#and I don’t see that abuse as being an explanation nor really a turning point of his character since it didn’t really change him

[bleue-flora]

...Q running in an election, which he was completely allowed to do, during which he played 100% by Wilbur's rules and won fairly according to said rules, means that getting abused by his boss was his own fault?

Yeah your views are definitely scuffed. You don't have to sympathize with a character you don't like but holy shit

Perhaps fault isn’t the right word. Just to clarify, I didn’t mean it was his fault for being abused, not saying anyone deserves that. So, I didn’t mean like he asked for it or like it is karma or comeuppance for running in the election. And by no means am I saying he was wrong to do so in the first place and whether or not he followed c!Wilbur’s rules is irrelevant. So perhaps comparing that with exile is unfair to c!Quackity, after all c!Tommy did provoke Dream and there’s not necessarily evidence for c!Quackity provoking c!Schlatt into that behavior. But at the end of the day, it is a result of his own actions. It is a consequence of his own actions whether or not it was intended or deserved. He chose to side with c!Schlatt so he could win even though it’s not like c!Schlatt was necessarily hiding his true colors, and he chose to stay. Did he know he was going to be abused, did he chose to be abused, did he deserve being abused. No. Of course not. But it happened because of the choices he made and he could’ve always made different choices to escape that. Actions just have consequences whether good or bad, you pay them or someone else does, whether intentional or not. - I forget an umbrella and I get wet and I get the floor wet and then someone slips on the wet floor and falls - I made a choice or perhaps a series of choices whether to put my umbrella by the door or make sure to dry my shoes off… etc. did I know that was going to happen? Did I intend for that? Did I or the person who fell deserve that? No, I made choices and those were the consequences that happened as a result so one could say it is my fault even if it’s not only my fault and even if it’s not like I intentionally meant for that to happen.

So obviously c!Quackity didn’t deserve to be abused, nor choose it, nor mean for it to happen, nor make it happen, nor is his hurt invalid. But c!Schlatt had a bad reputation to start off with, I mean one of the first things he does is betray c!Wilbur and c!Tommy in the first place. So all I’m saying is c!Quackity chose to ally himself with the devil and the devil lived up to his name.

(And I know I said you can call me cold, but that is kinda accusatory. c!Quackity isn’t a real person, these do not reflect my view irl, this is my view on a sadistic, manipulative, fictional character who lives in a world where people stab, kill, insult, harass for a fun afternoon.)

[leighlew3]

Why not admit you don’t like Upstead due to your attraction for Hailey & wanting to feel like you can connect to her better if she hooked up with a girl cause it’s not PD lacking representation as more you find Tracy attractive so you want to see it with her! PD could have made Vanessa & no one screamed for that…

First of all PD seriously lacks LGBTQ representation and has for a very long time. Except of course, this most recent storyline about a young gay man who was tortured, and then eventually killed. Really great rep there… /s

Not that I owe you any sort of an explanation for my personal preferences, I actually rooted for Upstead for awhile. Until they turned him into a douche bag that fully abandoned his wife.

But I connected to the character of Hailey Upton long before they got anywhere near each other romantically due to her childhood abuse background being something very sadly relatable to me, and the incredible performance she gave when they explored it that rang hauntingly true.

Unlike you, I’m not entirely driven by superficiality nor knee jerk reactions to assume people wanting queer content and representation just want to see “hookups”. If your go-to is immediate sexualization rather than understanding a desire for exploration of different forms of love, especially for a character like her that desperately needs to know she’s worthy of it — that’s on you.

For that matter, I actually thought they might lean into Upton and Vanessa at one point because they had great chemistry. They even made them roommates… then Vanessa disappeared, without explanation. The show couldn’t even be bothered to say her name again once she was gone.

And since you want to go there, I have a feeling you probably didn’t “scream” about Vanessa’s sudden and abrupt and unexplained departure the way that you were probably extremely upset by Jay’s. So let’s not play that card.

I will admit Spiridakos is incredibly beautiful though. You got me there. Big win for you!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had enough of fans of (unfortunately toxic in the end for Upstead) hetero ships randomly drive-by ambushing me over fiction and hurling low-key to blatantly phobic things my way.

It sucks that your fave ship sank in such a random and disappointing way, but that’s on the show, not me.

Please go away now. Thanks.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

@transford-pines woe, au be upon ye (under cut)

warnings for talk of death and (lethal) injury

context for anyone who doesn’t already have it: this is a gravity falls/fnaf au where none of the books nor anything past sister location happen. also, the nightmares have nothing to do with the illusion disks

i’m more tired than my usual as of writing this, so some bits may be a tad incoherent. my apologies for that. anyway, au explanation time:

this au focuses on the stan twins. stan and michael become the same character, ford and cc become the same character. shermie owns the sister location (and some other things) but is unaware of the fact that the robots are uh. sentient. shermie is the older brother here

that should place filbrick in the role of the william afton, but he’s not. because him murdering random kids for no reason feels like it undermines him being an abusive prick to his own kids in a way. he doesn’t need to be a killer to be terrible, y’know? so the murderer is someone else

seeing as ford is cc in this au, i’m sure you know where this is going. stan doesn’t do the deed himself, but he does watch as it happens (there is a reason/s for this. that i won’t get into right now. we’ll make an addendum later if we remember)

here, the theory about fnaf 4 being an actual nightmare cc is having as they die is true. i’ve always taken it as a ‘facing your trauma/coming to terms with your death’ type deal, and i feel like that fits here. stan promises to put ford back together before the latter dies

this is where we start getting into artistic liberties

stan thinks ‘okay. there’s this college that’s relatively easy to get into and it has courses i can take to learn more about supernatural shit. and that’s the kind of stuff ford was wanting to research anyway, so even if i don’t figure something out, i’ll just do that’. this is how stan meets fiddleford. he will come up again later

stan still needs to get a job, so he goes to shermie for help and ends up working as a technician in the sister location. this way, he gets paid to poke around at stuff that could potentially help him make progress in his studies. it goes pretty great, except for the part where the robots rip his intestines out

are you ready for weird ass ghost shit cause we’re getting into weird ass ghost shit now

stan has the realization that ford has actually been haunting him since he died. he just couldn’t do anything before. but, now that stan is more than well on his way to exiting this mortal plane, ford is finally able to talk to him (which really just consists of stan barely existing and ford going ‘well, you tried. my turn’)

in other words, stan is forgiven (kind of) and ford uses his ghostly abilities (really just possession-ish) to keep stan alive so he can try and…do something about that whole situation. ford rushes stan out of there (‘big sharp metal thing is going to use you as a meat suit if you don’t get out of here’ is pretty good incentive turns out) and he manages to make it to a phone so he can call fiddleford for help

does fiddleford have any experience in engineering entire functioning organs for people? not at all. is he gonna try and figure it out anyway? you bet he is

stan ends up healing okay. ford sticks around (he’s afraid if he lets go of stan, he’ll just immediately keel over). stan introduces fiddleford to his dead brother. fiddleford gains an interest in also studying human anatomy (he needs to be prepared in case stan almost dies again). ford and fiddleford dance at one point. stan confronts shermie about the incident. shermie offers him a position as a night guard in a different location (still plenty of robots there, but no giant death claws. which was the actual problem, as far as he knew. no, he did not know about the extent of the wound). stan takes it because now he wants to know how the hell the animatronics in the sister location got possessed

stan begins investigating any deaths that could be causing the hauntings, which leads him into trying to figure out who (and/or what) is causing the deaths. ford and fiddleford kind of help, though ford is working with the same information as stan (and also keeps scaring the other ghosts away) and fiddleford just offers ideas and advice whenever stan gets back to the dorm. this is essentially where the au starts getting into ‘ooh what’s gonna happen next’ territory.

some things up on the radar: shermie somehow doesn’t believe the twins about the hauntings (despite knowing about the murders), stan witnesses another bite and has a very bad time, and ford and fiddleford talk about hydraulics for a while

do you see what i meant. when i said there were a lot of changes. and to proceed with caution

anyway, that’s all for now. woe, au is no longer upon ye

[the-girl-who-didnt-smile]

RANTING ABOUT CANON ALASTOR RA D. IO DEMON

THE RANT

If anyone was curious, here are my serious thoughts / predictions for canon Alastor - who I genuinely think might be the single most interesting character in the entire cast.

ALASTOR SHOULD BE EVIL FTM TRANS CAB CALLOWAY

P-PUT THOSE TOMATOES AWAY!!!

ALASTOR IS CHAOS: THE SON OF GOOD AND EVIL

This would be such a cool explanation for why Alastor is the strongest Sinner in Hell, and it fits with him being (presumably) inspired by Maitre Carrefour!

That being said, it’s just not at all tonally appropriate to actually depict what this would entail. If this was true, this guy’s gonna have the darkest most fucked up backstory. You wouldn’t be able to show what he would have gone through, but you can imply it through visual metaphor.  This leads me to my next point:

ALASTOR HAS C-PTSD; HIS BACKSTORY IS DV

Being a fully normal, non-deranged person, I have used my Steven’s Universe Future Vision to envision every potential backstory for Alastor Ra D. Io Demon. Running the math, I can envision two potential categories of backstory: 

Alastor was originally a normal, decent person, but experienced some sort of horrible trauma that caused him to become a serial killer. 

Alastor was just born a narcissistic psychopath, and trauma may or may not have triggered him to turn evil.

The second option is still interesting to me, as the story of a genuine narcissist / psychopath turning away from evil is a compelling one! But I think the first option is more likely, given the pattern of characters Vivienne Medrano has invented.

Assuming #1 is correct, I think a really interesting backstory for him is if he’s a victim of domestic violence. You don’t have to go as dark as him being a victim of CSA because he was AFAB and his dad was a crazy evil pedophile. (at that, I actually think it’s unlikely that canon Alastor is a victim of SA, let alone CSA) But maybe he and his mom were getting beat on daily by his evil dad. 

Thematically, this would be an interesting parallel to Angel Dust’s situation, where he also experiences constant abuse - just a different type. You are so clearly not supposed to take Alastor seriously as a serial killer, but childhood trauma (often DV) frequently figures into the backstories of real-life serial killers. This also would explain several traits of Alastor’s: why he doesn’t like being touched, why he’s preoccupied with power and control, his views of the two genders, and his deer motif. As a child, he was the helpless fawn who froze in the sight of danger. Now he’s the powerful buck, who can trample his enemies to death.

Finally, there is a natural connection between Voodoo (Vodou) and DV. One of the lwa - Erzulie Dantor - protects victims of domestic violence, in the form of righteous violence. The name Alastor refers to “avenger of evil deeds” - that is exactly what Erzulie Dantor is! I would fucking love it if Erzulie Dantor was actually a character in this show, but you don’t actually need to make her a named character. It is still very easy to connect the positive / healing side of Vodou to Alastor and his mother if they were victims of DV.

ALASTOR IS A VIGILANTE WHO TURNED EVIL; LATER, CHAOTIC NEUTRAL

This is an alternative or complementary path to establish Alastor as the concept of chaos itself.

I think a lot of people have a knee-jerk reaction to Alastor being a former vigilante, seeing it as sort of a cop-out. I used to think this way, but I actually think he would still make for an interesting character. 

Alastor is especially interesting if he was both a vigilante AND an evil serial killer. For a stretch of his life, he was unequivocally good. Later, something caused him to start killing for entirely selfish and wicked reasons, and he became unequivocally evil. But his final destination is neither good nor evil - it is simply chaotic neutral.

This past experience as an agent of good, then an agent of evil, makes him the perfect agent of chaos!

THE PERSECUTION OF VODOU SOMEHOW FIGURES INTO ALASTOR’S BACKSTORY

100% serious mode: I genuinely think Alastor might be the son of Marie Laveau II. (I also REALLY want to believe he’s the grandson of Delphine Lalaurie…!) I’d be bamboozled and gobsmacked by flying pigs if this show goes anywhere near the topic of racism in the Deep South of America. The show is just way too light-hearted to cover this deadly serious, mature subject. This is not a criticism - there’s something called tone! But one way the show could indirectly touch on this topic is by incorporating the non-sensationalized, non-defamatory history of Vodou into a flashback scene. If we approach this realistically, it is very likely that defamation and harassment would have factored into the life of Alastor’s mother,  who was probably a Voodoo queen. This would be a unique opportunity to show this side of history that many are unaware of, and undo some of the damage done to the reputation of Vodou by American media.

ALASTOR WILL USE HIS DEAL WITH CHARLIE TO EXIT HIS SOUL DEAL WITH LILITH; BECOME KING OF HELL

At least, the Pride ring.

I don’t know if this is the direction the show is going in, but I genuinely think Alastor’s character would be best utilized as the main antagonist, who later becomes an ally. During his run as an antagonist, he’d be so fucking cool if he’s extremely powerful and threatening to Charlie and her allies! I also think he’s super cool if he’s the guy who dethrones Lucifer - even if just temporarily.

He might even have a good (or noble!) reason for doing this, too!

ALASTOR CAN MAKE REAL HELL

…OK now I’m just putting my fanfiction ideas into this show, but come on!!!! 

Alastor is so fucking cool if he’s a guy who can make REAL HELL!!!

ALASTORS SOUL DEAL IS SOMEHOW FUNDAMENTALLY WORSE THAN ALL OTHER SOUL DEALS SHOWN

…actually, at this point I might as well make a bingo card.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

I understand that you may not like the former gftwd blog and you don't have to (and no this is not her, nor am I trying to make some appeal to you to vouch for the mod) I can honestly say that she has made a turn around with her blog and has deleted every single post related to the Frances drama and really wants to move on and focus on Evan content only. At least she has put out an apology and held herself accountable for her own actions and decided to start over fresh, and it doesn't make sense that people are still dragging her. If you want nothing to do with it, stop talking bad about that blog, and allowing others to do so too. That's kind of hypocritical don't you think? i've got nothing against you but it's something I've noticed since this blog came into existence...

hello anon! let me start by saying i can tell that you are a follower and perhaps a fan of gftwd. i am not here to tell anyone how they should feel, and if you accepted her apology and deem it genuine then i respect your feelings and right to follow whomever you choose. and you certainly don’t owe me an explanation.

with that said, was there anything else you noticed since this blog came into existence? like, literally just within the last week? the only reason her account ever came up as a topic of discussion is because as soon as i arrived on the scene, droves of people started hitting my ask box to share how gftwd burned them. someone i was already aware of because i saw the direction their blog(s) were going in was something i personally wasn’t cool with. did your mother ever use that saying “you’re not sorry you did it, you’re just sorry you got caught”? because that’s how i view this situation. only after being publicly shamed did she archive her old posts and “start fresh”. and the apology i read took very little responsibility. and you would have to consider me a fool if you think i believe for one moment it wasn’t gftwd sending me nasty anonymous asks after i spoke on her, claiming i was making people send her death threats when i have done nothing of the sort. you cannot on one hand be sorry but still be sending people abusive messages. let me be clear: i do not condone hate of any kind. yes, i am sarcastic, yes, i will throw shade occasionally but you will never see me sending death threats to a tumblr blogger.

finally, this is a gossip blog. i already clearly stated no topics were off-limits. if people want to talk about their negative evan peters fandom experiences, i’m going to post their asks. if at any point you find that you don’t like the content i post, i implore you to unfollow or block my account so you no longer see it.

hope that helps!

[linkspooky]

“Shoko is once again an interesting character who could add to the dynamic by being incredibly frank and up front about her feelings, and also the fact she thinks two boys who think very highly of themselves ain't shit, but she's just kind of unterutilized.”

Man, if that’s isn’t a common pattern with all the female characters in jjk…

Like I know shonen isn’t that well known for their great female characters’ writing, in fact the only one I can think where all the female characters are well written and have importance is Fullmetal Alchemists, and the author is a woman.

I do heard that Bleach have great female characters, but I haven’t watched/read it so I can’t judge.

Anyway, I’m so disappointed with how Gege is treating the female cast as of late. Like jjk has such good promise during the Kyoto vs Tokyo arc. With the set up of how Nobara’s is being unsympathetic with her black and white thinking. The set up between the nuanced conflict between Mai and Maki! The set up with Miwa on how a normal person would basically be like in the jujutsu world. And they aren’t sexualized! A rarity in shonen!

However, so far only Miwa seems to have a fully fleshed out arc. Like despite her limited screen time, Miwa have went through so much lost and we get to see her thoughts and regrets as a result. We even she her resolve near the end of Shibuya on how she will give it her all!

Compare that to the others… Well Mai’s death personally left a bad taste in my mouth, since not only I found the twins explanation to be terrible but it ruins the whole conflict by having it be simplified in like the worst way possible. “Oh yeah, the reason why you’re not as strong, Maki, is because my coping of the trauma was apparently a bad thing. And my whole existence was the whole reason why you‘lol be forever half-assed, so I’m gonna die now.”

