#also pretending that all the points lost were only because of his mistakes when the majority is because of mclaren's poor strategy is.

[gatitties]

Hello. This is my first time making a request, so pardon me for any mistakes I might make, english is also not my first language, lol. May I request a teen! AFAB male reader (trans FtM) x Kid pirates (platonic)?

The reader is the user of the Itai-Itai No Mi, a fruit with the power to control pain sensitivity. The reader is chronically ill, born with Classic Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so you could see how the fruit comes in extremely handy. He can control his own pain levels and transfer pain between himself and others, outside of battle, he often uses his powers to overextend himself, and during a fight, he can debilitate enemies by accentuating the pain from his own wounds and then transferring it to a target. Since he's physically weak, he keeps a distance, using a bow and arrow. He's really passionate about chemistry, so he usually laces the arrows with nervous agents, urticants, or other chemical weapons.

However, the powers from his fruit are nothing but a mere illusion. He can go on with his daily life, using his powers as analgesics and pretending he's not sick in the first place, but even though he's not feeling pain, he's still getting hurt.

If that wasn't enough, the reader is alexythimic, so he's constantly thrill-seeking in an attempt to alleviate the boredom that comes with his dulled-out emotions. This gets to the point where the reader just completely neglects his health because, well, he's not in pain. It also gets to the point where his body simply starts falling apart, being too unstable to keep him going. He hides this to the crew and pretends that nothing is happening, though the bruises and huge atrophic scars that appear from the slightest injuries are kind of a give-away.

Anxiety and anger are the only two emotions that the reader can easily identify, the rest being vague, confusing, or apparently non-existent. As he sits on the edge of his bed, feeling like a burden to the crew, those two emotions overtake him. The reader already has dysphoria and uneasiness regarding his body, a thing which he rarely talks about; despite dressing boyish he definitely doesn't pass as both his voice and body don't match his mind. And now, if that wasn't enough, his body fails him once more. "Why do I have to deal with the burden of something that doesn't even belong to me?" He asks himself.

As he gets sicker and sicker, his mind has him trapped in this endless cycle of boredom, fear, rage and indifference. At this point, everything, from his body to his head, feels like he's been sentenced to life in prison.

One day the reader simply collapsed, and the crew has to sit there, puzzled, as they figure out why the usually full-of-energy reader now has faceplanted the floor. I'll leave the rest to you (?) sorry if this is too long, lol. I've been feeling crappy about my physical and mental health, so reading something like this would be nice.

─Kid pirates x Teen!AFAB male reader (FtM) (platonic)

─Summary: Your world is slowly collapsing in the face of your illness, your powers don't seem to help and you are becoming more and more physically and mentally devastated.

─Warnings: a little angst, dissatisfaction with body, small panic attack

Naah, you did absolutely fine, I'm sorry this took so long and I hope you're really okay now love, I wish you all the love in the world and lots of hugs <3

You lost count of how many days you've been feeling this way, a sensation that tingles your body and persists until you fade it with your powers, the sensitization control worked well, however you had the reminder of the scars and the touch of your own skin, remembering that no matter how hard you try, you were still a helpless and insecure teenager with a chronic health problem.

The moments when all the discomfort was left behind was due to the lack of understanding when it came to deciphering feelings, the crew didn't help much with that issue, after all, they, for the most part, weren't the happiest people or those who spread nice or self-care messages, definitely the Kid Pirates weren't the most suitable to fully develop your lack of interpretation of emotions.

Even though you had never had any problems before, something inside your mind was eating away at your conscience little by little, devouring every little corner, you don't know when it started, but you felt trapped in a cycle, repetitive days seeing your face, your body, you didn't look like yourself, you weren't the person you imagined in your confused mind, you didn't like yourself, and even changing your physical aspects in a certain ways, there was always some minimal detail as a reminder, the tone of your voice, the shape of your body… it seemed like a constant fight against yourself, a tug-of-war in which your thoughts brought you down morally.

"Hey kiddo, don't just stand there, we have to go now, don't forget your things."

Heat gave you a little push on the shoulder, taking you out of your train of thought, as if the world had returned to its normal speed, you nodded, leaving to pick up your bow, arrows and those new poisons that you had been making in your little laboratory inside Kid's workshop.

Wire, who came right after you left, narrowed his eyes, watching as your hunched figure faded through the dining room door, sharing a look with his companion as if they read each other's thoughts. They were both the first to notice how you seemed more subdued and distant every day, as they found themselves spending more time with you, although at first they attributed it to you simply being tired, something told them it was something deeper than simple tiredness.

"Do you think something's wrong with the boy? He's been avoiding spending time on the deck lately."

Heat nodded at his friend's question, knowing that you seemed to be avoiding everyone lately, making a mental note to ask you about it, both of them split up to get their weapons as well, they were going to rob a small town in about ten minutes.

Your gaze was lost, focused on your bow, lips in a thin line, you clenched your fist around the weapon, startling when you felt a huge, cold hand against your head, Kid had a habit of giving you caresses on the head a little roughly before a battle, a strange feeling stirred inside you, something that you supposed was good since it was not the same feeling you had when you experienced anger.

"Be careful and all that, but above all, crush them."

Kid was certainly not the most encouraging person, but taking a few minutes with you before each battle made you feel good, a small, shaky smile decorated your face for a few seconds, unknowingly, your captain's words had added more weight to your shoulders, of course, not intentionally, but you would feel like a complete useless if you did not do your job well.

The moments before and during battle always become a blur of images, as if you have no control over your own body, leaving it on autopilot, just shooting from a distance, only physically intervening if some idiot dares to get too close to your position.

You didn't have to make much physical effort most of the time, you conserved a lot of energy by having a more defensive position, leaving the action and enjoyment to your bloodthirsty comrades, but your enemies were not in front at the moment, your own immune system was the one who decided to give you a rear stab, like a traitor. Your senses began to fail and immediately fear settled in the pit of your stomach, a strange and unexpected sensation, your body began to tremble even when you insensitized it with your skill, your hands, your legs began to not respond, the tingling at the tip of your fingers intensified and it seemed as if your skin was cracked and dry.

The failure in your system made you fall from the tree you were in, with your senses completely disoriented you began to feel pain like small needles sticking into every corner of your body, your chest rose and fell rapidly, your pharynx seemed to close like a snake taking your breath away in a deadly strangulation.

Killer, who was the closest to your position, was the one who heard the smack of your body against the ground, as well as your weak moans, giving you a sidelong glance, his body went cold in a second as he saw how you struggled to stay conscious, forgetting about his main task, although it was practically finished, he immediately went to you.

"Hey, hey, are you okay? Damn, have you been attacked? Please listen to me, try to be with me just a little longer and don't lose consciousness... kiddo? kiddo!"

He shook your body carefully, trying not to touch the parts of your skin exposed and full of scars, Killer despaired when you began to close your eyes, taking you in his arms quickly, returning to the safety of the Victoria Punk, completely confused by your sudden fainting, yes, he knew that sometimes you left your own skin at work, in battles, but you always seemed to be full of energy, ready for another assault, what happened this time? There were no enemies around.

It was the day after that event, you met up with the group of four, Heat, Wire, Kid and Killer looked at you expectantly, making you shrink in your own place, you didn't know how to start talking, you felt pressured, caged at that moment, there were so many things you wanted to say and yet so few words with which to explain yourself. You didn't speak that day, or the next, or the following week, which got on the crew's nerves, although they weren't the friendliest or funniest pirates, they were still like a family and despite not showing it to the outside, they all had a deep concern for your state, so broken and fragile being a simple teenager.

Wire had to stop his captain from exploding at you because of this whole strange atmosphere of uncertainty, and if it weren't for Killer, who decided to take matters into his own hands, Kid would surely have taken out his problems with an argument, luckily, his best friend and co-captain was much gentler, perhaps, one of the only people on board who could make you understand in a less complex way the feelings of duality you were going through.

Of course, you released some emotional weight after a long talk with Killer, it didn't make all your worries go away, the chronic illness will haunt you until the end of your days, it was something you had to bear and accept, and they would take care of keeping your mind away from bad thoughts.

They don't know how they'll do it either, solving such complicated, emotional and personal problems wasn't something they had much experience with, but they'll go through this process together, they promised that you'd never have to feel that way again, that you'd never go through that again, but it'll still take you some time, the most pessimistic thoughts are the ones that take root the most in the mind and destroy it, but at least, they already have somewhere to start.

[landonor]

reddit's compulsive need to put down lando in every single way is disgusting

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* CHAPTER 2 || Fuck The Foolish Mistakes

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, masturbation, pervy!gojo, tw; mentions/hints of stalking & obsession, some heinous activities, dark themes, disturbing actions, etc.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE SUMMER BEFORE everything went to shit for you was the same summer in which you and Shoko decided to move in together. For two months of break, it felt so much longer than that. It was a time in which you spent getting closer and closer to Shoko, so much so that it was only natural that you would call her one of your closest friends.

Although, said friendship seemed rather one-sided. Sure, you both got along pretty well but from what it seemed— Shoko had plenty of other friends to run to whenever she wished. So, after you realized that, you got a bit more real with yourself and dubbed her as simply your roommate. Closest friend, but roommate nonetheless.

This summer was also spent single after you’d gotten dumped a few weeks before the last semester ended. You were sad about it for a while but Shoko was there to cheer you up. Meanwhile, the other people you thought were your friends steadily started to showcase their truer colors, revealing how they never really cared too much about you to begin with and dropped you just like your boyfriend had.

Ah, whatever, that’s all old stuff anyway. It took you maybe a week to get over all that foolishness. So by the time summertime came around, you thought things would get better for you. Instead, you lost your job and that’s where your struggle began. You may have picked up one or two during your summer break but ultimately, none of them stuck long enough to trickle over to your final two semesters of school.

And as you went through such things, a certain someone was keeping track of it all like some fucking stalker. This person in question being none other than Gojo Satoru himself. Unlike you, his summer was rather pleasant. He started babysitting due to his not-so-hidden love for children, he went out a decent number of times, and he heard things about you without even asking.

Why? Because he had a wonderful friend who talked about you to no end— Gojo became very thankful for Shoko because it’s due to her that the pages of his notebook began to fill with endless entries about you. Perhaps journaling you became some kind of hobby for him.

Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see you as much since it was summertime so he treasured every bit of information he got on you. Why was he so hooked on noting it all down though? Was it really curiosity at this point or, was it something so much more? He’d long since labeled it as a crush but that doesn’t excuse his journaling.

Hell, at one point Gojo found himself mindlessly writing down vivid details of the way your laugh sounds— from any pitch that’s ever grazed his ears, to the number of breaths taken before and after. It was then that Gojo dropped his pencil and read over what the hell he’d written down.

His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers went to soothe his temples, brows tensing, and eyes narrowing at his own words. Did he… Did he really just sit here and describe a woman, who he’s never spoken to, and how her laugh sounds? At the realization, Gojo had to close his journal and push it away from himself.

Sometimes, he may try to pretend like he doesn’t see any harm behind this journaling thing of his but at moments like this… He nearly creeps himself out. Imagine if you were to ever stumble upon such a thing. Gojo’s almost disgusted with himself. Not even a hi or hello has ever been spoken to you and yet here he was printing the details of that joyful sound you make when you find something humorous.

Gojo was very self-aware by that point, mentally telling himself that he needed to stop this madness and just talk to you like he craved. Maybe Suguru was right, maybe your having a boyfriend didn’t matter.

On that day, Gojo should’ve listened to his own warnings. He should’ve taken care of his own red flags right then and there.

But instead, he only got worse.

—--

Depicting the details of your laughter was one thing. But going out of his way to print out photos of you he’d found on Instagram was an entirely different level of crazy.

Okay, so perhaps this was no longer just some cute lil’ crush… Gojo doesn’t know how his… curiosity got so dark. He doesn’t know where or when it really started but at some point, he thinks he became aware that this wasn’t exactly normal. Eventually, Gojo realized this was more of an obsession— you were an obsession.

A scary one too. Even scary to himself. The mere mention of your name would make Gojo’s heart race, whenever Shoko came around smelling like you in the slightest bit, Gojo could feel his mind blur and his thoughts instantly run to you.

One time Shoko, who was just as oblivious to this as everyone else at the time, showed the man a video of you and her trying some challenge together. Gojo doesn’t remember the challenge at all or even what either of you was doing in that video but he does remember having his eyes all over you.

He remembers seeing you hug Shoko by the end of the video and the feeling that burned in his heart. Such a deep form of jealousy swirled inside him and he couldn’t understand it. He never cared about Shoko being close to you before but now, it had pained him to watch his friend have the opportunity to feel you– to talk to you.

Something that Gojo told himself he no longer deserved to do. Yeah, he knows it was even more foolish but he felt as though he should be self-punished for his strange actions in regards to you. 

Those photos that he printed of you went right into his journal, along with an entry about how he wonders what it’s like to feel your touch. He wonders what holding a full conversation with you would be like. Would you laugh at the things he says? Would you playfully hit him if he utters something ridiculous? Are your hands soft? Would they feel soft wrapped around his cock-

Yet again did Gojo find himself dropping his pencil. Though, he doesn’t know which reason was worse. The fact that he really wrote that question down or the throb he felt in his cock at the mere thought of said question. Gulping, he told himself for the millionth time that he was losing his damn mind.

So much so that he had to push his journal away and really think about what the hell he just asked. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh at himself. He’d lost it, hadn’t he? Thinking about you in such a vulgar way without even knowing what talking to you is like is the very definition of insanity, yes?

No, this is just his obsession. He’s not insane. But hey, maybe the two go hand and hand— maybe there’s no difference between being batshit crazy and obsessing over someone…

Either way, Gojo tries to collect himself, moving to look down at his current state only to find that his cock didn’t just throb, instead the damn thing got hard. The sight was disappointing, to say the least. Gojo stared at the outline of his dick, wondering what the hell is wrong with his body and how the fuck he got hard so damn fast. All he did was think about you…

He moves to part his legs a bit more, trying to comfort himself and deciding he was going to ignore his boner and just return to writing. Though, as he leans up and pulls his journal back toward himself, his cock aches yet again. Gojo lets out a little groan, somewhat scolding himself for being like this.

And then he manages to ignore himself for a bit longer. At least, up until he does nothing more than read your name on his page. His focus narrowed in on the letters of your name, the sound of it echoing throughout his brain before his lips parted and he let out a sound.

His hand shoots up to his face and he covers his mouth, completely confused as to what the hell he’d just done. There was absolutely no way he’d nearly moaned at your name alone. Oh this was… No, he was losing it-, not even, he’d lost it already.

Gojo steadily wiped his mouth, fingers rubbing over his jawline for a moment before he looked down to his crotch. He could now feel how stupidly wet his tip was. Was he in heat or something? How the hell did he get so horny from… reading your name? Thinking about you? Hell, he doesn’t even know where to pinpoint the cause of all this anymore.

Shaking his head, his first thought was that he was in no way going to touch himself to the thought of you. Absolutely not. Fuck no. He may be obsessed but he’s not a… actually, there’s really no word he could use to describe what he’s not right now because he pretty much checks every box for an obsessive pervert.

“Shit,” Gojo huffed, glancing over to his wide-open room door. A second passes, then two, then three before he’s standing to his feet and walking over to the door.

The man glanced out into the hall, finding no signs of Geto anywhere before he shuts his door. Then, he pauses and stares at the lock. He’s not really about to do this, is he?

…

He locks the door and rushes right back over to his seat. Gojo slouches back a little this time and his legs part, his eyes low on his hard cock resting against his thigh and how painfully it was bulging against the fabric of his clothes.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He whispers. There’s no way you’d gotten him this hard…

You and your… everything. The very idea of you made Gojo roll his hips upward, causing faint friction against his clothed cock. Then he shook his head and looked away from himself.

“Nope, I’m not doin’ this shit,” He whispered. He can’t jerk off to some girl he doesn’t even know. He shouldn’t.

It’d be different if you were some pornstar he was infatuated with, then he could jerk off to you and there’d be no issue. But when you’re his friend’s friend… it’d be so weird of him to do so.

Even if you have the prettiest face he’s ever seen. Despite your laugh leaving him in some kind of trance. Ignoring the way your voice sounds. Disregarding how kind you seem from afar. Nevermind the way you walk, the things you wear— and how the first time he saw you, you were in a skin-tight blue dress-

Gojo’s jaw drops a little, “Oh fuck,” His voice is already breathy and his hand has found its way to his aching cock, groping himself through his clothing.

He looks down at himself all over again, body hot and breath unsteady already. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a groan before moving to tug his cock out, watching how it slaps against his abdomen and letting out another heavy breath of air.

Gojo moves his hands to his thighs and just gazes at his cock for a moment, seeing how it twitches so desperately-, desperately for you, and how his tip is leaking with precum already. Hell, it look like he came already, cum leaking down along his dick so lewdly.

