#and not that I have anything I can be useful with but he'll let me tag along to the big meeting (tm) for the big case (tm) so that will be

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 5

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

“You want to talk about it?” Her mate asked her flatly and Mor couldn’t help but grimace.

"No," Mor said simply, her tone clipped. She had been hoping to avoid this conversation, but it seemed as though Emerie was not willing to let her off that easily. "There's nothing to talk about."

Her mate just snorted. “Yeah, absolutely nothing,” she said sarcastically. “How about the fact that the male that spend 500 years being in love with you, met his mate 2 years ago and hasn’t said a single thing about it to any member of his family?”

"What do you want me to say, Em?" she asked with a sigh.

At the start…before Nesta had forced her to actually confront what she was feeling…Before she actually thought about the fact, that no…it wasn’t actually funny for Azriel to keep their mate from them…and it also wasn’t normal for him. Of course, Azriel liked his privacy, it was something that he fiercely guarded, but he was also…he wouldn’t have actually hidden away his mate from his family. He would have introduced her, would have invited her to birthdays and Winter Solstice and Starfall…

But he hadn’t. 

He had rather hidden away every trace of that relationship than actually talk to any of them about it. 

“Nesta told me that she laid into you,” Emerie said with a shrug. “You did use Azriel, you know that, Mor.”

Mor's expression hardened at Emerie's words. 

Emerie was right. She had used him. 

Of course, at the time…she had been desperate, afraid of the feelings that she had been having…willing to hide them… but the way she had gone about it hadn’t been…It hadn’t been fair. 

She just didn’t like to reflect on that. 

"It doesn't matter now, Em," she said flatly. "It's in the past."

“Is it?” Emerie asked, sharply. “You never tried to actually talk to Azriel about it. You just expected him to be alright with it. Alright with us,” she continued. “He has never once been anything but polite to me, but quite frankly he would have had every right to be pissed off.”

Mor just so managed not to grimace. 

Not a single word. Not a single gesture. Nothing but politeness and kindness had come from Azriel after her and Emerie’s mating bond had snapped. Nothing. 

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I'm racked with guilt every damn day?" she asked her mate, turning away from from Emerie, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I know that I hurt him, Em. I know that I used him. But what do you want me to do about it now? It's in the past, it's done. I can't change it."

Emerie was silent for a moment, her expression softening slightly. "You can apologize," she said softly. "You can try to mend what you broke. And maybe, just maybe, he'll forgive you."

Mor let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Apologize? For what?" she asked, her voice dripping with self-mockery. "For using him? For making him think he had a chance with me when he never did? For breaking his heart when I knew damn well how he felt about me?"

Emerie's expression hardened again. "Yes," she said firmly. "For all of those things. Because at the end of the day, Mor, you used him. And he deserves better than that."

Mor's shoulders slumped, the fight leaving her all at once. She knew that Emerie was right. She knew that she had been selfish, that she had hurt Azriel in a way that could never be undone. But the thought of facing him, of admitting her mistakes and opening herself up to the pain and rejection that surely awaited her…it was terrifying.

“I imagine he had a few very good reasons to keep Irena a secret from all of us,” Emerie said softly. “Regardless of what feelings he once harboured for you…he was always your friend, Mor. And he kept his mate a secret from you.”

Mor sighed, her shoulders slumped. "I know," she said softly. "I know. I thought it was jsut Az being Az but it’s not, is it?”

Emerie reached out, placing a gentle hand on Mor's arm. "No," she said softly. "It's not. It's him protecting something that he loves. And I don't blame him for that."

***

“Are you hungry?” Azriel asked his mate softly.

Madja had checked on her the evening before…had told her to keep off her leg for a few days and plied her with more potions, bandages the bruises again… given her more sleeping draught. It hasn’t stopped Irena from waking up twice with nightmares.

"No," Irena said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have much of an appetite." She looked pale, her eyes dull and lacking their usual sparkle. It was clear that she hadn't slept well, and his heart ached at the sight of her discomfort.

Shock had dissipated and left his mate…grieving and sad and Azriel curled himself tighter around her.

He could feel the weight of her sadness and grief, and it broke his heart to see her this way. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close and hoping to offer some comfort and support.

“You need to eat something, love,” he insisted softly. “Whatever you want.” 

He really didn’t care if all she had in her stomach were her favourite cookies, at least that would be something. 

Irena shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want anything," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Just...just stay here with me."

Azriel's heart tugged at her words, and he pulled her even closer, cradling her against him. "Of course," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere, love,” he promised her fiercely. “But you still need to eat something,” he whispered. “How about the shadows get you one of those blueberry pastries you like?”

Irena sighed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Alright," she said softly. "I do love those pastries." She looked up at him, her eyes still dull but a small hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He didn’t even need to order the shadows to do anything, they had one of her favourite blueberry pastries on a plate on the bed side table in a breath. *Please tell me you left the money,* he told them mentally.

The shadows seemed almost indignant. *Of course we left it. Do you think we're thieves?* Azriel smiled at their tone."

"Of course not," he said aloud, reaching for the pastry and offering it to Irena. "You're just very efficient." The shadows swirled around him almost smugly at the praise, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Thank you,” Irena thanked them softly. The shadows preened.

Azriel chuckled again, watching as the shadows swirled around Irena, as if basking in her gratitude. It was cute how they seemed almost puppy-like in their desire for her attention. 

He was amazed, as always, by how much the shadows adored her.

He had never expected them to warm up to anyone else, especially not as quickly as they had to his mate. 

Suddenly…as soon as he had properly introduced his shadows to her…as soon as it was clear that she wasn’t going to start flinching away from them or from him if they showed up to badger her…as soon as that was clear, they had started to dote on her. Seemingly so pleased that there was another person that wasn’t scared off them. 

The shadows and Irena had formed a bond that defied explanation, and it made Azriel so happy to see the two things he cherished most in the world getting along so well.

(Even if he sometimes got jealous that the shadows never had doted on him like they did on Irena. He got porridge for breakfast but Irena got the ridiculous expensive pastries from the newest high end bakery. Irena got bubble bath, while he only got salt dumped into his bath water and got told that it was good for his muscles.) 

He watched as the shadows swirled around Irena, nuzzling against her like cats seeking affection. Irena laughed softly as they tickled at her ears and played with her hair.

He knew that his shadows were often feared and misunderstood, but with Irena they were playful and affectionate. It was like she had unlocked a whole new side of them, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of them interacting so sweetly with her.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "I never thought I'd see the day when my shadows would be so smitten," he teased, his lips curving into a small smile. "I should be jealous, but I can't help but find it adorable."

Irena laughed, her eyes sparkling for the first time that day. "They're so sweet," she said, reaching up to brush her fingers through the shadows that surrounded her. "It's like they're a different side of you."

Azriel chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I guess they are a part of me, in a way," he said. "And they seem to have a mind of their own, especially when it comes to you." He watched as the shadows nuzzled against her cheek, almost vying for her attention.

"They're quite taken with you," he said with a grin. "I don't blame them. Still, it's strange to see them so affectionate towards someone else." He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"But it makes me happy to see them like this," he said softly, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "It's like you're bringing out a side of them that I never knew existed. And it's a beautiful thing to witness." He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead. "Just like you."

There was a knock at the door.

*The High Lord and the Ancient One,* the shadows offered. *And the healer.*

*I’ll deal with them,* Azriel said with a snort.

“Finish your breakfast, alright?“ he told Irena softly as he slid out of the bed. Irena nodded, a small smile on her face. 

"Thank you," she said softly, watching as he got up to answer the door.

“Madja,” he greeted the healer drily. “Irena just had breakfast. The bruises are already lightening,” he reported.

Madja nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Good," she said. "Keep an eye on her for the next couple of days, make sure she takes it easy. The leg needs to heal properly." He opened the door further, letting Madja slip in, and could just hear, "How are you feeling, my dear?" From Madja and Irena’s soft answer.

Which meant that Azriel turned towards his brother. “What do you want?” He demanded from Rhys, his voice sharp. 

Rhys held his hands up in surrender. "Calm down, Az," he said, his voice low. "I just wanted to check on Irena. Amren looked at the spellbook that Merrill was using,” Rhys explained.

“And?” Azriel asked flatly.

Did it actually matter? Merrill had been stupid and arrogant and a thousand other things. The spell didn’t seem to have done anything to Irena…her injuries had been thanks to the debris that had resulted in the spell going absolutely haywire, killing Merrill and seemingly exploding her office. 

“It was written in a language I do not know, but the best match is ancient Illyrian,” Amren gave back drily. 

Azriel's expression darkened at Amren's words. "Ancient Illyrian?" he repeated, his mind racing. "That can't be good."

Not at all. He didn’t even want to think about what his ancestors had come up with. 

"It seems to be a very old dialect," Rhys explained. "One that hasn't been spoken or written in centuries. It'll take some time to decipher it, but we're working on…”

“It seems to be a healing spell. Probably used in childbirth,” Amren cut him off. “When it didn’t find a pregnant female to latch onto, it redoubled back onto Merrill.”

"So Merrill's own spell backfired on her," Azriel mused. "And Irena got caught in the crossfire." He rubbed a hand over his face. “Has the spell done anything to Irena?” He demanded.

“Madja didn’t think so,” Rhys said carefully. “I wanted to check on Irena if that’s alright with you.”

He crossed his arms, not willing to entertain that even for a moment. 

“No,” he said flatly. 

“Let him in, Azriel,” his mate said softly, and he turned towards her, staring at Irena. 

The shadows were already dragging a fur around her shoulders, fluffing the pillows behind her, as Madja bandaged her leg.

Irena met his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He didn’t want Rhys anywhere near her, Azriel was certain of that. And still…an still…

“Fine,” Azriel growled, stepping aside to let Rhys through. "Don't overstay your welcome," he warned Rhys. 

Rhys nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips at Azriel's protectiveness. He clapped a hand on Azriel's shoulder reassuringly. "I won't stay long," he reassured his brother. "I just want to make sure she's alright."

Amren rolled her eyes, but for once didn’t say another word as Azriel closed the door. 

