#but whether that's in two years or ten idk

[pseudophan]

thoughts on the chance we're ever getting another tour?

i've been saying this is definitely the last one but then i actually went to the tour and now i'm like hmmm... i don't think they've got another one planned and i still don't think it's suuuper likely they'll do it again but i also wouldn't 100% write off the possibility you know? i think perhaps they believe it's the last one but they thought that about ii as well, who's to say

[serpentface]

FAMILY TITLES AMONG THE HILL TRIBES

(ft. various linguistic notes and tangents)

In-universe Brakul’s self-given title of ‘Red-Dog’ is Brakul 'ne-Dainh' in his native language (Bict-Urbinnas dialect of the Highland language group) and Brakul 'Chin-Reyla' in Wardi. Ne-Dainh/Chin-Reyla is not something he treats as or considers an actual surname or identity, just a self-styled nickname. He already has a title.

Family names/surnames are not a native practice among the Hill Tribes (though some clans or individual families have adopted this practice), and all traditionally use titles that designate immediate ancestry, clan and tribe. These full titles are officially given when one comes of age and are spoken aloud in ceremony (with the entire direct male and female lines listed by name, with most traditions expecting 12 generations of each being named).

The function is to cement one’s sense of place in the world, and their place in a direct ancestral line, which puts the person under the full watch and guidance of their ancestors. It's also a critical method of recording lineage- the long held practice of each person memorizing at least 24 total direct ancestors allows for very long, largely accurate records of family history to be kept, with some people able to trace their ancestry all the way back to initial settlement of the Highlands (or even beyond).

Brakul’s full title is:

“Brakul virsum Kuligan et Borunil an Briyonis ne-Taig an Bict-Urbinnas”

Which dead literally translates to “Brakul son of Kuligan and Borunil of the Foothills (of) Red-Cattle, of the North (Urbin/Erubin) River Valley” but has a much richer meaning in the original language.

"BRAKUL VIRSUM KULIGAN ET BORUNIL"

The actual meaning here is closer to ‘Brakul, son of Kuligan and his father’s fathers, and Borunil and her mother’s mothers’.

“Virsum” means ‘child (son/daughter) of’ (the gender is contextual), but implies the person’s status as a descendant of a full male and female line of ancestors. A different word is used if you’re just saying ‘I’m so and so’s son”. The title describes him as a son of his father Kuligan and of Kuligan’s male line, and of his mother Borunil and Borunil's female line.

All ancestors (within this particular system of kinship, divided into one direct male line from the father and one direct female line from the mother, and not including husbands from the female line or wives from the male line) are invoked and credited with the word ‘virsum’. Speaking it as part of the personal title is part of the routine and necessary honoring of one’s ancestors, who watch over their descendants from the afterlife and can temporarily return to the land to guide and protect (and sometimes punish, or teach sharp lessons to) the living.

"AN BRIYONIS NE-TAIG"

The actual meaning here would be understood as ‘clan/people of the foothills where cattle are lit red by the setting sun'.

‘Briyonis’ is the word for ‘foothill’, citing his clan’s specific location being the foothills that form the slopes of the north Urbin river valley. He is of a lesser clan within the powerful North Urbin River tribe. His clan benefits from close affiliation to their more powerful ruling clans located directly in the river valley, which grants them access to a greater variety of cultivated foods, but their actual position in the foothills still renders them predominantly reliant on cattle for subsistence. Clan names referencing cattle or horses are very common, given their frequent centrality to life.

The ‘ne-Taig’ literally means ‘red cattle’, but the ‘ne’ color word for red specifically invokes shades of red seen in and cast by a rising/setting sun. This red cast is culturally regarded as a unique beauty and evocative (and part of the name) of the solar god Hraighne. The foothills his clan is physically located on are a vantage point from which the western horizon is not fully obscured by mountains, and they experience very striking sunsets and are directly touched by the light. This is fairly unique to this location, and is invoked in the clan name and identity. ‘Ne-Taig’ here suggests a visual of grazing cattle illuminated red by the sun as it crosses the horizon.

‘Ne-Dainh’ carries the same implication, a dog illuminated red by setting sunlight. The Wardi language does not have a comparable word for a sunlit red and ‘Chin-Reyla’ really does just mean ‘(orangeish) red dog’ (‘reyla’ is specific to orangey-red colors, which is the closest match he could get. There’s no way to impart the meaning of ‘sunlit-red dog’ in Wardi that is non-clunky enough to be appropriate for a name).

"AN BICT-URBINNAS"

‘an Bict-Urbinnas’ is fairly simple, Bict means ‘north’, and 'Urbin' is the name of the specific river that stems from a northern and eastern tributary. This river has a very ancient name (or a derivative of one) that predates settlement by the Hill Tribes, and its exact meaning is lost.

The root -(n)nas designates a river valley, but has strong implications of being an esteemed and bountiful place, rather than solely a literal geographical descriptor (as the river valleys are centers of power and trade in the highlands). It may be a loanword from the Wardi language family, as its usage is VERY similar in form and function to the Wardi -(n)nos, which also suggests a place of esteem and bounty (more specifically having connotations of a kingdom).

’An’ literally means ‘of’, but in the specific sense of describing the place and identity of a collection of people. ‘an Bict Urbinnas’ would be understood in speech as ‘of the north Urbin River Valley (people)’. The clans historically settled in and around the valley of the North Urbin River form the totality of the Bict-Urbinnas tribe.

The ‘Urbin’ word predates the contemporary Wardi name ‘Erubin’ for the river, the latter of which invokes the semi-mythological founding figure Erub, who himself was of a Wardi tribe located downriver to the south of the Highlands. The real historically extant ‘Erub’ was most likely named Urub after the river, with his cited name shifting over the centuries in folklore, and the Wardi name for the river shifting with it.

‘Erubin’ as a corruption of ‘Urbin’ functions very well in Wardi language due to ‘-bi/bin’ denoting something as a ‘gift’, usually in a more metaphorical sense. ‘Erubin’ is understood as meaning ‘(The river that is) Erub’s gift’, and the Erubin/Urbin river is a key tributary to the much larger Black river, one of the key rivers that feeds the region's wetter and more fertile west. This 'gift' meaning also occurs in the name of the southeastern Imperial Wardi city-state Erubinnos, which is understood as meaning ’((The kingdom that is) Erub’s gift’. He is considered to have conquered and taken the land (from the core city's actual founders, the Wogan people) and established a kingdom there in the early days of warring Wardi tribal monarchies.

[caraecethrae]

I need to buckle down and figure out what my personal understanding of Ceirt/Cert is.

it's fascinating how it seems to have these two diametrically opposing possible meanings (not unlike nGétal), one being tied to coir and right judgment and kingship, which actually fits apple extremely well folklorically, and one connected to madness, misfortune, sacrifice, and illness, which fit both potential etymologies of either Rag or Bush.

it seemed clear to me in the past that the secondary meaning had to be original, especially given my/the bias against the crannogham, but it's still very frustratingly simple that the current Modern Irish meaning is Rightness.

perhaps the meaning of the word shifted to match the evolving understanding of the fid, given the medieval love for the arboreal and more recentness of the Immrama? of course that's a reach but ...

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

[rizsu]

wife on the low manjiro, sanzu.

sum. babysitter!reader. idk where i was going with this one

manjirō sano

tension. too much tension. it's not easy trying to focus on a happy baby when you have two eyes digging through your soul. his gaze is terrifying—whether it's just the way he's just there quietly or the fact that he's bonten's leader, you don't know. he's a scary man.

trying your best to ignore whatever he's doing, you focus on cheerful baby that's been slapping her hands continuously on the little container with water.

she's five months currently so you decided it's time for sensory playtime! starting off with water and slowly adding little sensory toys into the container as she plays.

“it's getting messy.”

“oh—should we stop?”

“no, continue. i'll clean up.”

mikey pushes himself off of the door's frame and wanders off to some room for a mop. he walks away with thoughts swimming in his head; delusional thoughts if you asked him.

he doesn't really know what is it that he's feeling. is it love? dunno. he never felt it in a long time. well, it's not like he remembers what love felt like—he didn't even love the mother of his daughter. hell he can't even remember what possessed him to have sex.

coming back into the playroom, he stills for a moment. cute, he thinks. you look fitting like that. something about the way you're giggling with his daughter while she babbles words only those of her kind understands really makes his heart swell.

“'m back,” he announces after a good few minutes of gawking.

moving the baby onto her crib, you pinch her cheek before going to help mikey.

so close, you think. his body's just above yours—close to the point where you can feel his sweater on your head. his hands moves on yours taking hold of the container.

you made the mistake of glancing at him,, now you're stuck gazing into his static eyes, looking for any hints of his current emotion.

five seconds turned into ten and he doesn't break the eye contact. rather, his right hand glides from the container and rests itself on your cheek.

does he know why he did that? no.

is he going to elaborate? also no.

a few more minutes in wondering silence until he breaks it.

“you're pretty.”

oh!

it takes a minute to process it; eyes opened but still looking into his. mikey drifts his gaze from your lips and back to your eyes. he shows no signs of taking back what he said.

“thank...you..?”

chuckling, he notes your confusion and decides to fuel it by saying: “you're welcome. be my girlfriend.”

sanzu haruchiyo

“pick a colour: blue or red.”

“how about no!” hoisting up his daughter on your hip, you circle around the table making your way to the kitchen as you ignore his attempts of getting you to pick the drug of the day.

sanzu raises his eyebrow at you. you sure have a lot of nerve in front of someone that can easily kill you but he won't. why would he kill you when he isn't sure if he, sober!sanzu, loves you or if he, high!sanzu, is just fucking around.

eh, it's not like he's worried. that's something for future him to worry about!!

“sanzu, her formula's about to end!” shouting from the kitchen as you violently shake her bottle, you faced your focus more on the quiet eight month old rather than the twenty-eight years old father.

“is that all?” sanzu moves on arm behind the couch as he looks back at you. she's a natural with kids—especially mine, he thinks. he's going to blame the drugs for that even though he's very much sober.

“yeah, is it okay if i use your card? i need to stock up on the groceries too.” you explained, dropping a few droplets of the milk on your forearm to check the temp.

“why're you askin' me? it's your card. i took it out for you.”

“because i don't wanna—oh???” you paused. sanzu, your boss, couldn't have possibly taken out another card for you right? certainly, right? god, it's so hard to focus after he said those words. you try to not think too much of it but it's just too difficult.

lost in thought, you didn't realize that he's already in front of you, holding up his mini to give her a nose kiss before looking back at you.

“looks like she's finished. let's go.” walking towards to door, sanzu grabs his keys from the holder along with his mask.

“huh—oh, right her stuff. just a minute!” you can't seem to think coherently, not when those words still linger fresh in your mind.

maybe it's the drugs,

maybe it's you,

maybe it's him,

maybe it's the way he holds your hand firmly while smiling whenever an elderly lady compliments your little “family”,

or maybe it's the way he guides you into his room at night after his daughter fell asleep, pulling you into a kiss that answers all questions.

[writeaboutit]

Thus With a Kiss, I Die

Firefighter Abby and Reader get trick-or-treaters

Wanted to get out one last Halloween-themed fic before spooky season ends(even though it's technically the 1st). I had a couple more ideas, one including a Halloween party that would bring in the other characters(Ellie, Dina, Jessie, etc.) but idk if I want them in this universe or not so lmk if y'all would be interested in that or not. Anyway, I hope you like it and happy last days of spooky season!!

Series: p1,2,3

Word Count: 945

Warnings: None

You tried and failed to walk down the hallway in a normal way—those damn wings. The costume was cute but you kept forgetting about the wings strapped to your back. You couldn’t really tell if that was a good or bad thing.

On one hand, they were light enough to endure wearing them for the next two hours while you and Abby handed out candy to the neighborhood trick-or-treaters and then three more hours for the Halloween party. On the other hand, you had already lost seven wing feathers to various walls, low-hanging light fixtures, and one door jam. 

You turned sideways and shimmied down the hall to accommodate the small space and expansive wings. You would get used to it… or at least that's what you keep telling yourself as you round the corner into your bedroom. 

Abby was sitting on the edge of your mattress struggling with a buckle on the arm cuff on her fake metal armor. Suddenly you thought you probably shouldn’t be complaining about the wings. You knew that Abby’s costume was a sensory nightmare but she was ignoring it to appease you and your dream couple's costume. 

It was your first Halloween in the new house and you were dying to dress up. You had only lived in apartments previously and being in a house this year meant trick-or-treaters surly. You'd be damned if you didn’t go all out with your costume.

So here you were wearing massive white wings and a long white dress, Abby across from you wearing a grey get-up covered in chain mail and fake shoulder/arm armor, a sword sticking out of her belt loop—the perfect Romeo and Juliet. 

Although you knew Abby was probably more uncomfortable than not you had to admit that she looked hot as shit and by the way she went still forgetting the stupid buckle to drink you in she was thinking the same thing. 

You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself against your wife's burning gaze and walked to the space in between her spread knees. 

“Let me help,” you motioned down to her wrist and loose armor. 

She raised her arm without comment. You could tell she was staring at you but you focused on feeding the leather strap through the buckle and tightening it. You guys did not have time to get…distracted. 

“You look so pretty, baby.” She broke the silence and you could no longer avoid her pulling eyes. 

“Thank you, so do you.” You said softly leaning down to press a light kiss to her cheek. 

She hummed at the contact and bracketed her arms around the back of your thighs, pulling you into her. 

You laughed at the sudden tug and braced your arms on her shoulders for support. The pair of you stared at each other for a long while, in complete silence. You spent the moment—what felt like ten years, debating whether or not the distraction would be worth it. You could just run downstairs and throw the candy bowl out on the porch for the kids to help themselves. 

Yes, that sounded like a very pleasant idea. Just as you were about to suggest it to your wife the doorbell rang. 

You squealed forgetting about that plan. You guys could do that later, right now you were too excited to celebrate the holiday. You couldn’t wait until you and Abby had kids one day and were able to take them trick-or-treating. For now, handing out candy would have to suffice. 

You pulled out of Abby’s grasp and tugged on her arms, “Come on, come on. We have our first trick-or-treaters!” 

Abby laughed at your excitement. She was glad that you were getting so much joy out of the night even though all you were going to be doing was sitting by the door and saying hello and goodbye to kids dressed as Disney princesses or video game characters. 

