#Something was In There and wanted me very Dead

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Werewolf

There's something terrorising your town every full moon. And a stroke of bad luck has you running into it more than once.

There's something terrorising your town.

The chickens are turning up dead, torn apart with their feathers and blood clumped together all over the yard. The pigs spend every full moon squealing and running around their pens like they can smell a predator in the air. The hunters say there's strange tracks out in the deep woods, tracks bigger than any wolf they've ever seen.

And there's scratches on your door - deep, gouged out claw marks like something wants to dig its way into your house.

You try not to get worked up about it.

It's probably just a fox or a coyote, right? Everyone knows they steal a chicken now and then. And you've seen the six-packs of beer your dad takes when he goes hunting. Dog tracks look pretty damn big when you're drunk and it's dark out, don't they?

You try not to get worked up about it, but every full moon you double check your locks.

You're squinting at the local paper when your best friend comes up behind you and slings his arm across your shoulders. He plucks the paper out of your hand and scoffs at the headline.

"Chickens found dead at McKinnly farm? No one should be surprised by that. Old McKinnly doesn't even have the coop properly fenced in."

"Hey! I wasn't done reading that."

He balls the paper up and tosses it into the dustbin with a smooth overhead throw.

"You are now. C'mon y/n, don't tell me you're buying into all this werewolf business too?"

Your best friend towers over you, every inch of him well bred, football star muscle. You have to crane your neck to properly glare at him.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just sensational nonsense."

"Oh yeah? So you ain't scared of a big bad wolf breaking into your bedroom one night?"

It's your turn to scoff. "That's a pervert, not a wolf. How's a wolf even supposed to open a window?"

The school bell rings before he can give you an answer.

He groans. "I've got extra practice again tonight. Will you come watch me? We can get pizza after."

You grin. "Breaking News! Star quarterback needs his favourite cheerleader around to make life bearable."

He flicks your forehead. "Damn right I do. So whatcha say?"

"Sure. Someone's gotta be around to keep you on your toes."

It's only when he's long out of sight that you remember - you're one night away from the full moon.

He destroys his team mates at practice. When he's pounding down the field, head down and his fingers curled like claws around the ball, he almost looks inhuman.

After practice, he catches you before you can scramble away and rubs his sweaty face all over you.

"Ewwww." You shove him at him unsuccessfully. "You do that every time! It's so gross!"

"Gotta be faster than that squirt," he laughs.

By the time he's done in the locker room, you've already ordered pizza for the both of you.

You head up to the overlook, his old Mustang growling down the highway.

The overlook is exactly what it sounds like - a hill high over town with a great view of the twinkling streets far below. It's a clear night, and the almost full moon casts a silvery shadow over everything.

He slings his arm across the back of your seat and complains when you pick the olives off your side of the pizza.

"God, I hope your taste in men is better than your taste in pizza."

"My taste in men and pizza are equally questionable, thank you very much."

He laughs, "At least you're self aware. Speaking of guys, I know Murrey from Algebra asked you to prom, and Dave from Homeroom."

You groan. "How did you even hear about that?"

"I've got ears like a wolf." He turns to face you. "What did you tell them?"

"I said no. You and I go together every year."

"Atta girl." He sounds pleased.

You offer him some of your discarded olives and he bites them straight out of your fingers.

"Y'know, lots of girls were awfully disappointed you didn't ask them. When are you gonna get yourself a girlfriend, mister star quarterback?"

He leans down and ruffles your hair. "I got you in my life, don't I? That's plenty."

Eventually, his arm finds it's way to your shoulder, and he pulls you against his side. He's warmer than you and when you curl up against him, he smirks and says that's what you get for being hopelessly under dressed.

There's an old love song on the radio and you fall asleep with your hand knotted in his jacket.

He drives home extra slow and when he shakes you awake, his hands linger on your waist.

You rub your eyes groggily. "Goodnight mister wolf."

You're already halfway up the driveway before he replies, his voice too soft to hear.

"Goodnight little lamb."

On the night of the full moon, you wake up to a cloudy sky and your dog scratching at your bedroom door to be let out.

You struggle into your slippers and mutter about better toilet training. When you open the back door, he slips past your legs and shoots off into the trees. Yawning, you rest your elbows on the porch railing and try not to fall asleep.

It's only when you hear him yelping that you come awake fully.

"Cruiser? What's wrong boy?"

The street lights reach all the way to the edge of your lawn but the trees beyond are black dark. You make you way down carefully, your sense of unease growing with every whistle he ignores.

Your dad left his old wind up torch near the shed and you grab it. It whirs to life with a dull flicker.

Cruiser is whimpering louder now. You follow the sound of it, ducking under branches and trying not to slip in your flimsy slippers.

The clouds clear and for a minute or two, the forest is bright enough that you barely need the torch. You find Crusier backed up against a tree, his tail tucked between his legs. He ignores you when you call him, staring out into the dark and whining like you've never heard before.

"What's wrong boy? What's out there?"

You can't help the fear you feel. Your dog is hard to scare and you've never seen him this frightened.

Twigs snap in the gloom and you swing your torch around wildly. You try and tell yourself that it might be a deer, wandering in from the deep forest. But all you can think about is the local paper.

"Chickens torn apart. Vet suspects large wolf on the prowl."

But it can't be here, right? You're practically on the main road. You reach down and grab Cruiser's collar, your heart racing. The dog barely acknowledges you when you tug on it.

"Heel Cruiser. C'mon boy."

You try and whisper, but your voice comes out high and nervous. His whimper changes into a low growl that vibrates through his collar.

That's when the moon comes out again. And you see the werewolf.

It's coat is dark and thick, and it's crouched halfway behind a tree. Less than twenty feet away.

How the hell did it get so close without you hearing it?! Adrenaline slams into you and your heart skips into overdrive. You turn on your heel and run.

The funny thing about adrenaline is the way your own body takes control. You duck under branches before your conscious mind even realises they're there. You run faster than you ever thought possible, trees streaking by in black blurs.

You hear footsteps behind you but you can't tell if it's Cruiser or the wolf. You don't bother checking. You just keep your head down and sprint like the Devil is on your heels. Hell, he might be.

The werewolf catches you just as you break out of the tree-line. It slams into you from the side and sends you sprawling.

As you scramble to your knees, you get your first good look at the terror of the town. It's bigger than any wolf you've ever seen. Closer to the size of a small grizzly, with the thick fur to match. It's down on all fours, but it's forelegs are unusually long. It's paws are strangely misshapen and for a second, they look almost like hands. It's body feels more ape than wolf.

Oh, but it's teeth are all canine. All sharp, curving fangs, shining with spit.

It sniffs the air and with a start you realise that you're bleeding. Your palms are sliced up from trying to cushion your fall. Blood, you think numbly. Blood is supposed to make carnivores more aggressive. Whett their appetite.

Staring up at its drooling maw and narrowed eyes, you find it hard to believe anything could be more bloodthirsty.

It lunges for your throat and if it weren't for Cruiser, you'd be dead.

The dog shoots out from the forest, barking loud enough to wake the neighbourhood. He jumps at the creature's back, sinking his teeth into the fleshy muscle where neck and shoulder meet.

The werewolf roars.

It reaches up and tears Cruiser off with one nasty yank. Your dog thuds into the ground with an ugly cracking sound.

You scream - half terror and half rage. Cruiser is trying to stand, but can't manage it. One paw hangs uselessly. Oh, your poor, brave dog.

You act without thinking.

You lunge forward and punch straight at the werewolf's nose. It's hard and wet, and your fist keeps going even after contact. His teeth leave shallow cuts on your knuckles.

The werewolf yelps. Like a kicked puppy.

It backs away a few steps before lowering it's head and snarling. It gears up for another pounce.

That's when your daddy shoots it. The blast from his shotgun knocks the werewolf right out of the air.

It crashes down and scrambles to its feet. Its head swings wildly between you and your father. It growls one final time before turning on its heel and bounding into the trees.

How the hell could it even stand after a blast like that? You shudder, your eyes fixed on the trees.

You can hear your dad on the phone, frantically reporting to the Sheriff's office. You sink to your knees next to Cruiser. He draws his eyes up to yours and whines.

"My brave boy..." You stroke his head with the back of your hand and accidentally stain his fur with blood. "I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

He cranes his neck and licks the tears off your cheek. Just like when he was a puppy. You laugh, high and hysterical. And once you start, you can't stop.

Somewhere in the forest, the wolf howls.

You can't sleep at all after that. And when the Deputies question you, it takes almost all night. They don't believe you entirely, but the tracks their dogs pick up are strange enough to garner a few nervous looks.

You're on the porch, clutching a warm drink and watching the sunrise, when your best friend finds you.

He sweeps you up in a crushing hug, his cheek pressed firmly against your hair.

"Are you okay? I came as soon as I heard."

You pull away, confused. He cups your face in his hand and gently twists it left and right, scanning for any cuts or bruises.

"What? Who told you?"

He cooks his head. "You did. A few minutes ago."

Did you? You don't remember calling him. But you're tired and frightened. Maybe you just can't remember everything.

He sits you down on the porch swing and carefully inspects your palms while you tell him what happened.

"It wasn't a wolf. You believe me right? I saw it clear as day."

"You were pumped up on adrenaline and fighting for your life. You can't be sure what you saw." He sighs, "Maybe it was a wolf or maybe it was a bear or maybe it was some exotic animal that we've never heard about. But really y/n, it sure as hell wasn't a werewolf."

"Yeah... but..."

In the daylight, werewolves and horror feel silly. Illogical. You aren't a kid anymore, you shouldn't be letting your imagination run wild. There's definitely a reasonable explanation.

But every time you think about it, the more sure you feel. That creature was nothing normal or logical at all. It was wrong. Anatomy all out of proportion, eyes too bright and aware, the smell of it more like human sweat than dog musk.

No, you didn't imagine any of it. It wasn't a wolf at all.

"How's Cruiser doing?"

You take a sip of your drink and try not to cry. "Not good. The emergency vet came by and rushed him to surgery. Multiple broken bones they say, maybe some internal bleeding."

He sucks in a breath. "Oh y/n, I'm so sorry."

He opens his arms and you curl up against him gratefully. His letterman jacket is soft against your skin and the smell of him envelopes you.

"I still remember the day you got him for me," you say.

He rubs soothing circles across your back.

"He was such a runt back then. All eyes and big floppy ears. When you pulled him out of your jacket, I didn't realise he was a puppy. I thought you got me some weird stuffed teddy."

He laughs. "I tried putting a bow on him y'know. But he kept tryna bite my fingers off."

You laugh too. "I could never figure out why he didn't like you."

"Jealousy I say. Didn't want me to steal you away."

You punch his arm, smiling. "You're the only guy who'll compete with a dog for my attention."

"If that's what it takes. Put a leash on me right now if you want."

You scoff and curl up closer against him. "I would but they don't come in your size big guy."

You're too tired to notice the bruise on your best friend's nose, or the way he flinches when you touch his side. For a little while, you make the awful mistake of forgetting about the beast.

Prom comes faster then you expect. Your dress gets measured and tailored and steamed. You spend days practicing different hair styles. Cruiser limps around behind you, whining for treats like he wasn't touch and go just a month ago. The moon grows thin and then round again.

When you pull up at your best friend's house, his parents are on their way to a party of their own. His mother gives you a peck on the cheek and says you look stunning and to not forget the keys when you leave.

You laugh and wave them off and almost forget about the full moon streaming through the trees.

The house is quiet and you make your way to his room, your heels hanging from your fingers.

"Hey princess!" You knock on his door. "Are you ready yet? I'm coming in!"

You open the door to an empty room, his tux still on its hanger.

"Oh. My. God. How are you still not done?"

You can hear the shower running and you pound at the door. "We're gonna be late! I swear I'm going to kill you when you get out of there."

No response.

"Hey! I know you can hear me!"

Still nothing.

You try the handle and the door swings open a crack. Steam billows out and you slap a hand over your eyes before you can see anything too revealing.

"Hurry it up! We're gonna miss all the good songs if you don't get dressed soon. Do you really wanna slow dance to something Mr Jared the gym teacher picks out?"

You hear the slap of footsteps on wet tile and breath a sigh of relief. "Did all that football practice knock your ears outta wack? I've been yelling at you since I got here."

Something growls, low and deep.

Your eyes shoot open and you step back. But you're still too slow to react and the werewolf leaps at you. Its heavier than a man and you tumble to the floor together, its paws pinning you down by the shoulders.

Its snout is right in front of your face, almost touching your nose. Lips curl away from awfully long fangs.

It growls almost like a man, almost like it's saying, "Mine."

You scream, kicking and tossing and failing to get away. It's claws prick holes in the satin of your dress and draw little beads of blood.

You scream your best friend's name, terrified that the beast got him too. You're going to die, you think desperately, you're going to die and your poor mother won't even be able to refund your prom dress. If you weren't screaming, you might have laughed.

