#but i think it's fine as long as you don't act on it

[seewetter]

This seems like a series of perplexing opinions.

Sure, trains were built by capitalists for the needs of capital. Unsurprisingly, that's their historical context and intended purpose.

And yes, trains imply long-distance travel. Trains imply transporting goods across vast distances. Trains imply an interconnected society, a society whose needs and ambitions are geographically quite far-ranging. In a world with train networks, someone or something is traveling far beyond a local village.

And I agree with girl-debord's first post in this thread and don't see anything particularly weird about it. But that's because I give people the benefit of the doubt when I can. To me, saying "tech is not neutral" is a fine statement to make, because tech is embedded in social processes and can often cause harm through them. We can use mass surveillance tools to monitor the health of animal populations, for example, but that is not their main use -- and in cases like that, the wonderful use case is only relevant because of problems caused by capitalism to begin with. Would we worry about rhinoceros or dolphin population decline without a capitalist society, where "free markets" have generated mass production processes for fishing industries and generated market pressures on black-market ivory trade or the cutting down of forests?

"what are you even trying to say here? mass movement of things and people is bad?" Not every Tumblr post drawing a connection between capitalist interests and the creation of something is morally condemning that thing. That said, it's possible to assume that the Debord quote "it should be understood that this apparatus is in no way neutral" is being used as moral condemnation here, so it's a fair question, I guess.

"moving objects for significant distances along the ground" is a priority to a particular global system under which trains were invented.

It's also a priority for a lot of people who find parts of that particular global system appealing for reasons that are entirely understandable. People all over the world do in fact want access to resources not found in their neck of the woods.

And I will be careful here. I agree, for example, that the mass transportation of medicine, for example, is often only necessary because big medical conglomerates are legally prohibiting and violently enforcing their patents.

But it's kind of odd to argue that it's a bad thing that large numbers of people can flee a large natural disaster (say a volcanic outbreak) with the help of fast transportation.

trains are "efficient" within the parameters of that system--that disrupting ecosystems and exploiting immigrant workers are acceptable trade-offs for the value generated by global trade

Trains are not global trade.

Global trade does not, intrinsically, involve exploiting immigrant workers.

"those bad consequences you bring up aren't an inevitable consequence of a connected world."

Are we going to argue that train tracks don't disrupt ecosystems?

"technologies are neutral. politically they don't actually cause people to act."

Depends. If you have a train, you might go looking for work far further away from home than if you didn't have a train. Your family might not see each other much because the availability of the technology (paired with market pressure to get a job) has conditioned you to behave a certain way.

"i don't want borders. you know what makes for a great border? the inability to just fucking physically go somewhere else."

I don't think that's a good way of framing your opponent's ideas, transfemsriseup. Plenty of immigrants cross borders without trains.

Actually, come to think of it, how can technologies not actually cause people to act if without them, people supposedly act differently?

"but what I'm suggesting is that the consideration of whether or not trains are "worth it" has happened within a framework that I don't ascribe to as a communist, a framework of value."

You don't ascribe to value as a communist? Not even use value?

"railway workers don't build railroads because they believe that the railroad will be a good thing for everyone, they build them because they are paid to and without that pay they can't eat or afford a home. and these technologies were invented for similar reasons."

We could apply the same argumentation to paleolithic technology still in use today. Under capitalism, workers don't (generally, unless they happen to be enthusiastic) do anything at work except to get paid so they can eat or afford a home. We can't argue that trains mustn't exist because their construction and operation has some environmental impacts that are imperfect and because the workers who built them weren't free. Might as well argue that people should live without homes, because workers don't freely build homes but do so in order to eat.

Okay, maybe that's not what you're saying. Another thing you might be saying is "just as workers are restricted to certain choices, so too are profit-seeking capitalists restricted and under these restrictions they invented the train".

But I think a similar rebuttal applies. An abandoned military barracks can serve as a makeshift shelter and will not turn people into servants of the military-industrial complex if they take shelter there. Similarly, a train can serve more purposes than the one for which it was built.

"i think if you can understand the idea that maybe car-centric suburbs are terrible & wouldn't exist without the pseudo-needs created by a capitalist society, this shouldn't be much of a jump."

Understanding the argument isn't much of a jump, no. It's just odd to argue against the least intrusive form of adaptive long-distance travel. Trains are less environmentally intrusive than highways, shipping lanes and air travel routes. Yes, people could walk, but if people walk, they can't escape unforeseen disasters or physically connect with family members on the other side of the continent. Then there is no way to supply people with emergency aid or help out with a resource shortage.

"wow, an ML, the supposedly scientific and materialist ideology, saying that material conditions dont affect how people act? and in the defense of consumerism, no less?"

The ML you are mocking mentioned 3 benefits:

Medicine (an essential supply)

Immigrants (freedom to travel)

Food (potentially a consumer good, but also a vital necessity)

How do we conclude that this is a defense of consumerism?

on the topic of trains and the role of technology in ongoing atrocities, i think something to consider if this is shocking to you is that the development of all technology since the start of the industrial revolution (and a lot of it before that tbh) has been dictated by the needs of capital. trains wouldn't exist without the reign of an economic system that demands mass circulation of commodities. the world has not been shaped by what's best for everyone but what's best for perpetuating that economic system. as Debord says about media technology, "it should be understood that this apparatus is in no way neutral and that it has been developed in accordance with the spectacle’s internal dynamics" (The Society of the Spectacle, thesis 24).

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[s1m0nth3swag]

Could you write “How would Viktor does when reader has depression”.

Of course! Thanks for the ask pookie :)

These r a little short because I am still ill (and my head is literally killing me as I type this) but Viktor is more important than getting well!! (Also bawling my eyes out after act 3, even though I'd still love Viktor nonetheless, machine or not, he's getting it)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO: Mentions of Depression (obviously), GN!Reader, sweet Fluff, Viktor has no clue what he's doing in all honesty, he tries (and succeeds) to be sweet

2 Stories - One more casual/not yet dating and the other is established relationship

You've been off lately, Viktor had noticed. Isolating yourself bit by bit, looking more tired and overall acting just weird. You've had your phases before, but this one was too long. It wasn't like you at all. You've barely even spoken to him or Jayce, when usually you'd yap both their ears off about whatever topic you had learned about the previous night. Now, the lab was silent. Jayce was away on some Council party, and god knows Viktor would never start a conversation on his own while working. Though, he couldn't focus tonight. He mindlessly tinkered with small parts that laid around his desk, his thoughts clouded with the question of what was bothering you. Whatever it was, it bothered him as well. He'd never say, but he missed the cheery and chipper way you'd usually be.

"Are you... alright?" He questions after a while, clearing his throat slightly. This was already too awkward for him, but he did care. Totally just because the atmosphere of the lab would suffer if you weren't your usual self. He noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably as he glanced over to where you were sitting, like you were pondering how to answer. He wondered why you'd need so long to think of an answer, as if you couldn't tell him the truth. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, I just haven't been sleeping well." You answer, a soft, akward chuckle slipping from your lips. Viktor doesn't like that answer. You're different from how you are when you're just tired - not that he actually paid attention to that, but you weren't on your fifth cup of coffee yet. Actually, you hadn't had coffee at all today, another unusual happening. He sighs softly, and you immediatly know that he's gotten into questioning mode - he was a scientist after all. He really couldn't help it. "You can talk to me, you know? We don't have to be lab partners and nothing else, we can be friends." He speaks, his voice softer than before. "What's bothering you, hm?" Viktor adds, turning his chair around to look at you properly. It's your turn to sigh, letting your head hang slightly. "I've just been... feeling off. Like, actually tired but in a mental way? I don't know how to explain." You mutter, awkwardly averting your gaze from him. "We should take a day off, then. Do whatever you want instead of working." Viktor answers casually. "I don't want to miss important stuff in the lab Viktor, I can't take a day off." You throw back at him. He huffs, a slight chuckle filling the room. "Not you. Us. Maybe all three, if Jayce is willing." He clarifies, already noting it down in his notebook to make sure that day off actually happens.

Viktor noticed the moment he woke up next to you. You'd fallen into another slump. He could tell just by the way you didn't just not want to get up - it was a physical challenge for you. He's seen you like this before, though usually it didn't last too long, at least not that he's noticed, maybe only a day or two at most. But by now, it's been almost a week, and you haven't spoken to him about it. You've been more abrasive, have started caring less about your personal hygiene, and while Viktor doesn't mind, he always hated when you didn't take proper care of yourself. He wanted you to feel good, not fall into a depressive hole. He offered to take a shower or bath with you, to make a game out of brushing your teeth, but you had shut everything down. It wasn't because you didn't think the ideas were sweet, but more because you didn't think you even deserved that much effort. Viktor had to helplessly watch you get worse, and he couldn't even do anything to properly help. It was absolute hell to him.