“High Lord,” Irena greeted Rhys, every inch the perfect lady even while she was laid up in her bed.

Rhys inclined his head, smiling gently at Irena, while Azriel already crossed the room to sit at her bedside, taking her hand in both of his. She reassuringly squeezed it. 

"How are you feeling?" Rhys asked her. 

Irena gave him a small smile, shrugging her shoulders a little. "I've been better," she admitted. "But I'm healing, I suppose." She gestured to the leg, Madja was bandaging once again.  "Madja says I'll be good as new in a few days. And I’ve had worse,” she added flatly.

Rhys chuckled softly, his eyes softening with concern. "I don't doubt it," he said. "But still, it must have been quite a harrowing experience." He paused for a moment, looking at her intently. "I wanted to speak to you about what happened," he said gently. "If you feel up to it, of course."

Irena nodded, steeling herself for whatever questions Rhys might have. "Go ahead," she said quietly.

"I just wanted to ask you about what you saw when the spell hit you," Rhys said carefully. "Do you remember anything after the initial blast? Could you show me?”

“No.” Azriel snapped. “You are not going read her mind, Rhysand.” Not in a million years. 

He nearly bared his teeth at his High Lord in annoyance, already regretting letting him into their room. 

Irena was healing.

Rhys held up his hands in surrender, his eyes flickering to Azriel for a moment. "I wasn't going to do anything without her permission,  brother," he assured him calmly.

“It’s alright,” Irena agreed with him. “It’s fine, Azriel,” she assured him softly.  Azriel tensed for a moment, torn between wanting to protect her and respecting her wishes. "I want to do this." She turned her attention back to Rhys. "Go ahead."

Rhys nodded, his expression serious. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low. "It might be difficult to recall the memories, but I need you to try."

Irena just inclined her head. "I'm sure," she said firmly. "Just...just go ahead."

Azriel watched, holding her hand tightly. Rhys was well trained at using his daemati abilities, but that didn’t mean that…

A moment later a soft shudder run through his mate, and Azriel growled. 

“Thank you, Irena,” Rhys said quickly, clearly already withdrawing from her mind.

“What kind of spell was it?” Itena asked her voice hoarse. 

Rhys sighed, "The spellbook was written in some kin of ancient language, we think some dialect of Illyrian. The spell itself was healing spell, probably used for childbirth," he explained. "The magic was searching for a pregnant female to latch onto, but when it couldn’t find one, it became more volatile," he said, his expression grave. "And that's when it found you, Irena. It was a complete accident, but the effects were still devastating."

“Did it do…anything to me?” Irena asked Madja quietly.

Madja looked up from the bandages she was applying to Irena's leg, her expression softening as she took in Irena's worried expression.

Madja studied her for a moment, her eyes flickering over the various scrapes and bruises on Irena's body. "Not as far as I can tell,” Madja said finally. "You're healing nicely, and there are no lasting effects to your body that I can see.”

It was something. It was reassuring to know that her physical injuries were being healed, and that there were no lasting effects.

Azriel squeezed Irena's hand, relief flooding through him at Madja's words. 

It was good. Some form of healing being found…

And the last thing Azriel had expected, where Irena’s next words, as she addressed Rhysand. 

“I’ll hand over my duties to Madja, as soon as I can,” Irena said softly. “I am aware that after what happened I am no longer suitable to make any more research involved decisions. I take full responsibility for what happened.“

Her voice was even, measured. Calm. 

Even when he could see the storm in her eyes…even when he could see…

She loved her job. He knew that she loved her job. She adored it in fact. And she excelled in it too. Irena seeme to be made for her job in the House of Wind. And to hear her contemplating giving it all up, just because of an accident that hadn’t been her fault at all…

Azriel opened his mouth to protest but Rhys spoke before he could say anything. "That won't be necessary," Rhys said firmly. "Irena, what happened was a complete accident. You had no control over what happened, and we all know that." He shook his head, his expression serious. "You can't blame yourself for what happened."

Rhys leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent on Irena. "If anyone is to blame, it's Merrill," he said softly. "She was the one who was messing with magic beyond her understanding, she didn’t follow your orders and she was the one who unleashed that spell. You were just an innocent bystander in all of this."

He paused, looking between Azriel and Irena, his expression softening. "We will need to take precautions going forward, so nothing like that can ever happen again." he said carefully. "But we can figure that out together. And you do not need to give up your duties, Irena. We need you."

Irena looked down at the blankets in her lap, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread. "But what if something like this does happen again?" she asked softly.

Rhys shook his head, his expression firm. "It won't," he said, his voice filled with conviction. “None of what happened was your fault,” Rhys repeated firmly.

Azriel nodded in agreement, his grip on Irena's hand tightening. "He's right," he said gruffly. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, love. This is on Merrill, not on you. "

“And you can’t quit because otherwise we’ll all drown under paperwork. Well, more than we already do,” Rhys said with a sigh.

Irena chuckled softly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Well, I suppose I can't let that happen," she said wryly. "I can’t let the high Lord deal with even more paperwork, can I?“ she said drily.

Rhys moved to stand but then he suddenly froze. “You have been doing this on purpose,” he suddenly said, staring at her.

“Doing what?” Irena asked, cocking the head to the side. “Make sure that the library generates plenty of paperwork that needs the High Lord’s personal attention?”Rhys stared at her for a moment, his expression a mixture of surprise and awe. 

"You really are quite devious, aren’t you?" he said with a small laugh. "I never would have thought you’d be using your job specifically to ensure that I spend even more time doing paperwork."

“I don’t.” Irena said flatly. “It was petty revenge.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. "Petty revenge?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What on earth did I do to deserve such punishment?"

Irena just stared at him for a moment. “Maybe you should think a bout how you have been treating my mate.”

What? 

Azriel had had no clue that…

Azriel hadn’t known about that. Hadn’t had the faintest inkling. 

Irena had been making sure that Rhys had more paperwork to go through?!

Rhys looked at him for a moment before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. "I suppose I deserved that one," he admitted. 

Azriel just grunted, his expression flat. "You deserved a lot more than that," he muttered. But there was no real anger in his voice. He was too tired for anger at Rhys. All he cared about right now was Irena. 

“You really are a perfect match,” Rhys said with some amusement. “And I do owe Azriel an apology,” he said simply. "I’ve been harsh on you, Azriel. And I haven’t been fair. I’ve been treating you like a tool, instead of like a brother, and I owe you an apology for that.”

Azriel was taken aback by Rhys's words. He had grown used to the way Rhys treated him - as a weapon first, and a brother second. Hearing Rhys acknowledge his mistakes was…certainly unexpected, and it left him feeling a little off-balance.

He paused for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how to respond. Finally he looked up at Rhys, his expression serious. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I appreciate the apology."

Rhys nodded, his expression sincere. "I mean it," he said quietly. "I'll do better moving forward."

[fireinmoonshot]

your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar. 

Everyone, that is, except you.

“Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone. 

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.” 

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand. 

~~

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things. 

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.” 

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track. 

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.” 

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

~~

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is. 

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again. 

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before. 

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.” 

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?” 

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.” 

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth. 

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums. 

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.” 

[twoflowers]

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees: Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: Sanji has been hard at work in the kitchen; you decide his stiff shoulders need a bit of attention. Predictably, Sanji is a mess. You didn't realize it would be quite this easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees. (SFW, suggestive)

Tags: Massage, nosebleeds (of course), light fdom, female reader, no use of Y/N, no description of reader, AND: (Sanji's constant need for validation of his cooking skills, Sanji's eternal need to be of use to the people around him, and Sanji's fantasy of being a fairytale knight kissing the hand of a beautiful queen he has pledged undying loyalty to. This man is a dork, people!)

Word count: 1276. Something short and sweet while I work on a longer fic based on a prompt by @mere-mortifer

Give this video a thumbs up if this man should actually get a massage in part 2!

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees

Sanji startles when you put a hand on his shoulder, not because he didn't sense you behind him (he could never fail to notice you entering a room, has been feeling pleasant, anticipatory prickling on his scalp and the back of his neck since you entered the kitchen), but because you've never touched him like this before. An occasional brush of arms, sure. A slightly more frequent brush of fingers, absolutely. He only seems to lose his grip on dishes when he's handing them to you, which is by complete coincidence. 

But your hand is firmly on his shoulder, fingers settling above his collarbone even when he turns to look at you.

“May I make anything for you?” He asks automatically. He carefully avoids looking at your hand in case you're touching him by accident - best not to remind you.

You smile fondly. “After tonight's dinner, I don't think I could eat anything else if I tried. It was excellent.”

Sanji can already feel his knees weakening. Excellent: now there's a good word, a perfect word, that he'll hold onto for later. 

“I'm so glad you think so. I thought of you especially while making it.”

“You say that to all the ladies.”

“It's true.”

Your hand is still on his shoulder. You tighten it a bit, perhaps appreciatively, perhaps condescendingly. He isn't sure which option he likes best.

“I brought my plates back down.” You gently set them in the sink with your other hand, and Sanji immediately picks up his sponge again. He doesn't know when he dropped it. 

“I'll get them done right away,” he stutters. “You're sure you don't want anything? A nightcap? Some tea? - I have a wonderful hibiscus from our last time on shore that would pair nicely with-”

“Sanji…” The quirk of your lip makes it certain: you are condescending him. A small shudder racks his shoulders.

“Mm?” His eyes flicker back and forth from you to the dishes. 

“You're working too hard,” you squeeze sharply at his shoulder, and he jumps at the pain. He's biting his lip when he finally makes eye contact, cheeks already starting to flush.

“See? Your muscles are so stiff.” You move behind Sanji, slipping your other hand up his back and to his opposite shoulder. You dig your thumbs into the muscles bracketing his spine, and he jerks forward toward the sink as if pulled by an invisible force. “Does that hurt?”

“You could never hurt me,” he breathes. 

“Oh?” You tighten your grip, thumbs poking deeply into his stiff back and stroking upwards to his neck. Hard, firm pressure. 