What would anyone think if they found him like this…

One of his hands moves to grab his journal and he flips to the page with your pictures on it. He shouldn’t do this. This is wrong-

A whine slips past his lips the second his eyes are met with your face. Then his fingers are wrapping around his shaft and he’s jerking himself off without second thought. “Fuuck,” He moans, tossing his head back with his lower lip beginning to tremble already.

His hand was working the length of his dripping cock furiously, back arching ever so slightly in pure desperation and utter need. Oh how he wished it was your hand here instead of his. Fuck, what would your mouth feel like? Hell, how are you during sex? Are you the submissive type? Would you let him have his way with you? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours like he wishes to?

Or are you the more dominant type? Would you have his legs shaking from sucking him off? You probably would. He can only imagine what your lips would look like wrapped around his cock— already wet with spit and dribbles of his cum. Your face would probably be all messy but you might like that kinda thing, right?

Gojo whines, his eyes flickering and hand not slowing for even so much as a second. Shit, your mouth is probably heavenly but what would your pussy feel like? How wet would you get for him? Would you take him all in one go? Beg him to fuck you faster?

Fuck, would you get on top of him? Take control? Ride him til’ he’s the one begging you to stop? Again, Gojo moans into the air, a few times actually. His wrist rotates as he fists his needy cock, veiny length aching for anything from you.

He wonders if you’d want him to talk you through it. Or if you’d talk him through it. Would you be mean? Nice? Fuck, his thoughts are driving him crazy. In all honesty, he’d consider himself a complete slut for you. He’d do whatever you wanted him to.

Gojo ends up shifting, moving to hunch forward as he grows a bit overwhelmed. “Fuck, fuck-,” He gasps and chokes out a whimper of your name. Would you let him be some little slut for you? Because he would be, with zero hesitation. “Fuck me,” Gojo mumbles, watching as his cock twitches in his hands.

You’d probably praise him, wouldn’t you? Tell him how good he’s doing for you, encourage him to keep going-, or maybe you’d do the exact opposite. Perhaps you would degrade him.

Gojo’s eyes roll back at the mere imagination of you ever degrading him, calling him pathetic for being like this, a slut for shamefully jerking off to you, or even a bitch-

He’s cumming before he even realizes he is, moaning and moaning after the thought of you ever calling him such a thing. He doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much, he’s never been into that kinda thing before but when it’s you, shit… he can’t even control himself.

Messing up his hand, groaning out your name, moving to stand up with shaky legs, and continuing as his cock doesn’t go down. Then Gojo looks at the picture of you again, aligning his cock with the image and stroking himself angrily. He cannot believe himself right now but it’s much too late to care.

The damage is beyond done as he starts moaning again, small whines of fuck leaving his wet lips over and over the more he stares at your picture. Then he’s thrusting his hips into his hand, moving his free hand to grab ahold of the desk in front of him as if to brace himself.

Gojo heaves as he gets himself off. Tears well up in his eyes and he just knows he sounds so stupidly desperate right now, moaning, groaning, whining, and even whimpering for you whilst he fucks his fist. Eventually closing his eyes, he imagines you there with him, mentally illustrating the way your face would twist up every time he thrusts his cock deep inside you.

He could make you feel so fucking good if you ever let him. He’d treat you so well, give you anything and everything under the sun, make sure there’s always a smile on your face, and prioritize your needs over his own at all times.

By that point, he’s chanting your name in mindless little whispers, feeling his balls ache before the tip of his cock spurts out thick and hot ropes of cum— all over that same picture he’d been staring at.

Left panting, Gojo had to deal with the aftermath of his high. His eyes were slow to open and when he realized he came all over one of his pictures of you, he was even more disgusted with himself.

It took him a moment to gather himself after his actions but when he finally does, he cleans the filthy mess he’d made of himself and that damn photo before closing his journal and putting it away— telling himself he’d never do that again.

—---

Although, his little declaration didn’t last very long. A week later and he was jerking off with you in mind yet again. The same guilt and disgust follow afterward and Gojo tells himself he needs something else to put his focus on that’s not you.

Like his job for example; babysitting. What better to put his mind on to distract him from the way his mind, body, and soul crave you so desperately?

With that in mind, Gojo started with his scheduling. As time stood, he had roughly three different kids he babysat on a regular basis, all of which were looked after separately but looked after nonetheless. The first was a girl, whose name was Nobora. She was rather bratty in Gojo’s opinion but he didn’t mind, he liked how having her around reminded him of having that of a little sister.

Then there was Megumi, a child who so clearly hates him but is forced to be around him anyway. That hatred got even worse when the kid broke his leg while on Gojo’s watch— an event in which Gojo will forever find strange because the two were at a park and he swears he looked away for two seconds only to hear screaming moments later by nearby children.

By the time he made it to Megumi, his leg was broken and Gojo was to blame.

Aside from that, the last kid that Gojo found himself watching over sometimes was Itadori Yuji. Now this, this is where things got interesting.

For starters, Gojo never understood why he was hired to watch over Yuji when the kid had a perfectly capable older brother to do so. Then again, he didn’t question it once he saw he got paid quite handsomely for it.

Sometimes Gojo went over to the Itadori residence and others he picked Yuji up. Either way, the number of times Gojo encountered Sukuna was rather slim. They only ever interacted when it was time for payments to be made. Outside of that, Gojo knew little of Sukuna (his school reputation for being a major partier aside).

Any other information he got from the man came from Yuji, who Gojo would randomly question every now and then. Though, Yuji never spoke much about his older brother— only that he’s a bit short-tempered. Given that, Gojo had no reason to think twice about their family or relations at all.

Even when Yuji would appear with a bruise or two, Gojo didn’t put two and two together until it was much too late. The first few bruises, Yuji said he got them from playing around too much and falling, to which Gojo believed since he’d seen how clumsy Yuji could be firsthand.

As such, this went on for weeks and weeks but the day Gojo finally started realizing something was up, was the same day in which he’d finally meet the consequences for his previous actions.

On that day, before Yuji was dropped off to be babysat, Gojo was busy making vows to himself. The first being that he’d finally man up and fucking talk to you. He doesn’t really know what finally came over him but he felt as though it was time. Something, perhaps the universe, told him that after today— he’d grow some balls and hold a genuine conversation with you. 

Only a few days ago had he learned from Shoko that you now resided with her so things were going to be rather easy. There was about a week and a half of summer left, giving Gojo some time to not only talk to you but also get to know you firsthand.

His self-revelation came about after he reread every journal entry he had of you, jotting down one final entry of how he planned to talk to you. It was supposed to be casual, he would ask for your number, become friends with you, and go from there based on whether or not you showed any attraction toward him.

With such plans in mind, Gojo thinks it is safe to say that his obsession is finally being tamed. He was getting in control of it after having had such lewd thoughts of you multiple times within the past month and making entries of how he was left feeling in his journal.

That may have been what his last straw was— the whole pervertedness of it all. He was getting weirded out by it himself. Maybe once he started talking to you, his obsession would completely die down. Perhaps the reality of you would help ground him from this fictional high he’s had himself on ever since his obsession was born.

Though, it seems the world finds humor in the suffering of people and Gojo was forced to learn this the hard way.

Of course, as soon as he tells himself he’s gonna clean up his act and do what’s right, his punishment shows up in the form of a person who finds joy in watching others struggle. This person is none other than Sukuna himself, who shows up at the worst time imaginable.

Amid pure stupidity and thoughtlessness, Gojo quickly found himself in a situation in which could not be undone.

—-

After babysitting Yuji for maybe two hours, there was a knock on Gojo’s front door. Yuji sat on the living room couch, watching some cartoons as he swung his feet back and forth. Gojo was in the nearby kitchen, journal in hand before he went to answer the door.

That wonderful journal of his was left sitting on the kitchen counter, right in the open for anyone to see. 

That aside, when Gojo opened his front door, he was met with Sukuna. The two barely even greeted one another before the tatted man reminded Gojo it was payment day. The transaction was meant to be done inside so, Gojo allowed Sukuna to enter the apartment.

Yuji hardly glanced over to the two men before Sukuna nodded his head back, silently telling the kid to go ahead and make his way to the car. With no argument, Yuji sighed and grabbed what little of his things before he walked over to the two, briefly said bye to Gojo, and then made his way outside.

Gojo was going to question why Sukuna let the kid go out by himself like that but, he’s made his mistakes of asking too many questions in the past and has suffered the consequences. Not wanting to deal with a mouthy Sukuna, Gojo remained quiet until Yuji was gone.

Phones were pulled out and the two men moved to make that transaction of theirs. Sukuna had strange tendencies and rules, one of them being that Yuji wasn’t allowed to be present for what Sukuna considered adult business. It was something Gojo didn’t understand but, nothing crazy to really bat an eye at.

Just before Sukuna gets ready to send the money to Gojo— something in which he requires Gojo to be present to make sure nothing goes askew, Gojo starts noticeably squirming all over the place.

Sukuna raises a brow, “Fucks wrong with you?”

“Gotta use the bathroom,” Gojo huffs out without moving from where he stands.

The pink-haired man tilts his head, “Then go use the bathroom? I’m not gonna leave without paying you so relax.”

Gojo stands there a mere moment longer, contemplating a few things. The transaction could’ve been done by now but he felt like he was two seconds away from embarrassing himself so he just let out a long sigh before running off to the nearby bathroom. Thus leaving Sukuna standing there alone.

Now, Sukuna doesn’t consider himself to be a nosy person— he could usually care less about what others had going on in their lives unless it affected or entertained him. And where Gojo’s concerned, he honestly did neither at the time. He was just Yuji’s babysitter so Sukuna didn’t see much interesting about the guy.

That was, until he took his time alone to glance around Gojo’s apartment. Sukuna’s eyes wandered, studying the plain attempts at decoration and how utterly unstructured Gojo’s apartment appeared to be. Well, aside from some spots, it was rather clear that two people were living here, one more cleanly than the other.

Even so, Sukuna remained uninterested until he spotted a single book on the nearby kitchen counter. His eyes narrowed and he found himself surprised someone like Gojo would ever pick up a book. Again, the two knew little of one another aside from whatever school reputations they had— Gojo being known as some praying fuckboy and Sukuna being known as some hotheaded party-thrower. One could’ve assumed that the two would get along considering how their interests seem to align.

With that being said, Sukuna found himself walking toward this book without a second thought. The cover was completely blank and he realized it wasn’t a book at all. It was a journal.

Intrigued, Sukuna picks it up and does nothing more than pick a page at random to see if he’d find anything amusing, perhaps something to taunt Gojo with. Y’know, something to get a laugh out of.

The very last thing Sukuna expected to see was a page with a picture of some girl on it in the middle, surrounded by rather… creepy depictions of the woman. Details on the clothing in the picture, how much it cost, where to find it, depictions of where the woman went on that day, whether or not she seemed happy or sad, how many times Gojo heard her laugh-

Sukuna found himself disturbed instantly as he skimmed over the page. Though, not enough to stop him from turning the page. It seemed that such a creepy entry was one of many. Although, the first page he saw was definitely the creepiest. What ended up becoming the cherry on top was when Sukuna read over the fact that Gojo’s never spoken to you.

At that point, Sukuna scoffed, finding Gojo nothing but a fool for writing about a woman in such a way without ever talking to her. With dates, times, etcetera, Gojo had a ridiculous number of entries on this woman, so much so that it actually left Sukuna both curious and… entertained.

So when the sound of Gojo coming out of the bathroom hits Sukuna’s ears, he doesn’t even flinch or attempt to act like he wasn’t looking through the journal. Instead, Gojo walks out of the bathroom and finds Sukuna with the item in his hands.

It was at that very second that Gojo felt his heart sink to his goddamn toes. His eyes went wide and he froze in his steps, Sukuna not even so much as glancing away from the journal in his hands.

Gojo swallowed the overwhelming lump in his throat and attempted to say something-, anything, “What-”

“My my, what a fucking pervert you are,” Sukuna hummed enthusiastically, finally flicking his maroon gaze up to a dumbfounded Gojo. “This is disgusting, really. I mean,” Sukuna glances back down and smiles, “You love this woman and you’ve never even spoken to her?”

All wide-eyed and practically speechless, Gojo fumbles for a way to explain himself, “I-”

“And you fantasize about fucking her quite often,” Sukuna scoffs, tongue seeping out to lick his lips for a moment, “I can see why but shit… You’re a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“You-,” Gojo cocks his head back and blinks, the slightest mention of Sukuna taking interest in your appearance causing him to go right back to that not-so-rational state of his. Blinded by a deep obsession toward you, Gojo is slow with his words, “...You can see why? The hell does that mean-”

“She’s sexy, I get it. I see the lil’ pictures of her you’ve put in here,” Sukuna comments nonchalantly, “And yet, what I don’t get is this uh,” He clicks his tongue and smirks, “Obsession you have with her. Especially without talking to her? That’s…” He trails off for a second, his expression fading into something Gojo can’t quite read.

Gojo gulps and again attempts to defend himself, “I know it’s weird, I… I told myself I’m going to stop-”

“When?” Sukuna interrupts, voice rough, “When you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger and refuse to let her go because of the attachment you’ve created?” He questions the man almost as if he’s speaking from… experience.

“W-What?” Gojo’s brows push together. He never had any intentions of manipulating you in any shape or form, “No, I-”

“Would you tell her how you’ve been stalking her for months-, shit maybe even years based on some of these entries?” The way Sukuna takes a step toward Gojo lets him know that something about this seems to bother the pink-haired man.

“I haven’t been stalking her, I just-”

Sukuna looks down at the open page, “‘I especially liked how happy she looked today, when she smiles, she blinks about five times and when she laughs, it doubles.’ What sane man writes this shit about a woman he’s never spoken to, huh?”

“Sukuna just…” Gojo sucks in a crisp breath of air and attempts to plead with the male in front of him, reaching his hand out for his journal, “Just pretend like you never read that a-and give me the-”

“Aht aht,” Sukuna’s quick to swat his hand away and he nearly laughs at the way Gojo frowns frustratedly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep this little gem? Hm? See, you must be a bit confused about how this is about to go.”

For a moment, Gojo just stares. He never imagined this would happen. Hell, he wasn’t exactly careful with his journal but the last thing he expected was for Sukuna to pick the damn thing up. Fuck, he should’ve never left it on the counter. 

He lets out a sigh and his voice is small, laced with fear, “...Are you gonna tell her?”

“Am I gonna tell her?” Sukuna simply bursts out laughing, “Ha! What do I look like to you? Some simple-minded fool? No, I’m not gonna tell her.”

Gojo lets out the most thankful sigh of relief, “Thank fuck-”

“You are,” Sukuna states.

And at those words, the room goes silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. Gojo felt as though his blood ran cold and Sukuna had this overly smug look on his face.

It was from there on out that Gojo was set to face the consequences of his actions.

mlist || previous || next

tags 1/4; @lavnederr @stopmila @chelsea14 @hillmiaxoxo @choso-enthusiast

@chososdisciple @suguruologist @mitzkooni @annananamin @jakeywon

@thvema @uranometrias @gigiipeaches @isawrd @bored--boring

@soonyoung-park @oidloid @you-make-skz-stay @haesify @paintedcans

@deljojeisbackagain @heeheeswifey @s-kateboardcat @kaalyomi @rilxigh

@win2xsgf @diana4l @angelsleepinggurl @aselvaticotaku @livvyluvsyouu

@tadabzzzbee @buglikeangell @sukunadckrider @todod0kii @mua-for-now

@dazaiswaifuartisan @bee3l0v3r @blkpotionss @cranberrycosmos @cawwotta

@chosomi @gentle-roxyboo @teonawrites @interludered @wannabeotaku

@earthytreeswithc @tapinz @attackonjacksons @hovogliadisogni @hoebuns

[reddeaddamnation]

Dating dark!Ominis and dark!Sebastian would be like:

Warning ⚠️: Yandere boys, jealousy, manipulation

♡ In the beginning he would be exceptionally meek. He is smitten by your kindness and beauty and will do anything to keep you from leaving him

♡ Does anything you say just to keep you hooked.

♡ While you're getting comfortable with him, he is looking for ways to ensure you always stay with him.

♡ Already planned 3 weddings with you while you were sleeping

♡ You notice he starts hanging around you more and more to the point you don't even have a moment to yourself, let alone talk with your other friends.

♡ You want to sit with Natty this class? Nope. Sebastian already took the seat next to you. Poppy asked you to help her with some nifflers after class? Why shouldn't Sebastian be there?

♡ "I don't understand why I shouldn't accompany you when I'm interested in the same things as you are." He lied. He hasn't touched a niffler in his life.

♡ Star-gazing with Amit? OH HELL NO. Amit is good at astronomy. He can do it himself. Or is that a setup he came up with to get you alone so he can steal you from Sebastian?

♡ Overthinking 24/7 even the smallest thing that happened. Why did that Hufflepuff student had to ask YOU for notes? Why couldn't it be someone else? Why is everyone needing YOUR help all of a sudden?

♡ He is really good at playing victim so even if you confront him, he will act like he was only doing it to protect you, since you have so many enemies and he just wants to make sure you're safe.

