#Just look at those eyes and tell me you wouldn't bend over backwards at the snap of his fingers

[excusemyobsessions]

Inspiration

Sylus x /You/Reader

Genre:  One shot, scenario, gender neutral reader (this has violent descriptions but also fluff) Word count: 1890 words Scenario: You come to Sylus with a request; to watch him torture someone for reference, because your artistic preference is horror. Warnings: gore, descriptions of torture, reader and Sylus are unbothered as it happens, violent use of evol (binding, gagging, choking, breaking bones), use of pet names (sweetie/kitten), teeth-rotting fluff throughout

(Also posted on AO3)

"Are you comfortable, sweetie?"

Sylus' thumb traced languid circles against your collarbone, his hand a comfortable weight upon your shoulder.

You were curled up on his preferred armchair, by his request. The front row seat, he had called it.

You nodded up at him, humming your appreciation.

Standing tall behind the armchair, he smiled down at you, giving your shoulder a tender little squeeze. He looked relaxed, the first few buttons of his tailored shirt hanging open, his jacket tossed over the arm of the chair you were sitting on.

"Hmm, good," he nodded. "Now, tell me what you want."

You tugged your sketchbook a bit higher, using your knees as support for it and tapped your pencil against the blank page. You'd scribbled a single word on the very top and center; inspiration.

You'd come to Sylus looking for just that; inspiration.

You'd found yourself utterly tied, out of ideas. Words wouldn't come easily, the blank pages kept staring at you. You needed visual stimulation, something to light up the fire, to get your creative juices running again. The lack of creativity in your veins was driving you insane, much like a gym addict without their fix.

Your eyes lifted from the sketchbook when you heard a muffled whimper coming from the center of the room. 

The man staring back at you looked positively terrified. His pupils were blown out, taking up most of the blue in his eyes, nails dug into the wooden armrests of the chair he was tied to. Sylus behind you had silenced him with his evol, tendrils of black and red mist wrapped around his head, securing his lips tightly shut. Yet he still stirred, whimpering like a dog.

"That expression on him is pretty good, actually," you responded, tapping the pencil against your lower lip.

Sylus hummed and shifted behind you, lifting a knee to rest his thigh on the headrest of the armchair, in a half sitting position. 

"I'm sure he can make even better expressions for you, sweetie," he said slowly, deliberately low, his voice acquiring this monotone touch to it, reserved only to the lowly scum of this world.

He clearly wasn't talking to you, per se.

The man was visibly shaking, breathing erratic, as if he could cough up a lung at any moment.

“Would you like to hear him scream, sweetie?” Sylus purred dangerously.

“Can you do that?” you chirped.

The tendrils of his evol shifted, wrapped around the man's neck and squeezed, just a little. You could see the squeeze, the way the skin was pushed in, the muscles reacting.

Two tendrils crawled down his shoulders, one on each side, creeped their way down like two snakes, circling the arms all the way down to his wrists. From the wrist, five lines extended and hooked around each finger. They forced the hand open.

“Hope you don’t mind but I’d like to take this slow,” Sylus told you.

He stood up and leaned down, bending his back to set his elbows on the head rest. He rested his chin on his intertwined fingers.

You could see the way the man's thumb started bending backwards awkwardly, how he started stirring instantly.

“Those filthy fingers, I’d like to break them… one… by… one,” Sylus growled through his teeth, in a low tone.

The black and red mist continued shifting, prying open the mouth, keeping it opened, wrapping itself around the man’s tongue. The before whimpers became screams, enhanced by the prying of the mouth.

Crack.

“One,” Sylus counted.

Crack.

“Two.”

As Sylus kept counting by your ear, you started scribbling down furiously, trying to capture what you could see to the best of your abilities. Words, little doodles, whatever came to mind.

From the center of the room came gurgled screams, as the man choked on his saliva and tears. The fingers on his right hand were swollen and bruised and limp, and they fell awkwardly after Sylus’ evol crawled back, clearly detached from their knuckles.

He panted and whimpered and choked miserably.

“Can you squeeze just a little more?” you requested and Sylus smirked down at you.

The black and red mist swirled, tightened around the man's neck and he yelped, and gasped for air.

You giggled.

“He's like a squeaky toy,” you noted, amused.

Sylus’ large hand came down on your head, tenderly ruffled your hair and then smoothed it out.

“P-please… please, s-sir…”

The man's voice was very tiny, up a few octaves, a stark contrast to the deep, smug tone he'd used earlier when he firmly believed he had the upper hand.

The antimatter gun he'd brought along was twisted and shattered on the expensive carpet by his feet. And he was desperate. Talking around the force of Sylus’ evol, pleading, begging, voice raw from the strain.

“I-I swear I can be useful… sir, please!”

Sylus shut him up by squeezing his throat tighter. The man choked, gasping, a thick flow of tears flowing down his cheeks.

“Pathetic,” Sylus hissed, clicking his tongue.

A little snicker escaped you and you reached back to tenderly caress Sylus’ cheek.

Sylus moved his chin off his hands and leaned right into your touch. As he nuzzled into the palm of your hand, there was another crack. The man arched off the chair, his other thumb now detached from its knuckle.

“Six,” Sylus counted.

He pressed his lips to the palm of your hand, traced your love line with tiny little kisses.

Crack.

“Seven.”

You didn’t know where to look. Yes, you wanted to watch the way Sylus bent this man’s fingers until they cracked but your partner himself was so distracting. Especially how he kissed each pad of your palm, and nuzzled right into your fingers, letting them trace over his brow and temple. He rubbed the tip of his nose right between your thumb and index finger and then latched onto the skin with his teeth, making you yelp. There was a mischievous glow in his eyes when they met yours.

“Oops, I lost count,” Sylus purred cheekily, and you giggled.

You both looked back at the center of the room when the man collapsed loudly onto the chair, hauling it back a few inches. He sank down into the seat, sweat and tears trickling down his face. The fingers on his other hand were now broken and bruised.

Sylus stood up again, this time to circle the armchair and sit down on the arm rest. He rested his elbows on his knees, crouching over his thighs.

“Are you satisfied, kitten?” he questioned, watching your features tenderly.

You looked down at your sketchbook, scribbled down a few more things and when you were done, you closed it and slipped the pencil into the binding spiral.

“I am,” you nodded.

Then, you cranked your neck and pursed your lips at your partner. Every single time you did so, he leaned down to kiss you. This time was no exception.

When Sylus smiled and leaned down to kiss you, you leaned up and stole one, two, three sweet little kisses from his lips.

“Thank you,” you told him.

He chuckled lowly, and pressed one last kiss to your forehead.

There was a symphony of whimpers and hiccups in the background as you shared such a tender moment. For a moment, you wondered what was going through that man’s head as he watched his hangmen flirt and kiss on his deathbed. You might as well slow dance over his body next.

That made you pull out your sketchbook again.

“Any last words?” Sylus asked, his knee bouncing once, twice.

By the tone of his voice, he was quickly growing bored of this. Getting impatient even.

The man clearly tried to speak but his words got stuck in his throat as it was squeezed impossibly tight by that restless black and red mist. He choked instead, lips mouthing words desperately.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Sylus murmured.

You watched how those misty tendrils engulfed the man's body, forming a cocoon of eerie darkness around him. Soon, you could only hear the desperate screams, the gasping for air, the cracking of bones, the ripping of muscles and tendons. But none of that mattered.

What mattered was the man beside you, how his nostrils flared when he inhaled deeply through his nose, head tilted backwards, muscles tensed. 

And then, the screaming stopped. 

With his eyes closed, Sylus jolted in a way you'd only seen him do when you were intimate, a long groan rumbling from his throat. And then his muscles relaxed, body slumping just a little.

When he opened his eyes to look at you, his right eye glowed an eerie crimson which slowly dimmed until it settled into its mellow tones. And he smiled at you, a satiated little smile.

You wanted to jump on him right there and then.

“Should we go have lunch?” he inquired, one hand reaching out to deliberately tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Dinner,” you corrected.

“Same thing, kitten,” he responded with a low chuckle.

In the center of the room, all that was left was an empty chair.

As you sat across from each other on the table, dinner plates in front of you, you watched Sylus as he enjoyed his wine. Your head was always full of thoughts, full of questions.

“Does it bother you?” you chirped up, setting down your glass after a sip.

“What?” Sylus asked, popping then a bite of steak into his mouth.

You hesitated for a few heartbeats, using your fork to push a baby carrot around on your plate. Trying to think of how to put it into words.

“That I’m like this, that I write such gruesome things and that I come to you for inspiration,” you explained.

Sylus set down his cutlery, and reached for the napkin, dabbing at the corners of his mouth. He watched you with those observant carmine eyes of his, always so analytical. You always felt like he could see right through you, into the depths of your soul.

“Does it bother you what I do?” he asked.

He set down his napkin and waited patiently for your answer. The curve of his shoulders seemed relaxed but there was just this hint of expectation in his eyes. You’d learned to read it, to notice it down the line.

“No, because I know you do what you do for a reason,” you answered.

Sylus’ lips twitched and he reached for your hand, making you put down the fork so he could slip his fingers in between yours.

“It doesn’t bother me what you do or what you ask of me,” he assured you.

He lowered himself over the table, pressing sweet little kisses to the knots of your fingers and when he was done, he stayed right there, with his lips resting over your skin.

“I like the way your mind works. And I love your endless creativity,” he confessed.

The way he looked at you had your heart skipping a beat.

You reached out with your free hand, to caress his cheek. His eyelids fluttered and he leaned into your touch.

“Thank you,” you told him.

He exhaled a smile and turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“Thank you, for being you,” he responded.

[forgottenarias]

arthur/ aria ❝ you can be mad at me, i can take it. i'd rather you be angry than shut me out. ❞

"Lady Aria...Lady Aria!"

Aria heard Arthur calling to her as she walked quickly down the halls of the Citadel. The closer his footsteps came, the less she could pretend she hadn't heard him calling to her.

"I have somewhere to be, Your Imperial Highness," Aria did not stop her stride, but looked over her shoulder to address him. Arthur let out a laugh.

"A busy afternoon of appointments?" he joked. Aria flinched slightly at the jab-- she knew he did not mean to be unkind, but it was just another reminder of what she actually was here in this castle-- a prisoner.

"Don't you have a party to ready yourself for?" Aria snapped at him, turning abruptly down a corridor in hopes he would give up the chase. She was referring to the party being thrown by Valentina Malconaire, which she assumed would be miserable if it were not being thrown at Malconaire. Even the most pitiful party seemed enjoyable when you were in that house, under the branches of the old oak tree.

"I-- I didn't mean to poke fun, Lady Aria... wait," Arthur was still following her, though he'd caught up and walked beside her now. She stared straight ahead. "Please, stop-- I did not mean to anger you!"

"I'm not angry," Aria snapped as she felt a hand wrapping around her arm, pulling her to a halt and she whipped around to face Arthur, gaze narrowed on him.

"Then tell me what is wrong,"

Aria said nothing as she pulled her arm out of his grasp sharply. Arthur took a small step backwards, though his gaze never left hers.

"You can be mad at me. I can take it, " The look on Arthur's face as he spoke was difficult to read... was he pained? Pleading? She felt her eyes soften slightly as she stared up at him. "I'd rather you be angry than shut me out."

Aria was angry, but not at Arthur. She was angry at herself. She was angry that she'd been too weak to stick to her resolve, angry that she'd let her walls slip.

Aria was angry that thoughts of the Guardians were far from her mind when Arthur smiled at her. She was angry that too often now thoughts entered her mind of just how much she could bend her own principles if it allowed her to be with him.

Aria was angry she'd allowed herself to fall in love with Arthur Varmont but even more than that Aria was angry that she knew this would end in heartbreak for her.

And, most foolish of all, Aria was upset with herself for being hurt that tonight Arthur would ride off to Malconaire. Aria knew how ridiculous it was that she would be mad about such a thing-- she, logically, knew that Arthur most likely did not have a choice in whether he wished to attend or not! But the thought of him be at Malconaire, warm and inviting, and being able to see Eithne... it hurt her.

She wanted to reach out, taking his hand in her own and ask him not to go, to find a reason to stay there, at the Citadel, with her instead. Aria desperately wanted him to chose to be with her but she knew even if she could muster up the courage to ask him such a thing... there was the very real possibility he would say no, tell her he wished to be at Malconaire instead of trapped inside this castle like her. So she would say nothing, save herself the pain of knowing the truth.

She should stop this, all of this. The words were there, in her mind, she just had to speak them aloud. "Of course I'm angry," she might say. "Your father has me locked in this castle, stuck me in a frozen tower, and I am surrounded by his guards every moment of my day. Why wouldn't I be angry with my captor and his progeny?"

