#and then they get righteously pissed about it. so there's that to consider too

[talentforlying]

ok constantine would sooner strangle me than be compared to roderick usher, but "the gates are always open but that doesn't mean you answer the phone" feels very close to how he operates with his friends and allies. you can always come to him for help, but it won't necessarily be the help you wanted. eventually people learn to just stop calling, because the silence is better than the disappointment.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

𝔐𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯, 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢, 𝔉𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔬𝔱𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔩𝔩, 𝔗𝔥’ 𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢. █ 𝔐𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔪𝔢𝔫’𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔄𝔱 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥 𝔳𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡: 𝔉𝔬𝔯 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔚𝔥𝔬 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩, 𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱.

...

(so mm. i’m working on BTAS scarebat fic atm, an’ my brain thought that i can also sit down an’ begin drawing smth related to that around 3 in the morning 6 days ago, bc why not.

nothing here is related to the plot of the story i’m working on. or well, not directly at least. i’d say, that i consider this collage of arts as ‘circle’ of their possible relationships in a way. including the ‘circle’ of their expressions an’ what can be or cannot be seen, regarding bruce’s shadowy batman mode an’ how in two arts, jon’s expression is hidden from the view. this all has an extra, tiny bit of a meaning. about which i’m on my way to ramble about. i have some of that good shippy energy inside my weary bones today! what a day!

but alright, so the first one *at the very top* is smth of a scarebat classic to me. snap picture centered on the idea, that even if they will have close an’ intimate relationships, jonathan still be jonathan, basically. still, be somewhat poisonous an’ dangerous to keep this near, even if he’s gentle of the bat back. an’ bruce even knowing all this, still gets tangled into it, as’ their ‘natures’ clash like that. as they are two ‘monsters’ of the night. two people with ideas, that feel larger than they are. this might be a moment in one of their 'fear battles', where bruce is pissed off, or well, righteously angry as i call it, while jonathan faces him an’ what kind of expression he makes is anyone’s guess, but it’s prob an evil one. even if personally, imagine it more whimsical. less dramatic evil an' more campy evil. the whole villainous monologue about how crane aches for bruce to actually see things his way for once. fear is nessasery for everything. it's not just passion of his. it can be smth so much greater. in other words, i think, that jon might attempt to coax batman into joining his case. bruce would not join, but it's still worth a try.

the second one *lower right* is low-key based on AU idea that i have or that be used for any version scarebat tbh. it's kinda universal an' bendy. the mere chance of ‘what if’, bruce mets jonathan before he becomes scarecrow *he will still become one still later tho*, an’ he pretty much seeks his ‘help’ as batman. i imagine, that this can happen early in bruce’s vigilante career, when he an’ gordon ain’t buddies yet an’ bruce need some assistance from time to time. or maybe, he needed jon’s help for one case an’ then, they kinda got on a friendly terms an’ it progressed from there. in this version, i think, jon would try to ‘hold back’ a bit, when it comes to his fear experiments. mostly bc he knows, that bruce won't like him doing smth like this. or he can think, that it can be a bit too early to try an' ease him up to idea of basically psychologically torturing people to progress the science lol. batman is an imposing, terrefying symbol of justice. but in crane's eyes, he's also a soft-ish kind of boy. cannot do smth nasty, just so that it will serve a greater good. anyhow, smth still goes wrong. crane still gets fired, bc even if the bat was none the wiser to what he was doing, his collegues were. which in the end, lead to bruce an' jon having a fight about it. an’ after that, jon pretty much disappears from the radar *like most of BTAS rogues do, when they're about to rebrand from normal citizen into a masked villain lol* an’ returns 2-3 years later as the scarecrow. with all of that in mind, in this AU, crane will have a clear advantage over batman at first, as he used to known him prior to this. an’ he got to see him work / talk, learned a few things about him, while the bat won’t instantly know that scarecrow is jonathan. but i imagine, he will figure this out fairly quickly. not only bc crane is short an’ thin an' obssessed with fear. but bruce also was around the other man a lot an’ considering how ambiguous their relationships were at one point, he also watched crane back. this art captures more sweet moment between the two, howerer. them having heart to heart or maybe, jon thought that bruce had died or rumors had it that he was serious injured in some fight against a villain an’ he was relieved to learn, that it’s not so. can be anything, honestly. regardless, jonathan hides his expression from batman, an’ bruce have his ‘game face on’, as they both don’t deal with vulnerability very well *also idk how do draw the back of jon’s head yet, but i gave it my best shot lol*

the next one *the lower left* is also a classic set up in my eyes an' also my fav art out of the bunch. this 'scene' can be connected to AU above, as in: batman takes his once-a-friend, who is also his-love-interest an’ his-new-rogue to arkham, after jon lost the fight. or as i drawn it, this is an imaginary of ‘what if BTAS did a justice to dark knight of scarecrow comic’. what if we got batman an’ scarecrow personal fight an’ bruce end up carrying jon all romantically into the sunset at the end, like he did in that issue. bruce face here is all shadowy like in the actual comic scene, an’ while i’m not sure if i managed to capture my intention with this one kinda well or not, the idea behind this exact ‘head portrait’ was to get a bit of a mixture between bruce’s unmasked features, his batman persona an’ also a bat-monster creature *that all versions of jonathan seen him as, at least once* it’s a bit of reflection on all of it. on who bruce is, who criminals see him as, an' what jon sees him at, when he's high on ft. in some capacity bruce is all of those things. or rather, they're all part of the same man. as bruce’s core will always be rooted in empathy. an' BTAS bruce is basically a golden standard of batman writing, when it comes to bruce wayne as character an' that very trait esp. so yeah, this art is nod toward that an' more broad approach to what could have been, if they given jon at least one more ep, where he an' batman would have been in focus. i imagined, that in this art bruce carries jonathan from whatever location they had fight in, an’ it’s like early morning, so there is mist. bruce walks an’ reminicents on fights an’ waste of jon’s brilliant mind, along with other things. expression close to melancholic. meanwhile, crane is out cold. an’ it’s one of those rare lax, relaxed expressions that he has, opposite to his sneers, smirks or frowns. as he's only ever in peace, when his mind isn't active. what a nightmare, indeed *mostly for bruce* so sweet dreams, spooky prince. may the big bad bat guard your slumber.

an' finally, the last art *at the very bottom* which shows jonathan during his staying in arkham. in BTAS he had long sleeved uniform, but i think, in the comics based on the series, he been seen in a gray shirt a few times. so i decided to give him that lol. this can also be connected with AU, i mentioned. like, that bruce will still come back to his old friend, even if those visits are somewhat painful. i guess, it will be even worse than when bruce has to interact with harvey as batman. but this also can be smth unrelated to that. for example, bruce needing crane’s assistance on smth, without them having any history between them, besides the canonical one. or it can be them, being in relationships an’ jon is kinda being difficult. each of his progress is shaky an’ he pretty much slips back into his old ways, as soon as he goes out of arkham. but whatever the set up is, jonathan is more accepting of his situation, or rather about what he is. while bruce is kinda torn about it. can hold him close, but cannot truly mend his mind. i also have a feeling like crane tells him smth fear related. be it his assessment onto bruce’s state or their whole ‘thing’. but whatever it is, this isn't a very pleasant talk for bruce.

an’ oh yeah, instead of using song lyrics like i usually do, i used shakespeare’s sonnet for this. an' it's one of my most favorite ones as well. i had to cut out the middle, bc i disliked how it looked. but you can go an' read the whole thing, if you will ever feel like it. i mean, that's fairly short one. but i honestly think, this fits them *an' generally scarebat as a ship* very well.)

[illwynd]

Eternally confused by assertions that Thor and Loki don't like each other.

They love each other, obviously. And sometimes they fuckin hate each other (well, Loki sometimes hates Thor. And Thor is sometimes at least very goddamn righteously pissed off at Loki, whether he'd call it "hate" or not.)

But they do also like each other.

Thor clearly likes Loki. Enjoys and appreciates his company and admires many things about him, despite their many conflicts. And although that's a comics reference, consider Thor's "well of course I want to have my brother come with me on an adventure!" attitude when he's trying to convince his friends to go to Jotunheim with him at the beginning of Thor 2011, and it seems like it's pretty applicable to the MCU as well, at least before TR's moronic retcons.

Is it mutual, though?

... is that a real question?

Loki idolizes him, wishes he could measure up to him, thinks the sun goddamn rises and sets on Thor. "Loki felt no rancor [...] -- his stepbrother was perfect: beautiful, powerful, golden. He adored him. And if Thor repaid that adoration with little slights and humiliations, it was a price Loki was only too willing to pay for his company" (R. Rodi, Loki: Blood Brothers). Yes, another comics reference, but doesn't that also jibe with the movie depiction of Loki who clearly has a less than ideal relationship with the rest of Thor's crew but hangs out with them nonetheless because that's the only way to spend time with Thor?

Genuinely, I can't think of a better metric for liking someone than wanting to hang out with them even when the circumstances make that less than fun for other reasons. Seeing their company as satisfying even if you're both just sitting there doing something that would otherwise suck. And they both seem to have each other as first choice for that, with everyone else a very distant second if they rank at all.

So I just don't get how anyone can try to slot them into some cliche of "siblings who love each other i guess but also can't stand each other at all." These dumb bastards would spend their lives in each other's pockets if they could. They probably had their own secret language as kids, like figured out a way to get around the Allspeak to invent one no one else could understand. Anyone else that either of them dates had better be ready to have the other brother as a constant topic of conversation, because the moment you express annoyance at that they're going to be shoving breadsticks into their bag and making excuses to gtfo. "they don't like each other" what the fuck are y'all talking about.

[teeth-wanted]

Proposal for one (1) Telsa Problem:

Okay, call me an idiot who is way too generous, but I was raised on this principle: don't give people too much credit. I guarantee, people are way dumber than you think. To be fair, it's not *sheer* stupidity. Humans as a species are hard-wired to consciously and unconsciously make life relatively more comfortable when given the opportunity. Being comfortable in late-stage capitalism means thriving from others' stolen labor. People who can afford Teslas aren't free from this sin. Neither are we.

Point 1: gurl we gotta give some grace to the fuckheads who are now realizing their investments tie them to a Nazi. Yes, it took them wayyyyy too long to get this this realization, but I say be positive. Be glad they're here now.

Anyways, I was watching some videos that talked about how Teslas and Tesla-owners are being attacked due to the growing public outrage towards Musk and his actions. In a lot of these, we hear Tesla owners lamenting the losses they've accumulated since the election and how they can't get rid of the cars no matter how hard they try.

Point(s) 2 & 3: A lot of people want to vent their rage on Teslas. A lot of Tesla-owners want to get rid of Teslas.

My proposal is this: so like, does anyone wanna help me start a charity or campaign in which we'd legally buy unwanted Teslas that had been verifiably purchased prior to the 2025 inauguration (like, proof of purchase or a title or something like that) and allow our righteously angry fellow Americans (or like, whoever buys a $5 ticket or makes a donation) the chance to beat the shit out of those cars like it's the world's greatest Rage Room.

Financial and Administrative Support Needed for the Following Items (nonexhaustive):

Acquiring suitable protective gear (PPE)

Rage Room insurance (the usual stuff a business would have)

Locating and legally securing land for the proposed demolition sites

Training and maintaining staff (first aid, de-escalation, etc.)

Securing funds to pay off Tesla-owners remaining payments (not including any interest accrued if financed with a bank or credit union outside of Tesla or Musk's domain)

Advertisement/social media (like, not much. I can do this myself, actually, but like it is something to consider)

Do I like the idea of paying off Tesla debts? Fuck no. I'm a housekeeper. I've been lower class/below the poverty line most my life. I'm beyond pissed off by the state of our government.

But I can't get ahold of my congressman. He's refusing to hold public town halls, like many others throughout the country. The Trump Administration is drooling at the any and all chances to demonize the American public's justified outrage, and I'm sick and tired of having my voice shot down. Words are not enough, and all of our actions are being weaponized against us.

And, at the end of the day, we can't keep hurting each other when we have more dangerous threats ahead. If buying some rich guy's Tesla and letting him and his fellow angry voters take a sledgehammer to it for an hour or five, if that's what it takes for people to find an inch of common ground, if that's what it takes for me to be able to legally smash the shit out of an overpriced lemon of a fascist symbol, fuck it. I want it.

And I think, deep down, ya'll want that, too.

Intended Outcomes of Proposal:

Providing a legal and effective venue to vent frustrations regarding the current administration.

Allowing previous Tesla-owners some grace and space within the anti-Tesla community (ie most of the sane world rn)

Strengthening ties between the impacted economic classes and unifying their anger towards the actual tyrants that are screwing us all over

Emphasizing the height of the American public's outrage by using newly acquired rage room footage to advertise and reach concerned Tesla-owners and partners who have unwanted Tesla merchandise and stocks.

TLDR: people are stupid and suck and lets all be nicer to each other and legally smash unwanted Tesla cars.

I will be taking notes, thank you for your consideration :)

[blubushie]

So in typical Blu fashion I've gotten into a bit of a spat with somebody on Twitter about the Pope's death and what the Bible says about hell and eternal damnation and all that shit, and I started thinking about the hypocrisy of conservative Christians, so here's some arguments for you to spice things up with your conservative Christian family who don't practise the Christlike qualities they preach. Signed a former Catholic boy who considered going to seminary school for a few years (hah! There's some info you didn't know about me).

This is all presented from a Catholic point of view. Some things (such as hell being empty) are dependent on Catholic dogma (namely the belief in Purgatory) and will not apply to other sects of Christianity who don't hold those beliefs (such as Protestantism). Wager your arguments carefully depending on the beliefs of the people you want to piss off.

As in accordance with the Bible, words spoken by Jesus himself will be in red.

Quoth a young nonbinary Catholic, "What's your opinion on church people, or priests, who promote hate and use the Bible to support hate speech? They read the Gospels like, 'I'm not excluding you, it's the Bible.' I'm tired of saying that wasn't Jesus' message."

Pope Francis replies, "These people are infiltrators." The youth laughs. He continues, "They are infiltrators who use the Church for their personal passions—for their personal narrowness. It's one of the corruptions within the Church. These narrow-minded ideologies… Deep within, these people are living with severe inconsistencies. They judge others because they cannot atone for their own faults. In general people who judge are inconsistent. There's something within them. They feel liberated by judging others, when they should look inside at their own guilt. But the day the Church loses its universality—the blind, the deaf, the good, the bad, everybody—it will stop being a Church. Everybody has a place."

...

While being interviewed on Italian telly program Che Tempo Che Fa by host Fabio Fazio, Pope Francis was asked how he "imagines hell". In response, Pope Francis said, "What I am going to say is not a dogma of faith but my own personal view: I like to think of hell as empty; I hope it is."

This immediately copped criticism from viewers and traditionalist Catholics, but it makes sense to me. Catholic dogma holds the belief that no one is beyond saving by God's grace, so therefore since Hell is for the damned, it would (by Francis' logic) be empty of human souls. "Bad" (sinful) people would go to Purgatory (or if you want to get Biblical, Limbo/Sheol) where they'd atone for their sins until they're ready to be saved by God's grace.

Isaiah 50:2 says, "When I came, why was there no one? When I called, why was there no one to answer? Was my arm too short to deliver you? Do I lack the strength to rescue you? By a mere rebuke I dry up the sea, I turn rivers into a desert; their fish rot for lack of water and die of thirst."

1 Timothy 1:15-16 says, "Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life."

Both of these attest that no one is beyond saving the grace of God. 1 John 4:8 attests that "Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love," cementing in the Bible that God is a love-based being and I can't possibly imagine God writing off mortal souls eternally for not serving Him in this lifetime. It seems all the more likely to me that God would give human souls a time of repetence and, like a convert comes to faith, allow them the grace to come to Him in their own time.

...

NOW FOR SOME BIBLE QUOTES :D

MARK 12:28-31

One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"

"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.”

MATTHEW 22:35-40

One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?"

Jesus replied: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."

MATTHEW 25:31-46

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."

Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?"

The King will reply, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

Then he will say to those on his left, "Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me."

They also will answer, "Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?"

He will reply, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.

JOHN 8

Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.

At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, "Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?" They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.

At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. Jesus straightened up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"

"No one, sir," she said.

"Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."

