#but that idea ended up changing into this one!

[impactrueno]

it helps me to remember when i get sad about how annoyed lydia gets in s4 is that she’s fourteen at that point so she is ACTIVELY going through puberty. and we’re all kind of annoyed with the world at that point, even the people we love.

that's very true. she's also known him for years at that point, and he can be uhh a lot. he can't get away with displaying his huge flaws as often as he used to, lydia doesn't allow it, and when he DOES get away with it, the episode ends with lydia disappointed and even outright mad at him. Midnight Scum in particular is so hard to watch, you can see her losing respect for him as the episode progresses and...then it ends. episode over. beetlejuice is horrible, what did we expect?

but yeah season 4 is. whoof man.

sure, you can chalk up part of it to teenage hormones making her more irritable, but i really do think she's just like, at her limit sometimes. i can't blame her, i too want to strangle him a lot of the time and i'm not even the one putting up with his shit, babysitting him or having to deal with the consequences of HIS actions.

this isn't Critter Sitters anymore, she is simply not having it and she won't make a cute little excuse for him "oh he makes me laugh and eats bugs hee hee"

season 4 lydia reacting at his jokes like 😒🙄

she's probably heard that one a thousand times by now. beetlejuice is a static character; he doesn't change, he doesn't go through character development, he doesn't learn his lesson (outright refuses to) but lydia DOES change. and she will continue to change as she grows older. and i KNOW this is a sad theory but i can't help but think that, as she grows and moves forward, she's just...gonna leave him behind.

it'll be hard for her not to. not only is she starting to make her own life and will continue to get busier and busier and not having time to hang out with her ghoulish best friend...she's also maturing. something beetlejuice has never done, and seemingly never will. and as she grows more mature, those puns and pranks and hijinks will become less funny, and his lying, clinginess and refusal to grow will become more evident. season 4 has lydia expecting better of him and being let down, constantly. if it's exasperating for us imagine how it must be for her.

at what point does it become too much? how often has lydia sat and thought about this kind of thing? considering how intelligent and sensible she is for her age, probably more than a few times. this dead guy inadvertently saved this depressed little girl by becoming friends with her and giving her the confidence to be herself and make her own friends. does she know that though? beetlejuice does, he saw it when they showed him the reality in which lydia never meets him. but lydia has no idea (and he will never tell her) so sometimes i wonder if she's missing that key aspect of why he's so important in her life. it's possible she might've come to the same conclusion herself; but even then, these things can be hard to remember when you're having to, once more, clean up after him and the messes he gets them into because his chaotic impulses are always stronger than him. you can tell she's very tired of this. and she will become even more so as time passes.

best friends forever though.

...

...right?

[seewetter]

Why try and worsen "the male loneliness epidemic" when it's a current right-wing talking point and the right-wing is using this male loneliness "crisis" to suggest their politics as solutions?

If the right-wingers are combating a real or imagined health issue (e.g. loneliness, a mental health issue), you bragging how you make that health worse in the name of feminism? No help to women. Sorry.

A few Tumblr users like yourself having thoughts like this won't hurt anyone, but if the 4B movement takes off and publicly brags that they hurt other for political reasons, this means the right won't even have to fabricate claims. The public will learn about those intentions straight from you talking about it. No one is distorting your views, those are your views. And that's my problem because the right will make me seem like that movement much more famous than myself.

This is honestly worse than when progressives ignored what happened to thousands of girls in Rotherham and Sheffield, or how Tumblr handled statistics on the opioid crisis. In those cases people were at least ignoring information they were uncomfortable with, but with 4B, people are clearly not just ignoring human suffering, but getting excited about causing it.

I totally agree nobody is entitled to a relationship or children or a marriage or other people's bodies. That doesn't mean that a political ambition of ignoring and sidelining people and making them lonely on purpose is a plan that coherently fits into a wider liberation.

What's the underlying fantasy here?

Either it's the idea that all men deserve it. Or the idea that bad men deserve it and good men (or non-bad men) need to awaken from apathy to help women.

All men deserve it? That contradicts all complaints of the 4B movement. I mean, if all men deserve it, they all deserve it no matter how they behave. If how they behave doesn't matter, why is 4B complaining?

4B advocates might answer: the protest never ends, men are irredeemable, the protest itself is an intimidation tactic that makes men a little less awful, but it never fully succeeds. But here's how that reads to anyone with experience in observing political movements. Not in a cool "we are doomed but fight anyway" kind of way and more in a "we don't know what we are actually fighting against, we haven't tried planning for a successful political future where men behave better. We don't have concrete political goals, we will protest with the vaguest goals of men changing because we pressure them and we will pursue that strategy forever." Which lets be real doesn't sound very invested in having a better life and doesn't sound nearly as cool as fighting a doomed fight because the alternative is worse...because if you fight a doomed fight but can't be bothered with actual movement-building beyond hyping people up to punish others, you're just building the ideal justification for a right-wing administration to crush you and use any threat you pose as a justification to curtail your future rights and freedoms.

But wait! Maybe the 4B hates all men because all men are bad men BUT unlike your South Korean colleagues you want men to become women! YAAAY! Now as a wlw and trans woman myself, I can deeply appreciate women. But that's not what 4B mainly hates about men. A "bad man" is by definition something else than a man as a general category. A bad man is bad for reasons. If you can't trust the idea that men can deserve not being called bad men, if you can't ever trust any man anywhere to be better than that... then those are actually additional political goals your movement needs. Those are goals you have left out of your political pamphlets by accident(?). Goals such as creating the conditions for building trust (exploring how to figure out how to determine what individual men can do to become trustworthy) and goals like how to improve men's behaviour so they aren't bad men. If you don't believe that bad men can ever become good men, please re-read the previous paragraph to make sure your concerns have not actually already been covered.

But wait again! What if 4B's underlying fantasy is to punish all men for the crimes of bad men, so that good men will stand up for what's right, then how will that work if those good men are currently lonely and miserable? Is lonely misery a good starting point for taking positive action? When you are at your low point in life and just wallow in misery lying in bed, is this your most productive moment? And are bad men actually "lonely", do bad men only keep female company? Will the bad men accept your punishment and willingly unfollow Andrew Tate?

Keep these things in mind before you allow the 4B movement to tease the tiger and cause a massive misogynistic backlash against all feminism. You can't hate yourself into a better place and you can't hate others into a better place either.

american women your objective for the next four years is to make men miserable. exacerbate that male lonliness epidemic as much as you possibly can.

[eu-nicola]

best secret

summary: while the Pogues are searching for the gold, you're left behind, trapped with your abusive father. when Rafe discovers what's going on, he steps in to save you. when the Pogues return and discover your relationship with Rafe, tensions boil over

warnings: violence, confrontation

word counter: 4384

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @tracymbcm

The lights of Tannyhill shone brightly in the distance, like a beacon illuminating everything perfectly.

You were in the backyard of Tannyhill, sitting on a stone table that probably cost more than your entire house. The night was warm, but you still felt a slight chill running through your skin. It could be from the air or from the presence of Rafe Cameron, leaning against a column, looking at you with that smile that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to admit.

“If JJ knew about this, he would kill me.” Your voice broke the silence, a mix of nerves and sincerity in your words.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smile widening, but his eyes never left yours.

“If JJ knew about this, he would have been dead for months.” His tone was light, as if he said it in jest, but you knew that look. He wasn’t joking.

You should have laughed, maybe even responded with a scathing comment, but the truth was that the idea of ​​JJ finding out what you were doing terrified you. How could you explain to him that after years of swearing that you hated Rafe Cameron as much as he did, you had ended up here, seeing him in secret?

“Why are you doing this, Rafe?” you asked, abruptly changing the subject. You had thought about that question many times, but you had never dared say it out loud.

Rafe stopped smiling, slowly pushing himself off the column as he made his way towards you. Each step he took seemed to charge the air around you. When he reached your side, he leaned in slightly, just enough for his intense, direct blue eyes to catch yours.

“Because with you I don’t have to pretend.”

The words hit something deep inside you, leaving a crack in your carefully constructed defenses. You looked at him, searching for any trace of lying or manipulation, but all you found was honesty, raw and unvarnished.

“That doesn’t make it any less complicated.” You tried to make your voice sound firm, but there was a slight tremor that betrayed everything.

He tilted his head, his expression softening a little.

“And that’s why you’re still here? Despite everything.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to get away, you always ended up coming back. Something about Rafe dragged you along, like a current you couldn’t avoid.

He moved closer, his hand finding your waist with an ease that made you catch your breath.

“Look at me.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but charged with intensity.

You obeyed, even though every part of you screamed not to. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, seeing parts of you no one else had noticed.

“Do you know what happens to me when you’re not around?” he asked, his tone so serious that you felt a lump forming in your throat. “It’s like everything is… empty again. You make it all make sense.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly the space between you felt nonexistent.

“Rafe…” you started, but he cut you off, shaking his head as his forehead brushed yours.

“Don’t say you don’t feel it too.”

And you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because you did. You had felt it from the first moment his lips touched yours weeks ago, from the instant he looked at you as if you were more than just a Pogue.

This time, you were the one who closed the distance. The kiss started slow, as if you were both afraid of breaking something fragile, but soon it became more urgent, more desperate. Your hands found his neck as he pulled you closer, as if he feared you might disappear at any moment.

In that instant, everything disappeared: the Pogues, JJ, the Kooks, the consequences you knew would fall upon you. Nothing else mattered. Just Rafe and you.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe leaned against your forehead, his hands still firm on your waist.

“Regretful?” he asked with that lopsided smile that always disarmed you.

“Not yet.” Your voice was more confident than you expected, though deep down you knew that answer could change.

Rafe let out a soft laugh, running a finger through a loose strand of your hair.

“You’re braver than you think, Pogue.”

“And you’re more of an idiot than you let on.”

Rafe was still so close that you could feel the heat of his body as he pulled away slightly, his fingers still absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. His smile grew softer, less teasing, and for a moment it seemed like there was something else on his mind.

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, his voice low, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

“What kind of idea?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a mix of expectation and excitement.

Rafe stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a mix of anticipation and excitement.

“Tomorrow. You and me. A real date.”

That took you by surprise. Even though you’d been seeing each other on the sly for weeks, the thought of something as formal as a date hadn’t crossed your mind. Was it even possible? Your lips curved into a small smile.

“And how do you propose we do that without JJ or the guys deciding to kill you?”

Rafe shrugged, his expression confident as ever.

“You’re running away. You’ve done it before.”

“Rafe…” you started, even though you already knew you’d end up agreeing.

“Trust me. It’ll be perfect.” His eyes were shining, as if he was already imagining what it would be like. He took another step towards you and placed his hands on your hips, leaning in just enough so that his lips were just a few inches from yours. “Just you and me. No one else.”

You sighed, as if you were considering your options, but in reality your decision was made from the moment you looked into his eyes.

“Okay,” you finally relented, your voice laced with a mix of excitement and resignation.

Rafe’s smile widened.

“Meet me at Figure Eight Harbor, just before sunset. Bring something comfortable.”

“Any other directions, Mr. Cameron?” you asked, arching an eyebrow in a sarcastic tone.

Rafe leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, barely a brush, before pulling away.

“Just don’t be late.”

You watched him walk away toward the house, his steps confident and relaxed. When he turned around for the last time, he gave you a look and a smile that made your stomach turn.

That night, as you made your way back to your house, you couldn’t help but imagine what the date would be like. With Rafe, nothing was ever easy, but there was something about the way he looked at you, how he seemed to want to show you a different world, that made it worth the risk.

The next morning the morning sun streamed through the windows of your room, bathing the walls in a warmth that would normally have comforted you. But this time, you were too excited to pay attention to the small details. Today was the day. A date with Rafe Cameron.

You had woken up early, your heart racing and a smile that seemed impossible to erase. The pogues were away, completely absorbed in their quest for gold. With them gone, sneaking off to meet up with Rafe seemed easier than ever. Without JJ hovering like a hawk and Sarah suspecting a thing, you could finally relax and enjoy some alone time with him without the constant fear of being discovered.

You spent the day getting everything ready. You picked out comfortable clothes, like Rafe had suggested, but also something you knew he would appreciate: a light, simple dress that fell softly over your legs and sandals that would allow you to move around without any problems. You had tied your hair up in a carefree way, leaving a few strands loose to frame your face. You didn’t want to look overdressed, but you also couldn’t help but want to impress him. 

