#and maybe ill finally have a reason to use my brain again

[thegeekyartist]

Just applied for a job 🫠

[froggibus]

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.  

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react. 

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first. 

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth. 

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can. 

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is. 

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops. 

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away. 

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into. 

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding. 

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him. 

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize. 

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head. 

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts. 

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination. 

“You can relax.” Dick hums. 

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on. 

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.” 

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place. 

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?” 

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it. 

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more. 

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!” 

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh. 

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are. 

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here? 

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before. 

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly. 

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow. 

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly. 

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs. 

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need. 

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand. 

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.” 

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing. 

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh. 

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking. 

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts. 

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you. 

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i get ^^

[bizbat]

Kill for Her - Jason Todd x Reader - 1

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

��JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ Reader's appearance is not described.

~ Parts one, two, three, and four, as well as my other works, can be found here!

~ Also please lmk how i can improve the masterlist if you do end up checking out my other works!!! (:

~ Thank you so, so much for everyone who requested more crazy jason! ILLYYYY (p.s. thank you for being so patient with this, ik it took forever omg)

~ Wc: 1.4k

~ Tw: (Very) Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics and All that Comes with it, Mentions of Having Children, Jason Todd is Not a Good Person in this, Pet Names, Nausea, Angst, Blood and Violence, Variety in Themes, Cringe maybe (lmk)

"Break up?" You think you can just "break up" with Jason Peter "I've never been in a real relationship bc I died as a teenager and I have serious deep running abandonment issues stemming from my more than troubled childhood" Todd?

Funny.

Real funny.

But yk what he doesn't think he really likes that joke and maybe you should actually never tell it again, okay? ((:

It doesn't matter what way you try to approach the subject. Kind, playing into his delusions about being a real couple? You're overthinking things, but that's fine, he loves you anyways.

Yelling, crying, screaming for him to get the fuck out of your home and go die? You're probably just being dramatic, but that's okay, you're sassy, he's sassy, match made in heaven!

The man is kookoo. He genuinely believes that you're destined to get married to each other and either have or adopt a ton of children and he's gonna be the best dad ever and you'll be a wonderful mom ever and blah blah blah blah.

And I've barely scratched the surface of all his crazy, it runs deep.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

He'd kill for you. Without a doubt.

He's always figured, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he might have to go back on his word to Bruce for your sake, that he might have to further stain his own soul and hands to keep yours clean, to protect you, to protect your relationship. It's not something he's too particularly worried about, to him, you might as well be the only living person on the planet anyways. Don't get him wrong, he loves his family, to the moon and back and more (don't tell them that), but if there were two people left on the planet, and one of them was you, and the other was him, he thinks the world might finally be fair. That life might finally be kind to him.

And with reasoning like that, whispered into your hair at night when he thinks you're asleep, how could you be so cruel as to break his heart? How could you when he begs, begs you not to see how evil he thinks he is at night when he's been up too late and his brain starts to tell him cruel things about himself? When he brings you a gift every time he sees you. Granted, they're stolen, and granted, he broke into your home. But they're exemplary of his devotion to you nonetheless. Or at least that's how you see it, that's how you see him.

It's true, Jason has lived a life more than deserving of pity, of kindness and support. That's part of why you feel nauseous right now, your hands, slightly clammy, nervously wring the hem of the shirt you're wearing. It's big on you, hanging down past your thighs. You can't remember if it's his or yours. Your tongue feels too big in your mouth, and your knee is bouncing so much you're sure the muscles in your calf are well defined by now.

The reason you feel so ill as you wait for him at 12:48 AM, your eyes flicking back and forth between the clock on your phone and your TV currently playing reruns, is because tonight is the end of it. The end of Jason breaking into your apartment with a spare key he had made without your knowledge, or your window when you switch your lock for the umpteenth time. The end of you waking up next to him in your bed when you know he wasn't there when you went to sleep. The end of his overly personal nicknames that allude to a relationship you've told him time and time again that you Do. Not. Have.

Tonight you're "breaking up with" Jason Todd. If you weren't on edge you might laugh at the thought. You and Jason have (at least in your adamant opinion) never agreed to date. He never asked you out, he just started, well, acting the way he acts; breaking into your home, stealing random articles of clothing that he has a particular interest in, acting like your boyfriend. But it's been months. You're tired.

"Jason!" You say, surprised at his sudden appearance. You guess you got too caught up in your thoughts. He smells like metal. You're worried about what he might've been getting up to, but that's not your main focus at the moment.

He hears your voice sing his name as he walks into your shared apartment, through the door this time. He knows how much you hate it when he comes in through the window. He's happy to see you, albeit a little surprised, you're usually asleep by this time. You must've stayed up for him, a smile rises to his lips at the thought. "Hiya doll, what're you doing up so late?" He's clearly exhausted, even though he's turning in relatively early, it now being 1:29, he's already had a long, long night. A long, painful, violent night.

All he wants right now is to lay beside you, to rest his head on your chest and hear your heartbeat. It's his second favorite sound in the world. The first being those gorgeous noises you make when he's got his head between your thighs and your fingers in his hair-

He's pulled from his thoughts at the sight of your lip tucked between your teeth, the worry on your face more than evident. His smile drops as he hangs up his signature leather jacket on the coat rack beside the door, and slowly makes his way over to you. "You okay, doll? What's wrong?" He asks you with such sincerity, like he really does care. And the worst part is you know he does.

"We . . . we need to talk, Jason." He can hear how nervous you are just by the way your voice quivers as you address him. It always makes his heart hurt when he hears that. You avert your gaze, unable to look at him at this moment. You breathe deeply, trying to calm your heart and quell the bile fighting to come out. You need to do this, and you need to do it now. "I . . ." You barely manage to warble out, clenching your jaw before bracing yourself. "I want to break up with you Jason." You say after taking a deep breath through your nose.

This is it, you did it. You can feel the saline tears rising to your waterline, but you aren't sad at all. You swallow the massive lump in your throat as you wait for his response, your hands furiously gripping your shirt, an unreadable expression on his face. He just . . . stares for a moment. He doesn't blink, he doesn't frown, he doesn't start sobbing, fall to his knees, beg you to change your mind.

He doesn't do anything. The longer his stillness goes on, the more and more your confidence deteriorates. Your shoulders drop from their tense state, your lip quivers, and your ears ring from how dead silent the room seems to be. "Jason . . ." He's barely blinking, his head slightly cocked, his hands limply dangling at his sides. "I said," You clear your throat, not favoring how weak you sound. "I said I want to break up with you. I don't want to date you anymore." You know he heard you, but you repeat yourself nonetheless.

The longer the two of you sit in silence, the harder it is to stomach it. Your hands shake as they grip your shirt, the fabric wrinkles in your tight grasp, your chest feels like all of your ribs have turned into snakes and started squeezing and constricting around your pounding heart. His eyes pierce your soul, the usually deep pits now shallow and glassy. Eventually, the second that he sees a single drop of water fall down your cheek he seems to snap out of it.

The life, the color returns to his face and eyes, as if he was just woken out of a deep trance at the mere sight of your tears. Then, perhaps most disturbingly, he laughs. A cold, icy chuckle that slides off his vocal cords and freezes the room. It sounds almost plastic, rehearsed, like he's practiced it in the mirror hundreds of times in preparation for moments like this. "That . . ." he wheezes between bouts of fake laughter. "That was really funny, babe, you almost had me there."

Jason runs a hand through his hair, disguising the act as if he's trying to gather himself when really, he's resisting the urge to grip on the strands of inky black until they rip from his scalp. He's still pretending to collect himself as he slips past your form, still standing almost perfectly still, into your room. You don't even remember the rest of the night. You don't remember what either of you said, what either of you did, all you remember is following him into the room, being coaxed into bed, and resting your swirling head on his chest as his arms wrapped so, so tightly around your shoulders.

Jason doesn't sleep well that night, even with you safely tucked into his arms. It was a joke, it was a joke, it was a joke. That's what he tells himself. Over and over in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull; it was a joke, it was a joke, it was a joke. It must be, it has to be. His sweet Y/n, who knows what he's been through, who knows he's never had anything, and anything he has ever had was ripped from his hands, his Y/n would never be so cruel.

She'd never leave him. He couldn't let her. Not when he'd die for her, not when he'd kill for her.

[khickuwa]

Reasons Why I Think Jerome Adams is Oedipus. [CHAPTER 13 SPOILERS]

So in the recent events of Main Story 13, we see that Luke finally confronts Oedipus about the drug or, should I say "cure", to Luke's illness. I had my suspicions before, but we have incriminating evidence of this being true in this chapter. Let's go through the facts together:

Oedipus

There are things we know about Oedipus:

He has contacted two individuals within the Story; Skye Harper, the nurse who murdered both Tyson Turner and Gerard Boone's mother by injecting the NXX drug into them; and Luke, receiving an unknown drug with a note from Oedipus that says "try to live on" and meeting him under the guise of a Teddy Bear mascot, sending children to bid Luke his little cryptic messages.

Knowing these facts we can concur two facts from this:

Oedipus is someone who has access to the NXX drug.

Oedipus has access to the hospital to be able to sneak the drug into Skye Harper's hand and a part-time job as a mascot (or several) to be able to relay the message to Luke.

Oedipus knows a lot, he's always at the right place and the right time: about the NXX investigations and the whereabouts of the NXX team if he can figure out who Luke is and where he is.

The only person who would fit this criterion is a little freaky Where's Waldo ass mf with a ridiculous amount of part-time work he could probably use as covers aka Jerome Adams. (Seriously, it's like he knows to be at the right place at the right time every time.)

