#It's literally giving a thought a fraction of caring about someone else

[firespirited]

Vagueing here but the notes of the harry potter posts are using the same weird arguments for say, not giving up the n-word because it doesn’t affect structural change. Well you’re right: not saying any of the n-words* (even the academic ones I now censor because I was asked to) doesn’t change a thing to society.

The concept of the n-word exists from the moment someone calls about a black man minding his own business to the police grabbing him off the street for doing normal people stuff while black, to the courts who are stacked to view the black man as less important to his family and community, as less civilized and more disposable and with law written and unchanged since black people were considered property, to his time in jail forced into slavery to get basic necessities where the concept of the n-word is fully enacted on him again.

And yet, every time you mute yourself from singing the n-word and cut people out of your life for using it: you’re having to think. Maybe you don’t think about black people’s feelings at first because you just don’t want to lose non-black friends who do care, but the thought-seed is planted that maybe this actually hurts somebody... real friends wouldn’t drop you if it wasn’t serious right? And bit by bit, this tiny moment of mental “stop and think” translates to understanding that words carry history and ongoing suffering. You grapple with a non-black friend who believes free speech entitles him to use the words and realize you care quite a bit. You start noticing dog whistles and stereotypes: it’s not the n-word but it might as well be and isn’t that shifty and cruel?

So no it won’t change the world to not buy any more JKRowling related anything but it will slowly change you and your friends every time you stop and think about using a potter metaphor and switch to something else. Maybe you’ll start to question the groomer rhetoric and the tasteless predator jokes, the idea of gender performance and “failing” at gender, maybe you’ll even take the time to examine how you perform and enforce your gender in ways that might hurt you or your friends.

These ‘insignificant’ details matter because when we break thought patterns and bad habits we have to question and examine them. Most people don’t just stop smoking: it’s figuring out why you smoke, why you don’t want to smoke any more, how to replace it with something equally rewarding but healthy, slipping and learning from that. You take a small detail that’s been in our cultural background so long we use it as shorthand for personality types and villains... Well to remove the habit will require thinking about the habit and maybe instead of just worrying about losing “politically correct” friends, you’ll start to wonder why it’s serious enough to lose people’s respect and you’ll start thinking about trans people as people who deserve better than to be treated as monsters for existing.

So ok let’s say virtue signalling is a thing, I guess it’s signalling to your friends that you won’t drop them if they come out or date someone marginalized - It’s signalling that this particular discrimination isn’t ok so maybe people might think twice before talking about other bigotries, it’s signalling that you’re more likely to vote for candidates who are trawling trends and polls about issues people care about and that moves the needle a bit. Maybe the real virtue signalling is when you think it’s beneath you to make a tiny gesture of good will, when you say nothing because people will call you a spoil sport.

On the other hand, I am going to use cripple/crip for myself because it jolts people back into seeing the world as it treats me and not the magical happy post disability rights world people seem to think we live in. It’s a tiny act of rebellion and unity with others and it’s only very few words compared to the very many that we’re not reclaiming. You probably have your own slurs used against you and complex feelings about them: it’s how you know stuff is not your words to decide on: the people hurt by them get to choose what is and isn’t off limits or what they choose to reclaim.

*I’m using the most cross-culturally relevant example here, my unlearning journey has been hardest with concepts that would provoke serious wankery if this post ever escaped containment.

[bryan-writes]

Backstage Blooms sirius x reader

Summary: you get a call from Lily asking you to cover as the marauders merch girl, and over the course of a week you and Sirius can’t deny the feelings blossoming between the two of you.

Rockstar Sirius x florist reader, no magic, cheesy flirting, reader is mentioned as girl, fluff, happy ending, short and sweet <3

Credit to @steddiecameraroll-graphics for the beautiful dividers :)

The day had already felt too long by the time your phone rang, vibrating on the counter of your cozy flower shop. The scent of fresh peonies mixed with the earthy aroma of eucalyptus, your hands delicately arranging stems when Lily’s name popped up on the screen.

”Hey, Lils,” you answered, balancing the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you tied off a bouquet with a silk ribbon.

“Y/N! I need a huge favor.”

There was a frantic edge in her voice that immediately put you on alert. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

”I’m fine, but—ugh, it’s such a mess. The merch girl for the band? She just quit. Right before the show! I need someone to stand in just for tonight. Please?”

You hesitated, glancing at the neatly organized chaos of flowers on your counter. “Lils… I don’t know. I’m not really familiar with running a merch table, and—“

”Y/N, doll, it’s literally just handing out t-shirts and records. You’ll be fine! Plus, it’s The Marauders! You know them. James will keep Sirius from bugging you too much, I promise.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a bold promise.”

Lily chuckled on the other end. “Okay, maybe I can’t guarantee that. But please? I’ll owe you one.”

With a resigned sigh, you leaned against the counter, eyeing the half finished bouquets spread across the marble. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there.”

”You’re a lifesaver! I’ll see you soon!”

As you stepped into the venue, the shift in atmosphere was palpable. The scent of wildflowers still clung to you, but now the air was thick with anticipation, sweat, and the low hum of amps being tested on stage. You found your place behind the rickety merch table, the crowd already buzzing with excitement for the show.

It was loud and it was beyond chaotic— but in a way, it was also exhilarating. You loved the energy of live music. It was so different from the serenity of the flower shop, but you were no stranger to rock shows. The chaos felt like home in its own way.

A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our resident florist, moonlighting as merch queen.”

You looked up to see Sirius Black leaning against the table, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, dark hair falling across his face just so. He had that usual glint in his gray eyes, like he knew he was being shamelessly charming and didn’t care one bit.

“Sirius,” you greeted, giving him a mock-serious look. “Shouldn’t you be warming up?”

His grin widened as he leaned in slightly. “Maybe I’m already warm enough.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress the laugh that tumbled from your lips. “That was a stupid line.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, admit it— you missed us.” His grin widened, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“I think I missed Lily.”

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, cutting through the noise of the venue. “You’ve been hiding away in that flower shop of yours. It’s about time you came out to play.”

”Someone’s got to keep the world beautiful,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t spend all my time at shows.”

Sirius’s eyes softened just a fraction, but before he could say anything else, James appeared, clapping him on the back. “Oi, Pads! Leave her alone, we’ve got a show to get to!”

Sirius straightened, flashing you a grin before he allowed James to pull him away. “Catch you after the show, flower girl.”

You found yourself at the merch table more frequently than you anticipated after that night. What started as a one-time favor turned into something more regular, each gig blurring into the next, and somehow, Sirius always found his way to you. Sometimes it was just for a quick hello before the set; other times, he lingered, throwing playful comments your way, testing your patience, but also making you laugh.

You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly the shift began, but it was undeniable. Between the cheeky banter and the easy flirtation, there was a growing connection you hadn’t expected. You noticed the way his eyes would search for you in the crowd during their sets, the way he seemed more at ease when he knew you were nearby.

And it wasn’t just him.

Your own heart started to flutter when you knew you’d see him. What was supposed to be a temporary role became something you looked forward to— partly because of the thrill of the live shows, but mostly because of the way Sirius would smile at you like you were the only one in the room.

A week passed in a blur of music and late nights. Every evening, you’d step into the venue, feeling a little more at home. It wasn’t your world, but it was easy to fall into the rhythm of it, especially when Sirius was there.

But one night, Lily caught you just as you were packing up the last of the merch.

”Hey, I found a replacement,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes watching you carefully. “You won’t have to keep doing this anymore. You can go back to your flowers.”

You blinked, the words sinking in slowly. Of course, this was always supposed to be temporary, but something tugged at your chest— a faint, unexpected ache. You weren’t ready to leave yet. You had grown to love the rush of these nights, the music, and… Sirius.

