#and then I got the blame when HE made me get like that.

[pearlbubbles]

Okay I have a lot of thoughts about this season, and maybe bc I never played lol that this season felt like a mess to me but I think a lot of it was due to poor writing choices,

Jayce calling Mel out for “manipulating” is insane to me. When he doesn’t hold the same sentiment for Cassandra or Victor (who was the one to allegedly give him that stone in the first place?). He acts like he had no control of his actions and I guess it’s easier for him to pin the blame on someone else than admit his faults.

Mel is a politician, he knew that when he met her. She did not make it a secret that she was basically sponsoring his research. But at the same time, she was one of the few people who advised him against making hextech weapons specifically, and went out of the way to make sure that that technology did not fall into the hands of bad actors.

however, it was Jayce and his poor decisions that kept making hextech weapons even though it went agonist his ethos, he even made weapons for Caitlyn’s special strike team, something Mel did not tell him to do lol,

like this entire time Jayce was able to use Mel’s statues and influence to get what he wants (social capital etc)

and when they get together romantically, Mel only treats him as an equal, supports his ideas (which basically let’s him do what he wants on the council bc of her influence), and is a source of emotional comfort.

so it’s really strange that he starts to view her as someone who used him, we never really see Mel confiding in Jayce besides that one time which served as a way to give the audience insight to her backstory. She’s always the comforting him, the one providing for him etc, she even serves as a buffer for Jayce against the manipulation from others, so to have him pin all the blame on her is so deranged to me lol

I also fill like the narrative of the story does nothing to counter his claims, they don’t address the other actors in the corruption of hextech for warfare (*cough cough* Caitlyn lol)

there were interesting places they could take this, there were interesting ways to explore this dynamic, but instead it got boiled down to Jayce pinning the blame on someone else because he refuses to live with the consequences of his own creations

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Just anything with Jack Hughes but like make it a happy ending 🫶🏻

Ice skating

A/n: I can do that! it’s the time of the holidays… so I decided to make it something related to that (:

Warnings: none, all fluffy (: you fall on the ice once but

Finally, it had been his three day holiday break. It was Christmas, and it was the perfect time for a much needed date.

When you left the house, despite having a jacket, long warm leggings, hat and gloves, you were freezing. Jack noticed this, and wrapped his arms around you, warmth radiating off his body.

He had both of your skates in his free hand, both of you walking up to an open lake next to the house.

“And you made sure it was safe?” You asked Jack, him nodding.

“Checked twice just for you.” He began stepping into his skates, before grabbing yours and helping you tie yours up. You both stood up now, you leaning over to kiss him as a thank you.

He got into the ice first, holding his hand out for you to grab. You smiled at him, lacing your hand in his, stepping onto the ice next to him.

You wobble slightly as you do so, losing your balance for a moment before Jack pulls you back up with a laugh.

“You okay?” He asked you with raised eyebrows.

“Perfectly fine,” you replied with a breath.

The both of you began skating on the ice together, hand in hand over the frozen lake.

It was the perfect moment, and although a free date, it was the best you could have asked for.

“I think that we should get a dog.”

“A dog?” You giggled, “what kind?”

“Like a german shepherd or something.”

“I already got one of those. He’s right next to me.”

He raised his eyebrows, you smiling at him.

“Nah, I think I’m more like a… Jack Russell terrier.”

“Really?” You asked him, quirking an eyebrow at him, him shrugging, both of you making a turn on the ice. “Now that I think about it, you’re like a golden retriever.”

“I’m not a golden retriever. I’m more like a…” He trailed off, and while he was doing so, he ended up subconsciously moving his legs faster, something he tended to do while he skated, and practically dragging you from a snails pace to a faster one, causing you to trip over your own feet with a yelp, grabbing onto his body and pulling him down with you.

He fell on top of you, you letting out a groan and attempting to shove him off.

“Shit, sorry, honey.” He told you, quickly standing up and holding his hand out for you to grab onto so you could stand. You grabbed his hand, standing up and wiping the remnants of the ice off of your body. “You okay?”

You nodded, “I blame you for that.” You told him while he was helping you to wipe off the rest of the ice from your clothes.

“I take responsibility for that one.” He sighed, and when he turned around, you bent over, grabbing a handful of snow from the side. You curled it into a ball, smiling as you threw it at his back.

His eyes widened, slowly turning around to see you with a smirk on your face.

“Payback.”

“Oh you little-“ he started, before bending over and grabbing a snowball of his own, both of you entering a snowball fight like two children would.

He never would have thought he would have something as perfect as the life he did- but here it was, right next to him, holding his hand.

also I’m sorry this is so bad but I haven’t written in a hot minute, I’m in a funk rn and this nhl player writing is new to me!

[unconventional-lawnchair]

"god I'm supposed to hate you, why don't i hate you?" with barty and potter! reader? 👀 the recent fic got me thinking sjdjkdkf

I Might Still Hate You

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Reader

AN: I couldn't sleep last night, I'm blaming this. ANY excuse to write Barty x Potter reader tbh

Summary: An unexpected guest shows up at your house late at night.

WC: ~3k

CW: Small bit of cussing, implied child abuse

You couldn’t remember a single time Bartemius Crouch Jr had ever said something kind to you.

It was likely because he never had.

From the very beginning, you and Barty had been locked in a mutual loathing. Whether it was academic rivalry, dueling matches, or sheer social standing, the two of you couldn’t seem to share a room without bristling at the other’s presence. Maybe it was the way you refused to bow under his threats, meeting his sharp words with sharper ones of your own. Or the way he matched your challenges like a game he was desperate to win, his smirk always daring you to push him further.

But really, it was probably your name.

"Potter."He never just said it- he delivered it, each syllable like a whip crack, leaving something raw behind. You hated the way he said it, how his voice dipped just slightly when he drew it out, like it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to know but delighted in exposing anyway.

“You know, it suits you.” He had told you once, a wicked grin slashing across his face as you squared off in yet another argument. “All that self-righteousness. It clings to you, like perfume.”

Your glare had only made his grin widen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re exactly what everyone expects a Potter to be. And isn’t that exhausting for you? Always pretending you’re better than everyone else?”

“I don’t need to pretend, Crouch.” You had shot back, stepping closer, challenging him as you always did, smirking. “But maybe you should stop pretending you’re not desperate to prove yourself to me. ‘Clings to be like perfume’? Give me some room, maybe you wouldn't be so wrapped in it.”

That grin faltered just slightly, his eyes narrowing. For a moment- just a moment, you thought you saw something flicker behind his bravado. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual venom. Giving you an expression he saved just for you- unbridled hatred.

“You’re insufferable.” He glared down at you before slowly smirking himself. As if his lip didn't twitch into a frown at your remark.

“And you’re pathetic.” You drawled, running your quill along the bridge of your nose.

Barty had a way of getting under your skin. You told yourself it was just the rivalry. Just the mutual hatred that kept him in your thoughts, his voice echoing far too clearly in your head.

But you hated how sometimes, when he was close, your pulse raced for reasons you couldn’t quite name. How his cologne reminded you of your best days, because he was never far behind you.

Everything considered, everything he's done and said to you, there was nothing that prepared you for this.

A sharp knock echoed through the quiet halls of Potter Manor, startling you from your thoughts. It was late, too late for visitors. The rain outside battered against the windows like an unwelcome intruder. You hesitated for a moment before making your way to the front door, curiosity piqued and wand subtly gripped just in case.

Pulling open the heavy oak door, you were met with a sight that made you question if you'd somehow drifted into a dream or perhaps a nightmare.

"Crouch?" You uttered, eyes widening as you took in his disheveled appearance. His usually pristine hair was plastered to his forehead, rainwater dripping down his face and soaking his clothes. A dark bruise was forming around his left eye, the skin swollen and tender-looking. His nose was red, and whether from the cold or something else, it was clear he'd been through quite an ordeal.

He blinked at you, seeming just as surprised to find himself on your doorstep. "Potter.” He mumbled, but the usual sneer in his voice was absent. Instead, it sounded almost... defeated.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, a mix of concern and confusion lacing your tone.

He glanced away, jaw tightening. "Didn't realize where I was going," He shrugged. "Just walking."

"In the pouring rain? With a black eye?" You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident.

"Brilliant observation, as always," He shot back, but the retort lacked his typical bite.

You sighed, stepping aside. "Well, don't just stand there. Come inside before you catch pneumonia."

He hesitated, pride warring with practicality, but the chill of the rain seemed to make the decision for him. He stepped over the threshold, dripping water onto the polished wooden floor. You closed the door behind him, the sound of the storm muffled but the tension between you both as palpable as ever.

You closed the door softly, turning to face him with a sigh. Barty stood there, dripping rainwater onto the polished floor, his gaze avoiding yours. Your mother was going to kill you. There was something unnervingly quiet about him, something unspoken weighing heavily in the space between you.

"If my brother sees you, he’s going to lose his mind.” You muttered, already thinking through how to avoid that particular disaster.

Barty snorted, the sound bitter but faint. "Wouldn’t be the first time a Potter tried to hex me."

"Well, I’m not in the mood to hear James shouting at two in the morning, so we’re going to avoid that, alright?" Without waiting for his reply, you grabbed his arm and began pulling him toward the stairs.

He stiffened. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you.” You hissed. "Now, shut up and follow me."

He opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it, instead allowing you to lead him up the staircase. The house creaked softly underfoot, the storm outside muffling your steps as you tiptoed toward your room. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder every few seconds, half-expecting James to come barreling out of his room with Sirius in a righteous fury.

When you finally reached your door, you pushed it open and gestured him inside. Barty hesitated, his eyes narrowing. "Your room?"

"Yes, my room.” You replied a bit snappily, exasperated. "Unless you’d prefer I dump you in the hall for James to find?"

He stepped inside without another word, though his posture was tense, his gaze darting around the space as though expecting a trap. You shut the door quietly behind you, casting a silencing charm for good measure.

"Sit.” You ordered, gesturing to the small chair near your desk.

Barty sat reluctantly, his wet clothes clinging to him and dripping onto the carpet. You grimaced. "You’re ruining my mum’s rug."

"Your concern is touching.” He drawled, though the usual venom was missing. He looked utterly miserable, and the bruise on his face seemed darker in the soft glow of the room’s light.

Ignoring his sarcasm, you rummaged through your wardrobe for a spare towel and tossed it at him. "Dry off. I’ll find something for you to wear so you’re not freezing to death."

He caught the towel with a raised brow. "I didn’t realize Potter hospitality came with wardrobe changes."

"Do you ever stop talking?" You shot back, digging through a drawer until you found an old jumper Sirius gave you and a pair of sweatpants James had ‘lost’. "Here. They're my brothers, but it’s better than sitting around in wet clothes."

He muttered something you didn’t quite catch, taking the clothes from you with a begrudging nod. You turned away, giving him privacy as he changed, though you couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air grow thicker with every passing moment.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Why are you doing this?"

You glanced over your shoulder, finding him standing there in the oversized jumper, his wet hair pushed back from his face. Without the rain and the usual sneer to hide behind, he looked... different. Tired. Vulnerable, even.

"You showed up on my doorstep looking like you’d been through hell.” You shrugged. "I couldn’t just leave you out there."

He scoffed lightly, but there was no real bite to it. "You’re a strange one, Potter."

"And you’re still unbearable," You mumbled, crossing your arms. "But here we are."

Silence fell between you, the storm outside filling the quiet. Barty’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. "Your brother-”

"Will stay asleep if you keep your voice down.” You interrupted. "I’ll deal with James or Sirius if it comes to that. For now, just... sit down and rest. I’ll grab some ice for your eye."

He didn’t argue, which was strange enough in itself, sinking back into the chair and watching you as you slipped out of the room. When you returned with a cold cloth, he accepted it without a word, holding it gingerly to his swollen eye.

"Thanks.” He mused after a moment, the word sounding foreign in his mouth.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, studying him carefully. "Who hit you?"

"Does it matter?" His tone was dismissive, but you caught the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched.

"It does if you’re going to keep showing up like this.. was it your father, Junior?”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You sighed, leaning back on your hands. "You don’t have to tell me. But you’re not going anywhere until you’re steady on your feet, alright?"

"Afraid I’ll collapse in the rain?" He snarked, his usual smirk making a brief appearance.

"I’m afraid you’ll collapse on my doorstep and make me explain to my father why a random boy is here," You shot back.

