#and a deep resentment of actual life responsibilities for taking you away from your project

[waytooinvested]

HEY GUESS WHAT?? I just finished the full draft of my current supercorp fic and I am excited 😁

...Okay so it's a rough first draft that still needs a lot of editing and I haven't actually even done a cursory read through of the final chapter I just splurged out yet, BUT all of the chapters now exist and the plot is coherent, and this means that for the first time EVER with a long multi chapter fic I am not going to lose steam 2/3 of the way through and take a 6 month break from posting while I work out how to write what comes next!

Because I have written it!

Anyway I just wanted to celebrate that with someone and my wife is asleep, so you all get it instead.

May this post bring luck and inspiration to all writers, artists and creatives of Tumblr to finish your current WIP. I sprinkle you with motivation pixie dust ✨🎇🎆

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing  the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

Taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riathearora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner @idratherliveinbooks @silver-stardrop @niko-su993 @olivia-grace26 @shigsteranddabstersimp @hawks96@pink-dodo-writes @amishahosein24 @keilemlucent @stargazingaloneatnight @thelilmisskaydesi @morganseeksindependence-blog @teabutnerdy @patchworkpiper

If you’re name was crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you!

[robininthelabyrinth]

All of your nmj fic responses are giving me LIFE. How about nmj/wwx : wwx finds that nmj generates a resentful energy repelling field and makes excuses to be near him. Nmj thinks he's flirting. Would this end up a comedy of errors or mmj wrecking wwx in bed?

The nightmares were getting worse.

Wei Wuxian had known there would be a downside to processing resentful energy, and even if he hadn’t, Lan Wangji’s constant reminders of the damage it did to the heart and the temperament weren’t very subtle. And yet somehow, he hadn’t expected the constant barrage of nightmares: anger, fear, hate, mixed in with wisps of memory from a prior life, grudges and malice and revenge…all that resentment. It wormed its way into his body during the day, and came pouring into his brain at night.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep that damaged the temperament.

Still, there wasn’t anything he could do about it – the Sunshot Campaign needed the edge his demonic cultivation gave him, and anyway it wasn’t as though he could just return to the orthodox path of cultivation whenever he so pleased. He walked along his single-plank bridge, balancing over the dark fast river beneath, and there was no turning back.

So he ignored it as well as he could, which wasn’t very well.

It had been a surprise, the first time he nodded off during a war council meeting – not so much the falling asleep, which he could do, but the fact that he stayed asleep, a deep refreshing sleep without dreams, until Jiang Cheng kicked him in the ankle and woke him up. He’d been energized enough to go on for days; it had been wonderful.

A wonderful fluke, or so he’d thought.

It wasn’t until the second and third time it happened, a pattern of it happening, that he realized that there was a cause. And after some thinking, he thought he’d figured out what the cause was.

“You…want to sleep with Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Cheng asked, a weird expression on his face.

“Not like that,” Wei Wuxian said, rolling his eyes at him. “Literally sleep. Every time he’s around, I sleep without dreams.”

Jiang Cheng paused. “Really? That’s why you’re always falling asleep at meetings?”

“Well, that’s the theory, anyway; there’s still some other options that it could be. But I think that’s the reason, though I don’t know for sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’m going to find out.”

“…fine,” Jiang Cheng said with a sigh. “Just – be subtle about it, okay? And if he gets angry, you’re not allowed to tell him I gave you permission.”

Wei Wuxian grinned.

-

Project ‘Sleep With Nie Mingjue’ ran into its first problem – other than Jiang Cheng being a baby and objecting to the name for reasons known only to himself – and it was that the man was always on the move. Wei Wuxian had initially planned to simply take a nap in the vicinity of the man’s office as a test, but Nie Mingjue preferred action to paperwork and rarely stayed in his office for more than a short period of time during the day.

Also, he’d started asking if Wei Wuxian wanted anything in particular, having noticed Wei Wuxian hanging around his office all the time.

“Uh, no,” Wei Wuxian said. “Nothing. I’m good. Thanks for asking.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t look like he believed him, but he didn’t ask any questions.

His first plan having failed, Wei Wuxian turned to the second: to find a time when Nie Mingjue was in a single place for a long time.

“…why do you want to know?” the deputy Wei Wuxian had cornered asked.

Wei Wuxian put on his best demonic cultivator glare, leaned in close and said, “I didn’t ask you to ask me questions. I asked you for an answer. Now tell me.”

“He trains in the north field in the morning for a few hours,” the deputy squeaked.

Wei Wuxian was happy for exactly one heartbeat, and then he frowned. “How early in the morning?”

The deputy named the time and Wei Wuxian groaned; there was no way he’d be able to make it anywhere that early – nightmares or not, his body did eventually need to lie down, and he hated getting up that early.

“Thanks anyway,” he said, and stalked away.

Over dinner that night, Nie Mingjue remarked that he’d fired his deputy for revealing information about him. He even thanked Wei Wuxian for having helped identify the weak spot in his defenses.

“…think nothing of it,” Wei Wuxian said, ducking his head down and poking at his food.

After another night of nightmares, he decided to take advantage of the fact that he’d woken up in the middle of the night to stalk the north field in hopes that Nie Mingjue would show up, which he did.

Wei Wuxian sighed in relief and settled down on the nearby roof, intending on going to sleep at once, but unfortunately having just got out of bed, it was pretty hard to return to sleep, and the entire experiment ended in failure. At least watching Nie Mingjue’s training routine was interesting – the differences between the sword and saber were really quite fascinating, and Nie Mingjue a master of his sect’s techniques.

The indirect technique having failed, Wei Wuxian decided to be bold and daring.

“Is there anywhere that you go that you stay for a few hours?” he asked Nie Mingjue directly, pretending to ignore Jiang Cheng’s irritated expression. “I’d like to spend more time with you, but it feels like you’re always moving.”

Nie Mingjue looked at him for a long moment and Wei Wuxian thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “You could come with me on patrol” and, sure, that sounded great. Especially a night patrol – or better yet, a night watch! They could take turns watching each other sleep.

He suggested the idea to Nie Mingjue, whose eyebrows went up a little even as Jiang Cheng put his face in his hands, but whatever, Jiang Cheng, Nie Mingjue still agreed, didn’t he?

Clearly, with Nie Mingjue, it was important to be straight with him.

-

Wei Wuxian slept well during the night watch.

“We should spend more time together,” he told Nie Mingjue, that beautiful talisman of sleep. “You work late on paperwork, don’t you? I help Jiang Cheng with some of his; I could come keep you company and we could work on it together – if you don’t mind me going to sleep after a while.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Nie Mingjue said agreeably. He was really a very agreeable person; Wei Wuxian had no idea why people insisted on calling him cold or hot, too angry for company – who wouldn’t be angry at the Wens, or at the stupidity of the vast majority of people? They’d gotten along quite well during the patrol, talking about all sorts of things – Nie Mingjue didn’t mind listening to Wei Wuxian’s chatter, and he apparently had a deadpan sense of humor underneath that angry expression. “In fact, you may as well plan to spend the night.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t stop himself from beaming. “Of course! That sounds wonderful!”

“Yes, I thought so,” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded amused. “I look forward to it.”

“Not as much as me,” Wei Wuxian assured him. Doing paperwork alone was in fact terribly boring – he couldn’t blame Nie Mingjue for appreciating having a bit of charming company.

And Wei Wuxian was very charming, if he did say so himself.

They continued to chat about little things on their way back, and right before they got to the gate, Nie Mingjue turned to look at him and said, “You know, I appreciate your forthrightness.”

Wei Wuxian had never been complimented on that before: normally, Jiang Cheng complained he was too outspoken.

“With this sort of thing, I too often find that people are afraid to simply go after what they want,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s all a bunch of hinting and words with second meanings – giving them cover in the event they want to retreat. Is it really so hard to simply say ‘I want to sleep with you’ to someone?”

Wei Wuxian laughed, a little surprised. Had Nie Mingjue dealt with other people wanting to steal that beautiful dream-soothing quality for themselves? He’d thought it might be related to the resentful energy somehow, but maybe Nie Mingjue was just good for sleep generally. Insomnia certainly wasn’t an ailment limited to just demonic cultivators – after all, Jiang Cheng had his own set of nightmares.

“I agree, I agree,” he said, nodding his head. “Jiang Cheng advised me to be subtle about it, but it wasn’t working; I’m not good at that – I can be like a bull in a porcelain shop.”

“Clearly, if you even told Sect Leader Jiang about your plans,” Nie Mingjue said. He sounded mildly impressed.

“I tell him everything,” Wei Wuxian said, and then, with a thought, amended it to, “Well, most things.”

“There’s always some things that brothers don’t need to know,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Not that that stops Huaisang from nagging at me – but I won’t tell him something that will only make him regret it.”

“It’s the same for me!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. He really had found a good brother in Nie Mingjue. “Da-ge, you’re a good man.”

Nie Mingjue looked pleased with that, and didn’t even say anything about the overly intimate form of address; yes, things were looking very good for Wei Wuxian’s future sleeping habits.

“Since we’re agreed on being blunt, I should be straightforward,” Wei Wuxian said. “When I come over this evening, I’m not looking to do paperwork. I want to sleep with you.”

“Funny, that,” Nie Mingjue said. “I have the same thought as you.”

-

“So apparently we did not, in fact, have the same thought,” Wei Wuxian concluded, and shifted a little gingerly on the pillow he’d demanded Jiang Cheng lend him in exchange for telling the story. “Or, uh, rather that there was a small – small – misunderstanding…”

“I told you that you couldn’t just ask the man to sleep with you!”

“You said ‘be subtle’, not ‘Nie Mingjue cuts his sleeve’!”

Jiang Cheng groaned. “Wei Wuxian! Did you just miss all those jokes when we were younger about how people from Qinghe are notoriously undiscriminating? Or did you actually think they were talking about food?”

Wei Wuxian had, in fact, believed his Uncle Jiang when the man had said it was about food, but in his defense he’d been very young and still in the rosy glow of Jiang Fengmian having saved him; the man could have said the earth and the heavens were reversed and Wei Wuxian would have memorized it as a truism.

“Yes, well,” Wei Wuxian said. “So I didn’t realize! No big deal.”

“Really? He took your refusal well, then?”

Wei Wuxian paused.

“…you didn’t refuse,” Jiang Cheng said, and put his face in his hands.

“It seemed rather rude, since I’d come all the way there,” Wei Wuxian said. “And he did say he’d make sure it was good for me. Which he did. At length. In various positions. Did you know, if a strong enough man makes an effort, I can bend my knees almost all the way to my ears –”

“Stop talking,” Jiang Cheng said, gagging audibly. “I didn’t need to know that!”

“Oh? So you probably didn’t need to know what we did against the wall of his bedroom the morning after, or on his desk later that afternoon…”

“No wonder you didn’t come home for three days,” Jiang Cheng said, voice muffled by his hands. “Did you just – all the time –”

“More or less,” Wei Wuxian said happily. “Just that and sleep, sleep and that, over and over again. I’m telling you, Jiang Cheng, if I didn’t think I’d get bored and if it wouldn’t be a waste of my magnificent talents, I’d volunteer to be a flower vase in his bedroom.”

Jiang Cheng finally lifted his face out of his hands. “So it worked, then? You managed to sleep without dreams?”

“I slept like a untroubled child,” Wei Wuxian confirmed. “Not a single nightmare! And when I did have dreams, they were all pleasant – good memories, that sort of thing. Happy times, silly times. I haven’t slept that well in my life. I’m telling you, even without the sex, he’s like a talisman for good sleep – I feel refreshed, I feel rejuvenated!”

Jiang Cheng frowned.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“…do you think it’d work for me?”

[onomonopetabread]

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 1

He just couldn’t figure her out. No matter how many times he’s tried to wrap his head around it, Felix Graham de Vanily couldn’t solve the mystery of Marinette Dupain-Chang; not why she did the things she did, or how, or why she seemed to infuriate him to no end…

It had all started when his brick head of a cousin had the bright idea to convince his mother to transfer him to his school. The two of them had recently moved closer to the Agreste household for more “family solidarity”, but it seemed as though Adrien needed even more quality time with cousin dear.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Adrien? You know Felix isn’t the most social child. Do you really think that your classmates will welcome him as you say they will, even after the incident?”

“I’m positive, Aunt Amilie. The kids in my class are very kind and believe in redeeming others if they apologize. I have no doubt in my mind that they’ll forgive him. I mean, look at how they accepted me when I first started going there. They could have shunned me and thrown me aside like trash, but now I have a lot of friends. The same will happen with Felix, for sure.”

“Well, if you really think so, then it's a beautiful idea,” said Amilie avidly. “What about you, gabriel? Do you think that our sons should go to school together?”

“It will be beneficial for Adrien to have a good influence around the school with him to make sure that he doesn’t try to rebel and become like his… recalcitrant peers,” said gabriel without glancing up from his designs.

“And you, Felix? Do you want to go to College Francoise-Dupont?”

Felix gulped. He didn’t really want to go to school with his ridiculous cousin, but his mother really seemed to like the idea, and he’d hate to disappoint her ...

So that’s how Felix ended up going to school with the same kids he duped. Even though Adrien can be way too gullible (someone really needs to tell him that life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and not everyone can be trusted), Felix soon found that he was indeed right about his friends. When he arrived there a few weeks ago, it only took a small smile and a half-baked apology to get them to trust him. One might think that Felix would be sulking at the mere thought of going to school with these losers, but he had decided beforehand that if he was going to have any fun at this school, he was going to have to toy with this naive group of teenagers to cause some trouble, and what better way to do that than to make them think he was on their side?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Kim cut in. “Is this the same cousin that pretended to be you and replied to the videos you sent us?”

Nino had something to say as well. “Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!” Alya declared.

The rest of the class chimed in with arguments of their own, and who can blame them? It definitely didn’t feel good to be deceived. Soon, the whole courtyard was filled with angry yells and upset students. Adrien, bless him, was trying his best to calm them down and explain.

“Well-”

Felix cleared his throat. Talking ceased and all eyes were on him: Adrien’s glancing nervously, and the others’ full-on glares.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for what I did. I can only hope that you all will find it in your hearts to forgive me for my terrible sin.”

You could hear a pin drop. All of the students were giving each other and Felix calculating looks. Should they believe him? Was he really telling the truth? After a few beats of deafening silence, Mylene spoke up.

“If you’re really sorry...”

“Oh, I am, you can be sure of that, Ms. Haprele,” Felix nodded, puppy eyes fully on show.

“Then… I suppose everyone deserves a second chance, right guys?” she continued, looking around at the others.

Slowly, the rest of the group started nodding their heads. Where there was anger and hurt towards Felix was now acceptance and forgiveness. Why not forgive him? Of course he was telling the truth! Why on Earth would someone lie to gain our trust only to be able to play us for fools right underneath our noses? It’s not like it’s ever happened before. Oh, if only Lila was here to greet our new friend! It’s too bad she’s away in America doing her internship at NASA!

The group, who were once resentful and angry at the fancily-dressed boy that was in front of them, began to crowd around him, smiles and name introductions all around. By the way they were acting, you would have thought that they all have been friendly with Felix since birth. Amazing what the power of deception held when used right.

He recognized most of them from the terrible videos they had sent Adrien: the manic pixie girl, the ultra-nerd, the stupid jock, the wannabe dj and his amautur reporter girlfriend.

And what a reporter she was! Neither she nor her dim-witted friends could see through his act. They followed him like lost puppies looking for an owner. The only person who didn’t seem to believe him was her. Felix didn’t see her in the schoolyard for his “apology”, and he noticed she never seemed to be around if he’s in the room.

Honestly, he’d thought that Marinette would have been the easiest person to convince. Only a silly, pigtail-twirling, school girl would send such a pathetic confession. “AdRiEn, I LoVe YoU. I’Ll AlWaYs Be ThErE If YoU NeEd Me”. Puh-lease.

But she never seemed to be around, Felix didn’t see her in the schoolyard for his “apology”, and he noticed she never seemed to be around unless they were in class. He sat in the back, and spent most of his time conjuring up plans to recruit her, for after a few days of observations, he’d been able to work out that he had underestimated her. By a lot. Felix found out that she was class president and a good one at that. She was seen as a leader by the others, but it didn’t seem like she used deception to earn that respect. She was actually kind-hearted, selfless, and true. If she wasn’t so annoying and stubborn, those characteristics might have even been...admirable. She really could be a great ally to have by his side. But by jove, was she ever making it difficult. Eventually, he’s been able to talk to her alone. To sum it up, it definitely could have gone better.