Like… I’m sorry… What?! Talk about victim blaming. Like Mai is actually really interesting, and can be utilized waaaay better than what the manga did. Is the nuanced conflict of the twins reacting/coping with their abuse differently, as two separate people not compelling??? Is the notion of no such thing as a bad victim nor good victim, not the whole point of Maki and Mai??? The twin taboo explanation just spit on the face of all of that!

And also… plot hole much? “In the Jujitsu world, cruse energy treat twins as one”, umm… what about Nanako and Mimiko? Both have vastly different curse techniques! What, are you gonna say that they don’t count since they are a different type of twins? Or like they were never twins?

Not only that, but Nobara is currently MIA, and like… even if she does come back… what’s her personal character arc gonna be about? Since Mai is dead, no one is really going to really challenge her limited world view now. I mean… I suppose there’s Momo, but like… I can’t really see that.

For Maki… I dunno, man. I’m currently on the fence with her current arc. Like, okay… it is very tragic that she wasn’t able to reconcile with Mai on time, and her snapping is a very dark turn for her. But like… the last time we say her, see seems… to be mostly fine? Well, maybe “fine” isn’t the right word… Maki is just… going through the motions? Like… we haven’t seen any negative consequences of her trauma at all yet. And the framing of the manga make it seems like she’s in a positive arc, which I’m not really a fan of.

And now Yuji is gonna be under utilized too, with the current chapter and all…

Ugh. Hopefully they would at least do Maki and Miwa more justice in the future, but I’m keeping my expectations low now.

This is a long post so rather than replying to every single thing you said, I'm going to try to build off what you say for a discussion.

So I've said before in previous asks that while the female characters in Jujutsu Kaisen are kind of all the same type of female character they're all very brash, tough as nails women they are at least three dimensional characters, they have personality and personality flaws.

I think people tend to view characters as entities separate from the work they are a part of. People talk about reading series for their characters, or wanting to think about their faves, or find new blorbos. I sometimes joke that people treat anime and manga more like gacha to find new favorite characters like rolling for an SSR, taking characters outside of their narrative. I think people tend to value like, personality, backstory, things you can still enjoy about a character even as you take them outside of their story.

The female characters in Jujutsu Kaisen are fine characters in their own right. If you take them outside of their stories they have emotional depth. Shoko is someone extremely emotoinally unavailable to the people around her, and only seems to care about her job as a doctor. Utahime is like the one good and responsible teacher in this manga who's adored by her students. Nobara has a clear ego problem, and is extremely self-righteous and feels little to no guilt for killing Choso's brothers in a pretty ruthless way.

Outside of the story they're fine. Inside of their story however, they're not really that important. Which is why I say characters are more than just their personalities or backstories. Characters themselves are stories, the author has to tell us about them in order to make us interested in the stories of their lives. Because anything can be a good idea for a character. It's kind of like how making an original character is one thing, but making a story, setting, and a character arc for that character is an entirely different and usually much hrader thing.

The greatest problem with women in Jujutsu Kaisen is not really that they are bad characters, but that they are badly written. They are not important narrative wise to the story they are a part of. Besides Mai and Miwa none of these characters really have screen time, or anything so basic as a character arc. They especially do not have character progression on the same level as their male counterparts. Like, just for example, all of the new characters introduced in the Culling Games only three of them are female, Kirara, Remi, and Angel. Kirara isn't even brought to fight in the games despite being the girlfriend to Hakari and having her cursed technique shown she has sidelines. Remi is pretty much just a damsel stereotype who's belittled by Megumi a man for being weak. Angel has gotten no screentime so far.

There are female characters who are also like, slaughtered gratuitiously for no other real reason than to just raise the stakes in a pretty shallow way. Sukuna slaughters Nanako and Mimiko in the most hideously brutal fashion, we got really nothing from that character death other than it was visceral and upsetting. Then there is the way Tsukumo Yuki dies, literally being cut in half. What is objectification if not women's bodies being treated as objects on the receiving end of particularly brutal and dehumanizing violence. Like, was there a single male character sans like, the victims of Mahito who was brutalized the way Nanamimiko and Tsukumo Yuki were?

So it's not really a problem with the characters themselves outside of their narrative, but how they are treated by their narratives as less important and more expednable than their male counterparts. Its not even really the fact Nobara isn't like, the chosen one the same way Megumi is, or even obsessed with saving the people the way Yuji is. Nobara could have had as much character depth as Yuji and Megumi if the narrative gave her the same kind of focus and attention they got. There's nobody more stupidly overcomplicated than a normal teenage girl, but Gege is either uninterested or unwilling in exploring her point of view.

We get to a point where women are literally half the population and there's literally like no reason why people should have trouble writing female characters because you know... you write them the same way you would write male characters, they are just people with thoughts and feelings. Yet not only is the point of view of a woman in the world underrepresented it's also treated by the narrative as something like special or different or hard to understand. Which results in a narrative where half of the characters are just... either underdeveloped or unnecessary and that's never a good thing.

[xpeachesncream]

bands | sixteen

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 5.0k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, angst, anxiety, alcohol consumption, slight intoxication, physical abuse, slight verbal abuse, belittling, mentions of cuts/wounds but nothing too graphic, mentions of coke

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 @taeismydeath​ @jikookiekosmos​ @un2-verse​ @aynsx​ @wearenot7withu​ @knjeuphoria​ @bringitseijoh​ (closed!)

Jungkook laid on the dorm couch, legs sprawled out as he wore his hood and covered his face as much as possible. He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the cryptic texts you had sent him.

"We shouldn't do this anymore."

"I can't do this, Jungkook."

"You don't deserve this."

"I'm only trouble."

"We aren't going to work."

He repeatedly called you, asking for an explanation, a way to help make things better because none of this should have been the reason for you to want to call it 'quits' like that. He asked for you to talk to him. He'd call and after two rings, it'd bring him straight to voicemail. It never failed. Indeed, there was much more to the text but he only fixated on a few lines, and those few lines seem to be circling his head time and time again with no sign of leaving him alone.

"I think I'm falling in too deep and I need to stop this while I can. You hear them, you hear the shit they say. I would never let them ruin you, I don't want them to. You deserve better. Maybe it's true that I don't fit into this."

It frustrates him, every single time. Where the hell did he go wrong? Why was there a sudden change? Something was off, and god forbid if his assumptions were right. But, everything was leading right back to it. The way you called in sick, the way you shut everyone out. The way you texted him these things, wouldn't pick up his calls just to tell him you're busy or whatever the hell it was. It didn't sound like you. It didn't seem like you at all.

All things led right back to the club. To Bigs. Where you felt high and mighty. Wanted. Like no one could ever hurt you the way they did outside of the club because they worshipped you in there. They knelt down to you. The way you were so fucking tough there. He knew this is where you would fall back if things got rough. He couldn't help but think that you had been forced into it though, because he knew you didn't give a shit about that anymore. Ah well, forced or not, it just felt so off. Unusual.

"Hey." Namjoon sits on the floor near Jungkook's head. "You good?" He asks even though he's fully aware he's not. Joon hates those people who ask if something's wrong when clearly, something is wrong — however, he wasn't really sure how else to open up this conversation without coming off too pushy or forward. Too insensitive, even.

"Nope."

"What's going on?" Jungkook sighs as he tries to lower his hood even more, although there's no more of his hood to lower. He keeps his hand on his face, trying his hardest to keep himself together.

"I don't know." Now, going back to earlier — everyone can tell Jungkook isn't happy. They've tried to butter him up and make him feel better even though they knew you were the only person who could truly make him happy again. They've tried to talk to him in one way or another, but they never forced him if he didn't want to. The only person that really hasn't said much was Jimin, and that also pisses him off because if he had anything to do with this, he will surely fuck him up for ruining his happiness.

"You hear from Y/N? She still sick? Does she need anything?"

"She's not sick."

"Hm?" Joon slightly turns back, confused.

"Something else is wrong."

"Like what?"

"She's not picking up my calls. Not answering my texts the way she normally does. When she does, it's super blunt or one worded."

"Maybe she's really not feeling well, or just caught up with things—"

"No, hyung. I know her, she always has her priorities straight. Even if she was sick, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't go as far as to shutting her own brother out."

"Idol life too overwhelming? I get it." Jimin jokes as he walks into the kitchen, making Jungkook shoot his head up to glare at him.

"The fuck, can you not? I don't see why you feel the need to joke around right now."

"Jeez, sorry. I just thought I'd lighten up the mood somehow."

"Come on, dude." Namjoon looks at him with disappointment, Jimin only returning the gesture by rolling his eyes and walking away. "How can I help you?" Joon asks, returning his attention back to Jungkook.

"Maybe I was being selfish bringing her into all of this. These people— they're fucking mean, and she's already had her fair share of dealing with mean people. How am I supposed to protect her all while not feeling selfish about it?"

"You're not selfish, who told you that?"

"Jimin." That's like strike.. whatever to Namjoon at this point. Why the hell was Jimin being so fucking weird?

"Look, I know it's not easy in this industry. But I think what you can do is prove to her that you won't hurt her, especially with everyone around her doing nothing but hurting her. You need to show her that you're different from the rest of them, that she can fully trust you. If I were in her shoes, to be honest, it would be scary for me. You got a whole lot of shit going on in your life. You're expected to provide a lot, and on top of that, you haven't had the best reputation with women."

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Then, nothing else matters. You keep fighting for her if she really matters to you. Does she?"

"Of course she does, I mean, can't you tell? I've never been this way over someone." Joon nods.

"You sure as fuck haven't. It still catches me and the guys by surprise. But, I'm happy to see someone helping you become a better person. She's been nothing but genuinely sweet, and I know she already does a hell of a job taking care of you."

"She's— I don't know. She's become so important to me."

"I know she has, and I'm happy to hear that. I really am." Joon sighs. "So tell me, what can I do? I hate seeing you like this."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not allowed at the club. Bigs will do anything to get back at me for what I did to him. He won't hesitate."

"I won't let him. We won't. You really think she went back?" Jungkook nods.

"Positive. Something doesn't feel right. It feels weird. And I feel like she was egged into this. I don't like it one bit."

"Want me to go check out the club tonight?"

"Yeah, please?" Jungkook says. "But don't be too obvious. Bring Jin hyung or someone who could use a lap dance or two."

"Sooo Jin hyung?" They chuckle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"And if she's there?"

"Then I'm going straight to her tomorrow night. I just need to make sure I do this right because I don't want her or Kai to get hurt. I'll stay out there if I have to just to make sure she doesn't go back. What else do I have to do—" Jungkook pauses to stop himself because this clearly wasn't you. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Who the fuck made her do this?"

"Bigs, who else?"

"No, she wouldn't listen to just Bigs. He's definitely working with someone and using shit against her."

"Okay, let's just not assume the worst. I'll head there tonight and drag Jin hyung with me."

"Thanks hyung, I really appreciate it."

"No problem." Joon gently massages his shoulder before getting up from his spot to make his way back to his room.

All Jungkook can think about doing is sleeping more right now. He'll send the occasional text to check on Kai and see how he was doing, but they both worried too much about you and Jungkook would hate to tell him that you ended up going back to the club. He didn't think he would tell him, he didn't think he'd have to because he was gonna make sure to get you out of there before shit hit the roof again. If it hasn't already, and he's hoping it hasn't.

And so when Namjoon and Jin hyung [obviously in need of that lap dance or two] head out to the club, Jungkook stays in his dorm room, suddenly feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body even though he can't do shit besides sit here and wait. He goes through the random pictures he's taken of you - the cute, candid photos he had of you, the cute candid photo of you as his lock screen. He deletes all the texts in his inbox even though he knows it might have been a little late. It honestly hasn't mattered to him in such a long time, but he just never got around to wiping his inbox clean since he was so caught up with you - his baby.

"Is this going to turn into some kind of action movie? We bust through the doors, take down all the guards and steal Y/N?"

"No, hyung. Jesus. Do you forget you're an idol? That's probably the very last thing we should do."

"So, what do we do?"

"We just walk in there like we normally do?"

"Boring."

"Plus, we can't have Bigs onto us like that. We have to act like we don't know anything."

"Do you really think he's using something against her?"

"I don't know. I have to be honest though, I think Jimin's involved."

"W-what?" Jin says, furrowing his brows. "No, he can't be."

"Trust me. He always acts so weird around her, and he's probably the one person who hasn't taken this as seriously. He hasn't said anything to Jungkook."

"But why though?"

"I don't know, beats me. I just don't think he respects her. Or, likes her. Whatever it is."

"She hasn't done anything to him though."

"That makes it worse, doesn't it?"

"How could you be so sure?"

"Look hyung, I'm not. I just think he's involved. My gut says so. We'll find out whether I'm right or not, right?"

"I hope you aren't. That'll really mess Kookie up."

"Well. I love him, but he'll have to learn the hard way for butting into someone else's business like that. No matter what the reason is." Namjoon parks the car and fixes his rolled up sleeves before adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He looks at Jin once more, nodding in approval once they both feel like they've fixed themselves enough to look presentable, not questionable.

Meanwhile, you had just finished up your time on stage so you headed to the back to take a break. Bigs hadn't given you the option to secure private bookings knowing damn well there would be opportunity for Jungkook and some of his boys to slip through and try to work their magic in private. As much as possible, you were just trying to protect Jungkook, even though you knew he wouldn't back down without a fight. You knew Bigs wasn't all that tough, but right now, he seemed to hold a lot of power with Jimin being on his team. And you knew damn well it was Jimin all along. Did you have concrete evidence? No. But your gut feeling might as well be enough with the way he talks to you. Why else would Bigs all of a sudden feel all mighty? Bigs had threatened Jungkook and your brother enough to keep your mouth shut. Enough to keep your attitude level at a 0.

The scene played in your head over and over again—

"I gave you a better life, you ungrateful piece of shit. You do as I say and your little Jungkook and your little Kai won't get hurt. You think I'm scared of them, sweetie? You think I'm scared of you? Your stepfather don't give a damn about you two. I can easily send my men down to do their magic, especially after how Jungkook treated me. Is that how he repays me after all the special treatment I've given him?" Mr. Bigs hunched over you. "You two wanna play me like a fool, I'll show you two what it's like to be played like a fool." He pulled on your hair before aggressively releasing and spitting to the side.

There was no way they would get dragged into this. Not anymore. They didn't deserve to be included in this no matter what it was.

Boy, did you miss Jungkook. Everything about him. It took everything in you not to come running back. It took everything in you not to answer those calls or texts like you normally would.

You chose him, every single time. You wish he knew that. Him and Kai.

You sighed, sipping on the flask you snuck in. The alcohol relieving you of any pain, helping you feel numb as the night goes on. You didn't want to feel tonight, you just didn't. Why would you, when everything had just been hurting you lately?

You had just finished dancing out on the main stage, throwing your ass back to some Megan and Cardi. A few other dancers were gathered at a vanity, sneakily sniffing lines of coke while Bigs and his men were busy paroling the main stage.

"You want some of this, sis? In celebration of you coming back?" One of the other dancers smirks at you. You simply shake your head no and return to the flask in your hand.

"I'm good, thank you."

"Alright, well it's here if you want it. Just let me know, babe." Her and the other dancers go back to their business on the vanity. However, another dancer continues to eye you, sympathy filling her expression as she approaches you while you sip on your flask once more. You were starting to feel pretty tipsy again, hoping you could just hide out in the back 'till the very end of your shift.

"Y/N." She says, her hand gently on your arm. "You okay?"

"I'm good." You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from tearing up. Those words were triggering for you because you were not okay, whatsoever.

"Why did you come back, babe?" She genuinely asks, worried about you. "Did Bigs do something?"

"No." You lied. "Things just didn't work out elsewhere I guess, and I need money."

"Didn't work out? I saw the way Jungkook handled Bigs that night." If anything, she was probably the one dancer who paid attention to the environment around her. Everyone else was oblivious to the shit that's been happening and that's because they didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Her stage name was Trixie, but her real name was Miki. She too didn't really enjoy being here but her parents talked so much about how she was useless and couldn't make it out in the world, especially as a vlogger. She loved it. She loved being in front of the camera and talking to the world thru the lens. But her parents thought it was dumb— that she was dumb for even wanting to grow a career online like that. Besides all of it, she remained sweet, and she was always super nice to you. You wouldn't be surprised if she knew about you and Jungkook, and you honestly wouldn't have a problem with it. She never treated you wrong. She knew Bigs had a tendency to overstep and abuse the power he had with his status and his money. However, she knew he was a big coward and that he was all talk, no play — especially if it was outside of the club. He may be a big honcho here, but outside, he had no chance. And she couldn't wait until the day he'd get his for all the mess he's caused.

"Yeah well, things happen." She shakes her head.

"Y/N, you can talk to me. Look, as much as I love seeing your face, you have so much potential. You don't deserve to be stuck here. Let me help you figure this out."

"I'm okay, Miki. Thank you, though." She nods, not wanting to press you any further.

"Well, I'm here for you." She gives your arm one good squeeze before walking off.