MATTHEW 5:1-11

Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them.

He said: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

MATTHEW 6:14

"For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."

MATTHEW 7:1-5

"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye."

JOHN 15:9-13

"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. "

1 CORINTHIANS 13:13

"Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love."

[queer-muslim-culture-is]

does anyone relate to me as a queer muslim?

Just wanted to put a disclaimer that I personally am not acting on it but I did find a way to reconcile my queer identity and religion <3

I grew up mostly thinking I was straight but in my teens I didn't label with heterosexuality anymore. I was never really passionate about queer activism but I recall being uncomfortable with homophobia at masjid and gatherings but I never thought about it too much until may 2022

That is May 27 2022 to be specific, the stranger things release date. Im not going off topic lol I promise. So basically I converted from being a mileven shipper to a byler shipper after watching. This was when my queer religious crisis started. I loved Mike and Wills relationship and I thought it was so beautiful from the way they treat each other. I was reading fanfics, watching edits, reading analysis 24/7. How could it be wrong

I knew that the logic with ''Sinful'' actions is that even though you desire benefits coming from it, and you intend good things to come out of it, the reason why its a sin is because unseen harmful effects come out of it even though that's not what we intend. ''But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. And Allah Knows, while you know not.'' I could deal with the fact that queer actions were forbidden cause that meant you don't hate the sinner or the ''Sin'' but only the fact that your action has ''harmful unseen/unknown affect'' that you just have to trust in God that its there and that he would only make harmful things forbidden. For example: Promiscuity is a sinful behavior in islam, and God considers it disgusting because it is harmful, but in Jannah all the harmful effects of your desires are removed, this explains why alcohol and hoor al ayn, music etc exist in Jannah. So can I act on my queer desires in Jannah? I made the horrible mistake of going to cishet people with this question and obviously they said NO. I was so fucking pissed and mad and I felt guilty for being mad because it felt like I was questioning Allah. But mostly I was hurt because God is not who I thought he was and I felt ignored, betrayed, neglected, and I took the queerphobia as my image of God. It just made me even more pissed off when people said '' you will get something better'' why can't I get what i asked for and be treated normally like everyone else with their forbidden desires? After suffering an entire lifetime of homophobia and abstinence, God wants to brush this issue under the rug and ignore it even though it becomes a part of who a person is, where is the justice?? At that point I felt like if I couldn't get queer liberation in the next life for myself I would want it for someone else and I would fight for it. I had mercy in my heart for queer people. So this does not make sense cuz GOD IS THE MOST MERCIFUL, more merciful that any lgbtq+ activist on this earth, so God surely must out mercy me

I went through a religious crisis period for 6 months just constantly soaking up all the queerphobic media online from muslims. I felt sick reading all of it and I felt my heart drop. Why do muslims deny that queerness is not a choice. Why do these scholars have rights to speak on issues they've never experienced. How can a person tell another person how they feel. How can you deny centuries of queer people and why do some muslims make fun of queer people, hate us, think were disgusting etc. I really never felt any righteousness or respect from these people yet they say ''respect not support'' tf? I started getting depressed, failing in school because I took these people and modeled my image of Allah based on them. Why wont I get what I want in this life or the next? So my love was considered ''disgusting'' for no reason.

Then months later, everything changed. I started talking to God everyday and treated him like my therapist and I vented out all the pain of queerphobia. I did scientific research on queerness and found out that is generally innate/unchangeable and internalized homophobia turned into anger towards queerphobic people. I was just crying out to Allah wishing that Queer Love could be honored and respected one day and that slowly, naturally it turned into me making dua to Allah that queer people could act on it in Jannah. I for some reason thought it would be more acceptable to ask for queer relations without the sexual aspect lmfao my puritarian era. So anyways I slowly started making Dua to Allah often and asked all the time for queer liberation in the next life and for people I knew in real life, online, my moots, queer muslims who passed away etc. I turned the anger of queerphobia into calling out to Allah to ask for liberation for the queer ummah. I eventually also asked for the sexual aspects as well lmfao. I remember one day I prayed tahajjud and asked Allah for queer people to be with their lovers in the next life and to be themselves (gender identity) and I asked for a sign. I even talked to Allah about my love for byler lmfao dont judge me ok I was crying my ass off at the van scene where Will confessed to Mike. So anyways the ''Sign'' as I saw one day I was cleaning my room and read a book that said that Allah would never guide a person to make a dua if he didn't want to answer it. I was shook and long story short I learned that God is what you make of him and you must trust God when you make dua to him. Another Sign I saw was that I was a video literally explaining this concept in a tik tok another time after I made tahajjud and asked for the same thing again.

My perception of God has fundamentally changed and I am so grateful. Byler endgame 2024 <3

im just gonna quickly note that this blog *does* support acting on your queer attraction and i, as the mod, have multiple partners. i choose to interpret the stories that supposedly ban queerness otherwise (some of these interpretations are or will be shared in #resources) and that any harm that comes from it can either be mitigated (safe sex practices) or is the result of bigotry

but thank you for sharing your experience anon. genuinely happy that you managed to reconcile both with yourself and Allah :]

and hey, i get what you mean abt the fanfiction part skdfjh ! some of my earliest experiences w queerness were reading queer fics on ao3 and feeling,,, something. something i couldnt quite identify till years later. fics exposed me to queer romance, helped me come to terms with my allosexuality, and even helped me experiment with my gender in a way. i owe a lot to fic writers

[cherrydrop-rambles]

Everytime I listen to "Ruthlessness" from Epic The Musical, it always reminds me of a scenario in Minus One where "Hey, what if Tachibana did NOT forgive/help Shikishima and continued to hold that grudge against him?"

Therefore, I am compelled to bring you...

My TED talk of why I think this song is basically the scenario of Tachibana if he never forgave Shikishima;

Disclaimer: I will not take from the musical itself, only the lyrics I see on screen

Blue ; Lyrics

Normal coloured text ; Analysis

Also HUGE Godzilla Minus One Spoilers and I am totally 100% sane making this

---

(I'm not counting the multiple "Poseidon"s at the start because you can't really analyse that </3)

" In all my years of living, it isn't very often that I get pissed off,

I try to chill with the waves, but damn you've crossed the line. "

The mention of the waves - I see as a direct reference to the fact that Shikishima is a minesweeper - sailing the waves on his boat. (This is assuming this is all being said to Shikishima after he becomes a minesweeper)

" I've been so gracious, but yet you hurt this son of mine "

Instead of the 'yet you hurt this son of mine' line making an accusation of hurting his son, I'd say Tachibana would instead make a direct reference to Shikishima letting his friends get injured(killed)

" That's right, the cyclops you made blind is mine. "

" No, "

[ N/A - Dont have analysis for these lines ]

" I'm left without a choice, and without a doubt

Guess the pack of wolves is swimming with the sharks now

I gotta make you bleed, I need to see you drown,

But before you go, I need to make you learn how "

Okay, so, for the first two lines, I took this as two meanings. My first idea is that the whole "sharks" mention is another little reference to Shikishima working on the ocean. But then, the pack of wolves swimming with the sharks could be a direct signal to the large group of corpses (Tachibana's allies) on Odo Island being washed into the sea after the Godzilla attack. And clearly the third line of harming Shikishima is Tachibana wanting to practically kill him due to him blaming Shikishima for his crew being gone.

" Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves "

First of all, such a banger line in general. Second, I think this would be Tachibana saying that you need to kill to be 'Ruthless' and execute certain actions sometimes to save those around you, which in a way saves ourselves because if he saved everyone around him, he wouldn't have to feel that guilt. He considers Shikishima to have had a choice when aiming at Godzilla, and Shikishima "actively" never took that choice. If he did kill Godzilla - In which perhaps the powerful guns could have in Tachibana's eyes - then he would have mercy on himself because he wouldn't live with the added guilt of being responsible for all those deaths caused by the lizard he "refused" to kill.

A Greek who reeks of false righteousness, that's what I hate!

" You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.

'Cause you fight to save lives but won't kill and don't get the job done,

I mean, you probably could have avoided all this had you just killed my son,

But no "

Alright so, the first two lines I feel like this is Tachibana criticising Shikishima for taking the role that's known for saving their people and being heroic (hence the false righteousness) but failing to protect those on the island because he couldn't do "one simple thing" per se, and pull the trigger on the guns aiming at Godzilla. And of course the worst kind of good not being great ties into what I talked about him seemingly taking up this role and not being able to save those Tachibana cares about.

The third line sort of ties into what I've just explained about with Shikishima being a pilot in WW2 but failing to kill Godzilla, and the last part is pretty self explanatory, replacing the 'my son' part with him talking about his crew again.

This whole verse could perhaps refer to him being a Kamikaze pilot too and taking a dig at him surviving the war, even if it does kind of make Tachibana a hypocrite by then.

" You are far too nice, mercy has a price

It's the final crack, we're bound to break the ice now

You reveal your name, then you let him live

Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give 'cause "

I feel like the "you are far too nice" could perhaps be a hint of sarcasm, followed by mercy being mentioned, which solidifies the idea of Tachibana thinking it was Shikishima's choice not to kill Godzilla rather than the truth of his hands freezing up. I feel like he's too clouded by his frustration and anger of losing those he cared about to consider that Shikishima didn't choose this. Or maybe he's too filled with anger/hatred to care in this case. The more he thinks of such a thing, the angrier he gets, so he tends to push it out of his mind until this scene.

" And now it is finally time to say goodbye, today you die

Unless, of course, you apologize

For my son's pain and all his cries

Poseidon, we meant no harm

We only hurt him to disarm him

We took no pleasure in his pain

We only wanted to escape "

[ N/A - No analysis other than what I've already spoken about. Perhaps the part about him only wanting to escape but thats about it ]

" The line between naïveté and hopefulness is almost invisible

So close your heart, the world is dark and

Ruthlessness is mercy

Die. "

With the thought of Tachibana still thinking that Shikishima had a choice, the first line possibly could refer to it's niave to inflict mercy on ruthless creatures such as Godzilla, because it won't get him anywhere. The hope that Godzilla will take any mercy is naive. And of course, the second one is enforcing the first line, telling Shikishima that the world is a dark place that doesn't take kindly to mercy. I feel like in terms of the last line of "Die," Tachibana would actually want to kill Shikishima in that moment to avenge his friends. I mean, we see in that scene where he gives over the letter, and his anger surfaces how he attacks Shikishima. We also know how far people can go when placed in a stressful setting whilst filled with anger and hatred for a certain person who has wronged you as much.

What have you done?

When does a ripple become a tidal wave?

43 left under your command

When does man become a monster?

I am your darkest moment

The monster that always draws near

Any last words? "

Last but not least, the final verse I am going to analyse. (Yippee!!!)

Now I see a ripple becoming a tidal wave as Godzilla surviving Odo Island and then causing distruction another few times. One event which went wrong turned into a bunch of them occurring. Last but not least, I feel like for the 'when does a man become a monster?' Up to 'The monster that always draws near' instead of Tachibana saying these lines, it's Shikishima's survivor's guilt surfacing as he reflects on what he's done and how he believes he's handles everything. It makes him beg the question of does he even deserve to live at this point? Is he part of the problem and the true monster who has been a catalyst for these events, no matter how much he's tried to stop it - seeing as it follows HIM around?

Finally I feel like the final part is him getting ready to take his revenge.

For the last few lines thats left of the song, honestly doesnt fit in my humble opinion so I shall not include them :3

Extra;

Setting/Time: I think in my mind, this argument with Tachibana arguing with Shikishima during the scene when Shikishima finds Tachibana and Tachibana has seen the letters and is visibly furious about this. It would explain his anger filled explanation and his desire to just get rid of "the root of his problem". Plus he was intentions angering Shikishima in order for Shikishima to actually find him, which would fuel his rage even more!

A quite note that I am taking this from the perspective of Godzilla being a real, tangible creature. I know in the movie he's meant to represent survivor's guilt but I feel like this whole analysis above would make a tiny bit more sense if he really was a real creature. I dunno,

That's all for now! I'm just cramming my thoughts into this one post X3 They don't call it Cherrydrop rambles for nothing!! I've honestly had this concept in my head for a while now and as much as Id love to make this into an animatic, I dont have the time nor motivation for it. However, hope you've enjoyed reading through this chaotic post, and gold star if you did! :3

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 4381 (chapter 1)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case.

Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that?

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad under the same name <3  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

1. CLASH IN THE COURT

"Your Honor, objection." You shoot up from your seat, the heavy wooden chair painfully creaks against the floorboards of the courtroom. "Relevance. That has nothing to do with my client," you finish the sentence, holding your breath until the judge slowly nods once. 

Matthew Murdock, your rival of today and the two previous cases, blows an audible raspberry, which you would consider to be very unprofessional in the current situation.

"The judge just nodded. Ask about his relationship with his family better." You hear Foggy Nelson, Murdock's friend and courtroom partner, whispering to a quite pissed-off looking Murdock. You sit down and shuffle through papers for anything that might save your client's ass. And yours too. 

"May I continue my questioning, your Honor?" Murdock asks, fixing his red-tinted glasses. You eye him a little before rolling your eyes. All things that you managed to pull out about the case and your client point towards his innocence, you just can't lose this case. Murdock has beat you twice before, your pride won't simply allow the third time to happen.

"Yes, continue." The judge answers, looking quite bored about this whole thing. If it were not for the jury, you're sure he would've already made a decision. 

"Thank you, your Honor." Murdock stands up again, head tilted to your side a little. Weird, but what do you even know about blind people? Maybe that was his way of focusing on his environment or something.

"C'mon, focus," you mutter to yourself, and impatiently tap your pen on the papers, feeling how your heart beats in your chest.

"Mr Donovan, what was your relationship with your father after your parents divorced?" Murdock asks, walking away from his table, hand grasping his white cane so strong that his knuckles turn white as well. Although in a short moment you manage to see that his knuckles are clearly badly bruised. Blind lawyer got into a fist fight? Interesting. Maybe even more interesting than your own case.

"I saw him only a couple of times since then," your client began but didn't get a chance to finish as Matt interrupted -

"Interestingly enough, they divorced when you were in your 30s already, am I right? The average age of people who decide to get divorced is approximately 30, but your parents were already in their 50s. What actions might have influenced their decision?" 

"Objection hearsay, your Honor!" You shoot up from your chair again, looking at the three men in front of you with a somewhat wild expression. "That has nothing to do with the previously asked question."

"Overruled. Continue Mr Murdock."

You plop down on the chair again, tapping your pen even more aggressively than before. That bastard Murdock is just stalling. He didn't need to state this information about the age of people who divorce, and you were damn sure he just thought of the numbers. Besides, what does the fact that Donovan's parents got divorced when they were fifty-two has anything to do with what he's being accused of? You could feel how another hair on your head turned from brown to gray. It was probably a good idea to start dyeing your hair.

"Thank you, your Honor. Mr Donovan?" Murdock asks again, hinting at the fact that he is not going to repeat his question again. He moves a step closer toward stand where Donovan was sitting, desperately trying to make eye contact with his wife, who was sitting right behind you.

"I never really wanted to know the real reason behind their split, but I guess it was always clear to me that a day like this would come." Donovan answers, eyes following your opponent who was slowly pacing around the little space, sometimes coming closer to you, sometimes closer to him.

In the corner of your eye, you notice Foggy Nelson lean back in his chair and making himself comfortable. Are these two men really that confident in winning the case?

"Why? Or should I ask how? How was it visible that your parents were going to get divorced?" Matt asks, stopping for a mere second before continuing his little walk.

"Well, since I was a kid, I never saw them doing any parent activities together like other parents did. When the circumstances forced them to act like happy spouses, they did it. But I saw - there was no love between them, and it was just a matter of time until the papers were signed." Donovan answers and you clap to him. Internally, obviously.

"And it was no surprise to you when they, people at this solid age of fifty-two, announced their divorce?"

"No. " Donovan answers, not giving an explanation. Smart move. If Murdock wants an explanation, he'll have to ask for it. 

"Mr Donovan, your lawyer has stated that you were visiting the nursing home quite often in the past three months. I have information that after your parents divorced those ten years ago, you continued to be in contact with both of them for a while, until the contact with your father suddenly stopped only months before he was put in the nursing home. Your mother, however, you were visiting regularly. Is that all right?" Matt spills so quickly that your client has to take a moment to fully understand what he just said.