During lunch hour, Marinette was on a bench in the park. She was sketching on a notepad, most likely designs for a new sewing project. Felix learned from Adrien that Marinette was a very talented aspiring designer, which took Felix by surprise. You’d never guess that this girl was into fashion by the way she dressed (Felix could not stress enough how atrocious those pigtails were), but he digresses. He isn’t here to insult Marinette’s clothes, though he could do so some other time. He took a deep breath and strode over to Marinette’s seat.

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

Marinette didn’t move a muscle. It was as though he hadn’t said a word! Ok, well, give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s really focused on her drawing?

“I must say, that is a lovely suit that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

“No, you may not. As a matter of fact, I’m going to stop you right there. Don’t say another word.”

“I-I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” Marinette set her notepad aside on the bench and rose up from the bench to look him in the eye . Never in his life had Felix seen a stronger glare, and even though he was a good head taller than Marinette, he felt as though she could crush him like a grape. Of course, he didn’t let it show. What would it say about him that he shakes like a kitten in the presence of a 4’ 11” teenage girl?

“Now Felix, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. I know you have everyone else fooled with your nice act, but I’m not as stupid as you seem to assume. You think you’re the first fake I came across? Don’t make me laugh; you’re not even close. Heck, next to Lila, you’re just a petty gossip. The rest of our classmates seem to have put the video incident in the past, but let me make it crystal clear that it is still fresh in my mind. I meant to share something extremely personal with Adrien, we all did, and you screwed that up. You hurt all of us carelessly as if our feelings were nothing more than spinning tops. You know what that makes you?”

Dumbfounded, Felix couldn’t do much more than shake his head.

“It makes you a little bitch. And I don’t associate with little bitches. So unless you can prove to me that you really are turning over a new leaf for good, I don’t want to say one word to you unless absolutely necessary and vise versa. I’ll stay out of your hair, and you WILL stay out of mine. Capisce?

Without waiting for a reply, Marinette turned her heel, grabbed her notebook, and began the walk back to school.

Well, he must admit that Marinette won that round. She certainly was a challenge, but luckily, for Felix liked puzzles. He was going to get Mari to like him, even if it took every ounce of strength and scheming he had in his body.

@mickeyaaliyah @lyssaisprobablynotaloser @firstclassdumbass I wanted to put it in the server but Google wouldn’t let me

@threebirdsinatrenchcoat @ladylupuscrow @kittynoirblog

If you guys want the next chapter here it is

[p4perthoughts]

Young Justice Universe

Dick Grayson x Barbara Gordon

I have a theory that Dick and Barbara totally got together in the middle of season 2 (as opposed to the time jump between S2 and S3) and nobody can convince me otherwise

Events take place after Young Justice S2 E9: Darkest

_

Dick was definitely not feeling the aster.

He was exhausted, much like anyone would be after nearly being blown up. As he walked along he kept replaying the sound of the explosion over and over again in his head. He clutched the flash drive Kaldur had passed to him right before they lost Mount Justice. He could have put it in his bag along with his Nightwing suit for safe keeping, but he couldn’t let go of it. He needed to feel it in his hand to keep telling himself it was worth it. Losing the cave. Almost losing his life. Continuing to lie to everyone else was worth it. It had to be.

As he rounded the corner, he paused and found himself holding his breath. She was there. Of course she was there. Barbara Gordon was sitting on the steps of his apartment building. She hadn’t looked up and seen him yet so his instincts told him to turn around and run. He’d grown distant from his best friend since this whole thing started. Dick was able to lie to the entire team, even the League, all this time because the fate of the world depended on the success of this plan. But he knew that if he looked Babs in the eyes, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

He chose to keep walking forward. Before he could say anything Barbara got up and hugged him. Her touch was a warmth he hadn’t felt in a while. He definitely missed her.

“Are you okay?” She said as she stepped back.

For a second Dick had forgotten what had just happened and that Mount Justice was gone. Reality set back in like a cold punch in the face.

“Yeah yeah. Everyone’s pretty shaken up, but we all made it out...except for those that were taken.” He said while avoiding meeting her eyes.

“Tim said that explosive took out the entire place.” She said in a way that sounded like a question.

So he nodded. But then when he looked back at her, her concerned expression turned into sadness for a brief moment. Dick forgot that Mount Justice had become a second home to Babs too when she joined the team.

They stood there for a minute before Barbara broke the silence.

“What’s actually wrong?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dick said as he headed into the building.

Babs grabbed her gym bag from the steps and followed behind him, “yes you do.”

“I’m your best friend, Dick. I know when somethings wrong.” She said as he pressed the elevator button.

Dick stepped into the elevator and she invited herself in behind him. He chose to not address it so he tried to change the subject.

“What’s in the bag?” He said.

“What’s in your bag?”

“I asked you first.” He retorted without skipping a beat. He missed their banter.

She sighed sarcastically and unzipped her gym bag a little as it still hung on her shoulder. Right, dumb question. He saw the bat symbol on her suit’s chest plate and her cowl. It was past midnight so figures she was out patrolling. That’s two points in her column now cause this is further proof to her he was off his game. He could feel her eyes look up at him, so he knew he was right.

As he pulled out his keys and began opening his door he remembered the flash drive in his left hand. The events of the evening all rolled back to hit him like a tsunami. The harsh words from Wally echoed in his ears. It was worth it he told himself.

When they got inside Barbara made herself at home -as usual when she comes over. She laid down her stuff and headed to the kitchen. Dick put the flash drive on his dresser before heading for the couch. He fell into the cushions with the weight of the universe on him and put his head in his hands.

He felt Babs come back. She sat next to him and comfortably put her legs in his lap. She had opened a bag of chips and offered him some. They sat there together for a while in silence. Just two friends, eating chips, comfortably in each other’s company. Maybe it’s because Barbara knew him longer than almost anyone. She knew everything about him. She knew who he was, both as Dick Grayson and Nightwing -Robin before that. She was everything to him from his first kiss to his best partner out in the field.

Finally Barbara put the bag on the coffee table in front of them and she scooted closer to him. He put his arm on her knees.

“Talk to me, Grayson.” She said.

Dick finally brought himself to look at her. He looked at her and saw her deep, green eyes starring right at him. They weren’t filled with resentment like Wally’s or anguish like Conner’s. They were warm and comforting. He feared that if he told her what he wanted to tell her, that they wouldn’t look at him that way anymore.

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. She reached for him. As he felt her soft touch on his face, he broke. He told her everything about the mission and the lies.

When he got to the part about Artemis working undercover with Kaldur, he noticed her expression get distant.

“So she’s -she’s alive?”

He nodded. And waited. Waited for her to yell at him. To tell him what he was doing was wrong. That it wasn’t worth it. Or worse, for her to say nothing.

Instead she looked at him and asked, “who knows?”

He told her about their tiny circle that was in on the plan. He told her how he felt lying to everyone on the team, about the flash drive, about how he felt responsible for the other’s kidnapping, about how he almost got his team -his family- killed. He felt like he had been underwater and how he could now finally breathe. He had kept everything bottled up for so long that now it exploded and he didn’t even notice there had been tears until he found himself wiping at a wet sensation on his cheek.

When he looked at Babs she didn’t say anything. She simply pulled him to her and embraced him. His head lay under her chin as he allowed himself to wrap his arms around her waist. Dick steadied himself as he listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat. They sat this way for a while.

Dick pulled away finally when he felt he’d gained control of his breathing and his thoughts. He looked at his best friend and said, “you’re not mad?”

She looked at him and took a long breath.

“No,” she said finally, “for as long as I’ve known you Dick, you never do anything to hurt anyone. Even if that means hurting yourself. I don’t like that you lied, but I understand why you did. I’m sorry you felt that this was something you had to take on by yourself. I’m sorry you felt like you had to be Batman...”

She trailed off at the end. Babs knew more than anyone that Dick no longer wanted to become Batman. She knew from working with him first-hand that Batman was somebody only Bruce Wayne could be. Anybody else would be crazy to try to act like Batman...except Dick did.

“I’m not telling you that you have to let me in on the rest of your mission,” Barbara said, “I just want you to know you’ll always have someone to talk to when things get overwhelming. You’re not Bruce, Dick. Never forget that you’re never alone.”

That was it. Leave it to Barbara to always have the perfect thing to say. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off him and could feel a relief he hadn’t felt in ages. He looked at her and simply said, “thank you.”

She smiled.

“Soooo,” she said after a moment. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

He raised an eyebrow.

Babs sighed, “I told my dad I was gonna sleep over at Mary’s to finish a project because the original plan was to spend the night on patrol since Bruce is presently out of town but then I heard what happened through the comms and I found myself coming here...”

She was starting to ramble a little. Dick noticed she only did that when she got nervous...and he’s rarely seen Babs get nervous. He hadn’t realized how close they were sitting to each other either.

“Yeah, we can watch a movie.” Dick agreed after he found himself starring at her lips for a little too long.

He tasked himself with finding something to watch while she got the bag of chips and went back to the kitchen to find something else for them to snack on.

Dick couldn’t help but watch her. He loved the way she walked around his apartment like she lived here too. So maybe it had been too long since the last time he’d seen her. Really seen her. Like outside of their costumed extra curricular activities. He missed her. Babs was always beautiful. And it wasn’t weird he thought of her in this way. They’ve always had a special type of relationship. But besides the usual playful flirting between them and a couple kisses -amazing kisses- they were just best friends. Secretly he’d been wishing they were more than that since he was 13 but he knew he wasn’t ready for her then.

Thinking back to their conversation, he realized how much they’ve each grown as people. And more importantly how it felt like they hadn’t grown out of each other as most childhood friends do. No, if anything they’ve grown more into each other. No matter how much time they spent apart, they could always come back together and fit perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. The sound of a pop from the microwave brought him back outside his thoughts. Then he stood up, like on autopilot and as if his brain had just said “fuck it. Stop being a coward” he walked across to where Babs was waiting on the popcorn. As she turned to address him, Dick took her face in one hand and her waist in the other and kissed her. It was a long and deep kiss. He pulled away a little after to see her expression.

He was close enough that when she opened her eyes again he could see her pupils were dilated as she looked up at him. They were both breathing slightly heavy from the kiss. He could tell he caught her off guard but he didn’t know how to string words together to say how much he just wanted her and was tired of dancing around it. So he hoped his eyes were enough to convey that message. The silence was broken by the microwave beeping. Dick took the bowl out and put it on the side of the stove to let it cool a bit.

“Dick?” Barbara said making him turn around.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He started kissing her back and as their lips moved together Dick felt a warm feeling in his stomach. Is that what people mean when they say butterflies? He’d been with other women but never felt that. He pushed her up onto the kitchen counter and his hands traveled to her waist. Her hands moved from the back of his neck to his hair as she pulled him closer. Her lips were so soft that he never wanted to depart from them and her touch was so soothing that he felt every worry lift off his body making him feel weightless.

The way their bodies moved together was in perfect synch. Like two pieces of a puzzle, he thought to himself. He noticed her hands had gone down to the bottom of his shirt, gently tugging at it. So he pulled apart for a moment and took it off. Her hands felt so amazing as they touched his chest. As their lips met again this time his wandered down towards her neck. He hasn’t realized she was wearing a black tank top that fit her so well until the moment when he began pulling it off her. Their eyes locked as she smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile back because her happiness was always contagious to him.

Dick realized that if they were going to continue, they shouldn’t keep doing so on his kitchen counter. Without skipping a beat he effortlessly picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her over to his bed.

[19red]

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

+

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.  

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face.  It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy.  “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

[tvandenneagram]

Gilmore Girls: Jess Mariano - Type 4w5

Jess is sarcastic, belligerent and intelligent. In the original series, he had a chip on his shoulder but grew a lot as the series progressed.

At his best, Jess becomes more responsible and gains a better attitude. He becomes a successful author and opens a publishing house. Jess becomes more grounded and practical while still staying true to himself.

At his worst, Jess is snarky and rude. He has an attitude of being ‘too cool’ for Stars Hollow and treats most of the residents as lesser than himself. Jess is lazy and thinks he is above trying, which results in him not graduating high school. 

Jess has deep-seated issues of abandonment from his childhood. Fours (like 6s) have strong feelings of abandonment and will often feel like people will reject them because they are defective. Fours often see themselves as outcasts because of this. We see this quite prominently in Jess, who feels like his parents don’t want him and feels like he doesn’t fit in with the people of Stars Hollow. I believe a major reason for Jess’s bad attitude is because he wants to push people away before they can do it to him.

Jess is very creative and unconventional. He is highly intelligent and has a number of eclectic interests. Most prominently Jess is interested in obscure music, books and movies. Jess is able to channel his love of literature and writes a book. He follows his dreams and despite never finishing high school he is able to build a business in publishing. 

Jess is deceptively image-focused. I think that Jess has an idea of who he is and wants to project that into the world. He gets irritated when things happen that are outside of the image he has created for himself and when people see that he might not be the cool bad boy he portrays himself to be. For example, Jess desperately doesn’t want to tell Luke he works at Wal-Mart, because it  ruins his street cred. Likewise, he is so reluctant to tell Rory that his black eye was from a swan that he has a massive fight with her. 

Jess strongly values uniqueness and authenticity. I feel that Jess takes a strong stance against Stars Hollow, because he sees the people who live there as ordinary and uninteresting. I think Jess feels as though, nobody there understands him and that the people there aren’t interesting enough to care about. The only person in Stars Hollow who piques Jess’s interest is (of course) Rory.

Jess seems to put Rory up on a pedestal. He feels a deep sense of connection with her and they share an intellectual bond. While Jess and Rory, have very different views as to how life should be approached they actually complement each other really well. Rory is a positive influence on Jess and she is able to help him see that he can do more. Jess admires how Rory uses her intelligence to move forward in life. At times, Jess feels inferior to Rory and this is one of the major precipitating factors in the deterioration of their relationship. While Jess admires Rory’s intelligence and drive, he also resents it. Jess feels as though he is not good enough for Rory and that he will only hold her back. When he meets Rory again and she is floundering he is able to make her see that she is wasting her potential. Even when they haven’t seen each other for so long, there is always a sense of understanding and they always push each other to be better. (#literatiforever)

Jess has a wing 5 as he is more detached and introspective than a wing 3 would be. Furthermore, he is also very withdrawn and is not very ambitious which is more indicative of a 4w5. 

Tri-type: 4w5 - 6w5 - 9w8

Some quotes to describe Jess’s traits and motivations:

“It's a crazy world we live in.”

“Think how dull your life would be without me.”

“I don't want to talk to anybody else. I don't like anybody else.”

“I want to be good. Life's just not letting me.”

Jess: “No, no. I mean with you. What's going on with you?” Rory: “What do you mean?” Jess: “You know what I mean. I know you better than anyone. This isn't you.” Rory: “I don't know.” Jess: “What are you doing? Living at your grandparents' place, being in the DAR, no Yale...why did you drop out of Yale?!” Rory: “It's complicated.” Jess: “It's not! It's not complicated.” Rory: “You don't know.” Jess: “This isn't you. This, you going out with this jerk, with the Porsche. We made fun of guys like this.”

Rory: “Why are you only nice to me?” Jess: “Excuse me?” Rory: “An hour ago you were totally screwing with Dean and now you're totally nice to me.” Jess: “You see, it's the screwing with Dean that's an important step to getting here so that I can be nice to you.”

Rory: “Wow a place in Stars Hollows that you actually like!” Jess: “Yeah I have some good memories of this place. See over there, that's where Luke pushed me in!”

[ramblingsfromthecrypt]

Color of a Similar Shade

Pairing: m!V/Johnny Silverhand

Just a short fluff piece I had an idea for and wanted to write down. It’s been a long while since I’ve written proper fanfic but I had a lot of fun putting this idea on paper. Enjoy!

-----------------------------------

V sat at his desk, head leaning lazily on his hand, and staring blankly at his monitor. The only sound in his apartment was the buzz of his computer and the rumble of traffic outside. Opening his email, V saw another notification from the megabuilding management. ‘LATE RENT. EVICTION NOTICE IMMINENT’ the subject line read. V deleted the email without even opening it. There wasn’t much reason to worry about late rent when he was already on his way out. 

It had been a few weeks since V woke up in Viktor’s clinic. A few weeks since he woke up in the middle of the night face to face with Johnny Silverhand. The man’s fingers wrapping around his throat still felt like it was only yesterday. V traced his finger tips over his neck and let out a small shiver at the memory.