Sanji’s hands reach out to grip the edge of the sink. The sponge falls forgotten into soapy water. His knuckles are white, arms trembling. “Nothing… you do to me could ever hurt me.” His voice is wavering in a delicious way. “Even if it’s painful.”

You hum thoughtfully, dipping one of your thumbs under the collar of his shirt. Skin swipes against skin, and Sanji lets out a whine. 

“We can’t have our cook in anything less than peak condition, can we?” You mumble, still thumbing his soft skin. 

Sanji lets out something halfway between a gasp of pleasure and a laugh of disbelief, hands clenching still tighter.

“We need you healthy,” your hands move down his back, resting just under his shoulder blades. “I need your cooking.”

Somehow, that’s what breaks him. He arches forward with a groan, shoulders shaking.

“Let me help you relax,” you offer. “How about a massage?”

One of Sanji’s hands shoots from the sink to under his nose. He audibly swallows; blood dribbles down his fingers as he pulls his hand away. He nods weakly.

“What was that?” You can’t help but prod, not when he’s this vulnerable. Sometimes you feel like Sanji is a big bruise that you can’t help but poke at.

He nods again. Your hands instantly find his waist, thumbs stroking circles through his suit jacket.

“Use your words.”

“Please. Anything.”

“Such good manners,” you coo. You slip your hands away from Sanji, savoring the way his body freezes in anticipation. You take a lace handkerchief from the counter and gently cup his chin, turning his face towards you.

He looks so small, curling forward like he can’t trust his knees to hold him upright. His face is an impressive shade of red, almost as dark as the blood dripping over his plush, bitten lips. His eyes, surprisingly, aren’t as gleaming and heart-shaped as they usually are around you. 

You can’t help but grin at having finally caught him so off-guard. His eyes become wide, almost frantic, as you swipe a thumb over his chin. There you are. Finally, finally, I’ve reached underneath.

You hold his face more firmly and bring the towel up to clean him, but he flinches. Not away from you- you have a feeling he couldn’t move away if he tried.

“I don’t want to stain it,” he all but begs. “It was… I was planning on using it for plating your evening tea.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.” It’s blatant, obvious teasing, but Sanji’s eyes droop miserably nonetheless. 

“Here we go…” You wipe the handkerchief under his nose. Blood saturates lace, and Sanji’s eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

When you’re done, you pull away and fold the cloth carefully. Sanji watches in equal parts confusion, misery, and awe. When you tuck it into your pocket, Sanji gasps, another trickle of blood falling onto his lips.

“I just finished cleaning you up,” you scold. 

Sanji’s lip quivers from the humiliation, but you quickly lean forward and place your lips under his nose. It’s barely a kiss. You pull away shortly after, tongue darting out to taste his still-warm blood. 

Sanji drops to his knees so hard you hear bone hit wood. His shaking hands grasp one of yours, pulling it to his lips: no contact, just puffs of hot, frantic breath. One knee up, and he’d look like a soldier being knighted by his queen. 

“May I?” He’s trembling. He almost looks like he’s salivating. Your hand is small in his, but his are so much softer, skin scrubbed down from washing dishes, still red-tinged from the sink’s hot water.

You nod, and he gasps into the first kiss. His lips linger on the back of your hand, wet and bloody. You flip it over, and he moans, kissing your palm and trailing up your inner arm. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching for the faintest hint of displeasure. 

“Sanji?”

He immediately pulls away, breathing hard, still tentatively holding your hand. 

“Yes?” He looks ready for any command. Blood is smeared across his face and up your arm. You didn’t realize it would be quite so easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees, but you should have expected as much.

“The goal was to make you more comfortable. You look like you’re hurting your knees.”

Sanji shakes his head with enough ferocity that his bangs are knocked out of place, almost covering his other eye. “I could never complain about being allowed this.” 

He looks at your arm with some panic, then begins to wipe the blood away with his own shirtsleeve. 

“Sanji. Stand up.”

He obeys immediately.

“We are going to go to my quarters,” you say. 

He nods along dumbly. 

“And you are going to lie on my bed.”

His face flushes a brilliant red.

“And I’m going to give you an incredible massage.”

He swallows, swaying forward on his feet. You take the cue to grab him by his tie and lead him down the hallway, dishes long forgotten.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 29

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: poor parenting discussed, Talia may or may not be ooc (if she is, fear not! I have received 2 separate permits, and have been told I may do as I please!), mild cussing, fluff, angst, a smidge of fear

wc: 2.4k

Chapter Selection

“... Babe, I know you've described Damian's mom as a ‘real piece of work', and Bruce told me a bit about how she raised him before he came here, so I do know she's not what I would consider a good mom. But that doesn’t explain why her visiting means we can't go to the manor?”

Jason sighed, setting his phone aside. He cupped my cheeks, purring my name; “darling, light of my life. I mean this in the best possible way. … You cannot be trusted to keep your cool with her.”

I blinked several times, frowning; “what on earth does that mean?!”

“You are … passionate. You love fiercely, and I love that about you. Seriously, I don't want you to think this is a bad thing; the way you love us makes me feel so safe, and I know Damian agrees. But … you've already yelled at one of his teachers, his principal, and Bruce. You will not be able to hold your tongue with Talia. And holding our tongues is necessary with her. … If she believes living at Wayne Manor is making Damian weak, she will take him away 'for his own good’.”

“How on earth would I make her think he's weak?”

“Talia is the type of person who believes attachment makes us weak. The things we care about can be used against us, the people we love are the people who will hurt us the worst. She believes it's better to be feared than loved. She's why he's so good at masking his feelings. Why he doesn't always understand his own feelings; his early education did not include processing and recognizing emotions. But she's … incredibly astute. She's analytical, and brilliant, and terrifying, and … she's his mother; she taught him everything he knew before he came here, and now she can read him without trying, even when he tries to hide his feelings from her. So if she sees how you two are around each other, even if neither of you so much as acknowledge each other, she'll know how you feel about him, and how he feels about you, and we'll probably never see him again.”

I growled softly, clenching my jaw. “… Bitch…”

He chuckled softly, holding me close. “I know. Which is why we have to keep our distance. … She doesn't visit often, and when she does she never stays long. She'll probably be here for a week at most, stalking the kid to make sure he's not slipping, and once she's gone I’m certain he'll show up on our doorstep.”

I sighed softly. “... Ok. … If you see him between now and then you have to find a way to tell him that I’m missing him and I love him very much, ok?”

He groaned softly. “Aw, come on, babe. The Red Hood can't lean in to give Robin a hug during patrol!”

“I'm not asking you to hug him - don't hug him! Just make sure he knows that I'm thinking about him. Please?” I pouted, snuggling against his chest; “for me?”

“Ughhhhh …. Fine. For you.” He sighed, running his fingers down my spine.

I grinned, snuggling against him happily. “Thank you~”

“Yeah, yeah …” he chuckled, kissing my temple. We sat on the floor, curled against each other, for a long while before Jason finally moved us to the bed to get some sleep.

Jay quickly started moving his things into my place. I gave him my spare key and made space in the closet. When I got home from the next girls night some of his clothes were hung up next to mine. The next day there was one of those cheap plastic dressers next to my nice wood one, and sitting on top of it was Jason's cologne, a book, and his deodorant. His shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel joined mine on the side of the tub. We bought more towels and a new set of sheets.

All these little changes made me giddy; his things slotting into position next to mine just felt so right, and I would get used to the weapons that were suddenly stashed all over the apartment. We had a thorough gun-safety presentation that night, and he showed me where everything was. On the next gym-and-range day, we finished training with an exercise where he would, entirely at random, shout “intruder” and time how long it took me to have a weapon trained on him. My best time was two seconds; he had expected me to go for the gun in the drawer, not the knife block in front of me on the counter.

Soon I started packing Jason a lunch for patrol. Mostly because I wanted to take care of him in some way, but a part of me also hoped he'd run into Damian out there and share the cookies I made. He rolled his eyes at me the first time I pressed the insulated bag into his hands, but accepted it anyway. I sent him off with a kiss and a wave, and settled in to wait for him to come home. Hours later I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up it was 4:30am and he was unlocking the door. The exhaustion rolled off him as I pulled him into a tight hug, and we collapsed into bed. When I woke up for real around 11 the lunch bag was sitting on the kitchen counter, empty and clean. I grinned, filling it again that night, and Jason didn't offer so much as a token resistance before taking it.

A week and a half passed before he ran into Robin on patrol. Jason assured me that he had passed along my message, Damian was perfectly healthy and definitely missed me too, and he had even been forced to share the brownies I'd packed. I beamed, kissing his cheek in thanks, and we curled up in bed.

The next day, we started looking at houses online. We obviously only looked at what was available in Red Hood's territory; on top of him wanting to stay close to his patrol area, it was on the opposite side of Gotham from the well manicured lawns of Bruce's gated neighborhood and thus the perfect place to set up my clinic. Whether our home or the cave was closer, the bats would never be more than 30 minutes away from medical care. Jason took note of a few addresses he wanted to go check out, promising to swing by during patrol to see if they were securable.

“No reason to arrange a showing if I'm not gonna be able to make it safe for you.” He kissed my forehead, wrapping an arm around my waist. I chuckled softly, leaning against him. I was pretty sure he was the one who would need the most security measures to feel safe in our new home, but I wasn't going to argue. The way he lit up when providing for me was too precious a sight; if I complimented his cooking he turned pink and mumbled it was nothing. I thanked him for switching over the laundry and he sighed happily, nodding. When he saw progress in my training he beamed. And when he came home safe in the early hours of the morning, all anxiety and stress melted off of him the second he was in my arms.

In a lot of ways, life was starting to feel incredibly normal. We were like the picturesque 1950’s family I'd been taught to simultaneously idealize and vilify; until the spring semester at GU started I was free to spend my time how I pleased, and with Damian's mother still in town, that mostly meant finding new ways to feel like I was giving Jason as much as he gave me. I made sure he always had enough treats in his lunches, in case Damian was out too. When Jason returned from patrol I inspected him for any small wounds my first aid knowledge would fix. I doted on him every chance I got, and he doted right back. It was wonderful, truly.