You guys rushed down the hall, well more like you and Abby just followed at a reasonable pace. You could hear the high-pitched voices of excited children on the other side of the door and you grabbed the fake cauldron full of candy and unlocked the door. 

Abby hung back just slightly from the open door frame making sure your guys' dog Alice didn’t become an escape artist and jump scare the kids. 

She smiled as you gasped and asked a little girl if she was the little mermaid. The little girl squealed excited that someone knew who she was and excitedly exclaimed, “Yes! Do you like my dress?” 

“I love your dress,” you dragged out the love for emphasis. 

Yeah, Abby was fucked. She wanted to make you a mom, like yesterday, despite the logistical hurdle regarding that. 

You finished dishing out the candy and closed the door a smile on your face. When you met Abby’s eyes you knew exactly what was brewing behind her eyes. 

“Nope. Stop looking at me like that, we definitely do not have time for that.” You waved a hand over her form. 

“Not even just a little bit of time?” She grabbed the center of your dress and pulled you in, “I can make it real quick baby,” She whispered against your lips. 

Your heart stalled in your chest. Well… when she put it like that?

Just as you went to answer her the doorbell rang again causing you to laugh and her to groan. She rested her forehead against yours and you answered, “Sorry baby, you’re just gonna have to wait until tonight.”

You pulled out of her grasp once more and placed a light pat on her ass. She groaned again.

[thatbadadvice]

I (15f) am slightly worried that I led on some guys I did not mean to lead on.

There are two guys that I've hung out with over longer spans of time or regularly.

1. Hung out with him for several hours non-stop cause he was fun to hang out with, and we took a walk in the forest aswell, he got (slightly) touchy but not that much.

2. Works in a shop in my small city and I go there almost weekly just to hang out but always buy something, he sometimes offers me drinks for free (twice by now) or reduces the price.

They both got my insta too

However, the problem is that a) I'm not looking for a relationship and, more importantly, b) they are both in their 20s.

I took care to mention that I am only 15 to both of them but idk if that changed anything. Any advice? I also don't want to confront them directly cause I might have just interpreted it like this.

Hello, anonymous!

Thank you for writing in. I am delighted to inform you that you have excellent judgment for wondering what the hell is going on here, and for questioning these guys' behavior toward you.

Grown-ass men — and that is what dudes in their 20s are — bear the burden of not being weird to, for, or about young women of your age. It is the grown-ass men of the world who are obligated not to make you, or young women like you, feel weird about literally anything. In fact, grown-ass men should go out of their way, on purpose and with gusto, NEVER to get even within ten million football fields' worth of "(slightly) touchy" with a gal of your age. So that's my read on Mr. Walk In The Woods. I have less to say definitively about Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks, but I trust your judgment: if you feel like Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks is sending some ~ signals ~, you're right about it.

It sounds like both of these Grown-Ass Men are trying to make pretty creepo moves, so let me be clear: nothing you could ever do could even possibly in the most remote sense amount to "leading them on," because you are not responsible for the behavior of Grown-Ass Men.

I think you know this, or you wouldn't be asking the Bad Advisor this question. You know they're being weird. You know you haven't done anything beyond exist in these dudes' general sphere, which you are entitled to do! You are allowed to exist in the world without having to swat off the advances of older guys! It really sucks that girls and women can just be living our regular-ass lives and have dudes be at us like this. But you're not responsible for their decisions — whether it's a decision to offer you free/cheap drinks (with strings attached, implied) or to get (slightly) handsy during a walk in the woods.

The fact that you told both of these Grown-Ass Men explicitly that you are 15 years old should have sent both of them spinning back into the sun with shame and embarrassment, not that they probably needed it spelled out, but GOOD ON YOU for making it so clear. That is actually terribly brave of you, and they should have fallen all over themselves to not fall all over you subsequently. They should be mortified about their behavior.

You did not misinterpret their actions; and if you did, who cares? Some dudes who weren't hitting on a 15-year-old will continue to not hit on a 15-year-old? Girl, your self-preservation instinct is INTACT and WORKING. It's on them not to be creepos. Any Grown-Ass Man who is on the level and not a weirdo would 1000000000000% never need to be told "Hey dude, I'm 15" in the first place. You have good judgment. You are reading these men correctly.

So what do you do about your good judgment? Well, first — no more walks in the woods. Suddenly you have an urgent appointment that precludes all walks in woods! The benefit-of-the-doubt ship has sailed. Dude got handsy and you dislike it. Dunzo. You are unavailable for future walks in woods (or anywhere). You've got a test to study for, a practice to go to, some buddies to hang out with elsewhere. So sorry, no-can. Dude can find a 20-to-90-something-year-old woman to paw up under the canopy if that's his jam. There are scores of women his age and older who'd be glad (i guess?) to get felt up while some dude shoves them ~ romantically ~ against the bark of a moldy Hackberry.

As for Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks — look, I appreciate the appeal of a discount beverage — but I think you gotta be prepared to aggressively (politely) pay for your drinks. Dude says "This one is on the house" and you DGAF, because you've got $5 cash and you're laying it on the counter with a smile and saying "I really appreciate it, but I'd like to pay for my drink — you get it!"

It's the "you get it!" that's really the key here. It's polite, but clear. It demands that these Grown-Ass Dudes do the work of not getting it and saying so if they're gonna be that dippy about it. You can use it on Mr. Handsy In The Woods, too. You can't do X, Y, Z because Reasons -- "Gotta get back to piano practice, it would be weird if I stayed here, since we're just friends! You get it!"

You shouldn't have to do the work of offering these dippos the "you get it" out, but it's a safe and reliable way of making it clear that they better the fuck get it. Like, they better the fuck understand that you are 15 and they are being weird about this whole deal.

Practice:

"Oh, I'd like to chill but doing another big long hang alone together would make it seem like we're going out or something, and that would be weird -- you get it."

"I appreciate the discount, but if I keep taking these drinks, it'll seem like you LIKE me or something. That's weird, right? You get it!"

If either of these Grown-Ass Men gets sketchy about these very polite brush-offs, that shit is on them and will only confirm what you know: you have great judgment. These dudes are weird. If they're going to be weird, you can be so polite that they have to explain why, specifically, they are being weird and don't understand what you are politely saying, which is that their interest in you is weird.

You have not led these Grown-Ass Men on by existing in their universe. You have not led them on by being polite to them and tolerating their inappropriate advances to preserve your own safety. The concept of "leading on" is bullshit, fucked up, heteronormative dipshittery that puts the burden on women, mostly, to account for the crappy behavior of men who can, do, and should know better. I assure you these men know better, and they think you don't. That's why older guys pursue younger and teen women in the first place — they think they get to be the big men in charge, because they're afraid they can't manipulate women their own age.

Here's what, though: they can't manipulate you, either. You are clever, self-possessed and a great self-advocate. They're being weird. You're being smart. Make sure they know it.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hi so this is my first ever request idk if I’m supposed to ask from somewhere else but I was wondering if you could do a Bau find out reader has a criminal past that got expunged or something please?

Hiya, I feel like this absolutely ages to do, I'm so sorry but hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Description: Reader has a slightly colourful history

Warnings: discussions of previous criminal activity when reader was a minor (theft/burglary, drugs hinted at if you squint, beating up individuals), guns mentioned, death of someone reader knows, child abuse mentioned (nothing 'on screen')

You look at the photos in front of you. A John Doe, about ten years older than you. Swallowing slightly, you try to build up the courage to tell the team you know him. That you know exactly who this man was.

"You okay, kid?" Morgan asks, you look up, giving a quick nod.

"Oh, er, yeah. Yeah, I just, I know him." You know they're going to ask questions, but that's the last thing you want right now. You don't want to explain. You don't want to tell them. They'd look at you differently. Part of you worried they'd no longer even want you on the team.

Hotch frowns, studying your expression. "You know him?"

"Yeah." You clear your throat slightly. "Er, his name's Ryan Williams."

"How did you know him?"

You look away from Hotch, back to the photo. "We... worked together,"

You watch the team raise an eyebrow. "Worked together?" Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"And what was this job?" Rossi chimed in.

"Um..." You pause, trying to figure out how to word it. "It, er..."

You try to ignore the team furrowing their eyebrows and frowning at you. "It...?" Morgan said, looking at you expectantly.

"It might have something to do with a man named Chris Miller," You said, trying to change the topic as much as you could.

"And this Chris Miller, what's he like?"

"Oh, an absolute dickhead." You paused, clearing your throat when you remembered you were supposed to be professional. "I mean, we had our differences."

The team exchanged a concerned glance. "(Y/N), you're going to need to be transparent with us."

"What- about what?"

"How you know Williams."

"I told you, I know him from work."

"And the truth?"

You look at the team, debating whether or not this was a good idea. It probably wasn't, but you knew Hotch wasn't exactly going to drop the topic. "We did work together. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"It's a little complicated." You said, giving a small shrug. "We worked for a man, Chris Miller. We'd also work closely with his son, Danny."

"What sort of work?"

"Odd jobs. Whatever needed doing." You said, swallowing slightly. "Delivering packages, picking things up."

"And?"

"And, what?"

"There was clearly more." Hotch stated. "And don't think we don't know what what sort of 'packages' you're talking about."

"Look, we did some shitty stuff." You gave a small shrug. You try to act nonchalant about it. You weren't proud of your past. You focus your attention on the table in front, finding it easier to look at that, rather than the disappointed gazes of your team. You didn't want to see them look at you differently.

"Like what?"

"We stole stuff, bikes, cars, broke into a house once or twice." You admitted, a light blush tinting your cheeks in shame. "You got a cut of whatever the total of what you took."

"You burgled."

"Technically, yes." You answered, voice hesitant. Hotch frowned, eyebrows drawing in.

"Anything else?"

"We were told to rough some guys up a few times." You admitted. You hear Garcia draw in a sharp breath.

"And this Chris, how did you know him?"

"He was the ring leader." You answered, "You did what he told you, no questions asked."

"And Ryan?"

"He also worked for Chris."

Two days later, it was revealed that the unsub was in fact Danny Miller. Once it was established that he was the one doing the killing, finding him was fairly easy. And the next afternoon you had him surrounded in a warehouse, trying to talk him down.

"Danny." You say, walking into the room. Danny's attention is immediately on you, as is his gun. "Danny, you need to put the gun down."

"Don't act like you're any better than me, (Y/N)." Danny snapped.

"Danny, just- come on, man. Just put the gun down." You give a sigh, watching the older man's slightly shaking hand.

"You're not better than me." Danny growls.

Knowing Hotch and Morgan weren't exactly going to put their weapons down, you lowered yours. "Come on, Danny. Don't be an idiot. Just put it down."

"You don't know what he was like." Danny glared, hand still trembling. "He was a son of a bitch."

"I know, Danny. I know."

"No you don't!" Danny exclaimed, gun now pointing at you. Morgan's finger itched near the trigger, just in case.

"Then tell me."

"You know how your dad was?" You feel Hotch and Morgan's eyes flick to you for a split second. You swallow.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well he was worse."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. You got out." Danny jabbed the gun towards you as he snarled.

"If you do this, you let him win." You state, "If you pull that trigger and my team mates shoot you, he's won. He's won and you won't get to look him in the eye and tell him how much of a bastard he is."

It takes a few more minutes, but it's the thought of spiting his father that gets Danny to lower the gun and Morgan immediately pounces, cuffing him.

Hotch wait until you're all flying back on the jet before he approaches you about the topic, with the team all trying their best to look like they're not listening. But for profilers, they can't act for shit.

"We need to talk about your previous record." Hotch stated, placing a file in front you you. "I had Garcia unseal the records."

"That's not fair."

"During the interviewing process you were specifically asked if you had a criminal record."

"It was all expunged-"

"(Y/N), that's irrelevant, I still should have been told,"

"Except it doesn't exist anymore, Hotch." You rub a hand over your face, wishing that you had just stayed home.

"It still matters,"

"No, it doesn't, I was a kid." You say, "I was fifteen, I made some stupid decisions to try and survive,"

"(Y/N)-"

"No, Hotch, it doesn't matter. It doesn't exist anymore."

"It was still important for me to know."

"Why? Why was it so important? I was- I was fifteen,"

"It's important because it still happened."

"I was just trying to survive." You looked at him. "I was just trying to survive. I went about it the wrong way, yes. And I'm not proud of it by any means, but I was fifteen and I didn't know what else to do."

"You still should have declared it."

"Do I still have this job?"

"Excuse me?" Hotch asked, frowning in confusion.

"Am I fired?"

"No."

"Then, respectfully sir, it was expunged. It doesn't exist anymore, my slate is clean. And you getting Garcia to unseal the records was unfair, unnecessary, and hurtful." You state, pausing for a short breath. "To me, that means that everything I've worked hard for - proving myself in this job - immediately went out the window the second you learnt something negative about my past."

And with that, you turn your head, deciding to look out of the window instead, signaling to your boss that the conversation was over.

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Fire and Blood | Benjicot Blackwood — pt v

Synopsis: The Brackens retaliate and send their own men to the frontline and into Blackwood territory four days to the wedding, causing some concerns amongst the members of the Blackwood house. 

Kermit is summoned into the rooms of Blackwood's councilman as Samwell and Benjicot as they ready their men for the frontlines for another bloody feud. Benjicot impulsively takes things into his own hands and mistakenly escalates things.

masterlist | playlist | backwards | forward

A/N: I wrote a majority of this on my phone at a festival while i was drunk, i am going to be one hundred percent honest, so idk how it turned out and i am sorry but anyways! we are just about half-way! I tried to connect this sort of to the universe of “to strangers” but there is a small mistake in how Rodrik is related to Aeron that I have since fixed

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexually suggestive content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 7.1k

Fingers grazed up the spine of the dress — snug around her hips and lower than she was used to as they worked, ensuring the laces were tight enough that the dress’ bodice clung to her body in a way that was flattering enough to accentuate her womanly curves. The white fabric reached the ends of her toes as she stood above them on a pedestal, swallowing her while her hands remained at her waist, too scared to move in fear of tumbling over and crashing into the floor beneath her as the handmaidens tirelessly worked at her feet to pin the fabric and fix the hem — meanwhile, an additional pair of hands were at her shoulders and adjusting the cape of deep red and blue, embellished with gold thread, fixing it over her shoulders. 

