#but that was kind of an aside to the whole thing

[jeffandcyrusgetrevenge]

Suddenly obsessed with this idea, wow.

The vision flashing before my eyes is that when they do the setup for his tv wife spraining her ankle on the way home from the football game (?) (is that what happened? it’s been like 20 years since I watched this movie) he helps her but he only has eyes for the running back. At first the execs don’t clue in, they just think he’s not that interested in the girl they set him up with, but soon it becomes clear he’s harboring a serious crush. They tell the running back to go with it, but the actor who plays him is straight and kind of weirded out by the whole thing, so every interaction is stiff and awkward. Under the radar, an actual gay actor they hired to play a local loner has a few moments of gay solidarity with Truman via the Shared Look of Gay Understanding™️. The show editors finally realize something is up when they come across a very fleeting attempt by Truman at a kiss (guess who wasn’t gonna waste time pining after Mr. Running Back forever) that Local Loner kindly but firmly brushes aside. Unfortunately for him, he gets promoted to series regular after this and is instructed to return Truman’s affections. He becomes the fake TV boyfriend, and his obvious discomfort in the role gives the story arc a flavor of “see how miserable gay people are?” Eventually he gives his notice, and gets written off the show going off to take care of his ailing mother in a different state. We never hear from him again. Truman is sad and lonely. He’s sort of half-closeted, where his friends and family kind of know and kind of don’t — he never felt secure enough in that relationship to talk about it much. That’s when the network hits him with the Slutty Hunk, a borderline sleazy muscle bound gentleman who works at a construction site near Truman’s office and wolf whistles at him every morning. Truman does not care for this. Truman decides to take a vow of celibacy. The network puts a series of hot men (& women) in his vicinity but nothing seems to take. They’re all too thirsty. Truman craves connection.

Meanwhile, the actor that played Local Loner has joined a small group of political activists protesting the show, and the fact that he had such a big role in Truman’s life at one point is brought up again and again — sometimes to call him a hypocrite, sometimes to point out how deep his motivations are. The media loves drama. He always insists that it was wrong for the network to put him in that situation, and it was wrong for him to go along with it for so long. Conservative pundits take this and run with it, spinning it into a homophobic lecture about the shamelessness of the liberal media. Local Loner has to set them straight — in his first official coming out, at a time when most gay actors dodged the question at best, he takes a stand and says, No, I’m gay, and there’s nothing wrong with that — but lying to a man about his whole entire life and filming him for the entertainment of the masses, putting him in fake relationships and breaking his heart just for ratings — THAT’S wrong.

I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore but that’s what came to me lol

What if the Truman show did a queerbait arc

[dearhargrove]

summary Seeing him that first time, you never could have imagined what life had in store for you.

(short fluffy one shot of their first meeting and then the night after he took her virginity while they're dating, based on a request)

word count 1309

You don't think you'll ever forget meeting him for the first time. How could you, with the impression he left?

—

You're at a fancy restaurant for a work celebration. The ambiance is dark and rich, the people sitting at the tables have that same vibe. Except one group of guys. The one you had noticed as soon as you stepped into this place.

They're sitting in the far back in one of the more private booths, however still in the middle and with a good overview of the whole area.

If you had to guess, the eldest of the three is the father and the twenty something year old guys are his sons. However your attention is drawn to the one sitting on the far right, looking almost on edge as he quietly listens to the other two talk. His muscles are visible through his suit, coffee brown curls tucked behind his ears and there's a necklace that shouldn't fit but just does.

There's something wilder, more strong to him than his two companions. His eyes are strikingly blue, eyebrows pulled into an annoyed frown as he sips his wine. Among that you also note that while the other two have ordered big steaks with barely any sides, he has a salad.

You distractedly continue picking at your dish, stabbing the fork into one of the ingredients for long enough that your colleague looks at you in concern, making you fluster and smile awkwardly.

She grins in amusement and turns to follow your line of sight, looking back to you with an expression that clearly translates into what you've been thinking too ever since first noticing the man; wow.

He's just so – manly. And yet there's still an elegance to him.

You let a strategic few minutes tick by before you look back at the mouthwatering man, only to look right into blue eyes.

You almost flinch, getting flustered immediately and smiling tightly – apologetically? – before hurriedly taking a bite of your dinner to pretend to be minding your own business.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed your mishap and with a few well timed deep breaths your heartbeat returns to normal and your palms stop sweating.

Nevertheless, you excuse yourself to the ladies room and grab your clutch, not even pretending to know where the hell the toilet even is. You worm your way through the tables to where you guess the restrooms should be, only to almost run into a server coming out of that door who shoots you a confused but kind smile.

“Restrooms are on the other side, dove.”

You tense up, slowly turn around and — oh. It's him. And, dammit, he's even more beautiful up close. He carries a nice scent to him, but not a typical perfume, more of a natural breeze. It's nice, you note. “I noticed... I've never been here before, so–”

He smiles gently and you relax, reciprocating a light but bashful smile. “Don't worry about it. Come on, I'll show you?” he offers. "Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you from your dinner…”

He shakes his head, gives you a calculating look and then softens up a tiny bit, “Trust me, I'm grateful for any excuse to step back from there.” That surprises you a bit but it's none of your business, so you ignore it. You step closer to him and he starts leading the way, obviously walking slower so you could keep up in your heels.

And there's another thing you notice; instead of having to squeeze by the people and servers they part before him like the red sea. The people scoot closer to their tables, the servers bow their heads the tiniest bit and the other customers just smile tightly.

Just who is he? you wonder.

You're more intrigued than before now, momentarily pushing the thoughts aside when you stop in front of two doors; the men's and the ladies room.

“I suppose you'll find your way back to your table?” he kindly but slightly playfully comments. You grin in a mix of embarrassment and amusement, “Sure I will. Thank you, though.”

He shrugs in dismissal, then after a short awkward moment shoots you another smile and leaves.

You take a moment in the – luxurious – bathroom to freshen up, reapply perfume and deodorant, check your phone and do your business. You feel better when you walk back out, already expecting the onslaught of questions from your colleague who had noticed your staring and the man just to then see him lead you through the restaurant.

After paying for your meal (which legitimately made you wince when seeing the actual price because the menu did not have the prices listed) and dodging the questions of your curious coworker, you leave with a small group from your office, engaging in small talk.

You don't even see him when you walk out the door, focused on the story your coworker was telling, but you definitely hear him.

“That's a nice perfume.” His voice is soft but steady, slightly raspy too. You wouldn't mind hearing it more often, you decide.

You halt in your steps and turn around, surprised when you see his cheeky grin. He stops holding the door open, his own jacket slung over his arm and steps the last step down to stand right next to you.

“Thank you–?”

“Sergei.” He introduces himself, nodding his head. “–Sergei.” You repeat with a small smile. He stills for a moment and then blinks, swallowing and nodding. “May I ask the name of this lovely lady?”

You chuckle, slowly continuing your ascend of the stairway, “You may.” And while he asks and you answer with your name he holds out his arm, letting you loop your hand to hold onto his arm for balance.

—

And that's how you ended up here. In his bed, naked except some panties and his way too big t-shirt with his arm snug around your waist and his nose in your hair as he sleeps.

The sun is just rising, the orange and pink hues lighting up the place, forming beautiful shadows and tricks of light.

You turn your head to look at him and take in his beautiful face, bathed in the sunlight. His eyes are still closed, his breathing even and for once his face is relaxed instead of scrunched up from another fight with his father or an upcoming hunt.

However, he also seems to have gotten an extra sense tuned in to you ever since you started dating, so at your stare his eyes open and the blue irises focus on you. It makes you snort a bit and flick the tip of his nose, then turn back to keep watching the sunrise.

His hand moves under the shirt you're wearing to spread out along your skin, calloused hands gentle. “Been awake for long, baby?” The question is soft with a hint of concern and his voice is still husky from sleep.

“Just woke up,” you yawn and stretch a little, he uses the chance and puts his palm in the middle of your torso, tugging you back into his chest. He doesn't say anything further as he tucks into the crook of your neck and grumbles appreciatively when he smells nothing but your natural scent.

Since he told you about his powers you had started to wear less perfume around him (at least when it's just the two of you), as his sensitive sense of smell easily got irritated by the artificial cologne.

It's not long before his nosing turns into nibbling and you can already feel the next few bite marks form, probably meticulously placed to not cover the hickeys he'd left last night.

“Sergei—” he interrupts your upcoming complaint with a grunt and swiftly rolls on top of you, leaned on his forearms as he looks at you like you're his prey. You feel dwarfed under him, his huge biceps and broad shoulders covering you entirely.

At your perplexed expression he chuckles and softly kisses your forehead, “Can't hold back when I remember you're all mine.”

[mononijikayu]

blue — fushiguro megumi.

As you walked hand in hand through the snow, Fushiguro Megumi felt like your warmth and his blended together, refusing to part as you made your way away from the shrine. The thought of that made him feel like the winter was nothing, the biting chill rendered powerless against the steady heat of your presence. It was the kind of moment that made the world feel smaller and quieter. It was as if the universe had decided to go on a pause just for the two of you. It was as if these two hands were meant to fit because destiny said so.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: AFAB! Reader, Safe For Work (SFW), Long Distance Romance (LDR), Aged Up Characters (Megumi and Reader are 18!), Young Love, Innocent Romance, Established Relationship, Middle School Classmates to Lovers, Teasing, Teenagers, Feelings, Fluff, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Humor, Domesticity, Slice of Life, Light-Hearted, Confessions, Pining, Holding Hands;

WORD COUNT: 5.3k words.

NOTE: im a bit late, i'm sorry!!! i had a whole list of chores i helped my family with and i met up with some people yesterday, since i might not see them for christmas due to schedules. but i'm here. i always imagined megumi to be the sort of person who loves so wholeheartedly and so innocently. i wanted to capture that for his birthday. happy birthday, megumi!!! you will always be so loved by me <33333 i love you all too!!! thank you for reading!!! see you for yuuji's own fic on 24th <3 (asia time)

addendum: i just want you to know that the exact number of the words are 5302. chinese/cantonese numerology expresses that 53 means my life, 0 means good and 2 means joy and sometimes double joy. it reads as 'my life is good joy' and i think between them reader and megumi, that's genuinely true <333

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THE DARK BLUE SWIRLED AROUND THE SKY TENDERLY TONIGHT. Had there been more time, he would have enjoyed it more. But he knew there wasn’t. He had to get to you, immediately. He bit his lip softly against the cold winter wind.

Fushiguro Megumi tugged the bright tender scarf tighter around his neck as the frigid wind bit at his cheeks. He caught a faint whiff of the fabric, and something about the scent felt... off.

It’s a good scent, don’t get him wrong. But it wasn’t the familiar one he was used to. Had he bought a new perfume and just forgotten about it? 

He sighed to himself. He was too busy lately, going off on missions. And now a lot of his life had become footnotes, even if he didn’t want them to be. Megumi knew he had to do better.

He had to do whatever he could to make a better pace for himself. Still, thinking about that right now is impossible. He had to brush the thought aside. There were more pressing things to focus on—like how late he was. Again. 

Megumi could only hope that you weren’t waiting too long or that you had arrived late. But now he can’t help but think if you wore that thick Arc'teryx coat he’d gotten you. Or if you wore mittens or had enough hot packs on your body at this moment. Guilt started to echo into his head as easily as it was breathing. But he can’t help but feel that.

He took a moment to breathe, his breath visible in the cold air. He hated being late about absolutely anything. He likes punctuality, after all. But he especially likes it when it comes to you.

Because that meant he’d have more time with you. And more time with you means that he’d have you with him enough to sweep the thought of missing you for a little while. 

But being a sorcerer, the job description didn’t care about holidays or plans. Or even the personal, the thoughts and moments that made one happy. It just never stops. Not even when he was supposed to take you out on a date on New Year’s Eve. Megumi absolutely reviled it. If he saw a curse, he had to deal with it, no matter the time. 

And somehow, some sort of way, still, he knew you understood. You always did. You always reassured him of that no matter what. No matter how many times his responsibilities pulled him away from you, even just for five minutes.

You never stopped smiling when he finally showed up. You don’t stop having the warmest red on your cheeks when you see him. Your eyes always shone brighter than Sirius when you both stand beside one another.

Even though you weren’t a sorcerer yourself, you tried to understand his world, even the parts that didn’t make sense to you at all. It wasn’t fair to you, and he knew it. Yet, no matter how hard things got, you never gave up on him. You just didn’t want to, even when he had tried to keep you at bay. 

That was one of the things he appreciated most about you. Megumi had never had quite a lot of joy in his life, but he was to be honest, you were one of them. You always will be. And even now, you stand by him, even if it’s hard.

You didn’t care for the hard stuff, you always said it was part of it. Because what mattered to you, was having him in your life. And he was certain he felt the same way about you.

