#but it wasn't ME who made that decision to be vulnerable. and it was through a specific way that can't be done again because i'm here now a

[kindnessoverperfection]

wild how the more i'm working on recovery. the more i realize how fucking bad i miss her.

[thedemoninme141]

Take Me To Church.

Summary: Wednesday knows she should've worshiped you sooner.

Warning: Emotionally Confused Wednesday, WHIPPEDWEDNESDAY! Light Angst! Cringe Romance?

[Would recommend reading it with the song, -> Take Me To Church By Hoizer ]

Her lover’s got humor. That’s what you were to her: the one person who could force a laugh out of her, the one who twisted the dark and the grotesque into something… amusing. It should have been revolting, the way you found delight in what others would fear, but Wednesday never once flinched when you giggled at her morbidity. If anything, it was the closest thing to divine. You were the giggle at her funeral.

There was disapproval from the others when they saw the two of you together, a mismatch in their eyes. A bitter smile crept onto her lips. You had embraced her darkness with open arms, while the others watched with judgmental eyes at your decision.

Maybe she was born sick, but you loved her for it.

You, the light. Her, the dark. And she knew if there was ever a voice that could sway her from her cold resolve, it was yours. Every word you spoke, every gentle whisper, felt like a command.

If the heavens ever did speak, her lover's the last true mouthpiece.

Only you. She hated how much she loved it. How much she loved you.

"Nothing good is ever eternal," she said, "Things decay. Like us." "Then let me decay with you." you had answered.

She remembered the first time you held her hand—Wednesday had pulled away immediately, the shock of it running like electricity through her body. She didn’t know why, only that your touch was too soft, too kind. It made her feel something—a vulnerability she wasn’t accustomed to.

But over time, her cold hands sought yours. She found comfort in it, though she’d never voice it. You never forced anything; you simply existed next to her, breathing life into the shadows that clung to her existence. And each week, she had consumed this poison. That made her helplessly, hopelessly fall for you.

For someone who claimed to fear nothing, Wednesday realized she feared losing you more than anything. She feared the moment you’d walk away, realizing that she was too much, too strange, too dark for someone like you.

“I’m not easy to love,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “I will push you away. I’ll hurt you without meaning to.”

“I know,” you replied, your eyes full of understanding. “But I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere.”

And you never did.

You were her church. The way your eyes darkened when you looked at her, as though you could see past her armor, into the rawness underneath.

You had done the impossible: made her feel. And for that, you had become the most dangerous thing in her life.

"You don't know what you're asking for," she whispered, "I'm not someone who can love you back." "Wednesday," you breathed, your hand reaching up to cover hers. "You already love me more than you can."

Those words were dangerous. They broke something inside her, something she'd tried so hard to keep locked away. Her heart ached, her mind screamed, but there was no stopping the inevitable fall now. She felt it—her walls crumbling, her defenses failing—and for the first time in her life, she let herself be vulnerable with someone.

The touch of your hand was grounding, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this dark, twisted reality she called life. You were her light, yes, but you weren't trying to pull her from the darkness. You were content to stand with her in it. If she is sick, you are the disease she craves.

She should've worshiped her lover sooner, moments when she let the opportunity to express her feelings slip away. You deserved more than her indifference; you were the sunlight that warmed her cold, black heart.

“Do you ever wonder if this is… enough?” She asked.

You blinked, taken aback by her question. “Enough for what?”

“For you.”

She could feel your gaze on her, searching for something in her expression,

“Wednesday,” you began, and she hated how her heart fluttered at the sound of her name on your lips. “What are you really asking?”

She closed the book with a sharp snap and stood abruptly, needing to put distance between the two of you. “This,” she gestured between you, “is it enough? Am I… enough?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you stood as well, reaching for her hand, and she didn't pull away. “You are everything I want, Wednesday.”

Her lover is the goddess on her side, and she demands a sacrifice.

Sacrifice. That word haunted her as she traced the curve of your cheekbone with a cold, slender finger. You had given up so much to be with her. The easy, carefree life you could have had—laughing with someone who didn’t walk in shadows, who didn’t live with one foot always in the darkness. You had chosen her, despite it all.

She had never told you how much you had become her religion, how you were the only thing she believed in.

There is no sweeter innocence that this gentle sin.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours, a sin that is so un-Wednesday, that it nearly brought tears to your eyes. “And you are everything I shouldn’t want,” she whispered, her breath warm against your lips. “But I do.”

She watched you now, lying beside as the sun began to rose, she felt the pull of something she would never admit aloud: devotion.

Your chest rose and fell steadily, your lips parted slightly in the peace of sleep. The contrast between you and her was staggering. You—who embodied the sunlight, the warmth she shied away from—were here, with her. How had you come to mean so much? How had your presence become her sanctuary, your body her altar?

"I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies," she muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stirred in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “What was that?”

Wednesday’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, a rare sight that only you ever got to see. "Nothing," she said, her voice more sure this time.

Her church offers no absolute, and she didn't need one, she didn't need anyone's forgiveness. Because loving you was all the absolution she would ever need.

[Was feeling the itch to write but "Her Heartbeat"s documents aren't in the laptop I brought here, so I was passing my time hearing "Hozier's take me to church", then I had this idea.... ]

[COMMENT HOW YOU GUYS LIKE IT, I MIGHT WRITE MORE ONE SHOT FICS LIKE THIS]

Main Worklist

[navybrat817]

Like There's No Tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: When you make a rash decision after you're passed over for a promotion again, Bucky encourages you to follow your dream. It's the start of an unforgettable journey. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Insecurities, impulsivity, reflecting, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best, okay?). A/N: Writing this was very personal and therapeutic after my recent work experience. While I can't actually live this life, I know Firecracker and Daredevil will have many adventures together. Also for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love Challenge (Ludus - Road Trip / Surprise)❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for the encouragement and @buckyownsmylife for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quit your job on a Friday afternoon.

On paper, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Nothing different from your usual routine. You got up, brushed your teeth, showered, dressed yourself, gave your boyfriend a kiss, selected a caffeinated beverage, and got to work. While you wouldn't call your job your dream job and some of the tasks were monotonous, you were good at it and you cared about your teammates.

In fact, they were one of the reasons you stuck around for as long as you did.

“Just wanted to say you've done a lot for us and we wouldn't be where we are without you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you down.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“For what it’s worth, they made a mistake.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked through the messages a few of your teammates sent after the promotion announcement was made minutes ago. There was an overall mixture of surprise and confusion when they heard you didn’t get it. They knew how hard you worked to move up and how badly you wanted it. You wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up since that usually led to disappointment.

Of course, you were happy for the candidate who got the job. It wasn’t their fault you didn’t advance. Their success called for celebration. It didn’t make it any easier for you though and it didn’t lessen the hurt that you were passed over once again for something you were more than qualified for.

You somehow held it together though, not wanting everyone around you to see you break. Crying was reserved for the bathroom, your car, and home. Plus, you had shown enough vulnerability to management during the lengthy process and aftermath. They didn’t deserve an ounce more.

Especially after you were told that the value you provided wasn’t enough.

“I know this outcome is disappointing, but this isn’t a setback. You still have a lot to be proud of,” your manager told you the day before when you received the email entailing that you didn't receive the promotion and why. “Take the feedback we’ve given you and use that to get to the next level next time.”

He was only trying to help, but who would want to try again when they’re told they aren’t enough more than once? If the intention was to fuel your fire, they snuffed it out. Then again, your feelings were so raw because you hadn’t given yourself enough time to digest the news. Being told you were just out of reach was salt in the open wound, stinging much more than it should have as you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

Because you had to have done something wrong, right? Were the words you wrote in your application not eloquent enough? Did you not display the right amount of confidence in your interview? Why were you always on the cusp of greatness, but never quite there?

Blinking the moisture from your eyes, you straightened up and began to type again. Personal feelings aside, you had a job to do. You needed the income. You also had to prove that they were wrong in overlooking you. Again.

But as the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard became white noise in your head, Bucky’s words from earlier in the morning shimmered into your mind.

“Just quit, Firecracker. They don’t deserve you and you deserve better.”

Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. The kind of man you didn’t think was real until he came into your life. Gorgeous, faithful, doting, protective - you thought men like that only existed in books. He supported and hyped you up every time you went for a promotion and wiped away every tear when you didn’t get it. Your crying and self-doubt broke his heart and this morning may have been the last straw for him.

Maybe it was the last straw for you, too.

Glancing around the office as you saw everyone else typing with minimal conversation, the room had never looked more lifeless to you. There was nothing about the place or the job that inspired you, so why continue to give yourself over to a place that didn’t give back to you in return? Why stay in a place that dulled your shine?

The sudden realization hit you square in your chest that you didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Have a great weekend, team. Good luck and thanks for everything.” You sent in a message before you could stop yourself.

You had never had an out-of-body experience before, but it was as if your spirit was beside you as you began to close the programs on your computer. Glancing at your desk after you set your phone to voicemail, you realized you had hardly any personal touches in your space. Except for the photo of you and Bucky.

He was your one bright spot in the building.

With the utmost care, you put the photo in your bag once you shut everything down. Your heart sank as your gaze swept over your team, an uncomfortable pit settling in your stomach as you went to see your boss. Disappointing anyone always brought you a sense of dread and you didn’t want to let him or anyone else down, but you were thinking of yourself for once.

You owed yourself that.

“Hey,” your boss smiled as he glanced up from his desk before he noticed you had your bag. You shifted on your feet when his cheerfulness shifted to concern. “What’s up? Are you clocking out early?”

“Not exactly,” you answered, gripping your bag so hard your hand began to ache.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

You didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t okay and nothing he could say or do would change how you felt. You didn't want him to try and sway you to stay. The heartbreaking part was that he was, overall, a good boss. He taught you a lot and helped you better yourself. So did the team as a whole. They were rock stars. Each and every one of them.

But now they weren’t enough to make you stay and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t go anywhere with your job.

So with a bittersweet smile, you uttered, “I quit. I’m sorry.”

You tossed your building key onto his desk and turned away before he could reply. Your mind raced as you put one foot in front of the other and ignored the stares of your coworkers who caught on to what had just transpired. It was hard to breathe, but your steps for once felt light instead of heavy. Your boss may have called out for you, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when you couldn’t stay in there another minute.

What you didn’t expect was for Bucky to be waiting outside as you went out of the door.

Your boyfriend managed to take your breath away every time you saw him and today was no exception. All 6’4” of him, he decided to cover his beefy frame with one of his favorite leather jackets, a fitting shirt, and tight jeans. His stormy eyes zeroed in on you as he pushed away from his old pickup truck and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He was stunning.

He was yours.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you blurted out as you raced toward him. “Get me out of here. Please.”

But why was he there? You didn’t plan to meet up with him until after work and your shift was only a little over halfway over. Did he want to surprise you?

He caught you easily with his large hands before you could stumble into him. “Whoa, easy. Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping you in. Your hands trembled as you buckled yourself in, your body in flight mode because you had to get away from the office. He wasted no time getting in and peeling out of the parking lot, the building becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You weren’t even sure how far away he drove before he pulled over and stopped the car since you didn’t look behind you. Resting your shaking hands on your thighs, the high of walking out dissipated until it left you cold. Reality sank in. Would it pull you under?

“Talk to me,” Bucky urged, his voice calm and gentle instead of demanding. “Please?”

“I quit my job,” you whispered, your gaze set in front of you, but not seeing anything in focus. “I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bucky leaned over to turn your face toward him, sympathy and understanding filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, I knew today would be the tipping point. Waited most of the morning for you to walk out,” he said. You were about to question how he could possibly know that, but he could read you better than anyone. “Just a feeling I had.”

“I quit my job. I quit,” you said again, your breathing more shallow than before he engulfed you in a warm and grounding embrace. Your fingers twisted in his jacket as you breathed him in. Sandalwood and citrus were scents you now associated with love because of him. “What did I do?! I didn’t even give notice. I just tossed my card down and left. Fuck, I just burned my bridges with everyone there.”

You stifled a sob as you hid your face in his neck. You swore to yourself that you would never be that person who walks out on a job, but you did just that and screwed over your entire team. Would any of them understand why you did it or accept an apology? How long would it take for that guilt to go away since you essentially gave up after the words of kindness and encouragement they gave you?

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you” he whispered, rubbing your back as you steadied yourself. “Yeah, you quit today. And maybe you burned a bridge, maybe not. But I couldn’t be fucking prouder of you.”

“You’re proud that I walked out on my team?” You asked, whipping your head up so fast you were lucky you didn’t get whiplash. “They don’t deserve to deal with that. Not to mention, I have nothing lined up.”

The thought of starting over again made your stomach drop again. The job market could be a terrifying and hopeless place. What if you couldn’t find anything? Or what if you burned through your savings by the time you did?

“I’m proud that you walked away from something keeping you down. After everything you’ve done for them, I’m sure most of them will get why you couldn’t do it anymore,” he assured you, the corners of his lips turning down when you sniffled. “And don't worry about not having something lined up. We'll figure it out.”

“We?” You questioned. Bucky was your boyfriend, but this wasn’t his problem.

“Yeah, we,” he said, pointing between the two of you with his forefinger. “You and me. I'm in this with you.”

