#first attempt gets me some leniency?

[idkmybffjaden]

so i spent actual hours of my life creating a recording of that T Swift verse I re-wrote for Tealshipping

I bought a mic, y'all

I really did record myself attempting to sing in a hokey southern accent

#priorities

[changetyre]

Hiiii, uhm i dont know how to ask this hahha but could you maby do a smut fic with Lance Stroll, you can do any Story you want but i just cant find any fluffy or smut stories with him, plsss (only if you want, but smut pls , would be much appreciated)

SUMMARY: Being a personal assistant to Lance Stroll was complicated considering certain leniencies, when he misbehaves you take all the hear, which naturally caused tension between you both.

WARNINGS: **18+**, not proofread

A/N: Again sorry it took so long but hope you like it ;)

You sat in the meeting room, trying to hide your annoyance but it was clearly evident in your face as well as many others. You looked at your watch indicating you were almost reaching the 40 minute mark of waiting for one person to start.

You would’ve worried if this wasn’t such a common certain for a certain member of the team who was so secure in his position he truly didn’t care for punctuality, no actual punishment for his lack of professionalism.

"This is the 5th time this week alone he's been late to his meetings y/n, I thought you said you handled it the first time-" A team member muttered beside you.

You would've answered if it weren't for the door opening soon after.

“Morning everyone, sorry I’m a little late ran into some traffic.” Lance finally walked into the room.

There was a shared sigh of relief from everyone although for you his appearance only made you angrier reminding you of yet another date you were at risk of canceling because of having to wait for this brat to show up.

“No worries, let’s start right away.” No one dared to scold Lance, even less when the older Stroll was present who didn’t even bat an eye at his son’s tardiness.

The meeting started as Lance took a seat next to you giving you a wink completely dismissing the furious look in your eyes. Lance's hand went to rest on your thigh as he so often attempted to do but was quickly swatted away by your hand as usual.

"So Lance you haven't come in for sim work this week which we really need, are you able to stay for about an hour this evening?" Mike asked him.

"Right I would love to but I think I have an important meeting tonight right y/n?" Lance turned to look at you hoping you would once again pull him out of his duties but you'd had enough.

"No actually, you're all free this evening, as well as the whole day tomorrow...I made sure to clear your schedule." You cockily smirked loving that everyone was here for this as Lance looked at you annoyed.

"Oh are you sure I mean-" Lance tried to push once again.

"100%" You quickly cut him off.

"Perfect, we expect you this evening then." Mike was content as he continued on with the last details of the meeting all while Lance glared at you.

Once the meeting was finished you were quick to pack your things up and head out but Lance was quick to stop you before you could leave.

"What the hell was that?" He asked you once everyone else had left the room leaving you both alone.

"It was me doing the job I am paid to do successfully for the first time in a while." You bit back.

"Fine, but where the hell do you think you're off to in a rush?" Lance watched as you continued packing things up quickly stopping you by pulling you close to him by your waist. He was touchy you knew that and eventually grew used to it.

"Unlike you, I'm done for the day so I'm hoping I can still make it to my date." You attempted to walk by him but he blocked your path.

"A date?" He scoffed. "You're not going anywhere, if I'm staying you are too." he cockily smiled as his hand gripped your waist tighter.

"I was meant to finish over two hours ago I've done my job so no excuse me-" Once more you attempted to walk past him only to be stopped again by him pulling you into his chest.

"You knew this job didn't have strict working hours, you're my personal assistant, and I say when you're done. You get paid generously for every extra minute." He got closer repeating every word right up in your face. You could feel his breath on your lips.

"You're a dick." You shoved him back which only humored him.

"You better cancel that date if you want to keep this job sweetheart." Lance laughed.

You were furious, he knew you couldn't afford to lose his job and he was right in the fact that you always got paid for every single hour you worked.

_____________

After the previous rough evening, you found yourself once again back in the AM headquarters waiting for Lance to show up for more testing which he was late to.

"I thought we said 8am sharp." One of the team analysts looked at you, obviously annoyed.

"I told him to be on time, I gave him his schedule, he knows-" You started explaining.

"Your job is to make sure he is where he needs to be when he needs to be and you have failed to do so for months now." Mike who had also been waiting for Lance to arrive threatened you. "After today you're fired."

"Please I-" You didn't have a chance to defend yourself.

"Morning everyone, let's get started." Lance arrived, smiling as if he hadn't just arrived over an hour late.

Everyone else faked a smile just for him, just to keep him pleased while you were left concerned for yourself.

_______

"You have a marketing day tomorrow, you need to be there at 7am on the dot." You looked through Lance's schedule stressed about everything he had lined up praying for once he would listen to you.