But when he left for work, and I was alone with my thoughts, the stillness in the apartment quickly became overwhelming. At first Damian's sudden absence from my life had been annoying but acceptable. But after the first couple days it started to feel like a rabid dog was using my heart as a chew toy. Why was his mother still here? What was she doing? What was she saying to him? He had been making such incredible progress; he smiled more, he initiated hugs, he accepted them more readily. He was painstakingly tearing down the walls around his feelings brick by brick. It was a difficult process, and he was being so brave, I couldn’t be prouder! But what was she doing to those walls while I was kept away?

It had been two weeks, and I was starting to wonder if she planned to stay for the holidays. I didn't want her to stay for the holidays! I had plans, and I couldn't do my plans if I couldn't go to the manor! Being barred from Wayne Manor meant no Damian, but it also meant no Steph, no Dick, no Tim, none of them! We had decided it would be best if it looked like I was just Jason's girlfriend; as far as Talia knew he was indifferent to the family, if that. So I had to appear indifferent at best as well.

I was still able to go to girls' night, because that was being held at Barbara's home. There was no reason to believe Talia would know or care about that. But I missed training with everyone. I missed finding new ways to tease Tim. I missed Dick's good natured laugh. God help me, I even missed Bruce! He pissed me off, but he was still kind to me for the most part, and he was a good trainer. I wanted things to get better with him, for Jason and Damian's sake. I wanted him to be the dad they deserved, the dad Dick believed he wanted to be. I was pretty sure he had it locked away inside him, he just needed … something. What exactly that was, I wasn't sure; maybe to see how happy Damian was with simple childhood experiences? Or to see the peace on Jason's face when we cooked together. Or maybe he needed to experience some of that for himself. But whatever he needed, I was sure he wasn't getting it, and until Talia al Ghul left I wouldn't find out.

I tried to busy myself with crafting and baking. With the winter holidays on the horizon I really should have started on presents around Halloween, especially considering how many people I was making gifts for this year. But better late than never, so I used the time alone to get started. Jason would be gone for hours, I had plenty of time. Or, I would have if not for the knock at the door.

I jumped, looking up incredulously. I wasn't expecting guests, especially this late at night. Anyone I wanted here had my phone number, and no one had called or texted. I grabbed my phone, just to be sure, but I was right - no unread texts, no missed calls. A moment later there was another knock, this one more insistent.

I grabbed one of Jason's guns and my phone, ready to call him with the push of a button, and looked through the peephole. A beautiful woman was standing at the door, an unamused look on her face. Her clothes were too elegant for this neighborhood, she definitely didn't just wander to the wrong door. I sighed, a sinking sensation in my gut as I cracked the door open just enough to reveal my face.

“... Hello?” I frowned.

She raised an eyebrow; “... is hospitality well and truly dead in this country, or are you going to invite me in?”

“At eleven o'clock at night, in this neighborhood, with an uninvited stranger on the doorstep? It’s dead. Now, would you like to introduce yourself, or should I shut the door?”

She tsked; “I am Talia al Ghul. Why have you been spending time with my son?”

I silently cursed, but forced my expression to remain bored and distrusting; “... Your son?”

“Damian …” she sighed, “I believe he's using his father's last name now, Wayne.”

“Oh, Jason's brother? He's not here.”

“Obviously not.” She snapped; “are you going to let me in?”

“Why? He's not here.”

“I know he's not here! I want to know why you've been spending so much time with him.”

“I dunno about ‘much’. I've met him.”

“You are his emergency contact at that paltry excuse for a school he is enrolled at.”

“Oh, is that what you're so upset about?” I shrugged; “'m just doing a favor for Jay by doing a favor for his dad.”

“... Elaborate.”

“Mr. Wayne is a busy man, I am not a terribly busy woman. Emergency contact at the school was a simple enough thing to take off his plate. Kinda thing that seems bigger than it actually is. He now associates me with his life being ever so slightly easier. He already associates me with Jason, ergo he now associates Jason with his life being slightly easier.”

She frowned deeply. “You are emotionally manipulating Bruce into … what, being kinder to his second son?”

“... I suppose so, yeah. Didn't really think about it that way. 'Manipulation' makes it sound so much more convoluted and … effort-full. All I did was sign a piece of paper.”

Her expression morphed into a small smirk; a very Damian-like expression. “... And you are Jason's … girlfriend?”

“Yep.”

“... Hm.” She nodded once. “... Very well then.”

“... Okaaay. … So are you like, sticking around or somethin'? Do you want to be the emergency contact now?”

“No, there is no reason for that…” she pursed her lips; “establishment to have my phone number.”

I shrugged again. “Alright… Anything else?”

“... No, I suppose not.”

“Kay. I'm goin' back to bed then. Goodbye.” I shut the door, locking it, and looked through the peephole again. She glowered at my door, seemingly considering something, and finally left.

I watched her walk away until she was entirely out of sight, then slowly retreated to the couch to text Jay.

Me: Everything is fine, do not panic; but I just met Talia. 11:20pm

Jason: I'm coming home. Don't open the door to anyone. 11:35pm

Me: 👍❤️ 11:36pm

Next ->

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Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11

[scrambledsun]

Mouthwashing au! So I enjoyed playing the game, and I'm enjoying the Fandom very much. Recently, I had an idea for a au. In this au Jimmy's like "fuck it is deserve to live more than anyone else" and takes the cryogenic pod for himself after he kills curly considering it his "mercy" and he gets rescued after 10 years later. He gives the investigators the story he wants and walks free.

And this is where it becomes apparent that jimmy, though he won't admit it, was severely reliant on curly. For one, Jimmy is naturally rather unlikable and without curly to defend him more often than not he gets his as kicked. He can't find a good job because once again, there's no curly to vouch for him.

And its not like he can use the money he got as compensation from pony express can help him. For one it wasn't very much to begin with. The already bankrupt company having paid the grieving families five years prior to Jimmy's unexpected return. They didn't account for his return. So when he did arrive it had came out of the founder's nearly empty pocket. And he'd already used a good chunk on medical bills as, surprise surprise, the cryo pods were shit, so he had to have one of his feet removed. And no disability for him isn't shit so more often than not he's living pay check to pay check.

And believe it or not, that's not the worst thing for him. No it would be the sins of his past haunting the fuck out of him at night. And no amount of drugs or alcohol help. For example: imagine him lying in bed, eyelids heavy with exhausten from his shitty job, drifting to dreamland, only to hear abrupt gunshots so loud they cause him to toss himself out of bed on to his dirty floor and leave his ears ringing for hours after. Or maybe he is trying to sleep again, feeling hopeful that now he'll get some desperately needed shut eye. Only to hear loud disgusting choking sounds that can't be blocked out no matter what he uses to cover his ears. It leaves he paralyzed in bed out of fear because last time when he rolled over to try and find where the sound came from, he was face to face and eyes to eye with the face of curly. He stopped sleeping in his bed for a while after that

Other times, he'll hear Swansea screaming his name out of anger, rapid heavy footsteps coming his way. Other times, he'll see anya in any type of reflective surfaces bleeding from he mouth and nose with her eyes rolled back. And sometimes he'll catch a glistening eye staring down on him from his dusty vents with blood dripping down and cries of pain coming from it.

He is being haunted at night and at his apartment. There's no one he can talk about this to for fear of incriminating himself. it's been the reason he's lost several jobs already. He's the mental case everyone avoids and pitys from a distance. He is alone with his thoughts and loyal crew. It's like a haunted au, but with a twist, I'll reveal later. Let me hear if there's anything thing you'd add to it!

[jazjelspen]

ex-girlfriend

jeff the killer x fem! reader

(you've dated Jeff the Killer since high school and have known him for longer. You stayed even after he became who he is now.. but what if you became stronger than him? what if you became a completely new person entirely? and left your heavy-hearted killer boyfriend to rot?)

(notes: took inspo from fanon Jeff but also tried to write him into his own person of course :) will try to be realistic when it calls for it + took some creative liberties in certain aspects too. I also apologize if the characterization of Jeff and others isn't super fitting.. I'm still getting used to how I want to express them and construct them as characters and the world around them.)

(CAUTION!!!: includes dark/serious themes, mention of murder/death, use of cannab1s, slight implications of s3x, toxic relationships, physical abu$3, possible ooc(?) )

(NOT PROOFREAD)

[part 1/2]

you and jeff are a killer duo.

seriously and figuratively.

you two have always been attracted to each other, a connection you two couldn't see but you both knew it was there.

the older and closer you two got, the more you two realized you had more in common than you two initially assumed..

way, wayyy more in common.

but to skip a long origin story short, let me give you some details on how you and Jeff suddenly got separated in the way that you did.

you see, you and Jeff resided at the Slender Mansion.. mostly just to get Slender off your backs due to you guys finding solidarity and a sense of safety in the deep dark forests, far away from home. it kept you two safe from police, as well as anyone or anything else that could be a threat.

of course, the specific area you went into was territory of the thin and tall boss of the forests.. and you would've been dead meat if you two didn't create a sort of alliance with the deity, not exactly proxies yet you two still had to trade something in return for your lives.. the lives and bodies of others seemed to quell Slenderman's hunger quite well.

nonetheless, tonight was one of those nights in which you and Jeff had to find more lives to take, blood to shed.

this night was different though, as Jeff was currently stuck in your shared room after going through a minor operation at the hands of Eyeless Jack, another being that came and left as he pleased.

"You think he'll recover quick?" You perked up as you watched EJ sew in the last stitch in a cut that reopened earlier as he was helping Jeff into your room, cutting up the thread before standing back as you two stared at your injured boyfriend from beside the bed he laid on.

"Not as quick as you may think," spoke EJ, his calm, raspy, and slightly demonic voice sounding monotone as he isn't intending to comfort you in the slightest but just to inform you. "Slenderman's healing properties can only work so fast, the rest depends on his own body's will to repair itself."

"Makes sense, with how much the victim fought back and the cops almost got him by a hair.. " you let out a huff through your nose before crossing your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly. "It has never gotten this bad before..." You murmured before moving away to open the door for EJ to find his way out. "I know you don't usually accept 'thank you's but, thanks. I owe you one for saving his ass."

