#I just feel like they'd be more codependent

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

if Crozier had a nickel for every time someone close to him kept a mortal wound secret from him he'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's definitely enough to give him some very specific trauma for the rest of his life

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, shoko/reader, codependency, very twisted relationship dynamics, implied abusive/neglectful childhood

suguru had never known what to make of the two of you.

satoru the six eyes and his twin sister. satoru who was his best friend, and you, the girl who looks just like him.

satoru who let suguru bend him over and fuck him until he cried, only to roll off the bed, pulling out his phone.

god. he knew satoru was a dick, but this?

it hurts more than it should. they'd never talked about it, never even called each other friends. he should have figured this wasn't anything special.

but what the fuck is satoru doing on his phone?

"satoru?" he says, trying to sound casual.

everything has to be casual with satoru. low-key. being with him feels like he's coaxing a wild animal. get too close, and he might just bolt.

bolt, only to hit him out of the blue days later with a picture of a candy and a smarmy comment about suguru's taste in food. or his hair. or his power as a sorcerer, or whatever was going through that malfunctioning brain of his.

god, why the fuck does he even like him again?

satoru turns back so suguru can see his smirking face.

god. that was why. the face of a fucking angel, a smile that made his heart skip. why did it have to be on this asshole?

"what, suguru? you feelin' lonely?" satoru drawls.

it's a question he knows the answer to. keep it chill. don't show your hand. don't get too close or he'll get scared.

it aches. "shut up," he says, "i'm just curious who you're texting right after i pulled my dick out of you."

he smirks back when satoru pauses, hesitates.

"who's this person you're thinking about right after you cum?" suguru drawls. he's proud of how distant he manages to sound.

satoru's eyes dart towards him, all ice blue and piercing.

"nobody," he says, setting his phone face down while he pulls on his pants.

he blinks. "what are you..."

satoru ignores his question, strolling out towards the door while waving goodbye. "later, su-gu-ru~"

"but this is -"

before his eyes can furrow, satoru closes the door behind him.

"...your room."

he'd thought that it meant something different this time. satoru always left right after they fucked, he never stayed.

but this is satoru's room. so he'd either kick suguru out, or let him stay.

he hadn't been prepared for him to just... leave. his own room.

what's wrong with him? seriously.

suguru glances at the downturned phone. flips it over.

nee-chan~ (2)

his sister? it beeps.

nee-chan~ (3)

no, don't. i'll ask shoko

you'll ask shoko to do what? satoru has a lock, so he can't see.

seriously, i mean it

after a moment, there's another message.

are you ignoring me, or just busy with him?

don't come over. slut

...what?

the message notification disappears along with the message.

suguru gets a strange feeling.

he looks around satoru's room. he finds some girl's clothes.

does satoru even like girls? they could be yours. he's seen you in his room before.

the strange feeling starts to get. stranger.

there's condoms in here, too, which is weird because satoru has never asked him to use them. or used them himself. he whined when suguru suggested it, actually. asked if he was scared of getting knocked up.

ugh. stupid, insufferable, endearing little shit. he wants to have him in his arms right now.

but it doesn't mater what suguru wants. satoru just left. like he always does, sooner or later.

picking up the phone, he makes his way out. down the hall, towards the girls' dorm.

shoko is already there when he gets there. holding out an arm to stop him.

he raises a brow.

"she's sleeping."

"how do you know i'm here for her?"

shoko shrugs. "why else would you be? saw gojo go in there. anyways, they're asleep now."

"can't be. i was with him just a few minutes ago."

the look she gives him is... strange. everything about this situation feels... off.

he pushes past her, and she sighs.

there's no noise inside, at least. he looses a curse to twist the lock on the door, turn it form the inside.

and it's surprising because - god, what was he expecting?

you're there, curled up beneath the blanket with satoru laying behind you, arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

it's romantic, sure. intimate.

but nothing weird. well, nothing too weird. satoru's always been weird, and you're just like him, so of course you're both weird together. you've always been close. you're his twin sister. what is he thinking?

with a toss, he lets satoru's phone fall onto the floor.

he avoids shoko's gaze as he closes the door and stalks off.

(he doesn't see her anxious glance at the door.)

"he's gone," satoru whispers to you, brushing his thumb over your nipple as you bite your lip.

"shut up," you hiss, putting a hand over his. "i can't believe you did that. why did he follow you? what did you say to him?"

his other hand, threaded beneath your panties, wriggles playfully.

"whaaat? you said you wanted to go to bed. i didn't want to make you wait." he sighs dramatically, "i'm the strongest sorcerer, you know. i need my rest~"

and without you, there is no rest.

as soon as your body is against his, it's like all the tension leaves him. you're there, with him, and everything is all right.

all his worries fade away when he can wrap his arms around you and feel you embrace him in return. mind blank at the soothing sound of your voice. never mind the words you're saying.

"yeah, but do you need to do... this." you say fruitlessly. "you could have come later."

"didn't wanna come later," he kisses your shoulder, "wanted to see you now."

you wriggle in his arms, too wide and too strong to escape, even if you wanted to.

it's enraging. it's gratifying. you don't know what it is, and never have.

he must have been fucking suguru. and after he got his, he came to you.

should you laugh, or cry?

"i could have asked shoko." you mumble almost miserably.

but a sigh escapes you as he fondles your breast. satoru always knows how to make you feel good.

maybe not as good as shoko does, but you're still nice enough not to say that to his face.

"what? to sleep with you?" satoru scoffs, "you can't sleep without me, either."

neither of you have ever slept alone, not a single night in your life.

not even when you were deathly ill and the clan begged the precious six eyes to stay away and not catch your sickness.

satoru had stayed by your side the entire while. held your hand while your head pounded and your body ached. wiped your tears when you cried.

because you were very young, and very sick, in more pain than you'd ever felt before. you had honestly thought you were going to die.

there had been no servants, no mother or father or caretaker. only satoru holding you close, lifting you to drink some water and medicine. telling you that you couldn't die. he wouldn't allow it.

and to your child's mind, that had been reassuring. your brother never left you. your fever broke and you were okay, just like he said you would be.

now, you know better. now you know satoru would lay in bed with people who weren't you, even if he always came back (for now).

now you knew what it was like to have someone else by your side.

(but was it enough? could it ever be enough? could it ever be what you have with him?)

"i'll never know until i try." you turn in his arms to face him, and he allows it.

blue eyes. beautiful, beautiful blue. a pretty face. almost as pretty as shoko's.

you've been learning, lately. you used to think of the mole on her cheek as an imperfection, the cigarette smoke a bad habit.

now? you still think it's a bad habit, but the mole is charming. and you don't hate the smell as much because shoko took you out shopping for perfume.

she asked you which one you liked the most, and bought it for herself. she wears it every friday when you have your girls night out with utahime.

where you get drunk enough to make out with her until she brings you back to the dorm, kissing and fondling and touching.

she asks you if it's okay. asks you how you like it best. asks you to touch her this way, that way.

it's not like how it is with satoru. but she makes you feel good, makes you happy. she wants you to feel good. when you cry she kisses your tears away, like she knows better than to ask but wants to comfort you anyways.

when was the last time satoru tried to comfort you?

"hey," satoru breathes into your ear, pulling your panties down, "c'mon."

when you think of her, your heart flutters. when you think of satoru, your stomach flips, and your whole body aches.

you don't know what love is. you don't think satoru does, either.

otherwise, why would he ever leave geto's arms? when he's so obviously head over heels for him?

you clasp one arm against his chest as you reach down, stroking his cock to hardness. geto must have made him cum (satoru has never made you cum). must have fucked him.

satoru rolls you so you're on top of him.

his shirt is off, baring his lean, muscled chest. your brother, your strong, handsome, beautiful brother, looking up at you with wandering eyes and greedy hands.

your hands are equally greedy. running over his chest, ghosting over his nipples until he shivers. oversensitive. he always is after he's been with geto.

satoru's got a condom out already. he slips it on, leaning forward and pinning you down beneath him.

he doesn't have to use condoms with geto. he doesn't have to be the one on top all the time, either. geto can fuck him. he must like that.

geto's a special grade sorcerer. geto's a man. he's not his sister.

his cock is sliding up and down against your entrance, wetting the condom as he nips at your breast.

he always leaves marks like this, but never where anyone can see.

does he leave marks on geto?

"do you like him more?" you mumble, anxiety swirling in your gut. your lower half is a hot swirling pool of need, leaking for him.

and he inches in, making you whine, making you claw marks into his shoulder. you hope geto sees them.

satoru groans, low and throaty. it always feels like coming home when he's inside you. a perfectly matched lock and key.

his hand threads through your hair. you're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he'll admit he's a vain bitch, but who wouldn't be? looking like the two of you do.

maybe one day he should get you to dress up like him. wear a strap and fuck him, that'd be fun.

for now, you're warm and soft and perfect for him. so comfortable. and you're rambling about stuff that isn't important.

"what," he murmurs, breathy from the warmth of you around him, "who?"

if the frustration shows on your face, he can just fuck it away.