Eventually, the rest of the dancers retreat back out onto the floor, leaving you to hide away in the back room as long as possible — which is why Namjoon can't get a glimpse of you anywhere out in the main area. Bigs is actually a little taken aback to see both him and Jin walking through the club, even after everything that has gone down. But hey, business is business— and if they weren't gonna cause any trouble, so be it. He knows though, he knows full well there's a possibility they're here for you.

"Boys! Long time no see!" He greets them, Joon and Jin giving him a toothless smile in return. "How've you been? What brings you in?"

"Mr. Bigs." Namjoon says, smoothing down his shirt. "Ah, we're good, just getting busy prepping for the tour. Wanted to take a little breather tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you guys came here to do so. Can I get you two anything to drink?" The both of them shake their heads. "Anything to help relieve that stress?"

"We're good, thanks. Just gonna sit out on the floor for a bit."

"You two let me know if there's anything I can do for you, at all." Bigs smiles at them as he begins to watch them walk away. "Make sure she's covered." Bigs slightly turns his head to speak through the headset mic, alerting his men to keep an eye out. He thinks he's said it low enough so that Jin and Namjoon don't hear, but Jin catches the movement in his peripherals, causing him to pinch Joon's bicep.

"Back room." Jin says, subtly nodding towards the backroom as he keeps his gaze out on the main stage and adjusts his tie. Namjoon looks around to see Bigs has welcomed himself to the other side of the club, speaking to a few customers, looking distracted.

"I'm gonna go see if I can talk to her."

"Talk?! You said we were just scoping her out. Don't cause any trouble, Namjoon-ah. Please."

"Oh, now you suddenly don't want this action movie to come alive?! You sure were talking a whole lot about it in the car."

"Since when do you even take me seriously?!"

"I always take you seriously, hyung!"

"How about you just sneak towards the back door and get her attention? You said we can't go all out like that!"

"There's guards there too."

"Look, I just don't want you or Y/N to get hurt. Maybe we should just lay low and figure out how we can approach this better."

"Hey, can I get you two anything?" Miki interrupts, fully aware of who they are and what they're here for.

"No, sweetie. Thank you." Jin responds, flashing his 100-watt smile.

"You looking for Y/N?"

"Depends who's asking?" Namjoon says, trying to keep his guard up.

"Look, I'm not gonna rat you out if that's what you think." She puts her hand on her hip, tray still balancing on her free hand. "She's in the backroom. But there's no way you can get to her. Bigs is watching her for whatever reason."

"Yeah, we're aware. Can you send her a message for me?"

"Sure. You have 10 seconds though or else Bigs is gonna be onto you." She points towards Bigs slowly making his way back.

"Just tell her that Jungkook is worried about her and wants to help. Or, we want to help. We just wanna know what's going on."

"I'll try, but she didn't let up when I asked earlier."

"Thanks." Joon sighs.

"Shoo, I'll find you guys around." She says, sneakily walking off towards the bar with her empty tray as Bigs starts to eye the main floor. Jin and Namjoon welcome themselves to a seat on the side of the stage, acting normal as possible by throwing bills onto the stage for the dancers. Miki tends to her customers before she's setting her tray down and pretending to take a cigarette from her bra to take a quick "break." She heads to the back to see you still sitting at your vanity, head resting against the palm of your hand.

"Babe." You turn to look at her, eyes slightly glossed over.

"Hm?"

"RM and Jin are here. They said they want to help you, and if you can tell them anything, that's all they'd want."

"Miki—"

"Girl, look. Don't let this man keep running your life like this. I don't care what he said or did, this isn't you. You need to get out of here and you need to let people in. People who genuinely care about you." You sigh.

"How is that possible when Jungkook's own bestfriend doesn't even like me? And ontop of that, Bigs even dragged my little brother and my evil ass stepfather into this. I can't let anything happen to him, he's the only thing I have."

"I get that, and I'm sure Jungkook will do whatever it takes to protect you both. Why are RM and Jin here then? Whatever Jungkook's other friend's issue is, he needs to figure it out. It's obviously his own problem, something he created himself for no reason."

"I know he's helping Bigs keep me away from Jungkook. All the hurtful shit in the media, all the shit he's been tossing in my face. Whatever, I get it. He wins. I don't belong."

"Don't say that."

"It's true, and I know even if I chose Jungkook, he'd choose his bestfriend over me. Why would he go against that? They've been together for so long. I'm a fucking nobody." Miki knows this is all the alcohol running through your veins, but at least now, she knows Bigs isn't doing this on his own [as she assumed, he's a fucking pussy for the most part - he's a pussy who got handsy with the dancers cause that's all he can do to feed his ego].

"I don't think that's true, and I don't think it's a fair assumption when he's stayed by your side, hasn't he? He hasn't given up on you." She says before walking out. Really, things were just completely scrambled in your head. Just fucked up. Your questions, your uncertainty was strong enough to pull you towards the negative - the what if's, the assumptions, the rumors, the shit-talking. After all that, the positives were dim.

Miki grabs her tray and serves the first couple of customers in dire need of their drinks before she heads over to Jin and Namjoon to spill the information she received from that conversation.

"She won't budge. It sounds like a lot of this shit talking got to her head, so she came back to make herself feel better but then Bigs ended up turning this around on her, threatening Jungkook and her brother. If I were you, I'd get Jungkook to her before she can even come back here. Make sure her brother is with him too. Bigs is all talk but being the guys that you are — I wouldn't take any chances to ruin your reputation and all that." She smacks on her gum. "And I hate to tell you this, but one of your little friends has been working with Bigs. I don't know who, but you better let that little shit know he was wrong for getting in her head like that. She deserves way better." She says with a punch of attitude before walking away.

"Jimin?" Jin mouths out to Namjoon, who only shrugs in response.

"Let's go." Namjoon tosses a couple of more bills before they head out.

"Have a good evening, boys." Bigs yells out, causing the two of them to return a tight-lipped smile.

"Are we going to tell Kookie about Jimin?"

"No? Because we don't even know ourselves. His name was never dropped, and we'll look dumb if we acted on assumptions."

"This is so fucked up." Jin sighs, looking out the window.

"You're telling me."

When they finally arrive back at the dorm, Namjoon and Jin find Jungkook pacing around in his room, tossing a rubber ball against the wall to keep himself occupied. His doe eyes dart over to them, letting the ball drop to the floor while he nervously walks closer to them.

"So?"

"I'm sorry, dude." Joon sighed. "From what it sounds like, all this mess just got to her head so she went back to the club to make herself feel better. But Bigs ended up bringing you and her brother into the situation so, I'm assuming she's distancing herself to protect you in some way?" Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. "Honestly, I really don't know, that's as much as we got."

"We didn't even talk to her or see her, some other dancer helped us out. I guess she's a friend of hers? Or maybe she just likes Y/N. She wanted to help." Jin says.

"Fuck!" Jungkook groans, slamming his hand down onto his bed. "Why couldn't she just talk to me? We could have figured this out."

"Look, I'm sure there's a lot more to it and I'm sure it's difficult for her. Promise me you'll hear her out when you see her."

"I mean, yeah I know, I will. But, how did this get to her head so easily? I really can't wrap my head around it, I—" He catches how tense Joon and Jin suddenly get. He watches them nervously looking at each other, making him cock his head to the side and furrow his brows. "Wait, what is it? You know something else, don't you?"

"I mean there's really no concrete facts behind it so we can't necessarily say it's true."

"Well?" Jungkook asks, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white. But, before they could go any further, Jungkook's ringtone echos in the room. He quickly turns in case it's you calling, but he picks up anyway because it's someone equally as important.

"Kai?"

"C-can you come pick me up? My sister isn't picking up. I'll send you Eric's address." Jungkook worries when he hears the shakiness in his voice, his tone low to a whisper.

"Yeah, sit tight. I'll be right there." He hangs up, darting out of his room, Namjoon and Jin following after him.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get to Kai."

"Let us come with!"

"Look, it'll be quicker if I go myself—"

"Jungkook-ah, stop. We're not gonna let you go alone." Joon and Jin make it just in time to join him in the elevator, heading straight for his car even if it's nearing 1am. Jungkook pulls up Kai's location, pressing on the gas to rush over there just in case Kai was hurt. And yes, Jungkook was going to give it to your fucking stepfather if he sees anything on Kai. He will fucking destroy him, he promises.

Jungkook, Namjoon and Jin walk into the house quietly, seeing Kai putting his finger up to his lips when he meets them near the kitchen.

"What happened?" Jungkook whispers, handing his bags over to Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook looks at the small hint of blood pooling near his nostrils and the cut near his eyebrow.

"I'll explain in the car, can you just take me to—"

"Really? Calling your sister's boyfriend and his friends over to save you? You really are a helpless little shit." Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook are all shielding each other and Kai from Eric, Jungkook's blood boiling seeing him standing there, clearly very drunk and not in the right state of mind.

"Aye, don't fucking talking to him like that." Jungkook's spits out, making Eric laugh.

"First you fall for my slut of a daughter, now you help rescue him? I thought you were so much better than that, Jungkook. You aren't the person people portrayed you to be. Shittiest idol I know. All of you."

"You don't know me." Eric snorts.

"You guys do know I help sponsor your shit right? I play a big role for you, don't come into my house acting like—" He slurs his words.

"Yeah, well fuck the contract." Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Better yet, don't fucking worry about it, I'll make sure to take care of it for you."

"You need me." Eric says, almost at a growl.  "You need me and Bigs—"

"Since when?" Namjoon responds in a mocking manner as he begins to usher Jin, Jungkook and Kai towards the front door. "If you wanna send your people over, you can let them know I'm free tomorrow in the late afternoon. I'll be more than happy to tell 'em what kind of sick person you are."

"You can't just take him—" Eric tries to flip the script, obviously unaware that Kai has already turned 18. He grips onto Kai's arm and tries to pull him back, except he's intoxicated, so Jungkook easily pushes him off. He watches as Eric hits a bar stool, stumbling over himself before he drunkily falls on his ass.

"You're such a sad excuse of a stepfather, you aren't even aware he's 18 already. He doesn't need you." Jungkook scoffs. "I'm gonna send people for the rest of Kai's shit tomorrow. And let's get this straight - we never needed you or Bigs. You both aren't shit without us and yout fucking empire thrives because of us. And if you do anything to Y/N, if you even think about working with Bigs on doing anything to her, I fucking promise you I will bury you alive. I won't stop until you have nothing left. Don't underestimate me."

everybody's angry and they're coming for me, but i can't give them energy that i won't receive; so i brush 'em off, i got a lot on my sleeve, like i'm moving backwards, but it's all on repeat; this place is getting crowded, i got no room to breathe

track twelve: hundred - khalid

[nevertheless-moving]

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier. 

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future. 

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up. 

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations. 

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time. 

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place. 

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.” 

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer. 

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU. 

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind. 

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door. 

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on. 

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense. 

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.” 

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions. 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.” 

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere. 

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

[pet-genius]

Lucius and Snape, A Dark Reading

Content warning: I absolutely abhor the reading I’m about to present. Discussions of child molestation.

The first thing we see Lucius do, chronologically, is to greet 11-year old Snape into House Slytherin. It’s an odd choice for someone like him, as the name Snape is muggle. Of course, another possible explanation is that Lucius had already been recruited into the DEs, and instructed to try and recruit all newcomers. But still – the boy named Snape, the impoverished half-blood? I know that as a 15-year-old nothing was more distasteful to me than the company of children (it remains the case, but that’s neither here nor there).

We have Sirius’s infamous lapdog comment. The bitterness it excites in Snape could be simply because it’s Sirius saying it, but it’s intended and is received as very stinging. Could Sirius potentially be poking fun at Snape for having been abused? This is a reference to the old boarding school practice of “fagging”, which frequently involved sexual favors. Rumors about the nature of the relationship might have helped mark Snape as fair game, something that had clearly happened by their 5th year. The marauders’ bullying often takes emasculating tones (stripping him, calling him the equivalent of a crybaby, commenting on how “lucky” he is to be saved by a girl). It’s worth noting that even Sirius only throws that in his face in retaliation for Snape’s own malicious comment about how he has been staying at his mother’s house, and doesn’t start with it. So this comment is an escalation.

Lucius is the type of person who, as an adult, planted Tom’s diary on a little girl to get his way. He is the type of person who abused Dobby so much that it caused the elf to rebel. Lucius commits sexual assault or at least participates in it, against the Muggle woman at the Quidditch World Cup.

Snape very clearly cares about the Malfoys as an adult, but not much suggests that they care about him. He is promoted from “lapdog” to “old friend”, but only when Lucius is in Azkaban. Snape as an adult appears convinced that Lily was the best friend he had had, but from everything we see on page, Lucius is a much better friend. At least, he allows himself to be associated with Snape, which Lily wasn’t, considering that no one seems to remember they knew each other, and considering that she herself presented it as “I make excuses to even talk to you.” What might Lucius have done to be a worse friend? From Lucius’s perspective (and probably Snape’s at some point), helping Snape become a DE would be doing Snape a favor, after all.

Snape’s (and the author’s) choice to end the Sorting memory with being greeted by Lucius is important. It suggests that this goes some way toward explaining Snape’s corruption.

The last interaction between Lucius and Snape is Lucius telling Snape to go to the Shrieking Shack where Snape would die. It could have been anybody Voldemort had sent to fetch Snape. But it was Lucius. Because Lucius was that important in Snape’s life, and not in a good way. Whether or not he was abusive, the role he played in grooming Snape into the DE’s and in Snape’s tragedy is irrefutable.

To argue against this reading… I acknowledge that it is unnecessary, and potentially morally questionable and exploitative, to make Snape more hard-done-by than he was and in that specific way. Certainly the genre we’re dealing with doesn’t call for that interpretation, and we frankly don’t see Snape and Lucius interact at all, so there are no body language or other behavioral cues here to suggest this, and it is an extraordinary claim that should require extraordinary evidence. Perhaps Lucius knew Eileen Prince was talented; perhaps Lucius greeted all the new Slytherins and then became friends with Snape for some benign reason (and who can blame him). But he without a doubt had a lot to do with how Snape’s life turned out. Of all the shit he pulled, I find this so hard to get over, as even the text doesn’t really dwell on it.

[tsukikento]

Empathetic Chapter 17

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: After your mom, the number 1 hero in America, gets offered a teaching position at U.A., you two pack up your things and head to Musutafu, Japan to start a new life. Pressure for you in America was at an all-time high, and now you’re in Japan, where almost no one knows you, or your family’s past.

This tale starts on your first day of class where your new teacher decides the best way for you to fit in is to fight against the strongest person in your class: Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings/Genre: This piece will feature some angst and reference to an abusive parent, if you are ever worried about other tw’s feel free to send me an ask and I will let you know. There will also be fluff, slight angst, pining, and slowburn.

A/N: Had to write this chapter three times because somehow everything kept getting deleted!! I’m sorry for my inconsistent posting. Please leave comments, reblog, or send me asks if you like! They always keep me motived :)

(masterlist)

When you came back out for dinner, Bakugou was already sitting at the head of the table, eating away, and chatting away with Kirishima and Sero. To his left was an empty seat, but a plate filled with food.

I wonder if Bakugou made that or if someone nicer prepared it, you wonder as you and Ashido made your way to the table. If Bakugou made it, then damn. However, you wouldn’t be surprised if Kirishima made it or Kaminari who was on dish cleaning duty and needed to put away the leftovers. Regardless of who did it, they still sat you down next to Bakugou in your usual seat.

Don’t read into that, you told yourself as your sat down at the table. Instead, you focused on the delicious food in front of you that you immediately began to chow down on. You found yourself, much like Bakugou, simply eating away while Ashido, Kirishima, and Sero kept the conversation going. Both of you were much too hungry to stop and add your own commentary to the conversation.

Bakugou finished before you and chugged down his water before taking both yours and his glass to the kitchen to fill them back up. Gratefully, you mumbled out a “Thank you” before you continued to eat. Play it cool, he’s just being polite, you told yourself and Ashido proceeded to elbow you and wink.

You rolled your eyes at the pink girl and focused back on what was left on your plate.

Conversation flowed easily until Bakugou came back. The blond placed the cups onto the table before holding up his arms and stretching in a way that clearly showed his stomach. At this point, each of you were still in casual athletic clothes and his simple t-shirt lifted just enough to show his stomach.

It was an action you should be used the at this point. The blond often stretched without a care or used his quirk in ways that ruined clothing. And yet, you still found your face heating up and your eyes glued to the sight.

When he finally sat back down, he leaned in close to you. “I’m ready to go whenever,” He explained before leaning back into his chair and sipping on his water.

“Go where?” Sero, who was to Bakugou’s immediate right, questioned.

You looked to Bakugou, expecting him to reply. Not only were you hesitant to explain the situation and possibly misunderstand what Bakugou was thinking, but the blond typically made habit of answering anyways.

“The gym for yoga and cardio,” Bakugou explained, just like you expected. Luckily, it wasn’t any different than what you thought.

“Really?” Kirishima questioned, his eyes lighting up. “That sounds so manly!” He turned to look at Ashido, “Do you want to go do yoga and cardio too?”

