#every cell in my brain has been taken over by them

[yeagrave]

cute💭

[hellsslibrary]

there is literally not a single thought in my head other than wanting to spoil reo or isagi ROTTEN in bed. they’re just so sweet taking care of everyone around them and now it’s their turn to be taken care of. i just need to praise and shower them in love.

The sweetest things in the world deserve the most mind-blowing pleasure and comfort.

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : they really deserve it, right!! Isagi after the last chapters of the manga especially... My poor boys :(

!!Warnings: top!SOFTdom!male!reader, pillow princesses!Reo and Isagi, praise (very much), fingering, anal sex, protected(!) sex, nipples play, Reo has a boobs(idk, I just want to squeeze his pecs), crying, many kisses, pretty wholesome.

Isagi Yoichi.

"Hey? How are you feeling, baby? Is everything okay, hmm?" your voice is gently carried over his ear, to which he can only nod and mumble something unintelligible. "Come on, say something."

Isagi swallows dryly, looking at you with eyes clouded by lust, love, and the sensations of the previous two orgasms, and barely whispers: "Ye-yes, [Your name], just fine... Although... A l-little slower?"

Your thrusts become slower on an almost instinctive level, but they remain just as deep to make sure that you constantly hit the sweet spot that your sweet boy NEEDS.

Until his brain melts, until he forgets all the players on his and someone else's team, until he forgets why he was mad at them... Until the very word football disappears from his brain.

"Great, baby, whatever you say. Anything else?" he just whimpered at your question, trying to get his brain to work for at least five seconds by grabbing the sheets next to his head while he looked at you with teary eyes.

"...Hug?" Yoichi practically hisses, coughing a couple of times, your thrusts immediately slow down, which is why he closes his eyes, opening them only when he feels a drop of water on his lips.

"Drink it, honey, come on," you gently press the neck of the open bottle against his lips and he greedily gulps down the cool liquid until you remove the half-empty bottle from his lips.

You kiss him on the cheek, leaning over his body. Your chest is pressed against his chest, and his arms immediately wrap around your shoulders, squeezing you. You resume your thrusts, lifting his hips slightly to increase the angle of the thrusts.

You can hear him sobbing into your hair, moaning with every thrust, while you kiss his neck and chin, leaving hickeys there from time to time. The way his tears run down your hair. The way his fingers dig into your back, even though your thrusts aren't that hard. The way his cock twitches against your stomach.

You feel every cell. Every dangerously pressed part of his body against your own. Even the way his heart beats, which is exactly like your own rhythm.

"Fuck, so tight... Such a good boy, you take me so well. Do you think you can cum again?"

Isagi hardly hears your words, he just feels with his being that this is something pleasant and his cheeks turn even more red as he tries to figure out if his body can take more.

"Yeah..?"

He mutters, biting his lower lip, not sure if he can. But at least he'll try, for your sake. Although in this situation, you obviously won't be satisfied with such a sacrifice.

"Are you sure? I don't want to overexcite you, honey," your lips touch his lips to stop him from gnawing on his bottom one.

His hips immediately move up, and his hands tangle in your hair as he responds to a slow, almost savoring kiss from your side. The beautiful blue eyes close and a couple more tears flow out of them.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure... Just don't stop, please?" he chirps between kisses, biting your tongue in the process, which makes you pull away, looking at his sweetest face, and then wiping the tears from his eyes.

If he wants something, he'll get it.

Reo Mikage.

"Please, please, m-my love... Please," Reo bubbles, tilting his head back while he sat on your lap.

All you've been doing for the last fifteen minutes is finger him, and your mouth is literally glued to his nipple, as it seemed to Reo. Your hand felt his chest, as if he had tits, as if there was something to knead except muscles, although you didn't really care.

"Relax, I want you to completely relax," you whisper as your tongue runs over his nipple, and with the tip you deliberately press on the hollow in his nipple, forcing him to squeeze your thighs harder.

"I would have relaxed faster if you hadn't been pretending to be a newborn," Reo chuckles softly, biting his lips with the pleasure of your long fingers inside him, moving so smoothly and precisely where he needs them.

You just smile back, moving to the other nipple, which makes Reo moan, arching his back, and one of his hands gets tangled in your hair.

You can feel his hips moving slightly on your lap, trying to make your thrusts with your fingers even deeper, while his mouth opens in quiet, almost inaudible moans and rare praises from his lips to motivate you to continue.

"The main thing is that you feel good. What difference does it make how I behave? You like it," he just smiles at these words, but nods convulsively when your fingers poke exactly the spongy point that he needs.

"That's right... So just keep going, yeah?" Reo exhales, pushing his head back, and then shudders slightly as he feels you lowering him onto the bed, hovering over him in the same position.

His fingers grab your shoulders, trying to hold you in place, on his chest, not that you're going to run away, of course. His hips lazily moved to the beat of your fingers, trying to push them even deeper, although doing nothing to do so.

Your free hand squeezed one of his pecs, massaging that hard but pleasant muscle, stroking the pink, hard bump on it with the tip of your tongue, causing his purple eyes to close, fluttering.

His sweet sounds echoed throughout the room as his body lay flat on the soft pillows, allowing you to do whatever you want for his own pleasure. Reo wanted to cry just from the thought that you were completely focused on his pleasure, even if it didn't look like it considering how hard you were sucking on his chest.

But it warmed him up like hell, and he did... He wanted the same thing.

"Can I do something for you too? I'm embarrassed that you're aroused without any friction," Reo asks, kissing the top of your head, making you finally pull away from his nipple, which makes him sigh softly as the cold hits his wet nipple.

"Stay down, Mr. Mikage. Relax, stop thinking about your humble servant," you smirk, kissing his fingers on your face, and then bending down and kissing him, causing his body to melt instantly.

Although he immediately twitched when he felt a third finger enter him and he hit you on the shoulder, throwing his head back with a loud half moan, half sob.

"Warn me next time..." Reo whispers, frowning, even though she doesn't do anything to stop you.

He just lies there relaxed, letting all thoughts disappear from his pretty little head, watching as your mouth cups his nipple again and just sighs contentedly.

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: Non-consensual, Intox (aphrodisiac), Mind breaking.

Two years. Two fucking years of work down the drain. The worst two years of her life, working towards a goal she knows she’ll never see, and all because someone up the chain of command got bribed or threatened or who knows what else. What matters is someone fucking sold her out and now she’s bound up, staring at the gang of absolute sadistic freaks she has pushed herself so hard to infiltrate. 

Shit, the things she has done to be accepted as one of them! Well, “one of them” is stretching it. More like a trusted groupie, she figures. The amount of “slutty, fiery latina” acting she has been forced to do almost makes her throw up. It’s a stereotype and a racist one at that but damn it if these dumb motherfuckers raised by porn didn’t appreciate it, in a sick way. And all of it for a goddamn rumor.

They have this new shit, this kinda spray thing, makes any girl wanna fuck you like crazy… True Love, they call it.

Yeah, right. But still, the chance that such a drug could exist and flow through the streets, paired with some rather bizarre incidents of victims fighting to remain by their captor’s side… it was enough to try and get someone on the inside. And she’s ambitious, young, and most importantly, with the proper… attributes to play the gang-doll. Even now she almost wants to chuckle at the memory of the chief trying to explain that part, fighting so hard not to mention her ass. She’s not dumb. Wasn’t then, isn’t now. Without what she, modesty aside, considers the most spectacular ass in the city, the gang would have never even taken a second look at her. And she wouldn’t be here, now, tied up. 

Fuck. She realizes her mind is rambling, going on tangents, trying to escape the simple reality of the situation. She can’t move, and seven men are looking at her like she’s dessert, discussing exactly what to do to her. 

“Maybe we should use it, you know” one says.

She thinks she’s “it”, for a moment. She realizes she’s wrong as Karl, who has more muscles than brain cells and yet for some reason always calls the shots, removes one of the floorboards. Fuck! She has been in this warehouse dozens of times, looked everyone for evidence of the supposed magic drug, and has always come up snake-eyes. And it’s right fucking there, under the goddamn floor. What the fuck is it, the 1950’s? She’s tried every phone, installed keyloggers on laptops, learned every password- in her head, there had to be some clever operation at work, some devious method to keep such a huge deal secret. Nope. It’s under the fucking floor. She wants to tell them to untie her, just so she can kick her own ass. 

They laugh as they get naked, and a wave of shame crashes over her. She realizes she has seen all of these bodies before, and it makes her sick to her stomach. Sure, men get talkative when bragging and trying to get someone into bed. And men lower their guards after they bust a load- that is, if they don’t just roll over and fall asleep instantly. She has used that, over and over, to get information, to get chances to snoop.

Did she have to, though? That question has haunted her, and now it seems to grow solid, like a rock in her chest. Did she truly have to play up all those stereotypes to become some fucked up fantasy of whatever a hot latina is supposed to be? Did she have to buy all those booty shorts, those cheap jewels, those slutty heels? 

And didn’t a part of her enjoy the attention?

Fuck. Chances are she’ll die here, and she doesn’t want to die a delusional bitch. Yes, fine, being the center of attention felt nice. But the sex? No. That was awful. Pretending to be attracted to these meatheads, doing anything they wanted just so her reputation as a grade-A piece of ass would spread, faking orgasms…

Bull and shit. You’re dying here, Mariana. Stop lying to yourself. You didn’t fake all of them.

She’s yanked away from her little spiral of shame by the loud hiss of spray being applied. They’re passing a little can around, coating their cocks with… 

No. It can’t be real. It just can’t. There is no magic spray. It can’t possibly work. Sure, these idiots might think it does, but in reality, no, True Love isn’t a thing.

The images flow into one another like photographs. She knows, rationally, what is happening. A knife is cutting her bindings as two sets of hands are holding her arms. Her shorts are being sliced, ripped off her. Her legs are being held wide open for Meathead Karl. She files these things in her mind, and feels nothing. She’s there, but she’s not really there. Ah, yes. Dissociation as a defense mechanism for trauma. Mariana has read about it, and now feels mildly fascinated by the experience. 

The pain drags her back to reality. Her instincts kick in, and she braces for the suffering that is to come after that initial opening salvo. She grits her teeth, and…

The pain doesn’t come. She hears laughter as her eyes grow wide, a horrible realization dawning on her. The feeling between her legs is a warm thing, a pleasant thing, slithering up her body, unlike anything she has ever felt before. 

“Starting to hit you, Officer? Oh, this is just beginning”, someone says, his voice coming to her as if from a million miles away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It’s real. Fucking True Love is real. Her mind reels, the interviews with previous victims rushing in her memories. The way they spoke about their abusers as if they were Gods. The way they defended them. The way they longed for them, like junkies going into withdrawal. She can’t become like them. She can’t lose herself like that. She can’t…

She can’t focus. Her mind is getting fuzzy as the delicious sensation reaches her nipples. Every inch of her skin feels sensitive, overwhelming. A pussy. My whole body is one giant pussy. She has no idea where the thought comes from, but it grows inside her as she squirms and little moans escape her lips. No. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t moan. Don’t move.

“Oh, now you’re getting it. Don’t worry. It will get much, much worse”

Whose voice speaks? She can’t tell. She finds it harder and harder to care. Suddenly, her body betrays her as her hips start moving on their own, seeking pleasure, trying to coax the cock inside her deeper…

She feels on fire. She hates herself, hates how good every thrust feels, how much she needs more and more and more. Thoughts flood her, like a strange invasion taking over her mind. Cock. Cock feels good. Cock feels so fucking good. This is good. This is perfect. This is exactly what I should do. This is all I want. This is all I have ever wanted. Her mission starts to fade away. She can barely recall why she ended up being fucked like a good girl by this marvelous cock, and it feels so unimportant, so insignificant. Only the pleasure matters. She needs more. Her eyes cast around her. Cocks. Big, hard cocks, stiff for her. She starts drooling. The men laugh. She doesn’t care. There are hard cocks near her. Why aren’t they using her?

No. Snap back, Mariana. This isn’t you.

Why not?

Isn’t this better than whatever she was before?

One of the men lowered his body, his cock inches away from her face. She needs to taste it. She needs to wrap her tongue around it. She needs to worship it, body and soul.

“Oh, poor slut wants it?”

She’s not sure she understands the words. But she does understand, with a frenzied animal cunning, the desire behind them. They want her to beg. Some distant remain of sanity is pleading with her not to give in, not to surrender her voice, to keep some small part of her true self. It screams in vain.

“Please… give… cock…” she manages to mumble between moans.

“No. Not yet. You see, officer, your mind might be going, but your body is learning very fast. It’s so open now… And we intend to keep you around for a long time. No quick sell for you. So we need to… train you a bit”

Mariana knows the man is talking. The words don’t reach her until he starts playing with her nipples, and a single word takes over her entire existence.