Serra had never been fond of dress fittings, as it was an experience she found discomforting and overwhelming — with all the hands on her, the whispers as the women poked and prodded at her. Being placed up on a pedestal, put on display, and being made a spectacle of, did not help the matters. It was painfully awkward having so many eyes on her, critiquing how the dresses fit her, and the closer she had come to being of age to marry, she found they worsened — less bearable as the emphasis at one point or another was placed on her bust, mutters about whether the dress was flattering enough. With age, there was more focus on ensuring she appeared more mature than she felt; wifely and alluring enough for a man’s gaze, and unlike most women of her age who had their mother by their side to talk them through the transition from young, girly dresses to womanly dresses that dipped lower, fit tighter, Serra was not fortunate enough to dawn that privilege. 

When she first reached ten-and-six, Kermit, who had then been only a year older than her at ten-and-seven, had tried to sit in on the sessions and talk to her to distract her from the process itself at first. He tried to provide her with conversation and company, as it could become long and drawn out, however it only lasted for a short while before she sensed his discomfort — soon enough, he had begun politely excusing himself with some grumble about not wanting to ‘intrude’ and explaining that he did not feel it proper of him as a man to get in the way of a woman’s business — instead, he had his tasks as a man of the house to tend to but promising that he would check in soon. Though, he hardly did. 

This particular session was gruelling, though. She felt as though she had been there all day and worried it would never end; drained and ready to retreat to her room for the next two days as her head was nudged forward by gentle fingers that adjusted the neckline there. Her hair was guided over her left shoulder and neatly splayed down her back, her gaze fixed out the window that overlooked the yards as she listened to the distant sounds of Raventree. She could make out the sound of men arriving at the gate, returning with supplies ahead of the wedding, the gates a never-ending revolving door of men coming and going these days; the fingers on her left hand absentmindedly reaching to twist a finger on her right, “You may step down now.” The elderly woman to her right instructed, reaching out a hand to offer to help her in stepping down. 

She turned her head, turning her eyes to her hand as she accepted it, and slowly stepped off the stool, her left hand lifting her skirts out of her way. Her steps were slow and tentative, cautious as to not fall face first as she clenched her jaw with anxiety, only relaxing once both feet were steady on the floor, “Your father has requested the neckline not be brought any lower, we have fixed it to be as low as he has approved.” Orpheus, the elderly septa, explained. 

She wordlessly listened to her as she adjusted the skirt around her legs, removing a pin that had been forgotten and circling her, “Your father has suggested you wear a piece from your mother’s jewellery for the wedding.” She said from behind her. “He has provided us with two necklaces he would like you to consider—”

���My Lord.” 

The words were sudden and sharp in the soft atmosphere, Grace’s voice high-pitched and bordering shrill as she curtsied from her spot near the wall, the fabric in her arms clutched to her chest, her gaze pinned to the floor. The previous hum of mutters ceased, the room falling silent as the other women followed suit in curtsying in the direction of the doorway behind her. She turned, looking over her shoulder first before she turned, the door now open for the young man who stood there; green eyes watching her with a blank expression as if he was trying to figure out a reaction, “Lord Blackwood.” She announced, his eyes shooting to her face at the words. Serra moved to face him, curtsying to him with a flushed appearance. 

His head nodded to her, the women in the room remaining silent. Serra watched as his gaze scanned over her dress, skimming her head to toe and taking in her appearance, and suddenly she felt foolish; face hot and embarrassed as she nervously adjusted her skirt with her hands; his gaze lingering at her hips and chest, taking in the very little skin that was exposed, “You look…” he began to say, voice quiet and pausing, searching for the word, “it suits you.” 

Her expression appeared perplexed as her head tilted, mouth opening with a question as she caught the small smile on Grace’s face at the interaction when her head turned to look at her briefly, “I mean to say you look nice.” Benjicot quickly added, explaining himself and stepping forward into the room, though he stopped and remained stuck at the edge of the room, his embarrassment clear on his face as his eyebrows furrowed with a worried frown and reddening. 

Serra found herself reminded of his youthfulness, boyish as he glanced towards where Alistair found respite in the corner of the room and cleared his throat, the guard looking at him from the corner of his eye. She was again reminded that despite the tough exterior and his imposing presence, he was still a boy in some ways. She smiled, soft and shy, while smoothing her hands over her bodice, “Thank you, Benjicot.” She sweetly said. 

His head nodded again, again allowing a silence to fall over the room before he once again spoke, “I do not mean to intrude…” he said, barely in the room as he took two more steps forward and stopped, “I’m just on the way to meet with your father. I just figured I would stop by.” Benjicot explained, his hands clasping around the hilt of his sword, his fingers drumming absentmindedly. 

Serra’s shoulders relaxed with a deep exhale, the first time all morning as her hands brushed down the sides of her skirt, “That’s kind of you.” 

He released a hum in response, his eyes shifting from her face as though he was avoiding her gaze — and though the dreary weather outside, with its clouds, didn’t do her sight justice, she could make out the flush of colour that reddened his cheeks whilst his mouth pressed in a tight line.

“We were just about to pick out some jewellery— some necklaces my father picked from my late mother’s collection.” She suddenly announced, breaking the silence. “Would you like to help me choose?” 

His eyebrows shot up, his gaze coming back up to her face, mouth opening in protest, “Oh, I’m not a man with a taste for such things, I don’t think I would be of any help.” He replied. 

“Nonsense. Just pick whichever you think is prettiest,” she insisted, gesturing him to come forward as she turned then to look to Orpheus who stood nearby, “Show Lord Benjicot and I what father has chosen.” 

A look crossed Orpheus’ features, mouth pressed into a line and twitching for a moment as she glanced towards Benjicot, who reluctantly approached. He slowed as she turned to retrieve two cases from a girl behind her, sighing as she faced the couple and presented them to Serra, “Your mother’s wedding pendant— a homage to her natural born house, Mallister. Your father had it commissioned for her as a gift.” The septa explained, allowing Serra to reach out and brush her fingers over the silver eagle pendant with curious fingers. She carefully picked up the necklace, holding it between her fingers as Orpheus watched her, glancing once again at Benjicot.

She presented the second, its gold chain a striking contrast to the delicate ruby flowers that circled it and caught the light in the corner of her eye. She looked up and away from the silver pendant, perking up at the sight of it, “Oh! I haven’t seen this in years.” She exclaimed, her voice pitched and eager like an excited child as she quickly returned the silver pendant to Orpheus’ hands and took the gold chain from her. Beniicot, from her left, watched in silence, his expression still as he allowed her a moment to assess the piece with trembling fingers. His gaze briefly caught the elderly woman’s, drifting up to her and inhaling, met with a small flash of a smile that was polite. 

“This one.” 

Both Serra and her septa looked at him as he spoke, the younger woman looking at him with wide eyes, “It’s pretty.” He explained, referencing her earlier suggestion. His shoulders rolled, squaring as he stood upright. “You also look like you care for it.” 

It was a simple observation, but a meaningful gesture that brought a smile to her face nonetheless as she looked up at him. She turned and nodded to Orpheus, who withdrew with the cases, Serra keeping the necklace as she turned to him, “Could you?” She asked, holding the necklace towards him. 

He looked between her and the chain, visibly hesitating before he took it from her fingers with a gentle hand; a contrast to their rough, calloused state from years of training. Her back turned to him, moving her hair out of the way with her right hand to make the task easier — on cue, Benjicot stepped forward until he was close enough that she could feel his warmth radiating, hear the subtle swallow. He cleared his throat from behind her, his hands reaching over her shoulders and around to the base of her neck, letting the necklace rest there against her collarbones, his hands brushing her shoulders as they withdrew to her nape; her hand replacing his to hold the necklace. His fingers fumbled to do the clasp, brows furrowed in concentration and breath fanning across her neck, “There you go.” He said, his right hand briefly planting on her shoulder. 

She turned as his hand dropped back to his side, stepping back from her. Her hand reached up to the chain, one of the little flowers between her fingers as she looked down at it, a moment of silence falling over the room. 

“Your mother used to wear it all the time.” He stated, seemingly recalling the distant memory from her last visit there — Benjicot had to dig deep, pulling it deep from the catacombs of his mind, faded with time, but still lingering there all those years later. He could still vaguely remember the image of her, curtsying to him and his father, the light catching the rubies as the sun shone in through the windows of the hall, a young Serra at her side — he remembered the gentle nudge she gave her daughter as a reminder to follow her suit. His brows furrowed again at the memory. 

“You remember that?” She asked. 

He let out another hum, gaze still fixed on the chain as he nodded. Benjicot looked up to her eyes, the dimple in his cheek prominent as he chewed at the inside skin, “Yes.” 

He remembered her as kind and warm, a loving and doting mother and wife. He remembered her likeness to her daughter — he remembered rumours that his father had almost vied for her hand, though the venture was short-lived after hearing of her betrothal to Elmo. Sometimes, Benjicot wondered what would have happened if things had taken that path — how different things would have been. Would they still be in this position? Would Benjicot be any different? Would a mother’s kindness have changed the outcome? 

He was overcome by guilt at the thought. He remembered his mother as a kind woman with good humour from the memories he’d had of her from childhood, he had just never had the fortune of being able to have that same type of relationship with her that the Tully siblings had with their own. His mouth pursed, his hand absentmindedly wandering on its own to gently touch her cheek, Serra’s expression one of surprise and confusion as she froze. 

It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing, his hand quickly withdrawing and stepping back from her, “I’m sorry— I don’t know…” he stammered, his mouth snapping shut and blinking rapidly a couple of times. “I should be on my way, I shouldn’t keep the council waiting too long.” He muttered, his hand disappearing under his cloak and to his side as he spun on his heel to hurry out of the room. Her gaze watched him, still frozen in place and trying to process the sudden mood swing that made her head spin, her mouth opening.

“You mentioned he was an odd man,” Orpheus spoke from behind her. 

Serra glanced at her, taking a sharp inhale of air as she looked back toward the door, “Yes, odd.” She said, drawing out the word. The room remained silent for a moment, feeling Septa Orpheus’ eyes on her. 

“You forgot to mention how comely he was, however.” She said, her voice lilting a subtle and playful tone. 

Serra let out a soft laugh, embarrassed as she turned to find the septa at her side now, “Come, let us finish your fitting. I imagine you would like to get done with this.” Orpheus warmly said, guiding her back towards the stool. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot sat, nauseous and picking at the skin around his nails as the meeting drew on. He’d spent the past two hours in silence, hardly contributing to the conversation other than short hums or grunts whenever called upon, eyes only lifting for those brief moments. Otherwise, he wallowed in his horror and humiliation for his prior conversation with Serra and avoided any eye contact where he could. It had only dawned on him that afternoon how much of Serra he could see in Kermit’s face when he had arrived to find the eldest Tully, standing outside the doors and expectantly waiting for him. 

They hadn’t spoken in the days following their last conversation — the exchange relentlessly haunting Benjicot since, as he’d had nightmares about his mother, who at times blurred with images of her. Instead of his mother at the window’s ledge, he saw Serra, looking back at him. The first time it had happened, he had jumped awake with a gasp as he looked around his room; it had then taken him a while to fall back asleep, scared he would be forced to watch it all over again — watch as she slipped from the ledge with a terrified gasp. 

He was thankful that Kermit didn’t say anything when they met, Benjicot still out of it as he approached him. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact detail on him that resembled his sister — maybe it was a twitch in his face or a mannerism, but it was her. He cringed internally and walked in silence to their chairs, being greeted by Elmo. That daze had lasted all morning, only picking out little comments here and there from the conversation at the table, distracted by his own hands. His gaze briefly lifted as Samwell reached across the table from his seat at the head, gently swatting his hand with his own, sucking in a sharp, startled breath and looking up at his father, “You’re not present, Benjicot.” Samwell muttered, his gaze still down the table and not looking at him. 

“I am.” He softly sighed. 

“No,” Samwell sternly said, his eyes turning to him. “You’re not. I can tell. You’re not here right now.” 

It took everything in Benjicot not to snap back and argue, knowing it wasn’t worth it to start a fight over something so minuscule as the frustration crawled up his throat. His hands released one another and dropped onto the table with another sigh, “I’m just…thinking. I apologise.” He replied in a quiet voice. 

His father was silent for a moment as he stared at him, eyes briefly glancing towards where Elmo circled the chairs towards a conversation happening on the other side of the table, “Where are you?” He asked, looking back to his son. “Where is your mind?” 

He hesitated to reply, his gaze shifting as he tried to muster a reply that would suffice, “It’s nothing, this is more…” 

“It’s not nothing if it makes you unable to concentrate on the bigger issue.” He pressed, leaning forward in his seat, his gaze unwavering. “I ask as a father, Benjicot. Tell me.” 

The use of his name urged him to look up at his father, blinking a couple of times and opening his mouth, attempting to stammer out some reply — he wanted to tell someone, but Benjicot hardly understood it all himself. He’d yet to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. 

The doors slammed open suddenly which finally caught his attention, watching with tired eyes as the guard by the door was shouldered and jostled for a moment as the source of the commotion entered; a group of young men and cousins that Benjicot slowly picked out one by one — his gaze found Emrys strolling in behind the group, his face streaked with dirt and wiping at a bloodied nose as their eyes met. Benjicot watched as his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, shaking his head at his older cousin and looking towards where the leader of the group rushed in, dagger in hand. 

Ser Eryn rushed forward from his corner place towards the young man who approached the table, eyes wild and snarling as the men who had gathered near the end of the table quickly dispersed in various directions to get out of his way; the guard drew his sword and extended a hand towards his arm, grabbing his elbow. 

“Get your bloody hands off of me.” The boy snapped, shoving Ser Eryn’s hand off him and stumbling a step. 

“Davos.” Samwell firmly said, standing up abruptly to address the boy who was visibly seething — Davos stopped at the end of the table, tossing the knife onto it, the weapon clattering. 

“Those Bracken cunts have breached our land.” He said through gritted teeth. 

The room fell silent, their attention collectively drawn towards the knife on the table embellished with the Bracken’s sigil. Benjicot leaned forward in its direction, “What do you mean?” Samwell asked. 