But the monster doesn't kill you.

Instead, it licks the tears off your cheek. Just like Cruiser did a month ago. It growls again, but the sound is lighter. Pleased almost.

You grow still, confused and terrified of provoking it. Your best friend's room is cluttered with football gear - trophies and jerseys and signed helmets. The moon shines dully off all of it. And you're in the very centre, with a monster pinning you to the ground.

The moon dips behind a cloud and the werewolf changes right before your eyes. Hair and snout receding, his eyes darkening from wolf amber to warm brown.

It's only his teeth that stay the same. All sharp points that peak through his lips.

Your best friend is on top of you, totally naked and still warm from the shower.

"I didn't want to hurt you y/n, I swear."

His voice is lower somehow, like the wolf's growl is just under the surface.

You're too shocked to move. Too shocked to scream. This must be a dream. It's too surreal to be real.

He leans down and kisses you on the cheek. "I wanted to tell you. But it would have sounded crazy. I grow claws and teeth on the full moon? I heal faster than I used to? I can smell when you're ovulating and when you're on your period?"

He pulls back and tilts his head. "When we were kids, we promised we wouldn't keep secrets. And now you know."

"You...you were outside my house that night."

He laughs. "I'm outside your house every night dummy. That was just the night you caught me."

"Why?"

He shakes his head the way he always does when you say something dumb. "To keep you safe. To keep other animals away from you. To protect you, like I said I would."

His hands slip from your shoulders to your waist. "But now you know."

He grins, his teeth awfully sharp. "Now I can make you just like me."

He holds you down and kisses you and nips at your neck hard enough to draw blood. And when the clouds clear from the moon, you feel your teeth start to lengthen.

Something is terrorising your town. And you should have know better than to cross its path.

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 bf!rafe had been hitting the gym a lot lately, and gosh had bunny!reader noticed it

c!w; mdni !! gymbro!rafe sorta (he's not toxic just beefy yum), bunny!reader, bicep riding, playful biting no blood, size kink !, use of the nicknames rafey & baby, p in v, 'unprotected' sex, choking, overstimulation. notes; think season one rafe if he went to the gym more instead of doing all that coke lolll i love him tho. bring beefy rafe back pls !!

you were just lounging on the couch of rafe's condo, the sun finally setting, just minding your business watching some girly series in a small cami and lacy shorts that you could never watch with your macho boyfriend.

you could hear the key in the front door turning, the door opening and you shot up smiling. god you loved seeing rafe when he just got back from the gym, the pump still visible and sweat gleaming off every juicy muscle of his.

"hiiii rafey" you sang, grinning from ear to ear, ogling him shamelessly. he was completely aware you loved how he looked in those stupid tanks he wore to the gym, how you had a thing for his beefy biceps. he scoffed with a grin, taking note that once again upon coming back from the gym, here you are, waiting attentively to stare at him.

he dumped his bag to the side of the couch before coming over and flopping down, "hey baby" he breathed, leaning back into the couch. you immediately glued yourself to his side, already latched onto a bicep. he looked down at your hand before grinning up at you, signalling he knew what you were doing.

you chewed at your lip a little, looking at him through your lashes, "how was the gym?" he knew all you wanted to hear was how much he lifted with his strong arms but he began talking about cardio, and your face slowly dropped.

"what baby?" he mocked, faking disappointment in your disinterest, "do you not wanna hear what i did?" you pursed your lips, realising you didn't want to give away just how obsessed you were with his big muscles and nodded, still clutching a bicep as you listened.

he scoffed and looked down as he shook his head, "i know what you really wanna hear..." your eyes went a little wide at the confrontation. you were totally caught out, of course he knew, you were so bad at hiding how wet his beefy frame made you.

you looked away, face a little flushed as you tried to hide the tinge of embarrassment flowing through you. "noo c'mon, i love that you're so obsessed with my muscles bunny, makes me feel like 'm doing good at the gym" he cooed, reaching a hand to tuck fly aways behind your ear.

you looked back at him, grinning, "mm. just love you rafey." you shyly replied, your hand now squeezing and feeling up the bicep you've been clinging to.

he looked down at you as you played with his arm, very amused.

"you wanna ride my bicep a lil', bunny?" he smirked. you stopped dead in your tracks, face now bright red. are you going to say no? ...well, no. but the way he so confidently asked you made you so nervous.. but so wet.

your bottom lip slid between your teeth and you carefully nodded. rafe's brow furrowed slightly for a second and his other hand grasped at the fat of your cheeks, stopping you from chewing on your lip, "uh-uh, don't bite your lips like that. bite something else."

when he'd finished his sentence you'd already made up your mind, your eyes lighting up and after he released your face from his grasp you pulled his arm up and quickly sunk your teeth into his bicep, happily chewing and drooling all over it. rafe grinned, his signature smirk adorning his face.

"as much as i love how much fun you're having bunny, why don't you get those little shorts off off hm?" he said lowly, his free hand snaking around your hip. heat pooled in your stomach and you released his arm, faint teeth marks indented in his bicep.

he took no time in pulling your lacy shorts off, tongue darting between his lips as he took in the pretty sight that was your wet panty clad cunt. a hand cupped your heat, sending a quick jolt of pleasure through you at the touch, your pussy sensitive.

"c'mere, come rub this pussy on my bicep hmm?" he prompted, all shame had dissipated from your pretty little head and you watched as rafe lay down on the couch, his arm splayed out and ready for you.

you practically jumped up before coming over and slowly sitting yourself right on where his muscle tensed, a grin spread across your face as your panties grew more and more wet.

rafe flexed, the muscle tensing under your wet pussy and the sensation driving you insane as you rutted up against him. "such a good girl f'me, so wet all over my bicep" he cooed, only making you more dizzy as you used your beefy boyfriend to pleasure yourself.

after a little while, your poor pussy grew desperate to have something to clench around, and rafe could tell you needed his dick in order to cum.

he smirked and as soon as you got up to straddle him, he had you turned around, your back to his chest and your ass in his lap. he wraps his arm around your neck in a headlock while spreading your legs to hang over his. kissing your face and whispering in your ear while pulling his throbbing cock from his gym shorts, "let's see how much you love these muscles around your neck while my cock's in that sweet pussy hmm."

you could've died right there, he tapped your clit making you jolt in pleasure, your cunt too sensitive now and begging for it, rafe slid his cock through your folds slowly before finally plunging into you.

it took a moment for you to sink down completely on his length, but when you did you let out a loud pornographic moan in satisfaction, rafe groaning with you. he was thrusting into you so hard that you let out a shriek with every stroke of his hips, the sheer girth of him was splitting you open. your eyes were wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under the flesh of your tummy, "ohohoh rafe! it's so so big, ohmygoddd" you groaned, not having to worry about anyone but the neighbours hearing your shrieks.

he was drilling into at an unforgivable speed, his bicep curling increasingly tighter around your bare neck, you were on the verge of blacking out when his arm loosened to start toying with your clit as his other hand continued to bounce your on his cock.

"fuuuck, you're taking this fat cock so well bunny, shit" he rasped into the shell of your ear causing you to roll your eyes back. your brain was practically empty, rafe's cock filling you so far to the brim that all you could think about was how stuffed you were.

"uh huh, uh huh- i love your cock rafey." you groaned back, delirious as the coil in your tummy tugged, threatening to snap any minute. rafe continued to fuck you senseless, groaning himself as his cock began twitching, he too nearing release.

finally white hot rushed through your body, coating rafe's cock as he spilled into you with a ragged groan only to drive himself into you hard, rubbing your clit to keep you cumming. you were convulsing, shaking and legs trembling, writhing in pain and pleasure as rafe works your poor, swollen sensitive bud. "rafe.. rafe! please!" you begged, entire body twitching when he made you cum immediately after the first time.

completely fucked out, you slumped back against rafe's sweaty chest, still groaning a little. the fog in your mind still strong when rafe carefully lifted you off his soft length and onto the leather couch. you lay there, breathing deeply as he grinned at you,

"such a good little bunny f'me, i love you." he whispered, gently kissing your lips and then your forehead.

[iwieldthesword]

I have a similar story! When I was a kid my mom (Jewish) wanted to celebrate Christmas because we lived in a very Catholic area and she wanted her kids to fit in, but my dad (atheist ex-WASP) didn't like Christmas. He particularly didn't like the idea of Santa Claus--something about the idea of Santa being creepy or too religious or just too Christmassy--and since my mom is Jewish she didn't have a strong basis of how Christmas should be celebrated.

So we did the tree and the hot chocolate and the gifts, but instead of getting presents from Santa, my sister and I got presents from my mom and my dad. Oh, and we also got presents from Hazen S. Pingree, idol of the people.

Apparently my dad had seen this statue in the seventies and thought the epithet was hilarious, so instead of Santa I got Christmas presents from the long-dead ghost of Governor of Michigan and mayor of Detroit Hazen S. Pingree (idol of the people) every year for the first decade or so of my life.

They did not tell me this was absolutely not normal, which definitely undercut my mom's attempt at helping us fit in but was also the funniest choice.

[bunnwich]

Why Leona Gave Himself The Bad Ending

Leona Kingscholar Analysis

Usual disclaimer to say that these are just my thoughts and you don’t have to feel pressured to agree. This was my thought process as I played through the parts of Chapter 7 Parts 212-226, featuring Leona’s dream triggered by Malleus’s magic.

--

I wanna start off by saying that I believe all the dreams are a mixture of Malleus’s magic and the dreamers themselves. 

Idia theorized that Malleus is sort of “setting up the parameters” in a way, then each of the dreamers' personalities and imaginations affect the dream in different ways. The emphasis of this has been brought by Idia several times that it’s the strength of imagination that determines how complex dreams are. Which is maybe why in the first years dreams seem so basic? They’re young, their magical abilities are still new, and their magic is no match for Malleus’s magic. That and, to be fair, most of the first years don’t have the same amount of angst and turmoil as some of the other second years and third years have.

With that being said, I believe that because of his high intelligence, magical prowess, and his hyper-vigilance, that is the main reason Leona’s dream was so…different than the others.

But let's get into it!

There are a lot of Lion King references in this dream, and it’s very clear the writers wanted to play around and show this off. I feel like they did a good job of integrating the themes of the movie into Leona's dream. It does give me a little validation as I feel Leona’s struggles and personality are closely linked to his great Seven Counterpart, Scar. More so than any of the other overblotters. When I analyze Leona I sometimes I do use Scar as a starting point to understand his intentions.

This is how I came to the conclusion long ago that being king would never make Leona happy because it's not what he truly wants.

We start with the dream back in the Sunset Savanna. It’s VERY interesting to see that there is hyena prejudice right off the bat as a woman flees from Ruggie while he attempts to buy food. 

Right off, everyone can tell something is…off about the city. Especially coming fresh from Ruggie’s dream where everything was idyllic and happy for hyenas BECAUSE of Leona.

Grim hits us with the: “I laugh in the face of danger!” line. We even get the three hyenas referenced and the “love for you to stick around for dinner” line. The once proud lioness-dominated palace guard has been taken over by hyena “ruffians” (interesting choice to portray a disenfranchised group being given jobs as the new guard as a negative thing, but moving on.)

The first interesting thing we get is that the palace is somewhat rundown and empty? The group makes comments of how dark and dreary it is, and how few people are around. Is there an implication that the servants fled at some point after Leona became King or did he replace them? This further shows me that Leona for whatever reason has chosen to isolate himself. To me, it's most likely that he already feels isolated by his country and those in the palace.

From the looks of it “Malleus’s magic” has given Leona the one thing he has always wanted, but has he? Leona seems less than thrilled and genuinely upset by the fact his whole family is...gone. As I mentioned in my Leona relationships post, I think that he holds a complex relationship with his family, and while he resents them, in no way can I see him wanting them to be dead. 

It’s now I started to think that Leona’s magic was overriding the simple “let them eat cake” logic of all of the happier dreams. This dream feels TOO real, dark, dreary, and…sad. Could it be Leona’s intelligence or cynicism, ruining what’s supposed to be an idyllic scenario?

Why is even in his WILDEST dreams Leona is still miserable?

Hmm.

A lot of people have talked about Kifaji and their thoughts on his presence. It’s strange to see people praise him as “a loving parental figure” as if he’s really there trying to help Leona. But, Kifaji is not there. This Kifaji is a manifestation of Leona’s mind and I’ll get to why that’s interesting and what I think he represents. Remember, that often in other dreams we’ve seen of loved ones or rivals and they can act normal, out of character, or even cruel. Vil and Neigie come to mind and Neige turned out to be the blot keeping Vil asleep.

Kifaji is a bit different. He actively tries to help the group wake Leona as opposed to encouraging the twisted dream logic. For this reason, to me, Kifaji represents Leona’s conscious and the Dream!Leona we see represents his shadow self, like the dark side of the moon. AKA, the Leona we meet in Chapter 2. In fact, this whole dream feels like a rehash of Chapter 2.