“Um,” Ashido immediately turned to you, concerned that she and Kirishima would be intervening on your alone time with Bakugou.

Part of you wanted to welcome the company, ultimately nervous about having to hold up a conversation when neither you nor Bakugou were all too talkative. However, you spent hours alone with Bakugou each week and it wasn’t awkward then so why would it be different?

Bakugou also hates how couple-y they are so he may be more inclined to talk to me and spend time with me if they are there doing PDA, you thought before subtly nodding to Ashido.

“I’d love to go if Bakugou and Y/L/N don’t mind,” Ashido finally spoke after a few moments.

“I don’t care,” Bakugou measly replied.

“What about you, Sero?” Kirishima questioned, “Do you want to go too?”

“No way,” The black-haired boy replied, leaning back in his chair. “I had interning today and had to chase a villain down seven blocks, ugh!”

“Weren’t you using your tape though?” Ashido shot back curiously.

“So? It still drains me and my poor arms. I could not do yoga like this.” Sero flailed his arms around before letting them fall to his sides, effectively showing how absolutely dead they were. “I’ll just stay here with Kaminari and make him watch the new season of Galactic Guard again or whatever.”

“Your loss,” Kirishima jokes before chuckling lightly. “I’m going to go get changed, be down soon.”

Ashido followed him with the same explanation.

Awkwardly, you looked at Sero, expecting him to say something. You and Bakugou were already changed and had your waters with you, there was no reason for you to go upstairs. Unfortunately, due to the silence and the awkward atmosphere of a nervous you and an ever-rigid Bakugou, the black-haired boy immediately slid out of his seat, claiming to need water. However, you watched as he dropped his empty glass on the counter and simply talked to Kaminari.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your water, wishing there was more to do. Thinking on your feet, you stood up abruptly. “I’ll clear the dishes,” You said before stacking the plates and silverware. “Do you want your water anymore?”

Bakugou shook his head so you proceeded to grab his water, place it into your cup, and make your way to the kitchen slowly.

Kaminari and Sero greeted you happily and Kaminari immediately took your dishes.

Their rather boring conversation did not leave room for you to interject, so you simply made your way back to the dining table. Sighing, you grabbed your half-full water and reached for Bakugou’s as well. The blond watched you wordlessly.

You wondered if his lack of comment was a bad thing or if it showed comfortability and a willingness to let you touch his belongings.

As you debated the notion, you silently, almost like you were on autopilot, filled up the waters, and went back to the table. With nothing left to do, you sat back down into your seat and awaited the arrival of Kirishima and Ashido

“Thank you,” Bakugou said as you sat down with the two glasses of water.

“No problem” You replied. Despite this comment being typical for literally anyone to say, it still felt nice for him to say thank you. Maybe it was because he rarely used his manners.

Bakugou grabbed his water from the table and put it back into his bag. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you waited for Ashido and Kirishima. The only noise was the people talking in the kitchen and the small group watching television in the living room.

A few minutes passed by before the couple finally emerged from the elevator and greeted you both with wide smiles. Kirishima had on black basketball shorts with a red stripe down the side as well as a red hoodie. Ashido adorned a matching two-piece set of leggings and a conservative sports bra that was cheetah print. She also had on a black zip-up jacket that was currently wrapped around her waist.

You and Bakugou quickly got up from your seats, grabbed your belongings, and slowly made your way to the door. Ashido was by your side while Kirishima ran the kitchen to fill up his and Ashido’s waters. The pink girl moved from being attached to Kirishima’s side and was now attached to yours.

Giggling, she whispered in your ear, “Yet another double date!”

Sheepishly you rolled your eyes and dismissed the thought. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“What?” Ashido questioned, moving away from you to give you a confused look.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” You shot back.

“I mean,” She began, emphasizing her words, “What does that even mean?”

“What does what mean?” You replied, absolutely clueless to the confusion.

“She’s asking what ‘don’t count your chickens before they hatch’ means,” Bakugou butted in as he stood opposite you by the front door. “Personally, I think it’s rather obvious.”

“Oh, shut it, Bakugou!” Ashido exclaimed, giving the blond a dirty look.

Laughing, you explained, “It’s just an American saying.” You debated how exactly to explain it before once again continuing, “Just because you have, say, 10 chicken eggs, 2 could break before they hatch and 3 more could be simply eggs, no baby in them. So, they saying means that you shouldn’t expect something until it happens. You can’t expect to have 10 chickens just because you have 10 eggs.”

Ashido harrumphed, clearing having trouble understanding. “Sounds dumb.” Something you also expected her to say considering she was the one ‘counting her chickens before they hatched’.

You shrugged, “It’s hard to understand sayings from other countries if you didn’t grow up around them. I’m sure some common Japanese sayings don’t make sense to me.”

At this point, Kirishima joined back in and made quick work of putting on his tennis shoes.

“My mom used to always say ‘even monkeys fall out of trees’ when I made mistakes,” Ashido explained, testing you to see if you would understand a common Japanese phrase.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” You replied after a few seconds to think it over.

“Dang!” Ashido replied as the four of you made your way out of the dorm and to the gym.

“What about this one,” Bakugou interjected. “My dad would say this all the time, ‘the stake that sticks up gets hammered down.’”

Oh, this one is definitely more complicated.

You tried working through the saying out in your brain, sure it had someone to do with being seen in society. “Um,” You began, “The person who stands out will…” You paused, unsure how to finish. Sighing, you shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.”

“Ha Ha!” Ashido shouted in joy. “It means the person who stands out is often subject to criticism.”

You nodded your head in understanding as she explained.

“How were you so good at those?” Kirishima asked.

“Well, word association is taught in elementary schools,” You explained, reminiscing on the problems you solved in second grade. “For example, we would get something like “cow is to barn as man is to ‘blank’ and we would have to fill it in.”

Ashido and Kirishima proceeded to exclaim “house!” while Bakugou simply nodded, actions that represented each of them rather well.

“Nice!” You laughed, high-fiving the two who guessed.

You rounded the corner at this point, entering one of the school buildings with multiple classrooms. You followed the group as they made their way upstairs and weaved through hallways. Fairly naturally, the conversation died down as the couple of Ashido and Kirishima clung to each other and dawdled behind.

Aggravated, Bakugou led your group, clearly annoyed with how slow they were. Honestly, you were pretty sure Ashido planned this so you could have alone time with the blond.

Trying to utilize this opportunity, you kept stride with the blond. “Pretty annoying, huh?” You asked, gesturing to the couple and silently apologizing for throwing them under the bus and using them as a conversation starter.

“Aren’t they always?” Bakugou replied, looking to the couple before rolling his eyes and groaning.

“Sometimes they are cute,” You shrugged, flashing a smile to the blond. “At least they’re happy, you know?” You asked, attempting to reason with them.

Bakugou simply “tsked” in reply. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t making me nauseous.”

“Very true,” You responded, unable to stop yourself from chuckling loudly. “Especially when they talk in baby voices and make little smooching noises!” You altered your voice slightly to mimic Ashido’s baby voice that you hear her only use with Kirishima.

Bakugou cackled loudly at the comment, clearly amused by your impersonation. “Or when they go off to each lunch by themselves, cuddling under a tree, and then coming back like giddy teenagers,” He added.

“Oh, yeah!” You animatedly exclaimed, “How could I forget? Kirishima ends up staring out the window all of class!”

As your laughter died down, the two of you arrived at the double doors that led to the small gym. Luckily, no one else was inside due to how late it was. In fact, you four might be here past curfew. Despite this, you entered into the gym which had a few different weight machines and treadmills as well as a room to the left that was dim and specifically designed for yoga.

You knew this was the gym that Ashido frequently used late at night but weren’t familiar with the layout. Slowly, you put down your belongings, chugged down a few gulps of your water and made your way into the yoga room. The room had too large baskets on wheels that came up to about your waist. Inside, were blue and white yoga mats with the school’s logo on it. It was for student use and cleaned every week, a small perk for going to such a prestigious hero school. By the time you grabbed a mat, you heard the large metal and glass doors once again opening. Waiting for the couple, you rolled out your mat and brought your water to your side.

Although you did yoga frequently and could easily start your own routine, you figured the four of you would want to do a routine together. Once inside, Kirishima and Ashido quickly came into the yoga room and set up mats.

“I’ll hook up my phone to the projector so we can play a video,” Ashido explained as she plugged her phone into a wire that connected to the projector.

You watched the pink girl search up a yoga routine that was primarily focused on stretching the body pre-workout. The video was about half an hour-long, so you simply prepared yourself by sitting on your knees and waiting for the introduction to finish.

Yoga went by rather quickly, which each of you silently following the video. You were all in your own worlds, thinking about your own problems or simply letting your mind go black as you followed the routine. You could tell it was something your mind and body was craving after a long day of theorizing and sitting at the desk.

Once the routine finally ended, you let out a big breath and stretched your body one final time before grabbing your water bottle to drink from. “Ah, that was so good!” You sighed, completely satisfied.

Kirishima and Ashido hummed in agreement as they rolled up their mats.

“And now it’s time to put that stretching to good use,” Bakugou added, as he passed by you with his own rolled mat. He grabbed yours, which you just finished rolling, and went to put them away. Once done, he made his way back to you and held out his hand to help you up. “Shall we go run?” He asked while he effortlessly pulled you up.

“We shall,” You replied, a wide smile on your face.

Bakugou had never, not even when he was kicking your ass in training, helped your up or touched your hand. Immediately, you felt heat spreading up your face and your heart beating faster.

Ashido, who was putting her own yoga mat into her bag eyed you suspiciously. Subtly, you gave her a surprised look and shrugged your shoulders. Bakugou inevitably let go of your hand after you were standing up straight. He was surprisingly warm and you held quickly went cold without his touching.

In an attempt to play everything off cool, you simply followed behind him, grabbing your bag and moving to the treadmill next to his. You placed your belongings down, took one last gulp of water, and got onto your treadmill.

Bakugou, who had already started, was going at a slow pace and you decided to follow in line with him. The slow speed was an ideal way to warm up your body and prepare you for a faster pace.

You didn’t have to wait long, however, because Bakugou soon sped up his treadmill by two. He gave you’re a clear look and you didn’t even have to take out your earbuds to know he was subtly saying there is no way in hell you will run faster than me.

After a few more strides, you also increased your speed, clicking three times to be running one faster than him.

Almost immediately, Bakugou gave you another look and increased his speed. This game of tug-of-war continued for a few minutes, each of you slowly increasing your speed in order to one-up the other. It was fun when you started slow, and you even found yourself smiling when you were running at a speed just below a sprint. However, you were now sprinting at a breakneck pace and craving this game to stop.

You once again, and quite stubbornly, pressed the up arrow to increase your speed.

Bakugou attempted to groan under his breath, but he was going too fast to have control over his voice and you clearly heard the roan of indignation. The blond pressed his finger onto the up arrow and increased his speed just as he had done before. This time, however, he notably did not go past your speed.

The both of you were now running at the same speed, and although you were tempted to go up at least one more to irk Bakugou, you knew it was best not to. It was all down to endurance now.

You focused your attention on running, moving your arms to help your speed, and focusing on your breathing to make sure you were taking in big and consistent breaths.

“Woah, Bakugou and Y/N-chan!” Kirishima’s voice rang through your ears. Despite only being two treadmills over and a total of 12 feet, you could barely hear him. “So manly!” If you were looking at him, you would see him send a cheeky smile to Ashido before increasing his own speed.

However, you were all too involved in your own competition to worry about him.

You felt your legs burn and crave for a break. You felt so hot that you were sure you were steaming. In fact, you saw steam.

Steam? You looked to your left from where it was coming and saw steam emitting from Bakugou’s palms. You could have gasped in surprise if you weren’t so already short on breath. The next thing to smelled was an intense caramel. Or is it burning sugar? You questioned as you realized it was coming from the blond next to you.

It smells so sweet, you thought, clearly distracted. It made you think of caramel apples at amusement parks, chewing on the delectable treat as you walked around, surrounded by vibrant lights.

You inhaled deeply, trying to take it all in. Suddenly, you tripped. The floor fell out from under you, and you did not have enough speed or traction to keep up. Quickly, you clutched onto the railings and got back up to speed. The difficult action, which would surely leave bruises on your arms, lasted only a few seconds. Although Bakugou noticed, he didn’t say anything, so you simply kept up with running.

However, now your body ached even more. All you wanted to do was stop and you couldn’t drag your brain away from the idea. You felt your limbs begging to slow down and you could no longer deny the request. Reluctantly, you slowed down the treadmill with a sigh. Bakugou immediately noticed the action and shot his arms up with a small “woop!” in excitement.

At least seeing him so excited was worth it, you thought as you finally stopped the treadmill.

With exhaustion running through your veins, you got off the treadmill and made a beeline to your water. Your legs gave out and you sat against the wall, arching your back to give your lungs room. You chugged a few gulps of the cool beverage before you brought your hands above your head. It was the best way to get air into your lungs and control your breathing again.

Bakugou quickly joined you, copying your actions but while standing up.

“Good job, guys!” Ashido exclaimed, giving you both a thumbs up as she jogged at a much more reasonable pace.

You returned the gesture before grabbing your water again. Slumped up against the wall, you closed your eyes. Mentally, you made a note to not go out running tomorrow.

While you rested, you heard Ashido and Kirishima turn off their treadmills and join you against the wall. They chatted amongst themselves while Bakugou sat next to you.

Immediately, the caramel smell emitting off him wafted into your noise and filled your senses with euphoria and anxiety. He smelled so good, and yet you were certain he was much closer to you now. You could practically feel his body heat against your left arm.

The chatter from Ashido and Kirishima provided white noise, while Bakugou’s sweet aroma and warm body provided the ultimate guide to sleep. Your tired body craved it and you slowly felt yourself falling deeper and deeper.

Too tired to notice, you slowly leaned to the left, your shoulder eventually touching Bakugou’s. It was slight, a small brush of skin, but the blond immediately noticed the action, who stared at your sleeping body which found comfort in the purchase of his body.

You weren’t sure how much time passed when you were woken back up. In fact, you didn’t realize you fell asleep until you were waking up and opening your eyes to the sight of Bakugou’s own crimson orbs.

Quickly, you noticed the feeling of a warm arm against yours and moved abruptly away.

You could feel the heat spread from your neck to your cheeks and ears. If you weren’t in such shock, you would have also been certain that Bakugou’s own cheeks blushed pink. You shook your head in confusion, pushing away the ridiculous thoughts that came to mind.

“S-sorry!” You stuttered out, your voice barely emitting a sound.

“It’s fine,” Bakugou confidently laughed, brushing off the topic. “I just thought you would want to head back soon since you are falling asleep.”

“Uh, yeah,” You mumbled, “Thanks.” Looking away, you set your eyes on all your belongings and began picking them up. Sometimes it was difficult to look him in the eyes. Despite how warm and entrancing they were, they made you feel hot all over and spread nerves all throughout your body. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stood all the way up and awaited Bakugou.

It only took a moment for the blond to stand upright after you. Gingerly smiling, you turned and made your way to the door.

“You guys coming?” Bakugou asked, walking backward so he could face the couple.

“Later,” Ashido mumbled, waving him away as she continued to smile at her boyfriend.

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment and turned to you, a signal to open the door into the empty hallway.

“Today was fun,” You remarked, sparing a glance at the blond as the metal door eased closed. “Although I am sure tomorrow will be tough.” You paused, thinking over your schedule, “At least I only have class tomorrow.”

Although you were too nervous to look long, you saw the blond smile shyly and nod his head. “Yeah, I’m just glad I am done with the assignment due in English tomorrow.”

“Ah,” You replied, “How I wish I only had English assignments instead of extra Japanese assignments.”

“You’ll need to learn if you plan to stay here,” Bakugou remarked.

You scoffed, “I would argue that my Japanese was quite good already.” Rolling your eyes, you spared a teasing smile to him.

“What about when you are given a paper report and expected to read it all in minutes? Or when you have to write a report after a mission?” Bakugou shot back.

You groaned loudly, simply imagining how torturous a kanji-filled report that you would need to run through quickly. “Maybe you’ll be nice enough to write my reports for me?” You joked, opening your eyes and pouting in an attempt to look cute.

Bakugou blew air out his nose in a short laugh. “Bold of you to assume that I would even hire you to work at my agency.”

“Rude,” You replied, knowing full well that this was all a joke. “I think I would be a good hire, I could keep you calm during idiotic interviews or meetings too.” You looked into his eyes, “So, you want to start your own agency?”

“Need to if I’m going to be number one,” Bakugou curtly answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well,” You began, “If I’m still in the area, and you are in desperate need of a hire, I would be happy to help.”

“Thanks.”

A small laugh and a brief look had your insides twisting. You once again felt hot. However, you were now, luckily, in the cool air of the night. You calmed yourself as the two of you approached the dorms.

Bakugou took a few quick steps to get ahead of you to reach the door. He moved to the side so you could enter in first and you smiled and nodded politely.

