#and say smth like ‘hell if i care about your miserable love life’ (he does care. a lot)

[mars-ipan]

AAAAAAAA HAHHAHAHAHA THANK YOUUUU I CARE THEM SO MUCHHHH

i love sharing my kmhn headcanons with people because then i get to hear them tell me how correct and smart i am and it boosts my ego

[soleilnomoon]

5k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, angst & smut wrapped into a cute present; cw - blood, some knife play, there's a gun somewhere, death it's rly not bad but who knows; toji is a bastard and y/n continues to make wild choices; gojo makes an appearance! if u pretend, u might find smth close to fluff. maybe.

previous ⤹

tucked away from the throes of pesky traffic, stands an old, run down building. it’s slated to be demolished, but for some reason the city continues to stall. on the lowest level, in the basement floor, one fushiguro toji sits atop a dingy, white plastic chair, scrolling through various messages in his cell phone. off to the side is an old radio that remains plugged in the blood-stained wall, the heavy bass of the music pumping out of the small speakers is loud enough to drown out the pitiful noises his esteemed guest keeps making—his duress evident in the way his drool dampens the rag that toji stuffed into his mouth earlier.

seemingly in a trance, toji hums along to the music, twirling a sharp knife in his hand, eyes landing on a particular text that he reads not once, nor twice, but four times over. 

he sucks his teeth, and languidly glances over at the man who is barely alive; a man who is also probably pleading for toji to end his miserable life as quickly as he can. it’s hard to tell when a bloody rag muffles his words; and, while toji would never consider himself sympathetic, he’s quite annoyed that the man hasn’t given him much of a fight. even after toji went through the trouble of tying him up, even after he yanked his fingernails off, even after he knocked a few of his teeth out, even after he shot both of his legs—and still, toji graciously let him sit on a chair, because he’s not the savage that people claim he is.

it’s a courtesy he didn’t have to offer, but he does like to make sure his guests are taken care of.

toji rereads the text again, lips pressed together in a straight line, and contemplates the message before he stands up suddenly, his vigor renewed.

“it’s your lucky fuckin’ day, know that?” his voice booms around the room, the dim light barely giving him enough vision to see what he’s doing—but that’s why they call him a professional, isn’t it? a master at navigating through any element that’s thrown at him. toji’s laughter brings a sudden chill to the man, making him whimper even more the closer toji gets to him. “don’t make that face,” toji says gently, using the flat blade of the knife to tap his guest’s cheek. “i don’t care about whatever sob story you’re tryin’ to sell me.”

and it’s true, he doesn’t. 

“i’d love to stay and play, but duty calls,” he leans closer, voice lowering, that stoic, frightening demeanor making its way back into him again, “by the way, your wife did call your phone. i told her you were still in a meeting, hope that was okay.” toji’s grin unnerves the bound man so much that he can’t help but cry out and struggle against the rope bindings, tears in his eyes—a futile last ditch effort to survive. it’d be commendable if there wasn’t a time-constraint. and, unfortunately, toji isn’t in the business of letting his prey get away like that.

it takes one swing for him to slit the man’s throat, the blood just as uninteresting as the man that it’s spilling from. toji shoots him in the middle of his forehead for an added measure—he’s learned the hard way that some people just don’t know how to stay dead.

his phone rings as he finishes cleaning his tools; his annoyance evident when he picks up on the last ring.

“what do you want?” he doesn’t have time for idle chit-chat; he has things to do, places to be, business affairs to take care of. “hell no, i’m not cleaning any of this shit. i did what i was paid to do.” he surveys the room, dark green eyes landing on the splatters of blood, the man’s teeth that toji flung at him postmortem, the various chemicals toji used to keep him barely conscious. “send someone else, i’m leaving.” he hangs up without much fuss and collects the rest of his belongings, not bothering to look back at the mangled corpse he leaves behind.

since he’s used to this line of work, toji keeps himself relatively hidden—people get a little weird when they see him walk around casually with someone else’s blood on him, so he’s learned to acclimate for the sake of keeping a low profile. thankfully he parked in a secluded area; less people he has to worry about. not that it matters, anyway.

you don’t bother checking your phone, because your mind is still stuck on the fact that you had sex with gojo—and managed to prove toji right without him knowing. you’re pissed about everything, and even though gojo tries to bribe you with food in order to cheer you up, you’re barely eating.

a loud bang on the front door startles you, but gojo just grins. “right on time,” he says cheerfully, before adding, “guess that means playtime is over for us, butterfly.” his words confuse you, but you choose not to question it—telling yourself that the less you know, the better it’ll be. gojo opens the door fairly quickly and his chipper demeanor keeps up, even as toji pushes his way past him into the apartment.

you choke on your toast the moment you see his broad shoulders, disheveled black hair, and the look he gives you should make you terrified. but you’re not.

“the fuck do you think you’re doin’ here, huh?” 

his question is the most absurd thing you’ve heard all week. how the hell is he going to question you? you’re an adult just like him, and can do as you please. “you don’t own me, we’ve had this conversation before,” you say aloofly, pushing away from the kitchen island and collecting your things.

“like i told you earlier,” gojo chimes in, clapping a hand on toji’s shoulder, actively annoying the latter with his proximity, “i was keeping an eye on y/n for you.” he’s full of shit and knows it, but toji doesn’t care about any of that. 

“don’t make me repeat myself,” toji says as calmly as he can, while also actively ignoring gojo’s presence.

“take your own advice for once, fushiguro,” you say bitterly, storming past him and gojo, slamming the front door behind you. you’re so mad you can hardly think straight. the nerve of toji showing up here after you spent the night in tears over him, drinking, and fucking the last person you wanted to fuck — although, that’s not exactly true, now, is it? — like everything is your fault and not his. 

you’ll take responsibility for putting too much pressure on toji to commit, you’ll take responsibility for bothering him incessantly for validation, but you refuse to be a doormat to his bullshit any longer. despite all of that, you still make your way down to toji’s car; it’s unlocked and still on — he must’ve known it wouldn’t have taken much convincing on his part for you to get into the car with him, which only pisses you off even more.

why is he able to treat you that way and still make you want him just as much as you did before? he must’ve hypnotized you at some point or another, because none of it makes sense. 

toji casts a sidelong glance gojo’s way, eyeing the sorcerer critically, his irritation rising. gojo’s texts were bait, he knows that and willingly took it. why? he has no idea. but the moment he saw the picture, all he saw was red.

“the first,” he says to the white-haired man, surveying the living room, taking note of the familiar pair of panties that was tossed haphazardly onto the coffee table — by gojo, most likely, he knows you’re not the type — before continuing, “and last fucking time.” it’s all he says and gojo puts his hands up, chuckling lightly, as if he has no idea of what toji’s talking about.

by the time he makes it to his car, he sees you sitting with your feet propped up on the dashboard, crossed at the ankles. the sight annoys him, because he actually likes seeing you in his car, likes how comfortable you are around him, and likes that you don’t seem to have an attachment to gojo in the way that he originally thought. 

not that it makes things any better.

“feet off the dash.” 

his voice stirs a desire within you that you helplessly try to stamp out by reminding yourself of all the bullshit toji’s put you through over the past few months. you have yourself to blame, really, but you don’t want to take accountability just yet. it’s more fun pointing fingers at the man beside you instead.

“don’t tell me what to you,” you say casually, glancing down at your nails as he backs his car out of the driveway and speeds off. “you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone is every bit as bitter as it is childish, “nor are you my dad, so shut up.” it’s not smart of you to mouth off at the same man that laughed as he fucked you stupid, but with toji you always find yourself in this exact situation. every single time.

your words only make him laugh, his chuckles bringing a warmth to your chest and face; you ignore both, opting to look out the window instead. “you’re taking me home, right?” because you have absolutely no intention of going back to his place. not anytime soon, anyway.

his silence is unnerving, so you try again. and again. and again.

“toji, damn it, are you even listening to me?” you’ve long fixed yourself so you’re sitting properly in the passenger’s seat, but toji keeps quiet, his eyes drifting over towards you every now and then, that smug look carved deeply into his eyes, making you want to shout — but you refrain. you know if you lose your cool entirely, it means he’s won.

you refuse to let him win.

“where are we going, if you’re not taking me home.” is this the moment he finally makes good on his promise? is he taking you somewhere hidden, where no one will hear you scream, where they won’t find a body or any sort of evidence? a series of chilling, morbid thoughts pile into your mind one after the other; the way you shift in your seat makes him laugh again. it’s priceless, the way you’re so nervous, the way you think you have him figured out. it’s also terribly cute, and that thought is dangerous enough to make him almost hit the car in front of him. 

thankfully, he swerves out of the way just in time, earning a sharp glare from you, but he ignores that too.

“i hope you’re feeding me,” you say with a sigh, fussing with your hair, hoping the scent of gojo’s soap doesn’t linger for much longer. before you know it, he’s pulled into the parking lot of an impressive hotel somewhere downtown in the city. you know his ass can’t really afford to stay here, so you narrow your eyes at him and then look back at the hotel. “why are we here?” you know better than to voice the rest of your opinion; you’re not cruel, and you don’t have it in you to ever belittle anyone for their financial situation, and while toji is certainly an asshole — a proud one too — you can’t bring yourself to try hurting his feelings like that.

not when there are other ways.

although, can a man like that really get his feelings hurt? you might not ever know at the rate you’re going; his pace is inconsistent and he drives you to do ridiculous and reckless things, like seek out comfort from gojo, for example.

“the last job i took paid well, so,” he nods his head towards the building before grabbing his duffle bag and exiting the car. you scramble after him, not wanting to be left behind, not really having much on you besides your purse and cell phone. 

it’s then that you notice, with the sun shining high above you, the dark stains on his shirt; even though he’s always in dark clothing, it’s noticeable up close. you wrinkle your nose at that and inch away, much to his amusement. pretty pitiful behavior he’s exhibiting, if anyone asked him.

“so you couldn’t, like, shower before coming to kidnap me?” you don’t mean anything by it; you take notice of bit of blood on the side of his neck, and you swallow hard, wondering whose it is — his or someone else’s.

“s’not mine,” he says, as if reading your mind, “don’t worry about me so much.” if you weren’t in public, you’d slap him for his impudence.

it seems toji’s frequented this hotel before, because they don’t bat an eyelash at his appearance, they simply hand him a key and he strides off to the elevator. you struggle to keep up with him, say as much, which only makes him laugh again — he’s always fucking laughing — annoying you endlessly.

once inside the room, you’re immediately floored. the spacious suite — excuse you, the luxuriously spacious suite, that is — is pristine, heavenly, and possibly a dream. you look at him questioningly, knowing he didn’t get this for your sake, but for his. not that you blame him; if you had the money, you’d randomly splurge like this too.