Well, it’s obvious.

Why else would he start running in this cold winter weather?

If it’s you, the person he loved most, then he’ll find a way?

After all, he wanted to be with you for as long as possible.

He paused for a moment, staring at the message. The small emoji made something in his chest tighten, as much as it made his body feel the warmest it had ever been. Despite everything, you still cared enough to wait for him, to worry about him. A small, rare smile tugged at his lips.

The faint vibration of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He fished it out of his pocket, his cold fingers fumbling slightly as he unlocked it. A text from you lit up his screen:

“Megu, baby, where are you? 🥺”

Megumi stared at his phone after hitting send, watching the little delivered mark appear. Megumi has thought about how many times he’d sent similar texts, always apologizing to you, for more often than he hoped, about being late.

He typed back quickly, his fingers stiff from the cold.

"On my way, babe. Sorry for being late."

Yet, you never seemed to hold it against him. He wished you had. Most romantic partners would be so fed up with such a position. 

Hell, most of them would have already left their partners. But not you. You never had thought of it, not even during middle school, when Gojo started to take him on his missions to observe. You were steadfast, because you saw his efforts. You saw how much he loved you. 

And that was enough. He never had to doubt that you loved him. And perhaps, that’s why he kept running. He wanted to get to you, as soon as possible. He wanted to see you. He wanted to hold you in his arms. He wanted to love you.

As he slipped his phone back into his pocket, Fushiguro Megumi picked up his pace. He had to. He had to arrive as soon as possible. For once, he hoped the world could hold its chaos at bay. Just for tonight. He owed you that much. He owed you all of the world. And he had to make it possible, even if just for a little while.

His phone buzzed again almost immediately.

“Okay, but you better hurry, baby! It’s cold! Also… why does your scarf smell like my perfume? 🤔”

Megumi stopped in his tracks, his brain processing your words at a glacial pace. Your perfume? His hand instinctively went to the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. That was the weird smell he’d noticed earlier—the soft, floral notes he’d never associated with his usual scarf. His mind raced. If this was your perfume, then this wasn’t his scarf.

It’s your scarf. The realization hit him like a curse to the chest. Now, his heart was thumping hard on his chest. You must’ve grabbed his scarf  by mistake in a rush the last time you visited him and you forgot about it.

And now that left him with your scarf. And he hadn’t noticed at all. His face heated to warm scarlet instantly, the cold air doing nothing to cool it. Ah, this is…..

His grip on the phone tightened as he read your words. Cute. It was hard enough to deal with how much warmth you give him with your scarf, but the thought of you being so tender with him, loving to the point that he can’t take it.

Before he could come up with a reply, another message came through:

“Wait, Megu!… Are you wearing my scarf? 🥺 That’s so cute! Wah!”

He doesn’t know what to do. Everything about his love for you just grows deeper and he can’t help it. His face burned hotter, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the soft fabric around his neck.

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing back:

"I didn’t realize until now. I must’ve grabbed it by accident. Sorry."

Fushiguro Megumi felt like the temperature had risen ten degrees despite the snow swirling around him. He tried to clear his throat, trying to wick away the scarlet blush spreading across his cheeks. But it was no use. He was never going to win against you. Never. 

Your reply came almost instantly, as though you’d been waiting for it.

“Don’t apologize! I think it’s adorable. It’s like you’re carrying a little piece of me with you 🥰.”

"It’s not a big deal." he typed, trying to sound indifferent, but his fingers betrayed him as he hesitated before adding: "It does smell nice, though."

His phone buzzed almost immediately. “You’re so sweet, Megu! You better hurry so I can see you all bundled up in my scarf. I want to take a picture and enjoy the cuteness of my baby!🫶 ”

Fushiguro Megumi let out a soft groan, burying his face in the scarf—your scarf. He takes in the soft smell of your scent, while feeling your words take over him. He could feel the heat radiating from his face as he resumed walking, this time a bit faster. 

He can’t run in this case, not when he’s overwhelmed by this, by you. You’ve ruined him for any other romance. This was it for him. You were it for him. And yet still, he couldn’t believe he was blushing over a scarf. Over you.

But that’s how it is. It didn’t need explanation, it didn’t need logic. That’s how it is to love you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not ever. But still, as much as possible, he still wanted to play it cool.

There was a wonderfully warm feeling in his chest that he couldn’t ignore, not when it’s caused by you. Even if it was accidental, wearing your scarf made him feel closer to you, like he was carrying a part of you with him.

"I’ll be there soon, babe." he texted back simply, though his heart was racing as he hit send.

“I look forward to it! 🫶”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Love you, Megu~”

".....love you too."

══════════════════

IT WASN’T THAT LONG NOW WHEN HE MADE THE SHARP TURN TO AND ARRIVED. The faint glow of the shrine came into view, and quite expectedly, Fushiguro Megumi’s pace quickened even more now despite the biting cold.

His own breath puffed in little warm clouds as he rounded the last corner, and there you were, just like always, waiting for him by the warm illumination of the bright red shrine gates.

You seemed to be humming to yourself as you waited for him, all  bundled up in the white winter coat he gave you and those bright purple gloves trimmed with faux fur you so dearly loved. You hadn’t noticed him yet when he stopped.

But when you did, your eyes widened almost so excitedly. There was a slightly excited bounce in your step as you waved at him enthusiastically, your beautiful face lighting up like the warm spring flowers blossoming when you started to register his presence. Megumi could feel his chest tightened at the sight. 

The stress of trying to get here on time, the hardship of not meeting, the times he missed you — every bit of that started to fade away into nothing. He was here with you. You were here. And nothing can take that away from him, from the two of you. Because he knew it too well. He was home. 

“Megu!” you called out, your tender voice cutting through the quiet winter air.

He slowed as he approached, his usual calm demeanor taking over, but the pink sunrise on his cheeks hadn’t faded. Megumi tried to casually stuff his rather cold hands into his coat’s pockets, pretending the cold was the only reason his face felt warm.

“You’re late, Megu!” you teased, though your tone was playful, and that familiar smile spread across your face.

“Sorry.” he said quietly, stopping just a few feet away. “There was a—”

“A curse?” you finished for him, watching him blink. You grinned. “I figured. You always come anyway.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering to the shrine gates. “I told you to wait here for a reason. It’s safer.”

“I know, I know.” you said, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “I always know that I’m always safe, thanks to you. But I’m also freezing, so I hope you don’t plan to keep me standing here much longer! Let’s eat dinner!”

Your grin widened as your bright doe eyes flicked to the scarf around his neck. “Especially since it looks like you’re nice and warm in my scarf.”

Megumi’s hand immediately went to the fabric, his ears turning red. “I told you, it was an accident.” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“And I told you, it’s cute.” you said, stepping closer. 

“You’re wearing my scarf too.” He mutters under the cold winter air. 

You looked down slightly, your cheeks flushing red as you smiled. “Hm! And I love it! It suits me, having a part of you with me always when I’m cold, don’t you think?”

Megumi was taken aback by what you said for a moment. His cheeks turned even redder, even though he wasn’t sure how it was possible. He hums softly, lowering his gaze shyly. “.....It does.”

The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound as you closed the distance between you. You smiled at him as you stopped in front of him. You reached up, on tip toes and gently adjusted your scarf around his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin for just a moment. 

“It suits you, don’t you think?” Your soft voice blossomed against the wind. Your gaze met his, as he raised his face. “Being so loved by me in winter cold too.”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat at the gesture. “You’re—you really are…..” he mumbled, though his voice was quieter, almost fond. “How can you say that so easily?”

“And you’re blushing, lover boy!” you teased, stepping back with a playful laugh. “You also said something like that too!”

“Am not.” he replied quickly, though the redness in his cheeks betrayed him.

“Whatever you say, my precious Megu~” 

You reached out and took his hand, your gloved fingers curling around his as you tugged him toward the shrine gates. You wanted to keep his hand warm from the cold too. He forgot his gloves, after all. And he knew that, his gaze turning to your tender touch on his, even though the leather.

“Come on, let’s get going before we both turn into icicles.”

For a moment, Fushiguro Megumi hesitated, looking down at your hand wrapped tightly on his own. Years together still hasn’t stopped him from being so awestruck by your touch on his.

To hold someone’s hand, it made him feel like he understood what love was like. Ever since that day he met you. You made him understand, with just a touch of your hand. And still, he continues to learn love, because of you. 

Megumi shook his head then he let out a soft sigh, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile as he followed you.Even if he’d never admit it aloud, your warmth, your wonder, your very existence, it made him whole.

And if this was a dream, he wishes he never wakes up. Because nothing of him would exist without you. He refuses to do so.

“Hm, let’s go.”

As you walked hand in hand through the snow, Fushiguro Megumi felt like your warmth and his blended together, refusing to part as you made your way away from the shrine. The thought of that made him feel like the winter was nothing, the biting chill rendered powerless against the steady heat of your presence.

It was the kind of moment that made the world feel smaller and quieter.

It was as if the universe had decided to go on a pause just for the two of you.

It was as if these two hands were meant to fit because destiny said so.

This, he thought, was more than enough to ground you both in the stillness of the winter night. The two of you ceased to talk for a while, your breaths forming soft clouds in the frosty air.

Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. The quiet companionship you shared was enough, an unspoken understanding that words could never quite capture.

It was always like this with you. There was a gentle kind of closeness that didn’t demand anything more than your presence. It wasn’t loud or extravagant, but it was steady.

That was more than enough for him, to keep him grounded in a way nothing else could. Megumi didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t have to rush to fill the gaps, because you already understood. It was just like that between the two of you.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noting the way the soft glow of the blue moonlight reflected off your hair and the peaceful expression on your face. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading slowly but surely, chasing away whatever lingering shadows had tried to follow him here.

Megumi’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, his way of acknowledging what he couldn’t yet say aloud. This, he thought, was the kind of peace he didn’t know he needed. And for tonight, that was more than enough.

When you both arrived at the train station, the warmth of the moment lingered despite the cold metal benches and the faint whistle of the wind echoing through the platform. The faint hum of distant activity surrounded you, but it all felt muted, like the world had softened its edges just for the two of you.

You both sat down to wait for the train, your hands finally parting as you settled beside each other. Fushiguro Megumi shifted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and looking out at the empty tracks.

The silence between you was comfortable, but you broke it, your voice cutting through the cold like the first hint of sunlight after a long night.

You looked up at him with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Megu.”

He froze for a moment, blinking as if he hadn’t quite heard you. Slowly, he turned his head to meet your gaze, his brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

You giggled, the sound warm and light as you looked at his astonished face. “Happy birthday, I said.” you repeated, your smile widening.

His expression softened as realization washed over him. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He shook his head, as you looked at his most adorable expressions, reserved only for you.

“I forgot, babe.” he admitted quietly, glancing away.

“I know, baby.” you said, your tone teasing but gentle. “You always forget. That’s why I’m here to remind you.”

He didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the tracks ahead. But the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, barely there but unmistakable. He turns his blue–green eyes to you, as though you were the most wondrous thing he’d ever set his blue–green eyes on.

 “Thanks, babe.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. You always were better at wrapping presents. You had the best hands in the world, warmest to touch and the most delicate with care. And perhaps that is what made him freeze for a moment. 

“And because I know you’d never ask for anything, I got you this.”

He looked at the gift, his eyes widening slightly. “You didn’t have to—”

“But I wanted to, baby.” you interrupted, holding it out to him. “It’s your birthday, Megu. You deserve to feel special, even if it’s just a little.”

He hesitated before taking the gift from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. He stared at it for a few seconds, his expression unreadable, before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper.

Inside was a small, leather keychain engraved with his initials on it. Attached to it was a simple charm shaped like a wolf, a perfect reflection of his shikigami. Megumi stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing over the smooth leather and the delicate charm. It was clear you’d put thought into this, making sure every detail would suit him.

Everything about it was just to his liking. You always knew it better than him sometimes too. Its design is sleek and understated, free from unnecessary embellishments, yet carrying so much meaning.

It was practical, simple, and deeply personal, just like him. And yet, the simplicity is what made it even more special, just like he knew he was to you.

“You… put a lot of thought into this, babe.” he said softly, his voice tinged with something unspoken, something he wasn’t entirely sure how to express.

You smiled, a faint flush rising to your cheeks. “Of course I did. I wanted it to be something you’d actually use. And… well…. I thought the wolf was a nice touch.”

“It is.” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the charm. 

His shikigami were a part of him, a symbol of his strength and the weight he carried in his cursed technique. But they were something he loved too. Especially his wolves. And now, here it was, captured in this small but significant token by you. Now it meant even more. Because you gave it to him. Now, it was something he could keep with him no matter where he went.

“Do you like it?” you asked, almost shyly.

Megumi looked up at you, and though his expression remained its usual calm, there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart flutter. “I do, babe.” he said simply, but the quiet sincerity in your boyfriend’s voice spoke volumes. “Thank you.”

