#and why should I be always the one to blame?

[unconventional-lawnchair]

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

I Might Still Hate You

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Reader

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

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

WC: ~3k

CW: Small bit of cussing, implied child abuse

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

It was likely because he never had.

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

But really, it was probably your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stiffened. "What are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That's okay.”

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

“I can live with that, Junior.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lucygraysboy]

“you’re somethin’ else, lucy gray,” billy just laughs, very much unsure whether he should believe her or not about this sudden need for sexual exploration. “hell, i’ve been robbed then. i really wanted those peter pan undies.” but now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t see the reason why all the other disney characters can be on kids’ underwear and peter pan can’t. his ma probably wasn’t looking for them. he can’t really blame her, though. she had more important matters to tend to. “of course,” growing serious for a moment, he offers her a smile and allows his fingers to linger on her wrist a minute longer, “i’ll always take care of you, lucy gray. it’s what we do.” other people won’t understand what they’ve been through, why they’re still so close, why one can’t live without the other. funny how he was naive enough to think that blair would be able to give him this. “no, it’s good, but i’m full.” following her gaze, he analyzes the contents of his plate and then glances over at hers. “how was yours?” his fingers eventually let go of her wrist, but not without reluctance. it’s muscle memory at this point — holding her hand. “i’ve always been so disappointed that there’s no disney princess who looks exactly like you. i mean, belle has similar hair, jasmine has your olive skin, rapunzel is fun and spontaneous like you, snow white loves animals and aurora sings so beautifully, but… you’re one of a kind. my rainbow princess.” god, why is he saying these things? he wants to scold himself but can’t, pale blue eyes gazing lovingly across the table at the one girl whose name is tattooed on his heart. “you’re very welcome, birdie.” laughing even though he can barely breathe, he watches her enjoy a piece of baked alaska and thinks to himself that she’s as cute as a button. for a second, as she leans in, his hearts stops completely and he’s certain she’s about to kiss him on the lips. even the tips of his ears turn red and he can hear the blood buzzing in his veins. swallowing harshly, he’s frozen in place, anticipating and fearing her next move. her lips miss his by an inch, planting a sweet, sticky kiss to his cheek, and still, his heart refuses to recover. his eyes flicker to her lips, so plump and soft and sweet. he’s tempted to cup her face and pull her in for yet another, this time proper kiss, but his conscience stops him from doing that. instead, he lets out a sheepish chuckle, taking his napkin, folding it over his fingertip and wiping her mouth clean before doing the same thing to his own face. “mm, what a sweet surprise that was.” 

“that is true, i do get the best of both worlds now.” lucy gray winks, dying to laugh at this reaction. it’s better than she expected. “well maybe they do make peter pan, darlin’. they make mickey and he’s a disney character so why not?” maybe his mom just didn’t look in the right places. “that’s sweet of you.” voice coos, holding her fork and head tilting in affection as a loving look fills her eyes. she wants to kiss him for it, but can’t and scolds herself for even having those thoughts. but… why not think about it? it’s so kind of him to take care of her like that and she treasures honest, kind actions like that out of people. and then… he looks so handsome. her body wanting to attack him in kisses, studying his mouth again, has her annoyed she keeps doing this. IT keeps doing this. “you don’t like your salad?” she concernedly wonders, gaze falling down on his food. “oh, of course not.” voice drops in a disappointed tone, brows scrunching together because she’d never say her sweet little billy she met that day was beast. his outfit didn’t mean a thing to her. “for you, for takin’ care of me and ridiculously havin’ to brush my teeth, take my makeup off, give me a bath and put my jammas on,” she laughs affectionately, but somewhat feeling embarrassed. letting him have his bite, she grins once he takes it then eyes fall on his incoming fork with his dessert. curiously, she leans it and quickly steals the bite to see what it tastes like. confusion knits her brows then the second she tastes ice cream, eyes light up, being vocal about her love for the flavor once she swallows, “oh, that one’s delicious. i LOVE that one.” meringue stuck to her lip, she giggles and uses it an excuse to kiss him on the cheek to leave a sticky kiss.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a house in the middle of nowhere l Joel Miller

Summary: you and Joel went on patrol together, nothing went your way

Warnings:  angst, guns, switchblade, killing people, allusions to sexual abuse, blood

A/N: your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

# 1/2

"We should be reaching that building in a few minutes."

You nodded and didn't slow down when you heard Joel's footsteps behind you. The leaves crunched under your shoes and the air in the forest was pleasantly cool. It was as if you had done this before.

The flu that had been sweeping through Jackson for a few weeks now had also reached the people patrolling the area. Soon, Tommy had no choice but to ask you and Joel to start working together again. 

Despite his concerns, he was pleasantly surprised - you were a great team. That's why he recommended you check out one of the buildings, which was a bit further from your trail.

"Looks good." You said, stopping in front of a small house standing near the end of the forest.

"Yeah. Too good." Joel mumbled. "Do you remember that..."

"I remember." You interrupted him, because your thoughts immediately drifted to a certain house you had found on your way to Jackson. "I saved your ass that time." You smiled, noticing the grimace on Joel's face.

"Keep telling yourself that, darling." he mumbled, heading towards the entrance.

But this time it was safe. The house was small and it took you a few minutes to check all the rooms. Apart from a few canned goods, a few old blankets and a dead bat in the bedroom, everything seemed long forgotten.

"This will be a good base for further patrols." Joel noted as you spread your things in the living room with the intention of spending the night there. "Once we check the area and make sure everything is safe."

You sat down on the dusty couch. The feeling that all this seemed strangely familiar to you filled you since your first joint patrol with Joel.

He didn't press you, he wasn't pushy. The safe distance you wanted to maintain was perceived by him, although you felt his gaze on you many times. You weren't without blame either. Your eyes often lingered on his broad shoulders for a few seconds longer than necessary. You missed him.

"We'll eat something and you can lie down." Joel announced, pulling sandwiches out of his backpack. "I'll take the first watch."

"There's water in the bathroom. Cold, but it's there." You noticed, doing the same as he did.

"Maybe the house is connected to a well. It's hard to tell right now." You handed him a cup of coffee. "Are you going to the party on Saturday?"

You looked at Joel, surprised. "Since when are you interested in parties in Jackson?"

He shrugged and chewed a bite of sandwich. "Ellie asked."

"Oh, did she say anything else?"

"That this new guy, Walsh, asked her about you."

Warmth crept up the back of your neck and you hoped Joel didn't notice your confusion. You weren't dating anyone, you didn't want to. But you knew what Miller was talking about. You and Walsh had been on a few patrols together, and you'd been seen together in the city too.

"Your coffee's getting cold, Joel." you replied, cutting off the discussion.

The room was filled with Joel's quiet snoring. You had been sitting by the window for almost two hours, observing the area. The first rays of sunlight were breaking through the treetops, and you only noticed a few squirrels and a hare.

Your spine was slowly starting to hurt, so you got up quietly and, trying not to wake Joel, you went to the door. Maybe you should have let him know you were leaving, but you saw how much he needed sleep. The lack of people meant that you were almost always outside Jackson, so that those who had families could rest or recover.

You quietly closed the door behind you and inhaled the fresh air. With your finger still near the trigger, you moved forward. The area was quiet, the fog was rising here and there between the trees, and even the birds were just waking up from their sleep.

An unexpected rustling behind you gave you goosebumps. You turned around sharply and saw a pair of rabbits disappearing behind the bushes.

"You scared me." You mumbled to yourself smiling "Don't do that again."

Then you heard a completely unfamiliar voice "I promise I won't do that again, doll."

You turned around sharply and saw the man behind you, then you felt something hit you and darkness engulfed you.

Something was tugging at you. You felt your wrists being tied. Some pushy hands searched all over you, and then someone patted your cheek.

"Doll, wake up!" the same voice, unfamiliar to you "Mike, you hit her too hard."

More steps and someone crouched down next to you. He brushed your hair away from your face.

"Such a pretty face, and look what you did." the first voice hissed "I hope you didn't break her nose."

"Do you need her nose for something?" Mike sneered and patted you on the cheek a few times "Hey! Get up!"

You moaned quietly and opened your eyelids. You almost immediately wanted to back away, but there was a tree behind you, and two men in front of you, who were staring at you with interest.

"Morning, doll." one of them greeted you with a smile "I'm Patrick, and you?"

You pressed your hands together violently, trying to get as far away from them as you could. It was impossible, you knew that. 

Fuck! How could you be so careless? You had been with someone last time, but now... 

You thought about the sleeping Joel. Maybe you had at least managed to get far enough away from the house that they wouldn't find him so quickly. Hopefully.

"Hey, bitch!" Mike nudged you in the shoulder, and your gaze immediately went to him. "Can you talk? I didn't knock your teeth out, did I?" he cackled as if he had told a good joke.