“Cum”

She shakes. She screams. Her entire body is reduced to a single, shining sensation of absolute pleasure. She can feel something inside her breaking, giving in. She pants and a part of her expects the sensations to subside, but they don’t. If anything, the constant pleasure grows, leaving her right at the gates of another orgasm. She tries to grind, to move, to use the cock inside her to cum again…

“Not without permission, toy”, someone says. She almost manages to squeak out a complaint, but the stimulus is too strong. All she can do is squeal and moan.

The world swirls around her, colors heightened, bleeding into each other. She never wants to go back to the gray, solid, difficult past. She wants to stay here, be this- be pleasure.

“Cum”

Yes. She cums, and nothing else matters. This is all she needs. All she exists for. Her eyes are unfocused, her mouth hanging open. She feels the cock touch her lips before she even consciously sees it. The imperative is immediate. Suck. Lick. Take it deep in your throat. Use your tongue, pressure with your lips, the vibrations of your moaning. Use everything you are to please cock. 

“Cum”

Every time it gets stronger, going beyond whatever she ever thought possible. No mind can hope to withstand such a tidal wave of pleasure. As soon as she realizes they’re starting to move her, she hops up. The men don’t have to tell her what they want from her. She wants the same thing. She’s just holes. Holes need to be filled with cock. She impales herself on Karl’s dick and leans forward, letting him suck on her sensitive nipples, leaving her asshole ready, eager. She’s presenting herself like an animal in heat, and she’s loving every second of it. She’ll do anything to keep feeling like this, forever.

“Ass…” she manages to say.

“Not good enough, cunt. Come on, you can use your words better than that”

Words. Words for cock. Words to make cock happy. They own her words. They own her mind. They own her body.

“Please… use my ass… fuck my tight little hole… ram it hard! Wreck it! I need it so bad, need it so bad, need you to take me, take my ass, make me cum, never let me go, please please please…”

Even the pain feels good. Everything feels good. Humiliation feels good. Their mockery feels good. Their spit on her skin feels good. Obeying feels good.

One cock in her ass, using it with no care for her or any pain it might cause. One in her wet cunt, driving her mad. One in her mouth, using her like a breathing fleshlight. One in each hand, the promise of cum to come. This is it. This is bliss. This is heaven. This is all any woman could ever desire. This is home. 

“Such a good fucktoy…”, one mutters, trying to hold back his own orgasm.

The word infects her. Fucktoy. It starts overwriting everything inside her. Fucktoy. Her police training crumbles in her memory. Fucktoy. Her memories of her family fade away, forever. Fucktoy. Her hatred for cruel men vanishes. Fucktoy. Fucktoy. Fucktoy. It is all she is. All she has ever been. All she ever wanted to be. She’s mumbling it in between taking cock in her mouth. It rises like a gigantic obelisk in her mind, ruling over her, conquering all.

Fucktoy.

“Cum. Cum. Cum.”

Wave after wave of pleasure overtake her, crashing into each other, blasting away all that was and all that could ever be.

By the time she gets back something resembling consciousness, warm cum is coating her skin. She can feel the wonderful jizz inside her holes, taste it on her tongue still. She must have swallowed it. Like a good fucktoy. She feels so proud, so valuable, so beautiful. She made cocks cum. She was good. She was useful.

“Officer, remind me… what were you looking for?”

She looks at the man like a confused puppy.

“Cock?”

“I see. And what’s your name?”

She straightens up, full of pride. This one she knows.

“Fucktoy!”, she smiles.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work and get access to the full library at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[kiyomitakada]

Light Yagami is compliant the entire first day they're handcuffed together.

Almost too compliant. L is not ruling out the possibility he'll strangle L in his sleep, hence why, as he shuts the hotel room door behind them, L silently decides he'll use his Whale Sleeping Method (standing up while shutting down alternate halves of his brain) tonight. Unfortunately he isn't quite as good as a whale is yet, but he presumes he'll at least notice Light's hand wrapped around his neck.

"Ryuzaki," Light says on cue, "why is there only one bed."

"That's because only you'll be sleeping," L says. "I am patenting my Whale Sleeping Method."

"The what — actually, I don't want to know." Light digs one thumb into his temple. "You're going to be watching me while I sleep, aren't you."

"Yes," L confirms.

"Right." Light sighs. "I'm sorry, but if you're expecting anything, you'll be disappo…"

He trails off.

L frowns and glances over. "Light-kun?"

"Ryuzaki," Light says extremely evenly, not looking at him: "what's today's date?"

"July 23rd, 2004," L informs him easily.

"July," Light mutters to himself. "J—fuck."

"What is it?" L asks, even as Light tugs him over to the bed in silence and sits with a thump.

"My father was in prison too," he says abruptly. "He said so."

"Yes." L is becoming a little annoyed, and more than a little intrigued. This version of Light Yagami — because he does seem to be a different version — is off in a million ways. He seems truer, more anchored in reality somehow, and yet the workings of his mind are more opaque than ever.

His fingers, L notices, are trembling.

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did he go into imprisonment?"

"June first," L says, then — noticing Light's lost expression — "The same day as you."

"I have to go," Light says.

"The bathroom is five meters away from you."

"No, I have to go home. Sayu—"

Light stops. He shuts his mouth with a clack.

"Your younger sister?" What does Sayu Yagami have to do with anything? L could count on one hand the number of times Light has brought her up voluntarily. Is she a pawn? An accomplice?

"I need to go home," Light repeats, still not looking at him.

Instead of answering, L taps his nails against the chain between them. It rings metallically. Light drops his face into his hands.

L presses one finger into the corner of his mouth. Light is concerned about: the current date, his father's date of imprisonment, his sister. L flips through files in his head. Sayu Yagami, student, blood type O—

Ah.

"June eighteenth," L says. "Her birthday."

"I was supposed to take her to a concert," Light mumbles.

"Rather noble of you."

Light glares at him. L is almost taken aback by the genuine venom in it; it lasts for half a second before Light blinks and looks away again. "Mom wouldn't let her go. She'd been to one in March already. We were going to sneak out."

L studies him. This eighteen-year-old boy with every bone in his body calculated to align in only the most disarming of poses, now slumped inelegantly on the edge of a hotel bed. L had always wanted to see how Kira killed; had always wanted to see how Light Yagami's face, that confident and smiling mask, would split to reveal the ugly breathtaking truth of his cruelty.

That's the reason for all of this, isn't it? He wants to see Light honest.

And this — is honesty. Just not where L had expected it.

"Your father was allowed communication in his cell," L informs him. "I am sure he wished her a happy birthday on your behalf."

Light's mouth twists. "She thinks I ran off with Misa."

"Yes," L says. "You came up with the cover story yourself."

"There was something wrong with me then," Light mutters, but without any of his usual conviction. "Give me a phone. She deserves to hear from me."

"I can't do that," L lies.

"You can look at the goddamn texts when I send them, okay? Run it through all the detectors you want, I just — want to talk to her."

L allows himself to stare. Light looks back at him, unflinching. His hand twitches at his side, the same way it had when he'd screamed at L in the hospital when he'd accused Sayu Yagami of fitting Light's profile.

Hm. A hypothesis; an experiment. "One text."

"Fine," Light says too-quickly, and L hands him a burner.

[ @deathnotetober day 4: family ]

[coff33andb00ks]

20 Oscar

20: pressing the other’s hand against their cheek

warnings: author doesn't understand the meaning of the word "short" and (badly written) descriptions of a wreck during a race (no injuries)

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

Piastri just doesn't give a fuck.

Oscar is just too chill.

Does he ever show emotion except when he's laughing at Lando?

You try to stay out of comments. Hell, you try to stay off social media, it's nothing but a cesspool of people with too much time on their hands and not enough brain cells to comprehend more than the surface level of what they're shown. But sometimes you like it, because there are creative people who put out beautifully edited videos of your boyfriend. Sometimes you show them to him, enjoying his giggling while he watches and shakes his head over someone finding him attractive enough to warrant a thirty second video set to a Rihanna song.

But the comments about his emotionless black cat behavior hurt. He's so much more than how he portrays himself. He's vibrant and so full of life, and you will forever appreciate the people who see beyond his social anxiety and notice his amazing sense of humor, his passion for racing and life. They'll never know the real him and will probably never understand why you fell in love with him.

Him. The sweet and shy guy who'd come to your defense when a rude customer had been berating you over a wrong order. His voice had cut over her yelling, calm and measured, and after your manager had kicked out the irrationally angry woman it had been Oscar that had approached you to check on you, frowning when he saw your tears. His gentle tone had calmed you, his respectful stance had won your admiration, and his calling the woman a fucking cunt had made you smile.

You wish you could defend him as he continues to defend you. When a video questioning how a nobody like you had bagged a formula one rookie had gone somewhat viral he'd taken to twitter and unleashed such a beautifully worded rant that people were still quoting it more than a year later.

It's come to my attention that some so-called fans are referring to my girlfriend as a nobody. Allow me to introduce her to you. She's funny, she's brilliant, she's beautiful. She's every word you can think of to describe the perfect person and she's so much more. She shines light in the darkest corners of my soul. Her eyes are a map of my universe. When you look at us together, know that I am constantly trying to be worthy of the love she gives me, and know that if you speak ill of her you will never have my respect but you will have my disgust.

You would never ever doubt his love for you. Not that you ever had but that had cemented it. You could never come to his defense in such a way. If you even tried you'd be sneered at for being a try hard.

And really, you didn't need to. Because the one thing Oscar did not give a fuck about was anyone's opinion. Only a handful of people mattered enough to him for him to care what they thought. You were blessed to be included on that list.

You love him so much that for a while it scared you, having never fallen into the this one person is my moon and stars mindset. But now you understand. He didn't just hang them, he is your moon and stars. Your one and only and if for some reason this doesn't end in forever you'll be ruined for any other man.

It was still a shock, though, when you felt your heart stop beating as you watched his car careen towards the barrier. The front wing clipped Max's rear tire and you can't breathe, watching in slow motion as the brightly colored car tips and lifts into the air. There is nothing but absolute silence around you in the McLaren garage and you're frozen, staring at the monitor while his car flips and rolls, carbon fiber flying in every direction when it lands upside down, his helmet just visible as it slides to a stop at the safety fence.

Silence. Then pandemonium. Your world has just flipped and spun and you can't breathe, ears straining to hear him but you can only hear the crackle of the radio when Zak and Tom try to get him to respond.

Then, finally, his voice. Shaken and scared. "Are they okay? Please tell me they're okay."

Of course he'd ask after the others involved. You can finally breathe but it hurts, not knowing that he's okay. And you can't do anything but wait, heart barely beating until he's finally out, he's moving, he's giving the fans a thumbs up as he's put on the stretcher. You still can't do a thing and you've never felt more useless than you do while you're waiting just inside the medical center with Zak and Lando, who'd come to wait during the red flag.

Then the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

"He's okay."

There's more after that, about him being transported to the local hospital for a complete check, the possibility of a concussion but he's okay. And you're allowed to go see him while the ambulance is readied.

He's sitting up, looking a little pale but he's not hurt, he's in one piece, and when he sees you he gasps. You try to be gentle when you embrace him, but he steals your breath, holding you so tightly it hurts, his face pressed into your neck.

"They won't tell me - are Max and George okay?" His voice is strained and you feel his tears.

"They're fine, my love," you promise.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know what I did. I was going good and then I was upside down." His voice shakes and cracks and he's trembling, one hand fisting in your shirt. You reach for the other.

"Shh shh... It's okay my love," you whisper, your tears finally spilling when he guides your hand up, holding it to his cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. "Everyone's okay, you're okay."

His eyes meet yours and your world rights itself.

[callme-holly]

What about a romantic hurt comfort with dally and the bear hug prompt!!

Like the (gender neutral?) reader got caught up in a rumble and got a bit roughed up, and Dallas wants to be comforting but he doesn't know how/doesn't like being soft and so bear hug :((

Idk

I'm not sure how to explain what's going through my singular brain cell

redamancy

[dallas winston x reader]

summary: dallas doesn't know how to be comforting, but that's okay bc he's got you by his side warnings: none word count: 670 words a/n: thanks for the request!!

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

You look up at the boy standing in front of you, a small huff escaping your lips at his words as you lean back against the bathroom mirror. The dim glow of the light casts shadows across his face, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and irritation as he turns to rummage through the counter drawer, scraping together what little first-aid supplies he has. 

Blood trickles from a deep cut on the side of your cheek, but it doesn't bother you as much as it could, considering the sharp pain shooting down your side, most likely from the boot that had been slammed into your ribs, undoubtedly bruising them in the process. You’d taken some hits before, sure, but never anything quite like this. 

“You’re acting like you’re not hurt either,” you point out, raising a brow at the sight of his busted knuckles and bruised jaw. There’s blood, dark and crimson, staining the front of his shirt, but whether it’s his or not is debatable. “Quit worrying about me so much.” 

Dallas pauses for only a moment, his hand moving towards the box of bandages, before stopping himself once more and shaking his head firmly.