We get the outdated Leona that dumbs himself down and settles for less, cloaking himself in his pride and believing that everyone is below him. An idle king while he lets others do his dirty work. (Scar basically.)

Leona asks Kifaji to sing (another Lion King reference) and it plays out how you would think. Leona tells Kifaji that he is the only competent person in the kingdom. And he argues that the kingdom is in shambles, not because of his choices as King, but because everyone else sucks basically.

Hmm. 

Kifaji reminds Leona that while he is clever and his plans are grand, that he can not treat people like human chess pieces. (Can I just say I love when chess is brought up to us because I find that when people analyze Leona or his thoughts they often forget how much he uses chess to process his thoughts. We saw that plenty in the Tamashina Mina event!) I think it helps him sort his thoughts and emotions which he can have a hard time doing.

I think Kifaji represents Leona’s mindset post Chapter 2 and because Kifaji in his real life is one of the only people who probably stands up to Leona, he has placed him in this antagonist role in his mind. (but not really) Plus, it’s not far off from Kifaji’s actual treatment of Leona in the Tamashina Mina event.

So yeah, Leona acts more like he does in Chapter 2—he's the player or the king even and everyone else around is just lowly pieces.

Just like the scene from The Lion King, Scar and Leona are not happy. Even though they are supposedly getting their deepest desire, they remain bitter and…alone. 

When I first began to read into Leona it was quite obvious to me that the whole “I’ll never be king" thing was just a front for something else. What I think Leona truly craves is approval and acceptance.

Being king, especially of a broken kingdom that despises him, will never make him happy. But, why do the people not love him? This is supposed to be a fantasy right?

There is this interesting layer of how he became king too. Instead of Cheka or Falena simply not existing, like I thought it might be, they are dead. That is…so much more tragic than it needed to be. As if deep down Leona believes the only way he can become king (his dreams to come true) is if tragedy happens. This reminds me of his bitter view/the symbolism of his unique magic. That he can only bring misery wherever he goes—everything he touches turns to sand. 

I also think that Leona is afraid of failing and much of this dream is his anxieties and insecurities that linger from all his past failures.

Though interestingly enough, I sense that in the dream, as implied later by Idia, Leona has implemented an “over-exaggeration” of his policies and plans for the kingdom. It was almost like he purposely ran his resources dry and gave up trying to compromise with anyone for the sake of “progress.”

Why, though?

It’s very masochistic in a way. It’s almost like he wanted to prove himself right. Everything he touches will turn to sand eventually and his grand plans will fail even if he claims they are “perfect.”

That’s why this dream is probably the most masochistic and self-deprecating we have seen. I think what initially began to draw me to Leona’s character is because of the hidden pain he holds. He is by far one of the most easygoing, and lackadaisical acting of the cast, but…he cares, he cares so, so much about how he is perceived and his haunted by his hopelessness about his future and the failures of his past.

I think the pain of never feeling good enough, causes his mind to be unable to “play nice” with Malleus’s dream magic to even manifest any sort of positive future. One where he holds a position he wants AND is loved and respected. it’s just impossible that he could ever have that, even in his wildest dreams. 

He’s too much of a “realist.”

Side tangent, but a frustrating take is to see was the: “Oh yeah, see? He would have sucked as king.” tinged comments after this came out.

 I think it’s more complicated than that. 

This isn’t me trying to defend him necessarily, but to be fair, all dreams tend to be over exaggerations by the dreamer. Plus, I think the fact that Ruggie HATES Leona in this dream and is suddenly in favor of Falena, is a sign right there we can not trust Leona’s interpretation of the people he knows in his dream. He is sort of an unreliable narrator that way. 

Besides, like in The Lion King, why would all the water dry up, just because the hyenas over-hunted? 

A big theme in Lion King and even The Lion Guard TV show is "the balance of nature." The blight upon the Pridelands when Scar takes over feels more like symbolism of the “unbalance of nature” caused by the tragedy of Mufasa’s death. Which makes me again, connect that Leona feels the only way he can succeed is by inflicting misery on others. Like his magic, perhaps a part of him believes he is a curse. 

I theorized in my Tamashina Mina review, that maybe Leona feels like an outcast himself, and the separation he feels from his country is showcased in how he blames the citizens for the decline of the kingdom, rather than his plans. He feels isolated from them.

By this point, I was having flashbacks to Chapter 2, where he got a whiff of his plan failing and he still pushed through even though he knew it would fail. At first, he may have started doing okay as king, but maybe when he came upon too many obstacles or pushback, He just gave up. Because he was not instantly loved by the people, who probably already feared him, he’d rather not even try. Suddenly, they are “not worth his time”, and he can’t help them because they suck.

Leona’s problem has always been his pride. I think he has to put it aside to genuinely help people reach their potential and learn to collaborate with others more. Part of how this dream plays out, is him realizing that maybe some criticisms Kifaji had about his pride all along may be true. Leona refuses to play nice with others. 

That’s why I think Kifaji represents a more sensible and lucid Leona. He is in a sense, talking to his past self, and trying to shake himself from the dream and his outdated ideals.

Ortho even points out that Ruggie is not really the Ruggie we know but rather a part of Leona’s imagination. Again, which puts emphasis on how the characters in his dream are more indicative of his mindset as opposed to being “in character”. Maybe Ruggie hating him in his dream is his inner anxieties about him and Ruggie post Chapter 2 fallout. He feels like Ruggie could never forgive him for what he did. He let him down. And Leona being bad with people and feelings, doesn’t know the proper way to apologize.

Kifaji (woke Leona) says that the state of the kingdom is a result of him “pursuing efficiency over all things and disregarding other people's feelings.” It really feels like he is calling himself out here. Does he REALLY wanna help people? Or is it just Leona’s selfish pride who wants attention for just being smart?

Dream!Leona complains about the protesters interrupting his nap which is another sign for me of the exaggeration of the scenario of Leona being the king. Like...did he not criticize Falena for having the same carefree and laid-back attitude? And yet here he is...complacent in the same behavior he once criticized Falena of. 

Interesting.

Ortho mentions that Leona’s dream is clearly a more complex situation than the other dreams.

I think there is a key implication we are missing here too, that I haven’t seen many mention. There is a throwaway line that Jack mentions that Leona has not attended school and is king instead. And he doesn't seem to know Dream!Ruggie either. Nor Ruggie him.

There is no doubt his time at NRC has shaped him to be the Leona we know now. Someone who has at least somewhat benefited with the connections he made at school. It does seem like this Dream!Leona is regressed. And because he never attended school, he is a much colder person who has no regard for others' feelings at all. He is even more socially inept.

I feel like this is a common theme to show us that despite the independent nature of most of the students at NRC, that it can still be “the friends we made along the way.” trope.  These connections do matter and especially to Leona. He mentions this in his post-overblot monologue in the light novel. He found his pack at NRC.  This time with his dorm members affected his personality for the better. It's kinda sweet when you think about it!

Ortho mentions Dream!Leona appears DEEPLY absorbed in the delusions of his dream. This means that even though he has the lucid failsafe of Kifaji, Leona’s self-deprecation, despair, and pain are still overtaking his logic. That's what's crafted this nightmare. (And he later references it as such.) 

Everyone acknowledges that he can’t possibly be happy and looks EVEN MORE miserable than at school. It can't be a silly happy fantasy, but a grim dark reality of what he thinks of himself. 

That's why he gave himself the bad ending.

I love the double entendre of Idia saying Leona is building his dream like a “sandbox” game. Lots of Minecraft references. (Leona Minecrafter confirmed? Or hear me out…Leona playing King Crusaders or Civilization V FGHJ)

Anyways, Idia or Ortho, (I forget) suggests that perhaps he has run out of ”simulations” for his dream playthrough. And being an intelligent person his mind tends to overthink naturally and this caused his dream to have a more realistic tone. Plus, I theorize that because Leona is powerful and his intelligent, his magic and imagination was almost able to overwrite Malleus's, a standard happy dream formula.

Ortho suggests Leona chose a more “realistic mode “on purpose.” Perhaps like I theorized earlier, it is almost a masochistic test to see if he could have everything he wanted? Leona is a very analytical person who enjoys games. It makes sense, the way he often plays chess alone to practice “strategies.” But as I mentioned before, I think he just genuinely believes it's not possible. Ortho mentions he thinks Leona’s the type to understand that an “aggressive urban development” would come with risks.

Jack asks “If Leona knew this was a bad plan then why would he make the citizens suffer and be hated?”  (Sheesh, now we know Leona really is the type to play pretend and get a lil too real with it.)

Ruggie adds that Leona may be “doing something he knows he shouldn't be on purpose.” Like maybe he did it to be dastardly and maybe he just wanted to “feel the rush” of being a ruthless and hated king.

When Azul asks Ruggie if he thinks Leona takes pleasure in immoral things he says that he can't say for sure, only that he is a prince that no doubt can take pleasure in “bad things”.

To me, however, it feels like a masochistic move to prove to himself his happiness is unattainable. 

Then Sebek chimes in: “How could he go so far to kill his family only to abandon his responsibilities as a king and become a horrible one?"

No one seems to know for sure. Everyone in the group has their theories but the consensus in the group is that - nobody fuckin’ knows why this guy intricately carved himself such a miserable fantasy for himself. Very masochistic for a guy who appears to be so proud huh?

Idia continues to mention that Leona’s imagination is so vast compared to everyone else's. It fills out a whole “world” completely and the mechanics of this world must make sense. He's playing on hard mode. In Leona’s brain this seemed to manifest as if he is to “get what he wants” it can't be serendipitous or through triumph, IT MUST be through tragedy.

Can we lighten up a little?

Again, he may have started to do “good work” but quickly realized that keeping up with all to create a perfect kingdom was waaaay over his head. Maybe he was afraid to give it his all, because he knew everyone would still hate him anyway.

Another reason I think Leona thrives better as a “big fish in a small pond” so to speak. Like his dorm leader role where he can interact directly with his cute (this man used this word a lot for some reason) froshes, make tangible make things better for a small group or community. 

But as we saw, even with his dorm Leona began to feel overwhelmed with the pretty promises he made to his underclassmen in Chapter 2 about the Spelldrive tournament. He like…wants to be wanted but he’s terrified of people actually relying on him, because trying your best and then failing anyways is the most painful thing to him. His instinct when he gets too frustrated with something is to act like he never cared about it in the first place or anyone. AKA “I did everything right and it's THE REST OF YOU who are incompetent.”

That’s why I personally think that in the future Leona working within a small community might be a better fit for him, using his skills to see potential in others as a way to connect with them and teach them how to thrive. 

So yeah, needless to say the group is stumped on analyzing Leona’s intentions and Azul hilariously notes that Leona is just…a complicated person. 

What an understatement.

The group hatches a silly plan to have Ruggie puppet a Cheka hologram and yeah obviously it didn’t work.

This is where it started to get interesting again.

Dream!Kifaji said he’s been “waiting for the day Leona would wake up from his bad dream” and joins the fight against him to wake him. It’s like Leona telling himself that it's time to let his original dream go.

Ortho is surprised Kifaji is on their side, that he should be the darkness pulling Leona back in, but like I mentioned I think Kifaji is actually a “fail safe” Leona created to stay lucid or...maybe the little bit of hope he has fostered now that he has grown from Chapters 2’s events.

Since Kifaji is the one to normally call him out, maybe he's Leona’s way of processing his relationship with him. And that maybe…sometimes as annoying as Kifaji is, he has a point. Kifaji is the one who is implied to have raised him after all, so it's no surprise Leona sees him in a father-like role more than his own father.

“No one understands me, it's not my fault.”  Leona laments running away, running away from himself.

Reminds me a lot of Chapter 2 Leona where he began to feel sorry for himself instead of actually trying to fix things. It's clear that no matter how smart and mature Leona is…is that he still has a lot of growing to do. And that his relationship with his family and country are complex. There is not a black and white or good and bad with this situation and I feel like this is important when talking about him and his relationships with his family.

He was very much ostracized and probably neglected to some extent by his real parents but at a certain point, Leona decided to give up on improving himself just because he didn't achieve the results he wanted to. It's one of his biggest flaw.

His complacency is what drags him further into the darkness. Not Kifaji.

Sitting and stewing in his despair and how unfair his life has been instead of reaching out. Rehashing all thise chess strategies alone on his chess board until his brain hurts. Making grandiose plans instead of actually working hard toward a realistic goal. 

The idle king. A king with naught. (Nothing.)

I am now realizing that in a way (because Ruggie and Leona are so similar) Jack is Leona’s foil; he is the determined and earnest one who admires Leona at his best. He still holds the innocence and the idealism of working hard.

The group jumped through the darkness with Leona and we are replaying the events of Chapter 2 once again.

Ruggie and Jack watch it go down in dismay. Ruggie addresses that he once did think Leona’s way of thinking/plan was good and it’s cool to see he clearly regrets it now too.