“are you finally going to talk to me properly, or what?” you place a hand on your hip, his eyes take you in, before he lifts a shoulder up in a lazy attempt at a shrug.

“i need a shower.” it’s all he says as he starts stripping in front of you, tossing his clothes behind him, padding barefoot to the bathroom. you watch a little too hard, you realize, so you busy yourself with investigating the room. you know this is probably a one or two night deal for him, but you suppose you can enjoy it while you’re here; there’s no need to continue picking petty fights with him, when you’re in a place like this, is there?

toji, meanwhile, allows the water to pelt his skin, the heat scalding but refreshing. he scrubs off the grime of the day, wanting to rid himself of the bullshit he endured earlier; somehow his rage never subsides. if anything, it just keeps building. the sight of you sitting so comfortably with gojo made him think irrational, impossible things. he’s not a fool, he knows what happened, more or less; gojo’s texts and smug face only confirmed it. he doesn’t really blame you, but he feels like it.

one thing about gambling, is the stakes are always addicting, and right now, the stakes are incredibly high. it’s the thrill of the risk that has him finally step out of the shower, the steam thick enough to choke someone; he dries himself off with a large, fluffy towel, before wrapping it around his waist, stepping out of the bathroom and feeling like a brand new person.

you’ve ordered room service without his permission and drink champagne straight from the bottle, ignoring his pointed looks, sitting comfortably on the plush sofa as if you have every right to be there.

your nonchalance pisses him off somehow, so he grabs the duffle bag and places his gun and a knife — the type one goes camping with — onto the small circular table, unceremoniously dropping his bag onto the floor right after.

you watch, stupidly, blinking slowly as you try to understand. “what’s that for?” you look up at him, eyes widened, fear trickling through you, making your throat constrict in a way that makes it nearly impossible to speak. 

toji motions at the weapons on the table, “pick one.”

again, you find yourself blinking, your hands clutching the champagne bottle tightly. this has to be a joke, right? a sick, sick joke, where toji teases you mercilessly and eventually fucks you. you’re sure it has to be. but when he doesn’t say anything, when his eyes turn hard as he tilts his head to watch the way you’re refusing to do as he says.

“why?” you squeak, not wanting to play whatever game he’s started, “what are you going to do to me?” you’ve never considered yourself the valiant type, so this is an instance where your body tells you to run, run, run. somehow you remain seated; somehow a part of you demands to know his reasoning; somehow you regain a bit of control over yourself.

the longer you take, the more pissed he gets, so he says nothing, his green eyes lingering on you, reminding you of a feral animal that’s waiting for its prey to make the first move.

you sit up a little straighter, voice raising as you start to shout. “toji!” 

he tells himself it’ll be worth it in the end, if you could only fucking listen. “...i said choose.” his voice, like his presence, is commanding — low, but dangerous, a dark edge lacing his words without even trying. 

still, you won’t let him have his way that easily. you’re your own person, you should be allowed to ask questions and be treated as such. “not until you tell me what you’ll do to me—”

toji grabs the gun and slams it on the table, the sound loud enough to make you jump — as if the gun was angry too — the bottle of champagne still caught between your trembling hands, miraculously. 

“i won’t fucking say it again, y/n.” 

that makes you nervously blurt out, “the k-knife.”

for some reason, he’s disappointed — at what, he’s not entirely sure, but he knows disappointment — has known it all his life, and promptly decides that that’s what this empty feeling is.

“good choice.”

your curiosity be damned, you should’ve thought this through. toji carries you over to the bedroom, much to your feigned displeasure; he also brings both weapons and when you try asking him about it, he simply tosses you onto the large bed and watches as you bounce around. he places the gun on the table off to the side, his gaze halting your movements completely. something compels you to take your clothes off; maybe it’s from the way this whole thing started off, or maybe it’s from the way he’s looking at you. whatever it is, your clothes are off. 

because you’re so compliant, he flashes you a sly grin, his strides bring him to you swiftly; he twirls the knife around his fingers before spreading your legs apart. your heart beats loud enough that you’re sure he can hear it too. a normal person would simply leave, would never look his way again, but he told you last time, didn’t he? you’re not a saint; not even close. with a soft sigh, you watch him intently as he runs the flat side of the blade against your inner thigh. the metal is cool against your skin, making you inhale sharply; you bite down on your lip hard enough to make you wince, your pussy is in a world of its own right now.

while you know there’s something so incredibly fucked up about all of this, you also know that you like the sensual way he’s dragging the blade against your skin, and while he doesn’t mean to, he accidentally cuts you. before you open your mouth to tell him off, he’s already bent forward and licks the blood off. it’s only a tiny bit, but the contact forces a shudder to pass through you, your nipples hardening without remorse.

it’s absolutely absurd that you’re into this, but you can’t help it. you know, you know — it is what it is.

he spins the knife so that he can place the handle in your hand. you clutch it instinctively, which makes the corners of his lips curl upward. “fuck yourself with it.” he says suddenly, his towel finally slipping from his body and landing somewhere near your shirt. “i know you want to.” if you had just a bit more sense, you’d have resisted falling into his trap; but you don’t, you’re more foolish than you realize.

your legs shake, not out of fear, but anticipation and with your feet planted on top of the bed, you bring the tip of the round handle to your slit, breath still as you drag it in between your folds, arousal staining it immediately. you should be ashamed, you should dislike the way he’s watching you, and you should hate the way you want him so badly — but you don’t. it’s hopeless, so you stop fighting; the world you’ve found yourself in is illogical and irresistible, you hope you can survive long enough.

toji didn’t think you’d let him take it this far; if he were a decent man he’d be a bit more forgiving. but he’s not; he won’t pretend to be otherwise. but it would really suck if you hurt yourself in the process, so he yanks the knife out of your hand and ends up cutting himself. he’s so desensitized to pain, he doesn’t feel or notice it. you’re horrified at his callous behavior, and watch as the knife tumbles onto the floor. without considering the consequences, you hop off of the bed and sprint to grab the gun. you’ve never shot one before, but you’re sure you can manage.

not that you want to hurt him, but he’s being ridiculous now, and you’re still annoyed at him about a lot of things. the toxicity between you two should be enough to turn you off, but it doesn’t; which is why you hesitate. toji pushes you onto the bed again, eyes wild as you point the gun at his chest. “now that’s what i’m talkin’ about.” he moves closer, the metal touching his skin, making you worried that you’ll actually do damage if you’re not careful.

you just wanted him to see that he’s not the only one that’s capable of inducing fear; you wanted him on edge, just like you, but it backfires. it always does. 

“don’t tell me, you’re not gonna follow through?” he actually looks disappointed, his thick, dark brows knitted closely together as he looks down at you. he rubs the tip of his hardened cock against your pussy, dragging it slowly along the slit before dipping it in between your folds. you still can’t find the words you want to say; your mouth parts, but all that comes out is a soft whimper that you’re too invested to feel any shame over. 

toji presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, tsking audibly at your audacity; he slips the thick head of his cock inside of your tight hole, bringing out a shameless moan from deep inside of you, your hands shaking, your desire so tangible that it’s making you dizzy. still, toji insists on being the absolute worst, and keeps running his stupid mouth. “if you wanna kill someone, then you have to mean it.” he cages his thick arms around you, crowding the small bit of space between you. “i can give you some pointers, if you like.” 

you’re so aroused and irritated that you don’t think as you speak. “go to hell.” and while you’d meant to say it with venom, you don’t — because he chooses that exact moment to bury the rest of his cock into your pussy, hips pressed firmly against yours. you wrap your legs around him to hold him still, needing a moment to adjust because he forgets how monstrous he is all the fucking time. again, he awards you that kindness, since he knows you’ll be begging him soon enough.

if he hadn’t seen it happen so many times, he wouldn’t be half as bold. toji, amused by your insistence on defying him again and again, leans closer, hips knocking roughly against yours. “been there, baby girl,” he says darkly, tongue darting out and licking his lips at the sight of your pussy soaked around him, “didn’t like it, so i came back to life.” he’s so full of shit, and you can’t stand him, but you forget all of that. all you can focus on is the rough way he’s fucking you, like he’s harshly reminding you of his previous assertion — that he’d ruin you for anyone else after him.

“took the bullets out, earlier,” he admits cheekily, a fierce look flashing behind your eyes as you chuck the gun off to the side.

“fuck you, i literally cannot stand y—”

he snaps his hips against yours, angling them so he can fuck you deeply. “shut up and stop lying.” he says this knowing damn well how hypocritical he’s being; but that’s not the point, is it? he doesn’t think so, anyway. 

you wish you could continue, but you can’t; your pussy covets the thickness of his cock more than you care to admit. if he ever knew, he’d never live it down. but, the thing is, he already knows — it’s why he does what he does, why he knows he has a slight edge over you for the time being. because if you found out how deeply embedded you are within him, he’d have to go into witness protection. it’s that serious.

grabbing onto your thighs, toji leans forward, dropping playful, sloppy kisses onto your lips, which only makes you clench around him. is it affection or arousal? you don’t actually know, but you do know that toji never has to do much to get you like this. it’s a fucking problem. you moan his name loudly, against your better judgment, and he kisses you greedily, swallowing the rest of your moans as his cock slams into you harder. 

if you ever have a bad day, you’ll just recall this moment; you can hardly breathe, the heat from his body melted all of your resolve, and it’s when his cock hits that spot that you scream, hips bucking up against his frantically, your breath coming out in soft pants as he continues to fuck you senseless. your orgasm has you mumbling nonsense, earning a mocking laugh from him. your arousal drips down your thighs and onto his skin. he likes that your pussy is a small form of paradise for him; your plush, tight walls squeezing around him, in a way that made him absolutely feral. he nips your neck, right below your ear, drags his tongue down the length of it, your mind spinning as your pussy aches in a way that has you calling out his name until your throat is hoarse.

an odd fury pulses through him and he bites your shoulder, earning a pinch from you on his side. “toji, fuck that hurt.” not terribly, but it was shocking, and if his cock wasn’t burrowing into you like that and making you delirious, you’d be more firm — but right now, you’re just trying to chase that high for as long as you can. as an apology — or what he considers an apology — toji pulls you onto his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest, skin rubbing together with each brutal thrust of his hips. you press needy kisses along his jaw, clenching your pussy around him reflexively, his large hands holding onto you as he rolls his hips. when you fall apart, when you cry out — hating how much you like the lewd squelching from your salacious cunt — an orgasm tears through him at the same time. 

the way he moans your name makes you want to stay like this forever; if you could bottle it up, you’d carry it around with you everywhere. you know it’s not love, but the infatuation is steadily taking over your life. you might need to reconsider a few things one of these days. but as his sloppy thrusting slows down, as his cum spills out of you, you can only think about how you’re always taken to new heights every time he fucks you. what is it about him that keeps you coming back? outside of the attraction, outside of his sculpted body, are you really depraved enough to want whatever semblance of affection he can give you?

the answer eludes you, heart beating pitifully, the sounds reverberating in your chest loud enough to remind you that you’re foolish as hell. toji knows that you’re doing all of this song and dance because he won’t validate the relationship officially. if he wasn’t already too enamored with you right now, he’d roll his eyes at that.

but, did he really want the likes of gojo — or worse nanami, geto — or anyone else having access to you the way he does? the answer hit him so clearly in the face that he cursed under his breath, making you look at him strangely. he pulls out of you so he can think straight; toji’s 94% sure that your pussy hypnotizes him each and every time. you’re inclined to entertain that idea if it means he’ll stop stomping over your feelings.