“Just hold still.” 

You can tell he’s trying his hardest to be comforting, to show that he does care about you beneath the tough façade he puts on around everyone, but there’s still a hesitant edge to his tone, almost as though he doesn’t quite know what he's doing. 

You can’t help but smile softly, just enough to catch Dallas’ attention, and he turns to you once more, frowning deeply. 

“What’s so funny, huh?” 

You shake your head, leaning forward as you reach up to push a stray strand of hair from his eyes, ignoring the way your ribs throb at the movement. 

“It’s nothing,” you assure him quietly, your fingers brushing against one of the bruises decorating his right cheek, causing him to wince slightly. His hand comes up to grab at your wrist, holding you back when you try to press further. 

“Let me see it, at least,” you insist, though you don’t sound half as firm as you’d like, your resolve slipping when you see the look in his eyes. 

You’ve seen that look at least once before—the look of someone who wants nothing more than to provide comfort and be a shoulder to lean on but is just too afraid of letting their emotions show, too afraid to be vulnerable in front of others. Dallas is scared, understandably so, because despite everything, he’s still just a kid. 

You drop your hand with a sigh, watching him for a moment before holding out your arms. 

“C’mere,” you whisper, your tone impossibly soft and gentle, coaxing him towards you. 

Dallas complies with a soft huff, stepping towards you and wrapping you up in a tight hug, one that tells you more than words ever could. You can feel the tension drain from his shoulders, the tightness in his muscles slowly dissipating with every second that passes, his hands coming to rest lightly on your hips while you drape your arms around his neck. 

He leans down slightly, resting his forehead against yours as you tilt your head to one side, running your thumb along the curve of his cheekbone, careful to avoid any of the bruises and scrapes. 

Dallas’ eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out as he stands between your legs, his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, his fingertips gliding gently over the skin of your hip bone.

Neither of you speak, neither of you have to, simply content existing with each other, Dallas looking down at you as though you hung the stars in the sky above. As if you were all that existed in the world. 

He presses his lips against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss on the spot where you're injured, which he knows will bruise tomorrow... but not tonight.

[scientia-rex]

Because my most popular post is about weight loss and how it's a crock, I get a lot of questions about various things, including bariatric surgery--just posted the link to the post I did about that--but also Ozempic/Wegovy, the once-weekly injectable semaglutide medication that was developed for diabetes but was found to have independent benefits on weight loss.

I always said that weight loss was like Viagra: when a medication came along that actually worked, it would explode. We'd all hear about it. Fen-phen in the 90s worked, but it was bad for your heart. Stimulants, like meth, may cause weight loss, but they do it at the cost of heart health, and raise your likelihood of dying young. Over the counter weight loss supplements often contain illegal and unlisted thyroid hormone, which is also dangerous for the heart if taken in the absence of a real deficiency. Orlistat, or "Alli," works the same way as the Olestra chips Lays made in the 1990s--it shuts off your ability to digest fats, and the problem with that is that fats irritate the gut, so then you end up with fatty diarrhea and probably sharts. Plus Alli only leads to 8-10lbs of weight loss in the best case scenario, and most people are not willing to endure sharts for the sake of 8lbs.

And then came the GLP-1 agonists. GLP stands for glucagon-like peptide. Your body uses insulin to make cells uptake sugar. You can't just have free-floating sugar and use it, it has to go into the cells to be used. So if your body sucks at moving sugar into the cells, you end up with a bunch of glucose hanging out in places where it shouldn't be, depositing on small vessels, damaging nerves and your retinas and kidneys and everywhere else that has a whole lot of sensitive small blood vessels, like your brain.

Glucagon makes your liver break down stored sugars and release them. You can think of it as part of insulin's supporting cast. If your body needs sugar and you aren't eating it, you aren't going to die of hypoglycemia, unless you've got some rare genetic conditions--your liver is going to go, whoops, here you go! and cough it up.

But glucagon-like peptide doesn't act quite the same way. What glucagon-like peptide does is actually stimulating your body to release insulin. It inhibits glucagon secretion. It says, we're okay, we're full, we just ate, we don't need more glucagon right now.

This has been enough for many people to both improve blood sugar and cause weight loss. Some patients find they think about food less, which can be a blessing if you have an abnormally active hunger drive, or if you have or had an eating disorder.

However, every patient I've started on semaglutide in any form (Ozempic, Wegovy, or Rybelsus) has had nausea to start with, probably because it slows the rate of stomach emptying. And that nausea sometimes improves, and sometimes it doesn't. There's some reports out now of possible gastroparesis associated with it, which is where the stomach just stops contracting in a way that lets it empty normally into the small intestine. That may not sound like a big deal, but it's a lifelong ticket to abdominal pain and nausea and vomiting, and we are not good at treating it. We're talking Reglan, a sedating anti-nausea but pro-motility agent, which makes many of my patients too sleepy to function, or a gastric pacemaker, which is a relatively new surgery. You can also try a macrolide antibiotic, like erythromycin, but I have had almost no success in getting insurance to cover those and also they have their own significant side effects.

Rapid weight loss from any cause, whether illness, medication, or surgery, comes with problems. Your skin is not able to contract quickly. It probably will, over long periods of time, but "Ozempic face" and "Ozempic butt" are not what people who want to lose weight are looking for. Your vision of your ideal body does not include loose, excess skin.

The data are also pretty clear that you can't "kick start" weight loss with Ozempic and then maintain it with behavioral mechanisms. If you want to maintain the weight loss, you need to stay on the medication. A dose that is high enough to cause weight loss is significantly higher than the minimum dose where we see improvements in blood sugar, and with a higher dose comes higher risk of side effects.

I would wait on semaglutide. I would wait because it's been out for a couple of years now but with the current explosion in popularity we're going to see more nuanced data on side effects emerging. When you go from Phase III human trials to actual use in the world, you get thousands or millions more data points, and rare side effects that weren't seen in the small human trials become apparent. It's why I always say my favorite things for a drug to be are old, safe, and cheap.

I also suspect the oral form, Rybelsus, is going to get more popular and be refined in some way. It's currently prohibitively expensive--all of these are; we're talking 1200 or so bucks a month before insurance, and insurance coverage varies widely. I have patients who pay anything from zero to thirty to three hundred bucks a month for injectable semaglutide. I don't think I currently have anyone whose insurance covers Rybelsus who could also tolerate the nausea. My panel right now is about a thousand patients.

There are also other GLP-1 agonists. Victoza, a twice-daily injection, and Trulicity, and anything else that ends in "-aglutide". But those aren't as popular, despite being cheaper, and they aren't specifically approved for weight loss.

Mounjaro is a newer one, tirzepatide, that acts on two receptors rather than one. In addition to stimulating GLP-1 receptors, it also stimulates glucose-dependent insulinotropic polypeptide (GIP) receptors. It may work better; I'm not sure whether that's going to come with a concomitantly increased risk of side effects. It's still only approved for diabetes treatment, but I suspect that will change soon and I suspect we'll see a lot of cross-over in terms of using it to treat obesity.

I don't think these medications are going away. I also don't think they're right for everyone. They can reactivate medullary thyroid carcinoma; they can fuck up digestion; they may lead to decreased quality of life. So while there may be people who do well with them, it is okay if those people are not you. You do not owe being thin to anyone. You most certainly do not owe being thin to the extent that you should risk your health for it. Being thin makes navigating a deeply fat-hating world easier, in many ways, so I never blame anyone for wanting to be thin; I just want to emphasize that it is okay if you stay fat forever.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bob asks you to go out for drinks at the Hard Deck as a thank you for helping out all week, and there's a special someone waiting for you when you get there. After meeting some of Bradley's other friends, the bubble you had been living in bursts, and you're left questioning everything. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You managed to bumble your way through practice with Bob on Monday, mostly running around in your suit and taking care of whatever he needed. Your phone conversation with Bradley the night before had left you with just a few functioning brain cells, so it was a good thing you didn't need to take charge.

In fact, if you were left to your own thoughts for too long, you started thinking about how wet his voice made you. And you kept picturing the photo of his hard cock that you had shamelessly saved to your phone in a locked folder with personal items such as your tax return.

You felt flustered all week, and to make matters more interesting, Molly surprised you at practice on Thursday. 

"I had the day off!" she told Everett, scooping him into a hug when he climbed out of the car. The absence of the Bronco made you frown a bit as you circled your car to where your sister was tickling Everett. 

You kissed her cheek. "We had no idea you'd be here!"

She grinned at you as she sent Everett ahead toward the bleachers. "I have a date tonight," she sang in an obnoxious voice. "With Coach Cute Glasses."

"You do?" you gasped, happy Bob had taken the initiative. 

"Yep. We're going on a little stroll through the park after practice and then grabbing a late dinner."

"Molly!" you squealed, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Bob is so sweet. Do not ruin him."

She turned to look at him out on the ballfield, and a soft smile touched her lips. "I make no guarantees." You and she started walking, and she held your high heels for you as you changed out of them. "Oh, and actually, Bob has something he wants to ask you, too."

"Me? What?" You had no idea what your sister was talking about, but as soon as you got to the bleachers, Bob came over to the three of you as you changed Everett's shoes.

"Hi, Molly," he said softly, and you watched your sister do the unthinkable. She planted one hand firmly on his chest like it belonged there, and she kissed him on the cheek. You watched him turn bright red, and all of the other moms looked like they were about to reach for their pitchforks. 

"Hey, Coach Cute Glasses," Molly said with a laugh that had Bob fiddling with his whistle. "I'm excited for our plans tonight."

Sandra and Tara appeared about ready to rage, looking between you and your sister like the two of you had stolen the most priceless of treasures. But you supposed you kind of had.

When Bob finally recovered, he asked you, "Team Mom? Can I take you out for a drink tomorrow evening as a thank you? I wouldn't have made it through the game last Saturday or the practices this week without your help."

"I'll stay with Ev for you," Molly added, nodding her head. "You deserve it."

"Oh, that's not necessary, Bob," you protested, but then Molly was glaring at you. "Okay, sure," you said, sending Everett out to start warming up. 

"Great," Bob said, and you followed him out to home plate as Molly sat down on the bleachers. "There's a Navy officer hangout called the Hard Deck. You want to meet me there after work?"

"Sounds good. Thanks, Bob."

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

Bradley felt a little dirty every time he pulled up the photos you sent him, but he really enjoyed scrolling through the progression of seeing you in your bra to seeing you bare for him. You were something else. So sexy. So funny. So smart.

It was Friday morning, and he had one more flight simulation to go. And if he skipped lunch, he could probably get home by dinnertime. Bob had mentioned that he was taking you to the Hard Deck for drinks tonight, and Bradley desperately wanted to get back in time for that. He couldn't wait to see the look on Nat's face when she met you.

Bob had also told him about his date with Molly. He gushed about how much he liked her for fourteen messages in the text thread, and Bradley didn't know how Bob managed to pull this one off.

Bradley hit the road for the long drive back to San Diego, deciding to skip changing out of his uniform. His khakis weren't the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least he'd get back sooner. He wound along the coastal roads, passing some ballfields on the way. He was pretty sure Everett would be able to make a real pitch team by next spring, but Bradley was definitely going to have to work on some things with him before then. It was okay, they had almost a year to get him there.

Bradley had also been thinking about what he could tell the kids in Everett's class about aviation during his career day speech. The fact that Bradley was looking forward to that still kind of shocked him.

The sun was setting when Bradley pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot, and he spotted your car right away. Then he spotted you, heading for the entrance in your tight, black skirt and heels.

"Kitten!" he called out the open window, and you spun around to face him with a smile on your face. He quickly found an empty parking space and barely had the Bronco in park before you were there. "I missed you," he said, climbing down and closing his door. 

Your arms were instantly around his neck, and you were kissing him so sweetly. "I didn't know you would be here," you whispered against his lips. Your hand trailed down his chest to play with his pins while you nibbled on his lips. 

"I drove straight through to get back to you sooner, Kitten." That seemed to do something to you as you parted your lips and tasted his tongue.

He turned and pinned you against the Bronco, licking and kissing his way up your neck. "You look hot in your uniform," you moaned. 

"You wore my favorite skirt," he mumbled, and you gasped as he ran his palm down the front of it. You were rubbing yourself against him with your fingers tangled up in his hair, and Bradley was hard as a rock for you. 

"Bradley," you whimpered as he nuzzled his nose down the front of your blouse. He kissed and tasted the tops of your breasts while you scraped your nails along his scalp. You were so sweet. His mind was flooded with thoughts of getting you in his bed with your tight skirt bunched up around your waist and your pussy overflowing with his cum.

He kissed you hard, making the back of your head tap the side window. "Can I take you home, Kitten? Skip the bar?"

You eyed his face in the dim, dusk light. "Yes, but I need to have one drink first," you promised him, running your fingers along his mustache. "I told Bob I'd meet him."