“I… right. That’s good,” you said, forcing a smile. “It was fun, though.”

Lily grinned knowingly, her eyes flickering toward the stage where Sirius and the boys were still packing up their gear. “Yeah, I think it was more than fun.”

The next morning, the bell above the door of your shop chimed as you were pruning some roses. You expected a customer, but when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

Sirius stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, looking a little out of place among the pastel blooms and soft light. His usual confidence seemed slightly muted, but the familiar spark in his eyes was still there.

“Sirius?” You asked, setting down the shears. “What are you doing here?”

He gave a half-hearted shrug, taking a few slow steps into the shop. “Lily said you wouldn’t be coming to the shows anymore… not for merch, at least.”

You tilted your head, feeling the weight of what he wasn’t saying. “I guess she found a replacement.”

Sirius paused for a moment, glancing around at the flowers before meeting your gaze again. “I just… thought I’d rather see you here than not at all.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. For all his usual bravado, there was a softness to him now, something vulnerable lurking just beneath the surface.

“You could’ve just asked me to come by,” you said, smiling gently. “I’d still love to hangout, even if I’m not working the shows anymore.”

Sirius let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer. “That’s the thing. It’s not just hanging out, Y/N. I like having you around. More than just in passing at shows.”

He took another step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot, but… would you maybe want to come to the next show? Not to work, or even just hang out. But to be, you know, backstage. With me.”

Your smile grew as you looked up at him, warmth flooding your chest. “Are you asking me out?”

Sirius’s lips curled into that familiar mischievous grin. “I suppose I am. Took me long enough, didn’t it?”

You laughed softly, stepping toward him, closing the distance between you. “I’d like that.”

He let out a breath, one that sounded like relief, and then he smiled, hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the happiness blooming in your chest. Before either of you could say another word, Sirius leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

The smell of roses and fresh air swirled around you, mixing with the feeling of his hands on your waist, pulling you into him, deepening the kiss in a way that made your heart race.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low. “So, next show… you’ll be waiting for me?”

You smiled, your breath still unsteady. “I’ll be there.”

”Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing your again in a gentle kiss, “because you’re the best part of the night.”

[mamamittens]

They got a crush~

But how do they act? How did they realize?

SFW

Ace

Boy doesn't realize shit. He's really obvious about to everyone but himself. He's more touchy with you than literally anyone else. He laughs louder, shows off harder, and is generally a lowkey mess. Until it's suddenly made so much worse.

He's talking about his little brother in the East Blue who's going to be the Pirate King--no cap--and realizes that he really can't wait to introduce you two. Two so very dear and important people to himself. And then it hits. Hard. He wants Luffy to meet his 'dad' and 'brothers' sure, but he needs Luffy to like you and the other way around.

Because he really likes you.

He never lives down how close the Moby was to sinking due to the fire Ace immediately created turning into a bonfire. Of course, this clues everyone else into the fact that he's realized his feelings but if anyone missed it, Ace avoiding you like the plague while staring at you from around corners would have done it.

Now, whether or not you confront him, this stalking phase won't last forever because Ace misses you. He misses being next to you. Enjoying your company and not just the echo of your laugh.

And so, Ace, with his heart on his sleeve, tells you the truth of his name. And he cries and laughs and kisses you when he realizes that you don't care.

He doesn't let go of your hand for hours. Marvels at the steady pulse in your wrist--proof that someone so perfectly alive would want him with all his issues. When he's down low he can never bring himself to seriously push you away because the thought of you leaving for real breaks him. He's not magically better just because you return his feelings but... life doesn't seem so hopeless when you take his hand. His blood doesn't seem so corrupt anymore when you kiss his cheek in the morning without thinking. Late one night he holds you close and whispers something against your skin.

Thank you for loving me.

Marco

He's more self aware than Ace, so he's got that going for him. But it does take a bit for him to confirm that he has serious feelings for you. In the meantime, any chance he gets, he spends time with you. Mostly little chitchat, watching you in the corner of his eye. Measuring his own reaction to you. How often his heart skips when you say his name with a laugh. The pride he feels when you focus all your attention on him with admiration. He wants to amaze you and reassure you all at once.

He holds the fond feelings your smile gives him. How he thinks about you even when he should be working on paperwork. He holds it close to his chest while he decides if this is something he wants to cherish alone or try and see if it doesn't turn into something bigger. It's when he can't imagine living his life without at least trying that he decides.

Those that know him well can probably guess he's caught feelings but he's pretty chill about it while thinking it over. Though his reaction to you getting overwhelmed in a fight is... certainly telling. He's never far from you in battle. Not hovering but definitely not more than a heartbeat away.

And then one day, just as the sun was setting, Marco goes up to you. Casually leaning against the railing as he tells you about his feelings. Bears his heart like he could heal instantly if it broke. He's open to the possibility of acceptance or rejection. He's a grown man. He can handle it. It's a risk, but he's beyond caring about anything beyond you in this moment.

The look of surprise and relief when you respond in kind is just a fraction of the warmth in Marco's chest when he kisses you for the first--but certainly not the last--time. Every chance he gets, he holds you close. Feeling you breathing against his side as he works, the warm brush of hands in greeting when you pass by. He follows you without thought simply because he's already decided there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Thatch

He knows himself pretty well. When he first saw you, he knew he was in trouble immediately. Actually talking to you just confirmed it. Although he was kind of in denial for a bit, desperately hoping that his ridiculous heart would just chill the fuck out if he gave it time.

It did not.

And he was in the middle of a monotonous kitchen chore, dicing vegetables for stew, when he realized he didn't want it to. He wanted to feel his heart stutter everytime you said his name. His head to always turn in your direction when you laugh. His hand to reflexively guide itself to yours when you walked side by side or gravitate to your back so he could feel your heartbeat in his palm.

And he was man enough to admit he wanted you to feel that way too. He was madly, ridiculously in love and not ashamed of it in the least. And when he realized that, he became very familiar with the aftertaste of yearning on his tongue while wondering if you could taste it too when you said his name. He wanted to share everything with you that your gentle hands could hold and everything else could rest safely in his.

Of course, he couldn't just tell you his feelings.

He had to make a whole thing of it.

In fact, you knew what he was up to long before the main course of a private meal because subtlety was far from Thatch's vocabulary. Anymore roses and candles and you'd think he was proposing--oh no he's going to be so fucking dramatic about proposing you could already tell. The confession barely left his lips before you laughed and kissed him silent, much to his utter surprise.

He did whoop with joy as he lifted you into a spinning hug, and yes it was very loud. Whoever somehow missed his obvious affection before now certainly didn't miss it afterwards. Kisses to your head/hair/hand/shoulder/literally anywhere near him when you happened to be close. Gentle touches and endless fond smiles.

Thatch is absolutely living his best life and is making sure you never regret returning his feelings--even if he's put out that you didn't let him recite his whole speech before responding. No, he still hasn't caught on to the fact that he was painfully obvious. But that's just part of his charm, I suppose.

[maochira]

Hi, I hope I'm not disrupting anything, but I was hoping to request something (I'm sorry if this is too long-). Tsundere! Barou x GN! Reader who's laid back and reserved, but they're also a sweet person. Reader has a habit of never thinking about themselves, but for others (just look at the examples below if you wanna). This caught Barou's eye from the start and it not only angered him but concerned him as well. Then finally there's a final straw for Barou, and he confronts Readers. From then on Reader had a guard dog best friend. You can ignore this if you want TvT sorry again if this is long or too detailed, you can cut something out if you want.