"geto." the name is swallowed by a swift thrust, hands planted on your hips.

you wish he'd touch your clit more (you never ask). you wish he'd answer your question (you're afraid to push). but your brother just doesn't think about other people.

"c'mon," he whines, "don't talk about some other dude. you're with me."

"you were with him."

"so?" he thrusts in harder, stealing your breath, like that'll win him the argument, "you're fucking shoko."

satoru fucks you breathless, then. pumping in and out so quickly that the friction has you shuddering, shivering, close enough that you finally start to squeeze around him.

it's always like this with him. you feel like you're drowning, helpless. all you can do is cling to him.

"satoru," you hate how pitiful your voice sounds, "satoruuuu...."

he's hitting you, so deep and so hard it hurts, pierces through the breathless haze and leaves you clenching around him.

"please," your breath escapes you with his next thrust.

please don't leave me. don't abandon me for him. don't discard me now that you have someone better. don't leave me all by myself...

tears dot at your eyes, squeezing around him. satoru's own eyes are wide and wild, his hips shoving into you staggeringly fast.

"i got you," he says, close, so close, "i've got you."

another deep thrust, painful as it is pleasurable, bruising and fast like his fingertips on your hips. he swallows your moans with a kiss.

he thinks he can eat up all your complaints, all your anxiety. hide away from his own by nestling himself in your body.

you don't want anyone but him, right? he's the only one who touches you like this.

the way you squeeze around him, the way your body feels against his, no one else gets that from you. shoko couldn't do this for you. no one could.

you say his name again and he's ready to burst. you love him always. you're so good for him. you make him feel good just by being there.

a part of his life. a missing limb. his precious sister, his beating heart, right there against his chest.

"there," satoru pants, "fuck, there, cum for me, baby..."

it's tears you blink away when he gasps and cums, burying himself inside you with a wounded sort of whimper.

you never do, when it's him. to be fair, you've never done it to yourself, either.

you only ever came when shoko fucked you. but fucked is such an ugly word for how gently she touched you, how soft she smiled.

"satoru," you whine again, "do you like him more than me? i like you more than shoko..."

satoru doesn't answer you. his hands move from your bruised hips to wrap around you, pull you close, plant kisses on your head.

"you know," he mumbles out your name. "you know."

there's a flash of rage. irrational.

he won't say it. he won't even say it. satoru will fuck you, his own sister. cling to you like he needs you to survive, sleep with you every night of his life.

but he won't say he loves you more than geto. he won't even say he likes you.

and you know - because you know him like the back of your hand, you were born with him, you spent every waking moment of your life with him until you came to the school - you know satoru loves you.

but he loves you like he loves air. it's always there. always accessible. it's not like the air will suddenly leave.

you curl into satoru's muscled chest, let him embrace you closer, sink into the silence that's only comfortable for him.

maybe there's something you can do about this.

[masochist-marmot]

Spoilers for HSR 3.0

Words cannot express how insanely much I love the relationship between Mydei and Phainon. It honestly feels like Hoyo went into their little character laboratory and created a dynamic specifically targeted at me. Okay so let's review:

Rivalry: Has to be mentioned since I live for rival dynamics (as my blog history will testify). There's just nothing better than two characters challenging each other with the hopes of surpassing the other. And the fact that they seem to be more or less equally matched in power. They'd probably consider sparring a valid form of foreplay.

Banter: The way these two flirt with talk to one another gives me life. Every interaction is perfect, with all the teasing and jabbing and general playfulness. And the best part is that it's reciprocal.

Genuine affection: Despite the way they talk, they very clearly care for each other and aren't afraid to show it in their own way. This is actually something that can often be lacking in rival dynamics, where the parties are by definition somehow opposed to one another. But these two navigate it beautifully. They may say they're both friends and enemies, but I think it's understood that they are friends who occasionally roleplay as enemies. (Until we get a moment where Phainon turns on us and Mydei has to beat him back to his senses. Not a prediction, but a girl can dream.)

Mutual trust: They obviously respect each other's capabilities and are willing to rely on one another, but it's not codependent. They work well together and they work well apart, and they trust that the other will manage. It feels really balanced too, since both parties clearly care about the wellbeing of the other.

Mutual understanding: They seem to have a deep understanding of how the other is feeling, even though they show it through convoluted means (like starting a competition to give the other the space they need but won't ask).

I just can't get over how perfect it is. Mydei waiting for you and Phainon during the competition to make sure you find your way through his hometown. Mydei being ready to concede his right for the final blow on Nikador as a result of the competition, but Phainon insisting on having a fair battle for it (because the whole competition was a pretense anyway). Phainon pointing out that Mydei would be better suited to carry the coreflame of strife even though it's been his life mission. (And on a sidenote, Mydei demonstrating silent wisdom by refusing the flame in the first place because he doesn't want to repeat past mistakes? King behaviour. I love him so much.) Phainon telling Mydei to skip his ritual to nurture his wounds, but then clearly being a little sad that Mydei is not there. And then Mydei showing up anyway because of course he was going to.

I probably missed half of what I wanted to say but god I just want more of these two, preferably injected straight into my veins.

[nobody-nexus]

EP 5 Prediction/Theory

Just wanted to make this idea public cause I think it's cool, but I could be 100% wrong on it. It IS just a theory after all

So, I was thinking about how it's most likely that the stadium we got teased with in the season announcement is probably Ragatha's episode. Especially now since we know she at least knows how to play it and probably enjoys the sport as well

But then that got me to thinking about what Gooseworx said in terms of shadow Ragatha. Well, the two things. "This attachment to Ragatha is going to be EP 5 a lot funnier" and the "No one has correctly guessed shadow Ragatha". So, here's me rolling the dice at this prediction:

So. Baseball is a team sport. I'm sure everyone knows this. Of course, Ragatha being all about codependency, she would like to play this sport. But there's always two teams. ESPECIALLY if it's in a stadium. Because that means it's the bigger leagues. So... What if the opposite team are the shadow characters?

Like the ones from EP 2

Caine has already shown that he has access to the player models with both the EP 3 mounted heads as well as the outfits from EP 4 fitting perfectly (And let's be honest: The VHS tape Gangle most likely is NOT Gangle). so modified player models are already something that Caine can clearly do

Plus, this wouldn't contradict another thing Gooseworx said about no more major NPCs being shown. Because it's not an NPC because they're not completely new characters. They're just clones of the OG characters. And for extra benefit- I'd think that they'd be the worst parts of the characters but exaggerated and harmful

Why this?

Because if this is true, I wish for shadow Ragatha to be every flaw that Ragatha is. Her hidden thoughts and feelings, her need for companionship, and her nasty temper. Ragatha clearly doesn't like her own flaws- only being (impulsively) honest when LITERALLY HIGH OFF HER ASS- so of course this would get under her skin

I think the best way to have that work too is if the torment is emotional. The shadow team does better than the OGs, and Ragatha gets more frustrated with everyone else for not listening to her, when in reality she's her own downfall. I don't wish for a scene where she blows up at her ACTUAL friends... But maybe at the shadows instead

She manages to be alone with them and she just- lets her anger out on them. Pinning THEM as the reason they're losing. But instead... The shadows begin to berate her. Dig into HER own insecurities and troubles and maybe even trauma, shadow Ragatha being the main person to do it

I dunno how it would get resolved, but yeah :D Just a lil food for thought

[abarbaricyalp]

goodbye kisses please!

I did not want to be sad 😔

"Whose idea was this again?" Bucky asked against Sam's mouth, trying to unbutton the shirt Sam was buttoning.

"I don't know, man. I assume it's left over from your time," Sam breathed back, untucking Bucky's shirt in between trying to button his own.

"Older than me," Bucky scoffed.

"Practically ancient then." Sam grinned, just to feel Bucky smile against his mouth too.

They kept making out, pants undone, belts catching on each other, trying to redress themselves and undress the other again.

The hotel room was dim, but romantically so. There were fake candles lining the way from the bed to the bathroom, which still smelled like roses, petals drying in the bottom of the tub. The rumpled sheets, in the low light, were inviting and tempting, rather than incriminating. The city spread out outside the window, twinkling and far away from them, humming with noise.

But it was not nearly as interesting as Sam's mouth was. Bucky pressed into Sam's space again, though there was no difference between his space and Bucky's really. "Take your pants off," he muttered, trying to slide to his knees again.

But Sam caught his elbow with a laugh and shook his head. "No way. Big day tomorrow. Jay's gonna be outside that door in a few minutes pulling us apart. I don't need to get caught out."

Bucky could feel that he was pouting, but he couldn't stop himself. "This is stupid, Sam. I have seen you almost every day for the last ten years--"

"--and five that don't count--"

"--so what does twelve hours difference make?"

"It's only twelve hours. What difference does it make?" Sam countered.

"You don't love me as much as I love you," Bucky accused. The pout was fully set in place. That whiny edge was coming into his voice.

Sam burst out in laughter, clutching Bucky closer. "I love you enough to know it's actually a fifteen hour gap between tonight and tomorrow."

