causing Jisung to groan, annoyed he had to release your lips before he was ready. 

Much to your dismay, neither pair of lips return to yours once you’ve been disrobed, the men just lean back to drink in the sight, causing your skin to burn impossibly hotter, your exposed chest flaring with redness that their eyes seemingly can’t be pulled from. If this is actually going to happen, you can’t be mortified the whole time,

“I swear, if you guys keep embarrassing me, we’ll have to stop. I can’t take it,” you half confess and half warn the pair, but it doesn’t shake their gazes.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jisung offers his apology but continues defiling you with his eyes.

“We’re just as shocked as you, jagi, just let us savor it,” Minho defends their staring while lightly scolding you right back. You start to feel cold from the lack of touch, but luckily, Jisung cracks, diving into the crook of your neck licking down, across your collarbone, to the crevice between your breasts before kissing up the swells. Minho takes a different approach. He shifts his seating and leans down. He pulls the waist of your pants just enough to expose your hip bone that he gives a hard open mouthed kiss before working his way up to meet Han, worshiping your tummy and waist. They meet at your chest, quickly going to work with their hands and mouths. Jisung’s more needy palming is juxtaposed by Minho's firm, but cautious grasping, as they work in tandem to kiss every inch from the base of your neck to your shoulders to your sternum before finally landing on your sensitive buds with just the most gentle of kisses causing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding to release in a sigh. While they both had distinct styles, Jisung using wilder, sloppy strokes and Minho more direct and teasing, they were both gentle and attentive, causing your abdomen to tense, barely raising your shoulders off the cushions you rest against, and soft moans to pour from your lips.

When you compose yourself enough to look down at them, you once again find them staring at you, up through their thick lashes, pure adoration in their faces. The sight causes your head to fall back with a groan, mostly due to the absolutely errotic vision and feeling, but also partly at being tired of them being so damn perfect. Maybe you really were the pervert they imagined; this has to be some sort of hyper realistic wet dream. You have all been too consumed by lust to talk but Minho speaks up for the first time in a bit with a snarky remark,

“We can’t stop embarrassing you, if everything we do makes you embarrassed,” he chides against your velvety skin. Causing you to giggle and place your hand on his cheek and try to push him away in retribution, but he clamps down not hard enough to hurt, but when you start to push his head, it tugs on your nipple, hissing as your hand to fall limp at your side for him to continue his torture. 

At your submission, he lets out a sound of satisfaction and resumes his pilgrimage back the way he came, moving back down your body, hooking his fingers in your waistbands, and you rise for him to rid you of your final pieces of clothing. Jisung’s passionate tonguing winds back down to loud kisses and then to slightly shaking his head side to side, ghosting his softly smiling lips over the bud, pulling whimpers from your swollen lips. After a quick kiss, he shuffles around, to sit amongst the pillows, slotting you between his legs. Turning your head to the side, he gives a loving kiss to your temple before wrapping his arms around you, holding you to his front and lazily kissing up and down the column of your neck and shoulder. 

You between Jisung’s legs and Min between yours, the beautiful man is covering your hips and thighs with wet kisses. You gaze down and see Minho’s bunny pink lips inches from where you need him, hot breath fanning over your slick core, using his fingers to spread you, just admiring. You lean your head back to rest on Jisung’s shoulder to brace yourself for the incoming rush pleasure. As you anticipated, Min’s first probing lick already has you arching into his mouth, gasping, pushing back into the warm chest of the man behind you. All of the foreplay combined with the months of yearning have you reaching an unprecedented level of sensitivity; it won’t take much, especially with Minho’s skilled movements. He gives an arrogant huff against your cunt at the way he already has you squirming on his tongue sending delicious vibrations that only make you squirm harder. He skims his index finger up your thigh as a sign of what he is about to do, not wanting to shock you when he slides the finder inside just to the first knuckle. He slowly plunges it in and out while sucking mercilessly on your clit, drawing noises from you that will haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future.

Jisung is checking in regularly to which you always respond positively, but still Minho pumps the brakes for a brief moment to allow you to calm down a little. He moves to kissing over your silken folds before giving small, soft licks to either side of your clit, giving the perfect amount of pressure and teasing. Your eyes are screwed shut, and the breath is caught in your chest as you feel your climax barreling towards you. Pulled from you blissful rapture by Ji’s voice,

“Breathe, baby. Look at Minho; doesn’t he look so pretty?” His words alone could have made you cum, but when you peel your eyes open and raise you head to see the cat like man giving you the most seductive eyes, his nose and lips glistening in your essence, white hot pleasure explodes through your body with a flood of curses out of your lips. You lie there, panting, weak in Jiusung’s arms as he lightly drags his fingers up and down your arms and across your chest soothing your involuntary tremors. The sound of the condom wrapper being torn open reminds you of where you are. You see Minho finishing rolling on the protection on his flushed cock, and he shoots back a faux guilty look, like you’d caught him in a naughty act, he giggles before asking one last time,

“You want this?” He asks with a cheeky smirk, half confirming consent and half teasing out your desperation. You respond, over feeling bashful about your desires,

“So bad, babe,” with a grin, he grabs your hips and twists them, encouraging you to flip over on to all fours over Jisung who is smiling massive and genuinely up at you before puckering, asking for more kisses. Minho is kneading your ass probably the roughest he’d been all night, as he lines himself with your entrance. He teases you with the tip, dipping it in once, twice, and then rubbing it through your slick lips, causing you to whimper against Jisung. When he goes to enter, he takes it painfully slowly, inching in while raking his fingers down your back in a sign of affection, loving the way it makes you shiver,

“Minho you feel so—so good,” you sputter out, complimenting the way Minho makes your brain go fuzzy. He just gives a cocky hum back in response, trying to act cool, but truthfully he doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak. Your lips reconnect to Jisung’s as you reach down into his sweats to give him some well deserved attention. He lets out a long groan against your lips, bucking up into your hand. Minho’s fighting his moans, but they escape out in strangled grunts. His slow thrusts gain in speed as he grips tightly to you hips, but he remains fucking impossibly deep, leaning forward to kiss your shoulders and upper back, pushing you back to your climax. You and Jisung are trading sounds of pleasure into eachothers open mouths, pumping him in time with the thrusts, he’s lost in the pleasure, until his realizes his orgasm approaching at lightning speed, shocking him, and he begs for you to stop the twisting of your wrist,

“Please don’t make me cum. I want to fuck you so bad, please,” he's thankful when your hand flies from his cock to land on beside his head to you steady your shaking body. When he is sure your orgasm is passed, Minho frantically frees himself, ripping off the condom, and coming around to face you, kneeling, pumping himself to keep himself on the edge. Jisung shimmies out from under you allowing Minho to scoot closer looking at you with pleading eyes. You open for him and he is instantly in your mouth. You take him as far as you can, causing the saliva to build in your mouth to slick him up. You find your rhythm, occasionally focusing on the tip and swirling your tongue around it before returning to taking all of him. He is no longer holding back cries, groaning and hissing at your moves. He runs his fingers through your hair, before dragging his fingers down your cheek to caress your chin, staring down at you,

“So fucking gorgeous, feels so good,” your pattern of sucking and licking is harshly interrupted when you hear spitting and feel warm liquid slide down your cunt threatening to drip off before Hans’s flattends tongue licks a broad stripe up you slit, forcing a muffled shout to revererate from you and you to lurch forward in surprise. You lightly gag around Minho, catching you both by surprise. The motion causes Minho to paint your throat with a string of whines,

“Ah, ah, aaah—” You swallow, loving his taste. He dramatically falls to the bed with a look of pure bliss plastered on his face. He moves to you to bestow a few passionate kisses laced with gratitude to your puffy lips before rolling off the bed. You are too distracted by the euphoria flowing through you to see where he goes as Jisung is devouring you, every lick, languid but methodical, wanting to gather every last drop of your essence. It's messy and hot, and when you look down, between your legs, you not only Ji’s angry cock oozing precum, but the growing pool under you of your juices and his spit drooling off your pussy. You plea to him. You don’t want this to end, but you are so dumb on pleasure and needy, you want him inside you,

“Hannie, I need you inside, please,” but he doesn’t budge. He might be wanting to draw yet another orgasm from you, but it's more likely that he is too pussydrunk and is just hypnotized by your addictive taste and filthy sounds,

“Jisung, please,” you try again, as Minho enters again, holding waters and towels. After placing the goodies on the nightstand, he crawls back into bed beside you, admiring the salacious scene before him and your sweet sullied expression before nudging Jisung,

“Give the girl what she wants, before I do,” Ji releases your pussy with a wet pop and once again, your hips are grabbed, guiding you to flip over, this time having to aid you a bit more as your muscles are starting to give out. Jisung gives your forehead a kiss before aligning himself with your entrance, but is interrupted by the flying condom smacks him in the chest and falls to land on your stomach. He swiftly tears it open and rolls it on, embarrassed that he almost forgot, caught up in the moment as Minho shames him under his breath. Minho holds your chin to face him as Jisung slips in, watching you intently since he didn't get to see your face when he had his way with you. He holds your gaze, and when you try to close your eyes, he gently taps your cheek reminding you to return his gaze. Jisung is savagely pounding into you. He has been waiting for so long, as much as he wanted to be sensual like Minho, right now, he just couldn't hold back,

“You’re perfect, baby. Shit, i’m not gonna last,” he mumbles, thrust already getting erratic. Minho frees you when Jisung falls forward onto his forearms to cage you in, attacking your mouth with desperate kisses, the kissing shifts to just moaning and whimpering into each other as you both reach your highs, Jisung mumbling your name on repeat, looking almost as wrecked as you, giving a few final powerful thrusts before collapsing down to your other side. The room is quiet besides the heavy breathing as you all bask in the lustful aura, Min breaks the silence,

“I can speak for Jisung on this, when are the vows?” he chuckles out, causing you all to burst into breathy laughter. After cleaning up and hydrating, you all lay in bed together rolling around snuggling and kissing in the post-sex lovey state. Minho goes to the bathroom to complete his night time routine leaving you in bed with Jisung where you two giggle and take turns tracing imaginary patterns on each other's skin. When Minho returns dewy faced and in neat pajamas, Jisung leaves your side to do the same. Minho holds you tight against his side, your head resting on his chest as he hums, lips pressed into your hair. Jisung offers up some of his boxers and Minho provides a tshirt for you to sleep in, and then you too go wash up and brush your teeth and hair, trying not to get existential or horny while you stare at yourself in the mirror recounting the evening’s events. 

When you return, Minho is already under the covers on his side of the bed. He’s prepped the other side for you, pulling back the covers, giving you some extra pillows, and placing your water and a snack on the nightstand, but Ji is just sitting on the edge of the bed. When you approach he stands and opens his arms for a hug,

“I wanted to wait to say goodnight,” he offers. You can't help the look of disappointment,

“We all it fine on the bed earlier, so couldn’t you just stay? Is that okay?” you ask timidly, that embarrassment you’ve been able to shove down all flooding back since the emboldening lust has been quelled. Jisung doesn’t respond, simply pulls you into a tight embrace. You guess he wasn’t okay with that suggestion, but before you could tell him that it's fine to tell you no, he is tackling you onto the bed, and pulling the duvet up over all three of you causing Minho to give an exasperated sign. 

Breakfast was sure to be interesting, but as you lay curled around Jisung, his thick hair tickling your cheek with Minho pressed to your back, a strong arm slung over your waist resting on Ji’s side, the one thing you know is that you could definitely get used to this. Figuring this out was tomorrow's problem. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

pic creds x x x

A.n- Thanks for reading. This is a bit of a longer one. The longest thing I've written in fact. I just hava lot of felling about this. I hope it's not too niche/reaches the right horny nerds

-mo :)

Masterlist

[starchaser667]

WHY did Motherspore target Jimmy out of everyone else??

First of all, let me tell you, I had been thinking of making this post for a while, and it was originally going to be me sharing my thoughts and going crazy with theories hehe

But it turns out there's ALREADY an answer to this question, that was hinted at in Maruu and Doody's streams a couple of times, which I found out extremely late because I can never catch those live.

Still, I thought so long and hard on this, that I decided I would share my thought process anyways! Show you how deep I went before ever knowing if I was delusional or not hwjsjwjs

So here goes nothing!

~~~

For starters, I wanna say I was initially under the impression that Jimmy's involvement in the Motherspore incident had been, for the most part, COLLATERAL DAMAGE. Like it was mainly a mix of negative factors, and maybe also Jimmy's infamous bad luck lol, that got him in that situation.

I imagined he'd been one of the many people to have fainted at the start of the whole mess, and having probably done so in his office (a more isolated place than a classroom or a break-room where most people were), he had been the easiest target; secluded enough that Motherspore had managed to capture him without any trouble or interference from anyone.

That sounded like a likely scenario! And considering it probably wasn't very important, I didn't dwell on it too much...

That was, until we got to Chapter 15, and most importantly, HOTGUY'S INTERROGATION.

Because Hotguy brings to attention that Jimmy's position in all this is actually quite suspicious. He remarks that Jimmy had been the only person to remain in the building, when everyone else had been evacuated, which then led him to be the most difficult one to find and rescue. He wonders if there's a possibility that he stayed behind ON PURPOSE.

And while it's important to note that all of this is stated with the ill-intention of triggering Grian and forcing him to talk, it is undeniably TRUE that Jimmy's situation had been unlike anybody else's.

In fact, once I started thinking about it, I realized there's something actually odd that happened, that didn't see anyone mention and was particular to Jimmy's case... and that is that Motherspore actually fought to GET HIM BACK.

Think about the way Motherspore acted when everyone was evacuating the building, or rather, how she DIDN'T ACT. Sure, people were fainting, which I don't know if it was an intentional move on her part or simply a side-effect of the spores in the air, but with some help they were all able to get out safely.

And she let it happen, and not because she lacked the power to stop it. She could've had people trapped in the fungus like Jimmy was, she could've covered the exits in it so people wouldn't be able to escape, she could've attacked Hotguy the second he stepped in to help, yet she didn't.

But when JIMMY was the one being taken away?? She willed the fungus to grab at him and drag him back towards her, proceeded to literally pounce on Hotguy. And judging by the shocked look on his face, we can assume and confirm that was the first time he was met with resistance and hostility on this foe's end.

So after pondering all this I suddenly went HOLD ON. What if Jimmy being captured wasn't just an unfortunate coincidence? Because it's starting to look as if he was intentionally singled out... OMG what if he was actually TARGETED???

And oh boy did that set me off.

I rapidly started coming up with quite a few ideas as to why that could've been the case. Could it have simply been because he's related to Grian?? Or because he's also a witch?? Maybe specifically because of his mind-reading ability?? And so on.

BUT, as I said before, there's already a kinda answer to this question, as to why Motherspore went after Jimmy, that was revealed in one of Maruu and Doody's streams, which might be the reason why lots of people like myself hadn't heard about it.

Doody responded that the one thing she could say about the matter is that it was important to remember that Motherspore is fundamentally STILL GRIAN, just taken to a more primal, slightly fucked up level. They mentioned that this version of Grian is guided primarily by instinct, and I quote, "is protecting the things that are dear to him and attacking what seems like a threat."

And OMG do you know what this MEANS??

It means that yes, Motherspore did target Jimmy, but not exactly for the reasons I first suspected. It wasn't because she had wanted to hurt him or use him in any way, but because she had wanted to PROTECT HIM!! That's why she hid him away from everyone else, and why she went to greater lengths to keep him there!!

And dude I just think that's so sweet 😭 that even in a corrupted state of mind, Grian was able to recognize his cousin and still strived to keep him safe no matter what <3

And I think this is very important information to have, because it makes their interaction in Chapter 14 even MORE heartbreaking than it already was.

Because we know Grian was DEVASTATED to see Jimmy hurt, and even more horrified at the notion that he had likely been the cause of it. And I just know that guilt is part of the reason why he denied his offering to stay, why he decides to push him away. He believes it would be safer for Jimmy to keep his distance, even if it breaks both their hearts.

And this is so incredibly sad because Grian DOESN'T KNOW. He doesn't know that Motherspore never wished Jimmy any harm, that in her own messed-up way, she tried to defend him from everything.

He has no idea that caring for Jimmy is such a core part of him, that any version of himself can't help doing the same...

Anyways they make me sick <3 can't wait to read and find out more!!!