The room settled into a fragile quiet, the storm outside providing a constant backdrop. Barty sat there, pressing the cold cloth to his eye, his face obscured by shadows and bruises. You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees, watching him carefully. He was always so quick with a retort, so quick to lash out, and yet now he seemed... hollow, his usual sharp edges dulled by whatever had led him to your doorstep tonight.

"You’re staring.” He muttered, his voice breaking the silence.

"You’re in my room.” You countered, refusing to back down.

He huffed a faint laugh, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. "Fair enough, Potter. I didn’t exactly plan this, you know."

"You don’t say?" You deadpanned, tilting your head. "Because you seem like the type to storm through rain-soaked nights and show up unannounced."

"Better than staying where I was." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and his face darkened immediately, his jaw clenching as he turned his attention to the cloth in his hands.

You didn’t push him. Not yet. Instead, you sat back, letting the silence stretch just long enough to ease the tension in the air. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for once, there wasn’t a trace of malice in his gaze. Just exhaustion.

"I don’t understand you, Potter.” He scoffed softly, almost as if to himself. "Why are you doing this?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "You keep asking that. Do you really not get it?"

His brow furrowed. "We hate each other. Isn’t that the whole point of us? This... thing?"

"This thing? You mean our rivalry?" You huffed, raising an eyebrow. "It’s not like it’s my whole identity, Crouch. Believe it or not, I’m capable of basic human decency."

"Decency?" He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t owe me anything, Potter. Especially not that."

"No, I don’t.” You shrugged, leaning forward. "But you showed up here, soaked to the bone and bruised. I’m supposed to hate you, sure, but..." You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before you forced them out. "I don’t hate you right now."

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to find the trap in your words. "Why not?"

"Merlin, Crouch.” You muttered, exasperated. "I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you look like a stray Kneazle someone kicked into a gutter."

His lips twitched at that, and for a brief moment, you thought he might smile. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, his expression guarded but less harsh. "Don’t pity me, Potter. That’s worse than hate."

"I’m not pitying you.” You snapped back. "But I am trying to figure out why you’re so determined to make everyone hate you, including me."

"Maybe I deserve it." His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. His usual bravado cracked further as he glanced away, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the towel.

You softened at that, the sharp edge of your retort fading before it could form. "Maybe you don’t.” You coaxed gently. "You ever think of that?"

He didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. He looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t bring himself to let the words out. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting back to you.

"You’re annoying, you know that?" he finally muttered, shaking his head. "You’re supposed to be this... untouchable, perfect Potter. And yet here you are, making it impossible for me to hate you."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

"You hate me just fine most of the time.” You rolled your eyes, your voice quieter now.

He laughed, but it was a hollow sound, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "Do I? Or is that just easier than... this?"

"This?" You echoed, your heart pounding as the word lingered in the air between you.

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes said enough. Vulnerability mixed with defiance, like he hated himself for letting you see even a glimpse of what lay beneath his carefully crafted exterior. You opened your mouth to say something, anything but the words tangled on your tongue.

"I should go.” He said suddenly, standing up and tossing the towel onto the chair. "This was a mistake."

You were on your feet before you even realized it. "Don’t be an idiot, Crouch. You’re not going anywhere like this."

"I’m fine.” He snapped, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

"You’re not fine.” You shot back, stepping closer. "And you don’t have to be."

His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You think you know me, Potter? You don’t. You can’t just... fix me with a towel and some kind words."

"I’m not trying to fix you.” You scoffed but your voice strained, soft but firm. "I’m just trying to remind you that you don’t have to do this alone."

For a moment, it looked like he might argue again, but then his shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. "Why are you doing this?" He asked one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t have an answer, not really. All you could do was reach out, resting a hand on his arm. "Because I don’t hate you.” You said finally. "And maybe I never did."

His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, the storm outside seemed to quiet.

“I hate you.” He whispered softly. Testing the words on his tongue.

“That's okay.”

“I hate you.” He spoke again, more determined as his brows furrowed at you in frustration.

“I can live with that, Junior.”

“I hate you.” He spoke in his normal tone, before his shoulders fell and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I'm supposed to hate you. Why don't I hate you?”

Your heart thudded painfully at his words. His voice, usually laced with arrogance and venom, was raw now, trembling with something unspoken. It wasn’t a question meant for you. It wasn’t even a question meant for him, not really. It hung in the air, heavy with everything he couldn’t say and everything you couldn’t answer.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his words carved into you, settling in places you didn’t want to acknowledge. "Maybe you’re not as good at hating as you think," you whispered softly, your voice barely cutting through the silence.

Barty let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Oh, I’m very good at hating, Potter. Comes naturally to a Crouch. You should know- you’ve been on the receiving end often enough."

"Then what’s stopping you now?" You challenged, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking to something almost unbearable. "What’s so different this time?"

His eyes flickered to yours, narrowing as though he was trying to figure you out, to dissect every word and find its weakness. "You’re insufferable," He muttered, but his voice lacked conviction. "Always so damn persistent."

"Stop deflecting, Crouch." You didn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down, standing your ground even as his walls threatened to rebuild. "Why don’t you hate me?"

"Because I-" He stopped himself, his jaw clenching, the frustration in his expression cracking further. He turned away from you, raking a hand through his damp hair. "I don’t know, alright? I don’t know. I’ve hated you since the first day I met you, but now-" He broke off again, his shoulders tense, his fists clenching at his sides.

"But now what?" You pressed gently, your tone softer this time.

"But now it’s harder.” He admitted finally, his voice so quiet you barely caught the words. He turned back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, and for the first time, he looked completely, heartbreakingly vulnerable. "I don’t know what to do with that."

Your chest tightened, the weight of his admission settling heavily between you. "Maybe you don’t have to do anything.” You took another step closer. "Maybe it’s okay to just... stop fighting it."

His lips twitched, not quite a smirk but not a smile either. "And what exactly am I supposed to do instead?"

"You could start by letting yourself be honest.” You replied. "For once."

Barty studied you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours like he was looking for an answer he didn’t want to find. Then, almost imperceptibly, he took a step closer, the tension between you reaching a breaking point.

"Honest, huh?" He murmured, his voice low. "Alright, Potter. Here’s some honesty for you- I hate the way you do your hair. I hate the way you hold a room. I hate the way you can wipe me across the floor in a duel and still challenge me in a classroom. I hate how you never stop talking- I hate how you make me feel. I hate that you make it impossible to look at you without... without wanting something I’m not supposed to want."

Your breath hitched, his words sending a jolt through you. The room felt smaller, the storm outside nothing compared to the one brewing between you.

"Then stop pretending you hate me.” You slipped your hands into your cardigan pockets, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced. "Because we both know you don’t."

For a moment, he didn’t move, his expression unreadable. Then, with a frustrated growl, he reached out, his hand cupping your jaw as he pulled you closer. His lips hovered just a breath away from yours, his gaze locked on yours.

"You’re infuriating," he murmured, his voice rough, almost broken. "And I don’t know if I hate you or if I-"

He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t need to. The space between you disappeared, the storm outside fading into nothing as his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t soft or sweet- it was raw and desperate, filled with all the unspoken words and tangled emotions you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I still might hate you.” He mused, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"That’s fine.” Your voice was breathless but steady. "I might still hate you, too."

But the way your hand lingered on his, and the way his grip on you didn’t falter but tightened, told a different story entirely.

[harryssyndrome]

Darkness and You | h.s

summery: a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

wc: 5.3k || 🌕🌖🌗🌘 Masterlist 🌒🌓🌔🌕

WARNING ⚠️ sexual references, mention of unprotected sex. MINORS DNI! you’re responsible for your own consumption, don’t blame me later. It’s your own choice.

Posted on: November 25th, 2024

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 || TAGLIST IS OPEN!

Surprise lovelies! The first part from serial-killer!Harry series is here and I really hope you enjoy it. 😌 let me know how was it and if you have any ideas for other parts, I just might post some more this week itself. this is my first ever try at writing 18+ stuff tho it’s not really much so I hope it didn’t suck��😳 REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You don’t do this. Any of this. You don’t pick up hitchhikers in the middle of the night. Especially men.

You’ve seen a lot of horror movies and you’ve heard a ton of news stories.

You’re not five. You know what you should and what you shouldn’t do. But you’ve made an array of bad choices tonight so why not continue it?

You don’t know what it was but something compelled you to pull over.

The boy with the curls and those deep green eyes, gets into the passenger seat, a grateful smile on his face. He looks sweet, to be honest.

“Oh, thank you so so much. I’ve been out here for so long. My car just gave out on me and there’s no signal in this shithole.” He says, his English accent very evident as he adjusts his seatbelt. “May I know my saviour’s name?” He asks with a smiles that shows a pair of dimples.

The air is thick with the quiet hum of the engine, and your fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. You’re not sure if it’s the cold seeping into the car or the nervous energy building in your chest. Something about this feels surreal, like stepping into a scene you’d only watch from the safety of your couch. Yet, here you are, with a stranger in the passenger seat and an unspoken weight hanging between you.

“Uh, YN,” you reply, your voice more hesitant than you’d like. His accent catches you off guard again, so polished and charming it almost makes you forget the unease simmering below the surface. Almost.

“YN,” he repeats, letting your name roll off his tongue like he’s testing its sound. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Harry.”

Harry. It suits him somehow. Still, you can’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His curls are messy, probably from standing in the cold too long, and his coat looks worn, but there’s a warmth to him. Those green eyes, so striking, carry a sense of ease—like he’s the last person in the world you should be afraid of.

Still, you’re not stupid. Sweet smiles and dimples don’t guarantee safety.

“So… where are you headed?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral while silently calculating how far you are from the nearest gas station or town. Somewhere with people. Witnesses.

He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. “Honestly? Just anywhere away from here.” He runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. “My car decided to betray me in the middle of nowhere. Tried to call for help, but of course, there’s no signal. Classic, right?”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels forced. Your instincts are at war—one side whispering that this guy is harmless, the other screaming at you for stopping in the first place.

“Well,” you say, trying to sound composed, “you got lucky I came by. Not a lot of cars out tonight.”

“Not a lot of kind people either,” Harry adds, his voice softer now. “I was starting to think I’d be out there all night.”

His words linger in the air, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. Maybe he’s just another unlucky soul, stranded and hoping for a break. Maybe you’re overthinking this. Or maybe this is exactly how every cautionary tale starts.

“So, YN,” Harry says, breaking the silence again. His tone is light, conversational, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “What’s a girl like you doing out here at this hour? Don’t tell me you’re running away from something, too.”

The question catches you off guard, and your grip on the wheel tightens. “No,” you reply quickly, a little too defensively. “Just… a long drive. Needed to clear my head.”

He hums in acknowledgment, not pushing further, and you feel a flicker of relief. He leans back in his seat, letting his head rest against the window. For a moment, you think he’s going to drift off, but then he glances at you again, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity.

“You’ve got this look,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

You don’t respond right away, unsure how to take that. “You’ve known me for all of five minutes,” you finally say, trying to deflect with a weak smile. “Bit of a bold assumption, don’t you think?”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I’m pretty good at reading people.”

The car falls into a strange silence again, and you can feel his gaze shift back to the window. There’s something about him—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not just the way he talks or the way he looks at you. It’s the way he feels out of place, like he belongs in a story that hasn’t been written yet.

And for reasons you can’t explain, you let yourself keep driving.

There was some reason he can’t take his eyes off of you, almost as if you’re a rare piece of art he couldn’t help but admire.

“You always pick up handsome strangers in the middle of the night?” He teases with a cheeky smirk on his features.

You glance over at him, briefly, before focusing back on the road. The way his smirk lingers, paired with those dimples, feels both disarming and maddeningly charming. “Not usually,” you reply, your tone even, though you’re acutely aware of his gaze on you. “Just the ones who look like they’ve had a rough night.”

He laughs at that, the sound soft and warm, filling the small space of the car. “Lucky me, then,” he says, his accent turning the words into something smoother, like they carry more weight than they should. “Although, I think the luck might be yours. How often do you get to share a car with a proper English gentleman?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “English gentleman, huh? You sound like a guy who gives himself that title. Let me guess, you also drink tea at every opportunity and say ‘cheerio’ unironically?”

His hand flies to his chest in mock offense, and he lets out a dramatic gasp. “Cheerio? Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a walking British stereotype?”

“Maybe,” you shoot back, your tone playful now. “I mean, you did say your car ‘gave out,’ and who even says that anymore?”