"Hm." hummed the blue masked being. He may have the form of a human, and sound like one to a certain extent.. but he doesn't have the feelings of one for all you knew. "I'm sure you know how to stitch him up again if another injury reopens, I won't be here the rest of the week as I'll be doing my own business elsewhere."

"Got it.." You opened the creaky wooden oak door to let him through, and he left just as fast as he came in.

Closing the door behind you and letting go of the rusty brass door knob, you sighed in exhaustion.

"Yknow, you've been awfully quiet--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'm going to slice your throat."

Your shoulders dropped as soon as you heard Jeff's empty threat escape his throat. You walked closer to him, your shoes making small thuds and the wooden floors creaking beneath your feet.

"There you are." you cooed, finally hearing him talk after being silent the entire time.. incredibly out of character for him yet you were sure the shame of getting as injured as he is now and having to be 'taken care of' definitely got to him. "I almost started missing you."

"Get my knife, get the rest of your shit, and let's move.. we have people to kill for fucks sake.." Jeff's hoarse voice cracked even further as he attempted to sit up yet the pain coming from his abdomen only caused his nerves his fire up, making him fall back onto the moldy mattress yelping in pain. "You're absolutely stupid for even thinking you're able to go out tonight Jeff." You proceeded to sit on the empty side of the bed beside him, your hand slowly reaching over to gently caress his brutally cut up cheek yet your lover only harshly smacked it away with the back of his own hand. "So.. you're telling me you're going to ignore what I fucking telling you to do?" Jeff groveled and huffed in irritation, if he wasn't so incapacitated he'd probably be pulling you by your arm or hair to get you to do what he told you. "Since when have you gotten so brave, doll?"

"Since I followed you and helped you kill your own family that night." You pulled your hand away, reminiscing the night when your Jeff turned into who he is now.

You remembered how much your heart swelled when you saw him covered in his family's blood, his fresh cut up smile and red inflamed burns across his body and face. You continued to love him just as much as you did before he became so disfigured.

He was your religion, and you followed him in devotion.

"Now, we still have to keep our deal with the big boss right? I'll do your kills for the night, then when your better tomorrow we'll finish up whatever else we have to do.. or hell we can just kill for fun to make it up to you, " you hopped off the bed as you spoke and walked over to a wooden rotting vanity in the corner of your room, with drawers that were unable to close and doors that were hanging by their hinges. Your hand reached over to get an empty crunched up ziplock bag and continued on to walk back to your boyfriend with the object in your hand. "What do you say? I'll even get you some of the good stuff to make you feel better." you spoke lovingly, your hand with the bag grazing over his misshapen nose as he inhaled it deeply with a faint sense of delight. It still lingered the smell of his favorite thing to smoke and get high off of.. aside from your kisses and affection of course.

"Fuck that smells good.." he mumbled before his beady black eyes then suddenly shot up at you with this look of angry hesitation. "This is the only damn time I'm ever letting you out of my sight, make it quick, come back, and if you take a fucking second too long I'll get up and drag you back by your hair myself, got it gorgeous?.."

"You won't even have to bother Jeff." you bent over slightly to give him a quick peck on the lips, but just as much as he was addicted to the green he was also addicted to your warmth, your lips, your presence and self.

You couldn't help but have to suddenly sustain your own body weight by resting an arm beside Jeff's head as his own uninjured arm went to grab you by the back of your head to pull you closer in a deeper, much more passionate kiss.

Hearts beating aggressively in a dark passion that was just as fiery and scarlet as the blood you two would spill on the daily, the faint smell of dried blood, mud, and rubbing alcohol reeked as you two struggled to inhale air with your noises clashing against each other, his aggressive and hungry kisses tasting of iron but also of old cigarettes and booze.

Normally this would disgust any one else that wasn't you, but you liked the way he smelled, how he tasted.. it reassured you that this was in fact Jeff, your Jeff.

Eventually, he would finally let you go by harshly pushing you away in order to break the kiss. He knew that if you stayed any longer he was gonna want you all to himself for the rest of the night, as close to him as you physically could.

"Get out of here and get back, ______. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

You smiled at him, a sweet and sinister little smile that would somehow always get him hard every time you did it.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

two weeks.

two weeks passed since you disappeared that night.

Jeff recovered the night after you left, but you could imagine the absolute horror and rage he felt when he realized you never came back later that night.

With other residents also living in the mansion, residents with personalities and have bits of humanity left similar to Jeff, you can also imagine the slight wave of rumors to those that knew or noticed the two of you in your years in the mansion. Some say you made a deal with Slender and got to leave, others say that you got kidnapped, that you got brainwashed, caught by police, sacrificed to another higher being, stuck in an asylum or- simply that you died. There were endless possibilities but they all ended the same:

you hung Jeff dry, left his grasp and simply didn't come back.

Jeff would obviously try to get in contact with Slenderman as to know your condition, since he knew that the deity had the consciousness and psyches of every being or person he's made some kind of contact with in his hands.

Although he had to go through one, two, three of Slender's proxies, just to have a word with him somehow.. He would eventually get a word from the big boss through one of his more well known lackeys.

"She's fine, Jeffery. She isn't dead, she hasn't made any deals with him, and she isn't injured to death or whatever." the annoyed and exasperated voice of Masky would echo in the empty halls that the pair stood in, the arms of the mustard-yellow colored jacket would fold over his chest while also being in a sort of stance that expressed the fact that he simply just didn't want to be there.

"Then why the hell is she not back?? Does he know where she could be? If she was kidnapped? If she got arrested or put in a fucking ward?" Jeff yelled in an almost desperate sort of tone yet he would never admit it openly.

"Look, I don't fucking care whether she's alive, dead, stuck in a fucking hole or hell! if she's sucking some other guy's dick that isn't yours! But all I know that is that if she left on purpose he would've already had me or one of the others to get her back, but he hasn't so maybe she's nearby or some shit like that."

Anyone around could see that Jeff was on the verge of reaching over for his knife and cut Masky in half, yet he knew better than to do that to him of all people. "Does he at least know where she is?? I'll get her myself if I have to just give me a fucking address, some place to know where she could be!.."

If Masky wasn't wearing a mask, he'd probably be rolling his eyes to oblivion, irritated beyond belief at something like this even being a problem. "No. But as I already fucking said, if he isn't asking one of us to chase her down and get her back then you shouldn't have to overreact the way you are right now." the proxy proceeded to brush past him without a care, but said one last small thing before he left Jeff's vicinity completely.

"By the way, stop bothering the other proxies about this as we could care less about your girlfriend, just get a new one and fuck off!"

Jeff stood there, trembling in an anger he hasn't felt since the day he attacked his bullies and his brother took the blame for it.

He wasn't exactly reassured, but he also knew that he was very limited and there wasn't much he could do.

But he was restless, so you bet your ass he was going to go look for you even if it was just stalking the streets and killing anyone in his wake.

luckily for him, his waiting would end soon enough.

the week after that, he'd get the news of his life.

he'd been killing all week, killing innocents as he usually did but at a quicker and animalistic pace, he would almost get caught this time by the cops yet again but before his spree could continue he received some news thanks to that cheeky voice that would speak to him through the screens.

he would come back to the mansion, battered and bruised beyond belief. the calluses on his hands split and bled, cuts everywhere all old and fresh, he was ruthless in his murders as well as he was careless.

he needed you to ground him, you were the reason as to why he has even been alive for as long as he has.

his hand seemed to be superglued to the handle of his sharpened knife even as he was dragging his legs towards EJ's basement, where he was led to believe he would find what he was looking for.

He aggressively banged on the metal door with his fist in anticipation, not being able to wait any longer than how much he's already had to. The one to answer the door would be Eyeless Jack as it is his "resting" place in the mansion so to speak.

Once the door opened Jeff would quickly push past EJ not needing to be accepted in the space for him to go in.

"Where is she??" he shouted, his voice boasting in the cold concrete room. "I was told you found her, where the fuck is she?"

EJ would calmly close the door before slowly leading Jeff towards a corner of the large space, where a long, clean-white room divider seemed to hide something.

well, more like someone.

That was when Jeff finally saw you, your limp body laying there and your face had this gentle expression you'd usually make when you were sleeping. Beside you stood Nurse Ann, who was gently cleaning the countless cuts and lacerations you had around your body with several cotton pads and changing gauzes as well.

Jeff's heart fell down to his stomach, he would've started reeling and throwing up if he didn't rush to take a closer look at you only to see that your chest was still rising and falling.

He sighed in relief.

"As you can see, she's alive." spoke EJ as he took a few steps closer, "Nurse Ann found her as she was coming back to the mansion, she found her body laying on the edge of where Slender's territory ends and the rest of forest. She also claims that ______ wasn't there when she left, so she probably appeared a little later that same day."

Jeff's hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch your face with the back of his hand, yet hesitated slightly when his hand could almost feel the warmth of your skin.

But that's when he took a minute to really take in the rest of your appearance.

Your entire body even your face was dirtied in dried mud and soil, your fingernails were dirty and chipped, your arms and cheeks were decorated in scratches and cuts of various sizes, and your clothes.. seemed to have been replaced with a clean hospital gown and your missing shoes were replaced by socks.

EJ continued on, "And so you don't go attacking me, Nurse Ann changed her clothes. According to her they were tattered and beyond repair, and that they were completely soiled in blood."

"Blood?" Jeff spoke up in slight concern,

"The blood wasn't hers."

[what-have-i-unleashed]

chasing infinity

@howlsofbloodhounds for you my most enabling moot. i think this is way harder to write than anything i've written before so...

shamelessly ripping off arrival (2016) and story of your life. go watch/read it!!

(cw: suicidal ideation, abuse)

chara is about to turn their back on me as they excitedly go on and on about another game that they've thought of. i want to imprint every detail of this moment in my mind. the cadence of their cheerful speech, the unsuspecting smile on their face, the weight of my knife hidden in the sleeves of my jacket.

this is it. this is when it will all change. an end of a story, and a beginning of another one.

years from now, you'll have heard of this moment recounted by me. we will be sitting in a cafe at the corner of a small street as i finish my story. i will laugh at the gobsmacked expression on your face, and you'll splutter, your rainbow-colored flames sparkling like fireworks.