Despite the initial attempt on his life, Johnny claimed to have a change of heart. Wanting to help get them out of this morose situation they both fell into. Though the rocker boys idea of help was strange, and sometimes frustrating, to say the least.

“The fuck you doin’, V?” Johnny’s voice rang out and V jumped out of surprise in his chair. The smell of cigarettes filled his nose as he turned to the flickering form of Johnny Silverhand sitting on the end of his desk.

“Christ, you scared the shit out of me Johnny.” V breathed and placed a hand on his chest as he felt his pounding heart calm. Johnny let out a hearty laugh at V’s startled reaction and he swung his legs to jump off of the desk. 

The engram took a few steps around the apartment before stopping at a painting on the wall. It was one of the few things V managed to snag from his old apartment after Arasaka cut him off to every luxury his position provided him. He and Jackie busted into the place and took what they could carry before the corporation had the chance to pawn it all off. 

Johnny took off his aviator glasses and squinted closely at the piece of art. “This looks like shit. The place would look better if you threw this proto-modernist corpo garbage in the trash.” He commented and took another puff of his cigarette. 

“Well then it’s a good thing this isn’t your apartment.” V responded in an agitated tone before turning his attention back to the desk and doing his best to block out Johnny’s voice. He reached for a small container and popped it open. Inside sat various jars of polish, templates, files, and just about any other tool you need for proper nail care. 

V thought to himself for a moment before pulling out a few bottles from the box. He moved mess of papers and bottles on his desk out of the way to make more room and reached for the bottle of bottom coat. 

“Why do you even bother painting your nails? They just end up chipping anyway.” Johnny suddenly said practically in V’s ear. He turned to Johnny who had returned to the perch on the end of his desk. 

“Your creative outlet was music, mine is painting my nails.” V responded truthfully as he gave the bottle a few shakes. Johnny responded with a pouting ‘hmph’ but, as he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes didn't leave what V was doing. His curiosity was almost palpable even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

V twisted the top off of the bottle and wiped the end of the brush around the rim to get the excess liquid off. He placed his left hand on the table and, as he placed the brush to his thumb nail, Johnny once again interrupted V’s concentration. 

“This shit always takes too long. I say just put the color on and call it a day.” Johnny said as he took a final drag of his cigarette and flicked it onto the floor. As it was about to hit the carpet, the cigarette digitized and disappeared. 

V let out a small sigh as he continued to paint his thumb nail. “If I did that it’d chip even faster.” He explained and dipped the brush in the bottle once more. “You at least have to put a bottom coat, then color, then a top coat. It makes like...a little shield for the color.” V added and trailed off for a moment as he thought of how to explain it. 

As V continued Johnny actually stayed silent for once. The man watched intently as V worked, his face scrunching in thought every few moments. “Last time I painted my nails it was ‘cause Kerry wouldn’t shut the fuck up about wanting to see what i’d look like with polish on.” Johnny finally said and broke the silence before lighting another cigarette. 

“I can paint yours if you’d like.” V offered without thinking as he waved his hand in the air to dry the first layer. “Though I’m not sure if I actually can…” He added with a small frown as he looked at Johnny’s flickering hand. 

Johnny lifted his hand to his face and inspected it closer. “Hmmm. Good question. ‘Suppose we could always try.” He finally said and shifted his body to put one leg on the desk and get into a more comfortable position. Johnny then placed his hand closer to V’s workstation with a prodding smirk. 

V returned Johnny’s teasing expression and reached for the bottle of black nail polish. “Just color, right? I guess you don’t have to worry about it chipping.” He teased and Johnny rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, shut up.” Johnny replied in an irritated tone but the sweet smile on his face suggested otherwise. V couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook the bottle of polish a few times before unscrewing the top. 

V gently placed his hand on Johnny’s to steady it and get a better angle. Every time they touched skin to skin, V still couldn’t believe just how real it felt. He knew Johnny was an engram. Simply a hologram projected from his mind. But at times it was easy to forget that fact and believe that Johnny was a flesh and blood human being. 

“You gonna start paintin’ or what?” Johnny said impatiently and the sound of his smooth deep voice brought V out of his thoughts.

“Y-Yeah sorry. Got distracted.” V said and gave Johnny an apologetic smile before placing the brush to his index fingernail. As he made a stroke, the black polish began to pixelate and fluctuated before disappearing entirely. 

“Well, shit. That’s disappointing.” Johnny said with a frown and took a long drag from his cigarette. V briefly rubbed at Johnny’s nail then rubbed his index finger against his thumb. “Hmmm….” He muttered in thought before looking back up at the engram. 

“I guess when Arasaka put you into the relic, they programmed you to look like how you did back in 2023. I don’t think we can make any aesthetic changes.” V bluntly said before realizing what came out of his mouth. Johnny responded to the statement with a scowl. The pain of his current situation was clear and plain on his face. 

“Fuck, V. The least you could do is talk about me like I’m a goddamn person.” Johnny responded with a growl and pulled his hand away from V’s and off of the desk. 

“Sorry Johnny. I didn’t mean it like that…” V muttered and looked away from Johnny. His own chest tightening at the sorrowful frustration in the rocker boy’s voice. 

V would have thought that he’d resent Johnny after the man literally told him to put a gun to his mouth and pull the trigger. But, despite everything, being together 24/7 had given V an understanding of where Johnny’s anger stemmed from and why he acted like such a dick. Pushing people away was easier than dealing with the pain and disappointment those you care about can inflict upon you. 

That vulnerability was perceived as a weakness. The more vulnerable you were around another only gave them more opportunities to use that fragility against you. It was something V practiced religiously back in his Arasaka days. The more time Johnny spent inside of his head, the more alike V really realized they were. 

“Hey! I have an idea.” V said as he perked up from his own anxious thoughts. Johnny took a drag of his cigarette and looked back to V not bothering with a response to the other man’s sudden revelation. 

“I mean, my hands are pretty much your hands too right?” V added before reaching back into the box of nail supplies. Johnny arched an inquisitive eyebrow at V’s statement and wondered just exactly where he was going with this. After a few moments, V procured a bottle of dark red nail polish and gave Johnny an excited grin. 

“And? What’s your point?” Johnny responded the previous agitation in his voice replaced with a sense of curiosity. 

“My point is if I paint my nails it’s kind of like me painting your nails too.” V said with a small smile as he began to shake the bottle of nail polish. “Samurai colors?” He added with a teasing smirk and Johnny couldn’t help but return it with a smirk of his own. 

“Samurai colors?” Johnny repeated the statement and his smirk melted into a genuine smile. “Shit, V. You sound like a groupie stereotype.” He added before letting out a laugh. A genuine laugh. A happy laugh. The sound sent a swarm of butterflies through V’s stomach. It was like music to his ears. 

“Then I’ll take that as a yes.” V responded and his own smile grew as he unscrewed the top of the bottle. “But, I already put the bottom coat on so we’re doing this right.” He added in a faux chiding tone. 

“Fine, fine. But I still bet you this time tomorrow you’ll already have chips in it.” Johnny said as he shifted his position on the desk to watch V paint. That genuine smile never once leaving his face. 

[kiapet2]

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 14: If We’re Going to Explode, Let’s At Least Explode With Some Dignity!

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: In which Thomas has a heart-to-heart speedrun

Chapter Warnings: Death Mention, Unethical Experimentation Mention

With a bit of searching you’re able to find a map of the facility in Cave Johnson’s office. The map is wildly out of date, naturally, but you’re still able to use it to orient yourself enough to find an exit, and hopefully with it the meeting place you suggested.

As confident as you can be with where you’re going, you head out of the offices and back into the back corridors of the old facility. Getting to the exit involves climbing up a heavily inclined passage, using old pipes leaking Conversion Gel to make portal-conductive surfaces. Finally, you reach the top, where a massive vault lid opens in the ceiling, letting down a rickety old excuse for an elevator which you promptly climb onto and let take you up, through the vault hole, to a faster elevator which takes you up, up, up to the newer facility floors.

And just like that, you’re back in familiar territory. You start walking, ducking through back rooms and looking for the route back to Remus’ old chamber.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

You jump at the voice right behind you, before turning around with a huge grin. “Virgil!”

“Uh, hey, Thomas,” he says awkwardly.

“Hey,” you say. “Been a little while.”

“Not that long,” he says. There’s an awkward silence where you debate whether you should try talking to him now or later, until he decides the question for you by saying gruffly, “Well, follow me then.”

You’re not surprised to see everyone has made it before you; you did have to climb out of the depths of the facility, after all. You are a bit surprised, and considerably relieved, to see that all five of the others have actually come.

“Greetings, Thomas,” Roman says. “I am glad to see you are alright.”

You give a little wave. “Hey, guys.”

“Well?” Janus says sharply, still speared on Remus’ handle. “You told us you have things to tell us. So talk.”

You wince a little internally; of all the people here, Janus has the most reasons to resent you right now. And really, you can’t blame him.

“Let’s start with this,” you say, reaching into the folds of your jumpsuit and carefully pulling out the files you took from the old Aperture office.

Setting the portal gun down, you open the file folder, turning to the first page and holding it out to the others.

“I found this down below, at the original Aperture Science Facility. Look at the names on the top and bottom.”

There’s a pause as the others all strain to see from their positions.

“Project JANUS,” Logan reads. “Subject Name… Oh dear Newton.”

“What?” Roman says. “I’m too far away to see!”

Janus lets out a gasp, so slight he might have passed it off as nothing if you hadn’t been paying so much attention.

“I was made… from you?” he says, voice uncertain and devoid of the anger it previously had.

You nod. “All of you were.”

“Of course,” Logan says, almost to himself. “The singing, the annoyingly upbeat attitude, even the acuity at puzzle solving… I should have seen it all along.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, instead squealing so loud and high-pitched that you’re afraid he’ll burst an eardrum. Beside him, Remus is cackling and listing all the “fun” things you should do together.

“Apparently, the CEO wanted to use me to test AI creation,” you explain. “And, I guess I just sort of stuck as the test subject.”

“Thomas,” Janus says desperately, “I didn’t know. I swear to you on the facility itself, I didn’t know. If I had…”

“I know,” you say softly. “I didn’t either. I thought that I had to pick one person to put in charge, and I couldn’t trust you not to turn on me. But you were right. You were meant to be running things here.”

You hold up a hand at the others’ protests. “You all were.”

“We… all were?” Roman says hesitantly.

You nod. “Take a look at this.”

You go back to the beginning of the blueprints and begin flipping through, narrating as you go.

“In 1986 they started work on Project JANUS, based on the centers of my brain that govern self-interest and social maneuvering. It was originally supposed to be just a precursor to Cave Johnson’s AI, but after he died a year or so later it was made the main project. Janus was fully created and began running the facility about a decade later.”

You flip to the next page. “They started Project PATHOS a few months later, in response to, uh. ‘The Neurotoxin Incident’?”

“If they didn’t want me using it, they shouldn’t have given me access to it,” Janus says imperiously.

You decide not to ask. “Right, so they made a Morality Core to reign you in, and it seems to have worked out. There’s all this stuff here about how well you two worked well together.”

Patton spoke to you about that, what seems like a year ago but was likely only a few days. We made a good team, he’d said in that wistful voice. You should have listened.

“Okay, so you’re saying we need our old dic-tater to join Patton, and then we’ll be good?” Roman says skeptically.

“Heh, he said dick,” Remus says.

“Not quite,” you say to Roman, ignoring Remus and flipping to the next page. “They liked how things were functioning with the two of you, but it wasn’t enough. They wanted to start testing which went beyond simple self-interest and morality. So they started Projects LOGOS and REMUS. Logic and Creativity.”

You flip the page again, and grimace at what you see. “And then…”

“And then they replaced him with me,” Roman says quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, equally subdued. “And made a Threat Assessment Sphere for good measure.” You nod to Virgil.

“Not that I don’t enjoy the trip down memory lane,” Janus says, “but is there a point to all this?”

“You told me once that you used to all run this place together,” you say to the others, “before something went wrong and you were split apart.”

“That is correct,” Logan says.

You gesture to the files. “Don’t you see? That’s our problem! We’ve been trying to come up with one Core who can run this place all by himself, when you were all created to run it together! We need self-interest, moral guidance, knowledge, creativity of all kinds, and caution to keep this place on the right track! That’s why you guys keep not being able to handle the compulsions and corruption, because it’s too much for any one aspect of a personality.”

“So to clarify, you want to put us back the way we were?” Logan says.

“Yeah,” you say. “I want to restore the balance.”

You sigh and rub your head, feeling the nervousness kick in. “And to do that, there’s some things I have to say to you guys.”

“Logan,” you say, turning to face the Core directly, “I owe you an apology. All this time, you’ve been so important to getting us connected to the system, but we never once considered putting you in charge, or even thanked you for what you’d already done. And we haven’t been listening to you much since putting Patton in charge.”

“While I certainly appreciate the sentiment,” Logan says, “it is unnecessary. If your theory is correct I likely would have fared no better than Patton.

“I know,” you say, “but we still took you for granted, and we shouldn’t have. I think your input is really important, and I’m going to do my best to listen to it going forward.”

Logan nods. “I owe you an apology as well. I withheld my support when you most needed it. I was… upset… but that is no valid excuse.”

“Let’s just agree to both do better in the future, all right?” you say, smiling softly, and Logan nods.

With that settled, you turn to the next Core in front of you. “Virgil.”

The Core startles. “What?”

“I know I wasn’t clear enough on this before,” you say, ”but I don’t care if you’re corrupted or not.”

“Thomas-” Virgil says, pained.

“I know, I know,” you say, holding a hand out, “you don’t act the way you were designed to.”

You come forward and take one of Virgil’s hands in your own. He jumps, but doesn’t pull away.

“But Virge, I don’t care what you’re ‘supposed’ to do. Sure, you can be a bit over-zealous at times, but you’ve saved my life more times than I can count on one hand, accurate threat assessments or not. Maybe you’re not exactly how you were designed to be, but you are exactly what you need to be. You’re an important part of this family, and that is never going to change.”

“Yeah sure, whatever,” Virgil mumbles, looking down self-consciously.

You lean down to catch Virgil’s eye again. “And I know this is going to be hard for you to accept, but Janus and Remus are a part of this too.”

“But Thomas-”

“This isn’t something I’m willing to compromise on, Virge,” you say firmly. “You’ve helped me so much since I met you- but so has Janus, even if you weren’t around to see it. And both of you have jobs that are incredibly important for keeping this facility afloat. Whatever happened between you in the past, I’m asking both of you to put it aside now. For all of us.”

“Of course,” Janus says, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “I’ll happily put things to rest, if certain parties would do the same.”

Not the most sincere of olive branches, but it’s enough for now. Virgil glowers, looking from you to Janus and back again, and for a few heart-stopping moments you’re afraid he’s going to refuse.

“Fine,” Virgil spits finally. “I’ll do it for you, Thomas, and because I don’t want this place to blow up. Not for him.”

“I’ll take it,” you say, doing your best not to visibly slump in relief. You really don’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t agreed.

You turn to Roman. “Ro-”

“No need, Tommy-salami,” Roman says. “I am already ready to enact your daring plan, and need no further convincing.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” you respond.

Roman freezes mid-gesture. “It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t,” you say. “Roman, I know that you’ve been worried about living up to me calling you my hero.”

“I... Yes, I have,” Roman says.

You take a deep breath. “I was wrong to say that to you, Roman. Yes, I was grateful when you helped me- and I still am- but I shouldn’t have labeled you as my hero.”

Roman flinches back as if struck, and your heart twinges in sympathy, but you push on. This needs to be said.

“You’re not my hero, because you’re so much more than that, Roman. You’re the best at figuring out tests and puzzles and then giving hints that I can understand. You have so many great ideas- including finding Remus, because it was what we needed at the time. But even more than that- you’re a wonderful singing partner. You make even the hardest challenges into an adventure, and get us all swept up with you. Your nicknames and jokes are hilarious, and you’ve been working so hard at making them more kind.”

You look Roman dead in the eye. “You don’t need to save me in some huge, dramatic way to be helpful or important, Roman. And you don’t have to be my hero to be my friend. You’re our Creativity. You’re Roman, and that has always been enough.”

“I-” Roman’s voice cracks. “Thomas, I, uh... thanks.”

“Trust Princey to be the one who needs an entire speech,” Virgil says, teasing and fond.

“Excuse you, Emo-Bot, I am most speech-worthy!” Roman declares, and if his voice is still a little thick, no one calls him on it.

That leaves just one more Core. You turn to Remus, then hesitate.