By the time it was time to leave, the plan seemed perfect. You just had to avoid your father, something you usually managed with ease when he was deep in his own problems. With the guys gone and his attention divided between the television and the empty beers piling up on the table, there was no reason for this time to be any different. 

Or so you thought. 

As you walked down the stairs, holding a small bag in your hand, Luke’s raspy voice echoed from the living room. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” “I’m just going for a walk,” he asked, his bloodshot eyes fixed on you.

You froze on the spot, your fingers clenching your bag tightly. You knew you couldn’t tell him the truth, but you hadn’t prepared an excuse either.

“I’m just going for a walk,” you said, trying to sound casual as you avoided his gaze.

Luke stood up from the couch with a jerk, his body swaying slightly, and you realized immediately that he was drunk. Again.

“Going for a walk?” he repeated, his tone full of mockery. “You’re not as smart as you think, kid. Do you really think you can get away without me knowing?”

Your heart began to beat faster. You tried to stay calm, but you knew how these things ended.

“It’s no big deal, Dad. I’m just going for a walk, that’s all.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” His voice rose a pitch, and the thud of a bottle falling to the floor made you take a step back. His eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down. “Why are you all dressed up? Huh? Who are you going to see?”

“No one,” you lied quickly, but your voice shook, and that only seemed to make him angrier.

Luke took a step towards you, and the air in the room became heavy, suffocating.

“You’ve always been a liar, just like your mother.” His words were venom, and the contempt in his voice made you clench your fists at your sides. “What? You think you can just walk away and leave me here like I don’t exist?”

Fear began to creep its way into your chest, but you didn’t let it show on your face. You had learned to hide it well, to survive moments like this.

“I’m not leaving anyone, Dad. I just want to get out for a bit.”

“DON’T MOVE!” he suddenly shouted, slamming the table so hard that the noise echoed throughout the house.

Your body tensed, your feet rooted to the ground. You stared at the door for a moment, calculating if you could escape, but you knew he would reach you before you could even turn the knob.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled as he approached, his steps firm and heavy. “Always doing whatever you want, always thinking you’re better than me.”

Every word out of his mouth was like a blow, but the real blows began soon after. He threw a glass against the wall, just inches from where you stood, and the sound of glass breaking made you instinctively step back.

“Dad, stop.” Your voice was low, but firm, even though inside you were shaking.

“STOP?” He laughed bitterly. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re nobody to give me orders!”

You felt a lump in your throat, helplessness mixing with the pain of knowing there was no way to reason with him in this state. All you wanted was to get out of that house, get to the port, and be with Rafe, away from all of this. But with every passing second, it seemed more impossible.

Finally, you took advantage of a moment when he was distracted looking for another bottle to try and move towards the door. But when Luke noticed, his face twisted into a mix of fury and contempt.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled as he blocked your way.

You were trapped. And as time continued to tick, you felt the chance to see Rafe slip through your fingers.

Away from you, as time passed, and there was no sign of you. Rafe first thought maybe you were late, but as the sun began to set completely, worry began to settle in his chest.

“Where are you?” he murmured, looking at his phone. He had texted twenty minutes ago, but you hadn’t responded. You hadn’t read the text either. 

Rafe knew something was wrong. Even though your relationship was a secret, you had never missed a date without notice, and the thought of something stopping you made him more uneasy than he was willing to admit. His jaw tightened as he climbed into his truck. No matter what the reason was, he was going to find you. 

He drove straight to your house, or as he silently called it, “Pougeland.” The Maybank home wasn’t in the best condition, and Rafe hated every second you spent there, especially because of Luke. He had heard enough about the man to know he wasn’t someone to be trusted, and the thought of you being alone with him infuriated him. 

As he approached the entrance, the sound of shouting from inside the house made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t need to confirm who they were; He recognized your voice, full of fear, and Luke's, in an angry and aggressive tone. He quickened his pace towards the door, and just as he was about to enter, he heard the sound of something breaking.

“Dad, stop!” Your voice came through clearly, desperate and scared.

That was enough for Rafe to act. He pushed the door open, the frame creaking from the force, and what he saw filled him with anger. Luke was on top of you, holding your arm as you tried to free yourself. Your face was marked, with the trace of a recent blow, and your eyes reflected both pain and terror.

“Let go of my girlfriend right now, motherfucker!” Rafe roared as he launched himself at Luke without a second thought.

Rafe’s presence startled Luke enough for him to loosen his grip for a moment, and you managed to stagger back to the side. Rafe didn’t give you time to react. He landed a punch straight to the jaw that sent him tumbling backwards, but Luke quickly recovered, attempting to strike back. 

“What the hell are you doing here, brat? It’s none of your business!” Luke shouted, furious as he tried to grab Rafe. 

“It is when you’re hurting her!” Rafe shoved him hard against the wall, his rage igniting like an uncontrollable fire. 

The two men grappled, but Rafe had the upper hand. Though Luke tried to punch him, he was too drunk to be effective. Rafe eventually tackled him to the ground, pinning him down with one knee as he gasped for air. 

“If you touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Rafe snapped in a cold, deadly voice. 

Luke let out a bitter laugh, but didn’t get a chance to respond. Rafe dropped him on the ground, unconscious from one last blow, and turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice much softer now, though his eyes still glittered with fury.

You were shaking, leaning against the wall, tears rolling down your cheeks. You nodded weakly, but Rafe saw clearly that you weren’t okay. Without another word, he picked you up, ignoring your weak protests, and carried you to his truck.

“Rafe, you don’t have to do this…” you murmured, but your voice cracked.

“Yes, I do have to,” he replied, his jaw set as he carefully placed you in the passenger seat.

He drove straight to the hospital, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. When they arrived, Rafe insisted that you be checked out, and while the doctors made sure you had no serious injuries, Sheriff Shoupe arrived to take a report.

At first, you were reluctant to speak, but Rafe stayed by your side, holding your hand as you recounted what had happened. It was difficult, but every time you hesitated, Rafe looked at you with that mix of determination and tenderness that made you feel stronger.

Finally, Shoupe nodded, closing his notebook.

“We’ll do whatever it takes to keep Luke from bothering you again. I’ll send a team to arrest him right now.”

Rafe let out a sigh of relief, though he still seemed tense. He helped you out of the hospital, and when you finally climbed back into his truck, the silence between you was charged but comforting.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you murmured, barely audibly.

He turned his head toward you, his expression softening for the first time all night.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

The days following the incident at your house were a whirlwind. After Rafe’s intervention, you’d spent more time with him than ever before. Though you’d tried to reach out to the guys, you knew they were too busy with their obsession with gold to really pay attention. On the one hand, you felt guilty for keeping secrets from them, but on the other, it hurt that they weren’t there when you needed them most.

Rafe, on the other hand, wouldn’t leave your side. After what had happened with Luke, he’d insisted that you stay at one of the Cameron properties, a place where he knew you’d be safe. Though it was strange to depend on him, you also felt more protected than ever.

When the Pogues finally returned, they were quick to notice your absence. JJ was the first to raise his voice.

“Where’s my sister?” “He asked, his tone tense as he walked down the dock.

Sarah, who had spent the last few weeks feeling guilty for leaving you behind, tried to calm him down.

“Maybe she’s at home, JJ. We can’t assume the worst.”

“Oh no? What if something happened to her while we were away looking for useless treasure?” he snapped, pointing at her.

“Easy there, buddy,” John B chimed in. “Let’s go find her and see what’s going on.”

Without wasting any more time, the Pogues hopped in the Twinkie and headed straight to your house. But when they arrived, they found the front door taped shut and the place completely empty. The sight stunned them.

“What the hell happened here?” Kiara muttered, crossing her arms as she looked at the mess.

JJ, furious, started pounding on the door with his fist.

“This doesn’t make sense!”

Sarah was the first to notice that something was out of place. From her perspective, something about the mess and the police tapes seemed familiar.

“I think this has to do with Luke,” she said quietly, looking around.

“My father?” JJ turned to her. “If that bastard did anything to him, I’ll kill him with my own hands!”

John B tried to calm him down, but it was clear that everyone was just as worried. They didn’t know where you were, and uncertainty was eating away at them.

Hours later, it was Sarah who finally found you. You were with Rafe, on a remote beach, leaning against his chest as he held you protectively. The rest of the guys arrived shortly after, stopping dead in their tracks at the sight.

“What…?” JJ was the first to react, his shocked expression giving way to uncontrollable fury. “What the hell are you doing with him?”

You pulled away from Rafe quickly, but he stayed by your side, his gaze fixed on JJ with a mix of defiance and warning.

“JJ, I can explain,” you said, but your voice was shaking.

“Explain it?” Kiara interjected, her face a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “We’re looking for you everywhere and you just happen to be here, cuddling with him!”

“How could you betray us like that?” JJ snapped, taking a step towards you. “He’s a fucking bully, a psychopath!”

“Stop it!” Rafe raised his voice, and everyone glared at him with hatred. His jaw was set, his eyes shining with suppressed fury. “While you guys were too busy on your fucking treasure hunt, I was here saving your sister from your fucking father!”

The silence that followed was deafening. The Pogues stared at him as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“What?” JJ asked, his tone lower, but still filled with distrust.

“Luke,” you finally said, your voice cracking as you tried to find the words. Luke… he attacked me.

“If I hadn’t gotten there in time,” Rafe continued, his voice sharp. “If I hadn’t been there, your father would have killed her.”

JJ’s expression changed drastically. It went from anger to fear, and then to pain as he processed what Rafe had just said.

“That can’t be true,” he muttered.

“It’s true, JJ,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Rafe saved me.”

The rest of the Pogues fell silent, processing the truth. Kiara looked down, while John B placed a hand on JJ’s shoulder. Sarah, who already suspected as much, simply nodded regretfully.

Rafe looked at you for a moment before turning his attention back to them.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” he said firmly. “But I’m not going to apologize for protecting her.”

The air between you was thick with tension, but this time, it wasn’t hatred that filled the silence. The Pogues didn’t say anything else, but the glances they exchanged confirmed that, as much as they hated to admit it, Rafe was right.

In the days that followed, although no one said anything directly, you could feel their gazes shifting away whenever Rafe accompanied you or when they mentioned something that might have to do with you. There were no more accusations or confrontations, but there was no open acceptance either. It was as if they had decided to ignore the subject entirely, something you were grateful for even though it hurt a little.

Rafe, for his part, remained unwavering. Despite the judgment he knew he was receiving, he never let it push him away from you. If anything, he seemed more determined than ever to prove to you that you could fully trust him.

One afternoon, as you sat on the porch of the house where you were now staying, Rafe drove up in his truck. He got out with a paper bag in his hand and that crooked smile you knew all too well.

“What do you have there?” “You asked, putting aside the book you had been pretending to read.

“Surprise,” he replied, walking over to you with an air of mystery.

Rafe sat down next to you and pulled out two wrapped burgers and a box of fries from the bag.

“I thought you might want something other than canned food,” he joked as he handed you one of the burgers.

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a small gesture, but after everything that had happened, it meant a lot.

“You’re a hero,” you said with a smile before taking a bite of the burger.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking about anything but the Pogues or Luke. Rafe seemed determined to keep you away from any topic that might make you uncomfortable, and you appreciated that more than you could put into words.

A few days later, as you walked with Rafe along the beach, you unexpectedly ran into Sarah. She was alone, sitting on the sand with her gaze lost in the horizon. Seeing you, she raised her hand in a shy greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Rafe braced himself beside you, clearly prepared for an argument, but Sarah didn’t seem interested in fighting.

“I just wanted to tell you that…” he paused, looking first at you and then at his brother. “Thank you. For being there for her.”

Rafe looked taken aback for a moment, but then nodded.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied in a neutral tone.

Sarah looked at you, and for the first time in days, you thought there was some warmth in her eyes.

“We… the guys and I… shouldn’t have judged you. It’s just that…” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “We didn’t expect something like this to be happening while we were gone.”

“I understand,” you said, though there was still a small wound in your chest from how you had been treated at first.

“But if you’re happy with him… then it’s okay,” Sarah continued, looking at Rafe with a mix of wariness and resignation. “Just… take care of her, okay?”

Rafe smirked. “I plan to do that.”

After that encounter, things began to change. The Pogues didn’t mention your relationship with Rafe anymore, and while not everyone was completely comfortable with the situation, they realized it wasn’t something they could control.