He chuckles again, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “Fair enough. But for the record, I’m more of a coffee guy. And I don’t say ‘cheerio.’” His smirk returns, softer this time, as he adds, “I think you might be the first person to question my gentleman status, though. Most people just take one look at me and assume I’m… irresistible.”

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. “Irresistible? You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” he quips, his voice teasing but not cocky. His gaze lingers again, softer now, almost contemplative. “But I’m serious. You’ve got this… way about you. Like you’re completely unimpressed by people like me, and I can’t decide if it’s refreshing or terrifying.”

That catches you off guard, and you shift in your seat, the smile slipping from your face just a little. “People like you?”

He shrugs, the smirk still lingering but now tinged with something deeper. “You know, the ones who talk too much, crack jokes, try to charm their way through life. The ones who should be lucky just to share the same space as someone like you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, a mix of unease and flattery you’re not quite sure how to handle. You keep your eyes on the road, focusing on the distant glow of headlights in the distance. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.”

“Maybe,” he admits, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze wander out the window. “But you can tell a lot about someone in five minutes. Like how you’ve got this look in your eyes, like you’re constantly bracing for something to go wrong.”

You freeze for just a moment, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, brushing it off with a casualness you don’t really feel.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, his voice low and calm, like he doesn’t quite believe you but won’t push. After a moment, he adds, almost to himself, “But for some reason, I can’t stop looking at you. It’s like… you’re a puzzle, and I can’t figure out the edges.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for silence, the tension in the car shifting to something strange and unspoken. Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead, the darkness pressing in on both sides. And for the first time since picking him up, you wonder if you’re the one being read, the layers of your carefully built armor peeling away under the weight of those deep green eyes.

Harry leans back in his seat, one hand resting casually on his knee as he studies you. His gaze, though soft, feels weighted—like he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know you were wearing. After a beat of silence, he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“Can I ask you something, YN?” he says, his tone gentle, almost disarming.

You glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Sure,” you reply, though the way he says your name sends a faint chill up your spine.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Picking up a male stranger in the middle of the night? Alone? I mean, you said it yourself—this isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words triggering the voice of reason that’s been screaming at you ever since you stopped the car. Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and you force a small laugh. “A little,” you admit, though your voice wavers slightly. “But you don’t seem like the scary type.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smile, one that’s almost too perfect—dimples and all. “Well, I promise you, I’m not some sort of serial killer,” he says lightly, his tone almost playful. “Scout’s honor.”

Something about his phrasing makes you laugh, and the tension in your chest eases—if only slightly. “Isn’t that exactly what all serial killers say in the movies?” you tease, glancing at him briefly with a raised brow.

Harry’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—a shadow of a thought you can’t quite catch. “Touché,” he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never leaves you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “I suppose it would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? A smile, a little charm… make yourself seem harmless enough, and no one suspects a thing.”

The way he says it sends a ripple of unease through you, and the playful smirk he wears only deepens the strange knot in your stomach. You force yourself to stay calm, trying to brush it off. “That’s… a little creepy, don’t you think?” you reply, half-joking.

Harry chuckles softly, the sound low and almost hypnotic. “Maybe. But if I were a killer, wouldn’t I have already done something by now? You’ve got me here, alone, no witnesses. Seems like the perfect opportunity, doesn’t it?”

Your heart skips a beat, and your hands grip the wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening. His voice is still light, teasing, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that you can’t quite place. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge whether he’s just messing with you or if there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“And yet,” he continues, his tone softening again, “here I am, just a guy stranded on the side of the road, grateful for the kindness of a beautiful stranger.”

Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to respond. “Well, for your sake—and mine—I hope you’re telling the truth.”

He lets out another soft laugh, leaning back against the seat again. “Of course I am,” he says smoothly. But there’s something about the way he says it—like he knows more than he’s letting on. Like he’s enjoying this moment a little too much.

The road stretches on in front of you, the darkness pressing in from all sides, and for the first time, you start to wonder if stopping for Harry was the worst decision you’ve ever made. Because while his smile is charming and his voice is calm, there’s something about him that feels off. Like the quiet before a storm.

Harry shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking to you every so often, like he’s studying the curve of your profile, the way your fingers tap the wheel, the faint crease in your brow as you concentrate on the dark road ahead. The hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on asphalt are the only sounds filling the car now, a strange kind of peace settling between you two.

“How far’s the city?” he asks casually, breaking the quiet, his voice smooth and easy, though there’s a strange undertone to it—like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You glance at the dashboard clock before replying, “Probably around three hours. Give or take.”

Harry lets out a soft hum, leaning back in his seat, his head tilting toward you as though drawn by some invisible force. Three hours. Three uninterrupted hours with you. It’s enough to make his heart race.

He lets the silence return, but his thoughts are anything but quiet. His mind is a storm of emotions and desires—chaotic, consuming, and entirely focused on you. There’s something about you that’s different. It’s not just the way you look, though your beauty feels like something out of a dream. It’s the way you hold yourself, the sharpness in your wit, the vulnerability you try to mask but can’t fully hide. You’re magnetic in a way he can’t explain, and the more he sits beside you, the deeper his obsession grows.

He watches the soft glow of the dashboard lights reflect off your face, highlighting your cheekbones and the curve of your jaw. He wonders what it would feel like to trace that line with his fingers. To know the softness of your skin. To see you look at him not with the occasional suspicion that flashes in your eyes but with trust. Admiration. Love.

His thoughts spiral, wild and untamed, as his gaze lingers on you. What would it take for you to see him the way he already sees you? Would you ever understand how special you are? How perfect this moment is? You were meant to find him tonight—he’s sure of it. The universe wouldn’t have aligned so perfectly otherwise.

His fingers twitch, his desire to reach out, to touch you, almost overwhelming. But no, not yet. He has time. Three hours to savor this moment, to bask in the glow of your presence, to solidify the bond he’s convinced you’re destined to share.

You’re unaware of the storm raging in his mind, the way his chest tightens with every glance at you. You think the silence is peaceful, and in a way, it is—for you. For Harry, it’s intoxicating. Maddening.

He forces himself to take a steady breath, his fingers curling into his palms as he tries to calm the fire within him. He doesn’t want to scare you, not yet. You’re like a delicate thread, and if he pulls too hard, you might snap.

So, he keeps his voice soft, his demeanor calm, though his thoughts are anything but. He smiles to himself, a small, secret smile, as he stares out the window at the endless darkness. You have no idea, he thinks, how utterly and completely you’ve captured him.

And he plans to make sure you never get away.

As the silence stretches between you, Harry's mind spirals further into chaos. He shifts again in his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest as his thoughts race uncontrollably. His green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and then to the empty backseat, a dark thought taking hold of him. It's ridiculous, he knows, but the image is vivid, almost too vivid to push away-the two of you tangled together in the small space, your back arching against the leather as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

The idea sends a heat rushing through him, and he clenches his jaw, forcing his gaze back to the road ahead. But it's no use. His thoughts keep circling back, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. The way your lips curve as you speak, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the faint scent of your perfume that fills the car—it's driving him mad. You're so close, yet just out of reach, and it's enough to make him want to explode.

He imagines it so clearly: the way you'd look beneath him, your head thrown back, your lips parted in a gasp as he claims you. The sound of his name spilling from your mouth, a mix of moans and screams that would echo in his ears forever. The thought of marking you, leaving his fingerprints, his bruises, his everything on you-it consumes him. He wants you to be his, entirely his, in every possible way. To make sure no one else could ever have you, touch you, or even think of you the way he does.

His breathing becomes shallow as the lust builds inside him, threatening to take over. His hands clench into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to regain control. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. You're driving, unaware of the wildfire burning inside him, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this perfect moment.

But his eyes betray him, flicking back to the rearview mirror, imagining again how easy it would be. The backseat seems like it was made for this-for you. He could pull you back there, coax you into his arms, and let his hands explore every inch of you. He'd take his time, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way your body reacts to his touch. You'd look so beautiful, so utterly perfect, with your cheeks flushed and your voice breaking as you beg for more.

Harry exhales sharply, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He turns his head slightly, stealing another glance at you, and it only makes things worse. The way your lips press together in concentration as you drive, the way your fingers drum softly against the steering wheel-it's enough to make him want to lose control.

He shifts again, trying to adjust himself discreetly, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. His lustful thoughts are a storm, loud and demanding, drowning out every ounce of reason he has left. He's trying to distract himself, to think of anything else, but it's no use. Every thought keeps looping back to you-your voice, your scent, your body, your everything.

You glance at him briefly, catching the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his eyes, but you brush it off as nothing. To you, he's still the stranded, grateful stranger, polite and charming, sitting quietly beside you.

But Harry's chest tightens as he fights the urge to act on the consuming need inside him. His teeth graze his bottom lip, his mind racing. He's never felt like this before— this overwhelming obsession, this uncontrollable desire. And it terrifies him. But it also excites him, in a way he can't even begin to describe.

For now, he forces himself to stay still, to keep his hands in his lap and his voice calm. But his thoughts? His thoughts are far from calm. They're filled with you, with every possible way he wants to have you. And the longer he sits beside you, the harder it becomes to stop himself from making you his. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably his.

Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, a casual curiosity in his tone that makes you glance at him briefly. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. You keep your eyes on the road, trying to process his words. “How did you know?” you ask, voice light, though you can’t quite place the reason why it feels like an oddly personal question.

Harry shrugs slightly, a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips. “Just a guess,” he says nonchalantly. “No man in his right mind would let a gorgeous girl like you be alone at night for this long. Either that or you’ve got a terrible taste in men.”

His words hit you with an unexpected warmth. You laugh, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, trying to hide the flutter of something that rises in your chest. It feels like he’s teasing you, and yet there’s a charm in his tone, something alluring and carefree that makes it hard not to feel a little… flattered.

“Terrible taste, huh?” you reply, half-joking, your eyes flickering back to him. “Well, maybe I’ve just been too picky.”

Harry’s smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. “Maybe I can be your new boyfriend,” he suggests, his tone playful but with a teasing undertone that makes your pulse quicken. “Save you from your bad taste?”

You laugh again, this time more freely, the sound light and natural. “Oh really?” you reply, shaking your head with a mock skeptical smile. “You think you could do a better job?”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you, a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he’s sure he’s exactly what you need, even though you’re not quite sure how to respond. “I mean,” he says, his smile widening, “you wouldn’t know until you tried, would you?”

The playful banter between the two of you continues, the tension that had briefly been present starting to dissipate, replaced by a light-hearted connection that feels easy and natural. But beneath the surface of the conversation, Harry’s thoughts still swirl with that same obsessive desire. He’s enjoying the game, enjoying the way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you tease him back. But deep down, he’s already picturing what it would look like if he were your boyfriend. How it would feel to have you close, to make you his—completely, entirely, and without question.

For now, though, he lets the teasing continue, enjoying the playfulness between you, and the undeniable pull he feels toward you. But he knows, deep down, that this is only the beginning. This is just the start of what’s to come. And he’s more than willing to wait for the moment when you’ll be his.

Harry’s smirk widens as you teasingly reply, “Maybe.” He can’t help it; his pulse quickens at your words. He’s always been good at reading people, but with you, everything feels like an exciting game—one he’s eager to win.

He leans in a little, his arm stretching out to rest on the console between you, positioning himself closer. His breath hitches slightly as he catches the scent of your perfume again, the warmth of your presence filling the car. He’s trying to remain casual, but he can’t help it; his thoughts are moving too fast, pulling him deeper into the haze of attraction.

“Give me some hope at least, moon flower,” he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “Let me know I’ve got a shot.”

His eyes never leave you as he waits for your response, and when you tease him back, saying, “Okay, you do. You have a shot at it,” Harry’s grin stretches across his face, almost too excited for his own good. It’s as if he’s won something. Something he can’t quite put into words yet, but it feels like a step toward getting closer to you.

He sits up straighter, a surge of confidence overtaking him. His gaze moves over your figure with a deliberation that makes your stomach flutter. The way his eyes drink in the details of your face, your body, makes you feel… noticed. Seen.

“That’s one hell of a boost for my ego,” Harry says, his voice dripping with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine admiration. “I’ve got a chance with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s flattering, but there’s something else in his look—something deeper, something more consuming than mere compliments. It’s as if he’s claiming you in some unspoken way. His eyes linger a little too long, and though he’s trying to be playful, there’s a certain hunger there that catches you off guard.