Your heart melted before logic tried to take back over. “I should just go back there and apologize. I can say that I-”

He framed your face and pressed his warm lips to yours before you could say another word. He coaxed you to return the kiss with ease and you responded with parted lips and a sigh. His kisses left you lightheaded as sparks ignited, threatening to explode if you went much further. Which was why he stopped to let you catch your breath.

“No. You’re not doing that,” he said, his scruff tickling your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He knew that was a weakness of yours and it instantly stopped you from arguing. “We're going on an adventure and we can’t do that if you’re chained to a desk.”

“An adventure?” You repeated with uncertainty.

“Yeah. We’re going to drive and see where it takes us,” he said, his lips touching your forehead once more before he started up the car again. “Just need to grab a couple of things before we go.”

“What about work for you?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured you. He wasn’t the type of guy to lie, but when did he have time to plan this? Neither one of you had mentioned going anywhere.

Leave it to Bucky to do something impulsive to make you happy.

“Okay,” you said, trusting him and deciding to play along with his endeavor. “You said we need a couple of things. What do we need? Besides the essentials.”

“Your laptop. And a journal if you don't feel like typing.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. My laptop so I can apply for new jobs and pray that they don’t reach out to my now previous boss as a reference, right?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, a playful smirk on his face when you swung your head toward him. “The laptop is so you can write like you've always wanted to. And the journal if you prefer to write some of your thoughts and ideas down by hand.”

“Wait. You want me to write on this trip?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your boyfriend was certifiably crazy, but you loved that about him. “Bucky, no. I can't just write,” you said.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“Because it doesn't pay the bills or provide security,” you replied.

Writing was a silly hobby that you did from time to time to help you channel your emotions or escape from the real world. At best, it was a dream. Nothing more. He knew that. At least, you thought he knew that.

At the end of the day, it wouldn’t put a roof over your head or food in your stomach. How were you expected to hold onto dreams that wouldn’t take you anywhere? And at what point did you stop believing in them and yourself?

When did you start thinking so cynically?

“But working a job you're not passionate about just to provide safety is the better option? There’s a difference between doing something you love and doing something you’re good at when your heart isn’t in it. You’ve done the latter for years now,” He said with a huff as you inhaled. “That isn't living and you’re lying to yourself if you think it is.”

Your eyes narrowed as his words sank in, your shackles raising. “No, it isn’t living, but it’s the most practical thing I can do! And, yeah, I am good at my job because I worked my ass off!” You argued, taking a breath. You didn’t want to start crying or snap at him when he was right. “Or at least I was good at my job. And I would’ve done my best had I advanced, but I couldn’t even accomplish that.”

Which begged the question of why you applied. The higher title and pay would’ve been nice for recognition and comfortability. You believed you earned it. But was it what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Was that your path when you looked toward your future?

You hadn’t taken into account your own desires and values.

“Hey,” he said softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“And say I do try and write for real. How can I even enjoy this adventure knowing I'm probably just going to fail again?” You asked in a small voice.

How many hits could you take before your armor cracked?

Bucky's jaw clenched. “And that's exactly why I'm glad you finally quit. You've had so many people over your head telling you that what you do isn't enough to achieve what you want. And now you believe it,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that you feared he’d bend it with his strength. “Fuck that and fuck them for making you feel that way.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared, his fury for and defense of you making your chest tighten. “I…”

“Why can’t you be a writer, huh? Why not try? You’re talented and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. That’s where your heart is and it shows with every word,” He pressed, knowing you put your whole self into your creative outlet. “And, listen, we have money set aside for the time being and more than enough for this excursion. So I don’t care if writing doesn’t pay the bills for a while as long as you’re happy and doing what you’re passionate about. We’ll have each other and that’s enough in my eyes.”

Contemplating his words, you had to give him credit. The job wasn’t something you did because you were passionate about it. You did it because it was safe and expected of you when in many ways it held you back. Besides, what did you have to lose at this point? If you didn’t try, you’d never know. You’d look back one day and regret it if you let the chance pass you by.

Why not do something impulsive?

Why not make the most out of the moment you were in?

“Okay. You’re right. I should try to write and we should go,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s grab a few things and see where this trip takes us.”

“There she is,” he smiled over at you, making your heart swell. “There’s my Firecracker.”

The nickname would always warm your heart. “You know, this actually sounds a bit like that book idea I had the other day,” you said, excitement seeping through your veins. Your fingers twitched a bit, too, with the urge to write. “Do you remember? I told you about it while we were eating pizza.”

Bucky took one hand from the steering wheel to grab yours. “I remember everything you've ever said.”

“Flattery will get you everything, Daredevil,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “So, we're really doing this. We're just leaving?”

“Not just leaving. We're taking a long overdue road trip," he says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “You deserve it.”

“We both do,” you said, the uncertainty leaving your body more with each passing second. You even turned off your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at any emails or messages. “We deserve to live today like there’s no tomorrow.”

“‘Like there’s no tomorrow’,” Bucky quoted back to you with a hum. “Sounds like a good book title.’

“I’ll have to write it down so I don’t forget,” you smiled, linking your fingers together. “And don’t forget your journal, too. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

“I won’t forget it,” he promised.

“Bucky?” You asked, swallowing as he gazed over at you. “Thank you. Really.”

It felt like you could breathe again without a weight in your chest. You didn't feel perfect, but you felt good. All thanks to him. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby, but I should thank you for letting me take you away,” he winked, keeping your hand in his as he faced forward again. “Makes me feel like a real hero, even though you wouldn't let me storm the castle.”

Oh, he wanted so badly to go off on your manager, but there was no need. “You are a hero,” you said. He saved you without knowing. “But try not to speed, Daredevil. I don’t want us to get pulled over before we get started.”

He groaned, but nodded as he let off the gas. “I’ll try not to speed. Need to make sure I get you to where we’re going safely.”

“I trust you.”

You would find out soon enough that Bucky had a list of things written in his journal that he planned to do with you on this trip. Everything you had ever said in passing that you wanted to do or try, but never could because of work. Because he paid attention to you. And you were right.

You deserved to live today like there’s no tomorrow.

And he wanted to be by your side while you lived your best life.

So, lovelies, where are they doing on their trip first? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[anakinstwinklebunny]

mafia anakin being so tough and cruel to everyone but once he step to the house and you meet him with a warm smile he turn into a puddy in your hands (sorry for my bad English)

The Softness of Power

TW: none!! Just fluff cause I need fluff to live.

Author's note: of course love! This is a safe space, I don't judge your language abilities ;) tysm for the request, hope you'll enjoy it!

The heavy mahogany door creaked open, and ANAKIN SKYWALKER stepped into the dimly lit hallway of his mansion. Outside, he was feared—the Mafia King, ruthless and cold. His name alone sent chills through the spines of anyone who dared to cross him

He had just come from a 'meeting' that ended with blood on his hands and he swore the weight of decisions still lingered in his mind. Because for Anakin, when it came to business, everything was expected to be perfect. No mistakes, no betrayal - because if, there will always be a punishment. Now, hours later, his jaw was still clenched, shoulders tight and every muscle coiled with lethal tension.

Yet the moment his eyes found you standing at the other end of the hall, bathed in the warm glow of a flickering fireplace, everything changed. Your smile, so genuine and unguarded, softened the hard lines of his face. You stood there like an angel, wearing one of his (for you) oversized shirts, your feet bare on the cold marble floor.

"You're home," you stated softly with voice nothing but gentle

He just exhaled, as if it alone was enough of a response while he quickly took off his shoes and, without caring about his outdoors clothes, made his way to you. The coldness in his eyes was no longer there, replaced by something much more tender. He reached for you, hands that had once delivered death now seeking warmth, gentleness - something he knew you could provide. His large frame towered over you, but in your presence, he was no longer the Mafia king—just a man. Your man.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his face dipping into the crook of your neck. He squeezed you in his arms, grasping you almost in fear as if you were about to leave - like everyone else "You have no idea how much I need this," he muttered into your skin, voice gravelly yet filled with vulnerability he didn't dare to show anyone yet you

You moved your hands up to the back of his head to ran your fingers through his tousled hair. Your lips pressed a soft kiss to the base of his ear. "Rough day?"

"You could say that," the darkness of his world still lingering in his tone. But with you, that darkness began to slowly fade. You were the light he didn’t deserve yet so desperately needed. As if without you, his being didn't make sense, wasn't full filed

“Come on,” you whispered, tugging now at his hand towards the couch. “Let me take care of you.”

He followed without protest, the fierce, commanding man from earlier gone, replaced by someone who only craved your touch, your softness. You guided him to sit, and he collapsed onto the couch, his head falling back, eyes closing

You straddled his lap and your hands moved to unbutton his shirt, revealing the firm planes of his chest. His breath hitched when your hands glided over his skin, tracing the familiar lines of his body. You could see the flicker of desire in his eyes, but it wasn’t just lust—it was need. The need to be grounded, to feel something real amidst the chaos of his life.

“You don’t have to be strong here,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips—soft at first, but deepening as his hands found your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“You always make me feel so...” he murmured after your lips separated

“So what?” your lips brushed against his as you spoke.

“Like I’m not a monster"

Your heart clenched at his words. To the rest of the world, yes, Anakin was terrifying, unyielding. Something to be scared of. He was like a wild, dangerous animal that always bites. But to you, he was more than that. He was the man who would press gentle kisses to your forehead after a long day, who would give you everything you want. The man who held you close in the quiet moments of the night, the man who loved you fiercely despite his brokenness.

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re the only one who makes me feel... whole..safe”

You smiled softly, kissing him again, slow and deep, as if to remind him of everything good, everything pure that existed between you. His hands roamed up your back, pulling you even closer, and in that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. The violence, the bloodshed, the power—it all faded away.

Here, in your arms, ANAKIN SKYWALKER wasn’t the Mafia king. He wasn’t a man feared by everyone around him. He was yours, and with you, he could be vulnerable. He could be soft.

And as you held him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, you knew that no matter how dark his world became, he would always come back to you. You were his sanctuary, his safe haven, and in your arms, even the most dangerous man in the city could find peace.

“You’re everything I need,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he pressed a final kiss to your lips. “And I’ll never let you go.”

You smiled against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair, and for the rest of the night, Anakin let himself be exposed—let himself be loved again.

Because with you, the king could finally let down his crown.

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[galedekarios]

gale as a professor at blackstaff academy

i have to say that at first i wasn't too sold on the (then still fanon) idea of a professor ending because of gale's own prior anecdote about being irked by his previous students and their inadequacies.

i thought it might not be a good fit for him as far as professions go.

but reading the epilogue files, i have come around on it.

i think it's just one more way in which he's really grown into himself, become content with who he was in the past, the mistakes he made and what he has learned from them, and the person he wants to be in the future:

Player: You? A teacher? I'd hardly say you set the best example for impressionable young wizards... Gale: I think it makes perfect sense. devnote: Surprised you wouldn't recognise this, a tiny bit offended you don't trust him to do this Gale: Who better to warn of the perils of misusing magic than someone who was once only a wayward sneeze away from destroying a mid-sized settlement? devnote: playing up to his past a bit, you can imagine this is how he acts with his students Tara the Tressym: Don't remind me of those terrible times, Mr Dekarios. My blood pressure has only just recovered.

a few more cute banters & things we learn about gale and his new teaching position:

tara swipes at students who fall asleep in gale's classes, which he himself doesn't mind. he, too, slept through some of them (like his calishite lessons):

Player: Perhaps that's a good thing. I'm sure they're far better students than I was... Gale: Ah, so you still remember our little lesson? devnote: A little bit bashful, it was a vulnerable moment for him Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. devnote: Complimentary, pulling the thought back to the teaching element after getting lost in the memory of the moment Gale: They try their best, of course - when they can manage to stay awake. devnote: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student Tara the Tressym: The cheek of them! Nothing a well-placed swipe from Tara can't fix, though.

2. gale offered to teach more subjects than illusion via simulacra:

Player: Only a professor? With your expertise, I'd have thought you could teach every kind of magic going... Gale: I did offer, as a matter of fact. devnote: Secretly glad the player thinks so highly of him Gale: However, the Blackstaff insisted I couldn't teach every subject, nor could the simulacra of myself I offered to create for that purpose. devnote: Reluctantly accepts that this was the right decision Gale: So, I've settled for teaching the art of illusion. Magic to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all - imagination. devnote: Selling it a bit - he wants to make sure you appreciate how cool this is

3. gale has told his students about the player's adventures and will invite a player to be a guest lecturer:

Player: I found the love of my life. I'd say I'm pretty happy. Gale: And I couldn't be happier for you. A fitting reward for the sacrifices you made in getting here. Gale: I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know. Gale: I'd be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I'm sure they'd have plenty of questions for you. Player: It would be my pleasure. Gale: Excellent. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the allure of sharing your expertise. Gale: Of course you'll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower- Tara the Tressym: Ahem. Gale: My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.