They watch the drama play out as if Leona’s plan in Chapter 2 actually succeeded and see that he craves more. More ways for Savanaclaw to get ahead by unsavory means.

Jack says even if Leona becomes king there will be no end to his dissatisfaction. BOOM, there it is.

That is why Chapter 2 is so mind boggling.  Leona’s whole speech was about being king and second. But it’s clear now, it's not what he truly wants. I think Leona is afraid to admit what he really wants. Because that takes vulnerability and then comes the possibility of being rejected.

Jack also notes that, despite Leona getting “everything he wanted” he seems more grumpier and dissatisfied than usual.

“Leona is not your King, hes’ our Dorm Leader,” Jack growls. They fight and we get a nice callback to Lion King here. “Remember who you are.”

As Leona wakes up from his dreams he straight up says, yeah the scheme from Chapter 2 was…stupid. (Nice.)

Oh and we finally get some acknowledgement that Ruggie feels like Leona abandoned him in Chapter 2 which SHEEEEEEEESH. This is a deep cut for me, considering Ruggie’s real dad abandoned him. And it really confirms the fact he sees Leona as a father/big brother figure.

But, Leona doesn't, he sacrifices himself for Ruggie as the whole group tries to escape the crumbling dream. And while Ruggie cries out for Leona, Leona goes down smirking not knowing what will happen to him.

It’s time for him to face himself, his blot monster.

Blot!Leona wants them dead, all of them. Cheka, Falena, everyone. The real Leona finds it kind of pathetic. Because, in reality, I don't think Leona hates Cheka or Falena and he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Leona admits to his blot that yeah, no he can’t do the job. He can’t be king. And instead of it being a negative it’s more a relief? Maybe he is incompetent too. He is addressing himself and his previous grandiose illusions. He hasn’t done anything worthy of being king.

However, he will not give up. He’s finally living up to Savanaclaw’s motto of perseverance (which he sorta laughed off in Chapter 2?)

This next part is what struck me the most because. He just lays it out so simply, finally saying it out loud.

Self awareness!! Like he finally said it!! (And I felt very vindicated in this moment, NGL) 

What he desires most is the approval of others.

Ah, and Blot!Leona responds with the fact he can't earnestly try, it's too painful to think of failing. Props for Leona acknowledging his flaws! Just like with the other overblotters. But I'm especially floored here because of how PRIDEFUL he is all the time.

In order to have better relationships with people, he has to leave that whole “they all hated me” shit behind. Because in reality, there are people who care for him despite his flaws. There are those who look up to him and admire him, for him.

But, the idea of that I think is so…crazy to him that he tends to deny its very existence. Then when he is genuinely complimented on his leadership or whatever skills he brushes it off.

He calls himself disgusting which feels kinda sad but it’s proof he has moved on from his previous way of things. What did I say earlier? Leona is afraid of failure. 

Giving being a king a earnest optimistic go is too painful for him because ultimately he is afraid of failing. Like he was happier to play the role of tyrannical king than to bother to build relations with the citizens of his kingdom.

As his blot self withers away it’s almost…sad compared to the previous blot monster showdowns we’ve seen. It mentions something about “his friends” (A reference to Scar’s final words.) like he’s reaching out for Leona so it's not alone anymore. And Leona almost embraces his monster? It’s clear he feels pity for this thing…him. His pain, his depression, his loneliness. Maybe a step in the way of self-love? He acknowledges (almost as to soothe it) that it will always be with him, clawing from inside. Except now, he won’t give up.

He vows that he will get what he wants one day, for both of them. He’ll have his “own throne and pride” instead of wanting for someone else’s. He’ll find his place to belong through his own merit.

It reminds me of that expression “find your own tribe” which is an expression that those who are not close to heirt families understand all too well.  He wants to find satisfaction outside his desire to rule and maybe because we know he prefers NRC to home, this confirms his fondness for his dorm life. (Savanaclaw found a family dorm.)

When he returns to his original dream of being king Kifaji is there as they look on at Pride Rock. The fact that it is raining is telling that hope has returned. (Just like at the end of Lion King) and that by accepting that “being king” is not what he really wants now “all things are balanced again”.

They have a nice moment here. Leona acknowledging that he has been given the tools to do good things by Kifaji’s training is a big mature moment for him. (Especially how they acted toward one another in the Tamashina Mina event)  And Kifaji praising him, since this a dream, could be a testament to what he wishes would happen between them.

AKA Leona finally feels more, “at peace” with himself.

As Leona destroys this false kingdom with his sand he seems reserved, it’s almost bittersweet as it all settles over him, his new found aspirations, letting the old ones go. He's letting the past go. A big theme in Lion King. (I really feel the writers must be fans of the movies.) 

Kifaji says: “Go to the place you really belong.”

This line kinda got me. Because the implication is that Night Raven College and his dorm is where he really belongs. Leona is confirming that his experiences at NRC have shaped who he is SO MUCH. 

For years he accepted his life as it was, a cage, and now he is acknowledging that he has the power to break that cage and do whatever he wants. It’s a great callback to the advice he gave Jamil in Chapter 6.

This is quite refreshing as he mentioned before that it was too “late for him”. Now, he realizes it isn’t.

Back with the gang, Ruggie admits his fear that Leona will abandon him again. Leona denies it, and says somewhat casually that he is in fact a true friend of his. This feels like a clever inversion of the line that Scar says to the hyenas about being his “friends.” 

But, we know now that Leona does mean it now. And this shows Leona’s desire to finally stray from the “path”  of his Great Seven counterpart and actually like…have friends?

The reunion of the Savanaclaw trio is actually really sweet. For a dorm full of cocky jocks with strong personalities they seem to be so genuinely happy to be reunited.

Jack bursting out into tears and crying got me tearing up. Like Ruggie and Leona clearly are bit more reserved in their emotions but we see Savanaclaw really are close, despite their disagreements. They care for one another as a dysfunctional little family. 

As a dorm that doesn't get much mainstream attention compared to others it was so nice to have this little moment. It's hard to tell, but I’m 99% sure there was a group hug based on how the sprites moved and the sound effects. At least a nice back pat from Leona. (Thanks, dad.) 

All in all, I really...enjoyed his dream section. As someone who is pretty hyper-critical, for the most part, it satisfied most of the things I wanted to feel. I even got emotional at a few points! Yes, it would have been nicer to spend more time with “king” Leona and dive into it more. Or get more lore about his family. But, he admitted it FINALLY, everything I have clocked about him all those years ago. It’s very satisfying to see his growth in a tangible straightforward way, instead of just me reading between the lines.

I hope we will continue to see even more growth with his character (Like we did in the Halloween event)  and I’m excited to see the role he will play in the rest of Chapter 7, even if it’s just him being a cranky old man. (What do you expect he was raised by one?)

I'd like to end this with some positivity. As someone who deep dives into character stuff a lot I know it's really comforting to see part of yourself reflected back in your favorite characters.

To anyone reading who feels they have things in common with Leona or his despair, the truth is that you should keep going, even if it's just to spite the world itself.

Your vision and presence in this world are valid all on their own and that failing is not indicative of your value as a person. It never will be.

Keep fighting to find your place, your pack and never forget who you are.💚

--

Thanks for reading!! This one took quite a bit to edit and think through so if you like my Leona analyses, I’d appreciate a reblog or even just if you wanna share it with your friends! Shoutout to the youtuber ガスマスクゲーマー whose video I pulled these screenshots from. Thank you!

[mclarengf]

thinking about… glitter eyeshadow

note: based on a true story. glitter 4 lyf. i <3 glitter. catch me scrapbooking with those little glitter tubes we had as kids, u scared hoe? im also writing this cause i’m in mourning abt grandma and max being together forever now :(

—

you’re almost dead asleep when max blurts out, “you’ve got glitter around your eyes, liefje.”

you blink confusedly.

“what?”

he forgoes repeating himself in your sleepy state and instead reaches up to your eyes and begins brushing away the glitter he sees.

you hum as he does, realising what he’s talking about. you had been so tired after the race, you’d evidently forgotten to take your makeup off. 

“do you want me to take it off for you?”

max rolls over before you even give him an answer, fully prepared to make the trip to the bathroom and back, even after his long day.

you manage to stop him, though, throwing an arm over his bare chest and mumbling, “nope.”

he turns back to you, frowning. he’d heard you complaining about the bad skin you would get from leaving your makeup on overnight more than enough times. 

you nudge your head onto his shoulder, breathing in deeply and tracing little circles on his sternum, your eyes still closed.

“‘m too tired, max, and i didn’t do a full face anyway.” 

he stares down at you for a few more seconds before deciding you know best. if you do break out tomorrow morning, you’ll have no one but yourself to blame. 

he shuffles back down in bed and contents himself with studying your features as your breaths becoming heavier, falling deeper and deeper asleep.

the glitter shines in the light of the bedside lamp he has turned on still. it’s all over the crease of your eye, and as you shift around to get comfortable, it sparkles and glints. 

max is very much distracted, focussing on your glitter curiously. you just look so damn good right now, in the low lighting of the hotel room and with this glitter around your eyes. there’s just something about it which stirs something in him.

if he had a bit more energy in him, he would’ve taken the opportunity to lift himself over you and start kissing his way down your body with the intent of keeping you up all night, but he’s honestly just drained from the day. tonight, he’d settle for holding you a little tighter and falling asleep with the love of his life. max presses a kiss to your temple as he closes his eyes, smiling to himself when you wriggle closer to him in your sleep. 

“goodnight, schatje. ik hou van jou.”

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Reply All Author's Notes: After what feels like forever, the long awaited Gaz v Horangi chapter. Very different from the other ones, but trust I am finally cooking (maybe) Warnings: MDNI, Angst

A late night email from Laswell can never be good. And after reading one at 1am, Kyle can confirm it’s still not good. 

From: Laswell, Kate To: Price, John; Garrick, Kyle; etc… + more Cc: Keegan D. Russ; etc… + more Subject: Intelligence Officer in the Field

Intelligence officer in the field. You in the field. You in danger. 

Over Kyle’s dead body. If these weeks had shown Gaz anything, it’s that him and the boys don’t know how to protect you. Maybe once you’re officially on the team but now it’s better if you stay away from any risks. 

Therefore with a heavy heart, Kyle replies to Laswell’s email. He knows how much you wanted to go out in the field, prove your worth, but now is not the time. Now Kyle had to protect you. And to protect you meant making hard decisions. 

After sending a quick email to Laswell, expressing his weariness of bringing along a novice like yourself in the field, Kyle goes to sleep. It doesn’t come easy as the actions from the past few months come to haunt him but it eventually does. 

But unfortunately for him, his guilt still haunts him as he wakes up. His chest rests heavy, mind still tired from the shit sleep he had last night. Worst part is that he couldn’t even have a peaceful morning as his phone loses its mind. 

With the brightness way to high, Gaz starts to reads the multitude of messages polluting his phone. He doesn’t go far as one completely runs his blood cold. 

❤️❤️ - 6:34am Fuck you Kyle Garrick.

That wakes Gaz up. He keeps scrolling, looking for answers. 

MacTavish - 6:23am Jesus. and I thought lt was the heartless one Lieutenant 👻 - 6:05qm Garrick do you need an email tutorial or something?  John P - 1:56am Thanks for that. Just a question, did you have to send that email to everyone? 

Email… what the fuck are they on— no, no, NO. 

Kyle rushes to his emails and sees two, one from Sergeant Kim and the other from Laswell herself. He starts with Horangi’s email which was sent first before Laswell’s. 

From: Kim, Hong-jin  To: Laswell, Kate CC: Price, John; Russ, Keegan D.;… + more  Subject: RE: Intelligence Officer in the Field Laswell, I completely disagree with Garrick. I don’t know what unpreparedness he may be alluding to, but I have nothing but respect and confidence in the intelligence officer and their ability in the field.  I have only worked with them for a few weeks but those few weeks have shown me that they are nothing but exceptional in their work. I have no doubt that their presence in the field would not be a hinderance but only elevate our performance. If Garrick and anyone in the 141 is worried about their own ability in watching out for one of their own, I, Russ, or Nikto would be more than happy to keep an eye on them. We are more than capable of doing both our job and the 141’s.  - Sergeant Kim Hong-jin

And looking at the time stamp, Horangi sent that minutes after Gaz sent his what he thought private email. He quickly scrolls up to see Kate’s response. 

His throat tightens as his eyes scan Kate’s short but brutal email. 

From: Laswell, Kate To: All Subject: RE: Intelligence Officer in the Field All, Thank you for the input Sergeant Kim but I trust Sergeant Garrick’s judgement on this.  Maybe another time. Sincerely, Kate

Fuck.

Word Count: 586

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[chaos-vixen]

@clockwayswrites @hdgnj

In all fairness, Tim was not expecting the solution to be not only done quickly, but so efficiently that he himself wondered why he didn’t think of that solution.