~~~

TLDR: Found out Motherspore didn't capture Jimmy for malicious reasons, but because Grian was unconsciously trying to protect him, and now I'm emotional :'(

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT SCENES(nun too serious)!!! HEAVY breeding kink(i couldn’t help myself), Wife!reader, pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Lewis being a hornball, some fluff here and there,SHORT! UNEDITED FOR RN! I think that’s it!

SUMMARY: After having twin boys, Lewis begs his beloved wife for one more baby, hoping this time it’d be a girl.

|2|3|4|5|

✮✮✮✮

“You said one more, right? Just one more”

He smirks as he bounces you his arms, your body helplessly following with the flow as you couldn’t do anything with your legs folded how they were anyhow.

“One more” You whimper with a nod of your head, your brain not even coming close to calculating what you had gotten yourself into.

“One more, baby” He confirms with an innocent tone like he wasn’t currently folding his wife like a lawn chair, running the risk of waking your twins up even though they were down the hall.

Days passed and you couldn’t get his hands off of you, the man giving not one moment to allow you to collect yourself after a simple agreement that you’d stop taking your birth control. At the time you hadn’t even stopped yet, but he was still prevalent with his ‘you never know’, hoping somehow you’d still get pregnant.

You’d get home from work and before you were able to take your heels off he’d be warning you that the kids were asleep now so you’d have to keep it down and only asked about your day in between kisses and ripping off your shirt, the answers being halted as soon as you were bent over the arm of your couch and fucked from behind by your eager husband, the grip he had on your hips enough to bruise.

It was clear that Lewis wanted nothing more than a daughter. Of course he loved his two hard headed boys, but a daughter? She was a dream he’s had for a while now. He felt he needed a girl to soften him up after raising two little boys for five years, and he was determined to get one out of you. Lewis was ready to be surrounded by princesses, glitter, pink and hair bows.

For the last few weeks he spent time getting you alone so he could fill you to the brim, taking you down anywhere that had a lock on the door or a surface to lay you on, sometimes not even that. The first time was in the laundry room when you were drying clothes, a month after you told him yes to a baby, a day after he was 100% sure you stopped taking your pills. Closing the door behind him and setting a basket in front of the door to avoid any unwanted little guests, your husband casually pulls up your sundress as you were loading the dryer and slides your panties to the side, the man on his knees with his tongue on your clit before you could even tell him you were busy.

The next time he took you down was in his personal gym, him just finishing a workout and you in the middle of your much needed yoga to stretch your sore muscles from the damage he had done the other night. Catching you in a downward doggy position, you felt his fingers shamelessly run between your lips that were covered by your favorite gym shorts, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit almost making your knees buckle. You slowly look up from your position, making eye contact with him in the mirror in front of you.

“May I help you, Mr. Hamilton?” You ask.

“You already know what I want, Mrs. Hamilton” He responds back in a sing-song tone and before you knew it you were getting creamed on a workout bench, Lewis using his fingers to stuff what had spilled when he pulled out back inside of your pussy. You sat there tired and absolutely bewildered with how feral your husband could get sometimes. Last time he was on ten like this you two scored twins, and you could only pray the twins that run in your family wouldn’t catch up to you again.

The next day you thought you were free of the teenage boy-ish sex drive your husband had. The twins were home and using the living room as their personal playroom though they had their own, and you took that as an excuse to distract them with toys as you read your favorite book in the kitchen where you could see them. Unluckily for you, the ADHD they inherited gave them the ability to not exactly not focus, but focus a little too much. Lewis had turned on their favorite show and made sure the volume was three notches higher than what it was supposed to be before sneaking into the kitchen with you.

You could feel he was up to something as you side eyed him from the sitting nook, but surprisingly he walked right by you, your eyes following him all the way to your home office. He knew you hated him in there.

You slam down you book after marking your page and follow after him, only to realize you had been duped when you heard the door close and lock behind you. You were starting to almost regret telling him your ovulation cycle.

✮✮✮✮

When you two got the news that it was twins, you were both in shock, Lewis a bit more over the moon than you of course because who wants to incubate twins for the second time around, but you both were happy nonetheless. The real kicker was finding out that one of them was a boy, and the other unknown.

“What do you mean you can’t see it? Is there something wrong?” You asked nervously and Lewis squeezes your hand, already knowing how your nerves were.

“Well, not really. The problem is that twin A is still blocking twin B. This is your last few weeks and it’s a bit camped in there now, so they’re kinda just laying in an uncomfortable position. Even if I were to do a vaginal ultrasound, it’d be pretty hard to tell” Your doctor chuckles, making you sigh in relief and look at Lewis, his face unreadable.

When you two left the building and went home, you could tell Lewis was a bit disappointed.

“You okay?” You ask, holding the hand he had placed on your thigh as he watched TV. He nods and gives you a small smile, his eyes not moving from the screen.

“You know I wanted a girl, but obviously god has other plans. It’s okay, really”

You hum. “…Look on the bright side, baby B might be a girl” You smile back, your husband laughing and shaking his head.

“Let’s be real! It’s gonna be two boys again”

“You don’t know that”

“I do. And it’s okay…We’ll always have another time to try for a girl” He smiles wider, looking to you.

You blink for a moment, realizing he was serious. “…Another time?! You are out of your mind!” You hit his arm and he groans, begging you in the mist of your refusals.

“Absolutely not, Lewis! You said just one more months ago and that one more turned into two!”

“So you wouldn’t want to try again if they’re both boys? Really?”

“Lewis, if this one is a boy, I might move out. That’s your answer!” Lewis bursts into laughter as your hand moves to your round belly, feeling a kick hit right below your belly button.

“And one of them is beating on me right now! I can’t live in a house with five boys, I can’t even believe I let three of them plus an alleged one stay inside me”

“Well…Four plus an alleged one. One of them was just on and off..In and out” You gasp at his dirty joke and shove him again, more laughs erupting from him.

✮✮✮✮

💌:i’ll probably make another part to this just cause Dad!Lewis is superior and maybe write an actual smut too idk yet

[richarlotte]

something on your mind?

Time to talk about love.

My friends, my good friends who are in Chicago, D.C., Montreal, Philly, and New York and who are in amazing relationships, share one thing: they focused on bettering their lives and themselves, and good men fit into the picture they were focused on painting. There was no “I’m going to find a good man and do the work later,” and there were no excuses made as to why they were neglecting themselves in favor of finding someone to take care of them; there were many distinct efforts made to better themselves, and when the right people came along, things fell into place naturally on both sides and progressed smoothly.

 

There’s a lot of focus on whether someone will fit into your life on Tumblr, but not a lot of talk about what’s going on on the other side. If you’re unhealed, uneducated, emotionally unstable, and unfit for a relationship, do you really think that you’ll find someone who’ll want to stay with you and do the healing for you? I say this not to be unkind but to be realistic. In order to form a strong, long-lasting relationship with someone, you have to be healthy and ready to deal with the conflicts and disappointments that occur in anyone’s life. If you have never had to deal with the things that can arise in any romantic relationship and you’re not mentally prepared to in the first place, you’ll find that it’ll be harder for you to keep things together and remain stable when life feels hard.

 

I have been in relationships before—healthy relationships—and I have thrived in them. But I’m also a person with trauma, and I know how that trauma presents itself and I know my triggers. It took me plenty of therapy, lots of listening to myself and acknowledging my feelings, and tons of breakups before I recognized both what I needed and what I was subconsciously seeking out. All of my friends who have made their longterm relationships last know what they’re looking for, know what they need, and know themselves well enough to walk away before things end on bad terms. Self-work must be done if you want to truly thrive in life, and you must have the ability to reflect on the things you could have done better.

 

Myself and the people I’ve known who’ve gone from struggling to thriving in relationships all share one common denominator: we’ve done the hard work associated with success, and we’re all willing to continue doing the work needed to get what we want. It’s incredibly hard and very damaging to one’s psyche to go through life with a clear image of what you want in your mind but a lack of awareness that limits you from getting what you want. It’s important to understand that you can overcome the obstacles in your own path and you can also overcome being an obstacle yourself. There are effective ways to heal, books you can immerse yourself in, therapists you can see, and things you can do to build yourself up so that you can thrive and feel more confident in your love life.

TL;DR:

You have to be willing to do the inner work before you seek out a romantic partner. A relationship won’t repair you if you feel broken; only you can heal yourself and fix your trauma. It’s an important part of finding yourself and finding a love that lasts and feels healthy.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales IIII

Summary: Princess!Reader tries to convince her mates to leave the Empire, but they have other ideas.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Slavery/Abuse

Part 1, 2, 3

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

Anise is right; I do look like shit. No attempt at washing my face or fixing my hair or changing my clothes changes the sickly color that remains on my skin from the time spent with my head in the toilet. Secluding myself in the house these last couple months have already sapped the color from my cheeks, but today’s events have not helped bring any life back into my features. The dull, lifeless gray of my eyes, the limpness of my hair, the way my dress hangs limp off me… I do not recognize the face in the mirror.

“Anise?” She’s still pacing in my chambers, biting on her weathered thumbnail. Her anxiety makes the vines sprouting from her head grow, leaves and tiny, yellow flowers blossoming as the thick strands slither down her waist. 

“You shouldn’t see them alone,” she persists.

I brush a strand of hair over my yellowing cheek, then push it back behind my ear. I can explain away a bruise. Besides, it is not as if I can expect them to care enough about me to ask how it got there.

I sigh as I push the hair back in front of my face. I do not want to appear weak and frail, not in front of my mates. Not in front of anybody. I need to remain strong.

“Anise,” I try again, turning away from the mirror. There is nothing I can do to change it now, the damage is done and it’s too late in the evening to call for one of my lady’s-in-waiting to come help me fix it. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Get the guard? Yes, a splendid idea!”

I snag her arm as she goes for the door. “No, Anise.”

She huffs her irritation. “You’re being foolish, Little One.”

Probably; she won’t hear that from me though. “I need you to look into something for me and I need you not to tell a soul about it.”

She goes still at that, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to see if there is passage out of the Empire and into the Wastes through the sea.”

Her bark-like features twist in surprise as I continue. “I need a passage my Father doesn’t know about, and I need it quickly.”

“What have you done?” She whispers. 

“Nothing. Not yet anyway.”

Anise fights her way out of my grip so she can take my face in her hands. “Now you listen to me, child! I have already lost your Mother, do not ask me to sit here and lose you too.”

“It’s not for me.”

Her eyes flick to the door and back. “Them?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“They’re dead men if I don’t,” I say, hoping the heaviness in my voice is enough to keep her from pressing further. I do not have it in me to admit what they are after what I’ve done, not even to her. Her loyalty was always to my Mother first, and I trust her more than anyone, but there are some secrets best kept close to the vest. Maybe she’d never tell anyone, but her mouth wanders sometimes, and if it were to slip… any number of the staff would sell me out to my Father in a heartbeat. I have to be careful. This is all I can tell her for now.

“I don’t like this,” she whispers. “You are entering a dangerous game. If your Father finds out…”

“Don’t let him find out,” I counter, pulling free of her grip. If I linger any longer, I will lose my nerve. I need to see them now.

My hands shake as I open the door. Moonlight spills into the hallway from the high, open windows on either side of me. I’d kept the heavy, silk curtains pushed against the far walls closed for months and months, refusing to accept that time was moving on without me. Anise had opened them this morning, when I’d announced I was finally ready to go out again. She’d hoped the fresh air would be good for me, truth be told, so had I. I didn’t expect so much to change in such a short time frame. 

There are guards on patrol outside the windows. A couple torches had been lit along the path through the gardens, bathing their armored heads and ridiculously large horse hair plumes in an orange glow. As a kid, I’d thought they were monsters when I’d see them in this light, stalking through the palace grounds; maybe I hadn’t been so far off.

Anise trails after me. “I will do it, but you will let me accompany you for this first.”

“No.” I should head out the side door and follow the footpath to the guest house, but I make a show of walking towards the kitchen instead. There is a servant’s passage through the cellar that will keep me out of sight. As far as the guards are concerned, I’m getting a snack in the kitchen with my maid. No one needs to know that I’m meeting the Illyrians. 

“Why are you…” she stops when we come to the kitchen. All the lights are off. The staff asleep earlier than usual so they can, undoubtedly, rise earlier in the morning in order to prepare bigger meals than they’re used to. They have to be in an uproar over the sheer amount of guards they’ll have to feed every day now. The House has not seen much attention in the last couple of months; I certainly wasn’t hosting any parties. 

“Is this a sex thing?”

I am grateful the dark hides the blush working its way up my neck and cheeks. “What!?”