"Hmm...I'm having a late night tonight so might be a little late but-" Lance started ready to approach you with his excuses as he changed out of his uniform.

"NO LANCE!" You blew up. "Fuck." You fell back onto the couch in his room in defeat realizing you had been way too loud. "For once will you just do as you are asked...even if it's the last time." You looked down.

"What are you talking about?" Lance approached you trying to hold you as he normally did but this time you pulled back.

You looked up at him and he noticed the fiery look he normally found in them was missing.

"Mike fired me this morning." You revealed to him too bothered to get angry at him anymore. "I finish today then I'm gone."

"He did what?" There was obvious fury in his voice. "Why would he-"

"Because you never do what I ask you to do." You didn't even let him finish.

"You're saying this is my fault?" Lance asked.

"You know what whatever Lance, do whatever you want. I'm done" You threw the iPad on the couch grabbing your stuff ready to leave.

"Stop." Lance grabbed your arm. "You're not going anywhere."

"I don't think that's your call anymore." You dismissed him but he held you tightly.

"I hired you. So trust me it's my call." Lance cupped your cheek making you look at him. "You're not going anywhere."

"But Mike-"

"Mike does what I say." He didn't even let you refute it.

"Don't worry...you're not going anywhere." He repeated pulling you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"So you're just gonna keep paying me for not being able to do my job well enough?" You looked up at him.

"I would pay you to just keep you around me looking all pretty sweetheart." Lance smiled down at you placing a kiss on your cheek.

"You're infuriating-" You met his eyes again.

"Shut up" Lance kissed you roughly pulling you tightly against him.

"What do you-"Lance deepened the kiss, "think you're-"He began taking your coat off "doing?" you finished asking him between kisses with no real attempt to stop him.

"What I've always wanted to do." Lance quickly answered as he pulled his shirt off before pulling you back in and slipping his tongue inside your mouth.

"We shouldn't do this." You said as you pulled your own shirt off letting Lance unbutton your jeans and begin pulling them down.

"I love doing what I shouldn't." Lance finished pulling your jeans down before pushing you back onto the couch.

"And I hate you for it." You reminded him but were quickly shut up when he went down on you. "Agh fuck-" You moaned as he began to kiss your clit over your panties.

"I thought I told you to shut up." Lance cockily smiled between your legs as he pushed your panties aside licking up your slit before you could even bite back.

"Mhmm...please Lance." You gripped onto his hair.

"Please what baby?" Lance licked and sucked at your clit driving you crazy. "Fuck you're so wet-" Lance drooled at the sight in front of him.

"Don't stop-" You begged him as you could feel your orgasm nearing.

"Nah ah, sweetheart. You're cumming on my cock-" He stopped just before you could finish making you whine in annoyance.

"Lance! Please." You begged annoyed, a tone he was more used to but in a completely new context.

Lance didn't bother to go slowly as he sank fast and deeply into you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Aghhh shit" you moaned as he began thrusting into you.

"Does that feel good baby?" Lance asked you as he toyed with your tits.

"Fuck Lance...feels-" You struggled to speak through the pleasure. "Feels so good." You got lost in the feeling.

"You're not going anywhere, baby. I'll make sure of it." Lance whispered to you a quiet reassurance while he fucked you harshly, the first time of many.

[pedropascallme]

Slow Down, Lie Down

Pairing: Shayne Topp x f!Reader

Summary: “‘I’m fucking exhausted, Shayne, it’s like I have to be so high-energy all the fucking time, and I’m burnt out and stressed for no fucking reason and I just—…you!’ You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch. ‘You…’ you looked at him through damp lashes, and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish your thought, not catching on to your statement. You cocked a brow, ‘I want you, Shayne.’”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), Shayne's gold chain is a warning in and of itself but it also comes into play here so take that as you will. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: This is based off of a requested prompt from the lovely @slaydoggg who asked for a Shayne fic quite a while ago and I just got around to finishing it! Hope you all enjoy <3

The last day of any shoot week was the only time in your life that you’d ever felt genuine burnout.

When you were in school, you’d had a sort of leniency policy with yourself; long days never turned into long nights, you’d stuck to a schedule that allowed for grace periods, you’d been confident in your ability to ask for help.

But when it came to working in such a high energy environment, where you felt like you had to be on all the time, where quiet always seemed like a synonym for bad, it was hard to grant yourself any clemency from just going, going, going all day.