“if i say yes,” he says carefully, rolling onto his side, hoping the distance will keep him clear-headed, “will you shut up about all of that?” he didn’t need to explain because you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“no guarantees,” you say lightly, crawling over and tossing your curvy leg around his hip. he stares sharply, but you roll your eyes at his theatrics. “i’m kidding, god.” your lips brush against his gently and you leave behind a tender kiss. normally, he’d find a reason to get out of bed, to ghost you for weeks, but he can’t find that reason now. he slips his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly, reminding you just how dangerous he is. you already forgot why you were annoyed to begin with, and he’s mostly forgiven your transgressions. you know you should be more than elated, but a voice in the back of your mind spews a nasty, contrary opinion on the matter. you snuff it out, ignore the words completely, and smile instead. 

you refuse to fuck anything up with your over-thinking, you’d finally achieved your goal and don’t want to give up your prize anytime soon.

previous ⤹

[peachchanvidel]

Tumblr is back on showing me Kyaliners to follow. NO. Leave. Me. Alone. So I go back to blocking them.

I don't want to see these shippers, esp. as so many are constantly screaming about 'being canon' (no, Kya is canonly gay, THAT'S IT) 'make them canon' (you have no idea what you are whining about, how restrictive it will become, what canon DOES to your ship to make it suddenly less appealing... stop crying for it. Bryke WILL fuck it up badly) 'they are wifes' (=________=" I'm too old for this shit) and then even mistagging whatever post possible (leave my Lin art alone, there is no Kya, even less Kyalin, so stop tagging it like that).

HERE is Linzin area. NO Kyalin, NO Pemzin.

Area FOR young Linzin, middle-aged Linzin, old Linzin. With kids, without kids. - They don't break up, they break up but get back together, whatever, I don't care, I ship them. Drama, no drama, floof, angst with happy ending, tropes, ALL THE TROPES.

I'm not sorry for not caring how Pema ends up 'dumped'; the kids will be fine; let Pemzin divorce properly. Why is it always Pema being tired of Tenzin first anyway or Pema dying. Imo Tenzin needed AIRBENDING kids and still had feelings for Lin and had to push them to the back for his duties against his actual wishes. Pema can find ways to handle her life afterwards just fine as well and they can co-parent and still be on good terms. I don't need her to be miserable, but her soulmate crap and in general how she was written was just so... ugh. Damn, I love housewife/mom characters, but they did her dirty and so no.. I can't ship that. That chemistry I see for Linzin I don't see for Pemzin and while I just go 'whatever' while rewatching canon... for fanworks I want smth else.

And does it always have to be back-up wife Lin for Tenzin as Pema wants smth new? Lin deserves better. So I rather ship Tenzin chosing Lin first. Pema can find her way after being dumped. Tenzin knows how to dump his women. Canon showed. I rather go with stories without Pema at all anyway.

That's it, that's the post.

In AtlA I multiship to hell and back when I see cute posts, but for LoK I'm so tired. At this point I think I only need the canon ships so Linzin can exist, for the rest I don't even care anymore.

I even hit the point to think what if Tenzin was Zuko's kid so there was no airbender mumbo jumbo trouble and he and Lin could just be together without the damn breeding issue. There are pros and cons about it and in general it's just a dumb idea. I feel like in FE•A and 'if' where the kids depend on one parent and change a small bit depending on the other one.

And some of my 'but this is not Linzin, WTH' ideas when my Linzin feels are a bit low because I saw too many miserable Lin contents (What is the appeal in her getting tortured like that all the time.. canon already sucks...?! Don't you want to fix things, why make it always WORSE, esp. with no happy end or one that's... not really happy at all... YOU JUST LOVE PAIN, DON'T YOU)

- Lin got dumped, says 'FUCK RC, I have nobody left here, Mom doesn't care about me being in the police either anyway', and joins the UF and ends up in Bumi's unit and also with him at some point. Whatever. And they end up getting married on the ship, and they have a (accident) kid before Tenzin and the kid will be an airbender. IN YOUR FACE TENZIN. (Bumi still has to suffer a lot for 'doing THAT to her' but they are... not.. unhappy... at all uwu)

- Or how the Krew timetravels back in time and to get back to the future via the portals they have to leave one of them behind. Mako stays, as he is the least attached to anybody and promises to find a way back (WELL.... they also can try the other way around)... and he stays undercover but joins the RCPD again.. and he ends up in Lin's team and has to watch her relationship with Tenzin and knows what will happen and he really wants save her from the heartbreak in a few years, also falling for her etc. He kind of manages that Lin realizes that it's either her ending it or Tenzin, so this time Lin ends it first. And she can move on a whole lot better. Also Mako has to realize.. he can safe his parents.. and Asami's mom.. but has no idea about consequences. Doesn't even know about THIS consequence with Linzin etc. But yeah.. pretty much Linko and once Lin is happy and could move on first. (If they get together and Mako starts revealing who he is, how his timeline was, what changed, depending on how much he could share... they could also have kids - and they just would have kids because Lin also WANTS kids, no pressure, no neglect, no worry about the wrong kind of bender etc etc. - the firebender and earth bender kombo would totally make Mako cry, because damn, he really misses his brother and nope, he hasn't found a way back. the past has no damn PORTAL YET)

Really, I multiship and I'm dumb and I hope you are all happy i'm not a writer, but I don't want to deal with annoying crap over and over in my TL. And I don't want to deal with negativity and feel the need to vent this often. I just want the positive input so I can draw my fanart and share it with the 5 people who like it.

[polyworth]

hashimada au #0429384

Setting: a world just to the left of 1950's - 1960's Japan technology & aesthetic wise, still not Japan the same way the elemental countries aren't in canon. Particularly a small failing farming community at the base of a mountain.

Hashirama: a young farmer who's recently come back to inherit the family farm after spending time away studying in the city. Wanted to get away from his problems he'd developed (drinking, gambling, feeling miserable, not properly dealing with his adhd and trauma from childhood) and start fresh.

Madara: an old mountain spirit / god that's been scaring humans off of the mountain he guards for hundreds of years. He's raptor based--becomes more human like with positive emotion and monstrous with negative. Pretty deeply hates humans and while he doesn't go out of his way to curse the village near the base of his mountain, certainly isn't going to be blessing them any time soon. Cares for all the animals, preserves the mountain, etc.

Main plot: the village Hashirama moves to is slowly failing as a farming community, and he takes it (half intentionally) upon himself to try and fix that. There's a threat of businesses buying up their land & industrializing the area if they can't keep themselves afloat.

Hashirama does his best to try and help, but no one seems very optimistic. He learns about how there's supposed to be a god at the top of the mountain (or at least a shrine) and he sets his mind to climbing it to pray for the local god's blessing, because, why not? People warn him not to, that the mountain is dangerous and haunted, but Hashirama wont' really hear it since he's made up his mind already.

Cue Madara kind of marveling at the audacity of this human who's trying to climb his mountain, who keeps trying to reach the summit no matter what Madara throws his way. Lets Hashirama reach the top to hear him out and tries to scare the life out of him in person but Hashirama is just respectful and deferent and begs his pardon and mercy and blessing and even brought offerings. Madara tells him he'll humor his request so long as Hashirama makes this same trip to the top of the mountain once a week until the harvest moon. Hashirama is quick to agree and be grateful & Madara tells him to go away more or less.

Scenes: - Madara freaking out & embarrassed because WHY DID HE DO THAT WHY DID HE JUST INVITE THIS HUMAN TO HIS HOME??? HE SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID NO??? FUCK !

- their first meetings are Hashirama climbing the mountain and then Madara just being like congratulations go home now and Hashirama just like can't i like... sit down for a while? jeeze. And Madara like >:C no go away! this happens like 2 times and the third time hashirama just fucking doesn't & tells madara he's being a bad host and Madara does the god equivalent of Pouting And Sulking.

- After that their meetings consist of Madara trying to be casual like I have work to do & it wouldn't do to leave you here come on so Madara is subtly showing Hashirama his home. Lots of beautiful wonderful things, Hashirama in awe and Madara doing his Thing and just... madara liking being able to show off.

- Hashirama one time bringing a cassette player or crank radio and Madara trying really hard not to be obviously enamored by the music and demands hashbrown leave it as his offering & hashi laughs & sees through his bs by now

- The whole time things are steadily getting better in the village. Livestock are producing more and are generally more healthy, the crops are growing better, there's the right amount of rain and sun... Hashirama is really happy, Madara is dealing w/ the fact that he might be experiencing happiness w/ a human.

- They inevitably grow closer. Hashirama helps Madara with some wounded birds, Hashirama stays a night (not in the fun way), they dance... lots of tender moments. Hashirama is v in love and at some point they get a little TOO close and madara loses his damn mind (scared, mostly, upset about something that's kind of clearly not the situation exactly) and p much yells until Hashirama leaves, pretty heart broken.

- Hashirama is devastated the whole week until he has to visit again, doesn't really want to/ he doesn't want to upset Madara / cross boundaries but he did make a promise so he goes. Madara doesn't show up.