"Uh... Yes." Donovan answers, slightly doubting.

"Isn't that a little weird that after not seeing or speaking to your father for years, you suddenly remembered his existence three months ago, right before he died?"

"Uh..." Donovan was still thinking of an answer, when you stood up again. 

"Objection, your Honor. This is an accusation." You let out a desperate breath, unprofessionally leaning on your table.

"Overruled. Continue." Judge says with the calmest expression, the one that you would be more than glad to use right now. You sit down again. That is already a humiliation. Glancing at your opponent's table, you see a woman wiping her eyes with a little handkerchief. Most likely pretending to cry. If you had a case like this for the huge sum of money, you'd be fake-crying too. Nelson turns to look at you as well, shooting a polite smile. You do the same. Although this is a war zone, you were always polite, especially with Mr Nelson. Murdock, on the other hand, decided to choose you as his next target.

"Miss y/l/n, might I ask whether you knew anything about Mr Donovan's illegitimate child, Miss Darcy Donovan, who now might be considered as your client's step-sister?" Matt steps closer to your table, not looking at you, or the judge, but straight to the right side wall of the room.

"No, Mr Murdock, I didn't know anything about your client, who claims to be Mr Donovan's relative. As I was studying the family tree of my client, Miss Darcy has never appeared there." You answer, calmly, raising one eyebrow at the man in front of you. A shy grin appears on his lips for a moment before he puts on a serious expression again.

"So you're claiming, that your client had no idea that he had a sister somewhere out there, and that her existence was not a reason for the divorce of Mr Donovan's parents?" He asks, stilling for a moment, head tilted towards the judge.

"Yes, that is precisely what I am claiming, Mr Murdock. My client never knew the reason of his parent's divorce, let alone the existence of Miss Darcy."

"Miss, y/l/n, I'm sure there were records in hospitals and other resources that your firm uses, that Miss Darcy did exist, and in fact, shares the last name with your client." Murdock grins momentarily again, already pissing you off.

"Mr Murdock, in case you don't know, many people are sharing the same last names and in fact, are not even a bit related." You say, tightly grasping the pen in your hand, fake smile planted on your face. He's obviously playing around, repeating statements, trying to make you stumble. It worked once before.

"Objection, relevance, your Honor." Nelson stands up, looking a bit lost. You look at him surprised, usually partners were not the ones who dared to object their own case.

"Mr Murdock, get to the point." Judge answers, Nelson nods a couple of times and sits down. You steal a look at Donovan, who's intently watching Darcy. The latter pretends to flip through the pages of the case.

"Yes, your Honor. Miss y/l/n, I know that you spoke with your client's mother, did she say what was the reason of her divorce?" Matt asks, standing right in front of you, conveniently blocking your view of the judge. 

"No, Mr Murdock, she never revealed what you're calling "the real reason" of her split. She said that it was a mutual agreement - or to put it simply, the divorce was friendly. My client never questioned his parent's decision, as he respected it."

He says nothing for a moment. A moment too long. You look at Nelson, but he just shrugs at his partner's behavior.

"Mr Murdock, any more questions?" Judge asks loud enough for Murdock to snap out of whatever trance he was in.

"No, your Honor." He nods to the judge, turning to you upon the departure to his table, "Thank you, Miss y/l/n," and shoots a smile. Weird. But he didn't seem like a normal guy anyway.

"Miss y/l/n, any questions to Miss Donovan?" Judge asks. You quickly stand up, grabbing the pen for moral support, you must not fail.

"Yes, your Honor."

"Miss Donovan, please take the stand." 

A moment of shuffling and loud nose sniffling goes by as your client sits down at your table, and Darcy takes his place on judge's left. She briefly gives an oath on the Bible and gets comfortable. 

"Miss Donovan, might I ask, why did your mother give you this last name? Hers was Jones, if I'm not mistaken." You begin, watching the brown-haired woman intently. Even from the looks, the two Donovan 'siblings' couldn't be more different. 

"My mother, God rest her soul, told me that she wanted a better life for me... The one I couldn't possibly get under Jones name. When I reached adulthood, she told me that one day I'm going to meet my father, who was a good man. Good, but troubled." She sniffs quite loud again, and in the corner of your eye you notice how Murdock furrows his eyebrows.

"So from what I've heard, your mother simply gave you the last name of one of her latest flings?" You say, not wasting any time with politeness.

"Objection, your Honor, hearsay," Murdock stands up, leaning on the table.

"Overruled, continue, Miss y/l/n." Judge says, and you try to hide your grin as best as your can.

"Let me paraphrase that for you." You begin, "did your mother know for sure who was your biological father?"

"Um, no. I don't think so."

"And in the past she has had various, uh let me call them, relationships, right? Couple of them at the same time even?" You ask as politely as possible, this is your chance to catch her in a lie.

Matt stands up, but Foggy quickly brings him back to his seat by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Probably. I think so, yes." Darcy answers, looking for help at her lawyers.

"And she wasn't sure who was the father when she began to feel pregnant with you? Or was she absolutely certain that it was the late Mr Donovan?" You fix your loose tie with one hand, Matt audibly takes a deep breath.

"I'm... Not sure..."

"Miss, let me remind you that you swore an oath to tell the truth, so I think that's exactly what we all want to hear right now." You say, focused on the woman. Clearly the pressure of your words and the surprising silence from her own lawyers was doing its job, as she began playing with the hem of her dress.

"My mother told me that of all men she met throughout her life, Danny was the best one. But he was unfortunately married..." Darcy begins and you see an opportunity to strike again.

"But that didn't seem to stop her?"

Darcy furrows her eyebrows and thinks over your words for a moment. "My mother was a nice woman, and she...She made mistakes! Just like everybody else!" Darcy's face morphs into a crying grimmace and honestly, it was  a pity to watch her desperately trying to win the money.

"Objection, your Honor..." Murdock stands up again, visibly affected by the burst of emotions here, you're so close, you can practically touch the today's victory.

"Objection denied, continue Miss y/l/n." Judge calmly says, not wanting the breaking point of the case to be dropped now.

"Miss Darcy, now please answer to following statement, just by simply saying either "yes" or "no", okay?" You ask, slowly walking in front of Nelson and Murdock's table, already planning your journey in front of Darcy. Intimacy always seemed to work with opponent's clients. "Was your mother involved in a multiple relationships at the same time that were heavily based on sexual intimacy?"

Heartbeat. Another, after another, after another. Matt tilts his head to the side. Everything tunes out for a moment - Darcy's heartbeat picked up, she's either nervous, or is creating a lie.

"Yes. I believe so..." She begins, but you're quick to carry on with your next sentence.

"And when she had you, she had no idea who was the real father, yes?"

"Yes... But-"

"So she simply gave you the name of the last man who was involved in a close encounter with her before she noticed that she was expecting? And that happened to be Mr Donovan's father, right?" You ask, tightly holding the pen in your hand.

"Well...Yes." Darcy sighs, slightly lowering her head. 

"So you, not even sure that Mr Donovan is.. I'm sorry, was your father, hired a private investigator to find your father? All these years later?" You say, glancing at the stressed men on your right.

"Yes. But as you can see-" Darcy hopelessly begins.

"And when you got all the information about Mr Donovan, you found out that he was just buried, and his son, Mr Donovan, here, inherited a large sum of money and some property outside the city?"

"Yes, but I-"

"And then you decided that you want that money, that Mr Donovan rightfully inherited at any cost? Following my client to work and back to his house, creeping in the shadows but never brave enough to actually talk face to face?" You ask, feeling as if you're going to burst into million pieces at any moment. The courtroom is silent for a good moment, not even a fly dares to buzz around. The tension is thick, you glace back at your client and on your way to turning back your head to Darcy, your eyes fall upon Murdock, who seems to be deep in thought, perhaps ready to object your question at any given moment. It's a wonder that he wasn't doing that yet. "Yes or no, Miss Darcy?" you repeat your question again, hoping to get an answer now.

"Yes." She says just above the whisper and if any decibel lower, you wouldn't have heard it. Matt heard it loud and clear.

"Why?" you ask, now relaxed, the case was obviously an easy win, but you still had to work on it.

"I guess I was just nervous to approach him..."

"Well, I think couple of weeks are more than enough to collect the strength to approach your step-brother, Miss Darcy."

She says nothing, just silently cries into her handkerchief. You take a look at your client, he has an apologetic look on his face, but it's clear - he's not giving up the money.

"Your Honor, might I intervene?" Murdock asks, slowly standing up, Nelson fails to stop him this time.

"Go on, Mr Murdock." Judge says with a rather bored expression. You stay standing in front of Murdock's table.

"My client, Miss y/l/n, was, and still is in shock after she learned of her father's death. I do agree that stalking Mr Donovan was not the best idea but I think she went with the heart and-"

"Went with the heart to demand half of the inheritance?" You ask, taking a step closer to Murdock.

"I-" he begins.

"If I'm not mistaken, there's only one and only name written in Mr Donovan's will - and it's my client's, so Miss Darcy legaly has no rights for it. I'm sure you know it, Mr Murdock."

"What you don't know is that Mr Donovan had another will left, and it says that if no other heir is to appear until his death, all the money go to his son. But Miss Darcy did appear-" Murdock argues, nervously fixing his tie.

"Right after his death. Mr Donovan has spent the last moments with his father and surely, if he saw this woman in the hospital, he would've recognized her when she began stalking him."

"What exactly was your client doing there those last moments? If I'm not mistaken, after his parents split, he was close only with his mother." Matt says, taking a deep breath again.

"Mr Donovan?" You simply ask, feeling how your mouth became too dry to talk.

"I-um... My mamma called to say that paps was in hospital, something serious and he wanted to see me. I came there, we talk, a pretty heart to heart conversation actually, but he never even mentioned that he cheated on my mamma, or that he had a child somewhere. He just said that he regretted the time that he didn't spend with me. So in the last weeks, we were both fixing that mistake, I guess." Donovan says, and you notice how he tears up a little.

"Thank you" you say and turn to the judge, "That will be all."

"Thank you, Miss y/l/n, Mr Murdock." Judge says, Matt takes a seat. "I think we all should take a break, and the jury will be ready to make their decision, right?" he looks at the jury expectantly, and majority of them nod energetically. "Good. Let's return in 30 minutes."

You make your way towards the bathroom, which happens to be unisex one. Just as you step in front of a mirror to fix your hair, the door opens rather loudly, and no one other than Matt Murdock appears.

You stand up, dropping the pen on your table. "Go grab a coffee, I'm positive that everything is going to be okay for us, yeah?"

Donovan nods, getting up as well.

"Sorry, is this the bathroom?" He asks, smiling briefly.

"I'm sure you wouldn't be stepping in so confidently if it wasn't." You answer, following Murdock's path, which unfortunately leads to the neighboring sink.

"Ah, Miss y/l/n, pleasure to meet you somewhere outside the courtroom." he taps around the sink to find the source of water.

"You know, I honestly thought that I was going to run into you near the coffee machine but I guess life's a bitch." You turn on the water and wet your hands, the slowly tap the loose hair strands and for a while, they stick.

"What, not happy to see me?"

"I'd be more happy to see you lose today. We both know you have no chance of winning."

"Ah, never lost your confidence, Miss y/l/n, even after I beat you twice?" he smirks, and you feel the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

"Not exactly my style, I'm sure you should know that after two times. How's the business going? I overheard in the office that clients are paying you with food packets and uh, fruit bowls?" You ask, leaning on the sink with one hand.

Matt laughs, "I might share one if I win today."

"Oh, no, I would never use your kindness for selvish purposes, although I would gladly eat a donut right now. Any chance you carry one in your pocket?" You laugh as well, Matt grins.

"I don't think my pockets are big enough for that, but if I ever place one there, I'll be sure to give it to you, y/n." Matt dries his hands, leaning on the sink too.

"Oh, first name basis? Didn't think we were that far, Mr Murdock." You grin, shamelessly checking him out, it didn't hurt to know your opponent better, in and out.

"Never thought we were anything less." He smirks, offering you his elbow, clearly a sign for you to lead him out.

"So, you're so desperate for a case that you took this one? Is this how your business is going?" You ask nonchalantly, Matt furrows his eyebrows.

"Our business is going perfectly, thank you asking, y/l/N. How's -"

"You'd get much more if you worked at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz." You simply say. "Good lawyers like you and Mr Nelson should not go to waste with cases like this.

"Is this a job offer or a piece of advice?" Murdock turns to the side, looking in your direction.

"Little bit of both, perhaps. Well," you tap his arm once, "we've reached the coffee machine. My treat? I believe you need to save money, considering today's loss."

"Miss y/l/n, aren't you too confident today? It's up to jury to decide, or have you already charmed one of them?" he leans on his cane, you put the money in machine and push the coffee button, discreetly taking a look at his knuckles, that are definitely bruised.

"The only charmer in the courtroom is you, Mr Murdock, I believe chances that you have already charmed that lady on the left are way higher." You smile, watching how the cup is filling up with hot drink.

"You think of me as a charmer?" Matt smirks.

"I think of you as a worthy opponent. Nothing more." You take the cup and hand it to Matt.

He takes the cup and smells it. "I'm forever in your debt now, y/l/n."

"Yeah, you and your partner." You click the button again, buying coffee for Nelson.

"My partner? Wait, so you, are buying drinks for me and Foggy?" Matt's smile is as big as his courtroom ego today.

"Well, I'm not a monster, you know." You roll your eyes.

"Didn't think of you as one." He says mysteriously and you feel the blush creeping on your cheeks. Not everyday you receive a compliment, especially with that attitude of yours.

"Here, I hope it's no trouble to hold another cup, or is Mr Nelson somewhere out there?" You crane your neck and look around the crowd of people, but Matt shakes his head.

"He's not here, I'll hold it." You put the cup in his hand, which is surprisingly warm.

"Friendship sixth sense?" You ask, but he just laughs the sentence away. "Well," you finally say after a moment, watching the coffee pour into the cup, "I'm good. Where to, Mr Murdock?"

"A place that is crowded? I assume you don't want anyone to see us together, as you know, as opponents, we're supposed to despise each other." He whispers devilishly.

"I like your thinking. Surely it would raise suspicions to anyone who knows us, they would probably think of us as best friends." You fake shudder and cross your hand with Matt's, taking Foggy's cup from him. His palm, that is touching your bare arm feels incredibly warm and heavy, and at this moment, you're just glad that the walk to the bench is not a long one.

"Coffee's nice." Matt finally says after a minute.

"Coffee's shit. Plus, we don't really need to talk, I don't want to lose the mood." You take another sip of the drink and lean on the bench.

Matt crosses his legs and turns to you, "What mood?"

"The mood of beating you." You simply say, downing the drink and tapping your pocket impatiently. You really needed a smoke but that would create even more distractions.

"We shall see about that beating. Maybe you were wrong all along."

"Listen, there's no way for Darcy to win. The will clearly states that Donovan gets everything-"

"If Darcy doesn't show up before his death." Matt argues, putting the cup on the bench, ready to wave his hands.

"But she showed up the day after he died." You press.

"Yes, after her father mysteriously died, and I believe that your client has something to do with it."

"What are you saying? Are you accusing Donovan of his father's death?" You say a little too loud. Couple of nearest people turn to look at the two of you, and Matt puts his hand on your arm again, leaning closer to you.

"Will you just keep your voice down? What I'm saying is that Donovan didn't even visit his father in years but suddenly shows up couple of weeks before his death? Right around the time when Darcy hired a PI? I know he's your client but doesn't that raise any suspicions?" Matt says lowly, almost whispering, his coffee breath hits your face.

"Murdock, I don't even know how to call what you're doing right now." You blow a raspberry but he squeezes your wrist a little.

"I'm not here to play sides, or to do you dirty, although I would really love it the other day, but I'm here to bring justice, and this whole thing smells shady as hell." He says and you lean forward, elbows on your knees, deep in thought.

"So if Donovan really had something to do with his father's death, although it's not possible. He died of a heart attack. Then what you're saying is that he did it on purpose when he found out of Darcy's existence?" You ask, raking your brain for any missing points, needing a smoke now more than ever.