JJ was still the most distant, though he avoided any sarcastic comments when you were with Rafe. John B and Kiara seemed more neutral, and Sarah, though torn, slowly began to accept that Rafe was an important part of your life now.

Even though you knew there were still tensions with the Pogues and that life on the Outer Banks would always be complicated, at that moment, you felt like everything was where it needed to be. With Rafe by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

[hernamewaslily]

-"How old is she?" RAFE CAMERON X READER

(open requests)

paring: rafe cameron x reader

warning: none

summary: you and rafe were friends since birth, you two fell in love but he cheated on you and you went away and never went to outer banks but your mother died and you went to her funeral but you didn't knew rafe and his family would be there.

Going back to Outer Banks was not a good idea and i knew it, but with my mother's death I knew I had to go, my father was in pieces so was I. I look at my one year old daughter sleeping in the back of my car, "I hope I don't see him" i think.

Me and Rafe were childhood friends since ever and 4 years ago when we started dating I knew he was the love of my life, but I was wrong, I can still remember Sofia kissing him and he hugging her:

1 year ago I was going to tell him about the pregnancy but when I saw them my heart broke and I just left Outer Banks without looking back. Had Charlotte in New York, my parents knew but I made them promise to don't talk about her to anyone.

I was not alone, I had friends in New York, I had a job at my dad's company, but the most important thing I had Charlotte. She is just like him, her strong blue eyes, her blonde hair just as soft as his, she had a strong personality just like him, it was his copy, my little chunk of my love with him.

When I got home, everything looked the same, nothing had ever changed. My father wasn't home and I soon went into my old room, I saw polaroids of Rafe and me on the wall, the presents he had given me, it looked like I had never left, everything was clean and the bed was as messy as the day I decided to leave the city behind with a baby.

Charlotte looked at the room with precision for a 1 year old baby, this year on her first birthday we came here at night to have dinner with my parents and we left early in the morning so there was no risk of Rafe knowing I had been there.

"Mama" She pointed to a teddy bear that I had gotten from Rafe on our second anniversary. I gave the bear to her, watching her reaction. My little girl hugged the bear and started laughing.

"How are you so cute" I started tickling her belly, her laughter filled the room with joy.

"Here are my girls" I looked back and my dad was leaning against the door frame with a smile despite his tired looking eyes.

"Bubu" she ran towards him and hugged his leg tightly, my father picked her up with a sad smile on his face "Hello my love" he said to her.

"The burial will be tomorrow morning" he said with a soft voice.

I nodded in agreement and we soon went to dinner.

In my dream, Rafe laughed with me in my room, "If we have a daughter, her name will be Charlotte." He said looking at my eyes

"Why that name?"

"I don't know, love, I just like it." And he hugged me softly.

I woke up confused with my daughter in the crib next to me.

The route to the funeral was silent, I just thought about how I wished my mother was here. She was very sick and cancer took her from us, my father said that at least he had ended her suffering and pain during those years.

I got out of the car with Charlotte and her teddy bear by my side, her dress was black with a big bow on her side and I was with the same dress. There were few people at the funeral but since my mother was a pogue there were many of her pogue friends and I saw John B's group right at the top of the stairs JJ looked at me and smiled. The day was beautiful but it seemed unfair because my mother had died but I knew that the weather was a message from her telling me that she was okay.

My father picked Charlotte up and they went in first and I was just working up the courage to go in while praying not to see him. The crowd had already left and I started to enter the house near the beach where my mother's funeral would be.

Until someone bumped into me, I knew that scent but I didn't want to believe it, there it was. Rafe was wearing a black suit, his eyes got bigger when he saw me and he seemed to want to say something but he couldn't, he was in complete shock to see me after 1 year without news.

"Um-oh hi-" he was interrupted by my daughter screaming mommy when she saw me, Charlotte asked to be held by me and I picked her up. Rafe looked at her holding the teddy bear with confusion, his head turned to the side and so did my daughter's, they looked at each other as if in a mirror.

"Mama" my daughter tried to go to rafe's lap who was in complete shock.

"Charlotte no baby you can't" when he heard his name rafe he felt like he was going to faint

"Charlotte? wh-who is this?"

I had thought about this conversation for a long time but nothing came out of my mouth, I always thought that I could call Rafe and tell him everything and we could become a happy family like we dreamed of but I couldn't say anything.

"Rafe, c'mon your father is asking about you-oh hi" There she was, Sofia look at me with disgust and confusion, but when she saw the baby in my arms she just looked at Rafe looking for some answer as to who that was.

"How old is she?" Rafe asked with a weak voice and tears in his eyes, I could tell he knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me. Before I could answer, my father appeared in the hall and understood what was happening.

"Where were you, let's go is going to start" My father grabbed my hand and took me while I was in complete shock and Charlotte was crying wanting to go to Rafe's arms.

I just walked away and left a confused Rafe with his eyes closed as if he was holding himself back from crying.

"Fuck" was the only thing that crossed my mind.

part 2? I had this idea on the subway on the way to school and i had to write it! let me know if you guys want pt 2💞

[keithbutgay]

okay okay i need to talk about this for a second

SO for one thing. this is also a book. i did not get very far into the book before giving up, for what it's worth. for context i have read about 35 of the original oz books

right. that being said. i have some stuff to say both about the content of the movie/book and the commentary said (everything i say is based on the book)

i definitely agree about ozma of oz (and about the missing scenes!) and i had no idea about the weird changes to princess langwidere? i actually loved her so much in the books i think she's so so so cool. the name change is fucking awful.

ABOUT THE OZMA THING. OH MY GOD

im going to talk a bit about the marvelous land of oz so that it's understood how this was absolutely butchered. first of all, as said by previous rebloggers, the storyline is of tip, the protagonist, who's a little boy living alone with this woman mombi (the real one, also the fifth wicked witch) and she gets this powder of life, fast forward fast forward tip carves a wooden figure and sticks a pumpkin on its head to scare her and she puts the powder of life on it and jack exists!

(i will agree that jack pumpkinhead as a character is literally just a guy /pos. i love him so much. shaking him violently)

anyways, jack refers to tip as his father and that's probably where that part of the movie expanded from. fast forward, at the end it's revealed that tip was princess ozma, the correct ruler of oz, and she had been kidnapped at birth and changed into a boy and it was all just one big trans allegory and i love her

so for the entirety of the books she like. is a kid. but yeah

in the third book, ozma of oz, the nome king (aka roquat) turns almost all of the characters into various little tchatchkies and they have to figure out which thingamabob is which person, which is presumably where the movie got the whole nome king turning everyone into statues thing.

the wheelers are actual guys! their design in the movie actually doesn't seem to be *too* inaccurate as far as costumes and makeup goes? so that's actually pretty interesting. i think they look kinda cool based on the images i've seen honestly :PP

okay. lets talk about tiktok

in the books, he's almost what you're describing. he has the key for moving, the key for talking, they key for thinking, and he does often wind down. HOWEVER. while there is a one-man army of oz, this is the soldier with the green whiskers. and he is SUCH a guy. tiktok is just kinda a character with a cool design, cause he's entirely clockwork. and the way he talks is written out really interestingly because he talks very haltingly and robotic (for obvious reasons) and he has to be wound up again every so often when he talks for a while

ALSO. ALSO ALSO ALSO i just noticed the gump in the image at the very top. the gump is made of two couches, the head of an "elk-like creature", palm branch wings, and a broom for a tail, also brought to life using the powder of life

anyways, this is getting really long so. i guess in summary this movie is awful and a completely misguided and incorrect representation of the books and if you're looking for a good sequel to the wizard of oz please just. read the books. please. theyre so good

What the heck, I’ll give it a shot.

How bad could it be?

[ruinedsapphic]

Sevika x ambessa where fighting turns into sex 💪😍😍

“GO EASY ON ME, WILL YOU?”

pairings: Sevika x Ambessa Medarda :3 (straight wuh luh wuh)

warnings: Sevika x Ambessa (I have no idea if people hate or like this ship), the ask says it all, fighting, mentions of blood, smut, fingering (s receiving), domxdom turns into forced submission, doomed yuri, all third person view, drinking, bottom/switch sevika + power dom Ambessa :333 I’m gonna cum I swear, intentional lower case so don’t even, not actual plot so… !!THIS IS REALLY LONG IDK WHY!!, it’s not finished.

sevika, the strongest woman in zaun was at the brothel, lord it’s almost like all the time she’s in it. but, she’s only in it to keep her mind off certain things. sevika took a sip from her drink, passing out the cards for the card game she always won in. Almost as if everyone at the table knew she was some sort of cheater at the game, as if she knew all the cards in everyone’s deck for some reason.

just from across, it was ambessa. the mother of mel medarda. ambessa watched the zaunite woman pass the cards around, her gaze flicking down to the mechanical arm and hand. the mechanics of the fingers tossing the cards and shuffling them before the game so easily. she scoffed to herself and downed herself a drink once again. “That woman is going to kill me by the end of this goddamn day.” she then got up.

were all pretty sure ambessa is the tallest woman in the brothel so far, beating sevikas height by 8 inches. though, to ambessa..she definitely had some feelings for the zaunite woman, who wouldn’t?

the brothel continued to roar shouts, music, laughter and all of that from the above. ambessa would be there for like whatever reason but she’s usually around town to try local cuisines.

“hey, girl with the arm.” ambessa said, trying to get the zaunite attention. her hand waving in the air, but when she didn’t actually get the woman’s attention, she got up, walking over to her. then the taller woman of color tapped on the woman sitting in the chair, sevika paused in her tracks, “yeah?”

well..not quite expected. ambessa noticed it was actually sevika herself; the woman who she had to deal with from years before and her eyebrow raised, “come with me.”

“I’m in the middle of a ca—“

“Did I stutter?”

the zaunite stood up with a sigh, she took a sip from her beer before leaving it on the table to get up, heading her way to follow the mother of the famous Mel Medarda. “see you soon,” She called back to her group and followed the woman like a lost puppy.

after a bit of walking around the brothel, they come to a final end and stand in front of each other before ambessa moved in and grabbed sevika by her cloak, her hands swiftly tearing it off. “you know I still remember you, no?” The zaunite woman fully sighed, she pulled her cloak back and covered her mechanical arm. “Almost like every other day you’re here to fight me.”

the only thing ambessa did was give off a smirk, “maybe I’m here to fight?” in which it resulted the zaunite to groan out, “you know I’m tired.” sevika would settle down into a chair, but ambessa didn’t even bother for her to sit, she was NOT giving this poor zaunite a break. “one day i better get a god damn massage, I don’t got all of my adult years to keep kicking asses”

ambessa pushed sevika a bit and snapped at her, “don’t try to change the topic, zaunite.” the taller woman briefly stated, sevika groaning again before pushing her back, “what are you even here for again?”

“Another rematch.”

“i’m tired.”

“another rematch.”

“but I’m- ugh.”

———————————————————————————

not even 30 minutes later the fight stopped, there was still ruthless cursing and yelling, swinging fights, cheers, people avoiding the fight and others cheering. occasionally sevika would dominate the fight first, grabbing the taller woman with both hands and pushing her down on the ground before grabbing her jaw, forcing the woman of color down on the floor to look right at her.

“you don’t learn the first time, no?” sevika asked, her mechanical hand gripping on ambessa’s chin as if demanding for an answer. the woman down on the floor was disheveled, a few cut marks across her lip and her clothes slightly torn, a small contrast from sevika who’s metal arm was completely full of scratches, her nose slightly bleeding but she wiped it off with the back of her hand. no they were NOT playing a cat fight .. “all you do is come around ask for anot—” sevika was briefly paused at ambessa grabbing the mechanical hand and pushing it away from her chin, grabbing the metal hand tightly and getting up, using her height as an advantage before roughly pushing sevika instead. sevika looked up at the woman with a raised eyebrow, “psh…again? seriously?” she scoffed, not wanting to take another fight but who said it was going to be another fight. “…meet me in the back when you’re done with those filthy games of yours. unless you most likely want yourself dead and open in the streets.”

———————————————————————————

“meet me in the back when you’re done with those filthy games of yours.”

sevika listened, maybe the only time she kinda did. she entered the back rooms and opened the door, looking around to find ambessa, walking forward into the room and settling down at the table before ambessa appeared just behind her, the woman pushing sevika down against the table, her front pressing firmly against sevika’s behind.