"No." You replied quietly.

"Good start." Patrick nodded, his eyes lazily moving over your face. There was something strange about him, something slippery and indecent. "Will you tell us what you're doing here, doll?"

"I was walking."

"You were walking." Patrick repeated after you, reaching out and pulling a blade of grass from your hair, there was something in his gesture that gave you shivers "Pretty girls like you shouldn't walk alone. Is anyone with you?" 

You shook your head and Mike immediately spat in the grass.

 “She's lying!” he growled, standing up. “I'm sure someone's nearby.”

Patrick frowned. 'Come on, I'll help you.' He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to your feet, then pinned you against a tree. 'Who's with you?' he hissed. 

'I'm alone.' you repeated. 

'Wrong answer.'

You flinched nervously as a knife blade flashed before your eyes. It was the same switchblade that Joel had given you. You carried it with you, they had to find it when they searched you. 

“Listen to me carefully, doll.' Patrick moved the blade to your chest and soon you saw the first button on your shirt pop off, then the second. 'You'll tell us what we want, okay? Be a good girl. Maybe then I'll be gentle with you, huh? I wouldn't want to hurt you...' he made a sad face as if he was really sorry, two more buttons popped off. 'But I haven't had a warm pussy in a while, I might be too hard for you. Unless you like that? Do you like it, doll?"

"I'm alone." You managed to choke out, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "I swear. I... I got away from the group."

"That bitch is lying, I can feel it!" Mike growled, looking around the area. "Do what you have to and let's get out of here."

Patrick watched you closely. His gaze slid down to your chest, which was rising rapidly with every breath. Your bra peeked out from under your shirt, the outline of your breasts must have been clearly visible to him.

"You could have been good, doll..." he whispered. "We could have been something great."

"Please..." you groaned.

At that moment you heard a shot. You didn't know where it came from, but you saw Mike stagger and fall hard to the ground. In an instant Patrick looked up, then looked at you.

"Who is it?!" he growled angrily, pressing you against the trunk so hard that you felt something stab you painfully in the back.

"Your Death." you gasped.

Another shot and warm blood splattered on your face. You slid to the ground gasping for air. Patrick's body lay beneath your legs. Strong hands grabbed your arms and then your face.

"Are you okay?"

Joel!

You nodded your head violently. He noticed the bonds on your wrists and when he looked around he saw the switchblade lying in the grass. He quickly cut the rope. In a second your arms were wrapped around his neck and a quiet cry escaped your throat.

"It's okay, I've got you." he whispered, stroking your hair and back "You're safe."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist

[takamor]

“what are you doing here?”

in all honesty, he should’ve expected the brittle ring to your voice.

he really should’ve expected how you fold your arms around your chest as if protecting your heart from him. (he’s been so rough with it in the past, after all.)

and especially how you squint your eyes at him like you can’t believe he’s really standing in your doorway at one in the morning, rain pounding against his back and a lopsided grin on his face. (he doesn’t blame you—never has. he can’t even believe where he’s at, but he’s not exactly surprised. you’ve always felt like home to him.)

it’s not a surprise how you stand squarely between him and your entryway, but there’s a part of him that breaks anyway. (he isn’t welcome here, he knows it, but it’s one in the morning on a rainy tuesday night and he just wants to go home.)

“c’mon, darlin’, you know why i’m here.” he tries his hardest to sound lighthearted, but there’s a wobble to his tone, and he hopes he didn’t imagine you softening just the slightest bit.

but just as quickly as he sees a flash of tenderness across your face, you’re back to glowering at him the best you can and standing your ground. “no, i don’t, atsumu, considering you broke up with me two weeks ago.”

“is it cheesy of me to say i’ve regretted it every day since?”

“incredibly, but also incredibly like you.”

“even if it’s true?”

“especially if it’s true.”

it’s easy to fall into familiar banter with him, a reflex almost. atsumu has always been easy to bicker with. there’s something bittersweet about how sharp both of your tongues are and how thick your skin is. it was the foundation of your relationship. evidently, a weak one. and whether it’s the alcohol pumping through his veins or the feeling of belonging taking root in his guts, he doesn’t realize he’s reached out his hand towards you until he feels his knuckles brush against your cheek. you indulge it just for a moment, long enough to remember how good it felt to wake up to him every morning, before grabbing his wrist.

“what are you doing here, atsumu?” you repeat, firmer this time, his pulse thumping against your palm.

he feels guilty, but not enough to leave. just enough to look slightly sheepish and gently wriggle his wrist out of your grasp so he can scratch the back of his head. a nervous habit of his, and you can appreciate that he has the sense to be somewhat ashamed. “jus’ wanted to see ya’ is all…”

you hold your chin up and he shrinks away from your glare. “then you should’ve thought twice about breaking up with me, huh?”

“look—” he tries to get out the rest of his sentence, he really does, but it’s freezing cold and the rain is starting to sting his skin and his tongue feels a lot heavier than it should and his vision is starting to blur and, by god, he thinks he might actually be crying. how much more of a fucking cliché can he be? pathetically standing on his ex’s porch in the pouring rain, sake and regret causing his body to feel stuffed full of cotton and stones, hands shaking from nerves and cold air. atsumu miya is truly the epitome of pride and self-destruction at its finest. “i…” he runs his hand down his face in hopes that it’ll sober him up a little, and his previous suspicions are confirmed when he can feel the telltale warmth of tears. “i was an idiot and bein’ selfish and i shouldn’t a’ said what i said—”

“you called me insecure when i told you i wanted to spend more time with you.”

“i know and i’m sorry and if you—”

“you said if i wanted to date an all star athlete then i shouldn’t try to drag them down.”

“i know and—”

“you called me childish. you. of all fucking people, atsumu.”

he isn’t sure when you guys started yelling or when your words started to feel more like fists, but his hands are shaking and he thinks his heart is breaking. it feels like it is. his stomach is churning and he’s certain it isn’t from the alcohol; his lungs ache with every breath he takes; his throat is raw and closing more with each minute that passes by; his mind is racing trying to keep up with his mouth, but it can’t seem to catch up. someone must’ve hit his power button, because he feels as if he’s shut down. he’s frozen. unsure whether you’re going to keep fighting him or just slam the door on him. he hopes it’s the former, so he has more time to memorize the curves of your face.

“what gives you the right, atsumu miya?” you continue on, indignation staining your words. “what gives you the fucking right to break up with me after i told you i was worried about you caring more about volleyball than me, and then show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night drunk off of your ass? i tried calling you, texting you, and you never fucking answered. you even blocked me on your socials before the night ended. even osamu, your fucking twin brother, reached out to me because he knew how much you meant to me. and right when i’m starting to warm up to the idea of moving on, you show up. you fucking show up...”

he reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but you flinch away this time, scared of crumbling under his touch. the ice in your chest has melted enough to reveal the clumsy stitching you’ve done to seal angry cuts he left. you don’t want to show the ugly deeper ones you’re still trying to figure out how to bandage. the wounded look in his deep eyes has you longing to feel warm again.

“please,” he whispers. “jus’ let me inside and you can yell at me. you can even kick me out after, i promise. but my feet are numb and i dunno how much longer i can stand out here without catchin’ a cold. and i think your neighbors are startin’ to hate ya’.”

it’s one in the morning on a rainy tuesday night, and a drunk atsumu miya is standing on your doorstep, and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. something cautiously optimistic twinkles in his eyes as you scoot over to let him in your apartment, and he folds in on himself as he squeezes past you, and it’s so unlike him, a seedling of hope starts to bloom in your rib cage. atsumu has never tried to make himself appear smaller for anyone’s sake, but he’s trying his best to shrink his body for you. with the deliberation of someone handling glass, he slips feet out of his shoes and makes his way over to your couch, droplets of rain rolling off of his clothes and landing soundlessly on your carpet. anxiety radiates off of him in heavy waves. he fiddles with the strings of his jacket, dark eyes watching your every movement, the corners of his mouth twitching, muscular legs bouncing with anticipation as if he’s ready to bolt at any given moment.

it’s the most nervous you’ve ever seen him, and a part of you feels righteous.

“what are you doing here, miya?” it’s the third time you’ve asked him the question and the softest way you’ve done it. and though he cracks at the formality of his last name, he can appreciate how delicate you sound while whispering it.

finally, somehow, he finds his voice buried under the lump in his throat. “i’m an idiot. i ruined the best thing to ever happen to me because i got scared, and i wanna make it right.” he bites his lip. copper explodes on his tongue and it shouldn’t taste so good mixed with sake, but he finds himself indulging nonetheless. when you don’t speak, he continues on in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “‘m sorry. i dunno how much my words are worth to you now, and i don’t blame you if you hate me. i kinda hate me right now…” He humorlessly chuckles and glares at the floor as if it were the source of all of this. “but i miss you. none of this shit means anythin’ to me if i don’t have you, darlin’.”