Aria realized then that she was also angry because she did not have the strength to say those words, to push Arthur away. Even if it meant nothing to him, a part of her realized that her time spent with Arthur-- even if they were fighting-- made her feel alive, made her feel a spark of life she wondered might have been completely extinguished had they not had those moments together.

Aria knew this would end soon, whatever it was she had with Arthur Varmont. She'd heard the whispers during the tournament that Roderick meant for his children to wed, soon, and when that time came there would be no more walks in the gardens, no more teasing back and forths... no more moments like the day of the riots when it felt like some unseen barrier between the pair had been knocked away the moment he appeared in the tower, looking for her...

Aria brought her hand up to her forehead for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I... I've just been feeling out of sorts today," Aria replied, her eyes opening as they met with Arthur's bright blue eyes once again. His gaze was still intent on her. "I... I'm sure I am just exhausted from the tournament. I-- I'll go lie down," Aria continued, rattling off some half thought out explanation as she backed away from him a few paces.

"I will send the physician up to your room to check on you," Arthur insisted, moving forward a few steps towards her. Aria shook her head.

"It is not necessary--"

"No I insist."

"Your Highness, I am fine and I do not wish to be a bother to--"

"You are not a bother," Arthur said firmly. Aria froze.

"Please, don't go. Stay with me," she wanted to say. But she did not.

Aria simply nodded to him in response, turned, and walked away to begin the long trek to the tower room with only her silent guard as company.

[delopsia]

I'm sending this ask because I want something spicy with Jordan. I'm sending it because I want something gooey. Do your worst.

I can't believe Wayne Tillerson is in my inbox 🧍‍♂️ you got it, boss. Please don't sue me for my west pasture.

✨Finger fucking Jordan in front of that tiny little mirror ✨

You knew what he was doing when you heard his beloved Pop Hits playlist start blaring from the bedroom, so loud that you could hear it from the other side of the house. He's celebrating something, that much you know for sure, but he's entirely forgotten to tell you what that is, too busy giggling and begging for you to get up and dance with him.

His clothes just keep falling off. First, his jacket, then one of his socks, there goes his belt, his t-shirt, his pants, until he's in nothing but those tiny black briefs. Just bold enough to strip like you're paying him to do it but too shy to shed that final layer.

And that's half of the reason why you're sitting on the bed and watching, not quite ready to tear your eyes away from the sight that is Jordan when he's wrapped up in the moment. He's all over the place, in front of the mirror, lifting weights, twisting through the motions of a self-defense move he learned online, whining about how he just cut his knee on the corner of the dresser.

The Neosporin is hiding in the drawer of the bedside table, the short one that requires him to bend down to open, ass in the air as he sifts through it. And he just starts tossing things onto the bed. A handkerchief, a bottle of melatonin, a broken necklace, the lube.

You get the idea when he's standing in front of the mirror again, tracing over the veins in his bicep.

"Oh, so you come to life when something from this decade is playing?" He chirps, following you through the mirror.

Your lips find the back of his neck, hands wandering across his bony hips. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He doesn't. He wouldn't have put this song in the playlist if he didn't like it. But that doesn't seem to be an argument that he's interested in holding. Not when his eyes land on the distorted image of the lube in your hand.

His lashes flutter. "Oh."

It's easy, curling your fingers beneath the band of his underwear, pulling until they drop down his pale legs, joining the array of clothes scattered across the floor. His cock bounces, heavy, smacking against his thigh, begging for attention that it's not going to get.

Your hands smooth up the insides of his thighs, stalling, if only to hear him huff and press his hips back into you. Impatient. Always is. And you can't seem to stop yourself from enabling him, reaching to pour the lube onto your fingers, muscle memory guiding your hand between his legs.

He gasps, jerking like a live wire.

The lube is too cold, you know that, but you're as bad as he is, impatiently pressing a finger into him. And oh, he's so squirmy. Wriggling back and forth as you begin to pump that lone finger into him, grumbling when you don't immediately give him a second and a third.

"More," he's blurting, "give me more."

He'll complain about being sore later, but if he says so.

The third finger is what sets him off, thighs shivering, his back slamming into your chest as he all but falls backward, can't keep himself upright as you fuck him on your fingers, dragging against the swell of his prostate with every stroke. The music is still going, but you can't hear it over the sound of him babbling your name, throwing his head back, crying out in this pitchy tone that makes your head spin.

You don't know when or how you wind up on the floor, but he's got his back against your chest, head resting on your shoulder, settled between your parted legs.

"Keep looking in the mirror," you tell him, and he whines like it's the worst thing you've ever made him do, but he still does it. Lifts his head to look at his reflection, the obscenity of your wet fingers pumping into his cute little hole, weeping, neglected cock twitching against his belly.

His cheeks flush red, ears so hot that you can feel the burn when you nibble on the shell of one.

Your free hand wraps around his cock, delicately squeezing the base of him, dragging upward in one long, smooth stroke. And that's all he needs. Cumming all over your hand with a wail, muscles flexing, jerking as his orgasm washes through him in waves.

But you can't pull your fingers out of him right away. No, he gets fussy when you do that, always prefers it when you slowly work him down from his high. Delicate little motions, careful to avoid his prostate, those soft blue eyes of his gazing up at you, content as can be.

He'll gripe about feeling sore before you've even gotten out of bed in the morning, but that doesn't stop him from digging your strap out of the drawer and riding you until he's confident that he's made it worse.

Spoiled. Downright spoiled.

[five-oh-thirst]

Safe and Sound

Prompt Day 22: Too freaked out to sleep or stay alone

Pairing: Wolffe/Comet

Tags & Warnings: hurt/comfort, nightmares

Note: Wolffe is an old softie under all that commander. You can't change my mind.

Read on AO3

Comet ran down the ship's hallways as fast as he could. Sweat dripped from his face, and his damp curls swung about violently. He kept running, unsure of what was chasing him, but determined to get away from it at all cost. He took in large, heaving breaths to fill his lungs, and in his haste, he tripped over his own two feet but quickly caught himself.

He didn't know where he was going, only that it had to be away. Away from the thing that was chasing him–a shadow, a darkness, the vivid lights, and the screaming. There was so much screaming. He could still hear it, and he could still see the immense red, blue, and green colors dancing in front of him when he closed his eyes. He wasn't safe. None of them were. Why wasn't anyone else running?

When Comet came around the next bend, he crashed into a full set of armor, but instead of falling backward, two arms caught him and kept him upright. Comet panicked in his haze. "Let me go!" He wiggled in the other man's grasp, trying desperately to escape.

"Easy," Wolffe said, trying to hold him still but he struggled. "Calm down. It's just me."

Comet fought the strong hands that held him down because he needed to get away and get to safety. The darkness–the shadow–it was after him. It was after all of them. He had to warn them. He had to warn his brothers. He had to worn Wolffe. If he didn't, the darkness was going to swallow them all without warning and without mercy.

"You have to let me go!" Comet yelled, now kicking at his captor. "I have to tell Wolffe!"

"I am Wolffe," Wolffe said.

"No!" Comet yelled. "Let me go!"

Wolffe huffed and readjusted his hands so he was holding Comet's face in front of his. "Kriffin' hells, it's me!"

Comet panted and looked at the face of his captor–he knew that scar well. "Wolffe?"

"Yeah, it's me," Wolffe said, finally loosening his grip.

"Thank the stars," Comet said. "We have to go. It's coming!"

Wolffe knit his brow and looked past Comet but saw nothing but an empty hallway. "What's coming?"

Comet swallowed hard. "The darkness."

Wolffe sighed sympathetically. "You had a nightmare again, didn't you?"

"No, I–" Comet's eyes darted around. "It was real. I'm telling you, Wolffe, it was real!"

"Okay, okay," Wolffe said, trying to deescalate. "I believe you."

"It's gonna kill us all!" Comet shouted.

Wolffe was at a bit of a loss. This wasn't the first time Comet had run around the ship screaming and creating a panic, but it was always the same nightmare–a darkness, or a shadow, a bunch of lights, and a whole lot of screaming. He'd heard it all before. Multiple times now, and each time, Comet was adamant that it was real and they were all in danger, but nothing ever happened.

"Why don't I walk you back to the barracks–"

"No!" Comet interrupted. "It'll find me there."

"Okay..." Wolffe said. That response was new, but he wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing. "Do you want to stay with me?"

Comet looked at Wolffe with hope-filled eyes. "Can I? Really?"

Wolffe shrugged. At this point, it wouldn't hurt. "Sure. It can't get you if I'm there, right?"

Comet breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little. Wolffe was right. There was something calming, almost soothing about Wolffe that made Comet feel incredibly safe. There was nothing in the universe that could touch him as long as Wolffe held him in his arms. The darkness could try, but nothing could take down Commander Wolffe. "Yeah," he said.

Wolffe smiled softly at his small victory, which meant they'd both get some sleep that night, and he led Comet through the halls back to his quarters. Comet clung to him the whole way, but Wolffe didn't particularly mind. He'd gone a bit soft for the trooper if he had to admit it, and this was a decent opportunity to explore those feelings a little.

Once they made it to Wolffe's quarters, he punched in his security code, and the door slid open to reveal a plain looking room with a bunk, a desk, and an ajoining refresher. Wolffe made quick work of removing his armor, stacking the pieces neatly on the desk, and since Comet was already in his blacks, getting into bed was quick.

Wolffe laid on his side, and Comet snuggled up against his chest, content at being held in his strong arms. The darkness might try to come back and get him, but this time, it would be met by Commander Wolffe and his balsters. Nothing could get him now. They were safe. He was safe. Everyone was safe.

Cozytober Masterlist

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

I think my most controversial Warrior Cats opinion is that I actually really like the Cinderpelt-heart reincarnation plot. Or at least I would really love a version of it without all teh ableist implications. StarClan realizing that teh “no kits for medicine cats” rule is hurtful, and also that disabled cats are often pushed into roles they don’t want and aren’t suited for, and they reincarnate Cinderpelt for those reasons, not because a disabled life isn’t a full one. Cinderheart feeling pressure from teh clan, maybe even her family or even Lionblaze, to be a medicine cat when she finds out. It has potential idk.

I liked it at first, because... Admittedly, I read Po3 before I read TNP and before I finished TPB.

So Cinderpelt was this mysterious, not quite known character to me. I went and read TNP and thought "hmm. I wish it had been more 'this is happening because your life is going to be cut short now due to the move to the lake and that isn't fair because you were supposed to live a long time so go become your niece, really sorry about the badgers, xoxo PS sorry about your mom slowly starving to death in the forest'"

Instead it hinges on her having had "not a full life", which.... When I went EVEN FURTHER back and finished TPB.... She did. She loved Medicine. It was HER choice. The Erin's forgot, made a weird retcon that has become her entire character: "I loved my teacher and didn't tell him", and had Lionblaze be the... Reward for that?

I liked it, it was just done for a stupid reason. Another one of those "we wrote this plot point to make sure a character does xyz" instead of just... Writing it. Snowkit's death is the most egregious example of these writers pretending they have no control over these fictional cats.

I have some controversial opinions of my own.

The Lake territory is cool but also sucks. We need to either leave the Lake or start redoing things about it. It has no landmarks to hang out at or have what I call 'set pieces' whatsoever, and more importantly no threats (thunderpaths, snake rocks, gorge, the tree with a huge Owl, Carrionplace) and I'm pretty sure the writers feel this way too since we leave the Lake once an arc. I wouldn't mind moving territories again, to a more dangerous but still natural place.

Breezepelt should be a permanent Queen. I know it would mean seeing less of him (which I dislike) but him being a gentle parent and helping others raise their kits would be a PERFECT wrap up to his arc. As much as I desperately want Breezestar I think he would fit more as a perma-queen.

A trip to the distant future or past would be both good and bad. A whole new cast would be kinda cool but let's be honest, these writers suck. What is needed is a whole new writing team of people who actually LIKE the books.

I never really liked canon!Riverstar that much, we really didn't know anything about him because DOTC is less Dawn of The Clans and more "pwease like our power trip fantasy oc who knocks up a girl his son's age 🥺". I genuinely cannot remember anything River Ripple even does. He just... Isn't there. Maybe more prevalent in the last 2 books but I never got past the first 3 chapters of book 5 and never opened book 6 aside from looking at its last scene and rolling my eyes. Petal's death was where I drew the line, the narrative bending over backwards to make Clear Sky a poor sad baby crossed it.