He'd had enough, wanted to be mad at you, even, but he couldn't blame you for it. He could, however, force you to stay cuddled up in bed with him. You liked staying in bed anyway, and cuddling with him was always one of your favourites. So, here you two were, snuggled into the covers of Viktors way too confortable bed. "You know that I love you, right?" Viktor mumbled, his accent more heavy with sleep. He didn't say it enough, at least that's what he thought. "I do know..." you answered, just as sleepily. "I know you can't control this.. but let me help you, please? I know it's hard, trust me I do, but I hate having to watch from the sidelines as you get worse..." He sighs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Let me just be there for you, yeah, my dear?" Viktor adds, pulling away slightly to look at you. "Alright.. I'll... I'll try, I promise." You answer, scooting back towards him so you could press your face into the crook of his neck, basking in his warmth for a little longer.

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing the Gehenna Devils to Your Plushies - Pt. 1

The Gehenna Devils deciding to show up to your room for sex end up getting met with you deciding to sit down and show them all your plushies!!

I've decided to split Gehenna into two parts for my mental sake.

Notes: mildly sexual content, nothing to crazy. Gender neutral reader! This part includes: Sitri, Amy, Paimon, & Leraye!

Satan and the other Kings found here !

Sitri

Honestly, he'll hold back on sex for as long as you wanna talk for.

He listens intently, hanging on to your every word. He's taking notes in his head, jotting down names, any lore you have if you do.

Your the most important person to him after, so every word you have to say is equally important!

He adores being one of the only ones allowed to see this side of you as well.

He has such a soft, endeared smile on his face as he listens to you talk.

Even if you spend hours talking he doesn't mind! He'll let it happen.

Of course, the fact he was here for sex doesn't change, that's always in the back of his head.

And by the time you're done talking he's practically smothering you in affection anyway because of how adorable you are! So of course that leads exactly how you think it will.

And if you just happen to get flustered by said affection, well then that's even better for him! Your heart rate does increase then, after all.

Amy

He's gonna be kinda blunt about it I think. You start talking about your plushies and he's just like "Okay but I'm here to fuck."

You can give it to him right away, or you could make him wait and keep talking! It's more fun if you go that route.

Tell him he's being too impatient and he can wait a bit!! And then just go on and on and on until he can't take it anymore.

He's annoyed, but most importantly, it's kinda turning him on more.

On the other hand, he also can't deny you're cute like this.

I feel like he's the type to get cuteness aggression.

He's gonna try and start grabbing your cheeks and biting you, once again you could give in. But you could also swat him off and force him to wait longer.

If you really wanna make it worse on him through a little comment his away about how he's acting, a little degrading if you want.

Honestly with the amount of teasing you do to him and how long you make him wait, he's not retaining a single damn piece of information about those plushies.

Be careful your next steps, if you don't stay in control of the situation once you actually allow him to fuck you (which won't be hard if you're trying to dom him), he will take it back. And he's not gonna be the nicest given how frustrated he is lol.

Paimon

Oh my goodness, you're the cutest thing to him right now!!!

He's practically covering you in kisses, all giggly watching you talk!

He's bound to have a few plushies himself, he'll be sure to show them to you later.

Right now though, he's letting you do your thing. You won't succeed on telling him about every single one in one setting, but he'll listen to however many he can.

Unfortunately you won't be able to talk the more he gets worked up.

He's just thinks you're so adorable!! Eventually he's gonna snap and just start squishing and pinching your cheeks!!!

He can't control himself! He's throwing so many compliments at you and not letting go of your face and giving you kisses!!! Your head is gonna start spinning at the rate he's going.

Of course this leads back to the original reason he was here.

I wouldn't be surprised he gets cuteness aggression too lol.

So prepare for that!!! If your covered in bites after don't even be surprised.

Leraye

Hey, he has a lot of plushies too!!!

Well, they're all headless. But it's fine!!!! He cherishes them a lot still!!! Mostly because Satan was involved in the being headless part but still !!!

I think he'd be so interested in listening he'd completely forget the original reason he was here for.

I don't know how much he remembers, but he at least knows their names!!!

Honestly I think he just likes hearing you talk. Doesn't matter about what! If you're happy than he's content!!!

By the time you're done, he's just wrapping you in his arms and giving you kisses!

Like I said, he kinda forgot about sex.

It'll come back to him at some point during him kissing and cuddling you. Probably.

Definitely will if it someone starts thundering at least?

Worst comes to worst just ask him what he was here for then you're back on track! And well, maybe turn your plushies around so they won't have to witness what follows.

[trixy812]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ You have all my support ɞ˚‧｡⋆ pt 4

{Nanami Kento x reader}

ִֶָ࣪☾. Content: nanami x reader, fluff, college!Nanami, college!Reader, that's what you get when you read shojo!

ִֶָ࣪☾. Synopsis: It was inevitable. Kento Nanami was leaving the jujutsu world.

ִֶָ࣪☾. AN: omg! this is really long! i hope you guys don't get bored with this part! as I am writing this series I get so excited, i am so proud of this and I hope you guys are enjoying. I am definetely planning to write more omakes for this series :) please let me know what you think!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

The soft glow of the sunset filtered through the curtains of your room, bathing the space in a warmth that felt nothing short of comforting. Nanami sat at the edge of your bed, a book in one hand while the other absentmindedly ran through your hair. Your head rested on his lap as you pretended to watch TV, though your attention was far from it. It was one of those rare, quiet moments where just being together was more than enough.

Suddenly, Nanami broke the silence.

“What will you do after graduation?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. He already knew the answer—you’d discussed it countless times. You’d take a semester off to work full-time and save money before pursuing your dream of studying nursing. So it was clear he wasn’t asking for himself. This was his way of starting a conversation about his own future.

Turning your head slightly to look up at him, you smiled gently and asked,

“What about you, Kento? What do you want to do after graduation?”

Nanami carefully closed the book, placing it aside with precision, and let out a deep sigh. The weight of it was palpable in the way his chest rose and fell.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” he began, but stopped short, leaving his words hanging in the air.

Alarmed by the serious look on his face, you sat up, removing your head from his lap. Until that moment, you hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying on his shoulders. A wave of guilt washed over you. How could I not notice? I’m supposed to be supporting him…

Nanami stared at his hands, fiddling with the corner of his book as if searching for courage.

“I’m not sure if I want to remain a sorcerer,” he admitted finally.

Now it was your turn to comfort him. You reached out to gently run your fingers through his hair, hoping to offer some solace.

“Why not?” you asked softly.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if the act might make explaining easier.

“Because the world of sorcery is rotten,” he said bluntly. “They use us. I saw what happened to Haibara, and I can’t stop thinking that if I stay, I’ll end up the same. Or worse, someone else will suffer because I wasn’t strong enough.”

He paused, looking out the window, searching for answers in the horizon.

“And then there’s Geto…” he continued. “I know what he did was wrong, but I can’t blame him. Honestly, I understand why he chose that path. This system is broken, y/n. Every time I return from a mission, I wonder if I’m making any difference at all—or just delaying the inevitable.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Nanami rarely opened up about his feelings, always so stoic and composed. Seeing him like this, raw and vulnerable, made your heart ache.

“Kento…” you whispered, struggling to find the right words.

“I want your honest opinion,” he said, meeting your eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation settle around you.

“Alright,” you said, “but don’t blame me for being straightforward.”

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you finally spoke, letting your emotions guide you.

“I don’t think you should stay,” you said firmly. “It’s not fair. Why should you keep giving your life to a system that doesn’t even value the people who fight for it?”

Nanami looked at you, surprised by the intensity of your tone, but didn’t interrupt.

“Look at what they did to my parents,” you continued, your voice rising slightly. “They fined them for using my technique—to help people! What do you think they’ll do to you, someone they see as nothing more than a tool? They’ll drain you dry, Kento, until there’s nothing left. And then what?”

He swallowed hard, still silent.

“You’re incredibly smart,” you said, your voice softening. “You don’t need this. You could go to university, study something you’re passionate about. You always talk about books. Maybe literature. Anything. But staying there? For what? For who?”

You cupped his cheek, gently turning his face so he would look at you.

“Your opinion isn’t completely objective, is it?” he asked quietly, a small smile playing at his lips.

You glanced away, feeling exposed.

“No,” you admitted. “It’s not. I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered. “And if you stay there, I feel like I will. Sooner or later.”

Nanami was quiet for a long moment, your words clearly weighing on him. Finally, he nodded slightly.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But… it’s not an easy decision.”

You leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping to convey what words couldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” you whispered. “But you don’t have to make it alone. I’m here, Kento. Always.”

Though he didn’t say it aloud, the look in his eyes told you that those words meant more to him than you could ever imagine.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

The energy of the day buzzed in the air. Flowers, speeches, and the chatter of excited students filled the auditorium. As you stood among your classmates, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd for the blonde boy you loved.

Nanami wasn’t at his own graduation. He’d deliberately skipped it, knowing the ceremony held no meaning for him. But your graduation? That was different.

When you returned home with your diploma in hand, you found Nanami waiting at your doorstep with a small chocolate cake. It was simple, understated, but what left you speechless were the words written in vanilla frosting—“Congratulations”—spelled out in your parents’ native language.

