#attempt to digest so it died out and it really did make me realize that out of all things in the world humans remain the cruelest

[rodolfoparras]

I BOUGHT PITCHER PLANTSSSSS

-🐁

I just googled it bc I thought it was like big house plant (I’m sorry I’m no flower expert ejdjdj) but I googled it and it looks so freaking cool?? A flesh eating plant????

[waitingonher]

A LIFE WITHOUT YOU ISN'T A LIFE AT ALL

summary: the aftermath of your injury. [percy jackson x reader]

author's note: finally on break so hopefully i can post more?? also i wrote this all in one sitting so i hope it makes sense...

percy jackson can take physical pain. he’s used to it. he’s seen everything in the book, from blood to broken bones, and it’s become easier to digest over the years. yet, what he can’t ever seem to get over, is the sight of you hurt. there’s nothing that could ever prepare him for the inevitable moments where your life would hang in the balance. today just happened to be one of those moments. 

first, percy heard the screams, then he saw the blood. it was a strategically crafted ploy to hit him where it hurt—you. honestly, if you asked percy, he wouldn’t be able to tell you anything of what had happened in the following moments. all he knows is that he fought like hell to get you back. 

“y/n,” a familiar voice pleads, “wake up, please, wake up,” fuzzy. everything was fuzzy. but then there was the familiar scent of lemon verbena—the candle will always lights in the infirmary. your hands begin to roam as you feel the cotton bed sheets, why are you in the infirmary? your eyes shoot open and immediately meet percy’s. he seems to be frantically talking, but you can only hear the ringing in your ears. 

all of a sudden your hearing rushes back, and you really wish it hadn’t. people shouting orders and people crying over their loved ones wasn’t necessarily what one would want to wake up to. percy’s eyes widen in relief as he kisses your hand, “thank the gods. i almost thought i lost you.” 

pause. you and annabeth were supposed to be leading the charge against the monsters on the northern borders of camp. where is she? how is she? despite being in no condition for sitting up, or for anything in that matter, you attempt to get up, “percy, i- me and annabeth, i need to get back,” an excruciating flash of pain pulses in your gut and you cry out. 

percy immediately ushers you to lay back down on the bed, “y/n you need to-”

“no percy,” dazed, you fight against his hold, ignoring the burning pain, “please, let me go. annabeth, she needs my help and i can’t just-” 

“y/n,” he interrupts, his voice ever so slightly raised, “listen to me,” percy cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. blood. there was so much blood on his face. then you notice the wild look in his eyes, “you’re okay. annabeth is okay. everyone is okay. it’s over, we won.” 

you slowly nod as you take everything in. everything hurt. you had a relentless pounding in your head and an awful pain in your stomach, “what happened?” 

percy pulls in a chair and closes the curtain around your bed, “from what i’ve heard from annabeth, your team arrived at the planned meeting spot, and instead of the couple dozens of monsters you guys expected…there were hundreds. i guess they somehow knew that you were assigned the northern border so they-”

“they focused all their divisions on the northern border, where i was,” you realize. it makes sense, and quite frankly, it was a good plan. why go for the rest of the camp when you could aim for the one person percy cares for the most? you sigh as you sink your head back into the pillow, a potent mixture of guilt and frustration eating at you. 

percy takes your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over your bruised knuckles. he knows all too well what it’s like to be in this position, “y/n please don’t be so hard on yourself. nobody knew that this would happen.” 

you purse your lips, “i know, i just can’t shake the feeling that i could’ve done something differently. i mean look around, this is the busiest i’ve seen the infirmary since the last titan war. and you, you’re hurt too,” your arm weakly raises to wipe away a bit of crusted blood on percy’s cheek. you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if percy died because of you.

“y/n, you did everything you could. and besides, we can’t control everything, especially when it’s war. we knew the risks the moment we decided to fight back,” his hand meets yours as you caress his face.  

you sigh, “you’re right. thank you percy.”

he gives you a reassuring nod, “and i’m okay, i promise, i already got everything looked at,” he adds, “will said i should be back to normal within a few days.” 

you hum in approval and you two lapse into comfortable silence. percy opens his mouth as if to say something, but lets it fall shut. instead, he reaches for your hand again, holding tightly as if you were to fly away at a moments notice. you look at your boyfriend, finding him deep in thought, “percy what’s wrong?”  

his gaze falls to the floor and a few moments pass before he lets out a shaky sigh, “i was just so scared. i mean, when i got there, i found you and you were just laying there,” he pauses, his brows furrowed and lips pursed, “i don’t think i’ve ever ran so fast in my entire life,” percy’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

your heart begins to ache knowing how hard this affects him. but you also can’t help feeling happy knowing that percy feels so strongly for you.

“then when i got you here, even will was concerned, and you know how good he is. and then he was working on you for hours, and there was so much blood and i just…” he pauses before looking at you, his eyes swimming with desperation, “i've realized that i can’t live without you. so please-”  

“percy," you grasp his shoulder tightly, almost as if proving your existence to him, “i'm alive. you saved my life. and i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. you realize that, right?” 

percy nods his head slowly, he himself finally realizing that everything would be okay, “yeah.” 

“good, now give me a hug, my love,” you chuckle, “you’re too tense.” 

and he does not need to be told twice. percy practically jumps (very carefully) into your arms, squeezing you in a tight hug. at the end of the day, you’re going to be alright, and that’s all percy’s asking for.  

“i love you,” he whispers. a quiet oath to always be the one to find you, to always be the one to save you. 

“i love you too, percy,” a promise to do the same.

[viceroywrites]

monarch a trois drabble inspired by this early season gary smoking screenshot

gary could count on one hand the amount of times he's smoked a cigarette.

first was during his early days of being a henchman for the monarch. freshly turned 18 and wanting to fit in, he almost hacked up a lung after smoking it.

second was another time with the henchmen, wanting to look cool and badass after seeing brock smoke.

third was when 24 died. it probably would have become a consistent habit if it weren't for him moving back in with his mom who had zero tolerance for it.

fourth was tonight.

gary was having a bit of a quarter life crisis - realizing he has been living with the monarchs since he was in middle school. that his whole life was wrapped up in theirs. that as the years go by, how capable could he really be as a henchman?

while the trio's dynamic had shifted to a romantic relationship, gary couldn't help but feel insecure in his role in it all. even though he had entered an exclusive relationship with the two, the old feeling of worry began to rise to the surface - what if he was just an add on to their fun like he felt when he found out they were swingers.

an add on that could be replaced the moment they got bored.

out of fear, gary began searching for apartments.

maybe he needed to learn how to be out on his own again.

while him and malcolm were watching house of the dragon in the living room, malcolm had asked to borrow gary's phone to order takeout - leading him to see a text from a landlord asking gary when he would be able to tour the apartment.

needless to say, that interaction did not go well with gary attempting to explain himself but fumbling over his words and malcolm's emotions getting the best of him, storming off into him and sheila's bedroom and slamming the door.

gary's pleas through the door were met with silence and so he surrendered, making his way outside and bumming a cigarette from sheila's stash she kept in one of the drawers in the kitchen.

he sat on the porch steps, blowing a cloud of smoke into the cold air. a sleek black limo pulls up to the residence, a guild operative coming out of the front to open the door. sheila steps out, dressed in a black trenchcoat over her guild uniform. the sound of her heeled boots hit the concrete as she wishes the guild operative a good evening before turning her attention to gary.

her eyes widen at the sight of the cigarette nestled between his fingers, seeing the smoke pluming from it. "so you wanna tell me what happened tonight?" sheila sighed, taking a seat next to gary as she takes off her hat, flattening out the stray hairs that got messed up, "because i got a frantic text from the monarch saying you were leaving again."

gary groaned at the choice of words malcolm used, "he was using my phone to order take out and saw a text from a landlord asking when i wanted to tour an apartment."

sheila blinked in surprise at this new information, digesting it herself. no wonder malcolm was upset - he thought gary was abandoning them. "mind telling me why you were looking at apartments?"

gary paused, anxiety bubbling in his chest. if he expressed how he felt, would his worst fears be confirmed? he took a breath before looking over at sheila, "what am i to you guys? am i just another add on to you and the monarch's fun?"

sheila's hand reaches out to rest on gary's knee reassuringly, squeezing it firmly, "gary, where is this coming from? you're not just another person we swing with. i thought we made this very clear when we asked you to join our relationship."

gary sighs, his insecurities bubbling to the surface as he finally dumps all his emotions out there, "i don't know... i just feel my life has been all about you and the monarch and i don't hate it by any means.. but what if i lose my muscle as i get older? what if i stop being a good henchmen? then what good am i to you guys?"

sheila scoots closer to gary, "give me the cigarette, i need a smoke too." gary passes the stick over to her, watching as she takes a drag before blowing it away from gary's direction. "i know you think you're only around because you're useful to us but i speak for the both of us when i say that you're not just a number to us anymore. you're not just a henchman, you're our partner." sheila explains.

"but... i understand your concerns. you need a contingency plan just in case henching doesn't work out long term." sheila offers, "how about we start small? have you considered taking community college courses? i know you got your ged."

gary stares at sheila for a good minute before slapping his forehead, "god, of course. why didn't i think of that?' sheila gives a throaty chuckle, taking one last puff of the cigarette before passing it back to gary.

"you and the monarch both rush into action without a game plan, it's almost hilarious." sheila grins before pointing out, "i didn't know you smoked... never seen you pick up a cigarette in all these years."

"i only smoke when i'm super stressed about something." gary explains a hint of pink tinging his cheeks as he realized this was the first time sheila had seen him smoking. sheila leans over to press a kiss on gary's temple which ends up being poor timing as malcolm meanders out to the front in his robe, wondering where his wife is.

"pookums, where are you?" he whines before pausing at the sight, "you're supposed to be comforting me, not that traitor!"

gary winced at the choice of words and sheila smiled, rolling her eyes, "sweetie, calm down. gary's not leaving us, he's just had a lot on his mind that he wasn't sharing with us. we should all go inside to have a chat."

"fine.." malcolm mutters, still on the defense with his arms crossed.

his sharp eyes key into the cigarette in gary's fingers.

"you smoke too?!"

[cheswirls]

ok i def have decided i need to rewatch the finale to get a good consensus but after browsing the show's tag (granted this is 2 days after the finale aired so i understand the immediate hype has died down and people have had time to digest and criticize the show as a whole) and being met w a lot of long commentary posts instead of content for the finale i wanted to see (gifs, art, etc) i'm gonna attempt to formulate my thoughts in more detail before doing anything else

largely i do not think anyone's criticism matters to me but it was interesting to see the difference in opinion and a lot of the same critical beats i've seen repeated over and over bother me so (this is in no way a response to anyone btw!!!) here's my two cents:

jellyfish can't swim at night was good. i liked it! but there's a difference between good and great, and the same for liking and loving a show. i know that it was very entertaining and i had a lot of fun watching every episode, but i also didn't think about it much until it was saturday again and a new ep was out.

when i wrote that other post-finale thoughts post i had to look up kiui and kimura's names. i had to make sure meru was the correct girl i was thinking of. there's no denying i enjoyed the show, but i also think that joy was limited to when i was watching it. when i get super into an anime, i have no trouble memorizing everyone's names. the character designs in this anime are all unique and creative while still being in the scope of real-world possible. i say this to highlight that no one looked the same and yet i still struggled to remember everyone's given names, and it didn't help that most of the main cast each had a legal and stage name!

the show being Just Good isn't a problem, btw. it was never meant to be ground-breaking or tell this fantastic tale, after all. it's always been a show about teenage girls making music, and that's completely fine! actually, i didn't even look at it thru yuri-tinted glasses until the 5th episode and hadn't considered anything else beyond that at all (re, kiui possibly being nb). i said before that i was a little sad that kano/mahiru never went anywhere, but after soaking in the (limited) opinions of the masses, i changed my mind: i think it's fine.

largely why i think the finale was okay despite being rushed is that it left everything on a good note. i didn't even realize ep12 was the last until the title card, and yea i do think the narrative could've benefited from a 2-cour season or even a 13th episode, but the way things ended wasn't bad by any means. the point (imo) was to establish things getting better and wrapping up what was left uncertain or was at least not good. by 'not good' i mean not happy, etc. the finale certainly did this and i think it was pulled off rather well! but only because this anime is what it is. the story the creators wanted to tell was accomplished, the most important beats were closed out, and all ends well :)

my main takeaway abt all the yuri "bait" is that i've decided that i don't think of it as bait anymore. the anime in full takes place over the last year of high school for these four girls, and it ends with them graduating and getting ready to pursue their own paths in life. it's a happy, uplifting sorta open-ended, and i appreciate that. these four have found themselves and have worked through some of the issues in their lives that were holding them each back. now they have to get out into the world and explore their lives further. it's great! it's great, and i like that it ended this way. there's no need for absolutely everything to get wrapped up because it's not over! as shown with the montage in the very end, things are still moving forward, just beginning.

it's been a bit and i might be misremembering, but i think the kano/mahiru kiss in ep5 was the first kiss for one of them. it was impulsive and they didn't really talk about it, but i don't think it just "went nowhere" because of everything that followed. they're still on really good terms and they went out (i think one of them explicitly used the term 'date' when they did) and at the end i've decided that it's okay that nothing was explicitly defined. that implies to me that they're both figuring out what they want, and it's something either or both of them will have to grow into. there's a vast difference between queer bait and between putting a pin in a thought/idea. it goes along very well with the anime's open ending for me too.

the first two years after i graduated high school were easily the most pivotal years of my life. i learned so much about myself, and it's largely because of the different environment i was in. now that the four main characters are out of that life (even if only free from social stigma by not being highschool age anymore - kano and kiui weren't in school much but it is still something they can put behind them) and have more freedom to be able to do what they want (even if it just means not being trapped in school for 8+ hrs a day) then they will all definitely begin to change as people, more than the show has already expanded upon. and that is so exciting to me!!

another point abt the open-end is that i think from what i've seen, it's that aspect of the finale that's getting criticized. it's fine to not like open-endings! but they are legit forms of storytelling, and it's not "bad writing" to not tie everything in a pretty bow. to me, after watching the finale, the point of it ending the way it did was to highlight that none of the four main characters' stories are over. the vibe of this show was never supposed to be 100% serious and i think "teasing" mahiru and kano's relationship was meant to plant a seed of the possibility in each of their minds. not liking open-endings is not valid criticism for saying the entire show is terrible and the finale was bad. everyone can have their preferences, but the anime was never supposed to be groundbreaking plot-wise or content-wise and i think having a stigma against it in full bc it didn't feature what you wanted it to is stupid and childish. it showed a snapshot (not even a full year!!!!! c'mon now) in the lives of four different people and did a good enough job of navigating all of them in the runtime it got. not every anime has to be 100% conclusive and this is definitely a good example of such.

[introspectral]

Meta: White Vision’s Trauma

{out of directives} (Trigger warnings for trauma, mental health, gender identity, and body dysmorphia ahead!)

I’m just here thinking about this reaction of his, which is before his memory access is restored, so he doesn’t remember anything before waking up in S.W.O.R.D.’s facility... and it occurs to me how much trauma Vision is feeling even at this point. The way he pulls back and suspiciously looks at the hand that reached out to touch him says to me that he’s not comfortable with being touched. He might even be a little afraid of it. It’s no surprise, considering one of his earliest memories (before he gets all his previous ones returned) would be of being manhandled by various people at the facility.

White Vision’s sense of privacy and autonomy got off to a really rough start. I would imagine that they continued to work on him and make adjustments in various ways even after he was brought to full consciousness. That must have felt incredibly violating to him, being pawed at shortly after being “born,” as far as he understood it.