A part of you wants to laugh it off, but another part of you… well, another part of you can’t quite deny the effect his words have on you. The way his confidence oozes, the way he seems to have you completely captivated even when he’s just speaking casually.

You force your gaze back to the road, but the tension between you both feels different now. It’s charged, electric—filled with unspoken possibilities. Harry, however, doesn’t let up. His eyes keep studying you, as if trying to decipher every little detail about you. His lips curl into a smile that’s both triumphant and knowing.

The atmosphere in the car shifts. The lightness of the teasing still hangs in the air, but there’s a deeper layer now—one that feels almost like a promise. Harry’s made it clear: he’s not here for just a simple ride. He’s here to win your attention, your affection, to make sure you know exactly how much he wants you. And as he watches you, he knows he’s already made his mark on you in some way, whether you realize it yet or not.

The air between you thickens, charged with the energy of his words. Harry's voice lowers, almost like a secret. "This might sound crazy since I hardly know you," he says, his gaze flickering from your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. "But I really, really want to kiss you."

The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, sends a rush of heat to your chest.

Your heart skips a beat, then races faster than before. You know it's reckless, impulsive, but it's as if something deep inside you is responding to him, telling you to act, to do something. But before you can process the surge of emotions, your foot slams down on the brake pedal without warning.

Harry's eyes widen, his body thrown forward by the sudden stop. His hands instinctively grip the console as he stumbles against the force of the car halting.

"Jesus!" he exclaims, his voice laced with shock, his pulse spiking.

You breathe shakily, your hands still gripping the steering wheel as the car finally comes to a stop. The silence in the car is thick with anticipation. Harry's heart is racing, not just from the sudden stop, but from the way you're looking at him now-there's something different in your eyes. Something that mirrors the craving he's been feeling.

When the shock of the stop wears off, Harry turns to you, his breath coming in quick bursts. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you.

"Why the hell did you stop the car like that, love?" he asks, his voice rough, his brows furrowed in both confusion and curiosity.

Your eyes lock with his, and something shifts. The walls you'd both been playing behind-teasing, joking-begin to crumble. His question hangs in the air between you like a challenge. But then, without saying another word, you lean toward him. A glint of something darker passes over your face.

"Because I wanted to do this," you whisper, and without waiting for any further hesitation, your lips crash into his.

The kiss is immediate and intense, born out of the tension that's been building ever since he first got into the car. His lips are soft but urgent, pulling you closer. There's no room for uncertainty anymore; only the heat of the moment, the heat of his body pressing against yours, the heat of desire crackling between you both.

Harry responds eagerly, his hand reaching to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a pulse of warmth straight to your core. His kiss is fierce, as if he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you. His tongue brushes against yours, a soft, tantalizing pressure that makes you lose yourself in the sensation.

For a brief moment, nothing else matters-the world outside the car, the consequences, the lingering doubt. All of it fades away as you both succumb to the pull of each other, driven by something stronger than logic or reason. The kiss feels like a release, the pent-up tension from the entire ride coming to fruition in one passionate, desperate embrace.

When you finally break away, your breaths are ragged, both of you still close, your foreheads resting against each other. Your pulse is wild, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way he looks at you now-his eyes dark with desire, filled with a hunger that matches your own.

Harry grins, a satisfied, almost predatory look crossing his face. "Well... I guess I got what I wanted," he murmurs, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

But you know this isn't over. The tension between you both is only just beginning, and neither of you can walk away from it now.

“God, you’re so hot,” Harry mutters against your lips, the hand not on your face sneaking down to your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh through your jeans. He’s getting drunk on you, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. He’s never before felt this way, it’s like something in him has snapped in half, the primal and possessive side of him awakening. He doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss gets more heated, the sweet gestures replaced by desperate and hungry ones. Harry’s fingers dig into your thigh almost possessively, his head tilting to deepen the kiss even more.

His tongue runs over your lower lip, begging for entrance.

As soon as you grant him access his tongue immediately pushes inside your mouth, exploring every inch of your wet cavern hungrily. It’s as if he wants to devour you. His hand moves up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer, trying to get the most possible body contact.

“You’re driving me insane, princess…” Harry mumbles against your lips, one hand now gently gripping your chin, holding you in place. He’s practically addicted to the way your mouth feels on his, you’ve unleashed something primal in him, something he has trouble controlling.

“Your car is like.. a perfect spot for this, love,” Harry comments, his lips moving off of yours, down to your jawline. He begins kissing the skin there as he speaks, “Plenty of space… dark, private… you should park somewhere. I bet your backseats are really comfortable.”

There was no denying that he get want he wants and you’re now his… and this is just the beginning

[fenrysmoonbeamswife]

Some rando tiktok comment that made my eye twitch: "I love Feyre and Lucien's friendship and want them to be best friends forever. He's not to blame for her suffering but he should have done more, she would've done anything to help him."

*deeeeeeeep breath*

All of this is disproven in the text. Lucien was willing to die for Feyre, multiple times, while Feyre literally has a quote ignoring all of that and only praising Rhysand, you know, the guy who abused/s her.

Lucien was also a victim of Tamlin yet he still stood up to him for Feyre while she actively used him as a pawn and put him in harms way with Tamlin.

Lucien stuck with her and even went through the Autumn Court knowing he could be killed. Then when they finally got to the Night Court, Feyre left him tired and hungry and in soiled clothes so she could *checks notes* have sex.

She gets him to come to Solstice twice and doesn't get him a gift either time, but he brings one for them both times

For whatever reason he is supposed to put her first always, go to extreme lengths for her, stand up to their abuser, and more. And even when he does do all of this, it's dismissed and ignored. Nevermind that she never once considers him, considers if he is okay after UTM, considers him as a victim or that he might be suffering too. I actually do like Feyre but she can be extremely self centered and frequently fails to consider anyone outside of herself or the Inner Circle throughout the series (Lucien and Nesta being huge examples)

The only thing I can think of that she has done for him was hurting Ianthe and even at that it was implied that she only intervened after thinking of how Rhysand was hurt in a similar way, not because of Lucien

She allows everyone else to treat him like dirt and violate his thoughts without even blinking, and for some reason it's perfectly okay that she found new friends but it's not for him? After she basically abandoned him he managed to find these new friends and her response was to mock him and bully him?

But sure, Lucien could do more and Feyre is the perfect friend. Please.

It's also crazy that in ACOMAF Feyre calls Lucien out for "not doing more to stand up to her abuser" yet she's in the exact same position now with Rhysand and the Inner Circle. Except with Lucien she was blaming a fellow victim, now she's in a worse position stuck with her abuser and his lackeys and she doesn't even seem to notice

And don't get me wrong. I don't expect Feyre to be a better friend, I don't even expect them to stay friends or particularly care if they do because I think Lucien deserves better. And Feyre doesn't owe him any specific behaviour or treatment but to say that she's a better friend or would do anything for him is a complete and utter joke

[dexastres]

anchor, part two

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warnings : angst

wc : 927

part one

english isn't my language, so please bear with me

2:51 A.M.

After that phone call, she couldn’t get to sleep. How could she when the guilt gnawed at her, thinking Jude was crying because of her? How could she close her eyes after reading the messages he sent? How could she? Her mind was in chaos, in contrast to the calm that filled her room.

“Did he truly mean what he said?” She wondered. She sighed, her thoughts weighed down by nostalgia. She turned on the lights and made her way to her closet, looking for a box.

When she broke up with Jude, she gathered all their photos, letters and small gifts that he had given her, placing them in a box because she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. It held fragments of a history that she was trying to leave behind, but she knew they had shared a special bond. She had understood it from their very first encounter.

After rummaging through the shelves, she finally found it. She sat down and opened the box. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of it, bringing back countless cherished memories.

“It hurts me to say this, but I still love you, Jude.” She murmured, wiping away her tears. “So, please, don’t hurt me again.” Her voice faded, drowned in the sudden rainfall.

04:55 A.M. “Are you free today? We need to talk.” She sent him this last message before falling back asleep.

07:45 A.M. Jude lay on his bed, listening to the rain outside. His eyes lingered on the empty side of the bed, and his heart clenched at the painful reminder of what he had lost. The young man sighed, but instantly regretted it because of the terrible headache he had after crying so much the night before.

Wincing, Jude got up and headed to his bathroom, without looking at his phone that kept vibrating on his bedside table. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he gasped; the dark circles under his eyes and his livid complexion made him look like a zombie.

“I’m so glad Ancelotti moved our training to this afternoon.” Jude muttered under his breath, running a shaky hand down his face. Once he was done with his morning routine, he headed to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing breakfast.

“Good morning.” The young man said with a raspy voice. His mother was startled and turned around to face her son, who was entering the room. She was surprised to see him up so early, knowing how much Jude loved to sleep in when his training sessions were scheduled later in the day.

“Good morning.” Denise greeted him with a smile, but it quickly faded when she saw the state her son was in. She walked towards Jude and pulled him into a hug.

“What's wrong, Jude? You can talk to me, you know. I hate to see you like this.” She pleaded, her voice trembling with worry. An overwhelming silence filled the room. Then, suddenly, Jude’s shoulders slumped, and he began to sob. He clung to his mother as tears streamed down his face.

“I miss her, and I’m an idiot for treating her like shit when we were together.” Jude admitted while staring at the floor. He had never been afraid to cry in front of his mother, but this time it was different. The pain he carried was laced with shame.

“I shouldn’t be the one crying when I’m the reason she left. I’m the one to blame for our breakup. She loved me. She always stood by my side. She made me happy, but I never gave her that love in return. I let her go without fighting for us, and now she’s dating someone who treats her better than I did. I regret everything I’ve done. I wish I could go back, fix my mistakes, and tell her how much…"

Jude paused for a moment. "I want to tell her how much I love her."

Denise robbed his back as he continued to speak. She struggled to find the right words, but she understood that her son wasn’t looking for advice, but rather a sympathetic ear. They stayed like that for another five minutes. Jude already felt better. The weight on his shoulders disappeared, although his headache got worse.

“Thanks, Mum. I needed that. I think I’ll go back to sleep. I’ll eat later if that’s okay with you.” Denise nodded in response, then placed a kiss on his forehead before releasing him from her embrace.

“Go rest.” Jude smiled and went back to his room. Lying on his bed, he stared at the ceiling, letting the raindrops soothe him. However, his alarm went off, interrupting his moment of peace.

Frustrated, Jude reached for his phone from the nightstand and it turned off. As he was about to put down his device, a series of messages caught his eye. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open as he read them.

“What? She’s not with him anymore?” His heart pounded, his trembling hands held the phone as he stared at the screen. Jude blinked, both surprised and confused. He didn’t know how to react. A flood of emotions washed over him: hope, guilt and nervousness.

“I have a training session at 2, but I’m free after that. We could meet at our café at 5.” Jude sent the message and closed his phone without waiting for an answer.

“Our café… I haven’t been there since we broke up.” He whispered before falling back asleep.

[buddiebeginz]

Bummy stans truly believe that their ship that has maybe an hour of screen time collectively between 2 seasons has the bigger fandom. Yet if you go on tiktok Buddie edits are getting 20k+ likes. (You can see a post I made about that here. Where a bunch of Buddie TT's made right after 808 were up to 10/20k in a day.)

Journalists are also always eager to talk to Ryan, Oliver, and Tim about Buddie. They ask about it in basically every single interview now. B/T never got that kind of attention ever.

Bummys continue to play the victims making it seem like they've been the ones repeatedly attacked by us. Yet I've been around the 911 fandom for years and never seen the kind of toxicity, harassment, and drama that I have this year. If Buddie fans were always the problem this would be something well known in 911 fandom and likely in fandom spaces in general but it's not. It would also make sense that the show would want to distance themselves from our fandom if all we did was cause issues like harass the show and the actors (like Bummy's allege) but they don't. Most people involved with 911 have shown support for Buddie and us especially in the past two seasons when it's clear they've been working towards Buddie canon happening with ABC.

I'm not saying Buddie fans are totally innocent and never caused any issues because I know some have. But pretty much since 704 aired we've been having to deal with Bummy stans telling us that we were homophobic for not liking their ship. We've watched as the 911 News account was harassed and journalists were threatened with doxxing just for posting positive Buddie content. During Pride month there was repeated harassment towards Buddie fans for wanting to celebrate Eddie for being gay/demi. And lately Bummy's have been hurling a lot of hate towards Oliver because they blame him for their ship ending.