“Kento… Did you make this?” you asked, your voice filled with emotion.

He nodded, holding the cake with pride.

“I knew you’d like it,” he said calmly. “And I thought your parents would appreciate it even more.”

Your mother emerged from the house at that moment, gasping as she took in the sight.

“What a beautiful gesture!” she exclaimed, pulling Nanami into a warm hug.

Your father smiled, though he added teasingly, “It better taste as good as it looks, young man.”

“Dad…” you scolded, embarrassed, as Nanami’s typically composed expression faltered just slightly, a faint redness creeping up his ears.

The evening was filled with celebration. Your mother had prepared a feast, the dining table overflowing with traditional dishes.

Nanami leaned over as you poured him a glass of water. “Does she always cook this much for occasions like this?”

You smiled. “My mom thinks food is the best way to show love.”

As the meal progressed, your father set down his glass of wine and looked at you seriously.

“y/n, we’ll support whatever you decide,” he began. “But are you sure about nursing? In Japan, nurses don’t earn as much as they should. Have you thought about studying medicine instead? You’d earn more, and you’d never have to worry about anything.”

You rolled your eyes, placing your utensils down.

“Dad, we’ve talked about this. I want to be a nurse. I don’t care about the money—it’s my dream. Didn’t you always tell me to follow my dreams?”

Your parents exchanged a glance, and you could almost hear their unspoken thoughts: We're going to have to keep giving her money for the rest of our lives.

It was then that Nanami, who had been quiet the entire time, set his glass of water down with a deliberate clink.

“I have something to say,” he began, his tone steady and commanding attention.

Your parents straightened in their chairs, and you turned to him curiously.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said firmly. “I’m leaving the world of sorcery. I’m walking away.”

Your eyes widened in shock as his words sank in.

“Are you serious?” you exclaimed, a grin spreading across your face. “Kento, that’s amazing—”

“Wait, really?” your mother interjected, her voice tinged with concern. “But Kento… are you sure? It’s such a big change.”

“It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time,” he admitted. “It’s what’s best for me.”

Your father dramatically placed a hand on his forehead. “No sorcery? Our future grandchildren won’t find interest in it. It’ll be tough for them with parents in such… ordinary professions.”

Your face burned with embarrassment.

“Dad! We’ve only been dating a few weeks!” you blurted out.

Your mother laughed softly. “To us, it’s been two and a half years,” she teased.

Nanami looked down at his plate, but not before you caught the faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Can you guys not?” you groaned, but they only laughed harder.

After dinner, you and Nanami went for a walk to clear your heads. The night breeze was cool and refreshing, the sky clear and dotted with stars.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “what do you want to study in college?”

He paused for a moment before answering.

“Finance,” he said.

You stopped in your tracks, looking at him like he’d just suggested becoming an astronaut.

“Finance? What happened to literature? You love books!”

He shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips.

“I also love making smart decisions,” he said, slipping his hand into yours. "I want to make sure you never lack anything," he explained calmly. "I want you to be able to follow your dreams without worrying about anything else."

Your cheeks flushed as you processed his words.

"Also," he continued, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, "I liked what your parents said about grandkids."

You were left breathless, warmth rising from your neck to your ears.

"Kento..." you whispered, unsure of how to respond.

"I imagine a future with you," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'll work hard, earn enough to retire young, and you can keep working if you want. You won't have to worry about the details—"

You silenced him with a sudden kiss, your heart pounding.

"That doesn’t matter now," you said softly. "I just want to be with you."

And under that starry night sky, with his fingers intertwined with yours, Nanami knew he had made the right decision.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

Nanami's lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. A message from Gojo.

Nanamiiiii,

Even though your coldness is unbearable, I’m going to miss you. But I’d rather miss you than see everything go to hell, so go ahead and live your boring college life. I’ll handle the dirty work (as always).

P.S. When you get tired of “normal” and want to come back to the interesting side of life, I’ll be here. But I doubt someone as bitter as you can handle how much fun it is working with me.

P.P.S. At least tell me that girl’s worth it. How is it we still haven’t gone out, the three of us?"

Nanami sighed and set his phone aside. He could read between the lines: "I don’t want you to end up like Geto." Though Gojo expressed himself in his uniquely ridiculous way, his words reminded Nanami why he had made the right decision.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, noticing his distant expression.

He shook his head, bringing his attention back to you. "Nothing important. Just Gojo being Gojo."

You leaned closer, curious, but before you could insist, you exclaimed excitedly, "Oh! I got the waitress job!"

Nanami raised an eyebrow. "Full-time?"

"Yes," you replied enthusiastically. "Once we start college, I want to find my own place and live alone."

His expression shifted, growing slightly more serious. After a few moments of silence, he said, "What if we lived together?"

Your smile faltered. "Kento, that’s really sweet of you, but no."

Nanami frowned, clearly affected by your response. "Why not? I thought… it’d make things easier for both of us. We’d be together."

You took his hands in yours, smiling at him gently. "I want to know what it’s like to live alone. I need that space to grow as a person. It’s important to me."

Nanami nodded, though his eyes held a flicker of sadness. "I understand. But I won’t blame you if you change your mind."

Six months later, you both started college. Nanami had changed his appearance—his hair was shorter and slicked back, and he often wore dress shirts and jeans. His mature, polished style didn’t go unnoticed.

In the hallways, you noticed the stares he received, from both women and men.

"They’re looking at you again," you whispered, slightly annoyed, as you walked together to the library.

He glanced at you with a faint smile. "Are you jealous?"

"No, of course not," you replied, though your furrowed brow said otherwise. Still, you couldn’t help but feel proud. You knew that no matter how many looks he got, he was yours and yours alone.

Despite your busy schedules, exam weeks were always different. It had become a tradition to study together, either at your place or his.

Well, studying was the initial plan.

Night had fallen, and your apartment was quiet, save for the rustle of notes scattered on the floor, forgotten. You and Nanami were on the couch, completely absorbed in the moment. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his careful hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, messing it up, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He kissed you with a slow, deliberate intensity, as if trying to memorize every sensation. His lips moved with a restrained passion that felt ready to overflow at any moment.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you move far. His mouth trailed down to your neck, leaving a path of heated kisses that sent shivers through your body.

"Kento," you murmured, trying to sound firm, though your voice came out shaky. "We should be studying."

"I can’t focus," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and laden with desire. "Not when you’re this close."

You tried to pull away, but he cupped your face with both hands, gently guiding you to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with a mixture of tenderness and need that always left you defenseless.

"Let me stay like this a little longer," he confessed, his tone almost pleading.

You were just as lost in him—in the way his hands traced your back, slowly moving up to your shoulders, as if rediscovering you. His lips found yours again, this time with a softness that contrasted with the earlier intensity but was just as overwhelming.

"Kento," you tried again, with little conviction. "The exams…"

"I love the way you say my name," he whispered against your lips, a small smile forming. "There’s nothing more important than this right now."

His hands slid back to your waist, holding you with a firmness that made you feel both secure and deeply desired. You gave in to the moment, letting him guide you, feeling the weight of books and responsibilities melt away.

A soft gasp escaped your lips when he brushed your cheek, and the sound made him pause for just a moment. He looked at you, his expression now softened by overwhelming tenderness.

"Do you know what you make me feel?" he whispered, his voice barely audible but heavy with emotion.

"What?" you managed to ask, still trying to catch your breath.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment, as if anchoring himself in your presence. "That no matter how much time we have, I’ll always want more of you. It’ll never be enough."

Your hands caressed his face, tracing the lines of his jaw as you gazed at him with equal intensity. "I love you," you said, letting all your reservations fall away.

He kissed you again, this time softer, as if your words had soothed the fire within him—though only slightly.

Finally, you were the one to create some distance, though your body was still trembling. "Hey, handsome," you said with a nervous smile. "If we keep this up, we’re going to fail our exams."

He sighed with a faint smile, smoothing his hair. "Fine," he said with resignation. But before you could move, he added, "Though I want it on record that I’m against stopping."

Blushing, you began gathering the notes scattered on the floor. Nanami watched you, his gaze still full of adoration and desire. He couldn’t help but think how much he wished time would stop when you were like this, together.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

The years passed quickly. Both of you graduated college. You found a job almost immediately at the hospital where you had completed your volunteering, excited to begin your specialty in palliative care.

Out of respect for Nanami, you decided not to use your cursed energy technique anymore. You knew he appreciated that gesture more than he let on.

Nanami, on the other hand, entered the world of finance and quickly excelled as a stockbroker. His success surprised no one; he was meticulous, efficient, and dedicated.

One sunny afternoon, Nanami invited you to look at apartments. He insisted it was "just for fun," now that he was considering moving closer to his office. You went along, thinking it would be a casual distraction from your routines, but as soon as you arrived, you were taken aback.

"This place is... incredible," you said, your eyes taking in the sleek, modern facade. "Are you sure this isn’t out of your budget?"

He gave you a faint smile, the kind he reserved for moments when he was about to surprise you. "Let’s go inside and see."