Bradley groaned and kissed your fingertips and then your palm and the inside of your wrist. "Just one drink. Then I get some alone time with you."

When Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist, you snuggled in next to him, kissing his bicep just below his uniform sleeve. "I can't believe you wear this out in public," you muttered, running your fingers along his pins again. "I think I changed my mind. Let's leave now."

Bradley chuckled and held the door open for you, guiding you inside the noisy bar with his hand at your lower back. "One drink," he reminded you. "Then you're mine, Kitten."

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

You felt warm and flushed all over as Bradley guided you through the crowded bar. There were people in uniforms and some in civilian clothes, and you spotted Bob near the pool table as he waved to you. 

"Team Mom!" he announced as you and Bradley neared him. "And Rooster, you made it back," he added, fist bumping Bradley. You had never heard anyone use his call sign before, and it made you laugh. 

"I forgot your name was Rooster," you said, smiling up at his face as he lazily rubbed your back. "What's yours, Bob?"

You watched his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "It's actually just Bob."

"Oh," you said, thoroughly confused as you were immediately introduced to a beautiful woman who went by Phoenix.

"So, she's the Team Mom," she said with a devilish grin in Bradley's direction. "I think that would be your aviator call sign. Team Mom. Also, I'm still pissd you don't have another sister." Phoenix sighed and shook her head at you.

You laughed as she offered to buy you a drink, but then Bob stepped in. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?"

Bradley leaned down and kissed your temple and murmured, "Expensive champagne." He was making your tummy feel warm, the way he was being so affectionate in front of his friends and colleagues. You turned to look at him and he kissed you softly. 

You pulled away, suddenly feeling shy; five more minutes in the parking lot with him and you'd have been fucking on his backseat, but apparently this was too much.

"I'll have a beer. Thanks, Bob," you managed, cuddling up next to Bradley's side as Bob headed to the bar. 

"Hey, Rooster. You playing us a song tonight?" drawled a handsome blond man who was smirking at you. 

Bradley glanced down at you. "You like Great Balls of Fire?" he asked.

You gave him a strange look. "As long as you're talking about the song and not some sort of medical condition, then yes, I do."

Bradley started laughing with his head tipped back, and you grinned as the handsome blond laughed, too. "You're funny. My name's Jake," he said, shaking your hand as Bradley meandered a few feet away to sit down at the piano. 

You introduced yourself to Jake and listened to the tinkling sound of the keys as Bradley warmed up. You had no idea he was musically gifted, but you were excited to hear him play. He was probably one of those severely annoying people who was good at everything. He started playing the song, and even his singing voice was good. 

"So, how do you know Rooster and Bob?" Jake drawled, drawing your attention back to him just as Bob handed you a pint of beer. 

You thanked him and took a sip. "My son is on their tee ball team."

"How old's your kid?" Jake asked, smiling at you in a way that had you a little flustered. 

"He's almost seven." You were still distracted by Bradley, and now he was looking at you as he played. He winked only at you, even though he was starting to draw a crowd.

"I love kids," Jake informed you. "Hey, when you're done that beer, let me buy you another one."

"Oh, okay," you agreed, and then Bob called over to Jake.

"Come on, Hangman. Leave our Team Mom alone!"

Jake looked at you with renewed interest as you drank your beer. "Oh shit. So you're the Team Mom. I've heard a lot about you."

You were really surprised. "You have?" you asked as Bradley finished playing the song. You clapped for him along with everyone else, and then he was making his way back over.

"Yeah," Jake replied with a laugh. "You're the hot mom that Bradley is never going to date, because moms aren't his thing."

Your smile immediately vanished from your face. "What?"

Jake waved his hand in the air while he sipped his drink, as if you were supposed to know exactly what he was talking about. As if you weren't immediately on high alert and having a difficult time breathing. "You know...too much baggage. Complicated. Not worth the aggravation. That sort of shit."

You were frozen in place, barely able to speak. "He said that?" Your voice sounded tiny and your throat was tight. You ran your fingers along your neck, trying to make sense of this.

"Yeah, he went on and on the one night we were all hanging out."

Bradley had told his friends he would never date you. He had said you were too complicated. He told them you weren't worth his time. And now he was walking your way, smiling at you like you were still expected to go back to his place after this and let him fuck you. That had been his plan the entire time.

"But listen," Jake added. "I don't feel that way at all. If you're interested, I'd love to take you out to dinner." You thought maybe Jake was a little drunk, because he couldn't stop talking and then he reached out and stroked your cheek with his knuckles.

You gently grabbed his hand and guided it back to his side, just as Bradley rushed over with an irate expression. 

"The fuck?" he asked Jake.

"Hey, it's cool, man. I get it," Jake replied. "She's so hot, I can't believe you won't date her just because she has a kid. But good for you for getting her to agree to come out tonight. No reason you can't enjoy her."

You gasped and took a step away, knowing you needed to escape now with your dignity intact, but Bradley was immediately focused solely on you.

"Kitten."

You handed your pint glass to a random person, and then you were stumbling over your own feet, trying to get to the door as quickly as you could. Time seemed frozen, and you felt like you were going to throw up as you rushed past people who were happy and laughing. You could vaguely hear Bradley's voice behind you as you tried to get away. 

Once you were outside, you sucked in a deep breath of the salty air and fumbled in your pocket for your car key as you started running.

"Kitten!" he yelled, and you could hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel, and you knew that you would never be able to outrun him. So you skidded to a halt and rounded on him instead. A lot of things in your life were scary, like paying your bills, and making sure Everett had everything he deserved. But you would not be too afraid to stand up for yourself. You would not let another arrogant asshole determine your behavior for you.

As Bradley stopped abruptly in front of you, his face was illuminated by a street light, and you hated him for being so handsome. "Kitten. I can explain," he promised, holding up his hands in surrender. His brown eyes were wide as he searched your face.

"Did you tell your friends I'm too complicated to date?" you asked, voice steady as you stepped into his personal space.

"Yes, but-"

You stomped your foot, effectively silencing him. "Did you refer to my son as baggage?"

"Yes, but Kitten, I can explain."

You slapped him hard across the cheek, but his gaze never wavered. 

"I don't need you to fucking explain anything to me!"

"Please." He was pleading, his chest rising and falling as his expression was filled with panic. "Kitten."

"Stop calling me that. I can't believe you were just leading me on for fun."

"I wasn't," he insisted. "I wouldn't do that."

You just scoffed at him and shoved his chest. He grabbed gently for your hands, but you yanked them away and took a step back as tears filled your eyes. "I can deal with getting played, but not Everett! His dad already bailed on him, and I won't let him feel unwanted by anyone ever again! We come as a fucking package deal!"

Bradley was running his hands through his hair in dismay. "I care about both of you." His voice sounded choked up, and you wanted to believe him, but now you knew better.

You jabbed him in the chest with your index finger. "You're a liar," you told him as your tears finally spilled over. "Stay away from us outside of tee ball practice."

"Kitten." He tried reaching for you again, but you backed away, bumping into a parked car which made you cry harder.

"I need to figure out how to deal with Ev," you sobbed. "And don't you dare ever speak to me again." 

You ran for your car as you tried to take gulps of air into your burning lungs, swiping away the tears that were obscuring your vision. It took you a few tries to get the key in the ignition with your shaking fingers, but when you did you cranked the engine and pulled away. You could see Bradley in your rearview mirror as he dropped down into a squat in the dark parking lot with his head in his hands. 

The short drive back to your house was filled with the sound of you sobbing, and you stumbled out of the car and up to your front porch. You leaned against the railing and tried to compose yourself. But this was where you and Bradley had been making out less than two weeks ago after you had one of the best orgasms of your life. So you paced the length of your porch instead, wiping your tears and making sure your breathing was even. Because even though it was late enough now that Everett was surely in bed, you were going to have to contend with Molly.

"Hi," your sister said as you walked inside. She was snuggled up on the couch reading a book, but when she got a good look at you, she jumped up. "What happened? I thought maybe you'd be staying out later? Or all night since Bradley is back."

You pressed your lips together to try to prevent them from shaking, but Molly knew you too well. She was across the room collecting you in her arms immediately. When you started crying again, she didn't stop you, rather she just let you get it out of your system.

Finally, you were able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

Your sister's loud gasp was vindication to your soul, but you didn't like the price it came with. "That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," you said softly against her shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said, but you grabbed her tighter. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

Molly kissed your cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

Molly helped you out of your black skirt, something you had hoped Bradley would be doing just a few short hours ago. And then you washed your face and brushed your teeth while shaking your head at your puffy eyes in the bathroom mirror.

You ended up climbing into bed in your bathrobe while Molly plugged your phone in. "You have thirty missed calls and seventeen text messages from Bradley."

"Ignore him," you whispered, pulling your covers up to your chin. "What am I supposed to do about Ev, Molly? He's so attached. Oh my god, I can't believe I did this. I knew better!"

"Shh," she replied, climbing into bed next to you. "I'll sleep over and take him to the game in the morning. And I'll deal with everything."

Eventually your exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep next to your sister, holding her hand in yours. Your last waking thought was a feeling of thankfulness that you had only mostly fallen in love with Bradley. 

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

Wow, Jake. I mean, he's not wrong, but still. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 13

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[silverflqmes]

Do you have any hcs for yandere Sephiroth? 👀

໒⦂ ‘𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄’ 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi hi so uh i don’t do yandere stuff, it’s not a topic i’m super comfortable with writing ( as mentioned in my rules ) but i will provide a more subtle, toned down version if that’s okay instead :’)

genre. angst + suggestive

tw. possessive behavior, implied manipulation, jealousy

disclaimer. there is a visible flip in the headcanons from pre nibleheim sephiroth to post — which takes on a darker approach. if it’s not something you are comfortable with reading, then don’t.

sephiroth x gn!reader.

⌗ as a person who dealt with the loss of those he allowed into his life, having brought his walls down for them.. i do think sephiroth might have developed a bit of overprotective behavior — which honestly, is expected..

⌗ he doesn’t want to lose you or for any harm to come your way. whether losing you refers to death.. or to someone else — he doesn’t want any of that to come to fruition.

⌗ everything in life he cherished has been taken from him and you are not about to be one of them..

⌗ normally he’s as cool as a pickle if you’re talking to someone else, but there’s this aura emitting from him.. one look at sephiroth and the innocent bystander is practically shaking in their boots.

⌗ you of course — would be confused as hell on this.. i mean when sephiroth pulls you closer, you just assume he wants proximity..

⌗ until you go home, that is, and he’s just holding you without any means of letting go.. it’s silly, watching that subtle, yet visible pout of his and the furrow to his brows and all is understood

⌗ piece of you by shawn mendes tbh that is where my brain is rn

⌗ sometimes it’s a little more than an inescapable hug and turns into a storm of kisses — perhaps even a mark or few would be left in his wake.. but nothing that makes you uncomfortable cuz he doesn’t want to hurt or force you into anything. consent!!

⌗ while he has selfish desires and would prefer to have you all to himself, he values boundaries and freedom — it’s something he wasn’t given and he isn’t about to take that away from you, too.

⌗ but if you were trying to get a reaction out of him by PURPOSELY trying to make him jealous.. good LUCK walking in the morning are the only words i have for you LMAO

⌗ there is after care tho trust and it’s all part of the plan because he gets to have you stay over and spend time with him<3 which — despite your grumbles — you are more than happy to do<3

⌗ now uh, post nibelheim sephiroth.. he is a different case cuz he’s under the influence of jenova cells — which are obviously making him do some wild stuff..

⌗ following the concept that you would have said cells opens up the opportunity to mess with you a bit, as a means of getting you to execute his whims. kinda like he does with cloud..

⌗ he’s aware you’re trying to take him back and save him from what he’s become, and uses that to his advantage. you would do anything for him, wouldn’t you?

⌗ slowly, he would isolate you from your companions — they want him gone, anyway, but you don’t. you couldn’t sit with the idea of your lover being gone, even in spite of all he had done.

⌗ you told yourself it wasn’t him, and it was true, it wasn’t. for that.. you wished to continue your attempts at saving him, even if it was a descent into madness..

⌗ gradually, you are succumbing to his words, allowing them to reshape the view you had made for yourself.

⌗ he was right, anyway. the humans who blindly believed in shinra- were the ones that gave the company the power and means of further destroying the planet for their glory. sephiroth was right in almost every way to execute the goals he made for himself.

⌗ he only ever appeared briefly to you, his caresses leaving enough of a linger to leave you touch starved — yearning for contact.

⌗ the one winged angel only whispered soon in that velvety tone of his, a reassurance of the reunion that would be upon you both in time.

⌗ but at times, you pressed, pleading for just another second — minute or few of his time.. and with that desperation in your voice, the expression that crosses your features, how could he refuse you?

⌗ he would spare his precious time and entertain you a moment longer, indulging just a bit in you, and himself, of course. but once more leaving you lingering, longing for more.

notes. not one for writing yandere oriented content, so i hope this was okay and fulfilling enough since i watered it down quite a bit :’) just not super comfy associating him with the qualities of a yandere..