The solution you may ask? ASKING. NICELY.

Mildly rage inducing but incredibly heart rate elevating was the 10 Sart smile the King have as he floated over the street(s), kindly asking in a firm yet general command (that totally wasn’t doing things for Tim) for the citizens of Gotham to kindly cut the shit.

But Tim will 100% admit that the otherworldly and eerie smile the Ghost King gave him as he ever so gracefully lowered into his portal back to probably his keep (is those ancient tombs where correct- seriously he spent a pretty penny on those they better fucking be accurate).

But that all aside, because not only did the general population not actually remember the King being there- but John got some weird ass heads up or notification about what was going down (via magic alarm or a favor, Tim did not want nor need to know-) and was breathing down Tim’s neck as if he of all people had a leg to stand on in terms of not “selling one’s soul to a High Being™️”. Honestly if all that wasn’t bad enough, someone SAW the Ghost King headed towards the Drake house, and Constantine managed to get that out of them before they forgot. (John later explained this to be a similar affect to what Chathulu has in the Lovecraft books- he’s beyond the bounds of comprehension for the normal human except for those with paranormal bloodlines, magic, or semi-related meta abilities. Then he muttered something about “those damned liminals..” but Tim decided to table that for later)

John magic misogyny aside, Tim got a very useful lecture on some magic workings his tombs did not have in-depth lore on. The downside was that, according to his trackers on his family, they are approaching the Drake Manor at a pace which Tim does not like.

The solution is to reenact Harry Potter and do a little side-along apperation the hell out of there before the family realizes that he isn’t in fact where he’s supposed to be (on bed rest in the medical wing of the cave because he dislocated his arm literally three hours before he had to summon The King)

And where does magic itself (because Ti me I’ll never admit but PERHAPS he may have not been thinking of a destination, not he was NOT panicked!):

The House of Mystery

To which they fall from two feet in the air to Raven and Zatana sipping tea.

The last cherry on top of his pile of cherries (regrets) is the black slowly fading into his vision, probably because of how much magic it took to summon The High King, Supreme Ruler of the Infinite Realms and Overseer of the Dead and their resting. Also the teleporting probably didn’t help-

Oop why is John shaking him?

Probably doesn’t matter- he can’t really make it out anyways …

Plz continue this the original prompt and continuation where amazing and there’s already so much lore in this AU I’m not sure if I did good with my tid-bit, really want to see this in full!!

Tim Drake becomes a mini Hellblazer

Tim is determined to be the best Robin he can be- he has a hero's legacy to live up to. He has a thirst to know as bad as Bruce’s. And... he's a bit morally grey. All this leads up to an encounter that will change his course forever.

While he is off training in Europe (wtf on that Bruce), he runs into Constantine and some demonic trouble. Just so the stubborn kid survives, Constantine teaches him some of the basics. Tim, living up to his name, takes to it like a duck to water. After Tim gets back to the states, books just show up every so often in Drake manor. Sometimes even Constantine.

It's surprisingly easy to keep the secret in that big, empty house.

And then one of Gotham's curses come to play, the dead are around as ghosts, and only Tim has any idea what's going on. Problem is, he'd rather the Bats never knew what he knew. Problem is, he might have to pull a John and sell his soul to win.

He hopes the Ghost King is a good master.

Some added possible bonuses:

Constantine has no clue that his mini Hellblazer Tim is a Bat or he would have never.

Tim has been using his powers this whole time- being able to portal and literally become one with the shadows, but it just works for a Bat Mood™️ so no one catches on.

Tim has tattoos like John for powers, but they're the invisible UV ones so they're not visible when he's getting his check overs as Robin/RR.

Possible scenes:

• A cult shows up in Gotham, of course, and the Bats are doing their investigation and find what they think is the home base and Tim's tracker is there. And he's not answering his comms. He's supposed to be resting, he's sick. All hands on deck panic. The Bats roll up ready for a fight just in time to see Tim, covered in blood and a little glass eyed, walking out of the building. Inside is a bloodbath. They are think Tim is traumatized from the obvious demon summoning that went really really badly. Tim is just so fucking tired from using magic and wants to sleep for a week, but sure, the cover story works, so he leans into it. Really annoying how Dick won't stop hugging him though.

• Constantine, trying to avoid his job trapped in Hell, again, sends his apprentice to meet with the Justice League. To bad he didn't give the apprentice a heads up because suddenly Tim is summoned/portaled into the Watchtower. And ho-shit guess that cat is out of the bag now! Not that he's willing to explain anything.

[warblogs17282]

I''m busy thinking about how this part of the episode is supposed to directly mirror what's already happened in the show.

Ignoring the obvious s1 e1 reference, let's start with the backstory behind this hit.

Something that this show makes very clear is that she is supposed to represent Stella, for multiple reasons that I will point out in this post.

Instantly starts out with ex-husband, just like with Stella and Stolas.

The next line proceeds to mention daughters, which is obviously the show planting the seeds for the scene yet to come, the Stolitz family scene. The daughters are very clearly supposed to represent Octavia and Loona.

Plus, the whole 'Can't stand my ex-husband enjoying himself' thing is also supposed to mirror Stella in a way, because guess who else purposefully went out of their way to ensure that their husband/ex-husband never was able to truly enjoy himself.

"When he fucking left me for another man!", when he left me for another man who was able to show him actual, true happiness. Just like how Blitz did just that for Stolas.

I also really want to note Blitz's and Stolas' reactions to all of this, for Blitz, even though he knows almost nothing about Stella, you can already tell he's put some pieces together and realized 'oh shit, this is sounding extremely similar to what happened between me and Stolas.', especially considering the way he looked over at Stolas when she finished talking there.

Which explains why Blitz looks so nervous and trying to talk her out of carrying through with the hit, before just outright denying the request, because it hits way too close to home for him as well. With the next thing she says after this scene pictured below just nailing the similarities home to Blitz.

As for Stolas' reaction, you can tell even before this moment that he's also realized just how similar the whole situation is to his own, and that detail tells us that Stolas isn't just talking about the person the client wants dead, but also himself.

Stolas thinks he's selfish for choosing to be with Blitz, Stolas thinks that he deserves death because of his 'selfish' choice to be with Blitz. Stolas likely thinks at that moment that he deserved to be killed by Striker for his 'selfish' choice.

And well, the show definitely doubles down on showing us just how evil the client is, just like Stella.

Then we get to the moment where every single similarity undeniably falls into focus for Blitz. Blitz doesn't see a random gay couple with two daughters he's been paid double to assassinate a member of, he sees himself, he sees Stolas, and their own respective daughters all in the same room as each other, he sees his dreams for the future with Stolas, and their daughters.

He sees a future of domestic bliss with the four of them, the future he's hoping he can achieve some day.

And because of all of these similarities between the family and Blitz himself, he cannot bring himself to ruin a happy family, can't bring himself to ruin what they have, can't bring himself to ruin what Blitz dreams for, can't bring himself to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, and can't bring himself to ruin the family that he envisions as his own as well.

Plus, Blitz would never be able to truly forgive himself if he took that shot, if he killed that man and ruined the family Blitz places himself in. Blitz would see himself as being no better than Striker if he did take the killing shot.

Because, let's compare s2 e4 and this episode for a second.

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with a daughter for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with two daughters for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

Even if Blitz only understands the s2 e4 hit as "Unknown person hired assassin to kill father with a daughter for unknown reasons.", as I've pointed out before, everything about this assassination hits way too close to home for Blitz.

Blitz has probably already realized at that moment that if Striker had killed Stolas in s2 e4, all of his hopes and dreams of having a happy family with Stolas, Octavia and Loona would instantly go up in flames.

So, why would Blitz want to ruin a family that has what he hopes for in the future? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, especially when Striker almost very well killed Stolas, which would've ruined the dream Blitz has that we see here if Striker had succeeded?

What I'm getting that with this is simple, the client represents Stella, the ex-husband represents Stolas, the daughters represents Octavia and Loona, and Blitz represents Striker.

But Blitz isn't Striker, Blitz could've very well chosen to be play the role of Striker and kill that ex-husband, ruining the family as a result for some money, but he didn't, Blitz saw the happy gay couple and their daughters, saw himself in it, and decided the money wasn't worth it, stopping himself or anyone else in the team from taking that killing shot, because Blitz simply refused to play the role of Striker, Blitz played his own role, which is himself.

Blitz is not Striker, and I feel like this moment goes to show even further that Blitz and Striker are supposed to be narrative foils to each other.

[starzradio]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[howi99]

A Knight second chance 8

Jaune: *trying to leave*

Glynda: And where do you think you are going, young man?

Jaune: *sigh* Professor Goodwitch, We are still technically the weekend and i highly doubt my co-dependency is enjoying... Whatever we are doing.

Penny: *Smiling* Oh do not mind me friend Jaune, i'm fine going wherever you want to go!

Glynda: *sigh* Jaune, this is very important if you want to stay in Beacon. We can't risk you having a panic attack, or something similar, in the middle of a mission.

Jaune: Glyn- *cough* I mean, professor Goodwitch, i understand the importance of mental stability, but meditation isn't something i can easily do when... Well... *Point at Penny* i need to concentrate on repairing her mind.

Glynda: ... Quite. *Sigh* You may go, but i want you in my office the second you are available.

Jaune: *Nod* Will do, ma'am.

___________________________________________

Penny: *walking in the streets of Vale with Jaune* Why did you lie to her? She could have helped us against Roman!

Jaune: *looking at a map* Your communications are out?

Penny: Since yesterday, yes-

Jaune: I already have a deal with Roman.

Penny: *frowning* You made a deal with him? Why?!

Jaune: *taking little alleys and backstreets* Well, who's better than him to give me information on Cinder? Not only that, but i also asked him to use his contacts to dig up dirt on Lionheart.

Penny: That's also something i don't really get, why aren't you telling Osc-, *shaking her head* i mean Ozpin, about everything?

Jaune: *sigh* You don't have all the information, Penny. You only got my memory of when you were there... Beside, you saw how competent he was with choosing his allies.

Penny: *computing* That's... Fair. But what about Glynda?

Jaune: *shaking his head* Too loyal... In fact- *pick up a rock on the ground* the only one i could trust- *turn around and aim for the suspicious looking Crow* Is a dusty old alcoholic! *Throw the stone directly at Qrow's bird form head, making him fall on the ground*

Qrow: *transforming back into his human form* Oof! *Looking up at the teen* Don't you know you shouldn't harass wild life?

Jaune: *smiling* Don't you know it's impolite to listen to private conversation?

___________________________________________

Qrow: *blinking* Wait... You come from the future?

Jaune: *shaking his head* I'm Jaune from the present. Or at least, the body is. My memories, on the other hand, are from the future*Think about his time in the ever after* ... mostly.

Qrow: ... *Goes to take a sip of alcohol*

Jaune: *frown* You should stop that, Summer would be pissed.

Qrow: *looking at Jaune* Now listen here punk, using my dead friend's name is not-

Jaune: She's alive.

Qrow: ... What?

Jaune: She's in hiding, since she got the summer maiden power and-

Qrow: *angry* WHAT!?

Jaune: *surprised by the reaction* Qrow, calm down! It's not as if she had a choice!

Qrow: DID OZPIN KNOW!?

Jaune: No! No, he doesn't. Heck, you should know since you've been searching for the Maidens a majority of your huntsman life.

Qrow: I... BUT... *Sigh* Fucking hell.

Jaune: *sweating* Your sister, on the other hand-

Qrow: That bitch!

___________________________________________

Ozpin: -and you are certain about this?

Qrow: *a glass of water in hand* About 97% sure. The kid isn't a spy from Salem.

Glynda: *still looking at the glass of water as if the world stopped spinning* ... Did... Did something else happen? Like a divine intervention or a miracle?

Qrow: *stifled a laugh* Nothing like that, i just thought i should cut back a bit. *Thinking back at the stone* My reflexes aren't as sharp as i thought.

[maxdibert]

Well, I was going to be a minimally civilized person, but considering that you called me a TERF out of nowhere, when I haven’t mentioned anything related to gender issues, when I haven’t alluded to that topic at all, and you just pulled that out of thin air as a fallacious argument to try to discredit me from the very first paragraph—well, I’m going to be a bit of a bitch and choose violence.

First: idk what book this person read, but Snape's obsession with Lily was creepy to the extreme. That their friendship started by him all but stalking her and Petunia should have been red flag #1. I mean, sure, he was a traumatized kid without friends, but that doesn't absolve him of his continued obsession. He literally stood outside the Gryffindor common room, refusing to leave, until she came out to talk.

Are you saying that a nine-year-old boy watching other kids play is a creepy stalker? I suppose you, at eight or nine, would just jump right into groups of kids and start playing with them for no reason, but let me introduce you to the quintessential representation of an introverted child. Because yes, introverted kids exist, although to you, it seems all of them must be stalkers just because they don’t know how to introduce themselves to other kids and just stand there watching. That’s something normal for any introverted kid who wants to socialize but doesn’t know how.