“I thought it could keep you company, when you’re away.” you said softly, watching him closely. “You’re always busy helping people and running around. You keep doing so much for everyone else. I wanted to give you something you could keep with you, something to remind you…”

He glanced up at you, his blue–green eyes meeting yours. “Remind me of what?”

“That you’re never really alone.” you said simply, your voice filled with quiet sincerity. “That I’m always there for you, Megu.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his fingers tightening slightly around the keychain. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. And for a moment, those rare smiles, the smiles he could only show you. You, his most precious person. That smile had trailed on his lips for a moment.

“Thank you, babe.” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—gratitude, maybe, or something even more profound that he didn’t quite know how to put into words. “I’ll treasure this well, I promise.”

You smiled, leaning back against the bench as the distant sound of the approaching train reached your ears. “Happy birthday, Megu.” you said again, your tone warm and light, your words laced with genuine affection. And then, as naturally as breathing, you added, “I love you.”

The words were simple but carried a weight that made Fushiguro Megumi’s heart stutter. He froze for a moment, wide-eyed, his usual composure shattered like glass under the heat of your confession. He’d always heard you say it over and over again. And yet…..it always made him feel like he was going to drown in your wonders.

He couldn’t help but feel himself combust with your words, the warmth spreading from his chest to his ears, and then outward until he was sure he’d melt into this cold blue winter night. Before he could even begin to stammer out a response, you squeezed his hand, your smile never fading. 

“Our train’s here! We gotta go!”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, glancing at the train now pulling into the station. You tugged him forward, your fingers laced with his, as if the moment hadn’t just turned his world upside down.

Megumi let out a soft sigh, a mix of exasperation and fondness, as he let you guide him toward the train. His blue–green eyes drifted to the keychain in his hand, its wolf charm catching the dim station light, and then to the scarf around his neck. 

The warmth of your scarf, still carrying your faint, comforting scent. For someone who often felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders, tonight felt light. For tonight, everything just felt like a gift. The greatest gift in the world.

The train doors slid open with a gentle hiss, and you both stepped inside, settling into a pair of seats by the window. As the train began to move, Megumi finally found the courage to speak, his voice quieter than usual.

“You’re ridiculous, you know?” he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

You tilted your head, looking at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

His cheeks flushed again, and he turned his gaze to the window, watching the snow-covered scenery blur past. “You can’t just… say things like that so casually and just….watch me combust.”

“Oh, you mean when I said I love you?” you replied with a grin, clearly enjoying his reaction.

Megumi groaned, pressing a hand to his temple. “Yes. That.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But it’s true, Megu!” you said, your voice softer now. “I do love you, truly! And I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you over and over again.”

He was silent for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as your words settled over him like the softest blanket. Finally, he glanced down at you, his blue–green gaze steady despite the pink still dusting his cheeks.

“…I know.” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. 

And though he didn’t say it back to you, overwhelmed by the wonders of those words on his soul, you knew that look in his eyes. That look of love, that wonder in the blue–green that said those words without leaving his lips.

It was all in his eyes that said everything you needed to hear. He struggles. But he hopes one day, he could say it to you without the struggle. 

You smiled to yourself, your gloves gone. You let your warm fingers still intertwine with his as the train rocked gently beneath you. He squeezed it even more and that had made you smile even more as you looked at him.

You hummed and leaned your head against his shoulder. His breath hitches before a moment later, his head resting on your own. You giggled at that. 

Tonight was perfect, you thought. Just the two of you, wrapped in warmth, as the world outside continued its quiet, snowy journey. And all you could see was the tenderness of all those shades of blue. That’s what it felt like when you were with him.

Everything was worth it. The cold was worth it. And so was the parting and the waiting. As long as you get to be with him and have this feeling of blue. As long as you could see those blues in his eyes.

Everything was worth it. Everything was worth experiencing. And you knew from the depths of his heart that he felt the same way too. Blue was the wonder of being with you. And he loves it too. 

══════════════════

epilogue

Later that night when you reached your house, the warmth of the entryway light spilling into the snowy night, you turned to Megumi with a thoughtful smile. He noticed the way your bright eyes sparkled.

It was a sign you were about to say something that might throw him off. He was familiar with that look since you were in middle school. But every time, he finds himself learning the depths of that mischief in your eyes. 

“So…” you began, glancing up at him with a hint of mischief. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Fushiguro Megumi nearly tripped over his own feet. His handsome face turned a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, and he froze in place, his free hand holding your bag for you. You can see easily that he was clutching it nervously.

“W-What?” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “Why—what—why would you even—?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, watching him flounder. “It’s late, Megu!” you said, your tone as calm and reasonable as ever. “The buses aren’t running anymore, and so are the trains, you know! I’d feel bad making you walk all the way back to the dorms in this cold.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand, cutting him off before he could get a word in. You already knew that you had a card up your sleeve. You grinned at him and giggled, taking out your phone from your coat pocket and showing it to him.

“And before you say anything about it being improper or whatever.” you added with a knowing grin, “I already asked Gojo–san if it was okay.”

Megumi’s face somehow turned even redder, and his hand shot to his temple like he was trying to ward off a headache. He looked at your phone for a moment.“You asked Gojo?”

You nodded, looking far too pleased with yourself. “Yup! He said, and I quote, ‘As long as you don’t let Megumi brood in a corner all night, I’m fine with it! Take care of my precious son, daughter in law!’”

Fushiguro Megumi groaned, running a hand down his face. What did Gojo mean precious son? And what did Gojo mean about daughter in law? That was just….

Megumi didn’t know what to do anymore. He can’t even believe Gojo gave his number to you. He couldn’t help but feel his face echo a look of a son embarrassed by his overbearing father. 

“Why would you even tell him that? Now he’s never going to let me live this down.”

You laughed, tugging gently on his hand to lead him inside. “Oh, come on. He didn’t care at all. Besides I had to, he’s your guardian! He said he’d rather you stayed somewhere warm and safe than out in the cold. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t hung out late before. We’d have sleep overs before too.”

“That’s different.” he muttered, still flustered as you closed the door behind him.

“How is it different?” you teased, tilting your head at him.

He hesitated, glancing at you and then away, his ears burning. “It just… is. I just…..”

You rolled your bright doe eyes playfully and reached up to unwrap your scarf—now his own scarf—from around his neck. “Relax, Megu. It’s not a big deal. You can have the couch if it makes you feel better. Or the guest room. I don’t think my mom will mind when she comes back! She loves you too!”

He sighed, letting you take the scarf off but avoiding your gaze. “Fine, fine.” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll….I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You grinned, your victory clear. “Come on, I think I still have some of your old clothes I took from you. I’m sure they still fit you.”

“You never returned that hoodie I used to like.”

You raised a teasing brow at him. “Do you want it back?”

“No.” He says back to you, and looks at his own scarf on your neck too. “You can keep the scarf too.”

“Good. Now come on, I’ll make some hot chocolate. Consider it a bonus birthday gift.”

As you walked toward the kitchen, Fushiguro Megumi stood there for a moment as he watched you start humming, looking for the cocoa. He let out a quiet sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. 

He was definitely going to hear about this from Gojo Satoru later, but for now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was with you. And that was more than enough for him to not care about the world outside. 

[r7leee]

skates and slips

and the christmas fics continue!!!! i haven't written this much since i was 12 on wattpad 💀 (don't look that shit up) that aside, i had sm fun writing this one even if it’s a little short, so enjoy <3

pairing: billie eilish x fem!reader

summary: it's hot in la, even during the one time of the year it's not supposed to be. to help it feel more like the holidays, you decide to go skating

warnings: implied girly/femme reader, cursing, just christmas fluff!!

word count: 1,882, should take about 14 and a half minutes to read

listen to: any christmas song fits here

YOU’VE ALWAYS LOVED christmas. ever since you were young, you enjoyed the festivities, lights, caroling, traditions, gifts, all of it. you just wish it could be a bit more like the movies.

you were laying on top of your girlfriend, billie’s chest. she was playing with your hair and watching whatever show was in front of her as you napped. 70° in the midst of december wasn’t exactly enjoyable.

the heat made you sleepy, despite the industrial fan next to you blowing cold air on you. your head was burrowed in the crook of her neck, sweaty, sticky skin pressed against skin.

the show was interrupted with an ad break, a christmas themed commercial airing. the familiar tune playing made you envious. you just knew the commercial would have snow falling on the ground and you’d give anything to experience it.

billie could practically feel the loathing seep out of you. “you okay?” she asked, tilting your chin to make you look in her eyes. you groaned.

“i want it to actually feel like christmas and not the middle of june.” she laughed softly at that.

“trust me, baby, i do too. i do too,” she repeated the last few words.

it was the second day back after tour. when she was away, having the tree up and stockings hung really meant nothing when she wasn’t there. having her back after tour made all the difference. but, regardless, the lack of any real chill in the air made you gripe.

you sighed. “we might have to throw fake snow on the ground.” your girlfriend snorted.

“fake snow?”

“ya!” she shook her head at your answer.

“that’s gonna be like hell to clean.”

“who caaaaaares?” you whined. “i just really want it to be like…kind of like christmas.” billie understood your want. growing up and living in california her whole life, she never really got to experience a true, traditional christmas. but, that’s when something clicked.

“you know…we could go ice skating,” she suggested. you looked up at her.

"really? you'd want to?" the only reason you asked was you knew she didn't like to really be seen outside much. she nodded, a confirming, gentle smile on her face.

"ya. i'd want to." you sat up and leaned to capture her lips in a kiss. you felt her smile into it as her lips pressed against yours.

A LITTLE WHILE later, you were getting ready to leave. your outfit was made up of a black miniskirt, tights, and a simple white sweater. you were in the bathroom, applying your lipstick as billie waited eagerly on your shared bed. she'd already been dressed and ready to go ten minutes prior.

you fixed a couple things before shutting the lights off. you went to slip on some shoes in the closet as billie stood up. she walked next to you, leaning against the wall. “dressing to impress, i see.”

“you know i don’t mean anything by it. just wanna look nice for my girl, is that too much to ask?”

she shook her head, her classic smile on display. “you don’t gotta ask baby, not at all.”

you smiled up at her, toothy and wide. it made her wanna kiss all over your face and love on you, but she knew you had places to be.

she held out her hand for you to take as you stood up. you eagerly accepted it, feeling her cold rings clash with your warm skin.

shutting off the lights, you walked out of the room and the house and out to her car. as usual, she opened the door for you and you thanked her.

getting into the car, she put on her seatbelt and started the car. she pulled out of the driveway and started to make the drive to the ice rink.

the car ride was mostly filled with people watching everyone on the streets with the soft music of the radio in the background. it took you about fifteen minutes to get there.

billie parallel parked the car and quickly ran to the other side to open the door for you. she would never let you open it yourself.

you thanked her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, her face flushing pink in response. she couldn’t help it; you were just her sweet girl.

you quickly went to pay at the monitor, billie arguing with her. “it’s okay, i got it.”

“no.” you placed a hand over hers. “let me.” she huffed, but agreed, impatiently rocking on the balls of her face.

once you finished, you took her hand and walked down the sidewalk. like any day out, you both brought sunglasses and had on hats to hopefully hide your identities. it never always worked, but it did something sometimes.

the sounds of your shoes hitting the sidewalk and the bustle of the city were heard as you walked through downtown la. some people would walk by and turn their heads, doing a double take, but you kept walking, unaffected as billie squeezed your hand.

after a couple minutes of walking, you arrived at the ice rink. the outside was lit up, the sun casting a golden glow over the sky.

you both walked to the booth, waiting in a short line. after a few minutes of waiting, you approached the front. billie bought two admissions and got skates in your size, along with hers.

afterwards, she thanked the cashier and held your hand as you walked to a locker. billie helped you with your purse, placing it in the locker before she shut it, her own stuff in there as well.

you both found a place to sit and started to lace up your skates. you pulled the laces tight before you stood up. immediately, the blades caught you off balance and you fell over.

your girlfriend, who was busy lacing her own skates, had some sort of reaction go off. in a single second, she caught you, taking her attention completely away from the ice skate. she laughed softly as she hoisted you back to a standing position. “not even on the ice yet and you’re already falling.”

you gave the sweetest pout, her heart melting at the sight. “it’s been a while, don’t judge me.”