Stepping into the apartment, your eyes widened. The space was bright and open, with large windows that let in warm, natural light. The kitchen was modern, with impeccable finishes, and there was a spacious living area and a small balcony with a breathtaking view. You walked slowly, admiring every detail, while Nanami followed quietly, watching you intently.

Finally, you stopped at the balcony, gazing out at the city with a soft sigh. "It’s perfect. It’s… too perfect."

Nanami approached, resting a hand on the balcony doorframe. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," you admitted with a smile. "If this is what you’re looking for, I think you should go for it. It’s amazing."

He cleared his throat, clearly nervous—a rarity for him. "I want to get this place, but not just for me."

You turned to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Nanami slid his hands into his pockets, as if seeking something to steady himself. Then he looked up, his eyes locking onto yours. "I want us to live here together. You and me."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Nanami took a deep breath. "And this time, you can’t say no."

You frowned, confused, but before you could respond, he pulled a small black box from his pocket and opened it. Inside, a simple yet elegant ring sparkled in the golden light of the setting sun.

"Because I don’t just want us to live together," he said, his voice lower but steady. "I want to build a life with you. I want this to be our home. I want you to be my wife."

Your mouth fell open in a soft gasp, tears welling in your eyes. The silence stretched between you, not because words were lacking, but because the gravity of the moment spoke for itself.

"Will you marry me?"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Frayed Edges

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | In Stitches | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He was pissed off. His entire body hurt and he was really pissed off.

Sam dropped him off at your place. Bucky didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. He told Sam he'd call him when he'd need to get picked up.

He limps up to your door, grimacing at every move he makes. The stab wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch and he needed your help ASAP.

He knocks on your door, ringing the doorbell with urgency. The door swings open and your eyes widen, "Holy shit, Bucky!" You pull him inside and he groans in pain.

Bucky takes a quick glance at your table, seeing two sets of plates set out, "You expecting someone?"

You open your mouth to reply and there's a knock at your door, "Shit," you murmur, "Go to my room. Don't make a sound. Hurry!"

He obeys without a word. As soon as your bedroom door closes, you rush to your front door and pull it open, "Hey, dad! Sorry, was in the bathroom."

"It's alright, Bug," your dad kisses your head and enters your home, the bag of takeout in his hand. You take the bag from him and head to the dining table.

"Nice! Sushi!" you feign excitement, silently praying that, for whatever reason, your dad doesn't go to your room to find your ex boyfriend, now mob boss, bleeding on your floor.

"You still like the dragon roll, right?"

"Yup!"

"Good," your dad joins you at the table.

"Um, I have to finish some online training class really quickly and then I'll join you in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go finish up. I'll be here," your dad waves you away and you rush to your bedroom, locking it behind you.

You head to the conjoining bathroom, as see Bucky cleaning his wound. “Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!” He gestures to his punctured skin.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, ��Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit from under the sink, and gesture for him to sit on your toilet.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

Despite your annoyance with him, you're still gentle. You apologize for the stinging of neosporin.

He watches you with an observant gaze, a softness in his eyes. A sense of longing fills him in the pit of his stomach...or maybe that's the feeling of the needle you're sewing him up with.

Bucky still can't believe this is where life has lead you both. You help save lives, he, on occasion, ends lives. You're light, while Bucky lives and works in the dark.

He knows coming back into your life was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. He just missed you so much and was desperate to have you back in any capacity. Even if he can't have you the way that he wants.

You finish up, taking off the bloody gloves you wore and throwing them into the trash, “Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

He nods and gives you a shy smile, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

You stand with a sigh, “Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly stands from your toilet after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

[scimagic]

How would Mr Puzzles feel about you eating the stars that were meant for him?

Also here, a star for you ⭐ and a star for Mr Puzzles ⭐

Short answer? Not well HFSDJKA

Long answer? I don't think he'd stay mad for long; funnily enough a friend and I were just talking about a possible fic concept about it fhdjkas

I think he'd be exasperated, I DID just eat what he was looking for the most right in front of him like it was nothing. In a redemption AU he'd try very hard to act like it didn't affect him, like it was fine and that he didn't need them! Not at all! He's a changed man! He TOTALLY doesn't feel hurt and conflicted about it!

It's safe to say he doesn't hide it well

But the hurt doesn't last long with the help of cuddles and hugs and words of reassurance, plus a lot of apologies- hfjkds

[aurossaga]

You Turn my Shield on Me

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: i don't know i just write. no more questions

Word count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: Mentions of a battle, weaponry

Summary:

He always asked if you'd protect him on your excursions. Turns out, he never needed to be protected after all.

The setting sun is doing little to warm you as you push yourself up from the cold, muddy ground. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, chasing that rush of adrenaline as the sound of battle stills. Your weapon, dropped a distance away from you in the fray, glimmers mockingly at you as the light catches it. You had stumbled and fallen, but… that hardly matters right now. No, there are much more pressing matters at hand.

You look up at the man standing in front of you. His back still turned your way, an arm reaching out ready to draw another arrow at a moment’s notice. His moves are careful and practiced, practically perfectly honed. You’ve only ever seen aristocrats fight with such elegance and precision before…

Which is why this makes no sense.

“You’ll promise to protect me, right?”

It’s what he always says when you two go out exploring together. Or, rather when you go exploring and he tags along out of boredom. And you had always assured him that you’d never let harm befall him, always promised that you’d be his shield. After all, he was a novice at archery, he claimed. A bow was a difficult weapon to defend oneself with in the heat of battle without exceptional mastery of it.

Arrows still surging with Anemo energy litter the now desolate grounds turned battlefields. Each and every one of them had hit its target. Clean, lethal blows. As you finally catch your breath, remembering to breathe properly amidst your confusion, you see him turn to cautiously check on you.

“Are you alright…?”

…

There are so many things you want to say. So many things you want to ask. Your jaw drops open a few times over, you sputter and stutter and mumble out half-baked words and jumbled sentences until you give up, closing your mouth, and give him a slow, cautious nod. You are unharmed. And it was no thanks to yourself.

Venti watches you for another long moment. His eyes, much more focused than usual, scan you for injuries regardless of your insisting that you are fine. He knows you well. Quickly, that look is replaced by the familiar one you are so accustomed to. One you now doubt the sincerity of, just  a little bit. His shoulders relax and he exhales in relief for a moment before his posture straightens back up, his bow lowering to his side.

“Well, that’s a relief… We sure were lucky these monsters were on the easier side!”

Those words sting a lot more than you expected, though you can’t quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s not quite true. Perhaps It’s because you know those enemies hit hard. Fast. Ruthlessly.

And they certainly don’t stall for long enough for an inexperienced archer to pluck them off one by one like that.

And yet…

“You were incredible back there.” The words slip out before you can think to stop them. You’re not quite sure if it’s words of praise or an accusation. His mastery of the bow, the precision in his strikes… You couldn’t wrap your head around it. He said he wasn’t capable of that. That he needed your protection.

He blinks, and for a moment, his eyes shy away from yours, his lips pressed together a bit firmer than usual. Maybe this is what guilt looks like on him. But then he smirks, the easygoing, almost careless expression you’ve grown so accustomed to returning as if it had never left in the first place.

“Really, now? Praise from my most dearest muse, is it? I must fetch my pen at once, lest I mistake it for a dream!”

You’re not sure what comes over you. His words were nothing out of the ordinary from him, he’d tease and poke fun all the time. But… For him to act so casually, so normal after a display like that…

It irritates you.

“You said you were a novice,” you practically snap. “That it was just a hobby.”

“And you don’t believe me?” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something guarded in his eyes. He steps closer, offering a hand to help you up. You hesitate for just a moment, but you take his hand, only now realizing that those delicate hands that pen the most beautiful prose you’ve ever read are firmer, sturdier than you could recall. Or perhaps you were only noticing now that you knew to look for it. He pulls you up to your feet with ease.

“I… No! Why should I?” you demand, brushing dirt from your roughed up clothes. “I’ve never seen you fight like that before..! Or, at all, for that matter! What was all that?” You gesture to the field littered with arrows and fallen enemies, your eyes never leaving his.

He tilts his head innocently to the side, his smirk fading slightly.

“Does it… matter that much?”

“Yes, it matters!!!” you exclaim, the words spilling out before you have the time or restraint to stop them. “It matters because I trusted you to rely on me! And now I find out you didn’t need me at all?”

There it is. The heart of your frustrations, the reason your chest aches as much as your bruised body. You’ve always been the protector, the shield, someone you wanted him to rely on. To feel safe with. And he’d let you believe he needed you, too. But now that picture in your mind breaks into a thousand pieces, and you both know very well you won’t be able to put it back together, no matter how much you try. You were too smart to believe his words, his deflections.

You hang your head, your gaze falling down to the muddy grounds beneath you. Though you can’t see his face, you can practically hear his emotions in the tone of his voice. It’s… raw. A bit more intimate than you think he intended.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” he whispers, his voice low and even as he takes a step closer. “I just don’t want to stand in the way of your talent…”

He seems almost unsatisfied with his own choice of words. Slowly, his hand reaches out, searching for yours, taking hold of and wrapping around your fingers so delicately as if he’s asking permission.