(Ex: Cooking for other members, Cleaning stuff like messes that aren't theirs, Letting others burrow their things, Buying/Getting things for other members whenever they asks or don't have the money to get it/giving the other members money from time to time whenever they need it, Giving the members great advice, Would never shoot/score and instead let others have their moments and spotlight, etc. Or you can do whatever you want :) )

YOU CAN'T JUST LITERALLY DESCRIBE THE DYNAMIC BAROU AND I WOULD HAVE OMG........ OF COURSE I'M WRITING THAT!! Also, I don't mind long requests at all!! (Unless someone describes literally the entire thing and there's nothing for me to add anymore, had that happen a few times)

Requests open! - writing event - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, this is before Blue Lock, Barou and reader are on the same school team, reader is a midfielder

-Barou doesn't care about anyone but himself, so when he started having some sort of feelings for you - even though they're just platonic - it confused the shit out of him. He doesn't understand what makes him want to protect you so badly

-it just irritates him SO MUCH to see how you never think of yourself and only do things for everyone else. It irritates him even more when he realizes that makes you an easy target to be used by others for their own advantage

-every single time you have the chance to score a goal but end up passing it so someone else, Barou can't help but groan in frustration

-it was his last straw when you were so close to scoring a goal, but ended up passing the ball to him instead. Of course, he ended up scoring that goal, but in his head, he debated for a fraction of a second if he should pass the ball back to you so you'll be forced to score

-even though that thought only crossed his mind for a moment, he kept questioning himself over and over

-he kept thinking about you for a bit and he realized you don't really have friends, not even on your team. It's just you who's a massive people pleaser without ever getting anything back

-and with that, Barou decided he'll be your friend. He just approached you, told you you're his friend now, and of course, you went along with that in an instant

-but you didn't expect him to get so defensive whenever people ask you for selfish favours

-you never protest about that, though. You don't even notice how much better you feel because not all of your self-worth is dependent on what you do for others

-the friendship itself was a bit weird in the beginning. You're the first friendship Barou ever really cared about and all he really did at first was scare off other people

-but it really didn't take long until your friendship became more personal. At first, for Barou, it was weird to talk about more personal subjects and for you it was weird to actually talk about yourself and the way you feel about things

-that made Barou even more protective of you. He definitely doesn't let anyone else get close to you or ask you for selfish favours again that won't give you any benefits either

-because Barou struggles to find activities to do with you, so his go-to thing is playing soccer with you. Nothing you'd ever complain about (not only because you go along with literally anything, but also because you love soccer)

[ughmyreality]

Thoughts on S3 E2

(SPOILERS ahead)

There might be positives, there will be negatives, so please be forewarned that I am not going to solely praise the show. Also, it needs not be mentioned, I am but a single negative person on the internet talking about a fictional story. We are all not going to agree. With that said, let’s move on.

Episode 2-

They really did their thing saying diamonds aren’t the only things that sparkle and then cutting to Eloise. 

How fake can a person get? Actively listening to your crush plan the downfall of your alter ego. Penelope girl.

This scene just further proves that Colin and Penelope were never that great of friends. Why would Colin ask to see how she acts out in public if they were already friends? He should already know that. I also don’t see why he’s acting as though he doesn’t already know how “awkward” she is, anybody can see it. Then again when is he ever home to see it?

“Not me. Them.” Penelope, dearest, I beg of you find a man who actually wants you. He yet again practically threw it in her face that he doesn’t want her. How much rejection can she take?

On another note, I love how they’re doing Penelope’s hair. At least she’s leveling up in one way or another.

I love the fact that lady Danbury is gossiping as usual.

Portia’s disappointment at the lack of an heir is enjoyable. Hopefully they’ll continue with this storyline.

I thought that Benedict was going to be the cliche “lady’s man” but it appears that Colin has his way with women as well. Not as if we could have possibly known this sooner because what have we learned of him up until this point.

I actually agree with what Colin is saying about societal expectations. With new people, you get the chance to rediscover yourself. Even just the jump from, let's say, high school to college, I think you may change because you’re free to reinvent yourself. However, if I’m thinking correctly, this is not his first adventure. Correct? So, what about this trip in particular made him so “different”.

Why did Penelope think she was so sly saying “before we are noticed”? For an area so enthralled with gossip, no one else is noticing that Colin and Penelope are spending more time together and walking side by side. We haven’t seen them in a public area holding even a fraction of a true friendly conversation but now that they are no one bats an eye.

Colin is finally interacting with his siblings but ditches them the moment someone else arrives.

How tone deaf can Colin get? Penelope all but proclaimed her love for him to the rooftops but his first idea is to have her “pretend” to flirt with him. Even worse, I don’t think he’s doing this with malice, but at the same time it’s sending me into a rage. 

Since when does Penelope Featherington say “nothing at all”? Yeah right.

Ugh, this clip! Your eyes are the most remarkable shade of blue… girl, she’s a writer. I’m sure they could have come up with something better for her to say than some chatgpt poetry line. The second hand embarrassment, and as usual Colin wasn’t for her advances.

Colin should have known better than to bring Penelope to the house. I know he claims that Eloise was out but it is their house after all. He apparently had no clue what time they’d be back and was just hoping for the best.

Give me strength! Why does Penelope keep on digging further into Colins business? She never likes what she finds. Her reading Colin’s writing is not only a breach of privacy to the man she claims to want but also only serves as yet another way to humiliate herself. How much longer can this go on? The man honestly doesn’t want her but she still subjects herself to such torment.

I literally started laughing out loud when Colin found her reading! Oh my gosh! The strife!

Another nitpick, I feel like there was way too much blood on Colin’s hand for that small piece of glass. Then that loose tie Penelope put around it probably wouldn’t stop the bleeding. But I’m sure no one else cares about that, so I won’t go any further. 

 Colin knows that Penelope and Eloise don’t want to see each other and that should really be enough. Him trying to act oblivious and say he doesn’t know what happened is irrelevant to the situation. Penelope didn’t want to stay in the house, Eloise doesn’t want her there so why is Colin trying to instigate.

He was quick to shut down Eloise at the mere thought of Penelope seeking him as a husband. At times I feel like Colin doesn’t like her at all much less as a romantic interest. When you’re friends with someone there are obviously certain things you like about them, maybe even things you would seek in a partner. However, Colin seems repulsed at the thought of Penelope. Even when he’s trying to “help her” he doesn’t seem that excited. He acts like they are but acquaintances. On another note, I feel like his voice is so monotone, but that's neither here nor there I suppose.

I feel like Penelope has had more positive chemistry with Lord Remington in this one scene than I have seen with her and Colin this entire time.

Why does Colin automatically assume Eloise told everyone about him “helping” Penelope. They weren’t exactly making it hard to see that they had been talking more than usual. I don’t know why he is blindly taking Penelope’s side. He has no idea what's going on and you’d think he’d hold some sort of solidarity with his sister. I feel absolutely no sympathy for Penelope, girl go ahead and cry. She should have ditched Colin, she knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

Although I like Eloise, Cressida lowkey told her what she needed to hear. Yet again a Bridgerton jumping to conclusions. Both Eloise and Penelope are hypocritical for commenting on Cressida’s tendency to gossip when it appears that’s all they do. 

…never before have I felt this close to being on the brink of insanity. PENELOPE! I wish she’d understand that you cannot simply do the same thing over and over. How many more ways can one profess their unrequited love before they move on? You know what her claiming she doesn’t want to die before being kissed gives me the vibes of? Exes that say if you leave me, I’ll die or I’ll harm myself. That is absolutely so manipulative. Time and time again Colin has shown no interest in her that she has had to resort to the possibility of hypothetical death. I’m surprised this hasn’t been more cause of contention. This kiss means absolutely nothing. If anything it is discrediting any sort of “cute friends to lovers” storyline that could have been. This is nothing more than a guilt trip.