♡ Will cry and fall on his knees if you try to tell him something. His act of endearment plays with your mind and he knows it well and is not afraid to use it.

♡ He knows you drop everything you're doing whenever you receive his owl, so whenever you're out and about by yourself or with someone else, he always sends you a letter to bring you back to help him even if its the dumbest thing in the world.

♡ He's not insecure. He is actually very cocky and knows he exceeds in every field, be it looks, intelligence or romance. He is just taking measures to make sure you don't leave him, since he has so many abandonment issues. That's what he says.

♡ If he goes too far and you get mad at him, he goes to great lengths to apologize and returns to his previous meek self for awhile until you cool down. You can see your friends and have a moment to yourself if that's what you want. Don't mind him, suffering and crying alone, punishing himself for a mistake he made.

♡ "Stay with me, Y/N, you know I never meant to cause harm to anyone. You know everything I did was to protect the people I love. You know I love you. More than anything. You know everything."

♡ Would 100% cast an unforgivable if you still leave him.

♤ Just because he's blind, you think he doesn't see the way boys look at you?

♤ If he notices you returning affections, he would do anything to get your attention back to him. Including weaponized incompetence. Yes, he could traverse the halls easily with his wand, but if you aren't with him, he will suddenly feel lost and helpless.

♤ He would go to great lengths to try to get any boy you talk to expelled

♤ If you get into an argument and he lashes out, he would also weaponize his family name, reminding you who he is and that its a privilege to date him.

♤ Of course, he would apologize after that

♤ He actually has no problem with you going out with your girl friends just as long as he knows every detail surrounding your plans and whereabouts. Or he will send something to spy on you

♤ He is an extrasense. Learned all your behaviors and patterns and would know when you're lying

♤ If you do lie, he would pretend that its okay, but mark it for future reference.

♤ Not as obsessive as Sebastian, but if you do decide to leave him, he will make your life hell so you can see he was the one shielding you from trouble with the headmaster.

♤ You will get in trouble for even the things you didn't do. Ominis will rat you out for everything you have ever done and doesn't have a problem if Sebastian gets in trouble too.

♤ Will go out of his way to stalk you and put you up for trouble.

♤ If you do decide to stay with him, he will demand to be in control at all times and expect submission

[m00nsbaby]

The way you miss me.

Marc Spector x F! Reader.

Tags & warnings. Pre-Khonshu events, angst, mentions of violence.

Word count. 1.9k.

Summary.

"We just keep on doing this, doing this, don't we? I'd try to leave, but you'd find some way, To twist my mind and make me wonder. If one day, I might change, And everything would make sense, darling. You'll see, Believe me, Now come sit down, just put your hands on me. I'm not trying to say I don't wanna stay, I just know how this story ends. Use my body against me and all of our history, I hate the way you miss me. Hate the way you, way you miss me."

You were going to break up.

Both of you knew that this had been imminent for some time, no matter how much you wanted to delay it.

No matter how much you wanted to avoid it.

Your first mistake had been accepting Marc Spector's self-destructive lifestyle, something he was sure of, but he was also sure that he never wanted to return to an empty house after one of his "jobs."

"I have to go to Cairo next week." He walked behind you as you organized the mess in the kitchen. You had told him a thousand times that you couldn't stand it when he did that, and more than once you had accidentally stepped on him, and he would pretend to be in unbearable pain to tease you even more.

It wasn't uncommon for him to drop these kinds of news on you like a bucket of cold water.

But again, maybe this was your fault for accepting this silent agreement that had only gotten worse as your relationship developed.

"For how long?"

When you looked at him, he shrugged.

Well, that was new.

"What do you mean by that?" It almost made you smile, if it hadn't been for that slight flutter in your stomach that warned you when something was wrong.

He knew you inside out, and he didn't want to face what was coming either.

"I don't know if I'm coming back."

You put down the plates you were holding, placing them on the kitchen counter with a louder thud than you would have liked.

"What are you talking about, Marc?"

"It's… It's very dangerous."

"Then don't go." Had your hands been trembling all this time?

It was funny, really, because both of you were trying to hold on tightly to your masks of feigned disinterest. Marc and you would both be crying your hearts out if it were easier for you to express your feelings without crumbling.

"I can't." Another two-word response.

The only thing more irritating than his one-word answers.

"What do yo mean?"

"He's not going to let me stay, he says he needs me." Ah, that. "He says I'm one of the best."

How were you supposed to deal with knowing that your partner was considered one of the best in the low world of thieves and mercenaries?

Your eyes fixed on the slight scratches of the counter table, reminding you that time you almost killed Marc for not using a plate when he chopped stuff.

And you swallowed hard. You wanted to scream, cry.

You wanted to give up.

"Why are you telling me this?" Please don't answer, please don't answer, please.

Please.

"Because we can't be together anymore."

Ah, there it was. You would love to say that this was the first time this had ever happened, but the truth was that Marc had been trying his best to protect you from this type of pain on multiple occaions. Actually, to this point you had already lost count of how many times.

Maybe the problem was that Marc didn't really want to leave, as much as he insisted.

"And?" What a funny gesture. You had learned it from a movie, the one where you crossed your arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Your gaze burned into him. You were probably the only person in the whole world who could make Marc Spector lower his gaze.

"Are you leaving just like that? Do you want me to just consider you dead one of these days?"

Oh no, there was something you hated more than his monosyllabic responses.

Not getting a response at all.

"Answer me, Marc!" And your voice broke.

"I told you this would happen." Probably the worst part was that he actually had. On multiple occasions.

"And I told you I wouldn't let you." Oh yes, that had also happened many times. "You don't get it?"

You took a break from the shouting as he searched for a way to respond, his gaze fixed on the floor and you sobbing until you could swallow the lump in your throat.

Marc was never good with words; actions were his strength. So when his arms wrapped around you, clinging to his chest as if you were about to disappear into thin air at any moment, you couldn't help but shatter into a thousand pieces.

Because it wasn't you who was disappearing.

"You can't do this to me." Kisses on your hair, and his body tensed, trying not to break apart with you. "You can't leave."

"I've already put you in danger enough." His voice was so velvety that you considered the idea that all of this might be a dream.

Perhaps Marc was just a dream.

"Do you understand that this can't go on like this, right?"

You nodded, disgusted by how terrible the damp fabric of his T-shirt felt against your face.

"You can leave it. Your job." It was funny to call the horrible things Marc did at night that way.

"I can't. I can't leave it; he will…"

Another sob, one more painful than the last. How had you gotten into this?

"Shhh, shhh." Marc wasn't used to being the strong one in situations like this; usually, when night came, you were the one cradling him in your arms.

The one whispering that everything was okay when nightmares wouldn't let him sleep.

"Do you understand that I'm doing this for you, right?" His arms squeezed you tighter against his body. "Because I love you, and because I'm afraid they'll hurt you." His voice faltered, and you were sure that hearing him cry would be the final blow to your coffin that day.

"I can take care of myself." Drowning in your words. "I can… We can leave."

"I'm too deep into this."

He had never said no so many times. He had never taken so long to give in to the options you gave him to fix things.

So it was indeed going to happen.

40 minutes after thoroughly dissecting the topic, both of you sat on the living room carpet, Marc's body leaned against the sofa, yours against Marc.

With one hand, he held a glass of wine, and you did the same. You had lost count by now, but the lights in the room seemed brighter than usual, and your flushed cheeks defied the December cold.

"Do you remember when we tried camping last year?"

He scoffed, nodding.

"Taking you was like taking bait for the mosquitoes," he kissed your shoulder. "And I nearly set half the forest on fire with a poorly made campfire."

You wanted to laugh; you really did. But you couldn't forget where this conversation was coming from, and more importantly, where it was going.

You just smiled and nodded. It had been a good day, though on that day, you were sure you wanted to kill Marc with your own hands. It turned out you weren't much of an outdoorsy person after all.

There was a prolonged silence, and there had been many of those since you took that position.

"I don't want you to go."

"Love," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry." Tears were running down your face again, and Marc tightened his grip on you. You both finished your glasses in one gulp, and you squared up to him.

The more you focused on Marc, the more you felt like life was slipping through your fingers. You weren't in a position to imagine a life without him; at this point, you had no choice but to accept the idea. To accept that you would never again feel his curls tickling your neck when he held you from behind, you would never again fight with his arms in the morning to escape his embrace, and you would never again argue with him because he kissed you too forcefully with his 3-day stubble.

On the other hand, you would also never again spend sleepless nights wondering if his life was in danger or if he would never return, you wouldn't cry with him when he refused to tell you what he had done in his absence, and you wouldn't wash blood out of his clothes ever again.

Either way, you never liked tending to his wounds.

"I don't want you to go," you repeated as if one sentence would achieve what you hadn't achieved in months.

He didn't respond, instead, he cupped your chin with his fingers. You wouldn't feel that either ever again, and it made you feel like vomiting.

In a matter of seconds, his lips took possession of yours, and a push to the wine bottle knocked it over onto the carpet.

As your fingers tangled in his hair and Marc's body pushed you back, you looked at the bottle. Would that stain on the carpet be the only proof that Marc had ever been a part of your life?

"When you come back." You could tolerate the idea of Marc leaving your life, but never the idea of him not coming back. Never the idea of losing him that way. "I'll be waiting right here."

And Marc wished he could be as optimistic as you.

"I never thought I'd be one of those guys who goes back to his ex-girlfriend at the first opportunity."

Both of you laughed with a pain in your chest that was almost visible in your expressions, and you had already lost count of how many times you had ended up in this uncomfortable silence that churned your stomachs.

"Let me go." His voice broke the silence, cracked and pretending the fakest laughter you had ever heard.

"I can't, Marc." Your cheek was against his chest in seconds, your arms using all their strength to hold onto him as they had been doing for a long time.

"Please," he begged, kissing your hair so many times that he felt like the scent of your shampoo was seeping into him.

He was never aware, but he always smelled like you, and you carried the scent of his cologne with you everywhere. You were extensions of each other, pushing each other to the limit until the bond broke at both ends.

"You always do this to me." He laughed again, broken. "You never let me go."

This was the first time you did.

It took longer than usual, more hours, more kisses, more effort, but in the end, you let Marc go with the foolish hope that you would see him walk back through the door he left from.

It was a two-week mission, but Marc never came back.

Well, he did, but he didn't come back to you.

His life took a 360° turn in every imaginable way after his stay in Cairo, and while you cried in your bed, it turns out he met someone.

Someone who afforded him the luxury of not having to worry about whether he put her at risk or not because she could take care of herself. Of course, fortunately, that was something you didn't know because if Marc Spector was an expert in anything, it was disappearing.

The only thing you had in over a year was a mistaken call that reminded you of the power he would have over you for the rest of your life.

With a racing heart and tears in your eyes, you had to accept that his phone number now belonged to someone else.

A certain Steven Grant who by this point seemed more than frustrated to have to share a number with a missing person.

Tag list :)

@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm

[russilton]

sometimes i get a bit annoyed by people saying "they are all nepo babies" when people try to criticise this issue in f1 (to be fair a lot of it isn't productive or just mean spirited) when lewis and esteban and their families had to work their way up from the very bottom. no they aren't ALL nepo babies and even if they were, it still isn't a good thing.

or even when people say "lawrence stroll's only being a loving father" when there are literally drivers like george on the current grid who had been snubbed in the past and almost lost it all because of him. like okay fine he loves his son but stop pretending its some great and noble act when he has hurt so many people.

You and I are very similar anon, every now and then I hold in complaining about this for too long and end up getting very grumpy about it. Just last night poor @jamesvowles got this text and then I ranted about this exact topic

I also get very rankled by ‘theyre all nepo babies so you can’t critique mine’. One- I sure as hell can, and I will rightfully critique all of the ways they were given privileged access to a sport. Two —There are also different levels of privilege— things like Carlos and Checo and Mick having parental connections that helped them get a seat are the definition of nepotism- but are still less than Lando’s dad buying his seat (while he did still preform fairly well in f2), or Lances dad buying an entire team for him.

And then theres the fact that some drivers got very very lucky to get access to support from outside funding- they had to get it on their talent providing them opportunities for connections and without it, they would’ve had to stop racing entirely. Lewis, George, Esteban, questionably Alex, and I’m sure theres several others I haven’t done the appropriate research on to site all had this. Lewis getting support from Ron Dennis, George getting support from Toto- these are privileged connections that allowed them to get to F1. They deserved that help, their parents gave everything to get them to that point.

What annoys me a bit about ‘theyre all nepo babies’ and ‘lance’s only crime is having a loving father’ is… those other drivers had loving parents too. Lewis’ dad working something like four jobs so they could afford his karting, George’s dad selling his small business and working two jobs and night shifts for George’s, Esteban’s family selling their home for him— I have opinions about how f1 pushes children and families to chase possible bankrupting and questionable parenting for the chance at being millionaires on the backs of young, young kids.. but you cant argue their parents didn’t fucking love them when they were sacrificing everything in their lives for their son to have a chance at their dreams.

The argument isn’t ‘lance’s dad shouldn’t have supported his children’s dreams’ its that these drivers with connected parents didn’t have to jump through extra hoops to get to f1, they had it paved for them, and the money they brought with them keeps them in their seats, while other drivers didn’t have that, and had their performance dropped, they would have been dropped too. They didnt get a chance to rest or make mistakes or risk losing a sponsor. The argument also isn’t ‘nepo babies can never be wdc’s’. Whether I like it or not, Max’s 3 questionable wdc’s amount to at least one total, your parents dont denote your talent. The problem arises when those parents directly hinder or harm the careers of other drivers in order to push their kid forward. Stuff like Esteban being kicked from racing point to give lance a seat forcing him to go a year without one, or George being kicked from PREMA with very little warning at a time he’s talked about desperately struggling with funding.

Those parents should not have had the opportunity to do that, it shouldn’t have ever happened. But where people get actually upset is when the fans of drivers who get that help don’t acknowledge that privilege, or the drivers themselves (like lando in particular) don’t acknowledge the privileges they’ve been afforded. Stomping your feet and going ‘you’re just mad you didn’t get that’ never diffuses a thing. I, and George himself even, have both said that even as a poorer driver, he got more opportunities as a white man than someone else would have. Both George and Lewis talk about how because they were men they had less to fight against than a female driver. Acknowledging your own benefits kinda kills the resentment you could hold against them for getting that help. Nobody should be expecting 24/7 grovelling realistically, but a mention every now and then would be nice, or just understanding those reasons are valid reasons not to like a driver. I can argue all I want that George doesn’t have a posh accent.. but for some people him being British is too much of a reason not to like him, and thats fine. On god, more George and Lewis left for me.

Yes this is the millionaire tax evader sport. Yes they could still be doing more to better the chances for less privileged drivers. Yes they are racing in countries with horrible human rights records with so little complaint… but ‘everything is fucked so what’s the point’ is a nihilist way of thinking, where as I would rather point at drivers like Lewis and George and going ‘if they can do it, so should you.’ Because that incremental change is what will lead us to a better over all

I am- MORE than sure there are nuances to this discussion I’m not covering here in my very subjective personal opinion on the matter at 11 am on a Monday morning, but rambling about it made me feel lighter and more chill about the whole thing, so I don’t really regret doing it, lol. This isnt a call for action, just a longwinded whinge. I’m British, I think everyone should have a whinge every now and then and they’ll be a lot happier.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/royaltealovingkookiness/187489175766/i-think-the-anon-who-sent-the-zuko-lost-azula-in?source=share

Your thoughts?

(I'm only mentioning the ones I don't agree with)

"Oogling him when he's half-naked"

As a brazilian, this one was HILARIOUS to me. He just has his shirt off because it's summer and bending is a physical exercise and he's going to sweat. This isn't him dramatically taking his shirt off at The Beach and a ton of fangirls appearing to drool all over him. This isn't sexual.

She's literally watching him and AANG practice firebending. That's all. Why are we making it about attraction, and why are we assuming she could only possibly be looking at Zuko when Aang is there too? By that logic, Ozai and Aang were checking each other out during their fight in the finale, and so were Zhao and Zuko during their Agni Kai - after all, they're LOOKING at EACH OTHER when NEITHER OF THEM has a SHIRT on.

"Note Katara's body language"

Literally what about it? I legitimately don't understand this one. Touching her hair is somehow weird or flirty? It's just hair!

Is it because she's sitting next to Zuko? What, she's not allowed to be too close to a guy without it being suggestive/flirty in some way? Again, as a brazilian, I am VERY confused. Somebody help me out here.

"I don't think anyone could argue sibling vibes in a scene in which they are visibly disgusted at the thought of being mistaken for a couple"

What? Like, sure, I can see SOME siblings just laughing it off and correcting the person who made a mistake, but being grossed out is a 100% valid reaction.