“i’m not,” she hummed as she finally finished tying her skates as well. she stood up, and just like you, stumbled forward. but, you weren’t quick enough to catch her, leaving her catching herself with her hands on the floor.

as she stood up, you raised an eyebrow at her. “oh, and you’re the one to talk.”

she rolled her eyes playfully. “oh, you love me. come on, let’s go.” she beckoned you to follow her with her hand.

the two of you stepped onto the ice. you stood still, getting used to being on a slippery surface. billie seemed to have it down. for now, at least.

she skated a little ahead of you then turned around. “come here, you got it!”

with full confidence, you pushed forward with your feet. but, instead of gently skating like you anticipated, you slipped and stumbled for a couple seconds before falling right on your ass.

immediately, billie laughed. hard. you looked up at her, faux anger on your face. “i’m in pain and you’re laughing at me! i hate you, you’re such a bitch!”

she kept laughing, tears staring to form under her eyes now. “oh- my god! how could you not laugh at that?!” she kept snickering as she reached down to help you up. you took her hand, but instead of being brought up, you fell right back down, slipping and bracing your fall with your hands.

this caused billie to laugh so hard, she needed to grab the railing for support. the whole time, your ego was minorly bruised. you stood up, dusting off your tights. “it wasn’t even that funny.”

“oh, it was sooooo funny,” she replied with snark in her voice after calming down. “you know what? let get you one of those walker things.” you immediately whined.

“noooo, i’m gonna look like an idiot.”

she started to skate back to the entrance. “no you won’t!”

a few seconds later, she returned with an ice walker. she scooted it in front of you. “if you still fall with this, i’m never letting it go.” that definitely inspired you to do better.

slowly, but surely, you started to improve, making your way across the rink with gentle motions. billie was by your side the whole time, making sure you wouldn’t slip and get too hurt.

you two skated, listening to the holiday songs, and for the first time this month, it finally felt like the holidays. people were laughing, the ice created a slight chill in the air, all was well.

billie looked to the side to see your happy, content expression. it made her feel proud inside herself. she loved seeing you like this. she knew this was a good idea.

the two of you continued to skate when suddenly, a kid came in front of you. he was pushing a sled, a kid his age on it. billie’s brain lit up. “should we do that?” you spotted the kid in front of you. you shrugged.

“i’ll fall if i push you,” you admitted honestly.

“then i can push you. pleeeeease?” and of course, you could never say no to her. so, you agreed, and billie was off switching your walker for a sled.

when she came back, she dropped the sled on the ice and motioned you to sit on it. you obliged, pressing your knees to your chest. once comfortably settled in, billie pushed and you were off.

she wasn’t fast by any means, but being on the ice was still fun. for the first time in a long time, you felt cold. being outside. it was spectacular.

after a couple laps, billie declared herself done. you called a break, getting up from the sled and putting it back for her.

as you put it away in the shed where it belonged, you spotted a concession stand. you were up for a little hot chocolate.

so, approaching your girlfriend, you asked her about it. she, of course, agreed as you walked to the concession stand.

both of you ordered piping hot chocolates and some festive pastries.

after thanking the worker, you walked to the dining area and found a spot to sit. you sat at a table that overlooked the ice rink. you sipped on your hot chocolate as you watched the people in front of you.

billie smiled as she watched you. “i’m glad we came here.” your head snapped back to hers. a smile of your own grew on your face.

“ya. me too. thank you for suggesting it.” she nodded, resting her hand on your thigh.

“only the best for my baby, ya?” you giggled and hid your head in her shoulder. you knew the next day paparazzi photos would go crazy. you knew you probably shouldn’t have done this. but this was a life moment. one you wouldn’t take back for the life of it. for now, you felt billie’s touch on your thigh and that was enough. it was perfect. the best christmas ever.

[sir-sunawani]

Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 4: Punishment

The older gentleman that measures you has such an air of professionalism, you don’t even care you’re almost completely naked. Save for a pair of ill-fitting underwear, you have on nothing else. He lets you stand near the fireplace and works quickly, stating numbers to a younger assistant who has kept his back turned since you were requested to disrobe.

Crocodile watches the whole thing, he may be working at his desk no one doubts he is paying due attention to the process.

“All done. You may redress, young Miss, thank you.” He instructs with a small bow before gathering his things. “I’ll have a catalogue brought in and you can choose what you like.”

You freeze, the large shirt you’d been wearing falling into place only because of how large it is.

“Choose?” You question, looking from a seemingly disinterested Crocodile to the tailor. “I will have options?”

The sound of Crocodile’s pen stops, the tailor going pale at the sudden silence. Something about it unnerves you too, but you aren’t sure why.

“Yes.” Crocodile answers for him, taking a deep drag of his cigar before letting out a long trail of smoke. “You may choose whatever you want.”

Logically you understood what that meant, but you were struggling with the practice of it. You’d never decided something for yourself. Your attendants dressed you, and your clothes were decided by someone beyond even them. Your meals, your breaks, when you slept - you existed within the borders someone else set.

The only thing you ever had the right to enforce was that no one was allowed to touch you. Even the tailor had taken care to barely even graze your skin with his gloves despite the closeness with which he worked.

You decided not to overthink it, and sat down near the fire when the tailor returned with a catalog.

“If you have any questions, I am at your service, Miss.” he says, stepping back and letting you have some space.

You sit and flip through the catalog. There are all sorts of items listed, from uniforms to evening wear. When you reach the accessories, gloves and the like, you go back to the start.

“Do you have things that are easy to put on?” You question as flatly as you can. Asking a question at all feels demeaning, but you don’t want to pick something with complicated clasps on accident.

“Yes Miss. There are a couple sundresses available, which are generally just pulled on over one’s head. Button-up shirts have easily accessible buttons down the front of the garment, you may like those as well.” He turns the pages of the catalog slowly, pointing out various items.

He speaks evenly and carefully, nothing given away in his tone if your questions are absurd or not. It puts you at ease, and you realize after some time that you must have demanded this man’s attention for at least an hour, and he never faltered. With clothes decided he steps over to Crocodile’s desk, and the two finalize things.

You’d chosen two sundresses, two pants and two shirts. The tailor told you that undergarments would be provided and you decided not to point out that while you knew what under clothes were, it’d been so long since you’d been permitted to wear any you weren’t sure you wanted to.

The whole affair started after lunch, and was done by dinner.

For you the day had been long, aside from eating and dealing with the tailor you did nothing else but lounge on the small couch and watch the fire. You didn’t want to walk the grounds in nothing but his shirt, and you didn’t even really want to leave the room in the first place. It was comfortable now that you’d gotten used to it.

Since he took his meals at his desk, you took yours in the room as well. People came in and out in a near steady stream - the only break for him had been while you were being measured.

“After dinner, you’ll have your lesson.” He says when no one else is left in the room with you.

“My lesson?” You question and feel yourself stiffen as you remember before he says it.

“Proper and efficient hygiene.” He answers flatly.

“Right, I… I mean, I didn’t do anything today, I’m hardly in need of a shower.” It’s a weak argument, but you don’t want the eight foot tall alpha to be in the shower with you again. His scent has been enough from this distance.

“You’ll still do it.” He asserts. You should let it drop there, you know, but something coils between your legs at the idea of him being naked again, and it makes you nervous.

“You’ll be standing outside and in-instructing me?” You know the answer before you ask, but you can’t help it.

“No. Tonight I will be cleaning you. Tomorrow you will repeat what I’ve done.” You can hear a tinge of irritation in his voice, or maybe you imagine it. He sounds irritated randomly throughout the day as it is.

“It wouldn’t be very efficient.” You barely say the words, and Crocodile doesn’t even acknowledge what you know he heard. You hear him get up, but you don’t want this. It felt far less humiliating to have the attendants clean you, than it feels to have someone teach you something you should know.

And you do know it. You know what is done and how, you just haven’t had to do it yourself.

“I’m not even dirty it-!” You suck in a breath as your wine glass is lifted and splashed into your face. There’s silence between you and Crocodile, who is carefully and with graceful practice, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm.

“Wuh-why?” You manage to ask, red wine dripping down your skin.

“You needed a reason.” He says curtly. “Now you’ve ruined my shirt, stained my sofa, and wasted my time. You will be punished, and then you will be cleaned.”

“Punished?! You’re the one who threw the wine around!” You shout, pointing at him and watching in slow horror as the wet sleeve of your shirt whips around and flicks wine onto his vest.

“I’m… sorry, I’m sorry, I did not mean to do that, I -.” Panic rises up in your voice, but he cuts you and your panic off.

“You are my guest, and have been treated as such.” His voice has an edge that sits at your throat. “And to repay that, you act like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m sorry, I am, I’m sorry, I-.”

“Silence.” He snarls and you press your lips together. You weren’t ever punished, you didn’t know what to expect. You were sure he wasn’t going to kill you, and it was unlikely he was mar you in some way. You were too valuable, but you didn’t know what a pirate and an alpha would do to you.

“If you do as you’re told, it will go better for you. Take off that ruined shirt and stand by my desk.” He commands and you do as you’re told.

Crocodile walks over and opens his door just a little, saying something to someone outside it before closing it and locking it.

“Put your hands flat on the desk and bend over.” He orders, and you do as you’re told, or you think you have. He presses you down until your chest is flush against the desk and waits until you put your palms flat against the desk.

“If you remove your hands from my desk, I will carry you out of this room and take you into one of the big tents.” He explains, hand still in the middle of your back. “Hundreds of pirates will watch me continue your punishment. Do you understand?”

“No,” you cry, fear starting to overtake you. “No I don’t know what a punishment is, I don’t understand!” Sobbing you keep your hands on the desk. “My hands, my hands stay on the desk!” You almost whimper the words, smacking your hands on the desk. “I understand that.”

You hear a metallic sound, thin metal against thin metal and realize he’s removing his belt. “Spread your legs and lift your ass. I’ll show you what a punishment can be.” He commands.

You do as he asks, stomach in knots, body shivering. You’re afraid you’re going to throw up onto his desk and if you do that it’ll just be worse. You’re already staining pages with tears and the wine that was in your hair.

“Please, I’m sorry,” you can barely form the words against tears and fear, but it doesn’t matter. The leather of his doubled over belt cuts through the air and bites into the curve of your ass, licking a painful strip against your skin. You shriek, more from surprise and fear than the actual pain, and he pushes you harshly back against the desk.

“HANDS.” He growls, and you put them on the desk, shivering and sobbing. “It’s alright. You didn’t know, and it took you by surprise.” He admits, his own hand almost soothing against your back until you calm down a little.

“But now you know. Keep your hands in place.” He warns.

 Crocodile’s POV

Fuck, you smelled delicious once you became afraid. Your scent was good all the time as far as he was concerned, but right now you were divine. He wanted to shove his tongue into your cunt and taste the scent that was driving him half mad right now.

He brings the belt down a second time, eyes focused on the impact of leather against your skin. He wanted to make your ass red and puffy, but he didn’t want to risk any cuts or other more permanent marks. Your flawless skin was going to stay like that until he sank his teeth into your neck.

You were going to be his. You already were, you just didn’t know it yet. You were his the second Buggy had the intelligence to bring you to him. He would have to reward the idiot clown.

He pauses after the third strike, setting the belt down and putting his hand on your ass.

“Tell me why you’re being punished.” He says, his voice almost tender compared to earlier.

You sob and hiccup, this new experience for you is more fear than pain. He’s sure you know what punishment is as a concept, but it’s very possible this was your first direct experience of it.

“I… I got wine on your vuh-vest.” The scent rolling off you has his pants uncomfortably tight. He wants to split you in half with his cock, burying his knot into your cunt until his own spend bubbles out past the tight fit.

He smacks your ass with his bare hand, delighting in the feel of your skin, hot against his palm. You yelp, keeping your hands on the desk. He appreciated your fear of the tent - he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

“And?”

“And… and I was a buh-bad guest. I’m sorry.” You cry.

“Good girl.” He says. “You learned, and this is so you don’t forget. Be sure to say thank you after each one.” He warns.

Your POV

His hand lands, sharp and heavy against your ass cheek, the impact stings.

“Four!” You cry.

“One.” He corrects. “Don’t worry about before now.”

Sniffling you nod. His voice had been so gentle once you admitted your mistakes that you didn’t want him to talk to you the other way again. That was scary, this was reassuring.

Another heavy smack on the opposite side.

“Two,” you gasp as he grabs your stinging cheek in his massive hand, squeezing it. The pleasure from the massage chases behind the harsh sting and addles your mind.

“You won’t be a bad guest again, right?” He questions, punctuating it with another slap. Shaking your head you count out, the sound turning into a soft mewl as he grabs your cheek again.

He repeats the action, but after you count you can’t stop the breathy, “No,” that slips between your lips.

“No?” He inquires, a dangerous tone in his voice. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“No! No, I - I mean… I …” you almost start crying again. “I… It feels weird.”

He slaps your ass cheeks in quick succession, raining down blows so fast it is impossible for you to count. Just as it starts to really hurt he stops, grabbing one red and stinging ass cheek and forcing a sound out of you, that you hadn’t expected to make.

The lascivious sound is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry!” Panic rises in your throat, but Crocodile just turns you over, laying you on your back, your legs dangling off his desk.

The look on his face has you frozen in place. He looks like he’s going to eat you. The golden amber eyes are slit tight, burning as they look down at you.