[lowkeyorloki]

I legit read your recent post like three times. Absolutely love the way you portray angst man. What do you think would happen if the roles were reversed? What would loki’s reaction be? :00

i cannot tell you how much i LOVE these types of asks. apologies for the late response - classes started back up again. you know how it is.

CW for cheating, blood. Unhealthy relationships. Puritans and minors begone.

~

You don't need to duck to miss the wine glass that's soaring towards your head. It misses you by a fraction - something you're sure Loki does on purpose. When a shard nicks you on the way down, shattering against the wall and cutting you, drawing blood on your cheeks where tears should be... well, that's probably on purpose too.

Your fingers lift, collecting the blood and looking at it. It shines under the kitchen lights. Without a thought, you wipe it on the front of your jeans, then drag your eyes towards Loki.

He's seething. Or he wants you to think he is. Loki's shoulder's are raised, and it's probably supposed to make him look bigger, but it just makes him resemble an animal in its final defense. Snarling, hackles raised. Lashing out as a last resort.

Even if doing so gets itself killed. Doesn't matter. It's going to die anyway.

"Not you," Loki is saying, muttering as his hands shake. "It's not - anyone but you. You're not supposed to do this to me. Not like everyone. You can't hurt me like everyone else. You wouldn't."

"I would." Your words are unsympathetic, your tone dejected. You're crying - the salt burning the slices on your cheek gives it away. You wouldn't say you're crying, though, that's not how you'd phrase it. No sobs rack your body, no weight sits on your chest.

You're tearing up is all. A physical reaction, not an emotional one.

"Yes, but you're not supposed to," Loki snaps, roaring. Magic escapes his every pore, it shatters the windows and the pictures and the doors of the oven and microwave. Destroys the home you've built together, strips it of the mundanity. The very thing Loki craves, the one thing you can give him.

You don't even flinch.

"This is part of it, Loki, I can't," you swallow, your mouth dry. "You need to stop... idolizing me. You've built me up in your mind. I'm not the perfect person you want. It's like... I don't even want to try to be whoever your idea is. I don't care. Just like you don't if you don't take the time to learn about who I am. The person who actually exists, not the version of me you want."

"So that's why you've betrayed me?" Loki spits. Literally. Saliva drips down his chin. "To make a point? To highlight the flaws of our relationship? The ones that I am to blame for?"

"Loki -"

"Just like Thor? Like my father? You speak about expectations, but your tiny Midgardian mind cannot even come close to understanding what it is like to have to live in someone's shadow, to always -"

"Enough!" You shout. "Enough, Loki. Enough with the self pity. No more. I'm tired. I'm tired of your inability to see outside yourself. I'm not diminishing what you've been through. I never have. I'm saying everyone else has problems, too. And you seem to think that statement somehow invalidates your struggles. I don't have the strength to keep hearing that. I just don't."

"You don't love me." Loki whimpers, taken down a peg. You finally feel it, the emotions while you were still in bed with the woman. The shame you felt, and the guilt.

Cheating is a crime, you won't deny Loki of that. But you aren't the only guilty party in the room.

"I love parts of you. You're beautiful, Loki, your mind and your heart. I love you ugly, too." Loki has turned around, leaning over the kitchen sink as he pants. You rub his back, feel his taut muscles shift under his shirt. "I don't like your competition. I don't like looking back over all these years and realizing my pain has to come in second to the person I should trust the most with it."

"You're blaming me."

"No," you say truthfully. "Not at all."

You and Loki are silent. Loki turns back around, and he takes your hand. You let him.

"Hurts," he whispers.

"I'm sorry." Your voice cracks. "I just... I just wanted a distraction. I wanted to stop being myself for a moment. The version that you've made, and the one I like to think I am."

"I'll never forgive you." Loki tells you. "I'll never trust you again."

It stings. It throbs, actually. The knowledge settles over you like a fog, shrouding you.

"You don't have to stay." He deserves to leave. You know he does.

"No, but I want to. How fucked up is that?" Loki's eyes are tired. He slumps forward, his head burrowing in the crook of your neck. You close your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair.

"Terrible," you admit.

You both stand.

For better or worse (for worse, for worse, for worse) you both stay.

[silversiren1101]

9, 16, and 18!

Oc Asks Game

Hey Spyri! Thanks for the asks! I'll do them for both Mino and Moro!

9. What is your character's trigger point? What makes them angry, sad or makes them go off?

Minovae: Pointless cruelty, abuse of the law, injustice, and selfishness.

Pretty clear-cut, Mino has a bleeding heart as much as she has a sense of righteousness about lawfulness and the "intent" of a laws versus how they're literally interpreted. Her vision for lawful society is one where the laws apply to all equally and consider intent as much as action; where laws more abused than not are stricken from the record and abusers subjected to the hammer of justice; and happiness and health and prioritized far more than any sense of productivity.

Instances of cruelty without point and the law being twisted to hurt the very people she's given her life to serve are enough to draw forth the "Little Linnorm" side of her: expect little mercy.

Other hot-button issues for her are of course racism and classism and other types of prejudice for what someone is rather than who. She's been subjected to much her entire life (and people she cares about!) and has no patience or tolerance for it. She will only ever care about a person's actions in terms of judging them.

Morolai: Disrespect and feeling powerless

Morolai is simple: treat her like she's a goddess on this earth and also make her feel powerful and in-charge. Anything else is going to turn her into a clawing, biting, acid-spitting beast.

Part of that goes into respecting extensions of herself, too, though: her chosen companions and her nation! A dragon is nothing without their hoard, no? Well, things she cares about are part of the hoard. Any disrespect against them is against herself, and she takes such slights incredibly personally.

16. What do they look for in a friend? A love interest?

Minovae: Mino makes friends easily! In fact, it'd be more accurate that people start out as Friend-adjacent to her and are then downgraded when she finds out more about them that she doesn't like, lol. She loves mortals and just the experience of being alive with others and coexisting, that sharing of experiences and stories and knowledge... She values having a varied friend group so she can share in as many lives and experiences as possible! That being said, she looks for friends that aren't pointlessly cruel or maliciously evil.

As for love interests, Mino makes a ton of friends easily because she's demiromantic. It takes a LOT for her to actually fall in love, not really developing any crushes or anything. Her love interests are almost always based on qualities she lacks but subconsciously wishes she had herself. Her first relationship was with a Desnan cleric that was very carefree, didn't quite follow the rules and just did what they thought was 'right', and was very proud of their brightly colored hair and other unorthodox features... Said cleric also left her to die to ghouls, too scared to fight to save her only to perish to them anyways, but... well first loves don't often go that well do they?

With Regill: she admires his ability to be completely unaffected by any prejudice and complete acceptance of himself; wishes she had even a fraction of his finality and confidence in herself; and, believe it or not, did wish she was a little bit more ruthless! She also adores his passion (which most people don't understand since he seems so stoic but she'll go off on it let me tell ya lol) and drive and ability to admit his mistakes and faults (which plays into his confidence) and complete and utter selflessness of course.

Morolai: Friends... I suppose Morolai would consider her companions her friends. It takes, uh, a long time for that to happen. Basically anyone that has stuck with her through life and death situations, have proven they will die for her or suffer on her behalf, and actually care about her will earn the coveted title of "her friend"... give or take a few years!

For love: first off I'm not sure if she's capable of such a genuinely selfless feeling. Her 'love' is entirely toxic and selfishness, a possessiveness of someone body and soul such that they are devoted entirely to her. They must be entirely subservient to her, worship the ground she walks on, and yet also have the intuition of what they can and cannot do with/for/around her (with the drive to do what needs to be done if she does not expressly order or request it). It's a tough job, but let's not call it entirely thankless.