Then, once he did regain access to all his previous memories, that only made the trauma worse. Granted this is relying on a whole slew of headcanons I’ve detailed for Red Vision’s composition and abilities, but... suddenly White Vision had all these memories of doing things he can no longer do and things that no longer seem to fit with his sense of identity.

The first time he looks in a mirror after regaining memory access is beyond traumatic for him. He used to be red. Now he’s white. He used to have a yellow stone in his forehead. Now he’s got a blue one. His eyes look different. He can’t make “clothes” or “hair” anymore, or change his color. He can’t alter his body in the same ways. He realizes he no longer has a digestive system or a reproductive system, things that took so long for him to research, develop, and optimize. He cannot create genitals anymore, which affects his gender identity. All because the organics were stripped from his body. He’s mostly vibranium now, his living tissues and cells are gone. They rotted after he died and then S.W.O.R.D. baked the remnants of them away in a process not unlike baking ceramic, resulting in a boy that was sterile and more machine than living organism. And all of this is very distressing to him.

For someone who prided himself on being a synthezoid and on having these properties and abilities, to realize that he lost them - that they were forcibly taken from him - had to have made Vision angry, but also had to make him sad. He doesn’t look like himself anymore, and that causes him to have identity issues. The memories he has still carry a lot of meaning, and it seems to him that that’s who he is, and yet he knows he’ll never really be that person again. He probably doesn’t want to be something or someone entirely different, but he knows he can’t go back to being who he was before. That kind of situation would leave anyone feeling very lost, confused, and with an unstable sense of identity.

I have an added headcanon that, once Vision begins reaccumulating organic matter into his system and can once again experiment with attempting a human disguise, it becomes very apparent to him that S.W.O.R.D. screwed up in putting him back together. There are parts he just can’t change no matter how hard he tries, or parts that, no matter how much he tries to make them even or uniform, always have a dent, or an inconsistency, or things that look like scratches. Scars. Not only did they manhandle every part of him and change him from what he originally was, but they were less than careful with him as they did so, resulting in imperfections and essentially things that become like wounds or scars for him. This only adds to his anger, distress, and confusion over his sense of self, and increases his sense of violation and distrust of others.

It occurs to me, now that I’m thinking about all of this, that White Vision would develop a kind of body dysmorphia. His body doesn’t feel like his own, it doesn’t look right to him, and it has these scars and imperfections that he hates and would begin to obsess over. Some of them are so minor that they’re hard to see and yet he insists that they’re there. Some most definitely are there, but others are more psychological in nature. He’s obsessing over not being perfect, not being himself anymore, and that makes him perceive flaws where there are none.

Vision’s inability to fix these flaws (the physical ones he won’t be able to fix until more of his organics are restored, and the psychological ones will never go away until he addresses his underlying mental health issues) might make him withdrawn, angry, brooding, and he might develop a tendency to isolate himself. Combined with him being uncomfortable with being touched, he may flinch away if someone reaches for him, depending on who it is and why they’re doing it. 

That’s it, that’s the post. I just suddenly had a burst of headcanons regarding this topic and thought I would get them all down before I forgot because it’s relevant and I’ll be including these in my interpretation of him.

[kadssp]

Michael angst pls anything JUST MICHAEL AND ANGST

note: most of this is not exactly canon at all, these are mainly my own personal assumptions and angst hcs for michael so take them with a grain of salt

warning: angst, mentions of nightmares, the bite of 83, trauma, guilt, blood is mentioned, implied attempt at overdosing on painkillers, mentions of throwing up, panic attack is mentioned, michael was neglected by william, post scoop!michael, i think that’s it? tell me if i missed something, also not proofread teehee

Post Scoop! Michael Afton angst hcs

he has nightmares almost every night about when his younger brother died. he tells himself it was his fault, that’s what his dad would yell at him every day afterwards for as he grew up anyways so it has to be true. william wouldn‘t lie or make up something right? so even though he’s been told it wasn’t his fault, the lingering memory of it haunts him because he caused his brother’s death.

he feels sick sometimes knowing he did what his father wanted him to do. deep down inside michae wanted his dad to be proud of him, it was always about the other kids and how much he loved them and how well they did at something. michael would only get a distasteful glance from william before he’d spit condescending words at his oldest son.

he constantly feels pain all over his body and on the inside after being scooped, he told himself he had to do it but honestly did he really? was it worth freeing his sister to the world because it’s what his shitty dad wanted him to do? he doesn’t have a clear answer and he thinks he might never have one.

the pain is unbearable most times, he often tries taking pain killers knowing they can’t do anything to help a man with little to no organs, or a stomach for that matter. it’s hard to keep count of how many times michael has woken up in agony and tried swallowing multiple pills that he would eventually throw up later on because he cant digest them.

he doesn‘t go out much either, stays in his house for as long as he can to a point neighbors that used to know him get worried and sometimes try to visit to see if he’s alright. they knew something was off when his skin slowly became a sickly dead color and over the span of a few months he was completely decaying, a disturbing purple color the last time anybody had seen him before he shut himself in, only going out when it’s safe to do so and staying in the dark like a shadow most times.

his way of thinking is destroyed because of how neglected he was of his father. sometimes getting so down on himself like his dad would that he starts to believe some of the negative and heart breaking things he tells himself. he’s so hard on himself and he takes it as his responsibility to put an end to this all, he doesn’t even realize he’s deteriorating mentally now because of it all.

the weight of having to end william and his on going pain to himself and the souls of the children he’s murdered weighs heavy on michael and sometimes he panics so much he feels like he cant breathe because of it. and then, the part of him that wants his father’s adoration feels conflicted because he doesn’t want to have to destroy the last member of his family that’s somewhat alive. it’s a constant battle within himself and he has to remind himself that this is the best, this has to be done. but does it have to be michael that does it all?

he hates how he looks too. knows it shouldn’t matte but he cant help but see it as a reminder of everything he’s gone through and how suffocating it all truly is. the pain he feels when having to stitch his own wounds that bleed through old stitches is numbing, not nearly as bad as the constant feeling as if his organs are being removed over and over again that he feels daily. he’s learned to skillfully stitch himself up, knows when the stitches are about to give in and need to be changed and it’s just a regular thing to do for him. it’s almost normal at this point, the closest thing he’ll even get to normal again anyways.

he has a single photo he stole from his father and mother’s bedroom and kept ever since he was a young teenager. it was an entire family photo but william’s face has since then been torn and marked off as if he didn‘t exist in the photo. he looks at the small image often when on night shifts. it’s a small reminder of who he’s doing this for. who he’s freeing from all this pain.

[m88n]

[8.02 pm] - when mark lee gets angered by your cheating boyfriend

angst, smut, fluff

►listen to it’s you - zayn, so beautiful - dpr ian

“He did.. what?”

You look off to the side, almost guiltily.

“Yeah… I ended up finding out that, he really did sleep with Vanessa.” You say, looking down at your hands, restlessly fiddling on your lap.

Mark rakes his hair in bewilderment, proceeding to rub his face with one hand, seemingly trying really hard to digest the information he’s been presented with.

“y/n… You mean to tell me, you gave him all those chances when you obviously shouldn’t, only for him to run off with some girl?” He asks you bluntly.

“Mark….” You simply say, feeling hurt by his insensitivity.

He palms his face for a moment once more, then sits down in front of you on the sofa, looking straight at you with his clear eyes.

“..I’m sorry, y/n. It’s just frustrating to see you deal with him all the time,”

“Well, I’m sorry Mark, if I tire you by talking about my problems all the time, I thought you told me I could rely on you like this,” You say with a quivering voice, unable to hide your disappointment with the way he’s dealing with your vulnerability.

“You could, y/n—”

“Then why be that blunt with me when you know I obviously need comfort?!” You ask, raising your voice, tears starting to brim in the corners of your eyes.

He pauses to take in the look of your face.

“Because I can’t keep on seeing you like this, y/n!” He exclaims.

You look at him taken aback and puzzled, not entirely understanding what he means.

“I hate seeing the girl I like keep getting hurt by some assbag, while I sit here and do nothing about it, okay?!” He finishes.

You look at him, wide eyed, completely stunned by his response.

“M-Mark, I…”

He quickly moves to sit right next to you, and you could see the silent burn behind his dark irises.

“Do you know how it feels like, to have someone you cherish so much, crying about someone who treats them like shit?” He asks in a low voice.

“Mark, I’m-I’m sorry, I di—”

He stops you completely in your tracks by firmly taking your shoulders and pressing a warm, haste kiss on your lips. After you feel the touch of his lips leave yours, his gaze lingers on your eyes, his clear eyes weighted by what seems like agony, then looks down as he still keeps his grip gentle on your shoulders.

“I can’t handle seeing you cry, and apologize, for someone that keeps on hurting you, I can’t do it, y/n,”

You feel his hands ever so slightly quiver on your shoulders. You examine the way his black locks cast shadows over his paled face, his cheeks dusted light pink. Then your gaze flits towards his lips—he’s biting his lip.

After a moment of silence, Mark shuts his eyes, fully realizing what he just did.

“I’m sorry I did that, y/n, I was just feeling so much—”

You stop him from finishing his sentence by planting one gentle kiss on his forehead, then looking at his eyes with nothing but tenderness.

“It’s okay, Mark.” You say gently, eyes fixed on Mark’s.

“B-but—” Mark stops himself, feeling your thumb graze across his lower lip. His face grows warmer, face flushing a shade of vibrant pink at your featherlight touch.

You smile at him, before leaning over towards him with your eyes fluttered close, gradually closing the gap between your faces, until your lips finally touch. The kiss feels soft, almost sacred, as you two finally cross the line that you’ve been walking around for the longest time. Mark sighs into the kiss as his grip on your shoulders slide down to your arms, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, finally softly gripping his hair to nudge him even closer to you. His supple lips melt onto yours, making its home in the comfort of your touches. His hands slide down towards your waist as he positions himself in between your legs, gently pushing you against the arm of the sofa. As the heat of the kiss slowly makes itself known through soft moans and utter impatience in getting lost in each other, Mark suddenly pulls back from the kiss, only for you to hold him back with your firm grip behind his neck.

“Hold up, y/n, stop,” Mark tries to say in between kisses.

“What, why?” You respond breathlessly, as neither of you tries to stop kissing each other despite Mark’s futile attempt to.

“Is this okay...? I mean,” He says, before you interrupt him with a peck.

“Don’t you want this..?” You ask him with half-lidded eyes. Mark’s eyes darts towards your lips for a moment, before shutting his eyes and shaking his head a little.

“I mean, of course I do, but, what about him?” Mark says, touching your hands behind his neck, and you finally cease trying to kiss each other.

You sigh at his question, leaving it hanging in the air. He looks at you with apparent concern, pupils wavering, however visibly restraining himself from forcing an answer out of you.

“…I’m sorry it took me ages, Mark…” You start, while looking down at your lap. Mark looks at you questioningly.

“Him sleeping with Vanessa obviously hurt me, given that I’ve spent…. Or maybe wasted, 2, almost 3 years with that guy, but it really served as the wake-up call I needed.” You continued, gently pulling your hands away from Mark and fiddling with your nails with your hands on your lap. “A-And I guess, I was just really confused, like I’m still learning all about this relationship stuff and how it works for me or whatever…”

Mark looks at you with raised brows, obviously waiting for you to continue.

“When I discovered he did that… I realized that I got angry not because I love him, I don’t even think I do anymore, I realized—I think I got angry because I let this stuff happen to me for far too long.…” You try to explain.

Mark’s gaze softens upon you, his hand slowly reaching towards the hair framing your face, before he stops himself.

“What I do know, is when you said you.. like me,” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up, “I just--just feel butterflies.. I don’t know, I’ve always loved being around you, I guess this kind of pure affection is just so.… Foreign to me.” You finish, finally braving yourself to look up to his face despite the feeling of bashfulness taking over your entire body.

Mark looks down at you with an unreadable expression, though you could tell that his gaze is nothing but gentle. He slowly takes both of his hands and cups your face with them delicately, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“It’s everything you deserve and more, y/n.”

He kisses you with everything he has, caging your body with his hands firmly propped on the arm of the sofa. The kiss he gives you is gentle, yet forceful enough to leave you breathless. He takes no time in deepening the kiss as his tongue enters your mouth, taking one of his hands onto your jaw, running his fingers through your hair, before ever so slightly grasping onto your strands. You could feel him desperately trying to hold onto this moment, afraid that you might slip through his fingers anytime soon.

“Mark—” You try to speak in between his kisses.

He stops, panting lightly as he looks at you with his blown-out pupils and swollen lips. You gently take his face with your hands, cupping it and locking eyes with him.

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere.” You say, almost in a whisper.

A soft sigh leaves his lips, pupils quivering before seemingly bracing himself for the next thing he is about to say.

“Are you sure about that?”

You look down, before bringing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Why would I leave something that’s so good for me?”

Mark looks at you, seemingly debating your answer for a moment. He settles on placing his lips on your neck instead, working his way down your chest, his hot, wet kisses leaving fiery trails in its wake. You take the back of his head, gently pulling on his hair, sighing onto his touches. He brings one hand to your shoulders, slowly pulling down the straps of your dress, revealing your bare chest. He continues planting kisses down to your nipples, taking the sensitive bud with his soft lips and tongue, soft moans passing through your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, I want you to be all mine.” He murmurs against your chest, still shallowly sucking on the skin, small bruises starting to bloom across your decolletage.

“….I’m all yours now, Mark.” You finally say affectionately, in between soft breaths.

He looks at you for a second, before capturing your lips in a heated kiss, devouring your lips and tongue, as he continues to fondle your breast with one hand. He slides his hand below your hips to lift you up in a princess carry, which takes you by complete surprise, as he really doesn’t seem like the most built type.

He walks you to his bedroom with ease, swiftly closing the door to his bedroom with one leg, then gently dropping your body onto the center of his queen-sized bed. He proceeds to take off his dark grey t-shirt, revealing his lean yet toned musculature, you note, especially throughout his biceps and torso area. You can’t stop yourself from staring at Mark Lee completely topless in front of you, his body looking much more toned than you’d imagine. He’s always worn some of his vast assortment of hoodies when he hangs out with you, and you’ve never paid too much attention to him, so this is definitely a surprise to you, albeit a pleasant one.

“You wanna show me just how much?”

“What?” His question snaps you out of your daze.

“You wanna show me just how much of you are mine now?” He drawls, and you turn to take a good look at his eyes, still distinctly clear as it’s always been, however now visibly darkened in a hungered gaze as he takes in the sight of you on his bed, like a predator carefully examining its prey.

You’re completely unfamiliar with this more dominant side of Mark, and instead of provoking you to fight back, it feels like a call that is beckoning for you to submit to. You fumble with your answer for a moment, and you see Mark trying to fight off a smirk, while he slowly makes his way closer to you on the bed. Your heart is beating erratically fast from the distance closing in, despite being all over him just moments ago. He looks at you, again, with that indecipherable gaze, as he takes your cheek with the light touch of his hand, and you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the sound of your thumping heartbeat. Since when did Mark have this kind of side?

“Since you said I’d be that good for you,” He starts in a low voice, almost a whisper.

He slowly puts his lips closer to your ear, breath fanning your sensitive spot. The heat coming off of his body and his warm breath sending you into an intoxicating trance, your mind slowly slipping off of its senses, core throbbing from the sensory overload. Before you knew it, he closes in even further with his presence, completely shrouding you with his aura as he slips his fingers in between yours on the surface of the mattress.

“You wanna show me just how good you could be for me?”