As a girl that grew up being told "You saying you don't like this boy can ONLY mean that you secretly like him" and had to hear an unhinged woman call my 11-year-old self "her future daughter in law" just because I was friends with her son, I am BEGGING people to quit it with that bullshit. Being weirded out is not "admiting" there are feelings there. Stop it. Sometimes people are shy, sometimes they just genuinely don't like each other that way. Stop projecting.

(Also the only correct ways to do the mistaken for a couple thing is with the characters either just rolling with it "to avoid explaining" or to one of them to exaggerate on the awkwad denial and accidentally offend/upset the other, like it happened with Kataang in Cave Of Two Lovers)

"I don't remember any scene of Zuko or Katara fighting side by side with their sibling like they did with each other"

Also if we're talking side-by-side fighting stance that screams romantic symbolism, let's be fucking serious here. The dragons literally make a heart.

"You can only want to see embarrassing/cute baby pictures of your friend if you want to date them, and siblings totally don't use old childhood photos to annoying each other"

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Co-parenting"

Fuck off, they're children. Traumatized children. ALL of them. They've all done stupid shit, and they've all been exasperated by their friends' doing dumb shit. Found family doesn't mean we NEED one or more characters to play the "parent" role.

Katara actively resents the idea of being seen more as parent than as a friend, and Zuko JUST discovered the revolutionary concept of "Wait, a father burning his child's face is NOT normal????" Co-parenting my ass.

"Bed/bison sharing. Very unsibling like"

Katara literally shares the bed/Appa with Sokka during the entire Blue Spirit episode. And like this person pointed out themselves, the Gaang shares "a bed" and sleep next to each other all the time. Be thrilled that your OTP is having a moment that you could re-imagine as romantic, but let's not pretend any kind of intimacy MUST be sexual/romantic in nature.

"The scene of Katara comforting Zuko has parallels with his first scene with Mai at the start of the season"

This one was totally okay until the bullshit of "Mai's kiss and hug didn't help Zuko feel better at all and after this he shuts her out." During all of Nightmares And Daydreams we see him cuddling with her, Mai trying to cheer him up, and him even confessing his inner-turmoil about having to essentially put on an act to please Ozai.

She grew a lot as a character and Zuko didn't take her joke in that first episode to heart. He is doing the exact opposite of shutting her out, he actively turns to her for comfort.

"The physical distance between them shrunk"

Yes, and? Seriously, what about it? Is there a line missing here? Am I not seeing something? WHAT IS GOING ON?

"The lightning to the heart feels like a romantic scene"

I was gonna let it slide, like I was doing with all the others "This could work for a romantic relationship, but it's not inherently romantic", but that last line I just can't stand by. DRAMA IS NOT THE SAME AS ROMANCE.

"The simmilar scene for a canon ship doesn't have the same focus on the hands as this one does"

Hand-close ups are exclusive to married people, it is known *rolls eyes*

"It looks like they're about to kiss"

Bruh, what? Looking up at someone who is looking down at you is like leaning in for a kiss?

"Many of these scenes (not the ship-baiting ones obviously) could have been written, framed, animated in a purely platonic way, giving it more of a playful sibling vibe, but the creators deliberately chose overtly romantic or at least ambiguous tones"

[hebuiltfive]

Thundertober Day Three: Armour

I always seem to be putting Scott in most of the emotional spirals. Sorry, Scott fans. On the plus side, the next two after this are also Scott centric, so win-win?

AO3 here Days: One ~ Two

Warnings for: no real warnings this time, just Scott being a little depressed. Everyone has a mask that they put on like armour to hide themselves from the world. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 (just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)

Tropical breeze blew through unkempt locks. He had quite taken to hiking recently. He wondered if the others had noticed… No, of course they had noticed. Virgil’s worried glances, Gordon’s offers of company, John’s calls that came the moment Scott had made it to the top. They could all sense something was wrong, but they all had the respect of leaving Scott alone to decide if and when to inform them.

They all trusted that he would.

The thing with falling was that it was a lot like flying. Scott figured that was probably why he allowed himself to plummet so far before picking himself back up. The perception was deceptive; whenever he fell, it often felt like there was a warm embrace awaiting him at the end. After so many descents, he knew there was nothing but a soul-crushing oblivion at rock bottom, but Scott accepted the fall every goddamn time because, in these specific moments, when the fall was already underway, he genuinely believed he deserved it.

These moments of self-destruction were never random. They always had a trigger. This time, it was from (what Scott would have called) a failed rescue.

John had been trying to convince him otherwise on the entire journey home, but Scott hadn’t listened.

Yes, his space brother had a point in claiming that no-one had perished in the disaster, but that didn’t equate a success. Not in his eyes.

They had managed to save everyone, but Scott had been stubborn and there had been subsequent costs.

“We’ve got to get these people out now, Virg.”

“Scott, if we move too fast, the whole thing is at risk of collapsing. This is the safer—”

“If we don’t act now, safer won’t matter because there won’t be anyone in there left to save!”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the memory of that moment came back to him in vivid colours and sounds. He’d never be free of that mistake, just like he’d never be free of any of the other mistakes he’d made.

No-one died, but Scott had still managed to fuck it up.

He pretended to be okay for the journey home, listening and nodding away as John tried valiantly to reassure him that all was not lost. Scott didn’t believe a word of it, but John didn’t need to know that. He had placed the mask on, hoping his brothers wouldn’t be able to see through it.

The reason he had hiked up to the summit was so he didn’t have to keep pretending.

Here, he could let that shield down for a while.

Here, with only the sky and sea to view for miles and miles, Scott could allow himself to be himself.

If Scott were ever asked where this defence had come from, or when it had developed, he wouldn’t have been able to give a straightforward answer. Perhaps he’d always had this guard up, or perhaps he’d built it up in the months following Dad’s disappearance.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

Scott was glad for the mask. It meant no-one else worried. It meant that he could stay safe and, so long as the armour remained up, he could not only protect himself from the world but also those around him from himself too.

He didn’t want to see Virgil’s worried eyes scanning over him every five seconds. He didn’t want Gordon to constantly feel like he needed to be around him just in case. He didn’t want John constantly checking up on him.

His brothers weren’t his babysitters, and as much as he personally hated it, he hated the idea of being a burden to them more.

The armour was beautiful at keeping his true feelings and thoughts hidden, so everyone could go on as normal, but that only worked when everyone believed the wall of lies that Scott had built up. Whilst he had hoped his brothers hadn’t seen through his armour, from their concern showed earlier it was clear that they had. Again, Scott blamed himself for that. Maybe the mask wasn’t good enough this time.

Maybe, because he didn’t believe it, no-one else would.

He berated himself.

There were whispered curses under his breath as seagulls cried overhead.

Had to do better.

Had to be better.

Scott slumped against one of the rocks, unconcerned over the uncomfortableness of the jagged ground beneath him. He pulled his knees up to his chest, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks.

At least for now, alone on that peak, he could let the armour fall.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.29

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

"The father of a friend of mine, a tall, stocky man with a long beard and curious eyes, always told us that if we saw someone in need, we should do everything we could to help. He is an army veteran, but after his discharge, he struggled with numerous problems, including regular panic attacks, and was unable to leave his home for years. But even in his darkest times, he found ways to be happy and fulfilled. He started painting, learned instruments, and even homeschooled my friend for the first few years. Although he has very bad days and can get quite aggressive, none of this is his fault. And it doesn't make him weak, don't you agree?"

"Yes," I whisper, just then realizing that my breathing was back to normal and that my fear and paranoia seemed to have disappeared. I don't know what calms me so effectively; maybe it's her gentle smile. It could be her hand still gently stroking my hair, or her soft voice. It could also be all of the above. When it's finally sunken in after a few minutes, I am shocked because no one since him has accomplished the same thing.

But I feel completely exhausted. Two panic attacks in a matter of hours—how could I not be at the limit of my physical capabilities? While she still smiles at me, I press myself harder against the wall behind me, brace myself with one of my hands, and stand up to my full height, instantly dwarfing her.

“You’re quite tall,” she muses in her honey-sweet voice, yet it doesn't sound fake.

"You should see that one friend of mine, Brandon; he's a giant. Next to him, I look like a child!" I tell her, chuckling, still a little out of breath.

When I look at her again, I find a satisfied sparkle in her eyes, as if to say that her work is done. A comfortable silence spreads between us as she looks at me with concern but confidence.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in class?” I break the silence, wanting to at least pretend that I’m interested in having a conversation.

But she smiles teasingly. "You mean the same class you should be in now?" she counters rather smugly. I couldn't help but smile at her speed and chuckle again at her comeback. But she quickly calms down again, and her lips fall into a soft smile. "Professor Palladium asked me to find you. But I didn't think you would be on the wrong side of the building."

I stop abruptly. Did I hear her correctly? The wrong side of the building? "What do you mean?" I finally ask her, gobsmacked.

She points to a door and smiles brightly. "None of these doors are numbered. You literally walked past the classroom doors; they're right next to the cafeteria."

I can only look at her, confused, not understanding what she could mean. So I look at the crumpled piece of paper in my hand and then at one of the doors she just pointed to. But I quickly realize my mistake. A moment later, blood rushes to my head. "I'm not really good with directions," I inform her sheepishly. "I get lost pretty easily."

Not even waiting a moment, she links our arms. "Well then, let me be your guide!"

There was nothing I could have done about it; it all happened too quickly. Additionally, she is also quite pushy because she starts talking straight away and doesn't even let me interrupt her. But it's nice not to have to waste energy on entertainment I don't have. Halfway back, however, she falls silent.

"Why are you so nice to me?" My question must have surprised her because she suddenly stopped. She hangs her head, and the cheerful mood has disappeared.

The silence lasts for a while until she turns slightly towards me. "You're just not what others describe you as. I've always been able to see a person's motives. Yours were never bad. All I could sense from you was sadness, disappointment, and pain."

Even though I don't believe her claim, she's still right. Since his death, I haven't felt truly happy for a single moment of my life. It's almost as if it was stolen from me. However, I accept her statement and say nothing else, hoping that the rest of our journey will be spent in silence.

We soon reach the cafeteria, where she shows me a hallway I must've simply missed as I've searched all the others. As I walk down this hallway, every room has either a door that I can at least partially see through or full-on windows in the wall.

Something is going on in all the rooms, from language learning to mathematics; in others, alchemy is practiced. But mostly magic is used. Even the woman responsible for me being thrown into a dungeon teaches in one. Just looking at her sends a shiver down my spine. Luckily, the girl next to me didn't notice anything.

Luckily, we come to a room where she finally knocks. When I hear the professor's voice, my tense shoulders relax a little, just enough for the girl to sense my movement and give me a reassuring smile. I can only thank her in my thoughts as she opens the door.

When I see Professor Palladium, he has a mischievous smile on his lips. "Ah, you found the wandering fairy," he comments, his voice dripping with playfulness. "Should I give you a compass that will always show you the way to your next lesson?"

Although I think he's just playfully joking about my tardiness, I smile shyly and nod. "That would be helpful, Professor."

His stern exterior turns into a small smile. He shakes his head and lowers it slightly. But even so, he reaches out his hand and slides a stone onto it with the other. As he concentrates on this, he suddenly speaks in a language I cannot decipher, surely ancient Elvish again. Unfortunately, I have never been good with languages; I'm content speaking the common tongue, Fairish, and a bit of modern Elvish.

But his voice is so soft and the words so melodic that it's hard not to listen. But to my amazement, he soon holds a compass in his hand, beautifully decorated with engravings, and the middle part, where the two needles are, even has a picture of a place. "Is this the blueprint of the building?"

Without answering my question, Professor Palladium turns away, but not without winking at me and putting his finger to his lips. Upon closer inspection, I can see every nook and cranny, and strangely enough, the entire inner building, not what is visible from the outside, as if this compass could form a picture by tracing the magic around it.

"Would you mind finding a place to sit?" The professor's stern voice rings in my ears again. A little embarrassed, I raise my head, apologize to him, and look around.

Discomfort is clearly visible on everyone's faces. Honestly? It hurts a lot. I always hoped that the day I would come here, they would treat me as an equal to everyone else, like all my ancestors. But instead, I only experience endless disrespect. Only now I don't feel any of the anger, just disappointment.

Not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable, I choose a seat at the back, but as I walk past the others, all I sense is the distrust of the fairies. Some will one day be guardian fairies, and others are just normal fairies, but no one looks at me with trust.

I slump down onto the seat, or at least I try to. Instead of sitting on the chair, I fall through the air and land on the floor with a loud thud. Immediately, giggles echo through the room, and with just one glance around me, I know who the culprit is. Her evil eyes are all I need to see. But it only becomes more obvious when she starts grinning at me, lifting her perfectly painted nails, and resting her head in the palm of her hand.

Muttering under my breath, I tell her this isn't kindergarten, but I don't honor her with another glance. Instead, I let my magic flow. I've never tried this magic before, but this is as good a time as any, right?

I imagine several stone pillars rising out of the ground just below my bottom so that I can sit on them with my legs stretched out. These are followed by more pillars growing up my sides and reaching the middle of my torso, and finally, tall pillars behind me that will straighten up my back. Not long after, these imaginary pillars appear, slowly rising from the ground.

In an instant, my stone throne is up. Sitting upon it, like the king I hope I will become someday, I cross my right leg over my left, put both arms on the armrests, but raise my right arm, clench my hand into a fist, and lean my head against it. With a broad smile, I glance sideways at Stella and wink at her, only to look back at Professor Palladium, whose face looks neutral, but I can still see a secret grin.

"Now that that's cleared up, I'd like for you to introduce yourself to the class, as there is a lot of misinformation circulating about you."

All eyes are on me; most of them are worried, except for Bloom and a girl who looks familiar but who I can't place.

“(Y/N), there’s nothing more to say,” I spat out like poison. "I will have nothing to do with most of you after the disgusting, disgraceful, and downright unacceptable way in which you treated me and assumed things like ignorant laundresses."

“Who do you think you are?” I hear Stella’s voice from my left front.

When I finally turn to face her, I grin maliciously. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I look her up and down, but suddenly I twist my face into a pitying one. "Are you in love already? How sad."

Stella immediately blushes, maybe from embarrassment or anger. I don't know. But I feel her magic getting out of control. I raise an eyebrow questioningly but get no answer. Instead, feather-light footsteps echo through the room, followed by a hand slamming on Stella's desk.

"(Y/N), I can understand your anger about the situation; how you were treated was beneath your dignity, but please don't make it worse."

"Worse?" I shout, standing up from my stone throne. "None of these spoiled little princesses can ever understand what I have been through—the suffering every man has to endure because they are blind to the world around them! And yet they make assumptions and punish someone without any good reason." My words are heavy, and many girls around me look stunned as if nobody has ever talked to them like this.

“Please, (Y/N), calm down.“

"No!" I bellow again. "Should I just sweep this all under the rug? I have never received an apology, not from the teachers or the students, for their assumptions. Until that day comes, I will not treat any of them like people, only like the scum that they are!"

After that, the whole room is silent. The professor sighs heavily but nods his head. I can only hope he truly understands me and isn't just pretending. At least he has never treated me like the others; he probably knows my true identity from the beginning. After all, it is impossible to lie to a high elf.

[Masterlist]

[ficjoelispunk]

Ch 13 - Go back to sleep

You can find all the chapters available here.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

A/N: Hey guys, here’s one more chapter. Unfortunately this one is not revised too, so like always, possibly at the time of the translation some grammatical error may have happened. I apologize in advance. I hope you like it. ❤️

Here is a teaser of the chapter.

There was a time when the people defended Pablo. And that Pablo used the people in his favor. They called him Robin Hood. Well... After he blew up children. The people decided to change their mind.

The bomb had shocked even its most loyal followers. People saw Pablo in a different way now.

Los Pepes placed ads in all the newspapers.

"Entrega a Pablo, o muere."

Blackie went to visit the hotel where Pablo's family was being kept safe by the federal police, at Pablo's request. Big mistake.

Do you know when you start to lose, and you have the feeling that you will lose forever? I bet Pablo was feeling that way now.

You received a fax from Bogotá. And it almost fell back. Unable to hide your excitement.

You ran to the table of his two beloved agents.

"Get ready, let's go to Bogotá"

Peña and Murphy looked at each other. And they didn't move a muscle.

"Move!"

"I take a risk, asking: why?" Murphy said mocking.

You close your eyes.

"They arrested Nelson Hernandez"

You turned around walking, thinking they were following you. But they remained seated.

"Jesus!" You were incredulous.

"What the fuck is Nelson Hernandez?" Murphy asked. Holding back not to laugh "do you know Nelson Hernandez?" He asked Peña.

Javier arched his lips. And he shook his head.

You walked to their desk. You leaned your arms to lean over them.

“What about…" you pretended to think by taking a break "Blackie?"

Javier's eyes stared, staring at his partner in front of you, Murphy straightened up in the chair.

"No way" he said.

You threw the fax paper on their desk.

"I'm waiting for your good will"

Now they walked almost like your shadow behind you.

It was good news for you. Bad news for Pablo. And it was just getting started.