• I've come around thanks to Bonefall but I genuinely hated Star Flower as a kid. The way she was described was uncomfortable, annoying and made it feel like the writers were trying to force you to think she's this gorgeous, perfect cat, it made her boring, bland, and anything with her in it a slog to get through because of the way Thunder spoke about her, going on and on about her beautiful she was, getting worse when Moth Flight's Vision described her with purple eyes to go with her star-shaped pupils... Also, I was really attached to Petal, who died suddenly when Star Flower entered the picture, and I was on the assumption Clear Sky and Petal were going to get together, while I didn't like Clear Sky, I just wanted my favorite to stay alive unlike every other female character. Starf also suddenly becoming a helples damsel in distress added to the annoyance so badly that I actually never finished DOTC, and it made me take a break from the series altogether. I really wanted her to be playing the long game. A sincere thank you to Bonefall for helping me reread who this character is, and while the way our 'Camera' describes hee is still annoying, I can at least look past that and see the roots of this character.

I love Leafpool, and Hollyleaf. Met a lot of Leafpool fans who seem to think Hollyleaf is this monster when she very much reads as someone who cannot handle their religious and emotional abuse based trauma and lashed out at the wrong person. What she did to Leafpool was awful but she was basically an irrational teenager. Just like apprentice does not always equal child, warrior does not always equal "grown ass adult who should get over it". Her own existence went against every single thing she believed in and was told by her own mentor to never ever question.

As sweet as the scene with Dandelionkit and Juniperkit in Starclan was... There was really 0 point in giving Squilf 2 dead kids, other than "the writers hate her". The only thing I can see a point for it is for a long-shot setup to Squirrelstar for some lives seeing as you just know they absolutely forgot about Squish's friends.

• I think Ivypool has somewhat of a right to be upset with Dovewing. HEAR ME OUT. She is allowed to be upset, NOT take it out on Dovewing. She also needs to learn that she helped drive her sister out, but the writers are allergic to that kind of thing in favour of "make character a background conservative. If female = mom. If mom = soft until politcal debate scenario." She is allowed to be sad and upset that her only sister is gone, she just needs to acknowledge she messed up, as well as lots of Thunderclan cats messed up.

It's time to kill Brightheart, Brackenfur, Thornclaw and Cloudtail. Enough is enough, start retiring cats who were full warriors when TNP started. Tawnypelt should be in the Elders den and Oakfur should be rotting in hell for what he let happen to Berrynose. On that same note, I hope Russetfur went on trial for that and her attempt on Firestar's life. I like her but good GOD, that was egregious, and looks even more pathetic when Yellowfang's Secret reveals she herself wasn't Clanborn.

Tigerheart's Shadow is a good book (aside from that one 'territory' bit, you know the one) and this series could go FAR if they embraced the mysterious mystical elements they set up, people are far too harsh on the experimental things.

Moonkitti makes good points sometimes but I need younger fans to stop taking everything she says as gospel and start thinking for themselves; case in point the recent Mapleshade drama that REEKS of "if I was Orpheus I wouldn't have turned around". The writers call the Moonstone the Moonpool every time we revisit the forest, do you really think they remembered The Bridge? Did YOU remember the bridge or did Moonkitti point it out? Also, with how cosmically doomed from the start the story was, the water probably would have overtaken the bridge and STILL swept them away. For every one good take Moonkitti has they seem to have more than a few bad ones.

My silly one. FERNSONG SHOULD HAVE BEEN NAMED AFTER HONEYFERN AND BEEN A HONEYFERN CLONE APPEARANCE WISE. No problem with him being named for Ferncloud but could they PLEASE acknowledge that Cinderheart is Honeyfern's sister too? Poppyfrost named her baby boy after Molekit and Lilyheart named her daughter Honeykit despite never having met Honeyfern, and those don't feel like coincidences.

I dislike the Tribe as its concept, but I like some of the characters that came from it, know what I mean? I like OG Stoneteller (though I always pictured him very differently. I saw him as gray tabby with white paws!) I think he is an interesting character, and Outcast was a huge letdown with having him be wrong. It would be a nice change in story if the Clan cats had tried to push their way, only for it to NOT work, for there to be a different way to do things, or a trick the Tribe used in the past that they "could give another crack at", and for the Clan cats to learn that their way of life is not a golden standard. Could you imagine Hollypaw learning this? I also really like Brook. I dismantled her and I know she is a play on the stupid "Indian princess" trope. I love how sweet she is, though I hate how it was painted against the Tribe. I plan to keep that wisdom and kindness, while also making The Tribes just as good a place to live.

I don't think Tawnystar would've been a good idea, as good as a name like that sounds. She, like Bramble, is too old, and the writers can't stand killing off Arc 2 characters in favour of killing off Arc 3 and 4, we would have been stuck with her and the writing for leaders atm SUCKS. Tawnypelt also just... Isn't that great. While I like her, I don't think she would be a good leader. Same goes for Mothstar, though I feel like they could have it done better if they do have it happen by making her not want the 9 lives. After the absolute Christian slog ASC has been about "non believers" it would be cool to see her prove that wrong and put this shitty arc's hinge point in the ground once and for all.

I'm tired of Med Cat protags. We've had one since TNP barring Dawn of The Clans when arguably it would have been the most beneficial from Pebble Heart or Dappled Pelt. Leafpool was cool because she was the first, Jayfeather was kinda cool still because of blindness and being part of the Prophecy, and while his POV in OOTS was a necessary evil, we did not need Alderheart. There is no reason to have Alderheart be the POV when Sparkpelt has the objectively more interesting setup and Alderheart's "anxiety" works better when we can't see through his eyes, as the authors don't know what actual anxiety is. Shadowsight and Frostpaw are alright, through Frostpaw's pov suffers around Nightheart and she does suffer from Camera POV Syndrome at times... Not helped by her being a Female Warriors Character with all the lovely things that come with it. Shadowsight was cool until the writers completely fumbled the bag and made him rude, argumentative, and dropped his epilepsy for no reason. All this is NOT helped by the new retcon that you're just "born different" with some kind of inherit special connection to Starclan, like it wasn't some kind of learned thing, hence Cinderpelt struggling with it as a lot of the time she was on her own!

Let Daisy retire and let Sorrelstripe take over the nursery. These new characters are in desperate need of personality, let Sorrelstripe be a feisty, confident midwife who won't let Queens be bullied into things.

[ivycopper]

Here's something I've written in reply to a discussion recently that ties into this whole class thing - feels apt to post it here.

(What I really wanted to say was Snape was working class, Dumbledore was upper middle class/posh; I was replying to someone from the US though, so I tried to not codify it too much with these labels that might not tell you much if you're not familiar with British culture. It's hard to explain how this ties into class - but it absolutely does. Ppl forget that in classist societies, your class background never goes away, and that it will forever inform the way you perceive the world around you, bc they perceive you a certain way. And you can't afford to not have your guard up.)

Sooooo... I've never understood why we hate Snape but give Dumbledore a pass. Don't get me wrong, I like Dumbledore. And I feel pretty conflicted abt Snape, ngl. Snape seems to have been in pretty deep with the Death Eaters, after all. But! Let's not forget that Dumbledore was very much aligned with fascism as well with Grindelwald.

The way I see it, both of them were fascist due to their own trauma. Dumbledore bc of what happened to Ariana, and bc he finally felt loved. Snape bc of his abusive father, and bc he finally felt like he was worth something. And both of them paid bitterly, and both of them lost the love of their lives.

Except Dumbledore then publicly redeemed himself by going after Grindelwald, while Snape returned to being invisible. And this is where privilege comes into play: Dumbledore had a privileged upbringing, came from a pureblood family, and was a Gryffindor. Ppl saw him as intrinsically worthy, courageous, and likeable. Snape came from a poor family, was a half-blood, and a Slytherin. Except for Lily, ppl expected him to be thankful for being allowed to breathe the same air as them, and he was completely justified in his pride when he refused to go along with that.

I think this might be the real reason behind his hatred for Harry - it's not that he actually thinks of Harry as incredibly privileged. How could he? He knows Petunia, he can see that Harry is underdeveloped bc he was starved. As an Order member, he is well aware of the Dursleys' attitude. At the same time, he does see how ppl bend over backwards to accommodate this boy once he arrives in the magical world. I think he sees a lot of himself in Harry, and he hates Harry both for still being afforded respect although he's not all that different from young Snape as well as for displaying thankfulness and playing everybody's pet instead of standing up for himself. He wants Harry to recognise his privilege and he wants him to unapologetically take up space. Basically, Harry can't win.

I feel like Snape antagonises Harry to enable him to fight back. He can't be kind to him bc Harry represents the kind of privilege he never had, and he hates him for that. But he also can't leave him hanging bc he sees this child's pain, and it's so familiar to him. So he does get protective, and it's not just abt Lily, it is abt Harry. And riling Harry up, honing his anger, is all he knows how to support him.

[Keep in mind: His father never showed him love, Snape wasn't hugged, or coddled, or held. He wouldn't know how to be gentle - and maybe that, too, makes him angry at Harry: He's constantly reminded of his own inability to express affection, understanding, love. Just like he was unable to express these things to Lily, who would have looked at him with those same green eyes.

And it probably adds to his negative feelings towards Dumbledore: Expressing affection comes so easily to Dumbledore, he's so warm and gentle, and it doesn't even necessarily reflect his feelings. Dumbledore can appear kind while being cruel. Snape can't seem to express any kindness, he was failed as a child and never learnt how to, and it makes him lash out even more. Not an excuse, though, bc boy, you shouldn't make your trauma other (underage and vulnerable!) ppl's problem.]

Also. There's this argument that while Dumbledore was acting for the greater good, Snape was acting for selfish reasons, and that this is what ultimately makes Dumbledore redeemable but not Snape. I disagree. Yes, Dumbledore goes on abt the Greater Good (tm), but that literally was he and Grindelwald's catchphrase back in his fascist days as well. It's not part of his redemption, and it's never stopped him from his darker tendencies. What we don't like abt Dumbledore are all things that very much stem from this detached saviour complex - he can be cold, manipulative, opaque; he often adopts the role of a puppeteer bc he doesn't trust others to do the right thing. That's why when he tells Snape that Harry must die, it's Snape who's horrified. Precisely bc Snape is a selfish Slytherin, he recognises that Harry should have a choice. That he should have had time to decide instead of being guilt tripped into martyrdom. His selfishness, and his ability to afford other ppl their selfishness, is what - in that moment - makes him more humane than dear old Dumbledore with his very Gryffindor-y god complex.

Let's also remember that Snape became a teacher at 21 (I think). He was the youngest teacher in Hogwarts history, and probably shouldn't have been responsible for children at that point in his life. He was in his late 30s when he died. Dumbledore had much more time to reflect on his views.

Two up, two down

We talk about Potter as a timeless series, as quills and parchment will never date, but there are a few key elements which are of their time, and I sometimes suspect that eventually, their original meaning may be lost.

Snape’s house in Spinner’s End is one of these.  If you visit Surrey, a house akin to Number 4 on Privet Drive can be found on hundreds of identical estates.  Indeed, the three-bedroom house with a garage, and both front and back gardens, situated on a private housing estate in leafy surburbia is one that most British people will have strolled through at some point.

But Snape’s house in Spinner’s End is the opposite of the Dursleys’ aspirational abode, and is somewhere that few modern readers will have seen in its original form with their own eyes.  Snape’s house in Spinner’s End is a traditional two up, two down through terraced house, mired deep in a maze of identical cobbled streets, overlooked by a looming mill chimney, and seemingly – by the 90s – entirely abandoned.

The difficulty that some may have in accurately picturing this scene is because these houses, in this state, no longer exist.  A large percentage of two up, two down terraces were demolished as part of slum clearance, which should tell you all that you need to know about the state of the houses.  

Those which remained have been extensively modified – usually knocking down the privy (outside toilet), and then building a two storey extension across the bulk of the yard to create a third room downstairs, and a bathroom upstairs.  Some houses only have a single extension; it is rather common in some areas of the Midlands to have a bathroom that leads off the kitchen downstairs – because the bathroom was the missing room, and it was cheaper to build one storey than two.

Pottermore had an article earlier in the year which explained how the filmmakers originally wanted to film on location, but could not, because the houses simply did not exist in their traditional state.

The houses were typically constructed with two rooms downstairs and two rooms upstairs with a tiny backyard entry leading to the outhouse. Craig actually considered shooting on location, but even though the buildings were intact, they had been brought into the modern era, with up-to-date kitchens and plastic extensions, so the set was built at the studio.

Throughout the 20th century, cobbled streets were routinely replaced by various other road surfaces, namely tarmac and asphalt – and, of course, the scarcity of cobblestones now means that such streets are aesthetically desirable.  However, the cobblestones in Spinner’s End are not an indication of affluence, but an indication of an area left behind. This is further illustrated by the rusted railings, the broken streetlights, and the boarded up windows.

These were workers houses, often funded by the owners of the mill, and therefore tied – meaning that rent was deducted from your wage before you received it.  There were benefits to being in tied accommodation, including being close to work and having a guaranteed landlord – but that was as much benefit to the mill owner as the worker.  Seeing great competition, some mill owners invested in their properties to entice workers – but Spinner’s End is not an example of this; Spinner’s End would’ve been regarded as little better than a slum even when fully occupied.