“It’s not like you to sneak around, I’m just wondering if there’s something happening here between you and them?” She is the only other person that knows about the secret passages in the house. Mother had them built as a safety measure against intruders, and promptly found an excuse to execute the architect before he could show Father the plans. There are a number of false doors and hidden hallways throughout the house, a couple of secret exits and a panic room only accessible with a key I keep around my neck at all times. She was as paranoid as my Father, but at least hers had practical applications. And could now serve as a means to move around my house without arousing suspicion. 

“This most definitely is not a sex thing!” I hiss. 

I mean, yes, some sponsors do sleep with their champions. Hels, some sponsors sell their champions for a night of pleasure to the highest bidder. Amarantha and my cousins included. It was an abhorrent practice that I tried not to think about in the past, but the mere suggestion of it has me clenching my fists. Did she truly think I’d stoop to that?

“You’re being strange is all I’m saying,” she returns. 

“I don’t have time for this. If you’re going to insist on hovering, just make it look like we’re in here making a snack, will you?”

“Will you tell me why this is necessary?”

I pry the door that leads down to the cellar open slowly, conscious of how loudly it squeaks and trying to minimize the noise as best I can. “No.”

“Then I’m coming with!”

I slip behind the door and hold it nearly closed as she approaches. “Fine, we’ll talk when I get back. Happy?”

Even in the dark I can see her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Don’t get pregnant.”

“I’m not fucking them!” I hiss as I close the door. She’s impossible! Once she sets her mind on something, she just can’t let it go. At least she doesn’t try to follow me. 

There’s a slim set of stairs that leads down into the cellar lined with fae lights that flicker to life as I descend. Rows of dried meats and herbs hang from the rafters, casting eerie shadows over the shelf lined walls. The cellar is lined with rows of more shelves and barrels of wine, everything cataloged and arranged in alphabetical order. Our steward has always been exceptionally neat, and the concealed door in the backs sits connected to the wall where he keeps all his flour. I will have to remember to sweep the floor upon my return, just in case anything falls from the shelf and gives the door away. 

The door opens by turning one of the panels in the wood in a full circle, disturbing a sack of flour as it swings inward with a groan. The hallway is dark and dusty, a heavy layer of cobwebs disturbed by the door. I haven’t used this tunnel in years. 

I take one of the bobbing fae lights out of its perch on the stairs and carry it with me into the dark, making sure the door closes behind me, just in case any of the guards decide to come do a sweep of the place now that they’ve seen Anise in the kitchen. I can’t be sure of their orders, I have to assume that they will check on everyone in the house if there is the slightest deviation from the routine. Which also means I need to make this quick.

The silence of the tunnel is not good for my nerves, I find myself once again digging my knuckle into the knot in my chest. Without Anise to distract me, I’m once again consumed with the guilt of having to look at them after what I’d done. Not knowing why they’re asking to see me doesn’t help either. 

The tunnel slopes downward, filled with cobwebs and the occasional rat I startle back into holes in the walls. There’s some rain damage along the supports I should really have looked at, but updating these means having to tell someone about them, and that’s not an option. Not unless I wish for Father to find out about it, or worse, be forced into a situation where I have to consider killing an architect after rebuilding it as my Mother had done. There haven’t been any reasons for the tunnels since I was a child, I’ll avoid having to make any decisions on it until I absolutely have to. As long as the roof holds, I can make do.

Mother wanted to ensure that this place had multiple advantages, one of them being strategically placed and concealed vents for both air flow, and espionage. The vent hidden in the garden lets me hear the stomping of boots as the guards pass overhead. Some of them complain about the quiet as they pass each other, but it doesn’t sound like they’re yet suspicious of me moving around the house this late. 

I keep moving, comforted just a little by the fact that I don’t have to worry about dealing with them yet. 

The tunnel curves in a crescent shape to come around the back of the guest house, where there’s a door carefully hidden behind the lararium built for the Mother. The carefully carved statue of our beloved Goddess hides the door, and the altar serves as a deterrent to keep people from looking too close at the seams in the wall. It also hides the vent that lets me hear three, arguing voices, even in hushed tones:

“This is a bad idea, Rhys!” Cassian. 

“It is our only shot,” Rhysand shoots back. 

Their voices are so different: Cassian’s gruff and husky, Rhysand’s smooth and rich. Having them near soothes an anxiousness I didn’t know was inside me, I find myself drawn closer and closer to the door, just for a chance to listen to them speak. I’ve never had something as simple as a voice cause such an intense reaction before. All of this is so new and foreign; it will take some getting used to.

“I don’t care!” Cassian returns, the words sharp as a knife. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

And just like that, my revelry is broken and that pesky knot in my chest returns. It is an effort to get a deep enough breath in, as if someone had sucker punched me right in the stomach. He really does hate me. It was one thing to think it, but it’s another to hear it so openly. I really have ruined this before it even had a chance to begin.

“She is our only chance,” Azriel chimes in, voice a hissed whisper. He sounds agitated, I can picture him pacing in front of the altar. 

“She’s his daughter! Am I the only one bothered by that?” Cassian protests. 

“That’s exactly why we need her,” Rhysand counters. 

Time slows to a crawl. Need me? Hope is a pesky, irritating, thing that I shove down inside me, even as my body moves to press itself against the door, waiting for them to continue. 

“We can’t trust her.”

“Yes we can,” Azriel retorts. 

I wonder if they can hear my heartbeat stuttering through the door--no matter that it’s waded so I can hear them and they can’t hear me, it’s so loud it still feels like a possibility. 

“What, because your shadows can smell that on her?” Cassian sneers. 

“Because I looked in her head,” Rhysand hisses, his voice rising. 

I know that I have a limited amount of time to do this, but I can’t bring myself to open the door, not with a confession like that. What does he mean he looked in my head?

“She’s terrified of him.”

“She could have fooled me. She didn’t look a bit terrified of branding us.”

“Because she didn’t brand us at all!” Rhysand snarls. “I did.”

“You hit your fucking head harder than I thought.”

“Asking for us to be spared threw Hybern off his game. Whatever plans he has for us got derailed because of her. And we need whatever edge we can get right now. When I slipped into her mind, she was panicking, she couldn’t do it and we would have all been fucked. I moved her hands around that iron, I touched it to your skin. Not her. She was so distraught over it I had to hold her upright the whole way back. Trust me, she liked it as much as you did.”

“But the collar…?” Cassian stammers.

“It dims a lot of my powers, but not all of them. I threw what I had out there. It only works when I’m close. Whatever she felt after we separated, whatever she’s doing now, I can’t get a feel.”

Rhysand was that invisible hand on me? I hadn’t just imagined it? How is that even possible? The twins are Daemati, but even they can’t reach into someone’s head and control them like that, especially with the gorsian chains in the way. At least, they’d never shown me they could. I suppose I’d never thought to ask.

“We have to act fast,” Azriel chimes in. “The quicker we get ahead of this, the more time we have to work around Hybern. Until now, he’s always been one step ahead of us. We’ve been playing his games on his terms. She… changes things.”

Does he know that we’re mates? Could that really mean something to him?

“Why are you so quick to trust her?” Cassian challenges. “Let's say what Rhys saw in her head is even real, because let's face it, she very well could be like the twins and been throwing those things up to see if you’d take the bait, but for the sake of the argument, sure they’re real. So what? What do you think she’s going to do here? Throw in her lot with us and help us overthrow her father?”

“Yes,” Rhysand says, as if it’s just that simple.

They can’t really be serious with this, can they?

“What could she possibly get out of it? She’s a spoiled princess who has not had to feel the effects of this Empire a day in her life! The best of this place has been handed to her and you think she’s just going to give that up to a couple of bastards like us?”

I dig my knuckle into my chest again, trying to ease the tension that feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my skin. 

“You don’t get it,” Azriel hisses. 

“Explain it to me, Az!” Cassian shoots back. “Explain to me how the limited interaction we had convinced you that she’s a good person who would help us for the hell of it?”

“You don’t have to trust her, Cass,” Rhysand interjects. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need her.”

I take my lower lip between my teeth. I’m supposed to be saving them; I’m supposed to be getting them as far away from this place as possible and they want me to what? Overthrow my Father? It’s delusional. No one can outmaneuver him. Mother tried and failed. How many rebels has Amarantha executed? How many slaves have been carted from the far reaches, having been defeated for daring to oppose the Empire? Everyone that has ever gone up against him has lost and paid for it with their lives. I can’t let them do this. It’s suicide!

I get my hand on the hidden lock and turn. It’s my responsibility as a mate to save them from themselves. I have to put this foolish notion to bed. By tomorrow, Anise will have an answer about a way out of here. I just need them to stay put for the night and this mess will be over. 

I get the impression they are not males used to being taken by surprise, if the way they stand their gaping at me is any indication. Dark shadows wreath Azriel’s, still bare, shoulders, curling around his ears like they’re living things whispering in his ear. His scarred hands twitch over his hip, as if he’s reaching for a weapon instinctively, despite there being nothing there. 

Rhysand grins wolfishly as he leans a bruised shoulder against the doorframe, violet eyes once again roving over every inch of me. “Aren’t you full of surprises, Princess?”

“What if we had been indecent?” Cassian retorts.

“You’re barely dressed now,” I blurt before I can stop myself, though it is true. He’s stripped down to his boxers, using what was once a white towel, but it’s now brown, to clean up a gash across his thigh. Judging by the color of the bruising and the still forming scab, the wound is from before the arena. He needs to have it cleaned and looked at by a healer. I should be focusing on that. I should not be focusing on how large his thighs are, or imagining what it might feel like to sit in his lap.

Rhysand’s grin broadens like he can hear my thoughts, and then I remember that he can. 

Shit! I need to focus. I need to put my shields up, just like I do when I’m around the twins. Just because they’re my mates, doesn’t mean they’re incapable of using their abilities on me. Who’s to say, if Rhysand really is powerful enough to move me around like a puppet, even with the collar, that he won’t simply reach in and use me as he sees fit if I don’t cooperate. I don’t know anything about them. I have to be careful.

“We can strip down if you’d like?” He purrs.

“Did you make me come all this way just to harass me, or…?” I let the question hang there so I can give myself an extra second to reinforce my mental shields. 

“Sorry to pull you from your ivory tower,” Cassian snarls.

I instinctively take a step away from him, the venom behind each word enough to make me flinch despite myself. Azriel moves away from where he’s been sitting on the edge of the altar, effectively putting himself between us. “No, we didn’t.”

“Then what do you want?” My shields are in place, but I feel my confidence waning. I thought that this would be easy, that the bond would make everything click into place for us. They could trust me and I could trust them and this thing that tethered us together would put us at an even playing field. But it doesn’t. Our goals are off and I don’t know how to get them even, I don’t know how to get them to listen to me. 

“We want your help,” Rhysand says. 

“We need your help,” Azriel corrects.

I should just tell them that I heard them and skip all the repetitiveness, but there is a piece of me that worries I was naive before, and that they will tell me something different to my face. Maybe I’m the only one who feels the bond and they merely see me as something to be manipulated and used. I have to be sure.

“With what?” I ask.

“We want Hybern off the throne,” Rhysand explains. He hasn’t left his perch against the wall; though his gaze lingers on me, he gives me space that feels intentional. As if I’m a rabid dog he thinks might bite if it feels cornered. “We think you do too.”

“And why would you think that?” It is only from years of training that my voice doesn’t shake. How can they be so flippant about this? Saying those words out loud is enough to have their heads removed from their shoulders. The thought that any guard walking past might hear has me shaking, yet they don’t even flinch.

“He scares you,” Azriel says. His voice is already a low whisper, but it softens when he looks at me. A tendril of shadows slithers down his leg and across the floor, tentatively drifting across the pale tiles to come poke around at my ankles.

“He scares everybody and for good reason.” I need to keep my original goal in mind here. I’m here to get them out. They need to see the necessity of it. “Do you know how many people are dead because they underestimated him? No one is safe.”

“That’s why he needs to be stopped,” Rhysand presses.

Cassian folds his broad arms over his tattooed chest, frowning, but he doesn’t jump into the conversation. While Rhysand’s gaze is assessing, Cassian’s is cold, unyielding. He’s made up his mind about me. 

The fact that the others haven’t gives me more hope than I know I should have. They will have to leave anyway. I should hope they haven’t felt the bond, hope that it doesn’t convince them to stay. They need to be far, far away. But there is a small, desperate piece of me that clings to it anyway. 

“He can’t be stopped.” I bite back all the bitterness and rage that threatens to escape out of me and try to keep my tone even, unbothered. 

“You stopped him this afternoon,” Azriel counters as his shadow brushes up my calf like a phantom cat. They feel like a slight brush of breath against my skin, gentle and strange and I might giggle against the sensation if I wasn’t so focused on keeping my composure. 

I don’t kick it off either. A broken, desperate piece of me claws after the attention and blatant need for affection like a lifeline. 

“He listened to you,” Rhysand presses, doubling down when he sees me hesitate. Azriel isn’t wrong, though he’s not, technically right either. Still, he sees an opening and he swoops down like a vulture to take it. “No one else has that kind of influence.”

“It was a fluke,” I retort. “He was surprised. That won’t happen again.”

“It will if you keep surprising him,” Rhysand counters. “He has you, and everyone else, in a quaint little box, but if you deviate from the script he’s written for you, you can maneuver him where you want him.”

My hand goes instinctively to my bruised cheek, right as Azriel’s shadow comes slithering up my shoulder. It lets out a soft huffing sound as it follows my wrist to see what my fingers are doing. The shadow still curled around Azriel’s ear hisses softly, like the two are communicating. Maybe they are, given the way his eyes darken. 

“You cannot fight him.” I pull my hand away from my face a little faster than I mean to, and the shadow curls into my palm, inspecting the indents my fingernails had left earlier.  “You might as well quit while you’re ahead.”

“I wouldn’t call this being ahead,” Cassian huffs, turning his wrist to flash the brand I put there.

“I can find passage out of the Empire for you.” We’re going to run out of time if we keep standing here talking in circles. The guard will get curious eventually. They are bound to wonder why the lights are still on and no one is preparing for bed soon. “I should know by morning when it will be here.”

“If that’s true, why haven’t you taken it?” Cassian challenges.

Azriel takes a tentative step towards me. For someone so large, he’s surprisingly quiet on his feet. “I was terrified of my father too,” he says gently.

I can’t help but look at his hands. Had his father done that to him?

“I thought it was normal, how he treated me. I thought everyone was afraid of their father. I didn’t know any better until I got out. Until I met these two jackasses.”

Rhysand snorts a laugh behind him.

Cassian grumbles out a retort that sounds like it’s in another language. 

Azriel stops when he’s only a few inches away from me. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “Sometimes you just need a little help. We can help each other, like you helped us earlier, right?”