Here is his character description from the wiki:

Thus we can see that Jerome meets all the criteria because: 1. Access to the NXX Drug - "Jerome claims the Gladiolus Valley Research Center as his former employer", We have also seen several scenes of him previously in the Gladiolus Valley Research Center conversing with Wilson Surge,

2. Access to the hospital - "As a facilitator, he volunteered at various hospitals throughout Stellis." 3. He's aware of the NXX Team's presence and can be at the right time and place. Holding multiple part-time jobs such as a convenience store clerk and a food delivery service (and this time a bear mascot) gives him cover for his activities.

But the most incriminating evidence we have is actually within the exchange between Luke and Oedipus himself.

This is undoubtedly something Jerome Adams would do because: as established in the previous chapters, Jerome Adams works in a hospital and he has handled kids as well. This exchange coincides with all the facts previously mentioned. Ultimately, there's just too many threads that connect Oedipus and Jerome Adams together.

But why is he doing this? I can think of two reasons:

The reason why he is choosing to cooperate with Luke: In this chapter, we can see that both Oedipus and Luke have something to gain from this. Oedipus can run "clinical trials" for the NXX drug on Luke, and well... Luke doesn't have much of a choice here either, does he?

Despite Jerome freaky freaky ways, ultimately, I believe that Jerome has "good intentions" despite his very... twisted way about going about things. I can't wait to see what the new chapters have in store about is backstory and his ties with the NXX drug.

I think there's a reason why Jerome/Oedipus seems to always be hovering around the NXX team. Perhaps we're getting closer to the truth or perhaps he's trying to cooperate with us. But, I don't think Jerome/Oedipus is an enemy if anything, he's more like a third party that is working independently. I could imagine him working together with the NXX team (for a short while perhaps before they start getting at each other's throat again), or maybe even sacrificing himself in the end to ensure the NXX team gets to the root of the problem. That said, I have several other theories storming up in my brain regarding the NXX drug and how all the boys tie in all of this as well.... in another post.

[killuakiru]

OMG HI I love your writing! Can I request killua and gon head canons (seperate) with a reader who’s like very sweet and everything but has a hypnotic singing voice? Kinda like a siren. But she’s very sweet and usually she sues it to put people to sleep or calm somebody down. But like maybe they meet during the hunger exam? Idk I just love the idea of that for some reason. Take care!🫶

HII FINALLY BACK OMFGG m so sorry for suddenly disappearing i was prepping for finals and i am doneee !! As usual, ofcs I can do this anon 🫶 thank you for your request ! Such a cute lil prompt 🥹 Will be clearing out my inbox then sprinkle a lil ideas i have 🫡

⊹₊⋆ Serenus !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹₊⋆ F!Reader x K. Zoldyck, G. Freecss ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Let's Start !༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Honestly, hearing your voice at first made him uneasy.

• Your voice reminded him SO much of Illumi, the hypnotizing sensation when he listened to your voice made him think you had ill intentions.

• It doesn't help that you used an ability that can make someone sleep within seconds in the First Phase of the exam. ( In your defense, he was a total weirdo, he kept staring at people in a weird way. )

• When Gon said he had befriended you let's say.. After the Trick Tower.

• He was super cautious of you, while you had such a warm presence, the whispers of rumors made him tense.

• And thus; you'd always get the cold shoulder whenever you'd interact with him. A simple gruff response with a stoic expression, or when you request something he'd hesitantly agree because you're still Gon's friend.

• Though after a few months, he had learned what 'Nen' is, you weren't so bad. He had learned to appreciate your soft presence and loved the sound of your hums whenever the two kids were going to sleep.

• When he apologized, he was just an absolute mess of embarrassment and shame.

• "My.. My bad, I just thought you had er ill intentions.." He mumbles as he rubs his head, a soft shade of scarlet forms in his cheeks as he occasionally steals glances at your face.

• You of course, accepted his apology. Who wouldn't? Killua The Zoldyck was actually apologizing– to you, no less. You felt flattered! Also because his little blush was so adorable!!

• After that, Killua and you bonded like Gon and he. There were no moments where someone was left out, well, at least a little, but you still loved both of them dearly.

• Now ! I have a feeling he'd use your voice to his benefit. In combat, he'd use you as bait! Your voice was so alluring that a lot of people would think you'd be a great victim and then from behind! Boom! Killua's sharp bloodied nails just a few centimeters from your face, and the target's dead!

• This actually happened one time, except it wasn't intended. In York New city before meeting up with Kurapika, you were almost a victim of child trafficking– so Killua had to do it! Why would he let his precious friend be abducted?!

• Another one of his benefits, is simply for his ears. Growing up, he wasn't used to such an alluring and beautiful voice, so whenever you'd talk and someone intended to cut you, he'd send them a glare and continued to listen to you.

• The effects your voice had on him was completely different from Illumi's hypnotize. He felt at peace when you'd speak to him or when you'd sing to him.

• To him, your voice is your most charming aspect.

• While other people also thought your voice was beautiful and that you were talented, to him, your voice was more than talent.

• He viewed your voice as an angelic symphony. A piece of music he'd never get bored of despite playing it over and over again.

• To him, you were art. To him, you were everything beautiful. To Killua, you were his most beloved, even if it was one sided.

༉‧₊˚. Gon Freecss ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Gon was absolutely entranced by your voice!

• He's never heard a voice like yours– how your voice sounded like a beautiful melody that scratched his brain in the right way!

• He wondered what it was– so he approached you with the brightest smile and asked about your voice, and to hear it was natural blew his mind!

• You and he got along with a simple snap! There was just this spark you two had and just clicked!

• When you two met during the Second Phase of the exam, he found you soothing a random applicant that was shivering to his core. He had tears in his eyes, crying that he didn't want to jump off that cliff for just an egg.

• Again, he was curious, but he was also so.. Mesmerized. The sight of your soft smile as you hummed a simple child's lullaby and instantly calmed the man into a slumber, he was in wonder.

• He introduced you to his little group and everything just escalated from there.

• He learned that you were a Transmutter, similarly to Killua! He thought it would fit you a lot, he could imagine little music notes surrounding you as a replacement of your aura and just attack with your voice, depending on the tune and highness of your voice!

• Well of course the children didn't know if that was possible, but you all trained diligently nonetheless!

• During the Heaven's Arena training, Gon really appreciated your voice when he was internally stressed– to the point he hadn't realized it himself.

• During the Chimera Ants, your singing was one of the few things that would always keep him at bay.

• Your soft voice that reminded him of his childhood, where he was just relaxing back in Whale Island. Your soft voice that reminded him of the group of five where everyone was complete and just goofing around the Hunter's Exam.

• He longed for that feeling again. To make reckless decisions and enjoy life.

• Ultimately, his desire to avenge Kite– the closest thing he had as a father clouded his appreciation for his friends. His rage and hatred consumed him truly, not even Killua nor you could make him budge.

• It was inevitable for the three of you to split up in the end. You knew, yet you still longed for Gon's presence. Had your feelings hadn't stayed in silence, would your outcome be different?

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[yoonkiwii]

Pieces of Love

word count: 1079

genre: exes to fwb to ???, breakup, love triangle, slowburn, eventual smut, series

summary: it's going to be a long road to redemption once yoongi breaks your heart for the last time. determined to come back to yourself, you start your journey by finally leaving his sheets. will you have the strength to push through? or will someone special stumble upon you along the way?

pairing: yoongi x oc, yoongi x oc x jungkook

warnings: angst (oops!), implied smut (minors DNI!!!), poor oc is very confused with her emotions, yoongi is possibly a jerk!, lots of conflicted emotions here, cussing, i think that's all?, yoongi is a liar, oh and everything is lowercase intentionally.

a/n: ahhh hello!!!! so, although i am no stranger to writing fics, this is my first on this new lil baby blog. this is my own long awaited return to something i never thought i'd have the courage to come back to. this series means a lot to me, and while i know i'm rather unknown, pls show this project lots of love hehe <3

if you could rewind the tapes of your life to see the exact events that led you directly to this moment unfurling in front of you, you’re not so sure you’d accept it.

the whisper of kisses gliding across your skin used to feel like sparks, tiny fires planting on every plane of your existence. but as the flares settle, all you can feel is the burn.

it’s like this every time you and your ill fated lover meet in your match of flames. dancing breaths mingling, evidence of your downpour flowing out onto his sheets, his inevitable high cascading onto your skin. drowning out the remnants of pain until reality brings you ashore, fervent lights that he reignited put out by your sea of emotional sickness.

even as you pick yourself, clothes and broken emotions off the floor, you still don’t realize that you’re being spoken to.

“___? did you hear what i said?”

ah. you just wanna go home. rinse the feeling of him and your tears down the drain.

“sorry, what was that?” your voice hoarse, proof of the number he did on you.

“you good? i actually have something serious i want to talk about.” his eyes on you, but seeing through rather than at you. you watch as they drag down your body, contemplating. as to what, you’re not so certain that you wanna know.

silence encompasses you, his words settling like a pitch black night sky over you.

“what’s up.” not your best response, but it’s not like he deserves it anyways.

“do you think… i don’t know, should we try this again? you and i?” vulnerability, something you seldom see, is adorning his face. his delivery so quiet you could act like you missed it if you really wanted to. like he really could mean it if you let yourself be delusional enough.

alas, your heart always takes the lead. your head slowly rising until you make that dreaded eye contact, the blood in your veins turning into ice as you blink, over and over again.

your expression must be the personification of a question mark, brows furrowed and cheeks rosy despite the snow storm you feel within. time feels like it’s passing so slowly that you can almost see, feel him in slow motion.

deep breath.

maybe one more.

“i– what do you mean? try what again? do i need to remind you of the last time we— im sorry. but why.” why now? what in his pea male sized brain thinks he can shake your heart like this yet again, is what you’re really wanting to say. the bubbling feelings of rage coming up your throat prevent you from unleashing months worth of hurt.

but the answer is because of you. you allow it. it’s also the reason why you don’t completely snap.

you hear the rustling of sheets as he moves to the edge of the bed, eyes downcast as you try to remember that counting thing your therapist taught you and fuck he’s reaching for your hand.

taking a sharp breath in, he smooths out your rigid fingers in an attempt to soothe you or himself, you’re not sure. but it’s not lost on you that this is the first time he’s touched you outside of when you’ve had sex in the last 8 months.