“don’t say that.”

his eyes snap up back to you and he’s somewhat relieved to see you earnest. “hm?”

“don’t say that volleyball doesn’t mean anything to you,” you mutter, and it’s your turn to glare at the carpet. “i won’t allow you to. with or without me, volleyball is your…thing. it’s what you wake up in the morning for. it’s what you go to bed thinking of. it’s what your mind wanders to. and, yeah, it’s annoying sometimes, but that’s a part of you. don’t let me take that away from you.”

atsumu rubs at his face and inspects his hands, all of the calluses and evidence of his days on the court. a part of him still wants to cut out volleyball, hurt himself as much as he’s hurt you, because he knows you’re right—him without volleyball is like him without food to eat, water to drink, oxygen to inhale. it’s been the one constant in his life, the thing that has brought him back from the ledge again and again. he thought it’d be the only thing he’d care about, until he met you. could one take priority over another? would you make him choose? or was he just scared of you doing it and cut his losses before he could find out? in the end, you both know what he’d choose, and maybe he was trying to save you from that. he never thought of himself as so chivalrous. then again, he didn’t think much of himself outside of volleyball. but he’s been through this story so many fucking times he knows the ending: you’ll grow to resent him because volleyball takes up more of his heart than you do and he’ll end up with another hole in it. it already started when you mentioned you hadn’t seen him much these past few weeks during practice season. and although at the time you brought it up off-handedly, he knows the topic won’t be so easy the fifth time it’s brought up.

and so, he did what he does best: made the kill shot and ended things before they got too hard.

but there’s that annoyingly idyllic part of him that’s hoping, praying, this ending is different and maybe his love for volleyball is a part of the reason you love him so much. seeing him so passionate, pushing himself on the court, looking in your direction after every shot he takes, silently dedicating every serve he makes to you. maybe you see all of that and adore him for it. he hopes you do.

“how drunk are you?” you ask suddenly.

he perks at the sound of your voice. “drunk enough to say what’s on my mind. sober enough to know how stupid i am for tryin’ to pull this off.”

you chuckle despite yourself, and that blossom of hope in his ribcage grows a little more. “well, we’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? i’m tired and not thinking clearly, and you obviously aren’t either. here—” careful to avoid his touch, you grab at the blanket strew over the head of the couch. he still gets a noseful of your shampoo, however, and that’s enough to make his chest ache and his arms long to hold you. “crash on the couch, ‘kay? you know where the bathroom is if you need to vomit.”

“i can hold my liquor,” he begrudgingly mutters as he wrestles to take his jacket off and cocoon himself with the blanket. it smells like you as well, and he can almost pretend it’s you wrapped around his body instead of the woven acrylic. he shivers, despite the warmth provided by the blanket.

you look down at him fondly. it doesn’t help his ribcage one bit. “i know.”

once he’s settled in, you bid him goodnight and begin to tread towards your room, feet heavy and heart feeling even heavier.

“does that mean there’s hope?” he sounds so small, his words rose-colored and dripping with caged optimism, that you can’t help but soften some of your hard edges for him. you glance over your shoulder and are surprised by the shining dark eyes peeking back over to you.

“what?” you dumbly reply, too emotionally drained to contemplate much more.

“you said we’ll talk about this in the mornin’,” he slowly explains, as if his words weigh more than he expected. “does that mean there’s hope?”

“i—” you bite your tongue. atsumu is looking at you as if you have his heart in the palm of your hand, and you have a slight suspension he’s right. hesitantly, as to not break him any more than he already has, you meet his eyes, and there’s that fragile hope staring right back at you. “i don’t know, ‘tsumu. but i’m willing to hear you out.”

he smiles, because you’ve finally used the name he fell in love with hearing roll off your tongue. even if there’s no way to fix what he’s broken, he can at least know that there’s a part of you that’s still fond of him, even if it’s buried under the bitter animosity of heartbreak. that, he thinks, will be good enough for now.

[estupidapendejaestupida]

My selkie Batfam AU! Where selkies are not only seals/aquatic animals, but can be other animals. Born with their pelt, and if they are separated from them since their birth it doesn’t really hurts them, but it makes them feel very empty, like they are missing something very, very important, but they don’t know why (kinda like Crack baby, by Mitski).

Bruce: lion (black) like his parents were.

Dick: wolf (grey)

Barbara: human

Jason: bear (brown)

Tim: human, but not really (lynx).

Stephanie: human

Damian: lion (brown) like Thalia.

Cass: tiger

Duke: human

Alfred: human

Who else should i have?

Ideas so far:

• Tim being mocked by Jason (during the attack at TT) and Damian (during his murder attemps) for being the only robin to be human. And btw, he isn’t living in the manor, he stays in The Nest.

• Damian being taught that he was bigger than his other soul and animal instincts, that if he wanted to be strong and worthy he had to control his animal soul and stop needing it or using it.

• I think I like the idea of Steph being a rat or something small like her mother, and her dad being all like “you useless fuck, ofc you had to be something weak and insignificant, you are weak just like your mother and blah blah blah”. Tell me what you think about it, and well make a decision together.

• Babs being human and not understanding selkie’s at all when she first began working with the bats, but then when she finds that B and Dick are both selkies she just becomes a master about their selkie cultures and habitats and how to treat with them and learns what to do and what not to do. So when another human of the pack needs help understanding one of the selkies, they ask for her help. Except Tim, tho. He kind of always got them at the first try… weird, huh?

• Alfred has to raise young selkie Bruce Wayne all alone after the Waynes' death, and as a human, he tried to teach him how to be a selkie. But a mere human is not really a good mentor for a selkie.

• Slade taking Dick’s pelt away when he was training him, and Dick suffering through feeling like half of his soul had been snatched from him. Feeling it so close, yet too far. And being forced to obey Slade’s every order, until he manages to take his pelt back and scape.

• Jason’s pelt getting burned in Ethiopia, and Bruce keeping it locked away, so when Jason comes back to life he is easier to manipulate by Thalia saying that Bruce threw away his pelt after he replaced him. And Jason blaming that on Tim when he attacks him on TT.

• SPOILER ALERT: Tim’s mom is a selkie, but since she got pregnant with Tim, she stayed as a human and hid her pelt away. She was hoping for Tim to be born completely human, and instead, he was born a selkie. She hid it from her husband, thinking that this way, taking his pelt since birth, he would grow to not need it and could live a normal life just like his human father. She did write a separate testament from his husband, way before she died, where she left a box for Tim. Inside the box is his pelt, and a letter explaining everything. Tim only gets to that box after she dies, and his dad enters a vegetative state after the accident overseas. The thing is that Tim never quite opens the box. He just leaves it somewhere well hidden in his old room at the Wayne manor. And since he never stays the night in his old room anymore, he just never got around to open it. One day, he will, tho.

Please tell me if I should keep this up? I already have a draft done, so if you guys like this idea, I'll publish it :3

I'll write many fics for every character, so it's not very 'one character centric'

[srslylini]

The way season 1 ended she was at a point so low she was ready to blow up a city (and like she did, she blew up the council). The start of season 2 showing her cathartic wasn't actually bad I liked that direction. It felt like they wanted to show her in a "nothing state" which depression also feels like.

they showed her as not caring about anything anymore (literally just walking through every scene in the music video sucker while everything just HAPPENS around her). The meeting with Isha, while still being a little bit odd since it felt like well they randomly put them together but that's something you can overlook, was amazing. She still just didn't care, played with her life.

Her reaction to seeing her sister being an enforcer? Gut punching. Extremely painful. The fight with her STILL being more in a nothing like state, just shooting the dude with her back turned to him felt very s1 which is good because again, Jinx in the end was like??? done.

and then.... act 2 happened. Suddenly they used Jinx's mental state as a Plot device. In season 1 it would ruin missions and her freaking out would happen no matter if "the plot needed it or not" if you get what I mean? The first mission we see on screen? fucked up because Jinx lost control. This happens throughout the first season, it doesn't just come when ever the writers need it to happen.

In season 2 it does. Suddenly in situations that should freak her out she doesn't. Suddenly they use it as a plot device. Why was she very calm and relaxed upon meeting Vander as warwick with Vi? Why did she not freak out when Vi and her fought in the mines?