Bucky genuinely whined at the reminder. The night had been a giddy blur. Celebrating with old friends and their closest family had started with dinner on the water, a show from a local band and dance troupe, and then a few bars once the younger guests were safely sent away. People peeled off throughout the night, wishing them well for the next day. Wishing them good luck with the separation, knowing looks and waggling eyebrows.

Sam wouldn't call them codependent. They weren't. They were perfectly independent. It was just that life kind of sucked when he was denying himself what he wanted. He'd learned a while ago that his whole spin through space was too short to play stoic and perfect all the time. So, yeah, he liked keeping Bucky within hand holding range a lot. He wasn't as bad as Bucky, who needed to be within thighs-pressed-together range. He liked to kiss his fiancé and his fiancé liked to kiss him. Neither one of them was very good at hiding the heart eyes, but Bucky was a lot worse at it. They were never going to succeed at the secret relationship thing, so they hadn't tried. Not with friends and family anyway. Everyone out with them that night knew how cranky they'd both be tomorrow morning.

"I love you," Bucky sighed against his mouth. He finally stopped trying to undress Sam again, hands falling to his hips instead. The only way they could get closer would be to interlock their ribs, but Bucky still tugged, and Sam sucked in a breath, and they eased together even more.

"Yeah, I'd hope so. Otherwise tomorrow is gonna be awkward." Sam dropped his arms around Bucky's shoulders, kept one curled close to twist Bucky's hair around his fingers.

Bucky dropped his head back, sinking into the touch. Sam kissed the dimple in his chin.

"Maybe you don't have to leave," he suggested. "It's the night before our wedding. We should be allowed to be together."

Bucky straightened so fast he almost smashed Sam's nose with his forehead. His eyes were bright and the joy of getting what he wanted had spread across his face with an unfathomable speed. He'd opened his mouth to surely say something like 'I totally agree' or 'Glad you're finally seeing it my way' but he didn't get to say anything because at that exact moment there was a knock at the door. It was cheery and loud and too long, freestyling into some melody neither of them knew.

Bucky groaned like he'd been shot. Actually, he complained less when getting shot. He stole another three quick, successive kisses, breathing, "We have to go," between kisses.

But it only tempted Sam into pull him back in for a longer one again with a mumbled, "I know."

Joaquin knocked on the door again. "Come on, you've already got the ring. Don't need to keep convincing him," he called.

Bucky took half a step back, a grouchy pinch to his eyebrows. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," he sighed.

Sam leaned forward to kiss him again. "Don't lose the ring before then."

"Sam, I would give you candy jewelry so long as it meant we were getting married. A lost ring isn't gonna stop me."

"Don't lose my ring," Sam repeated sternly. But he smiled and Bucky kissed him again.

"I'll let myself in," Joaquin threatened. "The drone can do that. You made them too smart, Sam."

Sam snorted, breath warm against Bucky's cheek. "Guess it's goodbye then," he said.

Bucky nodded, brushing their noses together this time. "Just for now."

"Tomorrow," Sam promised.

"Tomorrow."

With one more squeeze to Sam's hand, Bucky stepped back and pulled open the door.

[dogf4ngs]

today i was talking to my friend about house and wilson's relationship and how fanfictions never satisfy me because in a way, i don't want them to be a normal couple. what draws me to them is how fucked up they are, how nobody understands their relationship, but it's still everyone's problem. how scared the sweet, caring wilson, who sees the best in everyone, is of loving house, and how ready the cold, unavailable house, who pushes everyone away, is to love wilson. conversations like this one are what get me:

it's the fine line between platonic and romantic. they'd do anything for each other, but they're friends. and wilson, picture perfect doctor, husband, friend, feels guilty every time he dares to step out of the carefully crafted persona he puts on for the people around him.

amber (i am STILL not over the fact wilson is canonically attracted to her at first because she reminds him of house. HOW did that make it into the script they did not even try being subtle about it) changes wilson. she makes him realize he is Allowed to do things for himself, that the reason none of his romantic relationships worked out is his total repression of his needs. and when she dies, his newfound free will terrifies him, so he runs away from the person who he has the most repressed feelings for: house.

amber was wilsons girlfriend; house is just his friend. amber died, house almost did. house, for the first time in his life, doesnt dare to ask for more. hes fine as long as he can keep wilson around. but the knowledge there will always be something more important than him, something he can never be (like a lover), eats at him. they are scared of each other but still uncontrollably drawn to one another, like a moth to a flame, but each is both moth and flame.

i hope i made my point because i dont know where im going with this anymore. its two am and i cant sleep because im thinking about two fictional middle aged codependent doctors and the aphostrophe tab on my keyboard suddenly stopped working. i need a beer

[enbysiriusblack]

since i ship all the couple options of the marauders, here's how i see their different dynamics:

prongsfoot- codependent, literally always together, hate on everyone else, pda to the extreme, literal soulmates, love each other in every single way, would literally never break up, act like a married couple after dating for one hour, their pet name for each other are 'mate' and 'bro', constantly wearing each other's clothes despite having very different style, can easily communicate with just looking at each other, the It couple

wolfstar- sirius is constantly tackling remus and forcing him to talk about his feelings & stop him from running away whenever he's upset, remus is constantly staring at sirius in awe, people (including remus) are constantly questioning why sirius is with remus & sirius gets so pissed off by it, they have nerdy little discussions about various subjects & recommend articles to each other, not super into pda & but nap together a lot

prongstail- peter is obsessed with james & loves watching him show off & work out, james is very pleased to have someone who enjoys watching him show off, peter makes james protect him & fight people for him, james likes going to where peter lives and pretending he's poor (alexa, play common people by pulp), james thrives on having an audience and peter enjoys being james' audience

padtail- on and off constantly, sirius is mean to peter and peter finds it hot "stop being so mean to me or i swear to god i'm gonna fall in love with you", they play chess all the time and then proceed to fight when the other wins (very falsettos core), peter knows about muggle pop culture & sirius loves learning about that, talk shit about other people for fun all the time, they are a mess together & cause the most morally ambiguous chaos

moonchaser- extremely fluffy ship, would literally never argue somehow, actually no they'd argue about pda cause james loves it and remus is terrified of it, very much a sugar daddy x sugar baby couple idc that's literally canon, they study together (james studies for half an hour then doodles on library books to keep remus company), both very responsible so their relationship is well organised if that makes sense?

moontail- probably the most toxic <3, peter is constantly gaslighting remus & remus is just like "yeah it probably is my fault :/", however also remus is the nicest person ever to peter so peter tries to not hurt remus, they understand each other well, peter finds remus' werewolf form very hot and remus is very uncomfortable by that, peter tries teaching remus all the trends to help him fit in more

[teddybarebones]

I like shipping Obi-wan with basically any adult (especially male) character ever...so here is a non-exhausted list of characters I ship him with and why. (inspired by @grumpy-tooka 's post)

Quinlan Vos: They are friends with benefits, they started fooling around in their teens, and meet up whenever they are both between missions to hang out (and maybe fuck, if both their padawans are out). They are extremely loyal to each other, Quinlan lets Obi-wan help when he's drifting to the dark side, and Obi-wan trusts him to get help when he needs it.

Cody: They share something on the emotional level, two people who are always in charge of the situation, and struggle to rely on others for their personal issues. They would both put their own loyalties above their relationship with each other, and that works for them. They both hold the hope that when the war is over, they will discuss their unspoken (but known) feelings for each other.

Satine Kryze: A shared kiss here and there, oung love, two people who's loyalties to their own people would make them incompatible in the long run. They enjoy bickering, but can't last longer than a few weeks before they'd get tired of each other. There is still affection between them, but they both know that they wouldn't have worked.

Dexter Jetsetter: They fucked like once ten years ago, when they were both in a tight situation. I imagine that they happened to both be hiding from someone, and had to rely on one another to escape. The adrenaline and tension led to a quickie or something, and they became great friends. Nowadays all they do is flirt, but they are always happy to help each other out.

Jango Fett: Their tension on Kamino was CRAZY. I think there was some serious attraction between them, but neither would feel comfortable enough to actually fuck about it. They would both struggle with feeling comfortable around someone who is tied to the murder of a number of their people (some more than others).

Bail Organa: Bail and Breha have a loving and open relationship. Bail's interest in Obi-wan has lasted since they first met, and he has no shame in reminding Obi-wan that he and Breha would be delighted to share some time together (both in the bed, and out of it). They hold extreme amounts of respect for each other for their loyalty to their people and their dedication to do what is right.

Cad Bane: I think they had tension during the Rako Hardeen arc, that tense alliance between bounty hunters with trust issues is the perfect space for sexual tension. While I don't think they fucked, they definitely COULD have, and they know it.

Darth Maul: Maul's obsession with Obi-wan bleeds into all aspects of his life, including sexually. Neither of them would truly act on it. Obi-wan can see that Maul is attractive, but he is not interested in him sexually (too traumatized by his actions to think of him like that).