The narrow streets are indicative of when these houses were built, presumably in the late 1800s – cars were not a concern, and the attitude was to build as many houses on as small a piece of land as possible.

By the time the 90s roll around, and we see Narcissa and Bellatrix descend upon the street, Spinner’s End appears to be mostly deserted.  With the closure of traditional manual industries, families would be keen to relocate to where work could be found.  Estates which hadn’t already been cleared by the 60s would find themselves left to rack and ruin, their former occupants long gone – whether seeking a new life elsewhere, or having died.

For once, Bellatrix is not being anti-Muggle when she sneers at the Muggle dunghill; she is unnervingly accurate. It is a slum by her standards, but most importantly, it was a slum by everyone else’s standards as well.  By the time Severus was born, work should’ve been well under way to clear the area, or to renovate it.  This evidently did not occur – which itself explains how undesirable the area is; nobody wanted to spruce it up - they wanted to leave.  There were no jobs, no amenities, no services – and eventually, no people.

We often ponder why Snape remains at Spinner’s End, but perhaps there lies the answer; he wasn’t just hiding from the magical world, but he was also hiding from the Muggle world as well…

[cruelcruelcowboy]

✎ — love language headcanons.

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!reader summary: just some fluffy and kinda long love language headcanons warnings: none a/n: this took a looot longer than expected, and i rewrote everything several times but i finally did it! sorry in advance for any mistakes my crappy writing hehe constructive feedback is welcome! ( ´ ▽ ` )b

gif is 100% by @itspapillonnoir bc i just realized it looks like im stealing ur gif im so sorry

——＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚— ☾ —˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊——

giving: acts of service/gift giving & physical touch

arthur is a natural giver, time and time again bending over backward when needed, yet never expecting a thing in return. he doesn't consider himself to be one with words, so he gives back in return, hoping his kind gestures will suffice where his words don't. it's no different when it comes to you, only instead of his usual platonic favours, he pours his heart into doing the most for you.

he knows the things you like, certain colors, foods, perfumes/colognes, all of it.  whatever you might have mentioned liking or craving in the past, he will frequently go out of his way just to bring back something you've spoken of or asked for.

usually, he’s fond of delivering his gifts straight to you, selfishly taking joy in the way you light up at whatever he's brought back. sometimes he wonders if you do it just so you don't hurt his feelings, but he wouldn't care regardless. you always make him feel seen, thanking him profusely, and never taking his kindness for granted.

on the off chance you’re away from camp, he’ll leave your gifts placed thoughtfully on your cot, usually accompanied on top of a handwritten note or paired with a fresh picking of your favourite flowers/herbs.

other times, he shows his love through gestures. he’ll make sure that your horse has been looked after for the day, that your laundry has been collected and brought back to your tent, or that there’s a bowl of hot stew waiting for you after a grueling job. he makes you feel like your efforts don't go unnoticed no matter how big or small, or what role you play in the gang.

some mornings, when a thick fog lays over the camp and the sun is only peaking over the horizon, arthur will beckon you over to the fire, waiting with a cup of coffee, “jus' how ya like it." even if you aren't a morning person, he certainly makes them worth it.

it definitely takes him a little while before he's confident enough to show any public displays of affection. only when the camp is quiet and there are few prying eyes will he lovingly run one of those bear-like hands down the back of your head, staring down at you fondly from beneath pretty brown eyelashes. he’ll place a delicate kiss on your forehead or cheek before letting the two of you get on for the day.

in private, however, he's all over you. he adores holding you, running his hands along your body, and tracing his fingers in mindless patterns on your skin. he'll kiss down your face and throat, pinning you down beneath him like a wild animal, secretly praying that you won't slip from his grasp and bolt off. thankfully you never do, to you, his arms are your home.

receiving: words of affirmation & quality time

when it comes to getting affection in return, he has no clue how to accept it, let alone process it. the shell of the big brash outlaw begins to crack and reveal a much softer inside. he'll blush and fuss and insist, “i ain’t a good man,” with a shy bow of his head and a mindless kick of his boot. all you can do is roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile.

no matter how reserved he is about it, you know how much he loves and appreciates the way you spoil him with your words of endearment and praise. you've got him blushing like a virgin just by the way you say his name so sickeningly sweet.

"thanks for looking out for me, arthur."

“you’re so handsome, arthur.”

“i really appreciate all that you do for me, arthur.”

“i love you, arthur.”

he couldn't tell if he was about to pass out or cry. no other person had ever shown him the type of genuine kindness and care that you did, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never gather why you kept coming back to him—but he would be forever grateful that you did.

frequently, you like to make excuses to get some one-on-one time with arthur, "dutch says we haaave to go take a nice long ride down along the river. it sounded pretty urgent, wouldn't wanna disappoint yaknow." he raises a brow, and the corner of his mouth begins to crack into a smile. "that so?" he's always quick to catch on, and plays right into your antics, "well then, i guess we better get goin' b'for he changes his mind."

at the end of the day, as long as you're with him, he's content and your presence is more than enough to take the weight of the world off his shoulders. wherever he is you are, and vice versa—attached at the hip. no matter if it's accompanying each other on errands or jobs across the states, stirring up trouble and fighting off the law, or enjoying the serenity of late nights around the campfire together, you're by his side till the end. and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[imsailorpluto]

True Beauty: Kang Sujin character reconstruction

They did out bestie so dirty in this drama, it's time to clean up writer's mess. I don't think Sujin ever deserved such overkill. Turning her into a villain way after the opportunity window closed was so pathetic. Massacring this heroine in such a cliché way calls for serious damage repair, so let's goooo.

Disclaimer: I'm not a writer and this is my first fic ever. English is not my first language, sorry for eventual mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.♡ the story sounds better in my head but what can we do Thanks @youlookprettywithoutmakeup for sending in a request for Seojun x Sujin content. Also a big thank you to the gifmakers who blessed us all with this inspirational seojun x sujin perfection!

TW: angst, losing friends, mentions of bullying, verbal violence and family abuse

Seojun x Sujin angst

After Sujin moved to the States, the real truth behind that bullying video came out. It was never Sujin's doing, but she left all her friends believe what they wanted. Her life was pretty much crumbling down from the abuse back home and her parents' divorce lawsuit. It felt like the whole world turned its back on her. The final blow was when Seojun accused her of posting that bullying video of Jukyung. Then Jukyung facing her about it, too. Being the only one who's always had her friends' backs, she was hurting more than ever.

- Fine, Seojun, let it be me. Does it even matter? I'm the bad guy. Nobody trusts me. Not even you. I could bend over backwards defending myself for something I never did and it won't change a single thing.

- Something you never did? Get over yourself, Sujin. I know how you feel about Suho.

- Wait, do you seriously think I'd do something as disgusting as that because of a guy?

Seojun smirked hearing those words, shaking his head in disbelief.

- And since when do you think I have feelings for Suho??? Don't you know me?

- Obviously I don't.

They stood there, staring at each other in silence. Sujin's heart was breaking into a million pieces, but she wasn't showing any emotion. Seojun was cruel, even if he didn't mean to be this way. His constant hot and cold behavior towards Sujin confused her, but after he started showing interest in Jukyung, she gave up on him.

-Sujin, I went to Yongpa High, none of those girls knew a thing about the video.

- Wow, congrats! You must be proud of yourself. Trusting Jukyung's bullies... Seriously?! Like you don't know their queen bully is into you.

- Just like you're into Suho. I saw you two hugging.

- You saw that?!

- Yes! I did!

- Then you saw me crying like an idiot too. Great.

- Wait... What?

- I quit the music academy, okay?

- Are you crazy? Why would you do that?

Seojun stood there, his eyes wide in confusion. He couldn't believe his ears. How could she not tell him any of this sooner? After all they've been through. After all those moments she helped him get over their friend's death. Weren't they close enough now, why wouldn't she confide in him?

- You don't know everything, so don't act so smart. Besides, Suho isn't even my type, you pabo. He just saw me crying at the staircase.

- Then explain one thing.

All she could think about was how did she end up in this mess. Now all of a sudden he wants to talk to her? And he's acting all innocent about it.

- I have nothing to say to you, Seojun. Even your lousy accusations can't touch me. If anyone ever did anything bad then it's you chasing a taken girl.

- I wasn-

- Let me know when you stop projecting your problems on others.

- No, you got it all wrong, I don't have feelings for Ju-

- Stop it. I'm tired of this. I don't even care anymore.

He looked at her in silence, heart hurting as well. He couldn't admit his feelings to her like this, not now. He knew he did so many stupid things to catch her attention, but he didn't think it would backfire like this. He also knew something wrong was going on, but her stare was hurting him. He couldn't read her face at all. She looked cold. Serious. He felt like her eyes were literally piercing him.

- I did it. Okay, Seojun? I did all of it. Go spread the word. Oh wait, you did that already.

Frustrated and disappointed, she confirmed the rumors. She didn't want to fight back anymore. It was the first time in her life she considered giving up for a change. Like it mattered, she'd be moving to the States soon. She has already lost everything and everybody she hold dear. This was the last time two of them talked before she left Seoul.

She never told Seojun about her father beating her, she was ashamed of that. She also never told him her father was against her attending the music academy, she was scared that if she ever started talking about it she'd end up telling him everything. Suho was the only one who knew about her family situation, but only because he saw her bruises one time and asked her about it. He promised to keep her secret and she never confined in him again after that. All three of them have been friends since early childhood and she didn't want to do something that might push either of them away.

Sujin was always an artistic soul. She was great at pretty much everything once she set her mind to it. Her singing skills were always advanced, even before she started classes at the music academy. She outperformed almost all of her seniors. No matter the talent, she had to quit singing. Father's orders.

"Singing won't get you to medical school, you're only worth as much as your grades, don't show up home until you come to your senses and quit that idiotic nonsense of yours."

So she quit at the time only to save herself from unnecessary pain. She was done with covering her face full of makeup for school and popping painkillers like candy. It was much easier to quit, at least until her mom got them both out of that mess finally.

Her mom managed to get a divorce eventually. She swore she'd take care of her daughter properly this time, so winning the lawsuit against Sujin's father played a crucial role this time. And she won, which left her with their huge family mansion worth billions of dollars. Sujin's father got a restraining order from court, and after the lawsuit they never heard from him again. Her mom sold everything and they both moved to the States, where Sujin enrolled in music academy once more. Their life was pretty much comfortable, but they've always stayed humble.

Sujin knew she had to go back to visit her friends at Seoul at some point, especially since she was getting so many texts and calls from her two ex besties ever since she left. News on what actually happened and who was behind the video incident spread like fire and cleared all guilt off Sujin. Yet she couldn't get over the fact that all of her friends judged her so quickly. Sooah disappointed her a lot, she never backed her up, not even once. While Jukyung surprised her more than anyone. She was the only one who never believed Sujin did anything wrong, not even when Sujin directly told her it is her doing.

Even though she wanted to spend hours on the phone with Jukyung, and let her know about everything what happened, cutting everyone off seemed rational for the time being. Everything was still too painful for her and she needed more time to heal from the chaos. Falling into unhealthy patterns was no longer an option. Sujin's habits have changed drastically ever since she moved to the States. Volunteering as a math tutor and martial arts teacher was all she did when she wasn't studying. Her taekwondo classes took place in the early mornings, and math classes in the evenings. Slowly, it got her thoughts back in order.

It wasn't until Seojun texted her a whole month after moving that she felt that pit in her stomach again.

Seojun: I'm sorryx Sujong I shoudlvew known

- What's with this pabo? Ah, he's drunk again.

Sujin: Hey Seojun, I hope you're good. I know you've sent me that txt accidentally. Stay well and take care. Don't drink and ride that Ninja of yours, ok?

A few days passed until he finally responded back.

Seojun: Where r u, I need 2cu. Sujin: I'm out of the country, actually. Let's catch up over a video call one of these days, ok? Seojun: Naah, txt me whn u get back :P

She wanted nothing more than to talk to him, to hear his voice. She needed him to be there for her, just like she used to be there for him long ago. If going back there was ever an option, she needed to get better fist, on her own. Thoughts of being back in the city where it all went downhill made her extremely uncomfortable. Besides, her feelings for Seojun confused her, it was too much all at once. This time, she decided to let him go for good. Maybe next time their paths cross, things turn out different.