“Ooh,” Remus says, sidling closer with a little shimmy. “Is it my turn to be praised like a good little boy? Lay it on me, Daddy!”

You grimace, cheeks heating despite yourself.

“I… don’t really know what to think of you, honestly,” you say. “Most of the time I’ve known you, you were trying to kill me.”

“That’s fair,” Remus says cheerfully.

You sigh. “But we know that being at the head of the facility impacts your thinking, and you were only there in the first place because I asked you to be. Because you were helping me. And I don’t think what was done to you in the first place- discarding you like that- was right.”

You hold your hand out to him, as if to shake. “So, I’m willing to give things another chance. If you are.”

Remus moves forward and holds his good handle out towards you. You grab it and immediately pull back as something disgusting squishes in your hand.

“How did you even-” you say, frantically rubbing it off on your pant leg.

“I find smelly things. It’s a gift.”

“Alright, so you’ve had your little heart-to-heart with each of us,” Virgil says. “What now?”

“I guess now we start planning,” you say.

“Right,” Roman says. “I take it our first priority is to stop the self-destruct sequence, right?”

You nod. “I know the bomb is in the control room; can we diffuse that somehow?”

“This little thing?” Remus says dramatically, “I’d hardly call this a bomb. This is just to trigger the packs of thermals upstairs in the gym. Those are the bombs.”

You give him a look. “What?”

“I dunno, just came to me!”

“Odd phrasing aside,” Logan says, “Remus is correct. What we saw earlier was not a bomb itself but rather a detonator connected to various bombs at different points in the facility. When it reaches zero it will begin detonating them in a sequence designed to collapse the facility in a controlled manner. Trying to defuse each bomb individually would be a fool’s errand.”

Roman hums in thought. “So then we just have to stop it from signaling to the bombs, right? No detonator, no bombs.”

“In theory. In practice you would need to either destroy it or remove it from the facility completely to sever the connection. Considering that we currently lack the means to do either, our best option is to shut it down from the administrative position of the facility.”

You sigh. “So it’s back to replacing the facility head, then. Is there any way we can add you guys back in without having to go through that whole process?”

“No,” Janus says. “There’s a reason I was able to lock everyone else out after we were separated. Patton would need to grant any new Cores added administrative access for us to share equal power. If he doesn’t, we’re left as advisors; we could influence him, but not override any of his decisions.”

“So, we replace him now, and then add him back in afterwards,” you say. “Not ideal, but-”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Logan says. “The replacement process is for corrupted cores. It will not trigger if it scans him as normal.”

“Are we sure that Patton isn’t corrupted at this point?” you say.

Virgil snorts out a laugh, then says, “Oh, sorry, were you serious? Yeah, no.”

Roman says, “Maybe if we add Janus, Remus and Virgil to the system, their corruption will influence the reading enough that-”

Janus scoffs. “That it will register the Morality Core as corrupt? Please. The little guy doesn’t have a corrupt bone in his body; we’d have a better chance painting ‘corrupted core’ on his chassis.”

“So let me get this straight,” you say. “The only way we can stop this place from self-destructing is to get someone else in charge of this facility. But we can’t put someone else in charge without Patton scanning as corrupt, which will never happen.”

“Yup, we’re screwed,” Virgil says helpfully.

“Not necessarily,” Logan says, thoughtful.

“Oh?” you say, “Is there another way to stop it?”

“No,” Logan says, “But there is another way to replace Patton. If Patton himself initiates the process, he can be replaced regardless of his corruption status.”

Janus laughs. “Really? That’s your plan? I’m sure that the Core who tried to imprison Thomas rather than be replaced will be completely willing to give up his power once we ask really nicely.”

“You’re one to talk,” Virgil mutters.

You give him a warning look, then turn to Janus. “I think I might have an idea of how to help him make that choice- but we have to actually go face him to do it. I think we owe it to him- and to ourselves- to try.”

Roman throws his handles out dramatically. “Indeed! If there is any hope of rescuing our beloved companion, we must take it! No matter the peril-”

“We get it, Princey,” Virgil says dryly. “But yeah, I’m in or whatever. Might as well go down fighting.”

“Logically, as the facility is imminently going to self-destruct, we have nothing to lose,” Logan says. “So I agree as well.”

“Deadly peril? Sounds like fun!” Remus says.

You turn to Janus. “Janus, if things work out the way I’m thinking, you’ll be an important part of this. Are you in?”

Janus hesitates for a moment, as if trying to decide whether he can trust you again. Finally he says, “Alright, Thomas. I’ll follow your lead in this. Don’t make me regret it.”

You look around at the circle of faces of your friends. Even after everything you’ve been through, after all the times you messed up, they’re still behind you, still trusting you. Your grip tightens on your portal gun as a new wave of resolve rolls through you. You’re not going to let them down; not this time.

“Alright guys,” you say. “Here’s what we’re gonna do…”

[huearmy]

Not My Friend.

Summary: Yoongi is a ordinary house cat hybrid with an ok life and a huge crush in his ower’s friend. Even if Y/N always treated him lovelly and as an equal he is all insecurities and thoughts of  rejection about being a hybrid, without imagining that the feeling can be reciprocal.

Pairing: cat!Yoongi x human!Reader

Genre: FLUFF, angst,  slight smut.

Words:  3737.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: not grafic description/mention of sex.

gif is not mine.

Yoongi was kind of pissed, slightly upset... Absolutely stressed. The lights and loud music of the club did'nt help,  the drunk people ingnoring him, dancing around him as if he don't exist, neither. Is unusual for him feel so bad about being who he is, but today is a day that everything screams that he is less than everyone and it won't change. He brought the last swig of his drink to his lips, sad that he could'nt get another one alone, and for the sake of his pride he would'nd ask to Namjoon.

Is also unusual for Yoongi to argue with his friend and brother Namjoon, but today is a day that things got ugly. "You know that I love you hyung. For me we are equals, but is not like this for others. Even if my friends like you, they still seeing you as my pet.". It hurted. Hurts. Because is true, and Yoongi knows it.

And it hurts so... so bad... Because for a second he belived otherwise.

The discussion started when Yoongi thought he could share with his friend the feelings he have for you. You, the pretty human friend of Namjoon, the girl who is usualy at their house with no reason, the one that give the greatest pets ever and whose conversation is so good that he wouldn’t mind that you definitely lived with him. It took too long, but when Yoongi figured out his interest in you being a really romantic thing he was so happy he couldn’t keep to himself. 

“What do you think, Namjoon? How should I tell her?”

It's obvious to Yoongi that the negative reaction of Namjoon was caring, he knows his friend well enough. It wasn’t his intention to freak out and smash Yoongi heart.  He is trying to protect me. He told himself for the hundredth time, fighting against resentment. He discarted his plastic cup in defeat.

And there was you. The reason of his frustration. Oblivious at his issues, dancing with your friends. Namjoon's friends. Not his friends. His stomach droped.

Yoongi sighed. He can't just not stare at you. You are so beautiful to him, feeling yourself while dancing with your eyes closed, your pretty hair swinging around your delicate shouders, hips moving with the music naturaly - because you love dancing even if you are not goot at all. Another music started making you jump and sing. He almost can smell you now.

If he wasn't a scared cat... A hybrid cat... He would be dancing with you, talking in your ears, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you close, maybe kissing you... not only picturing it in his mind. But he is a pet, not a normal guy who you would like to flirt with.

He sighed again. He  remembering clearly when he first meet you two years ago.

____________________________________

Namjoon was a freshman in college, excited with everything new, the new apartament, new city, new knowledge, new friends... Every day he would enter trough the door, drop himself on the couch and speak his day out. Yoongi would listen, commenting on a thing or other once in a while. Your name was present in most stories, or the stories were about you. "I was trying to makes myself clear to the philosophy teacher when this girl spoke. She conclued my trought and argued for herself shuting up the teacher.", or "Remember that girl? Her name is Y/N and we get coffee together today. She is amazing, dude.", and "Y/N made an asshole cry today, seriuosly, she is beautful. She have that 'I don't give a fuck' atitude, you would love her, hyung". And Namjoon was right, as always.

It was on a day that Yoongi was feeling clingy and dependent of Namjoon's full attention but he was supposed to do a project with you in your place though. So insted of cancel with you to spend the day watching Netflix with Yoongi, the younger boy opted for bringing the hybrid to your apartament too.

“Dont worry, hyung. Y/N told me to bring you. Actually she was anxious to know you, she likes cute things you know...”

“Shut up.”

The poor cat was hating every second of it till you opened the door. You treated him as a old friend, greeting him with a genuine smile e tight hug.

"Enter you both and make the home yours. I bought snacks... And! I used that drive you gave me, Joonie, and already started the dissertation... You can revise if want to. It won't take so long as we through, then we can get fat cuddling on my couch."

Yoongi get unsure with you straightforward behavior at the time. But your focus was to finish your and Namjoon's work so he could get Netflix and cuddles as much as he wanted. You made coffee with cream when he said he like it and listened his complains about Namjoon breaking everything.

“Seriously is his third classes this year and we are in May.” Yoongi grunted making you laugh.

"I noticed it! Joonie always talk about you repair skills, though." 

"What else he talks about me?"

You laughed throwing your head back. You both were alone in the living room, sharing a blanket.

" A lot of things!” You said “That you are savage but actually a baby... That you are a good roommate to live with... And if I ever need a a good pianist, sincere advises, or help to hide a dead body, you are the man..."

"Oh..." 

He didn’t expected the two of you to talk much about him.

"And what Joonie told you about me?" You rested your chin in your palm. He take some instants to answer, and as if his brain are of jelly, it went terrible.

"He said I would love you."

Yoongi expected for a rispid response or for you to change the subject, or at least you’d laugh, somethig like it, but no. He would learn later how unpredictable you can be sometimes.

"And do you?" You asked in real interest, looking into his eyes. His cheeks turned pink, and you by instinct brought a hand to his hair and ears. You cooed "Sorry, Yoongs."

____________________________________

Thats right. You are nice to him... Gentle and kind... Always respectfull... You would enter his space and make him comfortable, or respect his distance when his not in the mood. Make silly things just to see his gummy smile and then pet his ears for hours. If any of your friends make fun of him you defend him and then make fun of them lighting the air. The fact of him being a hybrid never seems to bother you or changed the way you treated him.

He had hopes.

But he was just a pet... And you would never look at him the way he looks at you. Mesmerized by the club lights passing over your dancing body, changing color and pattern, he let himself sink a little more in self pity.

As if you could feel his dark troughts you opened your eyes and looked right trough his. His ears rose, tail moving unconscious behind him. You walked straight to him, concerned, ignoring every intoxicated person dancing in your way.

"What's wrong Yoongs?" You raised your voice because of the loud music. "Don't tell me that's nothing."

Yoongi licked his lips nervously. "I not feeling like partying. But Namjoon is having fun so I can't ask to go home now."

You seemed tipsy, he could smell the alcohol on you, along with that sweet perfume that you love and he hates, and your own scent that he loves.

You looked around, maybe looking for Namjoon, face thoughtful, wrinkling your nose cutely. Your tiny hand found it's way to his larger one, and instinctively he hold it tight. Yoongi love holding hands, especially with you.

Suddenly you smiled excited to him, getting closer to his face. So close he could kiss you...

"Do you want another drink?" You asked right in his ear, without get away an inch from him.

"What?" Yoongi asked, not understanding the purpose of the question.

Your smile spread devilishly.

"Dance with me, Yoongs. If you continue wanting to leave I'll get you home."

And then you were pulling him towards the dancing floor.

___________________________________

"Are you sure you want to do it?" His lover's voice got serious, eyes searching for his reassurance.

"I am." He answered not thinking twice.

His lover's smile were so pure and beautiful and genuine and happy that filled him of happyness too.

____________________________________

Yoongi woke up happy. He woke up in a bed that wasn't his. He didn't have to look around to recognize the room he was, the bedsheets were impregnated with your fragrance. The room was dark, the only light coming from a fissure between the curtains. He closed his eyes again, holding tight in a pillow and breathing deep. He still felt sleepy but couldn't stop his mind to revive last night.

You both danced and laughed and drinked and kissed. You made out in the club, in the Uber's backseat, in your couch...

He was naked on your bed. Things didn't stop in just make out.

Yoongi can remember clearly the view of your naked body in front of him for the first time, the lines of your silhouette, how it felt under his hands, so smooth. The way you took of his collar, never breaking eye contact, and then kissed him sweetly before riding him. How your fingers intertwined with his while he thrusted into you till you shake. Beautiful beneath him, repeating his name in moans in his soft black ears, nails finding it's way in his scalp. Your soft skin against his when everything you both could do was heavy breathing, too tired to even pull out of you. Praising him you kissed his lips again and held him close to your bare chest, playing with his hair the way he likes so much.

He never slept so well. Never felt so well with someone.

And then he realized... Where was you? Fully awake now, he searched for you under the fluffy blankets, finding nothing but your empty side of the bed. He slightly panicked.

His jeans were on the ground, beside your discarded dress, but his shirt wasn't anywhere to be seen. Would be a problem he wandering through your apartment shirtless? A ding caught his attention for a forgot cellphone under your desk chair. It was just a notification of low battery, but there were also  five calls and some massages from Namjoon:

[03:18 am]: hyung I'm sorry. rly.

[03:18 am]: where are you?

[03:21 am]:  I'm worried. call me back.

And then the phone died.

"Shit." He needed a charger urgent. Knowing his friend maybe he was already searching for Yoongi in hospitals, morgues and shelters.

He went to the door and suddenly stopped, hand on knob, the thought of calling Namjoon back totally erased of his mind.

You wasn't in bed with him unlike as Yoongi imagined his first morning with you. He should had woke with you in his arms, you would say "good morning" to each other in a meaningful way, then he would give little kisses in your whole face, treading to your lips to a real kiss, you would get embarrassed and hide your red cheeks in his chest... He woke up alone instead.

What if you regretted everything? You could awakened with hangover and regretted the one night stand. Or feeling awkward for sleeping with him... Or disgusted. And if you woke up and realized that you had sex with a hybrid and regretted?  It wouldn't be the first experience Yoongi of this kind. A disposable kink or drunken mistake... It would hurt...

No.

You are different. After the night you had together he could trust you.

Even if you don't feel the same as him... You wouldn't kick him out of your apartment... Or cut him off of your life...

Right?

"Stop being idiot, Yoongi." He told himself. "At least you have Namjoon to buy you beer in the worst case."

Music was playing in your kitchen, a amazing smell of eggs, bacon and something sweet come meet him in the corridor.  Yoongi found you humming happily, holding the door of the fridge open while searching for something.

"I'm running out of milk..." You whispered to yourself. Wearing a purple silk robe and your fluffy slippers you closed the fridge door without taking anything from inside. You did not heard Yoongi enter the kitchen neither expected him to hug you from behind, pulling your back against his chest, arms crossed in your waist. So didn't he. But you were so cute, with messy hair and being just your always self, his own scent still on you. His concerns gone, Yoongi couldn't help it unless be straightforward and reach for your touch.

You let out a yelp of surprise, grabbing his forearms, slightly sticking your nails on it. He chuckled softly at your heart rate speed up.

"Jesus, Yoongs... How are you so quiet?". You said with a hand on heart, already relaxing in his embrace.

"Sorry." His deep morning voice took you by surprise once more, spreading a shiver all over your body, making your silly mind remember the last night events, just to you get flustered. You were so chill until right now, damn. When you woke up facing a sound asleep cat, thigtly holding you close to him, you needed to hold yourself on to not squirm in excitement. Your fear was to make the atmosphere awkward between you two after being friends for so long. So you chilled up and planned to do everything right.

"You was supposed to be sleeping..." You scolded him, turning in his arms to face him, with red cheeks and pouting. "I'd take breakfast in bed for you."

Shock stamped up Yoongi's features. "Really?"

Your face reddened, suddenly the white wall was more interesting. "Really... I must treat you well."

You always treat me well, Y/N. Yoongi through to himself, but by your tone and the slight smirk in your adorable lips, he could tell the difference. "Ok.". He gulped.

"Since you are here... Sit." You said, getting apart from him. "I'll feed my Yoongs.".

Instantly he felt the loss of your warmth and contact, but at the same time he melted with the sound of your voice calling him "my Yoongs". Once you turned your attention back to breakfast again, he choose the chair next to the window, where there was sunlight and he could see the busy avenue  below - many cars going to somewhere, and people like tiny ants doing their own thing in their own lives, and the river running and shining below the bridge, on the other side was the park Yoongi like to go with you...  You were singing along with the music now, serving the table before him, your cleavage exposed by the robe - apparently you were wearing nothing else... Maybe panties too... He scolded himself, biting his thumb's nail to focus on something else, but then he noticed hickeys in the curve of your breasts and in your neck.