Asajj Ventress: Just flirting between them, their interest in each other is actually 95% platonic, they're just really weird about it. There is a decent amount of respect between them, as well as annoyance, resentment, and yearning for connection.

Kit Fisto: Sparring buddies, rare friends with benefits, very casual about it.

Alpha-17: Their time on Zygerria built a LOT of trust between them, they fucked once, and their interest in each other is now purely professional.

Cerasi + Nield: The three of them were codependant as fuck, it was more platonic than anything else, but they cuddled at night and were extremely loyal to one another.

Rex: They could bond over the headache that is Anakin, and later, over the betrayal that led to the enslavement and annihilation of their people. There is a connection there, that they would likely never act on, they are both instead consumed by guilt together.

Fox: They both hate politicians and dealing with the senate, they'd both love to be able to kill Palpatine, maybe they'd fuck about it?

Bruck Chun: The bullying could have been caused by both jealousy, AND a romantic interest. Obviously nothing ever happened about it, but Bruck had a little crush, and Obi-wan only realized later as an adult.

Hondo Ohnaka: They COULD fuck, but they mostly flirt for the fun of it, it makes everyone around them uncomfortable (and they think it's funny)

There are many MANY more ...but these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head...

[forsaken-fates]

' 'This is your home now. Forever forsaken by it all.' '

>[It's been a few days since the disappearance of the previous survivors, and it's been awfully quiet. No more hushed conversations of a person and himself, no more chattering and laughing near the fireplace, no more constant flicking of a coin, nothing. The people who remain in the cabin are all worried, holding onto a false hope that they'll somehow come back, that the round was just taking a bit longer, but it was obvious that they wouldn't. They were gone, and they had to accept that.]

>[Those survivors who had spent restless hours protecting themselves and their team, running around in order to escape the killer, had all been consumed by their own hatred and rage. It seemed as though they had been driven into madness, taking lives of others in the process of doing so, seeking revenge at releasing all the pent up anger that had been kept inside them for so long. Petty rivals became enemies, and friendships crumbled down from the lack of trust.]

>[Hope isn't all lost, though. Despite the rumors spread within the people present at the cabin, they are still well and alive. Although suffering from their demises, they continue on living. The places they stay aren't too uncomfortable, either. As a matter of fact, they feel almost like... home. Be it a bit more uncanny and isolated.]

>[Communication is a limited thing for them, with the majority being forced into a solitary version of their greatest memory. But it is not as difficult as one may think. If one wishes to send a message, or communicate with these said characters, they must write a letter. This said letter must have the name of the person you wish to send it too, otherwise it will be sent to a random person - or maybe even all of them, if you're lucky enough. Although you may feel free to break through the TV and talk to them in person, that's always an option.]

>[Now, what are you waiting for? You want to send a message, don't you? Here, pick up a pen and paper of your choice and write it. Don't be shy. I'm sure they'd be pleased to hear from you.]

SEMI-IMPORTANT POST

OOC NOTES UNDER THE CUT

-[Welcome to Forsakened Fates, an AU that explores an idea of the survivors from the Roblox game Forsaken turning into killers. The in-depth of storyline of this blog is yet to be revealed, as there are a few more gaps in my writing. But, enough of that. For now, let's put down some ground rules.]-

RULES:

1. This is an ongoing AU that is still being written by a sleep deprived high schooler that is solely being driven by insufficient caffeine and pirated music, so please be patient in case your ask isn't immediately answered. (If your ask is taking really long to answer, it probably just means there's a frame being worked on for the post. Please be patient if that's the case)

2. Obvious DNI criteria (creeps, racists, xeno/homophobes, etc.)

3. Please avoid sending controversial asks. This blog was made for fun and I'd like to avoid those kinds of topics in my blog.

4. Keep things SFW and don't get too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 in my inbox please. Suggestive and combat is okay but avoid getting into too much detail.

5. Anon magic, OCs, crossovers, and the like are all welcome! I love seeing what everyone's creativity made.

6. Characters in this blog are heavily headcanon and AU driven, so if a character ever acts off, feel free to ask about it! (Not guaranteed you'll get a straight answer)

7. I have no affiliations with souldrivenlove, nor any of the devs. This was made merely by my own with self interest.

8. This blog may involve some triggering topics such as murder, blood, body horror, suggestive themes, obsession, codependency, etc. Those said posts will be tagged accordingly + will have a "Keep Reading" cut or will be given a content label.

GENERAL INFORMATION:

- There will be active and inactive characters. Active means that you are able to interact with the character as you please, as long as they follow the rules above. Inactive, on the other hand, means that the character is unavailable, and a special action must be performed in order to unlock said character. Active characters are as follows (those unlisted are inactive): Guest 1337 👊 Chance 🕶️ Elliot 🍕 Shedletsky 🍗💚 >[FileName:"Builderman"not found.]⛑️ 007n7🍔 c00lkidd🔥

- Again, responses may be somewhat slow. I plan on using Roblox Studio and/or Catalog Avatar Creator for the responses, and I'm still learning in using them, so please be patient.

- Some characters may be OOC or not act like how they normally would. I would like to apologize if I get them HEAVILY incorrect, but most of their attitudes may be because of the lore written for them.

TAGS:

best.served.hot🍕 - Elliot

gamble.with.our.time🕶️ - Chance

rtotwitpyisfoth?🍗 - Shedletsky

am.i.a.robot.or.a.doll?⛑️ - Builderman

always.be.strong👊 - Guest

its.harder.when.u.have.2.love.urself🍔 - 007n7

team.c00lkidd.join.2day!🔥 - c00lkidd

anonymous.letters✉️ - Anonymous asks

signed.letters✉️ - User asks

finally.something.happened🔪 - Rp start

still.praying.hopeless.and.in.vain🔪 - Rp end

ill.be.waiting.so.impatiently🔓 - Character unlocked

whats.that.puppet.boy?📷 - OOC posts

did.you.not.read.the.company.policy?📹 - Lore

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

so i can make you feel like new again

ship: lando norris/max fewtrell rating: idk teen? there's not really any smut it's just longing tags: referenced disordered eating patterns, referenced mental breakdown, putting that guy in a situation only the person in the situation is Lando Norris, and Max Fewtrell is the F1 driver.

OKAY felt like doing a little flip flop and needed to write something no pressure, so here's a THING, written directly into this fucking posting box. This is IDK roughly 2021 when covid was big and Max was living in Monaco with Lando (but now Lando's living in Monaco with Max)

Title from "Dizzy on the Comedown" by Turnover

Sometimes, Max wishes it was Lando, and not him. Sometimes it's sharp beneath his skin like the edge of a knife to know that Lando's waiting at home for him, watching his races while he's playing games on stream. Sometimes, Max wishes it had been easier for both of them. But there were right places, and right times, and right teams, and Lando got none of them, and Max got all of them.

He'd spiralled, and Max had watched, couldn't do much more than hold out a hand and try to save him while he was drowning. Couldn't do much more than be there for him, and it was the scariest thing he thinks he's ever done.

It's better now, mostly.

He went on to Formula 1, and Lando found a therapist, and somehow, *somehow* they find a way to make it work.

But Max can't shake the guilt when he's gone for triple-headers, and Lando's stuck in his flat.

Knows it had been worse, before everything, before Lando had lived with him. At least now, he knows that Lando's got a fully stocked fridge, a place to sleep, somewhere to call home. Like Max doesn't know that Lando thinks that he's home. Like Max hasn't already thought of Lando as home for years.

Even now, he misses the pitch of Lando's voice, the volume of his laugh, loud and bright. Even now, when he's staring up at the hotel ceiling in the dark, when he knows he's supposed to be sleeping, he can't stop himself. Tosses and turns, before he reaches over for his phone where it's charging on the nightstand.

It's an easy next step to ignore the messages on his phone, and swipe over to twitch, just to check if Lando's still live. He doesn't have the energy to do the time conversion, but if the dark circles under Lando's eyes are anything to go by, he hasn't slept well.

Max feels the guilt of it curdling in his guts. Knows Lando always sleeps better when he's there, when Lando can crawl into bed with him, press his cheek against Max's chest and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

If you'd asked him even 5 years ago, he wouldn't have said they were codependent. But 5 years ago, he also wouldn't have been able to admit they'd been in love with each other the whole time. Hadn't been able to admit it until Lando had agreed to move in with him.

Until he'd known it wasn't all going to slip through his fingers because he signed to an F1 team, and all Lando had gotten was publicised mental breakdown.

Max still wishes it had gone differently, if he's being honest.

But now they're here, and he feels like he's a million miles away from the only place he wants to be.

The warmth of Lando's voice is enough to make him smile though, and he gets comfortable before he types in chat.

maxfewtrell: did you have dinner?

The message is met with a tiny, unintelligible noise from Lando's end, before Lando makes eye contact with the camera, narrows his eyes, and holds up the plate sitting beside him on the desk. It's empty, and it could've been from another day, knowing how much of a disaster Lando tends to be, but Max wants to think the best. "'Course I did, mate. Chat can verify, yeah?" and the messages come in full of support.