“You’re turned on?”

“I’m sorry!” You cry, tears running down the side of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t - I learned, I swear I learned! I didn’t know, I -!”

Crocodile’s POV

His hand over your mouth quiets you. You shiver beneath him, the look on his face sending an odd heat through your body and once you calm down a little he moves his hand away from your mouth.

“You’re going to get your wish,” he says, his voice dripping with restraint. “But only because it may be after midnight before I’m sated.”

He pushes your leg up onto the desk, pining it in place with his hook. You scream, covering your mouth as you realize he hasn’t impaled you, just restrained your leg with his hook. Terror is making your scent stronger and he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs your other leg by the ankle and pulls you open, exposing your dripping cunt to the air. The smell puts visions in his head of him truly devouring you like a small shivering rabbit.

“No, no please!” Panic claws at your voice and you put your hands over your mound. “Don’t-don’t! You’ll-you’ll lose money if you take it! I won’t-.”

“Silence.” He forces it upon you and you fall silent, hands still covering yourself. “Move. Your. Hands.”

Your face flushes down to your shoulders, but you do as he commands.

“What value you have to the gods doesn’t matter to me.” He says, kneeling down between your legs. “They’re beneath me, so it only matters what worth you have to me.”

The tip of his nose grazes the hair of your pussy, and he breathes in deep, letting the sweet scent soak his lungs before his tongue parts your labia and the tip flicks against your clit. You tense and squeak, unable to close your legs, body shivering for all manner of reasons.

The taste of you is a delight he couldn’t dare name, but the single lick isn’t nearly enough. You’re going to enjoy what he’s going to do to you, even if you haven’t been good enough to truly earn it yet.

Your POV

The first gentle lick sends a jolt through you, but you don’t have time to say anything before his mouth begins to devour you again. His lips press in deep, parting yours and letting his thick tongue press against the slick between your folds. The hot wet muscle sends a strange sensation through you, and you squirm uselessly against his hold on you.

“What - wait, I - whaaaaaat’s this?” You whine, as he licks heavy against your clit.

“Consider it part of your punishment.” He grumbles into your skin. His voice is soothing to your ears, but his actions have you on edge.

Another heavy lick and you can’t stop yourself as your body rolls from the pleasure that ripples through you. Crocodile growls when you move, but doesn’t stop licking your cunt. You reach out, putting your hands into his hair and the growl shifts into a purr.

The new sound relaxes you from head to toe, and with less energy spent on holding you down Crocodile focuses on eating you out. Hungry lips and a heavy tongue urge more and more slick from you, and drag thick, heady panting moans from you.

The airy moans falling from your lips turn into whines as the pleasure builds. You’re squirming beneath him, but since you’re holding onto his hair you’re not squirming away from him.

“Please, please,” you huff, feeling a delicious pleasure coil between your thighs. You’d never orgasmed before. You’d come close, but you weren’t permitted that kind of pleasure outside of your heats, and during them you couldn’t attain it by yourself.

What you knew well was the climb to that elusive precipice.

“I’m close, I’m close, please, please, I’m sorry, please let me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t - won’t argue again, please, please!” You cry, your body shivering as he brings you closer and closer.

Just before you tip over the edge, Crocodile shifts, plunging his thick tongue into your vagina. He releases your ankle and rolls his thumb against your clit as his tongue curls inside you.

An unintelligible sound is ripped from your lips as pleasure pulls taut every muscle in your body. You can feel yourself throbbing against his thick tongue, each twitch of your own body sending another merciless jolt of pleasure through you.

Crocodile doesn’t stop. Some addled part of your brain thinks that’s fitting, but it does you no good as your overstimulated body jerks and curls.

“Please,” the word shivers from your lips as Crocodile withdraws his tongue from your twitching cunt.

“One more.” He husks, eyes soft and out of focus. “You taste even better than you smell, little starling, and I will drink once more at least.”

He pushes your leg back again, engulfing your breast with his hand and holding you in place as he licks heavy into your slit. All you can do is hold onto his arm as he drinks his fill bringing you to the edge a second time.

This orgasm soaks into your body, making your heart rush even as your muscles seem to relax against it. The pleasure rolls your eyes back and loosens your grip on his arm, letting him press your body into an immovable hold even more than before. Sweat begins to slick your skin and his tongue moves away from your cunt, licking the salt and thin sheen from the crease of your hips.

“Cr-Crocodile… please,” you paw at his arm as he licks up the backside of your thigh.

“Mercy then, perhaps.” He purrs, and his teeth look so sharp, and his eyes look so reptilian, and the scent of sand and honey that surrounds him is thick and sticky, and you can almost feel it pulling your cunt open for him.

“Now there is plenty of reason to wash you.”

[mistermistyyy]

I find the opinion that religion wouldn't exist in Star Trek kind of extreme. The notion seems to rely on the idea that, in the enlightened future Star Trek proposes, religion is too barbaric of a concept to survive.

This is, first of all, untrue within the text of the franchise. Pike is said to have had a religious upbringing in SNW, McCoy seems to have some connection to Christianity, Picard is agnostic, a lot of the Bajorans including Kira are religious, there is a Muslim background character in Lower Decks, and the crew seem pretty open to the idea of God existing in Star Trek V. Hell, there are tons and tons of biblical references in TOS. There's a whole episode called Journey to Babel.

But even aside from canon evidence, the idea that religion is something that humans must evolve past in order to reach their full potential is pretty uncharitable. People aren't all going to believe the same thing. The best thing we can hope for in the future is not that people will stop having these different beliefs, but that (so long as they do not condone poor treatment or devaluing of others), we will stop seeing certain religions as barbaric and we can simply believe them and express them without pain. A world where you could walk down the street and see an atheist, a Christian, a Hindu, and any other religion, all treating each other's beliefs with respect, not forcing their views on others. Just listening and understanding.

Quite frankly what we need is more representation of religions in Star Trek. Religions from indigenous peoples, African nations, Asian nations, etc. have seen little coverage or reference in Star Trek at all. And I think that's a shame. Star Trek has always been about growing as people and educating ourselves as times around us change. It doesn't matter if a religion has 100 followers or 100 million followers. People can always learn more about them, and I'd love seeing a future where they are all equally valued and get to be seen.

[yourivyygrow]

PART 0: SIREN SONG | counting summers

previous | next: 01. deny, deny, deny

your therapist-assigned vacations take a turn for the stranger when you discover an all-too-familiar compass in the local antique shop.

series: counting summers, book one: the pull of the tide, szn one: where the current takes us

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

wordcount: 5.7k

warnings: parental neglect, references to depression, semi-explicit description of a suicide attempt

a/n: big project incoming lmaoo

THE HEAT IN your room was high enough to kill, you thought as you mindlessly clicked on the 'Next Episode' button.

North Carolina wasn't especially known for its remarkable hotness but the coast nearing summer? That was something else. The tank top and the jean shorts you sport on stuck to your skin like glue and if you wore any thinner or shorter, you'd probably end up being arrested for public indecency. As a whole, you weren't a big fan of the heat.

You weren't a big fan of anything, really. That's why your parents dragged you here.

"Y/N?" Called your mom's voice through the door after a few knocks. "Are you awake?"

You quickly glanced at the time. 4pm. She probably knew you were, but the number of times you slept through the day to escape it for a few hours were too numerous to count. You didn't resent her for asking. "Yeah," your answer was short, like usual when speaking to her. Waiting for her to talk again, you pressed pause on the beginning of the episode you were going to watch.

There was a short blank, you almost thought she left until she spoke up. "We need you to watch the house while your dad and I go down to the market. Can you do that?"

You sighed. Of course it was a demand. It always was. "Sure. Enjoy."

Your mom didn't say anything else, and your heard her steps going down the stairs leading to the living room of your AirBNB. Soon enough your dad and her will be slamming the front door shut and leaving you alone once more on the trip that was supposed to be for you.

I mean, it didn't surprise you, but you thought they would have hid their disdain a little better.

You never had a really good relationship with your parents. I mean, you were pretty sure you were an accident even though they didn't confirm it to you. This distant, cold, bordering on professional relationship with them took a turn for the worse when you grew up ─ and the thing was that you couldn't exactly pinpoint when. It just happened, along with the slow decline of your mental health.

Your dad was a passive presence in your life. He just wasn't there most of time: a quick hi and bye when you got in and out of school and asking to sign your failed tests which he didn't glance at twice. That's fine, in theory. Your mom was something else, though.

The more you grew up, the more you became sure that she had something against you. A type of intergenerational resentment, you thought, but you gave up analyzing that long ago. That's what your therapist advised you.

Which is why you were going to push all of that aside and resume your episode.

The characteristic sound of Outer Banks' opening music echoed through your headphones, calming your palpitating heart. John B's, well, more like Chase Stokes' voice followed soon enough, doing his classic narration at the beginning of the episode. That's what you liked so much about the show, the naturalness of it. It was sort of like watching someone read a diary.

Outer Banks wasn't your kind of show at all, which is why you didn't jump of it when it first appeared on Netflix in 2020. You were more of a fantasy drama kind of girl. The longest interaction you had with the media was probably when you lingered on the announcement of season 4 two months ago. Maybe it was a sign - because a week later, your therapist strongly advised you (more like ordered if you were asked) to go on vacations. Your mom jumped at the opportunity to "see a little of the coast" without asking much of your opinion or your dad's. So here you were, in North Carolina, in the actual, real life Outer Banks.

The only reason you picked it up was because you thought it would be funny considering your situation. A little taste of what it would be like. You started it a few days before taking your flight - turns out you stayed awake all night finishing season one because holy shit, was it addictive. You immediately understood why it got the success it did. So season two was downloaded and binged on the road as well as in plane, and you were set on finishing it today, as well as starting the third season. It's not like you had anything else to do, your mom clearly had plans of her own when it came to this trip and didn't try to include you in the slightest. You suspected, basically knew, the only reason she was there was for the vacations and only programmed them under the orders of your therapist to give herself some comfort about being a... well, shitty mom. No other way to say it.

It was fine, though. Now you were on the last episode and entirely hooked. A part of you didn't really want to keep on watching it - it meant one season less until you had to wait to season four to come out, until you had to say goodbye to the universe you got attached to for a little while. You had the bad habit to do that, get emotionally devoted to fictional universe and fall into heartbreak when it ended. It was way less scary than real life, you thought, but a thousand time more painful.

The other part of you, though, was dying to see how the season would conclude. That's the part who took over, against your better judgement.

The music stopped, the episode carried on and your focus wasn't wavered by the clinking of the front door keys.

     When people said they needed to reconnect with nature after something truly fucked happened, you thought they were joking. You never really experienced that apart from when you finished a really good book and had to spend one hour looking at a wall to compose yourself - it wasn't the same thing, was it?

The season two finale of Outer Banks had made you go into complete lethargy. And by lethargy I mean wide eyes, mouth agape, looking at the ceiling-lethargy. The black credit scene stared back at you like some kind of taunt, contrasted by the tempting white 'Next Episode' button. But you needed some time to gather your thoughts after... all of this.

You didn't hear your parents leaving. You were way too entraced in this one hour of pure adrenaline (by proxy, true, but it was still adrenaline) that you missed yelling at your mom to leave you the front door keys ─ you didn't expect her to remember by herself, and even you reminded her once you had to do it twice just in case. She had a good memory, except when it came to you. So, technically, you were stuck at the AirBNB until your parents came back.

But expecting you wouldn't find a way to go out was severely underestimating someone who seeked escapism in her own house.

You needed to breathe fresh air. Fiction affected your reality more than you liked to admit, sometimes taking more space than not, and the emotional rollercoaster you just went through was in desperate want of an outlet. It's with your heart thumping in your chest and your mind still hazy that you opened the kitchen's window downstairs and, as graceful as a whale out of the water, sneaked out of the house.

Usually, you were pretty good at sliding off soundly. The numbers of time you spent your sleepless evenings on the hidden corner of your house's rooftop were too uncountable by their recurrence. The numbers of time you actually went away to walk around the neighborhood for hours on end without your parents noticing were even bigger. You blamed your lack of grace as you fell from the window to the grass on the overwhelming heat.

After wiping any mud, dirt and green stains off you, you took a road you now knew too well. You didn't really explore your side of the Outer Banks, mainly because it didn't interest you much, you much preferred staying in the walls of your assigned room. But during one of the mandated visits your mom dragged you to so you could report at least something to your therapist, a small, broken down shop caught your eye almost immediately.

Your AirBNB was situated in a little coastal town, not far away from beaches and cliffs, big enough to have some well known shops, tourists attractions and bars, but not quite enough to be considered a city yet. Headphone on, blasting music, it took you a little below ten minutes to walk to the main street, still bustling with local life: street vendors were slowly packing up for the day while the food stands still held up, the strong aroma of spicy seafood seeking your nostrils, almost nauseating by its intensity. People with shopping bags pushed past you like they didn't see you, children were laughing and running around the surf shop at the end of the street - but that's not where you were headed.