"what type of story is that?" you'll ask me.

"a tragedy," i'll say, sipping on my piping hot milk coffee. "as life is wont to be."

you'll argue that reality is not a story with a definitive end, and i'll humor you. i can't help but wonder though, what the genre of our story is. i've been wondering for a while. i know how the story will end - i've known for a while. in thousands of you's and me's out there, our story repeats itself over and over again, but i don't think i was, am, and will be tired of it. i wish i could tell you about our story some day, but we'll never have the chance.

i haven't understood how to feel about it, and i doubt i will ever do either.

i guess it is cliche to start the story at the very beginning, but maybe it is warranted. it was disorienting - the moment of birth. the softness of the golden flowers enveloped me, but it was small comfort in the face of the pain shooting across my body. everything about it felt wrong - the broken joints, the hollow face, the nakedness. and yet, it was right.

people say babies are born with limited eyesight that develop slowly after time. but i am doomed to forever be cocooned in infancy - a broken prototype of a being, just good enough to be allowed to exist with the rest of the world.

chara didn't mind me. "hello, partner," they said to me, minutes after i started to exist. i couldn't see them, only able to hear to voice so close to my head. "are you ready for the rest of your life?"

the secret is, i'm always ready. like that one time your friend delta will begrudgingly invite both of us to a hangout, i'll grab an umbrella on my way out. delta will look at me strangely.

"it's scorching today. what are you taking an umbrella for?" he'll ask.

"killer often has a sixth sense when it comes to unexpected things," you'll chime in for me. "and it doesn't hurt being prepared."

delta will squint his eyes at me, who will sport a not-so-innocent smile. "really?"

"really," you'll say before i can say anything, knowing that i'd cause a scene just outside the door just to rile the hotheaded skeleton monster up. "let's just go now, shall we?"

we'll leave our house that we'll have chosen together just three months before. the food at the bar that delta will bring us to will be just average, but you'll enjoy the atmosphere too much for me to say any disparaging comments. we'll sit together in a secluded booth - just the two of us - listening to terrible music and watching as the first snow rain fall down on the street. your hand will hold mine as i'll put my head on your shoulders, finally still.

waterfall is chara's favorite place to visit after new home. there is that one statue in the rainy corridor that they like to visit from time to time, most of the times without me. it is easy to tell that is a weakness to look into, but for some reasons i always refrained myself from doing so. too late now anyway.

like usual, chara took two umbrellas in the bin but neither of them was for me. i was ordered to leave them for an indefinite amount of time, and of course i had to be productive during that free time: finding flowey, finding the remaining survivors, finding new ways to entertain chara.

i went to the echo flower field this time. the usual scripted dialogue lines repeated themselves over and over across the field. i was trying to find anything new, anything that would indicate another change in this game, in this script, that would intrigue chara. this time, i found one.

"hey, do you think we're stuck here forever?"

"why would you think so?"

"... i don't know. it's just a feeling i have lately. everything's been too much."

"... yeah, i understand what you mean. but hey! maybe this won't be the end! maybe we'll get through this." a strained laughter followed. "come on, you're such a pessimist. it's good to practice some radical optimism once in a while, you know?"

"maybe. it's just difficult to have hope when everything is so, well, hopeless." silence. and then, "if you knew this would happen, what would you have done differently?"

"hmm i don't know-"

"-maybe i'd have tried to visit people i love more. tell them what i feel before, well, this happened."

"that's all you'd do?"

"like i said! i don't know what i'd have done. you're the one randomly asking me this!"

"mmmm sorry..."

"hey, no need to apologize. i know you're just as anxious about this as i am."

"don't want to make you feel sad, habibi."

"i'm not. being with you, it's the best thing to happen to me. i wouldn't have done anything differently."

it will be a full four years after we start to live together that you say the word. and i'll freeze. the world will stop as if waiting for what i'll say back to you.

"i love you too," i'll say, and you'll beam, arms carefully hugging my smaller body. i don't know what emotions i'll be feeling at that moment. logically, happiness. most likely, guilt.

i'll be thinking about what i think right now, and i'll laugh at it.

the medics will tell me that it is an inevitable conclusion of your condition, that they are extremely sorry for me to hear this. i'll tell them it's all fine, that i've expected this. and i'll know they won't believe me.

i know illnesses like i know my own body and soul - there's no difference between them. i remember the way the insides of my body burned for the first time, the agony, the delirium. it felt wrong, but it was so right at the same time. this was how i was supposed to be - this is how i will always be. and i've accepted that a long time ago.

chara once used my body as a flower bed. strangely, it was one of the most peaceful game they played with me. just lie there in the dirt and play dead - easy enough. the way the dirt was deposited into my skeleton frame was uncomfortable, but thankfully not painful. chara has always been interested in gardening, but they lack the patience for it. but this time, as they said, this time they would get it right.

"what do you want to grow?" i'd asked them before all of this, as i prepared to lie down in the pit i'd dug for myself with my bare fingers. it'd taken a long while, and my fingers were all sore and dirty by the time i was done.

"buttercups," chara hummed. "i miss them around here. asgore never has them anymore."

i didn't question how chara knew. i didn't question why they cared. i just accepted the answer as it was and plopped my body beneath the dirt. chara had taken care to put my soul somewhere else. somewhere safe. it was nice of them to do so, i thought.

my body, with all its needs, was nothing but a burden anyway.

i don't know if being with you will fix me. i don't know if you care about it. i don't understand you, truly. i wonder if i will.

but i don't have infinite time to think. the world doesn't stop when i languish in thoughts. i'll have infinite time later, but never now.

so i'll remember this moment - this last moment between me and a dead child who has been here for too long. i knew this would happen, that everything would come to this point. and then after this, there will be more to come. there will always be more to come. so i hold my knife above chara's head as their back is fully turned. after them, there will be another, then another, then another, then one day it will be you.

i can't wait to see you.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I think my roommate is an alien who has never interacted with a human kitchen before, but he's seen enough daytime TV to piece together some of the basics.

Food goes in the fridge mostly, but also sometimes out on the counter. He's not really sure what or for how long, so I regularly come home to day old pasta and hard boiled eggs just sitting out and attracting bugs.

Cleaning involves putting liquid on things and then taking the liquid away. That second part always seems to trip him up. You know how sometimes there's a hole in your garbage bag and some goo accumulates at the bottom of the can? His method of cleaning that goo is to pour in an inch or two of Fabuloso and then leave it like that. Don't pour it back out, just put a new bag in and let it be someone else's problem (re: mine). That's always a fun surprise, taking out the trash and having a stream of garbage soap drip down my leg.

He uses an oven mitt as a 2-in-1 dishwashing glove/sponge.

The concept of cabinets and drawers apparently confuse and frighten him, so he keeps most of his stuff inside the oven, the microwave, or MY sink-side drying rack; whenever I do my dishes I have to pile my shit on top of his.

He cooks all of his meals between 1 and 4 AM.

I feel like I'm in some weird psychological experiment. "How will he react if I keep paper towels in the sink? Will he say anything if I put potatoes in the freezer? Wax paper burns in the toaster, but what about tin foil? Surely, SURELY, he'll say something to my face if I wrap my bread in tinfoil before I toast it." Is there no line? He's not being actively hostile to me, I feel weird calling him out for any of this behavior...

[pixieswashere]

First off, I agree with everything with what OP said here. I want to also add onto this that it makes no sense for AU!Jinx/Powder not to have her mental illness/psychosis, not only bc of the fact she had it since she was a child....but also bc in that universe.....Vi is dead...like SHE IS GONE. If anything the trauma and psychosis would still be there, if not worsen overtime.

Like at first when I started it, I didn't think much thinking that in this universe she had professionall help in coping with it healthily.....but then the Vi reveal and the fact we didnt see her having some hallucinations or voices is what ruined this......her ONLY last remaining family to her parents and who was very close to her clearly...is DEAD. Jinx loved her sister so much and had a mental breakdown as a kid when she LEFT her to go and find Vander. The only person who was there that BELIEVED in her, STUCK up for her, and practically raised her along Vander. You're telling me, Jinx wouldn't have any slightest of a breakdown or crisis over that??? At all??? Even when considering her mental state???

Adding to this for Viktor (bc I love him and I 100% agree that his character was fumbled)

Viktor NEVER hated himself in s1 let's get that straight. In S1, he makes a very big POINT to show that he has always carried himself and that in whatever he does, he is proud of it because he believed in himself enough to accept who he is and DOESN'T care about what others think of him

"When you're going to change the world don't ask for permission."

"I didn't have the benefits of a patron or a name, I simply....BELIEVED in MYSELF."

You could argue that while yes he is self-assured and confident, he still has some insecurities of how people close to him perceive him....and that could be true, but it's not really ever alluded. He DOES care about making connections but hes isolated himself bc of these judgements that its almost second nature if not a rarity. But he does value companionship, its just not something he is accustomed to a degree, and he sometimes without consideration distances himself from it if it gets in the way of his aspirations (Ex: Sky/Jayce, Heimerdinger/Singed.) In the latter acts of S1 he was DYING he wasn't hating himself because of his "terminal illness" that was killing him or his disability....He was in a vulnerable and solemn state because he felt like his accomplishments meant or achieved NOTHING. This is a character that is selfless, altruistic and a workaholic who worked his way up with dreams of something better and now after so many years in developing Hextech he's seeing that what he strived to achieve for the improvement of his home that's also DYING because of Piltover's ignorance and oppression, is unable to do NOTHING about it now.

He is angry that he has no CONTROL over his fate and the assuredness of his Legacy = helping those in need for the Undercity because of Jayce and Piltover's lack of understanding, especially after they had complied building the Hexgates for their trade disputes first.....over the disputes of lives. Viktor has contemplated death because he knows time is fleeting and he wants to make it count for something good, he doesnt want to be remembered as PERFECT, he wants to be remembered in the contributions that the people of Zaun will FINALLY heal/be helped after so long and not have to live short lives bc of unsafe work environments, manual labour, illnesses cause by toxic chemicals and etc.