"Yes, listen, I know it sounds crazy but it could be possible." Matt leans closer to you again.

"How would we know it? How did Donovan find out about Darcy if his mother didn't even know about the affair? And he claims to have never seen the will before his father's death. Also, that second will you brought up, doesn't make any sense. I've asked for the documents in the archive and never received it." You glance at the clock and stand up. "Whatever. It's up to jury now. They're gonna say their decision soon."

Matt stays silent, visibly lost in thought.

"You need help or can you manage through the crowd alone, Murdock?" You ask and he stands up, taking Foggy's cup and placing his palm on your elbow.

"Help would be nice, Miss y/l/n."

[sneezemonster15]

Okay I hate bringing this up but I just couldn't help but giggle at anti SNS Sasuke stans for thinking that stanning SNS is 'western'. Lol. The entire fandom's collective worldview is plain "western".

And they obviously consider themselves the representatives of this hallowed ground which is 'not western'.

By which I imagine they are implying that they aren't western. I know some of them are Asian.

Okay. But. See.

I see and recognise the tempting opportunity to indulge in stereotypes. I have done it myself in the past. On the other hand, it can also get too reductive, which it very often is.

But for the sake of the argument, I want to indulge you. Even if I believed the bifurcation you operate on, ie, western vs non western, well, I still don't know where you stand in the middle of all this. I am really stumped. Because your takes are neither Western nor Asian. Your extent of relevant knowledge of both Western and Asian elements is piss poor and embarrassingly ignorant. I don't know which continent it is from. Where do you even live? Lol. Is there a nation for delusions?

Loads and loads of Asian and specifically Japanese people see and recognise SNS. Where have you been? Lol.

I mean, what a weird flex. Lol.

Oh yeah, I am surely going to trust the judgment of someone who thinks homosexuality doesn't exist in Japan.

Call me elitist but okay, my fault for thinking one would at least skim google search before they righteously STATE something factually incorrect, entirely stupid and embarrasingly wrong about something as important as 'a country's centuries' worth of socio cultural sexual history' on a global platform where they are in a virtual debate of sorts with another person on the internet, who can prove them wrong with the littlest effort.

I find it a little funny that they so superbly fail to realize that there are other people on the internet. And a lot of them DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, operate on such truth nuggets such as Kishimoto, an ace storyteller and artist, draws so much sexually risqué art with Sasuke and Naruto to show that they are brothers. Lol. Or that it would be crazyyy to think that someone from Kishi's generation would know about a man loving another man because homosexuality was apparently invented in the nineties.

[theknightmarket]

“Why would I work with you?”

In which Mark and an old friend reunite. Part 1 - Part 2 TW: cursing, angst, sexual references Pages: 23 – Words: 8500

[Requests: OPEN]

Mark was furious. In his mind, righteously so; despite being the primary protagonist in this bound-to-be box office hit, the director neglected to tell him about his co-star. You’d think that being the very person the entire shoot depended on, he’d be the first to be told about any changes or surprises coming his way. Oh, but how wrong you’d be. Now, Mark considered himself to be a patient man, but only a day was left before they fully started shooting that the director could have told him about his partner in – which, to him, was not long enough. So, he listened in on the gossip of two assistants and may have overheard the shocking news that sent him storming through the set. 

Currently, those exact assistants were chasing him through the halls of old western Mississippi, inhaling dust and bumping into food carts as they went. They tried to yell after Mark, but he was on a warpath and gunning straight for the director. They barely got out a word, warnings that a temperamental actor was coming up behind him before they skidded into the side of a saloon door. Wrestling with the wooden slats, they watched the scene unfold as he stepped over onto metal plating.

“Patton!” Mark hissed, inches away from his ear. 

The director swirled around and looked up at his prized protagonist. Bent eyebrows, a glare that could kill a man twice over, and half-done makeup to boot – he wasn’t sure for what, but Mr. Patton knew he should be scared. Trying to keep up a façade of confidence around the employees, he grimaced awkwardly. The poor attempt at a smile did nothing to placate his anger. 

“Is everything alright, Mark?” he asked, knowing full well that something was wrong. 

But Mark just parroted, “Is everything alright?” in such a mocking tone that set Patton’s ears aflame. “Let’s see, the costume fits fine enough, my coffee was only three minutes late, and the product-placement is no longer forced into a serious scene…” he trailed off, pretending to tap his chin in thought. The rest of the crew looked on in surprise and fear, some shuffling off to avoid his wrath. They had only been working with the guy for a day, and yet, they already knew of his temperament. “And, if it’s not any of those, I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that I didn’t know I have a co-star!?”

Mark was so close to the director that he could see the rage building in his eyes, like a bull teased by a flying flag. Taking a step back, he fumbled with his jacket. “Ah, yes, well, we tried to tell you—” 

“Hmm, and how did that go? Had I been told?”

Patton sighed. It wasn’t his fault, that much was obvious, but trying to convince Mark of that would be like convincing somebody to jump into a 30-foot-deep pit. So, he just glanced away and gestured for the camera crew to set up. “No, you hadn’t,” he conceded, “but it’s too late to change the roles, and there has to be two people here.”

Mark rolled his eyes, arms crossed, and feet planted in his shoes. “I don’t care about that; I care about who it is.”

Huh. Patton had expected an outrage over having to share the limelight, but his choice of co-star was something different. It spawned a different annoyance in Mark that had him raising an eyebrow. Close enough to see the anger, he was also close enough to see remembrance. “What?” he whispered, “Do you mean—”

His words were cut off by Mark gripping his shoulder. Tightly. 

“Don’t you dare say their name.” 

Patton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Having Mark’s name on the poster was a big deal, but he was not prepared to deal with him being like that for the rest of the shoot – he was fine with the yelling, he could cope with pissing him off once in a while but trying to control his choices was over the line. 

Promptly, he removed Mark’s hand and spoke, “Look, Mark, you can’t just act like a child and hope to get your way.”

“I’m not acting like a child.” 

He was, and everybody was aware of it, even the crew who distanced themselves and pretended to fix cameras or adjust costumes. Patton continued, “So, you’re going to have to suck it up and get along for the next couple months. We’ll keep your shoots together short, but you have to meet me half-way.” 

The actor thought it over. It wasn’t an ideal situation – ideal would be shooting it completely alone, but the script demanded two protagonists to go smoothly. He could do a couple months, but that was his limit, and God forbid they need more than five reruns of a scene.

“Fine.” He shrugged, pretending like he hadn’t just thrown a fit in the middle of a set. “But don’t expect me to be nice outside of work.”

Patton let out that breathe and a blanket of calm overthrew whatever tension had been created. Maybe everything would be alright, they could get through the movie without any hiccups. He let a smile shift onto his face. 

“No, we wouldn’t ask that much of you.” He arranged a set of scripts in his hands. “We all know how you are when you’re made to step slightly out of your comfort zone.”

Whatever remark the star had been planning to make, though his mouth was open, and his mind was rearing, was cut off by the slam of a heavy door. It came from behind Mark, but he didn’t have to see to guess exactly who it was. The distance between steps, the clacking of polished shoes, the slight chatter as they spoke to whoever they brought with them. He held back on rolling his eyes again, fearing they would fall right out, and he wouldn’t have them stocked up to annoy them when they spoke. Instead, he kept staring straight forward. 

Mark had a track record for dealing with co-stars – often times, they would fall one of two ways. They would either start an intrepid affair that would make its way to the printing press, or they would either break apart in a matter of minutes. Arguing and fights were common, and the two would come out of the other side hating the other’s guts. However, and this was supposed to be common knowledge, there was no one that he would hate working with more in the entire world than…

“Sounds like you haven’t changed a bit, Mark.”

You. 

Your shoes stopped just next to him, but you didn’t even spare him a glance. You’d seen the posters and the interviews, you knew what he looked like now, and he hadn’t changed in that department very much, either. Same cocky smirk towards every camera, something red on his somewhere, and a jawline for days. When you saw it, you wanted nothing more than to crack it in two. 

“And you sound as weaselly as ever.”

Mark held the same sentiments. Staying in one place that was affected slightly by you was a chore, one that he wouldn’t soon choose, and now he was being forced to! It was bad enough his friends still asked about you from time to time but invading his workplace would be getting on his nerves fast. 

“God, you are such a brat,” you complained. At your side, the guy you were talking to – your assistant, Toby – handed you a coffee before stepping back to give you some space. You just smiled and replied with a softer tone, “Thank you, love.”

It was painful to not vomit at the interaction, Mark found, and he covered it up with commenting, “Manipulative banshee.”

You were quick to the draw, saying bluntly, “Man-whore.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Princess.”

“Two-timing, two-faced, backstabbing bastard,” he spat, turning away from you. 

“Grow up.”

“Get out.”

“This is not going to work,” you stated to the director. He was standing between the two of you, a look of horror plastered on his face. It rapidly melted into distaste, and, clenching his fists, he did more than explode in anger. 

“Oh, you’re going to make it work! I’ve paid too much to get you here, and I don’t want to be replacing tables or- or,” Patton latched onto your shoulder and grappled Mark’s arm, guiding you towards the exit, “refurbishing bathrooms just because you two won’t get along. So, you are going to put aside whatever the hell went wrong in your relationship and shoot this goddamn movie if it’s the last thing you do!” You arrived at the door you had just entered through, Toby and, presumably, Mark’s assistant, trailing meekly behind you. “And, please, if you’re going to kill each other, do it out of the sound stage. Things echo, and I don’t want the audio messed with.”

And just like that, you were shoved unceremoniously out of the doors. You were frozen in place as the cold wind caressed your skin, raising goosebumps and getting you to shiver. Mouth open to say something, you realized who you were with and shut it without a second thought. 

Inside the studio, another assistant approached Patton. His scowl was fading but the crease between his eyebrows dared people to come closer. Shakily, they asked, “Aren’t you worried about them, sir?”

To their surprise, Patton shook his head and swiveled on his heel. The assistant followed his confident strides, listened as he replied, “Nope. I’ve been in this business long enough to know one of them is gonna be in the other’s bed by reshoots.” 

The following morning was big. The first scene was to be recorded, and that meant a forced interaction between you and Mark. As you stepped over the threshold of the set, you practically felt the air flex and bend around you. Everybody was waiting with bated breath to see how it would turn out, the responsibility to refrain from any remarks or insults balancing heavy on your shoulders. You placed your bag and sunglasses on a table, took a swig of a water bottle, and sat down. Your movements were stiff and mechanical, much like the crew, and you kept an eye out for your co-star. It didn’t take long to hear him first. 

“Kill me now.” 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, it’s only a few hours,” you responded, flicking through your emails. You needed to act nice on stage, sure, but off-set was another thing entirely, and you thought it better to let off steam now than when you were in the middle of a scene. 

Mark fell into the chair on the other side of the table. “With you, it feels like an eternity.” 

“Trust me,” you laughed, “I can make it a lot worse.” 

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you mad, just blunt annoyance, but Mark didn’t think the same way as you. Instead, he was clearly fuming in his chair, tapping his arm, and, though you didn’t hear it, muttering insults under his breath. 

“Okay, you two!” Patton emerged from another room, toting your assistants. “We want our dear Captain by the docking bay and Mark, you’re standing ready to greet them.” 

Nodding, you rushed to your station, being careful to focus your mind on your script and away from your relationship with Mark. It only made matters worse that you had to be friendly with him, act like you wanted to hear from him and follow him around, but that was what years of experience helps with. Pretending you didn’t want to wrestle him to the ground and squeeze the life out of him. 

With the call of ‘action’ from the director, doors opened before you, revealing Mark, grinning ear to ear, and confidently holding his hands to his hips. Smoke bellowed out around him, just as dramatic as he was, before he started his line, “Welcome aboard the Invincible II, Captain. Glad to have you here. Took you long enough but let me give you the grand tour before we embark.”

He was so punch-able.

By the time it got to his last line – “Oh, and I forgot to mention, it’s not a problem of course, but just before you go to sleep, be absolutely sure, do not—” – and the cameras cut, you were applauding yourself for resisting the temptation. Eve being tempted by the snake would have had an easier time with how many smug looks he shot you when the camera faced away from him. 

Still, as you stepped back out of the foggy cabinet, Patton came up to you and smiled placatingly. “Nice work, guys, we’ll take fifteen and then we’re running the next scene.” 

With the go ahead, you unzipped your jacket and let cool air flood around your sides. Those things were deceptively hot, and they often left you sweating no matter where you went in the ship. You tied the arms around your waist as you went to grab your bottle again. In the corner of your eye, you saw Juliette, Mark’s assistant, spring from her chair and hand a similar bottle to him. 

The crew milled around, the assistants scattering themselves to fix anything that might have tipped or damaged, and the actors spilled off the set. You hummed to yourself to keep occupied and to ignore the slowly approaching footsteps. Intentional, dramatic – you knew who this was before they had stopped. 

Mark was the first to speak, letting off the rudeness he had been keeping holed up during shooting by remarking, “You need to speak louder.”

“You grimace instead of smile,” you replied and set the water back on the table. 

“When I’m talking to you, I do.” 

You didn’t know what Mark’s intentions were. It would be easy to completely ignore each other – better for you, in fact, because you wouldn’t get more aggravated when you were in a scene – and yet he continued to try and start arguments. If he wanted a fight, you would gladly give him one, but you questioned why he wanted to interact more than necessary. 

“You weren’t talking to me, you were talking to the captain.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.” 

Mark scoffed and collapsed into his chair, to which you rolled your eyes. He acted like everything was a chore, as if he had been forced to do this movie. “You’re the one who nearly hit the door on the way onto the ship,” he pointed out. 

“And you’re the one whose beret was off.” 

“No, it wasn’t!” he yelled, almost indignant. This, you laughed at; you had been staring at it for the better half of an hour, imagining his face when you told him, and it was better than you had thought. But you took generous pity on the poor guy – and you wanted to prove him wrong – so you planted yourself inches away from him and leaned down to fix the hat. Mark’s face exploded in beet red, mouth opening centimeters just for a second of fumbling and stuttering to come out. 

“See?”

When you stood straight again, he pulled the beret off entirely and slammed it onto the table. “Don’t touch me,” he grumbled. 

You chuckled lightly, saying, “You chose me as your co-star.” 

“God, no,” Mark gasped, the idea appearing to physically pain him in how he shot back into his seat, “why would I work with you?”

“Because you miss me.” 

If insinuating he chose you hurt him, then implying he missed you sent him into a heart-attack. Almost keeling over, you heard mild sounds of disgust in the form of dramatic retching and gagging. He really was the poster child for actors, and you looked away with embarrassment. People were starting to stare but, for fear of enraging Mark, they kept their whispers to themselves. 

“I do not,” was all he said when he recovered from that debilitating illness. 

You sat down in your chair again, asking, “Then why am I here if you didn’t ask for me?”

“Patton chose you.”

“And you didn’t argue?”

“Oh, I argued, but I only found out two minutes before you arrived.” 

You didn’t know what it was, but that little scenario gave you pause. A pair of emotions battled inside your heart; satisfaction that Mark couldn’t take this opportunity away from you, and strange disappointment. You didn’t care, or you thought you didn’t, but it hurt to have him that resistant towards you. You could chalk it up to residual emotions from your past, but there was a bit inside you that told you it wasn’t true. Even now, there was something buried deep that wanted to repair your relationship with him, but it was obvious he would never agree to such a thing. So, you left it at that, ignored the feelings stirring inside and reverted to being a nuisance. 

“And why did you even say yes?” Mark asked from the other side of the table. You almost didn’t hear him with how quiet he was, a surprising turn of events that confused and delighted you. 

“I didn’t know I’d be working with you.” And to be fair, you didn’t for the first day after you agreed. Then, you got the call that Mark was to work alongside you, and you couldn’t pass up an opportunity to annoy the hell out of him. Also, it would put your name further up in reputation, and after what had happened, he owed it to you. 

Mark replied bluntly, “You still came.”

“You’re still here.” 

Despite the conversations around you – about the brightness of the lights, the props needed for the next scene, the door getting more grease – nothing was louder than your own breathing. Mark hadn’t replied, and he wouldn’t for a few seconds, while you thought about it. It was his fault you needed to be here, he couldn’t complain every second that he made himself spend with you, but there he was. 