He whispers onto your ear, not forgetting to leave a small peck on the spot under your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He locks eyes with you, jet black eyes attempting to hide the last bits of his burning desire from bursting out of its feeble confines. He is still the same guy. He’s Mark. Something else just awakened this part of him. You get chills thinking that something is really none other than you.

You almost forget to respond, so you nod timidly, eyes still maintaining its gaze upon Mark’s. He smiles with heavy lidded eyes full of pure ardor. You almost couldn’t believe that this is the same cute boy with innocent eyes that you’ve grown really close to—or at least you thought so. You suddenly feel his thumb graze your lips, as you maintain your gazes towards each other. As if instinctual, you take his thumb into your mouth in a light suck, and he smiles a little wider, looking down at your utter submission to his cues.

“Good girl.”

He suddenly places both his hands on your waist, lifting you up effortlessly, earning an abrupt yelp from you. He places you right on his lap, on top of his long legs extended across the large mattress. You gingerly put your arms around his neck in order to anchor yourself, before realizing that your very own throbbing, slickened core is rubbing against a certain hardened bulge—Mark’s hardened bulge, through his sweatpants.

“..I can feel you on me, baby.” He says in a low voice, almost growling.

Your face heats up from the sound of his throaty groan, as well as the sheer hardness of his cock, and the implication that he might’ve felt your wetness through your pants. It takes you by surprise when Mark suddenly jerks his hips against yours, causing you to moan loudly from the friction you’ve been needing. You could feel him tightening his grip on your waist, as you follow suit with your grip on his back to steady yourself on his lap. Lost in a trance from the pleasure you’ve been permitted to feel, you take no time in grinding your hips against Mark’s, head thrown back.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, keep doing that,” He breathes on your neck. “Shit, already so wet for me,”

You keep grinding on his hardness, whimpering against Mark’s bare shoulder, both from the pleasure and also from desperation in craving for his actual girth.

“M-Mark, please…” You plead.

“..Please what, baby?” He asks you in between broken breaths.

“I want it s-so bad,…” You continue, still rocking your hips against Mark’s, fully clothed from the waist down.

“You need to say it for me, baby, ask for it from me,” He says, lightly grabbing your chin with one hand, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

Tears starts to brim on the edges of your eyes from the utter shame and neediness you’re displaying, but you honestly couldn’t care less at this point.

“..I need you to fuck me, Mark, please,” You whine.

With that, he takes no time in reaching for his waistband and freeing his erection from the restraints of his sweatpants. He brings his hands to the article of clothing still limply hanging off of your body, gathers it, and finally takes your dress off of you, tossing it in the general direction of the floor. As he does so, you take off your panties and throw it in the same direction, leaving you completely naked for him.

“Fuck, look at you, so beautiful like this,” He mutters to himself, bringing his hands to cup your breasts, playing with your nipples, getting you to moan needily from his touches.

“Wanna be a good girl for me?” He breathes out, keeping his grip loose on your waist. You take this as a signal to do it yourself, so you do what you need to. You lift your body from his thigh, placing your hands firmly on Mark’s back, before taking his cock into you.

You let out a guttural moan, feeling the unexpected length and girth of Mark’s cock, as you haven’t been able to clearly see due to the darkness of his bedroom. You grip his back even tighter as you try to fully sheathe his dick into you, hip stuttering, feeling the mixture between pain and pleasure from having you been broken into by his cock.

“F-fuck, baby, feel so tight, so good around me,” He says with gritted teeth, hands tightening around your waist. “Sucking me in so much, fuck,”

You whimper as you try to move yourself against his hardness, proving it to be a harder task than expected as you might be a little tight for him. After settling into his size, you begin to gain a momentum as you continue to bounce on his cock, your high-pitched moans bouncing off of the walls with every thrust. Mark moves his hands to your ass, and attaches his lips on yours hungrily, kissing you sloppily as you continue to ride him, your cries diminishing into throaty groans.

“F-fuck, so fucking big,” You moan in between breaths. “You make me feel so, so good,”

The bedroom is filled with sounds of slapping skins, wet kisses, grunts, pants, and moans, as both of you eagerly tries to reach your highs. Mark attaches his lips on your neck, sucking at one spot without any care for leaving a mark.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long,” He groans against your neck.

You throw your head back from his cock hitting your g-spot as you have been trying to grind deeper down on him, Mark working to meet you with his thrusts, filling you exceptionally deep with his cock, causing each thrust to knock the air out of your lungs.

“F-fuck, now I’m all yours, Mark,” You stutter. “We can do this all day, all night, whenever you n-need,”

Mark groans at your remark, before he lifts you and pushes you against the surface of the mattress, fucking into you quickly and deeply, leaving you breathless and gasping his name like a mantra, your toes curling and eyes rolling back from pleasure. Your mind loses itself as you feel Mark’s breathy groans on your ear and his cock reaching your absolute depths, causing your core to tighten, approaching its climax.

“Cum for me, baby,” He mutters against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

Taking your lips in his in a heated kiss while raking his fingers through your hair, he continues to pound into you fast and hard, your moans muffled by the kiss. As he keeps on hitting your sensitive spots, you finally begin to see white and feel your legs quiver uncontrollably. In feeling you’ve reached your high, Mark finally spills his seed into you with muttered swears, his warmth seeping into your insides. He continues to fuck into you through your high with deep, erratic thrusts, sending you into a blissful trance as you ride the rest of it letting out the loudest whines and cries of pleasure.  

You pant to calm your pacing heartbeat as your body comes down from the high, still twitching as it settles. Mark peppers soft kisses onto your face, then to your shoulders, stroking your hair, looking at you with gleaming, round eyes that seem to hold the whole universe in them.

“…I still can’t believe you’re kinda... Mine now.” He finally breathes out, taking in the sight of you entirely. “You are... Right?”

You smile sweetly at him, seeing just how preciously he’s looking at you, feeling the gentleness in the way he’s holding you, wondering after all this time, you’ve been coming home to the wrong place, when home is actually much nearer than you’ve ever expected.

“I’m yours just as much as you want me to be, Marky.”

[flames-tstuff]

Okay so, um, I hope you don’t mind me requesting something! ^.^ 💕 You always support me and I wanna support you too!

So, Uraraka and Ojiro. Fluff & Tickles. The idea is that Uraraka is stressed out and one way she copes is by coloring, and Bakugou or whoever sees her and teases her, then Ojiro defends her and says like, it’s fine to be a kid sometimes, bc they’ve grown up pretty fast. And so like, the next day they go to a park and swing, he gets her ice cream, then they go back to the dorm and color while watching cartoons, and then a tickle scene happens on the cartoon, and then it leads to him tickling her and hugs and cuddles and friendship. Aaaaa 🙈

To Be a Kid Again (BNHA)

Ojiro wants to show Uraraka that it’s okay to be a kid again sometimes.

Pairings: Platonic Uraraka and Ojiro

Warnings: Bakugou being a jerk, some light angst

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Omg this is such a cute pairing!! I've never even considered them together, either as friends or as partners. What would their ship name be? Ojiraka? Also, I've never written for either of them, so I hope this is okay!

Uraraka was tired. It had been a long day at school, and despite the fact that it was only Wednesday, she was more than ready for the weekend.

After changing out of her uniform and grabbing a couple items from her room, Uraraka flopped down onto one of the couches of the commons with a heavy sigh. She really didn’t have anything to do now that classes were over for the day. She’d already finished her homework and dinner wasn’t for another or hour or so. Despite how exhausted she was, she had just enough energy left to do one of her favorite activities to pass the time: coloring.

She didn’t know why exactly, but something about sitting down and letting herself get lost in the mindlessness of coloring had always been soothing to her. So there she was, sitting on the couch crisscross, using her knee as a table and getting to work. After a few minutes, the brain fog that had been plaguing Uraraka the last couple of hours began to disappear, and her mind was back as ease.

That was, until Bakugou came into the room. Looking just as tired and grumpy as she felt, Bakugou was about to head up to his room when Uraraka accidentally caught his eye.

“What are you looking at, Round Face?”

She quickly looked back down at her lap in alarm. “N-Nothing. Sorry.”

Bakugou continued to glare her way when he noticed the book in her lap and the pile of markers next to her. He came a few feet closer, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Tch. What are you, five years old?”

“Wh… what do you mean?”

At this time, Ojiro had just entered the commons and was just about to step into the elevator when the other students’ conversation caught his attention.

“Coloring books? Seriously? That shit’s for babies.”

Uraraka felt her cheeks start to burn.

“Hey, hey!” Ojiro jogged over to see what the commotion was about. Bakugou tended to pick fights pretty easily. “What’s going on here?”

Bakugou just crossed his arms and scowled at him.

Ojiro looked down at Uraraka, whose ears and cheeks were painted red. He then noticed the art supplies surrounding her. “Is he giving you a hard time?”

Uraraka just looked back and forth between the two of them, not daring to say anything.

“I heard you say something was ‘for babies,’” Ojiro turned to Bakugou with a stern look on his face. “You weren’t talking about coloring, were you?”

Again, silence.

“It’s really not, you know. People draw and color all the time! Besides, even if it was, what’s wrong with that? Everyone should be allowed to do things they enjoy, especially something as harmless as coloring. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that we’re trying to be heroes!” Bakugou shot back. “Heroes shouldn’t be doing childish shit like that! If you really wanted to be a hero you’d be out training!”

Ojiro sighed, a little exasperated. “Of course training is important. But rest is important too. Doing things you love is important. If you don’t take the time to be a kid and let loose a little, you’re going to burn out. No pun intended, in your case, Bakugou.” Ojiro smiled, a little teasingly.

“Ugh, whatever,” Bakugou relented and headed back towards the elevator. “Whatever it’ll take for you to shut up and stop lecturing me.”

Uraraka and Ojiro both snickered at that, and in a few moments, it was just the two of them.

“Sorry about that,” Ojiro said apologetically. “Bakugou can be a real pain sometimes.”

“No kidding,” she agreed. “Um… thanks. You really didn’t have to do that. I’m sure I would’ve been okay on my own.”

“Of course you would have! But what are friends for?” Ojiro smiled brightly, holding out his hand. Uraraka smiled back and accepted the hand up. “You hungry? I think it’s about time for dinner.”

~~~

The next day was just as hard, though Uraraka did feel a little better after a good night’s sleep.

After dinner the previous night, Ojiro had asked if she’d want to hang out the next day after classes, in attempt to keep tabs on her since her fight with Bakugou. She assured him she was fine, but he insisted that it was his treat, so she obliged.

“So where are we going?” Uraraka asked walking next to Ojiro on the sidewalk.

“I’m taking you to one of my favorite places.” The two entered a chain link-fenced area.

“…a playground?”

“Yep! This was one of my favorite places in the world as a kid, and it still is. Come on! Let’s swing!”

And before she could argue, Ojiro grabbed her hand and tugged her along towards the swing set. Thankfully there wasn’t anyone else around, so they had the place to themselves.

“So,” Uraraka started, swinging her legs a little. “Why are we doing this exactly? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out! But where is this coming from?”

Ojiro laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “I was thinking, well… I wanted to show you that’s it’s okay to be a kid. To let loose a little. You seemed like you needed it, especially after what happened yesterday.”

Uraraka’s heart warmed at that. She really couldn’t ask for better classmates as friends.

Ojiro’s expression dropped to something a little more serious. “I’ve realized that we’ve all had to grow up so fast in these last few years. It makes me kind of sad.”

“Why is that?” Uraraka questioned.

“Don’t you miss this kind of stuff?” He gestured to the rest of the play set. “As much as I hate it, I think you and I both know there’s some truth to what Bakugou said yesterday. Heroes are supposed to be constantly training, constantly trying to grow and improve their skills. All that’s great, but it leaves no room to be what we actually are… teens. Kids. Don’t you ever feel like you grew up too fast?”

Uraraka couldn’t help but think about her parents. How, as just a little girl, barely old enough to go to school, she committed to helping them make money in any way she could. All the experiences she’d missed out on when she was younger due to her family’s financial situation. “Yeah… I guess I do.”

Ojiro offered a sympathetic smile. “That’s why it’s times like these, in the little spare moments we have to ourselves, that we can take the time to indulge that inner child.”

Uraraka took a moment to digest his words. “I think I understand now.” Then, in a small, hopeful voice: “Maybe... a-after we’re done here, we could... um... get some ice cream?”

Ojiro grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.” He hopped off his swing. “Race ya!”

“Hey, no fair!” Uraraka laughed and chased after him.

~~~

After getting their ice cream—strawberry for Uraraka and vanilla for Ojiro—the two friends happily walked back to the dorms together.

“By the way,” Ojiro said, “I never got the chance to tell you, but I saw your coloring book, and well… it looks really good!”

“Oh!” Uraraka looked down, a little embarrassed. “Hah, thanks…”

He could tell she did believe him. “I’m being serious! I think it’s really cool that you’re into that kind of stuff. Have you always liked coloring? You seem to be good at it.”

“Yeah, but I really can’t take much credit. I mean, it’s just filling in the shapes. It’s not like I drew it,” she reasoned, licking her ice cream.

“Hey, I can hardly stay in the lines, so it’s impressive to me.”

Uraraka laughed, knowing he was probably just saying that to make her feel good, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“Thank you,” she said, speaking as sincere as possible. They had made it back to the common area of the dorms where they stood, waiting to depart to their own rooms. “For everything.”

Ojiro realized she thought he had brought her back here to say goodbye. “Hey, if you want, you can hang in my room.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! We could watch TV, or if you have homework to work on, I won’t bother you.”

She smiled. “I’d love that. Thanks again, Ojiro, you’re the best.” She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Ojiro was a little taken aback, but quickly returned the gesture.

The two friends sat comfortably on his bed with their backs against the wall. The TV droned on in the background, mostly forgotten, as they chatted about school and their weekend plans.

Once the conversation died out, they settled down to watch what was playing on the screen, falling into comfortable silence. One of the characters poked the other, making them jump back and laugh. Ojiro smiled at the scene and stole a quick glance at Uraraka to see how she was doing, just in time to see her blush a little at the sight. It was so brief, if he hadn’t looked at just the right moment he would’ve missed it.

Suddenly feeling mischievous, Ojiro darted his hands to Uraraka’s sides and began squeezing, making her squeal and fall back on the bed in a fit of happy giggles.

“Ohohjiroho! Eeeep! Whaha—Why? Hahaha!”

“Because! I wanna hear you laugh! Didn’t I tell you to start letting loose?”

Uraraka was too weak and giddy to respond or do much more than weakly bat his hands in a half-hearted attempt.

Ojiro made the mistake of coming closer to get better purchase on her ribs, and Uraraka pushed through the tickly feeling just enough to be able to reach a hand up and scratch at the base of his spine, making him yelp and jerk away. This gave Uraraka just enough time to gain the upper hand by pushing him down and straddling his waist with her knees.

“Uraraka, wa-HAHAHAIT!” he burst into loud belly laughter as she began kneading up and down his torso the same way he had done to her.

“Maybe you should start taking your own advice, Ojiro!” she laughed with him. “Come on, you shouldn’t be afraid of being a kid again, right? Tickle tickle!”

This made his cheeks turn bright red and his laugh go a few pitches higher.

Uraraka was feeling all-powerful with Ojiro now at her mercy. That was, until she felt a soft, feathery feeling against her neck and under her chin, making her flinch and snort.

“Ohohoh my gohohosh, you snohorted!” Ojrio teased through his own laughter.

“N-no fahahair!” Uraraka stammered out as best she could. “You shohouldn’t be allowed t-to use your tahahail!”

“Wehehell too bahad! I’m using it!”