4. his students find him somewhat intimidating due to his backstory with mystra and the orb:

Gale: Well, that was quite lovely. I'm glad you're as pleased to see me as I am you. Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful to just be 'Gale' for the evening. Gale: I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. devnote: He plays up to his reputations a bit, so he isn't overly surprised Gale: Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. Gale: I surrendered the Crown of Karsus to her, as I told you I would. And in return, she cured me of the orb at last. Gale: Even now, I struggle to put the feeling into words. It was like exhaling for the first time, after holding my breath for so very long. Gale: Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything.

5. he wants to teach his students that there is fun in studying magic:

Gale: I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils... devnote: Despairing a little, doesn't understand why they aren't all as passionate as he was Player: Or on a mind flayer, perhaps... Gale: Smiling may no longer come easy to you, but I've seen how your tentacles twitch at my jokes. Even the ones I'm not entirely certain I was trying to make... devnote: Last sentence a tiny bit self-conscious, aware that people sometimes find him ridiculous. Gale: Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic.

anyhow, i hope this was insightful to someone! 🖤

[pickingupmymercedes]

"dont ask me that" from yours and "i dont even know if any of that was real" from my own. one where lewis overheard a conversation between reader n her brother/family after his breakup with her. in which the breakup broke and changed her so much shes become a different person who just doesnt believe shes worthy for love anymore. and it hurts her so much that she cant even believe that any of her happy moments with lewis was real, maybe it was just a game for him. angst and pleasee sfw

Asshole Lewis incoming. He does try to make things a bit better in the end though.

Also, this is only the second time I write from his perspective, and it's hard ngl.

"dont ask me that" and "i dont even know if any of that was real"

The cacophony of the paddock was a familiar background noise as Lewis weaved through the throng of team personnel and sponsors; a practiced smile plastered on his face. Yet, the usual thrill of pre-race anticipation was muted. All he craved was solitude, anywhere he could escape the prying eyes of the media.

He ducked into a secluded corner; a sliver of shade offered by a towering hospitality suite. Quietness for a few seconds, only to be instantly replaced by a gut-punch of surprise. Y/n. She was just on the other side of the wall of tires, face illuminated by the glow of her phone, a serious expression etched on her features.

He should've known retreating wouldn't guarantee escape. And the sight of her, so unexpected, made him suddenly regret his decision and long for the fans and media.

But he couldn't help eavesdropping. It wasn't intentional, not at first. Her voice was laced with a vulnerability he had only witnessed once before. The other voice on the conversation was her brother, he gathered, and his tone was laced with concern.

“You sound exhausted, Y/n,” the man's voice cutting deep into the silence. “Seriously, you need to take a break. The team won’t crumble without you”

Y/n sighed, the sound so different from the girl he remembered. “I’m fine, busy season. That’s all.”

“Is it just the work, or…” He trailed off, the question hanging heavy.

“Don't ask me that,” Y/n cut him off, her voice cracking slightly, and Lewis winced. That wasn't the Y/n he knew. The bubbly, optimistic girl who'd lit up a room with her smile.

Lewis felt a pang of guilt. He knew exactly who she was trying to avoid mentioning. The one who'd left without a real goodbye, the one who'd taken a piece of her with him.

“You know I can't help you if you don't talk about it,” her brother continued gently.

“There’s nothing to talk about” Y/n said, a hint of defiance creeping in. “It’s over. And honestly, maybe I’m glad it is. I don't even know if any of that was real for him.” The anger in her voice barely masked the underlying hurt.

The air grew thick, suffocating. His blood turned to ice. The weight of his actions, the cowardly way he'd ended things before they could get too serious, slammed into him. He'd been the one afraid. Afraid to let himself care, afraid to risk another heartbreak. He'd ended things abruptly, afraid of getting too attached, afraid of the very thing Y/n was now questioning – how real their connection had been.

“Focus on your career, then,” her brother said. “It’s the one thing that won't let you down.”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, her voice distant. “At least I can trust that.”

A few days later, a bouquet of lilies arrived at Y/n's desk. Nestled amidst the pristine white blooms was a small card. The note was short, filled with a remorse he couldn't express in words:

"Y/n,

Those moments were real, to me. I never meant to led you on but I was too afraid to admit I was letting myself get too close. I hope you find someone who’s unapologetic about his feelings. You deserve the world.

Lewis."

______________________________________________________________

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[stillness-in-green]

The thing that doesn't make sense to me if Izuku resolved to kill is how it doesn't let them prove AFO wrong? AFO did his big reveal which only makes it clearer how deep the grooming went and it should've been time for Izuku to understand Tenko and Tenko to understand the abuse then reject the mindset forced onto him. But Izuku killing Tenko doesn't do that. Tenko just dies. It feels very wrong.

I guess Izuku just wasn't very interested in proving AFO wrong! Honestly, the only thing I immediately remember Izuku disputing the guy on was the same thing he disputed Shigaraki on: that he was anything more than a human being. AFO isn't a Demon King, but just a lonely man. Shigaraki hasn't transcended humanity; there's still a human somewhere deep inside of him. Izuku won't correct his allies' use of dehumanizing language for Villains, of course, but he's quick to push back when the Villains themselves self-aggrandize.

Sorry, I really only have withering disdain for Deku at this point. And I guess I don't really see any evidence that Deku was ever particularly driven by "proving AFO wrong." He wants to stop AFO, certainly, but that's because AFO is a monster who takes advantage of vulnerable people to maneuver them into doing Bad Things that advance AFO's Bad Plans and sets them onto Bad Paths that are difficult to walk back, not because he expressly opposes AFO on this or that ideological point about the nature of humanity and society.

(Hit the jump for the rest of a somewhat rambly reply.)

If anything, current evidence is that neither Deku nor the manga itself really do disagree with AFO about the frailty of humans, as expressed by Tsukauchi answering Deku's question about how to prevent future tragedies by shrugging and saying, "You don't, because life fucking sucks sometimes and that's just how it is. Our hands are completely tied on improving the system as we have it, so all we can do is punch out the Villains that appear in front of us to stop them from causing more harm."

That's also me being a bit harsh, of course. The fact that Deku is even still asking that question in the epilogue suggests that the manga hasn't reached its final answer yet, and maybe it will yet come up with something better! It doesn't have much time left, but it's still possible!

All the same, Deku is still having to ask that question in the epilogue because he never truly faced it over the course of the story. Never thinking about what Shigaraki as a person said in favor of fetishizing the Crying Child, never coming up with any kind of non-violent plan of attack or conversational approach, I have to ask what exactly about Shigaraki did Deku ever disagree with AFO on?

AFO, in the end, characterized Shigaraki as a puppet he molded exactly as he desired, a doll who he sculpted and programmed to act as he wished, a feeble child who has never made a single decision that AFO didn't cultivate him to make. So far as I can tell, Deku never really contested that framing. He didn't know the extent of it until the full reveal, of course, but Deku, like AFO, insisted on approaching Shigaraki solely through that "Crying Child" lens. He seemed to believe that nothing Shigaraki said or did on the surface really mattered (save as a reason that Shigaraki had to be stopped and potentially killed), that the "truth" of Shigaraki was that feeble little weeping boy who never grew up.

How could Deku possibly "prove AFO wrong" in that context? He doesn't even disagree with him! I mean, he's got some nice talk about how people deserve a second chance, sure; he says that people doing wrong doesn't make them Villains for the rest of their lives. What does do that, however - insofar as I can tell from how opaque the series keeps Deku throughout the final war - is refusing the hand out of the darkness. You stop being a victim and become a Villain for the rest of your life by choosing to remain a Villain even when offered an alternative (no matter how patently awful that alternative is).

Shigaraki chooses to remain a Villain and Deku doesn't have a counter for that because Deku never really got past the false binary represented by Villains and Victims to begin with. And I think the same goes for people who expected Shigaraki to just fold when he realized the extent of the grooming he'd undergone. Disallowing Shigaraki any agency in who he is and what he's done is defining him the same way AFO and Deku both did; when Shigaraki refuses to accept that framing, refuses to be a passive victim, the only thing left for him to be is a Villain. And when a Villain refuses to stop...

Well, Hawks already told us what the Heroes' answer to that is. "Someone has to die." As no one ever stepped up to prove him wrong, as far as the story is concerned, he isn't.

AFO always knew that victims can be turned into Villains with the right nudges; that's the whole reason for him cultivating "warped seeds" whenever and wherever he found them. Hero Society is - and always has been - much too rigid in its enforcement of the Hero/Villain/Victim narrative to effectively combat him. Crucially, Deku - the boy who wants to bring everything back just the way it was - doesn't disagree with him. He thinks AFO is an asshole for setting people up to fail, but he doesn't disagree about what failure means. So if AFO, Deku, and the story itself are all in agreement, what's even there for Deku to disprove?

Now, there is something that would prove AFO wrong, but it isn't something you can do while insisting on drawing lines to separate sad manipulated woobie victims who just need to be saved from awful unrepentant villains who just need to rot. It isn't something you can do while infantilizing Shigaraki Tomura.

The way to prove AFO wrong is to make room in society to help all Villains. Even if they aren't asking for it, even if they never ask for it, and even if they're jolly bastards who don't really deserve it! As long as there's a point at which it becomes okay to give up on trying to save Villains, Shigaraki will remain unsavable. He will insist on being unsavable. He could no more let that go than All Might could step aside and let AFO's attack kill an innocent at Kamino.

That's what it means to be a Hero for Villains.

Ultimately, what makes AFO right is that he knows that Hero Society makes it difficult if not impossible to uncross the victim-to-Villain bridge, and so anyone who does cross that bridge (with or without his influence) is that much more susceptible to him. Deku, in turn, thinks the only Villains he can save are those who drop everything and come sprinting as fast as they can back to the Hero side, so anyone who won't do that is someone he can't help.

Shigaraki refused to stop trying to create a better world for Villains. Toga refused to live in a world that would imprison her. Twice refused to give up on the friends no Hero would help. It's the same with every other Villain who refused to quietly endure their status quo: in a society that refuses to change how it treats Villains, anyone who won't submit to suffering in silence cannot be saved.

That's the paradigm AFO exploits, and Deku will never prove him wrong without resolving to change the paradigm first. We'll see if the last two chapters get him there.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the rash decisions [part 1] l Joel Miller

Summary: a guy at a bar spilled his drink on you, then you made some weird decisions

Warnings: +18, smut, fingering, sex, some dirty words, probably some more

A/N: raise your hand to anyone who needs sexy and sweet pre-outbreak Joel Miller. I think there will be a part two.

[PART 2]

You definitely shouldn't be there. Maybe you were doing the worst thing in your life right now and showing zero sense of decency, but... God! This sin was so good.

His warm lips wandered along your neck, mustache and facial hair teasing your skin pleasantly. Large hands gripped your buttocks hidden in your tight jeans. The arousal in your nether regions was at a critical level.

The truck you were sitting in wasn't very comfortable, especially since you were sitting on his lap, feeling the growing bulge in his jeans beneath you.

"Take me to your place." you whispered into his ear, feeling like any more and both of you would go crazy.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

You bit your lower lip, smiling, and nodded.

"Completely sure."

His fingers threaded through your hair as he pulled your face down to taste your lips once more. That was crazy.

He took you to his house and the moment the door closed behind you, your hands were already under his shirt.

"Greedy." he laughed but didn't stop you.

He felt the chemistry and the fact that you wanted him so much was really pleasing to him. He wasn't entirely sure how you got to his upstairs bedroom without hurting yourself too much, but when the door closed behind you, all brakes were released.

Joel Miller didn't plan on spending the night at a bar, but he found himself there anyway. As soon as Tommy, his younger brother, found out that Sarah would be spending the night at a friend's house on Friday night and wouldn't be back until late Saturday afternoon, he didn't give up on him one bit.

"When was the last time you went out, huh?" he asked "You've got to get some nice lady laid, otherwise you'll be completely out of business. Trust me! It'll be good for you!"

Maybe Tommy was right? Since becoming a full-time parent, Joel's life has revolved around work, home and his daughter. Now that Sarah was a teenager, he could at least think about himself a little. Although he didn't hide the fact that he would rather spend the evening taking a nap on the couch while watching some poor quality movie.

That's how he ended up in that bar drinking a beer, and then he accidentally bumped into you and caused your drink to spill on your jeans. Joel felt like a fucking idiot and apologized so profusely that you finally gave in to his poor puppy look and let him buy you another drink.

You were both people who didn't necessarily want to be in this place. After a hard week, you decided to force yourself to go out and pretend that you were having fun. And then Joel showed up and you two were really having a good conversation, so you moved to his car to have more privacy.

Your kisses became more and more intense, and your hands, like hungry creatures, stripped you of layers of clothes. His body looked so good in the dim light. Broad and strong shoulders, narrow waist, a thin strip of hair leading straight to his briefs.

But you were the first to hear:

"Gorgeous." as his dark eyes landed on your body.

You felt his desire. It was like you were locked in a room with someone who wanted to swallow you whole, and you had never felt so wanted before.

Was it because of the alcohol? Have you just lost your mind? You didn't want to think about it then. All your life you had made decisions based on common sense, and that night you wanted to do something that would simply give you incredible pleasure. Joel Miller was that promise.

His sweet weight pressed you to the mattress in a nice way. A soft sigh escaped your throat as his lips closed over your nipple. His tongue teased the skin and his hand kneaded the other breast. You felt vulnerable around him.