Pablo also lost Miami to the Cali Cartel and they didn't even have to pull the trigger. After negotiating with the sicario responsible for the administration of Pablo's trafficking and fortune in Miami, after being introduced to everyone who needed it. They ended up with him. And with Pablo's money. They hit Escobar.

There were still buzzes about Pablo's possible surrender. But you worked ignoring what the politicians were doing in the backstage for possible re-elections.

***

You took the first flight to Bogotá.

You and Javier were like this, breathing the same oxygen. But pretending you weren't on the same planet. By the way, you were pretending. Because Javier might not talk to you. But he orbited over you.

What before you didn't see with him avoiding you. Now he made a point of being seen. To remind you. Remember that he was there. And if you wanted to, he would be even more.

The distance you were trying to impose was imaginary. Javier was on the same square meter as you. Torturing you. Looking at you as if you were the only thing he needed to see. It was painful, both for you and for him.

It was visible his regret at having agreed to continue with this partnership with Don Berna and Los Pepes. And as much as he tried to convince himself that he did it just to protect you, he knew he was lying to himself. After Carrillo's death, he would do anything if it left him close to capturing Escobar, involving your safety or not.

And you knew that. You knew that Javier's character was doubtful. Did you know he would use illegal means if he had the chance. How many times has he tried to deceive you in every possible way to be one step ahead of the bureaucracy.

How many times after you started this crazy way of getting involved he pretended not to see you. Totally ignoring your presence. Focused on work enough, being selfish enough to go over you if necessary. Playing with your feelings, being stupid with you to keep your distance from him, in the moments you needed the most.

Or, better... How many times during that time that you were away, you saw him with some other woman in the department. You saw an exchange of glances. You even saw someone leaving some room while fixing the lipstick in her mouth, and fixing the skirt, and a few moments later, Javier left the same room. The lid overflowed when one night, you returned to the department and saw with your own eyes Javier kissing the blonde girl from the policing department. Jesus... throwing your heart to the dogs was healthier than that.

That's how Javier worried, and said he cared about you. Getting involved with other women in front of you, as if you were hollow inside, without feelings like him. Or, working for those guys who had already kidnapped you.

It was frustrating. Fucking painful. Your chest hurt every time you had to witness scenes like this. Your brain was combusting. Your thought gave a knot. Javier was like that, he was always like that. He wouldn't change. He didn't care about anything or anyone. And he knew. He knew you were there, even though pretending not, you was waiting for him. So stupid.

Your intelligence and morals were fighting with your emotional. Your body was struggling with your brain. And you were always knocked out. The only thing that left you outside Javier Peña's limits was work, which kept your emotional and mental busy enough.

On the flight to Bogotá, Javier and Steve were sitting facing each other. And you sitting next to Steve, which meant that Javier was looking directly at you, as if his life depended on it.

You frantically moved the papers as if your life depended on it. Feeling Peña's eyes on you, struggling not to imagine what was going on in his head. Every time you walked away from him it seemed like you were more closer. And every time you tried to forget it, you remembered even more.

You was fucked.

Peña and Murphy entered the testimonial room, you stood behind the glass, watching.

"You can't do shit to me"

Javier smiled. One of the few times you've seen this genuine image. That's what he loved to do, cause terror in people, specifically criminals. Sometimes on you. But more in criminals.

"El Greiff me ofreció amnistía"

"Es verdad," Javier confirmed.

It was another kind of torture to hear Javier talk in Spanish. The accent. The tone of voice.

You slapped it on the forehead, to get back to focusing on what you should.

Javier continued.

"Pero para eso necesitas hablar"

Javier kept instigating Blackie, while you were looking for more information in the files and records so that you could give the agents some exchange currency. Something that pressured Blackie.

And you did it.

You knocked on the door. Javier left. He was the one who was interrogating Blackie because he spoke Spanish and Murphy not so well. But you hoped it was Murphy who had opened the door.

"I found out something"

Javier nodded. You didn't look at him. Just for the papers. Seeing only Javier's biceps almost blowing up his shirt, with his arms crossed in front of his body.

"The expertise has arrived. They found gunpowder in Blackie's hands and jacket. It was him. He who implanted the bombs"

You handed him the papers. Javier analyzed the information.

It was amazing how Javier admired you. Nothing was beaten by you. He and Murphy would never have thought of anything like that. They were much more objective. You were a detailer. He loved your details.

Like today, you were wearing a black dress that he could perfectly tear from your body right now, pressing you against the wall, while kissing your soft and warm mouth.

You stayed long enough in each other's presence.

"Do you want to tell him?" Javier asks.

You pull the air through your mouth, hesitantly.

"Nop" you whispered, turning your heels to the opposite side of Javier, towards your place in the living room, behind the glass.

"Thank you" he said long, watching you walk.

You waved your hand without looking at him.

Javier returned to the interrogation room.

"Blackie, Blackie, Blackie..." Javier sat in front of the sicario "found explosives debris in your hands, in your jacket, everywhere..."

There was a tangible silence in the room.

"They're going to blame you for the death of all those people. Of all those kids. Don't let them blame you, help us, we can help you too"

Blackie was distressed.

"Entregar a Pablo"

He shook his head, whining.

"De ninguna manera, no puedo entregar a Pablo" he was pressured, panting, afraid "No voy a entregar al patrón por nada"

Javier advanced in his direction, speaking like a growl.

"Then give us something else. Something big. Something worth it"

"Voy a entregar..." he hesitated "Voy a entregar La Quica"

That was it. La Quica was Pablo's right-hand man. If you were with him, you could have access to a lot of things.

The way back to Medellin was in the same style as the trip. Javier staring at you, as if he desperately needed you to give just one sign. Let you waver for a second.

You put your hands on your face. The fingers massaging the temples. Tired. It was exhausting walking on eggs. Exhausting. Especially when you wanted the eggs to break, and smear you.

Even more now, you were desperate for them to capture Pablo, and forget anything they could use against you and Javier Peña.

"Are you tired?" Javier murmured.

Murphy was in doubt if Javier was talking to him or to you.

You looked at him.

"Nop"

"So you're worried?"

You bite your lips.

"No. I'm fine, thank you."

A climate has set in. Murphy wanted to throw himself off the plane if it was possible, but instead, he decided to relax.

"You did an excellent job today"

You stared at him.

"You always do" he added.

Javier smiled.

"Thank you, Agent Murphy"

-

When you arrived in Medellin, you explained to the agents a new means of intercepting calls, which you were preparing together with Edward, which maybe they could finally implement today, since you were in possession of Blackie's phone. And you could use it to track La Quica along with the help of Centra Spike.

But instead of flying over Medellin, the van with the radio signal capture apparatus, would walk the streets of the region that Centra Spike tracked.

"So, we have to drive around Medellin, and hope it works out?" Colonel Martinez was a little skeptical.

"What do you suggest? It's our best chance. She's right, it's a good idea" Javier defended you.

"And do we have to hope La Quica uses the phone?"

"He's going to use it, because we're going to call him from Blackie's phone" Javier was more incisive.

"Ok. And who can show up when we find him?"

That was an excellent question.

Javier looked at you. And he shrugged the Colonel.

"Only us"

"Ok. Trujillo, prepare the emergency team. You need to be ready when we receive the signal"

"Yes, Mr. Colonel"

-

You caught Javier staring at Trujillo suspiciously. And then following him to the men's bathroom.

It's him. You heard, who the other informant was. Trujillo. Would he be able to kill you if he had the opportunity? You wouldn't know how to answer.

Javier went to make sure that this time, Trujillo did not pass any information to Los Pepes. That had to be just between them.

"You did a good job with Blackie"

"I need to know if you called anyone" Peña asked.

Trujillo shook his head.

"I just want to get this Escobar son of a bitch, it's the only thing I want, and end it once and for all"

Peña nodded.

"I know, but not with them"

-

In all the years of work, you were always so focused that there was no space for anything else. But when there was, well, it worked out.

But now, you could say that you had made a friend. Edward was a very polite and kind man, very intelligent, spoke Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and was very respectful. You were always together, since the eavesdropping was your responsibility, and you spent much of the time in his room, to collect the information and send it to Bogotá.

On any given day, you talked friendly, he realized that you were overwhelmed, and took the liberty of inviting you for a drink. As friends. And it was really like friends, he was deeply interested in a policewoman. So, you accepted.

You were finishing organizing and checking all the strategies of the next operation involving La Quica. Passing on the information and checking the data, so that everything went as it should. Just your table with the light illuminating the entire sector, in silence, alone, as always.

You checked the requests and requirements at least 5 times. You organized the paperwork. And leaned over the table. Running your hand over your face while sighing heavily. Overloaded. Edward's invitation fell at a good time. He should already be in the marked place, you were just creating courage and building your sociability, to find him.

"Are you okay?"

You jumped on the chair. Javier leaning against the wall of the corridor.

"Jesus, you need to stop doing this..." your hands checked your heartbeat.

Javier smiled.

"Sorry"

You shook your head, and raised your hand to him, as a sign of peace.

You reached the lamp on your table, turning off the light, and looking at it.

"Do you need something? I was already going..."

"No" he leaned away from the wall to come towards of you, laying his eyes on your clothes "Actually I thought, I won't be able to sleep, so, if you're here yet, probably not either, I thought, if you wouldn't like to have a drink"

"I already have an appointment, so…" you cut it.

Javier frowned, paralyzed. Studying you.

"A date?" His voice has changed. And he ran his eyes through your body. Looking at you from top to bottom.

Well, it wasn't a "date" but he didn't need to know that. Right?

"Yes" you put your things together, putting them in the bag in front of you, in a desperate attempt not to have to look at Javier.

"With who?" Javier walked towards you "you don't know anyone from this department"

"Actually, I know everyone"

"Yeah, but..."

"What? Am I not pretty enough for someone to ask me out?"

"You are. God! You are… But you are very busy working all the time"

Your body has stiffened. You weren't very good at lying. Even more about this, for a federal agent, for Javier Peña. You just shook your head.

"Is it here from the base? Do I know him? It’s an officer?" Javier was already in front of your desk, he seemed nervous.

You took a deep breath.

"So many questions, but unfortunately none of the answers are your business" you put your bag on your shoulder.

Javier smiled maliciously.

"It's a lie"

You frowned.

"Why?" You looked at yourself "is there anything wrong with me?"

Javier breaks his smile. Looking at you seriously.

You were a beautiful woman. But it was his beautiful woman.

"That's not what I said"

You went around the table passing by him.

"Well, then, good night, I'm late"

He took a long step, holding your arm, the distance from you was minimal now. Javier's colony flooded your senses. You looked at him, ready to fight.

"I told you that you are not safe outside the base"

"He can protect me"

"So he's an officer? Look... these guys are not..."

"Javier, do you want to let me go?"

"You can't trust anyone"

"Yeah, like how I trusted you? I understood Javier, I learned the lesson, trust me"

Javier locked his jaw.

"Don't do this to me" Javier's eyes were in such an honest supplication, his breath panting, "please" he whispered. The eyes going down to your mouth.

"Do what?" You looked at where he was holding you, Javier was slowly releasing the grip.

He tilted his head. The dark eyes on you.

"He won't be as good for you as I am"

You pull the air simulating a shortness of breath.

"What is it?" Javier holds your arms worried.

“I can’t breathe, there’s no room in your ego”

Javier makes a face for you discredited.

"Right, I have to go, good night, Agent Peña"

And you left. Javier kept looking at you. The fists closed next to the body. He was being taken by a kind of feeling that he doesn't know how to describe. His blood could have the same temperature as a volcanic lava.

When Javier realized, he was following you. At first he just wanted to know where you were. In the second moment he just wanted to make sure you were safe. Now he just wants to know who are the guy.

You entered the pub, looking for your friend. It was full of people. Music. Noise of conversations, laughter. People dancing. There was a world, a life going on, outside the base of that battalion. How dull life was between four walls.

You saw Edward, sitting on the bar counter, he waved to you. You walked to him.

"Hey! I thought you wouldn't come," he hugged you, smiling.

You returned the hug.

"I would never refuse the opportunity to drink to get away from work, but get here and only speak about work"

He laughed.

"Okay, stay here, I'll go to the barman to get us a drink, I think it will be faster, are you okay alone?"

"Yes, of course, take your time" you smiled.

You don't know exactly how long you've been waiting, but you may think it hadn't been 5 minutes since Edward had gotten into the middle of people.

"Edward? Really?" Peña's voice on your back made you shiver.

You turned to him. His eyes were dark as if he were about to explode.

"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

"Are you very stupid, acting like that, leaving the battalion, putting yourself at risk, because of this guy? Edward?"

You frowned.

"Did you come here to have a crisis of jealousy?"

Was Javier at least listening to you? Probably not.

"How long have you been going out? What does he have? Have you ever had sex?"

Javier's words hit you like a punch. Your lips separated in shock.

"Javier" you said.

"Is he better than me? He knows you like to be fucked..."

You slapped Javier in the face.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up. First of all, he respects me! Something you never did. Secondly, you have no right to come here and tell me absolutely nothing, when you fuck every single woman who looks at you inside that department, in front of me, I have to see you fuck each of the women who work in that place, and now do you think you have the right to come here and treat me like a bitch?"

Javier keeps looking at you stunned, taken by an anger you've never seen.

"You are a liar, you looked into my eyes and said that I meant something to you, I now understood the meaning, property..."

"Hey! Javier, what's up man, I didn't expect to meet you here" Edward is between the two of you now, serving you a shot of whiskey, you reach "thank you for keeping my girl safe" he winks at you.

You could swear that Javier would break Edward's happy face at any time.

You turn your whiskey glass at once.

"Wow, that's strong, you know that, right?" Edward speaks after seeing you turn the glass.

You smile forced. Feeling the burning of the drink in your throat, falling and spreading through your stomach.

"Yeah, too bad he's already leaving, it's not really Peña" you say.

"Really? Why don't you..."

Javier turns his back on you and just walks around in the middle of people.

Edward looks at you confused.

"Is he always temperamental like that? Strange guy..." you talk and turn to sit on the bench next to the counter.

You had some drinks. But not enough to get drunk. Anyway, it was a quiet thing. Fun. You were just friends. Good friends.

And when you were silent, looking at nothing, Edward asked about Javier, he wanted to emphasize how much Javier was involved in your searches when you were kidnapped, but you didn't talk.

So you went back to the base. Each one for their own accommodation.

You were light. And maybe a little drunk. But nothing serious. It was good to have left, and saw a world going on outside, all you did was hunt Pablo Escobar. It was good to know that there was still something else.

You were taking off your shoes when you heard someone knocking on your door. You ran, you thought it could be Edward, which was strange, but who knows.

You opened a shot in the door.

It was Javier.

You were going to close immediately. But he pushed the door, making you go back, while he entered your room.

"What are you doing?" You asked scared or horrified, whatever.

Javier walked through your room, opening the bathroom door, as if looking for something.

"Is he here? Where is he?"

"He who?"

"Edward!" He screamed.

You were paralyzed looking at him. Skeptic. You passed your hands through your face.

"You get out, Javier."

Javier seemed out of his mind. The breath gasping. He fixed his hair.

Your eyes began to water, your chest hurt, your breathing was panting too.

"Don't do this to me" Javier murmured, again, as if it were a last request, "please, I can't lose you"

"Lose me? Javier..." you shake your head in disbelief.

"You're leaving here, you're the easiest target in Medellin, for God's sake, you can't risk it that way, you're important to me"

"Jesus, you don't get tired. You're a lying machine. You make me sick Javier, you make me feel miserable..."

"How can you say that?"

"Where should I start? Well, let's finish with the latest, I'll save our time. Are you coming here, telling me you care about me?! How? How do you care about me? Because I don't see you caring about me. Your mouth says one thing and your attitudes say something completely different..."

"Please..."

"You tell me that, while you're fucking half the department. You don't care about me. You care about yourself. You're only here because you thought you could lose me. Because while I'm sitting behind my desk, you don't give a damn about me. Mainly, and when I can watch you leave rooms with lipstick marks on your face. You won't let me heal from you. You always hurt me, again and again... Yeah, so please Peña, get out of my way"

He walked quietly slowly to you, staring at you.

You put your hand on his chest to establish a distance. He held your fist.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

You snorted a smile.

"I'm tired of this Javier, I'm losing my mind..."

You felt his heart beating hard in your hand.

"Please Javi..." you shook your head.

He let go of your fist, and leaned one of his hands on the back of your neck, bringing you to his chest, snuggling you in a gentle hug, his nose on the top of your head.

"This is the fucking hell... it's..." you sighed" "so hard" your voice was a sigh.

Your face stuck to the warmth of his chest. Your cold stomach, floating like butterflies. His hands caressing the back of your neck.

"I know cariño, I know..." his lips brushed the skin of your forehead, you felt his hot breath "it's torturous to see you and not having you, I just know how to want you" he kissed the top of your head "I don't know what you did to me"

"Stop lying to me," you murmured.

"I'm not lying, these other women... are nothing to me. It's for you that I'm here now, don't you realize?"