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[angstywaifu]

Means to an End - Garrick Tavis x Reader

Propt by @fw-gt - “You can do anything you want to me, beat me, torture me, skin me alive. But I’ll never let you take her from me.” A/N: This fic is from Garrick's POV, so I hope you like it. This one is just pure angry protective Garrick. Enjoy.

It was meant to be simple. Well as simple as you could get for rescuing Violet from Varrish. Who from what we knew had her locked in one of the interrogation cells under the college. Varrish who was now dead. Good riddance I say. I had never had much to do with him, but he had a reputation for handling things in an unconventional way. And the way Violet had been when Xaden had led her up those stairs was proof. But she wasn’t his only victim.

As General Sorrengail turned to me, sadness in her eyes��. I knew. Every part of me knew. Chradh in my head confirming after speaking to her dragon. She was missing. And no one knew where due to this, concoction they had made up with to dull the connection between rider and dragon. She had been missing since the day Violet had been taken. No one had seen her after she had gone to bed. But with Varrish dead, we had no way to figure out where she had been taken. She could be anywhere. Xaden looks concerned as I pace back and forth trying to rack my brain as to where he could have taken her. We had searched the other cells top to bottom trying to find her. But there was no sign or even trace of her. And Violet was adamant that she had never heard or even seen her while down there. Varrish not mentioning her once

Xaden reaches out and grasps my shoulder. I go to shrug it off but he clamps down and forces me to stop and look at him. “What about Melgren or Aetos? Would they have her somewhere?”

Dain clears his throat from where he stands next to Violet. “There might be somewhere they could have taken her.”

Xaden tries to hold me back as I storm over to Dain, grabbing the front of his uniform and pinning him to the wall. His eyes go wide with fear as I glare down at him. “Where. Is. She?” I sneer, emphasising each word

”T-there’s a tower, at the end of the administration building closest to the riders quadrant. Down the bottom, there’s a door that leads underground. There’s more interrogation cells down there.” He gulps nervously as he looks to Violet and Xaden for help. “That’s the only place I could think he would take her. He was working closely with my father.”

I shove him back against the wall, his head smacking against the brick before I storm off in the direction of the tower. No one tries to stop me. Xaden letting me go. He knows there’s no point in stopping me. If anything he will make sure Violet is safe and follow after me, or send someone else. Luck must by on my side, all the corridors are empty. Not a single cadet around as I make my way over to the tower Dain speaks of. I descend the stairs, each step echoing off the walls as I make my way further and further down. At the bottom I almost think Dain has lead me here as a joke, there's no door. But my eye catches the dim glow of a light around the edge of the brick. A secret door. I push on it and it opens with ease. Almost too easily.

Keep alert. I will send word to Xaden to send someone. Chradh says to me.

I send acknowledgment through the bond before continuing through the door and descending down another set of stairs. It is easy to tell that this has been used very recently. Fresh foot springs and drag marks can be seen in the dust coating the floor. They dragged someone down here. As I descend further down the stairs, the light gets brighter and brighter. I finally descend into an open room, much like the one the RSC interrogation chambers are in. 2 cells are on the far side of the room, both are completely empty. Empty bar the blood caking the floor of one of them. I can see from here the blood isn’t old, the torches reflecting the slight glean of fresh blood. I go to reach for my sword when a voice from the doorway on the other side of the room stops me.

”Had a feeling I’d be seeing you Tavis.” Drawls Colonel Aetos as he leans against the doorway, his eyes focused on me.

”Where is she? What do you want with her?” I demand.

He merely chuckles as he steps into the room as he starts to pace towards me. It’s then I notice the blood on his hands. Fresh blood. Very fresh.

He stops, leaning against the table. ”Oh you naive boy. It’s not her I want. I don’t need anything from her. She’s just a means to an end. It’s you we want, and you’ve come right to us.”

My blood runs cold. They’d used her to get to me. To get me here, right where they wanted me. They’d taken her and done gods knows what to her to get to me. I look over to the cell with the blood and pray its just a set up. She’s fine. If they knew she knew nothing then there was no point in hurting her. Not yet anyway.

They’re on their way. Keep him distracted. Chradh tells me.

“What do you want from me?”

”Information of course. We know what you and that Riorson boy are up to.”

"I will never tell you anything.”

He smiles at me, a smile that sends a shiver down my spine. “Oh I know. You are a hard one to crack. But luckily in the brief moment Varrish met you, he saw all he needed to see. And now I have my way to make you tell me everything.”

As if on queue two guards walk through the door, a limp figure hanging between them that they throw to the ground in a kneeling position. They rip the bag from their head, and I swear my heart stops beating. My eyes go wide.

“So what’s it going to be Tavis?”

I can feel the muscles in my face twitching as I look up and glare at him. “You can do anything you want to me, beat me, torture me, skin me alive. But I’ll never let you lay another hand on her.”

“That’s the thing though Tavis. No matter how much I beat you or torture you. You won’t tell me anything.” I gulp as he smiles at me. A smile that would send anyone else cowering. “But if I do any of those things to her. You’ll tell me whatever I need to know.”

The two guards either side of her march forward. I quickly grab the sword from my back, swiftly blocking their strikes. The sounds of our swords clashing echo off the walls of the chamber. One of the guards lunges to grab me, but I side step them and grab on of the daggers on my belt, stabbing it into the side of their neck. They rip it out, spraying me in their blood as they fall to the floor. The other turns and looks at me in horror as their friend dies on the floor next to me. As I do this I notice Aetos is no longer leaning against the table. He must have snuck out while I was fighting. I go to lunge for him as shadows swarm the room, blinding the last guard. I turn around to see Xaden run into the room.

“Grab her and go. I’ll take care of the rest.” He tells me as he walks towards them.

I nod before I rush over to her and scoop her up in my arms. She goes to protest but one look from me and she merely nods in agreement as I stand and carry her up the stairs. No one would lay another hand on her if I had anything to say about it. As we get to the top of the stairs I hear the vague sounds of screaming down below.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Young!John Wick x Model!Reader Imagine

Imagine you are the love of John Wick's life...

You meet in Paris when he’s a young man. You spend a mind-blowing night together, and watch the sun rise from Sacré-Coeur. He disappears, and you’re devastated because no one has ever made you feel that way, and you’re certain you’ll never see him again. But throughout the years he keeps finding you as you travel for work. He kisses you silly in the Gamla Stan of Stockholm, makes you cum on his fingers in a dark club in London, and when he leaves you utterly wrecked in Rome you know that you’re in love with this man. You don’t know exactly what he does for a living, but you’re not stupid. You’ve memorized every inch of his body, and you notice as his collection of scars multiplies over the years. You are half convinced he's a spy, but then there are the tattoos...ominous as they are captivating, they suggest membership in a darker world than the shadows of international espionage. You cannot reconcile it. How can this sweet man, this man who makes you laugh, who brings you joy and such exquisite pleasure, be a part of such a violent occupation? When you finally get up the courage to ask him he just shakes his head, and says it’s better you don’t know before kissing you in that way that utterly scrambles your brain cells.

-It all started in Paris with a broken heel... You nearly fell into traffic, but a strong arm around your waist snatched you back from death.

You hid against his chest for a long moment, even though he was a total stranger, because he felt so safe. You were in Paris for your first Fashion Week—and you were so lost. It’s the 1990s, a dark age in which we didn’t have handheld computers to pleasantly tell us where to go, and we used archaic documents to find our way known as paper maps...And you’d left yours in your hotel accidentally.  

You look up to see kind brown eyes fixed down on you. “Are you alright?” You hate to think it, but you are so relieved to hear an American accent. You have been yelled at no less than three times in French that day, and even if you totally deserved it, you're a bit gun shy now.

“Yes. Thank you. Jesus, I...” You look at the traffic barreling by at breakneck speed, a chill running down your spine. “Thank you,” you say again. You look up at him, really look at him, and realize you're in the arms of the most handsome man you've ever seen—and you work in fashion. 

“You're welcome.” 

He seems as taken by you as you are by him, and for a stretch of long moments you just stand there staring at each other like moon-eyed idiots. He looks down, suddenly shy. It's totally endearing. “Sorry,” he apologizes, releasing you slowly. You teeter on your broken heel, and you can tell he is ready to grab you again if he has to. This protectiveness makes a surprising warmth bloom in your heart.

“Do you...need help getting somewhere?” he asks. You wonder if it’s that obvious you’re lost. Usually you'd be wary of that question from a stranger. You've dealt with so many creeps throughout your life. But somehow you sense that he’s sincere. 

“I guess I'd better get back to my hotel.” 

Sebastiano was going to kill you. You broke a $600 pair of heels...well maybe Gucci should have made them better, the lazy bastards. 

“Can I get you a cab?” 

With your broken heel, you guess you’re not hoofing it back. “Sure.” He hails one down, and you’re delighted when he climbs in with you, speaking to the driver in perfect French, bless him.

“Where are we headed?” You give him the name of your hotel, and he repeats it the way it’s supposed to be said. Oh. No wonder the previous drivers gave you such contemptuous looks… You took Spanish in high school, ok? You can read French but have zero experience speaking it.

When you arrive at the hotel your savior thrusts a wad of Francs through the window before you have a chance to even open your purse, and helps you out of the cab. You are totally leaning against his arm more than you have to. You can feel the hard curve of his bicep beneath the fine fabric of his suit, and it makes you a little giddy. Only once you’re safe in the lobby does he seem willing to release you, though somehow your hand has ended up in his, and you find you don’t really want to let go. “Are you doing anything later?” you ask boldly, before he can disappear back into the bustle of Paris and you’ll never find him again.

He pays you a melancholy smile that squeezes your heart for some reason. “Unfortunately, I have to work,” he says. You make a pouty face that draws his attention to your lips. The intensity in those dark eyes is thrilling. “Maybe if I finish early…I could join you?”

You know you grin like an idiot at this suggestion. “I’ll be at the Versace afterparty. I could…have your name put on the list?”

This seems to amuse him for some reason, his mouth twisting in a smirk. “I can find you,” he says, and your heart flutters. In fact, when he presses his lips to your knuckles, your heart attempts to flutter right out of your chest.

He turns to go but you call, “Wait!” He pauses. “What’s your name?”

The smile he pays you is heart stopping. “Jardani,” he answers quietly. “But everyone calls me John.” You bite your lip, nodding, very pleased with this new bit of information, sensing that maybe he’s told you something just for you. “I hope I get to see you later.”

He nods too, touching your cheek lightly. “You will.”

It sounds like a promise.

-You should be beside yourself with excitement because you’re walking your first runway in Paris, and this could be the moment that makes or breaks your career, but the real reason for your nerves is the hope that you’ll see him again.

-The show goes great. You kill it. Sebastiano, your friend and the designer you’d modeled for, can hardly contain himself. But you find you’re just watching the clock ticking down the seconds until later.  

-John does find you later. You have a drink, and you dance, and from the adoring way he looks at you, you feel brave enough to ask if he wants to go someplace quieter. You go for a little walk, and even though it’s the wee hours of the morning you feel perfectly safe with this man. He kisses you on the Pont Alexandre, his hands in your hair, and your fingers curl in the lapels of his jacket to hold him to you. You ask if he wants to go back to your hotel, and he agrees. This man looks at you like you are something irreplaceably precious, and you don’t know how you’ll let him go.

-He is strong. In your hotel room he picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall, kissing you senseless before carrying you to the bed. His hands are calloused, but he’s so gentle with you. He touches you like you were made for him, like he was born knowing how to make you see stars. He claims you with his hands and his mouth and his big, beautiful cock deep inside you, and you know you’ll never be the same after this. You’ve been disappointed so many times that you almost don’t know how to handle an encounter going this well.

-When he stirs in the blue light of pre-dawn your arms tighten around him. You’re not even awake yet, but you don’t want him to leave. He kisses you behind the ear and you practically purr. “Want to see the second most beautiful sight in Paris?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Bring your camera.” You’d told him about your interest in photography. Maybe modeling was paying the bills, but you’d actually majored in fine art, and minored in literature. Naturally, your interests make for shit at paying bills.  

Sleepily you get dressed. It takes a little longer than usual because you can’t stop kissing each other between pulling on garments. Soft, slow kisses that curl your toes. You sense deep down that every one of them is infused with apology, and goodbye. It breaks your heart, but greedily you’ll take every second with him you can get.He takes you to Sacré-Coeur in the heart of Montmartre, the very roof of Paris. You sit on the steps and watch the sun rise over the city, fiery oranges and pinks painting the sky and rendering the buildings aglow. It truly is beautiful, but you don’t lift your lens to try to capture it. You sit with your arm linked with his, and experience this moment with him as fully as you can. You want to remember everything.

“You didn’t take a picture,” he teases once the sun has cheerfully risen above the horizon.