Do we all remember what happened in season 1 episode 3? And how Jinx immediately lashed out as soon as a fight occured? What happened? Also why was she suddenly so very chill with Enforcers in act 2 and beyond? The joke with the Enforcer and her god damn fucking pants was so out of place I cannot even handle to think about it anymore. The fight with Warwick was good and I liked that in the end they again showed that she is ready to kill herself, at least there is continuity here but that is also never addressed and also... happens for Plot and plot only

it happens so warwick can see the bomb and so they can have him recognize her, like okay arcane writers? And then after that she is simply fine with her second father figure showing up again? You are telling me the girl who had such a mental break down last season over her sister returning would be absolutely fine and 🥺family🥺 upon seeing Vander? Where was the sense? Where was her having to deal with Silco and Vander in her mind? i don't WANT to see her tortured, duh, but they set that up and showed this happening to her in season 1, so this is just, I dont know, a plothole? You are telling me the same girl who blew up the council in s1, and like LOOK AT HER in that scene, is all cuddle cuddle with her past family whose death she always blamed herself for and was scared off?

Then Isha dying, and god do I have my problems with that but that's another thing, and THEN having Jinx never mention her again? Are you KIDDING ME? like it's not even just not mentioning her as much as it is just also Isha not appearing in her nightmares etc. That is NOT how they set Jinx up as a character. While the scene with Jinx in the prison with Silco turning up was chillingly heartbreaking it also didn't make sense if you take into account how they wrote her seeing things this season. In the one scene where she talked to Silco's chair she says he doesn't show up and then when she is in pain over Isha being caught suddenly he stands behind her? I mean maybe I missed something here but I literally sat there like huh.

In season 1 it happened not because it was needed but because it wasn't. As it should be. In this season it only happened when the Plot needed to move and that's just so incredibly weird to me. Especially cause I already saw people misinterpreting the Silco and Jinx prison scene. It was her subconscious telling her to kill herself not Silco trying to be "a positive influence".

And then or course, we have this tragic character Jinx. Who was shown to have a wish of death all throughout season 1 with how careless she was with her life (for example when she threw around the bombs in her hide out) and then throughout season 2 as well. Who saw a breath of life for a bit, taken from her.

To have a character like this ACTUALLY die by killing herself and then to paint it as a GOOD thing? This isn't a tragedy. This is straight up suicide glorification. I did not cry when I watched this scene, I did not feel sadness and grief. I was beyond mad and disgusted and might be for a long time to come.

I need more ppl to talk abt how awfully Jinx was treated this season. I am soooo angry and upset

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[wcnderlnds]

something about you | draco malfoy

Summary: After a rough week, you have one two many butterbeers and get help from the last person you’d expect. Warnings: being tipsy?? Word Count: 1.4k Authors Note: this is a repost from my old account. i wrote it in 2020 so its not the best but i wanted it on this account to keep all my best fics in one place <3

Weekends meant Hogsmeade trips which were your favourite part of the week. There was nothing like getting out of the school grounds for a bit after a hectic week of classes. As much as you loved Hogwarts, it was nice to get away from the chaos of the castle sometimes even if it was only for a few hours. It was even nicer after a stressful week and to say this week had been stressful was an understatement. Right from the get go everything had seemed to be going wrong. You’d managed to forget your potions homework which had resulted in detention then, because of that, you’d missed your date with Seamus. It hadn’t been that big of a deal — it wasn’t like your relationship was serious but you had liked him. It wasn’t enough for you to be upset when he asked if you could just stay friends instead but it did put you in a foul mood. It seemed that every time you had something good planned the world tried it’s best to disrupt it. So, the trip to Hogsmeade was needed. Very needed.

Usually, you tagged along with the golden trio but you decided to go solo today telling them that you’d meet them for a drink later on before you all headed back to the castle. As you walked through the main road, you spotted Draco Malfoy and his goons harassing some third year. You and Draco hadn’t really interacted much other than the casual ‘hello’ here and there but he’d always been rather polite around you so why couldn’t he be like that with everyone else? You knew your friends had an issue with him and couldn’t blame them but you had nothing against him. So far he’d done nothing to you but it did annoy you to see him bullying a poor, defenceless boy just trying to enjoy a day out.

“Hey, come on. Leave him alone,” you said walking up to where the incident was happening. Goyle was the first to hear you, turning to face you with the ugliest sneer on his face.

“Back off. This is none of your business,” he said gruffly.

“What exactly has he done to deserve you bothering him? Just leave him alone. You’re a sixth year and he’s a third. Pick on someone your own size.”

“I said back off.”

“Goyle! That’s no way to talk to a lady.” Draco had finally spoken up, glaring at his friend. “Since you asked so kindly, we’ll let little Roger here be on his way.”

“Thank you,” you gave Draco the tiniest of smiles as little Roger ran past mouthing a ‘thanks’ to you.

With that all sorted out, you went on your way not noticing the youngest Malfoy watching you as you did. He’d always found you intriguing. Honestly, he’d always wanted to strike up a conversation with you but since you were in two completely different houses and he had a reputation to maintain, he opted for mostly ignoring you and trying to be civil. Part of him really hated the fact that he couldn’t just do the things he wanted to but he couldn’t take any chances of his father hearing about him doing such things. Befriending someone outside of Slytherin house was frowned upon so keeping his distance was his only option but little did he know that was about to change.

“Barkeep, another!” You yelled out earning funny looks from Harry, Ron and Hermione as you slammed your glass down on the table. You’d been sat with them for half an hour now and had already thrown back about four butterbeers. They didn’t even know how many you’d had before they’d arrived but it was safe to say that with the way you were acting, you were pretty darn tipsy.

“Maybe you should make this your last one,” Hermione suggested, reaching out to place her hand on yours in a comforting manner. “I know you’ve had a tough week but if you want to talk then I’m here.”

All you did was shoot her a big, toothy grin in thanks as your new drink was placed in front of you. “It’s not like I’m sad or anything. I just… need to blow off some steam, you know? When have you known me to get tipsy off butter beer anyway? It’s just one time. It’s fine.”

After another half an hour, Harry declared that he wanted to go back to the castle — Hermione and Ron agreed. They tried to get you to go with them but you refused telling them you’d make your own way back. Harry had tried to pull you up and drag you with them knowing you weren’t exactly sober but you were too stubborn to budge. Ron had somehow convinced them you were smart enough to know what you were doing and with that they left.

It was one drink later when you’d finally decided you’d had enough, getting up out of your seat. But, you’d stood up too fast and with the butterbeer in your system it didn’t help one bit, the whole room spinning. You gripped the chair with one hand to steady yourself.

“You doing okay?” A familiar voice asked you. Your eyes glanced up to meet none other than Draco’s.

“I’ll be honest, blondie, I might have drank a little too much,” you said and couldn’t help but grin at him.

“I can tell.” He pondered for a moment almost having an internal battle with himself before he decided he had to be a decent human being and help you out. “Here,” he said, grabbing your jacket nd helping you put it on. He held his arm out for you. You didn’t even argue lacing your arm through it so he could help you back up to the castle.

The first few moments were silent until you spoke up curious as to why Draco Malfoy of all people was helping you out. “Got a feeling you don’t really do this much especially when I caught you bullying a poor innocent boy earlier.”

“You’d be right but contrary to popular belief, I’m actually a decent guy. I have manners and know when to not leave a lady alone in your state,” he mumbled.

“I’m not that drunk, you know. Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy enough for me to be concerned and it takes a lot to concern me. Why’d you even drink that much anyway? It takes a lot of butterbeers to get anyone drunk. Rough day?”

“Try rough week.”

“Is this about that imbecile Seamus? You can do much better,” Draco pulled a disgusted face at the mere sound of his name coming out of his mouth. At your confused look, he went on to explain. “I was walking past when you two were having a chat. Complete idiot he is if you ask me.”

A little laugh passed by your lips. “Don’t hide how you really feel. But, yeah and no. He and I weren’t even really together. It was just an culmination of things coming together all week. I’m fine, though.”

He looked at you to examine your face for any signs that you were lying but he couldn’t find any. You really did seem okay which was a relief to him. The last thing he wanted was to have some deep hearted conversation. It was a shock to him and you that he was even talking to you as much as he was.

Silence took over again as you reached the castle. Although, you didn’t want to admit it being in his company felt nice. Natural, even. You felt comfortable even when it was silent. There wasn’t any awkwardness. If you didn’t know any better you’d think you actually liked being in Draco’s company. He liked being in yours too but he was nowhere near comfortable enough to admit that.

“Thanks for walking me back. You’re alright, Malfoy,” you gave him a playful nudge with your shoulder causing a slight grin to form on his face. Funny, you’d never really seen him smile before. It looked good on him.

“You too. I meant it, by the way. You can do much better than most of the boys in this retched school.”

“Are you about to make some overly dramatic speech and ask me out?”

This time a large, hearty chuckle came from him and you couldn’t help but feel a little hint of butterflies start up that you’d been the one to get that out of him. Draco shook his head. “You wish but who knows what the future holds, eh? See you around.