“...My warrior, you would have had this in the box, regardless if I stepped in or not. I just… didn’t want to see you hurt. You don’t need my protection, but… you have it.”

It’s not quite an answer, and it certainly doesn’t answer as many questions as you would have liked. But, there’s an honesty in his tender voice that makes your heart hammer again. Your lips part, intending by all means to press him further, to demand answers about his skills, his lies…but the words die on your lips as your shoulders sag to match the dejected feeling of reluctant acceptance. You knew better than anyone how avoidant Venti could be when faced with such a direct accusation. You knew better than to press further to achieve nothing.

“...Okay. Let’s go home.”

His grip on your hand tightens, bringing your attention back to the moment. And as you walk home, he doesn’t let go of you even once. His grip is gentle, apologetic, begging for understanding and time to explain what happened today. And, albeit reluctantly, you grant him that grace as your fingers interlace with his.

[insert-something-funy-here]

PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

This is part 2!! Part three is in the works!!

Part 1 || Part 3

I hope yall know it makes me so happy to know people are interested in this HEHEHEGRHEJHEGEHRGR,,,,

Anyway, enjoy!!!

What a wholesome moment.

A ship kept safe by its anchor, the ocean nourished by the sand it wears at. But there’s a storm rolling in, one that will force its light upon this resonant scene. 

Steps echo in the alley, a slow clap accompanied by thunderous laughter. 

“Wonderful job my beautiful creation! I expected nothing less of you!” Shocked expressions made they way to Medkit’s and Biograft’s faces upon hearing Subspace’s voice. 

Anxiety greets them both in Subspace's presence, for one it's an old friend, and the other, it's something entirely new. "What? Did you really think I didn't know know this would happen?" He sighs, good thing this experiment has served it's purpose. "You've changed from how I designed you, and look at how you've been dulled."

"I knew Meddy would never let me close to him outside of a phight, but then you presented me a new experiment to run! As tough as he may act, I know he feels some guilt. Enough to see you at least." Even with his mask and eyepatch, it was easy to see Subspace’s smile. Finally, after spending so long trying find Medkit, he would get his chance at vengence. "Come now my dear creation, help me finish this, and we'll-"

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?" Some defiance was to be expected with this. Allowing this variable to grow within him. But he's being led astray, and I have a parently duty to pull him back. "I was fine with a little disobedience, it served a purpose, but it seems you've strayed too far from my brilliance." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a remote. He sighs, "It's alright though, because unlike that man there, I can fix you!"

That remote. One of the emergency shut downs for Biografts. This one specifically was made for gen## Zeta Biografts. In Subspaces mind, Blackrock could handle the hit in security for a bit. Anyone who's worth something has a personal Biograft not connected to any of the servers one of those remotes would shut down anyway. And with one press, Biograft fell apart, "Well, isn't this familiar?" His laughter brought back memories, and it was sickening. Medkit felt himself back in that SFoTH forsaken lab, back against the wall, a deer in the headlights.

Though Biograft had fallen apart, there was a few seconds before his software finished shutting down. In these precious moments he saw a version of himself standing before him.

"Leave."

"If I do that we'll be back where we started."

"We're not the same anymore. You've changed your directive. Follow it before he makes you like us again."

A slight pause. "You're not yourself either."

"I'm surprised your body is still holding up." A desperate attempt at keeping composure.

"You didn't do that much to me!!" Evidence of how he's failing. "Him on the other hand," He looks at the fallen Biograft and back up Medkit. He steps forward, using mist walk, he clears the distance before Medkit could react. Biograft was supposed to be here to help, but perhaps Medkit watching his last chance at some sort of temporary catharsis die will put him at enough of a disadvantage.

Grabbing him by his tie Subspace shoves him into the wall, "Brings back memories doesn't it? Don't worry, you won't have to remember for much longer!" His other hand hovering dangerously close to Medkit’s last eye. Subspace's freezes for a moment, feeling Medkit’s revolver against his chest, and begins laughing. "What do you think you're going to accomplish with that, hmm? You use that to heal people remember? It's the only reason you keep it after all-"

"What do you know?" His grip tightened, "These bullets can end lives as quick just as they can save them."

"Oh please," Subspace moves his freehand to grip Medkit’s gun, "If you had the strength for that," he pulls it closer, "you would've shot me already."

In flash of teal light, Subspace is on the ground and Medkit has been freed. A familiar alarm blares in both their ears. Subspace sits back up and stares in shock, but before he can call out to the newly reformed Biograft, he's already left with Medkit.

"My creation... my once beautiful invention... my son..." it doesn't take long for this Biograft’s absence to eat away at him.

Biograft runs as far as he can, Medkit in his arms. He makes wide jumps across rooftops, no real direction other than away. Away from Subspace, away from his 'siblings', away from Blackrock. He's overheating, he's going to collapse again.

"Go left here."

Which meant they needed somewhere safe to go, and to follow the quickest directions there. Medkit knew somewhere they could stop, the two of them just had to hope Biograft could make it that far.

[reveryfics]

Drunk Confessions

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Male reader

Summary: After a night of drinking, Bucky shows up at your apartment soaking wet and drunk, determined to speak his mind.

A/n: Somewhat based off the lyrics "Slurring all your words not making any sense" and "cause I got hella feelings for you, I act like I don't fucking care. Like they ain't even there."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Bucky, a shadow of his former self, slumped against the sticky bartop. His head lolled to one side, a victim of the relentless pull of gravity. The neon hum of the bar blurred at the edges of his vision, a distorted symphony of light and noise. A half-empty whiskey glass, a testament to his descent into oblivion, sat neglected in front of him. A dark puddle, spreading like a malevolent stain, marred the bar's polished surface.

With a feeble effort, he fumbled for his wallet, extracting a crumpled bill. He tossed it onto the counter, a careless gesture that belied the turmoil within. The bartender, a seasoned observer of human misery, offered to call an Uber. Bucky waved him off, a silent plea for solitude.

The rain, a relentless tormentor, lashed down, transforming the quiet street into a raging torrent. Bucky, drenched and disoriented, stumbled forward, each step a battle against the elements. His mind, clouded by the intoxicating embrace of alcohol, clung to a singular, desperate purpose. He had to see his friend, to unburden himself of the weight that had been gnawing at his soul.

Twenty minutes later, he stood before his friend's apartment, his knuckles rapping against the weathered door. It creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in a robe. The man, shorter than Bucky, blinked sleepily, his face etched with surprise. "Bucky?" he questioned, his voice thick with confusion.

"Yeah, it's me," Bucky replied, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. "Can I come in?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped inside, water dripping from his clothes onto the worn carpet. His friend, clearly startled, ushered him towards the entrance, "Wait there. I'll get you a towel."

A few minutes later, Bucky emerged from the bedroom, now dry and clad in borrowed clothes. He sank into a chair at the dining table, a steaming cup of tea clutched in his hands. His friend joined him, a concerned expression etched on his face.

"I gotta tell you something," Bucky began, his words slurred. "Something important."

Something was clearly gnawing at Bucky, a darkness eating away at him from within.

“Is everything alright?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Even without words, he knew Bucky was struggling, his mind plagued by the specter of the Winter Soldier.

The cozy, familiar setting seemed to amplify Bucky's unease. A glance at the framed photo from last year's birthday party—a snapshot of shared laughter and genuine warmth—sent a pang of longing through him. This man, who saw beyond the horrors of his past, was everything to Bucky. Yet, a shadow loomed over their connection.

Bucky's metallic fingers drummed nervously against the mug, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding direct eye contact. “No, everything's fine,” he murmured, his voice strained. “I just... need to get something off my chest.”

Bucky took a deep breath, the warmth of the tea doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. "Look," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "I've been... I've been thinking a lot lately." He paused, his gaze flickering towards the framed photo. "About us."

A beat of silence hung in the air, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Bucky's friend leaned forward, his eyes filled with concern. "Bucky, whatever it is, you can tell me."

With a surge of courage, Bucky blurted out, "I... I love you. I've been terrified to say it, because of... well, you know. But I can't keep it bottled up anymore."

His confession hung heavy in the air, the weight of his past threatening to crush the fragile hope it carried. Yet, to his surprise, his friend's face broke into a gentle smile. "Bucky," he began, his voice soft, "I love you too. Your past doesn't define you. It's part of who you are, but it's not all of you."

Relief washed over Bucky, a wave of emotion so intense it threatened to consume him. He leaned forward, their hands brushing against each other. "Really?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.

His friend nodded, his eyes unwavering. "Really. And I'm not going anywhere."

In that moment, all the fear and doubt that had plagued Bucky melted away. He pulled his friend into a passionate kiss, a kiss that was years in the making. It was a kiss filled with love, longing, and the promise of a future together.