"I should be the one asking you what you're still doing awake. Drivers need their beauty rest," the grin that spreads across Lando's features is obviously teasing, but Max can feel the flush, hot in his cheeks.

maxfewtrell: can't sleep maxfewtrell: had to find something to do

Lando pulls a face that no one else in the chat probably recognizes, but Max does. It's a strange combination between guilt and pity, the face he makes before he's about to do something that's either devastatingly stupid, or stupidly endearing.

"Hey chat, I'll be back in a little bit, yeah?" and he's muting himself before Max has a second to type in the chat. Knows that even if he could, the message would get lost in a flood of comments. Doesn't have time to protest before his phone is ringing, and he has to swipe up to close the Twitch window, before he answers.

"Bob, go back to stream, I'm fine," he can't stop himself, the kneejerk response, the thought that he doesn't need to be taken care of, despite the fact that he's always looking after Lando.

"Y'sound absolutely wrecked, mate," and despite the fact that Lando looked exhausted on stream, his voice is surprisingly bright. Max is usually good at parsing through the tones of Lando's voice, and he can't pick out anything genuinely miserable. "Didn't realize you missed me that much,"

Max just sighs, shifts in bed so he's lying on his back, wishes for a moment that they were facetiming, but he knows they can't, really. Lando might be muted, but his stream's still live, and he doesn't know how many people he wants knowing that he and Lando facetime late into the night. Doesn't really know how many people he wants to have knowing how gone he is for Lando. "Just been a horrendous day, car looked like shit during free practise," and it's just easy for him to unload, just a little bit. The more stress he unloads, the better he feels, and Lando interjects with little observations.

He's exhausted, by the time he's done talking, yawns so wide that his jaw cracks, and Lando giggles on the other end, the sound bright. "Think you can sleep now?" and Max just snorts.

"Rather stay with you, I think," he says, filter gone, because he's exhausted, feels it in his bones. "Miss you a lot, Bob," knows it's sappy and they don't really do sappy. "Fly you out to the next one,"

Lando makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and Max is struck by how much Lando reminds him of a cat sometimes. Makes little sounds to voice his pleasure, his happiness at being thought of. "Think I'd like that, Maxy," Lando's voice is a small, pleased thing, and Max allows his eyes to flutter shut.

"Stay on with me?"

When his alarm goes off in the morning, the call's still live, his phone scorching hot, and he can hear the soft, snuffling sound of Lando's breathing before he hangs up, keys in a quick text so that Lando doesn't get cross with him.

Miss you, text me when you're up.

[winchestermylove]

my favorite thing ever is if sam and dean somehow get through their entire lives without crossing the line into sexual acts, until they move into the bunker.

like maybe sometime from s11-s14, they've been toxic codependent freaks since childhood but they haven't kissed, fucked, or done much else beyond a slightly-longer-than-normal hug after a near death experience.

but one night they're in the dean cave watching reruns of some show from when they were kids, both slightly tipsier than they'd like to be.

sam of course being the lightweight of the two, gets touchier and cuddlier in the darkness of the room, just the two of them, and all is right with the world.

sam doesn't know what comes over him, but he looks at dean, the light from the tv illuminating his face, and leans in. surprisingly (or not so much), dean follows suit.

their lips press together, ever so lightly, just a graze at first because both of them are still hesitant. but after a second or two, dean takes the leap and fully leans in, reaching up to rest one of his hands at the nape of sam's neck and the other on his hip. sam grips onto deans flannel, fearful that he'll pull away.

it's as if the final puzzle piece is falling into place. dean feels at peace for the first time in over a decade, and sam is overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes welling up as he reluctantly pulls himself away.

"dean," sam chokes out.

"sammy..." dean pulls sam even closer, pressing him up against his front, and brings his right hand up from his neck to push some of sam's bangs out of his eyes.

"i-i'm so sorry, dean-i didn't-"

"sam, sammy, shhh. it's okay, i know. you don't h've to say anything, i know." sam's eyes are shining with unshed tears, and dean notices he's ever-so-slightly shaking, so he pulls him in for a second sweet press of their lips, this one only barely longer than a peck.

"it's just you and me, sammy. we don't have to talk about it."

sam closes his eyes and leans his forehead against dean's, bringing both of his hands from dean's chest to cup his cheeks, "are you sure, de?"

"why didn't we do this sooner?" dean asks as he leans in once again. sammy is dean's everything, the one person that he would choose over everyone and everything. their lives are already fucked up, so why not one more thing to add to the winchester resume?

it's the most natural thing in the world; they already own every other part of each other, so sharing a kiss or two here and there is rightfully the next step.

but of course, it doesn't stop at kissing. sam and dean curl up next to each other on the couch for the rest of the night, and they haven't slept in separate beds since.

[daisyjonesgf]

the lakes (8) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous part / next part

masterlist

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, manipulation of someone's feelings, drinking away problems, mental illness, mentions of suicidal ideations, savior complex Finnick and reader, codependent relationship, allusions to trafficking and forced sexualization of body, mentions of death/violence happening to children, unedited, no use of y/n, arguments, self-hate, self-doubt, a love triangle that really isn't a love triangle

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Oh, you look so beautiful." Cambrie was crying, actually crying. Standing behind you in the mirror, staring the the gorgeous dress she'd designed. You wanted to cry too because even if she'd always treated you more like a doll than a living, breathing person it did hurt to know you'd never see her familiar presence again. 

“You did an amazing job, Cambrie, it reminds me of home." Truthfully the dresses shimmery deep blue did make you think of the waters of home and the seaweed and pearl based jewelry was a nice touch. Of course it was a too low cut for your liking and regardless of the colors would be completely translucent if the light hit it right, it was stunning.

“You really think so?" Her eyes were full of tears and you nodded your head turning to hug her.

“Yes, thank you." It pained you too think about how even if she never treated you fully human she would still be deeply hurt by your death. Her favorite muse.

“I don't know who I'm going to model my designs off of anymore, unless you come back or course, but you make it so easy." Of course she had ulterior motives, but it was somewhat amusing to hear her problems when yours were so much more lethal. She pulled away from you, “I wanted to go more bridal, but President Snow wanted Katniss wearing her wedding dress, so we're going to go for the more subtle route.”

It wasn't subtle in the slightest, a similarly shimmering, translucent veil was in your hair although not covering your face and adorned with sea thrift. Your arms had bouquet-like bracelets of yarrow, lavender, and sea oats from your shoulders down to your wrists. Then there were the sandals covered in pearls and seashells, if it hadn't been purposefully forced to be more sensual you would have genuinely loved it. More of a “natural" makeup look had been preferred to create the essence of more of a sweet mermaid than a sultry, seductive siren.

Suddenly you could feel the tears threatening to pour over, “I wish you would have been able to just design my wedding dress with normal circumstances. Thank you for this.” 

"Oh you're such a sweetheart, I can't fathom how they could do this again to such a sweet girl. Everyone loves you, there's so much outrage. You'll certainly have lots of sponsors.” She cupped your face, shaking her head sadly. "We'd best be on our way.” She sighed, leading you out of the room for the last time.

There all the tributes stood waiting in their line, Katniss was already waiting in her wedding gown. She caught you staring at the dress, "Snow made me wear it.” 

"Make him pay for it.” Johanna remarked ok the side, in another one of the tree related get ups her designer has such an attachment too. She looked you up and down,"Even in death they just can't leave you alone?” It was true, you were basically naked if people were staring at the way the colors caught the light.

“Just making sure to squeeze out every last drop before I go." One last glance at the body they'd controlled before you took it back forever. Johanna scoffed.

“Make him pay for that too." You took your place in the line next to Finnick, whose shirt was heavily unbuttoned.

“Is this our own wedding get-up?" He asked, arm sliding around your waist. You hummed a yes as you pecked at his lips.

“Do you like it?" You asked, hand playing with his sleeve.

“You look stunning. Do you like it, would it be your top contender when I finally get you that real dress?" He asked, a loving grin adorning his face. 

“Maybe, if it wasn't so see-through. Reminds me of home though.” Finnick nodded in agreement.

“Look like you came straight from the moonlit waters, angel." You rested into his warm arms which were a godsend when the fabric did even less to protect you from the chill in the air. Cashmere and Gloss both proclaimed how difficult it would be to let go of their friends from the Capitol. How they were all like brothers and sisters to them, trying to further manipulate the audience's feelings into somehow getting them to prevent the games. Snow would never let that happen, but taking a shot at it couldn't hurt. Enobaria and Brutus both acted like it was a normal game, with just as much intensity as they had the first round. Wiress was rambling on and on, sometimes coherently, but the audience simply laughed like it were some huge joke about how unstable she was. Beetee’s rationalization took hold, talking about all he had done, all he'd offered to the Capitol, and questioned how legal this type of Quarter Quell was, couldn't it just be unwritten since it would have such a negative effect? Finnick rubbed circles on your arm as you nervously tapped your foot. “You've got this, my love." He reassured you as you were lead to wait off stage.