Severus and Lily were friends, mutually so—not because he was following her around. Some of you really need to learn to deal with the canon of the books. They were friends before Hogwarts, and clearly, during their school years, the relationship weakened until it eventually ended. But during that time, there is absolutely no indication that Severus was following her around because it was a CONSENSUAL childhood friendship. Did he wait for her outside? Of course he did. I’m sorry your personal life is so pathetic that your friends always ignore you when you’ve had a disagreement, but in my circle, it’s quite common that when we argue, we even knock on each other’s doors if needed to talk it out and resolve it. So, I don’t know, girl—it seems like a pretty normal attitude to me, wanting to fix things after a fight. What doesn’t seem so normal to me is a guy coming up to me and saying that if I date him, he’ll stop bullying my friend, as James Potter did. Nor would it seem normal for a bunch of kids known for bullying and casting spells on others to have a magical GPS to track where everyone at school is going, like the Marauder's Map. That’s super stalker-ish and creepy as hell because you can see where everyone is and what they’re doing. But I guess in your psychotropic view of reality, that’s just some mega-fun thing, while a nine-year-old not knowing how to introduce himself to other kids is the devil reincarnated. Truly, you have a totally coherent and undistorted view of reality, honey.

And yeah, he did switch sides out of guilt. But he canonically didn't give a damn about Harry. If he was actually trying to protect the kid, he would have done more than bully and abuse (occlumency lessons anyone?) the kid. Teaching at Hogwarts was never about redemption. It was about staying out of Azkaban. (And Dumbledore's manipulation, but he's a whole 'nother can of worms)

And what does it matter? I mean, Harry doesn’t have to care. Again, these are moral assumptions you impose on the character just because you feel like it. I don’t give a damn if he cared about Harry or not; what matters to me is that he did his job effectively. What’s canon is that he spent seven years saving the ass of a kid who was constantly trying to get himself into trouble and who, along with his friends, was a constant headache. But thanks to Severus, they didn’t end up dead more than once, so whether or not he cared deep down about those kids doesn’t matter because what matters is that he did his job properly and kept them alive.

And well, I’m sorry if you don’t understand how sentencing works, but not all sentences involve going to prison. Community service is a type of sentence, for example, so maybe Severus didn’t go to Azkaban, but he paid his debt to society in full by serving Dumbledore for 16 years and then continuing his legacy even after his death. I don’t care if he was a bad teacher; that’s Dumbledore’s fault for putting him there at 21, with massive trauma, zero chances to heal emotionally, and an overwhelming workload. Good or bad teacher, he paid his debt to society, so sorry, but your whining is, once again, utter nonsense based on your ethical and moral expectations that don’t matter for presenting the facts.

Second: the books actually say that Snape was 'up to his nose in the dark arts'. He was an active participant. He didn't just 'hang out' with to-be-DE, he WAS one. He joined up of his own free will. He became Voldemort's RIGHT HAND. He didn't regret calling someone a mudbl***. He regretted that it was Lily.

It’s funny that you attack me, calling me a TERF, and two seconds later, you talk about Severus as if he’s pure evil incarnate without taking into account his context and how he perfectly fits the usual target demographic for far-right groups to recruit new members. How the fact that Severus came from a poor and extremely violent environment made him a perfect victim to fall under the influence of people who offered him a better life, recognition, and support, when outside of that environment, all he knew was not even having enough to buy clothes and being tormented by a couple of rich pure-blooded kids making his life miserable. And yes, girl, he called Lily a Mudblood, but honestly, Lily had been about to smile at her bully while that bully was sexually assaulting him, and he had just come out of a highly stressful situation. We all say things we don’t mean in moments like that because we act completely irrationally. Plus, Severus could also be considered a Mudblood, considering he was a half-blood with a Muggle father and had grown up in a Muggle neighborhood surrounded by Muggles, so it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to me, but whatever.

And Snape CANONICALLY attacked the marauders just as much as they went after him. Just because they went after him first in that ONE memory, doesn't mean he didn't instigate too.

I don’t know if you’re still drunk after Christmas Eve dinner or what, but the books never establish such a thing. That’s something Sirius says, who is a completely unreliable source because, at 36, he was still calling the guy he nearly killed by that shitty nickname. So, sorry if I don’t trust anything from a guy who showed zero remorse about being a disgusting bully, but what do you want me to tell you?

What is established in the books is that Severus and Lily were calmly talking on the train, and James Potter interrupted their conversation to make fun of Severus. What is established in the books is that Sirius committed attempted murder. And what is established in the books is that Severus was walking along minding his own business, and since Sirius Black was super bored and wanted it to be a full moon, his best friend James Potter decided to attack Severus Snape and humiliate him in front of the entire school. They attacked him two-on-one, outnumbering him. Not only that, but they were also two rich kids from upper-class pure-blood aristocratic families going after a half-blood, working-class kid who didn’t have a dime to his name and no parents to defend him. Ignoring the extreme inequality between Severus and his bullies shows a tremendous lack of social awareness and absolutely zero understanding of class dynamics. I’m surprised that some of you claim to be activists and call yourselves social justice warriors when you haven’t cracked open a book in your lives. If you had, you’d see how problematic it is to defend a couple of rich bullies over their poor victim. It’s absolutely classist and disgusting, and pretending they were on equal footing and it was just a rivalry is to completely ignore all the power imbalances inherent in relationships affected by pronounced social and economic disparities. James and Sirius were two abusive rich brats who constantly mocked a kid for his appearance, which was directly tied to his lack of financial resources. When they laughed at him in the school courtyard, they made direct references to the state of his underwear, which relates precisely to his economic and social condition. You’re defending a couple of classist jerks, and then you throw around buzzwords like "she must be a TERF." Well, I’ve never excused anyone’s transphobia—you should stop excusing classism because, in that sense, you resemble J.K. Rowling far more than I do, clown.

And let's talk about the werewolf incident for a minute because i am sick and tired of Snape Apologists using this as an excuse. That was NOT planned. That was a lapse of judgement on Sirius' part alone (yeah, fucked to hell and he is fully responsible for that). At the same time though, NO ONE MADE HIM GO. Snape was given a vague instruction and he was so focused on 'getting back' at the marauders that he put HIMSELF in danger. That is just as much on him as it is on Sirius.

Ah, there it is, the one who calls women TERFs but then engages in victim-blaming. Yes, it was planned—Sirius planned it. And it’s called attempted murder, which not only should have resulted in expulsion but in the real world would have landed Sirius in a juvenile detention center for a few months if the prosecution's lawyer had been good. But setting that aside, I really like how you say “nobody forced Severus to go,” blaming him for what happened. It reminds me of when I was almost raped in a nightclub a few years ago, and the security guard I told about it to catch the guy said something like, “Well, no one told you to make out with that guy, you know.” It’s exactly the same goddamn speech that any basic straight guy would give to a woman who’s been assaulted or nearly so, questioning her about how she was dressed, where she was, or how far things went with the man in question. A round of applause—besides being a classist jerk, you re-victimize abuse victims. You really have it all, my friend.

Then the sexual assault? This is another common thing I see and it took me forever to figure out what it was even referring to. The pantsing? You cannot tell me he was the only one that happened to. If the levitating spell was really as popular as it's stated, this incident wasn't special. I'm willing to bet Snape did it to others too.

I’d like you to imagine Severus as a girl for a moment, and James exposing her in front of the whole school in her underwear. Then I’d like you to picture her in her bra and panties and imagine James’s voice saying, “Should I take off her knickers?” And now I want you to tell me that’s not sexual assault. It’s incredible how Marauders stans try to come across as super progressive and woke, but you just can’t, because your entire personality is based on defending rich elitist kids. And, of course, the mask slips. I have to laugh because seriously, it’s pathetic.

Third: Lupin not taking the wolfsbane. Yes, serious lapse in judgement. He also just saw Peter and Sirius on the map. The argument of it being criminal and a ticking time bomb is honestly werewolf prejudice and exactly why Remus has such a hard time finding a job in the first place. Way to go. You've discovered discrimination.

And no, I don’t feel sorry at all for the bullying accomplice who grew up to be an irresponsible adult, ended up knocking up a 24-year-old at 38, and then bolted. As far as I’m concerned, Remus Lupin can go to hell a thousand times. But hey, no problem, let’s keep defending accomplices to abuse who treat their partners like garbage. Why not? Poor thing.

Fourth: Get McGonagall's name out of your fucking mouth. She is CANONICALLY shown NOT showing prejudice and treating EVERYONE by the same standards. And, did you forget that 'Moody' here was actually a death eater in disguise? No duh he's using cruel and unusual punishments??? Full of abusive teachers my ass.

I never said McGonagall didn’t treat people equally; I said she was quite a strict teacher, and that’s canon. Severus wasn’t the only teacher who talked to or treated students in questionable ways, and if it had been such a big deal, his colleagues would have called him out—which never happened.

Fifth: What do you mean the kids weren't scared for life? I do believe those CHILDREN will carry that trauma with them for the rest of their lives. Saying that it didn't break them is cruel and completely dismisses the VERY REAL pain and suffering that they went through. They are real heroes because they OVERCAME their trials. Not all of us out here in the real world are so lucky.

It’s funny how you’re so convinced that having a strict teacher will leave children permanently traumatized for life, clutching your pearls over the cognitive and psychological consequences that might result, yet you wrote an entire text tearing down a character who endured violence as a child, suffered intense bullying, and was abandoned by every adult around him. For you, suffering and pain only matter when it’s about tearing down a character you hate. You’re like a typical right-wing politician, only concerned about social issues when it’s time to crush the opponent. Quite hypocritical and double-standard behavior on your part, but then again, not much more can be expected from someone with zero class consciousness.

And saying Regulus accomplished nothing? Disgraceful. Of course it took a catalyst for him to change his ways thats how redemption arcs work.

Ehhhh no. Regulus was a rich kid like Draco Malfoy, thrilled to be a Death Eater. He joined because he genuinely believed he was superior to others due to his blood status and aristocratic family. But when faced with bloodshed, it overwhelmed him, and he backed out. He didn’t accomplish anything—he just acted foolishly, which delayed things for Harry years later. Funny how you see redemption in Regulus but not in Severus, who spent almost twenty years of his life paying his debt to society. Funny how you’re so lenient with Regulus, who’s described as handsome, wealthy, similar to his brother physically, coming from a privileged family, fitting the aesthetic of a mysterious, elegant guy that looks great on Pinterest boards. But you’re not so understanding with Severus, who came from abject poverty, is constantly described as ugly and unpleasant, and clearly lacks that smooth aura. I love it because people like you point fingers at others for things that are really just projections of your own internal prejudices.

If you made it this far, I hope you have a good day. Believe whatever you want, obvy I'm not going to change anyone's opinion. You can't MAKE a person understand. Still, it's nice to rant and remind myself how nice it is that I live in my own little corner of the fandom where I don't have to see this bullshit on my dash

If you’ve read this far, I wish you a Merry Christmas. I hope one day you’ll dignify yourself by opening a book on social politics or class dynamics. I hope one day you’ll bother to read statistics on how violence and economics interplay with predispositions to criminality. And I hope one day you’ll think twice before calling someone a TERF without reflecting on your own disgusting classism, beauty privilege tendencies, victim-blaming, and utter inability to analyze characters. Also, you might want to reconsider defending rich, privileged, abusive kids because it’s seriously cringe-worthy. Kisses.

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[glossykissies]

that scene where soldier boy tells hughie he made up the word bluetooth got me thinking how funny it would be when he hears newer slang 😭😭 i wanna tell him we’d have good bed chem and watch literal question marks form in his eyes

“well fuck me, you new-generation girls are really something.” ben chuckles to himself like it’s nothing as he rolls off you, instantly reaching for a cigar, a hand leisurely coming up to rest behind his head. “fuck of a lifetime, i’ll tell you that much. you alright there?” he’s cocky, glancing over at where you’re laying in fetal position with his hot seed still leaking from your quivering folds. he just put you through the mattress (very nearly literally) and now he’s cracking jokes. you needed a minute.

“mhm.” it comes out breathy, jolting a little from sensitivity when he gives your ass a rewarding pat.

“mm. well catch your breath and then roll over. i may be super-human, but i still like guy stuff just like everyone else. i want cuddles and shit.” it sounded comedic coming from his ultra deep voice, the older man taking a drag of his cigar thoughtfully in a way that told you he was dead serious.

you do as your told, a dumb smile on your face as you do so, snuggling up to his side happily. he presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head as praise.

“i like this. we just work.” he comments to the ceiling and your tummy fizzes up. you felt special.

“yeah. we have good bed chem.” you slur, still coming down, biting your lip in amusement when you see his eyebrow raise.

“we have good who-now what?” he turns his head a little to gaze into your hazy eyes and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“bed chem!” you lilt, poking his rib cage. he takes another drag with a frown, eyeing you over.