[thrandilf]

I'm sitting here as someone who's seen a good chunk of this cross my dash, and I wish that "positivity towards people" was remotely what had transpired, rather than "post a bunch of DMs which included someone having a breakdown, apologizing, and then explicitly for clarity's sake, saying that they were taking time away from a situation not to punish the other person but to get themselves together" and having that person get demonized

and this shared all around fandom, where everyone knows full well who this is so censoring the name doesn't matter

and where anyone who has been upset at this conduct gets brushed off as doing it for clout (I'm not even mutuals with the person in question) or just taking sides because of who's friends with who- while in this other post you seem to do exactly that

you know what actual friends do when someone you care about is about to breach someone else's trust/do something out of line? you tell them to reconsider/that you feel they'll regret it, you look at the relationships they still have and ask if this is the sort of action you'd want directed at any of the rest of you and how you'd feel on the receiving end of it- not just blindly support everything they do because you're their friend

if this happened to you, because you were the one with an opinion others didn't like, or you were the one who was having communication issues or a breakdown, or you were the one who was trying to explain that you didn't want to fan any flames and just wanted space, only to be read in bad faith, and had all of your vulnerable moments shared- would you think it was justified?

because it could be you. or someone you like better in your clique. if you don't see any issue with jelly's behavior, regardless of what the other person did, are you ready for it to be you? you've all had years of friendship together and it didn't stop this, so why would you be an exception? because you're part of the clique so you feel safe in that? (really?)

this seems to keep getting looped back to "well this person had opinions no one else liked/was too positive about xyz in the media" when the issue here has never ever been you guys having different opinions, but that this escalated this far that a bunch of people in fandom who are in their 30s (older than me!) are bending over backwards to explain why airing their dirty laundry in public was absolutely necessary and fine to do when it clearly wasn't. it's an awful look.

how long have y'all been stewing with this level of resentment that you couldn't wait to gang up on someone and go public? over what was a private falling out. why did the rest of fandom even need to know?

jelly was still posting fic and getting traffic just fine. what "ruined reputation" was implied with all this because there wasn't any. I wouldn't have known jelly even had issues here without the regina george behavior

the "vague-blogged about for months" accusation is mind-boggling to me as the justification for this, since they at least were vague and also, I couldn't even tell those were about (or in some cases were only maybe? about) jelly. and there were like, 4? of them? in how many months?

not even on their fandom blog

which I mean, you again seemed to be chomping at the bit to do yourself, since hi, I've been following most of fandom and have eyes

So since y'all have just been waiting to be as nasty as you want in public, fine. Go ahead. This is what the tdp fandom is like now, I guess.

You don't care about anyone else's behavior when it's someone you like. You don't have an internal sense of "don't do that to someone else, even if you don't like them, because you just don't do that to people." You really don't care about anything except playing along and pretending the issue isn't what it actually is.

TLDR, you don't want positivity towards other people, you just want it towards yourselves, and the rest of us can fuck off.

I've never been truly welcome at any particular fandom table, and I used to think there were just some pockets of fandom that were toxic (I've had my own issues in the tdp official discord, and somehow I don't even post stuff from a public discord on here)

but apparently it's just all of you.

Again, thanks for an expanded blocklist.

something that’s been at the root of a lot of conflict I’ve witnessed over the past year:

People are allowed to have different opinions. It’s not inherently negativity to voice criticism of something you otherwise love.

The negativity I care about and would rather limit in my spaces? Negativity towards people.

When I say I want fandom to be a positive space, I mean I want positivity towards people, not indiscriminate positivity towards the media itself. That indiscriminate positivity comes at the cost of letting people express themselves, and people are more important than ideas. Period.

People have different experiences. People bring different things to the table. People are diverse and messy and unknowably complicated, and that’s a beautiful thing that I want more of in my life.

[saturnsorbits]

Villain Arc

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Gore, Torture, We're not Very Nice to Deku Here, Folks. Word Count: 0.5k.

Summary: In the aftermath of Bakugo's death, you're searching for someone to blame.

A/N: This was written in response to Chapter: 362. Re-uploading this now I'm more comfortable with my Midoriya dislike.

'Why're you doing this?' Midoriya can't catch his breath. There's blood bubbling in his throat, thick and frothy as it tries to rise past his lips. He chokes, spits red.

Considering the amount of pain he must be in, you're not surprised that Midoriya can't breathe. Not that it matters. He was in pain too...

'You're not nearly pretty enough to being playing dumb.' You say. You're calmer than you thought you'd be, but all that means is that there's no shake in your hands when you press the blunt edge of your blade to Midoriya's shoulder and slice.

Midoriya screams.

He didn't scream.

You cut him again.

'P – ple... Please. I – I couldn't.'

He's crying.

You smile.

'Couldn't what?' Tilting your head, you raise your eyebrows enough to convey interest and blink, slow. 'Live up to All Might's legacy? Fight Shigaraki? Save the man you called your best friend?'

'I tried!' A wet sob leaves Midoriya's throat. It hits the floor encased with spit and foam and blood, leaving a brilliant red streak across the concrete.

'Not hard enough.'

You've already taken his eye. Where once was an emerald is now a black hole - a bloody nothingness. He'd struggled, so the void is jagged, but that doesn't matter. The quirk-cancelling cuffs and restraint chair had kept him still enough. His arm, already broken, had been shattered then. Bending it backward over your knee had been difficult, but you'd managed. Three breaks and a fracture. You'd wanted to do more.

'There was nothing... Nothing I could – Please...'

'He would have fucking found a way... He did.' Venom drips through your words, making them taste bitter on your tongue. 'He would have saved your pathetic, snivelling ass without a second thought.' Running the knife across his shoulder, you carve a crescent into his skin. If it where to scar, which it won't, you imagine that it'd heal in the shape of an explosion. 'It makes me sick thinking that he thought he'd always be in your shadow. That he'd never be enough... He was a thousand times the man you were trying to be – even at his worst. He came so fucking far and look...' You laugh, but it's breathless. '… Look at you.'

'Kaa – Kaachan wouldn't want... He wouldn't want you to do this.'

You snort. He's right, you think. He wouldn't want any of this. He was better than this. You're just glad that he's not around to see that you're not. 'Yeah... Well being a hero did fuck all for him, didn't it.'

'Please...' Desperation pours from Midoriya's mouth and dribbles down his chin. He coughs. Self-sacrifice feels a whole lot different when you're not the one doing the sacrificing. His chest tightens, nerves screaming, but the sound is muted now. Somewhere in his stomach, he thinks he might actually deserve this.

The knife has gone warm. There was no way to tell the extent of his injuries. His body was too damaged. So you take some liberties when hacking at his stomach and chest. 'They're always... They're always using him against you and you let them. You knew, you fucking knew and you...' You try not to think about big things like blame and fault and revenge as you slice. Those only make your cuts uneven.

Screaming through his teeth, Midoriya struggles against his cuffs until he hears footsteps. Heavy boots pass just outside of the window. His heart leaps into his throat. The doorknob turns.

'Kirishima! Kirishima! I – She's using quirk-cuffs, I can't -.'

'I know.' Kirishima's iris' are almost black when they flicker up to meet Midoriya's. His hair looks longer, black roots growing through, his signature style replaced by a simple high pony-tail. There's a sleeplessness to his complexion, a purple paleness that highlights the heavy wrinkles at his eyes and mouth. He looks older, broken... Haunted.

Kirishima drops Midoriya's gaze and gestures the door with his head. 'C'mon, we'll miss the ceremony.' He offers you a small, pained smile.

The knife falls from your hand and clatters to the floor. ‘Okay.’ You swallow and bite your lip. 'Okay.' Slipping your hood over your head, you join Kirishima at the door and slip out as he holds it open.

'Kiri – Red Riot!' Midoriya pleads. 'Red Riot, you're a hero! You – you're a hero. You - .'

Kirishima shakes his head. 'Bakugo was a hero... Red Riot died with him.'

Midoriya feels his blood run cold.

Pulling up his own hood, he offers Midoriya a smile. This one is different from the last. It's sharp and full of teeth. 'See you around little hero'.

-> Masterlist

[starburstfloat]

Thoughts on Honesty and Authenticity in Twenty Five Twenty One

(gotta let this out before ep 14 drops and I find a new topic to ramble about and analyze cause I'm in way too deep into this drama)

Okay, so:

What's so beautiful about Hee Do is that she embodies not just passion and perseverance but an unwavering commitment to being honest to herself.

During the first few episodes, she frequently argues with her mom, be it about pursuing fencing or feeling misunderstood. Yet she stands her ground (and idk about you but I wouldn't want to put up that many fights with this cold ass ice queen mom lmao).

Notice how during every conflict Hee Do has, she looks the other person straight in the eyes and tells how she feels, be it anger, sadness, or disappointment. She never backs down from being honest. Yi Jin's harmless chocolate prank that gets her so riled up is just one instance that firmly attests to this:

Or also after she admits why she's been avoiding him:

Yi Jin, on the other hand, has always learned to run away from conflict, adopted to him by his family running from creditors and scattering after the financial crisis.

While climbing the social ladder, he is consistently a people pleaser, always accommodating and bending over backwards. And he detests it because he knows it's unfair to himself.

Think about the company drinks scene when the boss keeps rubbing in that he's just a high school graduate and is oh so very lucky to be in this company, like he owes them. It's so fucking degrading but Yi Jin tries to cover it up with some humor:

But then the camera pans back to him and he is just a lonely mess of angry and sad at the same time because he's not living his authenticity.

And when he DOES stand up for himself, it's met with a backfire. The way he had to just stand there and take the berating of that stupid toxic producer guy because that's how company hierarchy just works hurt my heart.

He drinks to stop feeling or thinking too much. His honesty - his unfiltered exhaustion of the life of accommodating superiors and upholding professionalism in every corner of his life - tends to spew out of him when he's drunk and his mind can't repress his true feelings, like when his dad called and he asks him:

(the way he says this with so much defeat in his voice, like a part of him is dead inside got to me-)

This isn't to say it's a character flaw, it's moreso a reflection of how cruel the world can be, that he has to distance himself from his wants and needs to stay afloat and support himself and his family.

We see him grow increasingly more agitated and depressed at the situation. The only times he is authentically himself? When he's hanging out with the crew, and especially with Hee Do. Often, what he learns about honesty, he learns from her.

Episode 13 really highlights the rising tension in their different conflict resolution tactics: she wants him to be upfront and just say he doesn't want her if that's truly the case, whereas he wants to linger in a safe zone for a while longer, unsure of how to live out his feelings. Nothing is more evident of this than THIS exchange:

She counters this by calling bs - there's no such thing as people who are lucky to speak their truth and those that are unlucky. Luck has nothing to do with it: it's about affirming your feelings and speaking clearly, not tiptoeing around a topic to peacefully sail out the tension.

"do it right" bruhhh she isn't here to play, you go girl I fucking love her

So you can understand why it is beautiful to see them pull towards one another more and more.

Because being honest and loud and persevering in a world that wants nothing more than for you to be quiet, confined, and controlled is the true mark of coming of age. And finally, our two protagonists have met at the same level.

[starlessea]

Doctor’s Orders (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Prompt: “Why’d you always have to spoil my fun?” and “You nearly died!” Requested by anonymous​, numbers #6 and #16 from this post.

Summary: Daryl isn’t too impressed when he finds you with a sling on your arm and a smile on your face.

Words: 1766

Warnings: Language, Injury.

There were many things you feared more than death. There were many things you feared in general. Whether it was heights or small spaces, or even spiders - those spooky, crawly bastards - you would easily admit it when you were afraid.

In this new world, death was inevitable. You didn't want to die; leaving your family behind was out of the question. Though, it didn’t frighten you, either. Rather, you often found yourself scared of the more mundane things - those things that you could control - over something that was completely out of your hands.

There were many things you feared more than death, and Daryl Dixon was one of them.

Denise had gone to get the man, despite your pleas not to. She'd been good enough to patch you up, and mend the small cuts over your skin. They were only shallow, so they wouldn't leave any scars. It was the sling you were more concerned about.

You knew when Daryl saw it, you'd be in for an ear-full. It wasn't that bad an injury, but Denise had still doped you up on some pain-killers before leaving to find the man. It was meant to be an in-and-out job, but things never really did seem to go as planned.

"Who're you trying to kill with that smile?" Denise teased, as she walked back through the doorway to the clinic.

You had barely realised you'd been grinning from ear to ear until she’d said it. She was alone for the time being, so you thought you should take the opportunity to cherish the peace whilst it lasted.

"Myself, apparently." You chuckled, but let out a wince soon after.

The small movement had reminded you to keep still. It was only a broken bone, and you'd had worse before, but it ached all the same. Denise shook her head in return, letting out a huff of air as she stared at you exasperated.

"You are the first person to come into my clinic beaming like that whilst injured." She muttered, and you sloppily shrugged one shoulder in response.

Then you heard the main door fling open, and slam into the wall - and sighed.

"Here he comes." You muttered, and braced for impact.