And then he laughed. It was gravelly and smug, and made you want nothing more than to chuck your bottle at him. 

“Sometimes I wonder what I saw in you.”

Ow. You knew he was a dick, but did he have to say it like that? You swallowed and bit the inside of your cheek; it didn’t matter, it did not matter to you what he thought of you. If he wanted to be like that, fine, you would be the same and not have any regrets.

You retorted, “Pleasant company, somebody willing to be around you for more than five minutes. Y’know, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“So, what changed?”

You looked over to him, but Mark was facing away. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you knew what you were. Sarcastic smile dropping, you grunted, “You know damn well what changed.”

Mark didn’t turn, but if he had, you would have seen the look of confusion melt over his face. Any annoyance or aggravation disappeared into scrunched eyebrows and a small frown. He tried to think of what that meant, but nothing came up, no matter how hard he looked. Eventually, he settled on saying, “You blame me.”

“Yes.” His frown deepened. “Yeah, Mark, I do.” 

“Why?”

You froze. Was he serious? You really couldn’t tell. Thinking back to it, he had never brought up what he did, possibly because you hadn’t spoken once since the incident, but you would have expected him to use it against you. Acting ignorant was a stupid move, and it confused you even more than Mark was.

“I can’t tell if you’re actually that stupid, or you’re trying to piss me off.” 

His head whipped around so fast you’d think his neck had snapped, but his expression stayed a spiteful anger. “You’re not telling me what I supposedly did, so I couldn’t tell you.” 

“You—” Forcing yourself to stop, you sighed. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you so mad, so you just rose from your seat and brushed yourself off. “—I have better things to do than to sit here and argue, and I’m sure you do, too.” 

Completely disregarding his change in face, you called out, “Toby!” The boy promptly rushed to your side, sharing a nod that spoke lengths. You wanted to leave, Toby offered your dressing room, you agreed, and you’d both be off. 

Mark hadn’t bothered to look up, allowing him to ask, “Who’s Toby?” before realizing that he wasn’t going to get an answer; you were gone in seconds, the distant clicking of your shoes muffled by gossip and orders. 

He leaned back in his chair, the cloth curving around him like an embrace. It didn’t comfort him, for reasons he didn’t fully understand. Guilt tapped at the edge of his conscience, he didn’t let it in, but he felt the effects, nonetheless. Although he would never admit it, he was also disappointed that the conversation was over – granted, calling it a conversation was fringing on a lie – but it was… it was nice to hear your voice again. 

Pushing those feelings to the back of his mind, Mark gestured vaguely for his own assistant to follow him to his room. 

Your dressing room was relatively big, coming stocked with a vanity, cabinet, and a long, long rack for costumes. All of those different universes required a different combination of clothes, some needing alterations on those because of tears or burns. Luckily, Mark got put through the grinder more, so he probably had double the amount you had. 

Groaning, you sat carelessly down in the chair before your vanity and stared at your image. You looked tired, despite only having been working for maybe two hours, and it was Mark’s fault. It seemed everything was lately, and only now were you starting to think twice about taking the job. 

“I just don’t understand him, y’know,” you muttered, hearing Toby close the door behind himself. You were away from the crew, and that meant you were free to spill all your thoughts while he followed through on touch-ups. “He talks like he doesn’t remember a single thing he did and then I’m in the wrong for being spiteful without cause.” Toby pulled out a small stool and sorted through his equipment. "Or does he genuinely not remember it because it didn’t matter to him in the first place?”

“Eyes closed,” he ordered, but he was soft in his tone to not disturb your thoughts. 

In the room over, Juliette prompted, “Eyes open.” 

Mark did so, and immediately complained, “I mean, how can they blame me? I remember clear as day what happened, and none of it was my fault. I contributed more to that relationship than they ever had, and I’d never do anything to make my efforts pointless.” 

When Juliette had signed up to be Mark’s assistant, she didn’t know what it would include. She guessed all the normal things, like helping with makeup and arranging costumes, which she was actually doing – however, not included was hearing about the relationship issues between him and his co-star, an idea not even the press had heard so deeply about. The first time she had seen you, she thought you were nice, maybe a bit on the self-absorbed side, but what A-list actor wasn’t? It was a shock to hear him say such things, leading her to ask, “You dated, sir?”

He sighed, as if it pained him to admit it. “Yeah, but they weren’t like how they are now.” A tinge of remembrance settled in his mouth, a taste he wasn’t a stark fan of. “At the start, they were kind and calm and witty, and a bit impulsive but I liked that about them.” 

Mark wasn’t proud of it, but he had always kept the memories of your relationship under lock and key at the back of his mind. Your infectious smile when you won a game against him, the mischievous glint in your eye when you figured out a loophole, the shallow slack of your shoulders when you were told you couldn’t do something, and the embarrassed chuckle when you did that thing and faced the consequences. Nothing too serious, nothing that made him want to get you back – at least, not when he was fully sober, and his brain actually worked for him – but it was enough that he didn’t storm out when you entered the sound stage. 

“Now,” he continued, dragging himself out of his memories, “they’re all bark, no bite, but they still have the nerve to talk back to me when I’m the one carrying this entire production.”

Juliette bit back the remark that, really, he wasn’t. Instead, she ruffled through costumes and removed a slightly damaged replica of the one Mark wore currently. 

“And then I’m the one who’s left with the memory of what happened and nothing else to justify how I’m acting that he will actually accept!” 

You flopped your head back over the headrest, your captain’s hat falling onto the floor without a sound. You hadn’t discussed the relationship with anyone, and you hadn’t planned to, unless they were involved. Really, that only extended to three people, two of whom were the people in that relationship. The other was your brother, who was only slightly affected by the split, but he warranted an explanation. 

It appeared that now was the time to break your silence. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Toby started, tentatively, “what did happen with you two?”

Looking up at him, you asked, “You don’t know?”

He shook his head. 

You sighed before starting the story, a poor way to prepare yourself but it worked for the moment. “It must’ve been a year ago, maybe less, but the video is still out there. Mark and I used to be in a relationship, and I thought it was going pretty well, all things considered. Mark’s career was already stable, and I was getting onto my feet doing a bunch of horror movies.” 

“They were obsessed with horror movies.” Although he hadn’t been asked, Mark was quick to divulge any information about them in his rant. Once he had been started, he wasn’t going to stop until every little bit was out of his brain. “But I liked romance just as much, so we’d always take turns on movie nights. Of course, we watched each other’s shoots before they came out in theaters, and it was,” he paused for a second, “fun to see them be the characters they adored.” 

Juliette folded the costume and placed it on the vanity, soot edging off and falling onto the surface. Absentmindedly, she commented, “I think they came out in that Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel.” 

Mark smiled, the look in his eyes distant. “Oh, that was their favorite. Something about the main guy being pressured and not actually evil.” 

“So, what happened?”

“He had to kill teenagers with a chainsaw in Texas, go figure, and his family were cannibals and ate them in this creepy dinner scene. It was actually pretty good for a horror.” 

Juliette blinked. “I meant the relationship, sir.”

“Oh, right, that.”

Gripping an eyeliner pencil, Toby moved in close to your face. The scrape was never comfortable, but he had learned a while ago how to stop the skin moving. “Huh,” he mumbled, “I don’t think I’ve seen you in any from back then.” 

“You probably haven’t,” you replied, resisting rubbing away the makeup, “not unless you broke into the catacombs. They were buried after what happened, and I don’t think they even got to the big screen once.” 

Toby nodded, but you didn’t continue. Your eyes lost focus and it all came rushing back to you. It wasn’t a happy day, when you broke up, but they never were. 

“So, it’s a video?” he asked after a few seconds. 

You snapped back to what was in front of you, mainly Toby sitting with a concerned but curious expression, and you smiled. You had gotten better since then, but it wouldn’t hurt to think about where you started. 

“Yeah,” you began, “Mark had an interview about an action he had just starred in, and the guy asking him questions started shifting it off the movie and onto his personal life. He thought our relationship was plenty interesting, so he kept prying into us.” You fought off a grimace. That very man had offered an interview to you hours after that one, and you were glad you had denied him. “Now, I’m not above giving credit where credit’s due, we had agreed to keep our relationship out of the press’ mouths, and Mark tried. He’d redirect and start relating them back to the movies, but it never really worked when someone as influential as him was taken. Plus, that interviewer would get a lot of money to get the word straight from him.

“I don’t know what happened, I only saw the video after everything was cut up and edited, but what I did see…” you trailed off. You would tell Toby as much as he needed to know to get the full picture, but there were some things you wanted to keep close to the chest - the drop of your jaw, the crack of your heart, and the shake of your hands. It had felt like everything was falling apart around you, leaving you suspended and immobile in a void. You didn’t feel angry, or sad, just there, as if you had been pulled away and dangled as a spectator. 

Eyes dropping, you muttered, “It really hurt. Mark was sitting there, slandering my entire career, everything I had worked for, and making himself out to be some kind of victim. He talked about how I never spent any time with him, how I separated him from all his friends and mocked him to my own, how I probably cheated on him when I went to shoot with any other co-star.” 

You glanced back up to meet Toby’s eyes, only to see a question that everybody you knew replicated back then. You answered, “I didn’t.”

“Sorry,” he spoke, the suspicion immediately disappearing with just two words. If that had happened before, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess. Alas, it hadn’t, but you couldn’t say you hated the outcome. It was just… difficult. 

Mark, meanwhile, could and would confidently say he despised this scenario. Having to work with you was a nightmare come true, and he would take any opportunity given to him to plead his case. “It was June 12th,” he began, prompted by Juliette’s question, “I had just gotten home from the final shoot for this major action movie I had starred in, and I was so excited to talk to them about it, so I run upstairs to our room – I ran for them, Julie – and when I get there, they’re talking to somebody on the phone.” The sound of creaking wood and laughter stuck in his ears. “I’m a patient guy, and I wait there for a few seconds, until I hear them say how I’ve been out of the house for a while. I’m thinking they’re lonely and I’m ready to go and talk to them, but I hear them laugh and tell the other person how they could share a bed like they used to!” 

Mark shot forward in his seat, almost spilling out of it in an outraged pile. Juliette made a face of sympathy as she stretched out the sleaves of another costume, brushed the dust off with a concerned sound. 

He continued, “Now, I- I was invested in this relationship, and I thought I could trust them, so I was thinking up excuses for them, up until, clear as crystal—” At this point Mark was spitting out venom, “—they tell the person that they love them.” 

This got Juliette’s attention. She hadn’t entirely been paying attention, splitting their focus between clothes and his story, but this had her fully turning around to look at him. Unlike on screen, he looked genuinely saddened, even a little bit of betrayal was peaking through. That actor really did a number on him, huh? 

“Damn,” she replied, setting down the hanger, “I’m sorry.” 

Mark let a breath flow through his teeth and rubbed his forehead for a moment of calm. Talking about it had gotten him stressed, his heart rate rising and blood flooding his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was real, but he felt the chokehold of tears in his throat, a feature of retelling the story he wasn’t proud to admit. So, hoping to hide them and force them back down, he leaned back and commented, “There’s nothing to do now but wait until this awful shoot is over and never see them again.” 

“Well, there’s plenty you can do.” 

He pulled his head back up, sitting straight with his eyebrows folded inwards. “What do you mean?”

“It’s understandable,” you replied, taking a perfume bottle into your hands, and fiddling with the label, “the rest of the world believed him. The next day I got a call from my agent telling me that I was completely fucked, she believed him, too.” You recalled the discussion you had vividly – because it wasn’t really a discussion at all, it was more of her yelling that you were a monster and your personality would tank any kind of acting you tried, but at least she wished you well before dropping you. “Those movies I had coming out were shelved, maybe burned if the studios were that scared people would find out they worked with me. I split with Mark the second I heard her and haven’t regretted it since.” 

That was, mostly, the truth, if you put aside the one time you dialed his number in a particularly drunken stupor. He hadn’t picked up, though, which you were thankful for to this day. 

“How’d you get here then?” Toby asked while dusting off your fallen hat. 

“How’d I end up co-starring with Mark?” you laughed, “Yeah, I’ve asked myself that every minute of this day.” You played it off as a joke, but Toby didn’t laugh. “No, I went home. Got an apartment near my family for moral support and worked at a café to keep the balances afloat. I had money left over from acting, but I wasn’t going to get anything from the unreleased movies or new scripts. It took a while, but after a dozen charity donations, apologies, and begging, I am who I am now.”

And then Toby said something you didn’t expect. You had expected the accusatory look, you had expected the curiosity into your story, but you did not expect him to say honestly, “Well done.”

The small frown that had developed over the course of the tale lightened, and, eventually, a thankful smile cracked over your lips. “Thank you.” 

“No.” 

Mark’s response was immediate and direct. It left no room for a conversation, or for someone to be able to convince him otherwise. His word was final, and, here, that meant not following through with whatever inane plan Juliette had come up with. 

There was a clatter of instruments as she asked, “Why not?” 

“I- I can’t. I’d get thrown off this set before I could even start.” 

Juliette scoffed. “Mr. Patton said it’s too late to change roles, he won’t risk throwing out his star actor.”

It was a well-known fact that playing to Mark’s ego was a surefire way of getting him to do whatever you wanted. Most of the time, it was small stuff, mostly getting him to leave an issue alone. However, even though it was rumored to be the end-all-be-all of convincing him, he only doubled down. 

“Okay, how about, I just don’t want to.” 

“Look,” Juliette swirled on her heels, picked up a brush and moved to apply the blush to Mark’s face, “it’s clear to me why you really won’t do it, so why don’t you let me handle this, and you get to reap the rewards.” 

He shifted back, a vain attempt to get away from the approaching tool. “But that’s immoral.”

“You seem to do it plenty already.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sir.” She stopped in front of him with an assuring grin on her face, not hiding what she planned to do. “But you can trust me to get the job done. That’s a Juliette guarantee.” 

Mark had had enough. He had put up with her for long enough now, that being a whole three minutes, but he was done. The brush was dropped to the ground, discarded carelessly, as the actor shot from his seat, followed by his assistant. They both had annoyed but determined looks to them, started by Mark clenching his fists and heading toward the door.

“I don’t want you to get the job done,” he spoke, gripping the handle, “I want you to get your job done. Just… leave my relationship to me and everything will be fine. If something happens, then I’ll consider it, but, right now, it is my personal business, and you should not be interfering where it does not concern you.” 

The door slammed, a noise that rocked the studio to its foundations and sent the crew into hiding. A predator was on the prowl and getting caught by him might just be an early death sentence. 

When the call for everyone to return to the set was heard, all four of those that had disappeared returned with nary a look nor comment to spare. You and Mark were silent as you climbed back to your positions, you preparing to get shot out of a glorified locker, and Mark trying to appear panicked. Juliette and Toby stood off to the side with the rest of the assistants, who would watch and comment on anything needed to be fixed. Or, they should have, but it was more common for them to gossip and geek out. 

As quiet as she could to not get caught, Juliette greeted, “Toby.”

“Juliette.” 

“How’d it go?”

“Fine, fine.” The other assistants noticed how formal they were being and quietened down, only to rise back up in volume when they saw a crew member nearly spill their coffee. “How about you?”

“Fine.”

They stayed like that for a second, both wondering if the other knew, and wondering who was going to crack first. 

That didn’t matter though because they both spoke in unison.

“They cheated on Mark.”

“Mark tanked their life.” 

Eyes meeting when the words processed, they squinted at each other – freakily, all of their movements were in unison, the pulling back, the blinking, the opening their mouths to speak again. Juliette began first, explaining, “I’ve been told they choreographed an affair while Mark was shooting the action film.” 

Toby’s eyes widened impossibly so. “He publicly accused them of cheating in a press conference that ended their career.” 

The two looked back at you and Mark. 

They looked at each other. 

They looked back to you.

“Those idiots,” Juliette sighed. 

“Yep,” agreed Toby. 

Something had gone wrong, miscommunication giving its best performance, and it left you both thinking the other had done something wrong. The most common scenario was neither of you had, and it was up to them to fix this. Well, not really, but they were taking it upon themselves, regardless. 

“What do we do now?” Juliette wondered aloud. 

Toby shrugged back. “Help them?”

It didn’t take long for her to grip his arm and drag him away from the conglomerate of assistants, saying, “I have an idea.” 