“..not again.” sevika tried to push herself back up but no!!!! ambessa was definitely not letting it happen. she leaned down to sevika’s ear from behind. the insane body build covering sevika by a lot. they were both muscular and packed but…it was the size difference. “how about a little game of..this? whoever submits first is the loser, yeah?”

Of course, sevika has never bottomed out with any partners especially in the brothel with all the ladies, but would she even handle ambessa? apart of her DEFINITELY said no, but the other half yes.

———————————————————————————

“g-go easy on me! will you?!” sevika squirmed, looking down at ambessa who’s literally eating the zaunite out, her rough hands gripping sevika’s thighs and keeping them firm and still. We definitely knew who the loser was.

ambessa’s tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, her tongue occasionally sliding down to meet her entrance and her fingers parting out her folds, also swarming the arousal from sevika all over the place. the session definitely had gotten sloppy and all messy. sevika face contorted with pleasure, her thighs shaking while TRYING her hardest to push the woman’s mouth off her. It had been orgasm after orgasm. She was never getting a break!! poor sevika :((

“I know..I’m just so, so mean to you..can’t even give you a poor break.”

She bit down on the woman’s inner thighs, making marks that were visible but not enough to inflict pain. sevika made out ragged breaths, tossing her head back on the chair while ambessa was still on her knees, sevika’s arm falling to her side and her other one covering her mouth to restrain her noises. I know damn well she was enjoying that .. her head was still thrown back while muffling out sounds, her throat full display while her adams apple was definitely there..bobbing every time she made out a muffled sound.

“killing me here..” sevika whined out and looked down, her back only arching just slightly, her chest heaving; her v line was literally covered in ambessa’s saliva and love bites. it was a top favorite part of sevika’s body ambessa herself enjoyed. “Killing you? Tsk, keep talking for me, yeah? give me some company while I ruin the fuck out this pussy.”

———————————————————————————

A.N: NO IM NOT FINISHED ACTUALLY BUT GUYS 😭😭💔 I NEED TO POST THIS CAUSE I NEED TO. ILL MAKE ANOTHER SOON BUT ITS 2 AM. SCHLAWG PLEASE CATCH ME A BREAK TOO ??? Caitlyn post soon guys..

[cheshiresense]

Hi Cross! I'm so happy you're writing for ShunStarrk, it's one of my favrite ships and Starrk is one of favorite characters and I love how you write them. I also couldn't help thinking about wat would happen if you sent Starrk bac with Ichigo in Swinging Pendulum (or just TBTP). You've done Kisuke and Aizen so I was curious how it would go with Starrk. I'd love to see any ideas you might have for it!

lol my first thought when I saw this was a mental image of Ichigo throwing Starrk at Shunsui and being like “go seduce us an ally!” 😂😂😂

But okay, more seriously, I have a few thoughts on it so I guess I'll just ramble a bit? Well first of all, in an AU like SP/TBTP, I would employ one of my handy dandy Bleach headcanons where the next step up from Arrancar is a fully restored soul, so to speak. We know Hollows are generally souls that Shinigami failed to purify and save in time, but I like to think that as Hollows, after hitting rock bottom, if they have the power and the strength of will and the ability to survive long enough to work all the way back up on their own, they can actually fix themselves.

(I actually also headcanon that becoming “perfect artificial Arrancar” via Aizen and his Hougyoku actually stagnates them, so they’re given a power boost and Shinigami-like powers, but they’ve basically peaked and will never again be able to grow much because there is no growth from perfection, which also explains why the Visored’s power levels have always felt a cut below the other captains and lieutenants’ and even after a hundred years they could never manage much with their Hollow abilities, nor did they make any significant improvements or contributions between WW and TYBW, because the Hougyoku pushes you to the pinnacle of your potential at that point in your life, but by doing so, it also cuts off any possibility of further growth, and so over time you might even deteriorate. And all of that ties neatly back into one of Bleach’s major themes of perfection/stagnancy vs. growth/development. But I digress, that isn’t overly important here.)

My point is, the fuckery in the bad end future where Ichigo and Starrk are from lasted long enough and resulted in a terrible enough war that Starrk finally allowed himself that last step of growth and became a whole - if scarred - soul again, so he no longer has a Hollow hole or that collar of teeth, and he has a proper Zanpakutou merged with his Hollow abilities. So like he’s the first and only Hollow ever who managed to rebuild his own soul and is super OP as a result. Like if Aizen’s the upper limit of a Shinigami, and Yhwach is the upper limit of a Quincy, then Starrk would be the upper limit of a Hollow, which the Soul King took into account and was like yay finally the best of a species that isn’t out to ball the universe for once, he’s hella depressed and lonely and grieving but he’s just gonna have to deal cuz the world isn’t going to save itself and my god-slaying mad-scientist-experiment-child of a descendant needs all the help he can get to pull his saviour schtick off again.

All of which is just to say Starrk can blend in much better in Soul Society and yes I took the long-ass way around just to establish this single plot point lmao.

Secondly, as implied above, I’d prob change the final big bad to the Quincy because 1) it’s fresher in my mind and also 2) it gives me more established material to work with. Also 3) we’ll pretend Yhwach wasn’t senile and so didn’t kill off half his own army, because lbr his Auswahlen won half the war for the Shinigami in canon. And this way we get the tragic bad end we need to kick off an SP AU.

And thirdly, just to tie up that loose end, you can’t have two of the same souls in one timeline, so past!Starrk&Lilynette wink out of existence the moment the Soul King drops future!Starrk in TBTP because I’m heartless like that and the more angst the merrier.

Also fourthly, the thing about sending Starrk back with Ichigo is that the dynamic is just so completely different than if it were Kisuke or Aizen or Shinji or any of Ichigo's friends. Like I guess in other fics you usually see Starrk as one of Ichigo's ppl, lured over to the good side because of Ichigo's whole power of friendship, friends and family must be protected thing, and I enjoy reading those of course, but writing-wise, I can't really get behind it because for me, their relationship would come out sth like part-comrade, part-mentor/student because someone's gotta teach Ichigo how to Hollow and I honestly don't rly count the Visored training as such because what they did was basically the equivalent of a temporary patchjob/lesson on how to unhealthily repress a part of yourself instead of actually dealing with it, all so it won't get in the way of fighting Aizen, so Ichigo never actually gets around to harnessing that side of him as opposed to everything he does with his Shinigami and Quincy sides, and lastly part-wow-this-kid-is-a-hundred-years-away-from-becoming-another-Aizen-if-the-Shinigami-keep-fucking-up-with-him whenever Starrk looks at Ichigo, because if anyone aside from Ichigo understood what made Aizen into the would-be-god he became, it would be Starrk, and there's no way he wouldn't be able to see the exact same potential in Ichigo.

And yeah, technically Kisuke was a mentor too, same with Shinji and a few others, but with their history, it's hard to really see that role as one of their main ones, esp since all of them end up following Ichigo's lead. If you want to get poetic about it, he's the sun they're drawn to and revolve around and devote themselves to. That's completely not the case with Starrk. If anyone is Starrk's sun, it's Shunsui. Plus Starrk's just a lot older than most of them so he can't just be crammed into the peer/partner/friend willing to burn SS down for Ichigo and follow him to the ends of the world box. It would be the same if it was Shunsui or Ukitake sent back. But that's fun to play with too, something new, and I imagine Starrk's got a soft spot for kids, and this one was also taught by Shunsui (a la SP canon), and Starrk taught Ichigo as well, so it's not like they don't get along or that Starrk wouldn't absolutely throw down with someone trying to take another chunk out of Ichigo. It's just that this is a dynamic where for once, Ichigo isn't the absolute top priority and object of fascination/love/devotion for the one sent back in time with him. For Starrk, that position's already taken by a certain Shinigami captain.

And wow okay we're not even into the actual AU and I already rambled too much, I guess I'll end this with the two of them entering the Academy after wandering in from the wilds of Rukongai? In SP, I had Ichigo being found by the Shibas and sort of faking amnesia, but I feel like it's simpler here to go with the two of them finding their way to the Seireitei on their own, and then the Shibas hear of someone with a face that could pass for Kaien's twin, so ofc Kaien's immediately like HELLO LONG-LOST FAM and rolling out the welcome mat.

Obviously Ichigo's like fuck that this is way too soon after losing all my actual friends and family, but Shibas don't know how to take no for an answer (honestly you're like that too Ichigo), so there's a good few weeks where Kaien haunts the Academy like an enthusiastic ghost two steps left of empty nest syndrome or something, and Ichigo spends an equal amount of time ignoring him in favour of tearing through the Academy curriculum like a man on a mission, which he technically is. He doesn't like the attention, but he's also never had much patience for subtlety, and he's used to ignoring other ppl's opinions of him anyway, so by the end of the month, everybody knows him as the newest Shiba prodigy slated to graduate in a year, and Ichigo doesn't care so long as he gets what he wants.

Meanwhile, not many people notice the man who'd come to the city with Ichigo and applied to the Academy at the same time. Unlike Ichigo, Starrk is very good at fading into the background, and it's doubly easy when you put him next to someone whose very existence is as bright and loud as Ichigo's, with the kind of charisma that attracts ppl to him even when he doesn't do anything.

That suits Starrk just fine. He's exhausted and heartsore and still not entirely sure why he'd said yes when Mimihagi had waylaid him when he'd been on the brink of death and asked him to accompany Ichigo back in time to save the world. He's not a hero, not anyone important or special, and also not particularly interested in living in a world without Kyouraku Shunsui - his Shunsui - in it. But Shunsui had also died for the world, for the Soul Society he'd devoted his life to protecting, died to buy time for others to live just a little bit longer, and it had seemed a mockery of one of the things Shunsui had held so dear if Starrk didn't even try to protect it too when the option was laid out in front of him. Besides, it had also seemed unfair to leave it all to Ichigo, to dump the literal weight of the universe on the kid's shoulders once again, and this time he wouldn't even have any help if Starrk didn't go because everyone else was dead or - Starrk assumes - not as strong as him. Once again, his strength is more a curse than anything else. So he supposes he does know why he'd agreed - a moment of insanity, a moment of weakness - and now here he is stuck in an era he'd certainly lived through before but in a location he'd only ever seen in the midst of war.

Peacetime at least affords him time to rest, although he's not sure how he likes that either. Fighting and killing at least means he has little time for anything else, like sleep plagued with nightmares, but it's that or staring into empty space and being plagued with memories instead, and that's not really any better. Still, he deals and doesn't let Ichigo catch on to the fact that his head's not in a great place because the kid doesn't need anymore on his plate. It's not like Ichigo's getting much sleep either anyway if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by. Besides, Starrk's used to nightmares and bad memories. He has a thousand years' worth under his belt, so it's nothing new, even if the content is.

The Academy is something of a novelty, if only because he's never gone to school before. So unlike Ichigo, he doesn't mind going to lectures instead of immediately testing out of most classes and jumping straight to the sixth-year curriculum and whatever extra credit work that Zanjutsu department head who likes stalking Ichigo gives him. Starrk had checked and discovered that so long as he applies for it before the deadline, he can take the graduation exams at the end of the year, and so long as he passes, the school doesn't much care what classes make it onto his academic transcript. There's even been clan kids who just stay at home with an army of private tutors before directly taking the exams and entering the Gotei that way.

But like Ichigo, there's also not much the Academy teaches that he doesn't excel at. Combat-wise, there are already very few people in all the known worlds who can best him, let alone anyone in this school. His worst subject is history, because he knows almost nothing of Soul Society aside from major events he'd heard of in passing and anything related to Quincy, but when everything else is easy, that just means he can spend all his time memorizing the readings he's assigned.

Aside from that, he goes to class and sleeps in class, he skips class and sleeps then too, he spars whoever the teacher wants him to but never volunteers otherwise, and he's very careful to keep his reiatsu levels under wraps. He looks at his classmates in each class and picks out the middling to above average students and copies their progress, and he doesn't bother doing more.

"Isn't it boring?" Ichigo asks him once when he's once again hiding from his cousin in Starrk's room. Starrk shrugs from his bed and doesn't tell him that one doesn't know boredom until they've spent a thousand years alone in a barren desert. Anything else is a step up. Even if all the theory in his lectures are things he's already read about because Shunsui had let him have free reign in the private library back home, hearing it again never hurts. "It's a pretty good sleep aid," Starrk says instead, just to hear the amused snort it coaxes from Ichigo.