The two stayed like that, trying to out-tickle each other—Uraraka going at his ribs and belly, and Ojiro trying his best to throw her off using his tail to brush all over her neck and sides, both laughing hysterically. Eventually Uraraka was weakened just enough for Ojiro to get her back one last time before they both collapsed in exhaustion.

“Jeez, you don’t give up easy, do you?” Uraraka panted, a big smile still on her face.

“No,” Ojiro agreed. “But you held out pretty long too, I’m impressed.”

After finally catching their breath, Uraraka opened her arms in offering. “Cuddles?”

Ojiro couldn’t have refused the offer if he tried. “Heh. Yeah, cuddles.”

He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her torso, leaning his head into her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him in return, resting her head atop his.

And there they stayed for the rest of the evening.

[loversamongus]

Lovers Among Us - atla smau

masterlist / part 17 / part 18 / part 19

a/n: Zuko and Y/n’s conversation under the cut!

With both crutches under your arms, you made your way to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Zuko was standing there just as he said. You caught a quick glimpse of him leaning against the hallway wall with his arms folded, but he immediately straightened up when his eyes met yours. You felt your stomach drop a little and you had the sudden inclination to worm your way back inside the room where your friends sat still watching the movie. Surely, a man with razor hands and a decaying face who kills you in your nightmares is less frightening than this leap you’re about to take. Zuko must have felt your apprehension though because he held the door wide to help you through it and rested his hand on your shoulder to guide you across the threshold.

“You know, once I get a boot instead of these crutches, this will be a lot easier,” you said, more of an attempt to calm the hurricane of butterflies boarding up in your gut. “I could probably kick Sokka pretty hard with the boot, now that I think about it.”

Zuko didn’t respond; he only smiled. You would not have thought much about such a small smile, but recently everything about Zuko seemed to become a permanent fixture in your mind.

For the first time, you noticed just how small Zuko’s smiles actually were. So small, in fact, that if someone were not looking close enough, they may just assume his face was resting in his typical trademark scowl. How wrong they’d be though, you thought. They’d just be searching for his smiles in the wrong place. His real smile was in his eyes. There was a glow and warmth in his eyes. It was both inviting and comforting like a steady fire on a cold winter day. Zuko quirked an eyebrow, which you noticed immediately as you had just then registered that you had been staring at him through that entire internal monologue. Suddenly the carpeted hallway became very interesting. And the heat on your cheeks? Definitely from the temperature in the hallway. Or the strain of crutching around. Yep. That’s it completely.

You were quiet the rest of the walk to the car. You were quiet for the car ride to the Jasmine Dragon. While you said nothing, your decided to be quite the chatterbox. In addition to noticing and now appreciating all of Zuko’s little quirks, you also began to reflect on memories of your friendship with Zuko. You remembered when you first became friends with him and almost pulling an all nighter just texting each other. You remembered going to the farmer’s market with the gang, and splitting up to cover more group. Zuko stayed with you and carried all the fresh produce you picked out. For months the two of you kept up an inside joke about the man at the cabbage stand. You remembered how much you missed him when he went home to the Fire Nation one summer. You remembered the instant joy you felt when he came back early and being stricken with concern when he said he won’t be going back home for awhile. You remembered when Iroh was sick and had to be hospitalized for some time and Zuko called you at 3 in the morning just so completely lost. You remembered how you did the same thing when your grandmother was died. He rushed over to your room immediately and just hugged you until you felt something again. And you did feel something back then. But what, you didn’t know. So you pushed it aside and carried on.

The car door opened, jolting you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Zuko offering his hand. “We’re here,” he said, and you took his hand which guided you out of the car. He had already taken your crutches out from the backseat and handed them to you.

Silently, you thanked the heavens for giving you a best friend who has his own set of keys to his uncle’s tea shop. It was late and the Jasmine Dragon had closed hours ago. While you still wished Freddy Krueger would just come and kill you now, you were glad that you and Zuko would at least have some privacy. He gestured for you to take a table while he flipped on a few lights and shuffled to the back to brew up some tea. Of course, he returned after some agonizing, nervous foot-tapping moments later with your favorite blend.

“So,” he said.

“So,” you echoed.

“I’m sorry for walking out earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

It was quiet for a moment and you desperately sought to find something interesting to fixate on other than Zuko thrumming his fingers on the table. The tea. The tea is nice. Good, although Zuko definitely added too much honey. You smiled though, knowing that despite his subpar tea making skills, he always remembers what you like. You could have been happy just sitting there, but Zuko broke the silence.

“What are we doing?”

“Well, I’m trying to stomach this overly sweetened tea. What are you doing?”

“Y/N…” This time Zuko’s eye did not smile at your attempt for lightheartedness. Try as you might, this was going to be a serious conversation.

“I don’t know, Zuko.”

“You have to know something,” he scoffed. Looking up, you caught him rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair so that he could cross his arms again.

“Don’t you scoff at me. You got us into this mess.”

“Me?” he asked incredulously. You could practically hear the yell he was biting back. An opening. He was frustrated. You could convince him that this wouldn’t work. That you’re better off as friends because your friendship has already survived fights and your stupidity. But anything more? What kind of stress could that put on the both of you? What if it created cracks in the foundation?

“Yes, you. If you hadn’t walked out and caused a scene, we’d be enjoying a movie night or killing Sokka again.”

“I just apologized for walking out!”

“And I said you have nothing to apologize for!”

“YOU JUST SAID I CAUSED A SCENE!” His voice rose and his hands fisted through his hair. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he tried again. This time his voice was much softer, gentler.

“Why are you pushing me away?”

A worthy counterattack. You could feel his tugging on your heart strings. But you are a fortress, you will not crumble. This is for the best of your friendship, you reminded yourself.

But then he looked up and you looked away quickly. He moved his head to try to recapture your attention.

“Y/N,” your name on his lips was almost a whisper, a prayer really. You hesitantly looked back at him. “Ask me when.”

“When what?”

“When I knew that I love you.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline and your jaw slackened in shock. Immediately, that hurricane of butterflies roared again. In your stomach. In your heart. In your throat. Can a fortress withstand an army of thousands of butterflies?

“When?” Your voice was faint, but you heard the simple question fall from your lips.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“Zuko!” you groaned and facepalmed. “Why would you have me ask you that then?!”

“Because it wasn’t just one moment,” his voice had not changed from that soft tone. “There were so many moments that made me realize I love you.”

You could only gulp down a couple butterflies before he continued in a passion of communication.

“The first time I heard you laugh. When I see you hug my uncle. When you cried snot on my shoulder after watching Coco. I can’t narrow it down to one moment. All I know is when I’m with you, since I’ve met you, I’ve been genuinely happy. Hell, I look forward to just sitting next to you in class—“

“Why?” you interrupted.

“Why do I like sitting next to you in class?”

“No. Why do you love me?” Your voice was so quiet that a pin dropping to the floor would make more noise.

“I don’t think I could pick one reason either.”

“Try. Please.”

He paused for a moment to think, to choose the right words. All through his thinking, his eyes never left yours.

“You know me,” he said finally. “You listen to me and… you care about what I have to say. You know what will make me smile or what to say when I’m upset, even if I don’t want to talk. You know what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. I love the way you lo—“ he caught himself and looked down at the table. “I love the way you care about me.”

Silence invaded the Jasmine Dragon again. It settled for a while between the two of you and you digested Zuko’s words. He said you know him but you have absolutely no idea what to say next.

“Okay,” Zuko the silence breaker spoke again. “I did all my talking. It’s your turn now.”

“My turn?” It was your turn to ask incredulously.

“Yes, your turn.”

“I don’t have anything to say.” Zuko’s words may have collapsed an area of the fortress but you began rebuilding brick by brick.

“Bullshit,” he almost laughed, but there was no mirth in his voice. “You wouldn’t have come to the door if you didn’t have anything to say.”

“Zuko, I--” you began, only to get cut off again.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said seriously. “Actually, I still have my fifth rule to use. Rule #5 is Y/n has to be honest with me.”

“Really?” you deadpanned. “Of all the possibilities, that’s what you come up with?”

“If it gets us to have this conversation, then yes.”

It was quiet again. Avoiding his gaze again, you look down at the table. Now you were most definitely pushed up against your last wall. A white flag would have to be raised. You were only tried to think up the words for your declaration of love surrender.

“Zuko, I--” you tried again. “I’m afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No,” you had to laugh. “No, of course not. I’m afraid of losing you.” Your honesty suddenly gave you a second wind, quiet and shaken voice be gone. Now you were animated in your best attempt to express yourself. “What if, what if we don’t work out?” you pleaded for him to understand. “What if it doesn’t work and you stop loving me and we start to hate each other and then we don’t want to even be in the same room as each other and then our friends will have to take sides and then the whole group falls apart?”

Zuko took a moment to take in your plea. You could tell her was considering what would be the best response. “Do you think that would happen if Sokka and Suki break up?”

“I already told Suki I’m taking her side no matter what so....”

You both laughed, and seeing Zuko smile again relieved some of your nervousness. It was so easy to talk to him. So easy to be honest with him. 

“I guess it depends then,” Zuko started up the conversation again. “If you maybe... felt the same way about me.” A small smile formed on his lips again but this time there was hesitancy in his eyes. You felt the urge to start rebuilding the fortress again but you promised to follow Zuko’s fifth rule of honesty. There was no turning back.

“I do,” you replied surely and you made it a point to make eye contact with him. You noticed the hesitancy slip away and the warmth and glow of his eyes returned. 

“Then you’re not going to lose me. If it doesn’t work, then fine. I’m your best friend first and foremost and you are mine. But I love you. And I want to see where that takes us.”

It wasn’t the first time he said he loved you during this conversation but for the first time, you felt complete ease overwhelm you. As if this was exactly where you were meant to be. With the person you were meant to be with. Fear and insecurity had washed away.

“Okay,” you smiled. “I love you, too.”

a/n: lol more to come, but back to screenshots for part 19 :) hope you enjoyed!

taglist (open, just send me an ask!):

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[jawritter]

Pieces Of Me

Summary: It can be so hard to let go, no matter how much you think you’ve prepared yourself. 

Warnings: **SPOILERS**  Season 15 episode 20, Carry On spoilers. Read with caution! Angst, Character Death, language, heartache, panic attack, fluff, Jensen is a sweetheart. I think that’s about it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1908

Request by: @msmarvelouswinchester! I hope you like it love!!

A/N:  This fic is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. It’s personal, and it was hard to write. There are alot of emotions in there, but I tried to be a switzerland as I could manage, because I’m still feeling it too guys! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one! 

**MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

“Ready sweetheart?” Jensen asked you not even an hour before as he sat down next to you on the sectional that was spread out in the living room, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over the pair of you as you settled into his side, letting the scent of his body wash and the warmth of his body comfort your nervous, restless heart as only he could.

“As I’ll ever be,” you responded, tucking yourself deeper into his into the warm little cocoon the two of you had created for yourselves. 

Jensen flipped the TV to the CW and grabbed his beer from next to the couch where the two of you were sitting. 

This was it, the final episode of Supernatural. “For now,” as Jensen has been saying. You knew he was having just as much trouble letting go of Dean as you were. Dean had been such a large piece of Jensen’s life for the past fifteen years, and being a part of anything for that long, no matter what it was, was going to be really hard to let go. 

In fact, the two of you had already decided to continue writing Dean’s story in hopes of a revival sooner rather than later.

He’d called you the night he wrapped for the last time crying like he’d lost his best friend. That was a part of him the world didn’t get to see. The part of him that seemed to be grieving the loss of his “best imaginary friend.” It scared you, but you wouldn’t let him spoil the final episode for you.

You’d been watching Supernatural for years, and even though you were in a relationship with Jensen, it didn’t take away from your love for Dean. In fact, you enjoyed seeing the little glimpse of Jensen here and there in Dean. The little traits that Dean had “picked up from Jensen”. He’d put so much of himself into the role that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart. He brought Dean alive in more ways than on the screen. He made him real, relatable, a person that everyone fell in love hard with. Including you. Jensen had said so many times that “Dean is a piece of me,” and anyone who knew Jensen personally could see that without a struggle.

Dean was your best imaginary friend too. Whether Jensen realized it or not, Dean had gotten you through some pretty hard stuff in your life long before you had even met Jensen. He was woven into the fabric of your past and present. He was a part of you, just like he was Jensen and so many other people. 

You had been crying for days in secret, knowing that tonight would bring the end. You didn’t want to let it on to Jensen just how hard of a time you were having accepting this ending of an error. So you kept it hid, and prepared yourself, promising yourself that you wouldn’t cry tonight no matter what. 

Boy were you wrong. 

At first, you weren’t sure what was happening was real. At first, you were confused. Just as much as Sam was even. Then you figured it out, and man, that’s when the waterworks started. Still, you held out hope that at the last minute someone was going to step in just in time and save Dean...but then no one did. It crushed you. 

The pressure started to build in your chest, and the tears started to flow down your face like floodgates had been opened. You couldn’t accept it. No, Dean deserved more than this. After all he’d lived through, after everything he’d been put through, all the trauma, all the heartache, all the sacrifice, and they killed him like this? It didn’t seem right, it didn’t seem fair, but most of all it was devastating. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream, but couldn’t, you had no real expression for the utter agony that was ripping its way through your very soul. 

Jensen quickly paused the TV and got down on his knees in front of you to cradle your face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, hey, hey look at me, baby. It’s okay, I’m here. Breath with me baby girl,” he said, taking a deep breath which you tried to mimic with so much difficulty that it physically hurt. 

“That’s it, baby, just breathe me,” he cooed in an attempt to calm you. 

Your head was racing with thoughts that seemed to only make you feel like you were spirling worse, and you were having trouble getting the image of Dean impaled to a pole in a dirty barn out of your mind even though Jensen was physically kneeling in front of you doing all he could to help you calm down. 

After a while, you got your breathing under control, but the tears seemed like they were never going to stop. Jensen got up off the floor once he was certain you weren’t going to pass out on him, and pulled you into his lap on the couch, rocking the two of you slightly as he wrapped the blanket back around you, kissing your forehead and holding you tightly to him while you tried to process what you had just witnessed. 

“Talk to me baby,” Jensen said, brushing the hair away from your face with his free hand, nuzzling into your hair to get as close as possible as he could to you. 

“Why?” was all you could seem to get out through the still free-falling tears. 

Jensen swallowed the lump that had seemed to feel as if it were closing off his own throat and placed a chased kiss to your forehead again as he tried to come up with an answer that he really didn't have. He’d had his own struggles with the ending, and this, seeing your reaction, only made his own feelings that much more prominent in that moment.

“Baby I wish I had the answer to that, but I don’t,” he said, his own thoughts were still a mess on this subject, and if truth be told, he didn’t want to let go of Dean either. 

“It’s not fair,” you tell him through choked sobs that are still wracking your grief riddled body.

“I know sweetheart, but what death in life has ever been fair? Dean died doing what he loved to do, he was saving people. He died saving those kids, and he gave his baby brother one last chance to have a real-life away from the horrors they had grown up in. He died doing what he loved. He still died a hero.”

You sat there for a moment as Jensen’s words sunk in, but you just couldn’t let it go, you couldn’t digest it. 

“Jay, they killed him by impaling him on a pole! He deserved so much better than that! Why couldn’t he get the chance at a normal life? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending? It’s not fair that Sam got a chance to experience a family, it’s not fair that Dean had to die that way. I can’t accept it. I can’t.”

Jensen placed two fingers under your chin and guided your gaze up to his, searching your gaze for a moment as you searched his before wiping away the tears that had stained your cheeks. 

“Dean’s still right here, he’s a piece of me, sweetheart, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he said, dropping his voice at least a whole octave to Dean’s deep gravel for a moment, and a chill ran through your system at the sudden change in him. Jensen never ceased to amaze you when it came to his ability to do that. Just turn it on in an instance, and lose himself totally to the character he was playing at that moment. 