“you and i both know that we keep coming back for a reason. i love-“

“don’t. don’t you fucking dare.” looks like the anger has reached it’s boiling point, your hand being snatched away as he looks up at you in defeat. haphazardly throwing your clothes on, shame be damned as you quickly make your way to the door with your skirt not even zipped all the way up.

“you can run all you want, but you’ll be right back here again next week and you know it.” his boldness so loud it almost drowns out the self hatred of knowing he’s right. almost.

your hand brushes against the knob until it falls limp at your side. eyes closing, damn you’re too tired of this.

“what do you want, yoongi?” loss coloring your face, he thinks you look pretty when you’re sad.

“you. i want you, ___.”

“you didn’t want me when you were fucking your way through the entire city, you didn’t love me when you lied so much that even you couldn’t tell what the truth was anymore. you dont want me. you just want me to love you. you just want me to want you.” you huff out a laugh that’s meant to come out condescending, but really you just sound hurt. because you are. you are so so so tired.

“if there’s anything you could’ve learned about me in the last three years of whatever the fuck this shitshow has been, it’s that i’m stubborn. i may be wrong more often than not, but you don’t get to decide. you don’t have that control. asshole.” flicking him off for good measure, you burst open the door, not even bothering to give him the satisfaction of the last laugh as you bulldoze your way through his apartment and out the door.

fuck the elevator, you head straight for the stairs.

being in this building feels like purgatory, the memories it holds are too much to bare. not that it hasn’t stopped you in this little cat and mouse game from coming back here.

but you’ve decided. you can’t do this shit anymore. whatever spell yoongi casts on you is about to be broken, your eyes finally opening to the endless void that exists within you whenever you leave his bed. you’ve lost many friends, are losing passion for your job, and even the will to push through the darkness that swallowed you on the day your love died.

the funny thing about control is that you’ve never once had it. it used to scare the living christ out of you, but at the tender age of 27, you feel like for once it’s what you need. to let go. to be free of the shackles you place upon yourself trying to be what everyone else wants you to be.

gone are the days that you bury yourself in your bed because you’re to ashamed to face anything but your four walls. it’s not even about proving anything or anyone wrong at this point, you just want to feel again. you want joy. and you’ll have it. you know you will.

[bookwormbynight]

I don't know much about dracula--tell me more about the au perhaps??

Oooh I gotchu babe. So. To be fair. In Dracula, Lucy's entire story is only a piece of the whole thing, and there's a lot of ambiguity surrounding the actual events (everything was documented by her horrified friend who only saw the aftermath) which is part of the horror (also Dracula didn't seem to have any attachment to Lucy in particular). However, the Lucy bit is what grabbed my brain and there are multiple things from it we can grab and stick onto Light.

No one thinks it's vampires when Light/ucy starts having nightmares, reporting a feeling of someone sitting on them at night, occasionally sleepwalking out of the house before someone finds them, and, most obviously, exhibiting symptoms of anemia out of nowhere with bite marks on their neck, but this is because no one THINKS to think it's vampires. Maybe you have a parasite in your room, Light, let's change the mattress? Is it an illness?? Wtf is happening??

I think, unlike Dracula who literally only Mina's (missing) husband knows, L should be a part of their lives, at least briefly. And have some reason to notice Light. I'm not sure how or why yet?

But this would add to the fun when Light starts accusing L of doing something to him and L being like 'who, me??' and both of them know that he's right even though Light doesn't exactly know the details.

I don't think L would need to steal a wolf from the zoo in order to get at Light that final time, but it should be big and dramatic. Maybe Light wouldn't be asleep when L comes to turn him. We all know Light would fight for his life hard and nasty.

Ooh, also, it's unclear how exactly vampires are turned in the book. Lucy doesn't let us know and we KNOW it isn't just 'get killed by a vampire' because the three sexilicious vampire ladies eat a kid and that kid never shows up again (read Dracula guys I swear), but since Dracula feeds Mina his blood on 'camera' and it does Something to her still-human body, I'm gonna say it's feeding a human your vampire blood and then having their heart stop. So L's gonna force-feed Light some blood and make him swallow it once he's got the upper hand, and Light's death wound is gonna be large and gorey. (And slowly... disappear... as the funeral comes closer and the days go on, hmmm, that's odd, dead bodies don't usually heal themselves, but no one notices because the wound was sealed and covered so they could have an open casket.)

Lucy's funeral was kind of the main event. Stoker spent literal paragraphs describing the beauty of her corpse (weird thing to do bisexual king), the redness in her lips, the fact that huh, there's a slight wrinkle in her nose (Van Helsing just covered her in garlic flowers), did she die like that? It's Snow White Sleeping Beauty levels of dead gorgeous. And then, of course, the rising. Lucy rises from the grave to feed on the blood of local children, until the Squad catches her and kills her once and for all. Of course, we're not gonna use that bit, because L wouldn't let half of that happen and Light's not gonna aim for children, but the fact that she rose at all is part of what makes her story so notable, and contributed to the inspiration for this AU.

Any other questions? <3

[evita-shelby]

The Wreckage

sequel to Look Both Ways where we get the reason why Lucy left and why Tommy and Eva couldn't make it work after she filed for divorce.

cw: refrenced suicide attempt, mental illnesses, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, drama, murder accusations.

you know something nice to distract yall from the US Elections tonight

@justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @zablife @call-sign-shark @hoodeddreams13 @thegreatdragonfruta

After Eva had that vision of Lucy blowing her brains out, she takes the first train back to Small Heath and gets there just in time to stop her.

They have a much-needed talk, it falls on Eva to convince the redhead that it is not her fault.

Considering they are all in various states of disrepair, the witch fucking hates to be the Strong one while the other two points of the triangle get to lose their shit about it. Eva is too busy trying to keep them from hurting themselves to even mourn her own loss.

Tommy isolated himself and got so drunk he ended up in a holding cell for his own safety, Lucy ended up believing the Shelby Clan’s words that she shouldn’t have remained Tommy’s lover when he decided to court and marry Eva.

Eva barely had time to settle in her new leased townhouse before the Universe decided she could not just wash her hands of them and move on with her life. She hates it when her powers force her to be a better person.

The witch had to explain how her previous relationships had not left her in the condition needed to accept having a man who is not entirely hers, how she knows they will all be the better for it and that if anyone is at fault it is Eva for being too desperate to avoid her impending execution.

“How do you hold yourself together like that?” Lucy had asked as she confided in her about her plans to seek out her maternal family. She needed time as well, they all did.

“Because neither you nor Tommy have given me the chance to properly fall apart.” The witch admitted wryly, she was as honest with Lucy as she was with Tommy ---sometimes she’d use it to purposely hurt them to assuage her need of space and the fear that Tommy didn’t love her as much as she did him. “Trust me, I should have been in London crying my heart out and fucking a stranger with a thing for pregnant women instead of bailing Tommy out and keeping you from making my decision to save myself obsolete.”

“Then why save me? You could have been happy with him; you are giving him a child.” The redhead ---still wallowing in her despair and guilt--- demands to know why Eva didn’t seize her chance at happiness. “He said you told him you’d have four children and live in the country.”

“And if I had let you die, I would still be second place even if you were a ghost tormenting him. No life is worth living with a man who doesn’t love you the way you need him to anyways.” The dark-haired woman answered bluntly as they sat down a little further away from what would have been a crime scene.

“I can’t stay here. Not when everyone blames me for it.” By everyone she does mean everyone.

The Shelbys had taken Polly’s side and everyone else correctly guessed Tommy having a lover is what destroyed the fairytale romance.

It was a terrible place to be, Eva had not considered how cruel they’d be to Lucy only focused on leaving a man who placed Lucy over here time and time again. Why Tommy couldn’t just marry her and avoid this mess was beyond Eva’s comprehension.

Marriage is safety when you do not love in the conventional way.

“Have you finally given my suggestions to find your mother and your aunt some thought?” she asked the Red Demon who had been reluctant on accepting Eva’s offer to help her find her family because neither she nor Tommy appeared to be capable or surviving without the other.

They could, they are just too pessimistic and they refuse to give it a real, honest try. Eva had been there once, and now seeks to pull them out of the dark waters even if they like it there.

“Yes, maybe if I had said yes when you offered the first time we wouldn’t be in this mess.” And because Lucy wants to see if Tommy would be happy without her here. Not by being the ghost haunting him, but as the lover who left him. “You should’ve told me we were making you feel unloved.”

“I know, but I feared losing him, and while I do get on with you, I do not like you that way. We are just too different.” Part of Eva still wants the life she saw with Tommy that morning in Brighton. Is it wrong for her to desire her own happiness after life took everything from her? Why was she losing her one thread to life again? Why couldn't someone else be the one to sacrifice their happiness for her instead of her doing it every single time?

“I had guessed as much. I am not as ignorant as Polly makes me look.” Her ex lover nodded in agreement, and both said their goodbyes before parting ways.

The last person seen with Lucy was Eva. A gunshot was heard and only Eva came back.

There was no body nor signs of a struggle, but he knows what the witch is capable of. She had one demand when he refused to sign the papers in London.

Me or Her.

And when he refused to choose her then and there, he left to drown out his sorrows and make his choice.

He loved both women. He loved Eva fiercely, loved her fire, her strength and her ambition to take back everything she had lost.

But he loved Lucy more. He couldn’t just leave her like this. It would kill her.

“We will have everything we have ever wanted, mi amor.” She had proclaimed that morning after their wedding.

Four children, a baronetcy, a career in politics. They would be as happy and as in love as they were that morning.