However, when you entered the dorm, your mood quickly changed. Practically every student was in the living room, some standing, some sitting. Most notably, Aizawa-sensei stood in the dining room, leaned up against the large wooden table, and clearly lost in his thoughts. Multiple sets of eyes turned to look at you. Your anxieties pooled in your stomach as you looked at your teacher.

Is it that bad that we are past curfew?

You felt Bakugou’s body pressed close up against yours. You were too scared to move, so the blond had to squeeze in. He was about to jokingly push you out of the way until he noticed the concerning scene in front of him.

You had no time to think about how comforting the action was, especially as he placed your hands onto your shoulders. He squeezed the slightly, but you were unsure if it was an action that was supposed to make you feel better or to make your move. You stumbled forward, but the blond hardly moved.

Aizawa cleared his throat and moved from his perch at the table. Silently, he approached you. “Let’s talk outside,” He whispered so only Bakugou, and you could hear. “Just you,” He elaborated, looking into your eyes.

You gulped and let Bakugou push you away so Aizawa could reach the door and lead the way out. You only snapped back to reality when your shoulders were suddenly cold at the lost touch.

“Okay,” You mumbled, stumbling to follow after your teacher. Maybe he was going to lecture us separately? You wondered, clinging to the hope that this was a simple scolding and not a disastrous event.

It must be my mom, what else would it be?

“Is my mom okay?” You immediately questioned when the door Bakugou closed was finally shut.

“Yes,” He abruptly replied, “Let’s talk this way.” He led you around the building to where there were multiple benches.

“My siblings?”

“Sit,” He spoke and motioned at a long bench.

You sat quickly, hoping it would make the news come quicker as well.

“There is no easy way to say this,” He began, “Please just listen.” Aizawa rubbed his eyes, clearly drained. “There was a prison escape at the North-Western prison. A total of 117 inmates escaped and are being rounded up. Your father is one of them.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Okay rockstars, settle down

rockstar!bucky barnes x assistant!reader x rockstar!loki laufeyson / masterlist

summary; having previously worked for loki, it causes a heat to burn within bucky’s already accumulated hate towards the musician / warnings; threesome, smut, mxf and mxm sex, mentions of sex with other characters, oral sex (male and female receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, double penetration, degradation, swearing, orgasm denial, cum eating

“Can’t believe you worked for that wanker.” Snarked Bucky as an image of the well known, musically spread, and acoustically acclaimed, Loki Laufeyson was shown on the screen of the dressing room television, as the other artist stretched his clothing bare arms across the back of the couch. “Come here sweet cheeks.”

At his command, you dismissed the paper work for a moment, trailing over and straddling the inked hunk’s chain belted lap, digging your manicured set of nails into his shoulders, as you seated yourself over his crotch. “I’m happy I work for you now Buck, you treat me so good.”

Punctuating your words, you pressed your teeth into your bottom lip, giving it the appearance of being more plump, as you batted your dark eyelashes up at your employer. “I do, don’t I?” He rhetorically asked, skimming his fingers across the length of your arms, before moving them to sloppily cup your jaw, ensuring that you would not look away from his wild and dilated pupils. “Tell me what I do better than the lead singer of the god of mischief.”

At his words, a small yet peaceful contortion of uncomfortableness split a skin grafted line through the centre of your forehead, stating that you had no wish to do so. And thus, as punishment for your self aversive silence, Barnes braced his knuckles into your skin, causing you to keen out, and tap his shoulders in verification for surrender.

In turn, you lowered your hands, dragging the tips of your nails, absentmindedly running them down the expanse of his waxed chest, conveniently passing the silver hoops that were attached to his nipples on the trail to a less dominant ground. “I prefer the way that your songs have a heavier bass and-“

“Uh uh uh, not the music. Think of something that has you, let’s say, screaming, but definitely not in a crowd. Though, we may have to try that one sometime; show the world how hungry you are to assist me.”

“You, James Bucky Barnes,” he loosened his grip to your relief, which lead to you hugging in spite, “are the best fuck I have ever endured. Loki has nothing on you, he deems himself a god of the arts, but he doesn’t see how you paint me so perfectly with your cum, nor how you bend my body to your whim, as though I am a tool in the midst of your creations, useful, but disposable.”

“I like the sound of that doll. Disposable, now that really does you make you sound like my personal cum dump.”

“That’s was certainly interesting to listen to...”that voice had your body jolting in shock, and it appeared that Bucky too was surprised by the presence, though, he steadied his well versed hands on your hips, claiming you to the intimate spot.

“What the fuck are you doing in my dressing room you greasy haired weasel?” Bucky sneered, his nose turning up at the sight alone of his competition in the lyrical world. Loki, he had graced you with his presence, and you had to look away; he admittedly looked good.

His shirt was open chested, leaving you with the memorable impression of all the times that you had left crescent marks upon that particular surface, a few times you had even drawn blood, but that had only fuelled his mission to fuck you into a propeller of urgency.

“Our new album Laufey has just been released, I can confirm my dear, you shoulda stayed around and knelt in our success. The records are certainly going to have more sales than what was it called again? Ah yes, the red star. I could tell it was about this one, so much passion, a sultry tune, that did little to justify what it means to be with her.”

Loki’s hands waved around as he spoke, and you could only picture the past whence he penetrated your with those long and talented fingers of his. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you, resulting you to be nothing more than a withering mess, as he digressed the option to simply stop. There was nothing simple about him, nor the time that he demanded that he shared you with his brother.

That thought alone had you mindlessly grinding upon Bucky’s covered cock, plucking at your lip with the keys of your teeth, though Bucky’s voice brought you back to reality, causing you to pause your movements embarrassingly, venting a clear out of your head to process the situation that was before you. The two were bickering like two teenage girls, and it was quite exhausting to listen to.

“Answer the question trickster, else I’ll have you fed to the infamous black panther, and let’s just say that he is the best bodyguard I have ever hired. So, are you going to speak, or will I have you dragged out of here like a damned serpent with a noose around its neck?” Bucky threatened, gritting his teeth together, his nose straining in frustration, drawing more attention to the small stud on the right side of his nose.

“Looks like she needs me Barnes, perhaps your reputation does not proceed you. But to answer in full, my band have made quite the rise, and I thought it would be... fitting to pay you a visit. Though I had no idea that this wonderful woman would be here, pining on your lap like some feline in heat. I see she’s fucking you now, after all my suspicions are never wrong. Or we’ll, Heimdall’s train of thought always ends up at the right station.”

“Can the pair of you stop, for one goddamn minute!” Your hands obscured a path into your hair, as you glared back and forth between the pair of rival rockstars. “I am here, dammit! Stop talking about me as though I am not here, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t so I didn’t have to listen to your bitching.”

Without any thought, you clambered from your perch on Bucky’s lap, walking towards the raven haired gentleman, pointing your finger in his face as you accused him. “You’ve got your point across, but I’ll tell you something. If you don’t leave, Heimdall will see me putting my foot up your ass.”

“Does she speak to you like this Barnes? I thought she had loosened up in more ways than one when I allowed Thor to stretch her cunt, but it appears that that mouth of hers has gotten a little out of hand also. You should do something about that, or else you’ll lose her to someone else like a did. Who knows, could be Romanoff, heard she has a thing for brats.”

Natasha Romanoff, a diverse woman in her ways and songs. She was the queen of the rock culture, tormenting her workers with her verbal abuse and it would undoubtedly be no different for her assistant. If you were to be under her employment, it was certain that you would not get out alive, nor work for another talented person for the rest of your life. To cross her, was a vow to sign your own death certificate, it was plain stupidity, yet people still hustled with her and her limits, resulting in their chances of ever getting hired for any job, vastly slim to none.

At the lack of defence that Bucky provided you, you felt small, your shoulders slacked as you were tortured with Loki’s cold and silky gaze, more so when the man stood up, pressing his bare chest against your back. You could feel the rings that hung off the buds that adorned his chest coil and dig into your back, shrouding your demeanour substantially.

A part of you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to abuse Loki’s face with his fist, specifically the right, since it was the bearer to a chunky silver ring. It’d leave quite the print, however, the unexpected unravelled as his enquiring tone was aimed not at you, but Loki instead.

“You let your brother fuck her, hmm. Maybe she should learn her manners by being shared, that way her retrospective spattering of bullshit may be contained, to a limit of course.” It was unbelievably, you could not believe that Bucky was conferring with the enemy! And not only that, they were talking about experiences of having you literally become speechless from their unprofessional administrations upon your body. “I’d get T’Challa in here, but I know she’s already fucked him. Can’t quite fire him for it though, because who could ever say no to those pretty eyes, and that mouth, god, it is definitely one of her most persuasive attributes.”

“Bu-“ you didn’t even get to finish imploring his name off your lips, about to defend yourself and your previous actions, though, you were interrupted, starved from the opportunity of coming up with an explanation.

“No.” Loki told you, the roles now reversed as he was the one with his index finger aimed at you. He tapped your nose with it, as he began to pace in the room, his wild locks remaining in their place as he spun, before facing Bucky, a sly tranquility of a truce veining out from the pools of his evergreen orbs. “You don’t speak a word to me y/n, not whilst I’m having a conversation with James here.”

James. It was too far a polite way for him to address your boss. They were all hot and ready to tear out each other’s throats a moment ago, and now here they were, having a silent conversation without your inclusion. It had you reeling your mind as to why, until Bucky gathered your hair in his hand to the side, sliding you y/h/c locks over your shoulder, and finally deemed it acceptable for you to hear his voice.

Though, he still was not directing his tensive words in your direction. “Since you had dealt with this subordinate behaviour from her, perhaps you’d like to join us; help me train her to become more...” His breath fanned your the top of your ear, making your skin crawl by not only his warm and inviting breath, but also the offer that he had supposed to the other man.

“Obedient?” Loki asked in turn of his wispy ended offer of optimism, his leather, sharp tipped boots taking a prominent, heart clenching step towards you. He reached his finger out, grasping a loose strand that had fallen out of Bucky’s grip and before your face, tugging lightly on it, as his lips came dangerously close to your own. “Rules aren’t your forfeit, are they my dear? The best assistant I ever hired, with all those unique ideas floating around in that independent head of yours, but you’ve always been troublesome. I remember the time that you bit my cock that day you had attitude. I reckon Bucky here could do a better job.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” You hissed as said man tugged on his handful of your hair, instantly making you regret your phrase in the moment. To a halting surprise however, Bucky released you, lightly shoving you to cause you to fumble forwards, and away from him.

“Maybe I will.” He dared, earning a nod from Loki, whom seductively began to unzip his loose trousers, as Bucky descended to the ground, his hands running up his rival’s thighs, as the material dropped around Loki’s ankles. It would seem, that he had gone commando, and as Bucky grasped Loki’s shaft, you felt a pull in your chest inherently demanding that you play some part in this fornication.

“Wait.” Your hand shot out, as though you had some force to stop them from continuing with their war path to exact all of their developed spit onto you. “What about me?” You were ss

“Oh no doll, you are not pulling any strings here, if you wanna do something useful, come here and warm my cock, you can watch me blow your old associate.” A slither of a whimper fell from your lips, it wasn’t exactly what you were prying towards, but you sure as hell were not going to refuse the contact that Bucky was obliged to give you.

Thus you wandered towards him, your pinkies curling around one another, as you sashayed to the ground beside him, watching as he paid Loki no mind for a moment, ruthlessly in a desperation fuelled motion, unbuckled his thick belt, and shoved the material of his leather trousers to be held accountable against his lower thighs, just above his tense knees.

He too, as their exteriors supposed, had forgone the extra layer that kept his cock tucked away, though it was exposed as he tugged those tight trousers down, and the sight of both his and Loki’s cocks bobbing in the same vicinity had you close to quivering.

It was somewhat of a dream portrayed in the viscous space of reality, the two men half undressed in then proximity of yourself, it was something that you had always imagined, even before you had left Loki’s side, and opted to work for Bucky, but the idea was definitely short lived. They hated each other, but apparently they were willing to put all their issues aside to prohibit you from freely running your mouth.

Bucky’s cock twitched as he patted his own thigh, ordering you without the aid of his voice to commence it as a servant’s throne, or in your case, a stool for you to rest on as he tended to intimate needs of the man that you had once worked for. Finally, with the decision of better judgement, you allowed your grey jumper dress to slide down your body, leaving you nude, and the aspect of the two men’s unforgiving and locked gazes.

“No underwear, and you wonder why your men have no difficulty in her allowing them to fuck her.” Bucky took ahold of his cock, squeezing his cock with one hand, whilst his other aided you in sitting on his muscular legs, as he lightly growled up at the opposing rockstar.

From the stiff grip that Bucky affirmed around his sceptre, Loki gasped, his pale lips instantly shutting once the sound wantonly abandoned him. The last thing that he wanted was for Bucky to see him in vulnerable poise, though with that said, it’d be rather difficult considering the smutty circumstances.

Bucky took Loki’s long, alabaster prick into his mouth, starting from the primrose tip and descending down, reciprocating the action that you did yourself as you sheathed yourself onto his cock, but instead with his lips. A grunt rendered along Loki’s length as the man bit back a whimper, the vibrations running through his veins like a transpiring pulse of sorcery.

Bucky opted for bobbing his head, as you endured the liberation of his very slightly gyrating movement inside of you. Though, despite him being almost completely still and leaving you full to the brim with his thick length, his balls resting against the partition where he was delved into you, you remained transfixed.

The motion image, recording first hand through your own eyes, of him blowing Loki was sinful, but you were drawn to it. If that made you a sinner, one endorsed by the graphic scene, licking your lips from the sight of Bucky running his studded tongue up the length of Loki, dipping the ball of silver metal into his slit, then so be it.

Your heart raced as you were met with an opportunity. A globe of saliva, strung by the lapping muscle of Bucky’s tongue dropped down; you practically saw its fall in slow motion. It was done before you could register your actions, you had leant forwards, catching the trickle of spit in your mouth, thinking not for a moment as you gulped the subjective liquid down.

Bucky’s pace increased, he gagged lightly as he jolted him further down his throat. Loki hummed, harshly grabbing Bucky’s dark brunette locks, biting his lip as he reimagined your little catch. It had him feeling close, and just as he was about to finish, precum furiously pooling out of his tip, Bucky pulled back, a smirk marking his features.

“You’re not cumming in my mouth, I don’t mind sucking dick, nor swallowing, but I have to practically listen to you jizz over your own talent, and prowl over my girl.” The name he labelled you with had your heart fluttering, but not nearly as much as when he lightly pulled out of you, infuriating you with the lack of any pleasurable esteem. “Don’t you worry babes, you can finish with me inside of you, like always.”

That used to be him, Loki thought with a brewing rage in his chest. Though he instead shrugged out of his dull patterned striped shirt that was already loose on his shoulders. The fabric hit the floor, leaving all of you barren to the subject of nudity.

“Always doesn’t suppose the past Barnes.” Loki stated, referring to all the various times that he had found refuge in your spongey walls, you willingly clenching around him, and pleading for him to hit a deeper spot within you. “And I do not prowl, I don’t need to. The evidence is there between her legs, coiling in juices surrounding her ever so willing folds, that are prepared to endure the harshest of penetrations.”

“What are you trying to do, write a fucking song about this?” Scoffed Bucky, rolling his crystallised orbs at the guts that this man had. If he so much as wanted to, he could stop this passage into a three way all together, but he did not, at least he had yet to. He was enjoying the way that you were squirming to yourself, thinking that he didn’t notice, squeezing the sides of your thighs together in an aroused matrimony.

“A fucking song would’ve the correct term - literally.” Was the affirmed words of Loki, as he shoved Bucky to be sat beside you, tilting his messy brush of crazed hair, his untrustworthy eyes drifting to you. “Who’d you want to fuck you, you fangirling slut?”

It was truthfully a difficult decision. “Both.” You admitted, your bones jumping as Bucky pinched one of your erect nipples, continuing to hold a sturdy clasp of his pads around the sensitive flesh; you couldn’t jut choose one of them. Not when they were both in such close range, bore in nothing more than their birthdays suits, talking about your quivering and diversely accepting cunt.

They knew that you couldn’t possibly refuse one or the other. You were vastly too hungry to be filled like you had never been before, shagged by two of three most well known artists in the industry, earnestly and mindlessly earning yourself a title within the circle of uptight yet simultaneously chill performers.

Perhaps, if Bucky we to ever potentially fire you, there would be another pursuer for your articulating talents on standby, awaiting for the moment that you walked out of his complex door to swoop you up as though they were a predatory falcon, flying off into a stationed sunset, those around seeing you as nothing more than a shadow of the ambient orb, but the one who had employed you finding you to be a sufficing inspiration.

Large hands swallows your hips, firmly controlling their angle as they grasped you in their strong, almost super human hold, lifting you so that you were tentatively tucked in a reverse cowgirl position on Bucky’s lap. It was the third time that you had been this close to him, it would almost be intimate, if your legs weren’t strewn in an open, all revealing splay, so that Loki could see your boss tease his tip around your entrance before sliding you down his length, extracting a strong wail from your churning throat.