“They’re on our fucking land!” He snapped, shouting. His father shot his cousin a look, prompting him to clench his jaw, taking a breath to ground himself before speaking again, “We ran into them this morning when we went to survey the boundaries last night as you instructed. They have set camp on our land.” He explained. 

The senior councilman, a grizzled veteran Ser Myles Rivers, slammed his fist on the wooden table, his voice gruff and filled with frustration. "Damn it! What have you two done?" His sharp eyes darted between the young lord and his father, his face etched with lines of anger and worry.

"We warned you about pushing too far, about provoking them. And now look! The Brackens have taken it upon themselves to set up camp on our land, challenging our authority, and threatening our people. This is exactly what we feared, and you’ve given them the excuse they needed."

Ser Myles shook his head, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "This isn’t just a skirmish anymore; it’s a declaration of war. The Brackens want blood, and they won’t stop until they have it. We’re in a dangerous position, and all of Raventree is at risk."

Another council member, Maester Edric, interjected, his tone calmer but no less grave. "We must tread carefully now. Retaliating further could lead to full-scale conflict, something neither side can afford. We need to consider our options—diplomacy, subterfuge, anything to avoid plunging our houses into ruin."

Ser Myles cut in, his voice hardening. "But if we don’t act, we’ll appear weak. The Brackens will think they can encroach on our lands without consequence. We have to show them that Raventree won’t back down, even if it means bloodshed."

"Samwell," he said, his tone carrying the weight of years of service to the Blackwoods, "you’ve always been the voice of wisdom in this hall. We’re on the edge of something that could consume us all. The Brackens are daring us to strike back.” 

He paused, searching Samwell’s face for guidance. "What do we do? Do we meet their challenge head-on and risk plunging the Riverlands into chaos? Or is there another way—one that spares us from a conflict that could bleed us dry?"

The room fell silent, every eye on Samwell, waiting for the elder Blackwood to speak, knowing that his counsel could either steer them toward war or guide them toward a more measured path.

Samwell’s gaze settled on Ser Myles. "I understand your frustration, Ser Myles, and I share it. But if we retaliate now, we risk a full-scale war that will stretch our resources and endanger our people. We must show restraint, even if it means appearing weak for a time. We will not act in haste. Instead, we will plan and prepare, ensuring that when we do make a move, it will secure our position without dooming us to unnecessary conflict."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot adjusted his riding gloves as he and Emrys attempted to hurry down the halls before anyone could see them and question where they were going — he knew the minute he was found out, his father would be notified within minutes and know of his plans. With very little room for error, their pace was a brisk shuffle of feet as he clenched his fist, attempting to break in the leather gloves that felt snug around his knuckles, the halls barely lit by the few torches that remained in this part of the castle. 

“Ser Eryn has readied the horses, they’re just waiting beyond the gates for us.” Emrys quietly explained, Benjicot’s eyes lifting to look over at his cousin, “Are you sure you want to do this? Do you think it will work?” Emrys asked, looking at him. 

“It will,” Benjicot replied. “What of Davos and his men?” 

“They have returned to the borders and will meet us there.” His cousin stated, the two men walking shoulder to shoulder as Benjicot vaguely made out the sound of a horse whinny from the gates — his head turned towards the windows of the hall that overlooked the yard. Through the limited light, he saw the gates open a crack — just enough that one of the guards standing post could speak to someone on the outside. 

“Your father is going to be furious, you know.” Emrys suddenly teased, a grin on his face. 

“He will come to understand.” He muttered, hands dropping to his sides, “He wanted me to take initiative and act as a lord for the people— if he will not act, I will.” He said, walking ahead a few paces as they reached the stairs, beginning to descend towards the doors as Emrys snorted. 

“Atta boy,” Emrys whispered, nudging his shoulder from behind and bringing a grin to Ben’s face finally, the buzz of excitement and anticipation coursing through him. “I can’t wait to wipe that smug fucking smile off of Aeron’s stupid little—” 

“Wait- sh, down!” Ben interrupted as a door creaked open behind them, dragging his cousin down a few steps by his elbow and urging him to kneel out of sight on the stairs; concealed and hidden. There was an awkward moment of clamouring and the rustle of their clothing as they ducked, waiting in silence as Emrys nearly tumbled down the stairs; only catching himself by grabbing the wall. 

The hallway fell into silence as the minutes passed, the two men completely still as they listened carefully, Ben’s gaze turned to look up towards the top of the stairs trying to peer through the dark to see who it was that had come out of their room at this hour. 

“We need to go, it’s probably nobody,” Emrys whispered after a minute. 

Benjicot hesitated, hushing him again and growing impatient the longer they were trapped there on the stairs, “Just…wait.” He quietly instructed, releasing his cousin’s arm. His movements were slow, attempting to avoid making too much noise as he stood from his knees and slowly lifted his head to look into the hallway, his eyes scanning. 

“Benjicot?” A voice whispered in the dark, his eyes darting up to find Serra standing a few feet away from him. Her head lowered, squinting to look at him and visibly still bleary as he assumed they had woken her, despite their best efforts to be as quiet as they could. And if they had woken her, he realised, there was no doubt they had probably woken others and had drawn too much attention to themselves; it was only a matter of time before they started to pour out into the hallway, alerting the guards and his father.

“Shh.” He quickly replied, standing upright and stumbling up the few stairs that separated them, his hand planting on the ground to push himself upright. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards a nook in the wall, his eyes darting over her head and scanning their surroundings to check for anyone else in the hall. The torch above them provided enough light to see her face as he looked at her, her eyes wide and confused, “You shouldn’t be out here, what are you doing?”

“I…I was cold.” She quietly explained, “Alistair was supposed to get some more wood for the fire.” 

“How long ago did he leave?”

“What?” 

He gently shook her, “How long has it been since he went to fetch wood?” He asked, looking down at her. 

She winced, shrinking back against the wall, “I don’t know…a few minutes before I heard you. I thought- I thought you were him,” Serra explained, her hands crossing over her chest. “You’re hurting me, Ben, please.” She quietly pleaded. He watched her eyes dart behind him, his head turning to find Emrys slowly standing to watch, ready to lunge forward towards the pair with a look of confusion on his face as he saw Serra. 

Benjicot released her elbow suddenly, only then realising how tightly he was holding her and sucking in a deep breath. Serra cradled her arm towards her body, hand rubbing over where his had previously been moments prior and frowning with her mouth slightly ajar, “We don’t have long, Alistair is out.” Benjicot said, turning to look at Emrys. 

His attention turned back to Serra, taking in her appearance — her hair slightly ruffled with sleep and cheeks flushed, still visibly exhausted but much more alert now as she looked up at him. His gaze absentmindedly dropped further, becoming aware of what little she was wearing; the fancy gowns of her house colours long since retired for the night, and left stripped down to a thin, loose cream-coloured chemise for sleep; a scarf hung around her shoulders to provide some warmth amidst the cool night. His eyebrows furrowed, Serra shifting uncomfortably under his gaze — Ben took a step to the left, shielding her from Emrys’ gaze, which lingered from behind him. 

“Sorry, my lady, we did not mean to wake you.” Emrys politely said, her head popping up over Benjicot’s shoulder to make eye contact with the younger blonde boy who hovered near. 

“Where are you going?” She asked, settling back on her heels as she looked up at him. 

Benjicot sighed, “Nowhere. It’s time you go back to bed.” 

She grabbed his wrist, lifting it in front of them and eyeing the gloves he wore briefly. He yanked his hand free, “So do you frequently just skulk around in your riding gear?” She asked, her voice quiet. 

He frowned, head shaking, “No— and it does not concern you. Do not stick your nose where you have no business putting it.” 

“It does concern me,” She insisted. “It will concern me, Benjicot, when we are married. Where are you off to?” 

“For your good, Serra, please-” 

“You’re off to go fight with those Bracken boys, aren’t you?” Serra pointedly asked, her voice firmer than Benjicot had ever heard it before, her tone knowing. It startled him, hearing her so serious and clear; her eyebrows furrowed in a displeased frown. He let out a breath, shoulders slumping as he deflated, stepping back into the wall behind him. His eyes rolled, looking away from her. “I overheard Kermit earlier.” She stated, her voice softening.

“Do you often eavesdrop on the matters of men?” He asked, his voice barely above a mutter. 

She hesitated, “Only when it matters.” Serra paused, “Only when it affects me.” 

He chewed his bottom lip, that same annoyance and frustration that had lingered in the back of his head that day creeping back up as he huffed, “It is my duty to protect and fight for my house.” 

“Yes, it is,” She softly said. “But there are men for that.” 

“It is just as much my responsibility as it is theirs— I am equally as trained.” He bit back. 

“I know you are,” Serra said, voice smaller now. “But you are also the heir— what should happen if harm comes of you?” 

Benjicot’s jaw clenched, mouth snapping shut for the first time during their conversation as his gaze dropped. He was left unable to argue that she had a point, but he had grown restless just waiting for action to be taken, watching while other men fought in place of him. 

“It does us no good if you die so soon in this war.” 

“What makes you think I would die?” He asked, his gaze still down and muttering like a boy. 

“You are not invincible, Benjicot.” She sighed in reply. 

The two stood silently, several moments passing before Emrys spoke up again, “I do not mean to interrupt, but if we are going, we must go now. Alistair will surely be back any moment now.” He quietly said, earning a glance from his cousin who inhaled a deep breath, sighing. 

“I need to do this— it is what is best for all of us.” He stated, voice more confident and self-assured as he looked her in the eye again, “You do not have to believe me, but I ask that you let me do this and keep this to yourself…just long enough that we make it to the boundaries at least.” He pleaded, his voice low. 

Serra eyed him, visibly contemplating his words with a tilted head, sceptical in trusting him; shoulders rising and falling with a breath, as she clutched the fabric of the scarf around her shoulders. Her gaze briefly lowered to his chest, swallowing. He could now make out the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall and coming around the corner, his eyes lifting from her face and attention turning towards the sound as his heart raced, growing increasingly anxious the longer she remained quiet; caught like a terrified deer in the woods, “Ben, we need to leave now!” Emrys harshly whispered. 

She sighed and released her hold on the scarf, sliding it from her shoulders, “I cannot change the mind of a man set in his stubborn ways.” She mumbled, grabbing his wrist to press the thin fabric into his palm. “Take this.” She quietly said. 

His eyes shifted to glance down at the balled-up scarf, soft and delicate against his hand as she released his wrist, her eyes on his face. Benjicot looked at her, blinking rapidly a couple of times. He could hear the shuffle of feet as Emrys hurried to ascend the stairs and come up behind him, grabbing his shoulder as the flicker of flames bounced off the walls, Alistair’s shadow visible now, “Benjicot, come on.” 

“For fuck sakes, just wait!” He snapped, his voice a whisper as he shook off his cousin. Benjicot moved to quickly tuck the scarf in his belt, securing it there snugly against his hip as his cousin huffed with a curse and hurried towards the stairs; leaving him behind to descend towards the front door. 

“Be safe, come back to us.” She instructed, beginning to slide out from the nook and back in the direction of her room, but stopped by his hand around her wrist that pulled her back.  His hand lifted to grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his head ducking until his nose brushed hers — he paused, feeling her sharp inhale of breath, before pressing his mouth to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss; her lips soft on his. He felt a hand of hers reflexively come up to his chest, confused and exploratory as if she wasn’t sure what to do or how to respond to the brief kiss. He withdrew after a moment, eyes scanning her features and noting the deep crimson blush that spread up her neck and into her cheeks. 

“I promise to return.” He muttered, stepping back and hurrying down the stairs as Alistair rounded the corner; finding Emrys bouncing on his toes by the front door

He could hear as Alistair called out a confused, “My lady?”

The sound of muffled conversation was distant and too quiet for his ears as he approached his cousin, who eyed him suspiciously. He wordlessly brushed past him, slipping out the door that Emrys held open before he felt him on his heels with a shut of the door. The two men bolted across the yard, the rain pouring down on the house as they ran towards the gates -- Benjicot squinted through the rain as he yanked his hood up and over his head, struggling to make out the shape of Ser Eryn who waited for him from the doors; the sound of water splashing with each step the two young men took. 

“My lord.” Ser Eryn shouted over the rain, bowing his head to Benjicot as he neared, hand reaching out already towards the saddle of the horse the guard held in place by the reign. He quickly mounted the horse who stumbled around a couple of steps, adjusting comfortably on the saddle as he tugged on the reins to pull the horse back and steady it. He watched as Emrys hopped up and mirrored his actions, pulling himself up onto the other horse’s back, looking down at Ser Eryn, “Everything is ready for you. You should reach the rest of your men within the hour. The fields will be slippery, so be careful!” 

“Aye.” Benjicot nodded, swaying with the horse’s anxious movements. “You’re a good man, Ser Eryn.” He stated. The guard gave another bow, muttering a ‘thank you’ to the boy lord who stood in front of him. 

With a snap of his reins, the horse took off underneath Benjicot; Emrys in tow as the sound of hoofs pounded against the ground. 

The rain came down in relentless sheets, soaking the earth and turning the narrow forest paths into a treacherous mire. The moon, hidden behind thick clouds, offered little light, leaving the night to be illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning. The world was dark, wet, and unforgiving—a fitting backdrop for the grim task ahead.

Benjicot rode at the front, his horse’s hooves squelching in the mud with every step. His cloak was soaked through, the heavy wool clinging to his shoulders, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, on the border ahead, where Bracken men had been seen trespassing on Blackwood land. This wasn't the first time, but it would be the last if he had anything to say about it.

Beside him, his cousin Emrys rode with equal determination, his jaw set in a grim line, "Do you think they'll be there?" Emrys asked, his voice barely audible over the drumming rain.

"They'll be there," Benjicot replied, eyes fixed on the path ahead. 

Emrys nodded, gripping the reins tighter. The path began to slope downward, leading them toward the river that marked the boundary between Blackwood and Bracken lands. The river’s usual gentle flow had turned into a roaring torrent, swollen by the storm, the water crashing against the rocks with furious energy.

As they neared the border, Benjicot signalled for them to slow down. The faint glow of torches flickered through the trees ahead, confirming what they had suspected. Bracken men were indeed on Blackwood land, and they weren’t even trying to hide it, face-to-face with Davos and his men. 

"How many do you think?" Emrys asked, peering through the darkness.