She does take care of her beloved toys/tools/pets.

18. Describe your character through a Brooklyn 99 gif or line.

omfg love this question.

Minovae:

Morolai:

[gateskp]

This is a story followers from Twitter and BSky know, but since I'm getting into Tumblr, I figured I'd share.

I'm very much in love with my best friend from college. He is the unrequited love of my life. I refer to him as The One I Love. And tonight I fell in love with him all over again.

In college, people thought we were dating because we were (and still are) so close. We did have class together every single day for a full semester and then class together multiple times a week for semesters after that. We'd hang out in the bio student lounge and watch TV on his laptop together. I made him a Pokeball birthday cake for his 21st birthday because he is a ridiculous nerd and loves Pokemon (no shade, I'm also a ridiculous nerd). When we had evening classes that ended at 9pm, I'd drive him home to make sure he got home safe and quickly. He made me laugh and smile and enjoy, y'know, living, which was something I didn't always enjoy in college.

We...did a lot of things that could definitely be construed as couple activities. But we were not a couple. Just very close, excellent complements of each other, with a hint of feelings on my part.

Side note: It's actually fairly entertaining to look back on because in our practical lab classes, our professors deliberately paired us up because we worked so well together (the assumption being because we were a couple).

Side note 2: He is a very attractive guy imo, and I semi-jokingly call him a ridiculously hot nerd. I'm queer and fall somewhere in ace land, so I do enjoy admiring him but there's nothing sexual about our relationship. Which I think has helped it in a good way.

He calls me every week and we talk. Like. For 2-3 hours *every week*. This has been going on for literally 2 years. Originally he started calling me to talk about shows we were watching, but now we talk about anything and everything. There's a lot of venting about grad school (we're both PhD-ing) and just...being there for each other. I love it. He listens to me ramble and he tells me stories and interesting tidbits and whatever. It's very give-and-take. Our weekly calls strengthened and cemented my feelings for him.

He knows my feelings because 2 years ago (?? how has it been that long) I wrote him a(n 8 page) love letter conveying my feelings and that led to a very awkward conversation about how feelings were not returned. I still think we use different language to describe similar things BUT ANYWAY. I respect that we don't see things the same way, much as it may hurt. That's what it means to love someone, respecting their feelings and experiences and personhood.

Side note 3: I have this secret fantasy about what our future could look like and I'm not going to let it go until there's no hope at all. He is one of the most important people in my world, and I truly only want the best for him. His health and happiness is tantamount to nothing, and whatever role I play in that, so be it. If he found another person who brought him even a fraction of the feelings he brings me, I'd officiate the wedding myself. What matters more than anything else is that I have my closest friend in my life and we remain close. Whatever it takes...

What's amazing(?) is that our relationship...it's gotten even stronger since then. That conversation was...A Lot...but I think it made whatever we have even stronger. It definitely didn't get worse.

I look forward to to our calls. They're part of my routine, I deliberately set aside this time on Thursday nights for him. I do not allow things to be scheduled for Thursday nights. Thursday nights are for The One I Love and no one else.

When we're talking to each other...I feel connected to another person. The world exists outside of my day-to-day bubble. I feel like...when I talk to him, I feel like there's a person who cares about what happens to me.

One night a couple of years ago I told him about my mental health struggles. It was something I don't think he fully recognised I was dealing with in college. But I was really struggling and having a hard time and I just couldn't pretend everything was okay on the phone. So I asked him if I could tell him, he said yes, so I told him everything. And it was really hard for me to do that, there was a lot of starting and stopping and stuttering (I stutter a lot anyway, this was worse). And at the end of it all, I told him that I knew what I just said was a lot and I understood if he needed some space or didn't want to talk for a while or whatever, because that's how people reacted in the past. There have been people who've decided to stop being friends with me because this is too much, and I understood if he felt that way because it's a lot. I wouldn't hold it against him.

And he just said "I'm still here." He said he wasn't going anywhere. And he hasn't.

More than once I've made self-deprecating jokes because how else does one deal with their terrible mental health and he reminds me that he cares. He has confidence in me when I don't. Once I texted him on a Friday night and told him to tell me something good that happened to him that day because I was having a really tough night and needed to hear something positive was happening in the world. He responded by calling me and being there for me.

We trust each other with things that no one else knows. It means the world to me that he'll tell me things that he won't tell anyone else, and I will take his secrets to the grave. Trust is...complicated for me. But I trust him. He won't hurt me. It's something I've had to really come to terms with, here is someone who I can be vulnerable around who won't hurt or manipulate me.

Last year I saw him for the first time since 2017 and it was like no time had passed at all. We spent 4 days together. I took him to see his first Broadway show, Hadestown, which was the only show he's ever been really eager to see. He took me to see SPACE at the Illuminarium because he knows how much I geek out over space, how awe-inspiring I find it. He talked me out of dropping $700 on a Flash comic, which was extremely wise. I tried and failed to cook, which he doesn't let me forget. He got me hooked on anime, which was apparently his deviously secret plan all along (which shocked me but I absolutely love it). I "made" him split half a gallon of Blue Bell ice cream with me because I hadn't had it in years (it took 0 effort, the man has no control when it comes to sweets and I tease him about it constantly). We helped his friend move. We sat on the couch on our laptops silently enjoying each other's presence.

It was truly the best long weekend I've had in who-knows-how-long. If the rest of my life looked like that weekend, I think I would be happy. Genuinely wonderfully happy and enjoying life.

The day I had to leave, I completely lost it. He gave me a goodbye hug and I completely broke down on his shoulder because I'd just had the best weekend in living memory and was going back to my quickly-approaching preliminary exam and having issues with my advisors. He knew all of this. I sobbed on his shoulder, and he held onto me. He didn't let go until he knew I stopped crying and was safe to drive. (I cried on and off the entire 7 hours drive)

I have pictures of us from this trip on my desk in lab, and they always make me smile, they have so much positivity associated with them. They also made it onto my Christmas card.

I'm going to see him again next month when I run the marathon in his city. We have a growing list of things to do which is entirely dessert places he wants to take me to, because we both love dessert and sweets. Tonight we were talking about when I might come down. I told him it's completely up to him because he has to put up with me and my bullshit. The race is on a Sunday, so I'd come down as early as the Tuesday before.

He doesn't know his schedule yet because science and experiment timing can be tricky. But he might be taking Wednesday off. He said he already plans on spending all day Thursday with me.

Tonight I fell in love all over again.

[libracorpvs]

So i just found out who Duane Owen was recently, and have been researching the case...and im genuinely disgusted by how many people are defending him. People saying no matter what someone does they deserve "healthcare" which apparently includes extremely expensive (not to mention wholly unecessary) cosmetic surgery and hormone replacement??? Ive seen people say it was cruel to "make her suffer with gender dysphoria🥺" for the 30+ years he was on death row. No sympathy for the 14 year old girl he tortured...no sympathy for the mother he murdered...the whole discussion is about his feelings. How HE must have felt, how horrible it must have been for HIM to be on death row for so long. People calling HIM a HER and saying no matter his crimes he deserved "gender affirming care".