He brought his lips to yours in a deep and slow kiss that took your breath away before looking back at you with your Jensen firmly back in the center of the conversation, resting his forehead against yours and holding you close to him as physically possible as if he were trying to hold you together. 

“Nothing in Supernatural ever really stays gone, and Dean’s right here sweetheart,” taking your hand in his he placed it to his chest where you could feel his heartbeat just below the surface of his thin shirt. 

“He’s grown with me for fifteen years. He was my best friend, he was the guy I’d hide behind and talk to when I couldn’t find the words to face whatever it was myself. He was there on the nights I spent alone in Vancouver filming, and I didn’t have anyone to come home to. He listens and knows some of my deepest, darkest parts of me, and more importantly, if it weren’t for him I’d never have met you.”

Jensen’s hands brushed past your cheek and into your hair as if he were grounding himself against his own emotions, kissing you quickly again before he could continue. 

“Death is a part of life, and Dean died on his terms. He died saving people, hunting things, and he died just as much of a hero as he would have if he would have gone down in the biggest blaze of glory money could buy. He was happy, he was at peace, and most importantly he can rest now. The load is gone, and he can have the peace he’s deserved for so long. It’s not how we die baby, it’s how we live that matters, and Dean lived and died by his terms, not chucks, not the writers, not anyone else, and if you ever miss him just remember he’s right here.”

You took a shaky breath and buried your head in Jensen’s shoulder, breathing in his scent and his comfort that only he could ever give you as the two of you sat wrapped in each other's embrace. 

“I’m so proud of you Jensen. I’m so fucking proud of what you’ve created through Supernatural and through Dean. I know it will get easier, but right now it’s a hard pill to swallow for me. I can only imagine what it was like for you to have to do that after fifteen years of playing this character. I see so much of you in Dean. He’s such a big piece of you.”

Jensen brushed his lips over your own again before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV before standing with you in his arms as if you weighed nothing at all, and carried you towards your shared bedroom to lay you down in his arms. 

Sure, Dean was a piece of him that was larger than he even realized until he had to let him go, but you were a big part of his heart too, and tonight he knew your heart was heavy with the loss that he’d been dealing with for months alone, not able to tell anyone or warn anyone of its outcome. So tonight you’d both grieve the loss of your best imaginary friend, and tomorrow you would pick up the pen and continue writing Dean’s story, because as long as you kept it going Dean would never truly be gone, so that’s what you do. He still had work to do, after all, the world would always need Dean Winchester.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6​ @anaelsbrunette​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​ @writers-whirlwind​

[pillarmenarevoregods]

Ask: Macro/Micro Vore Pillar Men and Joseph Joestar

First off, I am so so SO sorry for how long this took. Both real life responsibilities and the double standards I hold myself to about creating “quality content” meant my answer to this prompt sat in a half-finished state for a long time. I figure I should just post what I have now and hope it’s sufficient. 

@delcaty007​ (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Macro/Micro Vore, Multiple Pred Scenarios, M/M, Non-fatal, Unwilling, Fearplay, Mentions of Digestion)

I had several ideas for this, and kind of debated which ones were worth fleshing out (or at least what I’d have the time/motivation for). This might not be fully fleshed out stories, but I hope it’s cool still.

I’m writing this in a premise of post-Battle Tendency, through some means, the Pillar Men come back to seek revenge: Kars is brought back from space, Esidisi and Wamuu are revived, and Santana is out of the Speedwagon vaults. BUT they are 30 feet tall and have no idea why/how that happened. They also find many of their abilities missing, BUT also can be in the sun! Yay! And then they find out the hard way that they can’t digest anything. Joseph’s gonna be stuck in a couple different belly jails.

I decided to write these in the order that Joseph fought the Pillar Men in canon. These can technically be independent scenarios of each other, or you can imagine it as the pillar men taking turns sending Joseph down the hatch if you want. I hope you enjoy!

Santana

He sure remembers how annoying that little primitive named Joseph Joestar was to him, and he’s going to find out what happened to him

He quickly learns about the events that transpired with his fellow Pillar Men and knows Joseph is alive

He actually wanted to seek out that Major Von Stroheim asshole first, because of well… I wouldn’t blame him. However he finds out Stroheim died and well, a little disappointing, at least there’s still JoJo to seek out

Once he locates him, Santana literally plunges his hand into the roof of Joseph’s home and grabs him

Joseph attempts to hamon him, but is shocked that… it no longer affects the pillar man. And how did he even get this large?

Santana smirks, considering it dumb for JoJo to even try using hamon when he’s literally outside in the daylight, unharmed.

Deep booming chuckle, “You idiot primitive…” and he starts squeezing Joseph in his hand, thinking it’ll be satisfying to feel his bones snap.

THEN his stomach gurgles and he has a better idea

Without another word, he quickly pops Joseph in his mouth, tilts his head back and swallows him faster than Joseph can process what just happened.

Joseph goes down Santana’s throat in shock, thrashing, trying to climb his way back up, but the muscles of Santana’s esophagus are no match and pull him down to his doom.

Joseph lands on what seems to be trees, brush, and random animals (still alive). It seems like Santana tried swallowing a LOT of different things

Somewhat to his relief, Joseph notices that nothing has really digested.

Santana, on the other hand, can’t care less about what’s happening inside his stomach. He has that annoying JoJo right where he belonged. The weight in his stomach and the occasional minor sting of attempted hamon only tickled a bit. 

Joseph wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and Santana likewise said nothing when meeting back up with the other Pillar Men.

The first thought on their minds was to find Joseph too, and Santana had to press his tongue in his cheek at knowing that he simultaneously got to stick it to Kars by eating his “mortal enemy” before he could.  

Esidisi

He remembers how he died, and while on one hand respects Joseph for winning against him, isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get his own revenge

Finds Joseph out on a solo boating trip (convenient, right?) and all Joseph can see is some massive force swimming in the water rushing towards him

Esidisi rises up like a colossal beast, picking Joseph’s boat out of the water

“JoooJooo, it’s been a while, huh? What, like 10 years?” Esidisi makes sure to smile wide and show off his sharp teeth, bringing the small boat in his hand closer to his face.

Joseph probably pisses himself (let’s be real), screaming “OH MY GOD” or “HOLY SHIT,” which is music to Esidisi’s ears, causing him to belt out laughing.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, didya?!” Joseph doesn’t even have a response, he’s just thrashing and yelling at this point

“You remember our conversation about the Art of War, yeah? Well I hope you do. Sun Tzu told me one more bit of advice that has truly been the most beneficial to me...”

He lifts Joseph up above his face, “’Keep your friends close, your enemies even closer.’” before dropping Joseph in his open mouth.

Esidisi hums in appreciation as Joseph flails on his tongue before jerking his head back and giving a thorough swallow to send him down.

He places his hand over his stomach, relishing in the sensation of pounding helplessly at his stomach walls, and feeling confident that he can go back to Kars to report that JoJo has been “taken care of.”

After a long while of walking and swimming through the ocean, he notices Joseph was still active inside him. He would have started digesting by now, right?

Esidisi figures all that physical motion may be disrupting digestion, so he finds a coast to sit on and waits it out, occasionally making small remarks to the man inside him

Gets frustrated and cries eventually because why won’t he digest?? Esidisi at first accepted that there were caveats to being alive again and being able to see the Sun finally, but come on

He already couldn’t use his blood vessels, couldn’t absorb the only advantage he had was being giant and still being able to contort his body, and now he can’t even digest someone he’s eaten?

Joseph meanwhile is yelling and pounding on the stomach walls, trying to hamon his way out. Esidisi is very pleased to see that the hamon is ineffective inside him, in fact it just tickles a bit.

The little pounding and yelling and screams eventually become annoying, though. Esidisi has some important pondering he needs to do on what his new life is now, and the squirming noisy human in his stomach keeps distracting him.

He sits down somewhere to ponder whether the trade-offs are worth it, has to tell Joseph, “Shut up and let me think!”

Wamuu

When Wamuu “woke back up” and noticed his masters had, too, one of his first thoughts was strangely where Joseph Joestar was currently.

He wondered whether Kars had succeeded in killing him and taking ascended as the Ultimate Being.

However, when he saw Lord Kars, also made giant by whatever spell or curse has brought them all back to life and made them 30 feet tall, Wamuu could quickly assume by the tantrum he was throwing that Joseph had also defeated him in some way.

While Wamuu didn’t exactly WANT Joseph to defeat himself or Lord Kars, he still believed in a fair fight and that a winner should be able to keep their victory.

Hearing Kars and Esidisi plot together to find Joseph and enact revenge on him (hell, even Santana is making comments about finding “that annoying JoJo”), Wamuu realizes if he wants to ensure his opponent could keep his honor, he’ll have to find the Joestar before the other Pillar Men did.

While locating him, Wamuu picks up and swallows a bunch of humans (he’s a nervous eater, he needs to snack under pressure you know?)

After several hours of the humans still pounding and yelling inside of his stomach, he realizes something was off… they should have been digesting by now, yet they’re still alive and active

Wamuu thinks it’s only fair to spit them up and let them go. He’s a little embarrassed and tactfully apologizes to these humans, “I did not expect for you to still be alive. Please forgive me, if I had known you weren’t going to digest I wouldn’t have swallowed you in the first place.” Thanks good guy Wamuu, very reassuring.   

When he does find Joseph (on a camping trip in the middle of the woods, alone…), he kneels down in a clearing just as Joseph is about to approach that area.

Boy is he surprised to see a giant man kneeling in the normally empty field, especially a man he killed 10 years ago… but giant

“JoJo, we meet again.” Queue the “OH! MY! GODDD!” and trying to runaway classic Joseph Joestar style

Wamuu picks him up like an ant between his fingers and brings him closer to his face.

“I am doing this for your own good, JoJo.” and he opened his mouth wide, held a squirming yelling little Joseph over his mouth and dropped him in, tossed his head back and swallowed.

Unfortunately Wamuu forgot to tell Joseph that he wasn’t going to die,  only places his hand unconsciously over his stomach, kneading his thumb into the area Joseph is pounding at 

When meeting with his Masters (who were unsuccessful at finding Joseph… gee I wonder why) still has his hand over his belly, trying to sooth the commotion inside.

Kars even asks if Wamuu is ill, to which Wamuu responds with “I ate something that isn’t agreeing with me.” Well, he’s not wrong

He will have to let Joseph out… eventually. But right now he just wants to keep him safe and hidden. When that will be? No one knows - especially not Wamuu or Joseph....

Kars

Oh, this man is NOT happy. All that time in space, going slowly insane? Yeah, he has it in for Joseph Joestar.

Just shortly after he stops thinking, he finds himself rapidly pulled back to Earth and suddenly much larger than he remembers being before.

It takes him a bit to gain all his thoughts back, but of course he’s elated once he realizes his companions are back as well.

After rejoicing the return of Esidisi and Wamuu (maybe at least a little happy to see Santana again, as well), he went about pursuing his new important goal

Joseph Joestar needed to feel the fear and despair he himself felt while drifting through space. He decided he wouldn’t kill him… yet.

He needed to see Joseph suffer the same way he had, killing him too quickly would just end that fun.

Kars wanted to take Joseph down in the most humiliating way - it’s only fair after being defeated in front of his enemies in such a humiliating way.

Joseph happened to be at his work office, doing business as usual in his life free of being a hamon warrior

Therefore, it was absolutely unexpected when a giant hand plunges through the glass pane window, grabs Joseph off-guard and holds him tightly in front of the face of the man in his nightmares.

In fact, he seriously just thinks he’s dreaming. Joseph covers his eyes and yells, “I’m dreaming! This is a dream! I’m going to wake up now in three, two, one…..”

Kars waits a beat for dramatic effect before hissing “Zero.” He licks his lips, being able to sense the pure dread and terror of his prey. Oh, it’s making him absolutely giddy

“I want you to know what it feels like, JoJo… To have all your hopes and dreams unfairly stolen from you.” Kars raises him high above his head, and watches the little man squirm. He’s definitely finding this cathartic.

“I drifted through space, not knowing if I’d ever escape that torture. All of my accomplishments going to waste, because of you! I believe it’s only fair, JoJo, that I give you a taste of what I experienced.”

Without much effort, he casually tosses Joseph high up in the air (but not too hard, because he doesn’t want Joseph to actually go into space

As Joseph falls back down from the sky, Kars waits with his mouth wide open and snaps his jaw shut once the screaming man lands in his mouth.

He doesn’t wait long before swallowing, while focusing on ever little sensation of his enemy wriggle down his throat. Finally, he’s conquered the Sun AND Joseph Joestar.

Even after several hours and realizing his stomach wasn’t digesting his prey, Kars accepted that it was poetic justice in a way that Joseph would remain alive, trapped for an indefinite amount of time in his stomach, just like he had been trapped in space

[remember-to-be-gentle]

This piece is completely self-indulgent and I miss my sexy ghost uncle :(

Subject: The Demon Road Trilogy, Milo Sebastian aka the Ghost of the Highway

Title: Between a Charger and a Hard Place (Fem Reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, crying, fingering, demon car, Reader is fucked inside a demonic car

You started crying when your battery died. You were alone on an unfamiliar road with only your cell phone able to produce light. The moon was new and the stars were useless. Who knew how far you were from home, or civilization for that matter. How close a hungry mountain lion lurked, or where an angry bear would strike. There was no cell signal out here either, no way to call AAA or even your family to let them know you were safe. 

No one.

And then, headlights swung around the corner, the engine of a car covered in shadows growling so loud it raddled you from the inside out. Your body tensed, fight or flight instincts struggling for control over you. This was help, you thought, there was no reason to get anxious. And yet you were.

The car's speed slowed, the growling engine settling into a quiet snarl when the headlights stopped moving. The car had stopped. The engine cut out, leaving the endless night full of silence. 

You swallowed. 

The cabin light flickered to life, yellow like a Halloween moon, illuminating a lone driver. He was looking at you. Handsome, square jaw and unruly black curls framing his brown skin. His eyes were the same dark shade of black, eyes that seemed to bore into you like a hawk that had caught its prey. 

You swallowed again. Something told you he wasn’t help.

The man stepped out of his vehicle. It was an old car, you understood immediately, probably a 1970's Charger. You didn't really know cars that well, but you’d seen a lot of Supernatural. 

He stalked across the road to you, the sounds of his cowboy boots crunching gravel the only noise that dared disturb the silence. The closer he got, the more of him you saw: streaks of silver in his hair, creases around his eyes and mouth. He was older than he held himself, ageless in his confidence and stature. He leaned against your door and knocked on the window.

Your battery was dead, so you couldn't roll it down. You opened it and he backed up. "Hey," he said, "you okay?" Immediately, your anxiety faded. He must be help. 

"My battery died," you said honestly, "you wouldn't happen to have a signal out here, would you? Or jumper cables?" 

He looked you up and down and then smiled, the act making your system flood with endorphins. He was really handsome. "I don't, have either that is, but I'll give you a lift into town. But only if my car likes you." 

You both laughed, but his felt... fake.It must have been flirting and he must have been nervous that his car would break down: cars that old didn’t function well on narrow roads like these, that’s how lots of people died. "What's your name?" You asked.

He gave you that charming smile again. "Milo. You?"

You have him your name. The two of you walked to his car, Milo petting the doorframe as if he were calming an animal before he opened it for you. 

Up close you could see that the car, despite its age, looked brand new. "She's beautiful." He must have been one of those motorheads that kept his car immaculate and then cried when a bird pooped on it. 