With a wink, he headed on into the castle. Well, now you couldn’t wait to bump into your new favourite Slytherin more often.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part six

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 2.8k (2821)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part seven!. really a little suggestive at the end but it's literally nothing, but I thought it was right to say it

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

The bags fall to the floor almost immediately, dropped from your hands that can no longer hold them. Michael's eyes are fixed on you, and you struggle, even for a few seconds, to hold his gaze. You reflect in his cerulean eyes a subspecies of betrayal, or even hatred; in all the years that you have known him, he has never looked at you like this, and it scares you. You shake more than you should, you even feel difficulty breathing. If hell wants to take you, it's succeeding. You immediately regret even opening that drawer

The letter, clean and tidy, shines on the table: the white, shiny paper, now seems to have your finger prints on it, prints that should only have been Kaiser's when he wrote it. The air is heavy, and heavy is your sense of oppression now

"Micheal I can-" you say almost in a whisper, but you remain silent when you see him take the letter in his hand "Sit down" he says while his eyes now scan the writings he himself has written. You swallow nervously, and quickly do as he says, sitting parallel to him, in the chair in front of his

You watch him as he rereads the letter once, twice, five, ten times, always taking the same amount of time. He never dares to look up at you, not even when he takes a break between readings. After minutes that seem endless, the only sound that escapes his lips is a heavy sigh, perhaps held in for a long time; one hand places the letter back on the table, the other reaches the bridge of his nose, which he massages with his fingers. He's visibly shaken, and you don't blame him, you're still shaking after all these minutes too

"So..." he says after a moment, taking his time to perhaps choose the right words "You read everything" he says looking up a little

You feel the skin on your body almost not sticking to your bones anymore, a sensation that you haven't felt even in one of your worst arguments with Gabriel. Probably if it had happened to you some time ago you wouldn't have understood the reason for this feeling, but now after all you know how to explain it: you love Michael, you're worried that he doesn't want to see you anymore after this. You care about him, about his opinion, about everything he does, unlike Gabriel

If until now, or at least until a few months ago, Gabriel was the person you worried about most in the world, now that role is played by another person. And this person is Micheal Kaiser

You want to talk, make up an excuse, but you know it wouldn't make sense; right now everything is too obvious, there are no openings to escape to and honestly you don't even want to lie to Micheal. The words die in your mouth, making you stay silent and without a truth to say. You stay silent because you don't know how to explain everything, and Micheal seems to notice your difficulty, because it seems more attentive

"I really don't know what to say to you either, Y/n. I wouldn't have even in the worst case scenario imagined something like this" he says with a calmness that hides so much anger, which you can see in the way he holds back some words "I just wonder why you would want to read something like this, especially considering it was hidden. Haven't you asked yourself why it was hidden?" he asks, but it's a question you know you can't answer because he's right "I'm just wondering... what the fuck is wrong with you? I really need to know, because now you know everything about me, that I've loved you for too long, that I dreamed that you were my wife, but what do I know about you?" he asks smiling almost hysterically, probably because of anxiety

The weight of the situation seems to crush you as if you were a simple feather: it kills you, it leaves you suffering and with each passing second it seems to strangle you more and more. Kaiser looks at you, waiting for answers that you have but that you don't really know how to explain to him. You can't explain to him how much you, only after years of him being in love with you, understood that you loved him too. You can't explain to him how hard it is for you to see the hatred he feels for you now, which he absolutely has the right to feel, but which still hurts

You can't explain to him how much you now just want to tell him that you would like to resolve the situation by kissing him and starting over something that probably just needs communication between the two of you

"You had the courage to read all that but not answer me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you look down, keeping your hands in fists in your lap "You think you can solve everything with your silence? No, fuck, you can't, because this is literally a violation of my privacy. Do you realize how much I feel like shit right now knowing that you know things that I've kept from you for years just so our relationship wouldn't go to hell?" he says, and his tone of voice rises a little "Do you really have the courage to say nothing after finding out I love you?" he says, but the last sentence sounds more like a whisper desperate than an exclamation of complete meaning

"Micheal, please" you say with a shaky voice, trying to get a little bit of his pity, but you hear him laughing in an almost amused way "Please? You beg me? And what am I supposed to do, beg you to forget everything I've written over the years on those pieces of paper? Are you seriously asking me to give you a break when you literally did everything yourself, sticking your nose into things that didn't concern you?" he says, but at the last sentence you feel something inside you stir "They didn't concern me? Are you kidding?" you ask looking up, and you notice surprise in his eyes when he sees you answer him "That's not what matters, you literally discovered things that you shouldn't have known even when you were dead" he says, and for the umpteenth time it seems unfair to you "You should have told me" you say with a sudden conviction, but one that you don't really feel. You're just trying to find a way to calm him down, but with strange methods

In your eyes, Micheal seems to be on the verge of breaking. Everything he has kept inside for years is threatening to come out and he himself is realizing it. Everything he kept in his Pandora's box is now coming out like a menacing monster

"What was I supposed to tell you? That every night since you've been with that man, I hoped he'd die so I could finally tell you the truth? That I wanted to see you smile so badly that I gave 101% in matchs knowing you were watching me? That I dreamed for years of the feeling of being able to call you my girlfriend without being afraid? That I spent days locked in the house when you said you were leaving for Italy and leaving me alone? That everything I did was to make you happy and make you see that it wasn't just normal affection?

That I kissed other girls hoping it was your lips and not theirs? That I dreamed a million times of a future where you were my wife? That I always had a bottle of your perfume that I carried with me when I was out of town? That there's a picture of you and me as teenagers in my wallet?

That I lost weight when I found out Gabriel was taking you away from me? That Ness himself always thought me that you didn't feel the same way about me? That every time I saw you walk by I dreamed of you running to hug me?

That I dreamed of another universe where I could really be happy with you, where we were together, we could kiss and hug each other, we were husband and wife, we even had children, where everything was really perfect at least in my eyes?

That you were the only one I cried for? That you are the only person who knew what I went through with that asshole of a father of mine? That the feeling of even hearing your name made me happy? That seeing you after months of separation was like a liberation? That loving you for me was the only great joy my life has given me? That for me you are always be everything?

That ever since I found out that you and Gabriel fought often I was happy? That every time you told me about your arguments I hoped you would break up? That I hoped that the last fight was really the last? That running to you in Italy after your breakup was the moment I looked forward to more than when I have to score a goal? That feeling your arms around my neck while you hugged me after so long made me feel alive? That the sensation of finally having your lips on mine was like entering heaven? That letting you love me that night was like I had never really experienced anything, because there was no comparison in having sex with you?

How could I tell you all this, Y/n, knowing that it wasn't reciprocated? That by doing so I would be pushing away the only person whose thoughts about me I truly care about?"

The tremor you were feeling until now seems to disappear, replaced now by a feeling of liberation that perhaps Kaiser is feeling now too. The weight that was crushing you to death lifts as all his thoughts come to the surface, thoughts so intimate that not even letters could have

Kaiser has unconsciously risen from his chair, his arms stretched out against the table. He is breathing heavily, and it seems only now that he realizes what he has actually said, that the monster he kept in his Pandora's box has come out and destroyed the entire village. It seems as if what he has wanted to say for years has come out now, but he had not kept in mind the consequences of his words. For the first time, he seems like the least alien stranger you've ever met: you didn't know his feelings, but now his words have weight of no small importance

The real Micheal Kaiser, after years, is finally before your eyes, alive as only a human can be, dressed with a level of intimacy that probably few people can reach. Micheal Kaiser has finally shown who he is to the person he has always loved with an almost impossible level

"Micheal, I-!" you say, getting up from your chair too, but something inside you seems to block you from moving. It's time, now or never. You don't even know for sure if he still feels everything he just said, if he really is still in love with you that much, but now it's your turn to lay yourself bare. You love him, you know you do it for years, you know that everything you had with Gabriel was just something you were looking for from Micheal

"Micheal, listen to me, I-" you say trying to find the words, but everything inside you dies the moment he lowers his gaze "Forget everything"

And suddenly, all the weight that was gone comes back stronger than before, not even giving you time to realize. The belief you had until a few seconds ago suddenly seems to be a nonsense that you were about to reveal. Michael breathes loudly, with a calmness that doesn't belong to the situation. You watch him as he stands up straight, no longer with his arms stretched out against the table. It seems as if he has just realized the consequences of his words and that everything he said came out only because it had to come out, not because it had to reach your heart; freeing oneself, not acting for something. And it's exactly that "Forget everything" that comes out of his lips that makes you the angry one in this situation this time. It annoys you that now he is you, the person who would like to escape, that just at the moment when you were about to be the one naked in front of his eyes, he decided to close them

A last sigh escapes his lips before he silently makes his way out of the room, towards the door behind you. He is running away, running away from something that this time he has caused: there is a strange connection in your own situation, as if you were both two identical, yet different, sides of the same coin. In a lightning-fast move you place yourself between him and the door, your arms open and resting against the adjacent walls. Your heart is beating too fast, you don't even know what you're really doing, but it seems right in a corner of your soul. Kaiser looks up, staring at you with a hint of annoyance that actually covers something else

In a few days you went from best friends, to lovers unaware of each other, to strangers, to rival for annoyance and now? What are you two now?