I’ve lived around the ass kissing and political games of the palace long enough to know when someone’s trying to work an angle on me, and this isn’t one of those times. He means it. As hard to imagine that someone his size, someone who just took down a Giant and a bunch of Wargs, even with his wings broken, could be scared of anything, I believe him.

The bond warms, just a little. It’s nice, after years of feeling like no one could hear me when I whispered my complaints, to have a kinship with someone. I cling to that little shred of warmth like it’s a roaring fire amidst a blizzard. How long have I begged the Mother for even a shred of solace like this?

Perhaps that makes me weak. Perhaps I am a fool, but I want this. I want them. 

“A lot of good my help did,” it comes out in a whisper, like it’s dragging itself out of my throat. 

“But it does help,” Rhysand interjects. “Being your champions gives us an excuse to be close, and it gets us into places we couldn’t get before. You give us direct access to your father. That’s all we need.”

Azriel reaches out and brushes that loose strand of hair I’d pushed over my cheek behind my ear, scarred fingers brushing over my jaw with a feather light touch that is not unlike the one his shadow gives me. My whole body trembles all the same. 

“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promises.

I am entirely unprepared for that kind of promise. I’m supposed to be protecting them, not the other way around, but I’ve been on my own for awhile now, and I can’t help the way my body leans into that faint brush of his hand over my skin. Am I so starved for affection that even this feels like some grand gesture?

“We’re not asking you to do any fighting. You’re not challenging him.” Rhysand assures. “We merely need you to use these brands to your advantage. Drag us around with you. Show off the prize you’ve claimed like anyone else in the Empire would.”

My stomach twists. 

“Play the games the rest of the court plays, and we will do all the rest,” he assures. 

“I don’t understand how that helps you?” 

“For now, we need to observe his habits. There’s a parade tomorrow, right?”

Shit, I’d forgotten about that! 

“Yes.”

“Take us with you,” Rhysand explains. “Lots of people bring their champions out like bodyguards or trophies, right?”

“Or dogs,” Cassian hisses.

I wince. “Yes.”

“We don’t know much about the city. Just act like you’re showing us off so we can get a look around.”

He makes it sound so simple.

“And then what?”

He shrugs as he finally pushes off the wall. Though the touch had been brief, Azriel hasn’t moved out of my space, and seeing that it hasn’t sent me running, Rhysand takes this as a sign that he can move closer too. He’s just barely shorter than Azriel, and despite the fact that I inherited my Mother’s height, I cannot help but feel small next to them. I don’t think I entirely mind though.

 “Leave the strategies to us. The less you know what we’re doing and when, the safer you are. This is a long game, we have to take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous playing this game with my Father is,” I warn. If anything were to happen to them because I didn’t insist on getting them on that ship in the morning, I’d never forgive myself!

He grins, flecks of starlight glinting in his eyes. He really is the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, even with all the grime and blood on him. Which reminds me, they still haven’t seen the healer. Ember will never let me hear the end of it; I’m surprised she didn’t come with Anise to bust down my door. 

 “Let us do the worrying, Princess.” He’s very confident for someone who had just been thrown into a pit and been forced to fight a bunch of monsters. I hate to admit it, but that confidence worms its way through the bond like a rat chewing through a wall. No matter how hard I try to fight it back, a bit of it hits me anyway. Even without his presence inside my head, I feel safer when he’s near. 

My gaze flicks from him to Azriel for confirmation that this is something they have both agreed on, and he nods reassuringly. 

“You really think you can win?” I ask.

“Darling, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my people,” Rhysand vows. “Whatever it takes to see them free, I will do it.”

So much for me finding a way to get them out of here, they’re pretty determined to stay, influence from the mating bond or not. On one hand, if I do this, I can keep an eye on them; maybe I can find ways to rig another Game, can make sure they have everything they need to survive. On the other hand, this is crazy! We’re talking about taking on Hybern. Take him being my Father out of the question, no one has ever won anything against him, he’s always two steps ahead, always sees the outcome before it happens. 

I take my lower lip between my teeth again. I’m going to need a dark shade of lipstick in the morning to hide all the teeth marks I’ve undoubtedly left in it today. 

“Let’s say I agree, but only on a trial basis,” I begin, trying and failing to organize all my thoughts. The bond pulls me one way and rationale pulls me the other. I cannot find a happy middle ground. “If tomorrow goes poorly, will you get on the boat and leave the Empire behind?”

“Happily,” Cassian huffs.

Rhysand shrugs, “Ask me again tomorrow.”

I have a sinking feeling it’ll be the same answer tomorrow, but I’ll take whatever I can get, as long as it means there’s a shot at keeping them alive.

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

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[the-second-hand-unwinds]

1x04: "just kind of an asshole and a bad friend" - this scene, though!!

I don't see this scene discussed all that much, but for me it's a massive turning point, not just in the Lokius friendship but for Loki's own growth as a person who doesn't want to let down the people he respects and cares about. Mobius completely blows Loki's mind here and cuts him down with a graceful, yet blunt skill. He can almost read Loki's mind; no one has ever understood Loki like this before. But more importantly, why Mobius' reply here means so much:

He's not raising his voice. He's not giving Loki the angry and hurtful response that Loki expects and wants right now. That's because if Mobius hurts Loki back, if he retaliates in kind, it will distract Loki from the fact that he was a dick to the first real friend he ever had. It will make it much easier for Loki to lie to himself and excuse his actions, while avoiding any guilty feelings. Mobius is not going to give him that.

Mobius also refuses to play along with Loki's bratty drama, instead speaking to him in an honest way, showing that yeah, Loki did let him down and hurt his feelings. And that Mobius is angry, sure. But it's not a moment for petty, fake drama such as Loki tries to ignite.

Instead, it's his friend saying "I trusted you and put myself on the line for you and you betrayed me. You don't get to make this about anything else." (more below the break)

Owen Wilson's delivery on these lines could not have been more flawless. We get all of Mobius' feelings; he's just a regular guy at the end of the day, and his genuineness, his integrity is not what Loki is used to dealing with. He's knocked the ground out from under Loki, this simply, this easily.

Emotional stakes instead of shallow, selfish ones. Loki is thrown into real shock by this turn of events. This is not how he's used to being dealt with when he's been "bad." The child in Loki never matured past these tantrums, for reasons we can easily guess.

Instead of being enraged or saying a bunch of mean stuff back at him, Mobius calls it like it is, then moves on, as if Loki no longer deserves his attention. That is going to drive Loki so crazy.

Plus, Mobius gets Loki so completely that he already knows how his statement is going to hit him. That's why, when Loki's surprised expression appears, Mobius is expecting it and says, "Yeah, chew on that for a little bit."

In other words, "How do you like being treated like a person who is expected to be decent and considerate, as opposed to being treated like a threat or problem to be destroyed?"

I think the latter was damaging to Loki at first, but then, over time, so much easier for Loki to cope with. Enemies were playing into his hands by repeating back the same insults he's gotten used to, has toughened up to.

Nobody has believed in him and expected - not just demanded - but expected better from Loki, until Mobius.

Knowing that he almost immediately tarnished such a friendship hits completely different and Loki is thrown by it.

Mobius sees Loki 100% for who he is and knows how to get under his skin when necessary, knows how to get past Loki's bravado in a way no one else has done.

But part of that skill is because Mobius really still can't help loving Loki to bits, and as hurt as he is here, he has not completely given up on Loki. It's Mobius' genuine, heartfelt responses to Loki that allow him the empathy to give as good as he gets, but more than that, to care enough, specifically, to try and help Loki learn to be better.

I just love them so much-- 😭💓💞

[reccyls]

A Dangerous Deal with Victor (Villains in CASINO - Victor’s story)

My translation of Victor's casino event story

---

We infiltrated Gloria, a casino swirling with dark rumors including everything from illegal gambling, shady deals, and various other claims from eyewitnesses. I was posing as a waitress, while Victor pretended to be a dealer. However…

Young Lady: Oooh! Over here, Mr. Dealer!

Beautiful Noblewoman: If I win the next hand, will you tell me your name!?

Victor: Please calm down, ladies. I’m glad you’re having fun, but I am just a dealer here.

I was not having a good time at all. Victor looked so handsome as a dealer that all the female customers were flocking to his table, the sound of their squealing filled the air.

(I mean, it’s not a surprise to me that Victor’s popular.)

The problem was with what he was wearing.

(Of course people will go crazy if he leaves his chest exposed like that!)

All of the other dealers wore their shirts perfectly buttoned up. But for some reason, Victor had left his partially unbuttoned, showing off his chest. The female customers were all staring at his chest, absolutely entranced.

(But he’s mine…)

Unable to hold back any longer, I began walking in his direction. When he noticed me approaching, his expression lit up. But then…

Kate: The owner needs to talk to you. Come around to the back.

I spoke loudly enough for the flock of customers nearby to hear, and then without waiting for an answer, I took Victor by the arm and started walking.

Victor: What’s the matter? Did something happen?

The moment we reached somewhere isolated enough, I raised my voice.

Kate: Cover your chest!

Victor: Huh?

Victor looked baffled as I grabbed his shirt and began struggling to button it up myself.

Kate: Look at all those people drooling over how sexy you are! Kate: You have to hide your chest, before any more damage is done!

He clasped my wrist, tilting his head in askance.

Victor: But what about you? You don’t think I’m sexy?

(Not that face again…)

I couldn’t resist that pout, and let my cheek rest against his chest.

Kate: …You’re my boyfriend, but everyone else was looking… Kate: I don’t want them to see… you’re mine…

My protest came out as a whisper, and I felt his body tremble.

Victor: …Ohh my, how can my girlfriend be so adorable!!

His arms wrapped around me in a tight hug.

Victor: Ah… Kate, you’re seriously too cute. Victor: This is the first time you’ve gotten jealous like this, isn’t it?

He nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head. I felt embarrassment sweep through me.

Kate: It’s the first time I’ve said it, but I’ve felt like this before…

Our status, our positions, and the environments we grew up in were so different. And they were so obvious that I’d never voiced my jealousy. But now that we were lovers, I could finally tell him how I felt. He released me and drew some playing cards from his pocket.

Victor: Well, why don’t we make a little wager? I’ll draw two cards, and one of them is a joker.

He showed me a joker card and the ace of clubs, and then put his hands behind his back as he shuffled them around. When he extended his arms again, I saw a face-down card in each hand.

Victor: If you pick the ace, you win, and I’ll button up.

Kate: …Okay.

After some deliberation, I pointed to the card on the right.

Victor: Is that your final answer?

Kate: Yes.

I held my breath as he turned over the card, revealing… …the ace of clubs.

Victor: What a shame, that’s my loss.

With exaggerated resignation, Victor pointed to his shirt.

Victor: Since you’re here, why doesn’t the winner do the honors of buttoning me up?

Kate: All right. And don’t unbutton it again.

As satisfaction coursed through me, I reached out to grab Victor’s shirt in order to do up his buttons. The movement of cloth revealed a mark on his skin, one I had left on Victor last night.

(Ah-)

I snapped my head up, only to see Victor grinning down at me.

Victor: I should say, from my perspective, I was just warning everyone that I’m taken.

Kate: You were showing that on pur-

As I realized what Victor had done, I blushed furiously and looked away. But his hand curled around the back of my head, gently guiding my face towards his neck.

Victor: But since you want my shirt closed, next time, you should leave your claim somewhere more visible.

His hair fell around me like a curtain.

Victor: So everyone will know that I belong to you.

Following his lead, I stretched up and pressed my lips to the side of his neck. I didn’t notice that the two cards fluttering to the ground by our feet were both identical.

[bigheadbrooke-9]

๋࣭ ⭑ Not that easy ๋࣭ ⭑

.✦ ──────────────────── .✦

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!reader

Summary: Eddie has harbored a secret crush on you since middle school but never confessed, convinced that his awkward appearance and insecurities made him unworthy of your attention. Now a senior, with a bit more confidence and a new look, he still can’t shake his feelings for you. He admires your kindness, beauty, and effortless charm—talking about you constantly to his friends, who have finally had enough. They push him to make a move, but despite their encouragement, Eddie just can’t seem to find the courage to face you.

Warnings : Heavy bullying, name calling, fluff, kissing ( IF YOU DON’T LIKE READ )

Word count : 2.2k

Based of unreleased Frank

“Eddie, you have to talk to her. You’ve been in love with her for so long, and at this point, she’s your entire personality. It’s obvious how much you care—just go talk to her,” Gareth urged, his voice filled with frustration as he stared at me from across the lunch table.

I remained silent, staring down at my untouched tray. My appetite had disappeared the moment I saw Y/N laughing and talking with Jason Carver, of all people. Jason—the guy who had made my life hell for years. The guy who had never looked twice at her until now. And yet, in just a matter of weeks, he somehow managed to get her. Meanwhile, I had spent years pining after her, doing everything I could to be in her orbit, but never finding the courage to say a damn thing.

“It’s fine, Gareth. I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” I muttered, pushing my tray away.

That wasn’t a good enough answer for my friends. They all exchanged glances, knowing something was seriously wrong. Normally, I’d be running my mouth, cracking dumb jokes, or going off on a tangent about some campaign idea. But today? I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. The silence felt unnatural. Even the guys, who tried to make small talk to fill the void, knew something was off.

Then, as if the universe hadn’t humiliated me enough, the cafeteria doors swung open behind me, and I felt the shift in the air before I even turned around. Y/N walked in—hand in hand with Jason.

My stomach twisted.

I kept my eyes forward, but I could hear them laughing as they passed. Jason, being the absolute jackass he was, smacked Mike on the back of the head as he walked by. But before I could even process the anger bubbling up in my chest, Y/N did something unexpected—she reached out and lightly slapped the back of Jason’s head in return, giving him a sharp look. A silent warning.

It didn’t matter, though. Not really.

The damage had already been done.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, gripping the edges of my denim jacket as I shrugged it back onto my shoulders. I needed to get out of here before I completely lost it. Grabbing my book bag, I pushed back my chair abruptly.

“Eddie, where are you going?” Dustin called after me, his voice laced with concern.

I ignored him.

I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t sit here and watch the girl I had been in love with for years parade around with the guy who had tormented me since freshman year. My heart couldn’t take it.

Without another word, I walked out the back doors, the lingering scent of Y/N’s perfume still hanging in the air. It was too much.

I needed to get to my van. I needed to breathe before I broke down completely.

Y/n’s pov ⭑

As I walked into the cafeteria with Jason, his hand in mine, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off. Jason was always affectionate—sometimes a little too much—but that wasn’t what had me distracted. It was Eddie.