"Enough," Benjicot said, his voice a mutter. 

He drew his sword, the steel gleaming briefly in the dim light. Emrys followed suit, the sound of metal slicing through the rain-soaked air.

They urged their horses forward, emerging from the cover of the trees into a clearing by the riverbank. There, illuminated by the torches, were half-dozen Bracken men, armed and armoured, standing defiantly on Blackwood soil.

One of them, a tall man with a grizzled beard, stepped forward; a familiar face that Benjicot recognized as an elder cousin to Aeron — a boy Benjicot had encountered several times before,  "What’s this? Blackwoods come to play in the rain?"

"You’re on our land," Benjicot said, his voice carrying authority despite his youth. "Leave now, or we’ll make you."

The Bracken men laughed, their leader taking a step closer. "And what will a boy like you do about it?"

Benjicot’s eyes narrowed. "You’re treading thin ice, Bracken. Turn back and leave now, and we might spare you and your men."

Rodrik, the leader of the men, barked a laugh, “Don’t be foolish. Surely, you don’t truly think you’re anything to be feared, Benjicot.” He spat, taking a few steps in his direction, “Or did you come to meet my dear sister?” He taunted, his tone mocking and spurring a blinding rage deep within Benjicot, the taste of bile potent on his tongue. 

“You’d be lucky if you see her face again anytime soon,” Rodrick continued. “Though I doubt that is of any concern to you…seeing that I hear you are to be married to that pretty little Tully girl, aye? What’s her name again?” 

Benjicot twitched, his mouth turned into a snarl as he readjusted his grip around the hilt of his sword, his gaze watching the Bracken man like a predator does their prey, “Serra?” He slowly said, the name drawn out and followed by a sickening laugh, “Lucky man, Blackwood. You know she was almost a Bracken -- her father offered her for Aeron first before you.” 

Rodrik slowly sauntered towards Benjicot’s horse, the men behind him tense as they watched in silence; Benjicot’s eyes briefly tearing away to glance towards the Blackwood men, Emrys stood beside them and waited for any signal to advance, his blade drawn and ready -- meanwhile, Rodrik stopped once he was within arms reach of his horse. 

"Tell me, Blackwood," Rodrik sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice, "how does it feel to have a Tully as a prize, yet know she'll never be yours in spirit? Serra may wear your colours one day, but she'll always think of the strength and power of Bracken men. You can dress her in Blackwood finery, but deep down, she'll remember the better match she could have had—someone worthy of her station."

He leaned in closer, his voice a low, taunting whisper. "Enjoy her cold embraces, Benjicot. But remember, when she looks at you, she’ll be seeing the man she could’ve had."

He finally snapped. 

With a sharp cry, he spurred his horse forward as Benjicot’s sword struck with precision, cutting through the defences of the Bracken man as his blade found its mark, cutting him down with a swift strike. There was a gasp as the remaining Bracken men, seeing their leader fall, began to retreat, stumbling over the muddy ground as they fled back across the river; Rodrik’s body slumped against the ground, with his face down in the mud with wide, lifeless eyes. Ben’s gaze remained pinned there upon his body as the men withdrew, unmoving. 

Benjicot didn’t pursue them. He reined in his horse, breathing heavily, wiping the blade clean of blood off on his pant leg as Emrys came to a stop beside him, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Ben, what have you done?" Emrys hissed, his voice barely audible over the storm. His eyes were wide, but there was no judgement in them—only concern. "We weren't supposed to be here, let alone... do this."

He glanced around nervously, expecting Bracken reinforcements to appear out of the shadows. "You've just killed Rodrik Bracken. The Brackens won't let this go. This will start a blood feud, one even the gods can't stop."

Benjicot looked at him, blinking rapidly as the realisation of what he had just done dawned on him; suddenly feeling sick as shaking hands sheathed his sword and gripped the reins.

Emrys stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We need to think quickly. We can’t let them know it was us, not now. We need to get back to Raventree, and we need to make sure no one can tie this to you, to us. We can’t let this spiral out of control. The whole Riverlands will burn if this gets out."

The young lord nodded a stiff movement that oozed uncertainty. 

He paused, searching Benjicot's face for a response. "You did what you had to, Ben, but now we must do what we must to protect our house."

TAGLIST: @username199945 @cxcilla @thethiccestdaddy @deltamoon666, @drwho-ess @callsigncrushx @clarityisnofun @jhepolie @juhdoche @majoso12 @roseheart5 @nixtape-foryou @poppyflower-22 @accidentpronedork @tannyfairy @maximizedrhythms @deadunicorn159 @xlittlefiend

[starseungs]

a dream and a dance. hjs.

han jisung x gn!reader — dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid. but maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.

genre/s — fluff, pinch of angst, post-grad au(?) • 2.0k words

warning/s — alcohol, setting is in a nightclub, life is hard (idk how to explain this)

note — inspired by han's new skz-record: 1,2,3,4,5 ! also i know nothing about nightclubs but this was the theme that came to mind so im just basing off vibes 😭

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Dream while you’re still young—while you still can.

Growing up, that line had always been an integral part of your life. You still remember the first time you heard it; the soft hushes of your beloved grandmother as she handed you a bowl of freshly cut fruit on a particularly hot day. The six-year-old you once were was staring at the person behind the television, starry-eyed, as you studied the figure’s actions with intent. You could faintly recall a question being asked in that hushed living room, something along the lines of whether or not you found what they were doing interesting. It was a hazy memory for detailed descriptions, but you could imagine your younger self positively replying with an excited squeal, one fit for a child of that age, which would’ve been followed by the line that you’d have kept in your heart for the rest of your life.

As one would, you’ve cycled through your fair share of these so-called dreams in the duration of your early lifetime. There was a time in third grade where you made up your mind to become a science teacher—the thought quickly being replaced just a mere two years later when you found a sudden interest in becoming a chef. Sixth grade you talked big for their age, claiming that they would open their own restaurant after graduating culinary school, despite not knowing a single thing about cooking other than all the hours spent bingeing MasterChef. You would always get a laugh out of the memory, knowing that it, too, was but a short-lived dream of a young mind still easily impressed by the world around them.

The pattern of switching life aspirations continued past elementary, and throughout your hectic high school years. With the constant new experiences you faced day to day, it was inevitable that eventually you would start seeing everything in a different light. It was part of the maturing process, you’d come to realize a few years later—getting hit by the epiphany that you no longer went through your 24-hour cycle the same way you did back when you were ten. It was a bittersweet revelation, one that ended with you looking up old shows you used to watch and playing episodes until the sunrise before forcing yourself out of bed to get ready for class. 

That wasn’t the first time you pulled an all-nighter, but it was the first one that made you feel calm throughout the day despite severely lacking sleep. 

College came around, and now you had to face yet another hurdle in your journey: admitting that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing anymore. You were attending university—check. You were in a program you personally chose—check. You had a decent social life—check; or maybe half a point, since you didn’t exactly have much time to hang out with any of them, instead opting for promises of catching up that were slowly building in number but barely decreasing. Before you knew it, the degree life was slowly eating all of the dreams that were left inside of you, leaving you with a semi-paved path completely devoid of color. What was once a garden littered with numerous flowers of the rainbow now had wilted into dehydrated brownish hues, layed lifelessly beside the narrow road.

Perhaps your grandmother was right. Dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid.

Still, you pushed through, just to see the end. There was no use turning back when you had already crawled your way up this high. All that was left for you if you did was a fall so hard that you doubt you’d even be able to recover. The image alone made you shiver, prompting you to lift the glass of liquor towards your mouth, letting the sip travel down your throat and feeling the faux warmth it provided. Your eyes shifted to the clock propped up against the bar counter’s wall, watching the hands tick at a uniform pace. It was weird knowing that time always stayed steady. These days, it seemed all over the place—sometimes slowing, sometimes speeding. At this particular moment, it was like a flowing stream. 

What kind of pace it was, you weren’t too sure. 

What you did know, though, was that the numbers on the clock were barely visible; bright neon LED lights being the only thing illuminating the dark room they called a nightclub. The speakers were blasting some upbeat pop song, entertaining the crowd trying to lose themselves on the dance floor. You could only watch from your bar stool as a girl trips over thin air, obviously a little too inebriated, before getting caught by her friend, who was now fussing over her drunken state. 

Burning liquid passed your tongue as you took another sip of your drink. Unlike that girl, you went to this place alone and on your own accord. In your mind, you contemplated why you chose to be here instead of a peaceful bar that didn’t involve a DJ and a dancefloor—but this works too. Maybe a part of you wanted to experience the thrill one last time before adult life completely takes a toll on you, so who were you to deprive yourself of the wish? Your university days had already ended just a few hours ago, with you stepping on stage to get your diploma. It wasn’t a crime to let yourself have fun after all the sacrifices you made for the sake of your damned future. 

And so you continued to watch—getting lost in the sea of bright lights and the crashing waves of your thoughts, before a familiar voice snapped you out of the trance you put yourself in.

“What are you doing here, looking all miserable like that?”

You blinked owlishly at the face that entered your line of sight. A face that was very recognizable to you, despite the undoubtedly long time you’ve gone without seeing it.

“Han Jisung?”

“The one and only,” Jisung grins. 

“Wow,” you breathed out, completely taken aback at the situation. “I haven’t seen you since our first year of uni! How have you been?”

You and Jisung used to be in the same major before he dropped out right before the start of your second year to pursue music. It would be an absolute lie if you said you didn’t miss him, especially since he was the first friend you ever made in university. You could still recall the moment he approached you in a class like it was yesterday—the Jisung of four years ago scrambling to take a seat after barely just beating the professor entering through the front door. The image of the freshly turned nineteen-year-old panting desperately evoked your concern, causing you to stare at him a little longer than necessary. But it wouldn’t be Jisung if he wasn’t observant, so he returned the stare without an ounce of shame and followed with a question if you had any spare water he could drink.

Luckily, your water bottle had just been filled a few minutes before class started, and thus a beautiful friendship was born.

Jisung took his hands out of his pockets before taking a seat at the empty bar stool to your right. “Life’s been great! Two semesters were enough for me to realize that the academic life just wasn’t for me,” he chuckles. “Oh, and congrats on graduating, by the way!”

You couldn’t help the small smile that found its way to your face at his greeting. “You knew?”

“Ah,” Jisung exclaims, leaning forward to rest his arms on the long table in front while still making eye contact to cement his presence in the conversation. “I attended the ceremony earlier, actually. You know—for Hyunjin and Seungmin. I also watched you stand on stage. That’s why I’m genuinely surprised to see you here like this.”

He looks around for a bit before returning to face you. “Where are your friends?”

You shrugged carelessly, not too bothered with the implication. “Not a clue,” you say with a light chuckle. “Probably out celebrating with their families—or maybe even with each other. Either way, I didn’t get an invite, but I already expected that.”

Jisung simply nods at your reply, and his lack of a reaction amused you more than it should. “And you? Out with Thing 1 and Thing 2?”

“Damn, they still call Seungmin and Hyunjin that? My legacy stood strong, huh?” Jisung barked out a hearty laugh before gesturing somewhere to the side of the club. “But yeah, our group’s over there in one of the sofa cubicles. You can join us if you want; it’s your day too, after all. We should be celebrating!”

You waved his offer away politely. “It’s fine, Jisung. I’m sure they wouldn’t want me crashing in. We’re not even close enough to do that.”

Jisung paused to think for a moment, his hand rising up to support his chin. Your eyes guiltily wander a bit higher, stopping at his rosy lips for a brief second before quickly going back to glare at your glass of liquor. 

Admittedly, you once had a crush on the man beside you. Han Jisung was one of the more attractive individuals on campus back then, along with the rest of his friend group. The lingering gazes of people weren’t foreign to you, as you had your fair share of experiences with them when you used to hang out with him. Jisung was simply someone who caught others’ attention, whether it was intentional or not. Of course, you weren’t exempt from that notion. The only difference was that he was a good friend you didn't want to risk losing and that you weren’t interested in dating at that moment. Romance was another dream of yours you couldn’t reach, no matter how much you yearned for it. And so you buried your feelings in a grave, eventually getting forgotten once he left your life.

You could only hope that a zombie apocalypse doesn’t start soon.

“Hm, alright,” he eventually chimes. “I’ll leave you be, soon. But, on one condition.” It was your turn to ponder over his words. 

“And what’s your condition, Han?”

Jisung attempts to hide the way he fidgets with his fingers, which you painfully caught on to too fast for your liking. He took a few more seconds to collect himself before sitting up straight and turning towards you to shyly say, “Dance with me?”

Your eyes widened into saucers, not believing what you had just heard. It was in an attempt to calm your racing heart that you accidentally froze into silence, your brain already deciding to keep 911 on standby in case you stopped breathing altogether. You internally cursed yourself for feeling a faint hope spark back in your heart, wishing for the romance you never let yourself indulge in. This wasn’t the time, nor was it the place, that you thought was appropriate to rekindle your teenage wishes. 

Unfortunately, your lack of a response made Jisung inhale audibly, seemingly preparing himself to bolt away in embarrassment—if only you hadn’t noticed his actions too, the year of friendship coming back to you to recognize his habit. You quickly willed yourself to spit out any words you could.

"Well, that’s sudden,” you shakily voiced out, but decided to lighten the awkward situation with a cough. “What, think I’m hot now after gaining a few more years?”

Jisung exhaled in relief. “Not exactly,” he rubs the back of his neck, “you were already hot from the beginning.” You roll your eyes at his answer.

“Haha. You think you’re so hilarious, Jisung.”

“That, I do,” he smirks, regaining his confidence. Jisung lifts a hand towards you, opening his palm in an offering gesture. “So, what about that dance?”

You scoffed good-naturedly before taking his hand, pulling him up his seat to drag the two of you towards the center of the establishment that was still as chaotic as you left it earlier.

“Make sure you show me a good time, Jisung.”

“Oh, you won’t be disappointed, Y/N.”

Maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix

[mixtape-racha]

YAYYYYYY 100 followersssss :) im so happy for youuuuu :)))))

okay, here is my request... hehe, im suchhh a sucker for hurt comfort and I loveeee fem 9th member au's. but like not smut or like fwb, just like a really juicy story y'know? I haven't been able to find any of those two categories combined tho, especially into like a longer fic, like it's always in the hundreds (I would love it if it was a little longer, no pressure tho :). literally, anything works, from some kinda mess up on stage to maybe you messing up a relationship w a member??? idk. I'm letting ur thoughts run wild here... THANK YOU AND CONGRATSSSS

(im sorry im really vague in requests lol)

YAYYYY THO IM LIKE REALLYYYY PROUD OF YOU<<<3333 LOV U BB KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DOOOO

thank you so much my lovely bae!! ilysm and i hope i did this request justice!! i kind of went off on a tangent and got carried away with the plot waaa &lt;3

---------------

sorry seems to be the hardest word

pairing: ot8 x fem!9th member!reader

warnings: angst, hurt comfort, reader snapping at the members, reader being physically unwell, fluff at the end

words: 2.29k

everything was going wrong today, and you truly meant every. fucking. thing.

somehow, you had managed to turn your alarm off the night before (probably because you fell asleep while on your phone, accidentally calling your mom in you sleep in the process), and none of the guys took the initiative to wake you up when they got up.

okay, sure, you couldn’t blame them entirely. you were a grown woman, and you could look after yourself. but weren’t you supposed to be a team? eight other people surrounding you, and none of them thought to check on you? especially when you were usually up and alert before they were? no, instead they were all out the door without even knocking to see if you were feeling okay. so much for being your brothers and best friends.

so god forbid, you were late this morning. you managed to turn up at the company for your vocal lessons only ten minute late, but it felt awful as you’d never been late before. you were so incredibly lucky to get the opportunity to debut with skz, especially joining the group later in their career and being the only girl. you wanted to do everything perfectly to show that you deserved to be where you were, and with the way today was shaping out you were so disappointed with yourself.

but then - it got worse. you, in your rush to leave the dorms, had forgotten your sheet music, leaving your vocal teacher to be short and snappy with you. yeah, you brought it up on your phone instead, but she was strict, and a firm believer in “good old-fashioned pen and paper over your silly little radio devices nowadays”. her attitude towards you for the remainder of your lesson affected you more than you liked to admit - excusing yourself to the bathroom to have a little cry before you headed to the studio.

for some reason, none of your schedules were properly coordinated today, leaving jisung to be the one in the studio with you - rather than chan, like usual -  while you recorded your lines for the demos to be sent to the company later in the month, when you’d decide the songs for the new album you had upcoming later in the year.

jisung was always the nicest to you, especially when he could tell you were having a rough day - you were both very alike in that sense, very attentive towards each other as if you could tell what the other was feeling. 

however, it seemed today that something had crawled up his ass and died. he was almost as snappy as your vocal teacher, and you were quite frankly sick of it. you kept messing up your lines; whether from the stress or the ache building in your throat (god you hoped you weren’t getting sick), you weren’t sure. but clearly, jisung wouldn’t stand for it.

“honestly, (y/n), you might as well just call it a day and come back to this with chan-hyung another day. i need to get on with other stuff.” he sighed, dismissively, as you bit back the tears fighting to escape your eyes. he wouldn’t even look at you, and your stomach was doing somersaults. was he really that mad? surely he could see how hard you were trying.

but instead of confronting him, you just grabbed your belongings and left after silently agreeing. no one answered your message on the group chat when you asked if anyone was down to get lunch together, even though you could see basically everyone had read it, so you retreated to the canteen alone before you had to go to practice with the boys.

as the ache in your throat spread to your joints, fatigue plaguing you, you trudged up to the practice room for rehearsals with the boys. you were learning a new dance - in fact, the already chosen title track for the new album, and deep down you were dreading it. it was more difficult than you had imagined, and definitely aimed more towards moves the boys could do compared to you. you loved the boys, but sometimes you felt like they forgot that men and women’s bodies worked differently.

surprisingly, you weren’t the last to arrive, squashing your fear of another thing going wrong.

but just as soon as practice began, your fear was reawakened. the ache in your joints was making the dance more difficult for you to execute, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of minho’s body even if he wouldn’t admit it. you stumbled a few times, almost knocking into felix, who looked at you more frustrated than concerned.

“seriously, (n/n), what’s going on? it’s really not that hard. get your head in the game.”

you huffed, shaking out your limbs and telling minho to start the track again. maybe if you ignored your surroundings, ignored how you were feeling, then things would be easier. you could block out minho’s harsh criticisms - he was probably just tired. you could block out everything, knowing the boys were suffering just as much as you lately. but when the music stopped again, and everyone was talking at you, voice after voice lapping over each other you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“shut the fuck up! shut up, shut up, shut up! give me a fucking break, i’m trying my hardest!”

you honestly didn’t mean to snap, you were just so overwhelmed and couldn’t take anymore. when chan tried to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flung it off, all your annoyance and stress from the day building up at once.

“don’t fucking touch me. i don’t need your pity, i don’t need you to tell me that i don’t know how to do my job well enough. this is the fucking worst day of my life and you all keep making it worse!”

every fiber of your being was telling you to stop, to be reasonable, but it was like your mouth was making its own decisions. you couldn’t tell which member it was, but you were interrupting the gentle call of your name before you could even control it.

“and no, before any of you try to be funny, i’m not on my period,” you sneered, anger bubbling under your skin as you saw jisung look away sheepishly. “i’m just sick of feeling like i have to fight to prove i’m good enough, like i’m not one of you guys yet. we’re supposed to be a team, but all day i’ve been pushed to the side and treated like i don’t matter. i’m sick of it!”

you breathed heavily, grabbing your duffle bag from the side of the room and storming towards the door.

“i’m staying with yeji tonight, leave me the fuck alone.”

was all you said before leaving the boys stood in shock, confused as to why you were acting like you hated them.

regrettably, the minute you found yourself in yeji’s dorm and explained your day to her, you knew you were in the wrong. how could you let yourself treat your best friends that way? they didn’t deserve that, and you would be most understanding if they never forgave you. it was only when the throb in your head and ache in your joints became too much that you finally allowed yourself to sleep.

chan’s apology

luckily, you and the boys were granted a week off a while ago, and today marked the first day of that week. however, knowing chris he was probably still hauled up in the studio from the night before. it was around 3am (yeji shouldn’t have let you crash so early, your sleep schedule was going to be manic), so you pulled yourself together before making the decision to go visit him.

he may not even want to see you after your little outburst, but you could still try.

you stopped by the convenience store on your way to the studio, grabbing some snacks and some drinks just to be on the safe side. carefully checking the group chat, you saw that changbin was still in the studio with chan and you hoped you could get there before he left - it might be easier to kill two birds with one stone. you were just glad you bought way too much food for just two people.

you smiled politely, bowing at the security guard as he let you into the building, heart thumping in your ears as you carefully traced the steps to chan’s studio.

when you finally approached the door, you had to take a minute to prepare yourself to knock. you heard chan’s voice mumbling behind the door once you did, nervously waiting until he came and opened it.

he looked surprised to see you, frozen for a moment before quickly ushering you in and sitting you on the couch next to changbin. almost in instinct, changbin’s arm was slung around your shoulder - something he always did when you were close by, relishing in the fact he wasn’t the shortest in the group anymore.

you sheepishly held out the bag containing all the goodies you got at the convenience store to chan, a small smile on your face when he took it.

“got you some snacks.. kind of guessed you might have forgotten to eat.” your voice was quiet, ashamed. you just hoped they wouldn’t hold your outburst against you.

but when chan grinned, you knew he could never be mad at you for long.

“we were worried about you, y’know? that’s why jisung let you go early today - something seemed off and we didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed.” changbin said from next to you, the hand on your shoulder rubbing it comfortingly. 

you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up behind your eyes again, but bit them back in fear they’d think you were looking for sympathy.

“i– i’m so sorry. i’ve just had an awful day, and i feel like shit, but that doesn’t excuse my actions, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you all - you couldn’t have known, and its not your fault.”

you explained why your day had been so bad to them (after some pushing from chan), and how you were feeling physically, causing changbin to look at you with great worry.

they indulged in a small cuddle session, feasting on the snacks you provided while they tried to help cheer you up. and honestly, it worked, just talking through how you were feeling, and gettin constructive feedback rather than just a shoulder to lean on was relieving.

you couldn’t apologize to them more, feeling so ashamed of your actions, but they were quick to reassure you it was okay - everyone had bad days, you were only human after all. you just needed to work on your communication a little bit.

when you finally got ready to head back to the dorm at 5am, you felt better than you had in a long time, actually.

apology numbers one and two: complete.

but when you arrived back at the dorm, head peacefully resting on changbin’s shoulder, what you weren’t expecting to walk into was what you all called a “cuddle pool” - the sofa bed pulled out, covered with pillows and blankets - and a spot waiting for you between felix and seungmin.

your eyes watered at the expectant faces of your soul-brothers, small sobs leaving your lips as your shoulders shook. god, the day had taken a toll on you - you couldn’t remember the last time you cried in front of the boys.

it was only then that minho - who you hadn’t seen standing by the door - scooped you into a hug.

“oh, angel,” he frowned, a hand pressed to your forehead. “you’re burning up. is that why you felt so bad earlier?”

words seemed to fail you, and all you could do was nod as your grip on his sweater tightened. it certainly wouldn’t be the first time you got sick from stress, but you hated being sick. you hated feeling out of control in your own body, and despised being doted on like you were unable. however, this time… you think you could let it slide. you just needed your boys close by right now.

they seemed to enjoy looking after you, and you felt you owed them that after the situation in the practice room.

minho was quick to place on you on the couch, felix and seungmin suffocating you in a bone-crushing hug. jisung handed you the tv remote, saying you could choose to watch whatever you wanted, and that everyone would be having a slumber party in the living room until you felt better.

minho and chan had gone to make you some chicken noodle soup - using felix’s mom’s recipe, which was known for being a lifesaver in your dorm. jeongin was quick to grab you your comfort plushie, taking his place on the floor by your feet - the two of you were 100% keen on physical affection, but having him close by helped.

within merely an hour, all nine of you were curled up, an animated disney movie playing, with soup and mugs of tea being passed around the room. it was nice, and it felt so good to have your boys so close and willing to help you.

you definitely took on changbin’s mention of needing to improve on communication, wanting nothing more than to improve yourself for the little family you had build around you. and yeah you were sick, and they would probably get sick too by being in such close proximity to you, but that was a problem for another day. you’d just return the favor of looking after them.

you just knew you were lucky to have them.

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha

[majycka]

Megumi stans....we won, I guess? maybe just for now..

JJK 266 THOUGHTS AND SPOILERS AHEAD!

Aight megumi enjoyers, at least one of us has been in the trenches when Megumi was getting SHOVELED PILES OF SHIT ON for losing his will to live when he's a traumatized 15 years old boy having a valid reaction to a death of a loved one (aka who may I repeat, HEAVILY REITERATED in the manga is someone whose his entire desire to live hinges on). As of from the currents chap, I'm considering Yuuji's acknowledgement/understanding to Megumi's actions a W for us or idk maybe that's just me because he gives Megumi the empathy and understanding he needs in his crazy ass suicidal life, and it raises the question of whether this is gonna fully push Megumi for his comeback moment?

More yapping under the cut

In order to explain why the magnitude of this chapter is such an important development for Megumi, his trauma needs to be discuss first and, there's four people we need to go through to reflect his stages of life. Toji, Tsumiki, Gojo, aaaannd Yuuji! :D

TOJI, the dad who left for milk.

Although we barely see any interaction with these two (only one fight scene from them), Toji no doubt kickstarted the trauma of Megumi the moment he decided to left for milk and never return again. He's traumatized by the Zenin's which explains why he acted out in that way and abandoned his child. All he's life he's treated as the outsider for being the odd one out. He lashed out from it as he got stronger, calmed down when meet Meg's mom who then died, and went back to lashing out again, forgetting that he has a tiny son waiting for him at home. Big L for Toji.

I know that Gege reiterated in his interview that he wants to craft a story where there's no right and wrong people, but I'm gonna proceed to be harsher towards Toji here because he's the ADULT situation. Yes, a traumatized adult who's fucked up and not perfect, but I still hold him accountable in perpetuating Megumi's trauma because Toji proceeded to repeat the cycle of trauma that moment he decided to leave, thinking that turning over Megumi to the Zenin is the best option cuz he got The Ten Shadows Technique. From Toji's perspective, it seemed the better option because he was raised knowing his no cursed energy made him an outcast in his family. It's drilled to him that cursed technique was everything for Zenins, so of course, he thought that his son with a valued technique will make the Zenins, olympic gold medal holder of abuse, treat him better. But, heck no! Just look what happened to that Naoya, who despite being raised differently as Toji or Maki and Mai, ended up as a piece of shit. In the end though, I gotta give him the bareeeessst minimum because he kinda pushed Gojo to interfere with Megumi being sold off to the Zenins(which has another set of problems discussed for the later part of discussion).

I try to stay true in including Gege's intention in writing here, and also other nuanced perspective cuz that's the type of series JJK is that yes, Toji DID care for his son in the barest minimum and in his most emotionally stunted way.

However, the damage is done, and Megumi is left with no prime adult caretaker to protect/guide him with only an older sis to have any resemblance of it .

2. TSUMIKI, the manic pixie dream girl sister.

To define the term (as I've stolen from Google) , manic pixie dream girl (MPDG) means "a type of female character depicted as vivacious and appealingly quirky, whose main purpose within the narrative is to inspire a greater appreciation for life in a male protagonist." They are often associated as love interest in movies, BUT I AM NO WAY SHAPE IN FORM ENDORSING MEGUMI SEES HER THAT WAY. Instead, I am using MPDG as a loose term to describe Tsumiki because like most MPDG, we barely know ANYTHING about her actually and we only saw her through the eyes of Megumi which is being pretty and dead.

Not essentially dead and not essentially just pretty because Megumi described her to be the model of a kind person and someone that Megumi wishes to protect, aka his greater purpose of life, which is yah, great, but we are stuck with this perception of Tsumiki. We don't know her, and I think the closest thing we got an unbiased perception of her is when she chucked a cartoon of milk to Megumi (she will call out his BS). This connects back with Megumi's trauma because who else are you gonna hinge your will to live on when the prime adults in your life failed you? He sees her in a brighter light in order to survive. A way of coping mechanism even.