Your own hand resented down, applying swirls of pressure down on your clit; it appeared that they were willing you to continue without interruption. Bucky lightly, despite the power that he was promoted to in this position, began to bounce you on his shaft, spewing small mewls out from your agape mouth.

Fisting his cock, Loki approached, Bucky reachin this seen hands down to spread te lips of your pussy, so that the other man was guaranteed a crude glimpse of you being stufffed. Though, you weren’t quite filled enough, for Bucky raised a brow and prompted Loki to allow himself to be pulled closer by your axed and whining aura.

He brushed his tip languidly against your buzzing clit, dragging through your slick and jab i at your delicate fingers before probing at the base of Bucky’s cock, and pushing inside, right along his rival’s length, the pair moaning out in a pleasured union. On the other and, you had tears falling from the crescents of your eyes, the stretch so much that it was a blistering pain to your cunt.

“Don’t go all meek dear, you and i both know this is far from the first instance where you’ve had more than one cock in this nasty, betraying cunt of yours.” Loki taunted, gripping the vulnerable expanse of your throat from behind, his icy glazed skin sending provocative shivers down your spine, making your pussy pulse from the chill that ran through your body.

And then, i a split instant, both cocks began to piston into your walls, as though you were nothing more than a rag doll, meant o be thrown around and handled in a disorderly fashion. They ere ruthless, groaning out symphonies in the cursive air around you, as your walls engulfed their pricks more than snugly.

You felt so wide down there, they were taking a pirating toll on your body stealing every breath that dared wither from your lips, tweezing their nimble fingered around various parts of your body, all in due retrospect or coerce you into fucking them back, making all actions in the mass of bodies a mutual effort.

Loki lowered his head down meeting Bucky for a sloppy, brash kiss. It was clear they were simply doing that part to fulfil a greedy desire in your stomach, but you were not one that minded. It was, like the rest of their frenzy of collaborations, a competitive mess. They nipped harshly at each other’s lips, ravenously all in the meanwhile ploughing your body with their har girths.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Your tongue dribbled, earning satisfied, lust induced smirks from both parties that were currently penetrating you, making you writhe harder against their lengths a new flow of moisture weeping out from your hole, lubricating their movements further, it encouraging them to do nothing more than continue what they were doing, despite their better judgements.

The truth was, they were rockstars. They had no better judgement, which is why everyone like them needed someone like you. Their thought were clouded with one mission, and for once in their spent lifetimes, it was not to beat the others, at least not to a certain extent anyways. It was their assignment, delivered by their own hands, to bring you to the edge, and that’s physically what they reformed to do.

One of them were groping your nipples, whilst the other confined the same treatment to your ass cheeks. Loki found your Rocky enables of positive feedback to be icicles and they were beautiful, he stared at them, as though they were divine ploys extracted from the mythical kingdom of Jotunheim, their residence in the realm to be the peacemakers of all bountiful creatures, much like himself and Barnes.

A rich euphoric groan exuberated from Bucky as he allowed himself to spoil, but he tutted whence he watched Loki’s features suppose that he was to follow shortly behind. “Not inside of her.” Bucky growled, sufficing Loki to roll his eyes, and pull out, the man behind you furiously replacing your hand, rolling our clit in his grasp until a sinful scream enveloped the air, commencing them all to the fact that you had just came.

Loki found the show to be unfair, and instead, spilled his priceless seed onto the huffing skin of your stomach, you eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling pooling onto you. You leant back, drawing your neck into a crooked angle as you swiped your tongue wordlessly over the piercing on Bucky’s right nipple, metal providing a relief to the heat that your body was and had been swarmed with. “ Last chance you’re gonna have t taste her sweet cunt.”

“You do certainly have some faith in this one Barnes, but I do doubt that it will be the last instance in which i am todo so.” His silver tongue pried at your cum soaked flesh, drinking up all the essence that you had to offer, onshore the flavour that Bucky had brought to the table, i the form of a succulent drizzling of Snow White cum.

As Loki finishes swabbing his tongue over your cunt, Bucky adoringly kisses you, much sweeter than he has before. It was sort, and almost chaste, but his blue eyes roamed your face, delicately observing the high points of your face, that were covered with a sheen of great force making you as he would put it, glow.

The pair of you weer exhausted, there was still some swollen was to his lips from where he had sucked off Loki. His hands cradled you around your waist, his feet kicking Loki back as you whimpered from opaque sensitivity. “I guess that was you bidding me a dew.” Sneered the trickster, fishing for his clothes, as he spared you a spark filled glare, to which you ignored.

Once he was situated back into his attire, he left the sex scented room,a hollow smirk chapping his lips as he strutted th a purpose out into the hallway, taking a left instead of a right, and creeping into barnes’ studio to see what the man was working on in the midst of his enduring tour/ He was always the trickster, and nothing different was to ever be expected out of him.

“That was good.” You mumbled, rubbing your ode lovingly across the scruff that coated his jaw. His fingers made small circles upon your tummy, humming contently as he remained sheathed inside of you. He had to admit, he preferred it when it was just him, but his lonesome, sheathed within your walls, feeling the small trembles of your walls around him. It was practically heaven, and he would say so if he believed in such a place.

A deliberate knock ruined the moment, as the man entered,he quarrelled with himself where her to casually look in the direction of the pair of you or to avert his sight around, and blankly at the all. “What is it T’Challa?” Grumbled the man inside of you, quirking a thin brow at the timing of his presence.

“Loki; he managed to get into ur data, and he’s leaked a whole bunch of your music.” Of course, Loki would not come here to simply gloat, there was alas something extra up his green sleeve, and now it was revealed.

“Son of a bitch!” Bucky made a move to stand, but instead prohibited a whimper out of you as hi ships jutted angrily tip on instinct. “Get Odin on the phone, we’re going to have a little chat about his slippery hands son!” Barked Bucky, prepared t do anything to bring his greatest threat down, compiling him into the put of hate industry, until he was forgotten about, unable to ever produce new music again.

“Talk to Sif.” You whispered, becoming the image of his assistant once more, even if his cum lathered cock was prevailing within a rut of required stress relief, growing in the conjunction of your wall with his body guard there. “She loathes him, and rightfully so. He got her kicked out and she has dirt on him that nobody else has ever heard. If you want to take I’m down, she is your in.”

The strict tone grammatically supported by your logical information was definitely turning Bucky on again. He could handle you more than fine without Loki’s aid, he was just a means to an end, as it was clearly shown in his priorities.

[smiledog15578]

OK BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT LIKE... who the real villain is in wkm?

I think we all know who it is it’s pretty obvious it’s the house but I honestly think we don’t talk about it often? Literally that’s the mf who’s the real bastard here. ITS THEORY TIME 😼

While actor Mark is an asshole and technically a villain he wasn’t like like that before. Hell he was a generous man helping his friends and was a loved man. When Celine left his ass he was venerable af and the entity was like “TIME TO MANIPULATE THIS MAN FOR MY OWN GAIN” and made him the asshole the way that he is now. I think actor Mark thinks that he’s in control oh shit because he might of been told that but really the house is pulling the strings and making him believe that. He’s literally just about chess piece to use for this evil game of chess (lol analogy)

I’d also like to point out that Celine might of left actor because the house told her to. At the time actor wasn’t vulnerable especially with having a good life with his wife and having an outstanding career and the house probably didn’t like that. So in order to make him weak it took the only thing that he lived at the time, Celine. Another reason she left was because of bad vibes. That house is just infested with bad juju and Celine being a seer noticed that over time but back then since it was kinda discouraged to divorce especially for a women to do it luckily William knew and took her in. William has lived in the same house actor lived so I’m guessing he’s aware of the evil it contains since when he gets turned into Wilford hell even during wkm he isn’t weirded out by the things happening to the house and other weird shit. He was trying to protect Celine. Now again I just wanna say the adultery doesn’t excuse it still a shitty thing to do and William is still a stubborn a hole just as much as actor.

HOWEVER this situation is like novel: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925). (Btw if you don’t want spoilers skip this) in the book, daisy cheats with Gatsby behind Tom’s (daisy’s husband) back because like I said either during those times it was shunned for women to divorce their husbands and during those days women weren’t really independent back then. They were VERY pressured to get married and have children etc etc. Tom was an asshole to daisy and was even cheating on her but of course men and women back then had double standards where women couldn’t or should do this and same went for men. and I’m not saying that Celine didn’t love actor cause I’m sure they did love each other so much but it kinda explains why she left him other than just because. I also don’t think Celine was necessarily abusive nor do I think actor was at the time. Things got heated and the only scapegoat was to leave him and never return to that house again.

Another thing on my tiny pea sized brain is about the houses world. I have a theory that the house has created a universe inside it while Everything out side it is the original universe (or just our reality idk). This is why George (the groundskeeper) doesn’t appear in any of the new videos is because he wasn’t in the house during all this mess (in the character world idk if the actor for George just didn’t wanna be in the series but then you have to wonder why his portrait isn’t up in the hallway dark made in AHWM). You can think of the house as if it’s a movie set or a green screen. To us and the actors we see these worlds and weird shit when in reality there’s nothing there. Nobody actually dies in this universe because like movies no one actually dies they’re just not on the set. Even the side characters don’t really die cause us as the viewers revive them be just rewatching the video. Wilford knows people won’t die because 1. He’s seen his friend get up and walk around after being dead and 2. He knows that when people “die” they just come back by the help of your Or the entity. He acknowledges that in AHWM where he states that we can PAUSE the video. Almost none of the characters except Wilford has acknowledged that which makes me think he’s a lot smarter the we think or just has more common sense. Wilford is forgetful sure but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid he was a colonel for crying out loud one of the highest ranks in the US army lol. I’d like to also point out that Wilford uses this set ordeal to his advantage most importantly. In WKM we see William do it too by appearing one place then teleporting to another place. Kinda think of the house as the 3rd dimension. Wilford “escapes” that dimension to a new plane and can come back when in reality he’s just leaving what the house is previewing to everyone in the house. Everyone else In this universe except maybe actor, Wilford, and dark know that you don’t have to play along. These people in the houses universe are programmed to believe that they can’t escape have HAVE to play a character.

(Spoilers for wandavision) when I watched wandavision not that long ago it made me think about the MCU (not marvel cinematic universe😏✨ MARKIPLIER cinematic universe) and how it’s kinda like that. Wanda in the show creates this force field out of grief where everything inhabits it is turned into her liking of what fits the narrative. People are being held hostage to just play a part in Wandas sick tv show SHES made for her and her husband. People outside the forcefield are just normal people but once they put a person, object, etc it gets turned into what WANDA wants. I think that fits into the mcu because the house is EXACTLY like that. These mfs haven’t aged at all because time isn’t existing for their universe. Abe thinks that he’s been tracing down William for years but Mark said that “he thinks that but really wmlw is right after wkm” (that’s paraphrasing go watch the wmlw to get a better explanation LMAO) but like I said the house makes you feel like it’s been only years or days but it’s not even close to that.

With that all being said I don’t think anyone here is the real villain here or the hero. Like Mark said They’re all human which they have bad and good traits the only thing that’s the real asshole is the house. It’s like it’s a living breathing purgatory that creates chaos

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY

A GAME- or a youtube .. YouTube theory? YEA A YOUTUBE THEORY!

now mind you I’m not the best at writing so I’m sorry that none of this made sense feel free to correct me or chime in with your theories but I just wanted to share my theories and ideas :) and if you made it those far I’m sorry I wasted ur time HSJSJDJJSJD

[rickywritesstuff]

less than a friend - bill s preston esq x ted theodore logan

warnings: mentions of homophobia, mentions of abuse, f slur

desc: Ted is acting strange, and Bill intends to find out why, but Ted won't even look at him. When Ted finally talks to Bill, he reveals he doesn't want to be friends anymore.

The first couple of times, Bill had convinced himself Ted simply hadn't heard him. He grew more concerned, however, when he noticed Ted look at him and still avoid him. Had he done something? Ted would tell him if he did, right?

When Bill saw Ted getting things from his locker, he fully intended to keep on walking; he was clearly too occupied to talk to Bill, and if he wanted to talk to him, he would do so. That was the plan until he caught a clear glimpse of a bruise on Ted's arm.

"Ted?" Ted flinched, clearly able to hear Bill, but didn't move in his direction. "Please don't ignore me, Ted." He spoke quietly. He noticed Ted's busted lip, which wasn't noticable earlier because Ted's face had been hidden behind his hair. "Did you get hurt, Ted?"

The halls had begun to clear out as the bell rang. Ted took a breath. He didn't want to do this. But he had to for the both of them, right?

"We should talk, Bill," Ted stated in a way that told Bill something was very, very wrong.

Bill nodded, waiting for Ted to continue. When he didn't, Bill asked, "What is it, Ted?"

Ted hid his face behind his hair again. He could feel how fast his heart was beating. He didn't want to do this. He wished he didn't have to. But his dad would kill him if he didn't.

"Bill, I don't-" Ted could feel the tears threatening to come up, heard his voice crack, and cleared his throat. "I-I think we sh-should- stop being, uh- stop being friends." He paused to let the both of them process what he had just said. "The bands over, too, Bill. I'll come over later to get my stuff."

Bill stared at Ted, dumbfounded. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, I just- it's better this way, y'know?" Ted half-lied. He really wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"Y-you- Ted-" Bill fought back the tears he knew would come up sooner or later. He felt his heart sink. Was he joking? He didn't look like he was joking. Ted wouldn't make this kind of joke, anyways. Bill wished he could get one single coherent thought out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, really." Ted began to turn around, stopping and turning his head to face Bill again, giving him a sad smile. "You were a good friend, Bill. Please don't forget that."

With that, Ted left Bill standing alone in the hallway, his mind reeling. It wasn't his fault. Ted had said that, and he wouldn't lie to him. But something inside him told him he had done something wrong, something so bad that Ted didn't want to talk to him ever again.

And then it hit him. He was alone. He was completely and utterly alone, with not even Ted to comfort him. He always had Ted, no matter what, that's just how it had been since they were little kids. They had never had anyone but each other, and now they didn't even have that.

Bill ran to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls. He began sobbing without checking if anyone was in the bathroom with him. He didn't give a shit if anyone heard him, anyways. His best friend didn't want anything more to do with him, he should be allowed to cry as much as he wanted.

As Bill sobbed loudly, his shoulders shaking rhythmically with each sob, only one thought came and went through his head; today, after school, would be his last chance ever to talk to Ted.

—————

Neither Bill nor Ted said anything on the ride back to Bill's house. Missy had no idea what was going on, and the boys' peculiar behavior only made her increasingly concerned with every passing second.

"I won't be home for a while, I've got some errands to run. Have fun, boys," Missy called out with a smile as they approached the Preston residence and the boys got out of the car.

"Yeah," Bill muttered, kicking a pebble in front of his foot.

Ted gave as convincing a smile as he could. "Bye, Mrs. Preston."

Missy waved, smiling, too. "Bye, Ted." And with that, she drove off.

The two stood there for a few moments, but to them it felt like forever. "So- I- I think you've got a few things in my room. I don't know. We can start there."

Ted shrugged. "You can keep whatever's in your room, dude. I just need whatever's in the garage."

Bill's heart ached. He really didn't want to keep any of Ted's stuff. He thought it would hurt too much. He nodded, anyway. "Okay. Garage it is, then, duder." He tried to keep his voice from cracking or shaking. He didn't think he was very good at it.

Bill pushed past Ted, doing his best to avoid any eye contact with him. He didn't want to see whatever emotion Ted was feeling right now. He opened the garage, faced with their instruments and small stage. The instruments and stage he would most likely never use again.

Ted pointed to the right of the garage. "I'll start there, I guess."

Bill nodded. "Oh, wait- don't you-" He could feel his voice start to crack. He hated this. He just wished he could fix whatever was going on between him and Ted. "Don't you want your guitar, dude? I think you should get that first, so you don't forget it."

Ted looked at his guitar sadly. It was leaned against the wall next to Bill's. "No, you should keep it. My dad would totally kill me if I had that thing in the house." He laughed slightly, like everything happening was just a joke to him. Bill didn't know if it pissed him off or made him even sadder. "I'm sure you'll find some other bodacious dude to start a band with, and you can give them my guitar."

Bill's heart sank deeper. He didn't think that was possible. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might continue Wyld Stallyns without Ted. He didn't plan on it. But Ted moved on, he would have to move on eventually, too. "Yeah, maybe," Bill mumbled, dragging his feet as he walked to a small table set by the stage. He took a breath. "Y'know no one's gonna be as bodacious as you, though, Ted," he said quietly, unsure of how he would respond.

Ted chuckled. "Yeah. You- you too, Bill."

Bill wanted to cry again. But he couldn't, not right in front of Ted. He sucked in his breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing again and grabbing a box below the table. It had a collection of random things pertaining to the band, merchandise they had hand made, a few scrapped song lyrics.

Pictures of the two of them together.