[fackeraccount]

hi I’m not sure if I’m doing this right because I did read your request rules thingy and I hope I’m not crossing any boundaries but I was wondering if you could write for zayne a miscommunication troupe,you could have the creative freedom of choosing whatever but I’m a sucker for angst where they have to fight to get us back type of stuff lol ! if you see this I hope you’re having a good day and if you write this then thank you so much !!

Yes ofc I can! I'm not really an angst girlie but I'll try my best!!

Pairing: Zayne x Gn reader

Tw: Miscommunication, angst, fighting, blood, wounds, concussion, hospital, will they stay together?, break up?, mentions of y/n

There was a constant beeping noise ringing in your ears. The noise was loud but familiar and you realized it was a heart monitor meaning you were in the hospital.

You opened your eyes, squinting through the harsh light. You brought your hand up to block out the light only the feel something in your arm. Looking down, you saw a small tube which lead to an IV bag to your side.

Looking back up, you saw a nurse moving around. She was checking your vitals when she looked up, seeing you awake.

She smiled and said, "Oh, your awake. I'll go call Dr. Zayne for you,"

She left pretty quickly and you sighed. Getting injured is normal but the real problem was Zayne wasn't informed about the mission and now you come to the hospital with a large wound on your side and a concussion.

Zayne stepped through the door, and you could immediately tell there was something wrong. His eyes held no warmth in them anymore and you could tell that this was the inevitable consequences of your actions.

"Are you feeling any pain on your left side or your head?" Zayne spoke, his tone professional, as if you were a mere patient.

"No," You answered, "I can tell it's there but I can't feel it."

"Mhm, that's good. The pain killers are still in effect," He replied while changing you IV bag.

"Alright, you're all good. I'll come check on you later."

Before you could reply, he left, not speaking to you at all.

For the next few days, it continued like this. Zayne would come check on you twice a day but always acted like he didn't know you besides being a patient.

The week after, you were discharged and put on house rest by the doctors so you sat at home, doing absolutely nothing. You just said at home for that week, cleaning up everything you left while on your mission.

You thought about why Zayne would ignore you, I mean, you understood that you forgot to tell him about your mission but he wouldn't ignore you for weeks because of that.

That mission of yours really was dangerous to do on your own but you did.

It was a three day long mission to kill wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon city.

You had fought until one had snuck up on you from behind and slashed you side. You quickly finish them off before the blood loss made you sluggish. Soon after though, you fainted and hit you head on a rock, leaving you with a concussion.

You heard your phone ring from your room while you were cleaning up, bringing you out of your thoughts. You stood up and walked towards your phone and answered without looking at the call ID.

"Hello?"

"Y/n"

"Oh, Zayne! How are you?"

"I'm fine, I just need to tell you something"

"And that is?"

"Well, I think you and I should take a break"

"Wait what? Why?"

"Clearly, I'm not trustworthy enough for you to tell me about you missions but Xavier is"

"Xavier? I just needed someone to take care of my house so I just asked him before I left"

"See that's the thing. You don't tell me about a mission and I find you in the hospital. I realized that you were gone so I came to your house to check on you. Come to find out, he was holding it and knew about your mission."

"Zayne-"

"Let me finish. I know that he's your partner but what if you never came back? What if you'd d-died on that mission? Would I ever know? Think"

"Oh" He was crying, you could hear the small sniffles and the hitch in his voice.

"Yea, so I need to step down and maybe once you've fixed your issues we can try to fix this but you've broken my trust in you. If this continues like this, one day, I'll find out your... dead by someone else without even knowing you left"

As soon as he said that he ended the call. You stood there, frozen, tears streaming down your face without you realizing it.

Zayne had broken up with you and it was all your fault. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground crying. The tears flooded down your face and you couldn't do anything to stop them.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! It's all your fault! You have no one to blame but yourself!"

You insulted yourself all day crying, and screaming, but that wouldn't bring Zayne back.

The rest of the week, you spent crying, curled in your bed, barely standing up to eat. Soon enough, you heard a knock on your door.

Standing up sluggishly, you walked towards your door and opened it to see Zayne. He walked in and closed the door behind him.

"Oh. Why are you here?" You asked.

"I came to apologize, I blamed you without even letting you explain and I'm sorry. I jumped to conclusions," he answered.

You sighed and spoke, "No, you were right, I broke your trust, but you also broke mine. I forgot to tell you and I understand that, but you can't just jump to conclusions. So, no we won't get back together until you can trust me again, and I can trust you. Right now, we're just friends again."

He nodded, "I understand that. I just came to apologize first."

He left and you closed the door, sighing.

The next few weeks, Zayne kept doing anything to fix that broken trust. He first took you out twice a week, sent coffee to your office every morning, and even sent you flowers.

You knew he was trying and honestly, it was working. Even though you were still hurt, he was trying and that's all that mattered to you.

Part 2?? Maybe, maybe not 😝

[sinfiltrate]

Act 3 spoilers

I just wanted to voice my opinions on the entirety of act 3, I will be making another post focusing on Jayce because I am disappointed with his story specifically.

Let's start with what I'm happy with!

The display of Mel's magic was amazing. All her scenes were so powerful.

CaitVi is canon! (which was predictable for obvious reasons but i'm still happy for them)

The music choice was perfect, as well as the quality of the episodes, as expected. No matter the storyline's flaws, the art style itself is undeniably gorgeous.

Maddie dies IMMEDIATELY after betraying Piltover, so I'm happy with that. Don't get me wrong, I think the season looked rushed, but the instant karma of that scene was enjoyable. It's well executed shock value.

The Caitlyn/Mel and Ambessa fight sequence was SICK. They really emphasized Ambessa's strength and battle IQ here, and while I dislike her, it was satisfying to watch.

The JayVik ending. Now, I am very conflicted with this, but I'll focus on the positive part. THIS MOMENT WAS SO TENDER!! It revealed how much Jayce truly loved and cared for Viktor, and that Viktor thought Jayce to be the only person who could ever make him acknowledge the importance of humanity. Jayce was his last and only hope, and Jayce proved Viktor right in every timeline.

Jayce defenders, we won. We got an entire episode dedicated to what Jayce and Ekko/Heimerdinger went through, and it proved that JAYCE WAS RIGHT AND HIM AND EKKO ARE OUR SAVIORS THANK YOU 🙏

Jayce looked fine asf. That is a beautiful man and I'm expecting many more edits (pretty please).

Alright, now let's get to what I'm upset about.

Jayce's wasted potential. The way I see it, they just reduced him to a pawn in Viktor's character arc, considering that his life begins and ends with Viktor. It's sweet, yes, and can be counted as a win for JayVik shippers, but I really wanted more for Jayce. And yes, I will most definitely come back to this on my Jayce-centric post.

The lack of reaction to Jinx's and Jayce's "death". I'm honestly not sure if either of them are dead (I am also somewhat in denial). Mel lost her lover, of whom brought out a softer side of herself that she didn't even know existed, and there's no reaction? Not even a scene of her finding out? The same goes for Caitlyn, since she literally saw Jayce as an older brother. Then there's Vi, who's seen completely fine with Caitlyn, and Ekko, who's having the only appropriate reaction, but even so, it's too calm. We'd have to assume that there's been another timeskip, but it couldn't have been long since the war. ALSO XIMENA, Jayce's MOTHER, she's seen putting a paper of Jayce's name to burn and honor him after his supposed death, but her expression is blank. Just simple resignation. I don't know, the lack of reaction had me questioning why I was sad.

No proper reunion scenes besides Ekko/Jinx and Mel/Jayce?????I actually liked Ekko and Jinx's reunion, but Mel and Jayce? Not even close to what I expected or wanted.

This season was rushed; that's something everyone can agree on. I think it was very focused on action rather than the complexity of these people's relationships and minds, while the first season had a balance between both. There just wasn't enough time for that balance with all the information they had to give us.

Honestly, and this is gonna sound horrible but hear me out, I would've preferred it if they had episode 6 be the last episode instead, and used the act 2 to explore Caitlyn's dictator arc and truly emphasize how long Jayce, Ekko, and Heimerdinger had been gone. I know how this sounds, but I really wanted to see more of Caitlyn and her mindset during the whole fascism plot rather than have her throw it all away three episodes later. It would've helped others understand her more, while also acknowledging how blinded she had become with anger and sadness. Also, this would've given more time for people to grow an attachment to Isha and see how she reminds Jinx of Powder!!! Just imagine it, the season closing with Jayce "killing" Viktor, no sign of Ekko or Heimerdinger, and Isha dying would have been even MORE devastating; the ultimate cliffhanger. There's no denying people would've been angry and shocked, but it would've made us want more, just like the first season did. I would be 100% willing to wait 3 or more years for the next season than have such an underwhelming ending.

Okay, I think that's it. Might add more to this post later if I come up with any other critiques, be prepared for the Jayce post because I NEED to talk about him.

[sugashook]

ANALYSING GAMBIT's SYMBOLISM IN D&W : Logan's feelings and his love, and how they relate to wade's feelings of love:

Logan and Wade's feelings in Deadpool 3 are represented with the characters of Gambit and Althea. Let's analyze the two characters of Gambit and Althea quickly first.