“you do know that saying it twice isn’t gonna make me understand, right?” he deadpans, but you can tell he’s humouring you. you sigh good-naturedly.

“bed chemistry. bed chem. like we just work. we fit together well.” you explain to the best of your ability, distracted by drawing shapes on his broad chest. he continues to stare.

“and that’s a real thing that people say?”

“well girls do.” you shrug, glancing up into his confused eyes. he shakes his head dismissively.

“i don’t get all this slang shit.” he complains, before his eyes drift back over to you. “its only cute when you do it. don’t tell anyone i said that.”

[duraante]

petty treason

dmc secret santa for @hopeworth !!!!!!! happy holidays !!!!!!!!!! (notes under cut)

@dmc-secret-santas

HI i was super excited to make this piece, you had a very short wishlist so i tried to integrate everything on there into this!! the idea was yamato 4dante mutual hurt comfort (more hurt than comfort but there is comfort nonetheless) and i consider this twin-centric as well because vergil is implied (his favourite past time must be haunting the narrative). i was on the fence about this idea until i found your yamato dante fic. it is gorgeous thank you so much. but i thought this must be fate!!!!!! so i went with it in the end.

if you look really hard there is blood, it has actually been quite a long time since i started this piece so i lowkey forgot what it was for. something along the lines of some mutual blame between these two, which ultimately stems from self-blame. i think yamato n dante are quite alike in that regard, they both believe they have on their hands the blood of the one they love the most. but anyway. the comfort is from the fact that they have each other to share that one-of-a-kind pain with.

petty treason involves murder of a master by a servant, the punishment for which was typically drowning for women (sorry no citation here, i did this research a while ago and can no longer find it. in fact i am now finding information that directly contradicts this. oSORRY iam a bad essayist i am far from an arts major). thats why yamato is in the sea here i guess. punishment for men included hanging, i wanted to extend this idea of treason to dante as well, so i tried to have the water splash up to form a noose around his neck. it failed evidently LMAO but. anhyway. take it from me guys. sketch drafts that actually make sense.

i rambled a bit HAHA sorry havent been online in like a month (dura touch grass era) i promise im not dead i wil come back soon. merry xmas, may your boxing day sales be plenty

[jo-speaks]

Requesting 🎂 for Jack Hughes with “I want to forget. Just help me forget” (- reader) and a “Can I touch you here?” (- Jack) pleaseeeee

warnings: oral sex (fem!recieving)

note: this may or may not have been inspired by me failing one of my finals..

Finals week had you so beat into the ground that the only response your body could muster after the last one was crashing onto the couch of your apartment and sleeping for 12 hours straight.

Jack had called you multiple times throughout your long slumber, worry overtaking his body when you hadn’t answered at all. So, his only logical answer was to use the spare key to enter your home, something that he rarely ever did. 

He had come into your room right as you were waking up, seeing you stir and flinch as you met his eyes. 

“Jack? What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “You weren’t answering your phone, I thought you were dead!” You joined him in laughter, sitting up and running your fingers through your hair. Jack sat down next to you, joining you under the covers as you reached for your phone.

A notification shot you right away as you saw it said one of your tests had been graded. It was the one that you had studied the hardest for, having flooded your system with caffeine as you spent hours in the library. 

Jack noticed the change in your energy, “You alright?”

“My final got graded.”

His eyes widened, “Damn, already?” You nodded, hesitating to click it before shoving your phone into Jack’s hands, “You want me to open it?”

You simply nodded, bringing a pillow to your front to hug it, nerves overtaking your body as you watched Jack click the notification, pulling up your grade. Jack’s face was hard to read, his expression remaining neutral as it loaded. 

“Well?” 

Jack shut off the phone, setting it down behind him as his face shifted into one of sympathy. He took your hand in his, his thumb running across your skin. “45.”

“Oh.” was the only word that came out of your mouth, your body slumping back into your mattress. 

Jack let out a soft noise, laying down with you as he pulled you closer to him. He didn’t say a word, your tears tickling his chest as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. “It’s okay, baby. Your grade is still high enough to pass the class.” 