“Our very own Capitol Princess!” Caesar Flickerman’s voice blared and you put on your most charming smile to enter as he said your name. Waving at the audience, blowing kisses. The cheering soon calmed down and he turned to look at you, “Now, I think we're all a little bit upset with you and your husband. Aren't we?" The audience gave out enthusiastics agreements. 

“I'm sorry!" You giggled, breathily. “We didn't want to take away attention from the star-crossed lovers."

“Oh we have enough love for the both of you!" The audience cheered in agreement.

You looked out at the crowd, “And we love you! It breaks my heart to know we won't get to share our journey with you." The tears that wanted to spill about other things you willed to appear now.

“So a secret marriage? How did that come about?" Caesar asked after the ooh’s and aww’s had quieted.

“We just knew that if we were going to die in the arena, we needed to be one with each other, and the waters." The first tears began to roll, “Now that we know we can't ever again have those moments. Especially to share them all with you." You could vaguely see tears on obscured faces and you knew it was working. "We'd been quietly planning how we'd get engaged in front of all of you, but when the Quarter Quell announcement came it just couldn't wait. So now we can't do the dress, and the wedding, and the house decorating, and the kids with all of you.” Wiping away the tears falling down.

"We'll certainly mourn that just as much, won't we?” The crowd boomed with agreement and cries. "One more thing, last time you were here you were also going into the arena with a romance, now it's happening all over again, does that add to the emotions we’re feeling tonight? The idea that if you win you'll have lost another love?”

Your tears glistened under the lights as you nodded, "All I have to say about that Caesar is that I have no intentions of leaving that arena if I can't be with him. We are one and I couldn't bear to live my life without knowing I'd see him everyday. This hurts so bad because I know it'll be my last time seeing all of your kind faces.” By now the audience was sobbing and suddenly the tears began feeling real, creeping up on you.

Caesar nodded solemnly, “And we'll be sorry to see you go. Ever romantic, our Capitol Princess!" Tears were blinding you and it was difficult to find your way to the pedestals where the other tributes were standing. Suddenly your face was being held and honey tasting lips were on yours, Finnick. You could hear the audience cooing and crying, he wiped the tears once he pulled away and led you to where you needed to stand.

"Sorry, Ceaser I couldn't help myself." His warm voice filled the room, his gorgeous smile being zoomed in on by the cameras.

“Oh no worries! Making ever the entrance, Capitol darling Finnick Odair!" The audience let out a resounding cheer for him. “Finnick, can I be honest?"

“Of course, Caesar." That gorgeous, sunshine smile rested on his face and it was no wonder it left the Capitol citizens swooning for more.

“I don't know what we're going to do if you don't come back. Right?” The audience loudly agreed and Finnick chuckled. "I mean you've been such a favorite, both of you have, and the world will not be the same without it.” How ironic, if it would be so painful then they really should make more of an effort to put a stop to it, but they wouldn't.

"I'm very sorry about that Ceaser, but my hands are tied. If we could, we would spend every moment with all of you, we're so grateful for your love.” A bold-faced lie, every party to keep up appearances, each call from the Capitol was far more draining then just spending a peaceful day together which could be endless.

“We wish you could too. Being married in the arena, how's that going to work? I mean we've heard from her that there's no grand plan for her to come back, but I assume as the husband you might have something to say about that?" This elicited a laugh from the audience and Finnick nodded.

“Well certainly, Caesar, what kind of husband would I be if I let her have her way in that? I will say, my love, you have my heart for all eternity, and if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” You were sick, honestly nauseated with grief. This was so unfair, you'd tried not to think about it, but in just over 12 hours you'd be forced back into the arena and risk losing each other.

"We wish you the best luck with that." People were weeping in the audience and Finnick's face had become so sober that it was jarring how naturally it fell back into an easy smile. “That's Finnick Odair, Capitol darling." Soon he was right beside you on the podium, kissing you again for the audience to be giddy with joy, but also hearts ruptured for the lovers torn apart for only the first time of the night. You could taste your salty tears mixing with the honeycomb of his lips before he pulled away, giving another grin to the audience.

His hand stayed intertwined with yours, but something wasn't quite right about his demeanor. Even if physically he kept up the same presence as always you could feel the shift in his aura, in his touch. He was upset, but not in the way you were. You couldn't stop yourself from continually glancing over at him, silently trying to get his attention so you could see what was wrong. Squeezing his hand with yours to try and get a response when he finally did meet your eyes it hit you that the look was disappointment, dread and when you shot a quizzical look back he looked like he was going to cry as he put his focus back on the stage.

You were stuck in your own head no, had it been something you said? Did? It was all for the performance which he had to know. Your foot was tapping and you were zoning out of the interviews until all the sudden the audience was shrieking. Katniss’ wedding dress disappeared in clouds of black smoke and when they disappeared the dress had transformed. Upon lifting her arms you could see what it was, a mockingjay. A public symbol of the rebellion, Caesar was trying to cover, but the cameras already would have caught it.

One more interview before the night would be over and you'd wait to be shipped back off to the arena where certain death awaited you. Charming Peeta insisted that he and Katniss too had a secret wedding to have the traditions of District 12. The audience ate each crumb he gave right out of his hands when suddenly he made the world stop, “If it weren't for the baby." Shock, outrage filled the room. All of these people who'd been fine watching children fight to the death and suffer after they won for personal entertainment couldn't stand the fact that Katniss could be pregnant. The irony of it all, how smart Peeta had been on his feet made it hard for you to suppress the smile. As Caesar desperately tried to do damage control once again you noticed how everyone of the tribute's hands began linking, placing your free hand in Beetee’s who bobbed his head before holding Wiress’. Hands joined, you lifted them above your head increasing the audience's screams and Caesar was yelling for lights to be turned off, all this did was illuminate your figures in the low lights. 

Then you were being filed off of the pedestals and to the hallway. You instantly met eyes with Haymitch, holding some glass filled with some type of drink. You didn't say a word to him before taking it from his hand to take a drink. 

“Dealing with pre-game jitters with alcohol really seems like a great idea." He said sardonically, scoffing. He didn't try and grab the drink back though even when you scowled at him. Right when you'd taken another drink of the bubbly liquid it was Finnick who took the drink from your hand, handing it back to Haymitch. "What? Trouble in paradise?” He took a drink too.

“Just need you to be rational instead of hungover in the morning.” Finnick muttered, he was angry at something, that much was obvious. 

Haymitch took something off of his wrist and handed it to Finnick, “Show her this and she'll realize I gave it to you, since she won't ally with you of her own accord." It was a gold bangle and Finnick nodded as he slid it on his wrist. They were whispering something to each other and you pulled away to an Avox holding a tray of more bubbly drinks nearby. Grabbing one you nodded a thank you, swallowing it down as fast as you could before Finnick had grabbed it again, looking at you sternly.

“I'm not going to be hungover.” You rolled your eyes and he handed the second, nearly empty glass to Haymitch as well.

"Well you don't exactly make great decisions for yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him as he ran his fingers through his curls.

"What's your problem? I made them sympathetic, I did what I was supposed to!” You couldn't fathom why that would upset him, it was a performance and he did the same thing.

"You have a death wish, that's the problem, I'm not letting you die for me!” You stared into his gorgeous sea-green eyes and scoffed before turning around to walk straight back to your floor.

"Thank you, Haymitch.” You heard Finnick say before he was following you to the elevator.

"You're really gonna argue with me about what I said in the interview right before we head back into the arena?" You pressed the cold buttons before crossing your arms, refusing to look at him.

“When this started I begged you to talk to me, to stop punishing yourself for whatever you did six years ago to survive, but you still are. You didn't say anything until right before we headed back into the arena, informing the world all about how you plan to die in there.” The elevator opened and he stepped in as you followed.

“I don't plan too, I just expect it. I'm not going to keep going if you die."

“Yes, you are, Annie needs you, Mags needs you." He pointed to the bangle quickly to put off anyone who could be listening in, “Needs you. This insistence that you're going to die is ridiculous, angel, I'm not going to let you.”

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You stood backstage with Conway, having to consciously force your leg to stay still, to not keep tapping as you waited to do on stage. The air was chilly which wasn't helped by the thin material of your dress, it's low-cut, or the huge slit in it's side at least Conway got to be in a suit. Your eyes were glued to the screen where the male tribute from District 3 had just begun his interview.

“Now, how old are you?" Caesar asked, the boy was small, he couldn't be that old, it looked like the seat was going to swallow him whole.

“Thirteen." His voice was shaky and your ears started ringing. How were you supposed to do this, that was a child, a tiny kid whose family was sitting back home watching their baby boy be shipped off to certain death. You could feel the tears approaching and your breathing getting more shallow. Cold hands were suddenly on yours.

“Are you okay?" Conway asked, as you began to hyperventilate.

“I can't do this." You whispered out as the first tears began falling, “That's a little boy, I can't-"

“I get it." Conway reassured, his big, brown eyes trying to comfort you. “You've got this though, you can't do anything about him being here, but you can make a good impression with the audience. We have to focus on that no matter how screwed up you feel like it is. Go up there and do what you have to do.” What you have to do, charm them, be sweet, and pretty, but a little mysterious. Finnick had all types of angles for you. You gave a final look back at Conway who tried to give a reassuring smile, but you could tell he was bothered too. Caesar's booming voice called your name and you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage. Beaming for the audience, waving, giggling at their cheers.