You pull out the camera and frame him in your lens, his sleepy smile and bed-mussed hair. You feel something shift in your heart as your finger depresses the button. Click. You’re not sure if it’s the camera in your hand, or something settling into place in your heart that has always belonged there.

“Now I have the first most beautiful sight in Paris,” you say.

He laughs at that. “I meant that was you,” he insists, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. He takes you to breakfast, and you enjoy dark coffee and delectably crafted pastries with your legs tangled together under the table. Afterwards he takes you back to your hotel, and in the gilt-appointed lobby somehow you know what’s coming.

“I have to go,” he says sadly. You actually believe his regret isn’t an act.

You nod, leaning into his large hand on your cheek.

“I’ll never forget you, y/n.”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, and you close your eyes. You are not going to cry.

“Likewise, I promise you.”

You don’t exchange any further information. You know that if it was possible to see him again, he would have offered it to you. There is something mysterious about this man. Something almost…forbidden, and a part of you knows that the little time you stole together was a precious gift.

He kisses you one last time, a passionate, soul-rending thing that leaves you utterly weak in the knees. He says nothing more, pressing his forehead to yours one final time before turning to go. You watch his tall, dark form exit the hotel into the Paris morning, and you know he’s taking a piece of your heart with him as he goes.   

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

tbc because goddamn this got long...

part deux >>

[strawberry-milkbunny]

Naruto is my Roman Empire and I’ve been reading MadaTobi fanfics so these r my Founders Thoughts that nobody asked for:

- Tobirama had a crush on Madara and it PISSED HIM OFF like they def had hate sex at one point LMAO

- they literally worked together ur rlly gonna tell me they didn’t have SOME moments of civility btwn them?? (lowkey that’s wild tho having to see ur brother’s murderer everyday at work-I like Tobi but I’m just sayin)

I WANT A WORKPLACE SITCOM WITH THE FOUNDERS SJSKKSKS:

- Tobi doing experiments and scaring the villagers

- Tobi teaming up with Madara to make Hashi do work

- Hashi making flowers w/government documents

- Mito sipping tea while encouraging Tobi to revive the dead

- everyone in the Tower side eying the sexual tension btwn Madara and Tobi and them never denying they’ve fucked before

- Toka cackling in the background

- Hikaku spraying water at Madara like a cat every time he throws a temper tantrum

- Kagami popping in to make sure his clan head doesn’t kill his teacher PERFECT SITCOM MATERIAL

- totally personal preference: Naruto should’ve had more BLOOD AND GORE. I wanna see the grittiness and horror the shinobi world actually is and how revolutionary Naruto as a character is by choosing peace over violence. The only time we get that is Obito vs Kiri nin, Uchiha Massacre, Wave Arc, Orochimaru…before it turns into DBZ fights

I’ve said this before: Sasuke was in a seinen Naruto was in a shounen

- the warring states is literally the perfect place for exhibiting the horrors of war and humanity. Bloodline thieves, child hunting squads, GIVE. IT. TO. ME. Madara and Hashirama experiencing all of this and wanting PEACE FOR THEIR YOUNGER BROTHERS UGHHH ROBBERY‼️‼️

SORRY TW IMPLIED SA !!:

I HC that bloodline thieves is prob why Madara wears gloves….being a YOUNG (he’s been on the battlefield since he was 8??) powerful, prodigy and future clan head of a famous kekkai genkai it makes sense why he doesn’t like skin-contact/sexual repression and repulsion. And why we don’t see female Uchiha shinobi (excluding misogyny) simply bc there’s such a high risk of SA in this era

Moving on:

- Tobi and Izuna were jealous of how their brothers were being taken away. It goes past the senju/uchiha rivalry like they were just kids and were plain jealous.

- Madara and hashirama def share 1 brain cell LOLLL. Like they’re besties for a reason, Madara acts likes he smarter but nah he’s as much of an idiot as Hashi is. They’re both dreamers let these boys live and skip rocks together!!! 😭😭

- let’s be honest: Tobi built the village. Mans was doing ALL the logistics and infrastructure

- tobirama is soooo second son/eldest daughter coded it’s not even funny. The SPARE, serious and emotionless bc he needed to always clean up after his siblings, DUTIFUL, prob has a praise kink etc.

- Madara is an eldest daughter who also prob has a praise kink and touch starved

- NONE of the founders r well adjusted like they went from spending everyday of their lives at war to tryin bring peace and start essentially a ninja-revolution (PLS GO TO THERAPY)

- madara was just the most open about it: being isolated and feared by his own clan BC he was powerful, trying advocate for the village and peace, all while grieving for his last brother…yeah it makes sense y he went crazy or at least wanted to leave (fuck Kishimoto for that Kaguya bs and fuck Zetsu)

- I don’t actually believe he was trying destroy the village idkkk. I think he was trying to do an SNS aka using fighting as a way to communicate with Hashirama and well…yIkEs

- tobirama is 1000% unadjusted: mans literally created a Justu to revive the dead. You cannot tell me that doesn’t REEK of desperation and loneliness. He’s lit rally the OG mad scientist

- hashirama rlly thought sealing the Bijuu and giving them to each village was a good idea….sir WHO TF GIVES NUCLEAR WEAPONS TO SHINOBI???!! 😳😳

- I think hashirama and naruto lowkey can be summed up as: a powerful idealist. Which is a very dangerous combination. Take that how you will especially considering how shinobi thrive off of violence….it kinda makes sense how we ended up with canon Naruto

- Madara has a god complex and knows it. Hashirama has a god-complex and doesn’t know it. (God of Shinobi title def got to him and understandable)

- the founders failed and they know it. But I also kinda love it?? They’re so flawed and human as leaders and you can see how their mistakes drag into Canon Naruto. It also makes me so sad knowing that Konoha was built to prevent child soldiers and give protection only for it to actually be WORSE (Kakashi ITACHI SANNIN ik for a fact it must’ve hurt Hashi to know ur own granddaughter left the village)

Uchiha are: love is the death of duty while the Senju are: duty is the death of love and neither of them will forgive each other for picking one over the other��️‼️‼️

- proving this ^^ w/Hashirama’s weird af characterization: aka him being a loveable idiot but at the same time CONGRATULATING Itachi for killing his own clan for Konoha…. I feel like that rlly showed me how much of a war veteran/shinobi Hashirama actually is and how he will always pick duty

- we were ROBBED of baby Kagami/hokage Kagami 😤😤😤 I’m sorry Kagami should’ve been made Hokage it just makes sense personality wise and politically wise. The only way I could see him not take it is bc he needed to be a clan leader/placate the Uchiha/help Hikaku.

- I wanna see him process the loss of his clan leader, teacher, and eventually friends to a point where Danzo takes his eyes

- everyone on Team Tobirama had a crush on Kagami at one point

- one of my fav HC: Tobi and Madara co-parenting Kagami. There’s no way Madara didn’t check up on Kagami being taught by THE senju which makes his defection hit harder for Kagami 😭😭

- BABY SANNIN ‼️‼️‼️ Tsunade was old enough to meet and remember Hashirama it makes sense that Oro and Jiraiya meet the founders

- omg could u imagine being Edo Tensei Hashirama?? Ur granddaughter’s weird friend revives u using the Jutsu ur brother invented that you specifically FORBID 😭😭

- Hashi and Tobi staring at Orochimaru like “you look familiar???” IT HAS SO MUCH COMEDIC POTENTIAL

- Mito revolutionized female shinobi like she’s def the reason ppl realized that girls can fight (Senju Toka was an exception) STAN MITO 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

- Mito pulled a Tsunade and mentally yeeted out of Konoha after Hashi and Tobi died. Bc the way we NEVER hear about her and Hiruzen interacting except for Kushina, even tho she’s literally RELATED to the other 2 hokages….ROBBED 😵‍💫

- I HC: she was dealing w/grief (the fall of Uzushio made it worse) and she was lowkey pushed out of the council by Danzo FUCK DANZO

- I love the idea of Mito wooing for Hashirama’s hand/politically smart Mito!! It was a political marriage that grew into love. There’s no way she DIDNT suspect an attack on Uzushio lik it’s literally an island w/Kiri as it’s neighbours….Konoha gets recognition and stability while Uzushio importantly gets mainland allies

- Mito tops btw she’s def pegged Hashi before 🫢

- if Madara or Hashi had sisters/born women they would’ve def had a marriage to solidify their alliance. This makes Japanese homophobia not make sense esp in the shinobi world bc their clans trusted each other w/o backup like marriage?? Idk I’m just kinda confused y it was never even brought up for an alliance…

*cue MadaTobi arranged marriage au 100k, enemies to lovers, slowburn*

- also to dude bros homophobia has no place in the Naruto world (and IRL BTW) outside of making heirs. They’re literally MERCENARIES You telling me Kakashi has never fucked another man for information before??? Pls be serious I’m begging y’all 🙃🙃🙃

- there’s def family drama amongst the senju!! Idk I feel like Hashirama and Tobirama have the relationship of: “they love each other but don’t like each other” which makes Madara’s inclusion even worse for the brothers’ relationship. Like they def always had each other’s backs but never actually felt like they understood each other.

- I wish more fanfics/canon covered the shinobi-civilian politics more (I love politics lol give me world-building kishimoto 😤)

- Civilians hold power. THEY have all the MONEY to pay shinobi

- I’ve rlly only seen 1 fanfic that involves the Fire Daimyo during the Warring States Era (Into the Wide Blue Yonder it’s a KakaSasu Time travel fic that actually ✨works✨ 12/10 recommend) but it’s true.

Wtf is the Fire Daimyo doing during this era??? Why is he being so placate about Senju/Uchiha war unless he just sees it as entertainment?? How have shinobi NOT fought against rich civilian politicians before?? (Introducing Maoism to the naruto world lol 🤔🤔)

- Kishimoto curse ur goldfish brain….

- the uchiha and senju were def broke in this era, LMAO especially the Uchiha and I mean resource wise. War is EXPENSIVE the Uchiha don’t have Hashirama and Mokutan, they couldn’t just grow food whenever they wanted. It makes total sense that they would agree to a ceasefire just to prevent STARVATION

- once again…. robbed in terms of seeing the aftermath and devastation of war and learning how to live in a morally grey, politically unstable, resource limited world which could’ve brought in the ultimate themes of peace and the cycle of violence, and the question of if violence and war is ever justified, but…..no ❤️

[takes1]

For a request, would you be interested in a bully Dabi x male reader (maybe in a college AU or something. You can decide if you want it to be in the LOV instead)? Reader is constantly picked on and demeaned by him, but one day maybe in a private area reader is cornered, some suggestive content goes on/maybe noncon depending what you want to do, and the reader speaks up when the situation almost goes too far (and normally he is quiet. He’s that nerdy kid afraid to disappoint his parents/and a virgin. So he is scared of what was going on in that scenario.) After, you can decide what goes on from there!

Also to add, my bad about asking make characters. I did read the rules but had no idea what afab of amab means, should of looked it up before asking lol 😂

you're okay! no worries :) i really liked writing this, it's very different from my other stuff. i'm so sorry this has taken so long! will write a part 2 soon and probably end it there!

warnings. barely sfw, slight noncon themes, creepy vibes

details. male!reader / college au / frat au / inexperienced!reader / loser!reader / corruptionkink!dabi / loser!reader / degradation / praise / power play / slight noncon / yandere!dabi / 1.2k words

🤍 scenario series. more dabi and others here.

more links. my ao3 / dabi headcanons / requests open

"No, mom--,"

You almost tripped over your untied shoelace for the third time in the past two minutes but continued to ignore it. Stopping to fix it was scarier than getting a face full of dirty cement.

"No, it's-, okay, uppercase L, did you try the uppercase L yet?"

A rush of adrenaline plumped your veins for a fleeting moment and you gripped your cracked phone like a lifeline. The sound of shoes other than your beat-up Vans scraped across the sidewalk. You turned and there was nothing but the drip of residual rain from gutters, and some trash brushing by a garbage can.

Of course, a Mcdonald's wrapper would be responsible for your fatal heart attack. Or your mother, who didn't understand how to capitalize a letter on her keyboard to enter her bank password.

There was another half mile to your dorm building. When she called you halfway through your journey back from your last late class, you were relieved to have something else on your mind other than the threat of seeing a Brother around.

Pledge Week was Hell. Actual Hell. This must've been your divine punishment for being such a giant fucking loser your entire life-- a cruel joke from God designed to say, 'Look at this dumbass! He's paying hundreds of dollars to get hazed for a week, then ostracized for the smallest hope of feeling like he's a part of something!'

"It's the left side, mom. It says shift on it," You sighed.

This was the first week you hadn't commuted home for the weekend. With no social skills to bank on, there was nothing to do on the weekends except drive two hours home. At least you could be comfortable there. Not necessarily wanted, until they had a technology issue that required a Cybersecurity major -or just any person with brain cells- to fix, but you had your own quiet room.