You took a left turn into a much smaller, incommodious street that you'd definitely be way more scared to take at night. The sun was still bright in the sky due to the season, though, so you walked through it with your mind still reeling from the finale of your show.

The Pogues were stranded on an island, Poguetopia as they way too enthuastically called it. And Big John Routledge was alive, apparently? What was with dads and dying just to come back in this show. If your dad had to go in mysterious circumstances, you'd prefer he'd stay gone. Sometimes you thought your mom shared your opinion.

You finally arrived to the place you were looking for: Arianne's Lost and Found Antique Shop. A lirtle smile stretched your lips. It didn't look like much: the wooden insigna was mostly ate down my mices and the construction of the small shack made you wonder how it survived the tropical storms washing over the coast. Vines were growing on its facade, the smell of sea salt strongly emanated from the planks. The shop had this strange charisma to it, drawing you off the main street the first time. And the second. By the third time, Arianne knew you by name and because of that, you felt the obligation to come back every few days, if not every. Also because it was the only spot you didn't feel out of place.

The bell of the windowed front door rang aggressively when you pushed it open. The smell of sand and old books hit your nose instantly, a small comfort as you shivered slightly - the shop's interior was downright cold despite not having any air conditioning, and the never ending antique bookshelves lining the walls didn't do anything to bring warmth to the room.

A raspy, high-pitched voice rose up from behind a worryingly tall pile of clothes. "Y/N? Is that you, baby?"

"Who else?"

The tall figure of Arianne, the legend in the flesh, withdrew from behind the piled-up clothes. She was a lanky, dark-skinned woman with waist-lenght black and pepper curls. Her eyes, tired by age, sparked with kindness and mischief and while her cane was holding most of her weight, she still moved with a swift assurance that made you look twice when she passed by. When her eyes set upon you, a vivid smile lit up her face.

"What are you implying about my shop?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing, nothing..." You swiped your finger on a nearby shelf, covering it in dust, before looking back at Arianne expectantly.

The old woman raised her cane as if to hit you. "Why, you little-"

You sidestepped her as a chuckle escaped you. Soon enough, she let out a huffy laugh herself. Not a lot of tourists knew about the Lost and Found due to its... dubious placement. Athe locals seemed to avoid it like the plague. Business was bad, to say the least, and she knew it. You don't know how Arianne kept afloat and sometimes you told yourself you didn't want to know ─ at least, she knew the jokes were all in good fun.

"Some sketchy men came by yesterday night with some shit they left back there, if you're interested," she offhandedly said.

And obviously, your attention was caught by her words like a fish on a hook. "Really?"

"Would I lie about more junk cluttering this place?"

She nudged your foot with her cane in the direction of the new arrival. Without awaiting more words from the woman, you walked toward the back, dodging the multiple boxes filled to the brim with rusty silver plates and yellow partition papers. Ever since you discovered the Lost and Found there had been no new donations, you assumed because it was because its unpopularity. Turns out you were wrong.

When you reached the wooden walls alcove at the end of the shop, you were faced with a myriad of disarranged items spread out on a wavering table, varying in sizes and apperances but all sharing one similarity: the undeniable charm of being lost at sea. Arianne was quick behind you. "The guys who dropped this off were searching from some treasure, or something like that."

Your eyes were still fixed on the table in front of you when you answered. "Doesn't look like they found it."

"You tell me. Some of those things actually look kinda interesting, though. Didn't have time to look at 'em properly," said Arianne. "Made me think about you and your little show with all that treasure hunting."

You huffed. With your aversion of talking about yourself or any kind of small talk, obviously the topic you'd bring when you reluctantly had an interaction with someone would be your current fictional obsession. Or just plain silence. But this time it was the first case, right now it being Outer Banks. Most of the time people didn't stick by long enough for you to get talkative and speak up about it, or they would leave halfway through. But Arianne didn't, she let you rant about it for a week straight and seemed to enjoy when you briefed her about the last episodes you watched. It might have to do with how she didn't know how to make Netflix work - but you preferred lying to yourself and pretend she was actually interested.

"Thanks Arianne," you muttered.

With a wave of the hand, she shunned your gratitude aside. "Bah! No need to thank me for that garbage."

You didn't add anything else. With the tip of your fingers, you traced what looked like a small, rusty anchor, engraved with a delicate wheat symbol. After a comfortable silence, Arianne spoke up again.

"Anyways, I have some paperwork to get back to in the office. You'll tell me about the next episodes you watched when you'll be done looking through all that."

She turned around as you nodded without thinking, way too entranced by the objects already. Before leaving, she added, "Oh, and if you could sort stuff out. Would appreciate it."

She withdrew in a little corridor leading to her office. You didn't mind at all. A business, even failing, was still a business.

Plus, you had much to keep you occupied.

A gun to your temple wouldn't get you to admit it to anyone else but yourself but back when you were still holding on to school and your passions, you were a bit of a history nerd. Not the big parts of history, but the small, obscure parts nobody cared much about: the pirates, the lost treasures, the lost myths, legends and sea goddesses. That's one of the main part of Outer Banks that hooked you. It reminded you of you, a few years back. Before everything

You started looking through the mess of silver, plated gold and rust. They were beautiful, their sheen a little tainted by time and salt water, yes, but still beautiful. In your eyes at least.

Rummaging through them was an arduous task as some of them seemed to be tangled together (and good luck detangling metal) but somehow you enjoyed it. Organizing them by color, type, time they might have been lost... you liked it, the order. You didn't consider it as a job when Arianne asked you to arrange her messiest piles of clutter, which is why you refused the money she offered you the first time. You just appreciated being in contact of history, as insignificant as it was, and the satisfaction of putting everything where it should be.

An hour must have passed, maybe a little more: the sun was visibly declining in the sky through the window, painting the dark room in soft shades of yellow and orange. You were almost done sorting through everything: to your surprise ─ note the sarcasm ─ not a lot of interesting things came out of it. Old cutlery, navigation tools too damaged to be considered worthwhile... a big pile of nothings. But it kept you entertained for a bit.

That's when the sun fell low enough to hit something on the far end of the table, catching the corner of your eye. A small glimpse, so very little you could've missed it by blinking. Curiosity took over your being - you were pretty sure you didn't notice anything of the sort before.

Reaching out your hand, you took a hold of it.

A compass.

It was average-sized and not as rusty as the other objects, so it must have not been in contact with the sea water for as long. An intricate design was engraved on the gold of the cover, with different flowers, accompanied by a line of text around it you couldn't quite make out. It looked strangely familiar, to the point your stomach flipped a little at the first observation.

You clicked on the button at the top to open it. The inside was quite... normal: the usual arrows, lines and whatnots. Except that, while you weren't a navigator, you were grown up enough to know that one of the arrows wasn't pointing north at all. Which was too bad because it was the entire point of a compass. Must be broken.

It hits you when you close it, like a speeding truck, your reflection staring back at you through the engravings. You knew exactly where the sense of familiarity came from.

The compass you had in your hand was too alike, down to every points, to the one John B inherited from his dad in Outer Banks. The one that kickstarted the whole show.

Your jaw dropped open. Outer Banks wasn't filmed in the actual Outer Banks, that you knew, because they mainly shot in South Carolina. But you assumed some scenes must have taken place in North Caroline because you were pretty sure that what you had in your hands was an official prop - I mean, that's the only thing it could be, right? How would a random compass dropped in the sea could look so much like John B's? Maybe they lost it while filming a boat or sea scene and it got washed up by the tide, who knows.

You almost fell while hurrying to Arianne's office. Luckily, she seemed to be getting out at the same time. She stared you down as you stood in front of her, not uttering anything. You didn't even know what you were going to say. You just wanted to show her. "Are you okay? Do I have something in my tee- Sweet Jesus, did you break something?!" She immediately started walking to the alcove you just left.

You put yourself in her way. "No, no, I didn't break anything. I just- I found something."

"Something valuable?" She asked, an eager smile finding its way to her lips.

"Uh... depends on what you call valuable?"

"I mean monetary value. Cash. Something that can help me pay rent, baby."

You didn't answer. Instead, you showed her your hand.

The smile on Arianne's lips faltered almost immediately. If you were being honest, you'd think it's because it was only some piece of junk among other things for her ─ except that for you it wasn't. At all.

She carefully took it in her palm. "A... compass. Where did you find it?" The woman toyed with it as if it was made of glass.

"In the stuff you showed me." Arianne sighed. You didn't pay it any mind, choosing to continue. "Listen, it looks like an exact copy of the one in the TV show I'm always telling you about, y'know? I think it might be like, a lost prop or something and-"

You stopped abruptly when you saw Arianne's eyes. You were pretty perceptive of other's emotions and right now, it looked like everything in her world broke inside her eyes the moment you said your sentence. You stood there, awkwardly, as she was detailing you. Then the compass. You. The compass. "Uh... did I say something wrong?"

She snapped back to her normal self, as if on cue. "No, no baby absolutely not. I'm just... happy to see you this joyful. It doesn't happen a lot except for when you tell me about that show of yours."

This made the situation even more awkward for you. God, you hated when people said that: pitying you so openly. 'We know you're miserable but hey! At least sometimes you seem happy, it means you're on the way to be fixed!'. Like there was something to fix. Well, apparently there was, and it could be resolved in a two weeks trip.

You chose to push your thoughts aside with a shake of the head. Opening your mouth, you were getting ready to ask her about holding on to it, fueling your Netflix-induced obsession in the process. Arianne anticipated it.

"You can keep it." She hastily spoke, putting the compass back in your hand like it burnt her.

This time, you were the one looking at the compass then back at her. "Really?" You were stunned that Arianne, out of all people, would give away something from her shop that easily.

"Yeah. As a thanks for keeping an old lady company," her palm wrapped over yours, folding your fingers around the object. "For helping with the shop and organizing my stuff."

Her voice was tight with emotions for a reason unknown to you. You didn't think it was that big of a deal but apparently she did, so you kept quiet whispering a muted 'Thank you'.

Taking back her hand, Arianne stood up a little straighter. "Anyways, you've been back there a while now. Better get home before it gets too dark. You never know what happens in the street these days, and your mother might barge in and accuse me of kidnapping."

You fought the urge to tell her that she didn't care enough to do it. A good point she made, though, was that walking all alone as a tourist and as a woman in the middle of night somewhere you barely knew directions never lead to anything good. So, as she slapped the back of your legs with her cane, you hurried your steps toward the front doors, exchanging thanks and casualties, never forgetting to tell her you'll be back tomorrow.

Before you left though, she called for you. "Y/N? Just... be careful with an old thing like that. Most often they tend to pull you places, whether you're ready for it or not."

What? You frowned, confused, but her ominous words were heard by one ear and left by the other the second you stepped outside.

     You genuinely thought you knew the way from Arianne's Lost And Found Antique Shop to your house by heart.

Turns out you were miserable and arrogant. You were definitely lost. What a combo.

Maybe it was the setting darkness that confused you, the last fingers on sunlight warming up your bare arms as the cold night breeze slowly took over. The roads seemed to all look the same, the nightlife was surely taking on the bars and the dimly lit streets. You were starting to panic. Mainly because even though your parents wouldn't care much about you being gone, they would care about you coming back that late, through the kitchen window. You'd be in for a long, long monologue about irresponsability. Again.

Yeah, you didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Great. Amazing, even.

The compass you tied to the belt loop of your shorts prickled the skin underneath and the ghost of a grin appeared on your face. You had an actual prop from Outer Banks. How cool was that?

You carefully detached it, detailing it once again. The strange warmth from the metal seemed to spread from your palm to your fingertips, calling you to open it. Which you did like you were compelled to. Plus, it could eventually help you find some directions. Your AirBNB was probaly on the south-west or something like─

The arrow was definitely pointing south now.

You assumed it was broken earlier, it was stupid to think it would be magically fixed as soon as you stepped out of the store. You took a turn in another mystery street, trying to find any directions that could lead somewhere even a tiny bit familiar to you, eyes still fixated on the intricate drawings of the compass.

That was when the arrows shifted, gently, like they were pushed by the wind, to point the exact direction you strayed away from.

Your heart skipped beat. Acting on instinct and panic, you shook the compass - you didn't know why you did, actually, but it didn't change the fact the arrows wouldn't budge from the direction they shifted to. You walked a few, agonizingly slow, steps back, not to startle anyone that might... magically make the arrows move? Now you were overreacting.

Still, you stood on the exact spot where you pulled out the compass a few minutes ago and under your incredulous eyes, the arrows shifted again. When your head rose up from the tool to the environment around you they pointed to a little dirt road in front of you you hadn't seen before.

No other words could describe the situation other than creepy.