Bummy's talk all this trash about our ship and our fandom but the fact is they wish they had what we have. They wish Oliver talked about their ship like he does Buddie. They wish he posted pics of Lou constantly like he does Ryan. They wish b/t had the amount of screentime Buddie have had. They wish that b/t had the kind of scenes together that Buddie get to have. Almost all of Buck's most meaningful moments in s7 happened with Eddie not Tommy.

They also wish Tommy was Eddie in that they wish he looked like Lou but acted like Eddie. Look at some of the posts they make or their fics, where they talk about how much Tommy gets Buck or is there for him that was never how it was in canon. But you know who is there for Buck and who gets him better than anyone? Eddie.

Bummy's also talk about how important and beloved their ship is but it's not and never will be. Both Oliver and Tim have tried to make it as clear as possible in their interviews that b/t was supposed to be a stepping stone relationship for Buck. Tommy was never ever intended to be Buck's endgame love. That is Eddie. Buddie is the ground breaking ship and it will be something everyone will be talking about when it goes canon. People are literally starting to watch 911 for the first time during the hiatus now that they know Buddie canon is coming.

There is a part of me that feels the tiniest bit of empathy for these people because I know what it feels to lose a character and ship you love. But at the same time it's also hard to feel bad for a fandom that has been repeatedly abusive and continues to be and continues to insist Tommy is coming back even though every single thing is screaming how much that's not happening.

I just really hope that in these few months of break from the show we all have that they'll gain some perspective or at the least go follow Lou in some other project. It's been genuinely exhausting having to deal with this for over half a year now and I miss when we could just enjoy shipping Buddie in peace.

[a1ecmcdowell]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjust like the movies.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤor, 90s!jensen & starlet!reader.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTEEN PEOPLE exclusive!

a never-before-seen inside look on america's favorite celebrity couple, starlet & jensen, only found here!

★ ˚⋆

it is, at this point, redundant to introduce the hollywood bombshell that is starlet, the new & upcoming actress taking over the scene. first met in days of our lives as a returning side character, starlet has since moved on to star in the likes of scream, terrifying the world with her breakout role of sidney prescott, and has since gone on to reprise that role, alongside her days of our lives character, many times.

on the other side of the dynamic duo, jensen ackles also got his notable start on days of our lives, working alongside starlet and, as he's stated before in multiple prior interviews, where he first met her.

"utterly captivating," he'd called her to an mtv interviewer, "there's no one else who can do the things that she does, and so effortlessly."

a romance should have been expected to follow after such high praises, though the way that it dominated the world was not so expected. their adorable acts of shameless pda & the blatant enamor that radiates from them when they are in a room together captured the hearts of millions.

today, we sit down with the both of them, and unpack just how they came to be.

★ ˚⋆

sat next to each other on two director's chairs is starlet and ackles, whispering to each other in soft voices, his palm atop hers on its back, the tip of his finger tracing shapes on her palm. he murmurs something, and her head falls back in a bright laugh.

jensen ackles (eric brady of days of our lives): oh! hey. didn't even hear you comin' in.

brittany johnson (interviewer for teen people): no, don't apologize! i'm just taking notes... capturing everything...

jensen: ah, gotta get all the details for the report, i see.

brittany, laughing softly: oh, yes. just doing my job. and how are you, starlet?

starlet (casey kennedy of days of our lives): spectacular, how are you?

brittany: can't complain at all when i get to spend my day with the both of you.

starlet, smiling warmly: oh, none of that. we're just people.

brittany: two of the most beloved of our decade, yes! did you anticipate such a positive response to your first public sighting together?

jensen: honestly wasn't even something that crossed my mind. i just wanted to take my girl to dinner.

starlet: it was so lovely, too. remember the hanging lights on the outside patio? and the candle in the center of our table?

jensen: is it a good time to tell you that i arranged that?

starlet: what? no!

jensen, laughing to himself: i did! called ahead and made sure we could have the patio to ourselves.

starlet: well, i guess we're both learning things today about my relationship, aren't we... oh, i'm sorry, i never asked your name.

brittany: brittany johnson. and that's alright, love, you were preoccupied! i'd never blame you for the honeymoon phase daze.

jensen: is that a real thing?

brittany: no, but i'm going to copyright it. it has a ring to it, doesn't it?

jensen: it does, yeah.

jensen's fingers lock into starlet's, raising her hand to his mouth to plant a chaste kiss on the skin.

starlet: sorry, this was probably a terrible idea, letting us do an interview together. we're not really good at anything but the... well, the honeymoon phase daze.

brittany: here, let me see if i can help keep the both of you on track, shall i? what were your initial thoughts when you first saw each other?

jensen: can i swear?

starlet: jens!

jensen, cackling: it's just a question!

brittany: i can censor it, don't worry. speak freely.

jensen: honestly, and i'm not exaggerating, she always thinks i'm lying about it, but my very first thought when she walked into the reading room was holy f**k.

starlet: no, it wasn't. he wasn't even looking at me, he was looking at his script—

jensen: s'called being sneaky, baby, i was lookin' over the edge.

starlet scoffs, her lips curling into a smile, betraying the feigned irritation.

brittany: starlet?

starlet: i was definitely intimidated. i don't remember my exact reactions, but we locked eyes at one point while reading our lines, and it felt—

jensen: just like a movie scene.

starlet: yeah. i honestly thought that when people said the world stops, it was just a cliche, but...

brittany: but it wasn't, not with you too.

starlet, warmly: exactly.

jensen: she wouldn't go out to dinner with me immediately. just so you're aware. this little lovelorn act she's portraying? wasn't immediate and was not as swoonworthy as you're lookin' at me like it is.

starlet: hey! i was being cautious—

jensen: hard to get. she was being hard to get.

brittany: you asked her out to dinner that very day?

jensen: that very day. i thought, "hell, if i don't swoop in, someone else will." so i swooped.

starlet: and missed the landing.

jensen, mock offendedly: because you were playing all coy!

starlet: since when is being cauti—

jensen: hard to get.

the two's words begin to overlap in an unintelligible argument, jumbled with laughter and tugging on their locked hands.

jensen: anyways. yeah, she rejected me at first. big ol' fat blow to the ego.

brittany: what eventually made her say yes? or, really, i should be asking you that, starlet.

jensen: yeah, baby, go on. i'm curious too.

starlet: it... well, it sounds really superficial. but we had this scene together, and our characters practically mirror the story of us, in a way, because— i don't know, something clicked. the director called cut after eric was about to kiss casey goodnight, and he leaned in, and...

...

...

starlet: it's really cliche, i know that's how it must sound, but it really felt like magic, standing in front of him, looking into his eyes and feeling the emotions he poured into himself while he was acting, and knowing that they were at least somewhat true, considering he'd asked me out a week or so prior. i thought, "god, why did i say no? what kind of idiot was i?"

jensen: very cute that your moment of clarity came from me kissing you. that's all i wanted to say— don't look at me like that. carry on.

starlet: that's it, you loser. unless you want me to continue stroking your ego.

jensen: there's a few other things you—

brittany clears her throat, her palms patting against the notepad rested on her thighs.

brittany, flushed: alright, well... i think that wraps it up for us! it was incredible to get to hang out with the both of you. do you... have any final comments? anything you want to tell the people?

jensen: yeah. go watch my pretty baby in scream 2. and thank you, brittany, for putting up with her, i know she gets a little ditzy and talkative—

starlet swats jensen's bicep, laughing along with him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤEND TRANSCRIPT.

notes, nobody look too close at the transparent ok its shoddy at BEST but i was having a meltdown over 90s jensen earlier n couldnt relax until i did this ok feedback appreciated sm unless its mean HAHAHA bc i honestly dont know . . . if i like this HJTKLGDFSH style heavy inspired by daisy jones & the six my beloved

tags, @jasvtsc @figthoughts @deanswidow @depressionbarbie2023

[muppeddie]

Blame it on my DNA

808 coda; Eddie tells Chris about his plan to move to El Paso. It does not go well. Buck is forced into the narrative about it. Ao3

“Hey, Bud. You got a minute?” 

“Uh-uh.” 

Chris’ room is dark. He keeps the curtains drawn tight and the blinds down most of the time. It’s three in the afternoon in El Paso, Eddie knows there should be sun streaming through, bathing the beddings and showing him what his son has up on his walls, if he left his shoes all over the place, if the bed is made.

It must be, though. His mother always used to make them during breakfast.She would serve them and disappear, lighting fast as she drew up covers and fixed pillows before they could be done. 

Eddie used to go back to his room before leaving for school and find the bed made, like magic. 

He’s sure Helena does Chris’ bed, too. Must take her time with it since she doesn’t have three kids at once anymore, too.

“How was the chess tournament?” he asks, coward.

Chris rolls his eyes, one hand picking at the lint on his pants. “It was fine. I got third place.”

A smile breaks out on Eddie’s face. Lips turning up and up, hurting his cheek. He’s so proud. “No way! That’s amazing, Chris.”

“It’s third place, Dad,” he says, deadpanned. Something in Eddie breaks. “Nothing to write home about.”

He settles more firmly against the chair. This time, he’s chosen to take the call from the kitchen. Barren, most of his utensils are already in boxes to be shipped out to some storage room until he can make peace with either selling or taking them with him when he moves.

“Hey. Everything you do is something to write home about. You got some kinda trophy I can bust about at the station?”

Bashful, Chris bends out of frame. The room is so dark; how Eddie worries. He comes up after shuffling around somewhere with a framed letter of participation, declaring him third best in the school chess championship. There is a little brown ribbon printed on the picture. 

“Just this,” Chris says, shy and low. It comes out so thin, Eddie barely hears.

“That’s great. I’m really proud of you, Bud. I mean it,” he says, because Eddie thinks he should hear it.

“Grandpa says we can practice more and I can try the tournament week after next, just not in school. There is like this social center thing… it’s for charity or something.” It’s been months since he heard his kid say so many words at once. Eddie feels choked up about it, just a little. 

He clears his throat before he speaks again. In for a penny. “What if… what if I was there, to cheer on you? Would you like that?”

Chris sits straight in his chair, his head is lopsided but his eyes shine behind his glasses - bright, bright, bright blue. “I guess.” He takes the longest pause in Eddie’s life. “It would be cool.”

“Good.” It propels him forward, an asteroid ready to crash and burn. “Because I’m coming to El Paso in a few weeks.”

“Like, for holiday? Buck didn’t say you have time off.”

“No, no. Not for holiday, uhm…” He wets his lips, swallows around the nerves that have balled in his throat, picks at the linen in his gym shorts, a mirror of Chris. “For… ever? I’m- I’m moving back to Texas, Chris. Saw a new house and everything. We can go check it out together, if you want.”

Chris pales, the blue of the screen casts him in a weirdly off-putting light.

“Not. Not that I’m gonna make you come live with me. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but if you do want to live with your grandparents, I want to be there. For you. I’m not missing the big moments anymore.” 

Eddie gets to the end of his little speech, Chris’ chest is heaving. He reaches for the tablet like it will allow him to reach through the screen and touch, comfort, reassure.

This is exactly why he needs to go back to Texas. 

“What… what about the house? You can’t just sell it.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but Chris is on a spiral. He looks somewhere to the left of the screen, barely catching his breath. “What about your job? Does Captain Nash know? Did you tell Buck?”

Nodding, Eddie replies, his voice a bit higher, a bit firmer, “I did. It’s all taken care of, you don’t need to worry about it, that’s my job.”

“You never do things for me. Just for you,” Chris spats, vitriol and anger right on the center of the keyboard. “You’re always thinking about yourself first.”

And that - that can’t be further from the truth. He needs to know, Eddie needs to tell him. And why is the screen suddenly so blurry? Why is his chest aching? Did someone shoot him again? Right there, in his kitchen?

“That’s not true Christopher. You know that’s not true. I’m…”

Chris interrupts him. “First you leave Mom behind, then you send me away, and now I don’t get to come back home?” He’s yelling now, full-body spasms, his arms shaking. That much stress cannot be good for him. “You promised. You promised.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t wanna talk to you anymore.” The connection shuts. There is only a black screen and the image of Eddie’s red eyes and snotty face. 

He clicks to the right, just below Christopher’s name on his contact history. The tablet rings for about three seconds before the call gets picked up and Buck’s face lights up the screen. He’s at home, on his couch, relaxed in the gray hoodie he keeps for nothing-days. 

If he notices how rattled Eddie is, he doesn’t show it. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“I think I screwed up, Buck.”