His table, usually the loudest in the cafeteria, was eerily quiet. No dramatic storytelling, no over-the-top gestures, no corny jokes that made his friends groan. Eddie Munson, the guy who could fill any room with noise, sat completely still, staring at his untouched lunch tray. His hands were folded tightly, his shoulders tense.

I wasn’t close with Eddie—not really. We had exchanged words here and there, the occasional nod in passing, maybe a shared joke when we were forced into a group project together. But I had known him for years, and I knew enough to realize that something was wrong.

As Jason and I walked past their table, he suddenly reached out and smacked Mike on the back of the head. My stomach twisted.

I hated when he did that.

I had told him before—I warned him before—not to put his hands on people like that. Without hesitation, I lifted my hand and lightly slapped the back of his neck in return. He turned to me, brows furrowing, but I gave him a sharp look.

A silent message. Cut it out.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a chair scrape against the floor.

“Eddie, where are you going?” Dustin’s voice rang out, laced with concern.

I turned just in time to see Eddie walking out of the cafeteria. His hair swung loosely around his shoulders as he stormed toward the exit, his book bag slung over one shoulder, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Something in my chest tightened.

Before I could think, I let go of Jason’s hand and took a step toward the door.

Immediately, Jason grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

“What are you chasing after that freak for?” he asked, leaning down slightly as if he was genuinely confused.

I blinked up at him, my stomach twisting in irritation. “Jason,” I sighed, already exasperated. “I’ve told you to stop calling him that. He’s done nothing to you. Cut it out.”

I tried to move past him, but he stepped in front of me again, blocking my way.

“Move, Jason,” I said, my voice firm but still patient. “Please, just move.”

His grip tightened on my wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold me in place. He shook me lightly, as if trying to snap me out of something. “Freaks like him don’t deserve—”

Before he could finish, I lifted my free hand and slapped him across the face.

The sound echoed.

Jason froze, his jaw tightening, his nostrils flaring.

I ignored the way the cafeteria went silent, ignored the way heads turned in our direction.

My hands were shaking. My heart was racing.

I didn’t care.

I had warned him.

For weeks, I had let his words slide, let his comments go with a forced smile and an annoyed sigh. I had asked him nicely—multiple times—to stop treating people like they were beneath him. But Jason never listened.

So I was done asking.

Pushing past him, I stormed toward the door, shoving it open with more force than necessary.

I didn’t stop to see if Jason followed.

I didn’t care.

Right now, the only thing I cared about was finding Eddie.

Eddie’s POV ⭑

I unlocked my van with a heavy sigh, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat before climbing in. The familiar scent of old leather and faint cigarette smoke filled my nose as I slammed the door shut behind me. My hands instinctively found their way to my lap, fingers absentmindedly twisting the metal rings that adorned them.

I wasn’t going to cry.

I wasn’t.

This wasn’t new—Jason always did this. Every time I so much as glanced at a girl, he felt the need to swoop in, as if it were some kind of sick competition. The thing was, I never really cared before. The other girls were just passing thoughts, meaningless crushes that never stuck.

But Y/N?

She was different.

She wasn’t just some fleeting interest or a name I’d forget in a few months. She was the only person I had ever truly liked—the only one who had ever really mattered. She made me want to be better. Not just for her, but for myself, for my friends, for the small sliver of hope I still had for my future.

But none of that mattered now, did it?

I let my head fall back against the seat, exhaling through my nose as I stared at the stained ceiling of my van.

God, I hated high school.

A sudden tap against my passenger-side window pulled me from my thoughts. My brows furrowed as I turned my head, only to find her—standing on her tiptoes, trying to peer inside with an almost comical determination.

A small chuckle escaped me before I even realized it.

I reached over and unlocked the door, quickly wiping my face just in case there were any stray tears.

Y/N yanked the handle and struggled to climb in, her frame awkwardly maneuvering against the high step of my rusty old van. She wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to old, beat-up vehicles with doors that barely worked. She was used to nice things. Expensive cars. Smooth rides.

I hated that I even let myself compare.

But it was hard not to.

She let out a small huff, clearly frustrated, and reached for my outstretched hand. Her fingers gripped mine tightly as I helped pull her into the seat. She attempted to shut the door, but it was too far for her to reach.

I smirked. Too stubborn to ask for help.

Without thinking, I leaned over her and pulled the door shut, the force of it making the van shake slightly. It wasn’t until I sat back in my seat that I realized just how close we had been—just how intoxicating her perfume was, how the warmth of her skin lingered against mine.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my gaze forward.

I could feel her staring at me.

Her gaze was soft—curious, maybe even concerned.

I finally turned my head to meet her eyes.

“What happened in the cafeteria?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “You’re usually so talkative and loud and funny, but today you were just… quiet. Why?”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head as I let it fall forward.

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

She was still looking at me.

“Eddie, look at me. What’s wrong?”

Her voice was soft, but there was a firmness to it—a quiet insistence that made my chest tighten.

I felt a warm hand wrap around my wrist, her fingers curling around it like she was afraid I’d slip away if she let go.

I swallowed hard, still staring out the window at the school parking lot. I couldn’t look at her.

I wouldn’t.

If I did, I knew I’d break.

“I can’t tell you,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not important. It’s just… a lot going on.”

She didn’t let go.

If anything, her grip tightened.

“Is this about Jason?” she asked, giving my wrist a gentle shake as if trying to pull my attention back to her.

I let out a sharp exhale, finally rubbing a hand over my face.

She was so pretty.

Even now, while looking at me with nothing but concern in her eyes, she was stunning.

“Mostly, yeah. But I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice coming out rough. “I can’t tell you. Just leave it be, Y/N.”

The second the words left my mouth, I felt the shift.

She let go of my wrist.

The warmth disappeared.

I finally turned to look at her, and I regretted it instantly.

She looked… hurt.

I watched as she reached for the door handle, her fingers wrapping around it like she was seconds from leaving.

Panic flared in my chest.

“Y/N, don’t go. Listen—”

“Eddie.”

She cut me off, her voice quieter now but still firm. “You can talk to me. I’m not going to judge you. I’ve known you for years now, you can—”

“Y/N, I love you.”

It came out before I could stop it.

Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in shock, but I didn’t let myself hesitate.

“That’s why I don’t want to see you with Jason. It hurts—a lot. I’ve wanted you since seventh grade, and I’m sick of watching him chase after you, knowing damn well how I feel. He does it on purpose. And you—”

I was cut off again, but not by words.

By her hands.

She grabbed my face, her palms warm against my cheeks, and I barely had a second to process before she was smiling.

Smiling.

“So you’re jealous?” she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

I felt my face heat up instantly.

“Out of everything I just said, that’s what you focus on? You only hear jealou—”

And then she kissed me.

I froze, caught completely off guard, but the second I felt her lips against mine, my body acted before my brain could catch up.

I kissed her back.

God, I kissed her back.

It was soft, hesitant at first, like she was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. My hands found her waist, gripping onto her like she might disappear if I let go. The whole world outside this van faded away—Jason, school, everything.

It was just her.

Just us.

When she finally pulled away, my breath was heavy, my heart pounding so hard I swore she could hear it.

“Whoa, wait—” I stammered, trying to collect my thoughts. “Why did you do that?”

She just laughed, shaking her head.

“Eddie, the feelings are mutual.”

My brain short-circuited.

“You… what?”

“You don’t think I noticed?” she asked, tilting her head. “The way you look at me? The way you talk about me? You always speak so highly of me, about my personality, about how I look.” She smiled. “You’re such a gentleman, Eddie. You’re handsome. I’ve liked you since you had that buzz cut.”

I groaned, immediately burying my face in my hands.

“Oh god, please don’t mention that haircut.”

She laughed again, and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.

I peeked through my fingers, watching her grin at me, and for the first time in a long time—

I really, really loved this girl.

.✦─────────────────.✦

CUZ THEY ALL WANT WHAT I GOTTTT BUT I AIN’T GOT NOTHING BUT YOU NOTHING BUT YOU NOTHING BUT YOUUUU.

I love Frank and this lowkey reminds me of Eddie 😭

Sorry I haven’t been posting yall but I’m working on that medieval fan fiction yall want. ITS TAKES A LONG TIME ISTGGG 😭

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 12)

Masterpost

“Ya, I have questions,” Jason confirmed, trying not to shift awkwardly in his seat. “I read the slideshow but I don’t seem to fit in either liminals or ghosts, and I have some issues that I think would have been mentioned if they were common?”

“Alright, what are they?” Danny asked tilting his head a little. 

“Well, it’s been better since meeting you, and I know increased aggression was one of the thing mentioned but mine isn’t like Damian’s, or even yours I think. We’ve been calling it Pit Madness. I’ve gotten better at managing it but especially when I got back it was really bad. I… killed a ton of people and I still have a lot of bloodlust that no one is comfortable with.”

“That is unusual, especially directed towards humans. Aside from revenge against whoever killed them dead usually don’t care very much about the living,” Danny said curiously, considering Jason. 

“And I do read as- as dead?” Jason asked, he had been worried about that.

“Well you’re obviously not Dead dead,” Danny said rolling his eyes before he reached across the table. “Here, with touch I can figure out a bit more.” He said and Jason hesitated for a moment before resting his hand in Danny’s.

A cool feeling quickly washed up his arm and over his chest like intangible water. Danny tilted his head to the other side, his brows coming together slowly as he gazed into the middle distance and considered what he was feeling. He let out a hiss and some sort of chitter that couldn’t come from a human throat, then clicked his tongue and the cool feeling dissipated, sinking under Jason’s skin and cooling heat he hadn’t been aware of feeling. 

“Okay, ya that’s weird,” Danny admitted and Jason’s heart dropped. “Best I can equate it to is, like a bone that healed wrong,” Danny said thoughtfully. “You did die before?” He asked, Jason nodded mutely. “Okay, I won’t ask why or how. But best I can tell your soul was shoved back into your body and not given time to get settled back in it’s proper position before whatever was done to bind it in place. So you’re alive but with some.. Spiritual nerve and brain damage. Would you be comfortable telling me how you were resurrected?”

“Well, I resurrected myself apparently. I don’t really remember it but apparently about six months after my death I dug myself out of my grave. Before I could get anywhere the League of Shadows found me and dunked me in the Lazarus pit which is this glowing green stuff that heals the dying and kills the healthy. I don’t remember any of it, it was almost a year before I recovered enough to be myself at all.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Danny said, nodding thoughtfully. “My guess would be at first you came back as a revenant, which is basically when a ghost possesses their own corpse to get revenge, not truly a living being. But then this Lazarus pit resurrected your body and your soul got stuck in your living body again without being prepared or intending for that to happen. 

“That’s what I’m guessing happened but I can’t be sure, and I’m not a healer so I don’t really know what to do about it. I’m sure my ghost doctor Frostbite would be happy to take a look at you though! Looks like we’ll be making an appointment for you too,” He joked making Jason chuckle nervously. 

“Well that’s.. Totally fucked up,” Jason said and Danny nodded.

“Ya, dying is basically always fucked up, coming back Specifically for revenge and then getting stuck here long after that’s a motivating factor is messy. I mean, for a human that would be fine, but for people like us,” He gestured between the two of them. “Obsessions are everything so that’s hard. You’ve been cultivating more healthy obsessions I know but you’ll never be the same,” Danny said, and Jason nodded.

He knew as much, he could never go back. Not that he hadn’t always had these sorts of thoughts and inclinations. Once of the reasons Bruce had taken on him and Dick was their murderous inclinations needed to be curbed, for Dick it had work, for Jason… Well it was a combination of a lot of things, it wasn’t really Bruce’s fault it had failed. Other than the fact that he’d let the Joker live far longer than he should have, but that was bleeding-heart-Brucie for you. It was funny, to not really be mad at Bruce anymore, understanding there was nothing else he could have done, and still not be able to forgive him.

Danny must have noticed how Jason had gotten lost in his own head because he reached across the table and covered one of Jason’s clenched hands with his own, soft and cool. “You’re doing really well Jason. It’s a messed up situation but I don't think anyone could have handled it better then you are,” Danny said softly.

Jason didn’t believe it but it felt good to hear and it did settle him a little bit. “Thanks Danny, that means a lot,” he said, giving Danny’s hand a squeeze before pulling back. 

There was a natural break in conversation as the waitress brought their appetizers, and when she left again Jason didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Danny spoke. “Why don’t I tell you a bit about my doctor? Frostbite can be a lot, as much as it would probably be funny to spring him on you I should probably give you a heads up.”

“Ya, ya that sounds good,” Jason agreed, glad to let Danny do the talking for a bit. And when telling him about Frostbite turned into talking about the Yetis, to talking about the Infinite Realms, to Danny info-dumping about space. Well Jason really doesn’t mind, especially with the way it makes Danny light up. It was good to see him happy.

---------

The food was good but Jason didn’t taste much of it, and aside from going “Oh wow!” When he took his first bite of his food Danny didn’t seem to either. At a certain point Jason realized he was going to have to do some talking or Danny was going to keep talking and wouldn’t eat. So he took over, but he didn’t know much about space so he started talking about literature and poetry and Danny listened raptly and finally ate his food.

It was very nice to have someone listen to him like that, it was sort of funny, it looked like it was as fun for Danny to listen to him talk then it had been the other way. Jason thought about how supporting obsessions was important for ghosts to have their obsessions supported. Reading wasn’t Really his obsession, he didn’t think, but it sure was an interest and it felt really good to get to share with someone new. 

By the end of the dinner Jason has well and truly decided that this was a date. Danny was cute, good, and passionate, and a good listener, Oh and strong as Fuck which was always a turn on for Jason. Speaking of powerful…

“Can I ask you another sort of serious question?” Jason asked after they got their dessert. Danny looked up, mouth full and a little smear of chocolate on his top lip, Jason resisted the urge to reach across the table and wipe it off. Danny nodded. “When Damian gave me his little shovel talk he mentioned that you’re going to be a god some day?” He said, tilting his head. Maybe that was a third date sort of conversation but it seemed like it would be important to understanding Danny.

Danny choked a little and swallowed, sighing heavily. “That’s what I’ve been told,” Danny grumbled. “There’s a prophecy apparently, and with how my powers have been progressing even just in the first 2 years since I died, I can already go toe to toe with some Ancients and win so… Ya, I guess it’s probably inevitable, especially since I haven’t stagnated yet. I don’t want to be one really, I didn’t ask for this, but whatever. I probably can’t stop it.” He slumped back in the booth, looking tired. 