- getting very close to the harvest moon, Hashirama's next visit. Madara still doesn't' appear but Hashirama's less upset and is more worried now, goes looking around for Madara.... and finds him, big fucked up monster form, all kinds of beat to hell and hurt. Hashirama spends the next day or more taking care of him even tho Madara at first weakly was snapping at him & stuff. Madara comes to one night while Hashirama was out getting some water or smth, now in human form still bandaged up. They sit outside in the moonlight and Hashirama comments that he didn't think gods could be hurt like that. Madara, around his pipe and mildly like They can when they're fighting with other gods. Hashirama doesn't press but does say he's glad Madara is alright. Madara asks why he came back (why he still helped him) and Hashirama just saying he made a promise to a friend. Madara is very gay. They're quiet a while. Madara offers to pay Hashirama back for helping him (saving him) with a story.

- The story is about the village at the base of the mountain a very, very long time ago. There was a family there with five children and for a time they were happy. But the mother died along with three of the children, leaving only the father and two boys. The father was hard on his remaining sons, because without many hands to work the fields their mouths were burdens to feed. The elder brother took care of the younger as best he could, and even though they were hungry and had very little they found something like happiness again. That was until the village elders caught wind that a neighboring clan was trying to take land on the other side of their mountain, and had decided that they would make a way for no one but their own to prosper there... Someone needed to make a sacrifice. The father of the two boys offered up his youngest son, and while there were older volunteers who had lived their lives fully and were ready to leave the world, the elders chose the youngest brother as the one who would have the honor.

The elder brother begged their father not to allow this, begged his people to take him instead, but no one would listen. When the time for the sacrifice came at the summit of the mountain, the elder brother had decided to take matters into his own hands. With his father's knife he slit his own throat and willed his soul full of rage and pain to linger and attach to the mountain, to take root and destroy those who would harm his little brother before they could.

he was successful-- he had become a monster before they could make his brother one -- but he was too late.

He rid the mountain of the humans and in doing so made a decision to never allow another human to set foot upon his land without suffering for it. And he had successfully done so... for a very, very long time.

- quiet. Hashirama looks at Madara who is not looking at him and understands. He very gently touches Madara's hand and Madara doesn't flinch or pull away. Madara comments that in the end he was a useless brother and now he's become a useless god. Hashirama begs to differ, everything on the mountain flourishes under his care (his love) and.. also... there are people who are grateful for him, too. Madara gently tells him that it's late, and he's tired, and that Hashirama should go home in the morning.

- Hashirama gets Madara to come to the harvest festival (would be the last day / night Hashirama would have to visit. Hashirama insists it counts if he comes to 'pick Madara up'). Madara is ultra hesitant but accepts. it's a gorgeous night, they have a good time, Hashirama coaxes Madara to come home with him...............( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) it's a good time all around.

- The next morning Hashirama wakes up (Madara is still there, sleeping in his bed. it's very surreal) and is extremely startled to see Tobirama in his house. "You should lock your doors, Anija. Anyone could have walked in here while you were asleep." Tobirama is here to pretty much try and bring Hashirama home back to the city, and comes across very certain that it was only a matter of time before Hashirama came back. (Tobirama isn't being cruel, he gave his brother space & was worried about him but he's had his space and he should come back home now, please.) They argue. there's a loud sound like a huge animal is trapped in his bedroom but when Hashirama rushes to check on Madara the window is open and Madara is gone.

- Finale: Hashirama goes back up the mountain facing similar challenges as he did the first time. Madara is obviously upset because he pretty much heard that Hashirama never intended to stay there (with him) and he's gone and made a fool of Madara. Hashirama with difficulty reaches the summit and there's yelling and whatnot and Madara feeling betrayed and Hashirama very desperately trying to get him to understand. Not sure exactly how but there is resolution (a promise and a kiss and a declaration of love perhaps?) and they finally just admit to each other that they love one another and that Hashirama isn't going anywhere.

- Bonus: Hashirama bringing human form Madara back home to a bewildered Tobirama like "Sorry for leaving in such a rush! Tobi this is my boyfriend Madara, we met here and that's why I have to stay."

happy ending!

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

Why does no one talk about how luke lost siblings pre war? Like like is what 14 when he comes to camp, hes 19 when percy does. Meaning, because he wasnt the cousler when he got to camp one or more of his soblings had to die in the five years he lived at camp. In the five years he lived at camp his brothers and sisters would go home and not come back? How many bodless shrouds did luke have burn???

oh i think

but on this blog, we stan luke castellan

i stanned luke before it was cool, before the word “stan” even existed

i was stanning luke the moment i finished tlt

but, uh, anyway,,,

in a more…coherent way, i think it’s bc a lot of ppl don’t like luke. like at all. and a lot of it stems from two things,,,

1: many ppl, i think, don’t separate kronos from luke and luke from kronos. OR, they don’t fully grasp just how manipulative kronos was, and how far someone can go when they are being manipulated. OR, they could not do both of those things and still hate luke, and that’s fine and fair. they’re entitled to their opinion

2: the whole “did you love me” scene, when luke was dying

and i know this isn’t what you’re asking for–in fact your question at the beginning of your ask is probably more rhetorical than anything–but like i said, i stan luke castellan, and i have a lot of feelings abt this topic. so i’m going to break down my points, and then talk abt his life at chb before percy showed up, regarding the deaths of his siblings

which is my usual at this point so, ya know,,,

what are you gonna do

as usual, hcs under the cut

one

1a: sometimes i get the feeling that some think luke and kronos were basically one in the same? and that luke is completely and wholly responsible for his actions throughout the series. which is wrong. he’s not, he was being severely manipulated by a titan; misled, misguided, and used. kronos was taking something that already existed in luke and twisting it to his own gains. additionally, after kronos possess him, he’s no longer in control of his actions. he’s trapped in his own body, while kronos pulls the strings, quite literally.

1b: i also get the feeling that sometimes ppl don’t quite understand how manipulation and gaslighting can effect your ability to think for yourself, to think clearly abt a lot of things at all. or, swinging in the other direction, perhaps think too much abt everything. for this post, it’s the former. manipulation is subtle and insidious, you start to do and say things you wouldn’t normally think you’d do or say for fear of punishment, whether it be physical, emotional, and/or psychological from the other. manipulation like that is abuse, and luke was being abused by kronos. so he is not completely and wholly responsible for his actions throughout the series

1c: finally, ppl may very well recognize these two things–that luke and kronos were two separate entities, and that manipulation can be a terribly powerful and destructive tool used against ppl–and still decide to hate him. and ya know, that’s fine. we’re all entitled to how we feel abt fictonal characters. at the end of the day, agree to disagree

two

a lot of ppl hate him also bc of the question he asked annabeth in tlo, a dying man’s inquiry

and a lot of ppl interpreted it as romantic. and therefore, rightfully so, saw that as disgusting, considering luke is considerably older (6 to 7 yrs, at least).

not only that, but luke oftentimes used annabeth’s crush on him against her (whether he knew annabeth’s love was romantic or familial at that time, who’s to say; i mean i say that he didn’t realize annabeth had a crush on him for a very long time, he probably mostly saw it as familial, bc he is considerably older)–i think the biggest example of that would be when he got annabeth to hold the sky for him bc he knew if she saw him in pain, she would help him, no question, bc she loved him. that i can’t really argue against. i will say he was still being deeply manipulated by kronos, but it’s still a p despicable thing to do just in general

the infamous question he asks annabeth, i see as way more complicated. i think since we’re in percy’s head, it’s meant to seem romantic, considering percy could tell immediately annabeth had a crush on luke at the beginning of tlt, and percy, himself, had completely fallen, head-over-heels in love with annabeth at that point in time.

i see the question as familial, as well as romantic love, but not in the way you think. i felt it was him almost checking to see the depth of annabeth’s romantic love she felt for him–was it just a crush, or has she deeply and truly fallen in love with me? i think he knew she’d fallen in love with percy (even if it took him a while to figure out she had a crush on him). his question was more a check, rather than a, “oh i’m going to ask this girl who is 7 yrs younger than me if she loves me romantically.” but also one of familial love. her answer is implied to be strictly romantic, but luke knows that annabeth’s always loved him, and he’s checking to see if not romantic, than still as family. i.e., “but, no, i didn’t love you in that way”

bonus! three

and look, before you get all indignant and ready to pull receipts, i’m not a luke apologist

i recognize that him being manipulated, and not fully in control of his actions, does not excuse the fact that he still committed them. i am fully aware that he was not a good person, and that he did terrible things

but i also recognize that for one, he wasn’t entirely in control or himself bc of the manipulating kronos was doing to him (which does count for something in the grand scheme of things, even if it does not excuse his actions), and two he had a point abt the gods. the gods are fucking awful. they ain’t shit, and they care little abt their own fucking children.

[aside] hey so cool concept: if you don’t want to put in the effort to do the bare minimum for you children…DON’T HAVE CHILDREN. wild i know. and for gods??? the bare minimum would be like claiming them, and making sure their cabins are the least bit comfortable to live in, which they could do, literally with a snap of their fingers, which would take less than a second. the bar is on the fucking ground. if you’re gonna try and give me the Ancient Laws shit, first of all it was clearly shown throughout the pjo and hoo series, the gods often help demigods, even if they aren’t “““““supposed to interfere””””” so that’s a weak argument. second of all, for bigger things, like getting them to camp or smth, well why not find adults who maybe can take care of them??? maybe it’s a bit idealist sure, but adults should fucking know better. not to mention, the fact that i wish older ppl would care and take care of younger ppl is me being ideal speaks for itself. i recognize not every single person can be the perfect parent, but we can sure as hell try to get close

luke did those things bc he thought he was helping demigods–he started doing it for them and it spun wildly out of control bc kronos is a titan, he’s ruthless, and wanted to kill the gods for his own gain. he didn’t care abt luke, but he’d gladly use luke to achieve his goal. by the time luke realized that, it was already too late. but anyway, /tangent

i can completely understand luke’s motivations, while also understanding that his methods were not the way to go abt change. and that’s another thing abt it, is that i feel like many in the fandom take a very black-and-white perspective on his character, when it’s much more complicated than that

there’s a post going around, talking abt how antagonists and villains should be relatable, bc it reminds us not to go there. and i think a lot of ppl should really take that to heart. i can like a character, but not the person. i don’t idealize luke is any sense of the word. i am aware of all his flaws.

now, first i would like to point out that the rules of becoming head counselor don’t have to involve death. i’m sure with demigods, they often do, but there are two other options: 1) two competing head counselors have a chat and agree on who should be head counselor or 2) they battle each other, and whoever is victorious becomes head counselor

it’s a safe bet that that probably happened quite a lot in the hermes cabin, considering how many demigods resided in there before the second titan war (tho i imagine chiron at least tried (???) to make sure legit only children of hermes become head counselors, bc it is...well...the hermes cabin).