The expression on his best friend’s face changes, he gets that frown he has when they talk about something big, shifting forward in his seat. “Tell me about it.”

[zeynyukine3011]

Hey what do you think about Flatline and Damian

Hiiii thank you for the ask <3

Hmmm, my feelings for Flatline is a bit complicated. But first I just wanna say I love her design. It's one of the coolest character designs I've ever seen.

I'll be honest, I hated her when I first read Robin (2021). But wait, read till the end.

My reasons were:

1) She was a very powerful character who killed Damian (my FAVOURITE character) 😭

2) When they stood side by side, other characters would start saying things like "ohh love birds" etc. I hate it when writers do that. Another example is Fullmetal Alchemist. Characters would say things to Edward like "Oh your girlfriend's coming to Central" or something, when they clearly are not dating. It's just an automatic NO for me when the narrative do that.

3) The writer nerfed Damian to show off his OC(s).

4) She was introduced to be a love interest and I don't usually like characters who are just there to be love interests.

5) She betrayed Damian and it wasn't addressed properly. Even after they started their relationship.

Then later she betrayed Damian again in B&R(2023), so...

6) They got into a relationship too quickly for my taste. I prefer ships to have a long period of friendship first.

And I was just like " My son is too young nooo😭😭😭"

I still wish Damian got to grow up more without having a love interest. Idk if it's just me but 14 is too young to make lovers in my opinion ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

When Flatline returned in Batman and Robin (2023), I became more furious at Flatline because she betrayed Damian again and it was mostly brushed aside and how dare she!!!!

But then I stopped myself. I started thinking, what would I do if I were in her shoes? I have an elder sister who I love more than anything, I thought I would do everything to protect her, just like how Flatline did. She tried to protect her sister even if that meant doing some bad things. I didn't blame her for doing that anymore. Because I understood her.

My only criticism toward writer is that they should've made Damian and Nika talk more about their relationship. Talk about more Nika's betrayal and their feelings overall. It was just done in 2-3 panels and never addressed again.

But again, I understand her and don't blame her. I'm just bitter on behalf of Damian.

When the comic progressed and when I saw more and more Flatline, I warmed up to her more. And what made me get rid of my dislike and bias was these pages.

With these pages, we saw how Nika cared about Damian. And that's really what matters to me. Whether she cares and loves Damian or not.

When I saw how Nika hugged Damian and how she talked about him when he wasn't near, how she said Damian needed to be protected... Yeah, she really loves Damian and Damian really loves Nika. That's what I want. I don't want Damian to have a toxic relationship with only betrayel, uncertainty and doubt. I want him to love and be loved. So, I'm happy DC gave him a relationship like that.

And I think Flatline's character developed over time. She warmed up to Damian and loved him more and more. I saw someone on Twitter say "Damian fell first but Nika fell harder" and I think that really describes them very well. Nika needed time.

I hope we get to see Flatline and I hope DC explore her character and her relationship with Damian more. And I just pray that their relationship doesn't get ruined, toxic, bad or anything like that. I hope they get to be happy forever.

[pinkaditty]

HI i love your works sm ,,, and i really love the way you write it just brings out soemtnhign in me ,,, but hear me out on leo kurosagi angst where leo keeps insulting pc and pc just took it well until he said something sensitive (maybe sth ab the way she eats? or sth abt her face etc etc) and hurt pc's feelings and he didnt feel bad when pc cried , but when he saw pc going over to sho and sho giving him dirty looks he feels remorseful but he didnt want his pride to crack so he blamed pc , and then when pc started avouding him he started mocking her but in the inside it hurt him and his pride slightly , afterwards he found out he actually has genuine feelings for pc but denies it , until he found out pc is now his bff's gf WOW i NEED him humbled 🤗🤗🤗

Pavlov's Ghoul (Leo Kurosagi x Reader x Sho Haizono; Tokyo Debunker)

hey anon this existing is UR FAULT. (ilysm ty 4 the idea) and i hope u don't mind that I added my own little twist 2 it... hehe! even if u didn't expect me 2 write anything u can't drop a fresh, juicy steak of an idea like this and expect me not 2 salivate and tear it 2 shreds via writing it out.

OMG also TYYYYYYY IM SOSO GLAD U LIKE MY WRITING YIPPEE!!!!!!!!! i hope this is up 2 ur standards anon

a/n: why does this exist? blame anon and my inner need 4 a bitchy boy 2 be humbled amen! also i feel like i've completed my tokyo debunker rite of passage... ive finally written leo angst... nirvana at last.

summary: leo gets fuckin pavloved LMAO! considered calling this "ecstasy" or something bc of the pill line but ohh my god "pavlov's ghoul" hit too hard i fear.

cw: this isn't dark imo but be warned as this is just a little bit crazy, the most insane kind of yearning ive ever written maybe. implied sexual encounters, multiple sexual innuendos, and some odd behavior. MINORS DNI AS PER USUALLLLLL!

Sho's kind, reasonably so. Leo knows this. Sho also has an infinite store of deeply repressed anger. Leo also knows this. It's the reason he's in Vagastrom, after all. A deep, roiling anger that seems to eat at him if he doesn't have an appropriate outlet to balance his mood. That's why he's such a good cook, why he's so good at fighting, why he's got an excellent sense of balance and rides his bike smoother than anyone else he knew. He's using these things as outlets for his anger. It's not Leo's fault that the occasional outing to trick and deceive another sexually repressed rich old man for money is something else Sho seems to derive stress relief from. And it's not Leo's fault that Sho continues to stick around with him after those jobs are done. It's never been a problem for either of them, as far as he can tell. At least, there were no problems until Little Miss Inspector showed up.

Suddenly, Sho didn't want to lie anymore. Suddenly, Sho wanted to go as far as to address you with the proper honorifics, ask for your help with setting up his food truck, and even generally spend time with you outside of that. And for what? Some trembling, scared, pathetic girl that knew nothing of the world of anomalies prior to her curse? Some girl doomed to "die" in less than one year, no less? He couldn't understand the kindness Sho showed you. It made no sense, nor any difference. You'd be dead soon, so what did it matter?

It's got to the point where he's begun to randomly put you down with petty insults and biting remarks. They usually consist of things like "Oh my god, even preschoolers know Anomalous Biological Basics! Come on Inspector, is your head screwed on right? Not even the Captain is this stupid." or "You remember your ability is useless when we need it, right? You'd be nothing more than a burden on missions if you can't even control this power. " or even "God, you're such a basic loser. Can't you find something else to do with your free time instead hang around Sho like a lovesick puppy? You're starting to look like that dog that's always around Kagami." and worse insults. He gets the occasional sidelong disapproving glance from Alan or even a slight furrowed brow from Sho, but it didn't matter to Leo. So long as he could slowly plant seeds of doubt in his fellow ghouls and put you down to satisfy his ego, even an odd look was negligible.

He couldn't even stand looking at you. The uniform they'd chosen for you was awful, didn't even highlight your curves. He hated the way you styled your hair, and always thought he could totally do it better. The way you seemed so relaxed around other ghouls pissed him off, why couldn't he be good company? He found you repulsive, unable to resist glaring at you from the corner of his eye whenever he could. He had to get rid of you somehow. He would never admit to feeling threatened by you; instead choosing to focus all that energy into believing you were simply throwing a wrench into his plans to live an easy, get-away-with-anything university life.

It's all come to a head today. Leo thinks he's had enough of seeing you at the food truck after hours, chatting it up with Sho. It's like he can't even catch this guy alone anymore. Before he knows it, he's made a beeline for the truck. His brand new shoes scuff on the brick path in his rush, and eventually begin to stain green on the grass, his brisk stride tearing through the verdant lawn. He tries not to let his anger show on his face, but it's evident in his posture and pace. He forcefully sidles himself into the conversation, leaning on the service counter next to you, not even waiting for you to finish speaking before he pipes up. "Wow, here again, huh? And here I thought a basic bitch like you would know her place! That mouth of yours must be good for something if he keeps a chatterbox like you around."

The chill settles into the air almost immediately despite his candid tone and relaxed, smug smile. He's so focused on your reaction that he hardly notices the look Sho gives him, twisted with displeasure and confusion. He watches as you visibly falter, your lopsided smile fading into a barely-there frown. He stares, unrepentant, laughing internally. This was the reaction he wanted.

He turns towards Sho and raises an eyebrow at his look. "What? She can take it." Sho's expression visibly wavers, and Leo fully expects him to back down, as he usually does. But instead, Sho turns to you and his face grows pale. Leo rolls his eyes, assuming Sho is totally overreacting, and turns to you. He stiffens at your visible tears. Okay, totally not what he expected, but come on. This was the insult that made you cry?

Leo notices Sho is at your side in record speed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and gently drawing your hunched form away, giving Leo a harsh look. Leo simply scoffs. As far as he was concerned, your reaction was pathetic. It wasn't going to stop him from having any fun.

This. Under no circumstances should this hurt. At all.

Leo had noticed you'd been avoiding him. You would slink away if he so much as entered the same room as you. You wouldn't look him in the eyes if he approached, keeping your expression impassive. Sometimes you'd just outright ignore him. It was beginning to become a bit of a nuisance. He couldn't properly mock you if you weren't there to witness it happening, or didn't give him the reaction he wanted. It was odd. When he faced these feelings head-on, it almost felt like he wanted your attention somehow, even if he didn't quite want it to feel like that. A nagging feeling told him that maybe he went too far with his latest insult. He didn't want to admit that, but something told him he did. It was in the way both you and Sho acted around him.

Sho was missing a lot of Leo's calls lately, sometimes not even bothering to call back. Leo partially understood, what with the food truck business booming and all, but he didn't appreciate being made to wait for his own best friend who's usually at his beck and call. Not to mention the flat, terse responses he would get from Sho more often than not nowadays. Leo knew Sho was miffed with him from last week's incident, but as far as Leo was concerned, things still ended in his favor. He hadn't seen you around Sho much anymore, which means he could go back to how things were. No more pesky little honor student to reign upon his days any longer! Sure, there was the biting underlying feeling that maybe he'd screwed things up, but one ride on the back of Sho's motorcycle, going wherever Leo wanted as per usual, and he was living the dream again. No way everything would change over a silly, insignificant insult.

For a short while, he begins to get bolder, openly mocking you when he does come across you. His originally surface-level remarks become rather personal, even using your eventual death as a way to tease you. From "You know, I'm surprised you haven't done anything to change up that unflattering look, considering you're dying soon. Ever considered dressing up a little? You might get some attention before you die." to "Hey, Little Miss Inspector! With the number of men you talk to around campus, I'm surprised nobody's written you off as a whore yet!", and worse, of course. He continues to get no such reaction out of you, and it frustrates him to no end. Why couldn't you just frown? Shrink away? Or even retort something just as scathing back to him? Your lack of entertainment towards his endless ridicule reduced his motivation, and slowly, it ended up dying off. Soon, he left you alone altogether, not talking to you unless necessary, mimicking your actions. In a way, some part of him hopes maybe this will be what gets your attention. Even if he can't quite admit to himself that your attention, regardless of whether it's positive or negative, is what he wants.

It's late, but Vagastrom students don't go to bed until far later. And Leo needs a favor.

His crushing lack of success in garnering any sort of attention or reaction or rise from you had driven him to a point. He didn't want to apologize to you or anything, but this new habit of you ignoring him was beginning to stoke his displeasure. In his pondering, he remembered how easily Sho captured your gaze and wondered if maybe he'd have any idea of what Leo could do to at least put an end to this stalemate.

Leo's reluctance shows in the way he drags his feet on the path to Sho's room, less than eager to confront him for his opinion on something so shamelessly trivial. Why was he wasting his time with this anyway? Surprisingly, the lack of a solid answer to that question did not stop his trek. A twinge in his chest told him he knew exactly why he was "wasting his time".

In the month it had been since he'd made you cry, the nagging feeling had only gotten harsher. His mind kept flickering back to the shock of your tears and how he'd not bothered to consider it much further. An uncomfortable guilt had made itself known starting then. He never really expected you to cry; he just wanted a mild reaction. He wanted your eyes on him, flashing with anger, just for a moment. Your ire was a saccharine pill laced with ecstasy that he'd gladly crush with his teeth to speed up his high. Maybe it'd be too much to say he got off on it, but he enjoyed the way you used to roll your eyes at any comments from him a little more than he cared to admit. Now, he wouldn't even get that. It'd be rare for you to so much as make fleeting eye contact with him, not that something as small as that would be enough for Leo. Part of him was willing to accept that maybe, he'd gone too far. Maybe. But how else was he supposed to monopolize your attention when you give that out so freely? To his best friend, even?