Neither of you dares to utter a word, but your eyes seem to communicate with a language that your minds struggle to understand. It is something fine, that can easily break, but that is saying everything that you have hidden from yourself for years. It's a language that only two people who have done everything to hide their feelings so as not to hurt each other can understand with inhuman ease

“Say it” you say confidently, knowing that what you think is finally coming “Say it, because I know you think it. And I think it, too, Michael.”

You would have, or rather, you should have been honest with each other so many years ago. His tense nerves finally seem to melt away when he hears your words, now light as a feather

"I love you" he says, in a way that seems to carry with it many sleepless nights, lost because of thoughts. Finally, both you and him, have taken off the last crumb of weight that you were carrying; you smile almost unconsciously, bringing your hands between his jaw and his cheeks "I love you too, Michael"

It is in that moment that the knot you were holding tight in your stomach goes away, it is in the same moment that everything seems to take on a new shade. It is in that precise moment, where Kaiser throws himself violently on your lips, that shivers of love run through your whole body

The sensation he longed for is finally here, as he kisses you with an almost aggressive tenderness. You kiss each other back, feeling for the first time the real butterflies everyone talks about. It's a needy kiss, that perhaps he waited too long and that is taking everything now; but it's beautiful, loved, and you wonder how you and him could have waited so long if you knew the outcome was something like this, so exciting and inexplicable

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them lightly with a firm grip, as if he wants to make sure you're there. The kiss doesn't seem to end, as you hold each other, your body smeared against his and vice versa. There's something that maybe you're both still holding back but that's slowly coming out of you. Everything becomes more needy, just like that night in the hotel: the kiss becomes more aggressive, his hands tighter, your hands sweatier as you slide them along his neck, tracing the outline of his tattoo. You feel him tremble, as he moves his lips to your neck, letting soft sighs escape your lips, while suddenly everything seems to take a turn that you've both already experienced a few weeks ago

You don't know how, a few minutes later, you found yourself in his room, lying on his mattress with him on top of you, still aggressive on your neck. But you liked him so much that your legs were shaking for the emotion

You loved Michael Kaiser. Michael Kaiser loved you. You loved each other, and it took you years to realize what you could have experienced already at 19 years old. But now, at this moment, in his room, you loved each other

And that's what mattered to you

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

READ IS IMPORTANT!!: the story seems finished but NO, let's say we are only halfway through what I have in mind. thank you so much for all the support I'm receiving, I think I don't deserve it actually 🥹 love y'all 💗🌷

[radmutantninjatriangle]

I accidentally found a post on reddit, which criticised DITF, and most of the comments were disagreeing and blaming Jason for his death.

And like... what...

I love DITF, but I will always blame Bruce for Jason's death.

Jason was 15. Bruce is his father (not even a foster father, he actually adopted Jason). It was his responsibility to protect Jason, even if he did something stupid.

The moment he learnt Jason left the country, he should either go after him right away or inform the authorities so they could stop him.

He didn't know why Jason was in Israel (his first destination), and tbh for all he knew, Jason could have been kidnapped and made to buy the tickets there. Bruce didn't know what was happening with Jason and still prioritised looking for Joker.

Joker IS dangerous, but being a father should be a priority, especially when his son might be endangered.

And people who say, "But it was Jason's decision to look for his mother." Yeah, and he's 15. 15 is the dangerous age when kids (Yes, KIDS) think they are adults and do a lot of stupid things. They try drinking, smoking, jumping from high places, etc. And it's their parent responsibility to explain what is dangerous and why. And to stop them.

Bruce should have prioritised Jason, sent him home, and then he should have promised he would help him find his mother after stopping Joker. Or maybe take him along to help him stop Joker so Jason would never leave his sight. A lot of different ways to be a parent AND Batman.

And one can argue that the only time Bruce left Jason from his sight was when he left him with Sheila, who was Jason's bio mom; And Bruce could rationally think that Jason would be safe with her, right? But he didn't know Sheila. Had no idea who she is. He DID know she somehow left Jason. So Bruce left his child with a practically stranger in a dangerous foreign country. Great parenting, I guess.

I love DITF, mostly because it shows Bruce' faults. How he isn't an ideal father.

And one can argue how much of it was actually Bruce's fault, but no one can say that it's Jason's fault when he was still a child, come on.

[muppeddie]

Blame it on my DNA

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

“Hey, Bud. You got a minute?” 

“Uh-uh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chris.”

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

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

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

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“I think I screwed up, Buck.”

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

[loquarocoeur]

alex I am so sorry to send another fucking ask but like. I needed to okay, (also doing my first ask on a laptop was a mistake bc I can type at the speed of light here and this got way too long oops?)

something I've thought and wondered about before was the idea of what would happen should max & charles ever be interrupted while max is in subspace. you've covered a funnier side like a regular walk in during sex and both of them just being like Would U Fuck Off, but subspace is different. like perhaps its something just like someone at the apartment door that actually does really need answering, an urgent work call one of them forgot about, someone in an area they are unexpectedly that maybe doesn't see them but their presence is enough to panic max.

if its more the physical presence of someone, even just in another room etc, obviously max would lose 20 years of his life at the idea of anyone but charles seeing him in subspace, its a painfully private vulnerable part of him for charles and charles alone. it'd rock him, obviously.

or if it was more along the line of a phone call or situation where one of them needs to be physically present, how would max feel but also how would charles deal with juggling the Important Thing He Forgot To Do while also soothing a very down very subby max. obviously a first idea is just making the problem Go Away, etc, but a. I like to work scenarios through and b. it'd be enough of a bubble intrusion to cause a shift in the atmosphere anyway.

its not even meant to be like especially angsty if you don't want because heavy shit aint always the vibe. you don't need to know like a definite answer here, or have even thought about it before. I just particularly enjoy the dynamic of subspace itself and wanted to chat (and accidentally send u half an essay about) it. hell you don't need to have a fuckin clue I just wanted to float you my brain thinky stuff bc why not <3

apologies again that I've sent u an ask the length of war and peace

~ swanon 🦢

Yeah I think considering their careers this is definitely a thing that happens at some point.

I think the first time it's probably just the door or something and Max thinks he's going to be fine if Charles just leaves to answer it quickly, but turns out it is not fine and Charles can't just leave him because he will absolutely panic

Also it's probably also more subtle that Max's, but I think Charles also kind of gets into a kind of domspace during sex as much as Max gets into a subspace and even though he finds it much easier to snap himself out of it or multitask with it, it's still a thing and he'd probably need a second too

So I think it obviously does happen like several times to the point that sometimes they either just put it off for a few minutes until they're out of that headspace enough to do the 'important thing' or Charles just ends up taking Max with and letting him just cling onto him behind the door while Charles peeks his head out to sign for a package or smth lol and also let's be real, Charles is not above answering phone calls while he is actively inside of Max

So basically I think it's either Make The Thing Go Away or if that's not an option just Multitask

But yeah I don't think it would end up too great if anyone walked in on them while Max is like actually properly in subspace because yeah that's not something Max wants anybody to see except Charles and it's also not something Charles wants to share with anyone else because it's just like private and personal and it means something to them yknow. And Charles also kind of has the responsibility of taking care of things when Max is like that so he would feel like absolute shit about it even if it wasn't his fault like at all.

Yeah I don't even know what would happen but I don't think they would blame each other at all, if it was bad enough they'd probably end up having a joint breakdown about it crying at the same time like no no I'm sorry it's my fault, no it's mine etc until they finally agree it was nobody's fault and finally calm the fuck down and feel slightly bad for whoever they accidentally traumatised just now

[themedievalpoet]

If Mordred and Freya grew up in the same Druid camp.

There was a moment of weakness. The two were in the tavern. Merlin was telling Mordred about the Druid girl he had once saved and protected. . . Well, he tried to, anyway. Her life slipped through his fingers and he blamed himself. It wasn't usual for Merlin to chug back the alcohol like this and certainly not to be so vulnerable around people, especially not around Mordred. But Mordred was the only one who could know, being a Druid and a magic user, and on nights like these, the feelings he had pressed down came spilling out of his heart.