but, as i said before, they are demigods, and so it’s another safe bet that their head counselors were often lost to death

it’s hard to say just how many of luke’s siblings were lost to death, but let’s look at the timeline here real quick. in tlt, luke says that he screwed everything up for everyone else, bc after his quest went so awry, chiron stopped letting kids out of camp to go on quests...which thinking abt it now, almost doesn’t make sense.

i mean, the fact that luke failed so miserably and came back horribly scarred was the catalyst the made chiron stop letting ppl out, but demigods literally dying on quests didn’t???? uuuuuummmmmm?????????

and we can extrapolate from the spoils in the attic of the big house that a lot of campers did die on their quests

i mean, maybe it was also bc chiron had a feeling the great prophecy was getting nearer and nearer to being fulfilled, and he decided after luke failed his quest--a close call like that--he didn’t want to risk any other demigods’ lives anymore until the prophecy began, bc war takes a lot of lives, but still, that’s p fucked up logic

/tangent

anyway, so i think luke was at camp for abt 3 yrs before he finally got a quest of his own. so luke had three yrs at camp to lose siblings to death.

i mean, going by how much luke fought to get his own quest, hermes’ children probably didn’t get a lot of issued quests (more evidence abt how others see hermes as a god, despite him still being a major god).

but, for argument’s sake, let’s say that before the great prophecy became too real for chiron to let out kids on other quests, abt 5-10 quests were issued for each full yr, depending on how long the quest itself would take (tho we’ve seen that a lot of things can be accomplished in v little time, so that’s why my estimation has a lot of variation)

[aside] these numbers are completely and utterly arbitrary, i’m totes making this up as i go

and for more argument’s sake, let’s say that the hermes cabin were issued at least half of those, since they have so many kids--maybe even some of the undertermined kids were issued a quest and as a reward would get to know who their godly parent is (wow, that’s just so shitty, where did my mind come up with that)

and i imagine, even tho they were undetermined, luke felt like they were siblings all the same bc everyone, even children of hermes, were miserable in that cabin. it was jam-packed, crammed, with no breathing space. and some of them in there had completely given up that they’d ever find out who their godly parent was bc their godly parent didn’t care abt them at all

luke hated seeing that. so when a quest was issued to anyone in his cabin, and they didn’t come back, that probably took a serious toll on his mental health. not to mention only did to feed his anger and hatred toward the gods. esp if he thought that the kid was only doing it to find out who their godly parent was

bc they get at least half of the quests during the yr, across 3 yrs, luke probably lost from 5-15 of his siblings, and those he considered siblings.

i have a hc that he cares quite a lot abt his half-siblings. for as much as he hates his father, his siblings didn’t do anything to be ignored like he is, and as luke grows older, he probably takes on kinda father-figure. like if hermes isn’t gonna step up, then luke will he just kinda went abt it the wrong way, with the whole kronos thing...

i imagine, also, that he sometimes lost his siblings when they would sneak out of camp. i mean, from what little glimpse into luke’s life we got before he started trying to take over the world, he made it sound like the hermes kids often snuck out of camp to get things from new york proper like junk food. and it’s more dangerous for them outside the borders, so it’s safe to say that if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and met a monster they were unprepared to face, they most likely died.

that only increases the number of siblings he lost over those 5 yrs before precy got to camp.

i think tho, those that went on quests and died would have more impact, bc it’s obvious his siblings dying after sneaking out didn’t dissuade him from still sneaking out. but luke was probably more careful abt it

actually, jk, it probably affected him A Lot. and hc that that’s part of the reason he trained so hard with a sword--he probably told his siblings that he’d be the only one going out of camp for any bargaining chips, didn’t matter if he was directly involved or not. and bc he was so good with a sword, he’d be better equipped to handle tougher monsters.

with every lost sibling, i imagine luke throws himself into sword-fighting and masking his grief and pain with anger and hatred even more--it grows exponentially, and never hits a ceiling. he probably blames the gods to bury the fact that he actually blames himself. bc if he accepts that he blames himself that means he also wasn’t strong enough to protect his siblings

it’s easier to blame the gods and train so that maybe one day he’ll be strong enough to protect his siblings. that’s another motivation behind why he decides to join kronos and lead his army until kronos can reform/find a host. kronos promises to make him strong enough to protect not just his siblings, but all demigods who have been thrown to the wayside by the gods--no more useless quests that needlessly take their lives, just to get their godly parents to “““““approve””””” of them

i’m sure he gets tired of feeling powerless, and sometimes the grief is so overwhelming he hides in the forest and lets himself feel for once, but not willing to let anyone else see him break. then he somehow puts himself back together, more determined than ever to become powerful enough to make it stop. at the very least, make it stop happening so frequently.

hmmm, not sure if this is what you asked for, but this is where my brain went. not quite happy with it, i feel like i keep saying the same thing abt luke over and over again but in varying ways, but i did add some new hcs

if you wanna send in another ask with some of yours ideas, i think my brain would be able to use that as a springboard and come up with more specific hcs

as always, thanks for sending this in!!! i know i say this with every ask, but i really do enjoy thinking/discussing these things ^_^ it’s always fun to interact with the fandom for me

FEED ME SEYMOUR

[apenapaperandadoofus]

AIGHT SO I’m like super high on caffeine and chocolate rn so I mighty write a lil Christmas one shot (it’s still December let me be pft)

But first a lil song I found a few days ago and has been stuck in my head ñon stop!

It’s from a musical called 35MM, they make up songs and stories from photos this one guy took, they’re amazing!

The song of called “Leave Luannne”

Warnings! There are mentions of abuse, r*pe, and such! So if you feel uncomfortable by that please don’t read this!

Now on to the song;:

Luanne's fat lip is drying, The bastard's bacon frying, The shiner on her eye's gone bust and bleeding. He shouts, "Girl, set the table!" But he knows she ain't able. Her arm's done broke, Hung limp like yolk,

AHHH we get the picture pretty clear from the beginning. i can always imagine Luanne on the floor, all bruised up and close to tears....

And softly she's repeating...

"Leave, Luanne. Why don't you march out that door? Southern woman, he ain't no good to you. Leave, Luanne. Louisiana wants war, But it's you dying on her ruby plains."

And yet, loyal Luanne remains. Ever since he got him laid off, His sanity's just made off. No, he was never nice, but now he's cruel.

So first, ahhhhfhrjehrn THE VIOLINS ARE AMAZING AND THE VOCALS TOO also we can see why Luanne doesnt leave the dude. I can see her internal debate, telling herself to leave but not being able to.

He rapes her, and he beats her, She don't 'fess how he treats her, 'Cause a Bible verse Says it won't get worse, And she won't be a fool. "You won't never leave, Luanne,

And then theres this part about the bible, i dont exactly know what verse theyre talking about, but we see that Luanne is super religious, which makes her internal debate even harder. Should she leave or stay? She has been taught probably her whole life with that idea, and probably doesnt want to end up in hell due to her beliefs and what she’s been told.

'Cause if you walk out that door His truck will be gunning for you.

No, you won't leave, Luanne, Or he'll give you 'What for?' You got heart where you should have had brains."

This part always makes me sad bc Luanne may still love that asshole, which sucks, but she still does and is pretty loyal to him makes it even harder for her to make a decision too

And so, loyal Luanne remains. Someone's howling, Screams like sighing with battered breath Grating, growling, Never dying In a fate worse than death. But months of such conditions Turn laymen to logicians And tonight the bastard's sleeping like a log. So she plucks the kitchen cleaver,

Creeps up toward his roped-up lab retriever,

DUDE I THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA KILL THE DOG AND I ALMOST CRIEDD AHHH

AND THE VIOLINS MAKE THE TENSION AMAZING. It makes you so nervous about whats going to happen. You can imagine Luanne finally making a decision, tired of everything. Its dark at night and she slowly makes her way to the kitchen, trying so quietly to not wake him up.

And she cuts the rope, And hope on hope, She starts to shout, "Your dog's got out!" She's got her chance. With no back glance She runs out to the bog, Screaming, screaming: "Leave, Luanne!" "Leave, Luanne. You've got a life left to live In a house hanging off the Golden Coast! Leave, Luanne. You won't forget nor forgive, " And she don't feel the stings, the rips, and scrapes As finally Luanne escapes.

And the way you can FEEL the tension, the way you can see her running and your heart starts speeding up, wishing she can escape, that she can lead a better and happier life, shes doing her best, not feeling the pain. You can tell how desperate she is. You can see her running through the woods, leaves and branches getting tangled in her hair, sometimes cutting her, but she still keeps going due through sheer determination, ignoring how her feet hurt and how much shes running out of breath. All the way through shes making a promise to herself, that she will NEVER let go what the asshole did to her.

Swim, Luanne! Swim, Luanne! And in the swamp of beeches, Oh, as the preacher preaches, As the light In the night Holds through the marsh and brushes As the blood inside you rushes Left and right, Hold on tight—

And then you can feel the hope, the relief that she has managed to get out, the violins making a sort of country dancey song (?) pft and youre like YAS GIRL RUN AND LIVDE YOUR LIFE its amazing, its so happy from the depressing music we heard before, Luanne gets out of the place, some people help her, she becomes happy again, meeting people and dancing all night at parties, maybe she even finds someone new and starts dating them, having a new life with someone who loves her....but then....

—Until you reach the bank And you crawl onto the bank, 'Til you feel a little yank on your hair And, stricken, stare at the bastard Who beat you there.

DUDE THIS PART. THIS. PART. I CANNOT EXPRESS THE WAY MY HEART BROKE. YOU JUST START FEELING THAT EVERYTHING IS ALRUGHT, THAT SHES MADE IT, ONLY TO FIND THT THE BASTARD FUCKING MADE IT BEFORE HER. AH DUDE. THE INSTRUMENTS. THE WAY YOU CAN FEEL THE SADNESS IN THE SINGERS VOICE. AND THE WAY IT GETS SET UP, OH BOY I DIDNT, I LITERALLY SCREECHED THE FIRST TIME I HEARD IT. I SERIOUSLY CANT EXPLAIN HOW GENIUS THIS IS SO FREAKING AHH THE GUITAR, THE VIOLINS JESUS CHRIST

the guy just yanks her hair and gives her a horrible smirk, and Luanna can only look in horror, her heart breaking and all her dreams vanishing as she realizes that she...she didnt make it.

The bastard lies in bed now, Half-sad his wife is dead now. She drowned herself in a swamp in wild despair.