“What, now?”

Down the hall and through one of the doors on the left, they were gone before someone could notice they were planning to. Softened shoes skittered down hallways like mice looking for a piece of cheese. That cheese was Juliette’s satchel.

“They’ll occupy themselves with petty arguments for a while,” she explained, “we’ve got an hour, I’d say, and then we can dump them with Mr. Patton, or lock them in a room together until they tire themselves out.”

Stopping to unlock a door, Toby was able to say, “I am so scared of you.”

The key clicked and the wood swung open. She was in and out seconds later, standing ready with her car keys and wallet. “Come on.” 

Regretting everything that led him up to that moment, Toby followed her out of the building entirely.

You waltzed down a hallway a couple hours after the last shoot. Having been in your dressing room, memorizing a couple tricky lines and figuring out blocking for yourself, you were still in the studio when you received a text. It was your work phone, something you had bought after getting a myriad of death threats mixed with your friends’ talk of the Babadook, and you had given the number to many people. One of those was Toby, the person who had texted you to get you down to a meeting room. He hadn’t given you any directions, so you found yourself wandering through more than one completely wrong hallway before you got to conference room B. 

And you wished you hadn’t ever found your way the moment you opened the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” you all but complained, letting it swing behind you as you threw your bag down next to a chair. Mark sat, staring at his nails, in the only other seat there. The rest were pulled to the side, leaving you two across from each other. You wouldn’t have questioned it if there weren’t a pair of wine glasses perched on either side of the table, or if the fluorescent overhead lights weren’t snuffed and replaced by candles. They flickered and bit at the walls, no doubt a fire hazard that had you grimacing. 

“I’m the one who should be disappointed,” Mark replied, brushing off his fingertips. He would only have looked more like an asshole if he took a bite of an apple. 

You glanced around the room, finding no clue to where Toby was or why you were there, and spoke, “I’m not disappointed. I’m disgusted.”

Another scoff – you wanted to stuff his mouth with a sock just to shut him up – and he was looking around as well. “Where’s Julie?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, you’re here, she’s not, and she’s supposed to be here, you’re not.”

You relented, admitting, “I don’t know, Toby said he’d meet me here, too.” 

He stopped momentarily and stared at you with a cocked eyebrow. “In a candle-lit room with dimmed lights?”

Seriously? You could have laughed at his automatic accusations, like clockwork, except clockwork could be stopped. “You just said you were meeting Juliette here.”

“It’s different.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Liar.”

On the other side of the door, ear up and frowning starkly, Juliette remarked, “That was fast.” It was to be expected, they hadn’t seen you exchange a friendly word since you had arrived, but they weren’t giving up. 

“Maybe we should get them on speaking terms first,” Toby offered. 

“They’re definitely on speaking terms.”

“Polite speaking terms.”  

Disregarding the idea, Juliette pushed in the door. Both of you brightened to see another face, finally not left alone to trade insults. Toby was in second, though you had differing reactions. You were happy to see your assistant, ready to ask him a million and one questions about what was going on, while Mark was doing nothing but pouting. You would have pointed it out, but Juliette started speaking before you could while Toby dropped a bag of takeout in the middle of the table. 

“Now, you two play nice, we’ve got to do some errands for Mr. Patton, we’ll be back in a couple of hours.” 

They were aware they were treating the two of you like children, but was it really that bad when you acted like ones? Mark completely ignored the tone – you squinted but didn’t comment – and yelled offendedly, “Couple hours!?”

“Don’t worry,” Toby rushed to say, “we’ll try and make it quick, but it’s urgent and we thought it’d be nice for you to talk to each other normally.” 

“We do.” 

Mouth opening without a thought to tell it to, you realized what they meant and closed it again. 

“…oh.” 

“What ‘oh’?” Mark asked, turning to face you.

The three of you left him in the dark, Juliette gesturing for Toby to come with her with a simple, “We’ll see you later.”

“Have fun!” your smiling assistant called hopefully. 

You replied with equal pep, “We won’t.”

They closed the door behind themselves, all but trapping you in together. At least you had food to cover up needing to make conversation, but, a few minutes later, something else made you want to ask a question. Digging a fork into your food, you thought about it; Mark had been right. The dimmed lighting, the candles, hell, even eating dinner led you to but one conclusion. 

“Is this a date?”

Mark spluttered, choked, and coughed his way into focus. His eyes blew wide, and he dropped his utensil onto the cardboard before him. You would have helped but- well, no, you wouldn’t have because you knew he’d be fine in the end. And he was. He shot you a withering glare as he came out of his panic. 

“What?”

“I mean,” you drawled, “the lighting, the dinner, the mood… it’s like one of those rom-coms where the exes are forced together through contrived and unrealistic scenarios that only made sense in a movie universe.”

Only gasping slightly at your diss of romantic comedies, Mark moved on to ask, “When did you get into rom-coms?”

“When I had to take all I could get.” It was a simple, true statement that should have killed the conversation dead. However, riffling through your food, you didn’t miss the ever so slightly disappointed twitch of his mouth. So, you decided to entertain the thought of having a polite chat and amended, “No, I started watching them with my friends a couple months ago.”

“Alex and Danny.” You were surprised Mark remembered them, only having mentioned them a couple of times before you split. Sure, you had gone out to bars as a group, but there were plenty of other important things he seemed to conveniently forget. 

Packing the spiteful thought underneath a swallow of wine, you replied, “Yep. They got together recently, so it feels weird to third wheel, but I still like hanging out with them.”

Mark nodded. For the next moment, you listened to the flicker of flames and scraping forks. This… wasn’t the worst dinner you’ve ever had. You held some kind of conversation, and the food was good, too. Briefly, you wondered if this was something you’d like to pursue, but that was thrown out quickly. 

But it didn’t stop there. Mark asked absentmindedly, “Have you seen Love Actually?”

You didn’t mind the laugh that forced itself through your teeth. It was a shock, sure, but a welcome one, to the both of you. Your co-star found himself smiling just that little bit wider when it met his ears. “Have I seen Love Actually? Mark, look me in the eye and ask that again.”

“So, you’ve seen it.”

You chuckled once more and responded, “Yeah.” Everybody and their mother had seen the thing, but you were in the minority with one thing about it. 

“What did you think of John and Judy?” And there it was. Mark always had a knack for knowing what you were thinking about, which, in that moment, was their roles in the movie. 

“Honestly,” you rested your pot in front of you, “I think they were shoe-horned.”

“Exactly!” 

Confusion swept over you like a flashflood. “You agree?”

“When I first met Julie, she was talking about it, and then she said they were sweet, which I get, but there are such better couples.” 

You nodded, happy to find someone who thought the same way. “I think having too many couples made it really complicated, and it drew attention from the more interesting ones – plus, you could blink and miss one of their scenes.” 

You knew that talking about work over dinner was taboo, but you couldn’t help it when you worked in such an interesting sector. Analyzing a movie was one of your favorite past times, down to doing it in the shower or when you were brushing your teeth. It was easy and good practice. 

“They were definitely just there for comic relief,” Mark continued, “which, again, I understand, but they were shoved between the emotion beats, and it hurt the final product.”

“Totally.”

Although you went back to eating in silence, it had released the tension brewing between you. The dark cloud hovering over every interaction was minimized into a few stray puffs of smoke. You weren’t going to thank your assistants for forcing the conversation, but you weren’t regretting it as much as you thought you would. Maybe, and this was just a thought to hit around in a ballpark, you could do this again sometime over lunch. One on your own terms. Yes, you were well aware that the looming conversation of your breakup was getting steadily closer, but you could enjoy talking to him before it blew up, right?

“Do you want some more wine?” you heard Mark ask. 

“Sure.” And when he had returned to his seat, you spoke softly, “Thank you, Mark.”

You missed the quiet relief settling in his heart, the regret washed away, and the realization that, hey, maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all.

[normaltothemax]

It wasn’t that Jason thought Dean would be happy about his explanation, or anything, he just hadn’t expected him to be that angry. He hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction, the amount of venom in his voice when he spoke. Dean had gone entirely still, muscles taut as he gripped the counter (and was it just Jason’s imagination, or could he actually hear the counter creaking in the man’s hands?)—Dean was pissed, and Jason didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

He blinked, stunned silent for a long moment. Was Dean really that upset on his behalf? Why? What had Jason done to warrant that? Sure, they hung out sometimes. Jason would even go so far as to call them friends. But the only people he’d ever seen get that righteously angry on his behalf, he’d considered family at the time (he tried not to think too hard about that now). Were they really that close?

Close enough that Jason had shown him his face and told him his name, he supposed.

There was also this part of him—a small part, one that he didn’t really like to acknowledge—that had thought that maybe, just maybe, Jason had been overreacting to the entire situation. After all, it wasn’t actually all that surprising that Bruce had saved the clown, given his no killing code, was is? And it wasn’t like Bruce had even tried to kill Jason, or anything. He was too skilled with the batarangs for that to have ever even been a real possibility.

But seeing Dean react like that…it made Jason think that maybe he was right to be as upset as he was. Maybe he wasn’t just letting his emotions get the better of him, like the little voice that sounded like Talia so often told him. Seeing Dean so angry was…pretty damn validating, actually.

He tried to ignore the warmth that flared up in his chest.

“Pretty sure he wouldn’t like you on principle.” A bit of a joke, halfhearted at best—Dean had dedicated his entire life to killing, Bruce would hate him—but the exhaustion was starting to weigh on him, and he was really sick of being emotional tonight.

Jason stayed where he was, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the sandwich, for a long few moments. Being difficult just for the sake of it. Standing his ground on the “I’m not hungry” stance he’d taken up.

Eventually, though, he relented and sat back down with the sandwich and his stupid Pepsi. “Yeah, whatever.” He lifted up the top piece of bread, inspecting what Dean had put in it. When he didn’t seem to find anything offensive about the ingredients, he placed the bread back down and stared at it again, before finally, grudgingly, taking a bite.

---dean expected it. without a doubt, he knew what he said was going to piss jason off. he wasn't lying when he said he could have been him in another life, but that was why dean knew it would get under his skin. he could have almost timed that 'fuck you' down to the second. then came the scraping of the chair legs against the worn wooden floor. it was like he wrote the playbook himself. dean could take all the heat jason threw at him. he knew the anger in his words wasn't even really directed at him. it was just a defense mechanism. no mask to cover up with tonight so instead angry words would have to do.

he didn't even turn to look at jason while he got it all out. dean just kept working on his sandwich. it was a good thing though, because the hunter didn't think he could have totally schooled his expression while jason yelled out the details of what happened to him. as it was, the butter knife in his hand was certainty not as straight as it was when he first started using it.

dean had done his best to keep his distance from jason. (not that it had really worked.) it was for the best. people that came into his life had a habit of exiting his life in a body bag and he didn't want that for this kid, but that didn't mean he still didn't know some details. he knew about the bat family, how could he not? he knew about the joker and he knew about the details of jason's death. (they had that in common. it wasn't often you shared digging yourself out of your own grave with someone.) so as jason explained just how the gash across his throat had got there that night dean could feel a white hot curl of rage slowly building in his gut.

dean and jason shared a lot already and now apparently they had one more thing in common. a really shitty father.

a million things swirled through the hunter's mind at once. it would be so easy to cruise into gotham, cause some problems, get the bat to show up. dean knew he was just a man. it didn't matter if he was some genius detective. that didn't stop buckshot to the face or calling heaven's wrath down upon you. (not that he could do that personally, but he was pretty sure he could call in some favors.) that didn't stop an angel blade or death's scythe.

but deep down dean knew that one on one chances were he wouldn't survive an encounter with batman himself. no matter how much he wanted to go toe to toe with him right about now. and jason didn't need that added onto his plate.

dean gripped the counter to steady himself. the tension was written all over him. how dare someone put a monster like that before their own damn kid? maybe he was a little triggered. maybe it reminded him too much of his own childhood, but he was pissed. (john had put the mission before his own boys many a time.) it was a long moment before he finally spoke. "your dad is a piece of shit and his code can go to fuckin' hell. he better hope we never meet. 'cause he really ain't gonna like me."

there was a lot more dean could have said on the subject. dean was not like the bats. he was a kill 'em dead type of hunter and he really didn't get the whole idea behind putting the same killers back in arkham over and over again. wasn't that basically insanity in its own right? but he was trying to be a little civil for jason's sake. even if dean did think he was a piece of shit, it was his dad.

after a few more moments the hunter seemed to uncoil and he finished putting together the sandwich. the butter knife was bent beyond all fixing and dean chucked it in the trash. the sandwich was casually set before jason like he hadn't just lost his cool a little there. "hope you like turkey and cheddar." he wasn't buying the whole 'not hungry' bit anyway.

[teenagemutantninjaskrtels]

Hello! i saw your book blog asks bottom aren't showing :( was going to ask for tips on how to write eris or any gray character without accidentaly excusing them like sjm does to rhysand (I admit i havent read many books like this and i am well insecure about my writting)

I've closed it for a little while. I'm not an expert, but I would suggest with any writing, the more you read, the more you come across great pieces and also not so great pieces that help shape your own style.

With a morally grey character, I would first work out why they are morally grey. What is their motive/history? Is there a goal they want to achieve and will stop at nothing to achieve it? Or is it simply their character doesn't know the difference between right and wrong and feels little guilt with what they do. Don't just make them morally grey because it's sexy (which it is most the time lmao). I'd say most morally grey characters have a complex history that makes them that way. If you grow up surrounded by goodness and righteousness, there's little need to go into the darkness. Usually there is something traumatic that feeds into their personality.

My favourite morally grey characters are ones who get a little squeamish when they do the right thing.

Take Kaz Brekker from Six of Crows. Innocent boy thrust into a big city, trusts somebody, loses all his money, brother dies, goes through a massively traumatic incident that has impacted his every waking moment since - and is then hell-bent on revenge. Does he do a lot of bad stuff? Yes. Does he feel guilt over it? No. Why? Because he is determined on that path and seems unshakeable to remove himself from it. However, he is not completely bad. He doesn't seek to hurt just anybody he comes across; he always has his target in mind. But sure, if somebody became an obstacle, he'd have no issue in removing it. Take the way he behaves with Inej; calls her his investment, knows that hurts her to consider her as little more than a lavish spend, but does it to protect himself because he doesn't want to admit that he has feelings for Inej and she is more than an investment. (Close your eyes for spoilers - but by the end of the series, he's shifted that and even if he won't admit it, he's bought her a ship and brought her parents to Ketterdam because he knows it will bring her joy - and that doesn't benefit him in the slightest to lose her)

There are many book boyfriends who are "morally grey" - Wrath from Kingdom of the Wicked, Slade from the Plated Prisoner, Casteel from From Blood and Ash, people will say Rhys too. But it seems to me they just hurt people who dare speak against their love interest. Cardan Greenbriar from the Folk of the Air is one of my favourites because he falls into the trap of "crap, I have feelings so I'll disguise them with nastiness". He's cruel to Jude but if he acted on his feelings for her, it goes against the grain of what's expected of faeries. However, I don't feel like these are actually morally grey because they are only good to a select few and just tend to be bad as much as they can otherwise. In my opinion, the Darkling is not morally grey either. He wants power and doesn't care who he steps on. There's no goodness in him. His damn name is the Darkling.

If we take love out of it, for me, a morally grey character is somebody like Lorcan from Throne of Glass who knows he's probably not doing the right thing when he's hunting for Aelin, knows it will piss of Rowan, but he is duty bound to do it and that is the more important thing to him. That desire to fulfil his goal and please Maeve supersedes everything else.

If your morally grey character is motivated by achieving a goal then they hurt people in the process and don't apologise because their goal is what drives them. Or, if they do apologise, would likely do it again. However, it might be that internally, they do feel guilty, they do feel shame for hurting someone but their goal just matters that little bit more. I would amp up the internal conflict within them. The desire to do what's right vs what you want. (If you've watched Squid Game then I'm thinking Sang-Woo).