Daryl stormed into the clinic like he was on a mission. He was sweaty, and you noticed that he was missing his jacket. He rushed through the doorway and whipped his head around the room until his eyes finally settled on you, sitting on the bed in the corner. You offered him a sheepish smile, and raised your good arm to give him a small wave.

The man stalked straight past Denise and made his way to your bedside, standing over you in an instant.

"What the fuck were ya thinkin'?" He yelled.

It wasn't that you feared Daryl Dixon's temper - that, you could manage. What you feared was that certain look in his eyes, and you saw it now as you met his gaze. His chest heaved, and most would probably think it was from anger. But, you knew better than that. He'd probably run over here in a panic. That is what you could see in his expression - pure worry.

"Nice to see you, too." You joked light-heartedly, trying to mask your guilt.

Daryl glanced at you, letting his eyes trail over the shallow cuts on your face all the way down to your arm - which sat tucked away in its sling. He shook his head, and took small paces in front of you.

"Ya leave for a supply run-" he started, almost below his breath. "An' Denise comes to tell me ya jumped outta a movin' truck!"

His voice rose as he spoke, and his final words came out as a loud growl that made you swallow thickly. You were ashamed, but you also thought that the man worried too much. If it were down to him, he'd have you wrapped up in cotton wool everytime you left the gates of Alexandria.

"It wasn't even going that fast." You mumbled back, defensively.

Denise had her back pressed flat against the wall, inadvertently caught in the cross-fire. She was in too deep to leave unnoticed, and stood there awkwardly watching the exchange. You sent her an apologetic smile, before looking back up at the man.

"Why'd you always have to spoil my fun?" You teased, but felt like you might have stepped on a landmine when you saw him scowl.

Daryl threw his hands up in frustration, and narrowed his eyes at your injury again.

"Ya nearly died!" He shouted, his voice guttural as it cut through the room.

"Exactly." You quipped back, but instantly regretted it.

You'd only been trying to convince him that you were fine, but Daryl seemed inconsolable. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or perhaps the pain-killers, but you realised that you may have been acting a little too care-free. You weren't so much scared of Daryl as you were of hurting him.

"It's only a broken collar bone." Denise interjected, once she finally mustered the confidence to do so. "She'll be fine."

Daryl whipped his head around, as though he'd forgotten she was even there. He stayed silent, but you tried your best to help coax him.

"Listen to the doctor, Dixon." You reminded the man, but with a much softer tone this time.

Daryl stopped his pacing, and instead made his way back over to you. He closed the gap as he approached, and your knees knocked together with his from where you were sitting on the bed. You could still see the pain in his eyes, and it made you realised that you must be one of the things Daryl Dixon feared, too.

He rested his palm over your cheek tentatively, careful not to brush up against the fresh wounds that marred your skin. You leaned into his warm touch, and placed your own hand over his in return.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over me." You whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll be more careful."

Daryl became like putty in your hands at that, and his expression softened like he'd only just allowed himself to relax. The entire time, it was as though the man had been running on pure adrenaline, and nobody could convince him that you were okay - even if he’d seen it with his own eyes.

In your peripheral, you noticed Denise looking at you - but she quickly glanced away when she realised she'd been caught. You could tell that she didn't want to intrude on the tender moment, but was curious to see Daryl so vulnerable at the same time.

The man stayed like that for a few seconds, letting your thumb rub over the back of his hand as he inspected your injuries some more.

"C'mon." He mumbled finally, and took a few steps backwards to let you stand up.

He retrieved your gear which had been left on a nearby chair, and slung it over his shoulder before walking to the door. You followed after him with careful footsteps, feeling as the pain jolted up your body. You sent a smile to Denise, and thanked her, but she shook her head in response - humble as ever.

"Look after her, Daryl." She called out to the man, as she saw the both of you off at the doorstep of the clinic. "Doctor's orders."

Daryl was normally a gentle man. He wasn't the type to have to be reminded to take good care of you. But, sometimes, he seemed to forget his own strength - along with his patience.

"Oww!" You shrieked, and flinched away.

The two of you were in your bedroom, and Daryl had been left with the impossible task of getting you dressed. He'd done a good job of it so far, but when it came your shirt all hell broke loose.

"Stop!" You yelled again, but the man had your arm tightly within his grip. "You're killing me!"

He'd gotten the first sleeve on just fine - but the other one was giving him grief. You'd slipped your arm out of the sling, but had trouble lifting it high enough to get your hand through the hole. The man kept trying to get you to straighten it, but you saw stars every time he did.

"So, wha'?" Daryl grumbled, seeming at the end of his rope. "Dyin' suddenly ain't tha' fun 'nymore?"

You winced as you jolted away too suddenly. At one point, you'd tried to convince him to just button up the shirt with only one arm in it - but he'd shot you a look and muttered something about 'making a fashion statement' under his breath.

"I ain't killin' ya." He continued, noticing your look of pain. "Jus' stop movin' an' it'll be over quicker."

You tried to do just that, but your arm wouldn't bend in the way he wanted it to - and you cried out again.

"It hurts!" You told him, and recoiled away. "You're pulling too hard."

Daryl wore an expression of utter exasperation, and opened his mouth to snap something back. Except, there was a knock at the door before he could.

You jumped again, having not even heard anyone come into the house - and breathed out through gritted teeth at the discomfort it caused.

"What the hell is going on in there?" A voice asked through the wall.

"Glenn?" You replied, immediately recognising him.

Daryl shot you a look, and you could tell he blamed you for all this. You rolled your eyes in response, and Glenn spoke again.

"Rick sent me to get you." He called, still behind the closed door. "Did you forget we had a meeting?"

Daryl let the sleeve of the shirt drop from his hand, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Ain't forget nothin'." He shouted back. "Jus' runnin' late 'cos of princess pain tolerance."

"Daryl?" Glenn asked, and you snorted.

You saw the handle on the door twist slightly, but Daryl quickly elbowed it shut before Glenn could enter.

"We'll be there soon!" You explained. "Daryl's helping me get dressed."

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds, and Daryl returned back to you - looking over at the shirt like he considered just taking it off again. You giggled at his expression, before you heard Glenn clear his throat from behind the door.

"Right." He said quietly, but you still caught it. "There are some things I'd rather not know."

A/N I broke my collar bone before and it was so painful... I remembered the struggles of getting dressed and HAD to write a scene about it.

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[wordvomit555]

I went to reread it just for you.

One of these days Aaron would love to know what about that mouthy liar had people bending over backwards for him, but the jagged heat that used to accompany such thoughts was long gone -> This is feeding my Neil & Aaron friendship believer heart.

"Hey, Bee" being the first words that Aaron had ever said to Betsy is sending me. He is so petty, I love him.

Andrew looked relaxed -> I will juts go cry in the corner at that fact

I absolute adore the way Nora describes Neil and Andrew from other perspectives. The way Jean described them gravitating towards each other and now Aaron with the two weights on a line?? Absolutely beautiful. Best love story ever written.

I absolutely love the fact Aaron can interpret Andrew dismissal as not trying to be difficult like most other people would, but on a deeper level, how Neil would. Calling him a coward when most people would just roll their eyes.

The fact he was funny throughout this whole conversation warms my heart, because I already knew he was funny af, but I'm glad more people are seeing the vision now too.

 "His father's people tore up his arms with a lighter and knives, and none of it is going to fade. He doesn't need to see those." -> I loooove Andrew so much. This was the softest thing he has ever said and it made me cry.

I love that we have a confirmation that Aaron is still struggling with being homophobic, but doesn't hate Nicky or Andrew for being gay. It's so important to me, that it still sits with him, because it makes it so much more important that he tries to get his head around it and not hurt the people he cares about.

I don't think Aaron is correct in thinking that Andrew didn't tell Betsy that he is gay, because he was scared of her judgment. I think that Andrew doesn't like to lie and hates breaking promises. He promised Betsy that he wouldn't lie to her and knew that if he told her about Neil, he would have to admit how much Neil meant to him and he wasn't ready to say it out loud or even admit it to himself.

Aaron being absolutely smitten with Katelyn is just incredible. He is such a simp for her and I love it. "Andrew made a dismissive noise, but Aaron would take any chance he could to talk about her." -> like, come on, that boy is so in love. And the fact that he refused to talk to Betsy for so long and to this moment essentially directed only two words at her and then talked to Andrew and now he is waxing poetics about his girlfriend is juts chef's kiss.

And the implication of "They are the same"??? Aaron loves Katelyn so much, he said so himself. It's so refreshing to see someone understand how much Neil means to Andrew when everyone else thinks that Andrew couldn't give a fuck.

Don't even get me started on the fact that Andrew remembered an offhand comment about Aaron wanting to become a neurosurgeon. Just let them be brothers, they love and need each other so much.

"Give her to me, Andrew." -> I'm swooning

And last, but not least, Aaron approached this situation the exact same way Neil would. With his snarky comments and wanting to rail up people to get his desired effect. Neil & Aaron are so similar and I need popped to realize that.

Hope you don't mind me dumping on your post like this, I got inspired.

SOMEONE TALK TO ME ABOUT AARON AND ANDREWS THERAPY SESSION IN THE BONUS CHAPTERS.

I'm FOAMING AT THE MOUTH and absolutely NOBODY is talking about it

[theblackpearls]

For a Moment in Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black Reader

Warning: Smut. Porn without plot. Angst. Raw (please use condoms in real life, guys! Safe sex is smart sex!) Oral Sex (women receiving) Mentions of Racism (its the 1940's y'all. No trauma I promise.)

A/N: After seeing FATWS you can't tell me Bucky wouldn't have dated a black woman if it wasn't illegal. I still think he had a girl on the side in Winter Solider and she was black. That's my comfort Canon!

It’s in the middle of the night that you hear a knock on your door. You’ve just finished getting out the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. Normally, you’d open your front door with clothes but for this person, it didn’t matter.

Opening the front door, you’re met with that million dollar smile.

“You ready for me, Honey?” Bucky says leaning in to kiss you.

You want to but you shift your eyes to the side, looking at the women who clearly scoff at this scene. You’ve been through it a thousand times, the stares you get when Bucky ventures to your part of the neighborhood. Bucky senses your frustration but he kisses your forehead anyway, hoping to bring back that smile. He succeeds, a hint of a smile appearing on your face.

“Come on.” Bucky says, pushing your hips backwards, until you’re both inside your apartment.

Bucky closes the door behind you. You step on the stairs but are quickly pulled back, your back pressing against Bucky’s broad chest. The cold medals of his uniform tingle against your skin.

“It’s just us, Baby.” Bucky says, nuzzling his nose into the crook on your neck.

“I can’t wait to leave this place.” You sigh, leaning back against him and swaying in his arms.

“Don’t do that, Sugar.” Bucky kisses your shoulder, his pink lips running over your brown skin. “Let’s not ruin tonight, it’s our last one and I intend for those nieghbors to know my fucking name.”

“Whatever,” You say, elbowing Bucky and moving out of his hands.

“What?” Bucky says shrugging, “Come here, Baby.”

You back away from Bucky as he walks towards you. As much as you want to be in his arms, you’re still wet from the shower and would like to get dressed before.

“Bucky, wait-”

“Nope, I sai-”

You sprint up the stairs only to hear Bucky’s boot beating against the wooden stairs. You’ve almost made it but Bucky has you locked in his arms. Bucky takes you into the room and pins you against the wall, his knee wedged between your legs.

“You really are testing me, Honey.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, tapping his cheek.

“Mhmm.” Bucky says, biting his bottom lip.

Bucky eyes, trail down your body, starting at your breast that are just slightly showing. Bucky leans in, placing a kiss on the tops of each.

“Bucky…”

“I can't wait to fucking leave this place.” Bucky says, his hands trailing up your towel while his lips moved up, leaving warm kisses on your neck. “Take you to every place in Europe when this shit is over.”

“It’s gonna be a while, James.” You mumble, your breath staggered as he nibbles on your ear.

“Don’t do that.” Bucky hisses, his hands digging into your thighs. “Don’t speak like we’re running out of time.”

It was hard to not think of the time that you and Bucky had. You know you’d wake up in the morning and Bucky would be gone, across the world fighting for freedom. Neither of you knew how long this war would last but it was keeping you both apart. It was tough because your relationship in America was illegal and it seemed that only war could offer you guys the freedom, the freedom to pack up and move to Europe where you both could be open about your love.

“Sorry.” You whimper, Bucky spread your legs and his hips colliding with yours, his erection.

“Don’t apologize.” Bucky says, his lips laying kisses on your cheek until he moves to your jaw and then stops right over your lips. “I just want to make love to you, the way you deserve.”

Bucky cups your cheek, his thumb lighting grazing your skin back and forth. This love and compassion he shows you is hidden and safe within these four walls.