I actually want to know wether if he killed her, or if she killed herself. To make it more angsty i like to think she actually drowned herlsef, because its so heartbreaking to see how her hopes die and she just...gives up. Gosh its so friggen, ahhhh. Once Luanne sees the guy she shrieks and tries to pull away, falling backwards. Either the bastard hit her, or something but she ends up  being paralyzed and unable to move. She reacts desperatly but the bastard refuses to help, and then she slowly gives up, letting the water fill her lungs, and slowly closing her eyes and accepting her faith.

He thinks he used to love her, But push it came to shove her, A wife disposed, A wife case closed, And no one seems to care,

DUDE THIS GUY AGHHH

And the violins are amazing. He doesnt care. No one knows shes dead. Luanne is left without no one there to remember her, to grieve her. Its just....so heartbreaking.

To grieve Luanne. Now no one's on his shoulder, But his mattress don't feel colder,

And in fact, it's hellish hot, and the air is dank and steaming. Yet his body starts to shiver When the window cracks a sliver And a fiery fog From the miry bog Pours in the room In a sticky gloom And there the man Sees dead Luanne.

DUUUUDE DUDE LISTEN TO THE VIOLINS HOLY DIDDLY FUCK GODDAMN THIS IS AMAZING LUANNE GO GET HIM GIRL. 

Luanne makes her way to the house, fulfilling her promise of getting her revenge, of not forgiving the asshole for everything he did. And then, when she gets there, dripping, the bastard only stares.

He's terrified, But he keeps his pride, 'Cause he knows that he ain't dreaming. And he starts screaming, "Leave, Luanne. Hell sent you back here for more, 'Cause ain't no one ever loved you."

THIS, THISSSSS. ITS BY FAR MY FAVORITE PART. When hes the one telling her to leave, when its HIM. Just- the nerve of this man. And i know i keep saying this byt LISTEN TO THE VIOLINS. They are perfect, the tension, the way they just- the way they make you feel, the way they always give you shivers and make you go oh fuck shits about to go down.

He is just cockily smirking trying to act as if hes not afraid. And then he has the audacity to tell her to LEAVE. The thing shes been trying to do for so long, but now...its too late. Her eyes widen in rage and she stands straight, lifting her chin and glaring at him.

But said Luanne, "I've come to settle a score, " And she shows him her feet are bound in chains.

Shes stuck there. But this time, the roles are reversed. This time Luanne will be the one feared. She will now hold the power.

And loyal Luanne remains And remains And remains And remains!

AND THE REMAINS. GOD ITS AMAZING, NOW INSTEAD OF LEAVING SHE JUST STAYS WHEN SHE WANTED TO LEAVE AND I- THE REMAINS MAKE IT SOUND SO FUCKING GOOD, IT SAYS SHE IS STILL LOYAL AHHH

I like to think that shes also got it stuck in her head that she cant leave, and shes now torturing the bastard by STAYING, the way it just changes fro, what it was at the beginning, HOLY SHIT AHH. And as the remains get louder she gets angrier and the room start getting hotter and hotter, and Luanne just smiles and you see the bastard cowering more and more in fear.

Someone's howling, Screams like sighing With battered breath. Grating, growling, Never dying In a fate worse than death. Luanne, She cries her miserable wail So the bastards will never sleep again!

And she is CRYING. Tears make their way down her face, crying and asking how dare he, why would he, all she wanted was to be happy.

No, no reprieve, Luanne, She brings their souls down to hell, A caution to the cruelest of men: God loves Luanne! Praised be! Amen!

The ending is so good, she gets her revenge, makes the guy regret what shes done. i always imagine the whole place setting in fire and Luanne getting angrier and angrier, thr bastard finally realizing what the hell hes actually done. This is amazing, i love this song so much. Not only the story but also the way you can imagine and feel everything. this song is so freaking good istg

Theyre in HELL. She used to be so religious, and thats the fate she didnt want. She never wanted to be in hell, yet there she is, getting her revenge. I dont know if God went like aight here ya go gurl, get your revenge, or smth like DAMN, so good.

In conclusion, amazing song, so good, i swearrr. This musical is amazing, they have other amazing songs like Sarah Berry, or Piece of Me.

Some of them range from being depressing, to adorable, to HILAROUS like Caralee lmfao that one is amazing lol

I really hope yall take a listen hehe, im sorry for rambling so much, im just trying to keep myself distracted from everything going on at home and with my dog. Hope yall have a good day and ill write more things, I promise!

[linaseraphina13]

A jascalronmara fic? Like maybe a date or smth? Honestly that would be adorable . Or maybe a YOI au?? Idk. Thoughts.

Someone else requested Jasper angst so I tried to combine the two requests and it devolved into some crazy shit so here’s my 1:00 am ramblings.

Somehow Call ends up with his own personal harem by the time silver year rolls around.

“I don’t understand. Why does everyone have a crush on me?,” he asks no one, staring off into the middle distance while Tamara consolingly pats his head. “I am literally so undesirable. I have nothing to offer. I am the Enemy of Death.”

“You’re also very adorable and a fluffy idiot,” Tamara tells him. “Like a puppy. A rabid wolf puppy. Who’s also an emo piece of shit.”

“And you have that whole ‘bad-boy’ vibe going on, too,” Aaron pipes up helpfully, trying to seem casual but clearly over-joyed about getting to discuss his favorite topic: Callum Hunt. “It’s no wonder if you think about it. The gray eyes/black hair/southern accent thing is a deadly combination.”

Call just shakes his head, too bewildered over everything to make sense of anything.

He thought Celia was bad enough, but it was like after the whole kiss thing a floodgate opened up, because people started treating him differently. Casual touches increased with alarming frequency, girls batting their eyelashes at him in the hallways, boys offering to carry things for him even though he’s never spoken to some of them in his entire life. Even Tamara and Aaron started showing signs of liking him.

It was Bronze year when he walked in on his two best friends literally fighting over him with like, balls of fire and chaos magic and all types of dangerous shit, and Master Rufus was so pissed about the whole thing that he locked all three of them in the common room and gave them exactly one hour to work it out or he would never let them out again, ever. Honestly, it only took them five minutes before they were crying and hugging each other and realizing that letting romance get in the way of their friendship was stupid, so they came up with a solution that would be beneficial to all without destroying their relationship with each other.

Long story short, Call’s dating both of them now.

“Y’all act like dark-skinned, dark-haired Southern boys are hard to come by,” he complains. “Like, look at Johnny from the Outsiders.”

“Johnny was hot as fuck,” Tamara stresses, and Aaron nods enthusiastically in agreement.

“Johnny’s dead, Tamara.”

“So? He was still hot.” She leans back in her chair, eyes closed in bliss like she’s imagining she’s in the Outsiders. “A tiny kid, but tough. Had a wild look to him. But also had this sort of adorable naivety that was just so pure. Quiet and withdrawn. A real softboy.” She opens her eyes. “Nothing like you, of course, but you get the idea.”

“Wow. Thanks. I really appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” says Aaron helpfully. “I’m pretty sure half the girls in school only like you because you have a dog.”

“It doesn’t, but thanks.”

Aaron beams.

Just then, Jasper enters the refectory looking miserable as hell and with bags under his eyes so heavy they might as well be designer. Even zombified and sleep-deprived Jasper looks like a damn model, although admittedly his hair kind of looks like he stuck it inside a wind tunnel (Call still can’t believe he makes it look like that on purpose).

Jasper looks up briefly as if sensing eyes on him. Call gives a sheepish wave in his direction. Jasper consequently flips him off.

“Well, he looks like he got hit by a bus,” Tamara says cheerfully, then turns back to her lichen. “Call, can you pass the salt?”

He’s not listening. He’s glancing over at Jasper with a look that’s almost invasive. “Do you think Jasper has a crush on me?”

Aaron and Tamara exchange glances. “Why?”

His fingers drum impatiently on the table. His expression morphs from invasive to borderline constipated and he makes a noise. “I don’t know. I have feelings, I think.”

His S.O’s make identical faces of both surprise and disgust. “Call, no.”

“I can’t help it. I think I’m going crazy.” His hands are shaking like he’s about to have a manic episode. “He’s an asshole, but he’s hot, you don’t understand. I need it.”

“Not only are you totally insane for developing a crush on the one person in this entire school who doesn’t have a crush on you, but you’re also a self-destructive idiot.” Tamara looks like she’s not sure if she should laugh at him or pity him, but she seems to be leaning more toward the ‘you’re a dumbass and I’m going to keep calling you a dumbass until your eyes are opened to your dumbassery ways” territory. “He’s taken, honey.”

Call shifts his gaze to Celia, who’s twirling blond hair around her finger and laughing like the totally pretty and beautiful queen she is. Asshole. “I can take her.”

“You can’t. She’s a blackbelt, remember?”

He sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth. “Shit, you’re right.” Then his knee starts to bounce sporadically when Jasper brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “I don’t care. I’ll still fight her.”

“Even if you do manage to trap him,” Aaron says, calling a direct reference to him describing each and every poor soul that gets sucked into Call’s “charm” as trapped against their will, “Are you sure he’s going to be okay with…us?”

Call’s not exactly sure what the they have going on here, but he wants Jasper in on it too, dammit. “I don’t know,” he whines, frustrated. “I think he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Aaron says at the exact moment Tamara goes, “Oh he definitely hates you.” And Aaron shoots her a warning look that she just shrugs off. “We’re all friends, Call. I’m sure if he really hated you he wouldn’t have helped Tamara break you out of prison that one time, right?”

He has a point. Now Call doesn’t know what to think.

“Try thinking of things you have in common,” Aaron suggests. “What are his hobbies?”

“Besides making my life a living hell and studying?,” Call muses. “I dunno. He likes comic books, I think.”

“Then give him a comic book,” Tamara says. “Bitches love comic books.”

Gwenda, who’s passing by their table, says, “I am a bitch and I can assure you that that statement is correct.”

Jasper says something to Celia and starts to get up and Call begins to sweat. “Hhhh, hurry up, guys, he’s leaving.”

“Take him on a date.”

“A movie date,” Tamara inputs.

“At the gallery?” He scrunches up his nose in disgust. “No way, that’s totally cliche.”

“It’s not like you have a lot of options.” Jasper is leaving the refectory, so Tamara tosses a random bouquet of flowers she conjured up with magic and plants a firm boot into his butt to propel him forward. “Go forth, Romeo. Woo thy Juliet.”