It is of course impossible to fool everyone, and Starrk hadn't been aiming for that anyway. Ichigo also doesn't spend time with anybody else, so inevitably, two months into their Academy life, one Koyonagi Senzou turns his attention on the man who probably spends more time sleeping than anyone else in the Seireitei.

"All your assignments fulfill the minimum requirements," Koyonagi says, smiling from behind his desk after summoning Starrk to his office. "Never more, never less, perfect across the board even if they all come back with a note suggesting you could try earning some bonus points. All your tests are returned with a score of 75-80%. Never more, never less, but the points that get docked off are always for questions you've left blank. And every single week, you win exactly half your total spars. Never more, never less. Tell me, Coyote-san, do you think yourself more or less subtle than Ichi-chan?" Starrk blinks once, slowly, and stares back without the energy to muster much more than a noncommittal grunt. Koyonagi reminds him a little of Aizen and a lot of Ichimaru, and this kind of person, Starrk knows, wants for nothing so much as they do a reaction. "Wasn't trying to be subtle," Starrk eventually says when it becomes clear that Koyonagi is perfectly willing to wait him out for as long as it takes, and Starrk doesn't care enough about power plays to try and win this one, not when he hasn't even been offered a chair to sit in. "I've been passing everything, so it's fine, right?" Koyonagi doesn't stop smiling, but it becomes just the slightest bit fixed the way Ichimaru's had when he'd not been entirely pleased with his prey's response. Even Starrk probably would've missed it if Ichimaru hadn't often looked like that around Starrk. As expected, the teacher prods a few more times, a little more cutting each round, and Starrk in turn replies with the same dull apathy that comes so very easily to him. "Well-played," Koyonagi finally says, and he just looks bored now. "Although I honestly can't fathom what Ichigo sees in someone so lacking in... ambition." He pauses like he wants Starrk to hear the insult underneath, like he wants Starrk to take offense, but Starrk's barely paying attention as it is, and there was no question anyway, which means Starrk isn't expected to answer, so he doesn't. Koyonagi sighs like he's never met a bigger disappointment. "Never mind, you're dismissed." His eyes glitter with something like mockery. "Your new schedule will be sent to you by tonight. You'll be moved up to the sixth year classes. Do keep up the good work, won't you?" Starrk raises an eyebrow, then sighs right back. Well, whether it's first year or sixth year, it's all the same to him. He's not the one who took the initiative to present himself as a genius, and students are moved in and out of classes for more reasons than just skipping grades. And with Ichigo around, no one will look twice at him. He dips his head in acknowledgement and wonders why people like this can't just say what they want to begin with. This had clearly been the point from the very beginning and could've been over and done with in two minutes, but this meeting's dragged on for half an hour. What a troublesome guy. He heads for the door. The weather is nice today. Maybe he'll even be able to take an uninterrupted nap for once.

On the Shiba front, something's got to give, and unfortunately for Ichigo, he doesn't have experience warding off family unwilling to leave him alone.

"I came here with a friend!" Ichigo snaps, his last-ditch attempt to chase Kaien away. "He's practically family! I'm not leaving him behind!" He'd heard all about the bullshit that was Rukia's adoption into the Kuchiki Clan, thank you. Kaien blinks at him, mystified. "What are you talking about? We just want to add you to the family registry and probably throw you a party while we're at it. You don't have to leave your friend anywhere. Hell, bring him back with you. If he's your family, he's our family, and we have plenty of space!" At this point, Kaien looks like he's warming up to the idea. "That's right, you mentioned you've known him for a while, right? Uh, what's his name again, Coyote Starrk? If he's been watching your back out in Rukongai, I should thank him properly. Is that why you've been resisting all this time? Did you think we'd make you cut ties with him or something? We're not like the other stuffy clans, Ichigo! Any friend of yours is welcome! We'd love to meet him! Hey, how's he doing in his classes? Does he need a sponsor? It doesn't matter, a clan sponsor can only be a good thing. Don't worry, Ichigo, we'll take good care of him!" Ichigo has a moment to picture the sheer amount of chaotic energy that even he can already tell is a common factor amongst the Shiba Clan, meeting Starrk, whose favourite hobbies include napping, creating new Kidou seals, and listening to Kyouraku read to him when they can scrounge up some time for themselves, and the only conclusion he can come to is a horrified, holy shit, Starrk-san's going to kill me.

[ladylokianna]

The nearness of you

The main blame for this one-shot lies entirely to Queen Gorgo and her line "your lips can finish what your fingers have started".

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader (i'm not used to use the first person p.o.v. mainly because in English i usually mess everything up by trying to fit verb tenses together so i hope everything is comprehensible). 

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Fluff but a little smut towards the end, nothing too explicit 'cause i'm not good at writing it. Fairly ooc Aemond, obviously. But, as I've already said, I really like a softer Aemond, and I like the idea that, with the right person, he would totally show his feelings (after a lot of convincing, of course, as we all know how lacking in affection and love our guy is, and it would take him quite a while before he would let himself go).   

Beta reader: my sister, but like me, she's too obsessed with Aemond and i'm afraid she is not entirely objective. Whatever. Enjoy.

***

Wrapping yourself in your heavy velvet dressing gown, you quickly went back to bed after adding a couple of wooden logs to brighten the fire in the huge fireplace, watching Aemond sleeping peacefully in the dim glow provided by the candles and the burning fire.

He lies prone, his arms folded under the pillow and one leg slightly bent towards the middle of the mattress. His slender body, chiselled by years of training, is relaxed, his features softened.

Despite the fact that the two of you have been married for a long time and that you know every single millimetre of his body, shyness sometimes leads you to blush in front of him, as if you still were the inexperienced young maiden of your wedding night.

You stretch out a hand, at first caressing gently his scarred cheek with the knuckles, paying attention to not hurt his wounded eye, then stroking his head with caring touches, enjoying the sensation of the silky strands between your fingers. He is so distant from the unflattering portrait that your aunt made of him as soon as the news of your betrothal was spreaded through the realm, who depicted Aemond as a "monster ready to feed you to his dragon at his first bad day".

A bit introvert, with a closed-off and apparently unfriendly character, maybe sometimes grumpy but definitely not a monster, Aemond is always caring and gentle with you and the few people he trust and love. Otherwise, you had learnt that his usual demeanour is just a façade, that the real Aemond is the one hanging with you in the library, flying with Vhagar or laying in your marital bed. But all is fine as it is, you surely don't want to change or fix him in any way: after all, what's wrong with him to fix? You love him as he is, and people needs to be loved as they are, not as the world would like them to be.

You move your hand down slowly along his shoulders, feeling under your fingertips the scratches you remember leaving him with the nails during the night, marks that you could find again on his shoulder blades and down his muscular back, on his narrow, jerky hips, marks that goes alongside with older ones earned during his strict sword training. If you close your eyes, you can easily recall the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your touch and the heat of his skin against yours, his hands ceaselessly travelling on your body and his weight as he hold you firmly still against the mattress with the absolute need to feel you trembling beneath him, to hear you screaming his name on each deep and precise thrust of his hips.

Your gaze follows the trail of your nails even further, on the roundness of Aemond's buttocks, on which you suddenly no longer have the courage to stretch your hand, despite the fact that only few hours earlier you had grasped them with all your strength to pull him as closer as possible to your core so he could sink deeper into your walls.

"We'll end up keeping the whole fortress awake... i can stop if it's too much, mh?" he'd chuckled out of the blue, teasing you a little after a loud cry escaped your mouth.

"Don't you dare." was your response, hissed in his ear and making him laugh heartily. "My word, Aemond, if you stop now, i'll make you pay for it."

"Oh, would you? I'm almost tempted to stop right now just to see how you will make me pay for my disobedience."

Shooking your head, with your hand still steady right above the dimples at the bottom of his back, you furtively check if Aemond is still asleep, surrendering to the urge to repeat the same gestures of that night: taking a deep breath, your hand lingered on the smooth skin of his bare ass, savouring that feeling for a while before squeezing it gently.

"Your lips can finish what your fingers have started."

You gasp surprised, blushing like you're again that little girl caught stealing the pastries set to cool in the kitchens of your father's castle, noticing the smirk painted on Aemond's lips and his wonderful eye pointed at you, clearly amused and flattered by your attentions.

"I thought... Gods... i thought you were asleep... how long have you been awake?"

"Hm...a while. Let's say since i felt your fingers on my face." he hummed, noticing your reddened cheeks. "How come that we're married for a long time yet you still blush over me? Oh, look at you... don't be shy, darling. You know you can touch whatever you want, whenever you want."

Blushing was the least of it, since a glance from him was often enough to set you on fire.

"Keep going though, i was enjoying it."

Yeah, of course he was. "What a little rascal you are."

With a wide smile Aemond turns on his back, offering his whole being to your gaze, to your will.

"Come darling, come to me." whispers, stretching his arms towards you and guidind you on top.

His skin felt so familiar and warm it hurt your heart. Moving a little, you adjust yourself on his pelvis before running your hands over him again, and again, and again, until suddenly you can feel his yearning running through his veins like a fire, bringing his blood to the boiling point, flushing his skin: you can sense it by the way his manhood is already leaking against you. With his breathing more strained, Aemond pulls himself up to sit, his muscles tensed at every single touch on his body, letting you taking him again as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you as closer as possible.

"Don't be shy, you can do what you want to me. I'm yours."

[confusedshades]

I'd like to raise a point here. In the changed timeline, each of those changes would have further ripple effects, right?

So you've got Joker dead. Which means that for once the people of Gotham can breathe a sigh of (less polluted air now that things were finally turning around) relief. Yes Two Face, Penguin, etc. are still around, but Joker is gone. Even the Rogues didn't enjoy it when he got out and tried staying out of way. So everyone is relieved when Joker's dead. The worst is gone. Harley is obvious extremely distressed and needs to be incarcerated for a bit. Eventually between the lack of the constant back and forth with Joker, with actual help in Arkham* and support from Selina and Ivy she starts leveling out. Eventually she gets much better and starts a niche practice with rogues and retired capes with a focus on helping them deal with things they've experienced and done.

A lot of the Rogues enter into uneasy truces of sorts. Pamela Isley gets to oversee a lot of the green revolution of Gotham and a say in the chemical clean up in the wake of disasters. Edward Nygma is given the opportunity to create escape rooms and design toys. Henry Dent gets admitted into anlong term care program with surgical and psychiatric help to help him return to normal. Harleen Quinzel's practice is extremely niche.

RH and DP clean out Gotham. They go after Rogues, they go after institutions where people are hoarding power and money instead of helping the people they've been elected to, and they go after the rich elite. The result of all this? There's a sudden influx of new people in positions all over. New Mayor, new lawyers, new defense attorneys, new cops, new detectives, new social workers, new health inspectors, new doctors, psychiatrists*, etc.

Yes, Arkham is one of those places that basically gets 75-80% of it's employees replaced. The new people working there are actually motivated to change things and with others around who are driven to do the same are actually able to drive change in policies and procedures.

The sudden drop in criminals and rogues who pull others into crime because it gives them power (like Black Mask and Joker) in addition to the new opportunities for hiring meant a lot of people no longer had to rely on crime to make ends meet, were able to get jobs they'd wanted and were qualified for, and in an environment where pushing for better changes is not only the norm but encouraged. So things were looking up from all sides.

The letters in green signed by DP also brought closure and started the healing from the years old grief and anger. That kind of fed into the emotional changes that were going on in Gotham. Danny had found the old Lazarus Pit under Gotham and started purifying it which somehow was feeding the various curses that were laid on the city and inadvertently affecting the weather. (There's a reason none of the magic users like going to Gotham.)

A lot of the crime that's now normal for Gotham is the usual hold ups, robberies etc. that the police can handle. That's not to say there weren't crimes committed by organised crime and Rogues but those were on a steady decline.

Which means Jason gets to start playing ALL kinds of tricks on Batman.

Glitter bombs. Paint bombs. (In the Batmobile, in unexpected places, on top of buildings, you name it)

Danny was the one to come up with the whole ridiculous photos of Batman on patrol sent to news and social media. (Batman's expression just after a glitter bomb went off. Tripping off a building because of the cape. Slipping off a slanting roof on winter nights.)