"Do you like it, baby girl?" he asked, moving his mouth to the other tit. "Mhm. I can feel it."

Your body responded on its own. You arched in pleasure while trying to feel the friction between your legs that would give you relief.

“If you want me to stop…” he started, but you quickly cut him off.

"No, I want more, Joel. I want to feel you."

He smiled mischievously, and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his handsome face. He lifted himself slightly on his arms, smashing your lips together again. He kissed you deeply and with a feeling you hadn't expected from a one-night stand.

However, you took advantage of the opportunity and your hands quickly reached his briefs, sliding them off and then clamping down on his shapely buttocks.

"Ouch! Little rascal." he laughed.

"Really?" you replied innocently, "If I don't feel your cock inside me soon, I'll have to call a taxi and... Shit!"

His hand appeared on your pussy completely unannounced. You didn't think you were that horny. He rubbed it slowly, then moved her panties aside and inserted two thick fingers.

You took a deep breath at the sudden stretch, and when Joel began to tease your clit with his thumb, the air left your lungs with a soft moan.

"I got you." he whispered, kissing your neck, his low voice an added incentive. “So tight and so wet. I need to prepare you, baby girl. Before I destroy that sweet pussy, I want you to come on my fingers. Will you do it for me, love?”

You nodded, unable to make a voice or any other sound that could be considered an answer. His fingers moved quickly, curling every now and then to tease that spot inside you that was driving you crazy. You unconsciously bent your knee, spreading your legs further as if you wanted to escape from what was happening above.

Your hand slid down and found his, but you couldn't stop him even if you wanted to. But did you want to? You felt like you were so close, but at the same time you were afraid of losing that last control over your body.

Joel must have sensed it because his voice, although softer, gave you an order again.

"Let it go, baby girl. Don't fight it."

His lips appeared on your nipple again, and when you felt how hard he sucked on it, you came with a muffled moan. Your hand pressed against his, the fingers of which continued to move in your pussy, carrying you through this orgasm. He didn't stop even when your thighs tightened like pincers.

You wanted to kiss him. You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him in, kissing him hard, feeling his tongue wander inside your mouth. You wanted to respond with the same pleasure for him, but Joel pushed your hand away gently.

"Next time, baby. I'm already so hard that if I don't bury myself inside you soon, I think I'll explode."

He turned and pulled a silver condom package from the bedside drawer. It's good that you found a guy who thought of everything.

"I'm clean, if you want to know." you said as he ripped open the package and put on the condom.

"I trust you, sweetie, but I want you to be safe." he replied.

He smiled, noticing how you watched his movements. His cock was firm and impressive.

"I want to be on top."

"Are you sure?" another nod "I won't stop you, baby."

In an instant, you jumped at his hips. Joel held his cock as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. You felt pressure, then a pleasant sensation as you stretched and then tightened around him. You stopped for a moment. You felt full like never before.

"Everything okay?" you asked, seeing him close his eyes.

"Mhm." he muttered, "Amazing. You're so... Fuck!"

Your hips rose and fell so suddenly that Joel almost gasped for air. He grabbed your hips, but you were in control now. With every move you made, you were driving him crazy. His eyes had gone completely dark. He was staring at you like a predator, as if he was just letting you play with him and then he would grab you in his claws and tear you to shreds.

His hands pressed harder against your hips and you moaned as you felt yourself impaling yourself on him even harder. Again and again. Your nails dug into his chest, but neither of you noticed.

He lifted himself and his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers running into his hair, pulling it lightly.

You didn't even know when Joel turned you around and you landed on your back, pinned to the mattress as it groaned under the weight of your bodies and the force of him pounding into you.

"Fuck!" he moaned "I'm close, baby. So fucking close." he panted.

Your legs wrapped around his hips, his hands grabbed yours and pinned them above your head. Joel's movements became more and more erratic.

“Don't stop…” you moaned, “Right there, baby… Just like… Fuck!”

As your body was once again filled with pleasure, your legs tightened around his hips, but Joel didn't stop. Feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, he moved a few more times as he felt his release. With a loud groan, he fell on top of you, trying not to crush you, burying his face in your hair.

"Jesus... You're fucking amazing." he repeated softly, "So good to me."

He got up and, like a drunk, kissed your neck, collarbone, chin. You started laughing quietly, but you turned to his face and kissed him tenderly. His dreamy eyes completely melted you.

"Do you think we could do it again?" he asked "I'm still hungry for you."

"I think so." you replied, because you actually hoped that it wouldn't end with this one time. "That was really impressive, Mr. Miller."

"Don't talk to me like that. I'll be hard again soon."

Joel pulled out of you and as soon as he cleaned himself, he took you back to him. He smelled like sex, you both must have smelled like that. Sweat and sex.

"I should call a taxi." you noticed as you both breathed calmly, "Before we both feel awkward."

"What are you talking about?" Joel frowned at you.

"You know..." you shrugged. "We just met a few hours ago."

"And we just had fucking great sex. Stay, sweetie."

He kissed your forehead and you already knew you would stay. You felt really good and safe in his arms. Too good to go home.

You woke up to a strange sound. You rubbed your eyes and saw an unfamiliar wall. It took you a moment to remember last night. Joel's arm rested on your waist, his soft breathing and snoring filling the room lit by the morning sun.

Footsteps on the stairs. Someone was clearly in the house.

"Joel? Joel?"

"Mhm."

"I think there's someone at home."

"W-What?" he croaked, "Who?"

"I..."

The door opened unexpectedly and you saw a tall, dark-haired man. He was probably as surprised as you were. You quickly pulled the blanket up to your chin.

"Fuck, Tommy!" Joel growled, "Get out!"

"I'm so sorry!" the man replied quickly, but you didn't notice that he was even the slightest bit sorry on his face, "I brought coffee!"

"Get out!"

The door closed quickly and you covered your face with your hands. God! It was embarrassing.

"Jesus, I'm sorry about him." Joel kissed your shoulder. “He's my stupid brother. I'll see what he wants.”

"Yeah, sure." you replied, "Go."

"Look at me, please."

You uncovered your hands and looked at the man who had given you so much pleasure last night. His hair was sweetly disheveled, his eyes slightly sleepy, but a pleasant smile was on his face.

"Mornig. Good to see you, sweetie."

"Hi." you smiled, "So you're real?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing." he laughed, kissing the back of your hand tenderly, "I'll go downstairs and see what he want. Would you like some coffee?"

"With pleasure."

Another kiss and Joel got dressed and left the bedroom. You lay in bed for a while, thinking about what you felt. You certainly didn't feel any remorse after what happened. Joel was really cute and you felt comfortable with him. If you could tell that after the few hours you spent with him, mostly in his bed.

You decided to get dressed and freshen up. You were sure you looked like a nightmare, and you definitely still smelled like him. You quietly walked out into the hall, intending to find the bathroom. After a few steps, however, your attention was drawn to voices coming from the ground floor.

"She's pretty, really."

It had to be Tommy.

"I know." replied Joel "I have a hard time believing that a girl like that would even look at me. If I hadn't spilled her drink..."

"Really?" Tommy laughed, "I told you! Put a nice lady down and you'll feel better in no time. Back to business, bro!"

A heavy stone landed in your stomach.

"Don't say that." Joel interrupted, "She's really amazing."

"You just slept with her. Don't think with your dick. You're not a teenager, are you?"

"Tommy, please!"

You took your chance and quietly walked down the stairs, then slipped straight to the exit door.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[francesderwent]

been thinking about the whole “women in their thirties are refusing to get married and have kids because they’re selfish and ungodly and that’s what’s wrong with today’s society” shtick and what I think is this.

sometimes, women are single on purpose through their own choice. I’m one of them. I wasn’t in a relationship from the ages of twenty-two to thirty. I went on a very few first dates and even fewer second dates, and in every single one of those cases I was the one who said "thanks but I don't think we should pursue this any further", which isn't even to say anything about all the dates I turned down right off the bat and all the casual overtures I rebuffed. and those men weren't vicious monsters, they were all more or less basically decent. I could have married any one of them - even the ones I wouldn't go on first dates with. if I wanted to be married, I could have been. I chose not to be.

and it does have something to do with the fact that I was used to being single, but not in the sense of not having any room in my life for somebody else, not wanting to put in the work, not wanting to live for someone else. because anybody who's been single for a long time will tell you the only saving grace is filling your life with meaningful friendships and family relationships you can sacrifice for and be vulnerable in. a single life isn't necessarily a life where you're accountable to no one. sometimes it's a life where you're accountable to a whole lot of people, all at once, pulled in a lot of directions, trying to balance a lot of plates.

and the kicker is, when you have a life that's full like that, and you're used to it - when that's the firm status quo and you're not caught up in the rollercoaster of dating a lot and comparing new partners to old partners - then, when you do let a new person into your life, you can tell very quickly whether they make your life better or not. some people, you can comfortably date them and they're not going to make your life worse, but they don't add anything besides an excuse to get out to coffeeshops and restaurants and the movies. and some people, as soon as you start getting to know them, their influence starts creeping into the whole of your life because they make you want to be better all the time. I like to think the second kind of person would shine no matter when you met them, no matter what else was going on at the time. but in certain circumstances the first kind of person can shine, when they’re surrounded by a muddle of people who have made your life worse. so taking a step back from the muddle and being very careful who you let into your life in a big way isn't selfishness, or disrespect for marriage and family. it’s actually a kind of prudence.

I could've married any of those men who asked me out in my twenties. I chose not to, because they were just okay. and eventually, I met my current boyfriend, who makes me want to be a better daughter and sister, who encouraged me to stop bottling everything up and suffering in silence so that I could actually be emotionally vulnerable, not just with him but with my friends and family!, who has deepened my faith by showing me what agapic love looks like.

and I wasn't guaranteed any of that. when I was turning down dates and ending fledgling relationships, I had no way of knowing that this was even possible. but I think I made the right decision - and if he'd never turned up, I still think I would've made the right decision. Lizzie didn’t know that she would marry Mr Darcy, a man she loved and truly respected and admired, when she turned down Mr Collins. but she was right to turn down Mr Collins.

[br-disaster]

Nie Mingjue's Fatal Journey crying scenes appreciation post

There's no way I wouldn't make this post, but it ended up way longer than I intended.

Fighting with Huaisang

When is this man not tearing up?

This fight is so important for Huaisang's character development and the movie's themes, with Huaisang being ready to challenge and question the Nie ways and Mingjue doing his best to uphold those traditions and keep the peace through the only way he knows how.

But it's still hard to be challenged like this and to face the possibility that everything you've ever known might not be right, actually.

And this gif specifically is from the moment Huaisang questions if Mingjue even knows what they're there to fight and what this supposed great evil that will come to Qinghe if they fail to balance their blades even is. Mingjue has no answer, of course, I suppose he was only taught this and never had reason to question it.

But Huaisang is also talking about the disciples they already 'lost' at this point of the movie, and he says something along the lines of " You don't know anything, you only know how to bring them here to die" and that does it. Because it's both "you can't follow these rules blindly when they rely on sacrificing people" and "you've changed and I don't trust your judgement on these matters anymore".

And as he says it, Mingjue looks at their disciples and he sees the puppets for a moment. And Huaisang just questioned if the other disciples were really attacked by puppets.

So that's a big moment and Huaisang is right, of course, but he doesn't have a confirmation that this is the result of Mingjue's health deterioration yet, so he keeps pushing. And Mingjue doesn't really have a counter argument because he knows what's going on with him, but it must be very scary to hear it from the person you care about the most and realize just how much you're being affected.

(Actually, Mingjue has one counter argument and that is "Well, I am at least trying to do something while you're painting and living a carefree life", and he's not wrong either. Huaisang is right and rightfully harsh, but this is the first time he's being confronted with these difficult choices and all their family history. He can reflect on and question it, but his brother has been meking those hard decisions since he was 14, when did he ever had a break to question and change things?)

Which leads us to

The Talk

After seeing his brother sacrifice himself for him at the bridge, and then seeing Mingjue be so vulnerable and lost, that anger from their fight is gone. They can meet in the middle with "You are right, I wasn't thinking straight, this is not a long term solution and I've failed at changing our ways" and "It's not your fault, you did everything you could but you're not responsible for this situation" and it's very beautiful and heartbreaking.

Mingjue is so remorseful, both because he has condemned Huaisang to die with him and because he feels like he failed everyone and everything (even if he doesn't seem to know what he could have done differently to avoid all this).

And Huaisang's reaction in this scene is so calm it made me think this Huaisang is somewhat used to his brother displaying vulnerability around him. This isn't book NMJ with all his victories, this isn't a man who never let the Unclean Realm be conquered and who could afford to keep Huaisang far away from the war. This is a man who was attacked and subdued in his own home, who had to send Huaisang to the hands of the people who killed their father.

This Huaisang doesn't have reasons to see Mingjue as this unmovable force, he has seen Mingjue hurt and threatened and fearful; and he's now seeing him remorseful and defeated.