He even brushes the idea of when he'll die off, and you could even add that he is ticked off by the fact that hes now being perceived as a "dead man" before he even died (Ex. Heimerdinger convo and Jayce in the hospital, etc). He doesn't like being seen as powerless or as his terminal illness now because he ISN'T and never was. Furthermore, he doesnt use the Hexcore to "PERFECT" himself, he's using it to heal himself of his terminal illness/expand his lifespan so that he can continue his research in helping Zaun.

If he is going to use Hexcore, he needs to make sure that it will work. So, to tests its capabilities, he tests it on HIMSELF. Only to find out that the same thing he created to HEAL ended up killing someone that meant a lot to him. He wasted NO TIME telling Jayce to destroy it bc it harmed someone and he finally realizes that ensuring a legacy = saving people....ended up at the cost of harming people in return.

P.s. sorry this was long. Hope you enjoyed reading it if u did !

I don't have perfect thoughts on it, but I do want to note that I'm not loving how Arcane handles disability.

Viktor hating his disability so deeply, feeling that it needs to be "fixed" so thoroughly, that he succumbs to ~ultimate eugenics for everyone ~ ?????? fucked up

Jinx's psychosis being a manifestation of her being "unhinged" and encouraging her to act out either to challenge or appease them, and then her psychosis magically disappearing in the "perfect" universe????? also fucked up

Vi's alcoholism and (albeit mild) psychotic symptoms never being brought up....ever???? just created as fodder to make her a more angsty and submissive lapdog to facism????? also also fucked up

Let me have my mad/cripple characters who have their shit recognized as parts of their humanity rather than trauma porn plot or things that need to be corrected or traits indicative of rash violence please

[ellouchi]

Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

[ttrashlord]

STEB SFW/NSFW HEADCANONS

A/N-This is my first time writing smut so,pls be kind with critics <3 (@moonstrider9904 its the owner of the gif)

P.s-i was listen to Lana del rey while doing this ;)

Warnings:mentions of kinks (cockwarming,bdsm,oral sex,etc),oral sex (Female and male receiving),

Pairing:Female!reader x Steb

-SFW-

Steb is such a gentle lover,he won't just do anything without your consent or go too rough or fast,he won't go slow either,he will adjust at your rythm,just as you are.

He will steal you kisses all time at home,at all time.Youre cooking? A stolen kiss. Reading at the couch? Don't look behind you,because a Wild Steb will be waiting there.

He is not a coffee lover ( as i said in another headcanon) but he surely loves tea!,so whenever you two decide that you want to do a lazy day or just thake breakfast in bed (most of the times,he does the breakfast),he is ready!

He enjoys going shopping,and even more if it's with you! He makes a whole list but you don't take different parts,no,you do the whole shopping TOGETHER.

I saw an account saying that Steb would have french accent (SORRY I DONT REMEMBER THE ACCOUNT) which i believe 2 things:

He can SPEAK french,because it's one of the lenguages he can speak,but he has British accent (just imagine ladies)

Have you seen the manhwa sign? Well,hearing his voice by the first time has the same reaction that yohan did on soohwa

He Will listen to whatever music you listen to

But he is a lana del rey boy

He likes tickle wars,but only when he's winning >:/

He didn't used to have a lots of things in his wardrobe until you came to his life,then you started to be like a fashion designer to him and started to tell him what could fit him and what he should try/buy.

He really apreciates this,because It feels like it's worth It to worry how he looks apart from his enforcer uniform

-NSFW-

(pls let me get ready for this)

If in his normal life he is a shy,a man of poor words,but believe me when i say this,he is comunicative in bed

If he needs you/something he'll say,he won't do any rodeo about It,he is kinda shy about being too explicit,but he makes sure to let you know what he needs

Imagine that is been a long,tiring day,you two are enforcers and right now are working at the "peanut partro"l with cait as a Commander

Sure,she was great,but sometimes a pain in the ass as a boss.

So,when you two arrived home,you shouted to him as you lead your steps to the kitchen "i'm making dinner"

You put your apron on,and started to make something,but suddenly,a pair on blue,warm hand were embracing you stomach

Steb:mhm...you...mhm..

You didn't undertood a word of what he said because his head was pressed on your shoulder

You left your hands from the sink and put the on his hands,and asked him: honey,what did you say?

And as clear as water,he told you,putting his chin on your shoulder and his lip very near your lobe:

Steb:I need you....now....

He doesn't speak very much but damn he know how to use his mouth.At first,he was very shy to go down on you,saying he never didi It on anyone else,but the more he thinks about it,the more he wants It.

The very first time he went down on you he was inexperienced,but he is someone that learns pretty easy,so the first time uses It to learn as much as he can for you,what do you like? What reaction what can he get from you?

BUT when you first when down on him? Girl are you trying to kill him?

You did It the very first time you two has sex,and he hated to admit how fast he did came when your Lips touched his tip.Only using your hands,going Up and down was...such a view,and even while you were looking at him with such pretty eyes,but when you decided to use your Lips,he fainted.

The first time you had sex you decided to go missionary.It's confortable,it's intimate and he can be as close to you and look at you

Saying this right now ,MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM,he loves it,he loses it.

His favoutire positions are:

Cowgirl,the Lotus,any variation of the missionary,and any position where he can see your face.

I believe that he has Big dick energy (DON'T KILL ME) but not THAT much,just above avarage.but the () it's pretty normal.

I believe he has the prettiest dick, i mean,i can't say look, but think about It:

More than avarage lenght,let's say () while not erected,but when it's erected It passes to be ().

And it's pretty firm,very curvy,just a prefect curve that helps you to make your own climax even better.

His () as on the avarage side,making It ().

Meanwhile the colour tip it's a pretty pinkish colour,not a full Pink but It shades into Pink.

He loves eye Contact,but most of all kissing you and showing to you how much he loves your body,in any way possible.This is like mosning your name as loud as he can (yes,he doesn't only moan,he groans,growls,do any sounds you can imagine) worshipping you,telling you how good you feel,etc.

And kissing you is something that he does:

1-when he is about to come,he feels It,and he needs to show you how good you make him feel

2-if it's a very intimate sex session (like,you're not only fucking but "making love")

He is such a gentleman,he can adjust at your rythm with any problem, did you tell him to go faster? For sure faster It is. You told him you don't want to come yet? He understands,he slows the pace and waist for you.

His kinks are on the "normal" side:

Praise kink,slight bdsm (chokers,blindfolds,and sometimes shibari) oral (receiving and giving),cockwarming,slighlty erotic asfyxiathion (on him)

But most of the times,he enjoys "normal sex" and always will prefer to "make love" with rather than just "fucking"

HEYYY THIS IS MY VERY FIRST TIME WRITING NSFW DON'T HATE ME ON THIS!

this took me soo long because i had no idea what to write for him so,here it is!

Hope you like it!

Also! I wanted to thank @saradika-graphics for this beautiful dividers,if need any, she surely has! (Or ask a request).

That's all loves,bye!

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for November 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Lost and Found by @signofcomfort [T, 33k, Louis/Harry]

Harry, the misfit wolf in the pack, always longed for affection but was too drowned in his own loneliness.

The pack alpha Louis Tomlinson shapes the future of his pack to be more accepting and welcoming, but would Harry ever return?

＊ No More Days Alone by @signofcomfort [M, 6k, Louis/Isaac Anderson]

Isaac finds himself lost amidst the tour but Louis is always there to find him.

＊ I want yesterdays love by edensrose / @holdingthornsandroses [M, 4k, Louis/Dev Patel]

“We’re going on holiday before the term starts again,” Oli announces in their kitchen the day after the art opening.

Louis looks up from his cereal bowl.

“Who is we?”

“I’ve rented us a cottage near the beach. Me, you, Calvin, Rick, and Dev.”

Louis makes a noncommittal noise but can’t deny his heartbeat racing at the mention of Dev.

＊ i tell myself i'm done with wicked games by haveufoundwhaturlookingfor / @sup3rbloom [T, 5k, Louis/Michael Clifford]

Omegaverse: Alpha Louis has never questioned who he is, a strong, loving Alpha who defies stereotypes. When he meets Michael, a beta, he certainly doesn't expect to fall for him (and hard).

＊ To start again by @loretheloner [E, 27k, Louis/Michael Blackwell]

Louis finds himself slowly falling for a bandmate again, despite Oli's warnings against it. Michael finds himself slowly falling for his boss and fighting against the ghost of Louis' past relationship. They find a way to start again.

Or a canon compliant story that follows Michael and Louis from the summer of 2019 to June of 2024. Written for prompt SS of the Louis Rare Pair Fest 2024.

＊ I've drowned and dreamt this moment by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 2k, Zayn/Louis]

There has been a rivalry between them since they were young. Since the very start of their careers. It’s always been Louis and Zayn, the ones to watch. The ones to do battle and ultimately share the podium.

They push each other to be better, is what the world says.

They hate each other, is what Zayn and Louis say.

And it all comes to a head in Val d’Argenton.

＊ Countdown by @allwaswell16 [M, 2k, Louis/Thomas Shelby]

Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, has taken notice of The Garrison Pub’s new barmaid, an omega named Louis. A prequel to One Part 2 of One

＊ if we were butterflies by @blueskiesrry [E, 52k, Harry/Louis]

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice.

or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

＊ Whole Lot of History by Blue_Green28 / @bluegreen28fics [E, 73k, Louis/Harry]

Louis and Harry have a whole lot of history. With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage they are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

What happens when Harry finally gets some money to open the coffee shop he had always dreamed of and they spend more time together to plan everything? Does their love still have a chance?

＊ Flying Over on My Own Tonight by @haztobegood [E, 1k, Louis/Jack Cochrane]

Louis is on his way to Monterrey, Mexico, where he'll headline Tecate P’al Norte music festival for the first time. A text from Jack makes the flight a bit more interesting.