He didn't know it was possible to covet something so terribly. He found himself wondering why he couldn't catch your attention in the same way as the other ghouls? In his quest for the same attention you gave so freely to the kinder, softer ghouls, he found another version of your attention. It was negative, but it was attention nonetheless. Your sweet, honeyed rage seemed to fill his cravings and then some, so he continued to devour it under the guise of "chasing you away" or "putting you down" or "satisfying his ego". In truth, for whatever reason, there was a rather bothersome and persistent envious longing, a covet, for your attention. Leo wants to vomit. A part of him denies it still, pushing his needless feelings to the back of his brain. He had something to do, and he ought to focus on that. What good would mere wallowing do?

He makes it to Sho's room and almost considers turning back. He stares at the door, his expression morphing into a complicated look. He shifted his feet, his slippers sliding against the floor. It was quite clear he really did not want to do this. At all. He sighs and grumbles indignantly, putting his head in his hands in an attempt to gather some courage. This couldn't be that hard, right? Just in, ask Sho a question, get an answer, then out. The only reason this was easier said than done was just because it could potentially show Leo was capable of feeling remorse, which would make this conversation leagues harder than it needed to be. He shakes his head and straightens up, preparing to knock, when he notices something.

Sho's room was... unusually quiet. Usually, Leo almost always heard some loud music or a cooking show running in the background, but he couldn't hear anything this time. Sho couldn't possibly be asleep. As late as it was, the only person who Leo knew for a fact could stay up past him was Sho, regardless of how much sleep he had gotten. There was no chance Sho was asleep. Believe it or not, Leo doesn't like to spy on Sho. But curiosity overwhelms him. What could he possibly be doing that would render the whole room in silence?

"Haxs," he whispers, listening closely.

The first thing he hears is the cling-clanging of Alan hard at work on a car in the garage. Not the sound he was meant to be focusing on. Then he hears endless jeering and loud insults shouted, though they're all muffled like they're underground. Another pit fight? Still, not the sound he's looking for. He sifts through the sounds he hears before he settles on the one coming directly from Sho's room.

Voices. Groaning, strained voices. The sound of wet skin against wet skin. Panting. Sho's panting, specifically. He could tell by the slight nasally tone of it.

Leo felt his face gradually warm. Christ, of course it'd be this he'd be up to. Leo muffles a laugh into the collar of his pajamas, keeping his hand clamped over his mouth as his body shook with mirth. When he finally calms down, he slinks off to the corner down the hall, and hides himself there, shamelessly still listening to it. Sho's a sly dog. Leo certainly didn't expect him to be getting up to anything this soon. He leans his body against the wall, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers on his arm, waiting for Sho to finish. He smirks to himself, as though enjoying the vocal show.

...

He had to admit, whoever he was with had gorgeous moans. He'd have to ask Sho if he'd be willing to pass this girl's number. He could use a couple things to get his mind off of you.

...

Okay, he had to stop listening to this now. He lifts his stigma and holds his hands over his ears for good measure, partially trying to hide the furious red blush across his face. As pretty as that girl's moans were, he was not going to listen to his best friend's climax. No thanks. He huffs out an impatient breath as his cheeks cool down, leaning his back against the wall, leaning his head back until it hit the wall with a dull thump. Now he just had to wait it out. He knew damn well Sho would never let a girl stay over. He'd never hear the end of it from yours truly, Leo.

Leo's right. It isn't long before he hears the door to Sho's room click, and hears murmured voices travel down the hall. He smirks, rushing down the hall in the opposite way, so it doesn't look like he was listening the whole time. He listens, waiting for a cue of some sort.

"Shame you have to go, you know." Sho's voice. Laced with relief, pleasure, and a thick tiredness. Leo's skin crawled. He could practically feel the smile in Sho's voice.

"It's not so bad." The girl responded with a light and playful tone, her voice seemingly much more put together than Sho's despite all that moaning. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Leo brushed it off. Must be someone he shares classes with. "I've got things to do anyway. But it was nice to spend some time with you, Sho." Eagh. Leo internally hopes this girl isn't the type to get easily attached.

"...Yeah. Same to you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Finally, he heard the girl's footsteps trailing down the hall, heading in his direction. Leo hurriedly pulls his phone out of his pocket, making sure the screen was bright as he flipped through the latest trends. He made a point of not looking up until he heard the footsteps nearing him.

He looks up, prepared for a simple glance, but ends up being rooted to the spot.

It was you. Of course, it was you. Who else would be taunting enough?

Despite himself, his gaze remains glued to you, his head turning as you walk past him. For a moment, Leo thinks you're just going to ignore him again. Then, suddenly, your gaze meets his in a flash, and he stiffens, almost out of fear. The way your eyebrows crease and the way your lips twitch downward almost makes him salivate. You were clearly displeased to see him. Even so, he notices you don't slow down, continuing your way down the hall, not bothering to crane your neck to look at him.

Leo remains rooted to the spot, watching your figure as you leave. His jaw hangs open slightly, his chest heaving with shocked breaths. His eyes are wide open, pools of gold reflecting your retreating form. His hand trembles as he holds his phone, the latest trends left neglected in the wake of a single mean-spirited glance from you. He feels his heart pound mercilessly in his chest, as though confirming what he'd tried so desperately to deny.

All at once, anger and arousal seem to grip him simultaneously. Anger at himself for feeling arousal from a mere negative glance from you. He couldn't possibly have craved your attention so viscerally he'd happily accept mere scraps. And yet here he was, a lap dog, watching you as you leave as though silently begging for another glance, another chance to watch your eyes burn with that familiar, delicious anger, another meal to satisfy his starved heart.

For a moment, he would have gladly followed you, and pestered you to death, just to irk you and become a willing victim of your wrath. Anything... just for that attention.

a/n: wow. no stop why am i kind of in shock at the poetic lines i kinda think i did a great job! but 4 whatever reason it's always the writing i think was total shit that does actual numbers *sob*

aghhhh in any case. no i don't have an excuse 4 this. my requests are still technically closed. i just... couldn't help myself... so consider this a freebie. regardless though if u like my writing feel free 2 fill the fuck out of my inbox idnc i love hearing from y'all.

also TUMBLR KEEPS TURNING OFF MY REBLOGS!!!! GRAH!!!!!! tumblr hates me y'all they keep catching on2 me 4 writing porn :( so please if u really wanna show appreciation and tumblr won't let u reblog, leave a comment! those make me happy :)

anyways. usual note that i adore likes, comments, and tagged reblogs!! please tell me how much you like my writing, i love to hear it and it keeps me going! until next timeeeeeeee!

EDIT: I FORGOTTT QUICK EXPLAINATION: im assuming everyone knows pavlov's dog and the whole classical conditioning theory. this story is basically that mixed with the mere-exposure effect.

neutral stimulus: mc's presence

natural response: leo's arousal/excitement

response-producing stimulus: mc's anger

mere-exposure effect: psychological effect in which a like or dislike of things is developed merely due 2 familiarity.

[carus26]

A couple more points I'd like to discuss, given the opinions I sometimes come across x)

Yes, I've been doing *analysis* a lot lately

Just give me some time

I've been saving all this up since 2013 

And I won't rest until I say it all

In my personal blog lol

*Sulley cheated at games just for himself, It was a purely selfish act*.

No, not just for himself. Because before that he literally defended Mike in front of the dean, and sincerely believed in him, but after her words *do you really think he's scary?* he began to doubt. Yes, he did all this so that everyone could get into the scary program, including Mike. Yes, he did a bad thing (which he already regretted a thousand times), but he did it not only for himself, otherwise the scene between him and the dean would not have existed. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have protected Mike, or tried to train him, he would have just done what he did.

*That conversation between Mike and Sulley (lake scene) is meaningless because Sulley doesn't understand him*.

He honestly admitted that he doesn't understand him, and honestly responded to Mike's claims that *everything comes easy to monsters like you, no matter what you do, you always win*. As it turns out, no? Everyone needs to try to achieve something, even when you have talent. If Sulley didn't try himself, he would not have achieved anything. And he admitted that everything in his life goes wrong, only because of him, and nothing can just happen if you don't try. So the reproaches about this scene are pointless, they both expressed their point of view and both understood each other.

*After fear was replaced by laughter, employees are now working overtime, Sulley is a bad boss*.

I don't really agree. This is not the moment when you get a ready-made business and you just do exactly what was done before you, this is a business from scratch, there is a complete restructuring, and this takes time, besides, no one is forced to work here. Seriously, what can you expect in a situation like this, when you don't have enough workers, and the management demands FAST results. Especially when you were made a boss on someone's whim, and now you have to clean up all the mess. In the future working hours should return to normal. By the way, he also works overtime.

And also my personal opinions on why I didn't like some of the scenes from maw related to him:

1. That episode with baseball, I still honestly don't understand why everyone, including Sulley (who suggested it himself), got mad at Tylor, who literally did what he had to do. Some weird childish grievances, he suggested it himself, and he himself got offended.

2. With all due respect to the scene with the *revelation* of Tylor in the eighth episode, it was very strange....

Everyone just went and believed that Tylor did all these crimes, and the company does not even have banal security cameras? Sulley just believed all the accusations and did not even think that they could be false? Considering that he KNOWS Tylor, and they have a good relationship in general.

But, you know, don't blame the character for a lazily written script... Everything happened so conveniently, just so that the script would work out as it should. It's a children's series, no one will ask questions, right? And this applies to ALL the characters in the series, which is why I sincerely hope for a sequel in the form of a full-length film, and not a continuation of the series.

At least with writers who care about how they portray the characters and the franchise.

🔹A few thoughts about Sulley, why i like his character and his relationship with Boo🔹

(personal opinion and views, I can say the most predictable basic things, and yet I want to express my personal feelings, it's corny but it's honest work)

(also a lot of words..and doodles)

I apologize in advance if I expressed myself in some way unclear or incorrectly and for grammatical mistakes, since I am not strong in english ")

Personality and appearances:

All of the Monsters Inc. characters have great designs that complement their personalities perfectly, and Sulley is no exception.

I LOVE how his design perfectly captures his character. He has soft and sharp features, just like he himself can be *soft and sharp* at the same time. He has a gentle nature, but under the right circumstances can become formidable and even dangerous. In other words, I like the fact that while he is calm, you may forget or even not know HOW scary he can be in the moment, that is, exactly until he HIMSELF shows it. A great way to show a character's kind nature without forgetting who they are and what status they have in their world.

I olso like that he is not a *perfect do-everything-right* protagonist. He is impulsive, he listens to himself and his opinion is based on his own considerations, often incorrect or risky. 

People can say that only at Monsters University Sulley is so *rebellious* and only does what he wants (hinting at how calm and humble he is in the first film as opposed to the prequel) and, based on my personal observations, I can say that he is ALWAYS like this, he acts for his own reasons, and yes, he acts from considerations of *do what is right*, but what is *right* everyone understands in their own way.

For example, like when he risked his and his best friend’s life/career for the sake of a human child whom he had known for a couple of days, or when he cheated at games and then goes to save Mike from the human world. Always impulsive decisions based on feelings and one’s own understanding of what is *right* at the moment.

He also thought that it would be right if he was in the company of high-status monsters and behaved the same way as them (because his family and those around him expect this from him, I believe), and he realized that he was wrong only when he understand (and saw) that he could be himself and that he can’t judge everyone by their appearance and *status* (specifically in that scene when Mike secretly brought everyone to the MI in order to show the uniqueness and dissimilarity of each monster) 

What I mean is that his worldview is always changing based on what he sees and feels, and he always acts based on his personal understanding of what is right and don't, which I find actually a very interesting character trait for a protagonist (not that it's super rare, but still).

Also how many different emotions he can express, from joy to rage, I always liked characters with a rich *baggage* of emotions, and who at the same time do not irritate, do not become hysterical with or without reason, and who simply use emotions at the right moments, not going too far, that is, not capricious and not *drama queens*. 

Another small detail I really like is the fact that Sulley is very aware of his physical strength and never brags or uses it unnecessarily. He is VERY strong, and somehow communicates and contacts with the smallest creatures without any problems, and does not even really use his full strength in a fight, only as self-defense or protection of another.