(I'm sure Mingjue telling Huaisang about the fact that he's dying and admiting his mistakes and insecurities is something new, especially considering their previous fight, but this Huaisang doesn't take it as a shock, because he knows his brother is only human and there's only so much he can handle. He even, like, explicitly says this)

And so he assumes this calm, reassuring and empathetic posture, because that's what his brother is asking for. And it's the most beautiful thing, Huaisang has so much love for him, so much empathy. And this is Mingjue's reaction to his brother's reassurance that it's okay if they have to die there:

I'm sure Huaisang is still processing Mingjue's "I only forced you to practice because I'll die soon", but he's so good at reassuring his brother.

Because Mingjue just told him "I am dying and I'll go as a failure" and Huaisang insisted "None of this is your fault and you did everything you could and more, and if I have to die here with you today, I don't regret a thing, and you shouldn't either".

There's no despair or anger that his brother is only telling him this now, there's only understanding and acceptance and so much love and they really knew what they were doing with this movie.

His people love him

Mingjue is so moved. He just admitted to Huaisang that he's not in peace with his accomplishments, or lack thereof; that he feels ashamed to face his ancestors, having done so little.

So I truly believe Mingjue doesn't consider himself worthy of this much trust and support. (And I can't ignore how this is tied to the Nightless City situation, where he led the men who trusted him with their lives to a dangerous situation and couldn't save any of them).

As we see in the confrontation at Jinlintai, that technically happens after this movie, that is still a very sensitive topic.

And here he has his loyal disciples saying they will follow him yet again, despite his previous 'failures'; just like Huaisang was ready to die with him. They have so much trust in him, and the way he's nodding a little here, just like he was nodding when Huaisang reminded him of everything he's done for their sect since their father died, is like he's convincing himself of it. That he can do this and he can do this right this time.

And yet

He fails again. And I don't even think he knows it was him who killed those disciples, like some people say. He doesn't need to because it doesn't matter. His men, who followed him till the end of the world, are dead again. And so is the hope he had of doing this one right thing before he dies.

Yes, he supressed the saber spirit like he had to, but they're still dead, all of them.

He falls apart, how could he not?

At some point I'm sure Huaisang his holding all his weight because he just gives up. There's only so much loss one can handle and that's way too much.

And look at the way Huaisang is watching him as he realizes something inside Mingjue shattered forever.

There's so much pain in this scene, it looks physically taxing and I hope people gave Wang Yizhou a break after he shot this. I know it's his job and he's phenomenal at it, but this has to mess with your head a little.

And hey, it's a Huaisang crying scene as well. CQL Huaisang only really cries twice. First he watches his brother have a mental breakdown in his arms after unknowingly killing his own disciples; and then as he watches his brother qi deviate and die, while unable to do anything to either stop or comfort him.

(And a lot of people said there's no hesitation on Huaisang's part when he rushes to his brother's aid when Mingjue is hurt on this post's notes, and that's true for book Huaisang too, because he runs towards Mingjue as he is qi deviating, gets hurt in the process, and still keeps calling for him, which makes CQL's decision to have JGY holding him back kind of cruel, tbh, there's not a Huaisang who would run from a hurting Mingjue regardless of the risks

But at least we have this scene.)

And that's it, I guess. There's nothing uplifting to say about this, really. He just went through a lot and kept shouldering everything until he couldn't anymore. I just wish book NMJ had gotten to receive the same love and comfort and acceptance from NHS before he died, I wish he had been able to tell his brother what was actually happening, but thats kind of the purpose of this movie, so I'm just very grateful that it exists.

It's like that post says, it didn't change anything but the love was there, you know? That's how this movie feels for me.

[mayapapaya33]

It makes me really sad that everyone agrees with Percy either explicitly or implicitly when he says that Orthax is his fault and that he's a bad person who made a bad choice, when from what I understand of Percy's own account, he was taken advantage of in his sleep by a demon in his most vulnerable, desperate hour. His family was brutally murdered in front of him, he was tortured, he escaped into a frigid river, then homeless and hungry, he was sleeping in the streets, having horrific nightmares, and a demon traipsed through his brain, posing as a dream, to offer him revenge. He thought it was a dream! He didn't even remember it properly until the black smoke started pouring off of him. I feel like things you agree to IN A DREAM should NOT be legally binding!!!

In TLOVM Orthax says that Percy summoned him with his pain and his anger. That's NOT the same thing as ACTUALLY summoning a demon with intent!!! He didn't draw any glyphs or use any components to do a ritual, he was literally just suffering so intensely that it was like a catnip beacon to a demon.

It affects the rest of his life, every major decision he ever makes. He decided to sign the contract in the Hells to spare anyone else because he felt he was already damned, his soul tarnished, and he deserved his fate. That it wasn't worth risking anyone else's soul and he was the most expendable one. He thought he was fundamentally flawed or weak because the demon chose him, he somehow let the demon into him or attracted it to him. His conversation with the Matron of Ravens broke my heart. "Did it choose me because I was broken, or did it break me?"

Maybe if someone had sat down with him and talked with him about it, he would be able to let go of some of that guilt. But no one ever did. They agreed with him and the demon that he was responsible. They all forgave him and love him of course, but that's different from thinking it was never his fault in the first place. The personal responsibility aspect is the sticking point here. He's made poor decisions of course, And I don't think this would excuse him from the consequences of his inventions, the Pepperbox and Bad News are still his, but I am specifically talking about the demon deal that happened in his dream that led him on the path of Vengeance in the first place.

Not to mention the symbolism of Percy literally being taken advantage of in his sleep then victim blamed about it for the rest of his life. Idk, it just rubs me the wrong way, maybe I'm overthinking it, I just feel bad for him. Someone give that boy a hug!

[jounosnumberoneslut]

"You look so much better with my cock in your mouth"

Dazai Osamu x reader NSFW

Sorry for the grammatical mistakes english isn't my native language!!

Pairing... Dazai Osamu x fem!reader

Contains... gentleman Dazai, fluff, smut!, dirty talk, dry humping, oral (male receiving)

You've been dating Dazai Osamu, the suicidal, handsome investigator, for two weeks. You met by serendipity as you sat down at a coffee shop after work, and he asked you to join your company. It turned out that the man working at the office above the cafe and you talked so well that you two discussed the next time to meet. You were already attracted by his wit and charm.

As your relationship progressed, you discovered that beneath Dazai's enigmatic persona, there was a vulnerable side that he rarely showed to others. Despite his troubled past, his dark humor and intelligence continued to captivate you, making you even more drawn to him.

You didn't want to go ahead of schedule due to the fact that you've already been disappointed by men as well. You never told him, but you were worried that if you let him into your bed, Dazai would leave you alone like the others. He understood this and waited patiently for your small signs that your relationship was ready to advance.

Even though he was aware of how much you desired it, he refrained from acting out of respect for your request. You allowed Dazai to kiss you after the third time you two met. It was a tender and gentle kiss, filled with unspoken promises and reassurance. In that moment, you realized that Dazai was different from the others; he was willing to wait for you and earn your trust.

The kiss marked the beginning of a deeper connection between you both, slowly erasing the fear of disappointment and replacing it with hope for a love that could withstand any challenges. As your relationship deepened, he continued to show patience and understanding, earning your trust day by day. It was only when you felt completely comfortable and secure in his presence that you finally allowed yourselves to take the next step in your relationship.

After two weeks of dating, you made the decision to invite Dazai to your place. You've always met in public places—the cinema, dining out, shopping, or strolling through parks. But today is the day you cleaned your house while awaiting your partner to arrive and listening to your favorite playlists. As you put the finishing touches on your home, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had other plans with him tonight.

A bell went off. When you opened the door, Dazai was standing there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He wasn't wearing his trench coat and had one side of his hair pulled back behind her ears. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he extended the bouquet towards you, his lips curving into a warm smile. Suddenly, he caught your lip. You gently placed your hands on his face while kissing him back. ''These are my favorites! Where did you know it?'' You asked him while inviting him inside. ''Just guessed, so can I come in Bella?''

You nodded and stood at the door, allowing Dazait to enter your home. You shut the front door and went into the kitchen while he removed his shoes. You took out a vase, filled it with water, and placed in it the flowers you received from him. You cooked cupcakes during the day and prepared them for your boyfriend. As you set the cupcakes on a tray, their sweet aroma filled the kitchen. You couldn't help but smile, excited to surprise your boyfriend with this thoughtful gesture.

Meanwhile, Dazai followed you and stood gently behind you, his arms from your back to your waist and his head between your neck and shoulders. His flossy hair slid to your exposed skin, and you felt as if he smiled into your neck. “Ohh cupcakes! Is them for me?” He suddenly took one and ate it. “Mmmm so sweet! Sweet like who made them!” You blushed at Dazai's playful comment and playfully swatted his hand away from the tray. "Well, they were supposed to be a surprise, but I guess you ruined that," you teased, pretending to pout. Dazai chuckled and pulled you closer, whispering in your ear, "I can't resist anything made by the sweetest person in my life."

You were just standing there with a flushed face; Dazai can even make you confused at your own home. He turned to face you and gave you a quick kiss. You licked a small piece of crumb that stuck to your lips. You tasted Dazai as well as the cupcake's sweet paste. He grabbed the cupcakes' tray, slipped his other arm around your waist, and then walked toward your living room. "Let's go in love." As you followed him into the living room, you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection towards Dazai. The way he effortlessly made you feel at ease, even in your own home, was something you cherished about him.

Dazai held your hand and placed the tray on your cigarette table before falling to the couch and pulling you onto himself. You laid on him a few centimeters from his face while he lay on his back with his legs spread out, gazing into each other's eyes. He smoothed your back with one hand and removed the hair from your face with the other. "My beautiful Bella, you are so magnificent without makeup and these comfy clothes; I love it." You blushed at his compliment, feeling a warmth spread through your body. The intimacy of the moment made you realize just how deeply he cared for you, appreciating your natural beauty and the comfort you shared together. This is the first time you didn't put on any makeup or dress up elegantly before him.

You slowly got closer to him and pressed your mouth on his own. He kissed you back; you licked his lower lip first, then entered his mouth. His hand softly grabbed your hair, while his tongue worked on yours more confidently. Your body started to move on his; your tits were pressed onto his hard chest. Dazai blushed as you, panted in your mouth, tried to restrain himself, not grabbing your ass. As you drew nearer to him, you put your mouth on his own. He returned the kiss, and you licked his lower lip before moving your tongue inside his lips. His tongue worked on yours more boldly, while his hand gently gripped your hair. Your tits were crushed against his sturdy chest as your body began to move on his. Dazai now reddened as you quietly panted into your mouth and struggled to hold back and refrain from touching your ass. "Dazai, I want to show you something." You purred, didn't break the kiss, and grinded your thigh to his half-hard bulge. As the intensity between you grew, Dazai's breath hitched, and his eyes darkened with desire. The anticipation in the air was palpable as you whispered, "I want to show you how much I crave you." With a mischievous smile, you pressed your lips against his once more, teasingly nibbling on his lower lip before continuing your tantalizing movements.

Before slowly getting off of him, I gently bit his lower lip and touched his body while crawling away from his handsome face. You didn't forget to touch his body at all, from his neck down to his chest, then finally massaged his member a little. He groaned because of your touch. "You don't have to... if you don't want it." You whispered softly, your voice filled with desire, "But I want it. I want to explore every inch of you, to make you feel good." His eyes locked with yours, a mixture of anticipation and consent shining through. "Please, sit up... love"

As Dazai sat up on the couch, you kneeled down before him on the floor. He was so speechless. I didn't expect that you wanted to suck him off the first time you invited him to your home. You ran your hands through his thighs up to his skinny hip, grabbed his waistband, and untied it. He didn't say anything; all he did was assist you in removing his pants. The only piece of clothing blocking your path was his boxer. His already hard cock was perfectly outlined under the fabric; you had to touch it. He hissed when you ran your fingers along his length. With a mischievous smile, you slowly slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing cock. "Why are you so quiet, Osamu?" You whispered, your voice filled with desire. As you continued to tease him, he finally managed to find his voice, breathlessly responding, "I've been waiting for this moment with you for so long."

You smiled, then slowly pulled down his boxer to free his cock. It leaned down to his abdomen and twitched when you smoothed your fingers up and down on it. Not only his face but his cock too are beautiful, longer, and not so thick, with some bulging vessels. You kitten licked some places only on his length, which he rewarded you with deep but quiet moans. You sank down, gently bit his balls only with your lips, and pulled his sack a little. "Hah babe! You are so dirty; I love it." He grabbed your hair in a ponytail and looked into your eyes. "Finally, I can hear your voice." You teased him, and oh, how much he liked it. A cocky grin appeared on his face, then he gently pushed your face down to his throbbing cock. You kissed his tip, wrapped your lips around it, sucked it, and circled it with your tongue. "I had such a feeling that my Y/N is a dirty girl... ahh." He groaned as you took him deeper into your mouth; his moans grew louder and more desperate. The salty taste of him on your tongue drove you wild with desire, and you eagerly continued to pleasure him. "You don't have to restrain yourself, Osamu." You stroked his length, which didn't fit in your mouth, with both of your hands. His cum, mixed with your saliva, flowed down under his balls; these slipping noises made Dazai closer to his climax. He couldn't control himself; he was a whimpering mess; his hips moved faster; and he fucked your mouth and hands.