Shit Jason shouldn’t have brought that up. “Hey you’ve got time right? That won’t be for a while. Also, what’s an Ancient?” 

“Very old, very powerful spirits. They’re essentially their own pantheon, Ancient is basically just what ghosts call gods.” He said with a shrug.

“Makes sense, I mean gods usually are ancient. Even more reason you don’t have to worry about that right now. I mean you’re far from ancient,” Jason pointed out, earning himself a little smile from Danny. 

“Ya, you’re right,” He agreed and went back to eating his dessert, the conversation moved on to the music they liked.

When the bill came Jason put his card down without letting Danny see what the bill came to and passed it back to the waitress. They lingered in the booth for a while still chatting, unwilling to part ways yet. If Jason didn’t know his family would want Danny home before they went out on patrol he might have suggested they just go to a park and walk for a while. Talk, maybe each take one of his wireless earbuds and take turns picking songs. But he had a feeling Damian really would try to kill Jason if he didn’t get to see Danny home safe. 

Eventually they left, wandering back to Jason’s motorbike and Danny snuggled up to Jason’s back again as they drove back to the manor. The silence was companionable until Jason pulled up, propping the bike up to let Danny get off. He took off his helmet and handed it back to Jason, not letting go immediately when Jason took it so their hands were touching. 

“This was nice, I had fun,” Danny said, blushing a little and looking down.

“It was, we should do it again soon,” Jason agreed, “I’ll text you okay?” 

“You’d better,” Danny teased before walking back towards the manor. 

Damian opened the door for him, shooting Jason a glare before slamming it making him laugh. He was still a child no matter how much he pretended he wasn’t. Jason kicked off on his bike and zoomed off, heading home to get ready for patrol.

Next

[alexanderlightweight]

hi how are you doing? follow up for the verse where magnus breaks the parabatai bond? my heart beats for you?

hello!! it has been a bit I am back to writing and while my health is a bit tumultuous at least i'm writing!! I hope you are doing well and that you enjoy this next bit! last part here.

<3 lumine

my heart beats for you

“J-ace?” is the first word from Alexander’s lips and Magnus has to forcibly keep his face from spasming in anger, even though Alexander cannot see it.

“Alive and in Idris getting care for the broken bond. He’s not locked in the Silent Brother’s catacombs or the Institute’s cells.” Magnus soothes, only knowing as much as he does because Isabelle has helpfully kept him updated.

Jace had been inconsolable and violent and also wailing with a voice that could, apparently, shatter even warded windows.  His parabatai rune had not been nearly as damaged as Alexander's and so to have it break so suddenly, it had nearly broken him with it.

At least Magnus’ actions mean that blondie was collected to Idris.  Isabelle took Magnus’ warning seriously — in a way she hadn’t originally — and somehow arranged it so that the Clave themselves had taken custody over Jace.  Broken parabatai bonds aren’t something to laugh about and while Alexander’s body was evidence that could have been disposed of, Isabelle had enough time to set things up before Jace made it back to keep him safe.

It’s the only thing that saved him, or Magnus is sure Aldertree would have simply culled Jace upon arrival.

“Wha-”and then Alexander pauses and looks at Magnus with horror in his tear filled eyes, “did I break it?”

Magnus never thought that would be a conclusion Alexander would come to but it should have been. And while Alexander’s stubbornness did weaken it and leave vulnerable openings, that isn’t why.

“Your heart stopped, Alexander. I had to bring you back, twice.” Which is true.  After the first time Magnus had to use his magic to forcibly keep Alexander’s blood pumping and restart his heart, the choice had been made.  It’s the entire reason Magnus went to such drastic measures in what most would consider a rather short period of time.

“You’re inconvenient evidence, sweetheart.” Magnus can’t help but smile tiredly and his touch is gentle as he twines a loose curl around his finger.  “Aldertree would love any excuse to do away with you, especially when you are so vulnerable.  You would have died for good if I hadn’t been there and I even had to go so far as to forcibly lock them out, the last time.  I was almost ready to kidnap you but—” Magnus softens his voice because Alexander is looking at him tiredly but adoringly and there are still tears in his eyes.  “But I could not save both, Alexander.  It was either lose both you and the bond — in which case the bond would break anyway, or just the bond.”

Alexander coughs, dry and wet at the same time and Magnus summons the glass he’s already prepared to his hand and helps Alexander drink, cautioning him to go slow.  

“Thank you.” Alexander’s voice is rough and scratchy despite the potion and Magnus wants to quiet him but he needs to hear what Alexander will say as much as Alexander needs to say it.  “I was unfair to you.  Selfish and cruel and you still helped me.”

“You were falling apart and lashing out.  I have seen it before and done it myself, that you live despite everything is the greatest thanks I could have hoped to receive.”

“Magnus.”  Alexander’s fingers shake as his hand raises to cup Magnus’ face. “I’m alive because you saved me, despite all my lashing out.  Don’t claim that as a reward for yourself, when it was a gift to me.  You never deserved any of that, I was scared and falling apart and you held me together even when I pushed you away.”

Alexander’s words are a delight and Magnus can hardly believe he’s able to say them at all.  He would have been in much worse shape if Magnus had left the bond intact in the hopes Jace would return in time.  There would have been almost no hope, considering how long had passed before Isabelle messages him to say Jace was contained and safe.

Magnus lets satisfaction and pleasure coil in his gut and he leans forward to nuzzle Alexander’s jaw. Magnus has told no lies.  That his measures were a bit more drastic than might have been necessary mean nothing in the fact of Alexander being alive.

Jace living was a necessity for this not to go badly and he’s safe, which is all Alexander truly wants.  Despite having lost their bond, Magnus knows that Alexander thinks it’s a small price to have Jace back and somewhere safer than under Aldertree’s thumb.

“I told Isabelle to run blood tests on Jace, and to process them through the main database and since I know the Clave has access to warlock blood, to test it against that as well.  A reaction will form, regardless of relation and if he does have warlock blood, it might be possible for the Labyrinth to demand responsibility for him.  Testing it against other nephilim blood will also show the differences, which will help Jace or help getting him out.”  

Magnus doubts the Labyrinth would involve themselves for reasons beyond research, but he also knows from the tarot reading he did, that understanding Jace’s blood will help fix this bit.

A fire message bursts into existence and Magnus catches it with a scowl, magic creating a barrier so that the flame won’t daze Alexander any more than it already is.

“Ah— well that’s a bit unexpected.” Magnus muses, because truly, he does not use his cards enough and this is the reminder, “but not completely unpleasant.”

“Magnus?”

One glance at Alexander’s exhausted, terrified face and Magnus snaps the message away and brings Alexander’s hand up to his mouth for a kiss.  

Alexander typically runs cool but he feels clammy now. His pulse beats sluggishly under the vein Magnus’ thumb caresses and Magnus can’t help but ease some magic into his darling, pressing closer to warm him as well.

“Jace is completely safe.  He will be fine now.  Nothing can hurt him anymore, so you’re free to focus your pretty head on your own recovery.” Alexander makes a noise of confusion and Magnus kisses his cheek, “Valentine was full of lies, as usual.  Jace is no more Valentine’s son or demon-blooded than he is a fish or a moose.  No, your brother—” because Magnus won’t bring a reminder to what they no longer are, “is pure Herondale spawn.  Grandson of Imogen herself and well, Isabelle seems quite gleeful in how upset Imogen is with Aldertree.” 

“Herondale.” Alexander murmurs, repeating it twice more before he nods, slowly and controlled and relieved despite his grief.  “He’ll be safe now.  That’s what’s important.  He’s safe and he’s alive. Even if he had demon blood, she’s the type to bend any rule for her own kin.”

Magnus isn’t surprised by that, even if he wished he were and he curls around Alexander, pulling another comforter up with magic. 

“Now that you know he’s safe and free and in good hands, will you rest? You’ve yet to heal and are still in danger, Alexander.”  And then, because this is the best time to say it and it’s true, Magnus leans closer and whispers over Alexander’s ear in a quiet murmur.  

“You terrified me, darling. I almost couldn't pull you back in time, I almost lost you."

Alexander’s grip tightens and he pulls Magnus closer to him and while the angle is awkward, Alexander’s steady breathing is nothing but pure joy to hear and feel.

“I’ll try better. I’ll do better, Magnus. I will.”

AN:

Magnus later: oh no... did i set off his guilt complex?

Alec being much more careful about his health and personal safety from now on

Magnus: oh nevermind. I’m fine with this. Continue onwards!

-

Magnus was thrown into an unprecedented medical situation and made a choice. Yes it was a selfish choice but it wasn’t the wrong choice either. He basically amputated something that was infected and parasitic at the time. He has no qualms about his actions and while he won’t tell Alec so Alec doesn’t have to bother being conflicted, the fact is that he believes he made the right choice (and he did).

[cheschesterpossum]

(I'm baaaack! This is the Anon that has been possessed by brain worms that whisper sweet nothings about a sibling au, and I have finished the vast majority of it now! This is the everything from the actual separation to their reunion, and it is very long so I apologize in advance. I do have more in the works though, so if you want more don't you worry about a thing. Also, I don't know if I should give myself a name or not. I kinda like Brain Worms Anon, but if you have any ideas feel free to share!)

Because I want the love SG and OG Rung have for their parent to be completely reciprocated, (I like happy endings, ok?) I'm gonna add some drama. Y/N didn't want to leave their sons; they'd fully meant to keep their promise. At the start of Project: Primus, the political sphere almost fully supported the idea of creating such powerful weapons to assert their dominance across the world. (Y/N, in my eyes, was far more interested in the ’crafting a sister species’ aspect, but interpret it as you will) Over time, however, the sphere shifted. As Y/N started making the worlds for OG, SG, and their Primes, Y/N saw the government's support for the project wane as new people with different goals were put in positions of power. So Y/N tried their best to sway their minds, keep Project: Primus afloat. It seemed like they were succeeding, and they didn't want to worry their sons, so Y/N tried to shield them from the whole thing. Soon enough, the two worlds were finished, each with a connection to Earth alongside a separate bridge connecting the two to each other. They were just sent to their worlds when an extremist group broke into the facility. Y/N had heard of them before; they were very vocal protesters of the Project, and saw every Cybertronian - especially SG Rung - as a threat to humanity that needed to be extinguished. Said extremists had been getting very antsy, and they'd gotten tired of the government postponing what they thought needed to be done. Y/N knew that group would kill their kids if given the chance, so they permanently severed the worlds’ link to Earth to keep them safe. Even if it meant that they'd never see their family again, it also meant the group couldn't hurt the cybertronians or their worlds. Let's just say the extremists didn't like that very much. They tried to convince, to bribe, to threaten, (maybe even beat) Y/N into complying with their demands, but Y/N refused. They wouldn't reconnect the worlds to Earth, told them they couldn't. That it was impossible. And, to be fair, they thought it was. The extremist group, as well as some scientists they got to comply through various methods, all tried to re-establish the connection, but nothing worked. Eventually, the group gave up and left or the police finally showed up and detained them for breaking into a private government facility as well as damaging equipment and employees. The government might have made a half-hearted attempt to fix the connection as well, but they weren't all that interested in keeping Project: Primus around anymore, especially not with how much most of the public had grown to fear and hate it. Y/N moved on to another job in the government, they weren't punished harshly, if at all. They did, in a sense, get rid of the problem for them, and it's always useful to have a capable scientist like them on hand. Internally, Y/N is a mess, but there was nothing they could do. After two and a half years, they ended up dating someone again.

Meanwhile, back with our boys, they ended up waiting for someone that was unable to come. SG and OG didn't know what happened, and when they met up with each other only to discover that it was the same for both of them, they tried to go to Earth themselves. Only, it didn't work. They worked round the clock to try and fix it at first, but the Primes needed them, and one of the last things you asked before sending them off on their own was to take care of the Primes as best they could. SG and OG Rung were not perfect parents by a long shot, but they tried their best. Three years passed on Earth, but I'm gonna say anything from three hundred to three million passed on their end. I'm probably going to go with the lower end in my head because I like some angst but I don't want them to suffer for THAT long. Anyways, as the Primes grew, SG and OG came to two entirely different conclusions.

OG Rung assumed the worst, and tried to accept that you were dead and gone. He tried to keep it together for the Primes, but he basically embodied the depression stage of grief. He reached this conclusion because he knew that you'd never abandon them of your own free will, and thought that death was the only reasonable explanation. OG became very sentimental towards anything that reminded him of his parent. SG Rung tried to keep his older brother from drowning in grief, which he convinced himself was because ‘all the wallowing was pathetic’, but really it was because he couldn't stand to lose anyone else.

SG Rung came to think that you abandoned them, that the bridge broke down and when it became too much trouble to fix it, you gave up. He didn't try all that hard to hide his resentment, and basically embodied the anger stage of grief. He came to that conclusion because he absolutely refused to consider the idea that you were dead. Just hardcore denial. SG Rung hated anything that reminded him of his parent, and basically either destroyed it or shoved it onto OG Rung. OG Rung tried to keep his younger brother from being swallowed whole by rage, with the belief that he'd eventually ‘accept reality’.

I want to think that despite his growing hatred, SG Rung cared about the Primes too much to simply abandon them. He replaced the idea that he needed to keep his promise with a drive to be ‘better than Y/N was’. To prove to himself that he was different than them. Maybe OG Rung helped convince him, who knows. I don't really know if I want the two to have a falling out or not, but their relationship would definitely be tested. With such different views of their parent, both would think the other is in denial of the truth. OG Rung would get a bit defensive over SG Rung accusing/insulting Y/N, and SG Rung would get angry/disgusted over OG Rung singing Y/N’s praises and trying to honor their memory.

Both Rungs did work on the side to open their bridges to Earth again; they wanted closure at the very least. They wanted to prove to each other that they were right. After the Primes were all grown and off doing their own things, the brothers went full throttle into repairing the connection to Earth. They used whatever spare time they had to fix it, and eventually, they did. SG and OG went through, and saw the place they grew up completely abandoned. They accessed the computers left in the place, and were extremely confused when they found every clock saying that only three years had passed. (Maybe they access the cameras and see what the extremists did to Y/N? I don't imagine they'd take seeing their parent being interrogated and slapped around very well, but I'm undecided on whether they find that out now or later. Think of the Dad Lore™ moment they could have if it was later. I'm gonna write that at some point, even if it's not about that specifically.) The Rungs tracked Y/N down, and soon broke into their house. The moment Y/N sees them, they start giggling, laughing, and then sobbing within the span of like, 5 seconds before saying something about how they’re honestly surprised it took this long for them to go crazy. It takes a bit for SG and OG to convince Y/N that they aren't hallucinations, but in the end Y/N and OG Rung are hugging and bawling their eyes out while SG Rung is standing in the corner rolling his own eyes at their ‘theatrics’. That is until Y/N goes up to SG Rung and says something like ‘Oh my baby, I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you then, but I hope I can be here for you now’ and hugs him tightly, cradling the back of his head. Then SG Rung SUDDENLY can't keep his composure and starts crying SO hard while hugging them back. It's all emotional and heartfelt until SG Rung notices OG Rung looking all smug in the background because look who's bawling their eyes out NOW, huh? Thought you were above getting hit with your emotions like a freight train? You were wrong! SG Rung glares at him for a bit, but as much as he hates it OG Rung isn't wrong so SG just kinda huffs and hugs their parent tighter.