I also see a lot of different opinions about his prequel version, but honestly? I only started to like him more after university. He was shown from a completely different side, as was his development from who he was to who we know from the first movie. Showed what kind of character he is without Boo. What he thinks about, what he worries about, what kind of relationships he builds, his goals, what did it take for him to get to that point in his life that is shown in the first movie. Love how he went through his arc from "worst to best", how he accepted and realized his mistakes, and how he gradually became attached to those who are dear to him.

(the way he expressed himself to Mike at the end? Being the only one who told him the truth, while highlighting his virtues, thereby showing how attentive he is to those around him and how much he values ​​​​those who help him) 

Although I’m not really a big fan of the prequel, and I also think some scenes from there are little...questionable, and how Sulley turned out different from the version from inc, but in GENERAL I can connect these two images together, I can understand why Sulley behaves this way (given his problems with family and self-esteem), and how in fact it fits with him as an adult.

I can also say that in general I like the way he is written in Monsters at work, despite the fact that he and Mike don’t play a special role for the series, I’m just glad that he act's like himself and hasn’t been spoiled, he’s still trying to make the right choices in life, dealing with a situation that he never even thought about or was ever prepared for, and I just like the little funny moments with him.

Of course, you can't do without *questionable scenes* and sins (and animation ")), but overall I'm quite pleased.

(and I noticed that the writers kinda combined his images from mu and mi, big fan of this decision)

Overall, we have an interesting, well-written protagonist, with excellent design, a great movie as a solo film, and even prequel/series as a good bonus.

Why I think his relationship with Boo is so beautifully written:

First of all, I like the way they met for the first time.

Namely, HOW Sulley reacted, because we know that children are not only *toxic* for monsters, they are literally consumables for them, without feelings, without any rights, which means do with them what you want, your conscience will not torture you.

But Sulley never harmed her, although he could have used any means to get rid of her, because at that time he did not perceive her as a *person*, and still acted with caution. Tried to calm her down, cheer her up, and even sang her a song before bed, although he shouldn’t have even tried?

He understands that she is a living being after all.

And he actually care about this *creature*, he himself decided to bring her home, stayed up all night making a costume for her, he even realized that she is a girl and referred to her correctly all the time, and not as a *thing* (even worried that she was in the men's locker room? ")).

I just love the fact that he treats Boo well INITIALLY, he doesn’t hate her, he doesn’t think she’s a burden that needs to be gotten rid of.

He truly begins to worry about her when he finally becomes attached, but even at the very beginning he treats her tenderly as possible. And it’s just very cute to watch how they gradually get closer and Sulley becomes more and more attached to her, which makes him openly ignore all the advices of his best friend, whom he listened to and supported unconditionally before. He begins to worry about her so much that he no longer pays attention to everything that happens around him, he doesn’t just want to get rid of her quickly, but wants to protect her and do everything possible so that she gets home safely, and does not end up in wrong hands. And this attachment became SO strong that he was ready to leave his friend alone in the human world, risk his life saving her, and he no longer cares about HIS position and condition, she became his number one priority, and this is very damn touching honesty.

And, of course, THAT ONE scene, key to Sulley's development as a character, a scene, where he accidentally scares Boo.

A moment, where his whole consciousness is turned upside down, all the experiences that he went through became meaningless, and the work to which he devoted his life turned out to be cruel exploitation, in addition, a huge feeling of guilt, which will be difficult to get rid of for a long time, and everything that was important in his life ceased to have value, everything except the safety of this one *thing*, the *thing* he shouldn't have felt anything for.

I really love this scene, it perfectly conveys the mood of what happened, when you feel pity, compassion and understanding for both sides.

(you'd think that Sulley stop scaring kids just because of this scene, but honestly? I’m more than sure that it would be difficult for him to do this after meeting Boo, after what he experienced with her, it would be difficult to continue working in this direction)

And one of the best details for me is the fact that this event does not remain without a trace for the characters, this experience has consequences, they don't just continue to live as if nothing happened, Sulley realize that people are also living individuals with feelings that should not suffer, as a result of which he not only changes himself, but also changes his environment for the better, considering that the majority simply will not understand him, he considers it his duty to do something to somehow change and influence the situation (even without the fact that the energy of laughter is stronger than scream), and never again connect his life with what he feels guilty about.

The final scene with them is also so touching. 

The way Sulley says goodbye to her, knowing that he will never see her again, everything he had to go through for one single moment.

Betrayal, discovery of a conspiracy, expulsion, a quarrel with a close friend, disappointment in himself and his life, he even almost lost his own life several times, and all this was experienced in order to bring home one little girl.

And I'm just sincerely glad that they didn't end there, all this time I wish I had seen at least a little short with them (because I just have to squeak with joy every time Boo is mentioned in the series :"))

I know that the first movie ended perfectly and there is no need for a sequel, but as a fan I’m too weak :)

Honestly, this is the shortest and most general “essay” I can write about him as a character, if I had my way (and enough strength/knowledge in english) I would describe every key scene with him.

So, that’s all, I'm glad I was able to express my thoughts about a character that is important to me, at least in this format, and if you read to the end, thank you for your attention! 💙💜

(still waiting for a full-fledged sequel from Pixar and hope that it will come out acceptable...)

[habitual-creatures]

I wanna draw trauma and gore. Lol. Guess why.

(( rhetorical. And venting in the tags. Sorry, guys. ))

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is that small moment in “Air Turtle” where immediately after the Daves lose yet another game, Leo says how sorry he is and how he’s doing his best as the mascot. This moment is so short but it’s honestly jam-packed with a whole heap of characterization.

His need to apologize for things clearly not his fault - especially when it feels like he messes up the job he was given despite doing the best he can (the phrase “it’s not about you” takes a new meaning when this is one of the lessons to be learned from that - that he is not always solely responsible for things going wrong), his need to save face and make a connection with an older adult man in his life (something he consistently does throughout the series - he’s got a few daddy issues, always collecting potential father figures, it’s no wonder he jumps at the bit to keep rapport), and the way he sounds and looks and the words he chooses really pushes how he is just a kid (“Mr. the Dunk, I’m so sorry”).

Like I know it’s a one off moment that doesn’t truly mean much, but when put against the rest of the series it works really well with the rest of Leo’s established character and helps in solidifying later concepts as well.

[autisticrosewilson]

So do you guys actually think that Jason's entire story, relationship to the others, and philosophy amounts to him being a rebellious teen who wants his dad's attention? Like are you 100% serious? I thought you were joking about that but too many of you are saying it with your whole chest.

And what the fuck is this "Bruce antagonizing Jason is fanon!" Shit I've been seeing? You guys are aware that a parent can love their kid and still be a shit parent right? I know you guys don't want to fathom the thought that maybe your blorbo might also occasionally have to face responsibility for consistently endangering children but let's not start being delusional now.

Bruce does love his kids, that doesn't mean that he hasn't hurt them. And I'd also argue that for the most part he feels in the right for it, and he's said multiple times that he believes it's for their own good, so you can't even argue that he's sorry about it. It's okay for you guys to admit that your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION of the character wouldn't do that but don't sit here and pretend that it's not a facet of the source.

[adastra-rising]

Adding Onto this, I’m thinking of working on this as an AU/fanfic. I’ve drawn a concept sketch for the kid, (unfortunately, I don’t really like it) her name is Marcee Mayvelle (Aliteration!) and she’s like 9. If she was ever officially adopted, she’d take on the name Mayvelle Tsurugi. (Because I refuse to believe Felix would pass on the Fathom surname. That shit DIES with him.)

Name Notes: I chose the name “Marcee” (pronounced like Marcy) because it’s not something I could see Felix or Kagami choosing for their own child. Most Fankids I see for them have fancy rich-kid British names or Japanese names. I think it’s really important for this AU that Marcee is not the kind of kid they would have through normal means. In terms of name, interests, appearance, etc.

The ✨Found Family✨ of it all feels stronger to me if it’s not someone who’s necessarily just like them. What brought them together was not fate but circumstances!

- A victim of child neglect rather than what Felix or Kagami went through. She was never really forced into behaving a specific way or meeting expectations, because her parents were literally not present.

- They stopped driving her to school and everything. So she is a year or so behind in education.

- She pretty much raised herself. Outwardly, she appears immature and naive, but is definitely aware of a lot more than she lets on.

- Ryuko and Argos busted her parents after Argos picked up on Marcee’s negative emotions after her parents got into a fight. They called CPS but Marcee refused to leave Ryuko’s side, eventually the two of them let her stay over their place in Lieu of foster care. The rest is history.

- She never really got a chance to do much as a kid and IMMEDIATELY latches onto Kagami’s fencing (“While you were having a normal childhood, I WAS STUDYING THE BLADE.”) and becomes obsessed with it.

F: Is it reasonable to give a 9 year old a sword?

K: Yes. I got one when I was 7.

- The entire reason why she got so attached to Ryuko was the cool looking sword. “The cool sword lady will protect me, I am safe.” (Kagami is not used to being admired like this, by anyone other than Felix)

M: I LOVE COOL SWORD LADIES!!!

F: Understandable, I also love cool sword ladies.

- Marcee’s initial impression of Argos is a bit more… mixed, at first she thinks his eyes are a little bit scary but then she realizes that if she gets the scary bird man to like her, nobody will hurt her because the scary bird man will scare the bad people away. (11/10 logic. Her plan is successful!)

- Then she realizes that Felix is kind of a loser and that’s when she really comes to like him. She thinks he’s awkward af but super funny because of it.

- Rather than being known as an adopted daughter, Marcee is technically just Kagami’s fencing protege. (This is also what Kagami tells herself when she starts to get attached: “She’s just my student I won’t get attached. I will not get attached. I won’t.”)

- She’s not good at fencing but she’s got the spirit! After a few years, her efforts do pay off and by the time she’s a teenager she’s pretty much kicking everyone’s ass because Marcee was really persistent and Kagami never gave up on her!

- Marcee is a little bit of an IPAD kid but can you blame her? She had nowhere to go as a kid (sorta like Adrien) and had to make her own fun.

- She has an emotional dependence on Roblox and Minecraft Pocket Edition and knew she had found her family when Felix (in an attempt to show that he cares about her interests, because his father never cared about his) downloads her favorite games and tries to make her a Minecraft House. It was literally just a square made out of dirt.

- (In which a Minecraft house made of dirt is symbolic of letting a lonely abused kid know they are safe and at home!)

- Duusu and Longg realize she’s here to stay way before Kagami or Felix do. They’re both in denial, meanwhile Duusu and Longg are just like “yeah hell nahhh”

- Duusu and Marcee cannot be left alone in a room together or else someone might die. Chaotic ass duo. Longg is usually the one to babysit the two of them.

Feligami Brainrot at 6:30 am (Have not Slept)

Whenever I see art/descriptions of adult/married Feligami, they are either happily childless or have like three kids.

Generally speaking, I think it’s more canon compliant for them to not give a crap about having a nuclear family, and just focus on spending time together.

But I also want to suggest:

✨Found Family Feligami✨

Like to me the only way I could EVER see them starting a family is if they were out on patrol one day as Argos and Ryuko, and just randomly found a lost, scared, ab*sed kid and sorta just claimed them? Probably like an older kid too, at least 6. And they’d never have any other kids it would just be the one.

Like at first they just wanted to get the kid out of their toxic household and neither intended to get attached, but they totally do. Now it’s too late and suddenly they’re parents. Like the kid prolly doesn’t address them as mom or dad but they’re totally family now!

Meanwhile the kid, who’s prolly never felt safe at home, is finally able to sleep peacefully at night because they know if anyone tried to hurt them, both of their new guardians are superheroes! And even without powers, Kagami would prolly still manage to beat the crap outta anyone who came near them! Truly, there is no safer place!

I feel like both Felix and Kagami would struggle to adjust, but they’re both trying really hard! Felix especially is prolly a very…. Awkward parent in the sense that he is just. PROFOUNDLY ANXIOUS. All of the time. Bro wants the kid to be happy but doesn’t exactly have any normal childhood memories to use as reference and tries to connect with the kid using the stuff he grew up with, and quickly realizes the shit he was interested as a kid are not common at all.

“Would you, uhm, like to play a round of chess?”

“No, but I’d love to play monopoly jr: Disney edition!!”

“?????”

Meanwhile Kagami doesn’t register that they’re starting to act like a family, that she truly wants to protect this kid, and tries to convince herself they are merely a roommate or guest until Marinette shows up one day and haphazardly comments that Kagami is such a kind and considerate parent and she’s just like?????