The poll that went up comparing Bruce vs Batman and who had more ridiculous shenanigans was not any of their ideas but neither Jason nor Danny were about to turn down serendipity.

Dead on Main time travel with a mom Danny twist.

Jason calls in a favor from someone on the justice league dark team for help with a case that got magical. the person sends him Danny. it goes well. they're both working very professionally. something happens and they end up back in time in their younger bodies.

Both of them are in the same city that they were working the case on. They are far away from home but Jason is 15 a few months before he finds out about his bio mom and Danny at this time is incubating Dan and Ellie's cores.

Neither of them quite realize the repercussions of what's Happening. The two of them team up to try and get back home. What the two of them don't realize is Danny's friends and family have no idea where he is though they are less worried than the bat family who fully believe Jason is kidnapped.

The two of them go on adventure trying to dodge any local heroes or villains. Eventually the two of them are able to get into contact with Clockwork and Clockwork tells them that they have altered this timeline too much for them to go back. 

The two of them angst about that until they have to get forced out of that because they run into a local hero. I want to say one of the Titans that work with Nightwing because then they recognize Jason but have no reason to know that he's missing.

the two of them then realize that because they're in their younger bodies everyone has no idea where they are. This is when Danny realizes that at that age he is incubating Dan and Ellie which makes him try to split off from Jason.

As Danny's trying to figure out a way to tell Jason what's going on Jason realizes that Danny is getting really sick or at least he thinks is really sick. He's getting tired more easily than before and keeps throwing up. Jason originally thought it was due to stress of the situation but it becomes more and more clear that it is not. They end up having a confrontation which leads to Danny telling him that they are basically pregnant. 

Jason tells Danny that they are not leaving them, especially not after everything that happened. The two of them decide together where to go. The two of them end up deciding the only places that they can go are Amity park or Gotham because of the ambient ectoplasm.

They can go to Amity Park except last time Danny was there it was a bad Fenton parents reveal which led to both Dan and Ellie dead with jazz wheelchair bound as well as Sam and Tucker in comas.

 Or

they could go to Gotham except Jason is probably presumed missing. Having Wayne and bat family connection is probably best for them except for Jason having a falling out in the last timeline as well as knowing that he is supposed to be dead in a few weeks. Jason knows that his death is a major turning point for his family as well as many other things in the timeline.

[itsabouttimex2]

Eclipse Kings

Part Three: Wild Dawn

(Part One: Mountain Monkeys) (Part Two: Barbed Dusk) (Part Three: You Are Here)

(Extra One)

For almost all his life, Sun Wukong had never really known “want”, not for more than the few moments it took to decide he was going to pursue some fleeting and new desire.

The land itself seemed to conspire to his favor- he was borne to a thriving mountain of surplus and luxury, sparkling stream racing down each hill, bountiful orchards with boughs so heavy they dipper near to the earth. Even the horizon was generous, spanning sunrises to color his every lavish breakfast and hosting a banner of glittering stars to lull him to sleep.

He wanted for nothing, because when the world would not bend to his whims, he simply bent it himself- to the end result of power, luxury, and adoration.

His life was fraught with the inevitable turning of blades, stuffed full of motion, conflict, and inevitable triumph. His troop grew by the year, Flower Fruit Mountain knew nothing of suffering, and his treasury was brimming with relics.

A demon crowned eternal king of a flourishing mountain, untouchable and immovable.

What more could a monkey want?

Company, as it turned out. The varied little simians scattered all through the trees and bushes of his mountain were wonderful, of course- he cherished them all like his own children, and doted on each and every one of the little menaces.

But he still wanted more.

—-——————————————————————

“That, little mortal, is when I joined my Sworn Brotherhood!”

The Great Sage Equal to Heaven smiles warmly at his recited memories, claws lightly sifting through a large collection of traditional clothing.

“We were going to lead a siege on that stuck-up realm of Celestials, but my darling moonbeam had an even better idea- why not start our own kingdoms? Instead of teaching those stuffy old fools how to respect us, we could just show them up and take all their little worshipping mortals away!”

You don’t say a word in turn, still bundled up in a fluffy towel, sitting on the nearest chair, idly watching through blank eyes. Since you hadn’t been willing to walk or respond, Wukong had scooped you up with a sigh and hurried off to his and Macaque’s shared changing room, given permission to pick out some old clothes of theirs to give you.

“Of course, all of the stuff that was supposed to be boring was, uh… a total mess. Y’know, like deciding on territories, drawing borders, figuring out taxes—ugh. Mortals do not like taxes. Sure like ‘em better than being eaten by demons, though.” He chuckles at his own words, shaking his head as if to dismiss the unpleasant memories of bureaucracy. Wukong pulls out a black ceremonial robe embroidered with purple thread and holds it up against you, squinting as if he’s considering how it might look.

“…no. My sweet moon wouldn’t like you wearing this.”

“…s’it “too nice” for me?”

“…you mortals really aren’t the best with self-esteem, are you? No, little villager- it’s because he wore something like this when we were married. After that, he started commissioning seamstresses to make him more clothes like that robe… the actual thing is framed in a glass box over our bed. I don’t understand why Mac wanted that, but I can’t ever say no to him…”

Wukong’s voice trails off, tone softening as his gaze drifted to the ceiling. A smile plays on his lips, barely restrained, as he’s replaying his dearest memory of Macaque on repeat. You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond, the weight of his affection for his moonlit partner pressing against the silence.

He breaks it himself, but only after walking across the room and popping open lacquered wood chest, breaking the preserving sigil printed across it .

“You know,” says the king, his claws tapping the gleaming pauldron of gold within, “I wore this when we got married.”

He turns to the side, catches the fact that you’ve perked up even a little, and continues.

“It was the nicest thing I owned at the time- most of my outfits were skinned animals and stolen rags. This is something my brothers had given me, so it was the nicest thing I had that wasn’t my staff.”

Wukong’s fingers linger on the golden armor, tone rich with an ancient nostalgia. “I wasn’t one for fancy clothes back then- still coming around to it now- but I was even worse with it back then. I wanted to go in my tiger skirt and my old boots! But my brothers? Oh, they insisted: “You’re getting married- you can’t just show up looking like a bandit on your wedding day!” So they gave me this, and a nice red robe with a ton of silly characters embroidered into it- it’s framed right next to my mate’s robe, now.”

Say something. You need to say something. You can’t just mumble and mutter if you want to stay in a king’s good graces, can you?

“…do you… remember your vows?”

He perks with a smile, intrigued by the random question, entirely missing how dangerously close you are to cracking.

“Well, if that’s want you want to know, how about I tell you about the whole ceremony? Here, I’ll lay out how it went…”

——————————————————————

Macaque shuffles in place for a moment, old meekness returning to him- his hands twitch, and the notes smoothly inked onto the sleeve of his silk robe catch in the light, drawing his aureate eyes downwards. The crowd all around is nervous mortals and drunk demons, dressed in red or black or gold, held at peace mostly by his eager “brothers”. On Azure’s lap and shoulders are several children, more interested in his blade and snout than the ceremony. He’s smiling, more at ease than any other here.

The others for the most part are doing alright. Peng is preoccupied with their drink, casually allowing themselves to be marveled at by a blacksmith and a jeweler- though neither are allowed to touch, both mortals are fervently etching the gilded designs into their paper scrolls. The avian flaps those glimmering wings on occasion, causing streaks of light to flash over the modest venue, catching across the polished tiles.

Yellowtusk sits on a carved stone chair, marking the attendants in a neat ledger, made oversized to fit his hands. Several troops of Long-Tailed and Crab-Eating Macaques play on his trunk and tusks, their little fingers deftly taking hold in the cracks of his thick skin to ascend it. They don’t ever distract him for more than a few seconds, even when the youngest cubs forget their manners and start chirping in his ears.

The largest of their Brotherhood stands at attention in the doorway, toying with the straps of his battle axe. His face is painted with a rarely seen apprehension, looking back and forth over the room on occasion. Sometimes his gaze stills on a veil-shrouded woman with painted lips, and then he smiles for a moment.

The Demon Bull King is not nearly as subtle of a man as he thinks.

Not that it matters- when, for all that (which is very much) his Sworn Brothers know he’s courting a Celestial Maiden, they’ve chosen to keep an oath of silence on the matter.

(“He’s our big guy,” as Wukong had put it during one meeting months ago. “And we want that goofball to be happy.”)

(All of them- even Peng- had toasted to that notion, in the general direction of the bull’s empty chair.)

The mortals are safe. His brothers are content. He can do this.

Once more the dried notes on his sleeve catch Macaque’s attention, snapping him from the venue and to his golden love.

One last time he goes over them, dedicating those practiced words to memory.

He takes a breath, and turns to the audience.

“My mate-to-be is… molten gold, kissed by the rising sun. Beautiful is a shallow word to describe him- he is a masterpiece, a divine work of art carved by the heavens themselves. His eyes hold the all the world’s fire within them, blazing with the brilliance of a thousand sunsets. His laughter is a hymn to freedom itself, a melody I pray to hear every day for the rest of my life. When I look at him, I don’t just see a king, but the very heart of my existence, the axis upon which my world turns. He is my sun, my storm, my sanctuary, my everything.”

Several of the softer mortals are touched by his speech, lifting their cotton sleeves to the very corners of their eyes. Others only lightly clap, still uncomfortable at being called to the union.

Macaque does not have time to look away from before Wukong’s ginger-furred paws clasp onto his shoulders, holding tight.

There are no notes, no hours of reciting, no time spent with helpful Sworn Brothers to listen and offer advice, no matter how snarky- Sun Wukong simply turns from the crowd and offers himself.

“Macaque… I love you. I want you to be my mate forever. Until the sun goes dark.” Wukong's tail flicks behind him, expression softening with a rare blush. "Because... you're part of my story, bud. You’ve always been a part of it. And I'm tired of pretending like I can write the rest of it without you. Be mine forever and let’s be mates.”

The world is blurry, at least to Macaque. Nine and a half seconds prior he had thought there’d be some disappointment to push through, delivered an insincere joke or a vow written by another’s hand.

But there was only been Sun Wukong, love of his life, smiling at him.

“I will be your mate,” he chokes out, “forever. Until the sun goes dark.”

——————————————————————

“We’ve never been apart since then,” he purrs, dragging one claw over a hanfu the color of a sky on a gentle morning, toying with the white sash to untie it. “Not even for a day.”

Before you have a chance to respond, he plucks up the garment and holds it out to you. The size difference between him and the outfit is comical, and you wonder why these two demon kings have it in the first place.

“This should fit you, bud! Here, let’s get that towel off-“

You scream.

It’s not particularly loud or long, or even desperate- but it’s a scream all the same.

Worse still for yourself, you take this hysteric moment to lay on some shaky remand.

“NO! No more! Just stop touching me! I don’t- I d-don’t like it! You’re- you’re twice my size and you keep- you and him are always getting in my face and- a-and putting your hands on me, and I- I’m am so, so sick of it! I am not an o-object! I am a person! I am a person! I-“

“Quiet. Now.”

Wukong’s golden eyes narrow as he stands there, the weight of his presence pressing down on the room like a thundercloud ready to burst. His tail flicks sharply, but his voice remains measured.

…there are tears rolling down your eyes now, lost in the fluffy expanse of the towel around your body, sopping uselessly away as the king takes two footsteps to your form, frowning.

Not that it does anything to settle the rapid beat of your heart, crushed by the newly oppressive atmosphere.

“…you’re scared. I understand that. And maybe my moonbeam and I, we’ve been a little too hands on. That’s on us. But this my pagoda, and I did not build it by hand so that a little guest could yell at me. You know that you’re not a prisoner here. The doors aren’t locked, and there aren’t guards stationed outside them… now. I’ll let you get dressed- alone- and then you can eat. And…

“And no more touching without your permission. Okay?”

“…m’sorry. F-for yelling.”

“…I’m not mad,” he lies, one hand shifting to condescendingly pat you on the head. “I forget- my brothers, and my mate, too- we yaoguai just aren’t the same as mortals. You little things are scared too easily, and break so quickly.”

Something about hearing that is humiliating, but you don’t dare argue with him. Instead, you hunch your shoulders and cling to the towel, sniveling down at the floor.

Wukong’s frown softens the longer he watches you cry, all the sharpest edges of his irritation melting away into something closer to pity.