Althea represents wade's love and feelings. which are blind . his feelings can't see other people, their hearts, traumas,feelings,their 'fangs'. they can only hear and touch them, etc. she's also fragile,kinda unhealthy and defenseless.

Gambit represents the feelings inside of Logan. They're pretty powerful, full of magic and tricks, never got the chance to show themselves properly. Explosive, at first unassuming. very pretty! a smidge younger also, which would make them more innocent.

Logan's feelings never left his headspace, he never allowed people into his life, his defenses were extremely high, so his feelings of love are very innocent inside of himself, actually.

its just a lot to get through to them, damn!!

WHILE on the opposite wade's feelings are double his own age, it's like his feelings are soooo worn out...they lived two lives more than wade.

emotionally he's a wiseish, matureish person, I think when he's at peace he's actually wise and mature though, compared to logan's innocent feelings. he knows more, he knows how to treat people, he also knows that he'll probably get hurt if he lets logan into his life. he's a bad boy....he's troubled....he's stronger and bigger than him

like his presence, his importance, his bluntness, i think he's not the nice sweet stripper vanessa, he's a big deal and i don't think wade is too ready to be a big deal, or wants to be anymore, to be deadpool, he just wants to hide. and with logan as your lap cat it's pretty hard to hide! but you gotta nurture him and take care of him cause you love him damn!!!

he's like a really angry important nuclear cosmic bomb of importance in your apartment.

wade's been through it in every way okay, and he WILL do it again. very easily. very easily.....

wade has been through IT. logan has been kinda through less emotional hardships than he could be at his age, even in comparison to wade or other logan's.. they're just different types of people that way.

one is out of his mind, one inside his mind. both can manage some things better. of course love master wade will help logan out.

Logan's feelings, Gambit, were also born where he met Wade. And his feelings never saved anyone before because he was born in a bad, tough place... but that will change!

Wade meets Logan's feelings:

Wade meets logan's feelings in the form of Gambit, and basically says, your feelings are useless like they won't help at all. Feelings don't matter, ever! Especially wade's, that's why he's projecting onto logan.

he's also projecting his less than premium feelings(althea) to logan's feelings who are quite young and healthy, and powerful (gambit). logan is just fine, and useful actually.

it doesn't matter how much wade loves something, it will usually leave him. or something bad will happen, because of his sick mind. his mind will win over his own frail feelings.

wade can love someone as much as he wants but as long as he's selfish, distant, self sabotaging, anxious,insecure,etc.etc. his feelings will never matter. they're not strong enough to help, he has to help them and they have to help him.

while outside forces are destroying the peace in his mind. wade can't handle life anymore. his feelings are literally old, near the end. his heart, his unvierse, it's falling apart.

he will continue hurting because of his feelings, while he sabotages himself, and while the world moves on from him and leaves him behind.

that's why he's always being rude to althea basically. he's scolding himself constantly on how his feelings are and how they act, etc.

Gambit doesn't even have anything special or high quality about them to wade (close up magic joke), so wade probably sees Logan's feelings as pretty dull and bleh, probably because logan is so closed off and stoic, and aggressive... he's unsurprising and uninteresting to wade emotionally.

and mean, and wade doesn't see anything past the surface most of the time. And if you don't treat him well, even though he's a jerk to you, he won't like you.

But logan's feelings have explosive tricks up his sleeve for wade.

So the first thing Wade does to speak to logan's feelings is lie, complimenting them on how beautiful and gorgeous they are, but wade's feelings can't see other peoples feelings. and the first time gambit walks in, he doesn't even talk. so there's nothing to compliment, since he didn't hear him talk.

wade also can't understand gambit, which translates to him not understanding logan's feelings , he constantly needs clarification. and he's very confused.

while his feelings (gambit) yes they attack wade for what he's done but they also quickly calm down, they attack logan for drinking as well. so logan is angry at himself for drinking and not dealing with his pain, but he can't stop himself ALONE.

wade can only HEAR peoples feelings straight forward when they tell him. he can't read vibes and body language, etc. can't see things for what they are.

and logan's just been threatening and yelling at him, at best responding with silence. wade can't process subtle emotions in others, he can barely handle them when they're straight forward. So he sees logan as an aggressive jerk who won't help him, who won't save him. but he needs people to constantly save him and make him feel good.

he doesn't quite understand peoples complexities, or gives a damn to figure them out mmuchhh...

so wade is straight up lying when he says gambit is gorgeous and beautiful. and it's working very easily on gambit he's smitten, but quickly realizes wade is kind of a sociopath jerk. so logan sympathizes , then wade stars wadeing and logan gets mad.

(but the second compliment could be true, since if he understood a little of what gambit was saying he could be complimenting him genuinely, while being frustrated at the same time at them)

then wade starts trying to connect to logan's insides by sharing how he feels in clear words, like how he himself likes being told about other peoples feelings.

and logan's feelings respond very well to straight forward emotions. he immediately gets smitten again ' it's like you're speaking to my soul'

so logan empathizes with wade a lot, immediately after wade's screw up, even though his heart and FANGS, elektra and blade, won't admit it and act tough, his feelings give him away.

wade hearing logan's feelings:

the first time wade really HEARS logan TRULY understanding him and connecting with him was when logan finally speaks up on how he feels and repeats what wade told him and says

"i understand that you didn't mean anything bad by dragging me here and you truly thought my world can be saved too. to your deadpool core i can see that i've been to your core. " it could be that he's just endearing and dumb to logan probably like thats logans pet deadpool he gave up fighting it.

thats the first time wade HEARD/saw logan's feelings. like could have logan just said that...for it to be a nice farwell to a new friend, maybe. but i think he saw those deadpools and he was like they're so simple and...hopeless they can't do anything ill save the planet i guess.

but it could also be, and what i think it is, like once you dig enough to find the well of logan's love you will be rewarded by innocent, pure, strong, magical love. logan could be very innocent in this regard and love very very easily.

his feelings are hard to understand and tricky,

but obviously...wade is a master of love he's been through it all he will trick you in the end and hit you over the head with a fire extinguisher. he hits you over the head with his love its not like.....tricky or hard to understand or hard to find. he's just like i love you dude ill say it straight up to you how i feel. there's nothing to hide behind.

BUT that's only because before that althea(wade's feelings) opened a window to his insides, cussing at the ruckus, wishing she was deaf so that she couldn't hear logan. opening the window to wade's body and his house.

one of wade's senses for love is basically gone, he's extremely mentally unwell so he can't see peoples love, that's gone. but everything else is working well in order.

but anyway, she kept it open so that she could hear more clearly. he opened himself up to hear logan fully and got rewarded for it!

and then he's like, i love this guy ,he simply gets me. because after they save the world, logan doesn't go back to being quiet as before, he processed his feelings and now he is comfortable with wade, he doesn't leave it at 'i understand you'.

he says 'they would be lucky to have you' like not only do i see how you meant well you did really well the like most successful group of heroes on the planet would be lucky to have you. which is the highest compliment. and well kids this is a hint that we'll be able to use later.

ERM LOGAN WILL BE LUCKY TO HAVE HIM~

::: then wade invites logan into himself and logan meets wade's love for the first time(althea). and she goes from angry, distressed, hysteric, BLIND!!! to immediately being calm and happy to meet logan ^v^ ! that's how wade feels!

and wade calls her by a more polite name 'althea' ~

and he moves in with wade..... and logan he keeps trying to run away but wade wwwwwwont let that happen~ because...hes annoying..the end

also gambit aka logan's feelings are free tooo do what ever they want now they're not TRAPPED in a void where they were born in anymore wade got them out together with the rest of logan. out of logans headspace into the free world.

[theoceanoasis]

Hi,

Can we get a part 3 to Rodimus secretly carrying drift & Ratchets sparkling?

Maybe at the dinner its revealed its drift & ratchets sparkling?

Rodimus keeps pushing off the dinner until he’s showing which happens early on because it’s actually two bitties. The other is just hiding.

He paced back and forth knowing he needed to get ready for the dinner but finding himself unable to. He didn't want to go. He couldn't force himself to act like he didn't know the truth.

He saw the look in Ratchets optics. Some part of him knew the truth and it terrified him. They had so much more influence then him. They'd already made it clear they didn't want a relationship with him.

If they knew the truth he was scared they'd take his sparkling away from him. He didn't want to think Drift capable of such a thing but neither of them could carry and they both wanted a sparkling. Maybe if he was desperate enough.

Maybe if he thought about it for too long and all the things he's done wrong his best friend would think it was for the best. His sparkling would be taken from him and he'd never get to see them again.

He doubted Ratchet would have a problem with it. He'd probably even encourage it. He'd never liked him only tolerated him when they slept together. If he found out he was sparked with his child he would take them away from him.

He rushed to the bathroom feeling sick and threw up. He then laid on the floor staring at the ceiling feeling dizzy.

His comm rang and he answered it without thought.

"Roddy?"

"Drift?"

He croaked.

"You don't sound good."

"I'm not feeling well."