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, dangerously threatening to burst out of it. The dark blue tint of the sky and the general silence of your surroundings didn't help your anxiety - or was it some sort of thrill? You didn't know. Nevertheless, the arrows pointed, taunting you by sitting motionless in their glass capsule.

You tentatively moved forward. You could've sworn for a second the little needles looked like they were trembling in agreement.

A part of you wanted to believe this weird compass that strangely looked like the one in your favorite TV show had a conscience of its own and was leading you to something. The other, more rational part of yourself was screaming about how delusional you sounded and that you should get home right now before getting jumped, mauled, assaulted or all three at the same time.

Except that what it called 'home' was a tiny house with a cracked yellow wallpaper and leaky sinks in which no one spoke to each other unless obligated to. Something your mom rented last minute without considering if you even wanted to go, still pretexting it was all for you. A blacked-out room and a screen that burnt your thighs due to overuse but the red scar it left felt more like love than the glances your parents threw your way. Four walls filled with a graveyard silence, you wished to scream into it sometimes but the voice just couldn't come out.

Seeking escapism from your own household, your own life, was what you did best. So you walked down that dirt road, an iron grip around the compass.

     You followed its lead desperately, panting like a dog. Each of your steps quickened until you were running ─ you didn't even know where you were anymore, your phone probably ran out of battery by now, your headphones were hanging on for dear life around your neck and your hair was carried by the speed in which you moved. You passed by small, rural houses, hurried through a somber forest and almost slipped into mud, nearly colliding with a night owl and blindly obeying the compass' lead.

Until you were faced with the shore.

Your feet, aching from the run, stopped when the soft texture of the amber sand bent under them. It took a while for your mind to catch up with your body, but when it finally did, the last breaths you had in your lungs got knocked out of them: the sky was now of a deep ink, filled with clear, bright stars ─ which means you were far away enough from the main city to see them properly. The only source of light was the full moon, reflecting on the never ending sea unraveling in front of you. The beach seemed to extend for a while as well, and the slow hum of the waves was all you could hear apart from your ragged breathing. It was calm. Peaceful.

You peeked at the compass in your hand, hoping something would finally happen. This place looked like finality. Something happened alright: It stopped pointing and the arrows were spinning in erratic circles.

You swiftly closed the compass, tying it to your belt loop once again. No reactions would come out of your body even if you seeked one, you were too worn out. Walking from the treeline to the seaside like an automat, you let yourself fall on your back upon the sand, the water brushing your shoes when the tide rose up.

The stars looked down on your near breathless body. Tormenting you with their enormitude, their meaning, their greatness.

With nothing else around you but the shore, it struck you just how empty you were.

You don't know when it all fell down, if there ever was a reason - many people told you, at first, that you didn't need a reason to feel the way you did. That was when you tried to talk about it. But this thing inside of you, this black hole, relentless, just took more amplor as time went by. Sucking in everything inside of it. It lasted, and because of that you were now messy, lazy, disorganized. You couldn't take showers for weeks, you hadn't brushed your teeth in months, you wore the same clothes and didn't feel anything strongly enough to cry about it. You didn't have a reason, it made you selfish.

You didn't know if you were. You didn't know anything except the fact you didn't. Plato would be proud.

You gradually fell out of everything: you had hobbies, you had passions, you had people you could somewhat call friends, you had plans for the future until you simply didn't.

At first you tried to blame your parents. You tried to be angry at them, to yell and accuse: it came out in a whisper. You tried to gain their affection, their love, their care but how could you crave something you never experienced? You attempted to make them the perpetrators of the barrenness of your being but the trust was as simple as that: you were the only one guilty for letting the black hole grow until you became one with it.

You tried to kill yourself to see if it would do something interesting to your body.

You were just so numb, and nothing was holding you back, was it? Your grades were dwindling at a dizzying speed, crushing the chances to get into the college you used to dream about when you still went to school, your parents hadn't talked to you in three days, you missed your therapist appointments for a month. If you died, maybe something would finally jolt you back to life. The pills went down your throat so easily. You sat in your full bathtub, letting the splashes of water serenade you to Morpheus' arms.

After that everything was kind of a blur. You don't remember much of the hospital, the drive back home. Everything just fell back into place. You were still a painfully empty shell, only with one more story to tell.

Your therapist prescribed you those improvised vacations for this specific reason: to change your mind about being alive. The thing was you didn't want to die, but you weren't that attached to life either - you just were. Apparently it wasn't enough. It never was.

Dr. Sullivan, your therapist, told you this was why you grew so dependant to fiction. They did all the things you were scared to do: they fell in love in a mess of tears and hearbreak, they screamed until their throats gave out, they hated so brightly and cried so ugly. They lived and you didn't. You felt safe in the hollow. Untouched, unharmed. And you searched an exit sign.

She was wrong about that. About most things, really, you stopped listening to her a while ago. You didn't feel safe in the desolation, you were safe. You didn't hunt for an out, you've gotten used to it, why would you put yourself through the hardship of changing something so stable? The vacantness grew comfortable. It was just you, now. The endless black hole.

A cold tear fell down your cheek onto the sand. It was something that often happened: your body translated emotions your heart and guts didn't communicate to you. Unless it activated your fight-or-flight response, you automatically tried to push it down.

You would wipe it away but the run pumped you all out of strength: every muscles in your body implored for you to leave them alone, your mind was too exhausted to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, and your eyelids grew heavy and solid as rocks. You'd worry about the consequences of your action tomorrow morning. Even if, deep down, you knew no one concerned themselves enough with you for you to actually have an effect on the world.

The sound of the waves, growing more and more intense, coaxed you to sleep like a familiar lullaby. The feeling of the salt water brushing against your fingertips took the role of a blanket, if not a shield, against the rest of the world.

And just like that, you were gone.

[rosy-crow]

not enough people are reveling in the horrors that is sephiroth having SEVERE CPTSD!!

HGGFJFHF YEAH

Also, on a few lists, “hyper-vigilance” was a symptom…which….bruh

I watched a documentary about kids with CPTSD and also one on attachment disorders in infants after maternal neglect a while ago, and basically, when they put well-adjusted kids in a room with each other and some adults, it was all smiles, trust, camaraderie, play, fun, etc.. Those babies were bright and looking at the adults all the time! They bonded really easily.

But the kids with either the attachment disorder or the CPTSD just sat there looking on high alert. They didn’t sleep or rest, they didn’t trust the adults. They looked anxious and they were babies :(

The kids with the maternal neglect issues were known to look around the room and at the doors like they were waiting for someone. Waiting for someone to come back. It made me cry at the time, dude.

Anyway, Sephiroth first reminded me of the kids with the attachment disorders when I was going through OG and he seemed like he was looking for…something. When he found Jenova, I was like…”OH! WAIT IS THIS MOTHER THING DELIBERATE…”

And when I got to Lucrecia, as soon as she said “I never even got to hold him,” it all clicked. That explained a LOT 💀

I could not find hardly any analysis videos or forums on him (outside of tumblr) that even bothered to mention it. It’s hopefully gonna change with FS!

But what’s also becoming more blatant aside from the attachment disorder is the CPTSD, I agree. He showed up in episode 1 already a mess around the adults, not sure how to interact after isolation, really apologetic when he messed up and he wilted whenever Glenn yelled. Then we had that whole speech he gave when they confronted him about his ruthlessness and he basically gave away that he was trained to be afraid as a warrior. Deathly fearful, paranoid and reactive on the battlefield even with children and elderly because he believed he’d surely die if he hesitated or showed any compassion.

That basically means they beat fear into his head for a long time and put him in situations where he perfected the “kill or be killed” mindset.

(I’m so happy he does THIS with the Wutai troops as an adult though. HE LEARNED TO HESITATE AND OFFER HIS ENEMIES A CHANCE BEFORE JUST GOING FOR THE KILL SJDHDH)

But as for his younger self, what kid would be trained like that (especially by fucking Hojo) and not develop all of the exact traits Sephiroth has in these stories, honestly…I can’t even imagine.

He has the other symptoms of CPTSD too. He feels disconnected and different, he has serious issues with engaging or starting relationships, he dehumanizes himself, he speaks like the world is hopeless and HIS life is worthless outside of his missions, and he is apparently gonna say to Angeal something about them not being able to understand each other because of how they were raised….which fits with the “feeling like nobody can understand you” symptom.

Ugh. This seems to be a big part of what he has and it’s at its worst right now in episode 2 because now it’s not just the isolated war machine childhood + the Hojo horrors fucking him up, but we got everything that happened in Rhadore too.

I mean yeah, no WONDER this kid is closed off and falling into the Alissa/Jenova/Masamune trap or whatever. I bet he’s gonna have a mini Nibelheim or some kind of breakdown, and my hopes are in Angeal’s intervention. If anyone can get through to Sephiroth, it’s him.

[heartcircus]

I love Mapicc and Derap’s bickering and mutual disdain, but god I wish there was someone in Mapicc’s corner who could like. Help give Zam a bit of perspective on how Derap is bending the narrative and painting Mapicc in a negative light to push Zam into choosing him bc Zam has to be the one defending Mapicc in every conversation and the more they have the more it feels like Zam’s resolve is shifting. The fact that Derap is kind of unchallenged here is like. Miserable. I don’t hate Derap but I do want things to fall apart for him bc he is just making this so much worse and Zam needs to talk to someone else. I hope Pangi tells him Derap invited him. I hope Mapicc stalks one of their conversations and gets the chance to defend himself. Planet saying Mapicc was Zam’s bestie and Zam getting choked up and just repeating “yeah” was like. Such a good moment. Reminding Zam of what they were. Can we get another girltalk if we’re doing season 4 i think we should bring back girltalk (this probably will not help). Can someone defend my dog I don’t care if he’s in the wrong I just want someone to make it clear he’s not the only one in the wrong

yeah, i definitely agree, mapicc does need someone in his corner and it's unfortunate that there's really just . no one . i don't know whether or not it's intentional that derap is pushing for zam to choose him over mapicc, in my opinion it could go either way, but i don't think he's going to like the answer he'll inevitably end up getting (that it's mapicc. it's always mapicc.).

i'm also in the same boat as you towards atlas lmao i like them, i find them cute, but i definitely think they're due for some confrontation/contestation over how derap talks to zam. even aside from mapicc, he tells zam a bunch of half-truths despite constantly reiterating that he Never lies to zam. like, the whole 'pangi found zaun on his own' thing was so weird because i don't really think zam would've been all that mad if derap just told him he showed pangi the place ? it's just a bunch of little things like that which will eventually add up over time

i'm a big devotioner, i love those guys, and as much as i love seeing them at odds with one another this time it's just so painful. it's something about seeing them both Refuse to fight one another and making that rather clear but still being unable to work together. they're just stuck at this god-awful crossroads and i can't wait for their time to come back around, whatever that means, just as long as they're together again.

[fintan-pyren]

imho fitz has been kind of sidelined/mischaracterized ever since shannon made the decision to make keefe the main love interest/sophie's endgame

Yeah. A lot of things have been sidelined.

The villains, other characters, and storylines who aren't heavily associated with Keefe have been majorly pushed to the background. Fintan, the whole Prentice thing, Brant, etc.

Fitz is definitely worst, though. He was originally a really nice character with no red flags, and a lot of chemistry with Sophie. I think that made him hard to get out of the way once Keefe became the main love interest, though, which has resulted in his character being completely destroyed and pushed aside.

It really sucks.

[its-no-biggie]

thinking about 1863 again......

(utc bc this is kinda long, but while im here. orv epilogue spoilers ahead!!)

the 1863rd turn is probably the single time i related to kim dokja the most...... like. i know theres no reason to be upset about han sooyoungs plan. its perfectly reasonable and the person its the most unfair to, yoo joonghyuk, also goes along with it of his own free will. its a very clean ending all things considered. its even very satisfying writing-wise - the protagonist sacrifices everything and suffers constantly in order to finally get what he truly wants. i can see how the star stream accepted a story like this - i know i would read it.

but its also completely unacceptable. you cant just cast aside the protagonist! you cant just pile all this pain and suffering on him with no reprieve!! and most importantly, you cant end the story like this!!!! what about everything he fought so hard for??? he cant just give up! hes yoo joonghyuk!!! this isnt the ending i want (i dont want it to end) i want him to be happy (i cant let him have the one thing he really truly wants) this ending isnt fair (to me)!!!!

oh. this kind of mirrors how orv goes, doesnt it...... like. 1863!hsy balanced out the probability of keeping all of yjhs companions alive and completing the scenarios by offloading it all onto yjh. the only way to get this kind of ending is if yjh becomes the enemy of the whole world and loses all his loved ones and then ceases to exist at the end. which is completely unacceptable to the reader who cares about the protagonist...... so of course. kdjs way of getting his perfect ending is bearing the probability himself. he becomes the enemy of the whole world and sacrifices himself over and over and then ceases to exist at the end. he takes on the role of protagonist to save yjh from that fate, not realizing that changing whos in the drivers seat doesn't change the fact that the ending is unacceptable. the very idea is unfathomable to him because he cant imagine someone loving him the way he loves yjh.......

and even the ending is mirrored - 1863!yjh is saved and his story continues because kim dokja interferes. the reader is an active participant in the story - they decide what happens after the ending that was designed by the author, enacted by the character, and demanded by the world of the story. so if you want to save kim dokja, you have to do your part as the reader. the author alone cant go against the decided ending, but the reader can imagine a new ending where there were no consequences and everyone is happy, and the act of imagining it makes that ending real. the ending you wish for matters, because the reader is just as vital to the storytelling process as the author....... like. the fact that this ending plays out in microcosm like halfway through the novel???? oh my god??????