Milo seemed to beam at the compliment. Definitely a motorhead. "Most people call her an ‘it.’" 

You winked playfully. "I know a car is a man's most important tool," you replied.

He gestured to the car and you slipped in. He closed the door after you, the cabin light suddenly going black. "You have no idea." Milo went around to his door and settled in, the light coming on the moment he was touching the car again. Old cars could be finicky like that. "Seatbelt." You obeyed. He turned the key and the Charger roared to life, the headlights flashing red for a moment. You blinked and they were white. 

Milo drove out onto the road. And immediately, your anxiety was flaring, screaming for you to get the fuck out of this car. You ignored your instincts and let him drive, wringing your fingers in your lap as sweat slipped over your skin. And then, just as soon as he'd started driving, Milo pulled over. "I can't do this." 

That agitated your anxiety, bile clawing at your throat. “Can’t do what?” Your voice was shaking.

Milo sighed, put his head on the steering wheel but didn’t cut the engine of his car. Or unlock the doors. “I’ll give you two choices.” He didn’t look at you, his voice low as the engine. “I can kill you and feed your soul to my car, or,” he paused, listening for your reaction, any creaks that indicate you were reaching for the locked door handle. You sat still. Deathly still. 

You shouldn’t have trusted him, but you were too scared to do anything. You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your panicking heart but nothing was working and Milo wasn’t giving you your other option. The option that would reveal that this was a all a funny joke and you’d both laugh and he’d drive you into town. 

He didn’t press. 

You did. “Or?”

Finally, Milo looked at you. “Normally I don’t get passed the first option before they start screaming.” He wasn’t joking. He kept watching you like he was waiting for you to shed your mask of calm and jump on the door, pounding and screaming for freedom. “The other option is to let me fuck you.” The charger’s engine was quiet compared to the impact of his words. 

“Fuck me?” You whispered. Kill you or fuck you? Your instincts were right. You should have run when you’d seen this handsome stranger pull up. “No, I... I think I should go back to my car and pretend I never met you. I won’t tell a soul I saw you, promise.” 

The Charger growled. Milo adjusted his crotch, licking his dry lips. “I’m letting you pick. You won’t get another chance.” Tense silence filled the car despite the roar of the engine. “Normally I would have just smashed your car into a pancake, and you by extension, but I... I have another hunger that I need sated. And I don’t want to play with a... a corpse.” 

Your pulse spiked again. “I think you should let me go,” you said again, “I really think that right now you should unlock this door and let me go.” Your heart was going faster than a startled rabbit’s. Milo wasn’t joking, you could tell by the discomfort on his skin, the itch to do something he wanted: kill or fuck. Oh God, he wasn’t fucking joking. If the car could devour your soul, there was no reason to even attempt the door. You were fucked. Or rather, you were about to be and then he’d feed you to his car.

Milo sighed. The door swung open. You didn’t question it. You bolted. 

You didn’t get far. 

Milo snagged you by the back of your shirt, dragging you across the unpaved road and shoving you onto the trunk of his car. The metal  hit your skull, making it sing inside you. It hurt. Milo pressed you hard against it. “The Charger,” he growled in your ear, “can digest a living body fast. Undead ones are harder on her stomach. Do you want to end up in the trunk, Y/N, or do you want a stranger to fuck you for ten, uncomfortably, pleasant minutes?”

He was pushing into you, his cock hard against your clothed cunt. “Please,” you begged, tears springing to your eyes again, “I just want to go home.” 

You heard him unbuckle his heavy belt, then unzip his jeans. Sweat was forming on your palms. “You’re privileged to have a home.” He yanked down your pants, roughly shoving his thick fingers into your entrance, feeling your slick ring of muscle and stretching you out by spreading his fingers to get ready for him. You whimpered against the Charger which seemed to purr under you, excited for what was about to happen. Milo roughly shoved a thumb into your clit, your knees immediately locking against one another to try and stop him, but Milo was firmly between your thighs. “And you’re privileged to get a choice.” When you didn’t reply he added, “Women usually like me.” 

“They probably aren’t raped on a demonic car,” you hissed at him. 

He paused. “Would you rather be raped in a demonic car?”

Was he being serious? “I’d rather not have any of this happen, actually.” 

He ignored that comment and started rubbing your clit again. His fingers started to slide in and out of you, gathering slick quickly like he knew all the buttons to get you wet and relaxed for him. Once he heard your treacherous cunt start to squelch under him and your muscles suckle at him, he removed his fingers and slipped his cock inside. 

He was undeniably big, filling you completely and then some. Your body tingled from the sensation, a strangled cry escaping your throat. His thick fingers dug into your hips, pulling you back until the head of his cock was kissing your cervix and then pushing in further. You were accommodating him easily, too well. You didn’t like that he was able to play your cunt to whatever tune he liked, but you couldn’t fight back against him or else his car would eat you. 

Slowly, he dragged his cock out and then pushed back in, rocking slowly as the Charger continued to purr under you, warm like the sun was still on it. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” Milo purred, resonating with his car, “I know women like you well, your parts that is. I know how to navigate your cunt until you’re crying.” As if to prove himself, Milo dug into your g-spot suddenly making you cry out. You were glad you couldn’t see his face, you knew he must have been smirking behind you, satisfied with how easily he pulled your puppet strings. 

And then headlights rounded the corner. Milo swore, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you inside the Charger. He slammed the door after him, the cabin lights shutting off the moment he’d settled into the car. 

Another car. A chance to be saved. You started to shout, but Milo covered your mouth and then thrusted up into you, the sensation making your entire body stiffen. It was up to them, they needed to realize you were being held hostage in a demonic car. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

They stopped, saw the two different cars, and the fact that one of them still had their engine going, and seemed to decide that everything was fine before driving off. 

“We can’t stay here,” Milo muttered. He adjusted his seat, pulling back and pushing you against the wheel. “Drive. I’ll mind the gas.” 

His cock was still inside you. His hands were still on your hips. He expected you to drive down a windy, narrow cliff with his fat dick pumping inside your cunt. “No.” You sobbed. “Don’t make me.” 

“Then turn around,” he growled, “and hold onto me. Either way, I’m not done with you.” 

“I’ll kill us,” you sobbed. 

“Then turn around.” 

“You’ll kill us.” You sobbed, again. 

“I won’t.” He was barely giving you a choice again. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, his hands still on your hips to keep his cock where he liked it. Then he pulled your arms behind his neck, adjusted his seat again, and shifted the car to drive. It lurched under him, responding to his touch smoothly as it started its descent down the cliffside. 

Milo put one hand on the wheel on the other on your hip, pinching you to start moving. You swallowed a sob and obeyed. You lifted yourself and speared yourself coming down. Heat gathering at your core. Milo pinched you again and again until you’d built up a solid rhythm, up and down as he drove, trying to ignore the way your body swayed with each turn and how good he felt inside you even though this was the last thing you wanted. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, groaning as he went, the Charger’s engine sounding pleased as it purred down the cliff. It was reacting as if it were being ridden by a terrified stranger. 

“Faster,” Milo snarled in your ear, “move faster.” You obeyed, biting your lip to stop the sob of pleasure and fear. You slammed harder and faster onto him, choking on a moan when you accidentally hit your own g-spot. Milo didn’t seem to mind, pinching your hip to keep you moving. He wanted you to do it again. 

“Please,” you begged, “just let me go.” 

Milo shushed you, “We’re almost done.” He kissed the side of your head, making your stomach twist. “You’re allowed to cum, too.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

He remained silent and pinched your hip. 

You obeyed and swallowed your sobs, fresh hot tears streaming down your face and wetting Milo’s hair. He didn’t seem to mind. You kept riding him and kept swallowing your sobs as his dick hit your g-spot and you had no choice but to cling to him as both your ends were approaching. You were going to cum on a demon’s dick. 

Milo seemed to be growing impatient. He pulled over to the side of the road and put the cark in park before he wrapped his arms around your waist and started slamming into you, fucking you roughly until you were screaming for him to slow down. You didn’t want to cum. You didn’t want to cum. You didn’t—. You screamed as heat enveloped your body, something in your core snapping as your cunt sucked on Milo’s dick for his cum. He shot it inside you, hot and plentiful. Milo didn’t pull you off him, instead burying his face in your neck again. “I like,” he said, “I really, really like you.” 

The driver’s side door swung open and Milo walked out into the night, still inside of you. 

“Are you going to let me go?” Your voice was small.

Milo didn’t respond. He opened his trunk and cold dread welled up in your belly. “I haven’t made up my mind.” And then he was dropping you inside and slamming the trunk closed.  

[lukewhitesuns]

Day 5: Touch-Starved

*shows up to the challenge five days late with a really obscure gen dynamic and a loose reading of the prompt*

@loving-fox-hours

tw: child soldiers, what initially looks like a suicide attempt, self-hatred

(AO3)

There's a youngling perched on the roof of the Galactic Museum, and Fox is exhausted.

No one reported this. Fox happened to be walking back to the barracks after a thirty-six hour shift, glancing up at exactly the right moment to spot a child idly dangling their legs over the side of the building, some ten stories up. Which means this is now his problem.

Lucky him.

What's one more cut away at his sanity? He doesn't need sleep; after what he did to Fives, he doesn't deserve it, either.

Still, he seethes as he stalks toward the building.

People refuse to behave on this kriffing planet. Everyone always has to race illegal circuits, or drunkenly brawl with each other, or cause lasting property damage for no other reason than they were bored. On the more excruciating days, there's even some explosions, attempted assassinations, and bounty hunters wreaking havoc. And who can forget the time a giant beast destroyed half of the upper city? Because that's definitely something Fox could prepare for. That was a fun experience.

Finding people where they're not supposed to be is tame by comparison, but it's still a waste of his already limited time. This kriffing kid, when he drags them out of here—

It's nearly nighttime, so the museum is closed, but there are still a few staff members loitering about. He barges in after the door gives easily.

"The roof," he says to the nearest guard. It's meant as an order, but resembles a sigh more than anything else since he no longer has the energy to slip into a commanding voice.

The man stutters a moment, then gathers himself enough to point. Fox is already moving. Too slow; he saw the lift himself. How did the Republic survive without the clones as long as it did?

He presses the button for the roof, and swipes his pass without even glancing at the access screen that pops up. Fifteen seconds later, he's stalking out onto the roof and directly toward the youngling's back with single-minded determination. It's past both their bedtimes, and Fox still has a mountain of paperwork in his office, and his patience was spent at least six hours ago. He's obviously not going to hurt the kid, but he's not past ordering their ass off the roof as rudely as possible.

As he approaches, the kid whips around, eyes widening. Fox does a split-second survey: male, redhead, approximately the age of a six-year-old brother, weighs almost nothing. Another problem: the robes, the braid in his hair, and the lightsaber clipped to his belt. He's a Jedi youngling, meaning Fox's job is now that much harder.

"Listen, I can explain—" a young, high voice begins nervously, once he's almost reached him.

Fox doesn't slow down until he's nearly level with the kid, centimeters away from the ledge, looming over him, arms across his chest. "Get. Up."

The boy stiffens, but doesn't otherwise move. His eyes are glued to where his legs are still kicking out over the edge.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I couldn't stay there!" He bursts out. His voice wobbles at the end, and dread immediately settles heavy in Fox's chest.

Haar'chak, it's going to be one of those.

Why couldn't the kid just be a truant like the rest of them?

Who is he kidding, he should've realized what he was in for the moment he saw the lightsaber.

Resigned to his fate, Fox knows he has to tread very slowly with this. He loosens the intimidating posture and asks with a small sigh, "Where?"

"Th-the temple," he answers, as expected. "I don't—I can't—"

Please don't cry, please don't cry, he really doesn't know what to do with a crying kid and he's so tired right now.

To his guilty relief, after another moment the boy draws in a deep breath and straightens his posture. He glances up at Fox with embarrassment plain on his face, mouth open as though to say something, but then his expression shifts into one of surprise, then curiosity, then hesitance. His stare seems to pierce directly though his armor and trap him there.

Apart from Tano and Offee, who were both older and under arrest at the time, he has no experience with Jedi children. Are they all this strange?

When he speaks again, his voice is unnaturally even with forced calm. Still holding back tears, most likely. "You're a clone."

Fox doesn't see how this relates to dangling himself off a roof at dusk, but if it keeps him calm, there's no harm in answering. "Yes."

He frowns, digesting this, then tilts his head slightly. "So...did you want to go to war?"

The question is said cautiously, but still hits with the force of a gut punch, and is so random that for a long moment all Fox can do is stare. "What?"

"Did you want to go to the war?" he repeats. "Fight for the Republic on the front lines and everything?"

Is he mocking him for being stationed on Coruscant? His tone implies genuine curiosity, but he could be wrong. Either way, Fox has a job to do, and it gives him a helpful delay on such a loaded question.

"Here's the deal. I'll answer your question if you move away from the edge there." He knows there's no chance he'll be able to wrestle a Jedi child away from somewhere if they don't want to move, so he has to be diplomatic about this. As a peace offering, he degrades himself to sitting down on the rooftop a few meters away, despite the protests of his armor, and watches the kid expectantly.

The boy frowns at him, frowns down at the edge, then frowns at him again. "I can catch myself if I fall, you know," he says slowly.

But if he falls and he dies, that's on Fox. He doesn't say that, though. Instead he asks mildly, "Have you ever done it before?"

"Well, no, but I've practiced catching my friends when they fell off the climbing course. It can't be that much different."

Fox does not have time for this. "Sit here. Now."

Another round of staring, and the boy finally sighs and relents. "Fine." He plops down in front of Fox with none of the Jedi's renowned grace. "I'm Cal, by the way."

"Fox."

"That's a nice name," Cal replies, and despite it being the same rote response Fox receives every time he tells a nat-born his name, he's yet again struck by Cal's sincerity when he says it. "I never saw a fox before. Guess now I have." He grins sheepishly at Fox, as though expecting an eye roll behind his bucket; Fox sits there awkwardly, still at a loss of what to do or say, especially when the kid's gone from nearly crying to smiling in under two minutes. And people rarely ever smile at him, so this is disconcerting.

"So you said you'd answer my question..."

Right. That. He did say that, didn't he.

Is he actually going to confess this to a random child? He supposes he has to, since this is somehow important to why Cal was up here in the first place.

Fox chooses his words carefully. "I did want to go to the war. I'm a commander—commander of the Coruscant Guard, now, but my batchmates and I were all born to serve on the front lines, alongside Jedi Generals. It's in my genes. But someone was needed here, too, protecting the home front. My duty is to the Republic above all else, so I serve where I am needed. Which is here."

That's what he convinces himself to keep going, anyway, although lately Fox wonders if any of it was worth it.

Cal's expression turns melancholy again. While Fox was speaking, he tucked his knees under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. "I don't want to go. I'm twelve, and I'm a commander too." Freeing one arm, he gives an sloppy salute as his lips twist in a bitter smile. "Commander Kestis of the 13th Battalion, at your service. I ship out the day after tomorrow."

Fox stares. And stares. And doesn't say anything.

Then he makes a decision. He takes off his bucket. He never takes off his bucket, and says as much to Cal.

"Then why did you—?"

Because there's something poisoning the Galactic Republic, and I can finally admit it to myself, and suddenly I'm suffocating. Children going to war, brothers killing brothers, nothing ever changing. This is not what I was made for. But who can I even tell? What can I even do?

"Because you need to look at my face when I tell you this."

"Okay..." Cal says, bemused.