He tails Jasper to his room, slipping into the still-closing door like a freaking ninja and James Bonding his way across the common room floor because he’s a badass, managing to keep the flowers from getting crushed while also looking cool as shit doing it. Unfortunately it seems that the flowers Tamara gave him are the exact kind that Call’s allergic to, so by the time he makes it to Jasper’s door and the taller boy opens it, Call is practically crying from how much his eyes are burning.

“What the fuck do you want.”

Call is squinting and his nose is on fire and he probably looks like he’s been punched in the face a couple of times but Jasper is both beautiful and decidedly Unaffected by his misfortune. “Please…take them,” he begs in a hoarse whisper, shoving the flowers in Jasper’s face.

Jasper takes them and immediately tosses them to the floor. “What. The fuck. Do you want.”

It would be so easy to just say, “Your sweet lovin’”, but he physically restrains himself. Instead, he goes, “You look like shit. Everything okay, snookums?”

Smooth.

“I will literally call the police if you don’t leave right now,” he responds, and tries to close the door in his face, but Call moves his bad foot in the way before he can (ow).

“Wait, just hear me out,” he pleads with him. “This is a life or death situation.”

The asian boy eyes him warily. Call is transfixed by his hair. “I highly doubt that, but you have my permission to continue.”

Sweet. Call clears his throat and tries to casually lean up against the wall, hands in his pockets. “So. I heard you like comic books.”

“…yes?”

“Cool, cool.” He slyly studies his fingernails like he’s seen Jasper do on many occasions when he’s trying to convey that he’s interested but not too interested. “What if I told you that I knew a way to get you as many comic books as you wanted without paying a dime?”

Jasper squints at him. “Are you trying to sell me drugs?”

“Depends. Would you like some? I got all the good shit- laffy taffy, mentos, and if you’re feeling particularly wild i got some rasperry fun dip-”

“Call, I don’t have the patience for your antics today,” he interrupts, rubbing at his temples. He looks really tired. Like, really really tired.

Call is immediately locked into defensive friend mode. “What happened? Who hurt you? Do I have to break some ankles or what?”

“It’s just…” He sighs, leaning against the doorframe. Even bent down a little he’s still a full head taller than Call. Call wants to climb him like a tree. “Celia and I broke up.”

Call gasps in mock horror but on the inside he be popping all the bottles. “That bitch!”

He glares at him. “Don’t call her a bitch. I broke up with her.”

“Oh.” He deflates a little. “Not a bitch then. Why’d you dump her?”

“Why do you care?”

“I may be in the market for another addition to the Callum Hunt Dream Team,” he admits, and at Jasper’s blank stare, he adds, “Not Celia. You. I like you. And stuff. Yeah.”

A slow blink. “Uh.”

Call decides to throw all caution to the wind. He grasps a very startled Jasper by the wrists and looks deeply into his eyes. “Jasper,” he says seriously. “Join my harem.”

“What.”

“Please,” he hisses. His eyes are wild and he knows it. “I’m a dying man, Jasper. Don’t deny a dying man of his final wishes.”

“There is something wrong with you,” Jasper tells him with complete sincerity. “Like, I’m serious. You need mental assistance.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“If I say yes will you leave me alone?”

“Probably not,” he admits.

Jasper sighs. “Fair enough.” In one swift movement, he dislodges his wrists and slams the door in his face.

“I won’t give up!,” Call yells through the wood separating him from his lost love. “Mark my words, DeWinter, you will join the harem if my life depends on it!”

“Fuck off!,” Jasper’s voice comes muffled through the door. The fact that he responded at all is a miracle and Call decides that’s a win for him.

idk i’m supposed to be writing a 500 word essay and instead i write 1800 words of this bullshit i dont think im going to sleep tonight

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #18 Charles Xavier - Part 3 (Request)

Requested by Anon: hi! so can i request a charles x reader one shot that ive been thinking of? ok so first of all y/n and charles were super close as teens but y/n died at around 19(got mixed up in smth), charles was devastated and hes still not 100% over it as an adult so when the xmen find a mutant who can control time he ends up asking them to go back and try to save y/n? and they try and they have to convince her to stay safe bcs ‘theres some1 who needs her’ or some cute shit like that?..but if u do this thx!

Not my gif

Words: 1893

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel (?), typos

A/N: Sooo, this is part 3 of 3, I hope you like it!

Part 1 - Part 2

Jean had insisted on paying for the tiny motel room for the night instead of, as Peter had suggested, breaking into someone’s house and hoping not to get caught. “Buzzkill.”, Peter had growled. “Criminal!”, Jean had replied. The bed had been old and way too small for two people, but Peter had refused to sleep on the admittedly slightly disgusting looking couch, so they had shared anyway. It was only the one night after all.

“My back!”, Peter groaned for the about hundredth time in the past few minutes and Jean knew that, by now, it was only to annoy her. “Stop complaining and lead the way.”

The house looked like the typical kind of suburban city residence, that they would have expected from someone, who went to an elite college and was friends with someone like the professor.

Peter was slightly disappointed to see that the knocker wasn’t lion shaped, and therefore settled for the doorbell. The melodic tune was followed by a few moments of silence, before the door was opened by a young woman, maybe 25 years old, with pretty auburn hair.

“Hello. How can I help you?”, she smiled. “Hey.”, Peter grinned. “We’re looking for y/f/n. She does live here, right?”

“Yeah, she does, but she went off to college a few minutes ago. She should be back in the evening, though, can I take a message?” “Shit.”, Peter replied, earning a forceful shove from Jean. “Yes, please! Could you maybe tell her, that we need to meet up with her tonight? We’re friends of Charles’ and it’s really urgent.” “Oh, is he okay?”, the woman asked worriedly. “Oh yeah, he is.”, Jean replied, shoving Peter again for his murmured comment: “For now…” “We just really need to talk to y/n and it has to be tonight. Could you ask her to come to the diner?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure. Is everything alright?” “Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine, I promise.” God, did Jean want to keep that promise.

“Way to put us on a tight schedule.”, Peter joked after the door had fallen shut. “How is this my fault? We should have just talked to her yesterday, goddammit!”, Jean growled, nervously kneading her own hands. “Wow, okay, calm down. So, what’s the plan for today?”

 The plan turned out to be pretty unexciting, as Jean refused to leave the 500m radius of the diner. She knew that this was completely unnecessary, but the closer their deadline came, the more nervous she got. They didn’t exactly know, when Sammy would bring them back, only that it would be tonight. So what, if they didn’t have enough time to explain everything? What if you didn’t show up, which, in Jean’s opinion, would have been totally understandable. She was almost hoping to run into Charles, partially to tell him, what was going on, but also to simply feel his presence and the calm he tended to emit. But the professor didn’t show up either.

The later it got, the more nervous Peter seemed to become. He started to randomly disappear every few minutes, only to show up by the next corner, checking if you were in sight. “What, if we don’t manage to save her? I really don’t wanna go back, knowing that I failed at saving Charles’ girlfriend’s life.”, he murmured. Jean nodded sympathetically stopping her nervous pacing and sitting down on the sidewalk.

The sun was already going down, when they finally saw you walk towards them, your form glowing in the evening light.

“You worried my sister.”, was the first thing you said, before shaking Peter’s hand. You didn’t sound accusing, just cautious and slightly curious as to what was going on. “She said, you were friends of Charles’?”

“Yeah, well…”, Peter said as Jean reached for your hand as well. “We are, but it’s complicated.” “Well, if I recall correctly, you’re here to talk to me and I’m here to listen.” “Right.”

You didn’t make a move to enter the diner, much to Jean’s relief. As much as she would have loved to find out more about you, she was afraid, there was no time for small talk.

“I’m Jean, this is Peter. We know the professor, but not the way you do.”

“The… professor?”, you asked and furrowed your brows. “Charles, sorry.”, Jean corrected herself, feeling her cheeks blush. God, why hadn’t she used the past few hours to think of a way to explain this situation, so that it didn’t sound completely crazy.

“We are like you.”, Peter continued. “I mean, not really like you.”, he waved his hand in a movement that included your whole body and smiled nervously. “We are… kinda… mutants.” Silence. Then: “Oh, really? Why didn’t you say so? Charles didn’t tell me about any other of his mutant friends. I mean, maybe he wanted to yesterday and I interrupted him…” Suddenly, your voice went from surprised to embarrassed, as you rubbed your neck, making your hair swing in the barely noticeable breeze.

“Yeah, we heard you two fight…” “Oh, I knew, you looked familiar, you were at the diner, right? Why didn’t you come over?”

“You looked kinda busy and we… we actually needed to talk to you alone.”

“Uhm… okay?” “Yeah.” “Yeah?”

“Could you promise us something?”, Jean asked out of nowhere, despite how weird the request sounded, even in her head. “Could you promise to be careful? We know about the things you do, we know that you fight for what is right, but you need to be careful, please!”

Suddenly, your expression went blank. “Did Charles send you here?” Your melodic voice sounded clear and cold as ice. “No. I mean… no, actually, Raven sent us.” “Raven? What does she have to do with this?” “It’s complicated, but listen: On the 16th of May, so in…”, Peter counted, “…in a week and two days, someone will attack you in an ally. Somewhere around here I think…”, he scratched his head and grinned nervously, looking around and therefore missing the sudden annoyed look in your eyes. “Are you serious? What do you want? Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of sick joke? Tell Charles or Raven or whoever…”

“I’ll show you.”, Jean interrupted quickly, subconsciously reaching for your arm, as you backed away from her slowly. This was not going well. At all. “I’ll show you.” And with that, Jean opened her mind, doing her best to filter the thoughts she sent you and failing miserably, as she could tell by the way your eyes widened. “What is this?”, you asked breathily. “What… what are you doing?” Jean closed her eyes, forcing her mind back in line. She thought of Raven, of the things she had been told about the attack, of the way Raven had felt while telling her, of Sammy and her powers and of the glimpse of pain and sadness Jean had caught from Charles during his conversation with the new girl, before he had shut her out.

When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw were the clear, surprisingly ordinary looking tears that ran down your cheeks, as you took in, what you had been shown. You opened your mouth and then closed it again, without saying a word. Slowly, almost carefully, you covered your mouth with your hand, your shoulders shaking.

“There are people, who really care about you. People you will leave behind, sad and heartbroken, if you don’t prevent, what’s going to happen next week.”, Jean murmured, her voice breaking. Peter, now uncharacteristically serious, added: “The things you do, the way you fight… we are so lucky to have you. Raven said, that you could change everything, even in our time. She misses you.”

“Charles… he doesn’t know, you’re here?”

“I think, he must have found out by now.” “Poor Raven.”, you laughed huskily, wiping away your tears. “This is… a lot to take in. And I kind of makes no sense.”