＊ Sisterhood by @haztobegood [M, 2k, OT5]

Liam was thankful to have found sisters like Harry, Louis, Niall, and Zayn after running away from her parents. They opened their door and their hearts, their once-abandoned farmhouse becoming a safe, comforting home. Then one night, an unexpected visitor arrived, revealing the dark secrets of her new family.

＊ The Kiss of Sleep by @haztobegood [NR, 666 words, Louis/Harry]

Louis shook his head. “I’m proper knackered.” Too many nights on the road with the noise of the tyres rolling beneath them kicked Louis’ insomnia into high gear. He’d only been able to nip off for naps between soundcheck and their shows so he’d have enough energy to perform properly. But just barely. Now, with two days off and a plush king size bed calling his name for the first time in weeks, Louis needed to catch up on sleep.

＊ Love's A State Of Mind by @enchantedlandcoffee [T, 3k, Harry/Louis]

“Your omega?” Louis asked softly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “Hmmm.” Harry smushed his face in Louis’ shirt, his hand moving up to mess with one of the buttons. “He’s great, my omega. He’s kind and passionate and funny, even when he makes jokes about me.” “He- He sounds great, button.” “He is. You are.” What?!

OR Childhood friends, Harry and Louis, have been inseparable ever since they met. However, presenting as an alpha and omega drove a wedge in their relationship. One night, after Harry drunkenly confesses one too many things, Louis snaps. He realises that, despite loving his best friend so much, he needs to move on before their love tears them apart. He just needs to get the stubborn alpha on his side. Part 1 of Flower & Button

[literaticat]

It took me a while to stop crying and resolve to help people who will be targeted (starting 1/20/25). I am also trying to reconnect to even a scrap of joy, by tiptoeing back into writing. But...I keep analyzing my WIPs through the lens of how That Guy will be making half the country feel, wondering, "Is X funny enough? Is Y topic too serious?" Help?! Is it worth writing/querying anything that's not totally escapist? Are there genres that should just stay in a drawer right now?

No need to wait until January to help people! :-)

As to the writing piece: I think you are overthinking it. And hey, I get that! Half the country is still somewhat in "reeling mode", it hasn't even been a month, no need to make any huge decisions or change the course of your writing life or fret about queries that you aren't ready to send anyway right this second. Give yourself some grace. Do some deep breathing.

Nobody knows what the future will bring.

Hey, maybe people will want to read more than they ever have and publishing will thrive across all genres. Maybe there will be an unforeseen trend of books about cowboys in space or something that will make a genre flourish that we haven't ever even thought of before!

Or, maybe the tarriffs will eff publishing up so badly we won't need to worry about ANY genres anymore. Maybe he'll sell us all to Daddy Vladdy for a nickel or start Civil War II and we'll all have to become resistance fighters. (Or, maybe we'll get lucky and the meteor will come; that might be better, because I don't have much to offer in the way of actual resistance fighting unless the troops need children's books or cookies!)

But since none of those lines of thinking are particularly helpful or healthy, maybe let's not focus on speculating about all the random possible scenarios. It's too much! Your brain will break!

Here's what is within your purview: YOUR LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD. That includes your work, yes, but also your home, your family, your personal behavior and habits, your physical and mental health, and the well-being of your communities (both literal, like, the people who live near you, and figurative, the people near you or even across the country or the globe with whom you have shared values, etc)

I'm not an expert obvs, but I do feel like, when I stop "reeling" and thinking about whatever bizzaro outrage some politician is perpetrating and start thinking about what tangible things I can do to help support MY LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD, I feel a lot better. More useful.

(Like, how about instead of doomscrolling, I actually take that time and put my impotent rage to use pulling out the dying tomato plants and getting the yard ready for winter? How about instead of crying into my pillow, I gather a bunch of stuff to donate to a local charity? OH LOOK, I FORGOT ABOUT THE NEWS FOR A WHILE AND GOT THINGS DONE AND MADE MY CORNER OF THE WORLD BETTER! And now I'm tired and can take a nice shower and watch something silly on TV and go to sleep! Yay!)

What I'm saying is, AFTER you do the deep breathing and give yourself grace and all that stuff -- maybe DON'T think about your WIPS through the lens of "OMG what horror show is that freak in the white house doing" or "what will random terrible people think about what I'm doing" -- but rather, think, how do *I* feel about what I'm doing?

We have limited time on this earth -- do you WANT to spend your time on this? Will working on this bring you joy? Does the idea of writing it excite you? Will it reading it bring other people in your communities joy, or hope, or escapism, or important information, or inspiration, or *something else positive*? Those are the kinds of projects you should focus on, imo.

Obviously I have no clue what "Trends" will be coming up in the future, or what the publishing landscape or the world will look like at all -- but I DO SUSPECT that what we will need the most is books that bring something positive to the table. Whether that means a book full of pure delight/escapist entertainment, or reminders about what is beautiful in the world and special about humanity, or tools to help people enact change, or fuel for the next generation of rebels and resistance fighters, or whatever it is.

And, I think that "something positive" could come in the form of fiction, nonfiction, and pretty much ANY genre or category.

(Probably not a great time for extremely bleak / hopeless books, and certainly not a great time for books that you yourself are not passionate about. Writing and publishing is hard enough - don't do the projects that are a misery on top of all that!)

[razzellyn]

Hi! I've been seeing your Metal Cardbot posts and I really like them!

For my request, can we have the Metal Cardbots who catch a virus that basically simulates the common cold x Reader who has to be their caretaker for the duration of it?

Sick?!

Oh no, the bots are sick! How? Not sure, but you've got to take care of them!

MCB

Different colored dialogue = different bot

Btw don't ask how they drink stuff... Ask Buffalo Crush in that one episode

Ok so uhm, I'm not sure how to use sentences for this, so i hope you're ok with dialogues.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Blue Cop

"Didn't i just told you to rest?"

"Yes, but this is much more important, i have to-"

"No, no no no, sit back down."

".. Very well."

He'll look like a kicked puppy if you stop him from doing his things, but he'll listen.

Mega Trucker

"Mega Trucker! Stop dancing and drink your medicine!!"

"Huh- woah! No thanks I'm good!"

"Wha- Mega Trucker?!"

Unfortunately he's stubborn. Good luck with that.

Mega Ambuler

"Mega Ambul- oh! You're drinking your medicine already."

"Of course."

"... Do you even need my help?"

"No, but thank you for trying. I can do this on my own."

He's a literal doctor. Do i even need to explain?

Phoenix Fire

"Phoenix, come on... It's just fuel!"

"Yeah! But it's bitter!"

"Better than being sick isn't it?"

"I guess..."

If there's anything more he hates other than fire, is burning up inside.

Shadow X

"... Where'd that kid go?"

"Here! He was hiding in the rooftop again."

"Let go!! I don't want those- those things!"

"It's just bitter fuel..."

He runs away and when the others find him he gets dragged back to you. He's throwing a tantrum too so that's something.

Fleta Z

"Fleta Z. Your medicine?"

"Ah, right. Thank you for reminding me."

"No problem. Do try to remember it yourself, okay?"

"Of course."

He hides the fact that he hates the medicine. He did a good job doing it though.

Dexter

"Dexter? Dexter! Is he in the forest again...?"

"He is."

"... Dexter!!!"

He may be mature, but he hates medicine as much as he hates the people who destroys the wildlife.

Wild Guardy

"Wild Guardy? You haven't youched your medicine.

"That can wait."

"No it can't, take it!"

"Yes, it can."

It's a back and forth bickering between you two. He's stubborn for some reason.

Buffalo Crush

"But it tastes bitter!"

"But you'll feel better!"

"But it's terrible!"

"But you won't be sick anymore!"

You'll probably have to corner him somewhere just so you could persuade him to drink the medicine.

Buster Gallon

".. Are you making something right now?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did you drink your medicine?"

"..."

Sometimes he forgets on accident, sometimes it's on purpose. Depends on what he's feeling honestly.

Black Hook

"Drink your medicine!!!"

"I'm not drinkin' nothin'!!!"

"IT'S JUST BITTER FUEL!!!"

"STILL AIN'T GONNA DRINK IT!!!"

It really makes you wonder if he's even sick or not. What kind of virus makes him even more loud and stubborn..?

Heavy Iron

"Drink your medicine."

"No."

"I'm not asking you to, I'm forcing you."

"... No." He says in the most nonchalant tone ever.

You'd have a better chance in forcing it down his... throat.

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

Hrrgh I thrhink ur gogijg to have to tryy john... wh-who else...??

>he's so sniffly and terribly depressed and very clingy, not wanting to let go, but still in his 'how do I comfort someone? Do it like I used to comfort my sisters' mode, he'll pull back and kiss the top of jirv's head, then pat his back. He's not going to stop his crying anytime soon, but he can still kinda think thru the haze, n he grips john by the shoulders n looks him in the eyes

S-stay the night maybe? Dont go back out there. N I think we're done w the drinks for now... do you want to play board games? Some distraction? Or... I could ... maybe you should go find mr goodsir n-maybe he'll be better at comfort than me I'm just.... I'm ... I'm sorry I'm so terribly... >he just sighs so wearily, then covers his face with his hand, still trembling I don't know ifff anything's w-worth it but we'll... have... have to try... hhg ... why would anyone try on this bitch of an earth...

@lieut-dundy-le-vesconte continuing this:

(Lord, grant me strength, he thinks to himself, watching as Dundy's hand moves from his collar to his own face across the room.)

Will we make it home? Ah... I really... I don't know, Mr. Le Vesconte. If God wills it, we shall find deliverance from the great evil that we find ourselves trapped within.

(Why is he staring at me like that? Good Lord...)

But... I find myself unable to imagine going home after all of this. It seems a distant fantasy to indulge in such a way. We have tasted so bitterly of our own hubris, what right have we to survive our ordeal?

I find it better to live in the moment, and... and simply pray that God will grant us his mercy at the end of all things.

[swaglet]

slinky is showing signs of typical aging ferret illnesses that are all moderately concerning all on the day i go back to campus and i have already scheduled a vet appointment for him but i have to face the reality that my son won't live forever and he's getting old and it's about to be time