"I'm... I'm going to cum honey, ahh, can I?" You gagged as you sucked in as much of his length as you could and felt it throbbing in your mouth when his warm cum shot down to your throat. He pushed his head not so hard on his cock and felt his member still pulsating. "Stay a little bit, please." When his breath was restored, he let go of him. You stood up, sat on his naked lap, and touched his face with one hand. "Was it good, Osamu?" He looked at you with a satisfied smile and replied, "Better than good, my love. You know what?" You slowly rolled your hips against his still-hard cock, cocking your head in a curious manner. "I swear, honey, you look so much better with my cock in your mouth." He chuckled and slapped your ass. "I look better in other positions too; let me prove it." He suddenly picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you into the bedroom.

500 followers event

[matan4il]

Hello. Can I ask why everybody is calling Israel a "colonial" state? Because it annoys me very much when I see that for three main reasons:

1. My country was a former member of the British colonial rule. Do you know what happens when a country gets colonised? Every bit of the wealth generated went to the Crown, every political decision had to be approved by the Crown, laborers were exploited as much as possible, my people were directly under the orders from a British Monarch who actively hated them. The economy was in shambles after we got independence. As far as I know, since the state of Israel was created, it does not answer to any foreign country (the UN is not a country). How is this a European 'colony'?

2. Most(All?) people who immigrated to Israel were refugees. If Jewish people living in Europe did not have any ties to the land of Israel and were completely 100% European, why were most of them killed horrifically during the Holocaust for not being the right race? Why does nobody talk about the expulsion of Jews from the surrounding Arab countries? Where should these people go?

3. People also seem to forget that governments can be stupid. Just because they are the ruling party does not mean they're capable of making sound decisions for their people. Even a non-colonial government makes bad decisions. If you can separate Trump from the rest of the US, why can't you do the same for Israel?

I do not want to reduce the suffering of the Palestinian civilians. However using the wrong terminology is not the way to help these people. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm really tired of this 'colonizer' takes.

(I hope I made my point clear as English is not my first language?)

Hi, lovely Nonnie!

Please, your English is great! I would have never guessed you're not a native speaker. :D

And you are absolutely right about every single point. Also, my heart goes out to you! I'm so sorry that your people have also suffered due to colonialism. I'm sending you BIG hugs!

Colonialism is what destroyed my people. After our homeland was repeatedly colonized, the Roman colonizers went even further than previous regimes, and expelled most of our ancestors from this land (a small Jewish minority wasn't, and that's why there has been a documented continuous Jewish presence in Israel for over 3,000 years). The expelled Jews became a spread out minority in other countries. With such small numbers in each country, it was easy to vilify us, we were vulnerable to every attack, with hardly anyone defending us, and no real option to defend ourselves. The Holocaust happening to us is directly linked to this way that we were forced to exist for almost 2,000 years in the diaspora.

Meanwhile, our land continued to be repeatedly colonized by different regimes. Each one did exactly as you said, exploited our country for their own benefit. The Ottomans, as just one example, cut off so many trees to build the Hejaz railway (which connected today's Syria to today's Saudi Arabia for the purpose of Muslim pilgrimage to the Saudi mosques), that the Land of Israel went through a desertification process. When Jews started returning in substantial numbers (because in small ones, there were always individual Jews who tried returning to our ancestral land), we did exactly what native populations try to do, restore the land, through continued research and development, to its pre-colonized state.

That's on top of the fact that, as you mentioned, we don't answer to or serve any European (or western) country. Colonies serve a metropole, but there is none for Israel. It's just our country. It's just the place where we live, even when it's incredibly difficult, because it's our ancestral homeland, which we've returned to, after our ancestors prayed for that for almost 2,000 years.

You're also spot on about the fact, that Jews were always discriminated against and persecuted in every country in the diaspora (with a few exceptions in South East Asia, the most important one being India). We were treated that way precisely because there was a historic recollection that we are foreigners. That we were south west Asians, living as a minority in countries that never truly wanted us, like Norway, or Spain, or Morocco. That's why it was so easy to kill us in the Holocaust. That's why it was so easy to expel us from Arab countries. Because we were never truly accepted by the locals.

But even after expulsions and surviving the Holocaust, there are so many places in the world Jews could have turned to! Places where there would be less resistance to us forming a country. Yet, the overwhelming majority of Jews rejected such suggestions. If they hadn't, then we would have truly been colonizers. But that's not what we yearned for. We always dreamed of returning to our homeland, so eventually it became evident to everyone that there's only one real option for a Jewish state, and that is in the Jewish ancestral land.

The reason why people claim that Jews are colonizers of their own land (some deny all historic ties Jews have to Israel, despite every piece of evidence to the contrary, while others acknowledge the Jewish history of Israel and the continued Jewish presence there, but claim that it's been so long ago, it doesn't count anymore. I've never seen any other native group being told that there's a time limit on their native rights. Have you?) is because it allows a narrative that once again vilifies Jews.

When the worst thing Jews could have been was of an evil religion, they described us as evil in religious terms (accusing us of having killed Jesus, and accusing us of using the blood of non-Jewish kids to bake a special kind of bread meant for religious purpose). When the worst thing Jews could have been was of an evil race, they described us as evil in racial terms (describing us as being sub-human, and accusing us of wanting to take over the world, to destroy it for the rest of the human race). Now that de-colonization is such a powerful (rightfully so) narrative, the worst thing Jews can be is evil colonizers... So guess what we're suddenly described as? Evil colonizers, who plot, steal, abuse and genocide another population (when in reality we consented to coexist with it 76 years ago).

I hope that sort of answers it? Basically, it's the newest form of the same age old antisemitism. Find the worst thing Jews can currently be, and depict them as that.

Thank you for seeing past the vilification! It means a lot. I'm sending you lots of love! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 36: Reuinion

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

It was around 2 o'clock the following day that you and your mother came home from your session with Dr Harris, a physiotherapist who specialized in working with trauma survivors. You had been avoiding going to your sessions with him as well as those that had been organised with your psychologist for the past week , preferring to remain in bed and wallow in your own misery.

The pain that you had been feeling since the accident had been manageable, but it wasn't only the physical pain that you were plagued with. You could barely sleep anymore, being plagued by nightmares, and the fact that you couldn't walk or look after yourself made you feel helpless and weak.

You had never felt so vulnerable in your whole life and the thought of Cillian seeing you like this made you cringe. You didn't want him to see you as broken or damaged, especially after only having been with him for a few months. You also did not want to be a burden or embarrassment to him. He was an Oscar nominated actor now after all and you were lacking self-esteem. 

That was exactly why you had avoided him, pushing him away without giving him a chance to explain himself. You knew that he deserved better and that is why you kept telling yourself that it was better for both of you if he moved on with his life.

Cillian, on the other hand, had other plans. He didn't want to move on. He wanted to be with you, no matter what. So, after talking to Lucy and your mother, he made the decision to drive up to your house, determined to be there for you in any way he could.

As he drove up the winding roads leading to your family's home, his heartbeat faster with every mile. He knew that seeing you would not be easy, but he was prepared for whatever lay ahead.

When he arrived, your father greeted him while you were still out with your mother, seeing Dr Harris, and just as expected, your father was rather cold towards Cillian.

"Hey," Cillian said. "Thank you for having me," he told your father politely before offering his hand to him.

Your father glanced at it briefly before gesturing towards the living room, ignoring Cillian's attempt at a handshake. "Y/N is at physiotherapy with my wife. You can wait for her in the living room" he said curtly, leading Cillian into the room before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Cillian sighed softly, running a hand through his hair, before taking a seat on the couch, waiting patiently for you to return home.

He watched as the minutes ticked by slowly, glancing anxiously at the clock on the wall every few seconds.

In the kitchen, he could hear your father moving around, busying himself so that he did not have to spend time with Cillian.

It stung, but Cillian understood where your father was coming from. He was protecting you and he had justification to do so. After all, the way you met each other was rather unconventional and Cillian, himself, was around your father's age, making this even more awkward.  Your father, like any other protective parent, had never liked the idea of his daughter dating a man who was twice her age, and he was even more wary of Cillian because of your past relationship with his son Max.

"Fuck," Cillian muttered under his breath, staring at the clock on the wall as the minutes ticked by at a snail's pace. Sitting in the living room like this, on his own, in a stranger's house, was awkward to say the least so he sighed, pushing himself up from the couch before making his way into the kitchen where your father was busying himself with mundane tasks.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Cillian asked politely, trying his best not to let his nerves show through his voice or posture.

Your father cast him a glance before shaking his head. "No, you just sit down and wait for Y/N," he replied gruffly, still avoiding any direct contact with Cillian.

Cillian didn't press the issue though and so he took a seat at the kitchen table, watching as your father continued chopping vegetables for dinner.

The silence between them was thick and uncomfortable, leaving Cillian feeling uneasy.

He knew that this visit wasn't going to be an easy one, but he also knew that it was necessary. You needed him and, regardless of your father's disapproval, he was determined to be there for you in any way that he could.

"My wife made up the guestroom for you ," your father informed Cillian, placing the vegetables into a large pot on the stove.

Cillian nodded, grateful for the gesture. "Thank you," he said politely. "There aren't really any hotels nearby, I've noticed," Cillian acknowledged, although he was prepared to drive into the nearest city if he had to.  

"No there are not. You would have to drive into Liverpool," your father replied, opening the oven and sliding the pot of vegetables inside to roast.

Cillian nodded again, his nerves still getting the better of him. "Well, I appreciate the room," he said, trying to make conversation but your father wouldn't have a bar of it.

"Just to be clear, I expect you to keep your hands of my daughter while you are under my roof," your father then said sternly, his eyes boring into Cillian.

Cillian's heart skipped a beat, but he held your father's gaze. "Of course," he said, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. "I am just hear to help. That's all." 

Your father studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge the authenticity of Cillian's response. Eventually, he nodded curtly, before turning back to the stove.

The tension between them remained palpable, but Cillian didn't let it get to him. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

He knew that winning your father over wouldn't happen overnight, and he was prepared to be patient and understanding.

As they sat in the kitchen, waiting for you to return, the silence between them was deafening. Every now and then, your father would glance over at Cillian, sizing him up as if trying to determine if he was worthy of being in your life.

Cillian, for his part, remained calm and collected. He knew that your father was only looking out for you and he respected him for that.

Eventually, the front door opened and Cillian heard you arguing with your mother , your voice laced with frustration and anger.

"I am so sick of it, and I am done. I will just have to live with it, quit university and find something else to do," you declared as you wheeled yourself towards the kitchen, your eyes blazing with fury and frustration.

Your mother followed close behind you, looking worried and anxious. "Please, Y/N. It's only temporary," she pleaded softly, trying to soothe your ruffled feathers, which is when you saw Cillian as he stood up and came walking towards you.

"What are you doing here?" you gasped , your eyes widening with surprise. You had not expected to see Cillian here, in your own home, and the sight of him took you off guard. Your heart began to pound in your chest as a thousand memories flooded your mind.

You did not want him to see you like this and , in that moment, you wished that you could disappear into thin air. The sight of him made your heart ache and you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions wash over you.

Cillian opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out, which is when your mother stepped in.

"I called him Y/N. I was worried about you and -," she began to explain but you cut her off.

"No, you had no right!" you told her, trying to turn around and wheel yourself away but Cillian wouldn't have it and came walking towards you much faster than you could navigate your wheelchair into the opposite direction.

"I did not want to see him! I did not want him to see me like this! Fuck!" you yelped as Cillian's arms caught you just in time, stopping you from crashing into the wall. 

"Y/N, please let me help you," Cillian pleaded, his voice laced with concern and sadness as he kneeled down on his feet, right in front of you.  

Through teary lashes, you looked into his piercing blue eyes, searching for any sign of pity or disgust, but you saw none of that. 

"I don't want you to see me like this," you cried, your voice breaking. "Please go!" you sobbed, turning your head away from Cillian's gaze. But he didn't budge. 

"Y/N, I want to be here for you," Cillian whispered, looking at you with pleading eyes but you kept on crying.

"No, please. Just leave. You need to move on and find someone else. Why didn't you just, -" you tried to say, but your voice was drowned out by Cillian's soft but firm voice.

"No," he said and you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What do you mean 'no'?" you  whispered, trembling with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you at any moment. You did not want Cillian to see you like this, vulnerable and broken, unable to take care of even your most basic needs. And yet, here he was, stubbornly refusing to leave your side.

Cillian saw the uncertainty and fear in your eyes and his heart ached for you. He knew how difficult all of this was for you and how much courage it must have taken for you to push through the pain and discomfort just to make it out of bed and through your therapy sessions.

"I agreed to give you some time when you told me that this is what you needed, and I did," he began. "I gave you three fucking weeks and you ignored my calls and messages.  I didn't force you to accept my help because I knew how fucking strong you are Y/N. But, I am not leaving you now, seeing the state you are in," he said, looking at you with such intensity that it made your heart race. "I am here for you, I will always be here for you. I love you. No matter what. And I most certainly don't want to find someone else. I want you," he whispered, taking your face in his hands and gently kissing your trembling lips.

At first, you resisted, pushing against Cillian's firm chest as sobs wracked through your body. But he didn't falter.