"You have a horrible way of saying things..."

You two were panting. Your eyes closed. The two drowned in the smell of each other. Javier was a sea and you were shipwrecked.

Javier kissed your temple, his fingers intertwined in your hair. The hand on your spine.

"Just, let me..." he pulled the air "let me love you"

You frowned all over your face. In pain. As if someone stuck a knife in your heart.

What was he talking about?

"Javi" you swallowed in dry "you're completely insane, that's not love, that's not going to work, we need to focus on something else, we can't solve everything with sex, when we're needy..."

He smiles softly.

"We don't need to fucked"

You walk away looking at him.

"You are a liar"

"That would be a waste, because we are really very good at it, but I can just keep you that way..." he pulled you for a hug again.

You shook your head, smiling.

"We are not good for each other"

"Just for tonight, I promise, I'll behave, you calm me down and I really need it," he hesitated, "I need you"

He tilted his head, studying your eyes.

You move away from it, enough so that your bodies are far from each other, to clear your mind. Crossing your arms around you.

"I'm tired Javi, I'm always available for you, I always end up giving in..."

"It's not a problem to do what you want, I'm the idiot of the story"

"I'm not like that, I don't know how to spend the night with someone and then pretend that nothing happened, we should never have started this in the first place..."

"We're just not together because you didn't want to"

"Yeah, because you fucked everything . You omitted information from me, started working for the guy who kidnapped me, got involved with me knowing that your shit would slip on me, you have sex with any woman who breathes next to you..." you put your hands on your face, tilting your head back "and then, what do you want me to think? That you like me?"

Javier had one hand on his waist and the other on his face, running his fingers over his eyes. He was silent. Without looking at you. You were right. He knew it. But the desire for you was something he couldn't avoid. Javier wanted you. He tried to stay away, but you know him, he does everything wrong.

"When this started I didn't think that..."

"Yeah, you don't think Javier, you only think about yourself, it's always been like that"

He advanced to you. Holding the side of your arms firmly. Leaning to stay at eye level.

"You're right, I know you are. I fuck everything up. But who would have imagined that I would feel this way about you? How would I imagine that you were not just a wish that I would have momentarily? This is new to me, okay? I've never felt like this before with anyone. Do you understand? I don't know what to do..." Javier was serious and in a tone below what he used to talk to you, bordering on nervousness, as if he were telling you a secret. "Do you want me to stop going out with these women? I'm stoping. But you'll have to break up with Edward."

You laughed.

"What?" Javier asked. Studying your eyes.

"Nothing"

"I'm serious, I don't know what to do when it's something related to you, you're different, I feel different next to you, but you didn't want me, and I understand, I really understand, but..."

Your heartbeat started to become irregular.

He continued.

"I'm exactly what everyone says, but with you I'm a different guy, you make me different, I want to be different to you. I won't let you just go out there to meet another guy when it was with me that you should be" his handshake was stronger now.

You needed time to process Javier's words. But he didn't give you a moment of breath. Your breathing was panting. Javier so close to you, looking like there was nothing else but you.

Javier snaked through your jaw reaching your ear. You leaned your head against his shoulder.

That was a disease.

"No one will touch you like me" he whispered, your body shivered with the hoarse and hot voice in your ear "No one will hold your body while you are in another dimension with me inside you" you breathed through your mouth, closing your eyes, Javier went down to your neck, his hands going down your back pulling you to his body, "Even an idiot like me knows that this is not on the first corner..."

Your arms going up rolled to his shoulder, your hands intertwined in his hair.

"Let me stay here tonight, we don't need to do anything if you don't want to" Javier moved your hair away from your shoulder "I just want to be with you"

"You are very persistent Agent Peña" you murmured on the skin of his cheek, your lips on his skin.

"Only with you"

So that was it. Once again you were giving in to Javier Peña. Difficult, isn't it?

If you were in hell, why not hug the owner of the establishment?!

Javier was watching your room while you took a shower, the photo with your father on the bedside table, your books on political science, sociology, and fiction.

Javier heard the bathroom door open and turned to see you, you were wearing a white sweater, the fabric falling slightly down your breasts, the nipples stiffened by the change in temperature, going down your waist and hip, stopping a little below the curve of your ass. How he wanted to be the satin of your sweater. Javier's cock twisted inside his jeans.

"You're beautiful" he said.

You dried your hair on the towel. You smiled. It was like the sky. You were so soft under his touch. The way you looked at him, how you moaned at him. How you approached him. He would easily border on obsession. He should have said no the first time. But how? You were something he always wanted. Unreachable. And the first time he had the opportunity, he could never say no to your sweet lips in front of him.

You walked to the bed, pulling the sheet.

"Come here" you whispered as you crawled on the bed.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He asked, kneeling behind you "you know that if you want, just ask"

You smile and roll your eyes, as you sit on your heels, unbuttoning his shirt. Undoing the belt.

Every touch of your fingers on Javier's skin sends a hot shock to his body. The desire making him dizzy. He was already hard.

"This is going to be more difficult than I even imagined" he murmured, his eyes loving you. Your hair falling on your shoulders.

You seemed to have fun. Your hands sliding the fabric of his shirt through his arms. Then you pulled his hand so that he would lie on the pillows.

Javier ran his arm behind your neck, fixing your hair with his hands. You laid your head on his chest. The leg on his thigh. His hand stuck your knee on him. Your hands caressed his belly gently.

"I like it," he kissed your forehead.

Javier ran his fingers through your hair.

"Mhmm"

You stayed like this for a while, he caressed your leg over him, passing his fingers gently to where the fabric of your clothes covered your skin. You fell asleep like that.

Javier woke up at dawn with you turning your back on him, fitting your ass over his jeans.

Javier's hand went down your abdomen, his lips reaching your ear.

"Cariño?" He said softly "Cariño, are you awake?" He pulled your hair, kissing your shoulder.

"Mhmmm" you twisted in it. Awakening with his voice sending chills down your spine to your feet. Half asleep, half awake.

Your legs squeezed each other looking for a friction, still not knowing if he was dreaming or if he was awake.

Javier felt you press against him, your legs squeezing.

"Do you need help?"

Javier's hands go up your breast, running his fingers through your nipple. The palm of his hand covering your breast, he feels your heart beating, proof that he was not dreaming. You moan.

You throw your head back by touching his chest.

"Javi" your hoarse voice of sleep, needy.

Javi lowered his hand down your waist, lifting the hem of your sweater by your hip. He makes the contour of your ass, pulling you closer to him.

Your hand goes up his face, holding the back of his neck, while he kisses your shoulder.

Javi's hand traveled slowly through your body, absorbing the sensation of your skin, of your body in it, under the touch of his hands. Your skin is as soft as the skin of your sweater. The face sunk into your neck getting drunk with your smell.

You started moving your body in his, Javi was hard, moaned in your ear when you pressed yourself on him. Your had already woken you up like this before, but now it was different. He was calm, long, patient, wanting to take advantage of the moment.

Javier's fingers plunged into your panties, you folded your leg up, so that he had access to you, he smiled softly at your neck.

Javier hadn't even touched your right clit, and you were already shaking in his hand.

"You're sensitive" your pussy squeezing around nothing, needy, longing for him, Javier pressed his finger on your nerves moving in circles "keet your leg like this for me, that's all you need to do, babe"

With his treatment on your clit, you arched your back on his chest, causing you to be more pressed against his cock, while sliding his fingers on you. Going down to your entrance, circling, and returning to your clitoris. You chased his hand.

You moaned, your mouth opening, your breathing failing, your face frowning with pleasure.

It didn't take long for you to whine his name while your body trembled shocks of pleasure over Javi's hand.

"Feeling better, cariño?" He kisses your shoulder, running his lips through your naked shoulder.

You nodded.

Your hands were groping Javi's pants to take the jeans off his body. But he held your wrist. Staking your lips.

"No need babe, it's just for you" he pulls your hand, kissing your fingers "go back to sleep..."

"No, but..."

Javier winds you around his arms, pulling you closer to him, if that was possible.

"It’s okay babe, go back to sleep..." he runs his fingers through your hair.

You were too numb and sleepy to argue.

You fall asleep.

TAG: @harriedandharassed

[scoundrels-in-love]

"sharing a bed used to be quite normal for us, when did that change?" vashmeryl >:3c

Thank you for prompting, lovely. Sorry it took so long and I still have the other two prompts to get to!

You can also find this on AO3.

----

The girl at reception mistakes them for a couple and, for cover reasons, Meryl plays into it, clutching to his hand and calling him darling while she scrambles to come up with fake names for both of them. His fingers wrap around (engulf) hers tentatively after she tugs on his hand a little sharply and mouths 'play along' when the receptionist looks at the screen and there are still red spots high on his cheeks when they finally escape the lobby and up the stairs, toward their room.

It's her turn to blush when she realizes how small the bed she's booked for both of them really is. 

"I'll take the chair," Vash immediately offers, but she can picture just how bad of a backpain that'd get him.

"We used to share a bed all the time, no reason to make a fuss about it now," she says like a liar. Like she doesn't have her heart in her throat, thinking of laying so close to him that their hands would surely touch.

"But–" "The only butt I'll be accepting is yours in the bed," she interrupts him, one hand on her hip and the other pointing at said furniture. It takes a second for his grin to break through the nervous, fretting expression Vash has been wearing since they entered the room.

"That was a really bad one, Mer," he says, stifling a giggle, as if they were still ten and easily sent into fits of laughter by someone saying butt or fart.

"I know," Meryl has to clamp her hand over her mouth to muffle her own laughter. It's unreasonable and stupid and easy, as if all the adrenaline from being chased, shot at and shooting at people (finding her long lost best friend and that he's the infamous criminal she's been trying to track down), is finally releasing itself in fit of stupid amusement that she has no control over.

As if more than a decade hasn't passed and they've not become different people. People that are essentially strangers.

But his laughter sounds the same as it was and when she snorts, trying to snuffle hers, he bows over with a wheeze just as he used to, and so she laughs with Vash until they both collapse on the bed, clutching their sides. There is a blur of tears in her eyes and Meryl pretends it is only because of this, not an aching, overwhelmed and yet empty space in her chest. 

How often has she tried to picture his face, transformed by adulthood? (Nevermind that she'd failed to picture him quite so handsome.) How often she's imagined flinging herself at him, hugging him, brushing fingers over his features, the little birthmark by his eye? Like he is a treasure she is trying to reacquaint herself with.

Most of all, just bringing him back into her orbit as she had the day she'd defended him on the playground and making sure he can never disappear again. And now he is here, but she doesn't know how to reach for him.

Worse yet - if he'd want her to.

Though that thought never stopped her from chasing after mere reflection of Vash's shadow. 

"I'll go wash up," Meryl announces before she does something silly and vulnerable and rolls away from him, almost falling out of the bed in the process. She would have, really, if he hadn't grabbed onto the back of her shirt and pulled her back so easily as if she weighs nothing. Though this is hardly the most impressive show of his strength she's witnessed today, it still makes her breath hitch.

For a second, they're both still, Vash's hot hand curled between her shoulder blades (God, his hands really are so large). Her heart hammers in her chest for more reasons than she can catalog right now. He pulls away then, as if he's been singed and she mutters thanks before hurrying to the bathroom.

It's better than some she's had to use over the years and Meryl's thankful for the chance of a quick shower, trying to put her thoughts in order under the hot streams of water. She's come to some semblance of a battle plan by the time she emerges from the bathroom, drowning in her sleep t-shirt. Vash's eyes linger on her and she's about to snap or blush, or both, before she realizes that he's looking at the print - name of their favorite band. Or what used to be their favorite - she's got no idea what he likes now.

"Saw them live four years ago," she says casually, as if she hadn't cried several times about it, about how it felt like betrayal of their friendship because they'd sworn they'd go together.

"Nice, you'll have to tell me all about that," he smiles, seemingly deceived by her fake ease, and moves toward the bathroom.

She moves before she realizes, grabbing onto his wrist. His left one that is decidedly not of flesh and bone, now that she's touched it through the glove she's sure of it, and her stomach lurches unpleasantly. Since when and why? It must have hurt so bad, did he have anyone to hold him and tell him stupid stories while he healed?

He is frozen midstep, mid casual smile that is cracking at the edges. There's tension as if he's expecting a hit, but she only holds him tighter.

"I can only tell if you stay," she says and here it is - the stupid, vulnerable thing she'd been afraid of.

Vash looks at her, truly and well, like he hasn't since he realized it is her. Even dulled by the orange tint of his glasses, the blue is so piercing and she's missed it so much, trying and failing to find the unique shade anywhere else.

"Promise me," Meryl asks and internally winces when it sounds like a demand, ultimatum, edged in plea. Promise me you won't disappear in the middle of the night, that I won't have to wonder if seeing you was a dream, that you won't leave me without as much as goodbye again because I don't know if I will piece myself together after without becoming cruel.

"It's middle of the night, Meryl, where would I even go?" He smiles at her and she knows it for empty deflection. It's the smile he'd give adults when they asked too many questions, when someone would push him over and his knee would bleed and he'd swear he just tripped and, really, it's fine. It's more polished now and it cuts deeply he'd turn it toward her.

"Wherever it is, I will find you," she swears and the spark of Vash's eyes tells her he is aware she means it. Satisfied with that, she lets him go and brushes past him to get comfortable in the bed.

Meryl is too wound up to fall asleep even though she can sense exhaustion like the shadow of a massive beast not yet breaching the surface. She listens to the noises from the bathroom, reassuring herself he isn't somehow magically vanishing into the night despite there being only one exit, counts the cracks in the ceiling and shifts in the bed constantly.

When she's starting to think he's purposely dragging it out, she hears the door open and fall shut quietly and Vash pad over to the bed.

"I'm still awake," Meryl informs him, "no need to sneak about."

"Ah, because of the lamps, right? You should have turned the lights off." Vash has a slight furrow between his brows as he slips beneath the blanket and glances at her and Meryl hopes so very deeply her heart's backward somersault doesn't reflect on her face. How stupid, to be seized by such sharp joy that he'd remember how she can't sleep with bright lights on.

"Good night, Vash," she says instead and turns the lamp off. Or tries to. First she turns on a couple more overhead lights instead because there are too many identical switches by the bed. It takes their combined efforts to figure them all out, but at least by the time the room sinks into darkness, some of the tension between them seems to have dissipated. She’s not even had time to overthink the way his dark underclothes cling to him or the sheen of his prosthetic, which, she thinks - it can’t be good to sleep with that on, right?

"Good night, Mer." His voice is soft and for a second, she wishes they'd be closer still, so she could feel his exhale ghost over her skin. Or maybe that she was braver and could reach for him, find his mouth and taste his surprise. It'd not be her first kiss, though she'd once promised herself it'd be his, just when her protective, adoring friendship had started to teeter into something more , mere months before he'd disappeared. That one had been claimed by some boy back in college when her friends had urged her to stop being hung up on some guy she’s not seen in years and at least give dating a try. She thinks this one wouldn't leave her so unimpressed and bored, though. She thinks she just might not have enough of Vash, if only he'd let her, want her -

Meryl exhales through her nose. It's all a silly fantasy, based on too many romance novels and remnants of a childhood crush. The reality is that they haven't seen each other in years, that Vash is the Stampede, a vigilante at best and dangerous criminal at worst, that there is something odd and broken and badly healed about him now more than ever, that… That his eyes still shine dimly in the dark like will-o'-the-wisps and crinkle at the corners when he smiles as she hums for him as she did when they were six and ten and thirteen and they could not sleep.

And for that moment, as sleep slowly starts to drag her under, she thinks how little some things change after all, how time melts like sugar and how she's just Meryl, sharing bed with her best friend. Comfortable, safe. In a way that she's never been before or after him.

[calaisreno]

Imperfect: Pain, Truth, Love

Prompt: Truth

“How’s your pain level?” John asks. 

“Tolerable,” he says, as close to the truth as he can manage. It fucking hurts, he wants to say. 

“Liar. If you’re in pain, I can give you something.”

Give me time travel, he thinks. Send me back to 2010, let me figure out how we won’t end up here.

“No, it’s not so bad.” He considers. “You should go home, check on Mary.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, she’s pregnant.”

“Yeah. She’s also a nurse, and knows how to use a phone.”

“But you—“

“Don’t say you chose her. I didn’t. And I don’t. The woman I chose, the one I married, wasn’t an assassin. I don’t know who she is.”

He reconsiders. “She could have killed me if that’s what she intended.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” John glares at him. “That was a kill shot. And if it wasn’t, it’s given her what she wanted. That’s what she thinks, anyway. I’m not letting her divide us.” He gives a short, brutal laugh. “And her shooting you was acceptable? Is that what you think?”

“She was cornered. It wasn’t her plan.”

John rolls his eyes, gives a deep sigh. “I know you’re the amazing Sherlock Holmes, who can identify a software designer by his tie and – what was it? – a retired plumber by his left hand.” He looks away, stubbornly shaking his head. “I’ve lived with her for months. Maybe I was oblivious for most of that time, but that bullet—“ he points at Sherlock’s chest— “has given me remarkable clarity.”