After everyone calms down, they start exchanging stories. Y/N explains what happened, sugar-coating how the extremist group treated them so their sons wouldn't worry, and asks them how on Earth (pun intended) they managed to fix the connection between worlds. At some point, Y/N’s new partner walks in, and I feel that this would be the perfect time to introduce: Mama Bear Y/N™. They have the lowest of low standards for partners (at least for themselves), don't get me wrong, just awful taste, but the MOMENT anyone they are interested in says something rude or harmful about/to the Rungs or the little ones (they call the primes little ones), it is ON SIGHT. They LOVE their children and grandchildren, and they WILL fight you. That person is not only immediately getting dumped, they're getting the ‘hurt my family in any way, shape, or form and you'll be picking up your teeth with broken fingers’ treatment. Maybe SG and OG get a taste of it when that first partner becomes an ex, but Y/N was restraining themselves because they knew that if they went too far, they'd get fired and never be able to see their Rungs or their little ones again. Along with the fact that Y/N doesn't rely on their job to be able to see their sons anymore, the separation made that protective streak get a lot stronger. When OG and SG Rung finally get to see Mama Bear Y/N™ in action after they're reunited, they are very surprised, a little scared, and incredibly touched.

Something around the lines of-

Y/N, gesturing towards their new partner: Hey kids, there's someone I’d like you to meet! This is my new partner, AwfulPerson!

SG and OG Rung sharing a look™ and putting on their best fake smiles: Of course! We'd LOVE to meet the person who stole your heart.

AwfulPerson: Oh c’mon babe, you don't need to pretend these tin cans are your kids! If you wanted to spice things up, you just needed to tell me!

Y/N, quickly and quietly, looking at their soon to be ex-partner with pure homicidal intent in their eyes: What did you just say?

AwfulPerson, putting their arm around Y/N: I’m sure they'll be real fun in the-

Y/N, grabbing this fool by the arm and throwing him onto the ground, hard: SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU FILTHY PIG. APOLOGIZE TO THEM, NOW, OR THERE'S GONNA BE TWO KINDS OF HEADS IN MY GARDEN.

AwfulPerson, incredibly pale and very afraid: O-of course! I’m s-so sorry you two!

Y/N: That's better. Now, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! And I BETTER not see your ugly mug around them EVER AGAIN or I'm gonna BITE OFF YOUR FINGERS, SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR THROAT, AND SEW YOUR MOUTH SHUT!

As AwfulPerson runs out the door, Y/N cups OG and SG Rung’s cheeks: I'm sorry you had to hear that drivel. You're not ‘things’, and you're certainly not THAT. You are my babies through and through, I love both of you so much, and I don't care what that MONSTER has to say!

OG and SG Rung: :0 :°0… :D :°D

(You made it to the end! Good job! :) Again, I'm sorry it was so long! Have a nice day!)

HURT AND COMFORT AGHHHHH

the Sire Lore™ is crazy. Y/n is going to drop the bomb in the middle of lunch with their kids in the most casual voice

*Rungs eating and fighting eachother over the last piece of energon goody.*

Y/n: a group of extremist nearly pour acid down my throat once

*OG and SG stop to look at their creators unable to process the all too sudden information. Both still with fuel shoved in their mouth.*

SG Runf, omgn</3. He came to the conclusion their creators abandoned them because the thought of you being dead hurt him more😭😭😭

OG Rung's depression would affect the process of raising the Primes greatly when he keep wallowing in grief. We all know SG care about his brother more than he let on

🧠🪱anon, amazing ask!!! (Im so sorry I mistake you for perchance anon, idk why I did that)

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

I agree with you about your stances on punishment, and I think it's so important to see that perspective instead of the more common one. I do not want to live in a world with the death penalty or prison.

But I'm very curious how you got to the point where you want your abuser to be happy. Capital H happy. I've never seen that before. I think it's great, and it must've taken a lot of time, and if it's not too personal, I'd like to hear about the process. If not to help myself, to help someone else. I'm personally very very jaded to the whole "forgiveness" mentality (it seems very catholic to me somehow? I forgive you so I'm better than you?) But the way you put it feels different somehow. Sorry for picking your brain, and if it's too personal I totally get it. Thanks for your time.

Thank you for this question.

Hm, it's a tough one. It may be informed by my lack of any singular capital-A Abuser. Certainly, I have had people who were abusive to me longer term (my mother especially), but for the most part it was many dozens of adults in single instances or shorter term situations during my childhood and teenage years that raped or otherwise harmed me. That lack of any singular individual to act as a locus for all the damage may have made it easier for me to come to a point where I wish them well.

I remember being 19, face in my toilet bowl, puking my guts up after downing a fifth of rum in an hour or two. I think it was a Thursday. I understood my mother for the first time. I wanted to stop drinking, and I didn't know why I couldn't.

My roommate at the time slept on a mattress on the floor in the living room. He left his family the day he turned 18 and took the Greyhound across the country to crash with me. We were good friends when he got here, but my negligence and failure to control my drug use ruined that relationship within a few months. He stayed with me for two years. He didn't have other options.

I don't remember those years well at all. Besides various temp jobs, all I did was drink, get fucked up, and make messes I never cleaned up. It was a one bedroom apartment and I had the bedroom, he couldn't really go anywhere. He didn't really know anyone. I was a fucking terror to live with, and a terror he couldn't even really get away from.

And I didn't mean to be that way. I didn't mean to hurt him with my dereliction. But it doesn't matter, y'know, impact is more important than intent. I fucked up bad.

Eventually he left. I was and still am filled with remorse for putting him through what I did. Maybe this perspective is the christian upbringing, maybe it's twelve step bullshit, but often I see my feelings as very self serving. I can justify just about anything, as long as I use enough self pity. But this feeling was different. It was just... remorse, pure and unfiltered. No rationalizations as to how it wasn't really my fault, no equivocations, no blaming outside factors, just acknowledgement that I fucked up and I hurt someone I loved. I was sorry that I had done that.

Humility does not come naturally to me. This was a humbling experience.

I--and everyone I've ever met, everyone who ever harmed me--am a human being. No more, no less. In each of us is potential both to love deeply and to do great harm to others. No one is without both these potentials.

It comes down to this: what I wish for myself, I must wish for all.

Do not mistake me here--this does not neatly translate into a pragmatic political position. For me, this is simply some sort of spirituality, that is to say, how I strive to navigate my life, day at a time, in the world as I find it. This is as small scale as it can get.

I understand that feeling about forgiveness you mention. What I have to say about it probably won't help the christian connotation; I am an atheist and a subjectivist, though obviously culturally evangelical. Maybe it is that last part that influences this next, but I don't feel I have the authority to forgive anyone. Or, in another word, 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'

Now, of course, I believe in neither god nor sin, but I do believe in harm. 'Let he who is not capable of such harm cast the first stone,' perhaps. Not all harm is equivalent, certainly, but no one is innately capable or incapable of greater harm than others. The ability to actually do harm is relative to relations to power, no doubt, but a given power relation is not innate.

So yeah I end up back at 'i have no moral high ground over or under anyone else, the forgiveness is neither mine to give nor withhold,' which frankly is a rather christian viewpoint.

There's this idea in Judaism that has stuck with me for the last few years: tikkun olam. To repair the world. What must I do to ensure my part in that repair happens?

There is so little I have control of. The only thing I can change is what I do. If the world around me is hardened and cruel, why must I adopt that cruelty into myself? Will it get me better outcomes in life? Perhaps, perhaps not. I have found it hasn't, but others may find it has. But that's talking about results. And I don't have power over results.

I cannot change the world, cannot repair it alone. But I think I can work to repair myself, and in the process, the smallest portion of the world may be repaired alongside me. Maybe, maybe not. It becomes a matter of faith. Or to put it in a therapeutic framing, it's an 'even if.'

I'll end with this, an old twelve step saying: "resentments are like drinking a bottle of poison and expecting the other person to die."

What is a resentment? Re- as in once more. -sent, as in sentiment. Feeling something once more. It is the reanimated corpse of a feeling, not the feeling itself. It looks like the feeling you know, maybe walks and talks like it too. But it's rotting away. It died long ago. So why should you pretend the corpse is alive? It moves, it rasps, but it's something else now; it only shares a body with the original, nothing else. So maybe it's time to let go, and begin to move forward.

[bratbarzal]

https://kawhh.tumblr.com/post/784202736767057920/im-sorry-to-any-anons-on-here-who-will-only-feel

I know you're most likely sick of talking about this by now but this rubs me the wrong way.

Its like she's trying to downplay it all as 'drama' all the time and its getting so tiring. I'm pretty sure i've been blocked as anon even though i was never mean and she won't actually say what is going on or let anyone try and discuss it even though she says she doesn't mind asking for her side on things?

I think it's really hard for me to speak on this element of the situation and not come across as a bitch, or that I'm unnecessarily targeting someone and deflecting blame from the person who is at fault - but I've skipped out on answering a lot of anons who have either sent me links to things (I've said before, this person has me blocked and I can't view them, so I haven't responded) or had something to say about how it's being handled on this end, but ultimately I do think this user is a part of the overall conversation - and I can't really ignore the impact their actions have had on everything that has happened since this all started last month

a point I really want to make by speaking on this is that it's important for everybody that these things are spoken about publicly, and spoken about honestly, regardless of personal bias, because Brynn's actions genuinely hurt people and caused genuine harm to the writing and reading community on here. ignoring it or sugarcoating it does not take away from the pain caused or the damage done, and it's important to look at multiple perspectives to form an opinion

** I never have and I never will condone hateful messages sent to anyone - that is not the purpose of me speaking on this - and I urge people who want to have any conversation with anybody about this to be respectful, constructive, and not to shout over what is a serious point to be made, because it gets us all nowhere **

under a read more because it's long:

will preface by saying, this is not me trying to stand here on my soap box and point fingers and say that anyone is to blame for brynn's blatant and persistent content theft but herself. that isn't why I'm responding to this. and like I said above, this user has me blocked, I have her blocked, there's no other way for me to speak on it but to do so publicly (as much as she might hold the opinion I have no need to do so) and I sort of just want to show how all of this has had a wider impact on others in this space

I'll also preface by saying kawhh has said throughout that she doesn't agree with Brynn's actions, but as I'll explain below - actions speak louder than words, and the words she's said just aren't enough.

for anyone blocked, this is the post in question:

*most screenshots throughout this post are going to look different bc some of them come from others that have sent these to me - oftentimes by people trying to make me aware as it’s assumed they are about me, I don't know if that's the case, and nor do I actually care, this isn’t me trying to insert myself - the general consensus seems to be that anyone who speaks on this situation is a mean girl, a bully, or a bitch, and I think whoever she's trying to apply that to, it's a problematic take to have. I’m including pictures for context because I can’t link to posts.

my first point from this, is that she does have a responsibility to speak on this situation, and the reason I'm so insistent on responsibility and accountability, is because this user has a documented pattern of choosing to ignore and sensor the facts in favour of platforming, enabling and excusing her friend, despite her repeated abhorrent actions

when announcing brynn's return to the platform in a post that was encouraging forgiveness and giving second chances (no mention of all the other chances given for her to do the right thing), there was also no mention of the specific things she did that caused her to delete in the first place. there were several mentions of "brynn's actions" with no specific detail of what those were, and when she was explicitly asked, she then linked to a post which was an apology from brynn (again, not detailing the full extent of these actions, with repeated references to "what she did" or "her actions" and not a single one explaining in clear, direct terms what that was) and an ask she answered that said "she was taking other people's work from other websites and posting it here, at least some of it" - it's a watered down version of the truth used as a manipulation tactic to people who aren't getting the full story to be able to make an informed decision. she keeps adding that "nobody is saying that stops the hurt" but her repeated disregard of the severity of everything does take away from it

the point I'm making here, is that in situations like this - where she was encouraging people to forgive and forget - there needs to be a clear, unbiased reference for what they are supposed to be forgiving and forgetting, and the repeated cover up, in my opinion, was deceptive and manipulative

there were several available, unbiased posts that she never reblogged to her audience - one including a statement from brynn herself, made with the utmost respect on that user's part, and including screenshotted proof and a clear intention for transparency - that she could have linked to, but she repeatedly disregarded these, and even belittled, shamed and blocked the people who posted them on multiple occasions - stating that people were "stirring the pot for drama", "cashing in on drama and poking around" "being rude or bullying" and engaging in "drama book clubs"

several points then stem from things being handled this way

one being the repeated disregard for how many times people did address this privately - there were screenshots in the aforementioned posts circulating at the time that showed this was addressed privately to brynn dating back to 2023, with her continuing to steal and lie - handling it privately was no longer an option

and the second being the way these statements then trickled down into vicious messages spread across to the people who had the integrity to speak on it, and were shamed and ~virtually spat on for doing so

*these are asks that were posted publicly, and I have no doubt don't reflect the extent of how many people this sort of stuff was sent to, I haven't said who they were sent to but if you read this and want me to, I'll happily do so - not including the vitriol that has been sent to me over the last month, because like I said above, I'm trying to make a point of how far and wide this stuff spreads when handled poorly, however (obviously as someone who had to witness some of the things sent my way, it is clear where the source of the hatred came from, and that is not me saying she herself sent any hate, but that her posts inspired such a reaction - including specific verbiage used within her posts/responses)

tying into the above, and going back to my point about responsibility, throughout the time brynn was then gone, this user was encouraging people to send anons to forward to brynn, actively engaging her in a toxic environment that she, herself, said was the cause of her stealing in the first place, didn't give her a chance to distance herself from it or reflect on why she, for so long and without regard for anybody's feelings, let herself be consumed by engagement on this site, and played a big part in her returning to the platform when a lot of her other friends (who have made public posts that I won't link, because this isn't about them) were actively encouraging her to stay away, grow and learn - friends who then faced the same level of backlash and anon hate when brynn returned despite them trying to help in private

*I am basing this off of the excuses that brynn herself gave for her actions, not any assumption or opinion.