Not to say you didn’t like what you did—you wouldn’t trade your place at Smosh for the world. The office was a safe space above all else, and even though it was your place of employment, most days it felt more like a high school cafeteria, where you and your friends gathered and chatted and made each other go red in the face from laughter until milk shot out of someone’s nose, or whatever.

Still, shooting a TNTL at 7PM on a Friday after a week of filming felt like some kind of sick joke. Did you even have any ideas left? Improv was one thing, but improv with zero social battery left was a completely different story, one you were unsure you wanted to know the end to.

“You alright?” Shayne pulled you from your thoughts while you gathered in the studio to film.

“Yeah, yeah. Just…y’know, little tired.” You smiled, an offering he returned, “But I’m alright.”

He could tell that you were teetering in the space between apathetic and completely exhausted. It was hard to keep things from him. Goddamn psychology degree. Even before you had started dating, it seemed like Shayne had a sixth sense for the feelings of the people around him, especially when it came to you—and Damien, but they might as well have had their own telepathic communication link, as far as you were concerned.

“Ok,” he rubbed your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you despite your denial of any discomfort, “We’ll go home soon. Go be funny.”

~~~

“Good! Cut!” Shayne called from behind the camera after Courtney wrapped up the video. You had never felt more relief in your life; the promise of a bed and a weekend of relaxation awaiting you at home made you feel like a huge weight was in the process of being lifted off your shoulders. You felt like you were floating, completely dissociated from the world around you while your friends giggled as they recalled jokes they had made not even 20 minutes ago.

You gathered your things and met Shayne outside in the car. You stared through the windshield, still tuning everything out and unaware that he was addressing you.

“Hey,” he squeezed your thigh, “did you hear me?”

“Mm, sorry,” you shifted to look at him, realizing you were still unbuckled and quickly correcting your indiscretion.

“What do you want for dinner?” He was doing that thing where he studied your features as if you were a doll, seemingly unaware that you could see him scanning your face.

“I dunno,” you sighed, “let’s just order something when we get home.”

“Ok.” He fell quiet and peeled out of his parking spot. The ride was quiet for the first ten minutes before he spoke again. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m just ti—”

“‘Just tired,’ I know—but is there anything else?”

You shifted uncomfortably, running your hand over your seatbelt. “I dunno.” You knew you sounded repetitive, childish, but it was hard to communicate the exhaustion you were feeling to someone who did the same thing as you all week and never seemed to fall victim to the same sort of fatigue that you did. “Really tired.”

“Do you feel stressed?” He pushed.

“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?” The words came out with a harsher edge than you had meant, and you saw him briefly furrow his brows in shock before regaining his composure.

“No, I’m just worried. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.” He parked in front of the house and turned to you, “I love you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep anything from me.”

You nodded, and the floodgates threatened to open as tears pricked your lash line. You sniffed. “I know,” another sniffle, “I love you, too.” You felt ridiculous, like a toddler overdo for a nap with the way you were acting just because you were really that tired. You just needed a little reassurance; to remember what it was like to feel rested and sated.

Shayne unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the center console to take your face in his hands. “What do you need, baby?” His thumb caught a tear that had slipped over your cheek. “Tell me. You’re…freaking me out, a little.” He chuckled, still retaining the sympathetic look that painted his face even when his eyes creased up with his small smile.

“I’m fucking exhausted, Shayne, it’s like I have to be so high-energy all the fucking time, and I’m burnt out and stressed for no fucking reason and I just—…you!” You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch. “You…” you looked at him through damp lashes, and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish your thought, not catching on to your statement. You cocked a brow, “I want you, Shayne.”

“Oh—oh. Oh!” He lit up, eyes wide and smiling like a kid in a candy store.

One thing you appreciated was that no matter how often you two were intimate, no matter how many times he saw you naked, he still managed to make it seem like a miraculous, once in a lifetime event when you fucked.

Talk about validation.

He all but jumped out of his seat, waltzing over to open the door on the passenger side of the car and waiting impatiently for you to unbuckle yourself and step onto the sidewalk. You’d never seen him open the door to the house so fast.

Before you had the opportunity to remove your jacket, your shoes, or put down your bag, you were pushed against the now-closed-and-locked door by Shayne, who immediately found your lips and pulled you into a deep kiss. It was gentle, reminiscent of the first time you two had kissed in that it was exploratory and slow so as to adapt to the needs of the other; but no matter how he did it, kissing Shayne always felt like perfection. You dropped your bag at your feet before bringing your arms to rest on his shoulders, lazily pulling at his flannel while he dragged his tongue over your bottom lip. He rested his forehead against yours when he pulled away.