AND YET, despite all his talk appreciating her kind traits and killing people in the culling game to get back to her, you would be surprised that instead of apologizing to her that he was all emo about, he was a dick to her when they reunited. 💀💀

And in fact, the narrative punishes him for this flaw.

To the point that when Sukuna took over his body, he "killed: Tsumiki in his hands which didn't just left Megumi the guilt and shame of being a dick to his sister before she dies but also the impression that Megumi was the one who "killed her." This makes Megumi an active participant to his own tragedy, and it serves a big slap on his face that he's also at fault here.

3. GOJO, the traumatized bro who tried his best.

This is definitely the raging hot debate of the fandom which is their dynamic, and my take breaks this perception of the uwufied Gojo a lot of the fandom seems to like. Yes, I do see Gojo as another perpetrator to Megumi’s trauma, another adult that failed him but not in such of a black and white way thinking of Gojo’s the wholly bad guy here. Believe it or not, he’s still a part of the chain of generational trauma, being a "chain" as in he's a victim AND perpetrator of the system. I called him the traumatized bro who tried his best here because as much as Gojo knows how cruel the jujutsu system is for the kids, he still unintentionally passes over the core mindset of such cruel system to Megumi since Gojo still did grew up in this system normalized in his eyes.

"Jujutsu Sorcerer is an individual sport."

I say "unintentionally passes" because no, Gojo doesn't have the same intention as Zenins/majority of the system who drills "strength is everything" in the most fucked up way possible. Yes, he enjoys Megumi’s company and treats him nicely. Yes, he sticks his neck out for him. Yes, he wants them to be strong so they can change the system. But this isn't about Gojo. It's about Megumi who still undeniably suffered from the accumulation of the few adults in his life failing him which includes Gojo. Gojo offers protection to Megumi. KEYWORD: Offers. It’s in exchange for Megumi working under Gojo as a jujutsu sorcerer. Now, for smol Megumi here, who truly going through the horror show of abandonment from his dad, agrees to it because apparently, according to Gojo, it’s the only way to protect his sister.

"I'll take care of things! But you're gonna have to work extra hard. I'm countin' on ya."

Annnd thus the cycle repeats! Although it wasn’t as bad as Zenin’s abusive environment Toji was raised, Megumi is still pushed in the same cutthroat environment of the jjk world that Gojo believed he can survive just because Megs has a valued powerful technique if only he himself fullfills his potential, like Gojo’s Six Eyes. BUT Gojo, who delights in his power, forgets a crucial part that…..Megumi isn’t like him!

Check out what Megumi has to say. (aka bud doesn't want any of that sorcerers shit and just wants a domestic life)

So the thing is, was Megumi ever asked his input in choosing to be a jujutsu sorcerer? Well, yah….and all it circles back to just protecting his sister and people like her. There’s a set of problems that comes with this mindset though that Gojo was valid to point out and that is Megumi doesn’t think about himself enough. “It’s ok to be selfish!” Gojo said in the context of being a stronger sorcerer.

But at the same time, he also gave Megumi the idea to that if he doesn’t work as sorcerer, then he won’t be able to protect his sister when he was a mere 6-7y/o boy.

You know that circulating meme of Megumi pulling Mahogora for minor inconvenience? Well, guess what that tells his suicidal tendencies in protecting anyone but himself. Kid got no sense of self-preservation because his self esteemed has completely tanked itself due to his abandonment issues, and now that he’s expressing how it emotionally and physically paralyzes him, he has every valid reason to do so.

Why, yes, Gojo was 19/20 at the time he first met Megs, still a kid, doesn't know shit, and has unaddressed issues being treated as The Strongest Weapon(here’s a dedicated gojo-centric meta I wrote previously about Gojo and his issues cuz he's one complicated fool). I describe this whole situation as an unaware traumatized kid taking in another traumatized kid which is not a fun mix to have, and I understand that Gojo ain’t exactly prepared for that kind of job.

HOWEVER, I’m way harsher to point out Gojo’s failure as an adult in Megumi in the later part of the series because at this point, Gojo's a grown adult, he waxes poetry in being responsible for the next gen , and we get to see his priorities throughout the series especially with the Sukuna’s fight, like seriously he had one legitimate fun fighting someone on par with him.

Gojo DELIGHTS in power no doubt, he chooses kids with most potential, he gets excited finding those kids, and this is the type of the closest dependable adult Megumi has in his life.

Yes, financially supported but Gojo isn't around much when he's working and on demand sorcerer almost 24/7. That's why growing up sure do sucked ass for Megumi especially when no one’s really there to guide and to keep an eye on your development AS A PERSON AND NOT JUST A SORCERER which the latter part is what unfortunately Gojo’s more eager to do.

4. YUUJI, the guy who just wants Megumi to know he matters to him as a person.

Yuuji and Megumi were definitely the highlight of this chapter because in the bleak world of JJK where everyone seemed to be succumbing to the repeated fuck ups of the previous gen (like that Yuta-Gojo situation), this chapter actually offers that THERE IS HOPE that the new gen can do better like what Yuuji just did that the adults in Megumi's life are too emotionally stunted to do. Yuuji take the time to listen to Megumi's emotional thoughts, what he feels as a person, and not just listen, but to understand and empathize. It even took lots of attempts for Yuuji to make Megumi open up.

He responds to Megumi's vulnerability with care and love, and Yuuji understands the pain Megumi is going through from losing his sister. With someone in pain like that, Yuuji knows he can't just go around saying "just live" to someone who's practically suicidal.

The treat of this all is when this scene comes next. Yuuji also shows his vulnerability and expresses that Megumi matters to him!

"It's lonely without you..Fushiguro."

This scene clearly parallels Gojo and Megumi's first meeting, so I'm gonna try to throw my two cents here and explain why Gege choose this direction. Remember what I said about Yuuji giving us the hope of the new gen escaping from the shackles of generational trauma? Well, I think this parallel is a way in saying that what Megumi needed when he was so young was someone to see him and his pain who's just a kid abandoned and forced to fend for themselves because the prime adults decided to to dip out. This is Megumi we are talking about here who's unaddressed issues stays hidden beneath all the pressure of him being The Ten Shadows Technique. He's valued for his technique. That's why Gojo showed up to meet him in the first place. That's also what the jujutsu system looked after for their child soldiers. Yuuji tries to break this chain of trauma their mentor unknowingly repeats. He'll show up for Megumi again and again because he's his dear friend even if Megumi's being difficult to be pulled out of Sukuna. And the beautiful thing is Yuuji didn't had some grand inspiring speech or grand offer to convince Megumi, he wasn't even sure Megumi will be up for it. Yuuji simply want to say that he matters to him. That understands him. That he's important to him so much he'll be sad when he dies, and it mattered.

"This is...Fushiguro Megumi's...!!"

And now that Megumi is showing signs in taking his body back, it's now his turn to save himself. Yuuji did his part, and for someone whose future has been controlled by everyone but himself, this time Megumi gets to decide what comes next.

[kaq3yma]

𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐘'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 featuring michael kaiser

syn: soft launched on instagram by the infamous prodigy

⸻ cw: slight languages, instagram au, and very short

qeena's brief note: qeena trying an instagram au with kaiser after a whole year not making it?!! 😱 ik it's super short but tumblr won't allow more ten pictures soo i guess i'll have to deal with that for now and so sorry for the pictures, theyre like the best i could find (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ but how about a part two??? i might consider it, i might not lol idk buttt... i guess that's all for now keehee ! tell me how you feel about this one, whether or not should i continue making similar fics like this 🤔 thank you everyone, i love you, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated and happy reading xoxo 🩷💚

yourusername

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yourusername my long-awaited princess treatment 💖👸

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yourfriend me when

yourusername replies sooooonn 🤭

thatgerman.prodigy truly deserved

yourusername replies 💋💋💋

michael_k_fanpage

🤍 74.2K 💬 1,548 🚀 211

michael_k_fans michael kaiser was seen last night hugging with a mysterious woman. Could it be that this unknown woman is the prodigy's plus one?

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fan1 we don't know yet, it could be his mom or his sister lol

fan5 replies no shi, his mom not in the pic no more and he's an only child 💀

fan2 ITS SOOO OBVIOUS 😭😭😭 naur my heart is breakingg

fan3 that's me yall fr 💯😎

fan6 replies u wish

fan7 replies delulu is not always the solulu

fan4 if you look at it carefully, u can see me crying on the corner

mchl.kser ☑️

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mchl.kser well fuck it, ive been wanting to soft launch anyway @yourusername ssup mama 😍

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yourusername hiya!

fan1 replies HELLOOOOO

fan2 replies why is ur acc private 😓

fan15 replies to fan2 cus mind yo own business, that's why

fan3 replies TELL ME HOW U PULL THE KAISER BRO (no actually tell me how kaiser pull THE YOU)

fan15 replies she's living the life wanted by million kaiser glazer 😵‍💫💯🙏🏻🔥

fan192 replies adopt me pls im an aspiring model in dress to impress 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

"Micha, why the hell you tagged me for bro?!" The weird-haircut boy snickers in amusement, continue typing away on his phone with a huge grin on his face "Shuddup, donkey. I got lots of comments here telling me I'm a lucky man." You thrash yourself beside him on the bed, grunting loudly.

"You are a dork. I got so many friends request and what am I supposed to do about that?" He throw his phone down, spreading his arms to put them around your waist to tug you close "You can make another account like I do. It's not that hard, liebling." You push his face off, murmuring incoherent words beneath your breaths "Idiot. This wouldn't happen if you hadn't tag me at all in the first place." He laughs, grabbing you back to put you beside him on the bed.

"Come on, it's fine right? You're not mad at me are you?" You sighed, not bothered to argue anymore and just lie down beside him.

"du bist süß, schatz..."

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open. all rights reserved goes to @kaq3yma on tumblr.

[miumura]

💭 — JUNGWON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND !

dedicated for my pooks @wvnkoi 🫶 tysm for choosing the next member for the __ as your bf series 😊🫶

warnings : mentions of pecks

— just a shy but cute bf. like no matter how long your relationship is, he’s still gonna be a blushing mess over holding your hands or just giving you a peck. hes so!!!!!!!

— always looks out for you. like he feels the need to watch over you when you’re near him. he just wants to make sure you feel okay every time you’re with him </3

— bye i feel like he would be awkward at the start of the relationship, but then he suddenly remembers how u and him were literally so close before dating so hes like oh 😊 so he finally starts to get comfortable!

— likes cuddling because it relieves his stress. he likes how he doesn’t have to talk, just slowly dozing off into your arms.

— just gives you random updates of everything he’s doing. like he will treat you as a personal diary, just sending you random texts and pics of him. you wouldn’t complain though.

— definitely loves playing with your fingers. he could just zone out and play around with them !

— likes calling you at night just because he finds it more calming and “romantic.” he loves talking to you then, hearing your sleepy tone or just singing you a quiet song. sometimes, you two sleep together on facetime. (loves calling you just so he could see you in the morning if he’s far away)

— when he’s with you, he’s always just so excited. he feels like all his worries disappear when he’s with you. just ten times cheerful when you’re by his side

— he definitely would love going on dates with you. like it could be a random day and you both suddenly plan out a date. whether it be just a walk or shopping, he cherishes every single moment.

— records vids of you and him just for fun! he would love going back through it with you. since he recorded everything, he knows every single one. doesn’t tell you he plays the vids on the daily just because.

— any you do, he’s picking up habits from you. like if you have a habit of making clicking noises with your mouth, he does the same subconsciously.

— hearing affirmations from you is his thing. would love if you reassured him and just be his biggest fan cause he’s yours !!

— loves hearing sweet things from you, as it brings back butterflies in his stomach, the same ones he gets when he first fell for you. shut up right now

— would die for you to just steal his clothes and wear them. his closet = your closet . would smile sm if you wear one of his hoodies..prepare to see them laying around more often!

— idk but i think he’d put and write cute sticky notes on everything. just something to brighten up your day :) !!!

— keeps every thing you give him. like you’d be surprised if he still had something from a year ago.

— “why would i not keep it? you got it for me.” stop it.

— probably just lets you poke his dimples unlike the others. he’d probably show them on purpose js so you could poke them … okay lovesick

— “hey, you never let me do that!” “shut up heeseung—”

— type of boyfriend to just stop and admire their partner when they do literally anything

— just the sweetest boyfie ever </3

💭 — why are these getting shorter and shorter

ENHA PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @ixomiyu @yenavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @starcubes @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @woon2u @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @tnyhees @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @flwrshee

[alittlebitofloveliness]

hiii idk if ur still taking requests or not but if u are literally any kind of darry angst would be amazing 🤗🤗

Hi anon! This is a bit more Curtis brothers angst but Darry centric exploring what might have happened if the Curtis parents died two years earlier. Please lmk what you think!

***********

“Please” Darry begs, “I’ll be eighteen in a month. A month! I swear I can take care of them. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” the social worker says, and to her credit she does sound like she means it, “Since you're almost eighteen and because you’ve provided me with adequate proof you can support yourself I’m going to allow you to remain here at this time, but Sodapop is only fourteen and Ponyboy just turned twelve. They need a real guardian.”

“I can be their guardian,” Darry vows. It’s wrong they’re even having this conversation. His college acceptance letter sits on his desk, his football trophies on the shelf and yet he’d give all of it away in a heartbeat for this crackpot old woman to see sense, to understand that he’s just lost both of his parents and he cannot lose his brothers too. Why doesn’t she understand that? “You said it yourself, I can support myself. I can support them too. The lawyer said Mom and dad left me the house. I can officially claim it in a month, and I can cover bills until then. I already got three offers for another job, and I know how to cook and clean and drive-”

“Darrel,” the social worker cuts him off firmly but kindly, “this has nothing to do with whether or not you are capable. In fact, from what I’ve seen, and the frankly remarkable job you’ve done holding your family together I’d be more than happy to help you petition for guardianship of your brothers at a later time, if it’s still something you feel strongly about doing, but the fact of the matter is that almost eighteen is not the same as eighteen. You are not a legal adult, and you cannot be your brothers’ legal guardian until you are. It doesn’t matter how responsible or adult you are right now. It can’t happen.”

“Please,” Darry implores, “you can’t take them. We just lost mom and dad, I can’t lose them too.”