It didn't change the fact that the Brothers of Alpha Sigma Phi betted on you to join them as a joke. You didn't have any connections or lineage like the other Pledges, but it was funny to pick the scrawny kid and see how long he'd last.

You didn't know how you lasted this long. It was a sort of tolerance that you built up, because Alpha Sig gave you something to do, somewhere to be.

A semester as a Pledge; running errands, attending parties but not allowed to drink, getting shit on at every turn because that was just the culture here and you thought, maybe after you graduate to become a Brother in a couple of days, you would have some real friends.

Another thudding sound of footsteps much heavier than yours. This time, they didn't stop, and neither did you.

The orange glow of streetlamps every 15 feet became markers for your sanity. Only nine more to go before you were at your building.

Your stomach was in your throat. The hand in your pocket clutched your knife.

"You got it?" Your voice was uneven but your mother didn't notice. You wished she would stay on the phone longer, but there was nothing else to talk about.

Even the other seven Pledges didn't associate with you. If they did, they got screwed with more. This week had become a sick kind of lonely, fast.

It was like clockwork. As soon as your phone left your ear, a voice much closer than you anticipated shocked your muscles still.

"Hey, Pledge," It was by far the worst Brother imaginable; the one who seemed to take personal pleasure in your torment above anyone else, "The fuck do ya think you're talkin' to?"

You kept your hand in your pocket. Pulling a knife on him would erase all progress, possibly even make this whole semester's worth of work useless, but you weren't about to surrender your only line of defense when you weren't sure if it would get violent.

Dabi was deceptively glittery under the streetlamp. His piercings gave you something else to look at to avoid eye contact.

"My mom--," You could barely get your words out.

"You're not supposed to speak to anyone this week," He lowered his voice and approached slow because he knew you wouldn't move.

Narrowed eyes watched another student on the other side of the deserted street.

Two years ago, Alpha Sig had been under an investigation for hazing (rightfully so, you could imagine), so the older Brothers were careful about what they said and did in public. In private, everything was still on the table.

So far, the worst thing you were forced to do was the bottling line. This was an activity where they made you and the other Pledges stand in a line to drink an entire bottle of various combined liquors. Each of you had to drink a fair amount, or the last man had to drink whatever was left. You were the last man.

This was already after a knowledge test about the fraternity. If a Pledge got a question wrong about the history of Alpha Sig, he was forced to drink.

Eventually, they made you drink whenever somebody else got a question wrong because you were answering everything correctly.

You had never thrown up so violently at the end of one night before. You weren't sure how you made it back to your dorm, but you woke up at 3 in the afternoon the next morning and didn't bother going to the rest of your classes.

"That includes calling your mommy," Dabi mocked, close enough to be in striking distance.

Every Pledge knew to stay far away from this crazy bastard. He was joked to be so masochistic that he was the one responsible for the investigation in the first place.

But he sought you out so much you had almost seen him every day this week. Enough to count every piercing on his face, wonder what each of his tattoos meant and why he had so many.

He took a glance down to your hand.

"Whaddya got a hard-on or something?"

You shot your hand out of your pocket, knife-less, defenseless, and embarrassed, sparking a smirk across his face.

Your dick was not hard right now, but it wasn't opposed to getting off at the thought of Dabi's big hands, among other things.

It was worth wondering if they could all tell. You weren't flamboyant, but you supposed that not being straight wasn't their only reason to shun you.

You wondered if they knew about Dabi's equality tattoo, a small but mighty symbol under his arm that you managed to get a glimpse of at one party after staring at him too long. He made you his personal servant many times for that problem throughout the semester.

It gave you the chance to pick up on things that weren't so traditional about him.

In truth, it only made your staring worse because you were certain he was more similar to you than anyone would care to think.

He closed the distance between you and sized you up while you put your hands behind your back. You couldn't believe you had forgotten to until now; that was what your class was supposed to do when a Brother called on them.

Dabi's breath was warm and minty on the side of your face when he muttered, "You're gonna show me your dorm, Pledge."

A big, strong hand shoved you hard. Back into the direction you had been walking. There was not much you could do now, other than shakily guide him back to the one place you felt safe.

taglist:

none. reply to be added for part 2!

[waterfire1848]

Would you be willing to do Yue x Azula as star-crossed lovers(42)? Of the thingy.

Hello, anon!! Yes I would!

AU where Azula becomes the sun

Star-crossed lovers: Lovers who's attraction for each other is doomed to end in tragedy.

The story of the princess blessed by the moon and princess blessed by the sun was a well known one for people regardless of their nation of origin.

Many children heard about the young Water Tribe girl, sick from birth, who was blessed by the moon spirit. She was given hair as white as snow and some even said she had the ability to communicate with the spirit. Her name was Yue.

The story of the girl blessed by the sun was less known but no less true. The girl, unlike her counterpart, was not sick at birth, but rather strong. She had fire in her eyes, so much so that it was said her eyes burned the color of the sun and her fire was brighter and stronger than anything. Her name was Azula.

But it’s common knowledge that the moon and the sun were not meant to be together. There was a reason they were separated by the night and day. Just as the moon and sun were never meant to be together, Yue and Azula were never meant to be together. In the sky, the moon and sun were separated by miles of space between them. Yue and Azula suffered from a similar struggle of distance.

A distance which only grew when Yue assumed the responsibilities of the moon spirit, saying goodbye to her family and friends to keep the world safe. Azula, alone in a cell and forgotten by the world, didn't have as great a showing when she became a spirit. The fire in her eyes was weak and dying when she was taken away, but, ignited like the strongest fire ever seen when she gained spirithood. Her fire suddenly felt as if it could never go out.

It’s common knowledge that the moon and the sun were not meant to be together. But every rule has an exception and, for the sun and the moon, that exception is a solar eclipse.

"So, you're the sun spirit?" Yue asked.

"I am." Azula confirmed, "And you must be the moon spirit."

"Forgive me if this is too forward, but you don't look like the other spirits around here." Yue said.

"How so?" Azula asked, letting the fire on the end of her hair fall down as she undid her topknot.

"You look too...beautiful and human." Yue admitted, "I've only met one human spirit that was beautiful before: the Painted Lady."

"I probably look this way because I was human. I was human for sixteen years before I became a spirit." Azula told her.

"You were human too?" Yue asked, her eyes growing wide upon finally meeting a spirit like her.

"Too?" Azula asked.

"I was a human myself. I was the Princess of the North Pole, but then this Fire Nation admiral attacked the moon spirit and I took her place. I don't really know how long it's been since the attack, the Spirit World concept of time is tricky, but I remember it very clearly. I remember my father, my people, my home, Sokka-"

"Wait. Sokka as in that Water Tribesmen who traveled with the Avatar?" Azula asked.

"Yes. He was traveling with Avatar Aang." Yue confirmed, “Do you know him?”

Azula made a face, “In a way. He invaded the Fire Nation during a solar eclipse and was the only one with a brain who could see my plan.”

Yue smiled with a light blush coming onto her cheeks, “That sounds like him.” She looked away from Azula before speaking again, “How long has it been? If Sokka is still alive then…”

“It’s been two years since the North Pole siege. Not much time has passed.”

“Two years?” Yue’s eyes grew, “The war-“

“Relax. Your side won.” Azula grumbled, taking a seat away from her.

Because of the solar eclipse, Azula and Yue could pretty much float in the sky and spend the few hours they had just watching over the mortal world. A benefit from being tied to celestial bodies miles in the sky. Yue had watched over the invasion but she hadn’t seen what happened in the tunnels.

“You seem upset by that.” Yue gathered, sitting next to her.

“I was on the Fire Nation side. I was the Fire Nation princess actually.” Azula revealed, earning a look of shock from Yue, “After the war, I was thrown in an asylum because my uncle and brother said I was crazy. They locked me up and threw away the key.”

“I have no experience of being locked away.” Yue admitted, “But I was locked in a marriage with someone I didn’t love. I thought I was doing what was best for my people, my duty as a princess, and…” She brushed her spirit dress, “I guess I am doing something for my people just not in the way I expected.”

“You view this as something for your people?” Azula asked.

“I do. You don’t?”

“Everything I did before this was for my people and my father. I fought in the war, trained hard, became the perfect warrior all to lead my nation to victory and so my father would be proud. When I became a spirit, it was the first time that I didn’t have any of that responsibility. This is the first time I get to do something just for me, no one else. Yes, I bring the sun to the world every day but I also get to visit the dragons when I want, I get to meet the other spirits, spend time watching over people doing things I wish I could have done. I get to be…”

“Free.” Yue added, “That sounds perfect. But….you know we’re not supposed to go near mortals.”

Azula chuckled, “Are you going to tell on me?”

“No. I’ll let it slide this one time.”

“Why do I sense an if?” Azula asked.

“If you promise to take me down there and show me some of your favorite spots.” Yue added, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to really talk to….that isn’t La.”

“It’s a date.”

[emeraldhaven]

Celebrating You and Only You

V hated birthdays.

Another tick of the clock towards inevitability, a step towards the end of a life she loved so very much. She didn't hate them purely because of this of course - she also didn't like the expectations that came on a day like today. Gifts, parties, celebrations of her life which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn't all that important. She'd much rather head out on her bike, drive by some Tyger Claws or Maelstrom and fry their brains to a crisp using her cyberdeck than have to accept gifts from her friends that, bless their souls, would be trying to make this year a "year to remember".

"Jesus V - could you be any more depressin'? Cheer up, live a little!" Johnny whined, appearing on the sidewalk beside V. He was looking wistfully over the Watson community centre, leaning on the handrail exactly the same as she was.

"C'mon Johnny, you've been trawling through my memories, you know why I don't like today." V said, looking over to see whatever Johnny was also looking at. She didn't really see anything other than a few people drunk or high stumbling along the sidewalk. She breathed in deeply, held it and closed her eyes, the stale Night City air burning her lungs, then dropping her shoulders and breathing out slowly, her hand gripping tightly onto the railing.

Johnny shook his head and scoffed, pushing off of the railing and crossing his arms.

"Hey, I'm not sayin' you need to like today, just at least visit the people who care about you most. Quit bein' a little shit and make people feel like you appreciate their efforts."

V sighed. She really didn't want to go and see anybody today, but maybe Johnny was right - maybe she ought to go see some of her friends? Taking out her phone, she opened up the contacts menu and scrolled down, tapping on So Mi.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and rang.

"Huh. Why isn't So Mi picking up?" V wondered. It's quite unlike her little Songbird to not pick up the phone when she called, given everything that happened between the two. Granted, she'd just come back from her little trip up to Tycho, and any kind of operation is going to be taxing on somebody - maybe she wasn't feeling up to chatting?

V tried to contact her other friends: Kerry went straight to voicemail; Judy was on do-not-disturb; Panam was "out of cell range" - whatever that meant; River was "at work". Tapping her phone against her chin, V hummed out loud some familiar tune that was stuck in her head whilst she thought why every single person she could possibly want to hang out with was suddenly completely unavailable.

She hears a ping from her cellphone - it's a photo from So Mi and it's of the front door to her apartment. The caption reads:

"Come home."

V's heartrate shoots up - what does she mean, come home? Songbird has no idea where her apartment is, she'd never gone there during the whole Dogtown event, instead staying at the various safehouses that Reed and Alex had set up. It was a worrying thing for So Mi to know both where she lived and that she was there - it wasn't a particularly safe megabuilding.

Hopping on her Kusanagi, she turned the key and kicked off the pavement, pulling the throttle hard and speeding off to her home. After some incredibly reckless driving (Judy calls it "literally asking for trouble"), she arrives in quite possibly the shortest amount of time it's ever taken for her to drive across Night City. V practically jumps up the entire flight of stairs in front of her block, somehow leaping up 4 stairs at a time to reach the elevator, barely even registering the small red-electrical glitch on the TV screens, and once it arrives at the top sprints towards her apartment door and opens it.

The first thing V notices is that it's too quiet. Taking a quick scan around her apartment with her eyes, she can't see anyone and even her Kiroshi's aren't registering anything out of the ordinary. It takes one, two, three steps into her home before anything happens. A red glitch takes over her vision; quite similar to how the Relic would give her trouble, but she feels completely fine; until it all starts to clear and…

"SURPRISE!!" A loud cacophony of voices and cheers and party horns and poppers go off, showering her in a sea of noise, warmth and a shocking amount of confetti. V blinks away the odd bit of static to see all of her friends standing before her: Panam, Mitch, Judy, Rita, River, Kerry, Misty, Reed, Alex, Jackie, Viktor, Takemura and right in the middle as though she was illuminated by the stars themselves, So Mi holding a cake with the cutest little artistic (and quite edible) depiction of V at work, Mantis Blades in hand.

"Guys, you didn't have to do all this!" V exclaimed, shocked that they could have even set up something as elaborate as this without her really knowing.