Bucky says nothing as he lifts you up, your legs instantly locking around his hips. You take note of the way Bucky moves around your room in the darkness, knowing exactly where your bed is, how far the nightside table is so he doesn’t bump into it.

Bucky lays you gently on the bed, you back against the soft sheets. Your legs fall to the side and Bucky is between the, looking down at you. The moonlight breaks through the window, illuminating your mahogany skin, showing the little droplets of water that still rest on your legs and breast. Bucky reaches for the white towel, removing it slowly, unwrapping you like his own personal gift. Bucky looks at you with longing and lust, his blue eyes illuminating as he bites his lip, wanting to devour every part of you.

Bucky bends down, kissing right above your sex. You wish he’d go lower but he actually moves up, kissing your stomach and looking at you in your eyes. Bucky then trails up your body, kissing your abdomen, to the valley between your breast, around your neck and up to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, Babygirl.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’m going to remember every inch of you.”

You nod and close your eyes, not wanting to let the tears fall from your eyes and ruin this moment. Yet they fall anyway but Bucky’s pink lips are there to kiss your tears away. He catches every one until he kisses your lips, your tongues sharing the saltery tears between the two.

Bucky breaks the kiss and lefts up. He takes off his shirt, letting it fall to the side of the bed. It’s not long before Bucky is leaning over you, resting on his elbows.

There is no need for talking, you both know exactly how this will end. Bucky kisses you once more, one of his hands slides down the length of your body to grab your leg, wrapping it around him. Your hands are busy as well, trailing down his body, putting every muscle and cut into memory. Your hands reach the button of his pants and they’re quickly undone.

You slip your hand into his pants, touching Bucky’s length and he moans, breaking your intense kiss. His eyes never leave yours as your hand travels down further, stroking his cock. You want to have sex with Bucky of course, but you also want him to remember this. Remember how you stared him down as you touched his cock, watching him crumble on top of you.

You finally reach the tip, your thump running over his slit and catching the pre-cum. Bucky's hip thrust but his eyes are still open, watching you.

“Baby…”Bucky moans, his breaths becoming shallow and strained.

You want Bucky to come, to release and give you every piece of him. You pick up the pace, your hand gently squeezing his member, twisting your wrist. You feel Bucky harden in your hand, which only makes you move your hand faster. Bucky's arms shake, his head falling down to your neck, his warm breath dancing on your skin.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” You whisper in his ear, your hand becoming slick with his cum. “You can let go.”

Bucky moves his hips, thrusting into your hand, finding a manageable rhythm for him to get off without slipping out of your hand. He curses in your ear, his hands grabbing your wrist and tightening. It’s not long before Bucky releases in your hand, his moans falling into your neck as his mouth connects. Bucky collapses, his weight pressing against your and warming not only your body but your heart. You’re going to miss this, every single park of Bucky. Form his brown hair that might have too much gel to the curling of his toes as he releases inside you.

Bucky’s grip losses on your wrist and you take the time to wrap your arms around his neck.Your hands play in his hard and Bucky kisses a line from your collar bone to your ear.

“I’m gonna fucking marry you.” Bucky mumbles in your ear.

“I know.” You say, a smile carving its way onto your face.

Bucky gets up, takes off his pants and underwear, his come running down his legs. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to place himself between your legs, your sexes just inches apart as Bucky leans over you. Bucky kisses your forehead for a moment, not daring to move. Your left leg is on the bed while he has hand around your right leg, lifting it up, ready to end you, but he takes his time.

Bucky then looks down, asking for permission through both of you know that you need this. Bucky is slow with his entrance, kissing your softly and his hands making sure to massage your thigh.

“Bucky…” You mian as you feel his tip penetrate you.

“That’s it, Sugar.” Bucky groans, slowly sliding in further.

You lift your hips, wanting Bucky to fall deeper into you, find that spot and shatter every piece of you.

Your arms moved to wrap around Bucky’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. You moan, Bucky now fully encased in your wet pussy. It feels so right to be with Bcuky like this, connected with no barriers, oceans or laws to separate you.

Bucky doesn't move yet, his kisses are gently against your lips, something sacred between the two of you. His hands move, one falling to your cheek, keeping your head raised and kissing him while the other laces with your hand above your head and pressed into the mattress.

It is now that Bucky moves slowly, his hips grinding against yours. You moan into the kiss and Bucky devours every single one. You move your hips in sync with his, his cock growing within your warmth.

“Bucky…” You moan breathlessly.

“It’s just us, Baby.” Bucky reminds you. “Be as loud as you want.”

You don’t hold yourself back, not with Bucky and not this time. Bucky’s hand slides from your face to your leg, lifting it up and thrusting deeper inside you. You arch your back, closing your eyes and mouth falling open. Sweat trickles down your body and your mind goes blank. All you can think about it how good Bucky feels inside of you, how you want think to release inside of you, mark you as his and never fucking let you go!

“Bucky!” You shout.

“Fuck.” Bucky moans, his nails digging into your hands and Bucky arching his hips, pounding into you.

The bed creaks as you try to catch your breath but Bucky steals it away with a kiss. Your mouths are slowly against one another, sharing so much and saying nothing. Your stomach abdomen tightens and your toes curl, you know it’s coming, the release that only Bucky can give you.

“Come for me, babygirl.”

And you do, relasign everything you have to give to Bucky. Bucky releases inside of you, his come filling your insidious, sticking to them and burying himself in places no one would dare look. Bucky rolls over and rests next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“It won’t always be like this.” bucky says, drawing circles right above your hip. “As soon as I come back, we’ll leave.”

“I know, Bucky.” You kiss his cheek. “It’s hard to say goodbye though.”

“Then don’t.” Bucky holds you closer. “Don’t say goodbye just wait for me to return and we’ll continue, it will be like I never left.”

“Mhmm.” You mumble fighting sleep.

You know once you fall asleep, bucky will be gone. It was something you got used to with every deployment. Though you had faith in Bucky, that he would return, there was still fear in your heart. But you could not let that fear overrun you, Bucky there would be no place for Bucky if you did that. So, you buried your fears where only you could find them and only visited them when necessary.

“Go to sleep.” Bucky says.

You want to reply to him, to tell him that you don’t want to wake and the bed be cold. But you know that it won’t comfort either of you so, you say nothing and close your eyes

Six months have passed and Bucky hasn’t sent you any letters. You're worried because your last letter was important.  You were scared that Bucky had gotten the letter and didn’t send one back, an end to your relationship. Though you had faith in bucky, you guys never talked about this issue popping up.

Children.

There wasn’t an exact what to prevent you from getting pregnant. To be honest, you were shocked that it didn’t happen sooner with how many times Bucky and you were reckless. But it seemed that all the recklessness paid off say you touched your stomach.

The neighbors knew exactly whose child it was and they weren’t too happy. You’d walk around town and they'd curse your name and it never bothered you until now. Maybe it was your hormones and not hearing from Bucky that made you so emotional. But couldn’t think about that now, not when someone else was depending on you to be strong.  You just needed to know that Bucky also cared for you and didn’t abandon you. You hear a knock on the front door and wobble towards it. Your heart races, hoping that it’s Bucky.

However you open the door and it’s Steve instead. He’s bigger this time and a lot taller. You’d seen him once before and he never looked this big or good for that matter. But you ignore your hormones once again and smile at Steve though he doesn’t smile back.

“Steve.” You say. “Where is Bucky?”

[jaeminscoffee]

Enough. (m.)

Pairing- Jung Jaehyun x reader

Genre- Smut, Fluff towards the end.

Word count - 3k

Warnings- Harddom!Jaehyun, Sub!reader,Rough sex (are we shocked), manhandling, degradation, choking, overstimulation, strong language, hair pulling, spanking, slight size kink, dirty talking, Jaehyun is pissed.

(just realised this is the longest warning list I've made so like, buckle up, you're up for a really messy long ass ride)

Summary- Jaehyun had had enough of your behavior.

(Minors kindly try not to interact with my blogs!)

Jaehyun's life has been going at a very fast pace with the ongoing promotion of an ordeal according to you. 

Don't take it the wrong way, you were extremely happy that your boyfriend's getting promoted, but he's so caught up with it that you get the minimal attention from his side. Or so you think. 

Jaehyun is an extremely kind lad, but is an extreme disciplinarian. He is also highly patient, which you take a little too much advantage of. 

Take for example this one time the past week, Jaehyun had left early for a really important meeting when you'd decided to spam him with pictures, well not so moral. He wouldn't have minded if it was when he was in his cabin, but thinking it would've been something important seeing how many messages he was getting, he opened your texts, a picture of you in his favourite pair of lingerie took up it's place on his screen, and his fucking colleague got a glimpse of it. 

Strike one. 

Then came this time when he was busy completing a very crucial project, you texted him in bold "I'm in trouble' making Jaehyun's heart jump right up his throat. When he'd called you the very second, all he heard right after you had picked up the call was you whimpering, gasping his name slowly. You were touching yourself without his permission. 

Strike two. 

He could deal with all of that, stuffing the madness deep within him to not give you what you want, wanting to show you that your petty ways of grabbing his attention won't work on him. That just riled you up more. It got you even worked up seeing him walk in and out of the house with nothing but content on his face, no matter what you'd do. Want to scream at him? Well go ahead, Hm, silent treatment? Nah. Nagging should do the work, right? Wrong.

It's when he arrived home, all happy with the news he'd received at work when you decided to act up. 

"I'm home!" Jaehyun screamed from the entrance, loosening his tie, making his way towards where you were, the bedroom. 

"Babe! I've got good news--!" he got cut off, by you slamming yourself right onto him, holding him by the wall beside your bedroom door. 

"Have you been ignoring me?" you ask, voice gruff. Jaehyun's face seemed to contort, pondering when he'd done so. 

"No?" He answered, mostly questioning himself. You huff out, turning towards the side as the neediness from being lonely and untouched for over weeks got the best of you. You look at him, dead in the eyes, "Yes you did. You picked up none of my calls.-" he cut you off with his reasoning "I was in a meeting baby-" you cut him off this time, "And you ignored each one of my texts. You saw them, but didn't bother replying." 

Jaehyun let his eyes roam around your figure, draped in his black shirt, hair left free, face red from anger, chest heaving. He smiled knowingly. 

"I was busy, now would you be an absolute sweetheart and make me something while I go freshen up?" he ended with a hum, bending down to place a peck on your lips. 

"No." you reply, backing away from his body, walking backwards as you grip at the hem of your shirt, "No?" Jaehyun replied, now standing comfortably by the wall you'd shoved him onto with his arms folded over his chest. 

"No." you confirm, "Alright suit yourself." he shrugged, still standing there to see what you've got up your sleeves as you proceed to walk backwards in the direction of your closet. 

"I'm going over to Johnny's. At least he'd pay me more attention." you mumbled the last part, wantedly a little louder for him to hear. 

Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows, he'd just gotten home. "And why would you do that?" he asked, stepping away from the wall, taking one small step towards you. "Because he knows how to give me attention and when." you reply loud and clear. Jaehyun visibly stiffened. 

You and Johnny had a history, you met Jaehyun through him, in fact. You guys were what your friends called friends with benefits. You'd cut off those ties and resorted to being best friends after getting into a relationship, of course. But Jaehyun always seemed hesitant to let you be alone with Johnny, but still gave you the freedom to do so. 

"What did you just say?" his voice gravelly as he took another step towards you. Jaehyun's sudden shift of demeanor makes you flinch the slightest. "I said, he knows how to give me attention and when, better than you for that matter."

Now that was strike three. 

Jaehyun's eyes darkened, as his built figure took long, fast strides towards you, scaring you a little, knowing you'd crossed the line. He stopped just an inch in front of you making you crane your neck to look at him, him lowering himself to be eye level with you. 

"What are you trying to get on, Y/n." Jaehyun asked, the pent up frustration of over time finally getting to him, gripping your shoulders in a tight hold making you hiss under your breath. 

Clearing your throat, you look down, then back up to his eyes, "Literally nothing. All I said was I'm going out to Johnnys" you stare at him with the same intensity his gaze held. Jaehyun's eyes narrowed, "Give me the exact reason." he asked, voice multiple octaves low. "Exact reason?" he hummed, "Well because my boyfriend won't fucking touch me so i have to seek help from my fuck buddy. There, happy?" 

You blink and next second you feel yourself being thrown down onto the sheets, earning a short gasp from your mouth. "Starting to whore around again, huh?" he spoke through gritted teeth, stripping out of his work suit, his biceps bulging as he removed his tie, his wrist watch, discarding only the watch by the side table, tie still in hand. 