“Charles didn’t want to endanger Sammy, he didn’t want to pressure her. But he really needs you!” “He is so different from my Charles.”, you said, thoughts far away and Jean smiled at the way you said ‘my Charles’. “He always tells me to take it easy, to be careful. Maybe I should listen to him for once.”, you murmured, sniffling, then grinning. “Thank you.”, you looked at Peter, then Jean. “I believe, you just saved my life. Or will have saved my life.” “Maybe.”, Jean said, just as Peter replied: “Sure as hell hope so.”

About five minutes later, they had just said their goodbyes and watched you disappear araound the corner, Peter suddenly disappeared mid-sentence. Jean couldn’t stop smiling. It had worked. Or at least she hoped so, just like Peter had said. She wondered, what might have changed in the future, in their time. Would she remember the past? Or the other future? What about Peter? Suddenly nervous, she looked around, searching his silver hair in the crowd of the rush hour. What if they weren’t at Xavier’s in the new future? She didn’t know, what would have changed. What if Xavier’s didn’t even exist? All her worries were swallowed by a sudden darkness that embraced her, before her head started spinning and her eyes fell shut.

She woke up with an aching head, a dry mouth and a mind full of voices, the loudest one being Peter’s, who turned out to be laying right next to her. “Shit.”, he cursed, lifting his head slightly. “Ugh, that some kind of time-travel-hangover?” Jean smiled and let her gaze wander around the room. It was the library, only illuminated by the soft light of the table lamps. It was empty except for Jean, Peter and Sammy, who was sitting on a couch a few steps away from them. She was awake, Jean noticed, and she looked well. In fact, she was grinning from ear to ear.

“It worked.”, she cheered triumphantly. “You’re alive. And I’m alive!”

“Where are the others?”, Peter asked. “Raven just left, a minute before you returned. The professor was here as well, but he didn’t look very happy.”

“Let’s hope, we were able to change that. Will they remember anything?” “I don’t know.”, Sammy admitted. “Let’s find out.”

After 30 minutes of searching – mainly because both Jean and Peter had to sit down every few steps due to what Peter called ‘time-travel-hangover’ – they found the professor in his office, sitting on the couch, surrounded by the other faculty members – some of which Jean didn’t recognize – looking at a TV-screen, following an interview.

“She is remarkable.”, they heard the professor’s voice, as the camera swayed toward one of the interview partners, a woman with shimmering white hair and a presence that, even through the screen, made Jean pause in awe. Jean stood next to Raven, who briefly smiled at her, but didn’t comment on the fact, that she and Peter had just returned from a questionably well planned time-travel-mission.

Jean’s eyes fell back on the screen and she read the little name-bar beneath your face. ‘Y/N Y/L/N, minister of mutant affairs.’ She smiled and looked towards Charles, who followed your every word with an expression of limitless adoration and unconditional love.

“Looks like we just changed the future.”, Peter whispered into Jean’s ear and she chuckled softly. Raven had been right.

[janiedean]

Danny and Colleen professing there love to each other! We know they love each other already but I'd love to see how cute and awkward it is when they do and of course how they do it! Pleaseee

+ Ironwing prompt! Maybe Danny and Colleen talking about their feelings, doesn't have to be a bad situation that makes them talk about it either, more cuteness the better! Their so in love lol

k guys I got two similar ones so consider this a fill for both, sorry but I have like three other ones lying around or smth and I need to get to them at some point xD 

SPOILERS FOR THE S1 FINALE SET POST-CANON

--

“I shouldn’t have left,” Danny says as he lies down on the hard ground, halfway out of his sleeping bag - good thing they brought tents, Colleen thinks. It’s about the one good thing about the entire situation, because on top of finding out K’un-Lun is apparently no more, which is bad enough, they only have food that will last them three days, it’s cold, there’s no range for their cellphones and she doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound so miserable. Actually, she barely heard him, and he said it in such a small voice that she doesn’t even have the force of will to point out that if he hadn’t left, she wouldn’t be with him here now, would she?

“You couldn’t have known,” she settles on, moving her hand to his shoulder. He doesn’t push her away, which she had thought he might. At least that.

“No,” he agrees, “but - I should have stayed. Davos did tell me it was selfish to want to -”

“He said what?” She knows she should have let him finish, but the moment he said it she just - how is wanting to have your life back selfish?

Danny shrugs, not quite looking at her. “I told him I was thinking of going back when the doorway opened. Of course, we did know that the Hand also had roots in New York, and that was part of the reason why, but I think he knew I just - missed it sometimes.”

“And?”

“He said it wasn’t necessary, that the Hand was also here and it was more urgent to deal with it where it came from, and I shouldn’t have let selfishness cloud my judgment. Or something.”

Colleen doesn’t tell him that it sounds a lot like what she had been told while undergoing training in that same organization. The more time passes, the more she’s somewhat sure that the only difference in between the Hand and whoever are these people Danny ended up with is that at least they’re standing on better moral ground.

Other than that - yeah. Doesn’t sound too different.

“You know,” she says, “there’s really nothing wrong with, well, wanting your life back. Okay, they saved you and of course you’re grateful, but that doesn’t mean they own you or anything of the kind.”

“Maybe before I got this,” he replies, shrugging. His fingers curl into a fist that flashes gold for a moment before turning back to his regular skin.

“So what? If you earned it then - well, you obviously deserved it. Or something, I don’t know if it’s one of those cases where the wand chooses you, but -”

“The wand what?”

“It’s, uh, a book series about wizards. Very popular, you probably missed it. Long story short, when you become a wizard you’ve got to get a wand but you don’t pick it, it picks you. Through magic. Because it resonates with you or something like that, I’ve never actually read that but a lot of the kids who used to come at the dojo did.”

“... I guess it’s not completely wrong. I mean, there’s a trial you need to pass, and if you do and at the end it’s bestowed upon whoever’s worthy of it, so - yeah, well, if we want to get down at the bottom of it.”

“Okay. Well, if... if it chose you or if you were worthy of it fine, but that - I mean, I told you before, but - you know that doesn’t make you a thing.” That probably sounded really convoluted, Colleen figures, but it got him to look at her at least. He doesn’t look too convinced either, and his entire face is crumpled in misery, not that she wouldn’t have expected it.

Shit.

“Doesn’t it?” He snorts. “The point of the Iron Fist is protecting this place. If I got it, then -”

“Bullshit. Danny, never mind why you got it because that’s not the point, but you were twelve when your plane crashed, you spent fifteen years cut out of the world, and then you should just never have your life back because your fist happens to glow? Never mind that - let’s be real, how many people were in that place?”

“A hundred or so?”

“All skilled in martial arts?”

“Of course, but -”

“If something took out one hundred people who taught you how to fight, magical powers or not I have a feeling you wouldn’t have changed the eventual outcome.”

That seems to get to him. He shrugs again, obviously acknowledging it. “Fine, you have a point, but still, it was -”

“Being the Iron Fist doesn’t mean you don’t matter anymore,” she blurts, and fuck if she feels awkward doing this, because she doesn’t talk about her feelings in the first place and Claire might not have been wrong when she said that they both needed some help when it came to keeping a relationship healthy, but still. She has a feeling he needs to hear it.

“Doesn’t it?” He sounds like he’s about to cry. “Then what’s even the point? The moment I had it, I should have known I couldn’t just take off and doing what I wanted.”

���So they could have just kept you here for eternity even if you didn’t want to stay there forever? Danny, sorry to burst that bubble but if the Hand didn’t own me then they sure as hell don’t own you.”

“Maybe, but - I just - it feels like since I chose to leave I fucked everything up,” he admits, and -

Fuck this noise.

“I think you didn’t. You dealt a serious blow to the Hand in New York, your company is probably turning ethical these days and a lot of people will thank you for it, I’m fairly sure the world is better off without Harold Meachum in it, before our phones became useless Ward sent me a message that was pretty much telling me to make sure you didn’t disappear into another dimension again, and -” She stops, breathes in, thinks should I tell him, and then figures she just fucking should. “And excuse me if I think my life’s better with you in it, and not because your hand glows.”

That somehow gets his attention for good all over again. Except that now he looks like he’ll never recover if she says the wrong thing, and she wonders how he’s just so fucking - open with it. She never was someone to wear her feelings on her sleeve in the first place and in the Hand it wasn’t exactly encouraged, and from what she’s seen of Davos he’s fairly good at emotional constipation, except when it comes to the Hand and wanting to kill anyone that has to do with it. She has a feeling it’s not a thing that was encouraged in K’un-Lun, and instead you can read everything on his face, and she doesn’t know if she envies him for that or not.

“Really?” He asks, a certain hopeful tone to his voice.

“I told you before,” she says, “it’s Danny Rand I care about, not what comes with the package. But it’s not just that.”

“Not... just that?”

Well, Colleen figures, this is that moment that she always rolls her eyes at whenever she happens to watch a rom-com. The moment where people confess their feelings and she thinks it’s all completely ridiculous and unbelievable and honestly, who makes this kind of love declaration in real life?

Apparently, she does. While they’re in China, in the middle of the mountains, pressed up together in a tent, dying of cold and after they found out they came here for nothing.

“Maybe I’m in love with you and not with your skillset,” she says, and shit but it sounds lame as fuck and maybe it was a bad idea, except that then his eyes light up and his entire face goes with them, and okay, she said the right thing, definitely, but -

His hands are suddenly on her face and they’re warm. Lucky bastard, she thinks. That might be the one thing she envies him when it comes to his crazy superpowers.

“I,” he blurts, his voice trembling, “and what if I tell you that you’re still the strongest person I know and that before I was feeling like shit because I felt - guilty?”

“... Guilty?”

“I know I shouldn’t have left, but I’m glad I did because I met you first and foremost, and I can’t bring myself to think it was completely wrong if only just for that, and - shit, wait, that should’ve been the first thing I said, not the last, but - me, too.”

“... you, too?” She presses, because even if she knows what he means she kind of wants to hear it now, in the spirit of romcoms she’s mocked up until now -

And then he smiles enough that his teeth show, and it’s the kind of sweet smile (sweet as he is?, a small voice inside her asks) that people don’t usually give her, and -

“I meant, I love you, too,” he says, with such seriousness that no one could doubt it even for one minute, and then she’s moved upwards and pressed her mouth to his once, then twice, and then he’s grabbing at her waist as she climbs into his sleeping bag, and maybe this entire trip has been a disaster for now but this?

This is not and if he ever tries to change his mind about it, she’s definitely not going to let him.