He had been a fool to assume she saw Lucy in it.

And because he was going to choose Lucy over her, Eva killed her.

She was just as damaged as them. Lost everything she ever had, and now that she stood to lose the chance to have it all again with him, the witch took it.

What Lucy was capable off wasn’t close to what Eva could do. Eva had the advantage of money and magic.

“You killed her!” he cannot contain himself when he finds her still packing up what she owned in Ada’s old room. She had moved there when it became clear he would sleep with both women.

Eva is shocked from his words angry in ways he had never seen. The words had hurt her like a blow to the stomach and woke the beast underneath the soft warm skin

“Oh, yes, because I would be so fucking sloppy as to have the murder weapon in my hands and be so obvious!” The witch mocks him and denies it. "If I had killed her, you would have never found out about it."

He should’ve known she wanted him to choose her.

He couldn’t choose so she choose for him.

“You killed Lucy!” he shouts again as he comes to shake her and demand to know why she did this to her.

Eva slaps him hard enough to leave a mark.

“I didn’t fucking kill her! Why would I go through all the trouble of divorcing you if I intended to kill her?” the witch shouts back when even her hand on his cheek is not enough to break him out of that thought.

“Then where is she? Why were you the only one to come back here?” He knows deep down she didn’t and yet he cannot stop his mind from finding a reason to believe she did.

“She needed time away from here, to get away from a place that hates her. Just as I am doing.” We need to be away from you.

“Then why didn’t she tell me?” he asks the woman who he knows won’t ever forgive him.

“You wouldn’t have let her go, just as you are not man enough to let me go.” She hates as strongly as she loves, and now Tommy knows what the Witch’s anger feels like. “Just as you are so fucking full of it that you fucking came here and accused me of killing your precious Lucy.

Me, the mother of your child, the wife you promised to love and cherish before God and Men; and you couldn’t even love me enough to give me the presumption of innocence.” Her anger turns to hot tears as she lets him have it. “I should’ve left England when I had the chance.”

Tommy has only seen Eva cry three times in his life. The day he taught her to shoot, the day she left him and the day he killed her love for him.

“I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I know you would never do that.” Even when he means it, even when he tries to show her how truly sorry he is for the way he acted, for the fucking way he doubted her like this, his wife flinches away form him.

Moves away from him as if his touch physically hurt her.

“If it had been me who disappeared, you wouldn’t have accused Lucy of killing me.” She won’t ever forgive him, there is no love for him in her eyes only hatred he created and he will have to live with that for the rest of his days. “You do not love me like you love her, now I wonder if you ever loved me at all.”

But he does love her, and that is what makes it all worse. He’s lost her even when that is the last thing he wanted to do.

“Evie, please---” Tommy chases after her, refusing to accept the defeat he crafted with his own bloody hands.

“I will never set foot here unless you are dead.” The witch refuses to look at him as she too walks out of his life and leaves him standing on the wreckage of their love.

She was right when she called him a fucking fool when it comes to love. Always right when it comes to him and not once has she ever lied to him.

Which is why he will set this right, even if it means following her to London.

story continues in Venor

[badlysummedupmoviestournament]

If you recognize the movies/characters hiding behind the decoy titles, please do not give identifying details about them in the notes.

Villain n°1: Chicken Submarine

I was betrayed by the man I loved and that's enough to drive anyone to do some crazy shit, right? Look, most of my life has sucked ass. I was born with a debilitating illness that requires constant, miserably unpleasant procedures to keep me alive. I like to have fun, and every time I do, I suffer. I got used to it, but I never stopped dreaming things could be better. My best friend--met him in the pediatric hospital, same illness--finally concocts this INCREDIBLE cure, it works on him, and he TELLS ME NOT TO TAKE IT? Of COURSE I took it.

Okay, so there were side effects, but honestly, I think he was complaining too much. I'm healthy as a horse now. People talk shit on my boy? I defend his honor. I can do that with my fists now, instead of just Daddy's money. That's my best friend, no one gets to insult his beautiful, brilliant brain with those eyes that you could just drown in... What was I saying?

Oh yeah, he got mad at ME for NO REASON. I said, babe, let's run away together, the world is at our feet, and he ran away FROM me. So I decided to get his attention--his girlfriend is fine, unfortunately--and he not only attacked me but set hundreds of his new friends on me! Like we don't have a history? Like I'm not important to him? I could even follow his annoying petty lifestyle demands if he would just share his life with me. Maybe. For now, anyway. But I really don't think I was asking too much.

Villain n°2: Greensleeves

I was trying to take a bath when these fools just demolished the entire building and that was an attempt to CLEAN IT! Anyway that's just the first thing. I told them they were not qualified for a promotion which is TRUE have you seen the state my bathroom is in? And they were all gloomy and shit. Then a girl came around, complaining about some other idiots who also work for me and asking me to put people under her orders so she'd be protected from the second group, so I got rid of the first group by putting them under her orders. Yk. Get rid of the first group when the second group screws up again. And then they screwed up so magistrally that I had to get my right hand woman to do most of the job, then myself. I dressed a guy in drag as well but that was the plan since the beginning. Then I offered a good spectacle to the people of my country by going myself on the opera stage and doing a whole fighting routine there. And they still have the galls to not like me.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Did you know you can move onto other brainrots and STILL be stuck brainrotting on the old thing too? My brain is a decaying piece of wood that has become an essential breeding ground for several species of rot. One of them is still the BatFam variety, so onto the next member!

Initial traces of Carrie Kelley, my child! Be honest, how many of you who have seen the Nightwing and Red Hood posts thought that I was doing Tim next? Well HA! Joke’s on you, I make the rules here! I have a very specific order in my head, and I will stick to that order!

Carrie is technically an elseworld’s Robin from The Dark Knight Returns, but Robin is my favorite superhero, and anyone who has been Robin will get my attention (yes Robin. Not Batman or Nightwing or any of the individual characters who have been Robins. Robin as a hero, regardless of who it is, is my favorite). At this point, she’s actually graduated to Catgirl and then her own iteration of Batwoman, but in my head, she’s the same age as Damian or younger, so she gets to stay Robin in my art for a bit.

I did two traces here because, unlike other Batfam characters, Carrie is in so few comics that I can’t just FIND a perfect, full body action pose from an angle that I like. The first trace is by far the most popular and easy to find picture of her, but it has her hair blowing around in the wind. This is a Problem, you see, because Carrie’s hair is a special challenge for me. In The Dark Knight Returns, she has this very distinctive hair shape that I do not like looking at OR drawing. So I knew the pose I used for my reference was going to need to be a pose where I could update her hairstyle. But, I also needed a full body, and that first photo is iconic, so two for the price of one again.

Stylization time! Carrie was honestly really easy to stylize, her hair is just a bit of a nightmare for me. I finally got a handle on it after the complete project, but it took a WHILE! Anyway, I more or less just lifted her updated hairstyle from her Batwoman costume and some cosplayers. And no, I’m not giving her pants. Damian and Tim are edgy Robins, they can have pants. Dick, Jason, and Carrie are not edgy Robins, so they get short shorts. I did give up on coloring her sleeves green. Too much of one color for me to effectively handle when her gloves overlap her sleeves. Also, I need to draw more characters with capes. They’re so fun to draw!

Characterization pose! In the comics, Carrie wears her goggles as a civilian too. I interpret this as her needing glasses, so I gave her regular glasses instead because wearing the same distinctive goggles you wear as a superhero is maybe not the best way to keep your identity secret. Comics Carrie has like one friend that you don’t see after she puts on the costume, and her parents don’t remember they have a kid, so it’s not like she has a whole lot of people to be hiding her identity from, but it’s the thought that counts. Schoolmates and random civilians and nosy reporters and all that.

I put her in a Girl Scout uniform for her civvy outfit because I think that it’s important to her character. The whole reason Batman took her on was because she was 1) crazy/traumatized/determined enough to buy herself a Robin costume, fight petty crime on her own, and follow him into dangerous situations and 2) used her Girl Scout first aid training to save batman’s life and splint his arm after he got his sh*t rocked in an ill-advised fight. I figured a salute, even if it’s a bit of a sassy one, was a good pose for her not just because of this, but also because The Dark Knight Returns is a very depressing comic, and so Batman calls her “good soldier.”

If you saw the first two posts, you may notice that I did not trace the hero text for this one, and that I used the same font for both names. This is because 1) I didn’t feel like the regular Robin font with the spiky R fits Carrie’s vibe, but she doesn’t have any comics covers of her own I can steal from and 2) I feel like Carrie’s personality is the same as Robin and Carrie. Unlike with almost everyone else, there’s no posturing, no distinction, no divide there. So the same font works for both personas.

Nightwing Edition

Red Hood Edition

[beanghostprincess]

This is me, the Lamikkaku anon. You wanted to hear more so here it is:

Firstly, I wanted to talk about how Lami survived. Basically she ran from the hospidal looking for Law and was found by marines. Luckily Vice admiral Tsuru was there, and feeling compassion towards the girl she took her in and decided to help her. Thanks to Tsuru washing Lami with her devil fruit the white amber lead desease isn't deadly anymore but its still a persistent/chronic illness and Lami has to be washed very often. This is kept as a secret only she and Tsuru know.

So she grows up in the marines, she isn't too fond of them and dislikes the goverment for obvious reasons but she has no where else to go and reconises Tsuru as a good person. I think she knows who Corasan is. She never met him since he was already with Doflamingo by the time she was rescued, by Sengoku must have went on and on about his kid and how great he is. Until, you know, the deranged gay bird kills him.

When Lami is a older she hears about this piraye named Trafalgar Law and immediately reconises him. She can't say anything of course because he is a pirate and she is a marine, but it gives Lami some hope. Eventually she joins SWORD and decides that she will at least try to meet her brother. She appears on Dressrosa but since shit gets really bad she is too occupied to talk to Law, but she manages to listen to Law and Sengoku's conversation.