Instead, he held you gently, kissing away the tears that streaked down your cheeks.

In that moment, as you felt Cillian's lips on yours and his hands cupping your face, something shifted inside of you. You couldn't explain it, but it was as if a dam had burst within you, releasing all of the pain and hurt that you had been holding onto for so long.

You sank into Cillian's embrace, allowing him to hold you up as the sobs consumed you.

It was as if a floodgate had opened, releasing all of the pent-up emotions that you had been suppressing for weeks. You didn't care who saw you, or what they thought of you in that moment. All that mattered was the love and comfort that Cillian provided with his presence.

After what felt like an eternity, your sobs began to subside and you pulled back from Cillian's embrace, wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. You looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen but filled with a newfound determination.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice hoarse from crying. "I am just, I mean," you stammered. "You will probably change your mind when you see me in this state. I am not the same anymore, Cillian," you continued, your voice trembling.

Cillian shook his head, gently cupping your face in his hands. "Try me!"  Cillian whispered, his voice laced with determination.  "Because I am fairly sure that you are still the same person that I fell in love with, Y/N. And I am here to help you in any way that I can," Cillian told you, a smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you, a sense of peace and contentment settling over him.

Despite the situation that you found yourself in, your hearing had not been affected so you heard Cillian's words loud and clear and while you still felt self-conscious about your new limitations and what these may mean for your future together, when you looked into his eyes, all you could see was love and understanding.

Cillian kissed your forehead again before brushing away a stray tear that lingered on your cheek. "Don't push me away again," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness and affection. 

You nodded your understanding, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady your emotions. "Okay, I won't," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "If you promise to be honest with me about your feelings for me, because I don't want you to stay or be with me out of pity," you added, looking up at Cillian with vulnerability and trust.

"I promise," Cillian chuckled, softly kissing your lips once more which is when, suddenly, your father intervened. 

"I think that's enough and I thought that I was quite clear about you keeping your hands off of my daughter," he grumbled, his brows furrowing together in annoyance.

"I am sorry," Cillian said as he was caught off guard, taken aback by the bluntness of your father which, in itself, caused you to giggle.  

"Dad, please, I am not a child anymore," you told him, your voice laced with a hint of sarcasm, but he ought to ignore you which is when your mother suggested for Cillian to take you out, for a stroll , or maybe a coffee if you were up for it.

Cillian readily agreed, knowing how important it was for you to get out of the house after being cooped up for so many weeks and as you wheeled yourself towards the entryway of your family home, he helped you slip into your coat before holding open the front door.

"How long are you staying?" you asked Cillian as he wheeled you down the driveway before you took over, wanting to push yourself. 

Cillian chuckled at the fact that you wouldn't allow him to help before glancing down at you with a tender smile. "I am staying for as long as you'll have me," he told you and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You and my father in the same house -," you began, your voice trailing off at the thought of the tension that was bound to consume your family home with Cillian and your father living under the same roof.

"We'll figure it out," Cillian winked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you made your way towards the nearest coffee shop.

As you walked together, the tension in your shoulders started to ease and the light banter between you and Cillian helped to clear the air.

The two of you spoke about everything and nothing, relishing in each other's company and savoring the moment.

Cillian carefully watched your every expression, trying to gauge your mood and emotions as you spoke. It was clear to him that this accident had taken a toll on you, both physically and mentally, but he wanted you to know that you were not alone in this.

You smiled and laughed at Cillian's jokes as you spoke, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tried to focus on the positive aspects of your situation, rather than dwelling on the negative.

Despite your efforts, however, you couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness and frustration that had been building up inside you for the past few weeks. You wanted to be independent and strong, but the reality was that you were still recovering from a major accident, and things would take time.

For a while, Cillian also talked about Max and Danielle and the things that had been happening in his life and you felt terrible for not having been there for him through this.

You had been so consumed by your own pain and misery that you had not even considered how Cillian was dealing with everything. The confrontation with Max and Danielle, the accident, and the fact that press was having a field day with it all. 

You knew that Cillian would always come through for you, even when you pushed him away, and a part of you felt guilty for not having shown the same level of understanding and compassion towards him. But as the hours passed, and the two of you continued to talk and laugh, any remaining tension gradually faded away, leaving only love and warmth behind.

Almost three hours later, you finally made your way back to your family home, with Cillian pushing your wheelchair. The walk had done you good, and the exertion left you feeling tired but also lighter in spirit.

"I am sorry I haven't been there for you the past few weeks," you said, looking up at Cillian as he walked beside you. "I should have called you or messaged you like I promised I would."

Cillian smiled softly, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about that now, Y/N," he replied.

"I just want you to focus on getting better."

You nodded, feeling grateful for Cillian's understanding and patience.

"Thank you," you whispered, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

Cillian smiled warmly at you, his eyes filled with compassion and affection.

As the two of you approached your family home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Being cooped up in the house for weeks on end had taken a toll on your mental health, and the fresh air and sunshine had done wonders for your mood.

"I think my dad cooked, which should be interesting," you chuckled, smelling the food from far away, as Cillian pushed your wheelchair onto the driveway.

"Oh?" Cillian replied, arching an eyebrow. "I take it that your father is not the world's best cook then?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, he's definitely not. He tries, but let's just say that we don't usually get seconds."

Cillian laughed with you, pushing open the front door and wheeling you into the house. Your mother was sitting on the couch, knitting a scarf and your father was in the kitchen, attempting to make dinner.

"I might have a shower before dinner is ready, if that's okay?" you asked, addressing your mother who nodded with a warm a smile. 

"Of course sweetie, I will help you," your mother said, standing up from the couch.

"It's alright. Stay. I will do it," Cillian offered, smiling at your mother but you quickly shook your head.

"I am fine. I can do it on my own. I will just have a bath instead. I won't need any help," you told Cillian firmly, not wanting to trouble him anymore than necessary.

"Sweetheart, you struggle getting into the bath by yourself. So just let me help you," your mother offered, her voice full of tenderness and concern but you shook your head with determination.

"No. I want to do it by myself," you said firmly.

And that's when Cillian stepped forward, offering to assist you in the bathroom. "I'll help her. Don't worry about it," he assured your mother, sensing your determination and desire for independence.

Your mother hesitated for a moment before finally nodding her acceptance, recognizing your need for autonomy as she stood up from the couch and went back to knitting her scarf.

As you made your way to the bathroom, Cillian followed close behind you, ready to assist in any way that he could.

"Really, I can do this on my own," you insisted, but Cillian shook his head.

"Let me help you," he said gently, his voice filled with concern. "You don't have to do everything by yourself, you know."

You sighed, feeling a pang of frustration and annoyance but also understanding where Cillian was coming from.

"I know," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's just that I feel so helpless sometimes. Like I am a burden to everyone around me."

Cillian's heart ached at the sadness and vulnerability in your voice.

"Well, you are not," he replied emphatically, placing a hand on your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Now, do you want coconut or whatever that is?" he said, holding up two bottles of bath-oil.  You chuckled, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked up at Cillian. "Coconut, please," you replied, feeling grateful for his presence and understanding.

Cillian nodded, pouring the coconut-scented oil into the bath before turning on the faucet and turning back to you again just as you were about to undress.

"Can you turn around?" you asked , blushing slightly at the request.

Cillian raised an eyebrow. "No, I can't ," he said, his voice low and serious.

You looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean you can't?"

Cillian took a deep breath and kneeled down in front of you again. "I have seen you naked before Y/N and the last time I checked you were still my girlfriend, or at least something like that, so I refuse to turn around," he said, his voice gentle yet firm.

You stared at Cillian for a moment, taken aback by his words, but also deeply touched. He was right; you were still in a relationship of sorts, even if it had been complicated since the accident. And Cillian had seen you naked before, many times in fact.

But after the accident, your body had changed so much that it was hard for you to feel comfortable in your own skin again. And the thought of undressing in front of someone else, let alone Cillian, made you feel incredibly vulnerable.

"Come on, I will help you ," Cillian said, sensing your discomfort as he helped you out of your t-shirt and, just after he lifted it over your head, you tried to quickly cover up your scars.

"Don't!" Cillian said, gently pulling your hands away from your body. "You don't have to hide from me," he told you before unbuttoning your jeans and helping you out of them, his eyes soft with understanding.

"Don't look at me," you whispered, feeling self-conscious about your body as a rush of embarrassment washed over you.

But Cillian didn't listen, his gaze never wavering from yours.  "But I want to look at you ," he whispered back, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to see all of you because, no matter what, you are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Shut up," you chuckled as he reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, his fingers brushing your skin gently. "There is no way you could possibly be still attracted to me, looking like this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious about your body.

"Oh, trust me Y/N, I very much am still attracted to you," Cillian smirked before standing up almost as if to make a point, which is when you noticed the large bulge that had formed beneath the denim of his jeans. 

"Jesus, Cillian, "you gasped, your eyes widening as you took in his arousal before he turned around to turn off the faucet. 

He chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice as he added the final touches to filling the bath. "See what I mean?" he said, his tone teasing yet tender.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling your cheeks grow warm. "You are just weird," you said, shaking your head in amusement as you watched Cillian walk over to the bath and test the temperature of the water with his hand.

"I am not. I just have an incredibly sexy girlfriend,"  Cillian winked, breaking the tension in the room with his charm and humor.

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Now let's get you into the bath, shall we?" he smirked before kneeling down before you again and hooking his fingers into the hem of your panties.

He pulled them down, slowly, his gaze wandering over your bare skin as you blushed and squirmed.

Finally, the material was gone, leaving you exposed in front of him.

But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you felt a jolt of desire shoot straight to your core.

You watched as Cillian's gaze trailed over your bare thighs, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned in closer.

"No, not here," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Okay," he smiled. "Come on," he then told you before helping you up from the wheelchair and  guiding you to the edge of the bathtub.

You looked at the water, wondering if it was going to be warm enough or not. After your accident, you could barely feel anything in your legs.

But as you got closer to the bath, you could feel the heat radiating from the water, and it brought a smile to your face.

Cillian helped you into the tub, holding onto you as you lowered yourself into the water.

The heat enveloped you, soothing your tense muscles and calming your racing mind. You leaned back against the tub, letting out a sigh of contentment as you closed your eyes.

"Feeling better?" Cillian's voice was gentle, like a warm breeze on a hot day.

You opened your eyes to see him kneeling beside the tub, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. You nodded, unable to speak as you watched him pick up a washcloth  and begin to wet it with warm water.

"Let me help you," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours as he gently began to wash your shoulders and arms. You closed your eyes again, surrendering to the feeling of his hands on your skin. It had been so long since anyone had touched you like this, with such tenderness and care.

As he continued to wash you, his touch became more intimate, his fingers tracing patterns on your breasts before, finally, he let go of the washcloth and slowly reached down in between your legs.

He caressed your inner thigh s, the pressure just perfect and you felt a moan escape your lips as you spread them wider, inviting him in.

He didn't hesitate, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance before plunging inside you with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"You are so wet inside," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

You moaned in response, your body arching into his touch as you felt a surge of pleasure course through you.

"Cillian," you gasped, your hands reaching out to grip the sides of the tub as he continued to finger you.

He added another finger, thrusting deeper and harder as you writhed beneath him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you knew that it wouldn't be long before you came undone in his arms.

"Fuck, Cillian," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of orgasm.

He didn't respond, but you could feel his own desire building as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

"Oh my god, Cillian," you groaned as the pleasure became almost unbearable. "I'm going to come."

"Yes, baby, cum for me," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry of pleasure, you came hard around his fingers, your body trembling and shaking as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

Cillian didn't let up, continuing to finger you through your orgasm until you finally begged him to stop. He pulled out slowly, his fingers glistening with your arousal.

"I missed this," he muttered, almost to himself. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched him, your breath hitching in your throat as suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Shit," Cillian muttered, pulling away from you so abruptly it was almost comical.

"Dinner inner is ready!" your father called from the other side of the door. "And he really shouldn't be in there with you , you know. It's not proper."

"I know dad. We will be out in a second!"  you yelled back, pressing a hand to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart before breaking out in laughter.

"I guess I should get out of the bath before my dad thinks something's up," you said, grinning slyly at Cillian.

"Good idea," Cillian chuckled before he helped you out of the tub, wrapping you up in a soft towel and drying you off gently. "Because, really, I would like to live a little longer to enjoy your company and, preferably, not be murdered by your father in the process," he joked before he helped you get dressed and then assisted you by getting you back into your wheelchair.

"Dad is just protective," you shrugged as you adjusted your robe, feeling a sense of familiarity wash over you. "He has always been like that and now, with everything that's happened, it's only gotten worse.

Cillian nodded understandingly. "I get it. I really do," Cillian said as he stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed it towards the door. 

"I know you would," you replied, leaning your head back on the cushion as you mentally prepared yourself for dinner with your parents. "Now, do you think my dad might let you stay in my room tonight?" you asked Cillian quietly as you moved through the hallway.

He chuckled, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I don't think so, but, if you wanted to, we could go away for a few days. Just you and me," he replied , his voice low and gentle.

"Go where?" you asked, turning to look at him with curiosity. The thought of getting away from it all with Cillian was incredibly tempting.