“I have to say, everyone was blown away with how charming you seemed at the tribute parade, but then that training score came out. How did you do that?" Caesar asked as the two of you sat down, the audience murmuring in agreement. 

“Well, Caesar, a lady has to have some secrets for herself." You made your laugh airy and winked at the laughing audience. “I have to save some things for the show, don't I?"

Caesar nodded, laughing along. "Of course! You know when I saw your face at the reaping I couldn't help but feel like I recognized you from somewhere, did anyone else feel that way?” The audience cheered out agreements and your stomach knotted. What was he talking about? You certainly didn't know how they knew you. "I mean this was literally keeping me up at night.”

You leaned forward, the dress putting a little too much on display, but you persisted. "Well do tell.”

"Months ago we were doing a catch up piece of Finnick Odair and you were in some of it, very briefly, but you were.” The audience was wild, they adored Finnick and loved any type of connection. Your stomach clenched, how were you supposed to seem in love with Conway when this was being chosen for you.

You blushed, “Oh yes, Caesar! I didn't imagine anyone would remember that!" 

"Well we did and we love it!” He proclaimed and the audience agreed. "So tell me, just between us-” The audience laughed and you did too. "Are you and a certain victor pining for your return to tell us all some very exciting news?” You shook your head slowly, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. “No? I don't believe that, look at you, charming and obviously extremely talented. There was definitely something going on when that program came out, not anymore?" Time was running out and this was not going the way you planned.

So new plan, “No, Ceasar.” Your voice was light and sounded shaky on purpose. You shook your head.

"Oh, so this is a tale of heartbreak?” He asked and the audience cooed. "Well if you win, he'll have to take you back won't he? I'm sure we won't let up until he does!” He laughed and the crowd seemed to agree with him. 

“I'm afraid it's much more complicated than that." You smoothed out your dress even if it needed no smoothing.

"Oh! Is there another man as well, we live for the drama!” You nodded slowly.

"Yes and I'm afraid winning won't help me in either case.” You were alluding and there was only a few seconds left. Caesar stood up.

"Well now you have to win this thing, so we can all know about this tale of romance. It's going to be keeping me on the edge of my seat!" 

“And I'd love to share it with all of you." You let a few tears fall as you blew a kiss out to the audience who adored it. The two of you bowed as you walked off the stage. Heart pounding rapidly as you were escorted out to the hall where Finnick, Ondine, and your designer Cambrie stood.

“Oh you looked divine!" Cambrie announced, hands on your shoulders. “All of my friends are going to want to sponsor you, I'm certain you'll be the talk of Panem, leaving us on a cliffhanger like that!" She was basically shrieking in joy when she got distracted by some hors d'oeuvres an Avox was holding.

You buried your head in your hands as Finnick approached, “I didn't know they were going to side swipe you like that. It could be good for your image though." You were now hyper aware of the eyes on the both of you even if technically he was your mentor just giving you advice.

“Could be bad for that, unless he picked up what I was putting down." You pointed at the screen where Conway sat with Caesar.

“So Conway, I'm sure all of us were very impressed by your training score, a big, strong man like you, what's your strategy?" Caesar asked and the audience made comments under their breath, acting as if they were also part of the conversation. 

“Let's just say I know what I'm up against and am confident in the people I've decided to trust." Looking at him made you see flashes of your childhood, of him crabbing with your family as kids, hair billowing in the wind as he made sure you didn't slip on the water covering the boat’s deck.

Caesar nodded, “Well alright, making us wait for tomorrow as well?"

Conway smiled that kind, loving smile he gave everyone, “I guess you could say that.”

"Now everyone is dying to know if you have a special girl back home, I mean you’re a good looking guy and even girls in the Capitol are swooning.”

"Well, it's a lot more complicated than that, Caesar.” Conway and his boyish charm was sure to bring in more sponsors as well. Caesar took a second, looking at Conway and the audience with as much drama as he could, like he was slowly connecting the dots.

“You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?" He asked and the crowd screamed in agreement, eating it up.

Conway adjusted his shirt collar, “Regretfully, I might be."

“Well isn't this straight out of a fairytale." A dark, corrupted one if that. “That sure complicates things doesn't it?"

Conway nodded, “Yes."

“You're certainly going to be keeping all of us on our toes, a love triangle. Well I certainly wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." Caesar laughed. What luck? Only one ‘choice’ would be alive if you won.

“Thank you, Caesar. All I can say is even if it's doomed, hopefully she doesn't pick the one who already broke her heart.” Even if it wasn't meant that way to you it felt threatening, hopefully you didn't or he'd be forced to kill you? You honestly had no idea what the best outcome was, maybe him asking you to take care of his family before sacrificing himself? But now you were overtly aware that you not only had him observing you, but all of Panem desperately wanting to know where you would land. 

            𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were laying on the bed, hands covering your face as Finnick went on and on about how self-destructive you were. Maybe he was right, but you didn't see why it mattered. It's not like you were going to do anything intentional, you'd just do what you could to get Katniss out of the arena alive and be with Finnick.

“How are we supposed to do this if you don't believe you can survive?” He was pacing the room,"The moment that gong rings you need to come find me, I need my eyes on you.”

"I will, Finnick! But you need to focus on other things too.” You defended, sighing.

"How am I supposed to do that when the person I love the most is a danger to herself?” He stopped moving for a moment to stare at you, even with your face hidden in your hands you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You finally moved your hands,"I'm not! I just want to go to sleep, Finnick, can't we just rest?"

“We can sleep when I can rest well knowing you're not going to make impulsive decisions or give up if I get hurt. Don't be dependent on my life, angel, you deserve to live." You stood up only to walk to the open bathroom door and begin removing your makeup. 

“I don't know what you want me to say, Finnick." He followed you and stood behind you watching you in the mirror. You were passive to his pleas, you couldn't understand why it mattered so much to him. If he died it's not like he would know if you did too and if he lived there were plenty of other women who would be glad to comfort him, plus the revolution would keep him distracted.

There was a pause as you continued with your routine before he removed the bottle from your hands and turned you to face him, he'd always been much stronger than you and there was no use trying to release yourself. 

“That your life matters to you just as much as it does to me and I want you to believe it when you say it."

You sighed, “Finnick I will do whatever you tell me to do, I'll stay right by your side if you want me too. All I want is to be with you, that's all that matters to me."

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, “I can't believe I let us get so codependent." You watched a tear make its way down his cheek and felt you swarmed with guilt. “I can't make this better overnight no matter how badly I want to, but I do want you by me every second in that arena. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for someone, anyone. Angel, I can't live without you either.” His warm arms brought you to him, caught in his embrace as the guilt overwhelmed the numbness. "We're both getting out of there alive, no matter what it takes.” He whispered and although your brain told you not to believe him, to accept your fate you would trust him to the grave so you nodded your head into his shoulder. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading and all the support I've been receiving, I love you all so much and am glad you're enjoying my little thoughts. next chapter we can finally get into the games of it all, not gonna like this chapter was a lot of fun to write but took forever because I was having too many thoughts. if you enjoyed it feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated. my inbox is always open! I love you all, thank you again! 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d

[effloradox]

Codependent

pairing: twins x reader, haruhi fujioka x reader

summary: rumours have always surrounded the nature of you and the twins' relationship with each other. you tell yourself that it doesn't bother you, but an eagle eyed commoner seems to be able to see straight through your facade.

word count: 1.1k

Somewhere in your mind you know you’re never beating the allegations people put towards you and the twins. There's nothing going on between you and either of them, there never has been, and everyone you hold important knows that, but your classmates and peers are a different story.

Being friends since you were children means there’s a level of comfort in your relationship with your best friends. Sleepovers where you share a bed, holding hands and always being in each other's space, sharing clothes; boundaries aren’t really a thing between the three of you. When it's felt like the three of you against the entire world for most of your life, you learn to trust the other people implicitly quite quickly. Kyoya offhandedly mentioned that the three of you are codependent once in an attempt to get under the twin’s skin and, thinking about it, he's probably right.

That's not a fun way for your peers to look at it though.

No, they'd much rather imagine things that aren't there for their own amusement. That's probably why the host club continues to thrive. No one would go if they had to face up to the fact that their attraction more than likely wasn’t mutual.

It doesn’t bother you. You keep telling yourself that, and it’s almost become your mantra over the years. It helps that people rarely look beyond the surface because that’s when their perceptions start to lose their allure. You work hard in school, keeping your grades as high as possible, adamant to prove that you’re more than capable on your own. That’s something you and Haruhi have in common, and it’s nice to have someone willing to join you in the library whose ulterior motive isn’t just to distract you.

“Can I ask you something?” Haruhi’s voice pulls you out of your train of thought, your pen stilling over your notebook. You blink at her.