Bill reluctantly grabbed a photograph of the two. It was a picture of them Ted had taken; behind them, the beginning of their band set up. This photo was from a few years before, when they had first started their band. They seemed so happy. He wondered if he would be able to go back in time, to experience it all again. Probably not.

Bill let out a shaky breath, a low sob-like noise. Ted turned around. "Dude? What's up?"

Bill sniffed. "Nothing, Ted, sorry. Just- uh, nothing."

Ted crouched down on the floor with Bill, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Bill, it's okay, really. Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I promise." He smiled reassuringly. "Just because we won't be hanging out anymore doesn't mean you can't talk to me about- y'know, your problems and stuff."

Bill let out a loud sob, letting go of the photo and setting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Ted, I just- I know you said it's not my fault, and I trust you on that, but- I just- I know there's some reason, that something obviously happened between us, and whatever it is I'm sorry- and- I- I don't know. I just can't move on as fast as you, Ted. I'm sorry."

Ted was quiet, and Bill didn't realize he was crying, too, until he started talking. "Dude," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I don't want to stop being friends with you-"

"Then why!?" Bill yelled, breaking down into sobs once more. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't want to yell. Just-" He took a breath, lifting his head to look at Ted. "Why?"

Ted stared at him, obvious sadness in his expression. "I can't explain it, Bill. We- we just can't be friends anymore. I don't-" He took a breath. "I don't think I could handle it. And my dad wouldn't like it much, either."

"Screw your dad, Ted!" Bill paused. "I- wh- what the hell do you mean you can't handle being friends with me? Did- did I do something?" His expression turned into that of fear as he searched his brain for anything and everything he'd ever done wrong.

"No, Bill, of course not. I don't think you can do anything wrong, really." Ted stared at Bill for a minute, then sighed. "I can't explain more, Bill, I'm sorry. I don't want you getting more mad at me than you already are."

"Mad? Ted, I'm not mad. I've only ever gotten, like, slightly annoyed with you, like, twice for totally stupid reasons. Just tell me, Ted. I won't get mad." Bill was confused, but he knew if he continued pressing he would get at least a slight explanation as to why his best friend completely left him.

Ted sighed. He stared at nothing for a few minutes, contemplating whether he should even say anything. He felt like just being here would send his dad some sort of distress signal or something. "Bill, I-" He let out a breathy sob. "I'm a total faggot. And- and my dad found out and he thinks if I spend any more time with you it'll only get worse, and honestly, I think I agree with him."

Bill's face scrunched up in thought. "Dude, I don't care if you like dudes. Shit, is it because I called you a fag? I-"

"No, Bill, it's not about that. I mean, kinda, but- it's more about what dude I like. And how my dad found out." Ted didn't want to say it. He hoped Bill would fill in the blanks.

"I'm not following, dude."

Ted swallowed. "Okay, so, I- I was working on a song for this really bodacious dude I know, and my dad found out and- he found out who it's about- I mean, his name is in the song, y'know? So, yeah, he-" Ted turned to face Bill again, who was looking at him with wide, seemingly hopeful eyes. "Bill, why do you think I can't talk to you anymore, dude?"

Bill stared at Ted. "Dude." He lifted his hand to Ted's cheek, letting gentle tears flow from his eyes. His voice was shaky and squeaky as he said quietly, "I love you so much." He pulled Ted into a quick kiss, laughing happily. "And your dad's a major dickweed. You can stay here as long as you need, dude."

Ted smiled weakly. "My dad would totally kill me, Bill, you know that."

Bill was quiet for a moment. Reluctantly, he said quietly, "Y'know, I never said you had to leave anytime." He squeezed Ted's hand. "I would love to hear that song sometime, though."

Ted laughed, squeezing Bill's hand back. "I'll totally play it for you soon, dude." He was quiet. "Y'know, I think you're right. My dad is a total dickweed. I think I will stay here for a while."

Bill laughed, too. "Good."

They were quiet again, still in the same position they had been in. Then, Ted adjusted himself, touching his forehead with Bill's. "I'm sorry, dude. It was most uncool of me to completely avoid you all day. I love you."

Bill felt butterflies in his stomach. As much as it was totally uncool to ignore him all day, he understood. "It's okay, Ted. You're here now, that's all that really matters, I think." He paused. "I love you, too."

He loved being able to say that to Ted. It felt real, because he really did love him, and he felt like breaking into sobs all over again, because here he was, holding the hand of his best friend since kindergarten. He would be more than content if they stayed like that forever, never leaving each other's arms.

[peakyswritings]

Black Widow

Luca Changretta x fem!reader

Requested by: @lilywinchesterlove

Summary: Luca thinks he has finally found the one, but what happens when finds out that she hides a deep, dark secret? Eventually, the truth always comes to light

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of murder, mentions of death, drinking, swearing, angst

A/N: this took really long, but I made it! I changed the request a tiny bit, I hope you like it!❤️⭐️

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

Long dresses, neatly pressed suits, bright jewellery, alcohol flowing. Luca had never liked big parties. Despite his luxurious lifestyle, those ostentatious displays of wealth weren’t exactly his cup of tea; not to mention the fact that all of those strangers wandering through his house made him extremely uncomfortable. He’d much rather spend time with his family, or his closest men, instead of taking part in those boring business talks with men who took a despicable pleasure in showing off both their richness and their trophy wives who, in turn, were engaged in an endless competition. But even his birthday was a way to expand his business and make new alliances.

Nevertheless, that night his mind was occupied by something else, way more important than the middle-aged man who was bragging about his new Bentley. He was on edge, absentmindedly taking frequent looks around the room, waiting for Matteo’s face to appear in the crowd. After almost two weeks of waiting, he was about to get the answers to his questions.

“I don’t like her, she’s hiding something”

“You don’t know her”

“Apparently, neither do you” Vicente argued, trying to talk some sense into his son. “I’m just telling you” he added “to keep an eye on her”

His father’s words ringed in his ears as he watched his mother hug you, thrilled to finally see you again. He wasn’t expecting her to like you so much when he introduced you to his family, the way she had welcomed you was a pleasant surprise. She was quite good at reading people, her sixth sense was seldom wrong. However, his father didn’t really agree with his wife and, as soon as he found himself alone with him, he didn’t hesitate to point out the fact that you didn’t seem like someone who could be trusted. You were suspiciously vague when they asked questions about you, or your past.

As much as he hated to admit it, Luca knew he was right. You never talked about your past or your family, you dismissed every question, changing the subject whenever he tried to find out something more about you. At first he thought that there was something that you weren’t ready to talk about - the scars on your body were the proof - and he was fine with that, but the more time passed, the more he realised that the secret you were keeping was deeper than he thought. So he followed his father’s advice, hiring his most trusted man to gather information about you. He felt guilty, like he was breaking your trust, but he had to be aware of the woman he wanted to marry.

Matteo glanced at him from the other side of the big room, nodding towards the door. He distractedly excused himself from the men he was talking to and headed towards his office, feeling his impatience grow second by second.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Matteo placed a folder on the desk. “Everything’s written here. I also found some documents that might interest you”

“Good”

Luca wavered for a moment before opening it. He could feel the agitation rise moment by moment. It was still perfectly sealed, as he had ordered. No one, except for him and the man in front of him, must know anything. He had no idea about what he would find out and he didn’t wanna risk to expose something that you didn’t want to be known.

His eyes meticulously scanned the pages, the more he read, the more he tensed up, not recognising the woman that they described. He looked up from the sheet, glancing at Matteo. Even though he knew what was in that envelope, he didn’t comment nor ask unwanted questions. His discretion was the reason why he had been chosen for the job, after all. He shook his head in disbelief, tossing the papers on his desk. You couldn’t have fooled him like that. No one fooled him like that.

“That’s all?”

“Yes, sir”

He nodded, trying to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, neatly stacking the sheets again. “Call Y/n, tell her to come here”

He didn’t need to say it twice, because Matteo immediately walked out the room.

Luca sat on his chair and waited, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface. Mixed feeling fought inside him, anger, disappointment, betrayal, confusion. One question kept on haunting him.

Why?

The creaking sound of the door opening made him lift up his eyes. “Did you want to see me?”

“Sit down” he said, gesturing towards the chair on the other side of the desk. You frowned as you did as he said, waiting for him to start talking. You guessed it must’ve been urgent, since he hadn’t even waited for the guests to go away.

He examined you, trying to find the smallest bit of evidence that could prove what he had read was true. But you sat in front of him, looking at him with your big eyes. If your intentions were malicious, you were way too good at hiding them behind your sweet voice and charming smile.

“Why don’t you tell me about your husband?”

You froze on the spot, feeling the colour drain from your face. “What?”

“I’m sorry, maybe I should say your first husband” he corrected himself, oddly calm. “He died on your wedding night, right? He hit his head, it was a bad accident”

As much as he tried to hide it, rage radiated from every cell in his body. You could see it in the way his back stiffened, in the way his hands gripped the arm of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

It couldn’t be happening. You had moved far away from home, changed your style and habits, you even changed your surname. There was no way he could have known. You put your initial shock aside, the realisation of what it all meant was enough to make you get suddenly defensive. “Did you look into my past behind my back?” you raised your voice, getting up from the chair.

“And how about your second husband?” he added, unfazed, completely ignoring your question. “The one who died in suspicious circumstances. It must’ve been a nightmare for you, becoming a widow twice”

Despite his straight face and apparent calmness, the sarcasm in his voice was clear.

“Stop it.”

“Good thing they were rich, the papers here say that you inherited all of their money” he noted, pointing to the documents. “They also say that you probably poisoned your second husband, hence the reason why you’re known in your hometown as a Black Widow”

Black Widow. That’s what everyone called you. You could almost hear their whispers, filled with ill-concealed inquisitiveness and detriment. It was easy to talk. Two words had so much power that they could turn someone’s world upside down in a matter of days. Hours, even.

“You don’t know anything about what I went through” you gritted your teeth.

He got up and poured himself a glass of whiskey, as his could feel his unmoved facade was starting to falter. “Now you’re going to tell me a fake heartbreaking story, trying to get me to pity you, aren’t you?” he mocked you, drinking it in one go. “You wanted to do the same to me, after all”

His harsh words were like punch in the gut. He was nowhere hear the truth, but the distance in his eyes made you feel like it didn’t matter what you’d tell him, he wouldn’t believe you anyway. He probably already had his own version of the truth. “So you’re going to judge me without even listening to what I have to say?”

“I want to hear what you have to say” he snapped, slamming his glass on the desk, avoiding your gaze for the first time. “I want a fucking explanation” he growled.

You nodded, looking away from him. As hard as it was to talk about it, there was no use in beating around the bush. Being straightforward was the best way of getting on with it. “It’s true” you stated. “I killed my first husband”

He shot his eyes towards you, not expecting you to actually admit it. If you had to be honest, you didn’t expect it either, your own voice seemed foreign as you said those words out loud for the first time. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right away, deciding to let you talk instead.

“My father needed an alliance with him to expand his business, so he arranged our marriage” you added, crossing your arms. “I didn’t even know him. On our first night, I refused to sleep with him. He beat me with a cane”

He clenched his jaws at your words. That explained the scars on your body, the way you hid them and the reason why you would never tell him how you’d get them. The feelings he felt for you overpowered the bitterness for a moment, the thought of someone hurting you made his blood boil.

“At some point, I managed to take it from him and I hit him on the head. My family covered it up and I wasn’t charged”

The more you talked, the more you realised that there was no going back. He was about to know the whole truth, he was about to decide whether to believe you or throw you away, because he couldn’t risk it.

“After his death, my father arranged another marriage. I didn’t like the man, but he was decent. He died from a disease, I didn’t kill him. Of course, word spread and everyone believed I had poisoned him or something like that. After that, I cut contact with my family, packed my bags, changed my surname and moved here. That’s all”

That’s all. Like it hadn’t been the hardest time of your life. Like it hadn’t been more then a simple change. But you couldn’t afford to let your feelings get the best of you, not after all you had done to come to terms with what happened to you.

Luca didn’t know what hit him the most, your story or the way you had told it. The emptiness in your eyes, the coldness in your voice. Or maybe your calmness. It seemed like you were telling someone else’s experience, not your own. But could he really trust you? Or it was just a trick to make him end up in a wooden box, just like the others?

“You’re telling me that as if it doesn’t touch you”

“What, did you expect me to cry?” you narrowed your eyes, turning to him again. “That would be the right reaction to what happened to me, wouldn’t it?” you rhetorically asked.

He blinked, taken aback by you question. He tried to say something, but you interrupted him. “You know, my reaction is exactly the reason why people started talking. You have to act like a victim, or else you’re the guilty one. But I’m not a victim and I don’t need anyone’s compassion. Not even yours” you added, taking a few steps towards him.

Your tone might have been calm, but the almost imperceptible tremble in your voice gave away the stream of feelings running inside of you.

“I’m independent, I run my own company” you paused, stopping just a few inches away from him. “I didn’t need their money, or yours. You can choose to believe me, or you can leave”

You steadied your voice, looking him straight in the eyes. You didn’t want him to leave, a small voice in the back of your mind was begging him to stay. You didn’t listen to it, though. You loved Luca, you truly loved him and the fact that he thought you could ever hurt him was killing you. But it was his choice. He was free to leave, if he wanted. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, you would find a way to go on, like you always did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Something changed in him, his gaze softened, his voice dropped. It seemed like rage wasn’t blinding him anymore, leaving space for the tenderness he only reserved for you.

“I didn’t want my past to define me” you admitted. “I wanted to leave it behind me, I didn’t want you to look at me and see...” you stopped, not knowing how to express it with words. “I’m more than that”

Luca looked at you in silence. He still had the woman he loved in front of him. You were the same woman he had met the previous year. Everything you were slowly building together felt too genuine and spontaneous to be fake. No one could lie like that. Maybe it was risky, but something in him knew told him you were telling the truth. He knew you were telling the truth. You did what you needed to do to survive. He brought a hand on your cheek, gently stroking it.

“What I see” he said “is a strong, beautiful, independent woman who went through a lot, but who’s capable of making it on her own, without anyone’s help”

You leaned into his touch and placed you hand over his, relieved at his words. Luca was he only man you had ever loved and trusted and the prospect of a life without him terrified you. It would’ve been way too hard to pick up the pieces and find a reason to go on, it would’ve taken too much time for your heart to heal. You had finally found something you wanted to hold on to.

And he loved you too much to leave you.

“I would never hurt you” you whispered “I love you”

He leaned in and kissed you. At first it was soft, tender, until it became desperate, almost rough. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, as you brought your hand to the back of his neck.

He slightly moved away, placing two fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “No more secrets”

“No more secrets”

-

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - “Rapunzel Knows Best!” ( A first half of S3 Recap)

So I decided to place the recap after Be Very Afraid for several reasons. For starters it’s where the season three hiatus took place. It’s also framed like a cliffhanger episode the same as The Great Tree and Queen for a Day; so while Cassandra’s Revenge is technically the midseason finale, Be Very Afraid functionally servers this narrative purpose better. Finally I want to keep the Cassandra heavy stuff contained in it’s own recap later same as I did for Varian’s arc in season one. 

Also keep in mind, everything I discussed in previous recaps still apply here. Nothings changed and you could argue that the issues I bring up now could have also apply to past seasons; they just happen to be at their worst here. 

Here are the past recaps 

To Filler or Not to Filler

Hey, What Ever Happened to That Varitas, Guy?

What Is the Point?

‘Whatta Twist’

And here are the episodes that’s covered in this recap

Rapunzel’s Return Part 1

Rapunzel’s Return Part 2

Return of the King 

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne

No Time Like the Past

Beginnings 

The King and Queen of Hearts

Day of the Animals 

Be Very Afraid 

Poorly Defined Conflicts 

I’m not just talking about Cassandra’s lack of goals here either, though that is a part of it. I mean in several episodes the central conflict isn’t laid out clearly enough before being resolved.  We flip from one set up to the next without ever resolving the first; like in Rapunzel’s Return when Cass and Varian fight for screen time or whenever Rapunzel is suppose to learn one lesson only for someone else to learn a completely different lesson in every other episode. And to this day I don’t know what Rapunzel and Feldspar’s subplot in Lost Treasure was suppose to be about. 

There’s also of course the ill-defined overall conflict; which at this point has become convoluted and nonsensical to the extreme, and will only grow more aggravatingly stupid as the season progresses. The main villains lack clear goals, their motivations don’t align with previously stated facts, and the actual interesting conflict involving the threat of the rocks and their destruction of people’s lives and homes is just shoved under the rug and forgotten about.  

There is no story without conflict. Having the conflict be all over the place is not only confusing but makes it harder for the audience to invest in what’s going on. 

Failed Narrative Promises 

Tying in with the above statement regarding conflicts, we have failed narrative promises. Rapunzel is repeatedly told to that she needs to learn something in several episodes only for her not to learn it at all. She either learns some unrelated ‘lesson’ that wasn’t established, (like in Rapunzel’s Return with her pervious goal about ‘opening up to others’ being switched out for a generic ‘responsibility’ lesson that at the last minute, where she doesn’t even do anything responsible,) or she winds up ‘teaching’ the opposite lesson to a different character thereby rewarding her for her bad behavior.   