"Fuck." He whispered.

But in your not too large kitchen, you listened it clearly.

"What was it?" You let ou a nervous giggle.

"Nothing." Yoongi rested his elbows in the table, hiding face in hands. He couldn't handle look at you with the thought of biting and marking you and make you his and his only in mind. Last night he did so much effort to not do it without your consent, and even more effort to not ask, afraid of rejection.

You brought him back from his dreaminess, pulling him against you, petting his ears and hair. His tense body relaxed instantly.

"Did you sleep well? Need aspirin for headache or something?" You quietly asked, resting your chin on top of his head.

"No. I'm ok." He snuggled his face in the tender skin, scenting you.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. You hummed.

"Oh!" You frozed. "Namjoon is super worried about you...! Like... He called me twenty-four times and left thousands of voice mails and massages..."

He licked his lips.

"I need a charger to tell him I'm ok."

You pout.

"I already did it, silly. I told him you are here with me, safe and sound, and that I won't give you back till you get grumpy.". He smiled and you mirrored it. Then you got serious, tracing his jawline with your index finger. "He think you are upset with him... and you really was not ok yesterday. What happened?"

Yoongi gulped. He can be sincere with you.

"Namjoon can be an asshole sometimes. We argued, and I disappeared from the club, my phone is dead so..."

"It seems you are giving him the cold shoulder." You pointed.

"I'm not." He finally closed his arms around you. " I just forget about him when with you."

Your heart speeded up again, making him smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Due to his hesitancy, you added. "You don't need to."

"He told me to not expect too much from our... His friends. 'Cuz most of them only see me as a pet of him."

You remained silent for a moment, and then sighed.

"We really have some friends that are... Ignorants. And we can't do anything about it. But there's Hoseok and Jin who understand that hybrids aren't different of humans, and is obvious for me how much they like you."

"I know... I know." Yoongi pressed his eyes tightly. "We argued because... being an hybrid there's limits that I can't cross... At some point I'll be repelled, even by Hoseok, Jin..." He gulped again. "Even by you."

You pulled away, eyebrows joinig in irritation. Your words sounded offended.

"Seriously, Yoongi? After years knowing each other, didn't I make my positioning and support to hybrid clear? Or my affection for you? For heaven's sake...! We had sex. How can you doubt..."

"It wouldn't be the first time of being the fetish of someone that thinks I'm not a man at all." He interrupted.

You shuted up.

The angry expression faded away from your features, replaced by shock and then sadness. In your absence of words, Yoongi continued.

"I was afraid you would regret last night... I even through you would cut me off of your life, or at least kick me out of the apartment..." He let out a mockery laugh, not handling to look you in the eyes anymore. "You will be judged for sleeping with a hybrid. And I don't want it. Don't want you being treated differently by anyone...".

You approached again, taking his face in your tiny hands, lovely caressing his cheeks with your soft thumbs - just like last night, and he almost expected for you to kiss him. You were being soft and caring, but at same time, firmly make him look you straight in the eyes.

"I'm already judged, Yoongs. A lot of people think I'm fool and talk about me behind my back." The voice that reached his ears was so soft now. You opened a smile of pure pride. "And I don't give a damn.".

He couldn’t break eye contact, he couldn't dare to blink and lost a second of the sight of you.

"It don't matter for me race, gender, age, sexual orientation... If you have fluffy ears and tail or not. I'll love and respect everybody equally. At least I try, reading about and listening, and learning what I don’t know. You can always tell me what you are felling or where I’m failing..." 

You have beautiful eyes and now they were sad again.

"I don't care about what those...bastards talk about hybrids... And I'm sorry for your past experiences..." You took a deep breath. Thinking in someone having the opportunity of be with Yoongi and choosing to break his heart make you sick. "For me you are an amazing man.".

"These words mean the world to me, Y/N." Yoongi said in his breath, feeling belonging as never before. 

"You welcome, Yoongs."

___________________________________

A lazy saturday came along after this. You both spend all day cuddling in the couch, netflix on, or sharing earphones, and chit chating here and there. When the hunger came you ordered take out and decided who would get up and pay the delivery guy with rock paper and scissors. Yoongi lost it, but you got up anyways to pick plates and forks. And then you were tangled under the covers once more.

Hanging out like this is not unusual for you two. But it felt odd for Yoongi, different from before, like it was the first time. Sleeply observing you scrolling through your social media, Yoongi conclued that If having sex with you didn't ruined the friendship you have, expressing his feelings probably would.

But Yoongi wanted be in the same page as you.

You were watching a video on Instagram, not really focused on it, with your free hand playing with his hair, making him even more sleepy. You could feel his gaze on you, but besides the butterflys in your belly, it doesn't make you uncomfortable at all. 

"Y/N..." He said in his low voice.

"Humm?" Blocking the cellphone's screen, you stared back at him. Your nose at centimeters from his.

He took your hand, circulating his thumb in the torso of it in a caring way. The gesture not passing unnoticed by you.

"I need you to know... Even if it isn't reciprocal... Last night had a whole meaning for me. I like like you, Y/N."

You stated at him in silence for a moment,  making the whole world freeze. Before the conversation you both had in the kitchen that morning, Yoongi would be panicking, already regretting telling you such a thing. Now he just waited.

Like he wanted to, you smiled. With your beautiful lips, warm eyes, and all your body too.

"I know, sleepyhead."

You leaned to him, he came to you too, no hesitation. And that's it. He was kissing you again. 

"We must talk about this reciprocity thing later." You whispered against his mouth.

Yoongi was kind of horny, slightly euphoric... Absolutely happy. 

___________________________________

So, I really hope you liked it, pls interact, tell what you think... I’ll be posting more if I have a good feedback, probably a witch!au with Jin :) kiss kiss pls I dont want to be insecure about it kiss kiss.

[emachinescat]

I Shall Have Lived a Little While

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 26 - recovery

Summary: Sequel to "Pain Has an Element of Blank." The knights bring a broken Merlin back to Camelot, and he and Arthur are finally reunited. 

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, Gaius

Words: 3,661

TW: mentions of slavery

Note: This is a direct sequel to my stories “I Should Not Dare to Leave My Friend” and “Pain Has an Element of Blank.”  I highly suggest reading those before you read this one, because you’ll probably be a bit lost if you don’t. :)  This is the full, finished version of the piece I posted on Day 26 of Febuwhump.  I hope you enjoy!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

You smile upon your friend to-day,

To-day his ills are over;

You hearken to the lover's say,

And happy is the lover.

'Tis late to hearken, late to smile,

But better late than never:

I shall have lived a little while

Before I die for ever.

- "You Smile Upon Your Friend To-Day" by A. E. Housman

Arthur was days away from striking out on a quest to rescue Merlin while injured himself when the search party returned. Gaius had told the king many times over that he was not well enough to embark on a journey to find his stolen servant, that he should wait and let the knights handle it. He'd even placed a bodyguard over Arthur – Percival – but slowly, the king found his strength returning. He'd warned Percival in advance that he would be staying in Camelot only until he could move about on his own, and then he would ride out. If that meant fighting Percival and the guards to get to his horse and out of the citadel, that's just what he would do.

Ultimately, though, escaping his own castle ended up being unnecessary, because his men succeeded just as Gaius had predicted they would. Arthur was conflicted when he heard of their approach – of course, he was delighted that they were returning, Merlin in tow, though no one knew yet the severity of the servant's condition, only that he lived. Another part of the king gilded itself in resentment and shame, for he had not been there for his friend when he'd been taken. Arthur knew Merlin well, and understood that his servant would have been waiting for – expecting – the king to come for him, to lead the rescue. And Arthur had let Merlin down, had not been there for his friend when he needed him the most.

A third part of Arthur felt immediate relief that he would no longer have to drag himself onto his horse and ride out into unknown dangers, because he knew full well that his wound – a nasty, deep sword-cut across the ribs – had not healed as much as he was trying to convince Percival – and himself. Of course, Gaius hadn't been fooled for a moment. Neither had Gwen. But both knew that there was only so long they could hope to contain Arthur when Merlin was missing.

Arthur insisted on meeting the knights in the courtyard, and felt like he had just fought a dragon by the time he got there. His wound ached, his body felt weak and limp and heavy, and his breathing came in ragged bursts. Beside him, Percival took hold of his arm to steady him. Arthur glared, but didn't pull away. He tried to ignore the knowing gleam in the man's eyes, one he knew without having to look also resided in his Gwen's and Gaius's gazes.

Despite the pain and exhaustion from the exertion, Arthur managed to break into a stilted run when the knights, red cloaks announcing their return, rode into the courtyard. "Gwaine!" Arthur panted, because it was Gwaine who held Merlin gently in front of him on his horse. The servant was unconscious, but he was alive. Arthur looked up at Gwaine, who had yet to hand Merlin off to any of the now dismounted knights, and made no attempt to dismount himself. A stirring of dread plucked at Arthur's heart like a lyre.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, and his voice came out much weaker than he wanted it to. His eyes traveled back to his servant, taking in the drawn, pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way that Gwaine held him so carefully, as if afraid he might break. There was something else, something that Arthur could not identify, something that radiated a sense of wrongness. Arthur kept studying his friend, and for some reason, his gaze kept moving back to the servant's legs.

Gaius shuffled up beside the king. Arthur could sense the worry and relief coming off of the old physician in waves, but he did not turn from the unconscious servant. "Gwaine?" he prompted, as the knight had not answered his question.

But it wasn't Gwaine who responded. Gaius had already begun his cursory examination of his ward, and when he spoke, Arthur's head snapped around to meet his gaze. "His legs are broken, Sire. Both of them."

***

Arthur felt numb as he followed the knights, Gaius, Gwen, and Merlin back across the courtyard, up the steps, and into the castle. Both legs broken. Arthur knew at once that Merlin's injuries hadn't been an accident. He hadn't slipped and fallen and broken his bones. Of course, it sounded exactly like something clumsy Merlin would do. But Athur also understood the kind of people that had taken his servant. He had spent a large portion of his time as King of Camelot attempting to rid his kingdom and the surrounding areas from the influence of slavers. These were men who were ruthless, cruel, and unfeeling.

It was clear to Arthur that they had broken Merlin's legs intentionally, and at first the king was so stunned by the level of violence done to his servant that he didn't feel anything. He just couldn't stop thinking about how it might have happened. He didn't have to ask why. Merlin might have been scrawny and unassuming at first glance, but he was also incredibly stubborn and determined, and sometimes even clever, on the rare occasion he wasn't being a complete idiot. He would have tried to escape from his captors, Arthur was sure. Maybe multiple times. And to keep it from happening again, they'd shattered his legs, made sure he couldn't run.

They arrived at Gaius's chambers, and Gwaine carefully laid Merlin out on the well-worn patient's cot. Gaius shooed everyone out of the room, save for Arthur, who as king could not be "shooed" anywhere, and Gwaine, who dug his heels in and refused to budge. Arthur and Gwaine watched in tense silence for a while as Gaius examined Merlin further, checking to make sure his legs had been set properly, binding them, treating a nasty wound on the back of his head, washing the blood and muck and filth out of his hair, spreading salve on bruises and cuts and tipping potions down his throat.

Eventually, as Gaius fell into a rhythm, Arthur turned to Gwaine. "What happened?" he asked in a low, even voice. That numbness still froze his heart, but he could feel the anger beginning to thaw the icy disbelief. "Where did you find him?" The unspoken but obvious question lingered between them: Did you kill the bastards who did this?

The king had fully been expecting an enraged, ultimately triumphant tale of the knights discovering the slavers' hideout, bathing the walls with the blood of the men who had tortured their friend, and sweeping Merlin into his arms and carrying him home like the swooning maiden he was. But to Arthur's surprise, Gwaine hesitated, a faraway, almost uncomfortable look in his eyes. "I'm not actually sure," he finally answered.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "How are you not sure of what happened? Have you been drinking?"

Gwaine's response was serious and immediate. "Not on a quest this important. Not when Merlin's life was at stake." Arthur nodded curtly in approval, then waited for Gwaine to explain himself. The knight took a deep breath, then told Arthur everything that had happened. Along the way, Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye that Gaius had finished with Merlin, and he stood stiffly, his spine as tall as he could manage, listening intently.

When Gwaine had finished, Arthur shook his head in confusion. "That makes no sense. He just appeared at the edge of your camp?"

Gwaine shrugged. "We thought he might have escaped and stumbled upon us, but with his legs…" He trailed off, dark, flaming eyes darting over to the servant as if to remind himself that Merlin was home, and he was safe.

Gaius turned around and joined the hushed conversation. Arthur thought he saw a flicker of something he couldn't quite place in the old man's gaze – it might have been understanding, or fear, or something else entirely – when Gaius urged, "Since we are at a loss to explain these things at this moment, perhaps it is best to find comfort in Merlin's return – and maybe, once he has awakened, he can shed some light on how he came to be in your camp." Somehow, though, Arthur had the feeling that Gaius didn't expect Merlin to have the answers.

***

Merlin woke the next morning. Gwaine and Arthur had both refused to leave over the night, and so Arthur had slept in Merlin's bed and Gwaine had fallen into a restless slumber slumped over the table in the physician's chambers.

Arthur awoke early, at first confused as to why he was in such an uncomfortable bed, then he recognized his surroundings and spent a few horrified moments trying to figure out why he was in his servant's room, in his bed, but then everything flooded back to him in a great rush, and he thought he might be sick.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed, the familiar deep ache in his ribs more pronounced after sleeping in such a hard, threadbare bed. Well, sleeping was a generous term. The king had only fallen into a fitful, anxious sleep in the early, still-dark hours of the morning and felt less rested than he had before he'd drifted off. It wasn't the discomfort or pain that had kept him awake, however – it had been his own mind, the boiling rage that had hit him full force as soon as he was alone.

The fury was accompanied by equal parts disgust and heartache, and his mind had been alive and seething with images of what Merlin had gone through, the pain he had endured. He'd actually fallen asleep once, only to wake up minutes later with a pounding heart and coiling gut, the crisp snap of bones in his dream much too loud and real in his mind. And when all of the emotions had been boiled down to their basest forms, the thought that resounded through Arthur's head was painfully simple: Merlin didn't deserve this.

Merlin was just stirring when Arthur limped his way down the steps into the physician's main chamber, right arm curled instinctively around his burning midsection. Gwaine still slumped over the table, snoring loudly. Gaius was gone, most likely on his early morning rounds. It was comforting to see that Gaius had thought Merlin well enough to leave more or less alone while he was gone. It meant that he was in no immediate danger.

"Arthur?"

Arthur hastened to his servant's bedside and eased himself carefully into the chair that Gaius had vacated when he left. Arthur responded with a smile and a whispered, "Hello, Merlin. It's about time you woke up." He wasn't sure why he kept his voice lowered, other than a desire to have a moment to speak to his servant alone, before Gwaine woke up.

Merlin looked terrible: His face was pinched in pain, his eyes glassy and legs bandaged and propped up on the mountain of pillows Arthur had ordered brought to the chamber. Still, he smiled at Arthur's light jab. "How… how did I get here?" His voice was weak and dry; Arthur saw a flagon of water on the bedside table and helped Merlin drink, holding his body rather more stiffly than usual to minimize his own pain at the movement.

Arthur's heart dropped a little. There went his answers. "You don't remember?"

Merlin shook his head, his eyes somewhere far away. "The last thing that I recall is…" He trailed off, his long fingers picking anxiously at his blanket.

Arthur leaned forward the tiniest bit. "What?"

"I was at the fortress. The, uh, bandits' hideout."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Do you know where it is? Could you lead us there?"

Merlin tilted his head to the side, confused. "Wasn't that where you found me?"

Merlin's words were like another sword in the gut. Merlin assumed that Arthur had been the one to rescue him, the one to lead the search party. And why wouldn't he believe that? That was what should have happened. If it hadn't been for Arthur's injury, it would have been him carrying his servant home instead of Gwaine. Of course, Merlin couldn't have known that. Arthur forced a smile that he hoped didn't look too fake onto his face and shook his head. "You weren't found at any fortress. None of the men who had taken you were nearby." Guilt gnawed at him for his purposefully vague description of the rescue party, but he shoved it aside. He would not take credit for what his knights had done alone, but he wasn't ready to divulge his own injury to Merlin yet.