“Sure.”

“Does it ever bother you?” You look at Haruhi patiently, tilting your head to the side as a gentle probing for clarification. “The things people say about the three of you behind your back.” You don’t even have to question who the other two people are.

“Haruhi, people have said worse to my face.” Your deadpan response doesn’t seem to impress her. You know she’s familiar with some of the struggles you’ve faced during your life, honestly people gossiping about the details of your relationship with your best friends is an easier thing to deal with.

“No offense, but that’s not really an answer.” Her blunt tone surprises you, and for a beat you’re left staring at your friend. You’ve known Haruhi for a while now and she never fails to surprise you. It’s refreshing.

“People don’t normally ask.” The words spill from your mouth before you can stop them. You wince at your tone, hating how weak it makes you sound. You’ve worked hard on your persona, it’s mildly infuriating how quickly the people you let in can break you down.

“So it does?”

“I suppose to a degree.” You're hoping the vague answer will satiate her but you should know better. She’s not satisfied with your answer though, you can tell from the way her eyebrows furrow at you.

“Does it bother them?”

“No.” You're more sure in that answer, and Haruhi hears the certainty in your voice. Your relationship with the twins has always fascinated her, and it’s rare she gets the chance to actually press for details. It’s interesting that you know their opinion better than you know your own.

“Do you think that's fair?” You take a moment to consider the best way to respond to her.

“I think that's for me to deal with, not them.” You can feel her concern and it does warm part of you that she cares about you enough to speak to you about it. It doesn’t make the situation any less uncomfortable for you though.

“Do you think they could do more to stop the rumours though?”

“I think people are going to gossip regardless of what any of us say, best to just try and rise above it.” You think that you’ve satisfied her enough for her to let it go and your eyes wander back to your essay. You were mid-sentence when she broke your train of thought and a pang of irritation passes through you that you can’t remember how you were going to finish your sentence.

“Is that really how you want to spend the next few years?” Haruhi’s voice is soft, like she’s aware she’s poking a bear that doesn’t want to be poked. She watches as your posture changes and you almost seem to steel yourself. You remain silent, eyes focused on your notebook. The two of you sit in silence as she waits. She’s not sure how much time has passed before you finally make eye contact with her once again.

You’re still thinking of how to reply when something shifts in Haruhi’s expression. You can’t work out why she’s looking at you differently until two arms loop around your shoulders. You lean back instantly, you’d know those arms anyway. It’s not the first time you’ve been rescued from uncomfortable conversations by them and it probably won’t be the last.

“Hey guys.” You try to keep your tone in check but you know they notice something is off. Hikaru’s arm shifts against your back, his defences clearly raised.

“We missed you after class.” There’s a hundred unspoken words in Hikaru’s tone but you elect to ignore most of them.

“Me and Haruhi were working on our history project.” You gesture gently towards the textbooks splayed out over the table.

“Will you be long?” You feel Kaoru’s arm tighten ever so slightly, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder, and it’s all you can do to smile apologetically at Haruhi.

“No, I think we’re just about done. I’ll see you in class, Haruhi.” You’re quick to gather your things, ignoring how the twins try to hurry you along as best you can. You can feel the weight of Haruhi's gaze as you walk away, the twins following close behind, already filling you in on their most recent love confession.

Haruhi’s eyes remain staring at the door you left through long after it’s closed behind the three of you. The word codependent springs to mind and she can’t seem to shake it. From what she’s heard from your classmates, the twins have blossomed socially since joining the host club. She wonders if you’ll experience something similar. She makes a mental note to keep an eye on you. The two of you are close but it wouldn’t hurt to try and spend more time together. She wonders if the other hosts try and do anything similar with you.

She hopes they do.

series masterlist

[spopsalt]

How to show abusers Helluva Boss vs Hazbin Hotel vs Rick and Morty

So, I've been meaning to make this post for a while, but an anon said they'd like to see the post, so I was finally motivated to make it!

Ok first up, let's do Helluva Boss, I was wondering wheter to use Stolas or Stella for this one, since both of them are horrible portrayals of abusers, but there is a similar portrayal on how Stolas is portrated with Hazbin Hotel, so I chose to use Stella.

Yep. This is an actual line from the show. Depth? What's that!? Stella is just made to be a Saturday one-dimensional cereal box villain. Who only exists so people can feel bad for poor Stolas. The thing is she had potential to be an interesting and complex character but nope! She just exists to make you feel bad for the poor baby Stolas ohhhh noooo she's mean. They acts like this isn't hell and even is supposed to be nice.

Hazbin Hotel

So Lucifer is Charlie's dad, and this image is the best way I can describe his portrayal. He was emotionally neglectful of Charlie's (Fuck you to anyone who says neglecting isn't abuse it's a form of abuse) and he does not get held accountable. He doesn't even apologize for neglecting his daughter for years on end. He also makes it very clear that he does not support her dream in the slightest and allows angels to kill his own people because he considers then beyond saving, and he does this despite knowing that his daughter hates it. All he does is say "Oh wait I support your dream now" then he gets portrayed as some amazing person. He clearly still sees Charlie as a child he literally says "I'll shelter and adore you more than anything" while hugging her. And he only called her when he was bored. He didnt even improve after his shitty half-assed rushed "redemption" being dismissive after she was feeling extremely upset about the amount of casualties in a war instead of trying to understand her. What an amazing father.

Rick and Morty

Rick Sanchez is a really amazing portrayal in my opinion. The gif I'm showing above shows his trauma with someone named Rick Prime. Showing that abusers are normally the way they are due to something horrible happening to them in their past, and while it makes a lot of what he did make sense, he's still held accountable because he's still a VERY horrible person. He constantly emotionally abused his grandson (Morty) there were even times where the abuse got physically (4 times if I'm correct) and has done awful things to keep him codependent. He's very codependent on Morty and relies on him for various things, like keeping him emotionally stable when thats a ridiculous and unfair thing to depend on someone for, especially your 14 year old grandson. But Rick isnt shown as being in the right for this and is called out mainly by Morty and some of the other family members when he's being a piece of shit. But he's shown to feel guilt for the shitty things he done at times and hates himself because of it. He's also shown mutiple times that he does truly lover and care about Morty mutiple times throughout the series, being very protective over him and even willing to die for him on one occasion. It still shows him as being human without glorifying him or demonizing him. Like it or not, abusers are still people. They aren't good people, but they are people nonetheless. And I love how Rick and Morty shows that. They have 2 neglectful parents here but I'm only covering one abuser per show so maybe I'll cover them in another post.

[pauls1967moustache]

it would go like this: john and paul would deem demselves more important than the others and gang up on them to eat them. george and ringo would sense this immediately and get away. then john and paul would start feeding pieces of themselves to each other in a codependent survival ritual, but at some point john would start arguing with paul because paul isn't giving as good pieces as john is giving him, so paul would be like "fine you can have an extra good piece", but he'd be like sooooo haughty about being the sacrificial lamb for john that it would only piss john off more, and then john would just keep pushing him like "fine i want your entire wanking arm", to call his bluff but paul would do it because he's stubborn, until eventually john will have eaten most of paul, which is the point where he'd start feeling guilty, but because he can't accept responsibility for his own actions he'll just keep trying to goad paul into eating loads of him to like even it up so he doesn't have to feel guilty, but paul is like like. dying at this point and he's like "i actually don't even want to." and john would get even more annoyed at him, and then they'd both starve for a while until one night john would wake up and find paul starving, delirous, limbless,chewing on his arm, but he'd be so relieved he wouldn't even be mad about it. and then they'd go back to their beginning deal where they feed each other pieces of themselves until they basically have no body left, and all they can do is pick at what's left of each other with their teeth, and they die with their jaws locked on each other's flesh, and the seagulls have to come finish off their rotting carcasses.

george and ringo got off the island three months ago btw.

[ishipgenfics]

Camilla and Palamedes are just... everything to me. God. I don't read them as romantic or platonic or QPR, though I can totally see all of those readings. To me, they are the perfect embodiment of the necromancer/cavalier ideal. They did it. They got it right.

Think about it. Think about all the duos we see throughout the series. The Second House feels more like coworkers than anything. They work together very well, but there's not enough devotion. The Third House is a mess. Coronabeth and Ianthe have got one flesh down, but not one end. They care about each other like hell, but they don't agree with each other. And let's be real here, neither of them care about Babs. The Fourth House are just siblings, the Fifth House are married, the Seventh House... well, we all know what happened to the Seventh House, and the Eight House necromancer is eating his cavalier alive. Gideon and Harrow get the closest at the end of Gideon the Ninth, but their also very traumatized teenagers, and more codependent than anything else.

But Camilla and Palamedes? They did it! They got it right! They understood that the cavalier can't be the only one to sacrifice, that the necromancer must be willing to do anything for their cavalier too. They'd kill and die for each other, they'd do whatever necessary to keep the other one safe and happy. They're so in sync and so in love. They ate each other like binary stars to keep their love intact even if they as individuals couldn't be.

I just. I love them so much. I would actually die for them.