*I'll follow on from this by saying, I understand wanting to try and lighten the load of what was happening for her friend, and wanting her to know that there were people that were worried or cared, but if you're putting out statements saying this whole thing was brought on by an obsession with attention, you should not then be weaponising said attention when the girl clearly needed to remove herself entirely for a chunk of time and reflect on her actions - and all of that while continuing to cover up the actual thing she did

**an anon has since pointed out to me that you cannot send an ask, even on anon, if you don't already have an account, meaning brynn was active when she claimed to be offline, had full access to any content kawhh was forwarding to her without the need to encourage anons to get involved, and in my opinion, anon messages were being utilised to garner sympathy and again, manipulate kawhh's audience - this is my opinion, you can make your own mind up on whether or not you believe in those intentions, I don't want to force it on you but I think it's important to include she had a presence when she claimed not to, and at a time when a lot of other people were dealing with the aftermath of her actions unfairly, and I can't speak on whether kawhh would have been aware of this, but regardless, the whole anon thing should never have been encouraged

and encouraging these sorts of asks obviously then led to a premature return (which again, from public posts and private conversations, I know others were actively encouraging brynn not to do), to an audience kawhh had built of people who did not know what brynn did entirely, and were led to believe others being "bitches" was the problem - there is a public response to one of kawhh's posts that I won't sc, bc the user who commented was doing so based off of a lack of information, but this post was basically saying "SHAME ON EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT BRYNN AND BEING MEAN ABOUT BRYNN, YOU WOULDN'T LIKE THE SAME THINGS BEING SAID ABOUT YOU", proving that there was a false narrative that had been created around the whole situation

obviously it caused another wave of hurt and upset when brynn did come back, at which point kawhh repeatedly platformed her, again, never mentioning the specifics or the extent of her previous actions, despite several "explanation posts" from both of them, trying to enforce her own bias on her audience, and reblogging posts from brynn to her audience who she thus far has withheld the complete truth from (which are still on her page at this moment in time, with, again, no acknowledgement of anything that came to light yesterday)

and this is the point I'm trying to make - and why I have a problem with "it's between me, brynn and her friends" - kawhh herself utilised her own following to create a platform for brynn to come back, and to do the exact same thing over again, therefore perpetuating the same hurt to more people than will ever come forward - people came to her for updates on brynn, with messages to send to brynn, and for an explanation of what she did because they trusted her

and while she has said in vague and non-committal phrases, that she doesn't agree with what brynn did, she has never once publicly held her to account to the following she then manipulated into engaging once more

labelling this entire thing as "drama" and acting like she is above it belittles what brynn did, which includes but is not limited to

stealing multiple fics from other platforms

stealing multiple fics from this platform

stealing multiple fics from her FRIENDS

stealing multiple IDEAS from her friends, posted in private forums, and claiming them as her own

using conversations with her friends or posts by her friends to suit her own content, and pretending like they were her own

*also important to use the correct wording - she didn't "copy writing for some of her posts" - she STOLE writing, oftentimes full fic, changing names only, and at this point with all the evidence shown and everyone who has come forward, it was not some of her posts. It spanned asks, blurbs, fics, mood boards etc, and is presumably most of what she posted, including even random things said in a text post and down to random meme reaction pictures used. Her entire presence and most of her interactions with others were based on plagiarism and theft.

all across multiple years, having been confronted multiple times, and all while refusing to actually, explicitly, say what she did whenever she apologised, and who she did it to - and I'll assume (having spoken to double digits at this point worth of people) it's because the depths at which this whole situation spreads would absolutely disgust people. she blocked people who called her out - people who ended up being bullied back into deleting any post calling her out after receiving anon hate and nasty comments - and she played innocent to anyone who approached her (there are multiple screenshots of messages calling her out, and she gives the same watered down excuses in each one)

assuming 2023 is as far as it does go back, people have been bullied into silence, and the point I'm making here, and the pattern I'm trying to show - is that you can see how something as seemingly innocent as not wanting to condemn a friend's actions to others, contributes to them continuing to purposely hurt others for their own gain

too many people have tried to handle this privately, and have ~unintentionally enabled her over time

all of the things said above have directly contributed to a toxic environment for others on this app, where anyone who speaks on it is sent hate, people who were privately trying to support their friend were sent hate, and someone who repeatedly hurt and stole from others was given a platform to do so

like I said in the beginning, I have no delusions that I can say all this without seeming like a bitch, or like I'm deflecting blame from who is truly responsible - and I have no expectations that kawhh will respond well to this, but something needs to be said when she's constantly undermining the situation while lying to her audience, making endless indirects, and all in the name of "staying out of drama land" and pointing the finger at "mean girls"

she is the one who consistently makes an effort to cover up what brynn did, and so when she continues to do it, she should own up to the fact she can't shirk responsibility for her part in it happening again

AGAIN, I don't condone hate sent to anyone - I'm trying to bring awareness to the multitude of ways in which dealing with this situation with such little regard for anyone but brynn, has caused a ripple effect throughout the community, and I'm hoping it opens some eyes who might have been convinced by the deceptive posts made by kawhh throughout this mess that there's more than one side to a story

I also understand this seems like a vast overreaction to this particular ask, but I had a lot of asks yesterday that I didn't respond to until I could gather my thoughts, and am using this as one singular response

[lunarw0rks]

humbly requesting ghost x reader where he thinks he’s too old and damaged for reader. i headcannon ghost to be anywhere between 35-38 and the reader would be early twenties. he’s all emo and “oh they’re too innocent, i’d hurt and ruin them” and reader is just like “i would die for this man.”

Too Old For You // Part One

Summary: You've been crushing on him for a while now, even going as far as taking a stab for him. But it isn't enough for him to notice you; you're too young, too nice for someone like him.

Warning(s): medic!reader, fem!reader, age gap [reader is early twenties, ghost is mid/late thirties], mild injury/blood, hurt/no comfort

Word Count: 817

A/N: I enjoy hurting my own feelings :)

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX | AO3 VER | PART TWO .ˎˊ˗

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You did know that, by this point, at least. He had only told you about a hundred times.

“I can do this myself. It’s my job,” you let out a hiss as the Lieutenant purposefully wrapped the gauze tighter than necessary. You weren’t even supposed to be involved — you were supposed to keep hidden until the situation was handled.

He ripped off the end of it, fastening the small clip to keep the wrap in place. “Keep quiet,” he wanted to be irate. But you meant well, and that’s what bothered Simon the most. He, of all people, didn’t deserve to be the one you sacrificed yourself for. You were lucky it was a knife through the hand and not through the heart��where the intruder had been aiming the blade intended for him.

The gash in your palm would be a life-long reminder, doomed to leave a nasty scar.

Nothing says I’m in love with you like taking a stab in the hand for him, but it was abundantly clear he was too headstrong to let you be with him. Or was intentionally dismissing your signals entirely, you weren’t sure which one was more disheartening.

Ghost sets your injured hand back down, letting you admire his sloppy patchwork. It got the job done, it didn’t need to be an aesthetically-pleasing bandage. He used an alcohol wipe to cleanse the bloodstains on your forearm, now an unnecessary service. Perhaps it was his way of apologizing for you being injured on his behalf because he surely wasn’t expressing it through words.

You reached over with your unharmed hand and placed it over his, stopping his meticulous wiping, “I got this.”

The stubborn Lieutenant only flicked his gaze upwards from your hand on his, a brief scoff escaping his lips. Whatever the hell that meant. “Least I can do is get the damn blood off you, kid. Jumped in front of a bloody knife for me.”

Kid. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you.

He continued muttering and shaking his head in disapproval, running the alcohol wipe along your flesh until there was no trace of crimson.

It wasn’t a motive of stupidity, nor was it to prove yourself. You weren’t even a soldier, there would be no use trying to be tough in front of him. Your true motive was admiration for him, and even now, with a stab wound, he’s too mule-headed to let you in. Any longer, and you might just lose your mind entirely.

“Thought you would be relieved, I guess.” You shrugged, speaking with a small bit of defeat. “Knife was supposed to go right there.” A finger pointed at his heart but didn’t dare make contact. You knew better than that,.. Sort of.

Before you could finish outstretching your hand, his unoccupied one clamped over it, breaths a little heavier. Followed by a look that could only be described as intense contemplation; should I break this hand or continue to gently hold it?

“You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re doing, do you?” Simon questions, thumb instinctually caressing your knuckle to balance out the iron grip he maintained. “You’re confused.”

You were too young, too nice in his eyes. It was your job to be a healer, a good one, too. And his job? A trained killer. To him, it was too ironic, too striking of a contrast. An arrangement like that would never work—Simon was too mature, too damaged, downright unworthy of your kindness. At least that’s what he had himself convinced of, even after the knife incident.

You replied hastily, a slight tinge of frustration showing. “I’m not confused, Ghost. I know what I want—I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.” You would’ve done it again if it meant another chance at restarting this conversation. A conversation that now was nose-diving into a point of no return.

“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” he sighed, amber eyes flooded with internal conflict. His grip released with one swift movement, and now his palm rested on either side of you, but it wasn’t intimidation he was after. “I’m not the bloke you want to jump in front of a bullet for, trust me.”

“Simon—” You blurted amidst his attempts at swaying you, cradling your bandaged hand. What more would it take?

“—Ghost.” He interjected, taking several steps back from his looming position. If he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from poisoning you.

It wasn’t right. You deserve someone better than him. “It’s Ghost. We’re not doin’ this, Kid. I’m not doing it.” His words were like a punch to the gut, more painful than a stab to the hand, that’s for sure.

The door to the infirmary slammed shut, only seconds before his footsteps faded into silence, stranding you with the solitude of rejection.

[atlasscrumpit]

Hannibal/Will x Reader

He was an addiction, he knew well enough what he did to you and he enjoyed every second of it.

Will had warned you over and over, but it was too late, you were trapped in Hannibal's web of obsession and sickly desires.

Will sat across from Hannibal, staring him down.

"I don't know what your plan is here, but it shouldn't involve Y/N. She is young and naive." Will grumbled making Hannibal chuckle softly.

"She's lonely and vulnerable, I merely want to take care of her." He responded making Will scoff and roll his eyes.

"You enjoy that she is naive and relies on you, until one day you'll shatter her heart and kill her." He growled, Hannibal tilted his head with a smirk.

"You think I would kill something as beautiful as her? I just wish to sculpt her into the best person she can be. She's a very smart young woman and could be very useful to me." Hannibal replied, Will's eyes darkened as he glared at his 'friend.'

"You're taking advantage of her and you know it." Will warned, his voice low.

"You don't know her like I do, she's fragile... A wilting flower, to anyone else they would just leave her to whither away." Hannibal spoke, his voice smooth with barely any emotion like usual.

"So, you would rather manipulate her then let her live her life?" He asked making Hannibal smile again.

"She wasn't going to make it past college, she was on the edge when I found her, one day away from suicide. Much like you were, Will." Hannibal mocked as Will's jaw tightened.

It wasn't a secret that Hannibal liked to collect broken things.

"Excuse me for trying to save someone from the same fate I suffered." He grumbled as Hannibal stood up and moved towards Will.

He reached down and tilted his chin up.

"Do I sense some jealously, Mr. Graham?" He teased, Will's eyes glaring into his very soul.

"I'm not jealous of her, I'm worried for her." He replied, doing his best to keep his anger in check.

"How sweet..." Hannibal muttered studying Will's face.

They both heard a noise and turned to see you coming around the corner.

"Y/N?" Will questioned, he hadn't been aware you were here.

"Hey, Will... Is everything okay?" You asked glancing at Hannibal as he offered you a soft smile.

"Everything is perfect, my dear. I was just comforting Will after a hard day. Are you all set up in your new room?" Hannibal asked, letting go of Will's face.

Will looked between you and Hannibal in confusion.

"New room?" He questioned as you smiled and sat across from Will.

"Yeah... There was a fire at the dorms, mine has the worst damage so Hannibal offered to let me stay here." You explained as Will glanced at Hannibal.

"A fire... How unfortunate." He grumbled as Hannibal smiled innocently.

"Yes, very unfortunate. But, Y/N is lucky to have us in her life to help her out. Isn't that right, Will?" Hannibal said.

"Very lucky." Will said, a slight scowl on his face as you smiled and sat beside him.

"At least I can spend some more time with you guys... Plus, Hannibal feeds me a lot better then I feed myself. I'll take his cooking over microwave meals any day." You said with a chuckle making Hannibal smile.

"Exactly, you deserve a lot better than some measly microwave meals." He said, mischief in his eyes as he looked at you

Will wanted to scream at you to run while you still could, but he knew it was too late.

After all this is exactly what had been done to him.

--

That night you sat up in bed doing some sketching when your door opened and you saw Will.

"Oh, hey. I didn't think you were still here." You said with a smile as you put your sketchbook down.

"He's lying, Y/N. You're a smart girl, so either you're not as smart as I thought or there's something else going on." Will said as you looked at him and sighed a little.

"I knew... I know he set that fire." You muttered making Will shake his head and sit on the side of your bed.

"Then why are you staying here?" He grumbled and you looked at him and hugged your knees to your chest.

"I've never had someone care about me like he does." You whispered, Will looker at you sadly.

"Y/N, you have to get out while you still can. You know what he is capable of." He said as you sighed.

"Maybe I'm capable all the same..." You replied.

"No, you aren't. Do not go down this path, do you hear me?" He warned as you sighed and rested your head on your knees.

"You know what he did to Abigail. She trusted him and he killed her as if it were nothing. You need to run." He growled as you looked at him again.

"There's a difference between Abigail and I. She hated herself for killing... I embraced it." You said as he looked at you in confusion.

"Y/N, what the hell did you do?" He asked in shock.

"I set the fire. I was also the one who killed my professor and my roommate, and my father, and my two sisters." You replied as he stared at you in shock.

"What?" He muttered as you smiled.

"You're lucky I like you Will, I like you and Hannibal together. You're like the fathers I never had..." Your face darkened.

"Don't fucking ruin this for me, don't ruin my family." You growled, as Will finally the real you behind the innocent girl you had been playing.

"Why not be truthful to Hannibal? Hannibal of all people would be happy to know you're a killer." He said as you smiled, the innocent facade coming back.

"We both know he knows, Hannibal is smart. But, we both like to play the part of the protective daddy and the innocent little girl." You said with a sickly sweet smile.

"Seems your perfect for each other after all."