"What do you mean? I know I couldn't have escaped on my own, I–"

"What?"

Merlin had cut off, the tiniest spark of something lighting in his eyes. He dropped his gaze. "Nothing. I can't remember."

Arthur had a feeling Merlin wasn't telling the full truth. He could have sworn that the expression on Merlin's face, for the briefest of seconds, was that of realization. As if he'd figured out exactly how he'd managed to get away from the bandits with two broken legs. But he let it go, for now.

"Well, you were found feet from the rescue party's camp," Arthur continued. "Lying in some bushes, unconscious. With your legs…" He didn't finish – he didn't have to. The pain lines in Merlin's face deepened.

Merlin scrubbed a shaky hand through his hair, then winced when he hit the cut. "Ow."

"Don't touch it, you idiot," Arthur chided.

Merlin rolled his eyes, settled deeper into his pillow, and regarded Arthur with something far too close to suspicion.

The silent staring got to Arthur far quicker than he liked to admit. "What?" he snapped waspishly.

"You talked about the rescue party like you weren't a part of it," Merlin observed, and Arthur sighed. Even when badly injured, the servant was annoyingly observant in the most inconvenient ways. Why couldn't he pick up on subtleties in situations where it would actually be helpful?

Despite his exasperation, Arthur was truthful. "It was a party of knights who brought you home," he admitted. "I was not one of them."

Merlin looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he said simply, "Oh."

"Merlin–"

"No, no. That makes sense," Merlin interrupted, and it was more like he was trying to convince himself than Arthur. "I'm just a servant. You're the king. You had many important… king things to do."

"King things?"

"Like being a royal prat."

Arthur smirked. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Merlin's insults while he'd been stuck in bed worrying about the missing servant. He didn't rise to the bait, though – not yet. "You know very well you're not just a servant, Merlin. You are…" He hesitated only briefly; seeing his servant being hauled away by slavers, then spending weeks wondering if he'd ever see his friend again had opened his eyes and battered down his defenses, and ultimately made it easier to say his next words. "You are an old, dear friend. And I feared – I thought I'd never see you again."

Merlin's eyes shimmered in the candlelight. He looked like he was about to cry. Arthur prayed he wouldn't. Then, Merlin smiled and complained, "If I'm such an old, dear friend, then why am I still scrubbing your floors and washing your undergarments?"

"It's your job, Merlin. Being friends with someone shouldn't stop you from doing your duties."

"Then can I have a different job? One that doesn't involve running after your every beck and call?"

Arthur chuckled. "Absolutely not. And don't let what I said go to your head. If you ever tell anyone I said it, I'll feed you to my dogs."

"You can try, but since I'm the one who's been walking them for years now, I think they like me more than you."

They shared an amiable laugh, but the unresolved issue of Arthur's role – or lack thereof – in Merlin's rescue still hung between them. Arthur sobered. When he next spoke, his voice was grave. "The only reason I did not ride out after you, Merlin, was because I was injured. Gwaine and the others had been gone for days before I finally woke up."

Instantly, Merlin's entire demeanor changed. Like he had been struck by lightning, every aspect of Merlin's frame snapped to alert. His face hardened, his eyes flashed, and he levered himself up onto his elbows. He gave off an almost frightening aura, one of worry, as Arthur had expected, but also of… fierce protectiveness? Arthur was touched, but also somewhat unnerved. Something akin to power sizzled in Merlin's blue eyes as they searched Arthur up and down for injury.

"What happened? Who did it? How are you now?"

Arthur blinked, then shifted uncertainly in his chair. "I… I took a sword to the ribs – I'm fine, lie back down – but it missed anything vital. One of the bandits who attacked us got a lucky hit in right as you went down. He's dead now, by the way."

The flames flared before dwindling down into embers. "Good. And you? Are you recovered?"

Arthur thought about lying, about telling Merlin he had never been better, but instead he said, "I'm well on my way. A few more weeks, Gaius says, and I should be as good as new."

Merlin eased himself back down onto his back, wincing as the adrenaline wore off and the movement pulled at his legs. Arthur glanced at the broken limbs and hesitated before asking the question he both desperately needed and ardently dreaded the answer to.

"Merlin… what did they do to you?"

Merlin's face, already whiter than usual from pain, took on a faintly green tint. "I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

Arthur wanted to retort, No, it's not all the same to me! But he took a deep breath, and thought about what was best for Merlin. He would have to talk about what was done to him eventually. Even if it wasn't to him, he would have to relive the terror and the pain and the memories. But he had just woken up. If he needed some time, then who was Arthur to begrudge him that?

Only, he had to know – "Just one thing, then," the king implored, and Merlin's eyebrows raised, surprised that Arthur was giving up on his quest for information so easily. "Can you tell me… did anyone do anything to you? And did they actually come to the point of… of…"

Merlin's voice was troubled, but he finished Arthur's question with a quiet strength. "Selling me?" He shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. I know there was an interested party–" Arthur's gut rolled over on itself, and he thought he might be sick, "–but I honestly can't remember anything that happened after he knocked me out." He looked up at Arthur almost shyly. "I'm sorry, that's all I can remember. But to answer your first question, other than breaking my legs, they didn't touch me."

Relief flooded through Arthur. "Honorable slavers?" he asked incredulously.

A hint of mirth touched Merlin's lips. "I think they were afraid of me," he whispered conspiratorially.

Arthur snorted. "Afraid? Of the likes of you? What were you going to do, kill them with your incompetency?"

"I have many talents that you don't know of," Merlin said mysteriously, and if Arthur hadn't known better, he'd think Merlin was being serious.

"You have one talent," Arthur deadpanned. "And that's irritating your king."

"Glad to be of service," Merlin joked.

"That would be a first," Arthur shot back. Then he said, "Merlin, I'm sorry I wasn't able to rescue you myself. I know you would have done the same for me."

Merlin shook his head. "You were injured, sire."

"That wouldn't have stopped you." He regretted the words, and the guilt that permeated them, as soon as they left his mouth.

Merlin studied him seriously for a few moments before responding with a slight grin, "Maybe not, but aren't you always saying I'm a reckless idiot with no mind for my own safety?"

"That, you are," Arthur agreed heartily. A beat. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me, too."

In the comfortable silence that followed, Arthur realized something – he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a snore from Gwaine. Slowly, he turned around to see the knight still sitting on the bench, his upper body sprawled on the table, face-down. "Gwaine?" Arthur asked.

All was quiet for a handful of hopeful seconds. Then – "...Yes, Arthur?"

Arthur groaned. Behind him, he heard Merlin stifle a chuckle. "How much did you hear?"

Gwaine popped up to an upright position, cracked his neck, popped his knuckles, and sent his friends his most shit-eating grin. "Enough to wonder if you're actually engaged to the right person," he answered chipperly. "You two are so sweet."

Arthur felt the blood rushing into his face, and he steadfastly refused to turn around to look at Merlin, sure that the servant's face, too, would be bright red. "Why, you… I… that's treason!" Arthur exclaimed indignantly, even though it wasn't.

Gwaine shook his hair out of his face, stood, stretched, and ambled his way over to the sick bed. "Merlin, my friend. It's good to see you recovering."

"Thanks, Gwaine," Merlin responded, and Arthur did look back at him now, noting that a fierce blush was indeed just beginning to fade from his cheeks. When he smiled, first at Gwaine, then at Arthur, it was a tired smile, but a hopeful one, too.

"It's good to be home."

FebuWhump2021

Febuwhumpday26

Recovery

Resolution

Sequel

Whump

Hurt Merlin (Merlin)

Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Friendship

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Broken Bones

Sword Wound

Gen or Pre-Slash

Protective Merlin

Protective Arthur

Protective Gwaine (Merlin)

Protective Gaius (Merlin)

everyone is protective

Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Worried Merlin (Merlin)

Everyone Is Worried Too

Arwen Is Referenced

Heart-to-Heart

arthur shows he cares

Bromance

Epic Bromance

Mentions of Slavery

[horde-princess]

A Meta on Catra’s Relationships with DT, Scorpia, and Adora

I’m so excited to write this finally ljsdflkj okay so. I’ve been thinking about why the creators would choose to center a whole season around this new character Double Trouble. They drove the plot and played a major role in a really important part of the story, Catra’s redemption. So I wanna think more about the purpose of this character and go deeper into a couple of their scenes with Catra.

tbh Catra and DT’s very first interaction says it all: DT literally takes the form of Scorpia and tells Catra “I’m about to become your new best friend.” As the season goes on, Double Trouble replaces Scorpia as a sort of artificial confidant for Catra. But it blows up in her face and the purpose of the whole thing is to shed light on Catra’s main internal conflict: her desire for love vs. her fear of heartbreak/vulnerability.

In other words, I believe Double Trouble was introduced as a foil to Scorpia. But if we think about how Scorpia is also a foil to Adora, then that means DT is like... a foil to a foil. So they’re not directly associated with Adora but a lot of what they do relates back to her. Yeah there are a lot of layers here lmao but basically what I’m gonna analyze is how Catra’s relationships with these three characters intertwine and build off each other in season 4 to set the stage for Catra’s redemption (and catradora endgame hollaaa)

So in the beginning, Catra and DT both understand their relationship to be a business arrangement. When does that start to change for Catra, and why?

Catra’s History With Betrayal

Just think about Catra’s relationships at the start of s4.. After the portal, Adora had basically severed whatever was left of their relationship, and that was shown to be weighing on Catra all season. Scorpia and Entrapta were the only other people she cared about, but Entrapta betrayed her (first by monopolizing Hordak’s attention then by refusing to open the portal), then Scorpia dared to question her decision to send their friend to die and her presence became a constant reminder of Catra’s guilt. In fact, the mere mention of Entrapta’s name in 4x03 causes Catra to snap and yell at Scorpia “we are not friends!” ... which of course isn’t true. Catra may think Scorpia’s annoying but she confided in her, her loyalty made Catra feel like she could trust her.. and that’s exactly why Catra always tried so hard to push her away. All the betrayals in her life scarred her so deeply that she wanted to avoid emotional intimacy at all costs. I’m about to get Jungian up in this shit bc we see a deep disconnect between Catra’s outward actions (her conscious) and her inner desires (subconscious) this season and it’s this i believe that leads to her breakdown in 4x10. It’s an unsustainable way to live.

Why Catra Trusted Double Trouble

So by 4x04, Catra had sabotaged her only two relationships. She was utterly alone, and vulnerable, and Double Trouble was in the right place at the right time offering their loyalty to her.. so Catra did what any emotionally stable person would do and subconsciously used a hired mercenary to try and fill the growing void in her heart. I don’t think Catra actually cared about DT much at all, like sure they got along and that matters on some level, but I think it’s more that Catra was in a vulnerable place and DT was the only one around.

So why does Catra trust Double Trouble when she won’t let herself trust anyone else? I’ve seen some posts saying it’s because Catra is self-destructive--i.e. she only seeks love from people who won’t give it to her because she doesn’t believe she deserves love--which is super true.. but I think her motivations can be better explained by saying that Catra knew from the start that Double Trouble didn’t really care about her, and that’s why the partnership was attractive to her (at first). She thought it would be safe--no vulnerability, no risk of heartbreak. But the truth is Catra’s just not as disaffected as she wishes she was.

The moment Catra really let her guard down was when Double Trouble saved her from the collapsing building in 4x04. 

can we just!! talk about this scene!!!! the way her voice shakes when she says “saving me” just, oh my god... like what a touchy subject for her, right? Shes spent her whole life resenting how Adora was always trying to “save” her from everything. I’m not sure but I think White Out (2x05) was the only other time Catra thanked someone for saving her life, and she just says “thanks for getting us out of there.” So her use of the word “save” here is special and it illustrates how deeply vulnerable Catra feels this season, and more importantly it’s a sign of character development! It’s no coincidence that the theme of saving is connected between DT, Scorpia, and Adora. It’s leading up to Catra learning to replace her resentment towards Adora with something closer to gratitude. 

But while the scene connects these relationships, it also highlights their differences. After Catra displays an astounding amount of vulnerability with DT, they coolly reply “well, I live to serve... for a price, of course.”

This right here is the first step of Catra’s breakdown. Suppressed desires making themselves known, one half of her heart rebelling against the other. She was pushing away her real friends and finding hollow companionship with someone she thought she wouldn’t get attached to, but it happened anyway.

The difference between Double Trouble and Scorpia must have become glaringly obvious to Catra in that moment. Whereas Scorpia was loyal to Catra out of love, DT was mostly interested in getting paid. And she was surprised by how much that hurt. She fucking hated how much it hurt, you can see it written all over her face. It’s why she fails Scorpia’s little test in 4x06. Because of Double Trouble, Catra’s true desires were threatening to break free, so outwardly she fights against it and acts more resistant than ever to being friends with Scorpia. She castigates her, calls her annoying and incompetent, harsher than we’ve ever seen... but she didn’t expect Scorpia to hit back (we did, tho. Scorpia’s an icon).

In four words Scorpia teaches Catra a hard lesson about what it means to earn someone’s loyalty. She knew she must’ve really fucked up if she somehow managed to push away the most loyal person in all of Etheria. And again the fake nature of Catra’s relationship with Double Trouble provides a reference for her to see why Scorpia’s loyalty, based in love, was so valuable, and why she shouldn’t have taken it for granted. It also relates to Adora because, similar to Scorpia, Adora had been trying so hard these past 3 seasons to connect with Catra, but she refused to forgive her and her behavior eventually forced Adora to cut ties. So Scorpia calling her out pushes Catra towards accepting some personal responsibility for everything that happened with Adora, too. Man there are just.. a ton of implications here.

Then Catra gives Hordak a fun pep talk but really it’s just her self-projecting all over him:

At this point her hateful actions and her goal to conquer Etheria are extremely out of line with her true desires and we can see it’s really affecting her mental state. It wasn’t just one thing or person that caused her breakdown, it was a combination of Adora severing their relationship, and Scorpia’s disappointment in her, and Double Trouble’s indifference towards her. All three of these situations were playing off each other and chipping away at Catra’s carefully crafted armor, revealing a desire to be loved hidden underneath... which she continued to fight against for as long as she could. Adora and Scorpia were playing their roles in helping Catra learn to take responsibility for her life, but those relationships wouldn’t have been so effective had it not been for how they were contrasted with Double Trouble’s indifference. Anyway have I mentioned how amazing and complex this show is????

Catra Loses DT and Scorpia Around the Same Time

4x07 is the last time Catra talks to Double Trouble before they get captured by the rebels. Coincidentally, Catra realizes that Scorpia left her just one episode later, which once again points to a connection between these two characters. From 4x08 to 4x11 Catra is completely alone, feeling like she has lost everyone in her life. It sets the stage for her meltdown in 4x10. But my fave part about Scorpia leaving is how it changes the way Catra thinks about betrayal. 

Even if Scorpia didn’t tell Catra where she was going in the note she left, Catra had to have assumed she was leaving to join the Rebellion because where else would she have gone right? So the two people Catra loves most have now BOTH abandoned her to join the rebellion. I don’t even wanna think about how triggering that betrayal must have been for Catra.. I don’t wanna think about how the next time Catra sees Scorpia she’s going to be a full blown princess with powers and everything, just like what happened with Adora. 

But there’s a key difference between Adora and Scorpia. Catra knows at this point that Adora didn’t want to leave her behind, but she did anyway to pursue some destiny that Catra wasn’t a part of, which left her feeling betrayed. Scorpia, on the other hand--the very definition of ‘loyalty’--left her specifically because Catra pushed her away. Her fear of vulnerability manifested as anger towards someone she refused to admit that she cared about, and it pushed her away.

Once again I think Scorpia is teaching Catra a lesson about taking responsibility for some of the shit in her life. It’s a privilege that Adora lost after being careless with Catra’s trust, and thus Scorpia was the only one in a position to reach Catra and help her. But I think that the things Catra learned from Scorpia are going to play back into her relationship with Adora and allow them to reconcile (when Adora deals with her own issues too).

We can also say a little about how Double Trouble’s betrayal contrasts with Scorpia’s and Adora’s. I think their complete emotional detachment is the perfect frame of reference for Catra to be able to acknowledge that even though Scorpia and Adora left her, they DID love her, and they never stopped trying to reach out to her--at least, not until Catra crossed a line with both of them. At some point, Catra went from being justified in her feelings of betrayal to overdoing it, placing too much blame where it didn’t belong and closing the door to forgiveness. So I think that’s the role that Double Trouble played there, helping Catra see that difference. Like even if someone leaves you, hurts you, it doesn’t always mean they don’t love you. Relationships take work and understanding and forgiveness and you have to learn how to handle that or you’ll always be alone. Scorpia’s the pure embodiment of that lesson, and she’s lighting the way for Catra to navigate the much more nebulous waters of her grudge against Adora.