And that’s just within the induvial episodes themselves; there’s also broken narrative promises through out the overall story arc; like...

no justice/redemption for Lady Caine, 

no acknowledgment that the Saporians are the victims of colonization

no conclusion regarding Corona’s murky past

no satisfying ending to Varian’s plot that sees everyone in involve grow

a poor copout of an explanation for Cassandra’s face/heel turn

The Dark Prince reveal going nowhere 

The Brotherhood being put on a bus 

King Frederic, or any royal, not being held accountable for their past actions 

Lance’s new found responsibilities just being thrown away for the tenth time 

The Disciples plot being being dropped 

next to nothing in season two winds up being relevant 

And Rapunzel, the protagonist of a coming of age story, fails to learn anything at all 

I could probably go on but you get the gist. Tangled is incredibly frustrating show to watch because doesn’t deliver what it promises. You’re not being clever by ‘subverting audiences expectations’ unless you can justify your narrative decisions with previous set up. Tangled is too lazy to build proper set ups so it’s ‘twists’ leave you wanting to punch things rather then impressing you. 

Character Assassinations 

Every single character in Tangled the Series gets thrown under a bus, driven off a cliff, and then allowed to drown in the ocean of their completely unaware self-congratulatory smugness.  

Rapunzel is turned into a bully

Cassandra is given the idiot ball to hold permanently 

The King and Queen are lobotomized

Quinin gets replaced by a robot  

The rest of the Brotherhood are pale shadows of what they could have been 

Edmund is transformed from tragic complex figure into a dumb jerkoff who abuses his kid for a laugh 

Zhan Tiri, once an ancient demon warlock, is reduced to a floating impotent ghost girl 

The Saporians become poor hipster parodies

Cap is put on a bus

Any villain who isn’t Cass is gets ignored

Lance is infantilized to the point of absurdity

Eugene becomes a doormat 

and poor Varian is forced to become a complacent victim to his abusers as oppose to being allowed to keeping his dignity 

I think the only person who escapes this mass murder of characterization is freaking Calliope, and she’s hasn’t even appeared yet! (Well okay her and Trevor, maybe) 

This all ties back into the poorly defined conflict and failed narrative promises. Rather than let the characters drive the story, they’ve become puppets to the plot, and plot is really stupid and forced, and circles back in on itself and is full of contradictions. 

Manipulating the Audience’s Empathy to Do the Work for the Writers  

The reason why the creators believe they can get away with such poor characterization and lazy writing is because they expect the audience to do all the heavy lifting for them.  

Cass isn’t given an on screen reason for what she does because they’re hoping her fans will just automatically excuse her because they like her/relate to her and not, you know, get mad at the writers for dumbing her down. And after all who doesn’t love the creator’s pet? Meanies! That’s who! 

No one calls out Rapunzel’s bullshit on screen, because if everyone likes her, then you, viewing audience, should too. Because if you have any sort of independent critical thinking abilities and a sense of right and wrong then clearly you’re ‘just a hater’. 

Everyone should just shut up and be satisfied that Varian is even on screen now and be grateful for the scraps that they get cause he’s not the real point of the show and according to Chris ‘Varian fans aren’t real fans’. Even though they make up most of his viewing audience. 

I could go on, but it’s just variations of the above. The writing in this series is very fond of gaslighting the audience and trying to trick them into justifying the absolute worst behaviors while desperately hoping they doesn’t noticed the continued downgrading and dismissal of characters they do like or once liked.  

And the sad thing is, it’s worked. There are people to this day that still try to justify this show’s shitty morals and bend over backwards to excuse the likes of Rapunzel, Frederic, Cassandra, and Edmund.  Worst, there are loud sections of the fandom, (usually on twitter) who think bullying is okay and follow in Chris and his characters footsteps. Most of them young impressionable girls who are now ripe for TREFS to indoctrinate because they use the same bullying tactics and excuses for authoritarianism. 

Media does effect reality, but not in the way purists and antis would have you believe. No one is going to become a violent manic from playing a video game nor a sex offender because they read a smut fic. But they very much will conform to toxic beliefs if it’s repeated enough at them by authorities they ‘trust’; like say the world wide leading company known for family entertainment and children’s media, and the ‘friends’ they find within the fandom for said company... 

I’m not saying you can’t enjoy Tangled the series or that you’re some how wrong for liking it’s characters, nor do you have to engage with every or any criticism thrown it’s way. But yes you need to think about the media you consume on some level and valid criticism is very much important to the fandom experience for precisely the above reasons. 

Conclusion    

This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what’s wrong with this show, but it is most of its biggest problems laid bare. Anything that haven’t covered here or in the past recaps will be explored in the final recap. Cause this is it folks; the last leg of the journey for this retrospective. When come back, hopefully next week, we’ll tackle Pascal’s Dragon.  

[robininthelabyrinth]

A Sick Thought - Part 3 - on ao3 or on tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Lan Wangji had long ago suspected that he had done some terribly wrong in a prior life, if only because something had to explain everything he’d suffered from the death of his mother to the destruction and rebuilding of his sect to the loss of Wei Wuxian and the terrible wrenching pain that accompanied it.

If before he suspected, now he was certain.

There was no other way to explain why else he would be tormented by the return of his beloved – as a feline.

He had difficulty even thinking about that, really, even though he’d gotten relatively used to dealing with the fact of it in real life. The thought just sounded so absurd in every possible way:

Wei Wuxian is back, but he’s a cat.

The Yiling Patriarch returned at last, meowing.

Purr, says Wei Ying.

(That last one tended to lead him to disturbing thoughts, and so he refrained.)

They were traveling together now, working together, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian together. It was everything he’d ever dreamt of, except for the part that his wildest fantasies on the subject somehow failed to cover the possibility that Wei Wuxian would be small, four-legged, and insist on riding on Lan Wangji’s shoulder except for when he felt the distinct need to zoom around wildly and would pelt up and down the road at top speed, chattering cheerfully as he did.

Similarly, when Lan Wangji had imagined sharing a meal with him, he had perhaps anticipated Wei Wuixan’s eyes going big and round and pleading, the way he inhaled the smell of spices, the way he would reach out to grab – but he hadn’t anticipated that he would need to bat away Wei Wuxian’s little paw before he consumed anything with onion, garlic, or other alliums, which were bad for cats, and would instead be feeding him little bits of raw chicken with no salt. Sometimes, even often, he would succumb to Wei Wuxian’s pleading and rub on a tiny little bit of chili powder – spice was also bad for cats, no matter how they lusted for it, and so it was bad for Wei Wuxian no matter his pleading. 

He had imagined sharing a pillow with him, hearing his breathing, and they did, he did - and yet, they were literally sharing the pillow, Wei Wuxian’s entire body curled up into a perfect orb of cat right next to his cheek and sometimes waking him up with foul cat-breath, and instead of needing to watch for nightmares he was more concerned about dreams involving chasing (Wei Wuxian had pounced on his forehead ribbon more times than he could count). He could sooth him with his hand, as he’d hoped, but there was a lot less sighing and a lot more purring - a rumble like distant thunder, more vibration than sound - than he’d thought.

Also, he’d imagined their duets to include somewhat more flute-playing and less…yowling.

Yes, it was all…very, very different.

No matter. It wasn’t important that it didn’t match his dreams; what was important was that Wei Wuxian, his Wei Ying, was back.

That was what mattered.

“I really wish we could’ve gotten more information from Mo Xuanyu,” Wei Wuxian said, padding along at Lan Wangji’s side. He’d permitted Lan Wangji to replace the cheap red ribbon Mo Xuanyu had found for him with something a little more elegant, and Lan Wangji hadn’t been able to resist using one of his spare forehead ribbons (dyed red, of course, to match Wei Wuxian’s tastes); the obvious end result of this pleasurable subterfuge was that Lan Wangji was now having some difficulty looking straight at Wei Wuxian without blushing. 

It seemed an appropriate example of suffering the consequences of his own actions. 

“I know he doesn’t know anything about the ghost hand – or the legs, I guess, now that we’ve gotten them, and wasn’t that weird with the Nie sect? Poor Nie Huaisang looked even more torn up about it all than I would’ve expected, all dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, you’d think he’d be better at running a sect if it’s been a decade already – anyway, I’m distracting myself from the main point. The main point is, I can’t help but feel like this whole thing is connected to Mo Xuanyu somehow.”

“Agreed,” Lan Wangji said.

Poor Mo Xuanyu.

Lan Wangji had not in nearly a decade and a half regretted his decision never to willingly set foot in Jinlin Tower, but now that he had seen what work they had made of Mo Xuanyu, he regretted nothing more. He who took such pride in being where the chaos was had missed the chaos and wretchedness right under his very nose – for Mo Xuanyu was very wretched indeed.

Lan Wangji had resented Mo Xuanyu at first, always laying his hands on Wei Wuxian without the slightest bit of shame – not that there needed to be shame, given that Wei Wuxian was, well, a cat, and of the subgenre of felines that Jiang Cheng for some unspecified reason continued to crudely refer to as “cuddle-sluts” – and for how Wei Wuxian worried about him and cared for him. 

It did not help that Mo Xuanyu was so well known for being a cutsleeve. 

And then, one day, Mo Xuanyu had gotten Lan Wangji alone and told him with great emphasis that he was deeply devoted to his successful courtship of Wei Wuxian, offering his help in any possible respect, and also wistfully added that he wouldn’t mind it very much if Lan Wangji were willing to offer some suggestions on how to court Jiang Cheng, who was utterly oblivious to any hints.

After that, Lan Wangji remembered himself what shame was, and guilt, and felt it thoroughly – it was no excuse to say that being around Wei Wuxian roused his worst protective and possessive instincts, for it was his duty to overcome them. Be strict with yourself, the rules said, and as always he had failed to remember the rules when he needed them most.

The extent of his pettiness was only magnified when he thought about it all more closely. Mo Xuanyu was not merely someone to be pitied, was more than simply a victim who had suffered under the outrages of the Jin sect – the harassment, the abuse, the deliberate poisoning and destruction of his mind in order to reduce his credibility...That was all bad enough, and it pained Lan Wangji to no end to hear it. 

But more than abuse, more than madness, more than exile to a misbegotten place that somehow managed to beat out Jinlin Tower for sheer viciousness –

It was due to Mo Xuanyu that Wei Wuxian had returned.

He had been willing to give his very life, his body and soul, to bring him back.

And for that, Lan Wangji owed him everything.

Even when it meant –

“We should return to the Cloud Recesses to fetch him,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Wuxian craned his head around – his tiny, tiny head that could easily fit into Lan Wangji’s palm, covered in a short layer of fur more comfortable than the softest silk – to look at him in curiosity. “I understand that it is a detour.”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian said. “You wouldn’t propose it for no reason, either. What are you afraid of? He’s in the Cloud Recesses, and with Jiang Cheng – surely he’s as safe as safe can be.”

“It is nearly the end of the month,” Lan Wangji said. “My brother will be returning home soon.”

“So?” Wei Wuxian asked, puzzled. And why should he not be puzzled? To even think…and yet. And yet, and yet, and yet. “Jiang Cheng will explain everything to him, won’t he?”

“My brother will be returning home,” Lan Wangji said again. “After a month and more abroad.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him silently, awaiting an explanation. His tail lashed gently against Lan Wangji’s leg.

“He was visiting his sworn brother,” Lan Wangji said. “Lianfeng-jun.”

“Jin Guangyao,” Wei Wuxian said, his tone heavy – he had understood. “Does your brother visit Jinlin Tower often?”

Lan Wangji nodded tightly.

“And has for many years, I expect? Since the end of the Sunshot Campaign.”

He nodded again.

“Surely you don’t believe that he knew what was happening to Mo Xuanyu?”

Lan Wangji hesitated. “I do not know how he could not have known,” he confessed. “I think to myself if I had only been there – if I had overcome my disdain for the Jin sect –”

“Don’t think like that,” Wei Wuxian said at once, a balm to Lan Wangji’s soul. “You couldn’t have known. The Jin sect is the most talented at deception and misdirection – they wouldn’t have let you see. Nor your brother, either - you would have seen only what they wished for you to see, and poisoned the well of your thoughts to discount anything you did see.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Wangji said, and felt more at peace. It was true that even his brother, with his token, could not so easily travel through the depths of Jinlin Tower freely, without an escort. “I do not think Brother knew.”

“I agree. Impossible.”

“And yet - his sworn brother...it is not unheard of for Lianfeng-zun to unexpectedly accompany my brother back to the Cloud Recesses, and I cannot bring myself to believe that he did not know. As a precaution, therefore…”

Wei Wuxian’s ears flicking back and forth. “I see your point. But still, I don’t think it makes sense for us to go to them – why not write to Jiang Cheng and have him bring Mo Xuanyu to meet us here, while we investigate the Chang clan?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“I’d prefer that, anyway – I really can’t use regular cultivation without Mo Xuanyu around, just demonic cultivation. As we continue to hunt for the ghost pieces, it’ll be good to have both.”

Lan Wangji wondered a little at that. In their first life, hadn’t Wei Wuxian completely abandoned normal cultivation in favor of demonic cultivation?

If so, why the shift back now?

“Besides, I have an idea I want to try that involves him,” Wei Wuxian added casually, so casually that Lan Wangji merely nodded and did not question and did not know until it had already happened.

“Success!” Wei Wuxia hissed in delight, then frowned, poking at his teeth. “Well, mostly.”

“You turned yourself into a catboy,” Jiang Cheng said, his hand over his eyes. “Because of course you did. I hate you. Have I mentioned that I hate you? Becuase I hate you.”

“What’s a catboy?” Jin Ling asked. Apparently he had insisted on joining them, as had Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi – Lan Wangji would have instructed them to remain, but Jiang Cheng had yielded more or less immediately to their requests.

Typical.

“You don’t need to know,” Jiang Cheng said at once.

“How do you know?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Jiang Cheng! What are you doing going about knowing things about catboys? We’ve talked about this –”

“What? No we haven’t! We haven’t talked about anything! You spent the entire conversation that we had over catnip crying your eyes out about how tasty pheasants are!”

Lan Wangji had always surmised that there was more to the conversation than that, being as both of them had emerged significantly less likely to murder the other, but he didn’t have any presence of mind to devote to that line of thought.

Or to any thought.

Not when Wei Wuxian was…well, mostly human.

He had his old face, but a build that more closely resembled Mo Xuanyu’s slenderness and height; his hair was the correct shade, but poking out from the strands were two now-familiar ears that flickered back and forth with excitement. And he was also possessed on inhumanly sharp canines, sharp claws, and what appeared to be a very active tail.

All the features attributed to…well.

Catboys.

(Lan Wangji had also seen the specific genre of pornography being referenced and every single one of those images – including his particular favorite, which involved a collar – was refreshing itself in his mind with a new figure in each starring role.

He was going to spontaneously combust.)

He stammered some excuse and fled the scene at once.

By the time he returned, they had more or less packed up to continue following the guidance of the ghost hand – it almost reminded him a proper night-hunt, actually. The adults, such as they were, led the way, with the juniors following behind, chatting amongst themselves; Mo Xuanyu was hanging off of Jiang Cheng’s arm and chattering at Wei Wuxian like old friends, his eyes curved up in crescents, with much of the terrible pain that he had always carried sloughed off like an old skin, while Jiang Cheng nodded along, oblivious to any hint as always.

Lan Wangji was abruptly struck by a feeling of – satisfaction, he thought.

This was good.

(Don’t look at Wei Wuxian or you’ll start slowing down the trip.)

But how could he resist?

He headed over and took his place at Wei Wuxian’s side, receiving a wide smile – he would die a thousand times over for that smile – for his troubles.

“What do you think, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked him, and then barreled right on with the conversation without bothering to wait for a response.

Yes.

This was good.

This was how it should be.

Even Jiang Cheng, who Lan Wangji had despised for years…he made Wei Wuxian happy. And since that was the case, Lan Wangji would be willing to put up with him – on a temporary basis, anyway.

“What is this place, anyway?” Lan Sizhui asked from behind them.

“It’s called Yi City, with the Yi as in ‘coffin’,” Wei Wuxian said casually. “Didn’t you see the marker outside?”

“A better question,” Jiang Cheng said. “If it’s supposed to be a city, why isn’t there anyone here?”

“There is, though,” Lan Jingyi said, pointing. “Look, over there – huh, no. I must have seen the wrong thing.”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu said, and him actually disagreeing with someone when it wasn’t in the middle of one of his fits   was so unusual – even after he’d had so much healing – that they all turn to look at him.

He was smiling.

“You’re right,” he said, clapping his hands together happily, his eyes fixed on the distant spot. “There is someone there! I can see them!”

He raised a hand and waved.

“Xue-gege!” he shouted. “Xue-gege, it’s A-Yu! Come out and meet my friends!”