Eventually she decides to join XDrake as a spy in Kaidou's beast pirates because she heard about the ninja-pirate-mink-samurai alliance and once Law gets there they reunite. There is tears, catching up, and Law uses his powers to finally get rid of Lami's amber lead desease so she isn't 100% dipendednt from Tsuru's powers anymore.

She helps during the raid and really bonds with the Hearts: she thinks that Bepo is adorable, finds Pemguin and Shachi to be humorous but the one she likes the company the most if is Ikkaku. She leaves with them instead of going back to the marines after the raid.

But of course, Blackbeard has to be an asshole and now Law is separated from his sister again. HOWEVER all of the hearts survived (if this isn't canon I will explode) and they ended up is some uncharted island were they try their best to trive and build a raft or something. All of their equipment got destroyed.

Its around this time that Lami and Ikkaku grow very close, and eventually it just blossoms into a full on romance. The others are worried Law might freak out but Ikkaku reassures them that she is, in fact, the only person here worthy of dating the captain's sister.

Okay, first of all, I love your brain. I want to open your skull and idk, grab a straw and drink from it. This is altering my brain chemistry- Okay. AAAAAAAAAAAA. I have so many thoughts. (The first post about this if somebody is interested).

I absolutely love everything about this. It's such a good way to make Lami survive. She joins the Marines but she doesn't actually wanna be there, it's just her way of surviving. But still, she manages to be one of the good marines. In fact, joining SWORD also means she probably meets Koby/Hibari/Helmeppo and I can't stop thinking about them actually getting along pretty well? When she finds out Law is alive and she decides to go undercover too to see him, the only people who know about her true reasons are those three. I just find it cute. Luffy's biggest fan (Koby) and Law's biggest fan (Lami) being friends is something really funny to me.

When they see each other again in Wano, Law can't believe it. For a whole second, he actually believes he's getting tricked somehow. It has to be some devil fruit user or- Or maybe he's losing his mind. The heart pirates don't know what's going on, but Law stands there, astonished and static and about to cry. When he never, ever cries in front of anybody that isn't Bepo (or Shachi/Penguin/Ikkaku but that's if his mental state is on the verge of collapsing even more than usual). Long story short, there's no time to explain everything but Lami tells him the important things and decides she's going to stay with him. The girl doesn't even care about whether she's a marine or not, she just breaks the cover and goes "well, change of titles now. Brother, I am going with you" and tbh Law doesn't find it appropriate. He doesn't want his little sister to be a pirate. He wants her to have a normal life and live in peace the way she deserves. But she reminds him that she's (was) a marine. She's strong. She can fight and she will fight, whether he likes it or not. And look, she's always been cute and cheerful but now she's also stubborn, so he can't say no to her. Besides, having her in the crew also means having her close, so that's a win for him. It'll be easier to keep her safe like that (even if she can actually fight on her own).

And let me tell you. Her dynamic with the Heart Pirates is amazing.

Everybody loves her and they seriously question if she's truly Law's sister because she is... So different from him. She's sweet and fun and upbeat and everyone is side-eying Law like "Are you sure this girl isn't like... mistaking you for another person?" and Law is about to cut Shachi and Penguin in half if they don't shut up about that. She loves Bepo. She adores him. Bepo loves her back. She won't let go of him. They're best friends now and she considers him to be the most adorable thing on earth. Also, she trusts him with her life since he's Law's first mate and that means Law trusts him too. Law thinks he's going to have a heart attack because he doesn't know if he loves this situation (his favorite people together) or if he hates it (what if they like being together more??? Without him???? He's a bit jealous). Lami also loves Shachi and Penguin. They love her back. Law hates it because they're even more chaotic together and they won't stop being touchy with his sister (not in a weird way, they're just a very affectionate crew and Lami loves hugging them back). Lami indulges them and follows them in everything they do and Law is so, so tired. He keeps telling them to stop acting like that but Shachi and Penguin always say "But you never hug us back!!" / "Yeah, captain! She's sweeter and cuter and way nicer!" and Law is about to lose it. The only one that doesn't make Law furious is Ikkaku, surprisingly so. Ikkaku is just so nice and fun to be around that Lami loves her right away. She has never had actual friends outside the Marines and she's so excited to start this new life with them! Ikkaku shows her around the ship and explains every little thing to her, and Lami is so, so thrilled to finally be free of everything that was holding her back. The thing is-- Lami feels guilty for what happened because she thinks she could've saved Law somehow or- Or maybe met him earlier than this. She doesn't want to tell him because she knows it will only hurt him, so she opens up to Ikkaku instead, and she's the one to comfort her and understand her better. Lami also asks Ikkaku to tell her about Law and what kind of person he is now. What kind of adventures they've had. Ikkaku and Lami grow closer and closer and they're the girls™ of the crew. Also, Lami is a very lesbian disaster and Ikkaku is also a lesbian mess, so Ikkaku flirts with her shamelessly, and Lami blushes and giggles and kicks her feet. While Lami flirts with Ikkaku without even noticing, and Ikkaku faints every time. Shachi and Penguin have a bet going on about them.

Not to mention that everybody is weirded out by Law's behavior now. Now that Lami is back in his life, he looks... Happier? He smiles more. Like. Actual laughs and smiles. He's so sweet and protective when it comes to Lami it's just odd to see him like that. He kisses her forehead and hugs her and whenever she's playful and teases him, he actually laughs and has fun. Bepo is like "Oh, true, you haven't seen captain like this, right? Isn't he cute?" when the Strawhats see this, and they're all like "More than cute it's just... Unsettling". Honestly, the heart pirates couldn't be happier for their captain. Talking about the Strawhats: Since they're all in Wano and Lami is helping them out, she meets them there. And I think, since Lami and Koby are friends, that she would instantly love and admire Luffy. The whole crew would again be saying "Is this seriously your sister, Torao?" and she'd go "Torao?? They call you Torao??" / "No. They don't. Don't give her ideas-" / "It's okay, Torao-" / "Fuck". And now Law is having the worst time of his life because Luffy and Lami get along and he's starting to lose it. But, anyway, they're happy, so whatever. He's just glad she's alright.

And this has nothing to do with Lamikkaku but I think Lami is religious (I think it's pretty obvious, like, the religious background in Law's story). After everything fucked up that happened to them, Law stopped believing for obvious reasons. But Lami sometimes prays and talks about God and fate and Law is very against that because "If God exists, why would he let this happen to us? If somebody as powerful as that makes us go through this suffering, I don't think it deserves to be worshipped" and Lami just smiles softly and says: "I can see your view. But still, believing isn't accepting everything God does. I guess it's dumb, isn't it? But I like to think Mom and Dad are in a better place now. I like to think that you'll be in a better place if they take you away from me again" and Law can't fight against that. Then, Luffy Gear 5th happens and Law has a whole catholic crisis. But that's for another day. Make this Lawlu if you feel like it. The point is Nika my beloved-

Now, Lamikkaku moment:

They survive the fight against Blackbeard. All of them. Except for the Polar Tang (RIP, you were an amazing ship, darling). So they end up on a deserted island and... Things are bad. They're all devastated. The first thing Law does is look for Lami to check if she's alright. And she is, kind of. They're all glad they're fine, but they've lost their ship. Their equipment. Their food. And instead of resting and thinking about it, Law is already trying to plan something to escape from here, feeling responsible and guilty and-- Both Lami and Bepo are the most concerned, but they're all going through a rough time. While they get back on their feet, Ikkaku and Lami get even closer. Lami is close to Law constantly because she's pretty much the only person that he can open up to and rest with whenever he's overworking himself. He only sleeps when she's around. Etc etc. But Lami can't deal with all of that on her own and it's obvious, so it's Ikkaku the one looking after her. Lami won't lose faith in God for this, but she's still pretty frustrated that something like this has happened to them again. Ikkaku tells her that sometimes is the people around you you have to rely on and not just God, even if it does help most of the time to believe in something like that. They spend most of their time together. Sleep together. Lami has nightmares and Ikkaku helps. Ikkaku is trying her best to cheer up the crew along with Shachi and Penguin but it's hard, and she's working hard to maintain the order too. Lami admires her strength because she hasn't seen her falter or hesitate yet in the time they've been there, and Ikkaku just says that it's what a pirate does. Get back on their feet and fight. And besides, if the crew needs somebody to rely on while their captain is busy/going through it, she doesn't mind being the voice of the reason. And Ikkaku is not a Goddess, but Lami is starting to feel the same trust and comfort she feels when praying while she's next to her. One thing leads to another and they end up falling for each other rather quickly. They don't want to tell Law yet, because he's... Not ready for news. But Bepo/Shachi/Penguin find out at some point and they're sure Law is going to be furious (because he won't let any of them go near Lami romantically) but Ikkaku is sure it won't happen. She's sure Law will be happy for them. First of all, because Lami keeps saying Law only wants the best for her and would never go against that. And second of all, because Ikkaku says that if Law ever had to let somebody date his sister, it would be Ikkaku. Law ends up finding out because, you know, these three can't keep their mouth shut. And he surprisingly doesn't care. In fact, in a moment of desperation, it makes him so happy to see his sister finding love. He tells Ikkaku in private to take care of her, and she only smiles and says "Aye, captain" and Lami overhears, so she ends up hugging him right after.