“I’ll leave it here. Call if you get lost looking for the kitchen.”

His words are painfully curt, and then the king is gone, golden beads and silk robes swishing behind him with each step.

You were never close, and only ever tangentially in the “good graces” of these kings. It’s not like you’ve shattered some precious bond.

But you still feel bad.

You wouldn’t, not usually. But as you unwrap the towel and begin to dress yourself in the lovely hanfu left draped over the chair nearest to you, the aches and pains of yesterday’s chase down the mountain weigh on you, just as MK’s new identity and newer happiness strike a deep point of insecurity- that you simply weren’t good enough to take care of him.

You weren’t good enough to provide for him anymore.

You wanted to believe you were more than them- strong enough to survive on your own, to fight your way through the world with MK in tow. But the truth was harder to face: Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque were meteoric gods, and you were just a mortal caught in the tides of their myth.

And where MK was thriving in this ecliptic chaos, you instead were already cracking under pressure after only a day spent before the kings.

…there’s a lovely silk pouch, dyed the color of new lavender blooms, hanging from the hanfu- you only notice it after tying the sash into a decent bow. The soft texture grounds your tumultuous thoughts, and a powerful aroma steadily drifts from within.

You fiddle with the tie and open the sash, revealing a dried bundle of orange blossoms tightly tied together, each stem marked with a glittering mystic sigil- 提高.

Whatever scent they would’ve had already was amplified by the marking, causing a heavy flow of fresh floral scent to ooze from the little purse.

You lift it and take a deep breath from the bag, allowing the veil of citrus aroma to utterly cloud your mind, providing it a much needed fog to rest under.

The soothing haze is slow to fade, even after you’ve pulled away and sealed the bag, but eventually you are left with only your steadied thoughts in the ornate chamber, amongst fine silks and polished wood, treasures of centuries past hung casually about It’s beautiful—almost too much so.

A reminder that this world of theirs is not the same of yours.

But you would not stop trying to survive in it.

You couldn’t.

[reignpage]

Lil angst idea ........ how do you think jjk men would react if reader defected?? (If possible could we get both pre and post defection suguru 👉👈)

Gojo:

DEVASTATED words cannot even explain the crash out this man would experience (I have a fic on this actually, still writing it tho) I think he'd go off the rails Starts hollow purpling everything That isn't a joke btw, like that's how I see it play out He'd lose hope and faith

Pre-Geto:

He'd go catatonic for a while Thinking about what went wrong and trying to figure out where he stands But he'd end up joining reader

Post-Geto:

Happy Feels reassured about his masterplan Because he definitely had moments where he doubted himself

Choso:

Confused Would try to reach out to understand Would be very conflicted about where he stands It'll drive him wild trying to choose between reader or his brother Very similar crash out like when he realised Yuji was his brother after attacking him

Toji:

I don't think he'd care He's really the type to just go with the flow Always been apolitical and just focused on himself so he'll go wherever you go Won't really take an active part in your plans but if you asked him to do something e.g. kill someone, he'd do it

Nanami:

Woah You know in a zombie apocalypse, where the crazy weirdo has a tied up zombie of their loved one that they talk to and think is genuinely okay, like living in fantasy land That would be Nanami He'd be sent to kill you, but would capture and hold you captive instead Comes in multiple times a day to clean and feed you Talks to you about his day like nothing's wrong In hopes you'll return to him

Sukuna:

He'll pat himself on the back lol You know that scene in Barbie when Ken says SUBLIME Yeah that's our man

Yuji:

Poor boy wouldn't understand He'll be traumatised Forever changed Just like Gojo was It'll force him to reaffirm his belief and faith in jujutsu society but there'll be a darkness that follows him everywhere

Megumi:

Mad at you So so so mad Mad at himself too Feels a strong sense of responsibility and blame Thinks you're stupid and you were manipulated or something But doesn't try to seek you out He's too cowardly

Inumaki:

Suffer in silence Would stop speaking all together Might start chasing you down though Thinks he can use his technique to bring you back Spiritually demolished if he tries and fails

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

 Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh.  “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too.  “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @karencaribou @princesstarble @dirtylittlefairytales @hbwrelic @mosscrissfemmefatale @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3 @lokidovahkiin

[glitter-stained]

I love LOVE the idea of Duke being the one to notice

And yeah I feel like it makes sense that feeling of "i just saw a horrible flash of information but I'm probably missing something that will make it make sense", and Duke isn't shy about mentioning Jason's past trauma but when he asks about that one strangely Jason just locks down and it's impossible to get a straight answer out of him. Duke has a very very bad feeling about it and goes to Cass, Cass asks Jason and he skirts around the answer but she can read in his body language all his shame and yes, yes batman killed him, but Jason won't elaborate. And I can see Cass desperately looking for an answer that will change her evaluation of the situation because she can't believe it but she has no other choice, she and Duke are in this situation where they don't have the luxury of not seeing what they see. And I can see Duke being on a bit of all the ends of the spectrum like "I like Jason he shouldn't have to feel unsafe/Batman is very insistent on his rule of no killing he definitely shouldn't kill/ you shouldn't kill your children wth is up with that" so it would be a kinda spread horror amongst the different axes of that spiderweb diagram, like not the reality shattering thing it is for Cass on one axis but more of a general "all of this is so wrong" way. And of course, Duke and Cass friendship ftw.

As for Roy, I'm gonna be honest, I'm a big Jayroy fan who really hates Lobdell. So I would be very down for an alternative to RHATO where Jason and Roy grow and become close during the evil horrible team-up of doom. So Roy could be a great candidate for "you shouldn't kill your children wth is up with that" esp if (idk how we can tweak the timeline because timelines are hard) this happens before he manages to get Lian back. This is a man who would give everything for one more minute with his little girl and, stumbling upon the investigation, he finds out Batman might have gotten that incredible blessing and wasted it?!!! This Roy barely even remembers Jason but by god this investigation better end up with a good explanation because there's no way he's letting a man who did that lead the JL (and he also has many concerns regarding Dick.)

As for the final member, the one who is used to fathers hurting their children, who doesn't bat an eye at killing, but who really won't let someone killing Jason slide, and who would be really fun to see interact with Cass again, I suggest Rose Wilson.

Which would lead us to the ultimate fucked up mission team where nobody wants to find the answer but they need an impossible answer that would make everything alright, and nobody is listening to the one person who knows for sure how doomed the mission is. And eventually the characters truth comes out and everyone is miserable.

Also with a sentiment of hey maybe it happened but it wasn't Bruce and Jason didn't notice, latching onto that: "please please please be a shapeshifter" - "it's not a shapeshifter" - "wdym it's not, it has to be a shapeshifter"

And I love, i a tragic way, that Jason isn't the main character. This is a Cass story. And because he is a side character in someone else's story, his agency is ignored, he has no choice, the truth will come out whether he wants it to or not because what is his shame in the name of ideals of heroism and truth and justice, everything he attempts to stop it is doomed. In a way he really is the antagonist of the story, the villain stopping the heroes from attaining their goals and it's doomed because the heroes always win.

And Jay is like "you don't understand, I gave him an impossible choice, I made him do it he didn't do it on purpose he didn't have a choice" (easier if it's his fault, if he was in control, if Bruce didn't choose) and on the next panel you see an image of little Cass with the pigtails and blood-soaked hands and she's not even looking at Jason she's telling the little girl "no, there was a choice, and he (you) chose wrong." A very bitter form of self-hatred and desperation where like she truly believed she could be more than the murderer she became and now she doesn't believe in the man who believes in her.

(idk how to include her relationship with Barbara in this, probably something positive, a bittersweet ending.)

If Bruce killed Jason at the ending of UtH, as it is implied, and if Jason knows that he died, he' the one who keeps Bruce's biggest secret, the breaking of the no-kill rule.

And something something secrets make people grow closer, at the same time that an unwanted secret is also like an unwanted invasion of your space. So Jason is caught in this limbo where he's as closest as possible to Bruce for keeping that secret, but no actual closeness is actually there.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Three

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Mention of abortion, swearing. 

Chapter Words: 2,069

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

A week later Bucky and I made our way to the Doctor's office, we had left the compound separately, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves, Bucky had met me in his car at the end of the incredibly long drive out of the compound. 

I hated the doctors, we sat in the waiting room, it was stuffy in here, full of people too, I hated it, but Bucky took my hand in his, holding it and doing that thing with his thumb, stroking the skin of my hand gently, it calmed me down. I could tell he felt nervous too, his knee was bouncing. 

"Hey...everything's gonna be alright doll" He whispers to me, there was a few looks from the others in the waiting room, they knew who we were, luckily people were scared of Bucky, and would never come up to him. 

"I hate the doctors" I whisper. 

"I know doll, I hate 'em too" He whispers back. 

Finally we were called in, I pulled Bucky's hand with me into the examination room, the Doctor I hadn't met before, but luckily she was a woman, I smiled faintly to her and she shook mine and Bucky's hand. I climbed onto the table and shut my eyes as the Doctor; Dr. Addams did her checks, once done she gave me a moment to dress. Once done, I sat nervously on the edge of the bed. 

"You're definitely pregnant" Dr. Addams spoke. "I'd say around 8 weeks" 

I didn't say much, but once Bucky and I could leave we did so, and got into his car. I stayed quiet on the drive home, not caring if anyone caught us getting out of the car together. Bucky followed me to my room, his hand never leaving mine as we did. Once in my room, and my door was shut I turned to him, tears falling down my cheeks again. 

"So...we're pregnant" I say, leaning against the closed door of my room. Bucky stood in front of me. 

"Yeah, doll...We're pregnant" 

"I still don't know what to do" I whisper. Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hand moving to take mine in his again. He looks at me, his expression a mixture of concern and uncertainty. 

"Doll, I don't want to push you into anything, it's your choice in the end, but I just want you to know, that if you decide to keep it, I'm with you" He says, his voice so caring towards me. A few tears slipped from my eyes and onto my cheeks. 

"Thank you Bucky" I whisper, as I step forward into his arms. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Over the next week I spent a lot of time alone, thinking over my options. And I spent a lot of time crying, I had no idea what to do... At least I think I didn't. Only one option felt right, as scary as it sounded. I sighed and left my room, I walked through the compound until I found Bucky in the kitchen, along with Steve.. I sighed and walked over to the man. 

"Hey, can I talk to you?" I ask him, receiving an eyebrow raise from Steve, probably confused at the kindness in my voice. This was probably the kindest I had ever been to Bucky in front of someone. Bucky stopped his conversation with Steve and looked to me, his eyes narrowed slightly, he studies my features and stands. 

"Uh, yeah...sure" 

He follows me into the hallway, I walk a bit further, not wanting Steve to hear our conversation. Once alone, I stood and looked up at Bucky. 

"I've made a decision" I say quietly. I watch as his face changes into a inpatient expression, his body tensed, he reached forward taking my hand in his. 

"Okay...what decision did you make, doll?" He asks, his voice a bit hoarse as he responds. 

"I don't feel comfortable terminating...the baby...but I also don't like the idea of giving it away, so I want to keep it" I say confidently. I watch as Bucky's breath hitches in his throat, he said nothing for a few moments, stressing me out further. 

"You...you want to keep it? Raise it?"

"I think so...Only if you promise you'll be there for us" 

Bucky steps closer to me, his hands coming to rest on either side of my arms, holding me. "Doll, I promise you. I'll be there for you. For you and the baby, you won't do this along, I'm in it for the long haul, I'm never going anywhere" 

I smile softly as he rambles, his eyes full of excitement. 

"We should probably tell the team...wanna start with Steve first?" I ask, knowing telling the team was going to be...something else. Bucky nods eagerly, he takes my hand in his and pulls me back towards the kitchen. Steve looks at us, a quizzical look on his face as he sees us. He takes a sip of his coffee, which I look at longingly. 

"Oh fuck, I miss coffee" I say, off track. Bucky chuckles and nudges me slightly. 

"Right, yeah...Steve we have something to tell you" I say, Steve looks at the two of us, his eyes furrowed in confusion as he notices how closely we stood together. I watch as a hint of worry flashes in Steve's eyes, he puts his coffee down on the table, his attention completely on us. 

"Okay, what's up?" He asks. 

"Well it might be confusing, since Bucky and I are nothing but mean to one another.." I say, my words shaky as I talk. 

"Wait... don't tell me, you two...are actually getting along?" Steve asks. I chuckle nervously. 