Double Trouble’s Betrayal

So now Catra is feeling abandoned by Scorpia and Double Trouble (her only friends) and we see the disconnect between what’s in her heart and the front she’s been putting on come to a head in 4x10 when she has that meltdown. She’s kind of losing it because her fear and heartbreak are driving her down a path that she doesn’t actually want. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. In 4x12 she continues to hold on desperately to the idea that beating Adora will make her happy, because at this point she doesn’t see any way to turn the car around.

There’s an absolutely fantastic scene early in 4x12 that sets up Double Trouble’s betrayal beautifully, like really it’s a masterpiece. Catra’s childhood friends walk in on her in the locker room and they’re laughing and joking around and for a second it’s like... Catra longs to be a part of that again.. To have friends, to be happy. But then Kyle accidentally kicks one of Scorpia’s old doodles (a painful reminder that she’s gone) and Catra freaks out and attacks them. Kyle’s like “we used to be friends, why are you treating us like this?” So she lets them leave, feeling alone and miserable, and THAT’S when Double Trouble waltzes in... having had just made a deal with Glimmer to double cross Catra.

God it hurts so much. The contrast between her pushing away Scorpia and her real friends, and then her childlike relief upon seeing the person who just sold her out.

This scene gives me fucking chills with the nightmare-ish music and everything.. It’s like, at this point DT is just fucking with her, they’ve already got Catra figured out. This face touch is so cruel and fits with the show’s motif of manipulative affection, too. For me it felt very disconcerting to see Catra like this... unaware that she’s been defeated yet she’s so emotionally vulnerable here, she’s like putty in Double Trouble’s hands. Scorpia leaving cracked her open and, as they’re the last person left standing with Catra’s trust, Double Trouble’s in the perfect position to come in and break her.

So the next episode 4x13 has that crazy scene where Double Trouble totally obliterates Catra and I’m not even gonna talk about it lmao because yall have already done a great job analyzing it. But I do wanna draw attention to the fact that this is the only thing she says in this whole scene:

Can you believe that’s what mattered the most to her in that moment? Not that literally everything she had been working for for the past 4 seasons had just turned to dust before her eyes, but the fact that this random mercenary she hired betrayed her. And there was no anger at all, just... heartbreak.

And then look at what she says to Glimmer afterwards (setting aside the fact that Catra is basically giving up on life...) she says nothing about the war, nothing about winning or revenge. The only thing she’s thinking about is how lonely she feels.

So by the end of Season 4, I think Catra did finally figure out what she truly wanted in life. She didn’t want to be on top just for power’s sake, she wanted people to respect her, to love her, so that no one could hurt her anymore. But she was so obsessed with winning that she ended up losing everyone’s respect. Wow haha if only she could get a second chance to earn it back the right way.... like say if, idk, she was trapped in space jail and forced to team up with her sworn enemy to survive and they came out best friends or something <:)

To sum up, Double Trouble’s role in Season 4 was to break Catra’s mask and force her to consider what she truly wants. I think their betrayal taught Catra to really appreciate what a terrible mistake she made in pushing Scorpia and Adora away. It taught her the difference between someone leaving her because they don’t care about her, and someone cutting ties with her even though they do care for her very deeply, they just couldn’t take Catra treating them like crap anymore. It showed her that what Adora did was nothing like what DT did. That’s what a betrayal feels like when the person doesn’t care about you. Someone who doesn’t care about you isn’t going to beg for your forgiveness for 3 seasons and risk being obliterated from existence just to get you back.

But the real beauty of season 4 was how Catra hitting rock bottom had almost nothing to do with Adora. With the help of other friends Catra has begun to find her own reasons to change, she’s acknowledging her guilt and heartbreak and discovering the person she wants to become. She’s learning to take responsibility instead of just blaming other people. And this character development had nothing to do with romance, just like how Adora breaking free of her destiny and learning to let go of control had little to do with Catra. I love the different perspectives on love that they give us with Catra, Adora, and Scorpia. I love how this show takes the “love conquers all” trope and subverts it, saying that sometimes.. love breaks you. Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes it’s used as a weapon. Sometimes you have to let go of people you love, but it opens up space for you to figure out who you are and what you want and to conquer your own demons. You’ll come out the other side with a better understanding of what real, healthy love is supposed to look like. And maybe in the end, the love you always sought will find you again, in its own time, in its own way. 💘

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xxix. Beauty and Her Beast

@the-pompous-potato​ awwww, your enthusiasm for this story always brightens my day! I am just glowing, feeling so accomplished that I pulled off the big twist, and you enjoyed it so much! ^__^

@bubblesthemonsterartist it made me so excited that you appreciated the sitting in silence! that’s long been one of my favorite scenes for this story, that they’re just...despondent. but together still.

A/N: Once Izana started getting strategic, it required me to check my geography, so I had to make a retroactive edit to the war as described in chapter ii (The Bright Star): Sereg is too far north for the invaders to have bothered; they actually went from Laxdo to the sea port town.

<<Previous || first arc || AO3 || Next>>

Loss is a strand snapped in a web.

A single break leaves some threads sagging, while others buckle and threaten to snap under the strain.

Zen’s death left nothing untouched. Nothing was immune to it; no one in the castle emerged unscathed.

Those closest to Zen reflected the impact most.

In Mitsuhide’s case, it aged him: He became like a man at the end of his life, facing the days to come with no purpose and no motivation. 

In Kiki’s case, it flawed her like a crack in the mirror: She was damaged, but still functioning.

...

As for Izana, it would have been only natural for him to lash out in the wake of his brother’s death. Perhaps he had chosen to take out his anger on those closest to Zen who had failed to protect him, even as Izana himself felt that he had failed to protect him. 

Alternatively, he might have adopted his lost brother’s projects and dreams, taking up Zen’s mantle of adopting and nurturing these unusual souls, rejected from their native soil and adrift in unfamiliar lands. 

It possibly hadn’t involved the most comfortable means for those involved, but that would be understandable, too: It might be explained by shadowy necessities of political intrigue, or by the strained quality of Izana’s personal dealings with those involved, which might have made them wary of accepting direct overtures.

One might even account for it by a quirk of Izana’s character that rendered him enigmatic even in situations where it might perhaps have been unnecessary to be so.

Such a response would have befitted the noble spirit of a prince: to succor these loyal friends and companions in his brother’s place, artfully bringing about the fulfillment of their dreams and happiness.

...

Izana was not so sentimental that he ordered his actions according to his own feelings, however.

...

A prince could not afford to yield to the temptations of sopping a sore heart with posthumous reparations, ultimately meaningless actions in that the intended object of their effects was past any benefit he might have received from them. 

Let the private individual indulge in symbolic expressions of grief -- Izana’s royal duties demanded focus, strategy, efficiency. 

He acted as he did because political events required it: His kingdom and his people had been compromised, and he must eliminate all future possibilities of that threat’s reoccurring.

...

Izana accordingly bent all the powers of his exceptional mind to the task: observing, weighing, analyzing, pinpointing his enemies’ weaknesses and evaluating their strengths. 

The invaders had crossed into Clarines from a state little known to him or his allies. 

There were no formal agreements or treaties between Clarines and its northeastern neighbor, yet all reports indicated it to be a stable, prosperous regime. If not friendly to outsiders, nor has it shown itself militant in the past.

The attackers had used that land, but they did not belong to it.

Their rapid disintegration in the wake of defeat suggested that their forces contained a high proportion of mercenaries, warriors with no allegiance besides their own purses. They cared nothing for their master’s fate, so long as he was alive--and solvent--long enough to honor their contracts.

They would not catch Clarines off-guard again, because Izana would end them before they had another chance.

...

It was the peculiar burden of a prince to blend caution with courage. 

Izana had personally cultivated and honed the presence of mind that detects danger, navigates threats, always balancing on a knife’s edge between sheltering himself - a protection that became a prison when it robbed you of your people’s respect - and exposing himself needlessly to enemy plots. 

Izana had perfected this balancing act.

He passed it on to Zen both in word and deed: by his own example, by repeated reminders, and by exercises that he had personally arranged for his brother when the situation called for intervention.

...

Izana had cautioned Zen, but he had allowed his brother to take risks nonetheless. 

He had watched but he had not forbidden as Zen chose to surround himself with those who could not protect and advance his interests, as Kiki Seiran and Mitsuhide Lowen could. Zen’s unusual companions put him at risk: through their questionable identities, their awkward, outsider roles in court, their murky backgrounds and fraught connections.

Zen had an impetuous and warmhearted nature - double-edged virtues.

Izana had overseen these proclivities run their course through his brother’s childhood. He had presided over them with the distant attention of a hawk that perceives more completely and in finer detail than a dim-eyed neighbor of greater proximity.

...

Izana had allowed that freedom because a young tree needs space to grow and stretch its branches, even in unexpected directions - too tight a space and it will languish, no matter how ornately or healthfully prepared. 

He had given Zen the freedom that his brother needed to flourish.

Their enemies had taken advantage.

...

Like a summer house that throws open its doors to the fresh air and graces its guests with the fragrance of sun and flower...yet the morning wakes to find the sanctuary scarred. 

Rats have crept in during the night.

In an unguarded moment, they had crawled into starlit spaces and wreaked irreparable damage. 

Their foul bodies made their mark on a place not unloved, not unworthy, but vulnerable in its beauty. Their grasping claws have shredded the paper-thin walls that showed no imperfection, only the fragility of grace and nobility. 

They were not worthy to look on its beauty, yet they have destroyed it.

...

After their defeat in pitched battle, the attackers melted away as swiftly as they had appeared. Victory had eluded them, but they in turn had evaded the just desserts of the vanquished.

That was unacceptable.

There was the threat of a renewed attack. The routed army might reform and strike again, emboldened by its prior successes and near victories.

There is also this: His brother is dead.

...

For a man with little in the way of permitted attachments, Zen was the closest someone could be to Izana--and the single person he felt most responsible for. He had owed it to Zen as a brother to care for him, and he had owed it to his country as a ruler to help Zen become great.

Izana can’t resent the sacrifice that Clarines demanded--that would require an internal civil war, an evisceration of the identity he has cultivated since his first breath. 

Clarines is not to blame.

It was the invaders, the vermin who had infested their kingdom, who would answer. 

They had slithered into a deep hole, that much he and Kiki had ascertained on their journey north. It would require a particularly cleverly fashioned instrument to ferret them out. 

Then he would end them: ultimate, complete annihilation, so that even the memory of them died from the earth.

...

For Izana, losing Zen lit the fuse on a bundle of dynamite.

Outwardly, there is little sign except for the hint of something burning. The spark is tiny and travels quickly. 

If those nearby aren’t paying attention, they could easily continue oblivious to time running out, fearless in the face of impending destruction.

...

“Summon Lord Haruka. I have need of him.”

[mfkinanaa]

SUN IN CANCER.

Cancer: Cardinal Water       

Ruler: The Moon

Keywords: Nurturing, Enclosing, Protecting, Intuiting

Functional Expression: sensitive, emotional intelligence, nurturing, psychic, family oriented, empathetic, reliable.

Dysfunctional Expression: hyper-sensitive, overly emotional, extreme selfishness, fearful, overprotective, smothering.

Emotionally Active.

Born with the Sun in Cancer, you are likely to be motivated by the urge to establish emotional connectedness with others, and then take action to nourish, support and protect them.

Cancer is a Water sign, and so, concerned with emotions, intuition, imagination and the psyche.It is also a Cardinal sign, implying the need to act. Within the realm of emotion, Cancerians are likely to be actively engaged. The emotional ties that bind to those closest are of primary concern. For this reason, Cancer is strongly associated with family and domestic life.

Home is the natural domain for those with the Sun in Cancer, for it is here that they are in their strength. Home life is especially important, and Cancerians often need to feel safe and secure within a loving home environment in order to feel at ease.

Therefore, the home needs to be as calm and serene as possible, for the home environment acts almost like the shell of the crab, protecting what is soft and vulnerable on the inside from the harshness of the outer world.

For this reason, Cancerians will spend a lot of time getting the home ‘just right’.A calm home life is necessary for emotional equilibrium. From this foundation, they can then project themselves out into the world.

When the Cancerian is happy at home, they can then become a source of great nourishment and delight. They make great hosts and entertainers, and enjoy nothing more than taking care of the ones they love through good food, rapport and empathetic conversation.

Many excellent cooks are born under this sign. Anything connected to the hospitality industry them well. Providing nourishment is a concrete way of taking action around emotional needs. This allows those with the Sun in Cancer to feel a sense of purpose.

Although Cancer is concerned with action, they often tend to move through vacillation and side-stepping. They may avoid direct moves until external circumstances feel favourable or ‘right’.

In this way, they have much in common with their celestial namesake – The Crab. On the outside, they appear tough, hardened or impenetrable, capable of a formidable tenacity. But underneath, they are typically soft and sensitive as can be, protecting their vulnerabilities from the harshness of the outer world.

Cancerians often come at problems sideways in the attempt to avoid being hurt.

Home and Family Life.

Cancerians usually feel deeply connected – for better or for worse – to their family of origin or those they consider close to heart. These strong connections mean Cancers often feel personally responsible for the well-being of others. This becomes both a blessing and a curse.

On the upside, Cancerians can be especially warm, loving and devoted. They enjoy taking care of others. On the downside, they may feel themselves overly responsible for others’ wellbeing, and project too much onto others, or based on what they feel loved ones “should” do.

Cancerians have a tendency to involve themselves in the emotional lives of others. In doing so they can lose sight of their own needs. As they become less in touch with their own individuality, they become increasingly moody and erratic.

At times, they can be clannish and crabby. They tend to react at the slightest trigger, feeling themselves in the middle of situations that may, in reality, have very little to do with them.

This can be both draining and dysfunctional, as it creates feelings of obligation and guilt that are difficult to resolve. Learning to separate from feelings of emotional responsibility is a key life lesson for many Cancerian individuals.

They must recognize that their need to be needed may not be the same need that others have, and must learn to hold back – staying focussed on their own lives. Assuming responsibility for what is not theirs to take on means that Cancerians have a way of making unwelcome intrusions into others lives, creating turmoil where they really want peace.

Learning to recognize when ‘good advice’ and emotional involvement is not wanted is important but will take time.

In these ways, the home and family are both a source of strength and the shell those with the Sun in Cancer must outgrow. The need to experience a warm, safe and nurturing home life is paramount. It is imperative for Cancerians to create the right kind of living circumstances to feel calm, serene and connected to other people.

Yet leaving the safety of home is also necessary if they are to make their mark on the world. As a Cardinal sign, they are usually not satisfied unless they are creating an impact in the world. To do this they must first establish a stable base, and then get out of their comfort zone by leaving it. Cancerians can, at times, avoid the challenges of the outside world by staying indoors. This keeps them emotionally stuck.

Remembering What is Past.

This sign is connected to memory and the things of the past. Cancerians like to surround themselves with objects that have emotional resonance, or remind them of what they have done.

Those born with the Sun in Cancer often prefer what is vintage, hand-made or antique to what is shiny and new. They tend to value objects and experiences that evoke emotional depth. They may collect trinkets and mementos, keeping these stored away for years.

In this way, Cancerians may lose themselves in figments and memories. At a deep inner level, they may refuse to let go. Holding onto the past function can be a way to resist letting go of emotional experiences. They enjoy losing themselves in the memory of what is comfortable and known.

On another level, Cancer is connected to continuity and tradition. Cancerians love to reminisce and retell stories from the past. Yet on the down-side, they can become enmeshed in the nostalgia, and quickly lose perspective.

This problem is especially activated around family members, bringing up past hurst or disappointments instead of moving on. Cancerians can find themselves feeling responsible for how others choose to be, and becoming overly focussed on trying to ‘fix’ what is no longer relevant.

Emotional upsets flow thick and fast when Cancerians try to act based on their own perceptions of how others should think and feel. They may then find themselves on the receiving end of resentment when this attempt to assume responsibility is not wanted.

Vivid Imaginations.

Cancers are often gifted with vivid imaginations. This tendency to imagine should be acknowledged and developed. For many with the Sun in Cancer there can be creative and artistic talents that need an outlet. This can range from creating in the kitchen to design around the home. It may be expressed building homes and properties, or creating a business from scratch.