They're clingy but their presence and PDA aren't annoying. It's just sweet. They hold hands and kiss and they keep teasing each other, and it brings a new energy to the crew. It gives Law hope. If Lami has managed to come back, they'll be able to come back stronger too. Of course, they're a bit chaotic too since they're pretty different to Law, but it's alright. As time passes by, Ikkaku ends up teasing Law about it and she can't help but make the 'I fucked your sister' jokes because, c'mon, how could she not? Lami finds it hilarious, and she knows Law isn't really that angry at Ikkaku at the end of the day. Ikkaku seems like the cool, protective one, but in reality, whenever there's a fight and people underestimate Lami, Ikkaku just stares at her like "That's my girl <3" while she kicks ass. Basically, they're the cutest, most supportive girls, and Law just knows Cora is happy for them too.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i got back with an ex?

context: i (20m) dated a guy (19m) my senior year of high school (he was a grade below me but we were both 17 at the time). we’d had feelings for each other for pretty much the entire time we knew each other, but timing would always be bad in terms of us getting together, whether it was because one of us started seeing someone new or because i wasn’t mentally ready for a relationship when he proposed the idea. we finally made it official my senior year, but it only lasted a few months because he had quite a bit of emotional baggage that would be unloaded onto me that i wasn’t equipped to handle. it’s not something i fault him for, just something that i think would be much better managed by a therapist instead of a romantic partner, so i broke up with him.

he took it well, i still consider us friends even if we don’t talk all too often anymore, i went to his graduation party, etc, all this to say things are fine between us. afaik no bad blood or ill wishes.

for some reason, i still haven’t fully gotten over him, despite the fact that it’s been 2 years now. maybe because i haven’t dated anyone since then, maybe because we were dating before covid vaccines happened so we only saw each other in person one time, but something is making me feel like i never got real closure on that relationship. i told him when we broke up that i’d be willing to try again if he worked on himself, so maybe i feel like i never got closure because i left it open ended on purpose lol.

now, the meat— i don’t know if any of this stuff is asshole-ish, but i feel like it might be: in my mind, i date to marry. not that i’m opposed to things that just don’t work out, nor am i looking to get married ASAP (even if i found The One already, we wouldn’t be married yet. i am FAR too young) i just feel like my reason for dating is to eventually find someone i’m willing to settle down with. i’m pretty sure this guy is not that guy for me, i don’t think i want to have a civil union with him or live with him or anything like that. so, i feel like getting back together with him would be a waste of both of our times, since it’s probably just going to end in a breakup again. plus, if this is the way my brain thinks it can get closure… isn’t that just using him for my own benefit?

i do really genuinely like this guy, i haven’t been able to get my mind off of him for 5 years now, so i feel like getting back with him wouldnt solely be for personal benefit. i am fully willing to try again if he is as well, but i can’t shake the thought that “try again” means “see if we’re compatible for marriage again” to me, and since i’m pretty sure we aren’t, i feel like it would be a dick move and that i’d just be leading him on the whole time until we broke up again.

so…… WIBTA if i were to pursue it?

What are these acronyms?

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #1, Atcham.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO’s site, by simply googling it.

Before I begin this post I want to acknowledge multiple things:

On the hierarchy of canonical media, web articles are like... the bottom of the barrel. I already suspected this, but season 4 fully retconning Eva's parents from the lore articles sealed the deal. For this reason, take these as nothing but the sort of canon that will get retconned at the first available opportunity.

I recently found out that the Wheel of Destiny 8, the one about Kerubim, seems to use stolen fanart by Flowerimh, which is sad. I don't know where else to put this, because I don't want to make a separate post about this. Flowerimh isn't even active anymore...

Despite these two things, let us proceed to read this article together:

So, this article happens anywhere from one year to a decade before Joris was born, and at this time, Atcham and Julith were already acquainted and spending free time together.

Spoiler alert: They are searching for Kerubim.

Keke getting called a "precious runt" is on par with the shit Joris gets called. Wonderful. I do wonder why they would search for him in Brakmar. Someone confused him for Atcham? Maybe they asked Kerubim himself, and he didn't want to deal with them, and so, sent them to Brakmar on a wild goose chase?

I will not be asking "what did he do" because, like, Fifi Pretty Calves exists. He has enough enemies to have a price on his head.

I am literally in love with him, and every single way he is described in this part of the text.

"He had a preference for sibilant sounds", "Aw, poor little puppy", "the only reason he hadn't robbed them blind is because he wanted to know more".

He was so excited.... he thought they wanted him (not carnally).... 😢

He takes a lot of pride in his work and insane behaviours.

Atcham considers himself an extraordinary adventurer and a valiant fighter. AND HE ISSSSSS. But it is interesting that besides being a killer for hire, he probably also adventures.

[Taps this meme I made about Kerubim and Atcham once again]

He was so ready to be the one people wanted to kill just once, and they ruined his whole fucking evening.

Imagine this being your day-to-day life, for decades. Just people laughing at you, laughing because you still hadn't caught on that you're the joke, and laughing when you finally understand that, and get upset.

Laughing about you behind your back, to some random stranger, too. Because they still hadn't realized they're literally talking about him.

I think this is a good time to say that I headcanon Atcham as autistic. It is simply a headcanon, but one rooted in the themes of his character. I think it is a fitting conclusion, (albeit, just like my hcs of Joris having ADHD and OCD and Kerubim having comorbid BPD and HPD, very accidental one, on part of the writers).

I could talk for hours on the way neurodivergence, disability, body issues, and violence-as-response-to-abuse intersect in Atcham's character, — or the way he hates everyone preemptively, because he knows that they will probably hurt him, yet still tries to be at least a bit kind and fair to others (....who aren't Kerubim).

I am probably not autistic, — however, I am neurodivergent, and I love & relate to him, so yeah. Always rotating this bingus in my brain.

Imagine this being your whole life.

I read descriptions of Atcham being cool and fast, and all the analysis leaves my brain as I say "awooga hummina hummina".

The fact that nobody ever wed him is literally so unrealistic, like WHAT DO YOU MEAN you don't want the weird, mentally ill, neurodivergent twink.

We never see Atcham's home in Brakmar, but from the description of "tattered", and the way his bed looks in the comic panel I inserted earlier in the post, it is safe to say his home is the definition of "girlrotting". It probably smells. Bad.

Says the woman whose kindness will also be the death of her, — and her ruthlessness too.

Because of her visiting his home so nonchalantly, and their interactions as a whole, I like to view Atcham and Julith as somewhat close friends, — as close as two very emotionally repressed people, who have a huge age difference, and don't like to admit that they feel anything positive, can be.

He probably didn't mourn her, — not after she was presumed dead for ten years, and not after she died for real.

But he probably still thinks about her, once in a while.

[the-queen-and-the-king]

Just a booty call - 9

Summary: S05E01. Aaron doesn't answer his phone. Emily is convinced that something had happened and leaves Spencer with the doctor to go see what's going on at Hotch's place.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss

Contents: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaangst! Slight mention of what's happened in Canda, explicit description of what Foyet did to Hotch, two smutty sentences at the beginning but then, it's all anxiety, fear, and tears NSFW/MINORS DNI

This text is a try, with a reverse structure compared to the other Hotchniss' AU I'm used to work on. It all starts with a FWB that will evolve into something else (with a certain amount of angst).

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

It wasn't normal. Hotch not answering his phone, that couldn't be normal. The other team members didn't seem to mind much, but she did. Since she'd joined the department, she'd never seen the manager absent, ill or late – with the exception of the layoff that had sounded the death knell for his marriage – and he'd always answered her calls and messages, no matter what the time. How, then, could one conceive of this silence as normal? Admittedly, they had returned late at night from a grueling investigation, yet everyone was present. Except him. There was something fishy going on, and she had to go and make sure everything was okay.

On the way, Emily replayed the film of the previous days. Nausea gripped her at first, as she thought back to the uterine duo that had claimed so many lives in total indifference. Nausea, too, at the way one had manipulated the other, taken advantage of his weakness to conduct this sordid experiment that had come to nothing. Nausea, finally, because if one of them had to survive all that, it wasn't the right one who was left. This file would surely be on the list of those that remained in the memory, and whose images would retain all their vividness despite the years.

The giant had taken it hard, like them, but she hadn't noticed any abnormalities in his behavior. So that couldn't have been the reason for his absence. She went back in time again. The day before their departure for the Canadian border, she had joined him in his office for a sultry tête-à-tête. The upstairs deserted of its occupants due to the late hour, she had emerged into his den, a few buttons of her blouse knowingly undone, and closed the door behind her. They'd pulled down the blinds and she'd found herself lying on her back on her pants and panties pulled up to her knees, legs in the air. He, in turn, undressed and inserted himself into her without further ado. They had copulated frantically and came one after the other. They'd parted afterwards, kissed, and she'd gone home with a smile on her face.

Again, there was nothing unusual about his attitude. So, why? Why he wasn’t with them? Why the silence? As she walked down the corridor of his building, her brain tried to put things into perspective. There was bound to be a logical and not necessarily catastrophic explanation behind this situation. Maybe he hadn't heard the alarm clock go off – or had forgotten to set it – or his cell phone had been left in the living room – or had run out of battery and he was fast asleep. Yes, that must be it. Hotch was fine, just snoozing like a baby. At worst, he might have had water damage, which he was trying to manage as best he could with the couple of hours of sleep he'd managed to scrape together. In every case, he was fine.

An icy shiver ran down her spine as she noticed the door was open. It wasn’t normal. He always made sure to lock the door behind him. She drew her gun from its holster and pushed the gate open, her heart pounding against her ribs. The apartment was silent, but the light was on. Only the one in the living room, as she soon realized. The kitchen and the corridor leading to the bedrooms and bathrooms were plunged into darkness. She noted his satchel on the sofa and his keys on the chest of drawers. His holster was laying on the dining table. All the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention, she moved forward again, not daring to call out. She saw the shards of glass and amber liquid on the ground before anything else.

When her gaze turned to the space between the sofa and the table, she discovered the phone abandoned under the table and a dark stain on the carpet that she struggled to analyze. What was that? It couldn’t be… No, it wasn’t. It was impossible. He was fine. He was sleeping, in his bedroom. She spun around, her revolver still pointed in front of her, sweat pouring down her back. A hole in the wall caught her eye. Hotch wasn’t the type to ransack furniture, so it was unlikely he’d damaged the wall. Someone had fired a shot. Someone, but who? And where was the vi… Where was the tenant of the premises? Stressed, she explored the other rooms in the dwelling, to no avail. And by the time she returned to the living room, her cortex had made all the necessary deductions, despite the panic she was feeling.