Fox takes a deep breath and forces himself to meet Cal's eyes unblinkingly, pushing as much gravitas as he can muster into both his voice and his expression. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

His own words twist his stomach into knots. Because Cal still has time. He still has a modicum of freedom left, and Fox realizes he wants the kid to survive, and not become what he's become. Fox is a brother-killer now. He's less than nothing, and still, he works himself to the bone for the duty he swore himself to as a youngling. He's trapped by the war, and he can't escape. He never had that option.

The exact meaning of his words confuse him, too. What is he saying? Is he offering to help Cal escape, if the reason he's up here is because he ran away? Or is it because he wants to prevent another senseless death, so soon after being the cause of one? Cal may be a Jedi, but he's so young. Even the most skilled Jedi masters have fallen in this war, so sending one with barely any experience seems rather like sending someone to be slaughtered.

This isn't what he expected to happen at all on this roof. He's talking to a kid he just met, trying to offer advice when, as Thorn puts it, he can barely hold himself together.

"No, I..." Cal hesitates. "I'm sure if I begged, they wouldn't make me. But I have to. It's my duty to the Republic. Like you said with your job," he adds, gesturing at him vaguely.

That was not what Fox meant. He opens his mouth to object, but Cal's already barreled ahead, speaking so fast the words almost tumble over each other.

"The youngest person they sent 'til now was fourteen, and they had arguments about her all the time—though Jedi arguments are more like 'who can be more passive-aggressive' competitions. They really don't want to send us, but there are so few of us left...it was just a calculation, I guess. Even though I'm young, I'm really good. That isn't even me trying to be mean to my crèchemates or anything, they're not bad Jedi at all, it's just that I've always had more of a grasp on the Force than some people. And I'm psychometric, which is when I can touch something and see things that have happened with it in the past."

"Like Vos." Fox scowls at the mere thought of him. He and this kid couldn't be any more different.

Cal narrows his eyes for a moment. "Yeah, like him, although he's not my master...anyway, I guess I'm saying...sending me is a better choice to end the war faster. The sooner we end the war, the sooner we can go back to being actual peacekeepers. At least that last part's what Caleb says. He's also going the day after tomorrow." He sighs and stares at his hands. "But I still don't want to go, even if I have to. I freaked out this afternoon and had to go somewhere a lot quieter to think. Which is why you found me here."

"Makes sense," Fox says, processing. That sounds like a reasonable reaction for a scared kid, actually. "You still plan to go, then?"

Cal hesitates, then nods. Fox's heart sinks, but he doesn't know what more to say. His mind's still reeling; he just learned more about the Jedi Order in a quarter hour than he ever learned about the Senate in two and a half years, and he has no idea what to do with the information.

"Well, you'll need to be well-rested then," Fox says after another moment, and giving exaggerated glance to the sky.

Night has fallen, and the sky is completely black with the pollution blanketing the stars. The buildings provide enough light to see, but sometimes Fox does wonder what the center of the galaxy looks like from the surface of a planet with an unencumbered view. If it's any different from the sparse pinpricks he saw from Kamino the few days there wasn't a torrential rainstorm.

He puts his bucket back on, stands, and beckons. "Coruscant's its own war zone sometimes, and trust me, speaking from experience, you'll need every minute you can get. Let's go. I'm legally obligated to return you to the temple."

Cal groans, but thankfully, stands and follows after Fox. “I have been here a long time, I guess. Honestly, I'm surprised Master Tapal hasn't sent after me. Maybe he just thinks I've been meditating in the 'Fountains. That's what we call the Room of a Thousand Fountains."

Since the museum lies just outside the Senate District, the walk is short. If Cal wanted to hide, he didn't do a very good job. Cal chatters away the entire time about everything but the war, clearly trying to keep his mind off it as long as he can. Fox indulges him, although it's not like he can get a word in edgewide regardless.

They're at the steps of the temple when Cal abruptly stops dead in his tracks.

"Cal?"

A questioning look to his side—stars, the kid barely reaches his waist—Cal appears lost in thought.

He's so busy trying to figure out what happened that at first he doesn't even process that the blur that crashes into him with superhuman speed a second later is Cal. When he does, he freezes, glancing down at the boy, who has wrapped both of his arms around his armor and is—inexplicably, given how small he is—squeezing hard enough that Fox can feel the warmth even through the plastoid. Either it's Jedi thing, or else Fox has finally, officially lost his mind.

Gently, he rests one hand on Cal's back to acknowledge the hug. He's too nervous to do anything more, partly because he doesn't want to...break him or anything, and partly because if he's too stunned to move.

When was the last time he was touched in a way that wasn't malicious? Months since he'd had a hug from his closer brothers because their sleep schedules hardly coincided anymore, and never, by a nat-born, because why would anyone ever hug a clone?

He'd almost forgotten what it feels like.

He's doesn't deserve it.

"Thanks," Cal mumbles, face pressed half into his armor.

"What for?" Because he has no idea. "I didn't do anything."

Cal pulls back and beams up at him. "Yes you did. You reminded me I still have a choice."

Even if he picked the choice he doesn't want? Even if he barely said anything to him? Why does he deserve a hug from a kid that just met him, who would probably hate him if he knew what he's done?

"And you were really nice and didn't make me feel dumb or anything," he continues, oblivious to the turmoil in Fox's head.

Children are kind without reason, and to people who don't deserve it, but Fox realizes he's still glad that this strange kid thought he was worth a hug.

Cal starts to move away, waving a little at him. "Bye, Fox. Next time I'm on Coruscant for leave I'll come say hi."

"Bye, Cal."

He turns around again a few steps up. "And don't worry, I didn't get any memories off the armor. Big parts of clothes usually count as a part of the person, for some reason, and people aren't objects."

Fox watches his form disappear into the temple and tries to convince himself he did everything he could. That Cal will actually survive to make it back to Coruscant. He hopes he will, but he knows as well as anyone that there's no guarantees. For all he knows, this is the first and last time he'll ever see him.

The next morning, after a miraculously uninterrupted sleep, Fox wakes with a newfound determination. The guilt remains, but it's muted. No longer consuming his entire existence. Now he has a plan.

He has to take his own advice. He may not have been given a choice to begin with, but now he has one because of Fives. Ignore the warnings, or listen. He's a person, not an object, and he shouldn't have something in his brain tagging him like glorified inventory.

The chip is coming out.

[seawitchkaraoke]

Looking fetching

Ao3 link in the notes, spoilers for A Killing Frost.

Simon hadn't meant to lie to October, not really. It's just that it hadn't seemed important and by the time Acacia asked if he was Sylvester's fetch, he didn't want to interrupt their search for his daughter with long explanations, which would undoubtedly have been needed, had he answered "yes".

And it hadn’t truly been a lie. He had never once described Eira as "his" firstborn, merely the Daoine Sidhe firstborn and when he told Acacia he was Sylvester's brother, it was true. October would understand that, she called the Lady May her sister as well after all.

So yes, he had excuses and he hadn't technically lied and surely October would understand. It had been drilled into him never to tell anyone his true nature after all, he had long since learned to mirror the magic of the Daoine Sidhe as much as possible and if he was better with transformations than he had any right to be, well, he was simply talented.

And yet.

And yet when October said, again, that it wasn't his fault, he couldn't have resisted Eira, her being his firstborn after all, and Dianda and Patrick, his Patrick, who he had never told, were right there.... He knew it didn't matter. If he wanted a chance at redemption, he had to be honest.

So.

"She isn't my firstborn"

Silence. Dianda and Patrick stared at him. So did October and supposedly Tybalt, though the king of cats wasn't in his line of sight.

"what do you mean? You know she's the Daoine Sidhe firstborn, you said so yourself?" October sounded like she was contemplating dragging him back to the sea witch to fix him, since he had clearly lost his mind.

Well. Better explain then.

"Yes, she is the Daoine Sidhe firstborn. She is my brother's firstborn and my father's firstborn, but she isn't my firstborn"

Deep breath. This wouldn't make them hate him any more. Probably.

"I don't know who my firstborn is, but I know it is not her. I- I am not Daoine Sidhe”

He took another breath. Best to just say it, “I am a fetch. Sylvester's fetch, though you could have guessed that I suppose. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, it never seemed like the right time and my parents taught me never to tell anyone and I didn't-"

He was babbling, he knew. Somehow, he couldn't stop. He was still holding Patrick's hands, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him, why had he never told him in all the years they had known each other? October might forgive him; she had forgiven worse and they had not, in truth, known one another long but Patrick? Patrick be should have told ages ago

"I'm sorry I misled you, truly, I understand if this changes things, there's really no excuse, I should have told you centuries ago-"

"Simon"

That stopped him. Patrick didn't sound angry, but he didn't exactly sound happy either, and Patrick rarely sounded angry even when he was and-

"Simon, please, look at me"

He couldn't disobey that voice, so soft and insistent and unbearably calm. So, he lifted his head, slowly, and looked into Patrick's eyes, expecting anger or disappointment or betrayal.

All he found was love.

"I never loved you for your species you know?" Patrick smiled wryly "of course I would have preferred it if you had told me - and you really should have - but if I can forgive you turning my son into a tree-"

Simon winced, glancing towards Dean who was a little way away, talking quietly to Quentin "I really am sorry about that"

"as I said, if I can forgive that, I can forgive you not telling me about being a fetch - and sweet Oberon, if I didn't know you so well I'd think you were playing a joke, HOW can you possibly be a fetch?

"yes!" October had finally found her voice "HOW are you a fetch? Shouldn't I have seen that in your memories? Shouldn't Sylvester, you know, be dead?"

"I'd like to know that as well" Tybalt spoke, now, seemingly calm "I've known you an exceedingly long time, and you never showed any indication of being your brother’s death omen"

Simon was about to answer, when Dianda, suddenly snorted.

And then laughed.

And then kept laughing.

And then lost control of her legs and landed on the beach on her long shimmering tail.

“Um”, said Simon, intelligently “are you alright?”

Dianda tried to answer but couldn’t – she was still laughing too hard – so she held a hand up signalling them to give her a minute.

After several minutes, that they all spent staring at Dianda and that Dianda spent trying to calm herself down, only to look up at Simon and lose it all over again, she managed but kept her eyes resolutely away from him.

“of course, you are a fetch”, she said, “why not? I don’t even need an explanation, this is Faerie, this might as well happen”

“….well I’d still truly appreciate an explanation if it is of no inconvenience to you”, said Tybalt.

“okay okay, yes, so. Um.”, Simon stuttered, not really knowing where to begin, “so. You know where fetches come from, right?”

“Yes”, said Tybalt and Toby. “No”, said Patrick and Dianda. They stared at each other.

“Hey, it wasn’t my secret to share!”, Toby held her hands up, warding off Dianda’s stare and taking a step away from her tail – as if that would really save her.

“Alright”, Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, “as far as I know we come from nighthaunts who drink living blood… does that match what your Lady Fetch told you, October?”

“Err, yes but what do you mean ‘as far as you know’? Don’t you remember? Because May remembers, it’s really useful sometimes but also kinda creepy”

“No, I don’t remember…. I didn’t even know I was a fetch for a while. I appeared when Sylvester was still very young – I believe there was an assassination attempt, my father killed the assailant but some of my brother’s blood must have gotten mixed in his - and so his… my… our parents changed my memory and adopted me. Don’t ask how or why they did this; I could only speculate. Possibly they believed that if I could not remember being a death omen that Sylvester would survive”

Toby interrupted at that “but wouldn’t you have noticed? Didn’t your appearance change to match his or you could feel danger and all those…”, she waved her hand, “funky fetch powers?”

Simon sighed, “maybe if I had been older, yes, but I was very young at the time. The only memories I had were Sylvester’s, which I imagined to be my own, and he was just a few years old, only a toddler.”

Toby frowned “okay, never mind that imagining you two as toddlers is just weird, but wouldn’t you have realized as you grew up?”

“I would have yes. I did, in fact, but not in the way you appear to imagine. You know we grew up with your mother –“

Toby nodded, a frown on her face.

“- well. One day we were playing and Sylvester… he fell. He fell and he hit his head and he didn’t get up. My sister and I didn’t know what to do, she ran for our parents and I…”

“you faded.” Toby spoke up again, realization on her face, “you faded, and my mother told you to stop. But… but how did she save Sylvester? She saved me from elfshot by changing my blood, but she couldn’t have done that to him”

“She did not, no. But she- She was only a child but she grabbed the nearest rose and drove the thorns into her skin and when that did not make her bleed as much as she desired, she grabbed more roses and then she grabbed my knife that I used to make little wooden figures and she… she bled. She bled a lot. I don’t know what she did or how it could have been possible, but Sylvester woke and the nighthaunts didn’t come to call either of us home and when my parents arrived they found a lot of blood but no dead child.” He took a breath, “If I did not already love your mother, I think this may have been when I fell. She was so sure and so beautiful and so fearless, and she saved my brother, one of the most important people in my world”, he grew quiet, “at the time, at least”

They took a moment to digest that. Then Patrick, dear Patrick spoke up “that may have been the only selfless thing Amandine ever did. I’m glad she saved you, and him, for your sake, but Sylvester never deserved you”

Simon sighed, “he was a child, Patrick, dearest. We all were. There was no resentment yet in those days, no mistakes that couldn’t be taken back, just four children”, he glanced at Tybalt, “four children and a prince of cats who seemed to appear at random intervals”, he tried to pour amusement into his voice. The others simply stared at him, clearly not impressed by his attempts at joking.

“Be that as it may” Tybalt drawled, clearly unembarrassed by Simon’s mention of him, “pray, continue with your recounting. After this event, did your parents tell you what you were?”

Simon nodded, “they did. They didn’t have much of a choice. Perhaps they could have claimed that the fading of the one when the other died was normal for twins – they are exceedingly rare in Faerie after all – but I would have questioned why my magic was different or perhaps met some other pair of twins eventually. I suppose they deemed it wiser to tell me, so I could learn how to hide as a Daoine Sidhe as best as possible”

“but your magic!”, October burst out, “you can do blood magic and I’ve never seen May do that! I don’t understand”

“Have you ever seen her attempt blood magic, October?”, he asked, but before she could answer, he shook his head and continued, “but no, you are quite right. I am not very good at blood magic. I can do some – just as you are capable of illusions despite having neither flower nor water magic at your disposal – but I am not good. I am however decent at alchemy which can achieve many of the same results. True, I vastly prefer having some time to make a potion out of blood but once I have done so, no one ever questions whether or not what I am doing is truly the result of blood magic as such. I look and act Daoine Sidhe after all and who has ever heard of a fetch existing long enough to learn deception?”

“And you are, as we have seen, surprisingly adept at transformations”, Patrick mused. Simon winced again and glanced towards Dean – still walking along the beach with Quentin – but Patrick did not sound angry, “really I should have seen it ages ago. You never did show me all that much blood magic, but you transformed scraps into new suits on a far too regular basis, when the old one would truly still have served me fine”, he was smiling now and finally Simon allowed his shoulders to sag. Patrick really had forgiven him for the deception.

“you never did learn how to properly dress yourself”, he sighed but was smiling too now, comfortable in the centuries old banter.

“Well, that’s why I married a mermaid”, he grinned, “clothing is really rather optional down there. What’s the point, truly, if it will only get wet?”

Toby exclaimed in protest that when she had been in the undersea, everyone had been clothed, Dianda laughed and backed her husband up that no, it was true, they barely knew what clothes were in her realm, and Simon allowed himself to breathe.

He didn’t know what was to happen to him next. He assumed he would be sent to sleep for a hundred years and he truly could not say he did not deserve that and worse. But at least he could do so, knowing that no more deceptions stood between him and the people he loved so dearly.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 18

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo's life is hard (but maybe there's some hope left).

A/N: Yay, time for a new chapter! I decided to make Friday my new posting day so that’s when the future updates will (hopefully) happen.