While Merlin sobbed incoherently over this girl, Mordred tried to put the pieces together. Merlin told him that this was a Druid girl, who was captured, because she was dangerous. But she wasn't dangerous at all, she was kind and loving and compassionate, and lonely. Though Mordred had a hard time deciphering the words between Merlin's hiccups, he did know one person that could match this description.

"Was her name Freya, by any chance?"

The look on Merlin's face at the mention of her name. . . His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he teared up. "How do you know that?"

Mordred smiled, but only in sadness. "She lived in the same camp as I. Her parents were kind people and took care of all the children. Freya was as kind as her parents and took care of all those who were younger than her. She sang melodies that I can no longer remember the sound of, only that she sang them with passion and love. I've always seen her as an older sister. The day her parents passed away, we were all grieving. Us children the most."

Merlin looked at him. "Why did you cast her away?" he asked. "It wasn't her fault."

The young knight frowned. "I was just a child," he said. "The other children and I wanted her to stay, no matter what form she took. But the adults thought it was best for her to leave and never return. He said we were all in danger if she was around."

There was a brief pause. "I asked Freya what happened. A man attacked her while she was gathering herbs in the woods, so she defended herself. His mother found her and cursed her. It was horrible to hear. None of this was her fault."

He shifted in his seat. "Freya's magic is strong, but her heart is delicate. She wouldn't want to use her powers when every night she is forced to. . ." Mordred shook his head and stopped there. "I was afraid I might never see or hear from her again. But thanks to you, I know that she passed in peace."

"In peace?" Merlin wiped away his tears.

"In peace," Mordred repeated. "You've shown her compassion. You've shown her what love is. I'm happy she could feel loved in her last moments."

"You know Freya, you say?" Merlin asked, slurring his words. "How can I believe you? What if you're just making things up?" He was bitter, but how could he not, after all that had happened to him? "What was her favourite fruit? Do you know that?!"

Mordred scratched the back of his head. "I'm not lying to you about this," he said, "but I don't remember her favourite fruit. . . She always picked strawberries for us when we were little. But she also gave me apples, because I particularly liked those. I don't know. Maybe she just liked red fruit."

It was then and there that Merlin passed out, dropping his cup in the process. The tavernsmaid scolded Mordred for it, so Mordred quickly got off his seat and tried to carry Merlin out of the tavern, back to his room. He wasn't as heavy as Gwaine, thankfully, so carrying him was a lot less terrible. When he arrived, Gaius was sitting at the table.

"What is this?" he asked, surprised that Merlin would let himself be carried by Mordred out of all people. Gaius walked to them and helped Mordred put Merlin back in his room.

"I think he should rest," Mordred said. "Not only does the prophecy weigh heavy on his shoulders. . . He carries a heavy heart with him, too."

He gave Gaius a smile and walked towards the door. Right before he walked out, he stopped and turned to Gaius.

"I wish nothing for love to flourish the world," he said. "I wish for Emrys to feel the same kind of peace I feel when I am around him. I hope that one day, he can feel safe, and he can rest."

[carus26]

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

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

Just give me some time

I've been saving all this up since 2013 

And I won't rest until I say it all

In my personal blog lol

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(also a lot of words..and doodles)

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

Personality and appearances:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understands that she is a living being after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The final scene with them is also so touching. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[alma-amentet]

OK, I think I'm officially done.

Last two days were awful. I'm mentally shattered and exhausted. Was getting better from prev time, but then... Yesterday I was just a click away from blocking a person, but in the end decided to hold. Blocked a tag instead, that was it (lrb, yeah).

So today she blocked me herself. I don't blame anyone (trying to not be hard on myself... bc yeah I tend to blame myself first thing. Hope this post doesn't add nails to my coffin lid, I'm just trying to speak abt my POV and not make it worse). It was 1:1, cultist 🤝 d*ckrider.

Yet still feel very bitter. We were nice and supportive in the past, that was the reason I hesitated, but recently it was only triggering. I nearly cried bc of her posts not once! Tried to be understanding, yet couldn't stop taking it personally. We had several talks, it wasn't helping. I know it's my own problem. My bad is that I haven't taken measures earlier (like explaining everything and parting peacefully). I too didn't want to loose nice moots... Even if it's obviously no longer nice. I'm not some vile toxic bitch (or stupid paladin hell yeah), you know, I have feelings, too. And everyone makes mistakes.

Maybe all for good. In the end, still hard.

The thing is I reblogged another post from a person she's had troubles with, she took it personally. OK that one was really too harsh, but then, me seeing all those posts about stupid brainwashed Miquella cultists day by day felt no different. I actually did a repost while still half asleep, maybe it was my subconscious reply to what was yesterday.

Guess I just happened to be on the wrong side, with people who did her wrong. They did nothing to me, I wasn't going to take sides at all (like discussing people behind their backs, bullying and such). Interacting with them really helps easing my frustration over the DLC, while trying to find sense in it really doesn't. I lost all that sense.

I totally don't judge people who keep doing it, even envious to some point. Would like just to stay dwelling peacefully in AUs, fixes and pre-DLC lore bc not ready to ditch this interest (actually now even afraid it may die with all this turmoil). Hate is not an option, but to me, all that 'disco horse' was also not easy to take, no better than people it was judging.

So yeah, all for good in the end. 1:1, like I said.

As for that reblog. I did it bc yeah, venting and ranting is my way of coping. It really helps. To feel not alone, to relieve the stress. Yet I never adrresed of called names anyone myself. And then... I explained enough already: was half asleep and really pissed off by previous day's stuff on my dash which happened not even once, that's it.

[fumifooms]

Dungeon lord Chilchuck

What would his wish as a dungeon lord be? What would he be like? Headcanons & speculation post for fun. But I’ll start with analytic lead up because that’s always fun for me, though feel free to skip and skim.

When it comes to what Chilchuck’s dungeon lord desires could/would be like we have mainly 3 hints: His nightmare, his succubus and what the winged lion says to him.

Why: — From what we see nightmares are based on the person’s worst fears and insecurities, both Laios’ and Marcille’s nightmare were closely tied to their dungeon lord wishes (Laios’ dream monster being summoned to crush the ghosts of relationships that represented the pressure to fit in and belong, Marcille seeking control over death and aging through magic to avoid loss), the fuel behind their desire/goal if you will. Fear and deep-seated desires are seemingly closely tied, something also supported by Thistle and Mithrun’s reigns as dungeon lords (Thistle proving his worth through fulfilling his given duty + protecting his loved ones, being listened to instead of having to listen, Mithrun escaping rigid two-faced elven society and living in a wonderland where he has no enemies and he’s loved, free from everyone he knew yet propped up by the person symbolizing his brother being chosen over him, the bastard child).

— I’ve talked about the significance I assign to the succubi often by now, but rundown: What we see of each character is all very telling if you care to listen, it shows not only someone’s "ideal form" but what they want from it. Izutsumi’s is familial, offering a hug and comfort, Marcille’s is romantic with a character she knows and loves, offering a kiss on a hand and a connection regardless of how distant it actually is, and Laios’ is platonic, arguable at first but then Laios’ fear of judgement is placated and he is offered the picture perfect friend group that accepts his interest (if you want my full look at Laios’ succubus go here). They take on the most alluring form, most ideal person of their victim, even uncovering deep subconscious desires, so precisely and effectively to the point it leaves victims physically frozen before the object of their desire. Succubi and the demon are themselves tied in lore and it’s easy to see how similar their core skill are. Succubi don’t give a good idea of what a character would wish for on their own but they certainly give hints on what they crave, regardless of how you want to read it.

— Last bit is self-explanatory. To placate Chilchuck and win his compliance over, the monster that reads your soul like an open book offers to give him something specific. But! It’s also important to remember that the lion isn’t offering to fulfill Chilchuck’s dream world wish here, it’s a second prize, because his goal with what he promised Laios is that they’d stay in this world, away from everyone and everything else. Chilchuck wants to get away but is kept back, and it’s here the lion placates him with "hey it’s okay! You can’t do that but I can still give you this! This is enough right? It’ll make everything easier on you".

What each bit says: — Long version in another post. Tldlr: His daughters and family are obviously important to him, and this reinforces that he takes on the role of protector a lot, he’s constantly worried for his party members’ lives and implicitly his family’s. Safety and stability, both economical and otherwise, are his core values and goals, and he berates both others and himself if someone fails on those fronts. Here, there’s the fear of not being enough, of not having been able to protect, and of course of loss.