“I really am sorry,” she says, “and I mean it when I say I will help you try and get guardianship in a month. But I can’t let them stay with you right now, and honestly? Maybe it’s a good thing. I know you love your brothers but guardianship would mean putting your life on hold until Ponyboy turns eighteen- eight years from now. You couldn’t go to college, travel, do much of anything really. This month will give you time to think that over, decide if it’s something you’re truly prepared to do.”

Anger, bright and hot as a supernova bursts in his chest.

“I would do anything to keep them. Anything. I don’t want college or sports or nothing if it means they’d be stuck in some foster home with people who don’t care anything about them.”

“We make sure all our foster parents are vetted very carefully-”

“Yeah, sure,” Darry scoffs, “I know a dozen kids who grew up in the foster system. I’m sure all those bruises were just from kids being kids, especially the handprints. With all due respect, I think you’ve forgotten what part of town you're in. East side kids never end up in the good homes.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Save your apologies,” Darry chokes, ashamed to feel hot tears start to prick his eyes, “it’s clear your mind is made up and ain’t nothing I can do to change it.”

“I promise you, I will help you try and get them back. As soon as you're eighteen.”

“I’ll call you the minute the clock hits midnight on my birthday,” Darry threatens, “see if I won’t.”

“That’s fair,” the social worker smiles but Darry refuses to smile back. He hates her, for all she is trying to be as kind and helpful as she can. She’s going to take his brothers away. To him, she can only ever be a villain, “you guys can stay together here one more night while I sort out placements for Ponyboy and Sodapop. I’ll be back at ten tomorrow morning. Do you want to tell your brothers or should I?”

Well Darry sure as hell isn’t going to break their hearts, and Ms. Summers has done a good enough job already of shattering what remained of his own.

“You do it,” he spits, “I ain’t gonna ruin their lives.”

Her sympathy has run deep enough that pity now reigns on her face and she ignores his attitude, the way she has ignored all his attitude so far. It’s more than he probably deserves. He still hates her for it.

“No,” Soda says before Ms. Summers has even finished explaining, his brown eyes shining with a primal sort of fear that puts another crack in Darry’s already broken heart. Soda was made to be grinning, not meant to ever look so terrified, “no you ain’t puttin’ me in no foster house. Me’n my brothers are stayin’ right here, together, thank you very much.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t asking,” Ms. Summers says, still talking in that infuriatingly gentle tone. 

Soda- easygoing, sweet Sodapop, who called ladies ma’am without fail, who everyone adored- glares at her, backing away the way a cornered animal might.

“I ain’t going! I ain’t! And you ain't taking Pony neither! Darry ain’t gonna let you take us, right Dar?”

He looks at him, brown eyes wide and desperate in his face, and Darry knows things will never be the same after this because it’s his job to protect Soda and Pony, always has been and always will be, and yet right now he is failing to do just that and Soda may never forgive him for it.

“Soda…”

“No!” He’s crying now, tears running freely down his face as he clutches Ponyboy close to his side, arm falling protectively around their baby brother’s tiny shoulders because Pony- whose eyes are the same sort of haunted they’ve been since mom and dad died, and whose face shows nothing but terrified resignation- hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. Because he’s twelve. Only twelve.

“I know this is hard for you” Ms Summers continues, “and I’m going to do my best to make sure you and Ponyboy get placed together, but you can’t stay with Darry right now.”

“Why not? He’s good at bein’ a guardian. Shit, I’ve eaten more vegetables in the last week than I ever did when mom and Dad were alive-

“Because Darry isn’t eighteen.” Ms. Summers cuts him off, “and you need to be at least eighteen for the government to consider granting guardianship.”

“I’m gonna get you back,” Darry promises, ignoring the social worker and instead locking eyes with his brothers, first Soda, then Pony, “I swear it, as soon as I turn eighteen I’m gonna get you back and you can come home and we’ll all be together again. But we gotta behave if I’m gonna have any chance at all, so please stop arguin’. I don’t like this any more than you do but we gotta-” he clears his throat, “we gotta play ball, ok kiddo? We gotta do what we’re told.”

Soda gives the social worker one more murderous glance, but pulls himself together, a mask of eerie calm overtaking his features. “Fine.”

“Ill see you all tomorrow then. I can show myself out.” Ms Summers offers them one last pitying smile as she shuts the door behind her. 

As soon as she’s gone Soda is on top of him, crying so hard he can hardly breathe,. Pony is clutching his other side so hard he might have bruises, and Darry wraps them both in his arms, wishing he could keep them here forever where they would be safe and he could help them relearn how to be happy. It’s somehow the worst and best moment of his life. On the one hand they’re still blissfully here with him. On the other hand, they won’t be for long.

“I’m sorry,” belatedly Darry realizes he’s crying too, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried everything, she wouldn't let me keep you, I tried, I tried.”

Pony just hugs him harder, burying his face in his chest and Soda wails.

Eventually they all stop crying, but the mood in the house is somber. The gang comes around, moods dampening one by one as they hear the news, and Darry makes chocolate cake for dinner since there’s no point in making healthy food if the social workers are taking the boys anyway. In the end it doesn’t matter- none of them have much of an appetite, even for cake.

He walks in on Steve and Soda plotting to run away together before the social worker comes. Talks them out of it by reminding them that he’ll never get guardianship if Soda goes truant while still technically in his care. Eventually, the gang leaves and the it’s the three of them once more, crowded together on the living room couch in an unspoken agreement. None of them want to sleep, unwilling to miss even a second that they have left together.

“Darry?” Pony whispers, his head resting on Darry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bud?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” Darry says, heat clenching, “I’m scared too.”

A few minutes later Pony’s weight drops a little more against him and he starts to snore, out cold. Darry pulls him a little closer, plants a kiss on the top of his wild hair. 

“Soda?” Darry says softly a few minutes later, careful not to wake Pony.

“Hmm,” Soda blinks at him sleepily, “yeah Dar?’

“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” he glances down at Ponyboy’s peaceful face. Asleep like this he looks downright childlike, “and yourself too, savvy? I’m sorry- I’m sorry I can’t do it myself, but you gotta be strong for me, alright? Just for a month or two until I get you back.”

“I promise,” Soda vows, “he’ll be safe with me, I’ll make sure of it. No matter where they put us.”

“I know you will, little buddy.”  Darry sighs. 

Soda sniffs. “I’m really gonna miss you, Dar. it ain’t right, takin’ me from my big brother when we just lost our folks. It ain’t right.”

“I’ll get you back,” Darry promises again, because what else is there to say, really? “I’ll talk to the president himself if I have to but I swear I’ll get you back.”

“I know you will,” Soda tells him, eyes shining. 

They don’t talk for the rest of the night.

The morning dawns with a sunrise that mocks them with it’s beauty and a buttery sunshine that illuminates the sorrow on all their faces when Mrs. Summers shows up and they all have to say goodbye. The gangs around, everyone but Dallas who got jailed two days ago, and Pony and Soda take their time with their goodbyes. When Soda reaches Darry, he hugs him tight for a second, and gets chocked up trying to say something three times before he gives up. Pony hugs Darry with a strength he rarely sees from the kid, and Darry tells him over and over that he loves him because when things get tough that’s the sort of thing Ponyboy forgets.

Then they leave, Mrs. Summers' blue Toyota rounding the corner, and a big part of Darry’s heart goes with them.

He goes back inside. Steve and Two-bit both follow him, casting him concerned looks, but he can’t deal with their worry right now. He has twenty eight days before his birthday to compile an airtight case as to why he’s the perfect guardian for a teenager and a preteen boy, and three job offers on his desk that can make that case a lot more airtight than it currently is.

It’s time to get to work.

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Two Peas In A Pod

—A blessing... or a calamity in disguise?

Fandom: Blue Lock

Pairing: Nagi X Fem!Reader

Genre: Crack, Humor, Horror

Format: Short fic

Warnings: Breast feeding, Jealousy, Probably ooc!Nagi

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: Idk I just thought this would fit him lol. Might remind you of boss baby.

There are moments in life which can never be forgotten. Long awaited moments that leave a sweet velvety taste in your mouth and get engraved on your memory,

Moments like this.

Nagi is in hospital, standing next to the delivery room with his infant in his arms. He's wearing the most genuine smile he could ever wear, staring at his baby boy's angelic face. The baby has the tiniest hands ever that would get lost in his if he were to hold them, and the cutest chubby feet ever. He could just eat them right away.

"Wow Nagi, he looks just like you!" Reo says, smiling at the sight while snapping a picture. "You two are like two peas in the pod, except that his hair isn't long enough to be as messy as yours"

"I know. I did hope he'd take after y/n, but he's still cute"

Your husband looks so grown up like this with a baby in his hands. That's what makes Reo to snap another picture, this time in full frame of both Nagi and the baby. His smile is as soft as when he watched him saying his vow to you, and he can't help but to feel happy for his best friend.

"I'm gonna go get a cup of coffee and call Isagi and others. They've been waiting for the news"

"Ok"

Nagi's gaze doesn't leave the baby's face to follow Reo's footsteps walking away. He persistently stares at the baby's closed eyelids, wondering if they're hazel colored like his, or have the color of your eyes. Maybe it's a mixture of both, he thinks, if it's possible. He doesn't have to wait for long to find out though, because suddenly, the baby's eyelids start shuddering and in less than a second, they're wide open, displaying the warm chocolate brown color of his eye balls.

Every inch of his figure resembles his father. Even the look in his eyes is curious, just like Nagi's is right now.

"Welcome home, little thing. We're gonna have so much fun together, me and you"

…

"I don't think that's gonna happen"

Nagi doesn't know whether he should believe his ears, or his eyes. A talking baby? That's a miracle! Babies don't start talking until they're two years old, but this one in his arms was definitely the one talking a little while before, since his intense stare is piercing through Nagi's heart.

I must have very strong genes.

"What do you mean, that's not gonna happen?"

"Oh sorry, I guess I wasn't being clear on the matter" The baby speaks in a semi-grown up voice. "I meant that, you won't be having much fun from now on"

"How come?"

The baby's innocent expression is all gone. Now there's a straight yet devilish look on his face which Nagi doesn't find charming. "I thought you would already figure out that much, but I guess I was wrong. Heh...what a pain"

"Stop giving me that shit and tell me already"

"You don't care much for sharing; do you, my dear father?"

Oh.

Nagi doesn't like where this is going. He feels an unwelcoming sense of threat in his heart.

"So what? Are you saying you're gonna steal y/n from me?"

"No..."

The grin on the baby's face isn't casual. All of a sudden, Nagi doesn't find a single thing resembling him. The baby looks more like... Light Yagami from death note, the blond version.

"...I'm saying that I already have"

This can't be happening.

"Tough luck. You'll never be able to split us off. Y/n's love for me is boundless. I'm her one and only"

"You were her one and only" His gums are visible through his demonic smirk. "Now that I'm here, you won't get a quarter of the attention you used to receive. From now on, I'll be the one who sleeps in her arms at— well all the time. She'll always be near me, looking after me since I'm just a fragile little thing. The time she used to spend alone with you is gonna be limited to less than ten minutes, and your share of affection will also be mine. Even if you two do get the time to be alone with each other, she'll be too exhausted to even look at your face. She wouldn't miss it, since she gets to be with me all the time"

The world comes crashing down on the white haired man. Through his storming mind, he can see himself curled up under the strangely ice cold blanket while staring at you frustratingly, asking you to get in the bed with him already. But standing on the other side of the room, it feels like you're a thousand miles away, voice barely making its way to his hear yet so destructively striking him, saying you have to put the baby to sleep first. Even after doing that, you're so tired that you pass out on the bed before Nagi can even lay a finger on you.

"Not only that, I'm gonna take away all the other things you enjoy as well"

Another illusion appears before his eyes, only this time he's sitting on the couch, and you're standing in front of him, wearing a somewhat annoyed expression.

"I'm sorry Sei, but we can't afford to buy more video games anymore. We have to start saving up for Light's college"

No.... that can't be real. He can't give up on his video games for a serial killer's his child's future. That's absurd. You're not expecting him to do that, are you? You know how video games are important to him.

"Just you wait my stupid father, I will take everything you cherish in your life, and it starts from this very moment, with your most loved one"

His most... loved one?

Just as he's about to ask the little demon about his intention, the door to the room opens and a nurse comes out. "Alright! It's the baby's lunch time"

No. Not that.

"His lunch time? You mean, y/n's gonna feed her...?"

Nagi's voice is shivery, like he didn't know about how the babies drink milk. The nurse is a little taken aback by that, but still keeps her smile on.

"Yes sir, he needs to be fed right now, so if I may..." She reaches out to take the baby from his embrace, but fails when Nagi steps back.

"You... can't do that. I mean, this baby looks like he should drink formula milk instead of breast milk. It'll be better for him"

"The hell are you talking about, Nagi? Let the nurse take him to y/n" Reo suddenly appears next to him, giving him a questioning look.

"No— You don't understand— I—"

"What's up with you man? Here, ma'am; take the little thing to his mommy"

Nagi feels all the misery existing in the world raining on him as he watches the nurse take the infant to you. Reo looks away when you pull up your hospital gown to reveal the enchanting sight of your breast that are bigger than usual and are full of milk, all ready to be devoured in the baby devil's throat. This is it. The beginning of his torment, the sight of his most comforting treasure being possessed by another person, shattering his heart into a zillion pieces.

"No..."

The baby squeezes your right nipple with his hand, letting out a small whine.

"Stop it... No..."

You softly caress his cheek and baby talk him to enjoy his meal.

Why can't all of you people see his devilish smirk?

"No..."

The baby looks at him from the corner of his eyes. He's taking his most special thing, his stress balls, his warm pillows he snuggles his face into at nights, his soft squishies he plays with whenever he's bored, his delicious jello balls he sucks on to help him go to sleep...

"No... No... No..."

You hold your left boob and snuggle him closer to help him drink, and he helps himself out, by brutally taking it into his mouth.

It happens.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Then Nagi wakes up from his sleep.

Through his blurry vision, he recognizes his room in the middle of the night, and of course, your kind hand on his shoulder.

"Sei? Are you ok sweetheart?"

Nagi keeps panting. He hurriedly looks around the room to see any sign of the baby, but thankfully, he finds nothing. He can't ignore the cute bump of your belly under your oversized T-shirt though.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If the baby looks like me we'll give it away"

"Excuse me??!"

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