“John—“

“No, Sherlock. She’s lied to me from the day we met. Everything about her is a lie. Maybe if she’d just lied about one thing— but I can see it all now. Even here, in this room, while the paramedics were taking you away, she pretended concern, but she never ever apologised to me for—“ Tears course down his face. “She knew what it did to me when you died— she saw how I grieved— and she tried to take you from me again—“

“Come here,” he says. “John, please.”

“Not if you’re going to tell me how she saved your life!”

“All right. Just— come here.”

John kneels beside his chair, leans his head on Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock puts his hand on John’s head, feels him let go. 

“I want you to be happy,” he says. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been looking for someone. When I saw you with Mary, I thought you’d found her.”

A deep sigh. “So did I. But that was only because I’d lost you. Who was the last woman I dated, Sherlock? Do you remember?”

“The boring teacher.”

“Her name was Jeanette. We broke up after the Christmas party, the first year I lived here. Do you know why I stopped dating?”

“I assumed it was because I kept scaring off all your potential girlfriends.”

“It was because of what Irene said. I know you heard it. You were there.”

“You told her you’re not gay.”

“She said we were a couple. She was right about that, and I was just too stupid to see it then. But after— after you fell, after you died—“ His face contorts with sorrow. “It was too late, but I saw it. I was in love with you.”

“But you met Mary. You married her. You’re not gay.”

“Look, just assume I’m an idiot, Sherlock. I was angry with you. I’d realised that I was in love with you, settled for a woman who I thought could make me happy, or at least less unhappy, and then you came back. But you don’t do feelings. You don’t do romance or— love. Me loving you—“ he makes a choked sound, half laugh, half sob. “You were never going to love me back, so I stayed with her. And now— I’m not going to make that mistake again. Maybe it is too late. Maybe you’re married to your work, don’t have friends, avoid sentiment because it wreaks havoc on your rational brain. I don’t care. I choose you. I love you. I need you.”

“John—“

“Fine— sentiment is on the losing side. You can’t reciprocate. I know, I know. I won’t leave you again. Not voluntarily. You’ll have to change the locks if you want to get rid of me. Or maybe have Mycroft vanish me, send me to some remote part of Canada. He’s threatened before—“

“What?”

“Just say it, Sherlock. If you want me go, I’ll go— anywhere but back to her. I wish—“

“John, stop.”

John sighs, looks up at him. “All right, I’ll go. But not until you’re off pain meds. When you’re well, I’ll leave. I’m not sorry I told you how I feel, Sherlock, but I don’t want you to think that you owe me something you can’t give.”

“John, please. No more.” He closes his eyes, breaths deeply. “Let’s assume I’m an idiot, too. I told you I was married to my work, and I believed it. But I was wrong. By the time I realised, you were dating women. I would never make you happy, I thought, but apparently I couldn’t stand seeing someone else make you happy. But when I came back and saw what I’d done to you, how unhappy you’d been after I left—“

“After you died.”

“— I was willing to put your happiness before my own selfish desires. That’s why I told you to go back to her. I wanted you to be happy.“

“Are you even listening? It isn’t about being happy, Sherlock! I don’t know why you think—“

“That’s what I thought, past tense. As I say, I was an idiot. This is imperfect— you and I. It’s something I didn’t realise, and when I finally realised, it was something I didn’t want to feel.”

Unexpectedly, John laughs. “You’re saying that even though we’re a mess, even though you don’t want it—“

“I love you too, John.”

“Do you mean—”

“Yes. In every way. Always.”

1000 words / Flash Fiction

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent @shiplocks-of-love @khorazir @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @the-reading-lemon

[fishymom-art]

TELL US EVERYTHING ABOUT UR OCS!! id love to hear!!

OKAY OKAY SO I ALSO DID SOME SKETCHES EHEHHEHE

Rose Seed (aka my beloved Dark Fae) is one of the first OCs I created (circa 2011/12/13, something like that). He was my pony oc, of course, because this is where I started hahahah. He was always the gayest looking out of all of my characters, despite being straight. I changed that of course, now he's fruitier than a garden full of apples. He's a poor unfortunate soul who has to entertain the rich folk from different realms when they visit The End Realm for some political shit to do with Raff. He's a boy toy and a twink, but he's also very very talented, especially in singing. It was always his passion. Dark Faes are the outcasts of the Fae race, so he pretends to be a Love Fae, the most respectable kind who usually hang around rich people.

I must admit, I created Tim (the butler) just so that Rose can have a Husk to his Angel Dust hahaha. He's from the Human Realm, but it is not to be compared with our world. Magic and stuff still exists there but it's prohibited and anyone who's spotted using magic of any sort is exiles. Which leads us to Tim, who was extremely rich and famous and owned a casino. Money wasn't enough, so he gambled souls. He cheated all the time, of course, never lost, and if he was close to losing, he would trick his opponents to give up. An egotistical asshole is what he is, but he can also be a sweetheart.

I care a lot about Eru because they used to be a parent. They only became a parent when they got to the End Realm. They were violent, which is why they were exiled from their church. But they changed for their son. They lost him to Raff's servants - Shadows - and made it their mission to avenge. When they meet Milo, Raff's son who's the same age as Eru's son was, when he died, they soften up. Which was the first mistake they've made. Milo isn't a normal child. He's kept isolated from the world, no one knows he exists, no one knows what he is and what he's capable of. (also i forgot to draw Eru's wings here, apologies ahhahaha)

The best arc is probably Amelie and Raff. Amelie was exiled from the Occult Realm for being weak, but she can be fucking feral if she wants to and it gained her power and respect in the End Realm. But when Raff arrived, he beat her and took her down, taking her place as the highest overlord and she becomes a mere maid, who hides her immense powers. Rose and Tim, who also work alongside her, really REALLY want her to use her powers but she refuses. She'll snap at some point, of course. Everyone does.

YEAH ANYWAY I DIDN'T DRAW ANYTHING FOR POLEN BUT

She's amazing. I promise. She's THE woman ever, caring about everyone. Strong, yet selfless, which is her biggest weakness that makes her lose one very important battle... But for now she wants to avenge Rose, who was her best friend despite being an outcast of the Fae society. Of course, they fell apart when Rose joined Raff, but she still cares for him and wants him to be free again. She also wishes that the old overlord - a powerful yet caring succubus - took his place again, but oohhhh she disappeared and no one knows where she iiiisssss [pointing at Amelie]. Yeah, Polen is clueless that it's her.

YEAH ANYWAY WHAT DO YOU THINK ALIGEUHLAIUEHGLA I HAVE MORE

YOU CAN ALSO ASK THE CHARACTERS SOMETHING, I'D LOVE TO DRAW SOME ANSWERS!!!!

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

I have an idea, but I don't know if it fits the 2000< requirement, but what about Ventus talking to Roxas about his time in daybreak town and how alone he used to feel?

OK hello first off. THANK YOU for the prompt!! I kinda. branched off from what was asked a bit cause i got ✨ Inspired ✨ SO I hope you enjoy regardless! I also got another prompt from @/fangirling-heart that I'm working on SO in case they see this 👋🏻 hi! That one will probably be a LOT shorter. If anyone else is interested in throwin some ideas my way check out this post and then feel free to hit me up in my inbox 💚 No beta, only one or two re-reads, so if there's any mistakes here... pretend you didn't see them LOL Summary: Roxas is sent on a quest into Ventus' dreams, and makes a new (?) friend Word Count: 2892 Relationship: Roxas & Ventus (friendship)

Others had volunteered to go there, to the space where the Sleeping Realm and individual Dreamscapes met, but in the end, Ventus had chosen Roxas to investigate his dreams.  Not Terra or Aqua, nor “literally-a-Dream-Eater” Riku, but Roxas. Sure, he wasn’t alone -- this experiment required a Dream Eater to accompany him, so Sora’s Meow Wow was by Roxas’ side -- but he’d been picked by Ventus above anyone else to literally walk into his mind and look around. Him! They hadn’t even been friends for that long, with the battle against Xehanort having been just over a year ago, yet here Roxas was, standing on the edge of Ventus’ subconscious mind, petting his Dream Eater companion.

“. . . I don’t know if he’s really dreaming yet,” Roxas admitted. “This is dark. Ventus’ dreams can’t be dark.”

The “world” around Roxas currently was nothing but an odd black void. There was no true ground, nor walls, nor sky, which was all a bit disorienting. But there was something beneath Roxas’ feet, or else he and Meow Wow would be drifting off somewhere. Roxas chose to focus on that feeling of standing, ‘cause he was pretty sure if he didn’t, he might feel so disconnected from this reality that he really could drift away.

Roxas had a job to do. He couldn’t let himself get too intimidated by all… this.

This was to help Ventus recover the memories he’d lost, that were apparently buried so deep than even Naminé and the scientists working in the Radiant Gardens couldn’t reach without some help. Admittedly, Ventus wasn’t really gung-ho about remembering anything (apparently the last time he’d touched his forgotten memories, the migraine he’d been left with was enough to make him scream), but he had to put that fear aside for the good of the mission.

(Of course, Ventus had still been scared. An hour prior, he’d been laid down in a hospital bed and told that he’d be put to sleep. That’s not exactly easy for someone who’d spent 12 years in a magical coma to chew. Certainly not someone who’d developed insomnia because of the fear he might fall into another decade-long sleep. Ventus was clearly miserable, but it was getting to the point that Ventus’ memories might be the missing key to finding Sora after his disappearance a year prior. Ventus may have been scared, but when it came to Sora… he’d do almost anything to help him.)

(Roxas remembered catching a glimpse of Ventus holding Terra’s and Aqua’s hands tight as Dr. Even and Ienzo prepared the sleeping spell Ventus would be put under. The magic was distributed to Ventus as if it was anesthesia, as a clunky plastic dome had to be put over his nose and mouth. Roxas and Meow Wow had watched from behind glass doors as Ventus’ chest heaved slower, as his eyes grew heavier, until finally his hands went limp and Aqua pressed a kiss to his forehead.)

Roxas had 24 hours. That’s how deep the spell was. Hopefully he’d be able to get a good lead sooner than that, but he had a lot of leeway. Okay. Ventus and the others were counting on him… especially since Ventus wouldn’t be able to wake up until Roxas and Meow Wow were outta his head. 

“...C’mon, Meow Wow,” Roxas whispered, standing up straight and taking another good look at the empty space before him. “We’ve gotta find where Ven’s dreams are. Or… something.”

“Meowf!” Meow Wow barked, and Roxas couldn’t help but laugh. 

With that, their mission officially began. They walked off into the darkness, steps echoing as though they were walking on glass. It really was unsettling, but Roxas kept his nerves under wraps. What an interesting place this was, this time between sleep and dreams. Mysterious. Dark. But not too cold.

Slowly, some semblance of color and light began to seep into the world. Ventus’ dream began forming, and suddenly Roxas was inside the Land of Departure’s castle. Of course, things weren’t even close to being a perfect recreation. The stained glass windows weren’t symmetrical, and the colors of their glass kept shifting, meanwhile some of the thrones making up the throne room were replaced with bean-bag chairs. It was almost like looking at one of those “spot the difference” puzzles, as dream-oddities popped up left and right to add differences between reality and dream.   

Okay, this is definitely a Ven-dream, Roxas thought as a small herd of numbered sheep crossed a distant hallway. Meow Wow went up to sniff them, but that just frightened a majority of them into running into the throne room. 

“Meow Wow! Over here, buddy!” Roxas called. “Those aren’t Tama Sheep. Don’t bother them!”

Meow Wow waddled back to Roxas’ side, sniffing his shoes. Meanwhile, Roxas gave the room another look-around. Okay, now he just had to… find anything that might not belong. Anything that could be a hint to where Sora was, or something from Ventus’ past. Anything Naminé could use as a branching-off point. 

He chose me for this. Ventus chose me, ‘cause he trusts me to see all this.

Honestly? That was still a pretty big deal. There was a chance Roxas could come across anything here, even stuff Ventus wanted to keep a secret. It was a bit more responsibility than Roxas really wanted, but at the same time, being picked out at the one to take care of all this was oddly flattering. It was ike Roxas was being handed a part of Ventus no one else had access to.

(“It… kinda came down to you or Xion,” Ventus had admitted before he’d been put under. “You two… I mean, I know we’re not all connected in the same way, but I know you guys would understand if you saw anything weird, in my head.”)

(Ventus had taken a shaky breath, trying to get his thoughts to words. Eventually, he just settled on smiling up at Roxas, and thanking him.)

(“I know you’d be the best fit. You’re the best at figuring out stuff like this. If anyone could find out what secrets I’m hiding, it’d be the guy who always calls me out for lying, eheh!” Ventus laughed and gave Roxas’ arm a light punch. “Just promise you’ll… stay with me, when you get back, if I’m still sleeping. I don’t… wanna wake up all alone.”) 

Roxas took note of a sheep labeled ‘7’ sniffing around the thrones/bean-bags at the north of the room. Number 9 was lying under the shifting stained glass window, while sheeps #3 and #14 were munching on a patch of grass that had spawned on top of wood flooring. Meanwhile, one of the dream-sheeps decided that Roxas was of interest, and approached to nuzzle his leg.

“...Course. Number 13.”

Roxas gave the animal a gentle pat on the head. Okay, if all the sheep are numbered… maybe this is a test. You count sheep to get to sleep, don’t you? So….

“Great. All the sheep are outta order,” Roxas muttered. “Maybe we should--”

“GO AWAY!”

Oathkeeper and Oblivion appeared in Roxas’ hands reflexively.

Who the hell was that? Roxas thought, sending Meow Wow a glance. The Dream Eater had its back arched, growling lightly and staring ahead at one of the unchanged thrones across the room. Roxas crouched down, ready to stealth his way across the room. 

Meanwhile, the mystery voice snapped again:

“Get outta here! L-leave me alone!”

Sheep #7 gave a startled “baa!” as it dove past Roxas, who was already on his way towards the center throne. This voice wasn’t one he recognized right away, so Roxas’ first thought was Nightmare, though he couldn’t sense any Darkness lurking around the corner. Regardless, Roxas snuck up to the chair, while Meow Wow prepared a bouncing attack.

On three, we attack. One, two--

Roxas held his blades tight, listening for that mystery voice. He could hear some light breathing, so unless this was a trick of Ven’s mind, something had to be hiding behind that throne.

Three!

Without a sound, Roxas dove out from his hiding spot, Keyblades in hand. He didn’t make any move to strike, not yet, but he did hold his Keyblades offensively, ready for whatever he found--

“A--ahh!” 

--well, he certainly wasn’t ready to realize he had Oblivion raised in the face of a child. 

The boy yelped again, raising his arms to cover his head. Roxas felt his heart drop past his stomach, to his feet. That was a kid! That was an actual child! For a moment, all Roxas could do was freeze.

“Please-- don’t hurt me!” The child cried out. “I-I didn’t do nothin’!”

Roxas had never seen a child before, not really. Not this close.

Actually, Roxas hadn’t even been one himself. A Nobody came to life the same age their Somebody had been, and with Roxas’ strange state of being, that meant he couldn’t even remember what it’d been like to be any younger than 16. So to see someone so young (Roxas didn’t really have a great judge of age, but this boy was younger than a teenager) with blonde hair the same style as Roxas’ own, and big green eyes that reminded Roxas of Ven, was a bit disorienting.

Oblivion shook in Roxas’ hand, and he lowered the blade.

“Please, please, please…” the blonde child whimpered. “Don’t… don’t hurt me….”

In two flashes of light, Oblivion and Oathkeeper vanished. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The child didn’t seem convinced.

Alright, off to a great start already, Roxas thought sarcastically. He took a breath and a knee, holding his hands up in surrender, to show he wasn’t making any moves to lash out. The mysterious child looked between him and Meow Wow suspiciously, then scooted back. He’d been hiding behind this throne, hadn’t he? Poor thing.

(Funny, how the throne he’d hid behind was the dream’s reflection of the chair Ventus had slept on for 12 years….)

“Hi,” Roxas started simply. “I’m Roxas. Sorry I scared you; I thought you were a monster.”

Was he doing this right? Kneeling down to be at eye level, keeping his voice soft and being honest. Was that how people talked to children? Roxas licked his bottom lip in thought, furrowing his brows. Meanwhile, the little boy hugged himself tighter, glaring up at Roxas.

“Monster? I’m not a monster! I’m just… me. ‘M just Ventus.”

Roxas’ eyes went wide. “Ventus?”

“Umm...m’yeah?” 

Of course. That explained the resemblance. Roxas felt something odd stir up in his heart. This kid… was Ventus. Or at least, who Ventus had been, as a child. Roxas had never been a kid, and Ventus had no memory of his past. So to see someone so young wearing the same face they shared was odd. It almost felt like looking at a stranger, and the feeling reminded Roxas of what it was like to meet Sora for the first time, and realize “this is who I used to be a part of?”