Cancerians have a way of tuning in to what others need, and then employing their active imaginations to bring it into form. Many excellent writers are born under this sign, displaying an intuitive ability to tune in to what the public wants and needs.

Other Cancerians have an uncanny sense of business timing, knowing when and where to act. Many tycoons are born to this sign, and Cancerians often have a particular business flair. The ability to imagine realistic yet original outcomes is a powerful trait, and one Cancerians can draw upon easily.

Their active imaginations and intuitive responses mean they tend to ‘pick up’ on new ideas all the time. Then the natural impulse to take action coupled with capacity to sense what others need means they are in an excellent position to act at the right time and place.

When Cancerians employ their sense perceptions with some degree of objectivity they can be especially insightful. They can respond to passing impressions with uncanny precision and accuracy.

Cancer is a deeply sensitive sign, so that learning to listen to an internal and rhythmic sense of timing is most important. Feelings tend to ebb and flow like the tides. Accepting this is fundamental for their well-being.

As Cancerians learn to distinguish intuitive perceptions over emotional projections, they find their niche in life. Through their imaginations, they can ‘see’ a perfect solution or way forward that will meet the immediate need in their own as well as other’s lives.

When the imagination is denied, or instead allowed to run riot, it can lead to all sorts of toxic situations. Cancerians can also use their emotional sensitivity and powerful imaginations to apparently ‘interact’ with the world outside them, imagine what they believe is going on, and then decide not to participate. Then that famed Cancerian imagination works against them.

The propensity to imagine the worst means they can come to very inaccurate conclusions, and feel hurt by situations that may not even have occurred. Reliving past emotional hurts and upsets can take precedence over what is actually happening now.

Cancerians then become the emotional casualties of all sorts of imagined slights and social grievances that become excuses for not leaving the comfort of home. This then leads to an emotional disconnection from others, which is the opposite of what they truly seek.

Sun in Cancer: Your Solar Journey.

With the Sun in Cancer you are gifted with extraordinary emotional and intuitive insight. This can be turned to your advantage by taking action to support and foster those you hold dear, or to develop projects that you wish to get off the ground. Acknowledging your sensitivity and imagination provides you with highly effective tools.

Although you are likely to respect continuity and stability in your emotional life, you must also remember to let go of the past. Tendencies to attempt to assume responsibility for others emotional needs should be kept in check, or you will notice resentment from those you care most deeply about. With your finely tuned intuition and concern for other’s needs, you are often the most caring and family-oriented of souls. In the end your sensitivity to others is both your blessing and philosophical curse.

[amateurasstrologer]

BY REQUEST #7 PLUTO IN THE HOUSES

Pluto is one tiny-ass, slow-ass bitch. That little mf-er takes its sweet time to bring the most serious changes to your life. There’s a lot of confusion about this sweet baby so let’s talk about it.

First: the placement of every planet supports the placement of every other planet. That’s the thing about those celestial bodies, they don't fuck with spontaneous bitches. No planet is out there getting wild doing its own thing contradicting all the other planets. They’re a complete crew and their cycles are all linked up. We can always talk generally, but you gotta look at your Pluto placement (and any other planet) in the context of the rest of the chart.

Now: Pluto. What’s up with that bitch anyways? Pluto usually brings to mind some shit about sex, obsession, a pheonix rising from the ashes, rebirth, some tarot cards. Alright. Let go of your Scorpio complex and listen up. Pluto does have to do with transformation - but it’s a transformation that’s so intricate, so extreme, by the time you get to the end of it you’re like, “damn am I even the same person I don’t even recognize myself.” Spoiler alert: you're not the same person cause Pluto is on some generational, evolutional shit. The Pluto way is slow as fuck - any major change is the result of sustained effort over a long period of time.

A Pluto transformation is total. This isn’t some shit you can do in a day and call it good - it’s the slowest, sweetest process of the Zodiac. So naturally, it’s bigger than just you. Bitches, we’re lucky if we live long enough to see a full Uranus cycle, so forget about Pluto. This is a generational process. Yes: Pluto affects you on a personal level, and yes: you can make serious change happen during your life, but this process a slow burn. It deals with transforming deeply conditioned behaviors that go farther back (and forward) than just you and your little life.

Finally: all this is why Pluto and Scorpio and the 8th house are a little family. They’re connected because they all deal with sharing in the deepest parts of life: and it doesn't get much deeper than the behaviors, patterns and experiences that get passed between us, acted out and carried through generations.

Particulars for the party people:

PLUTO IN THE FIRST (1) conditioned issues with self-image - your whole life is a process of changing how you feel about yourself. Until you put in work to acknowledge the serious shit you’ve been through, you’re gonna battle with extreme feelings of isolation and you’ll feel unable to move forward with your life.

PLUTO IN THE SECOND (2) conditioned beliefs about success - your whole life is a process of coming to terms with your personal history and finding a way to use it as motivation. Until you put in work to acknowledge your deep-ass familial/ social/ historical conditioning, there’s gonna be underlying feelings of dissatisfaction and confusion in everything you do.

PLUTO IN THE THIRD (3) conditioned social anxiety - your whole life is a process of changing how you organize your life and relationships. Until you put in work to acknowledge your feelings of inferiority and insecurity, you’re gonna be seriously anal about your surroundings and it’s gonna be hard for you to really feel at ease when you’re out and about.

PLUTO IN THE FOURTH (4) conditioned self-suppression and isolation - your whole life is a process of developing a rock solid connection with yourself. Until you put in work to acknowledge your tendancy to repress everything about yourself and project it onto everyone else, you’re gonna struggle to genuinely engage and share creatively with others.

PLUTO IN THE FIFTH (5) conditioned struggles with self-expression - your whole life is a process of coming to terms with your social influence and power. Until you put in work to actually acknowledge the effect your actions and presence have on your environment and the people in your life, your lack of self-awareness and self-control is gonna alienate the people around you.

PLUTO IN THE SIXTH (6) conditioned issues with personal responsibility - your whole life is a process of learning how to take sensible, direct actions to improve your quality of life (emotional, physical, or mental). Until you put in work to acknowledge that you’re responsibile for yourself, your choices and your relationships, you’re gonna feel like a helpless victim of your circumstances.

PLUTO IN THE SEVENTH (7) conditioned unaccountability in relationships - your whole life is a process of learning how to confidently set a positive tone for your relationships. Until you put in work to acknowledge your passive-ass, unaccountable way of dealing with others, you’re going to experience tension and dissatisfaction in relationships.

PLUTO IN THE EIGHTH (8) conditioned struggles with power and connection - your whole life is a process of developing compassion and acceptance for yourself and others and finding a healthy balance in relationships. Until you put in work to acknowledge your desire for power and control, you’re going to constantly feel dissatisfied, lonely and resentful.

PLUTO IN THE NINTH (9) conditioned belief systems - your whole life is a process of finding the right mixture of beliefs and principles to structure your actions around. Until you put in work to acknowledge that you’ve allowed some whack-ass, selfish beliefs to condition your actions, you’re going to struggle to maintain your sense of self.

PLUTO IN THE TENTH (10) conditioned issues with social roles - your whole life is a process of utilizing your influence to empower others. Until you put in work to acknowledge that being responsibile for others involves showing them how to be responsibile for themselves, you’re going to make people feel dependent on you and then resent the shit out of them.

PLUTO IN THE ELEVENTH (11) conditioned social carelessness - your whole life is a process of finding an appropriate social balance. Until you put in the work to acknowledge that you can be totally unaware of your responsibilities when dealing with others, you’re going to make the people around you feel constant frustration and exasperation.

PLUTO IN THE TWELFTH (12) conditioned self-delusion - your whole life is a process of becoming aware and taking control of yourself. Until you put in work to acknowledge that you get completely caught up and swept away by the collective mood (and then lie to yourself about it), you’re going to feel like life moves too fast for you and you can’t keep up.

Don’t forget: these are life-long themes that take opportunity on opportunity to actually deal with and refine. It takes sustained effort over a long period of time for Pluto to do its job. Just stick with it and you’ll be fine.

Peace, bitches.

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY

[whenerosmetpsyche]

Pluto’s Pull

Where Pluto lands in your natal chart is where your most unconscious security needs determine your decisions and actions. It represents the evolutionary soul past you come from. At your first Saturn return, Plutonian issues make themselves known by recreating themes from your earlier environment. Saturn’s return compels us to visit our earlier years so we can attempt to solve Pluto’s evolutionary puzzle in our lives. This is generally when the evolutionary intent of the soul collides with patterns from the past and we are challenged to break free or remain stuck in Pluto’s grip.

Transits to Pluto (or from Pluto) cause change by:

Emotional shock through loss or cataclysmic events (e.g., eviction, death, termination)

A perceived need for relationships to people, places, and subjects (e.g., sudden interest in spirituality, a specific country, an affair or fascination with a new friend)

Steady growth where a gradual release of old patterns and behaviors gives way to new opportunities and situations

Actualizing internal desires to become something beyond ourselves (e.g, the impetus to write a book, become a parent, or run for office).

Pluto transits are far more kind to those who have surfaced subconscious behaviors and are actively trying to integrate Pluto themes. Look to the opposite house and sign where Pluto lies in your chart to determine how to reconcile unconscious Pluto conditioning. 

Pluto in the natal chart

1st House: You are in every sense of the word a Plutonian person. You seek the truth and will face it, no matter how dark it appears. Over the years you have learned to hold back your true self to keep the peace; however in repressing your true intensity and leadership desires, a compulsion to manipulate and control others can manifest.

To evolve, look to your 7th house of relationships, partnerships, and diplomacy. Learn to connect to the rawness of others to become the kind of leader you are destined to be. 

2nd House: Security feels like life or death and an extreme desire to hold on to things, jobs, people, or situations that you have outgrown are ongoing themes. With Pluto in the 2nd you compulsively seek a kind of security that is insatiable, where the comforts of the material world are always tainted with a kind of inescapable scarcity. 

To evolve, let go of everything material, and embrace your inner strength. Open yourself to the soul-level vulnerability of the 8th house. You will find true security in your ability to walk away from the job you’re over-qualified for, your overflowing closet, and the friends who you’ve outgrown and embrace the unknown.

3rd House: Your perceptions tilt towards the taboo, the unseen. You refuse to play along with social niceties bereft of truth just to keep the peace. Rather, you are emotionally compelled to call out hypocrisy and conspiracy when you see it, but your intensity begins to take a toll. Your bleak lens upon humanity begins to turn you bitter and you miss out on the joie de vivre that is life.

To evolve, put your inner life into words. Open yourself up through healing conversation. Risk being known and accept that not everyone can see what you see. Once you reclaim your voice, you will lose the need for confrontation.

4th House: You are learning to derive security from within, a process that most likely started with your family when you realized they could not provide you with the emotional support you needed. Much of your emotional patterning is built upon prior life experience which you will initially attempt to resolve through others by alternating between domination and manipulation. When these actions fail to produce the security you seek, the 4th house Pluto native will learn to become more dependent upon themselves to meet their emotional needs. 

To evolve, take responsibility for your actions and reactions. By walking your life path with intention, you are able to gain ownership over your feeling nature, lessening your dependence on others. By fully feeling and questioning all of your emotions, you will learn how to control your emotional triggers and achieve the security you seek. 

5th House: You are here to creatively self-actualize yourself through projects, endeavors, and an elevated position in society. Your need for acknowledgement and validation feels endless and can become a source of neurosis if not met to the degree which you feel is congruent with your destiny. You often mistakenly believe to know the wants and needs of others, and are hurt when your generous efforts are gone unacknowledged.

To evolve, look for ways that your need to be exceptional and in the spotlight can translate into progress for the greater good. In learning to that you are a channel for creativity and not the sole source of it, the accolades you see seek will follow.

6th House: You are here to learn service to society, culture, and individuals. Along the way you are here to learn about humility and self-improvement through intense self-analysis. Your extraordinary insight is turned inward, and you are learning to see yourself clearly as part of a larger whole. Through this awareness, criticism is challenging for you to receive as you are constantly seeking to atone for your shortcomings. In not achieving the perfection you seek, you risk projecting your failures onto others or turning them inward resulting in procrastination and anxiety. Crisis brings these issues to light.

To evolve, you must seek connection to the divine. Once you feel that you are part of something larger than yourself, your work will become aligned with meaning. You learn to more clearly see relationships, to forgive yourself and others, and know true humility. Your life flows with the divine.

7th House: Through others, you are learning your own value and individuality within social contexts. Fundamentally Pluto in the 7th house is about equality in relationships --  and often through many of them. You instinctively listen and fulfill the needs of your partner and find comfort in meeting their needs. You risk losing yourself in relationship by giving so much that you leave little for yourself. Partnerships tend to be unequal or overly dependent leaving little room to grow. In extreme cases Pluto forces separation.

To evolve, learn when to give and when to not. Direct your own life decisions and create relationships that work for you. Learn how to fulfill your needs on your own, and do not give out of guilt or fear. 

8th House: You feel compelled to transcend the limits of yourself through money, sex, or the occult. Your subconscious death wish comes from a desire for transformative power, and you are constantly a catalyst through sex or psychological intimacy. Unchecked, you risk becoming overly manipulative and possessive in your vulnerability. Separation triggers rage against the little deaths you secretly set in motion. 

To evolve, look towards the stability of the 2nd house to fulfill your inner needs. In learning to transform yourself through personal growth and fulfillment, you meet others who will want to transform with you, rather than through you. Honor your power by surfacing what’s unsaid, taboo, the hidden -- the extremities of life. You are here to uncover the unseen forces of truth.

9th House: You seek out the reasons behind our connection to the larger forces sensed in the 8th house and seek to explain them, but often lack the words. You feel alienated from your own culture, rootless, and instead consider yourself a citizen of the world in search for deeper meaning. Your intuition is strong and spiritual -- a placement you share with leaders like Nostradamus, Jesus, and Kahlil Gibran, but you have difficulty trusting in it as sometimes you confuse it with your inner desire. In your search for grounding, you may hold fast to beliefs or philosophies that you feel necessary to convert others to in search of your own emotional security. Misunderstood by many, you tend to seek out only those who share your vision.

To evolve, learn how to communicate your vision into words others can understand. Share your message. Remain open to the views, philosophies and opinions of others and learn that there are many paths to wisdom. In doing so, you will find your place in the cosmic order.

10th House: Like all cardinal houses, Pluto in the 10th represents the start of a new cycle. You determine your individuality through your status in society. You have mastered the hierarchical structures in place and continue to climb the ladder until you reach the top. In your ambition, you may have manipulated and played unfairly in your quest for success, rejecting your internal morals and values in exchange for status. You risk over-identifying with your career, or worse, becoming despotic in your desire for power and control. 

To evolve, find an outlet other than career and status to identify with. Once you are able to accept that even if everything is taken from you, you will still be okay, your block towards a rewarding life and career you love will fall away.

11th House: You long to be free of the confines of society who arbitrarily dictates who and what you should be. Internally, you have a deep sense of being completely different from the people around you. Your destiny is to be innovative, rebellious, even revolutionary. In finding your way, you risk migrating so far out on the fringes of society that you drop out all together. In extreme cases, 11th house Pluto natives may attempt to vindictively destroy existing systems becoming anti-social outlaws. Others may reject individuality altogether and instead cling to the status quo, further reinforcing a feeling of disconnection. 

To evolve, sever attachments that prevent personal growth and objectivity through the blows of life. The fixed nature of the 11th house struggles with change which conflicts with your misfit identity than desires acceptance. Rather than resist and resent mainstream society, your task is to identify that which makes you unique and seek out kinship in this process. You are meant to leave the past behind and innovate a new way of doing things.

12th House: You have the unique ability to spiritualize all aspects of your life. In the 12th Piscean house, you sense that the source of life is continually in development and your connection to that sources is boundless. In your quest to understand this part of yourself, you feel as if you are standing on the edge of the known world where you fear you could easily slide into unknown depths, unable to return. Often you find yourself paralyzed with fear, afraid to move in either direction. In a desperate search for control, you may over-identify with a specific egocentric aspect of yourself as a way to avoid Pluto’s disintegration of the self. In rejecting your soul’s evolutionary pull, you risk living in a fantasy world in a quest to find a life with meaning. 

To evolve, plunge into the abyss. You are here to learn faith, to surrender to a higher power, and to let go of the illusion of the ego. Until you completely surrender to this power, a continuing cycle of crisis will repeatedly pull you towards ego release. With every cycle, you will stumble upon more realizations that will lead you towards spiritual guidance. 

Inspired by Jeff Green and Steven Forrest.