And this is genuinely peaking me. Like this man gets to murder a child and a mother, go to prison and suddenly "realize" hes actually *totally* a woman now and just suddenly realized it while in prison...and people are falling for it. Theyre giving him what he wants... To have the conversation not focused on those he murdered, but instead on how we should respect his pronouns and identity. How the death penalty is wrong and immoral...the whole conversation about him is just focused on these 2 points now. He got exactly what he wanted. His plan to claim hes actually a trans woman because he knew it would get him sympathy and people defending him, worked. Im genuinely so fucking shocked that people cant see right through this shit. There was literal petitions to get this freak off of death row. Luckily he is dead and rotting in the ground now, but just the fact that people were, and still are defending him because he claimed he was trans is so fucking infuriating. Im sorry for the long rant, just saw your post about Duane and needed to get this off my chest.

don't apologise anon! thank you for sharing your thoughts and tbh you really nailed the crux of the matter - this rapist necrophiliac murderer got the whole damn world sympathising with him just because he claimed to be trans. that's all he had to do and suddenly he's actually the victim, he's the oppressed one he's the one whole needs the fucking civil liberties union to defend his rights. suddenly no one cares about the teenage girl or the woman he brutalised and murdered. if seeing this happen makes you feel like you're living in a crazy upsidedown world, you're not alone. i see it too, and so do a lot of women (probably women around you too, but they're too scared to say anything lest they be called vile bigots).

if that man truly had gender dysphoria and was suffering in prison, then good. I think he should've suffered more! of course the reality is that he didn't have any sort of dysphoria and he didn't suffer a fraction of what his victims and their loved ones suffered, and in fact the trans activist movement gave him all the attention and sympathy he wanted. but like you said, at least he's dead and rotting in the ground now and no one else will have to suffer because of him 🙏🏽

[starmora]

I'm treating your blog as a safe haven for Gamora and starmora. Everything you post is so thoughtful and you debunk stupidity with ease.

I saw someone saying Peter never cared about Gamora and someone else saying Nebula didn't care when Thanos took Gamora to Vormir or found out she died and it's nauseating. Don't know what movies they saw but I'm pretty sure Peter lost his shit when Gamora died as everyone hated on him for years about it. Nebula came to Titan and attacked Thanos asking where Gamora was and saying he should have killed her instead of taking Gamora. She was also clearly upset when she realized he'd killed her and spent most of Endgame trying to get through to Gamora and saying they were sisters. But yeah neither she nor Peter ever cared.

I don't know what people's issues are but I'm glad there are blogs like yours that are stupidity and hate free gotg fun.

Oh thank you 😅 I feel like I’ve just been word vomiting all over the dashboard so it’s very nice to know some people have been looking forward to my thoughts!

I’ve unfortunately been seeing a LOT of seemingly random history rewrites lately for the gotg especially when it comes to Gamora and her importance in the team and to the other characters and it will just never sit right with me. Seems like every day people have come up with a new reason why she was actually not that important and actually no one really liked her as much as we think they did and it’s so !! I don’t know what movies they were watching, but it feels pretty clear to me that, of anyone, Peter and Nebula loved her the most. Like it just seems so stupid to me to say that they didn’t, that I feel like I shouldn’t even have to describe the ways in which it was clear??? All of the ones you describe are literally a tiny little fraction of the ways it’s shown how much they loved her.

At the end of the day though I think it’s pretty obvious that the people speaking on Gamora like this don’t actually love her or give her any thought when she’s not currently present in whatever movie they just watched. I’m hoping it just dies down but I mean, we saw what happened with Peter and iw

[tonyhightower]

PARIS, FRIDAY: Somebody Please Remove These Cutleries From My Knees

Alright, after this I'll write something other than my personal kvetches, but today is not that day. (If you want to skip my personal health story, go to Part 2.)

PART 1 (CW: My Innards)

Things are possibly looking up.

Yesterday, I managed to get an appointment with a knee specialist who spoke English. Unlike the last guy, I was able to talk with him -- English was clearly not his first language, but his English was definitely better than my French, so we were good, and he was a guy in his 40s who played squash, and he said had the same problem I did at one point.

It's not a ligament problem after all; he thinks it might be the meniscus, folded over on itself inside my kneecap. That's apparently a thing. It certainly would explain the pain.

[The meniscus is a small film of tendon-like material in the knee that sits between the femur (the thigh bone) and the tibia & the fibula (the two shin bones). It's a pretty common issue, and it has nothing to do with running or anything.]

The good news is that it's a quick arthroscopic procedure (pro athletes get it all the time, and they're often ready to play again pretty quickly), and then about three weeks' recovery. I'm probably out for the Paris Half Marathon, but if recovery goes well, and I can train good, I still want to at least give the Paris (Full) Marathon in April a go. It won't be a PR attempt in any way, but dammit, I want to at least do the course.

So, he drew this up (the whole appointment took about 15 minutes), and I was able to get an X-ray appointment that afternoon, and I have an MRI this morning, all set up by myself, online. They literally said "Go find someone close to your apartment. Anyone will do."

The cost so far? (The American in me is fascinated by this. It’s okay, this chapter will be over soon.)

The all-but-useless GP consultation from last week: €25

The initial consultation: €120

The X-Ray: €0

The MRI: €600 (which, um, JEEZUS, but still, (a) that's still a tiny fraction of what it costs in the USA, (b) it's 100% covered & refundable, and (c) once I get a Carte Vitale, I never see these bills in the first place.

It is a torn meniscus. It's fixable. And decades of sticker shock isn't going to go away easily, but I'm starting to be optimistic.

I've shown no ID at any of these places (One place asked to see my passport, but that was only to make sure they spelled my name right on the form.) These charges are all fully reimbursable on our temporary health plan (~$100/month). Once we get our full Carte Vitale into the French Health Care system proper, we won't even see these charges at all.

OK, enough about my health problems. Kvetching about that crap is something old people do, and I'm intimately aware of that. I just always thought, as an American, that it was interesting how little literally everyone else in the world pays for their health care, and now that I have a chance to take advantage of that, I have to at least mention it.

* * * * *

PART 2 (CW: American Health Care System Rant)

I've spent my entire adult life not going to the doctor. Toughing it out. Walking it off. Riding it out. Dealing with pain.

Oh, you have a kidney problem? Have some soup. You broke a bone? Splint it up & lay off it for a few weeks. Slice your hand open with a dull knife? RICE: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. Put a bread bag over it when you shower. Hope you didn't cut a ligament, or else congrats, those fingers don't move right no more!

Every (non-rich) American I know, even people with actual health insurance, has these stories. You know at the time how horrifying it is, but you also know that there's no other way to get through it. It's either work it out on your own, or you go into indentured servitude to some hospital's collections department for the rest of your life, simply because you couldn't scotch-tape a popsicle stick (or a pencil, or whatever item's at hand at the moment it happens) to your finger when you accidentally jammed it in a door somewhere.

It's fucking barbaric, and the mass delusion that it's just how things work in America is infuriating.

If I stayed in NYC with this knee thing, I'd have never gotten a diagnosis, certainly never gotten treatment, and I'd probably spend the rest of my life hobbling around, in pain. Certainly, as it turns out, I'd have never run again.

God, just typing that out makes me angry.

If you're going through something like this, I'm so, so sorry. The stories of people buying a plane ticket, dragging their broken bodies to some European country, getting themselves fixed, and then flying home, aren't silly ones. Not only do you actually get what's wrong with you fixed, and for a fraction of what an American hospital would charge you, you get a trip somewhere nice, or at least different.

If you're dealing with a thing, especially something you know is probably fixable, and you have that as an option, I'd honestly recommend it. If not Europe or Asia, then even Canada. You only get one body to go through this life. Do whatever you gotta do to fix it.

The American health care system should not be holding your own body hostage against you.

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’) 

Prompt:  Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.  

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.  

*

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

*

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.  

[luimagines]

The Chain are Smitten Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Twilight, Warrior and Wild.

Content under the cut!

Twilight

He just couldn’t believe it. There was so much in his life that he thought he would never be able to have. There were some things that he thought were beyond his reach. And he was ok with that.

Until he met you.

And he found himself wanting to be by your side. To protect you, to love you, to hold you through thick and thin. He wanted to be selfish- just this once.