He was right, but his words didn’t do much to ease the feeling in your stomach. Still, you didn’t want to spend the day thinking about a grade that, in reality, didn’t matter. You wiped your eyes dry, offering your boyfriend a smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Jack nodded, “You wanna watch a movie? I can order in.”

~~~

The two of you were four movies in, the mix of genres helping your mind clear just a little bit, but the lingering memory of failing had yet to leave. 

Jack had given up on watching the current movie playing, opting to settle his face into your chest, placing the occasional kiss on your breasts. A few minutes later they became more frequent, and somehow, even more needy.

Normally when this happened, your fingers would be entangled in his hair, tugging at the curls in hopes to bring him up to your lips. But tonight, your hands lay beside you, not touching him at all. 

“Still thinking about it, aren’t you?” He mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Just wanna forget about it.” 

Jack looked up at you, a frown appearing on his face as he could see tears starting to well up again no matter how hard you were trying to focus on the TV in front of you. He hated seeing you upset, especially when it came to school. He was very aware of how serious you were about your education, which made him very aware of what was going on inside your head.

He pushed himself up a bit, his face right in front of yours. He didn’t speak, simply leaning in to connect his lips to yours. 

It was slow and gentle, his kiss telling you everything he wanted you to know. Your hand came up to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Jack groaned at the feeling, his arms wrapping around you and shifting your bodies so that you rested on top of him, legs on either side of his and warm hands on your hips. 

The intensity of the kiss picked up, and the need to be closer to each other became suffocating. “Jack, please.”

You could feel his smirk against your lips. “Yeah? What do you need, baby?”

He pulled back, wanting to see you as you told him exactly what you needed from him. Your eyes met his, your eyes watery from the overwhelming emotions you were feeling at the moment, “I want to forget.”

You could see the falter in Jack’s face, your voice barely above a whisper, “Just help me forget.”

Jack nodded, his hands squeezing your sides before flipping you over, your back now lying comfortably against the bed. He kissed your lips one last time before trailing all the way down to your lower stomach. 

He halted his kisses, eyes peering up at you, “Can I touch you here?”

Your words were caught in your throat, a whine slipping past your lips causing a smile to appear on Jack’s face as you pulled yourself together, “Yeah.”

“Atta girl.” He teased, his mouth moving lower to lap at your folds over your panties with his tongue, “Promise I’ll make you feel so good. My smart girl.” 

He brought up his hand, fingers pushing the damp fabric to the side before pressing his tongue flat against you, a soft moan escaping you. 

Jack was usually messy, his mouth going wherever it wanted, but tonight, he was calculated. His movements were strategic, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit in ways he knew you liked, but switching it up to take your mind off of anything else. The inconsistent actions had you wanting for more, your hand pushing Jack closer to your core. 

He could feel you getting close already, your hips rutting gently against his face. Jack knew you could get off like this, but he wanted to give you more. He brought his forearm up to hold your waist down, his wrist twisted awkwardly to keep your panties out of his way.

His tongue trailed lower, the muscle now prodding at your entrance as his nose pressed at your swollen clit. “Fuck, Jack!” You cried, the feeling blurring anything else going on in your mind, filling it with only one thing. 

Jack.

You could feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten as he got sloppy with it, the noises of his tongue moving across your pussy filling the room close to pornographic. 

It was hard to miss the feeling of his smirk against you as well, his own mind fogging up with your whispered praises, his hips now rutting against the mattress to provide some sort of stimulation. 

“Let go for me, pretty girl.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his words doing just that.

Your hips lifted slightly off of the bed, a sinful moan leaving your throat. Jack too, moaned at the feeling of your juices leaking all over his face, the feeling something he’d never get tired of. 

As you came down from your high, your senses came back to you. Jack was still moving at the same pace as he had before, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. 

You pushed your palm against his head, hoping for him to give you a break, “Jack!”

He shook his head against you, the feeling overwhelming, “You’ve got another one in you.”

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖊

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they find you again, after all this time

but something‘s different,

you are no longer human

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ sanemi , giyuu , obanai

The battlefield was a graveyard of still bodies and whispers, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and ash. Casting its cold, pale light over the ruin, the moon hung low as Sanemi, a man made of storms, stood at its center. His sword was heavy in his hand, a weight that pulled at his very soul, though he refused to release it. Something else weighed on him—something darker, deeper. A presence.

And then you stepped into the light.

At first, he thought it was a trick of his war-addled mind. His breath hitched, sharp and involuntary, his heart stumbling over itself in its chest. It was you—your silhouette unmistakable, the curve of your face seared into his memory. But as you moved closer, the truth unraveled with cruel clarity.

You were not you anymore.

Perfect in its monstrosity, your skin shimmered with a cold, unnatural beauty, pale as death. Your once-warm eyes glowed red, the color of fresh blood, devoid of everything he had known. And you reeked—of death, of Muzan, of betrayal so vile it made his stomach churn.

Sanemi froze, the world narrowing to just you. Memories rushed forward like a flood he could not stop. The way you used to smile at him, tentative and soft, as though you could see the fractured pieces of him and still chose to stay. The way your hand once lingered on his arm, grounding him when his anger threatened to consume him. The way your voice, so achingly gentle, had once cut through the storms raging in his heart.

But that was gone. All of it.

Now, you were a weapon. Cold, deadly, beautiful. His masterpiece.

"Sanemi," you breathed, though it wasn’t your voice, not really. It was too sweet, too sharp, laced with something cruel that made his skin crawl. "I thought you’d be happy to see me. After all, you thought I was dead, didn’t you?"

His knuckles turned white around his sword, the leather of the hilt creaking beneath his grip. "You are dead," he spat, his voice rough and trembling. "Don’t you dare use her face, her body, her voice. Don’t you dare speak to me like that."

Almost curious, almost mocking, you tilted your head. "Dead?" you echoed, your lips curving into a smile that wasn’t yours. "If I’m dead, then why does my heartbeat still haunt you? Why do you still dream of me?"

Barely perceptible, but it was there, a crack in his otherwise unyielding armor that made the Hashira flinch. You had always been able to see through him, to peel back the layers of anger and grief he wrapped himself in. That hadn’t changed. But now, it wasn’t kindness in your eyes—it was something darker, something broken.

"You should have let me go," you said, stepping closer, your voice soft but cutting, like a knife sliding between his ribs. "But you didn’t, did you? You held on. Even now, you can’t let go."

Sanemi’s chest ached, a sharp, twisting pain that spread like fire. He wanted to scream at you, to tell you that you were wrong, but the words caught in his throat. Because you weren’t wrong. Of course, he hadn’t let go. How the hell could he?

And now, here you were. A ghost, a demon, a nightmare made flesh.

"I’ll kill you," he spat, yet the words sounded hollow, even to him. His blade trembled in his hand, his resolve cracking with every second that passed. He had faced demons countless times before, had killed without hesitation, but now? Now, his blade felt heavier than ever.

"You won’t," you whispered, your voice so soft it was almost tender. "You love me too much."

Love. The word hit him like a blow, leaving him breathless. He had never said it, never dared to, not even in the quiet moments when you had been alive and whole—always having been too scared, too proud, too angry at the world to admit what you meant to him. And now, it was too late.

Swift and merciless, you attacked, and he barely had time to raise his blade. Sanemi gritted his teeth as he pushed you back; the clash of steel against your claws rang out, sharp and jarring. Being faster now, stronger, your movements were inhumanly precise. Every swing of his blade felt like fighting against his own heart.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

As the battle continued, a blur of blood and desperation, his body moved on instinct, yet his mind was elsewhere, tangled in memories of you. The way you used to laugh, the way your hand used to linger on his, the way you had made him feel something other than rage.

That was gone. He knew as much yet why…?

"You’re hesitating," you remarked, voice cold and biting as you dodged another swing of his blade. "Do you think you can save me? Do you think there’s anything left of me to save?"

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too thick, the words too heavy. Instead, he fought harder, his strikes growing more desperate, more erratic.

Then, suddenly, you were gone, vanished into the shadows as if you had never been there.

As he stared at the empty space where you had stood, the man fell to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp. Hollering around him, the wind carried the scent of blood and rain. Still, all he could smell was you — a ghost of what was long gone.

Sanemi stayed there for what felt like hours, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. He wanted to scream, to cry, to tear the world apart, but all he could do was sit there, the weight of his guilt crushing him.

You were gone.

And he had failed you. Again.

Burdened by a silence that felt almost alive, the night was heavy, pressing against Giyuu’s chest with a weight that made it hard to breathe. The forest stretched out endlessly before him, the trees stark and bare against the pale light of the moon. He moved forward, his steps measured and careful, though his mind was a mess of unspoken thoughts. He had been restless for weeks now, the sensation creeping into his bones that something was wrong, that something was unfinished. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way—it was a shadow that had clung to him since that fateful mission, the one where he’d lost you.

You were his tsuguko, his pride, his reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope in the quiet void of his life. You were everything he wasn’t: warm where he was cold, open where he was closed off, curious in ways that sometimes made him envy your ability to find beauty in a world that had been so cruel. He had trained you, poured what little he had of himself into you, and though he hadn’t said it—he rarely said anything—you must have known how deeply he cared.

But then you were gone, swallowed whole by the very darkness they fought every day. He had arrived too late to save you, too late to even hold you as the light in your eyes faded. Instead, he found only blood, streaks of it painting the ground like some grim mockery of a farewell. Your body was gone, taken by the demon who had bested you, and he had searched for weeks, scouring every shadow, chasing every lead, only to find nothing.

Eventually, he told himself you vanished. Not because he believed it, but because it was easier than living with the weight of not knowing.

Yet here he was, drawn to this forest by a presence he could not ignore, a feeling wrapped around his chest like a vice. He had felt it before, fleeting moments when the air would shift, and he’d swear he wasn’t alone. But those moments passed as quickly as they came, leaving him with only the hollow ache of his own imagination. This time, though, it was different.

Stopping in a clearing, the moonlight spilled across the ground in pale streaks. The air was still, unnaturally so, and for a moment, the world felt like it was holding its breath. And then he saw you.

Similar to the movements of a ghost you stepped out of the shadows, your figure bathed in silver light. His breath caught in his throat, his heart lurching in a way that almost made him stumble. It was you—he could never forget you—but you were different. Your skin was pale, too pale, and your eyes glowed with a crimson hue that sent a chill down his spine. You smelled of blood, of death, of Muzan.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. His body, frozen in place as his mind screamed at him to make sense of what he was seeing, just couldn’t. With an unreadable expression you looked at him, though your eyes carried a weight that felt almost unbearable.

“Giyuu,” you said, your voice soft, trembling, a sound he hadn’t realized he’d been aching to hear.

Then, painfully so, his hand tightened around his sword, the familiar weight grounding him in a moment that felt too unreal to be true. “You’re... alive,” he said, though the words tasted bitter, laced with the truth he couldn’t bring himself to say.

You smiled, but it wasn’t the smile he remembered. It was colder, sharper, laced with something he couldn’t name. “Alive,” you echoed, the word falling from your lips like a stone sinking into water. “If this can be called living.”

Slowly coming undone, the silence between you lingered as the unspoken words pressed against his chest like a blade. He wanted to move, to reach for you, to do something, but all he could do was stare as the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him.

“You didn’t save me,” you said, and the simplicity of your words felt like a blow to the chest.

“I tried,” he murmured, though even to his own ears, the words rang empty.

“Not hard enough.”

Quiet, almost detached your tone didn’t reach him as angry, and that made it worse. You weren’t blaming him—not entirely—but your words carried the weight of a truth he couldn’t deny.

The grip on his sword faltering, Giyuu closed his eyes. “I thought you were gone. I looked for you, but I...” His voice broke, and he hated himself for it, hated the way his composure cracked under the weight of his failure.

When he opened his eyes, you were closer, and the scent of death clung to you like a second skin. “You should have let me go,” you said, and there was something almost tender in the way you said it, though it was a tenderness laced with bitterness. “It would have been kinder.”

“I couldn’t,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“Why not?”

While the truth weighed too heavy, being too raw to put into words, he didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Instead, he watched as you stepped back, disappearing into the shadows—the shadows he couldn’t reach—once more.

Falling to his knees in the clearing, the weight of your presence—of your absence—crushed him. You were gone, and yet you weren’t. You were out there, somewhere, haunting him with the reminder of everything he had failed to protect.

The silence of the forest pressed in around him, and for the first time in years, Giyuu allowed himself to break.

A sharp scent of blood hung heavy in the air, the battlefield awash with red. Obanai’s breath hitched, but the chaos around him blurred into nothing as he stood rooted in place, unable to move. The shadows of the trees twisted in the dim moonlight, creating a stage for the figure that emerged from the darkness. He had spent months telling himself you were gone, mourning you in silence because grief was an emotion he could barely afford in this life. But there you stood—or, at least, something that resembled you—your body wrapped in an aura of darkness that felt like the demon king himself.

It was as if the universe had stopped breathing, leaving only the low rustling of leaves and the distant cries of the dying behind him. You were there, but clearly, it wasn’t you. You couldn’t be demon.

The Obanai who had stood tall and unshaken in the face of countless battles, who had worn his stoic mask like armor, felt it crack the moment your crimson eyes met his. The warmth he had once loved so deeply in your gaze was gone, replaced by something feral, detached—an unbearable void.

And yet, despite the demonic aura, despite the unmistakable stench of Muzan’s curse on your flesh, your face was unchanged. The softness of your features, the curve of your lips, the way you carried yourself—it all lingered, mocking him, reminding him of what he’d failed to protect. You looked like a ghost, not alive, not truly dead, and far beyond his reach.

“Obanai,” you said, and the sound of your voice cut through him like a blade. It was lower now, more venomous, but it was still you. The voice that had soothed him when he doubted himself, that had laughed softly as you tended his wounds in the quiet of the night. Clenching his fists, the trembling betrayed the storm in his chest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice taut, forced. Painfully, his hands itched to draw his blade, to do what had to be done, but his body wouldn’t obey. Not yet. Not while the sight of you chained him to the ground.

Stepping closer, your movements were slow, deliberate, each step a challenge. “And yet I am,” you murmured. “I suppose we have to thank him for that.”

Muzan. That name was a curse in his mind, a symbol of everything vile and cruel in the world. The realization clawed at him—the same hands that had taken so much had taken you, turned you into a monster.

“You didn’t come for me,” you said softly, but there was no anger in your tone, only the empty weight of a fact. “I waited, Obanai. I waited in that darkness, clinging to the hope that you would find me. But you didn’t.”

Like a blow this accusation landed, harder than any wound he’d ever suffered in battle. The man wanted to deny it, to scream that he had tried, that he had searched, that he had torn himself apart looking for you. But what would it matter? You were here now, and the truth was written in the blood staining your claws, in the hunger lurking behind your crimson gaze.

“I couldn’t,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible.

“No,” you said, tilting your head as if studying him. “You wouldn’t.”

Ever so subtle, the bitterness in your voice dug into him like thorns, wrapping around his ribs until he could barely breathe. He thought of the nights he had spent grieving you in silence, the guilt that had kept him awake, and the endless prayers he had offered to gods who had long stopped listening.

But none of it mattered. None of it would undo what had been done.

“You were my weakness,” you continued, creeping closer still, until you were only a few feet away. “And now I am yours.”

Shattered, his hand tightened around his blade, and this time, it wasn’t hesitation that stayed him. It was despair. He couldn’t fight you—not because he lacked the will, but because he knew that no matter how sharp his blade, no matter how precise his strike, he couldn’t kill the part of himself that still loved you.

“Do it,” you said, your voice almost tender, as if mocking him. “Draw your sword, Serpent Hashira. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t that your duty?”

Naturally, he wanted to tell you to stop, to beg you to leave, but the words wouldn’t come. His throat was dry, his heart pounding in his ears. The weight of his guilt and failure pressed down on him like a mountain.

You smiled then, a cruel, broken smile. “You can’t, can you? Because you know this is your fault.”

Like a dagger, those words were catapulted deep into his heart. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet your eyes anymore, because he knew you were right. He had failed you in the worst way, and this was his punishment—to see you like this, to know that the person he had loved was gone, replaced by something monstrous.

Softly, you cracked a laugh, a bitter sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Goodbye, Obanai,” you said, turning away from him, your voice carrying no malice, only finality. “This was the last thing I needed to see.”

Long after you disappeared into the shadows, he stood there, the weight of your presence lingering in the air. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his blade clattering beside him. The silence of the forest swallowed him, but it offered no solace.

The hashira had failed you, and now he would carry the ghost of that failure with him until the end.

pls don’t let this flop. i feel too deeply about kny men. 🫢

[after-the-end-times]

Is it Christmas Magic or is it Love?

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Hot Chocolate ☕ Rating: G ☕Words: 1000 ☕ cw: none ☕ Tags: Getting Together, single dad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Sometimes just having someone help feels like magic, Eddie hears what Steve's really saying and does something about it Ao3

Steve pushed rewind on the vhs player and sat back down on the couch, the blue of the tv screen lighting up the room and the sounds of Eddie and Robin shuffling around coming from the speaker of the phone Steve had pulled to the couch.

“You know, I kinda wish Santa and all that Christmas magic stuff was really real.” Steve said wistfully, thinking about how much easier Christmas would be if he didn’t have to be in charge of every single aspect of creating Christmas memories for his daughter.

“Um, what? You don’t think that’d be pretty creepy in real life?” Robin asks skeptically. They, and Eddie, had just finished their monthly movie night via speakerphone, Christmas themed since it was December, and Steve thought it’d actually be pretty handy if some nice old guy in town really was secretly Santa. Except,

“Ok, maybe you have a point about the whole ‘always knowing what you’re doing’ or ‘sneaking into houses in the dead of night’ thing being creepy.” He glances over at the boxes with the tree and decorations that still needed to be put up at some point. “Still. Would be nice.”

“What’d be nice?” Eddie asks.

He sounds like he’s honestly wondering, so Steve takes a moment to try to explain it.

“I suppose...it’d be nice to have the help, you know? If “Santa” could just take something off my plate so I wouldn’t have to do everything? Like, I would love if Santa could actually just magically know what Annabelle wants even after she changes her mind fifty times and then just poof! magic it here.”

He pauses, trying to articulate this other feeling he gets on Christmas morning, without sounding too woe is me. “Also, sometimes- Ugh! Nevermind.”

He tips over on the couch, pressing his palms to he eyes.

“No, what is it?” Eddie asks, his voice gentle in the silence of Steve’s living room.

“So, I guess...you know, it’s not like I got all those Christmasy traditions for very long when I was a kid, right? I mean, we did stuff, but it wasn’t, you know, just us, doing little things throughout the month, watching movies, going skating, making popcorn garland, and all that, right? And I love doing all those things for and with Belle, I really do! But, also,” He hesitates a moment, because this feels too vulnerable. But it’s just Robin and Eddie, so, “I want that? To feel that wonder and magic she feels.”

“Steve”

Oh no, that was Robin’s concerned voice.

“You know what? I think I’m just being mopey. ‘Tis the season, right? So, just ignore me. I’m the parent, so it’s my job to create magical moments, not- Anyway! When are you guys getting to town?”

🎄🎄🎄

Robin couldn’t get work off until the week of Christmas, but Eddie’s book tour was suddenly redirected, so he was staying with Wayne for most of December. Steve was excited to have him in town, but also assumed Eddie would still be too busy to do much with him and Belle. Steve knows his friends love his kid, but he also knows that not everyone wants to hang out with a 6yo running amok, hanging off him, or trying to run off with strangers at the mall play place.

But oh, how wrong he was.

The moment Eddie got into town, he called to ask if Steve and Belle were free. Which, they were, so Eddie came right over to hang out while Steve did kid laundry. He took one look at the boxes in the living room and asked Belle if she wanted to help put up the tree and decorate the house. By the end of his visit, the whole house felt like Christmas. The tree lit up the room with glowing light, showing off six years of kid ornaments, and now, after an hour of crafting, a handful of Steve, Belle, and Eddie ornaments.

A few days later, Steve was at work when Eddie showed up bringing him a large hot chocolate and, somehow, leaving with Steve’s shopping list of gifts. He’s honestly still not sure how it happened, but either way Steve definitely didn’t expect to get home after school pickup to find Eddie at home working on dinner, and bags of gifts tucked away in Steve’s bedroom.

The next weekend, Steve had planned on taking Belle to see Santa at the mall, but the entire day had gone wrong. And Steve just could not imagine standing in an hour long line with a squiggly 6yo, even if it’s the only day that works if he wants to include the photos with their Christmas cards.

Just as he’s seriously thinking of calling it, there’s a knock at the door. Eddie had finished that day’s book signing at a local bookstore and driven by to see if he could catch them before they headed out. Somehow, just having Eddie there made going to the mall seem not too bad.

The line was just as long as Steve feared, but he and Eddie took turns walking Belle around while the other held their spot in line, so it really wasn’t too bad. Steve was getting close to the front when he saw Eddie and Belle coming through the crowd; She was holding Eddie’s hand, looking very serious about whatever she was saying, Eddie slightly bent over so he could hear her, and Steve felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes suddenly stung with emotion. Oh.

Steve pulls Eddie in to join them for their family photo with Santa.

Driving home, Eddie detours around the neighborhood, slowing down at brightly decorated houses to ooh and ahh with Belle, pointing out snowmen and Santas and reindeer.

Steve looks at him and reaches a hand over. This is what he wants, what he’s been missing. Not some Christmas magic that suddenly fixes everything for him, but this, him. Smiling over at Steve, Eddie links their hands.