"Anywhere you want," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "We could go to the countryside, or somewhere by the sea. Just let me know where you would like to go."

You didn't need to think about it for long. The idea of escaping the confines of your family home and being alone with Cillian was too appealing to resist.

"You know that, all of this, would be a real giant pain the arse with this goddamn wheelchair and all, right?" you said, looking up at Cillian who smiled. "And, people would see us together," you pointed out, seeing that the both of you had been hiding your relationship for a while."

"So what?" Cillian replied with a shrug. "We'll figure it out. I don't care what people think, and neither should you."

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[deramin2]

Absolutely love that Marisha was probably going to make a tamer choice, but Matt saw the perfect opportunity to push her as a Delilah, and really feed Laudna's paranoia. I think that really pushed her over the edge and Marisha fully ran with it.

And Liam really thought through what he knew (this was Laudna and she's being manipulated by Delilah but not intentionally hurting Orym), vs. what Orym knew (something he couldn't see attacked him in his sleep and he needs to defend himself from it because he had no idea what it's intentions were and has every reason to assume it's trying to kill all of them). Honestly Orym remained pretty defensive overall. Love that they both learned into how much both of them felt totally justified and like they were defending the party from harmful corrupting influence.

———

I'm someone with mental health problems that cause intrusive thoughts that can make me feel so absolutely certain that I'm justified in viewing other people as being intentionally harmful and lash out at them. In the moment it feels completely justified and righteous and a truth other people need to hear even though they'll resist it. I try really, really hard to resist expressing those thoughts. I try to remind myself I will end up regretting it and pushing people away permanently who (justifiably) won't put up with that treatment.

But sometimes it's so strong or I'm so triggered by the awfulness around me and despair that it escapes me. It feels like everyone else is lying to justify evil and I'm sick of it. Consequences be damned. It feels protective of other vulnerable people. And then I lash out and say things I regret and get yelled and blocked or dropped or otherwise lose people in my life and get more and more isolated. And feel like they're totally justified because really it's me who's the evil monster and need to be isolated for other prep people's protection because I can't be trusted and can't be better. I don't even want anyone too comfort me or love me because they don't deserve to be hurt by me eventually. (I'm not saying that's actually true, but that's how I feel and it feels very real to me while it's happening.)

———

Marisha absolutely nailed that depiction. In an ongoing way but particularly in CR C3 E95. And I love that it came right off the joyous mania of the shopping spree for and crafting season where they were all bonding and making plans for the future and letting off steam. But then she was triggered and all of that didn't matter. Off anything the strength of those emotions was a pendulum whose momentum helped her distress swing harder in the other direction.

She was triggered, and Delilah was a second layer of intrusive thoughts that made her feel so sure of her feelings and actions. 100% justified as Marisha said. And she would have been totally justified in just waking Orym up and having a conversation about the sword and at least putting it in the Bag of Holding overnight until they could make a long term decision. I think that's what Marisha was planning to do until Delilah showed up. She wasn't justified in hurting Orym in a unilateral decision that she should feed the sword to Delilah. Her thoughts were very real to get but not based on facts. Whatever her intentions she hurt Orym and avoided apologizing.

And I loved how Imogen pushed back this time. So often she's enabled Laudna because she loves her wants to comfort her. But this time I think she saw that's not what Laudna needs. She needs someone to check her and keep her from escalating. She's feeling complicated feelings right now because she loves Laudna, but she hates Delilah and what Delilah is getting Laudna to do. Like the partner of an addict who loves them, but hates what the substance is doing to them and how they're acting to feed that addiction. I can't wait to see how that plays out in the future.

The whole thing was incredibly real representation to me. This is an incredibly triggering situation that they're all in and they're all crumbling in the face of it. Chetney and Orym both made deals with Nana Mori. Chetney for fame, Orym for power. Ashton secretly took the fire primordial shard and nearly killed themselves in front of Fearne and then the other others. Imogen tried to flip her mom on the cult that's indoctrinated her for decades. FCG did blow himself up. Fearne was lured away by her shitbag sperm donor in the night so he could try to kill her and have a copy take her place. Dorian watched Lolth's crown take over Opal, his brother die, and his friends scattered. Laudna is feeding Delilah's power. None of them are okay and they're all being totally reckless. They're both bonding over their recklessness and being pushed apart by it. Can't wait to see what happens next.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

(im)perfectionist

vinny hong x jo!reader

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 1

part 2

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

warnings: SFW, fem!reader, gifted!reader, cursing, mentions of blood & violence, mentions/flashbacks to vinny's shitty childhood. jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), physical descriptions (resemblance to jay, jay's mother, heavily implied asian features) intelligent!reader, female rage, implications of academic pressure, middle child trauma, second person's pov (you, you're, your), ANGSTY, lowkey self-indulgent, SPOILERS everywhere, includes momma bear vinny but then reader is also kind of a momma bear, reader is NOT yumi, but yumi still exists here. lmk if i forgot anyth

note: i can't stop tossing and turning while reading s4 lol this is how i cope. vinny pls come back now im bawling my eyes rn

—

None of the recontres you had with Vinny Hong in the entirety of your life was normal.

The first time you encountered him was when you accidentally bumped into him in a vulnerable state while walking home under a light rain shower after a tiring day volunteering at the hospital your parents were working in. The light pouring rain hit your umbrella with soft thuds as you were finding your way through the alley you accidentally passed by after taking an alternative route, but getting a little lost in the process.

You shuddered when you heard a groan. You immediately looked around and kept your guard up in case it was a kidnapper. But no, it sounded like one of pain. Stopping your tracks and pulling over your feet, you looked around the alley. Your eyes expectantly scanned until your eyes found the source of the grumbling noise. There he was, slumped against the wall.

I knew it, you thought. It was a man. How cliché. His head was bowed down so he couldn't see you. Let me guess, a high school boy was mobbed and injured somewhere and now is left to die in a dark alley to be found lifeless once the sun rises?

You scoffed. If only you had all the time in the world to be a delinquent, that will most likely be where you're meant for. These high school boys are wasting their lives when they unknowingly have the time to choose to be a better person. You discreetly envied how these kinds of people can still choose how they'll live their lives, regardless of presence of sense for separating actions between good and bad.

And so you walked past the alley.

Your steps slowed down as the man groaned again, this time followed by a rustle. A slight pang of guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. Damn it, this wasn't–

You reluctantly looked back to where the man sat. You've always sworn your life you wouldn't meddle in anything that wasn't your business. But for some reason, the guilt of having the ability to help but refusing to, drowned your fixed principle.

Just as you were having an inner banter with yourself, your feet made the decision for you instead and took you to him. You pushed the button on your umbrella to automatically close it, pointing the sharp end to the stranger. You weren't even sure if he's still alive because he suddenly quieted down after that last groan. Only the light from the nearest post gave you an unclear sight of the man and the fluff of his fiery red hair.

One of his hands fell limp on the floor while the other was covering his wound. It seemed like he's been in the same spot for minutes yet the distinct bright colour of fresh blood told you the injury happened not very a while ago. You weren't sure of how to approach him properly, so you lightly kicked his leg once, but he didn't respond. So you kicked him for the second time, this time, harder. Finally, he responded by quietly groaning in pain once again.

“Who… the hell… are you…?” He weakly questioned as looked up to squint and take in your face, but your figure was against the light from the lamp post, so your silhouette was the only thing he's capable of registering. Even when in pain, his voice still sounded atrocious. Like he's someone used to speaking to people harshly. Luckily, you weren't intimidated for a single bit. It'll take a lot more than harsh tones to drive you away. You've been there.

You fumbled inside your tote bag to search for your phone, “Who are you to ask?” When you got ahold of your phone, you turned the flashlight on and you got a clearer view of the blood oozing out of this stranger's side, staining his hand in the process. It looked like a stab wound, judging from the volume of the blood oozing out from the wound.

“As expected.” You raised your hand to point the sharp end of your umbrella to him once again. “I will help you. But if you attempt to do anything funny, I'll stab you on your other side, too.”

Your first option as was to call immediate professional help. As you tried to dial the hospital hotline to call an ambulance, your phone kept indicating there was no service. The signal's jammed. You almost threw your phone to the nearest wall out of frustration as you hit the side of it with your palm. You side-eyed the man behind you.

Shit. Now what? This kind of stab wound is fatal, especially because he already lost plenty of blood beforehand. It wouldn't bleed that much if the penetration wasn't deep. It might have even hit a vital spot. Calling for help now will be difficult because of this deserted alley and the continuous pour of the rain didn't help either, plus, your phone has no service.

“I don't need… your help!” he glared at your silhouette and cursed himself as he shut his eyes tightly while attempting to sit upright, enduring the excruciating pain on his side.

“You're quite obnoxious for a dying man.” You looked around to search for more resources. This is a closed alley. If you leave him here for another minute to find help, he might completely lose his consciousness, he was already limp in the first place. You were left with no choice. Your hand hesitantly reached to fumble around your bag once again until you got an OS, gauze pads and sterilized medical stitching needles.

Your mother would be furious if ever she finds out you stitched a stranger's wounds. You can only imagine her yelling, "Patients are not your playthings and the Medical field is not your playground! Who are you to perform Medical procedures? You're not even a Doctor yet!" Yeah, for sure Dra. Jo wouldn't be so pleased to find out her daughter's attempt to fix someone up. You kneeled and looked at the stranger. You needed to gain his trust as professionally as possible.

“I won't ask your name since you're clearly hard to talk to. I'm [Y/N]. I'm no Guardian angel of yours. I do light voluntary work in hospitals and I have current trainings on how to attend to emergency patients. But I'm still a high school student so I'm not yet licensed. Anyway, going to a hospital will always be the safest option, but I have knowledge about stitching wounds, at least. I'm going to temporarily stitch you up so you don't lose more blood, then we'll get you to a hospital once I find phone service.”

You surveyed his overall state, he looked very pale, although it's easy to tell that he's naturally pale, by losing a lot of blood, he's getting even paler each passing second. You were running out of time.

“Do you consent to this?” You asked him calmly through your glasses.

He breathed out heavily. You knew he was wary and reluctant. Which is understandable. But if it's not you, who else will do it? You heaved a sympathetic sigh. As you unemotionally tell him about the circumstances of his skepticality, that you well acknowledge.

“Hey, you might have a family member waiting for you at home. They would be devastated to just hear from the news that you were found dispatched and lifeless out here in the morning.” you looked around, left and right. Right now, you're the best chance he has if he wants to live. “I won't force your consent out. I haven't touched you anywhere yet and I wouldn't if you don't want me to, so I can just leave you here without me being a potential suspect of your murder. But you should probably think about the ones that didn't know their last sight of you alive was the last they'll get, ever.”

He looks at you for a few seconds while he grits his teeth, before he slowly, lightly nods. Shutting his eyes and removing his hand from covering the wound, implying that he had put his trust in you.

You checked his carotid pulse first. Just as you thought. Erratic and weakened. And then looked over to watch the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders. Shallow breathing. He definitely lost a high volume of blood already. You hastily started disinfecting everything—your hands, the tools, even the gloves. You checked his expression. You gave him a heads-up before lifting the side of his shirt to attend to the wound properly. You began working up and stitching the wound on his right side. You looked at his face once again that's being covered by the shade of the unfinished constructions caging the alley, while going through your first stitch.

“I'm sorry, this is the only option, for now. I'll find more professional help after this.”

He had no more energy left to open his mouth and reply. He grunts in pain while you were busy ushing the needle through-and-through. You asked him to bite down on a cloth while enduring the pain, since you didn't have anesthesia and he can feel every poke of the needle on his skin. You stitched him with precision with your skilled hands. Your hands were painted crimson red during the process.

This wouldn't be your first time stitching. You've done this a couple of times, but only to a simulator. You pulled yourself together as you kept in mind that a person's life is in your hands this time.

While you were focusing on the stitches, all the stranger can muster are croaky groans, as the pain of the wound and the stitches stung, so you tried to do it faster. When you were done, while wiping your blood-stained hands, you noticed how his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was wincing in pain. He tried to look up at you again, but his sight of you was blurry.

“Don't worry, that'll be removed at once when you're taken to the hospital. What I did is only first aid, and you already lost a lot of blood so we still need to get you to the hospital as soon as possible.”

You pushed your knees to stand up and find phone signal, but before you can, his hand rose and reached for yours.

“No.” He clutched your hand to stop you. His hand was rough—and also large. You have large hands for a female, but his hand almost completely enveloped yours.

The side of your lips shifted downward while looking down at him. “When I said trust me, I only meant temporarily so I can temporarily close your wound. I didn't mean with all your life."

“Just no hospital.”

“You must really want to die.”

He gripped your hand tightly from the severe pain he's enduring. You know how much pain he's going through right now and he didn't mean to do so, so you let him squeeze your hand.

“I would rather die, than pay a hospital bill.” he weakly held on to you, falling completely unconscious as his head fell on your lap. You furrowed your brows and put his head into a more comfortable position.

Oh, so he was serious on dying?

You coming to his rescue definitely doesn't just end with a few stitches.

***

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always remember to put seeking professional help as top priority if you ever encounter this kinda scenario irl