He didn’t think he’d ever get beyond his pining stage- cursed to be in love with someone he could never have. And than you went and proved him wrong and he’s been constantly proven wrong since.

A favorite pass time of yours, he had to guess.

He thought he had some things of life figured out, but you came in like a charging goat and he had every reason to chase you down. But instead you won, and Twilight’s still having trouble catching his breath.

One thing after another and you leave him breathless. Time and time again.

He can’t get enough of it or enough of you.

He could cry with how much he loves you. Twilight never wants to let you go. He knows this- he wants to marry you have a future with you- if you’re willing.

He didn’t think he would have that in his life- he was in a similar boat to Hyrule in terms of finding simple yet basic happiness... that their lives and jobs wouldn’t allow them to have it. But he wants it. He wants it so badly. Twilight has an inclination that you feel the same way but he’s biding his time.

This isn’t the time or place to ask those kind of questions and he knows that there’s still a job that has to be done.

But he can wait until everything is done. Then he court you properly and maybe you two can build a life from the ground up.

He gets butterflies in his chest just thinking about it, it’s ridiculous.

You don’t even know that you have this kind of effect on him. You just smile and wave, occasionally laugh at his jokes, and take care of him. And he’s stubborn, he knows he doesn’t make it easy on you. But you stick around to make sure he’s still around to see another day.

He would do anything for you, he knows this. You do so much for him. you’re so good to him. He doesn’t think he deserves your level of loyalty or the amount of care that you give him. He’d push you toward maybe one of the other boys to divert your attention but it’s futile.

You do the same to them too, so that’s already a lost cause. You look after all of them, and even then find the time to spend with him whenever the moment arises.

After Midna he didn’t think he would ever find closure but here he is.

Looking after you with hearts ion his eyes and glitter and confetti in his heart. He’s struck stupid every time. He giggles more often than he knew he was ever capable. He finds himself wistfully staring after you when you’re not looking in his direction (something Time, Warrior and Sky have been giving him a bit of grief about (not that Sky is any better, but after Twi quite literally tripped over his own feet because he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing, he sealed his own fate)).

And Twilight thinks he’s ok with that. There’s nothing he would change about it. He loves you and he hopes that you would love him just a fraction as much.

Warrior

Warrior couldn’t sleep. He was at least thankful that his shift was next or else he was going to be in a lot of trouble by the time day break decided to come along. He just couldn’t get his brain to stop running in circles for whatever reason. It wasn’t as if he had something stressful on his mind as of late but he couldn’t calm down enough to sleep.

He was used to planning ahead of time, checking supplies, personal checks and strategizing their next move no matter what troops were under his command. This time wasn’t any different except... it was. He had you to help out.

He sighed and rolled over, letting a calm moment pass over him. You were sleeping on the other side of the camp but if he tilted his head to the right he could see your sleeping face.

God, you’re beautiful. He could have sworn the moon light had blessed the night just so he had enough light to see your peaceful expression. Warrior thought you were even smiling.

Were you dreaming of him? He wanted you to. Ladies above, he dreams about you. Constantly, never ceasing. He dreams of running his fingers across you skin. He dreams of whispering sweet nothing into your ears and kissing the shell just to feel you shiver in pleasure from his touch alone. His and his alone.

It’s selfish, but he wants to hold you. He wants to feel your heartbeat against his and he wants to protect you from anything and everything that he can. He’s better than to think he’s infallible. He’s done enough that to last him a life time. He knows it could cost him his life. 

But he’s willing to take on any challenge just so that you wouldn’t have to work a hard day’s work for the rest of your life. He wants you to live in comfort. He wants you to live a life where it filled to the brim with fulfillment, satisfaction and happiness, peace and security.

Warrior sighs and closes his eyes, trying once again to stop thinking and at least get some kind of rest before his shift starts.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. Stifling a groan to shake the core of the earth, Warrior turns over, nods to his fellow hero.

The other Link is satisfied and he goes off to promptly face plant into his own bed roll. Warrior envies the way he seems to instantly fall asleep.

He sits up, stretching a bit before he makes his way over to the spot by the fire.

Even now, while he’s supposed to be focused on keeping the look out for any potential threats, he finds his gaze once again on you. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to push him away. The thought alone breaks his heart.

He wants to choose him because he would have proven himself worthy. Warrior gets enough pretty privilege’s as it is. He doesn’t want you to be by his side purely for his looks. He wants to believe that you’re not that kind of person- nor have you done anything to even imply that you have ever thought shallowly of him. But old scars still sting with fresh new encounters and he’s not excited about the idea that someone as lovely as you could even have that potential.

Another selfish side of him wants to simply not care. So what is you would only think of him in a romantic light for his looks. He could have you by his side anyway and that’s what he wants, right?

But no. Because it’s only a façade and only a fraction of he wants.

He wants to love him as much as he loves you. Sure, if you find him aesthetically pleasing, then that’s a bonus but he wants you to pay attention to him beyond that. He wants to tell you his hopes, his dreams, his wishes for the future. He wants you to be in his future and he wants you to want it to. It’s simply his selfish desire.

You don’t know of his thoughts and for that he is grateful. He can satisfy himself with being your friend and watching your back and supporting you whenever you would need it. Warrior can even be the shoulder you cry on if it ever to it, then he will irradiate whatever made you cry.

But he’s in love with you. Whipped, even. He’s wrapped around your little finger and he doesn’t think he would want anything to change. He’d kill for you, he’d die for you... Either way, what bliss.

Wild

Wild took a deep breath and waited for your reaction. It was a new recipe and he needed to know if it had your approval or not.

You brought it your mouth and Wild tried to keep his focus on the mission and not on your lips. He saw you take a small sip, then a bite and the way you chewed in thought as you let the flavors dance on your tongue was enough to make Wild gulp. 

It felt like an eternity, it was happening too fast and too slow and Wild just wanted to watch you forever, he wanted to get the moment over with- there was so many contradicting things going through his head that he almost missed what you said entirely.

“It’s good. I like it.” You smile.

Wild is taken aback every time by how wonderful it makes him feel. Not only to see it, but to be the cause of it. He’s prepared to give you anything you could ever ask for, just so that you wouldn’t have to ask for it. He’d already have it.

He wants to spoil you senseless and hold onto you forever. there are many things he knows he can never be able to do- but that won’t stop him from trying.

He sees your genuine smile take on a more mischievous look, and he realizes that he has yet yo respond to you. 

A bright blush blooms on his face and he looks away for a moment, biding his time by stirring the food instead. “Good. That’s good. It doesn’t need anything else?”

“Of course not, Master Chef.” You smirk. Then you think better of it, looking to the side momentarily. “Some salt wouldn’t hurt though.”

Wild doesn’t hesitate to follow with what you said, trying to distract himself by the looks your sending him. If he gives in to his desire to kiss you senseless just to get rid of that look on your face, then dinner will burn, no one will eat, everyone will be mad at him and it would be a waste of supplies that they can’t replenish at the moment.

Which is a shame because as much as he forages, there really isn’t anything that can be used around their camp site. So he needs to make sure that they use the food that they do have to their best advantage.

Wild looks from the corner of his eyes to see that your smirk is gone, replaced by a calm and dare he say, dreamy look... all directed at him.

The look brings a smile to his feels and he has to actively stop himself from giggling out in the open, unless he wants all eyes on him. But there’s still butterflies in his stomach and star shine in his heart, threatening to bubble out and pour out.

He can’t let it do so though. Not yet. There’s too many people around you two and too many witnesses. He doesn’t want either of you to be subjected to the (playful) obnoxious wolf whistles and jabs. His pride won’t be able to take it.

He knows you can take care of yourself though- you have no qualms to public displays of affection.