"V, choom, we wouldn't have had it any other way." Jackie said softly, walking over and placing a hand around her shoulders. "Now kick back, relax and grab a cold one - it's time for celebrating you, and only you, today. None of this back and forth shit."

V looked up at Jackie and back towards her friends, her eyes starting to well up from all the emotions. She started to see all the little details - the cake, the small pieces of ribbon around the apartment, the bunting celebrating her 24th birthday, and all her friends dressed up and here for her. It wasn't something she was used to, but it was definitely something she could grow to enjoy.

As the party started, Jackie left V to go talk to Viktor and Takemura about some boxing thing that V didn't really know a whole lot about. She walked over and sat down next to So Mi, dressed in an immaculate jacket and jean combo that was quite similar to what her Relic-form had actually looked like. She was stunning, truly a beautiful woman in her own right, but since she got back from Luna she had this sparkle in her eyes that made V's heart flutter.

"Hey V - didn't see this one coming did you?" Songbird smirked, her soft lips accented in a beautifully red lipstick. V felt almost unable to take her eyes off of them, flicking down between her two newest vices: Songbird's eyes and lips.

"Uh, um, n-no no I didn't actually. How long have you known?" V stuttered.

"Ha! Well, it was a combination of everyone really. I got back from Tycho and, well, I got contacted by Panam - something about you not really having a lot of time celebrating your birthday in the past?" So Mi took a sip from her drink, lips wrapped around the straw in her cup.

"Ah I shouldn't have gotten drunk and chatted life with Panam - didn't realise that I'd have left something like that slip." V chuckled. "What was your little part to play in all this, Song?"

"The whole fact you couldn't see anything - hooked into the Relic and altered your visualware for the whole effect. Might have spruced other things up, as well, but y'know that's just for personal fun." Song couldn't have looked any more smug, nor more beautiful given that it seemed like, to V at least, that she was literally glowing.

"You're beautiful." V muttered, completely unaware that she'd said that out loud.

Songbird blushed a deep red. "Thanks V, that means a lot coming from you." She started to play with the top of the typical red cup she was holding.

V's eyes widened and her own scarlet blush creeped across her face, the tips of her eyes going ever so slightly pink. Taking a swig of her drink, she placed her hand on top of So Mi's, their pinkies ever so slightly hooking onto the other's.

"No, thank you Song - for all of this. I really, really appreciate you being here, and I'd want nothing else." V smiled softly at So Mi, flicking down to her lips again. She suddenly got quite aware of how close they were actually sitting on the couch.

"V… I-"

"Hey V! Come check out this sweet new gear that Judy's got!" Panam called over, rushing to grab V's arm and pull her away from Songbird. V looked back guiltily at Song, mouthing out "I'm sorry, talk later!" towards the redhead who smiled back and nodded in return.

The party would continue into the late night, and one-by-one people said their farewells and see-you-laters until everyone had left except for Jackie and Songbird.

"Alright V, I'd best be off - got a cute date with Misty in the morning, and I don't wanna miss it." Jackie said, slapping his legs and standing up. V walked him over to the door and hugged him.

"Thanks Jack - I had a preem time today." V said, choking on the last few words and giving Jackie another hug before he left.

"And then there were two." Songbird chuckled, lounging back on the couch, heels off and feet up on the couch, arms outstretched over the couch's spine.

"Well it was one at some point right, back when you were just a cute ghost in my head?" V chuckled, the room slightly swaying. V stumbles over and flops down onto the couch, falling right into the space between So Mi's side and her outstretched arm. V's back is suddenly warm, the machinery within So Mi's body heating up as the alcohol within their systems work independently, but seemingly together.

So Mi wraps her arm around V's chest, slowly stroking her abdomen, fingers raising and dropping at the curves of her abs. "Mmm - only a cute ghost? I seem to remember a certain someone thinking quite a lot about other things that involve the 'cute ghost in her head'." So Mi giggled, squeezing softly.

"Would be a gonk ass move to think too much nowadays though; pretty sure I was getting quite visceral feedback myself." V looked up at So Mi, gazing back into those captivating eyes. "Couldn't help it, Song, you had me when you invited back to that bench."

So Mi hummed, a multitude of thoughts, feelings and pure emotions coursing through her head. As her heartbeat ramped up, the whirring in the motors in her spine lowly increased, and V noticed.

"Not gettin' too mushy on me, are ya' Song?" V giggled back, placing her own hand on Songbird's, the dark glow of both her apartment and Night City from her window illuminating the two.

Songbird shook her head and then slowly, softly and with the most care anyone has ever given to V, leant down and kissed the top of her head. Burying her nose in the plushness of V's soft, delicate stained-red hair, she exhaled in complete comfort.

"No V, I'm just as mushy and as happy as I want to be right here, right now, with you. Spending as much time as I can while we still have it to spend in whatever ways we want. Happy birthday, V." Songbird murmured, closing her eyes.

Taking a minute, V calmed her screaming heart and said quietly: "It's, um, it's Valerie. My real name is Valerie."

"Then happy birthday Valerie - you deserve it." Songbird affirmed.

V hummed happily, sleepily planting an ever softer kiss on So Mi's hand, entwining their fingers and drifting off, her eyelids fluttering closed as the comforting embrace of Songbird enveloped her in her wings.

Maybe V didn't hate birthdays after all.

[oneatlatime]

The Cave of Two Lovers

I always wanted to be a frog on a leaf.

Does Aang have chaps?

Instructed to hold his arms closer together, Aang immediately spreads them as far apart as physically possible.

Hippies!

Chong's wife is not called Cheech. That's a travesty.

Between the 90s boy band hair and the quadrupedal underwear, Sokka is not looking his best this episode!

Uncle, were you watching? Did you see? Lookit Uncle I even threw in some fist shaking at god and a dramatic tumble. Did you watch? Lookitmeeeeeeee.

Seems like it's Zuko's turn with the brain cell. Iroh plays the dumbass a lot but he can't seriously be contemplating risking poisoning himself while he has zero resources.

Appa getting a turn as the couch rather than the whip. Sweet braids.

"Oh it's a real legend" is a remarkably accurate statement when speaking of oral folklore. Real v. Fake legends are an actual thing!

Did anyone watch Arthur growing up? Anyone remember the Crazy Bus song? I feel like this Tunnel song is what Crazy Bus was trying to be.

I like her skirt. Actually all of their clothes are pretty neat.

Why does Appa hate going underground?

That's got to be watercolour.

The stick is a better catch than the fish. It's a damn good stick.

Zuko actually managing to admit that he needs help! Or rather, that they need help. That's growth! Maybe that's why Iroh poisoned himself? Or maybe he's just having a dumb moment? Two consecutive dumb moments?

Do you think being unwanted in literally every country on earth including his own is going to be enough to convince Zuko that maybe his nation isn't so great?

Her earrings are bells. She probably deafens herself when she walks.

Why is the science guy freaking out about curses?

Chong's necklace flowers keep drastically changing size depending on how close up the shot is.

Average fire nation soldier is superstitious. I bet they can use that. And this guy's hands are huge. Also those flying grappling hook chain things are, in my opinion, the fire nation's greatest combat advantage. Who needs bending when you have those?

The math-defying torches apparently work like strike anywhere matches.

Definitely watching this one on a CRT when I have the chance. Too dark otherwise.

Can you do that? Turn a map of the paths you've taken into a solvable maze? Don't you need to see all possible paths to solve a maze?

Three things: a) I like Song's voice actress. Very pretty voice, matches the face well. b) Zuko being terminally awkward when needing to lie is something that's been consistent since the third episode. He really needs to work on that. c) There's a whole world of visual storytelling in the fact that, when hastily required to look natural, Zuko defaults to parade rest.

The latest fashion in men's neckwear.

I mean technically yeah, Zuko's dad is fighting in the war, but Good Lord are he and Song bonding over traumas from the 100% opposite directions.

They snuck in a Bob Dylan joke!?!?!

Poor Appa is having a time of it this episode.

Sokka would rather die in a self-inflicted rock slide than hang with the hippies. That's a very Sokka thing.

The lighting here is beautiful. All warm and glowy.

Poor Song. It's borderline embarrassing to watch how wrong she is. But at the same time, she's completely right. The Fire Nation did hurt Zuko. But the Fire Nation is Zuko. But Zuko was hurt by the Fire Nation. Zuko's brain must be inside out right now.

No touchy.

Why is Zuko surprised by her burns? Did he think his nation took over most of the world by asking nicely? Seriously, did he?

It's good to finally see more burns. Well, not good, but logical. I think I ranted last episode about why I was so surprised by the lack of burns.

I'm with Sokka on this one. There is a (very limited) time and a (very tiny) place for singalongs, and this isn't it. Also I keep thinking that Momo is wearing an Adidas tracksuit.

The last thing cave walls see before death.

What do you know, it is a real legend.

Pretty. This whole sequence is inky.

I love how this show does badass bitches.

How on brand is it that the city founded by think-outside-the-box badgermole wrassling innovators is now ruled by Bumi? Original thought, badass earthbender, giant murderous rabbit; he fits right in.

No kissing until you're 35. What a face though.

Aang STOP TALKING YOU CANNOT WIN!!!

What's wrong with you is that you're 12. No one is smooth at 12.

According to the episode The Storm, the avatar does in fact represent hope to Zuko, but Song just can't stop putting her foot in it. Literally any other earth kingdom refugee would come away from an evening with Song feeling renewed hope, but she's unintentionally and unknowingly hit pretty much every one of Zuko's sore spots. This must have been a very frustrating evening for him.

In case we forgot that Zuko was the villain, he steals a horse bird. Iroh why are you ok with this?

Ouch.

Where is your chin

Chong was right. All they did need to do was play music. These guys would probably kill me if I tried, but gosh they're so cute I want 5.

How many string instruments does Chong have stashed in his robe? His improv skills are top notch though.

You want me to believe that a couple of millennia of badgermoles rearranging things as they see fit has not altered the path of the crystals?

I feel ya buddy.

Sokka assuming his rightful throne. King of the Badgermoles.

Badgermoles have elf ears.

"Really? We let huge ferocious beasts lead our way." I love this line.

Appa's such a good friend. Settling in for a long listening session.

"So are you guys going to come to Omashu with us?" "Nope." "Ok." *fucks off into the sunset* Now that's how you write out a character.

NOOO BUMI!!!

Do you think the hippies knew? Is that why they didn't want to go to Omashu? It would be totally on brand for them to know the whole time and not tell.

Final Thoughts

Well that was a hell of a bait and switch ending. Supreme goof A-plot, Zuko having his dearly held beliefs dragged through the mud B-plot, and then suddenly *BOOM* overarching plot.

So is this season going to be the 'step on Zuko until he's decent' season? Because he's got a long way to go.

Why was Iroh being so stupid in the beginning? Does he have a blind spot where tea is concerned? He made Zuko look like the reasonable one. That's quite a feat.

At first glance, Sokka got to shine in this episode, but actually it was Chong who was right all along. There was a real legend about a secret tunnel, the solution was to trust in love, both as Aang & Katara did and as Chong's group tried (love songs). And that kid WAS the avatar! Three for Three!

I'm still not a fan of Aang & Katara being involved romantically (mostly because they're BABY), but I love the way they related to each other this episode. Their interactions felt 100% natural. What tween hasn't put their foot in their mouth around their crush?

Someone give Appa a hug. You know what? Give Momo a hug too. He worked hard as a wolfbat early alert system.

Speaking of Appa, are his underside sections furry? Covered in short grey fur? Or are they hard grey armoured plates? Are they shell or skin?

I've noticed that animal noises come in three flavours in this show: Appa grumbles, Momo trills, or wolfbat hisses. Most animals make variations of these three.

Are we sure Song hasn't been hitting the White Jade herself? Those are pretty similar.

Poor Song is really crapped on this episode. All she did was be compassionate and she gets her horse thing stolen. It makes sense that she wouldn't try to retrieve her horse thing, both because she's too kind, and because it's just her and her mom against two fairly rough guys. If this is the season of Zuko improvement, how many more innocents like Song will be crapped on in the name of improving Zuko?

Chong's robe's sleeve kind of hangs off his waist, since he's rocking the one shoulder look. I thought Bato was rocking that same look in his episode, and spent the whole episode looking for where he stashed his sleeve, but I couldn't find it. But now I see Chong with the same look and he definitely has extra sleeve trailing. So did Bato cut off his sleeve? Is he wearing the robe he was wearing when he got injured and his sleeve burned off? Is there a known way to tuck robe sleeves in inconspicuously and the fact that we can see Chong's is a bit of visual storytelling pointing to the hippies' general scatterbrained nature? Am I overthinking this?

I liked this episode! Definitely going on my rewatch list! The hippies are just the right amount of stupid, Zuko gets a break from being a shouty jerk, and Aang and Katara get to be just awkward kids (albeit while trapped in a life or death situation - priorities guys). Poor Sokka, Appa, and Song have a pretty bad time. But Sokka being terrorised by stupidity makes for funny tv.