“Ventus,” Roxas echoed. “You’re Ventus.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” the child affirmed, before he suddenly grew defensive. “I’m-- wait! You-- you’re gonna make fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Make fun of you? Why would I--’

“Because everyone does. All the Big Kids, in the other Unions!” That look of fear the child had been wearing earlier was quickly replaced by an angry pout. “W-well, I’ve had it! If you’re gonna try anything….”

The child lifted his hand, and in a flash of light, summoned a Keyblade Roxas hadn’t seen in a while.

“Missing Ache?”

“That’s right! If you’re gonna be mean to me, or call me names, or anything, I’ll fight you! I’ll… I’ll….” 

But as quickly as the determination had come, the fire began to fade. The young boy’s lip trembled, and Missing Ache grew heavy in his hand. The boy scooted back, pulled his knees to his chest, and became shy once more. He didn’t say anything, didn’t raise Missing Ache again, he just hid his face and hugged himself with one arm.

. . .Oh.

Roxas felt a rush of something between pity and affection. He had to put aside how weird this was (but it was a dream! Dreams are meant to be weird!). Roxas bit his bottom lip, trying to plot out how to go about this. A kid… what was he supposed to say to a scared little kid?

Well, he should be gentler than the Organization XIII members were to him when he joined. That was the closest he’d ever been to being a child, so it was his one point of reference. The only other experience he’d had was seeing Peter Pan’s lost boys playing from a distance, or being harassed by Locke, Shock, and Barrel in Halloween Town. But Roxas wasn’t sure he could count any of that as actual experience taking care of a kid. 

“. . . It’s. Nice to meet you. Ventus.” Roxas took a moment to let that name settle. To let that identity settle.“I’m here on a mission. I’m looking around this drea-- this place with my friend, Meow Wow.”

The “Little Ventus” didn’t react with the same excitement real Ventus would’ve. He just peeked up, looking from Roxas to Meow Wow. Roxas watched as the little boy’s brow furrowed, before his eyes lit up with recognition.

“A Dream Eater?”

“That’s right. How’d ya know…?”

Before Little Ventus could answer, Meow Wow bounced up eagerly. The little boy held his arms out, sitting cross-legged, as if opening up to give Meow Wow a hug.

“Bwarf! Mrreowf!” Meow Wow leapt onto Little Ventus, giving him a ton of slobbery “kisses”. Despite his previous hesitance, Little Ventus laughed. It seemed the focus keeping Missing Ache by his side was diverted, so the strange Keyblade returned to light, while Little Ventus pressed his face into Meow Wow’s fur.

“Smells like cotton candy….”

“Haha… yeah,” Roxas said, scooting a tad closer. “I think Meow Wow just had a bath too, so his fur is extra soft.”

Roxas rested a gentle hand on top of the Dream Eater’s blue fur as if to demonstrate. Little Ventus watched shyly. Roxas tried to keep a small smile on his face as he pet the cat-dog, hoping that maybe he could earn the child’s trust by showing that Meow Wow trusted them both. Green eyes followed Roxas’ hand…until eventually, a small hand joined him in stroking through the Dream Eater’s fur.

“You’re right!” Little Ventus’ voice was an eager gasp. “So soft….”

Roxas felt a smile tug at his lips, but he said nothing. Maybe it was nerves, or just his quieter nature coming out. He tended to let Ventus fill the air when the two of them were together. Guess that instinct kicked in around Little Ventus, too. The two sat in silence for a moment, while Meow Wow began to purr.

Little Ventus gasped. “Just like Chirithy!” 

“Right. Just like Chirithy.”

“...Roxas.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s your name, right? It’s weird. I’ve never met a Roxas before!”

“Well I don’t know many other people named Ventus,” Roxas smirked. “Only the one….”

“W-well, that just means I’m u-unique.” Little Ventus mispronounced the word as if it rhymed with “quiche”, and that made Roxas laugh. “Hey! What’s so funny? You said you weren’t gonna make fun of me!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I just… I think Ventus is a nice name. Weird. But nice.”

Little Ventus huffed, and Roxas had to hold back another laugh. Were all kids this… funny? Was that the word? Roxas didn’t know how to describe this. He just felt happy, in a very curious way. 

“Well, I guess Roxas isn’t a bad name, either. Weird. But… not bad.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

Another moment of silence, but there was something warmer to it. By now, Meow Wow’s tail was wagging so hard, it was thumping against the floor. 

“Are you a cat or a dog?” Little Ventus asked the Dream Eater. “Anyways… what Union are you in?”

…? Was Little Ventus talking to Meow Wow, or--?

“Hello? Roxaaas. Roxas! What Union are you in?”

“Union? Uh. None?” Roxas shrugged. “I don’t really know what you mean.”

“You don’t have a Union?! Like some… some wanderer?” Little Ventus leaned over Meow Wow as if the pet were a pillow, and he didn’t seem to mind. “Well, I’m in the Leopardus Union! And I’m the fastest member there. Honest!”

Roxas chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm!” Little Ventus was looking more eager by the second. “I’m gonna be the best runner in Daybreak Town! Faster than the wind!”

Roxas had a feeling there was a bit of a story to this. He also had a feeling that it’d be a lot of work convincing Meow Wow to leave this spot. It looked like they’d have to put a ‘pin’ in their mission for now.

…Well, Roxas did have 23 hours before Ventus would have to wake up. Maybe he could spend a little longer in this dream, not just to figure out more, but to keep this forgotten part of Ven company. He’d promised Ventus he wouldn’t leave him alone… and that applied to all parts of Ventus. Even the ones that were exceptionally well-hidden.

“Tell me all about it,” Roxas said gently. “I’d be happy to listen.”

 ‘Cause that’s what a good friend does.

[maydaymemer]

Hitman WOA: Ambrose on Trial - The Case for and Against

Back in 2022 IO released their final sandbox level for the Hitman trilogy: Ambrose Island. This level took place between the events of vanilla Hitman 2’s penultimate and final locations, but due to being released during Hitman 3’s lifecycle it was never treated as such. Instead Ambrose sat in an obscure spot of a specific menu, placed after Hitman 3’s locations but never having a mechanism during either campaign to go to it naturally. Until recently when a patch brought Ambrose to its chronological placement: now players upon beating Whittleton Creek’s Another Life will be prompted to play Ambrose’s main mission before moving onto the rest of Hitman 2

But was that a good decision? Even before this happened I was planning this post with the premise of if a new player should try to incorporate Ambrose into their first playthrough, but now it’s reality I want to examine if that made sense as a decision. In this little essay I will example the case FOR and AGAINST chronological Ambrose:

FOR #1 Convenience of Discovery

The first argument for placing Ambrose into chronological order is that every map of the trilogy is part of the main campaign, and keeping this consistent will ensure not only can old players who want to play Ambrose cant get there as convenient as possible but new players will know Ambrose exists without having to be told about it by the internet. Someone binging the trilogy now has a quick throughline to know what to play next, what has been played and what can be played

Even if Hitman 2’s cutscenes now change from motion comic style to cheap full motion back to motion comic and then to slightly less cheap full motion it’s at least consistently inconsistent. It was already precedent with Hitman 2’s DLC to have each level follow another in chronological order. You dont go from Sgail to Dubai; you go from Sgail to New York to Haven to Dubai. IO released this trilogy episodically so even retroactive releases earlier in the timeline should be accounted for

It also may be confusing for new players to play Romania and then see storyline targets they don’t recognize, granted they may still do that with New York and Haven but hey that’s IO’s fault for not having a convenient bundle of all the DLC

FOR #2 Fanservice, Plot, Development

It just makes sense to play Ambrose in its chronological place because the map’s identity as a pretend-lost chapter in H2 is so engrained into the design and premise of the map that anyone currently playing Hitman 2 will appreciate the details more having just played everything in a big glut. The map mixes set-pieces and characters from Hawke’s Bay, Colombia and Mumbai to give you the sense that this happened soon after those, so just outright playing it in that order will enhance what they were going for

It also helps to know what’s going on in the plot if the events are fresh in your mind. Taking out Grey’s militia is a big part of H2 but putting too much space between that and your playthrough of Ambrose might make you forget some details

With the foreknowledge of Hitman 3, IO went into Ambrose trying to patch up mistakes in the trilogy’s writing, and to clarify some plot points that were previously obscure details

For example, a conversation in Isle of Sgail that The Constant has on his phone directly references that Grey disbanded the Militia after the killing of Janus in Whittleton Creek. This detail is never mentioned again and if you dont ever hear this again the idea of “what happened to the militia?” might come off as a plot hole. Even though it isn’t a plot hole, closing an entire narrative thread in one phone call is still a bit strange

So Ambrose already fixes this, but the major problems come in Hitman 2’s DLC which inadvertently created a shadiness in Grey’s character that H3 had to correct. With the context of Ambrose people will be less inclined to get a false impression of Grey’s motives

The introductory briefing then provides minor foreshadowing of Diana’s character arc in H3, which isn’t much but it’s nice to make the trilogy seem more cohesive story-wise by including that

FOR #3 A Better Penultimate Level

I would argue that if you look at Ambrose and Sgail as two sides of the same coin, there’s some interesting thematic mirroring between the dingy, dark island of the Militia and the dark but opulent island belonging to an asset of Providence. I think its important to have that juxtaposition especially since this is the last major map of the trilogy where we tackle these sorts of themes, at least until Berlin

I also think that if you were to consider Whittleton as the penultimate level of Hitman 2, it’s a little easy. To go from a relaxing level like that to the last level in the game and one of the most intense it’s a little too abrupt. This stopgap also helps to buildup the location in-story as an important and secure area, which adds to the mystique and imposing nature when you get there

AGAINST #1 Pacing and The Themes of H2

My main issue with Ambrose’s placement is how it retroactively fucks up the one constant of Hitman 2’s design philosophy and that’s the contrast between levels

In the lead up to marketing and BTS of the trilogy each entry’s main philosophy is always touted as follows: Hitman 1’s theming is clean professionalism with each level showing 47 at the height of his career, Hitman 2’s theme is the criminal and colorful with each level visually and conceptually being the complete opposite of the last and Hitman 3’s theme was of the emotional journey, it starts out light, gets darker before ending on a more hopeful note

Unlike Hitman 1 and 3 which are more homogenous for the sake of the tone they’re going for Hitman 2 aims for this contrast and keeps it even into the DLCs: the quiet and stormy Hawke’s Bay is followed by the bright and bombastic Miami, then by the quiet and naturalistic Colombia followed by the bustling metropolis of Mumbai, then the serene Suburbia ended off with the dark and ominous Isle of Sgail which is then contrasted with the very small and modern Bank which is then contrasted by a tropical paradise in Haven

Ambrose fits the criminal and colorful (which doesnt need to mean literal color, because H2 has a ton of dingy and monochrome areas, moreso it refers to the colorful personalities of career criminals). It even adheres to Hitman 2’s more blue collar theming, contrasted with New Money in H1 and Old Money in H3. The problem is its aesthetic of the night time storm is already similar to Sgail, which is the very next map chronologically. The progression from Whittleton to Sgail was always intended to wow the audience, and I feel this plus H2 vanilla’s amazing pacing will now be lost on new players because H2 now has three levels made post-launch that are tacked onto its campaign

AGAINST #2 Difficulty Spike

The problem with Ambrose being considered now as part of H2 is it isn’t a H2 location in terms of its design philosophy. It makes use of mechanics like crafting, shortcuts and the camera which aren’t properly tutorialized until H3 and even Freelancer

I actually have any conclusion I drew from admittedly anecdotal evidence and it’s nowhere near conclusive but the fact Ambrose Island doesnt have guidance for its mission stories kind of assumes you have enough experience playing Hitman to know what you’re doing. When Berlin did this it was a calculated decision and the amount of signposting was carefully crafted to give a sense of freedom without being aimless. Ambrose isn’t nearly as well designed to accommodate the inexperienced player

So when I see streams of new players going through Ambrose I see them getting lost and finding the map impenetrable. This is with half the maps under there belt, but it seems Ambrose is maybe too much of an enthusiast’s map to be sprung on a player in the middle of a more guided experience like the other H2 maps

AGAINST #3 Repetition

This is more of a misc. category but there’s problems with Ambrose’s placement in a visual and gameplay sense. Just to rapid fire those complaints:

- The fact it reuses so many assets from Colombia and Mumbai so soon after playing those maps will make the map seem odd

- The fact there’s three island maps almost in a row from Ambrose to Sgail to Haven will potentially fatigue the play on that structure of level design

- Its briefing menu clearly uses the H3 style, but also the fact the pre-Sgail cutscene is meant to follow on from Janus death gives a slight anachronistic order to the whole affair

The Verdict

Now that Ambrose is forever part of H2’s gameplay experience, I think it’s up to the individual player to decide whether it works as part of the campaign or if they think it comes off as padding. Ive given reasons for and against, and I hope next time you play Ambrose or try it for the first time in its new Chronological order if it was truly better that way or not

And that may seem like a cop out, but that’s just because it is

[hoodoo12]

Dec 16th show

This show was the last I'll see till closing night, which I am lucky enough to be able to go to. Is lucky the right word? Shouldn't it be heart-breaking or something? idk

It has been nice to be able to have seen the show a few times, because I pick up new things each time. I don't mean that a lot in the show has changed, but because I familiar with it I'm not hyper-focused on the "action" of the scene and can watch the secondary actors on the stage. I feel like I saw a lot more of the individual clones during TBS, and of course I watched Elliott a little more. (Okay, a lot more, lol)

Dana Steingold was Lydia. She did an excellent job of navigating all of Lydia's emotions, instead of having just one overwhelm the nuance of the character.

Notes from show:

Alex wore a plain white shirt for several of the numbers. But not all of them (TBS, for example). I don't understand why.

Alex mocked my laughter at one point (after 'gay republican'), copying it before going to the next line.

The kid he picked for sad puppet show was right behind us (over our left shoulder). We overheard the family talking before it the show and the kid had never seen it before. His mom had to answer for him because he Alex terrified him mute (the kid was 10, for christ's sake). Alex could def see how uncomfortable the kid was because he crouched down to stare him directly in the eye and shouted, "YOUR PARENTS HAVE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE BRINGING YOU HERE", which only scared the kid more.

During his Katherine Hepburn speech, he pretended to be her down on all fours like they were going to screw doggy style.

During FoTL when David suggests, "act like a baby" Alex says, "What the shit is wrong with you?" and now that's my new favorite line.

Alex fumbled for "Brigadoon". He said, "I know my name is on the marquis, but you'll have to watch a new show. The Maitlands," and then stood there for a moment too long, gestured to them again for more time/effect before finally coming up with the line. The person with me thought since he couldn't remember the word he'd just finish with, " . . . the Maitlands. I'm out of here" and then "Yeah, I'm out of here. Fuck me, I guess" instead of "fuck Brigadoon."

Alex screwed up his mic during SMN. He went a little extra (more on that later) when he pulled back his wig to showcase the maggot brain, which messed it up. He repeatedly had to tap it/adjust it during the song to get it working correctly again. This is the second time I've seen that happen to him; it was pointed out that maybe I'm the common denominator when it stops working correctly . . .

Adam Dannheisser almost lost it when Leslie said "prostitution?" responding to his, "you're my employee and my lover" line. He had to take several moments to compose himself to not laugh. He did it though! Good job!

The guy Alex picked on as "that guy" was wearing a suit. The last time he addressed him, he added, "You got all dressed up tonight and got ROASTED." Pause for laughter. "Thanks for coming."

The guy sitting by me was INTO the show. Like leaning forward to laugh and shaking enough during it he rocked the seats.

The two kids (mid-teens) next to us were NOT into it. I don't know why their mom paid for front row seats for kids who didn't give a shit and who, during "Home", pulled out their phones to check their IG or Tiktok or whatever.

Maybe this is something everyone else was aware of, but the knees on his red suit are completely patched. Like his overcoat and the striped suit, they have these big stitches which I had never seen before. That whole suit looked a little more ratty to me than I remember it.

During COG when he and David swing each other over to stage right, Alex got some serious air. He was literally parallel to the ground (my companion pointed out after the show that I gasped, lol) so David must be gdamn strong to lift Alex like that.

Alex also made not one, not two, but three attempts to kiss David at stage right + made a grab at his crotch. Two of those things David was either not expecting or he's just a really excellent actor. It could be both.

Juno's leg skittered across the floor and almost fell into the pit, which I would have paid extra money to see because what the heck would they do??

Going back to "Alex being extra" . . . during intermission the person I was with was like, "What the hell? Why is he exhausting himself? Did you see? His make up is sliding off his face he's so sweaty and I've never seen him go so ham. This is Beetlejuice, not Alex."

She was genuinely concerned for him. Honestly, me too. He exuded more of a frenetic energy which, while appropriate for the character, was so much for so long the miasma of it hung in the air. Maybe he's just giving his all because the show is closing in 3 weeks. idk But with flu, COVID, and RSV also floating around, I hope he doesn't overstress his immune system so he can close the show out.