It's not time to resolve the previous drama quite yet but dw, that's coming! Meanwhile, I hope you'll enjoy this Leo centered chapter. It’s also time to bring Frank in!

Don't forget to let me know what you think! :)

Characters in this ch: Leo, Frank, Georgina, Jo, Emmie

Words: 1700+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“Maldita sea!” Leo yelled at himself as his wrench flew at the wall, thankfully not causing damage to it. Nothing he tried to fix or build that day seemed to go right. He hadn’t been able to figure out a pretty basic seeming issue in someone’s phone, one of his own inventions had broken and even solving a physics problem that would usually have managed to distract him only felt frustrating.

There was a lot going on in Leo’s head. Well, he’d argue that he always had a lot going on there due to his ADHD, but this time his usual methods to calm himself down didn’t seem to work. He would probably have to quit studying the only field he was truly interested in. He couldn’t do his work. His flatmate for whom he may or may not have started slowly developing some very not flatmate appropriate feelings had apparently had a thing for his friend, which not only complicated Leo’s situation with Calypso but also with Percy. And his mother’s death anniversary was coming, which was always a hard time for him. Leo imagined she’d probably be so disappointed if she saw him now. ‘My son, a failure in every aspect of life’. No, Leo’s real mother had been way too nice to actually say something like that out loud, but he just knew she’d at least think that. And Jo, Emmie and Georgina were counting on him too.

After throwing the wrench, Leo decided to take a break because his hands had started shaking too much to continue working. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against his worktable, closed his eyes and started tapping a rhythm that he had memorized years ago. His mother had taught him Morse code when he was a kid, and this particular phrase was one she had used a lot when he had needed calming down. Written down, the code looked like this:

.. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..-

I l o v e y o u

He whispered it very quietly a couple of times before looking out from the window and saying aloud:

“Mom. I’m trying to be strong. I really am. But sometimes it just gets too fucking hard. Everything seemed to be fine. Really. My other family is great. I was studying something I actually cared about. My new flatmate… uh, she’s an interesting force of nature. But if she likes someone like Percy… I’d never have a chance. And all my career plans are about to run down to the sewers because I can’t use fire, in any way. Not because of what happened to you. Because of what I... I just feel lost.”

He took a deep breath and rubbed the corner of his eye dry quickly. Saying his thoughts aloud seemed to make him feel a little bit better, and he decided that maybe getting out of the flat and getting some exercise would help with the shakiness. To his relief Calypso wasn’t home either so he didn’t have to answer any awkward questions about why he looked like such a mess. Leo found himself jogging all the way to Waystation, which was several miles from his flat. As he reached the yard, he noticed Georgina with Festus, but even with her back to him he could sense something was wrong. Of course. There was always some way the day could get even worse.

“Hi, hermanita!” he started, trying to sound cheerful even though he didn’t think he was a very good actor. Georgie could probably see right through him. His suspicions were confirmed when Festus didn’t even run to greet him as he usually did. “What’s going on?”

“I tried to call you,” she said, hiding her worry badly. “Moms went to run some errands and something… something happened to him…”

“What do you mean? What exactly happened?” Leo insisted on knowing.

Georgina seemed to grow more and more upset each moment. “I… I gave him a bully stick… but I forgot to put it in a holder even though moms always say you should do that when you give him one because he always tries to swallow them so fast… And then he started feeling sick...”

To prove her point, Festus, who was laying on the ground, made a loud gagging sound. After that he tried to whine but even that didn’t sound like it usually did.

Leo’s ADHD kicked immediately in, in the form of him wanting to act fast.

“We’ll discuss this later, I need to borrow Jo’s car now that I can take him to the vet,” he exclaimed and ran inside the house to get the keys to the car from the spot Jo usually kept them. He picked them and Festus’ leash and ran back, telling Georgina to stay home to tell Jo and Emmie what happened when they’d return.

At least one thing went right that day: the emergency vet clinic was fairly quiet when Leo arrived there. Not long after that, the vet took Festus in. He had an intern with him; a young man who Leo suspected had his roots somewhere in East Asia. He had black, short hair, a bulky body and kind of child like face even though the intern was probably older than Leo. As the vet asked Leo some questions about what exactly had happened to Festus, the student wrote down some notes and occasionally added a short comment as well. When Leo was about to explain why exactly Festus had gotten issues with the bully stick, he heard the intern mutter something to himself.

“What was that?” Leo asked a bit more aggressively than he had planned, having already been stressed even before the issue with Festus had come up. He had to admit, though, that it had distracted him from the other issues.

“Nothing,” the intern quickly said, pretending to focus on his papers again.

Leo didn’t give up that easily. “I heard you, though. You were implying that I had somehow caused this.”

“Well, you did give him the bully stick, didn’t you?” the young man asked.

“I wasn’t even there when he got one!” Leo growled, starting to feel the frustrations from earlier that day flooding out of his system. “My… uh, little sister gave him one when our parents left to run some errands and he kept whining and wanted something to chew! It wasn’t her fault either, she’s a child and she didn’t know that could happen!”

“Mister Valdez, please calm down a bit,” the vet interrupted him, and Leo immediately shut up. “There’s no need to yell. Festus is going to be just fine; I’m going to give him some medicine and fluids to help with digesting the stick and we can watch how he’s doing overnight. And Frank, please don’t make assumptions like that about clients.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank said, to Leo’s surprise actually looking regretful. Then he turned to Leo. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Nah, I kinda lost my cool there too…” Leo said, the frustration leaving when he saw Frank’s face.

“Kinda,” the intern said, attempting to joke about the situation.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that;” Leo rubbed the back of his neck.

After that the vet asked Leo a couple of more questions and did some more examinations on Festus while Frank helped him.

“Other than this stick issue, he seems like a healthy dog,” the vet complimented after the check up. “His fur and teeth look good. I think you’ve been taking good care of him.”

“Well, to be honest he lives more with my parents than me because they have a lot more space…” Leo said, “But yeah, we all try our best. Even Georgina, my sister.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s a good thing you got him here that fast so he’ll get the best possible treatment,” The vet said.

After that he wrote some notes on the computer and then dismissed Leo who scratched Festus from behind his ear and promised to come back soon to get him. As he was putting his jean jacket on in the lobby, the intern, Frank, approached him.

“About what happened earlier, I really am sorry. It isn’t like me to attack clients; you can even ask my boss about that. I just…”

“Chill, man,” Leo said. “I’ve heard this story before. People assume things about me because I look like a problem teenager. Truth to be told? You’re not entirely wrong. But things have changed. And trust me, Festus is my best friend and I’d do anything for him. I’m sure Georgie has learned her lesson too now.”

“Good to hear that,” Frank said and extended his arm to Leo. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re coming to get Festus.”

Leo nodded. “Yep, I have a feeling my whole family will want to join me. Anyway, I’m off now. Thanks for the help!”

“I’m glad we could help!” Frank told him before he started walking towards his car.

...

Jo and Emmie had already returned to Waystation when Leo got there.

“Is everything OK?” Emmie asked immediately. “We didn’t really get much out of Georgina… Just that something had happened to Festus and you took him to the vet.”

“Nah, it’s gonna be fine!” Leo reassured her. “He got some digestion issues because he gobbled a bully stick too fast but that’s being taken care of now. Georgie sure remembers to be more careful from now on, won’t ya, hermanita?” he addressed the young girl then.

“I will…” she promised, not even protesting about the nickname this time.

Once Leo had explained with more details what had happened at the vet and it became clear that Festus would be fine soon, the family moved to other matters. Unlike usually, Leo was happy with mostly listening to the others. The incident had reminded him that there were bigger matters than girl issues or his studies and he realized that those things didn’t feel quite as hard to overcome now as a few hours ago. Yes, he still needed to deal with them, and yes, his past would probably never stop entirely haunting him, but when he had people like this around him? It wouldn’t be impossible.

[linkspooky]

Oh! Top 5 Kimetsu no Yaiba characters?

I only have four characters I’d truly call faves from Kimetsu no Yaiba, but let’s go!

1. Doma - “Human emotions are nothing to me, like mere dreams…” 

Every time someone claims that Doma is the only demon without a tragic backstory I want to fight them. Apparently most people think that children who grow up in cults aren’t traumatized at all and grow into rational and well-adjusted adults. 

Doma is a character who shows no signs of empathy. However, he was a character who was never taught or shown any signs of empathy before. By the time he was an indpendenent adult he gave up on understanding it. Doma despises the cult, but it’s telling that he always stays there because it’s truly all he knows. He laughs at the people who come to the cult to distract themselves from the misfortunes of their life, but Doma too stays with the cult as a distraction for how empty and small his own life is. 

Doma really was too mature for a child, but also too immature as well. He was forced to grow up too fast because neither of his parents actively wanted to parent him. People act like he’s a born sociopath for being observant enough as a kid to notice that the all the adults who entered into his life were only there to use him. Kids are sharper than you expect, but also duller as well. Doma never realized that life was any different outside of his environment. He stayed in that childish mindset forever, and egocentric little kid who only saw himself first and foremost. That’s not the thinking of a sociopath, it’s the thinking of a child, children can’t imagine viewpoints other than their own because they haven’t developed empathy yet. 

There’s this assumption that people are either born good empathic people, or they’re not, but empathy is a quality that’s developed and learned. It was almost natural Doma became a demon by the end because not a single person in his life treated him as a human. Yet, despite reveling in being a monster Doma is still desperately searching for some meaning in his life too. He wants to have friends. He wants to feel the same way that other people. Even if it’s just a hollow imitation on his part, that was something in his lifetime but never got even up until the end. Doma’s this tragedy of empathy, because all he ever wanted was to feel the same way that everyone else did, to have the same connections they did, but because he was so isolated he only destroyed every small chance he did have at learning to empathize with another person. 

2. Shinobu -“Yes I’m angry, Tanjiro. I’ve always been angry.” 

I think Shinobu is interesting because she’s a bad person. I wish people would stop trying to paint her as a wholly good person who was loved by everyone around her. Shinobu’s character introduction is going out of her way to unnecessarily torture a demon for fun, and her attitude implies she has done this before. Torture is a universally bad thing, even if you’re doing it to a bad person. 

I’m not trying to moralize Shinobu. I think she’s much more interesting this way, as a fundamentally flawed person. A cracked vase that can never truly be full. Yes, Shinobu is loved by a lot of people, but she’s also fundamentally unable to receive that love. She’s stopped living a long time ago, part of her stopped when her aprents died, and she gave up when her sister died. If Kimetsu no Yaiba were a more morally complicated story, Shinobu existing for the sole purpose of revenge would not be treated as a good thing. It’s an empty way of living, and the only thing Shinobu can do to keep living is to cling to all of the ugly and negative emotions inside of her. 

The most interesting version of Shinobu is just rotten at her core, because she’s let the rot sink in and fester, because she doesn’t want to let go of her anger towards demons. It’s rare female characters are allowed to be filled with such ugly emotions, or allowed to express them in terrible ways. Shinobu plays games at being a healer, at being a person capable of nurturing like her older sister, but it’s just an empty imitation that falls flat. Shinobu at least in regards to herself doesn’t want to heal, she doesn’t want to get better, she wants to stay wounded forever so she can keep taking out her pain on the demons around her. 

I like to think that when she summoned up a hallucination of her sister in her final moments to encourage herself, that was entirely a fabrication on her part. Shinobu wanted to imagine her sister who once told her to just quit the Demon Corps and find a way to live and be happy was just as angry as she was. Shinobu’s delusion of Kanae is a sister that validates her and tells her that she has to be angry, that she has to stand up and fight again, that there’s strength in this. And that’s exactly it, Shinobu at her very core wants to be strong. She hates being powerless and weak. I think Shinobu is at her best when her anger isn’t righteous. She doesn’t want to protect others - she wants to feel strong. 

3. Iguro Obanai - “I want to defeat Muzan and die. I hope that will cleanse my corrupted blood. If we reincarnate as humans in a world without demons I will definitely tell you that I love you.” 

I like how Iguro is nasty, and unpleasant, and also mean to the main character for really petty reasons. Shinobu’s trauma is easier for a lot of people to swallow because she doesn’t show it, she just puts on a mask of being nice and people buy into that mask. Iguro even though he wears a physical mask over his mouth is less good at hiding his disfigurement. 

Iguro’s very traumatized and he acts that way. He’s anti-social. He’s withdrawn. He doesn’t get along well with others. He’s prone to violent outbursts. The scars left with Iguro are so deep they’re permanent. And I believe it’s because down to his core, Iguro believes himself to be a bad and selfish person for surviving while half of his family died, and thinking only of himself with his escape. 

It’s not really his cursed blood that Iguro wants to escape from, but rather his trauma. He can’t find a way to live with his truama or accept himself so he seeks some escape with it by suicidally charging into battle. And that’s another thing that speaks to the permanency of his scars. Iguro is deeply in love with one person, but he can’t admit, or accept that love because he views the current iteration of himself as so unlovable. 

He can neither give or receive love, and yet there’s some small part of Iguro that wants to heal. He wants to feel okay again. I think there is a part of Iguro that is very selfish. The way he acts towards Mitsuri isn’t really romantic, his protectiveness and jealousy are signs of entitlement. However, the thing is traumatized people do end up feeling entitled to happiness. Iguro’s so terrified of losing Mitsuri because she’s the one good thing in his life, and because of that he’s unable to love her in a healthy way. 

Even if Iguro’s given up on himself and decided that he’s poison, unlike Shinobu I see that there’s some part of Iguro that genuinely wants to heal. He wants to feel like a good person, he wants to find someway to continue living, its just he thinks it’s impossible for him to. Iguro’s desire to die and be reborn is so compelling that I actually want to see him live and be forced to deal with the prospect of his slow healing rather than getting his wish to be redeemed by death. 

4. Sanemi Shinazugawa - “My Nemi is the kindest…” 

Tanjiro as a character is kind in a way that’s easy to digest. When he’s angry it’s always righteous anger. His kindness never becomes a difficult. Tanjiro never does anything that’s difficult to swallow. That’s okay, but it’s also not that deep. 

Sanemi’s kindness and his anger are both a part of him. His cruelty does not detract from how kind he is, his kindness doesn’t excuse his cruelty. Sanemi is driven to act cruel, to be merciless, to be vicious not because he doesn’t care about people but he cares too much and the loss of almost everyone he’s loved in his life disfigures him permanently. 

Sanemi is a little kid who hunted demons all on his own for years by letting them fight him until he bled. He always fights by intentionally harming himself, hence why he shows his scars at all time and makes no attempt to hide them. Sanemi as a person is damaged to his core, but he still retains that kindness because it’s a part of who he is. 

Sanemi is angry because he’s kind. He’s violent because he’s kind. He’s so afraid of losing others again, the only way he knows how to be with them is to protect others from afar. Sanemi thinks he can abuse his brother, but as long as he protects him from demons from a distance it will all be okay in the end. 

What I like about Sanemi’s narrative is that it wasn’t. His actions ended up hurting his brother far more than helping him, the more distance he put between them, the more Genya threw himself into harm to get his brother to acknowledge him. At the end everything Sanemi did to protect him amounted to nothing, and Sanemi is the one protected and comforted by his brother when he should have been the one taking care of him. I think the author rushed to the tragic ending rather than letting the characters developed to get there, but still there’s an interesting choice that Sanemi is the one to survive and not Genya. Sanemi who has always wanted to just go off and die somewhere eaten by a demon while his brother gets to live happily. Now Sanemi’s never going to fix things with that brother, and nothing he can do will make up for what he did to Genya. However, he still has to find a way to keep living for himself. Watching broken people trying to find a way to keep on living is the primary reason why I read fiction in the first place.