Morally grey characters:

use others to achieve their goal - this could be a way to generate that conflict "you used me!" yeah i told you i would, what's the issue

Lie so that others never know if they're being honest with them - and that feeds into the distrust

have flaws - Kaz is so dogged with his revenge that it rules him sometimes

believe what they do is right with little regret (azriel beating the crap out of eris in the high lord's meeting which in turn spooks mor but to azriel, he was doing the right thing defending her)

get their hands dirty even if it puts off other characters

get their hands dirty to benefit the people they care about e.g. wrath ripping out a tongue because they spoke against emilia

This might be controversial but I kind of wish sjm kept some of the things that rhys did UtM, including the winter court children because he was forced into that situation and had to keep up appearances for the sake of Velaris and the mask he was wearing. Would it be an absolutely horrendous thing to do? Yes. Do I think he would do it to protect the people he loves? Yes. Would he feel guilt? Absolutely. Which would make for a much more interesting character and change how his family perceive him. But then it got retconned away.

Morally grey characters are supposed to make you squirm. They have to do the morally bad things to be grey. Just hurting bad people is being the hero. There does need to be darkness. It's a spectrum; sometimes they're a little bit closer to the light. There needs to be moments when you think "no way have they done that".

There seems to be very few morally grey female characters that I can think of. Maybe Vanja from Little Thieves who commits crimes for revenge, hurts friends to meet her goals because otherwise it's her neck on the chopping board. Or maybe Sera from A Shadow in the Ember who is told she must kill Nyktos who she is slowly seducing whilst also falling for him too.

This was a very long ramble. Sorry.

Here's some links!

[thefanficmonster]

Angel With A Shotgun

Rick Flag (The Suicide Squad) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE NEW SUICIDE SQUAD MOVIE, Death, Blood and Gore, Swearing

Summary: Being Christopher Smith’s best friend since the early days of army training camps Y/N is more than honored to be going on a mission with him. Little does she know, there are more secrets at play than she could ever imagine. Good thing the girl’s always prepared.

Requested by no one, I’m just PISSED!!! The writers did us dirty AS FUCK and I’m not gonna stay quiet about it so please enjoy this fic and let’s pretend it’s canon. Cool? Cool.

“Careful up there, ok?“ That’s the last thing he said to me before we went our separate ways, following the plan we had conjured up earlier. I knew he wasn’t referring to the bombs I was supposed to plant or the ‘always watch your back, even around allies’ rule. He meant it genuinely. And he meant it for me. That sentence coupled with the look in his eyes when they met mine was enough for me to read between the words and grasp the true message.

And all I could do was offer him a small nod and an even smaller smile.

A smile he vaguely returned before turning and walking off with Cleo and Grieves. And that’s how I remembered him, wishing for that picture to be the one I remember of him in case I die.

In case I die.  I never considered the other possibility.

“Listen, Y/N. I’m gonna do something bad. Something really horrible. But it’s the right thing to do. I must do it. You know I only do things I must, right? You know me.“ He pleaded with me, eyes begging me to trust him as he basically told me he was derailing from the plan we had constructed down to the tiniest detail. 

My hands shook as I adjusted the bomb to the wall, my eyes widening and any words I wanted to tell him dying in my throat, leaving me speechless before him. As if automatically, my head moved on its own, nodding. It’s the only thing I’ve known I guess. Chris says something and I automatically agree cause I trust him limitlessly. Isn’t that how it always is with best friends after all? Can anyone blame me really?

But can anyone also blame me for my gut screaming not to let it go so easily?

There’s no real friends in the field, Y/N. He’s got a mission, you’ve got one of your own. You shouldn’t even be here, goddamn it! Go! GO, right this instant!

Gut feelings, the closest thing to being psychic. And boy does Flag owe my gut feeling his life.

But heroism always comes at a price, doesn’t it? There’s always a reward and a price that you never saw coming in the first place.

The reward is easy to guess, but the price can vary so drastically it can never be measured or foreseen.

That’s what happened to me when I decided to follow Chris.

The task I gave myself upon boarding the aircraft was simple, and the biggest price in my eyes was losing my life but I was already prepared for that when Waller recruited me on the very first mission.

Little did I know the price of saving Rick would be the look of utter betrayal in my best friend’s eyes, looking at me with the same intensity as a hundred voices screaming ‘TRAITOR’ at me.

“I’m sorry, Chris.“ I managed to say, my hands gripping the shotgun with all my might just so I don’t drop it. “You were sent here to cover up Waller’s dirty laundry, and I came here to protect Flag.” I cock my gun upwards, praying Chris doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. “So keep your hands off him!“

He shakes his head, “You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, Y/N! Him over me?! Some fucking nobody over someone who’s been by your side for a whole fucking decade?!“

I gulp, my resolve only strengthening as a result of his guilt tripping. “You heard me. Friends or family, you don’t get a second chance for being a traitor.”

“Me?! I’M the traitor here?! He just threatened to send our country into chaos because of his righteousness!“ He roared, his gun clutched just as tightly. It may be the tension suggesting it but eventually, I know it’ll come down to who’ll pull the trigger first.

And that realization has cold sweat running down my body.

“Fake peace built atop lies is worse than a war!“ I snap, now aiming my gun at him, determined to be the first to send a bullet flying across the room. Not cause I want to survive for myself. But for Rick. If I die, so will he. Chris doesn’t play fair. Rick is knocked out and Chris won’t even think before turning his body into a bag of bullets. 

I won’t let that happen.

A gun’s pointed at me now too, sending my heart beating louder.

“Then you’ve picked the wrong side.“ He mutters with despise, “If you see me as no friend, I have no reason to hold back either.“

And that’s the last push I needed to send those three bullets I had with his name on them straight into his chest, at least one undoubtedly hitting his heart.

Did it hurt with all the memories we have made together in mind? Of course it fucking did. I may be a soldier/criminal but I’m not made out of stone, damn it.

But did it feel relieving knowing what he was seconds away from doing? Pains me to admit but yes.

With a heavy sigh I sling my shotgun over my shoulder and carefully walk over to Rick’s still unconscious form laying on the tiled floor.

“Colonel?“ I whisper, ducking down to give his shoulder a slight shake, “Flag, please don’t do me like this, wake up. Please wake up, Rick.“ I jump, almost losing my balance when I hear what sounds to be Harley screaming for a brief second before a loud crash echoes above.

I can’t stay here with whatever hell my teammates are going through going on above my head, threatening to wipe them all out and them Rick and me too. So, I make a quick and a rather stupid decision. Slinging one of Rick’s arms over my shoulders I wrap an arm around his waist and somehow manage to hoist him up, bringing him weakly to his feet and earning a small groan from him as if reaching me from the other side of a wall of fog.

“There you are, Colonel. Let’s go, the team’s counting on us.“ I say, desperately trying to push forward with the weight of my shotgun and Rick pushing my already exhausted and weak body down.

“Y/N...that you?“ He asks, his voice groggy, “Or am I dead? Are you an angel? Where am I?“ 

Damn Chris must’ve knocked his head pretty hard, I think to myself.

Just as I’m about to answer, Rick lifts up his hand to run it over his face to help himself wake up fully but he accidentally hits the handle of my shotgun, causing him to let out a chuckle. “Angel with a shotgun, I see. Then it must be you, Y/N.”

“Bet on it, Flag.“ I reply with a chuckle, almost sighing with relief when he manages to hold some of his weight up by himself, “Not gonna lie, you gave me quite the scare.“

“Never gonna happen again. That’s a promise, doll.“ He drawls, his head resting against my shoulder more as an endearing gesture than need for support.

“Better keep it. Not looking forward to finding you actually dead one day.“

“No worries, angel. No such thing will happen.“

“Good.“

He knows better than to disobey an angel with a shotgun. Smart man.

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

Electric Love | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Sawamura Daichi, Tanaka Ryuunosuke

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing (and by that I mean, like, 1 swear)

Word Count: 927

Summary: Tsukishima Kei hated you. You loved that. Not him. Although the powers the be don't always work on your favour, and you're certainly shocked when you find your soulmate.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago. It's kinda cute, albeit a little cringy too, but ya know. we vibe

--------

Tsukishima Kei hated you.

Well, maybe it wasn’t so much of a hate, more of a mutual dislike that you somehow found yourself looking forward to.

There were no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it; in fact, you relished in this arrangement you had.

The moment you had laid eyes on the smug blond, you knew you were destined to get under each other's skins. You’d toss back and forth snarky remarks and insults as if there were never going to be an end - something his team seemed to enjoy considering all his idiotic brainwaves were focused on you.

Of course, you just had to find your way deeper under his skin by applying to be a manager. Oh how much pride you felt when his face dropped at the sight of you. You were at each other’s throats, not literally, but you didn’t miss the flash in his eyes as he snickering about nearly hitting you with the ball.

Today was no different. You were doing your job, gathering up balls that scattered around the gym. Hinata and Kageyama were still practising, much to your dismay, but you had to give it to them, their energy was endearing.

It wasn’t until a ball flew past you that you realised how zoned out you’d been. “Watch it!” You yelled, tossing a ball at Kageyama who didn’t have a chance to dodge it.

“Tsukki!” Hinata cried with joy, pointing at you with worried eyes.

“What do you want me to do about it?” The blocker asked, pushing up his glasses and shifting his bag. That wasn’t the first time he’d called you ‘it’, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“I don’t know! Just stop her before she hurts me, too.” Hinata was joking, you knew that, Kageyama didn’t even look bothered by the fact you’d thrown the ball at him, a little pissed, but he wouldn’t yell.

Tsukishima turned to you, smirking down as you tightly gripped a ball.

“What got you all worked up? You miss me that bad.” Self-righteousness dripped from his tongue.

“As if,” you growled, tossing the balls back into their container, “I was finally starting to feel happy until you showed your ugly snout, pig.”

“At least I’m not a feral dog.”

“At least people like dog’s.”

“Is that your half-assed way of confessing to me?” You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, not sorry, but I’m going to have to say no.”

“Good, because I wasn’t confessing.”

“Then why are you blushing so much?” He leaned in closer and you actually had to think, am I blushing? A soft glare pulled at your features and sighed.

“You wish I was.”

“You look stupid when you’re concentrating.”

“At least I don’t need glasses to pretend I’m smart.”

“Short-stack.”

“Four-eyes.”

“Did you really run out of insults that quickly?”

“I hate you.”

“Same, now we have something in common.”

“I’m going to punch you now.” At least you had warned him. You expected him to move, but he didn’t, just smiled as you threw a punch at him with all your might.

The moment your fist hit him it felt like a lightning shock had gone through your arm, you both stumbled back, hissing in pain. What was- your mind went through the memories of your mother explaining how she’d met her soulmate, ‘it was like lightning, but he was there to comfort me, so nothing else mattered.’

Kageyama and Hinata ran to both of your sides, trying to figure out what had happened, whether you had actually managed to punch him that hard; you looked up, eyes meeting with Tsukishima who had his face twisted in anger.

“What the fuck was that?” Daichi ran into the gym to see the two of you staring at each other, the dynamic duo freaking out.

“Absolutely not.” You growled.

“That did not just happen.” Tsukishima hissed.

“Of all people, why did it have to be you?”

“I know, like, I’m so amazing and you…” He motioned to you, as if it should have been obvious.

Your hand was shaking. Was that really the first time we’ve ever touched? Every other time you’d tried to punch him, he’d dodged you, or you fell over from the impact. Of course the first time he lets you touch him, you find out you’re soulmates.

“I hate you so much.”

“I guess you don’t have a choice now,” he snickered.

“Stop smiling, you look like a tree.”

“Better than being a stump.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You just tried to!”

“Can somebody explain what’s going on.” Daichi had his hands firmly on his hips, eyes darting between you and Tsukishima.

“Go on, soulmate,” Tsukishima nudged you. You could have punched him again but the captain just stared at you both with wide eyes.

His mouth dropped open, slowly pulling out his phone from his pocket and calling someone, this is not going to be good. “Hey, Tanaka, who had money on them being soulmates again?”

“You were betting on it!” You and Tsukishima yelled at the same time, turning to glare at each other. “Stop doing that!” The other three burst out into laughter.

----

It was true; Tsukishima Kei hated you. Though that was a thing long in the past. He never thought his heart would flutter at the sight of you in a white dress, sneering at his blush that danced on his cheeks.

“You really look stupid right now,” you giggled when you reached his side.

“White doesn’t look good on you.”

“You love it.”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

--------

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[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Valentine’s Day

For the Anon who requested : hi lovey in time for valentines could you write a harry fic about it?? (-: maybe something that starts angsty and then ends in fluff

Not too too angsty in the beginning, I’m bad at writing angst, but I hope you enjoy it! 

Harry Potter x Reader

“Where’s Y/N?” Hermione asked, sitting beside Harry, who was sulking on the sofa. He shrugged slightly, playing with one of the pages of his 6th year potions book.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered drily, not looking at his friend. “I haven’t seen her.” 

“Is everything alright?” She prodded gently. Harry didn’t answer for a moment, still not looking at her. He didn’t partially want to talk about you at the moment. 

“We had a disagreement,” He finally admitted. He didn’t tell Hermione why or what it was about. He didn’t need her to confirm that it was his fault, he knew that already. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione sighed, “It’ll be alright, I’m sure you two will work it out.” Harry frowned, setting the book aside, taking his glasses off to rub his face. 

“I’m not so sure this time,” He whispered, “She’s pissed, rightfully so.” Hermione nodded her head, patting his arm gently. 

“What happened?” Harry sighed again. He’d been a rotten boyfriend all year, and you had so much patience with him. He barely spoke to you, caught up in his own head- his own problems, he couldn’t even see you were struggling as well. He took your love and time for granted, and you had told him so, and even then he didn’t see how hurt you were. He had argued with you when you came to him, asking for him to consider your feelings and he felt like an idiot now. 

“She was upset, I reacted badly.” Harry admitted finally. All you wanted was for him to consider you. But he was so caught up in himself he couldn’t. Your last words before you stormed off still rang in his ear. ‘You spend all your time, every waking moment thinking about the bloody half-blood-prince, maybe he should be your girlfriend.’ and Harry knew you were right. But for some reason he simply couldn’t stop himself. 

“Harry, have you tried apologizing?” Hermione asked and he huffed. Of course he had. Sorta. Not really. He should have. But in the moment of your fight he couldn’t let go of his own righteousness to see the bigger issue. He should have told he was sorry, and that he loved you, and that he would try and spend some time being your boyfriend again. You were right. You used to study together, eat your meals together, even sometimes just wander the halls together, but so far, this year, every time you had asked that of him Harry had some excuse. Mostly that he was busy. 

“We just argued, then she stormed off, I didn’t get the chance.” He shrugged, waiting for Hermione’s I told you so. She patted his arm again, making him look at her. 

“I’m sure that’s all she wants.” Perhaps, but you deserve more than just words. “She loves you, Harry, one little fight hasn’t changed that.” Harry hoped she was right. He couldn’t lose you over something so stupid. Just then you entered the common room flanked by a few of your friends who you’d been spending more and more time with. Harry looked over at you, standing from the sofa. He needed to apologize. 

“YN!” He called, you glanced over at him, “Can we talk?” 

“I’m busy right now.” You answered simply as you kept walking with your friends, past him, and right up the girls staircase. Harry fell back into the sofa, covering his face with his hands as he groaned. 

“I’m screwed.” Hermione frowned, glancing at the stairs then to her friend. 

“I’m sorry, she needs time. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, why don’t you try and do something nice for her?” Hermione offered helpfully. Valentines Day, Harry had almost forgotten, that would have really added fuel to the fire. He nodded, gears in his head beginning to turn as he tried to think of something worthy of you to give. 

“That’s a good idea,” He nodded again, getting up from the sofa, he grabbed his potions book and Hermione glanced at it from the corner of her eye. “Thanks Hermione!” And with that he turned, disappearing up the boys stairs in the same way you had a moment before. Harry was gonna make it up to you. 

  You woke up to a vase of flowers with a note on your nightstand, smiling slightly to yourself. You sat up, touching one of the flowers gently before grabbing the note to read it. 

/Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N. I love you, and I have another surprise for you later tonight if you’re willing to see me. Meet me in the common room at midnight. 

Love, Harry/ 

You smiled gently at the note, placing it beside the flowers. You glanced at Hermione, knowing she probably placed them there for him, she made eye contact with you and you mouthed a small ‘thanks’ to which she nodded. You got out of bed, going to the loo to shower for the day. 