"Do you need us to check in on you?"

"What's the symptoms?"

Ratchet asked having come over when he mentioned not feeling well.

"I feel dizzy and I threw up. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Get some rest we'll cancel the dinner."

"Okay."

He shivered.

"If you continue not feeling well call us and we'll come get you."

"Okay."

He lied even though he had no intention of doing that. Hanging up the comm he laid there for a long time.

He knew it wasn't over and that it wouldn't be long before Drift was trying to reschedule.

He pushed it off for as long as possible, always having an excuse and avoiding Drift and Ratchet. It wasn't easy because his pre natal appointments were at their clinic. But he managed to schedule his appointment with other medics.

His belly was growing quickly which he'd been alarmed about because everything he read said it was too soon.

His medic reassured him that it was fine and after doing an ultrasound he was shocked to find out he was having twins. One had been hiding behind their sibling which is why they hadn't been picked up yet.

Leaving his appointment he'd been so distracted with the news he didn't notice Drift or Ratchet who all but trapped him.

"What is it?"

He looked between the two of them trying to hide his nervous he was.

"We want you to have dinner at our house."

He tried to argue but Ratchet cut him off.

"Don't even think about coming up with an excuse otherwise we'll go to your house."

"Ratchet."

Drift admonished and then turned to him.

"I've barely seen you recently and I want to catch up and see how you are doing."

Drift looked down at his sparked belly and he put a hand on it.

Drift seemed dissapointed when he noticed the large swell of his belly and he gave him a confused look until he realized. They didn't know he was carrying twins and with his belly this big it meant he was farther along then they realized. Which would mean they weren't the sires.

Relaxing slightly knowing his secret was a little more safe he agreed to the dinner. As long as they thought he was farther along then he actually was. They wouldn't wonder if they were the sire.

[rileytheperson]

I've been seeing quite a bit of posts about mischaracterisation, and I wanted to give my two cents on the topic. I should warn that my two cents really are two cents, meaning my opinion doesn't matter much, so if you disagree, that's completely fine, seeing as I am likely to be wrong.

In the year of our Lord 2024, methinks that we should as a fandom stop policing other people’s interpretations of the characters. This is because the storyline of the album is really vague, and there is no word-of-god confirmation about anything that happens in it. How can you interpret a character wrong if no interpretation of the album itself is really correct? Honestly, you could do so many things with the album that could change the characters. What if the "see how he laughs at you / seethe as he snarls at you" bit from TSE sees the H&M criticising the bits of the other's personality that they actually hate in themselves? "Oh, you thought they were listening? Now, don't be absurd" in Storm and a Spring can be Mind criticising the music industry or being frustrated about not getting through to Heart. You can make up what it was Heart and Mind disagreed over, whether they were friends at the start or enemies all the way through, and what Apathy entails and how long it lasted - all of these things could be changed and those changes could be used to explain how they act. We don't know what Heart and Mind's internal monologue sounds like - both of them may be filtering their thoughts as much or as little as you prefer, which could change their characters greatly [e.g. Mind could be much more hurt by the album's events than he lets on and be masking this hurt by anger or he could really be a cold and cynical machine who is pretending to be angered by the events of the album because he thinks that the best way to get through to Heart is by framing his thoughts in a way he understands, like anger. Or he really could just be angry, like he presents himself. idk im just pulling these three examples out of my ass].

Also, Soul doesn't actually appear much in the album at all, so I think you can interpret him however you want even freer than his counterparts. He might be frustrated by the events of the album, actually, if you take the "if not for you or for him, then please do it for me" in The Bidding, but he really may also be violent, if you take the fact that in The Soul Eclectic he goes directly to death threats and continues those death threats in The Bidding and Light. He could be a mix of both. He could be neither. Maybe he's violent because he's tired. You decide.

There's so many variables in CCCC that condemning one or the other interpretation seems wrong to me. Do whatever you want with them. When interpreting CCCC, what's important is to characterise them the way you enjoy them instead of what fandom tells you to characterise them as.

[kissorkill16]

My Little Animal: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Mr. Murtaugh catches Nicky out late at night and escorts him back home.

(P.S., for @ghostly-writers !)

Murtaugh quickly took off his headband and threw it into the passenger seat of his car.

"What a day.", he mumbled to himself.

He started the car and began to drive down the road.

Half an hour or so had passed, and when he finally got to his street, he was about to turn the corner. But then he saw a familiar silhouette behind one of the trees in his rear view mirror.

He adjusted the mirror a bit, and he caught a glimpse of who it was.

Nicky.

One of his students. And...well...his patient.

Murtaugh slowly drove to the curb in front of one of the trees, and he saw Nicky crouched down behind one of the bushes, holding some kind of phone walkie talkie thing.

He got out of his car and slowly tip toed to Nicky, making sure he couldn't hear him or see him. As he was sneaking over to him, he heard a few things he said.

"Trinity, I've been waiting for half an hour. I don't see him.", said Nicky. He yawned, "No, I'm not tired. I'll wait out here all night if I have to."

"Nicholas?"

Nicky jumped up and nearly dropped the phone he held, and he turned around to see his science teacher. He looked back at his walkie talkie.

"I'm good.", he said, "Everything's fine, nothing's wrong. Just trying to -"

"Nicky, what are you doing here?"

"I'll call you back."

Then he set down the phone and looked back up at Mr. Murtaugh.

"Nicky, answer me.", said his science teacher. Nicky looked down at his shoes, "Me and my friends were just...out. Nothing much."

Murtaugh gently pressed the bridge of his nose, "Nicholas, I thought we agreed that you would go straight home after school.", he said. "You remember our previous sessions."

"And you remember trying to poison me."

Mr. Murtaugh's eyes widened when he said that.

"Yeah, after that afternoon, all those sessions went out the window. Don't try to act so innocent after what you did.", he said.

Nicky picked up his phone and was about to walk away, but then he felt one of Murtaugh's hands grab his arm.

"Nicholas, you shouldn't be around these woods. Ever. Especially at this time at night.", he scolded. "You never know what's lurking around in the darkness of these places."

Nicky snatched his arm away, "And just who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can't do? Fuck off, creep."

Murtaugh tried not to get angry, but this boy was really testing his patience. Once again, he grabbed his arm and pulled him to his car.

"I'm taking you home right now.", he said sternly.

Nicky tried to break free from his grasp once again, but Murtaugh's grip kept tightening with each struggle.

"Let go of me!", Nicky kept screaming, but his science teacher didn't let go.

He went to his trunk and took out a long pile of rope, then he held Nicky down on the ground and bound up his wrists and ankles.

After that, he put him in the back seat and got into his car. He started the car again and adjusted the rear view mirror to look at Nicky.

"I grew up on a farm with my family, Nicky. I had four siblings, two brothers and two sisters. My dearest father used to hunt and he taught me how to restrain animals that would get too fussy.", he said to the boy.

"I'm not an animal!", Nicky yelled at him.

Murtaugh just ignored him and kept driving, ignoring that Nicky kept trying to get out of his tightly bound ropes and kept screaming at him to let him go.

After a while, Nicky seemed to have calmed down. He stopped struggling and screaming, and now he was just laying down in the backseat of the car.

"Did you do this to every kid you found out at night?", he asked.

Murtaugh shook his head, "No, dear. You're the only one I've had to do this to.", he said.

A moment of silence passed by.

"Now, what were you doing in the woods in the first place?", he asked.

"But I told you in the -"

"The truth, Nicholas. I'd like the truth, dear."

Nicky looked down at his wrists, feeling ashamed. "We were investigating the cult.", he said.

Murtaugh felt his blood run cold, and he clutched onto the steering wheel. "Cult?", he asked.

"The Forest Protectors, the people I've told you about our last meeting.", said Nicky. "Me and my friends thought there was only one Crowface, but apparently, there's more. But unlike the original Crowface, these guys have white beaks and -"

"Nicholas."

Nicky stopped talking.

The science teacher took a deep breath.

"Nicky, I know what I did.", he started, "And I really regret it now, and I promise I'm not trying to kill you like those birds are. I genuinely care about you, dear. So that's why I'm taking you home."

After a while, they pulled up in front of Nicky's house. The lights were all off, so either no one was home, or everyone was asleep.

Murtaugh went to the backseat and untied Nicky's wrists and ankles. Nicky gently rubbed his wrists as he got out of the car, worried that he might've gotten a little rope burn with how much he's been struggling to get out.

"You go to your room and get some rest.", said his science teacher, "I won't say a word about this to your parents about tonight, but I don't want to see you outside past midnight ever again."

Nicky rolled his eyes, but he nodded and walked to his backyard.

Murtaugh got back into his car and drove off, resisting the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!", he screamed, "I can't keep risking my life for that boy! He...he..."

He slowly calmed down and lessened his grip on the steering wheel.

"He's just a child, and he doesn't know anything about this town despite being here for over a year.", he told himself. "The boy will get himself killed if an eye isn't kept on him. I must make sure he stays safe."

Thankfully, he was thinking these things, because he was scared that his master might hear him.