"Not only do we get along...But I'm also pregnant" I say, my voice trembling. 

Steve's jaw nearly hits the floor, his eyes flicker between the two of us. 

"What? You're...you're pregnant? And..Bucky's...he's the father?" Steve asks. 

"Yep" I reply quietly. I watch as Steve's face goes through a range of emotions as he absorbs the information. Surprise, worry, happiness, and confusion all flicker across his features in a matter of seconds. He looks back and forth between me and Bucky several times before speaking again. 

"I...I don't know what to say...I had no idea you two were even able to have a conversation without insulting one another...let alone..having a child together" Steve says, his voice a little strong and stern. I shrink a little into myself, feeling a wave of emotions. 

"We...we've been sleeping together, for a little while" Bucky says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"This is a lot to take in" Steve says, he glances at Bucky, a myriad of questions in his eyes. 

"Yeah...I get that" I say, mumbling. I hear as Bucky sighs, he probably knows Steve is close to telling him off, understandable to be fair. 

"Bucky, I have to ask...how long has this been going on? And more importantly, when did you two start liking each other?" Steve asks, he reaches up to run a hand through his hair, usually his perfect tidy hair. 

"It happened a few months ago" I say first. I look to Bucky seeing a blush creep over his features. 

"Yeah...it was...unexpected" Bucky adds. 

"It was actually one of our arguments that started...this" I say smirking, fondly looking over at the kitchen counter. Bucky chuckles and nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he catches where I was staring. 

"Yeah..we got into a pretty heated argument one night...and somehow, things just escalated from there..." Bucky explained. 

"And now I'm pregnant" I say again, taking a deep breath "And I'm an Avenger...Oh fuck, I'm gonna have to stop Avengering" 

I whined as I spoke, it hadn't dawned on me yet. I frowned looking at Bucky. I watched Steve chuckle lightly. 

"Yeah...I hate to say it, but with the risk involved, it's not safe for you to continue any missions whilst pregnant" Steve explained. I groaned and glared at Bucky. Bucky winces slightly at my look, he takes a step closer to me, raising his hand to my arm. 

"Hey doll, it's not my fault! Steve's right, it's too dangerous" Bucky answers. 

"It is your fault! You put your penis in me" I argued back. I watched as both Steve and Bucky's cheeks flushed red at my blunt statement, Bucky's eyes widen as Steve chokes on his coffee. 

"I...yeah...I can't argue with that" Bucky chuckles nervously. 

"I should probably tell Tony" I say groaning. Bucky grimaces, he lets out a low sigh, unsure of what Tony's reaction would be. 

"Yeah...Stark's next on the list, he'll probably have a few questions" 

"Let's hope he's not mad for losing two Avengers" I say, knowing Bucky would stop missions when the baby was born. Bucky's expression softens a little, he puts his hand on my lower back and pulls me against him. 

"Hey...don't worry about Stark, he'll understand" Bucky reassures me. 

"Yeah..right I'll go find him" I say, moving away from Bucky, I could tell him and Steve probably needed a chat, I left the kitchen and walked through the compound knowing I'd probably find Tony in the lab, I walked in seeing him and Bruce, I smiled hopping onto one of the stools they had in the room. 

"Hi boys" I grin sweetly. They both glanced up from their tablets, smiling when they saw me. Tony walked to me, leaning on the desk in front of me. 

"Well, well, look who it is" Tony smirked "Long time no see, what brings you to the lab?" 

"I have something to tell you Tony...though Bruce you can know too" I say nervously. Tony raises an eyebrow, a look of intrigue on his face. 

"Okay, I'm all ears kiddo" 

I watch Bruce put his tools now, he walks to stand next to Tony, a worried look over his face, he could sense my nerves. 

"I'm pregnant" 

There's a beat of silence as Tony and Bruce process my words. Tony's eyes widen, his mouth falling open slightly. Bruce looked shocked as well, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Tony was the first to speak, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity. 

"You're...you're pregnant. As in...having a baby...pregnant?" He asks. I chuckle slightly. 

"Correct, that is what pregnant means" I answer, my sarcasm laced through my voice, the others would always tell me off for my British sarcasm, I couldn't help it however. I watched as Tony rolled his eyes, and Bruce scratched his chin. 

"When you say you're pregnant, how far along are you? And..do we know the father?" Bruce asked. 

"Uhh like 9 weeks" I say "And...yeah you... do know the father" 

Tony's eyebrows shoot to the sky. He glances to Bruce and then back to me. 

"I'm guessing it's not some random stranger...right? The father?" Tony asks. 

"No..it's uhh...it's Bucky" I admit. The look of shock over their faces made me chuckle slightly. I almost regret keeping what Bucky and I had a secret, I had a lot of shocked looks coming in my future. Both men looked at me in utter shock, like they couldn't believe me. 

"Wait..Bucky?! Bucky is the father? Barnes? That Barnes?!" Tony rambled. 

"The very one"

Tony and Bruce exchanged another glance, both still in disbelief. Tony was the first to find his voice again, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally speaks. 

"When...when did this happen? I thought you two couldn't stand each other" 

"We've been sleeping together, for a few months...secretly" I explain, my cheeks flushing red. 

"Months!" Tony near yells "You've been sleeping together for months? And now you're pregnant?" 

"Basically yes" I say, smiling. It still felt weird hearing the word pregnant. 

"I've gotta say, I was not expecting that, you really know how to shock us, don't ya?" Bruce chuckles. 

"Yeah...sorry about that" I say quietly. 

"Well congratulations" Bruce smiles at me, as he takes his glasses off, cleaning them. 

"Yeah congratulations, who woulda thought, you and Bucky, together, with a baby" Tony says, his voice still dripping with disbelief. 

"Yeah...thanks guys" I say smiling "Sorry about the whole not being an Avenger for a little while" I add with a sad smile, I loved going on missions. 

"Don't worry kiddo, you have to look after yourself first" Tony grins. 

I smile and hop off the stool, ready to go back to Bucky. 

"Thanks men" I say as I turn around to leave.

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

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@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer

[saphig-iawn]

Behind Frosted Glass

Inspired by a certain story, one of my dolls asked if she could have a Good Girl Button.

She was so excited by the way in which should be so easily rewritten. Little tweaks and changes, here and there.

But what really excited her was the idea that I could just record over memories. I could omit little things or construct something new.

She wanted so desperately to be a plaything, programmable by whoever plays with her.

So, after fractionating her pretty little mind until it was putty in my hand, I wove my ribbon between my fingers and into her.

It took her a while to come to after I counted her back up. She's a bit of a glutton for fractionation.

She was so happy to have gone so deep, but we didn't waste time in getting to play.

I asked her a simple question.

Would you be a good girl and touch your forehead for me?

There was a hesitation in her movement, but she obeyed and-

Night night doll!

Bye bye brain!

No matter my teasing, she remained limp in her chair, brain off, just a mindless empty doll.

I counted her up and she awoke with a wonderful smile on her face. I've had this doll for some time now but I recognise that smile. A small part of her was still in a little bit out of doubt, just a tiny piece of doubt, which was immediately quelled by her Good Girl Button working just as she had fantasised.

But then I asked her to hold the button.

Now her mind was like an open microphone, recording anything I told it.

I told her a very simple thing.

That she had a deep arousal that need tending but she just can't remember how to do it.

I counted her up and her hips bucked and thighs squeezed the moment I reached the end.

Her eyes clenched, she bit her bottom lip.

And then she began to twist her arms.

She knew she needed to feed that hunger between her legs but there was static on the line that the signals from her brain were trying to travel along.

Phantoms of muscle memory trying to reach out but being pushed back by the little spell.

Her intimate areas became uncharted territory and it was delightful to watch her try but wonderfully fail at pleasuring herself.

Her moans were delicious, equal parts frustration and pleasure.

While she was on my lap I also wove a lovely pleasure spell, that a snap of my fingers would send pleasure coursing through her.

So to tease and torture I would snap my fingers while she was trying to scratch that itch.

By the time we were done she was a puddle, barely able to string a word together, let alone sentences.

I cooed and coddled her, turning her into a soft ragdoll to ease away the stresses of the scene.

When her mind finally returned to her, she said something beautiful about the experience.

That it was like her memory was trapped behind frosted glass, amorphous and vague, but tantalisingly recognisable, like it was on the tip of her tongue.

I am going to have so much fun with these new spells.

[lostintransist]

Guys I saw a fic idea yesterday (I for the life of me cannot find it so if you know who is was please tag them) but the idea was basically that toxic!Ghost and his ex-girlfriend are still in love but she won't be with him because again TOXIC but Ghost keeps showing up to argue with her and then take her to bed.

But anyway my brain went mmmm don't like that let's make it so ex-girlfriend is truly done like calls in a friend with a shotgun to keep Ghost away kind of done.

CW: violence threatened, bad friendship interactions

He knocks like a cop, all force and meaty part of his fist pounding, rattling the door in its frame. You look at your friend. Tears have started to well in her eyes.

"Please," she whispers, "He's right there."

"Absolutely not. You asked me to come over to keep you honest, you want to be done with him. That can't change because he hate fucks like a deity." You point one stern finger at her, brows pulled tight, "You stay here."

The pounding knock comes again as you grab your salt loaded shotgun from the guest bed. Grip firm with your right hand you level the gun as you swing the door open. He had been slamming his fist into again.

Dark pits for eyes meet yours above a dark balaclava. He lifts a single brow with the slightest tilt of his head. He steps across the porch to stand at the stairs.

"Interesting."

His voice doesn't rumble the way you expect it to. It's still deep but not as deep as his frame would suggest.

"She's done. Now leave." You center the shotgun on his chest.

"I'd like to check that," he steps to the side as if to move around you.

Tracking his moment you tsk at him.

"I know you military types have issues with women and authority but I would happily spend a few nights in jail for putting some holes in you."

He takes another step forward. Forcing the barrel up and to the left you fire off a round into the night before centering on his body again. Once your gaze is locked with his you rack the next round into place.

His hands drift up from his sides. No fear is in his eyes, only cool calculation.

"I will be here all night, so don't even try it."

A moment of silence stretches like taffy between you.

"You handle that well." He is referring to the gun.

"I hunt dick, I mean deer for fun." He doesn't miss your intentional word slip.

At some point that you can't determine he decides. Standing tall he drops both hands to his pockets, turns and whistles as he walks back into the dark. You don't move from your guarding position until you hear the throaty roar of a motorcycle fade into the distance.

Stepping inside you close and lock the front door before breaking the gun open to remove the ammo. Your friend comes tearing around the corner crying.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don't know what you did but thank you. I love him but I finally feel free?" She throws her arms around you in a hug you can only half return because one arm is still full.

"You need to move, like by the end of the week. I'll help you get movers scheduled."

She squeezes you hard once before stepping back to wipe her eyes.

"Want some wine while we look at options closer to work?"

"God yes. Let me put this away and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Time passes, yada yada yada. The friendship changes so that you are hardly speaking when the wedding invitation arrives. But you're free that day and drop it in your calendar.

She hadn't invited you to the ceremony. No big deal, while you missed the friendship she wasn't a great friend after you forced her ex boyfriend to leave her alone. You almost wonder if you are associated with him now in her mind, hence the distance.

You were surprised to find her ex among the crowd at the reception. Clocking him you made a point to avoid him. He caught you though, halfway into your wine taking a breather from the air that had turned muggy under the tent.

"You look good tonight."

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath.

"I look good every night, what's the point?"

He stepped up beside you.

"I'm looking for a -"

"Let me stop you right there," you cut him off. "Micro dosing poison will still kill a person. I've heard, repeatedly, how you are. If you want to have a shot at this conversation? Go the fuck to therapy and work through your issues."

With that you turn and stride inside, dropping your wine off at the bar you make your goodbyes and slip away into the darkness.

He finds you eight months later at a coffee shop. You had been listening to music when the chair across from you slides out and a ghost from the past settles into it. He slides a business card across the table to you.

Moving on headphone you give him your best 'the hell do you want' look.

"That's the contact info for my therapist," he taps twice on the card with a finger. "She has permission to speak to you about how I'm doing."

"And why would I want to do that?" You ask archly.

"Because you're interesting, and interested."

"Am I?"

"My number is on the back," he taps the card one more time before standing and leaving you bewildered and, unfortunately, the teensiest bit interested.

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