Many times you’ve kissed him for the world to see, holding his hand as you walk, hugging him randomly with little notice prior no matter where you are. You’re a very loving person. It takes him by surprise nearly every single time but he can’t be the one to initiate it with people around. 

The very thought makes him giddy. He wants to hold you right now. But he can’t and there’s still so much that still needs to be done and yet-

“Wild, the food’s about to burn.” Warrior calls out just beyond him and it throws Wild back into the moment.

He’s right.

Scrambling, Wild has to save the dinner and it causes the older man to laugh. “Thinking about your love again?”

Wild glares at Warrior, not responding but it’s all the answer he needs.

Warrior laughs again but it’s joined by your own. You come up behind Wild and hug him, kissing the shell of his ear, weakening him with a butterflies touch. “It’s ok, I think about you too.”

“Forget the food.” Wild tosses the food and spin on his heel, catching everyone by surprise as he succumbs to the desire to kiss you. He can pay for it later. He’s thirsty and your only glass of water he’s willing to take part of.

Part 3

[phantomrose96]

Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place ��� as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

[verdantmoontruther]

i think the entire point of billy’s character was to show the results of what it’s like to go without affectionate love. like, every other character - every single other character, apart from, like, vecna, which is sort of telling - has someone that loves them for more than what they can give them. the kids have each other, and they have at least one parent, and they have siblings, and they have steve, and steve has robin and nancy and jonathan. they have people whose love for them isn’t conditional on something, on time or good behaviour or something transactional.

apart from his memories as a really young child, billy doesn’t have anything like that. he is exposed to only two kind of love: abusive love, the kind that comes with curses and slaps and fear but is “for his own good” and done “because i love you”; and sexual love, lust. to me this means that he has trouble viewing himself as a real human person: outside of what he can give (or not give) to other people, he essentially ceases to exist. no-one is there to care or worry for him just because he is there to be cared and worried about. it’s why he’s so sensitive; not empathetic, maybe, not even sympathetic, but sensitive, touchy. anything happens that feels to raw and personal and he’s in tears because he’s literally got no strength built up for that kind of thing.

that’s what made el’s little “she was really pretty” moment so pivotal; when you are starved of that essential form of love, affection, being shown even the smallest fraction of it feels like salvation, like the quenching of thirst. euphoric. someone that didn’t want anything from him seeing things from his perspective just once was enough for him to lay down his life for her. it was a moment when love was about him, rather than anybody else.

it’s very important that, when we talk about abuse, we also talk about love, because they are two sides of the same warped coin. the way that jonathan and will, despite growing up in an abusive household, are still kind and gentle, because they knew they always had someone in their corner, someone that would stand up for them and never give up, someone that kicked their piece of shit dad out of the house and could recognise her son just by his heartbeat; the way that el still gets so so angry sometimes and lashes out and attacks when she feels cornered, doesn’t know right from wrong sometimes because she was hardly taught the difference, but then suddenly there was someone there to pick her up when she was at her worst, house her and clothe her and teach her and protect her, and people who thought about her when she wasn’t there and missed her and it made her better, more perceptive, more clear headed; and the way that henry and billy never really got any of that and its absence tortured them into self destruction.

it’s like whatever but, also. food for thought

[xxskycrystalxx]

DS:MOM Thoughts [heavy spoilers beware]

I’m literally still processing the movie but here are just some jumbled thoughts of mine. (mostly of palmerstrange)

1. Defender Strange... you will be missed.

2. When I saw Stephen watching Christine get married in the trailer I thought yes, this is absolutely saddening and nothing could be worse than that (in terms of palmerstrange). Little did I know that that was only a fraction of how much harder Stephen took it in the movie. I mean just seeing him there and talking to Christine and wishing that things had went differently literally BROKE ME. Right person wrong time tbh.

3. America Chavez is amazing. The way people are hating both her and the actress is horrible and shouldn’t be condoned. She’s a great character and I can’t wait to see more of her in future movies/shows. Love how she and Strange really bonded, it was heartwarming. Makes me even sadder about him and Peter.

4. WONGGGGGGGGG THE OGGGGGGGGGG ; I had worries that they’d kill him off but he’s alright and being iconic as per usual.

5. Wanda. Dear Wanda. She was an absolute menace in the movie lol and I mean it literally. We knew she was as powerful as Sorcerer Supreme and just in general but damnnnnnnnnnn. I was legitimately terrified of her at certain points. I get why she became like that, I mean everyone should know. I feel for her I really do, but damn. Also... I’m pretty sure she’s not dead :)

6. Not Stephen’s significant memory being the one with him and Christine having dinner and Christine giving him THE watch. *crying in palmerstrange feels*

7. THE ILLUMANTI!!!!!!!! I was expecting the others (especially Professor X since we heard him in the trailer and Captain Carter as well as Monica Rambeau being Captain Marvel) but what really made me internally scream and pump my fists in the air was John Krasinski as Reed Richards. He was the perfect fan casting as him and I’m literally over the moon seeing him in the suit/character. I’m expecting him to come back in the new F4 movie and when he does I will literally lose it. Actually I’d lose it even more if they cast Emily Blunt as Sue Richards. Besides that, it was quite gruesome and sad that the heroes of that world were killed off so easily and brutally like holy crap. RIP

8. The music fight between the two Strange’s was just absolute *chef’s kiss.* 

9. “I love you. I love you in every universe. It’s not that I don’t want to care for someone, or have someone care for me, it’s just -- I get scared.” *cue the sobbing* I lost it when Stephen said this, absolutely lost it. I will never EVER climb out of the Palmerstrange hole I’ve dug for myself after this. I just can’t. Then the way 838-Christine caressed his face like Christine did in the sacred timeline in the first movie..... that was it for me. Rachel and Benedict. You guys destroyed me, but I’m entirely grateful for it. The fact that in every universe Palmerstrange were a thing but could never get the endgame they deserved hurts me sm that just thinking about them makes me want to cry forever. WHAT DID THEY DO TO BE TREATED LIKE THIS????????!!!!! On sidenote: I want someone to love me in every universe too.... 

10. The watch. THE WATCH. Seeing the watch Christine gave Stephen now will just be giving me trauma and heartbreak. I do like the fact that at the end they had Stephen fix the watch and put it away as a sign of him moving on. I mean there was always going to be a point where he moved on. I’m happy for him. But ofc, my sad Palmerstrange heart always had hoped for a happy ending for them. It is what it is now. 

11. They introduced Clea [pretty sure that’s her in the first end credits although the casting is not my favorite] so she’ll be a very important character in the next film (or whatever else she’ll be in) and will most likely be Stephen’s love interest [since yes they are married in the comics.... Clea Strange....], I don’t hate her. I’m looking forward to what her character will bring, but it doesn’t mean I’ve recovered from Palmerstrange and that Rachel/Christine should not be in future films. If they want to erase her when Clea comes in, sorry that’s not it. I won’t have it. If they can’t be a thing anymore fine, but at least let her still be in Stephen’s life as a close friend, a confidante even. It’s the least that could be done at this point. 

12. No cap but all the multiverse stuff made my head spin lol, but that sequence where Stephen and America were going through all the universes’ was really cool though, props to Marvel for that. 

13. Marvel really made me wait like 20 minutes to see the second end-credits scene and then proceeded to troll everyone by showing us that pizza-donut thing seller guy finally stop punching himself in the face. Thanks for that Marvel. 

Overall really great movie, I had a great time being in the theaters and watching it (seeing as how I haven’t been to the theaters ever since COVID started), absolute stellar performances from the whole cast, love them all!!! I have more rambles/thoughts about the movie but I think I’ll stop here and spare anyone who reads this from anymore lol.