— Chil’s succubi are obviously sexual, and not only that but agressively and straightforwardly so. It’s not like Marcille’s where there’s personality involved, all they do is give him sultry looks and pretty smiles before jumping on him. His succubi aren’t like Izutsumi’s, always the same exact person and appearance, so it’s not someone but an appealing general idea. The idea of a sexual being he can regard as simply a gorgeous piece of meat and a good time no strings attached. In my interpretation, especially with my reading of Laios’ succubus where even with deep-seated desires negative emotions can be too intense to effectively freeze a victim, I think this doesn’t contradict his character. Relationships have been painful to him in the past, in the succubus scene when his wife gets mentioned his immediate reaction is to yell "Don’t bring her up now!", like with his habit of drinking and as a tallman liking his senses feeling dulled, it’s about not having to feel emotions with how difficult they are to deal with sometimes and just feeling good, or at least not having to think, for a while. If a succubus showcases someone’s ideal connection with an ideal person, then Chilchuck’s is with a pretty person that doesn’t stir any negative memory or drama, someone low stakes and low maintenance that doesn’t require him to manage or talk out feelings because there’s none involved in the first place.

— Once more, wife and family are important! He does long for his family, not only his wife but his daughters, and vice versa. This suggests not only that he wants good relationships with them but that he wants them to be with him, a family life. Far from the cut communication they all more of less have during canon, and perhaps far from their life pre-canon when he worked away from home a significant amount of time. We’ve seen recreations of people by the winged lion before with doppelgangers and monsters (naga), and though he claims he can make satisfying imitations, what we’ve seen is that they base themselves on the best memories of that person, like with Marcille’s dad, or twist behavior to be more pleasant, like Mithrun’s lover (and possibly twist appearances depending on the person’s view of them, but that’s Mithrun analysis). The line does suggest Chilchuck would want his family members as they are in reality and not idealized versions, but the circumstances are chaotic and urgent enough in the scene (and again the lion isn’t fulfilling Chilchuck’s wish but trying to make him content for Laios’) that it could just be the winged lion saying what he needs to to convince him the fastest possible, and like we see with Laios that can crumble to give way to deeper or more complex desires.

On top of that we just have general info on Chil. How does Chilchuck deal w his issues? What does he like to do? He likes alcohol and ignoring his problems. We have to remember there is a split between what someone would consciously wish for and what their soul uncontrollably irrationally craves. As always with Dunmeshi, there’s a narrative of irrational deep-seated desires vs active wants, what you crave vs what you strive for, what you dream of vs what’s actually good for you, the animal vs the human inside you, heart vs mind. Chilchuck craving a harem of hot babes in his fantasies but wanting his family life & wife back again is not mutually exclusive. You may crave becoming a monster and tasting what humans are like a little but still want to save the world & your friends more.

Btw can we adress the irony of him terrified of being the last one alive, of being left by his daughters and wife, of having left and coming back home one day to see everything gone or rampaged, yet not caring about dying of liver failure himself, knowing every time that he enters a dungeon there’s a real risk he may not come out. Die somewhere I can’t see you. I prefer leaving you than being left behind. He’s selfish and shortsighted like that… Chilchuck is selfless in many ways of course, but perhaps also due to his own relationship with his parents, he often undermines the effects he has on others in his relationships, both the good and the bad (he talks himself down about being cowardly and greedy yes, but never hints at his bad health habits, alcoholism and starving himself, may have affected his loved ones, doesn’t question his wife falling into a bad mood the night before she left, and talks about the possibility of dying here and there very casually, though obviously he tries his best to stay alive when it doesn’t concern his health).

Chilchuck king of "Let me just avoid and ignore my problems surely they’ll go away, things might work out and if they don’t well tough luck I’ll survive and I probably deserve it anyways". If I don’t look at it it will dissapear <3 Why care when you can simply not think about it.

You might not understand Mister "my love will stay strong through months of work travel and also 4 years of separation" and Mister "well idk my siblings and me are kinda strangers and my dad is dead but that’s kinda whatever", but typically relationships need some form of maintenance and emotional availability…

The actual headcanons finally

I kinda have 2 routes in mind for dunlord Chil and both of them are centered on "I care too much, i wish things were easy", so first is a lot like his succubi, it’s full on indulging in his guilty pleasures like alcohol and bodies and it’s to keep him in a constant state of thrill and euphoria and distracted, unfeeling about stuff that really matters. "Nothing matters except that I’m enjoying the moment!" vibe. He gets to live a life worthy of Dionysus, with alcohol and women and debauchery and like— never having to think again, never having to feel anything but pleasure again, never have to feel guilty or shitty or angry or sad. He has a harem and gets everything on a silver platter.

Breaking news demon magic-induced rush of euphoria and power still not enough to cure this man of his self-hatred nor his capacity for thought!! But in his case a state of euphoria is what he seeks I think, to kinda mask or replace the Everything Else.

The other is what I think closer to what canon suggests, with what WL implied too with "I’ll make you a new wife and kids like the originals!! 😊", it’s a (spoilers) Wandavision type thing where it’s a slice of life where he’s never at work and always at home and the family eats lunches at the dinner table together and everything and everyone at any moment is just. Happy. No issues. It was all a dream, this is real and everything is fine and your family is perfect and happy. I like to think the timeline would be wonky, his daughters would fluctuate in age, but he’d want to be there for what he missed, would want them to still rely on him and look up to him like when they were young, would like to forget that they’re now independent adults and the distance that grew between Chilchuck and his siblings is happening between them as well. Chil would want doppelgangers of his family imo, at its core just a general wish for a peaceful happy family life with no drama, no need to compromise, a little paradise of unconditional love and no consequences. It’s for sure straightforward, but Chilchuck is a man with straightforward desires…

But see Chilchuck is a greedy man, and he wants it both ways without having to sacrifice anything or expanding any efforts himself. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. I think playing with these two opposite directions and mixing and matching is most fun. Him leading a life where he indulges in all his worst habits while still having everything he wants… Him getting to have BOTH his wife and any woman he can imagine up, his life like two sides of a coin he can flip at any moment where he’s partying then he’s at home enjoying the quiet and his toddler daughters playing with toys on the carpet. Christ when you remember it’s all an illusion that’s terrifying, the doppelgangers and succubi from the winged lion playing chilchuck ping pong.

A safe little haven both security-stability wise and emotionally. Gets to have both the relaxing and the thrilling in any dose he wants, mixed or separatedly. What I’d argue he had pre-canon too: Can live it up in taverns away from home, stays away from home for long periods of time, and can come back to home aka the symbol of relaxation and safety whenever he decides to. Something he can leave and come back to at will, an anchor he can trust in (until it’s taken from him and his wife leaves. Or in his worse nightmare people rush in and kill his daughters). The ideal of a house and family to a working man, perhaps…

I think it’s fun to think on wether or not these desires would be interesting at all to the winged lion… In canon he seeks out "rare/complex desires", common simple things like I imagine riches, sex, substances and pleasure would be are boring to him, he’s eaten those so many times already. So perhaps he wouldn’t last long as a dunlord, the WL would want to eat him fully quick, can’t keep him interested or waiting long for a meager meal, too much effort raising the cattle and too low quality meat. By making it more twisted or layered Chil’s desire would become more desirable to the demon, it’s part of what’s fun with the third option to me. But whatever. Has he ever eaten a guy with this much repression and self-sabotage... Like trying to get the meat out of a walnut, enrichment…

Other dunlord Chil takes I’ve seen that are fun and good:

@feelo-fick and @pluvio-floret have a dunlord Chilchuck AU project dubbed "tragedy AU" where Chilchuck is said to be "on vacation", in a weird delirious state, only half-there half of the time… From which he doesn’t want to wake up </3 Quoting Feelo, this is why the vacation thing is only a half-joke cause he is 1) letting all his responsibilities go 2) indulging in himself and 3) "spending time with his family" <- lie but you get what i mean. Additional comments that have me vigorously nodding: because changing is hard why cant things just be okay right now without the effort !!! Life is hard he’s so so tired he just wants to feel good… he just wants life to feel nice and easy for a sec while he can learn to breathe again and lose the stress and trauma he’s accumulated…….. spoiler alert yes !!! in fact a depressed person can suck themselves into their job and lock out the world who wouldve thought !!!

And then Cabinette I know posted about his dunlord take once but I don’t have the link, in which Chil has a lot of nosebleeds because of mana overload which is fun and interesting to think about imo~

In dunmeshi, where characters get underground pockets of the world as their playground disconnected from everything outside and the rest of the world, it’s important to remember to face reality even if it has conflict and people with different views and stances from you, it’s something Chilchuck and Marcille and everyone needed to learn, and the thing with a dungeon lord AU is that you imagine a timeline where he fails to <3

A timeline where his dungeon lord wish is to desire nothing bc hope and want has only ever hurt him would also go so hard. Very universal thing though I suppose.

… And this is why a Chilchuck-centric Coraline AU is really really interesting and fitting and topical— Ok that’ll go in a separate reblog/post at @Fumiku I need to let this end