[teavilgenius]

so youre no longer allowed to use 'super shitty explanation' as a tag, this is epic and helpful for people like me, who love learning about the things and characters people like but don't know the fandom. Plus, again, really cool!!!

although wasnt the whole, naming their son after a maniac kind of a red flag? but i guess he isnt the only nathan in the world and he has no reason to suspect her (aside from the clone thing, surely thatd raise some suspicions? what would i know tho) anyways love some reviving action i guess??

time travel doesnt have to be neglectful?? like, the could just drop him with their future selves and raise him from then? or maybe it has to be much much further in the future, that makes more sense really, but like, why dont they stay there? (its the self sacrificial hero nonsense isnt it? goddammit take care of yourselves people, there are other people in the world that can save it. a world that chooses a single saviour isnt one that wants saving.) anyways, no further questioning of actions, only wondering about those alternate timelines. cause it makes sense, i guess, for the asshole to still be being a nuisance if scott just, like, legs it outta there. but if he's been contacted by a telepath/tlelekine/whatever the hell charles is sayin he is this time, surely he can tell that hey, this fellas not good to leave around like chekhov's nuke??? like, call the police before you kidnap this child, Xavier, there are probably other kids in this whole ass orphanage he runs??? youd think reading minds would mean he had a braincell or something.

I don’t know how to use tumblr but I have ocs, Robins, and Scott Summers to talk about and I’ll be damned if the Big Tumble silences me

[fantastic-nonsense]

im soso curious, i need to know... why is tim a child of apollo? bless u for not going with fanon<3

[referencing how I decided who the Batfam's godly parents were in my PJO AU WIP]

People like to sort him into Athena because DC has spent the last few years emphasizing how smart he is and how he's better at the more “cerebral” and detective aspects of the job. But Tim’s most prominent pre-reboot traits are not actually his detective or tech skills: they’re his reckless, impulsive bravery, his ability to analyze and think very quickly on his feet in dangerous situations, and his "power of friendship" idealism.

He's a people person; it's one of his greatest strengths. Tim is like...physically incapable of going somewhere and not making at least one friend while he's there. Hell, when he ran off to travel the world on his "fuck you, I'll find Bruce on my own" trip he still managed to pick up his own little crew of assassin friends along the way. Making connections and talking to people and relying on others for help is how he successfully navigates being a hero, as he himself notes on multiple occasions:

"Did you think I was going to run all around the city, desperately trying to save everyone all by myself? I'm not Batman. I have friends." -Red Robin #12

Tim loves his family and friends, and losing so many people he's close to within such a small timespan sends him off the deep end in multiple ways (trying to clone Kon, fighting Dick to get the Lazarus water, isolating himself from everyone, fighting with Dick and running off to find proof that Bruce was alive on his own, etc).

At his core, Tim is an idealist who becomes a hero for no other reason than a) a broken man needs help and a broken family needs mending and b) if Dick won't go back to being Robin he might as well do it, because someone has to be Robin. He sees what will happen if Bruce stays on the path he's on and says "no. I'm not going to let that happen." He's a hero because someone has to help, and he's able and available to do so. He doesn't work on cold hard logic and facts. He works off of gut instinct and then uses his big brain to go find facts and logical conclusions that support those instincts.

Tim was never going to be an Athena child.

So I started thinking. At first, I wanted him to be a Hermes child; it seemed right to frame his parentage around being the child of the messenger of the gods given how he became Robin. But that's not really him, either. Apollo, within the scope of both classical mythology and the PJO-verse's depiction of him and his children, fits him better.

While modern culture tends to zero in a lot on Apollo's status as the god of music, poetry, and the arts (for good reason), Apollo in classical Greek mythology was first and foremost known as the god who (for lack of a better term) helps his people. He's the god of the sun, of light, of medicine and healing, of prophecy, of truth.

Tim comes into Bruce's life at a time when Bruce is at his absolute lowest point. Jason is dead. He's estranged from Dick. He's failing in his mission to save Gotham. He's highkey passively suicidal. And Tim takes it upon himself to fix that. And he does it by being a solid, bright, stable presence in Bruce's life and an extremely blunt, truthful messenger of the future he sees: Batman needs a Robin, and if Bruce doesn't have one he's going to die.

And I didn't abandon his intelligence in the calculations: Apollo is also the god of rational thinking, order, and knowledge, contrasting and working in harmony with Dionysus (the god of irrationality, chaos, and passion). He was also known to be the god whose job it was to interpret the will of Zeus to humankind, which I thought was appropriate for a boy who spends quite a lot of his time being the living communication translator between Bruce and everyone around him.

So. Apollo child.

............also I thought it was funny to make the god of youth the father of the boy DC refuses to allow to age.

[shallowseeker]

I'm breaking this one out by itself because it's a little funny.

*Dean's phone rings*

*Dean answers without looking*

*Dean proceeds to yell at Cas*

Ah, right. What could possible be so important?

/////

Sam goes on to tell Dean that *drumroll* Sam is Lucifer's true vessel.

WOW! Scary!

DEAN: *sarcastically* Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh Sammy? SAM: That's it? That's your response?

It's... completely lost of Sam, though, the REASON for Dean's sarcasm.

See. It's this: now that Sam's found out that HE'S a vessel, he's in his car, an absolute FIRE lit under his goddamned tail, EAGER to get back in and fight.

Sam.

SAMMY.

🤦🤦🤦🤦

Dean throws a hint.

DEAN: *sarcastically again* I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point. SAM: Well what are we gonna do about it?

And Sam... still doesn't get it.

Sigh.

Here's the thing. Sam wasn't panicking when they learned that Dean was a vessel. Only Cas and Bobby were panicked and stressed. They were mean, but they were at least aware of the reality of things.

But Sam.

Yes, Sam was going through things, struggling with things, and taking time to go through things is okay. But on the other hand, it definitely still hurts that Sam wasn't insisting on staying in the fight on Dean's behalf, to protect Dean from becoming a vessel.

But now that Sam's learned that he's a vessel?

Boom.

It's not even that, though. It's this whole conversation.

Because what's missing here? Empathy for Dean's plight.

Sam doesn't realize that this is why he's perpetually at... the kids' table. This right here.

In this whole conversation, Sam is eaten up with ranting about his own feelings, about how he's sick of being a puppet, and how he's going to hunt Lucifer down and gain redemption.

Sam's all about "how he can do this," how he's "gonna prove it to you."

It makes him seem a lot younger than he is.

....

There's no acknowledgment of how helpless Dean must have been feeling all this time, knowing that he's been targeted by an archangel, about how scary this whole thing is.

Hell, even Cas acknowledged Dean's fears re: Michael.

I mean: He did it in his Cas way, but it still acknowledged the enormity of the fear.

Cas:

///

Meanwhile, Sam back in 5x01, right after DEAN learned about being Michael's vessel: Geez, why is everyone so cranky and stressed?

🥺Dean, what do you mean that you didn't mean your pep talk to Bobby? Whaaaat? 🥺

///

....

And the thing is. Not "getting it"? That's understandable. But this conversation is just... devoid of support for Dean.

And they're not. Sam's zapping all the strength for himself.

When they've been together lately, Dean is the big brother who lends support, and Sam isn't giving anything back. Sam's out to prove himself, not to support others.

And they tell older siblings and parents to be patient, to let them learn, to step back and forgive, to be "a soft place to land."

That's hard to do. And it's exhausting.

And aside// Sam's apology to (demon) Bobby was SO MUCH NICER. Sam, where is this humility and energy for other people????

SAM: No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry. Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal. I killed her, and I set Lucifer free. You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on. I'm sorry.

[sforzesco]

I love how much Lucullus can't stand Pompey, and also this

Pompey the Great: A Political Biography, Robin Seager

with something from this thrown in for extra flavor

Crassus and Pompey, on the other hand, ridiculed Lucullus for giving himself up to pleasure and extravagance, as if a luxurious life were not even more unsuitable to men of his years than political and military activities.

Plutarch, Lucullus

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / tip jar!

[brimswithmoxie]

@ofcockytenacity

Logan, I promise I'm only teasing you. I'm not looking to rush into anything. Don't get me wrong, I love being your... {I paused as a playful smirk pulled at the corners of my lips before I added} girlfriend. It's kinda a rush to know I had such an effect on you that you're actually giving the whole one girl thing a shot, but that's as far as my expectations go. I love dating you. Being with you makes me feel a kind of excitement I've never had with another guy. You're charming, funny, smart, and fun to hang out with. Not to mention ridiculously attractive too, so I'd be crazy not to want to be your girlfriend. That aside though, I just want us to get to know each other and to continue to hang out. One step at a time... Okay? {I said through a reassuring smile. I was in college and fully focused on getting good grades, graduating with honors, and then getting my dream job in journalism, so things like marriage, kids, and settling down was the last thing on my mind at the moment. Ten or more years from now, sure, but right now, I just wanted to date Logan and for us to get to know each other better} As far as my town goes, yes, you'll be under a microscope. I'm not even going to sugar coat it or try to lie to you... This town will watch you like a hawk. {I said with a soft, playful grin before my tone became more serious and sincere as I added} But if I didn't have full confidence in the impression you'll make on them, and with that, how much they're going to love you, I wouldn't put your through it. All that to say, be confident, Huntzberger... You've got this. {A playful tone in my voice as I spoke; all the while flashing you a grin}

continued

@brimswithmoxie 

I never felt more relieved to hear a ringing of a phone until the moment I waited outside Rory’s window. I knew the chances of her mother allowing me inside if she caught sight of me lurking around the porch. I was nothing if not sleuth; I had to owe it to all the years of sneaking out of windows in the mansion, or the pipes I’ve managed to climb down unsnatched. But this time I knew what I wanted to do; I wanted Rory to hear me out. I had no idea what words would come out of my mouth seeing as I felt the nerves coursing through my body. But I also knew i had to see her. 

The town was small; but with the address I had managed to squeeze out of Paris it felt easy going. The big hurdle was escaping her mother. I felt the rage her mother might exhibit if she had seen me. It’s why I held my hand right above the glass until I watched her frame leave my view and the wood door had closed. Exhaling a sigh of relief; I had let my fist knock gentle against her glass window. Did I think Rory had gotten wind I was coming? No because I could tell Paris had been begging me to not go after her; and I couldn’t figure out why. Yeah I had hurt the brunette; I had broken her hopes for us. But I had no intentions. For the first time I wasn’t being selfish, I wasn’t focused on myself. I believed I wasn’t enough; that Ace would get bored of me, that she would realize she was wrong about me. I was a waste of space as a boyfriend; along the way of friends with benefits; I saw who I wanted to be. For her. 

It scared the living shit out of me. I felt my hands sweating; which is why the second I offered a gentle at ease smile to the female when she spotted me, I had pulled my palms to my shirt and tried to will the sweat to go away. But I had stopped worrying about my sweating palms, or the nerves I felt when I saw her. On crutches? Was Rory in an accident? Brows pushed together confused. Logan had tilted his head to the side attempting to grasp onto what happened? It had only been a few days since Rory stomped out of my dorm room; a few days since I felt that ache in my chest. I was worried for her, I was feeling the ache in my heart why? Because Rory was hurt; and now it clicked; maybe Paris was giving a warning sign, because she didn’t want me to hear about Rory being hurt? The thoughts kept spinning in my head; as she inched closer. 

Lock hatched up, I had heard her voice quipped up with question probably dying to know. Considering she never told me where she lived, or the exact address the last thing I wanted was for her to believe I was stalking her out; definitely not my style please I had class, well sometimes. Placing my hands on the edges of the window I had used my upper body to pull myself through the window, once my feet had landed on the boards of her bedroom; I took a second to admire the shelf of books, the big tv, which was probably all her grandmother’s doing. Eyes slowly moved until they landed on her; the knots now forming. 

“ Paris told me, I wanted to talk to you, and I kinda made her, Don’t get mad.” A plead because honestly this encounter could go one of two ways; awfully wrong, or Rory could be willing to hear me out. Arms falling to my sides; the male had waiting a second; hoping she would show if this was a good idea or not.