"Well, whores get treated like whores." Jaehyun looked at you the way one would look at their prey. You whimper, his words, his aura, his voice all going straight to your core, sending shocks all throughout your body. "Strip." he ordered, standing tall, tie wrapped around his palm, arms folded over his chest, shifting his weight from one leg to another, body still adorning his white formal shirt and the black office pants, shirt tucked in making him look ethereal. 

You immediately comply, having waited for this all about the week, the only real material to remove being his shirt that had lifted up your thigh from how he'd thrown you onto the bed. 

You sit on your knees waiting for his next command. Jaehyun let out a throaty chuckle at your innocent gaze. He walked over towards the edge of the bed, gesturing with his hands for you to come over. You crawl over to him, sitting on your knees once again. You see him unwrap the tie and hold it in one hand, the other reaching out, "Give me your hands." he said in a throaty voice. You hesitate to do so, not wanting to be snatched of your freedom to touch him. 

You look at him with the most appealing, seductive look you could muster, trying to change his mind, all Jaehyun did was stare at you, boredom visible in his eyes. He waited, raising his eyebrows as you looked down at your hands that were resting on the bare flesh of your thigh. Jaehyun clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed, he took hold of your hands in a tight grip, "I don't like repeating myself, baby" he fumed, placing the silk clothing around your wrist, wrapping it multiple time before tying a knot tight enough to leave a bruise, making you wince, "And you know that." with one last tug at the knot, he backed away. 

Jaehyun removed his shirt, ripping it basically and all you could do was stare at him with lust oozing out of your eyes. At the sight of your boyfriends toned torso, you let out a silent moan, reaching your hands down between your thighs with your now tied up wrist, trying to soothe the aching. "Touch yourself and you won't even be allowed to fucking come." He growled, discarding the belt and his shirt, the only clothing on his body being his pants. You flinch at the tone of his voice, subtly brushing the tip of your finger on your clit, removing it immediately at his words. 

"Good. At least you know who does what here." Jaehyun exclaimed with voice dripping dominance, walking towards the bed once again and onto the bed, sitting the same way as you, still being taller. He trailed his hands up from your stomach, through the valley of your chest, and towards your neck, wrapping the elegant digits around the muscle, applying pressure, pushing you down onto the mattress. 

You look at him eyes wide, as the pressure increases, "Tell me, princess. Why have you been acting up lately?" Jaehyun inquired, hovering over your body, his broad shoulders covering you almost fully, the feeling of being powerless making your essence drip down onto the sheets 

"Answer me, bitch." he raised his voice, grip tightening around your neck, "J-jae-" you tap his hands, trying to let him know the pressure was too much. He didn't seem bothered though, until you frantically tried your hardest to gather as much oxygen as you could, he loosened just the slightest. 

"I-i'm sorry.. " was all you could get out, his eyes roaming all over your face before leaning down and capturing your lips in a rough kiss. Finally having some sort of your skinship with your boyfriend making you feel ecstatic as you allow yourself to slip into your subspace. Jaehyun swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, then biting it hard enough to draw a small amount of blood, making you gasp out loud, him taking advantage of your open mouth, slipping his tongue in. 

The exact moment, without you noticing, his hands had trailed down your body, towards your throbbing core, cupping the heat before shoving two digits straight into your wetness. 

You scream into the kiss, Jaehyun gulping down the sound, pulling away to hear your moans that were so addicting to his ears, the only thing keeping you attached being a string of saliva. 

Jaehyun didn't like it slow, his pace inhumanly fast in thrusting in and out of you, drawing moans after moans from you. 

"Look at you squirming already, tsk." He laughed, looking down at where his fingers disappeared in you, essence splattering each time he pulsed in. 

"J-Jae!" you tug at your wrist, wanting something to hold onto as he kept going, fingers curling in you making you jerk as you feel the tip of his fingers brush against your soft spot. 

With the actions of his skilled fingers, his gaze and the constant taunts, you felt yourself being dragged towards your high, expecting Jaehyun to slow down at the feeling of your wall clenching around his fingers, but all he did was smirk at you, moving downwards and increased the speed of his arms, the other wrapping around your middle to keep you in place as you thrash around, feeling your orgasm rip out of you. 

Jaehyun gave you one last smug look, before lowering himself, capturing your bundle of nerves in his mouth, fingers still going on about wanting to force another orgasm out of you.

You try closing your legs, the action making Jaehyun graze his teeth on your clit, removing his mouth from it right after, only to give your core a slightly rough smack, "Keep it open, baby. You wanted this." he mumbled against your core, vibrations of his voice travelling up your stomach, making your nipples painfully perk up, then resumed sucking and tugging on the sensitive bud. 

"jesus, fuck!" you cry out, not being given the chance to come down from your high, making you shut your eyes tight. 

Jaehyun dragged his fingers out slow, shoving it in with full force, watching you lift your back off the sheets, making the boy chuckle. His fingers fastened, if that was possible, tongue circling the clit, as you feel yourself near your second orgasm. 

"Ah, you're close again. Good, good." he spoke against your south lip, the feeling drawing you straight towards your high, as you feel a tear slip out of your eyes. 

Jaehyun immediately removed his fingers, lapping up the juices sprawling out of you, watching you twitch from being overstimulated. Eating you up clean, he backed away from your burning body, quickly discarding his pants alongside his boxer, chucking it somewhere behind him as you turned towards your side from the slight pain in your abdomen. 

Jaehyun looked at you, all fucked out, boosting his ego up further, as you desperately tried catching your breath. Futile. 

He let himself crawl back up your body, his hands removing the stray hair falling on your face, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair as you let yourself melt at his soft action. Funny, because the next moment, he gripped your roots, pulling you back onto your back making your breath hitch. "I had you come twice in less than 10 minutes, princess. You think Johnny could've done that?" he grunted, his painfully hardened dick now aligned by your entrance, making you squirm away as much as you could, Jaehyun keeping you in place with his hands tangled in your hair.

"Why the fuck are you silent now? Huh? Finally feeling bad for your sorry ass?" he tugged at the roots once again, making you shut your eyes tight at the pain, wanting freedom to move your hands however you want, being restrained by his necktie around your wrist.

Jaehyun dragged his length over your wetness, lubricating it before shoving it in completely, "Good, b-because i rather prefer you moan than use that annoying voice t-to talk about another guy" he grunted, the wetness and your tight walls feeling pleasurable on his member. 

You let out choked moans, letting Jaehyun ram himself inside you, tears continuously flowing down your cheeks. Jaehyun removed his hand from your hair, placing it beside your head instead to balance himself over you as he set a fast pace in going in and out. 

Jaehyun groaned, letting all his anger out by torturing your core, "Ja-jae slow down, I'm sensi-t-tive" you blurt out, mouth wide open. You hear him growl, pulling out of you, instead of saying anything, he flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips up in the air, before shoving his length back in. You let out a loud enough scream, clenching around his member, "That h-hurts.. " you cry out, keeping yourself up the best you could with your tied hands. "It should. With how you've been acting, you fucking deserve it." Jaehyun spoke, moving his hips against yours once again. In all honesty, you didn't want him to slow down, the pain not too unbearable, just perfect enough to be extremely pleasurable. 

Busy trying to focus on the feeling of his member moving in and out of your numb walls and trying to control your breath, you fail to notice one of his hands leave your waist, rubbing the flesh of your ass in a circular motion, lifting it up and bringing it down with full force, making you yelp at the sudden contact, "That's for being a fucking slut the entire week" his hands came down again, smacking the exact same spot, "That's for distracting me during work" you moan out, feeling your climax come closer with each smack, "That's for touching yourself." he groaned. 

He rubbed the reddening skin, bringing it back down with all his power, "That's for thinking about Johnny when I'm your fucking boyfriend" he finished, feeling you clench around his member as you reach your high. 

"And now she's coming again, fucking pathetic." he swore, your wetness producing squelching noises each time he pushed in, your overly dripping cunt now simply aching, unable to feel pleasure anymore. 

"J-jae i can't.." you say out in a strained voice, arms giving out as you lean your upper body down onto the mattress completely. "You can take a little more, and you will." he replied, going faster as he felt himself nearing the edge. Thrusts sloppier, Jaehyun reached out forward, gripping your hair once again, making you arch your back in a painful angle, as he held you there. His other hand reached out around your body, rubbing your clit in fast, circular motion, wanting you to come along with him. 

You tug at your wrist again, feeling the material pierce through your skin, making you cry out loud with pain both in your core and your wrist. 

You bite down your lips, feeling Jaehyun halt his hips, seeds coating your wall, the feeling having you experience an intense orgasm. 

He pulled out after emptying himself in you, your cries getting muffled, you feel both your juices drip down your thighs as Jaehyun gently lay you down. 

He took a hold of your hands, removing the tie, wincing at the red bruises, placing soft pecks all over the bruised area, he mumbled out a sorry, to which you just nodded your head. 

Jaehyun moved his body to sleep beside you, placing a kiss on your forehead as he ran his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner, making you calm down, "You okay?" he asked softly, you murmur out a faint yes, snuggling up his chest. 

After minutes of silence, the pain finally reducing the slightest, you ask Jaehyun, "you said something about having a good news..?" you whisper out loud enough for him to hear, eyelids growing heavier. He laughed out at your question, looking down at you, placing his chin on top of your head.

"Oh yeah, i got promoted."

[lockoutkey]

Puffy was in hell.

She didn’t want to be here, and she didn’t know fully why this man dragged her down here.

But now she’s in hell, and there’s a tall goddess in front of her.

“Goddess of Punishment, she is for you to deal with.”

Joe led her across the building to…well, she didn’t know. She was hoping it would be a portal to someone alive, but she doubted it. He just kept reciting poetry and then stopping halfway. He once asked who she was, and she had to repete herself again. Was this death? A neverending cycle of memory loss?She came to a smaller room, with a table and a few chairs in the middle. It seemed much cosier than the rest of the castle, almost like it was lived in and cared for. Wood carvings were scattered around. Someone had a hobby, she could tell.

A woman sat at one of the hairs, reading a book in a language she couldn't decipher. She looked up, most likely expecting Joe alone. Her face changed to one of confusion and annoyance upon Puffy's arrival. "Who are you?"

"Puffy felt sweat drip down ehr forehead. "My name is Puffy. A man, a god, dragged me here. Well, not here, but I walked here to find help. I'm not completely sure where I am. I'm trying to find Niki and Foolish. Anyone alive, really." Puffy rambled on, not able to stop her messy explination.

The woman narrowed her decaying eyes. "So that was what Cub was up to down here before he died."

Puffy had to assume the man's name was Cub. He was also dead now. She didn't know is she should be releaved about that. She also didn't know gods could die. God, she hoped Niki and Foolish were alright.

The woman tapped her rusty fingernails. Despite the rot, she was quite beautiful. She was color against a dark realm. She brought life to this place somehow. Puffy didn't trust her, she knew this goddess wasn't on her side. But she wouldn't harm her.

"You shouldn't have ended up in this predicament. Unfortunately, the fate of mortals can be...messy in the time fate is dying. It can rewrite itself for the next thousand years if needed. Everyone up there, they're so hellbent on revenge and perfection. I learned a long time ago you can't get what you want, just cherish what you have."

Puffy watched her reach for Joe's hand. They smiled at each other. She didn't know their history, but Puffy could tell they cared deeply for each other.

"I can't let you leave, I'm sorry. At least, not as you are now. Laws of the universe, revenge and death, it's all very complicated for mortals. Why do you think its so hard for newer gods? They have to learn rules so they don't destroy the entire world by making one mistake. Though, they don't need to know the specifics for death and life like I do." The woman continued to explain as if Puffy understood. She just wanted to leave.

Puffy was exausted. "What are you going to do to me?"

She grinned, light glinting off her sharp teeth. "Oh, that's not for me to decide. You want to see Puffy, the goddess of punishment can figure that out. Right, Kristin?"

"Of course, Cleo."

Puffy whipped around. The giant woman towered over her. Her silk dress flowed like waves as she walked, sunhat lightly bouncing with each step. "I-"

Kristin chuckled. "Don't worry, my punishments aren't ever too horrible. For those I like, at least. After all, my husband is a crow. That isn't a horrible life."

Puffy nearly fainted. She was going to be made into a crow.

Cleo leaned forward. "So what are your plans for her?"

Kristin shrunk down, placing her hands on her shoulders. "The fields are overcrowded and in chaos. Zedaph is a hunter now, he'll finds the strays. Cleo, you've had trouble with paperwork, correct?"

"Yes, it's overwhelming. There's no organization."

Puffy could feel fur growing over hear head. Her ears changed shape, as did her limbs. He panicked and looked for a mirror, only to see her entire being turn white with fur. Her legs bend backwards and her nose flattened. She looked towards Kristin in a panick.

The goddess of punishment smiled. Cold and welcoming. "The underworld needs a shephard. Welcome to work, Captain Puffy."