Aaron had fought with an intruder – armed, certainly – and one of the two combatants had been injured in the scuffle. She didn't dare think any further, even though she had all the evidence under her nose to determine the identity of whoever had lost this... blood. Hers froze in her veins. She refused to believe this scenario. It didn’t make sense. Her lover was a colossus. He was tall and strong. He was smart and trained. He was indestructible. We couldn't put him down, we couldn't shoot him, we couldn't... No. It was impossible. He was fine. He was somewhere, on his two legs, frowning and staring at someone with his dark eyes.

Unable to accept the facts, she called Penelope and gave her an account of what was before her eyes. The analyst immediately set off in search of the agency head, after calling in a team of technicians, at Emily’s request, to come and take all the needed samples. While waiting for them, she looked around, searching for other clues. She noticed that one of the windows wasn't closed – it had been lowered for illusion but wasn't locked like the others – and a page was missing from his address book. The page of B. Why? Nothing else seemed to be missing or out of place. Hotch was a bit of a maniac, so he rarely moved things around.  

Garcia called her back and told her that a tall, white, anonymous brown hair guy with Derek's accreditation had been dumped on the sidewalk of San Sebastian Hospital at around four o'clock in the morning. Her heart missed a beat. A tall, white, brown hair guy, he might have matched this description. Derek’s accreditation? Dumped on the sidewalk? Why? By whom? Four in the morning! She ogled her watch. It was past one o'clock. It had been nearly ten hours. Ten hours and no one knew who this man was. A dizzy spell forced her to sit down on the nearest chair.

She was on her feet when the technicians knocked on the door, however, and supervised their arrival and installation before handing over to another federal agent. She can’t stand it anymore. She had to go to the hospital to find out. To find out if it was him. Find out if he was fine. Find out how he got there and what happened back home. Her brain was a beehive buzzing with questions, and her heart a drum pounding in her temples. Her lungs were struggling to provide the oxygen she needed, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. She was afraid. Like… like in New York. Like when she'd seen Aaron blown away like a piece of straw after his car exploded. She'd never admitted it to her colleagues, but she was deeply relieved when they found him on his two feet, pestering for his clothes.

She chased away the tears clinging to her eyelashes that blurred her vision and smiled. She was likely to face a similar scene, with the medical staff trying to temper the ardor of the titan in a hurry to leave the premises. It was even a certainty. It couldn't be otherwise. Emily arrived at her destination less stressed than when she left Hotch's.

“Hello,” she said, coming up to the reception desk. “Agent Prentiss, FBI. I hear you had a man brought in last night with a badge on him.”

“Yes, that's right,” confirmed the young woman, leaning towards a drawer under the desk.

She grabbed an object from inside, straightened up in her chair and handed it to her. 

“Here.”

The profiler took it, opened it and her heart rate raced. It was Derek's plate, whose leather was worn from years of being opened and closed. There was blood on it. Old, oxidized, and solid, and recent traces, dark red and liquid. Who did it belong to?

“Do you know him?”

“What?” she croaked, interrupted in her thoughts.

“Is this the badge of someone you know?” asked the orderly, curious.

“Uh… yes, it’s… it’s a colleague.”

She had all the difficulty in the world to concentrate on the present moment. Her neurons raced with conjecture, preventing her from following a single idea and sticking to it. Until she caught on the fly the one thing that had been directing her actions all day. Or rather, the one person. Aaron.

“The… the man who had this... this badge, where is he?”

“Do you think he's one of yours?”

“I don't think anything, I just want to see him.”

Her tone may have been firmer than expected, but it had the merit of prompting the young intern to call someone who might be able to answer her questions. A woman with medium-length brown hair and dark-rimmed eyes emerged from the corridor a handful of minutes later and walked towards her with a determined step. She held a tablet in her hand, holding a thick layer of paper.

“Dr. Bastoni, you’re the federal agent?”

“Yes. Uh… Emily… Prentiss.”

The practitioner crushed her fingers, then noticed the accreditation she'd retrieved.

“An acquaintance of yours?”

“Y… yes. We… we are working together.”

In spite of herself, Emily was impressed by the aplomb of her interlocutor, who was smaller than she was. She had to pull herself together.

“Then maybe you'll be able to tell us who this man is who was left on our doorstep last night. Follow me,” she went on, not bothering to breathe.

They rushed into the corridor from which she had sprung, advancing energetically as she continued to speak.

“I imagine you must have a whole wheelbarrow of questions, so I'll try to give you all the answers we have.”

She then recounted how, at around half past four, a van with no license plates had pulled up to the hospital sidewalk. A guy inside – whose features nobody had paid attention to – had rolled their current patient across the floor, before taking off.

“It was impossible to see his face on the surveillance camera tapes; he was wearing a cap,” she pointed out as she took a turn to the right.

The nurses, who were taking their cigarette and coffee breaks nearby, had rushed to the injured man's side and brought him back inside for urgent treatment. 

“I might as well spill the beans right away: our mysterious stranger was stabbed multiple times in the torso. Nine times, to be quite exact. His attacker didn't pull any punches, she added briskly. The full length of the blade has been plunged into his flesh; the bruises around the gashes left by the weapon's hilt are visible.”

A cold shiver ran through Emily's ribcage. Stabbed? Nine times? It was… She felt like throwing up, but held on to the doctor's words as she lengthened:

“The guy used a smooth-edged blade. That said, it wasn’t easy to stop the bleeding and stitch the whole thing up.”

Normally, the nursing staff was rather stingy with this kind of detail with patients' relatives, but Bastoni seemed to consider that, being part of the Bureau, her listener could absorb this avalanche of morbid information. The latter wanted to tell her that not all FBI agencies worked on blood crimes, but feared that if she opened her mouth, she'd puked her breakfast. Hot flashes and cold waves fought in her chest.

“That said, his assailant knew what he was doing, as no vital organs were harmed. Heart, liver, pancreas, stomach, arteries... everything that shouldn't be touched is intact.”

Emily's own heart was pounding so hard and so fast under her ribs that she thought it was going to burst her chest. She knew of only one individual who ticked all the boxes in this modus operandi. A sociopathic, sadistic, frighteningly intelligent man who was still eluding the law, and who had a grudge against the director of the BAU. She didn't dare say his name, not even in her head.

“I'll be honest with you,” continued the practitioner, “if the guy we mended is one of yours, you should know that unless he lost consciousness at the first blow, he must have suffered. A lot.”

They had stopped near a new counter and Bastoni was now facing her. She seemed to be waiting for her to ask questions. But she had only two questions in mind, neither of which had anything to do with the investigation that this attack would inevitably lead to. She took a long breath and prayed that her voice would be as confident as possible.

“… How is he doing?”

“He lost a lot of blood and it took us several hours to stabilize him, but he's normally out of danger. We keep an eye on it, though.”

This last clarification had swept away the relief she had begun to feel. So she followed up with the second question.

“Can I see him?”

“He's still under anesthesia, but I can take you to his room. If only so that you can identify him.”

She nodded, unable to formulate any more words. The lady doctor led her a little further on, past rooms whose walls had been replaced by huge panes of glass. And behind one of them, he was there. Motionless, eyelids closed, bandages wrapped around his bare arms with cables and catheters. Aaron – her Aaron – was lying on that hospital bed, in that huge white coat, with a pallor that sent a chill down her spine. Then, without warning, she was overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions. Her brain reminded her of what he'd just been through, and she immediately imagined her lover grappling with Him. Him lacerating his torso in jubilation. Over and over again, Him pounding the body of his nemesis to death on the floor of his apartment, while those who could have helped him slept soundly at home. Him tossing his victim onto the tarmac like a piece of trash, satisfied to have supplanted the man who had dared to stand up to Him.

“Sit down,” advised her a remote voice.

She denied without opening her mouth. She represented the FBI; she had to stand her ground.

“Yes, you’ll sit down. I've seen corpses that looked better than you. And I’ll bring you a glass of water.”

Without really knowing how, she found herself settled on a chair nearby, her hands and legs trembling. The image of Aaron in the middle of a carmine pool, in the half-light of his living room, kept coming back to haunt her. They had landed at around two a.m. and he must have arrived home half an hour later. So, he'd spent an hour in the company of this madman. An hour of suffering, alone, with no one to help him. One hour of loneliness and pain. A nightmarish hour. Nausea returned to grip her throat.

“Here.”

A paper cup appeared in her field of vision, and she grabbed it without thinking. Bastoni took her place beside her, still adorned with her disarming assurance. She did, however, address Emily in a much softer voice than before.

“I assume you know him.”

She mumbled an affirmative reply.

“Which FBI department are you with?”

“… Justice.”

The woman smiled sympathetically.

“It's always harder when it's a colleague.”

She couldn't have been more right. All her body was vibrating. She was in a state of shock.

“Breathe. He's here, we're taking care of him, and soon he'll be as good as new. Well… more or less.”

The profiler looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. What was that supposed to mean?

“Despite all our efforts, he will be scarred for life.”

Like Him. Like that bastard who'd attacked him at his home. This freak had done it on purpose, she was sure. To mark him as much in his mind as in his flesh. So that he never forgets. To instill fear in him every time he pushed open the door of his home. Rage seized her, soothing the urge to vomit and keeping her tendons taut.

“Aaron Hotchner.”

“What?”

“He’s named Aaron Hotchner.”

“Oh! Good. How do you write it?”

She spelled out her superior's name – which no-one on the team called him – and turned her gaze to the glass behind which he lay.

“Can… can I come in?”

“Yes,” said her neighbor, looking up from the form she had to fill out about the patient. “But don’t expect to chat wit him. Not now, at least.”