You got dressed in something cozy to combat the rainy weather outside and went down to the common room. Harry was sitting on the sofa in his Quidditch gear, Ron across from him in an armchair, when he saw you he stood up, his hands held nervously in front of him. 

“Y/N,” He greeted you, you smiled softly, coming to him. You reached him and stopped, hesitating for a moment before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Thank you for the flowers.” You murmured, Harry relaxed and pulled you into a hug, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. 

“Of course, Happy Valentine’s Day, love.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry.” You smiled into his chest before pulling back, “Do you have Quidditch practice?” You asked, playing with the front of his uniform. 

“I do, it won’t be for long, promise. We can study for a bit afterwards, can you help me with charms?” He offered up and you smiled, looking down. You patted his chest and nodded your head. 

“Of course, that sounds nice. And at midnight?” You asked, glancing up at him, Harry grinned, pulling you into another hug. 

“That’s a surprise you’re going to have to wait for.” He spoke gently, glad to have you back in his arms- he couldn’t stand it when you were upset with him. You chuckled and pulled away from him. 

“I’m meeting some of the girls in the library, have fun at practice, I’ll see you later.” He held onto your hand a moment longer, squeezing it tightly. 

“Alright, have fun.” 

  Harry was true to his word, you spent the rest of the day, once he was done practicing, just sitting in the common room doing assignments together. It was nice to finally spend some time with him, you had missed him. When it was time for dinner you ate together alone, which you appreciated. Usually you just sat with him and Hermione and Ron, which you didn’t mind, but it was nice to get some well needed alone time with him. 

You ate, alternating between talking about your week and Harry making jokes so you’d smile. He missed your smile, more than he liked to admit. He took your hand in his as you sat and you smiled up at him. You could never stay mad at him for long. And it was obvious he was making an effort just for you. 

Later that night in the common room you sat with him and his friends, his arms around your shoulder. At around ten you said your goodnight, planning on spending some time getting ready before your surprise at midnight. Harry planted a small kiss on your lips before you went and Ron blessed you with an ‘ewww’. Everything felt like it was going back to normal. You were grateful. 

At midnight you snuck from your room and down to the common room, where it was empty. You looked around for a moment and suddenly Harry appeared, taking his cloak from him, you gasped, placing a hand over your chest. 

“Merlin don’t do that!” You whispered, and Harry grinned cheekily at you. He came over to you, throwing the cloak over you as well, “Where are we going?” You asked hopefully. 

“I don’t you, you can’t know yet.” You whined as Harry guided you from the common room. He placed his arm around your shoulder as you walked and you leaned into him, smiling. You reached a statue and Harry reached his arm out from under the invisibility cloak to touch it, when he did it moved. 

“Are we leaving the castle?” You questioned him and he shushed you as he helped you into the secret passage. Once the Statue moved back, you were plunged into darkness. 

“No, not quite,” He assured you, removing the cloak and lighting the end of his wand, you took his free hand, gripping it tightly. “Scared?” He teased and you shook your head. 

“No, it’s just... spooky.” You admitted softly, and Harry pulled you closer. “Are you just trying to make me scared so we can cuddle?” You asked, “You don’t need to take me to some dark and dingy corridor for that, you could have just asked. Harry laughed and shook his head as you walked along. 

“No that’s not my motive, I just wanted to bring you somewhere we could be alone.” You grumbled as you continued to walk, trying not to trip over rocks as you went. 

“Coulda be alone and warm in the common room,” Harry shook his head, nudging you. 

“It’s an adventure, Y/N.” You laughed at that. 

“Everything is an adventure with you, Harry.” You informed him and he shrugged innocently. In the distance you saw the soft glow of some light and you stopped walking, tugging on Harry. “Someone is there!” He kept walking, tugging you with him. 

“No they’re not, that’s your surprise.” He assured, but you were still worried as you walked towards the bend in the corridor. When you turned you stopped, gasping. 

“Oh Harry!” You gushed, looking at the scene, “When did you do this?” There was a blanket sitting on the floor and a million candles charmed to float around the area, basking it in a warm glow. There was a box of Honeydukes chocolates and a small wrapped present sitting on the blanket. Harry put his wand out and tugged you forward again, sitting and pulling you with him. 

“After you went upstairs, I came and set everything up.” He admitted and you smiled, leaning against him and looking around at all the candles. 

“It’s romantic, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me,” You assured him but he shook his head. 

“You deserve to know I love you, and I haven’t been doing a good job at it recently, I needed to show you how worth it you are.” You took his hand in yours and smiled softly at him, and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry I’ve been a shite boyfriend.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry, I may have overreacted.” 

“You didn’t,” He assured you seriously, “You were right to call me out, I got defense that’s why we fought. Not because of anything you did. Because I was a git.” You brushed some of his wild curls from his face and smirked. 

“Yes but you’re my git.” You promised him, and he leaned in for another kiss which you happily returned. When he pulled back he grabbed the box of chocolates, handing them to you. You happily opened them, grinning ear to ear. 

“They’re my favorite, thank you, love.” He nodded his head watching as you popped one in your mouth before offering to feed him one as well. He opened his mouth and you placed the chocolate there smirking as you chewed. 

“Delicious,” He laughed with his mouth full and you giggled, cuddling into his side again. When he swallowed he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. “I really am sorry.” He reminded you, and you smiled again, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I forgive you,” You promised him, “I just missed you. I was worried you didn’t.. Want to be around me anymore.” You admitted softly. Harry kissed your temple, shaking his head. 

“Of course not, I love you.” You smiled up at him.

“I love you too,” Harry reached past you and grabbed the small wrapped parcel before handing it to you. 

“I got you something.” 

“I didn’t get you anything,” You admitted sadly, “Who's the bad girlfriend now?” Harry shushed you, shaking his head. 

“Not you, just open it.” You sat up slightly, gently unwrapping the box, then you opened the box revealing a soft maroon colored material. You pulled the item from the box and unraveled it, it was a lovely silk scarf in Gryffindor red. 

“I love it!” You grinned, wrapping it around yourself. Harry grinned back, gently touching the material that was now around you. 

“I hoped you would. Hermione helped me pick it out last Hogsmeade trip.” He admitted, “You know I’m bad at gifts.” You chuckled, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. 

“I love it,” You repeated. “I love you,” 

“I love you too, Happy Valentine’s Day, my girl.” You continued to grin happily, looking at the scarf then to your boyfriend. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” Harry flushed slightly and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I ask myself the same question every day.”

[weighty-ghosts]

‘Blame it on the Firewhisky’ (wolfstar)

Blame it on the Firewhisky, by weightyghosts

“Sirius makes a drunken mistake at a Hufflepuff party and has to find a way to convince Remus that he’s still completely devoted to him. Unfortunately, Sirius is also still very drunk and really just wants to go to sleep.

Aka Remus’ patience is stretched beyond its reasonable limits.

Aka Sirius is a bad doggie.”

Rating: teen

Word Count: 5408 (2 chapters)

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published on: February 22, 2021

Warnings: swearing, intoxication, alcohol consumption, infidelity, dub/con (I promise the two people kissing at the beginning of this fic are equally drunk and no one is being taken advantage of, it’s just a misunderstanding- however, if consent and alcohol makes you uncomfy, please skip from “at some point” to “er, I actually have a-”)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596605/chapters/72748656

    Sirius Black loved snogging. It was rather one of his favourite pastimes (just above tormenting Snivellus), and up until recently, four months and three weeks ago to be exact, he’d thought that snogging was as good as it could get. If he was involved in the snogging, it was bound to be brilliant because he was brilliant at snogging. Ask anyone.

What occurred four months and three weeks ago, was that Sirius discovered there was a way to make kissing even better, to make it a mind-blowing, body-shaking experience. All he had to do was kiss Remus Lupin. And Merlin, did Sirius fucking love kissing Remus Lupin. It quickly became his preferred way to spend his time.

Last week, during a thoroughly delicious snogging session, Sirius briefly considered placing one of his infamous Permanent Sticking Charms on their lips so they never had to part. But that would have impeded his other hobby: consuming firewhisky. (Also occasionally eating and shouting obscenities at his brother, but he could’ve sorted something out.)

The party this evening seemed to have an abundance of both Remus-kisses and firewhisky, and both in excess. It was a raucous affair, in celebration of Hufflepuff’s defeat of Ravenclaw in Quidditch, and boy do those Hufflepuffs know how to throw a party.

He couldn’t be sure how much firewhisky he’d ingested, but seeing as he could hardly stand up straight at the moment, it was safe to assume it had been a lot. There might have also been a butterbeer or two at some point. Or maybe Remus had drunk the butterbeer. Sirius could certainly taste it on his lips now.

His mind swam back into consciousness and he realized there was something hard and uncomfortable pushing into his back. There was also something hard pushing against his front, but it was more soft and pleasant.

His tongue was definitely in action, and he should probably do something with his hands (Remus did enjoy a good bum squeeze during times like these), but it was entirely too much effort to move his arms from their resting place on his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Remus didn’t seem to mind though, judging by the throaty noise he’d just made. It wasn’t a noise Sirius had heard before, but that’s alright. He also seemed to be producing more saliva than usual, but that’s alright too. There was a hand slipping under his shirt, and Sirius sighed happily, making Remus’s shoulders shake with giggles. Remus didn’t often giggle, but that’s alright.

He found a way for his brain to send signals to his limbs again, and slid his hands down Remus’ chest and abdomen, and around to his cute little bum.

“Bloody hell,” Remus whispered, though it didn’t sound like Remus, but that’s al-

Wait. That didn’t sound like Remus?

Sirius sluggishly opened his eyes (not a small feat), and looked up into the bleary, blinking brown eyes of someone that was definitely not his boyfriend. “Agh!” He exclaimed, pushing the person away from him, “The bloody hell’re you doing!”

The person, a bloke, a student, a Ravenclaw by the looks of him, stumbled backwards, tripped over a chair, and fell in what seemed like slow motion, landing on his bottom.

“Whaz’tha for, Black?” The Ravenclaw boy asked indignantly, though his outrage was severely undermined by how much he was slurring his words.

“You were kissing me!”

“You asked m’too!”

“I- what?” Asked him to? Sirius would never ask anyone to kiss him that wasn’t a honey-haired werewolf with a repressed biting kink.

“You dragged m’in here!” The boy said as he slowly stood up. He swayed heavily on his feet before stumbling sideways into a desk, which he managed to keep himself upright with. “Ow. I mean, I think y’did. Someone did the dragging in the...here.”

Ah, good. At least they were both completely shit-faced.

“Well y’shouldn’t snog dunk-drunk people,” Sirius declared, quite righteously, though he had a sneaking suspicion his outrage was also being undermined.

“Neither should you!” The other boy pointed out.

Sirius thought about this for a second, then decided he would rather be doing anything other than thinking. “Fair enough,” he replied pleasantly.

He straightened himself up, taking a deep breath to steady the alcohol he could feel dancing through his veins, and took a step away from the door he’d been leaning against (and the large brass doorknob that had been digging into his back). He walked towards the Ravenclaw, almost tripping over his own feet, and stuck his hand out to shake the boy’s, but missed wildly and jabbed him somewhere south of his ribs. “Whoopsy, sorry, mate.”

The boy waved him off and pushed away from the desk, moving quickly towards the door.

“Hey! I’m going tha’way!” Sirius yelled.

“’S’only one exit, Black.”

Sirius was fairly certain there were two, but he could have been seeing double and therefore didn’t trust his eyes. He nudged the other boy out of the way and opened the door, walking through and blinking into the sudden brightness of the torch-lit hall.

“Where the sweet Circe am I?” He mumbled to himself, not able to remember what part of the castle he was in or how he’d gotten there. Damn Hogwarts for having so many wings and hallways and walls that all look alike.

“Did y’know your hair smells like- like candy floss?” the Ravenclaw slurred, coming up from behind Sirius and leaning in to his side.

“Huh,” Sirius replied distractedly. He had no idea why that would be, and didn’t really care at the moment. Where even were his so-called best friends?

“Y’know what?” The boy asked.

“Mmh?” He tried to focus his eyes on any portraits or landmarks so he could figure out where he was. There seemed to be a fair number of students in the hall; it must not be past curfew yet. How pathetic. Blackout drunk before curfew.

He felt warm puffs of breath on his neck. Was that the painting of the fruit near the kitchens? Were they near the Hufflepuff common room? That rang a bell, didn’t it?

“We should do this again when we’re sober,” the boy said directly into Sirius’ right ear.

“Er, I actually have a- Moony!” Sirius called excitedly when he spotted his boyfriend, relief flooding through him at the sight. Moony will be able to tell him where he is.

Remus was standing very still after just emerging from a hidden door with a few other people Sirius didn’t bother looking at. Remus didn’t look very happy for some reason.

“A what?” The Ravenclaw mumbled questioningly into Sirius’ neck.

A muscle in Remus’ jaw twitched and it was like a switch had been flicked: he stormed over to Sirius, fists clenched, with an absolutely murderous look on his face. Sirius couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was when he wanted to kill someone, his eyes bright and deadly.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sirius?”

“Aw, why’re you grumpy, Moony?” Sirius pouted at his beautiful angry boyfriend.

“Ohh, ’s’this Moony?” The boy asked, lifting his head and circling a heavy arm around Sirius’ shoulders, “I thought y’said, ‘moon me,’ which I thought was a bit, y’know, aggressive since it was our first time snogging.”

Sirius giggled. He was definitely going to ask Remus to moon him later. He was about to tell Remus so, when he noticed the hurt look flash across his face, followed by stone cold fury.

“Snogging?” Remus asked in a deep, dangerous voice.

Sirius frowned at him, then turned to the Ravenclaw boy, having to lean back so their faces weren’t too close. He’d forgotten they’d been accidentally kissing. He looked back at Remus for an explanation for this strange turn of events. Remus was always able to explain things so very well with his smart words.  

“I see,” Remus said, and Sirius swore he saw the wolf lurk behind his amber eyes; not the playful wolf who liked to romp around with Padfoot, but the wolf that would tear a human to shreds if given the chance. “Guess you don’t need me around, do you, Sirius?”

“Moony!” Sirius whined, attempting to push the other boy off of him. “It’s not like that! ’S’just a mistake!”

He wished he wasn’t so pissed so he could properly explain to Remus what had happened; he was sure Remus would laugh about it when he knew all the facts. He managed to prop the boy against the door of the classroom, and finally got a good look at him in the warm light. A small laugh escaped his lips.

“Look, Moony, Moons, look, you’re practically twins.”

This wasn’t strictly true. But the boy was tall and lanky, with similarly-coloured hair to Remus’. He whipped his head back to Remus with a grin on his face, the bun on top of his head wobbling carelessly, certain that Remus was about to start laughing with him. He did not.

“Sirius,” he said in that same low voice, “When have you ever known me to wear a fucking Ravenclaw Quidditch jersey?”

Sirius’ eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he looked back at the not-Remus-bloke. Sure enough, he was wearing a blue and bronze Quidditch jersey, an eagle prominently displayed.

“When’d you put tha’ on?” He demanded, suddenly very annoyed with this person he only now hazily recognized from one of his classes. Herbology maybe.

Remus huffed. “Don’t worry, Sirius, I’m sure you can offer to take it off for him. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Noo, Moony! I don’t want to take anything off, it’s-”

But Remus shoved Sirius aside and kept walking down the hall, not noticing, or not caring, that Sirius had tipped over and fallen into a statue of a badger. It gave Sirius a dirty stare for disturbing it, before returning to its regal position upon a boulder.

“Y’r boyfriend doesn’t seem very happy,” the boy stated, helping Sirius stand up, then helping him again when they both fell back over.

“No, I don’t s'ppose he is,” Sirius murmured, brushing off the boy and starting to walk away in the direction Remus went. At least, he was pretty sure it was this way. He called over his shoulder as he went, “Bye, Ravenclaw.”

“M’name’s Benjy!”

“Yeah, yeah, bye, Benny,” Sirius said, waving vaguely behind him and pushing through a group of Hufflepuff girls. His mind was whirling like the first time he tried to apparate, but he managed to focus on one thing: Moony. Moony thinks he cheated on him. His Moony thinks he cheated on him. His Moony is upset.

He has to find his Moony.

*

Read chapter 2 here!