“It’s okay. I… I just want to be with him.”

Bastoni's pupils darted at her, surely surprised by her turn of phrase, but she refrained from commenting. Had she understood that they were more than colleagues? It didn't matter to her at this hour. She just wanted to get into that room and sit next to him.

“Does he have kids?”

“What?”

“Does he have any children?”

“One. A boy of... three,” she hesitated, dubious about Jack's date of birth. “But… he and the mother are divorced.”

This didn't seem to stop the doctor from scribbling on her paper. Without paying any further attention to Emily, she left her seat and joined the nurse behind the counter. The profiler abandoned her chair too and slowly entered the room where Aaron was.

A sudden urge to cry rose in her chest. She wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be all right. She wanted to kiss him, hold him close and tell him it wouldn't change the way she felt about him. She also wished she'd had the ability to go back in time to break down the door of his house and explain her thoughts to the maniac who had disfigured the man she loved. Yes. She loved Aaron. Sincerely. Deeply. Not just because he gave her pleasure. She loved him for what he was. Or what he has been? Or what she thought he was?

What did she really know about him? They'd never bothered to talk about themselves, their childhoods, their families, their friends outside the BAU, their hobbies or passions. She had no idea what his favorite color was, what his bedside movie was, or what he loved to eat most of all. Except for what was hidden under his costumes, she didn't know much more than the others in the end. Would it make any difference if she had all this knowledge? Would she love him less? Would she hate him? She didn’t know. Her mind was a mess anyway. She cried, scared and anxious.

She moved the armchair closer to the bed and sat down. He was so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Even in a bad way, he still had that aura that comforted her and made her feel safe. But seeing him like that, as inert as a dead man – his ribcage was rising very subtly – distressed her. Apart from that Valentine's Day evening, which now seemed terribly far away, she couldn't remember ever having seen him with his eyes closed. Yet he slept, like everyone else, but seeing him bedridden like that seemed unreal. This made her want to protect him even more. He was so vulnerable in this position that the mere fact that the window blinds weren't down was life-threatening. She was suddenly worried about everything: was he cold? Did the light bother him? Did he need an extra pillow?

Failing to be of any help to him, she dared to take his hand in hers, hoping that this might motivate him to return among them. His palm, usually burning hot, was now warm. If Spencer had been there, he'd surely have told him that this was what happened when a person's survival was in danger: the blood flowed back from the extremities to supply only the vital organs with oxygen. She knew it as well as he did, but having physical proof of it was somewhat unsettling. Instead, she focused her attention on something else, clasping her fingers in his, kissing his knuckles before brushing his cheek.

He was handsome. This thought passed through her skull without warning and caused her to tremble. That was true. Despite the context, he was as attractive as ever. A thought that brought a smile to her lips. Then, keeping his hand behind her, Emily stood up, leaned towards him, and placed a kiss on his forehead. Then she whispered:

“I love you, Aaron.”

___

To be honest, writing this chapter was such a relief. I didn't have anymore ideas to write smut chapters. ^^;

___

First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/757694774493986816/just-a-booty-call-1?source=share

Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/763402376044511232/just-a-booty-call-10?source=share

[intertexts]

EPISODE 21 TRIVIA:

- bizly, introing the episode: "welcome to just rolled with it where we answer our generations greatest question: will dakota cole break the law?"

- grizzly: "no, you know what? i think the final villain of prime defenders is william fucking wisp! i think youre playing out a villain backstory and youre going to snap and go batshit crazy" < hehehehehehehehe

- charlie: "i dont think its a secret that william is FOR SURE the most likely to become a villain out of the three of us. i dont see it as a permanent final thing but i definitely think it could happen at some point. i think he would have like a red x teen titans arc" WAHOO

- charlie CURRENTLY has no plans to do this he and bizly have never even discussed it. however he thinks its a possibility. "im playing this kid who is VERY smart and has a lot of ideas, but keeps getting shut down by basically everyone and i think hes starting to get a little desperate"

- they start talking about how when charlie plays william he gets "the Chip Brain" which is a reference to how in riptide bizly makes the most WILD NONSENSE decisions and then afterwards goes "i dont know why i did that i was just so in character and i felt like thats what he would do in the moment. out of character i agree that was fucking stupid why did i do that" << so. charlie gets this playing william too LMAO

- HEY UH. FUCKED UP SENTENCE INCOMING !!! "william has literally seen what happens after you die. thats knowledge that almost NOBODY else in this world has. and i think it makes him values life... less. hes seen that theres more after, hes seen that people kind of stick around, i think life to him is a lot more fragile and messy and less black-and-white, killing or not killing. it doesnt hold the same weight. becoming sort of apathetic and desensitized to the concept of death" << THIS IS AWESOMEEEEE FOR ME

- grizzly says hes glad william and vyncent didnt try to break the doctor out of prison like they thought they would because he genuinely wouldnt know how to play that as dakota

- charlie: "william has gotten so protective of dakota that if in his mind there was ANY chance that his friend would die all because of this guy being in jail over false charges, if that was the direction the conversation was going, william actually right then and there wouldve gotten him out. he couldnt have accepted that a situation like that would lead to losing his friend"

- grizzly: "iiiiii would like to sayyyy. bizly. will i still kick absolute ass if i dont have strength and speed, or will I just be some kind of loser" << bizly says maybe but he wpuld have to play dakota as more of a Regular Guy and just have him train at martial arts really hard

- DISCUSSING A TRAINING ARC AGAIN !!!!! which they think would be fun but they dont want to do another timeskip. (<<me who has future knowledge and knows how they figure this out: :3c)

- one of the biggest reasons keeping grizzly from agreeing to break the doctor out now is because hes really afraid he'll be super bitter against the family and augment himself to have some sort of powers and become a supervillain. and he thinks something like that happening would absolutely CRUSH dakota to a point where he wouldnt know how he would come back from that

- bizly had a real time epiphany, everyone was quiet for a minute and he just went "oh my god. i know exactly how this is gonna work. pick anything you want, i got this. i have a way to make everything work"

- grizzly has NO idea which option hes gonna choose, but he thinks hes leaning toward dakota getting a normal heart and just training really hard at martial arts. charlie and condi are saying that theyre really interested to see dakota before he goes and trains because theyve never seen him *weak* before

- grizzly: "if you ever call dakota stupid in character again ill cry"

charlie: "i mean i only did that because he was putting himself in danger! i think william heard him say shit like 'its cool. its okay ive got two years' and i think he just got genuinely really upset at that. william would rather keep his friend alive than spare his feelings"

- "if william ever did become a supervillain he would *never* hurt dakota" (<< WAUGH)

- charlie was gonna ask the doctor about williams whole decaying thing but decided not to because it didnt feel right in the moment. bizly goes "i mean you already know who you need to talk to about that" to which charlie goes NOOOOOOOOOO bc he is implying. mal

- charlie: "william doesnt wanna talk to mal he pisses him off"

grizzly: "why, because its like looking in a mirror?"

condi and bizly at the same time: "ooooooohhhhhhh"

- grizzly: "god this decision is so fucking hard i feel like i need an adult- OH MY GOD can we go see tide. can i not make my decision and instead we just go see tide"

- condi: "vyncent doesnt really know how to feel about this choice. he wants dakota to be powerful because he knows those powers are really important to him but he also doesnt want his friend to fucking die!"

- GRIZZLY IS TALKING ABOUT THE DEMON HE ATE AGAIN AND BIZLY GOT SO FRUSTRATED THAT HE ACCIDENTALLY REVEALED WILLIAM STUFF:::: "i dont think the demon works how you think it works, its not PHYSICALLY in your stomach it doesnt have a physical form you CANNOT digest it !!!! in this whole campaign, no spirit has been able to wander out and influence the physical world, thats why william is so special as a planeswalker! he is a spirit that has a physical form, he can affect the real world and also be in the spirit world without a guide!"

- theyre discussing the morality of the blake family and grizzly genuinely doesnt know if dakota could process something like this where its sooooo deeply in the grey area, dakota is very black and white he doesnt think he can even understand that right now

SUCH GOOOOD FUCKING TRIVIA THIS EP DUDE!!!!!!! thank u for the foooood. fuck yes a little bowl of seeds for me.

WIWI VILLAIN ARC. PLEASE. PLEASE. YEAH. honestly at this point i know it's going to happen, i just don't know when n how. not even from ur ominous giggling it just feels SO clear to me that he is a guy who can be so desperate and do anything for the people he loves and i... give him One situation where he doesn't have his very fragile support system of two other extremely fucked up teens and their absent dad who he just doesn't wanna disappoint!!! give him one fucking situation where he's separated from them and scared and there's some threat and you fucking KNOW he's going to be Up To Some Shit. i'd bet real money on both the villain or at least morally grey conflict arc AND that general setup being the catalyst.

god. literally all of this stuff is SOOO good i'm fucking LOCKED ON to the other wiwi planeswalker shit-- that's basically what i was thinking? when the planeswalker thing had come up before? but. tasty... before i started 22 my assumption here was then that the decay situation was like. a subconscious... choiiiice? i guess? like. you know. he perceived himself as dead and his body began to reflect that & then he looked more dead so he got more dead etc etc vicious cycle. but. now i'm not sure??????? ALSO. that thing ab his thoughts on death are so fucking tasty. so so good holy shit. makes sense!! makes sense!! there's less gravity to death when it's just a place you can go, there's less gravity to killing when it's not permanent-ending, just shifting someone from one place to another. like, y'know, when u were a kid, and there was someplace u never went very often & so u thought it was Special and Important & then u grew up and figured out it wasn't actually Special and Important and an Occasion to go there, your mom just hated the parking situation or it was a bit too far for a car ride w/ little kids. that's what death is like to william wisp!! head in hands. not even gonna touch on mal rn!!!

anyway. ghostkicksisms................