“Feel better?” He let his nose bump against yours as he spoke.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “But I think I could use a little more…remedying…” You brought one hand to the collar of his shirt, dipping under it and trailing your finger back and forth.

“Thought so.” He pulled your hand away momentarily to pull you into him, hands on your waist, and you got the hint, jumping so he could lift you, wrapping your arms around his neck while your legs found purchase around his hips. You licked a stripe up his neck and felt him shiver underneath your tongue.

He hesitated to drop you on the bed. “I could just fuck you like this, y’know…” He made a show of how easy it was for him to pick you up, bobbing you up and down in his arms momentarily, miming how he’d fuck you.

“Fully clothed?” You pointed out, and he relented.

“Next time I’m getting you naked before I pick you up.”

“Buy me a drink first, man.” You laughed, peeling off your jacket and shirt and unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the fabric from your body; it felt freeing in so many ways, the removal of a week of work from your skin, your limbs able to breathe without the constricting material, the knowledge that Shayne was there to see you in all your nude glory—it was incredibly satisfactory.

His shirt was off when you looked back up, now in just your bra and panties. The chain around his neck glinted in the low light of the bedroom, and you felt a wave of lust crash over you; crawling towards him to the edge of the bed where he stood, you let your hands trace up his abdomen before landing on his shoulders. You peppered kisses over his chest, taking in the taste of his skin and inhaling his scent. His hands came up to grip your waist, squeezing gently to get your attention.

“Not about me right now,” he reminded you, somewhat stern in his cadence.

“You don’t want me to go down on you?” You purred, goading him.

“As much as I would love to see you wrap your lips around my cock right now…” he spoke while he pushed you back onto the mattress, pulling you towards him by your ankles, “I’d much rather be making you feel good.”

“Yeah?” You breathed, and he planted a kiss on your thigh.

“I’m a giver.” He kneeled in front of you, "Lie down." You leaned back, letting yourself melt into the comforter under his touch. He let his hands roam your body; thumbs brushing the curve of your breast over your bra before dragging his palms over your stomach, dipping under you slightly to squeeze your ass. You let out a huff of contentment at the feeling, and he did it again, before his fingers dropped under the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs.

When you felt the first swipe of his tongue over your core, your drowsiness was replaced with a tingling pleasure that started in your clit and spread to the back of your neck; you feathered your fingers through his hair to coax him onward.

“Poor baby,” he muttered, dipping his head down into you and licking up from your slit, gathering your slick on his tongue, “you just needed some help relaxing, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned when he used his tongue to circle your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure to help you unwind; you bent your knee, effectively trapping him face-first against your cunt.  

“It’s ok,” he flattened his tongue against you, keeping pressure on your clit until you started to squirm, “I’ll help you, baby. Don’t worry.” He licked through your folds before slipping his tongue inside of you, contorting the muscle to curl in and out as he saw fit. You tugged on his hair, a silent message telling him not to stop amidst your quiet moans and the subtle roll of your hips against his mouth.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently until you arched your back, muscles relaxing when he let up on the pressure before he repeated the motion just to watch you squirm for him.

“Shayne…” You whimpered, one hand coming up to grope yourself through your bra, drunk off the feeling of his tongue.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered into you, alternating between sucking on your clit and lapping up the mixture of his spit that trickled down your entrance and the wet that dripped from you. He snaked his arms underneath you, resting them under your thighs with his hands gripping the plush skin, giving him a better angle to watch you come undone. He fucked you with his tongue again now, unable to ignore the way you bucked your hips against his mouth and the filthy moans that fell from your lips, before he licked a long stripe up your cunt and began sucking on your clit once more.

Your orgasm crashed over you, a calming tide that came in and out with no fanfare, but was still so beautifully curated to your needs. Shayne watched your breathing pick up and then slow down as you sank deeper into the bed. He rested his head against your thigh.

“Was that helpful?” You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Maybe a little,” you rolled your eyes playfully, and he stood, leaning over you and kissing your cheek. “Got anything else that might help?”

He laughed quietly, briefly kissing your pulse point. “Anybody ever told you that you can be real needy?”

“Is that a bad thing?” You let your hands wander over his stomach and chest, dropping down further to play with the waistband of his jeans, and he groaned.

“Not in the slightest,” he clarified, before straightening himself up to remove his jeans. You closed your eyes, still enjoying the comfort of the bed, the undisturbed joy you got to experience with your boyfriend away from the chaos of work. When you opened your eyes, Shayne had one knee on the mattress, boxers still on—much to your chagrin—and beckoning you closer to him. You sat up, shuffling towards him on your knees, and he guided you forward so that he could unhook your bra and let it slide down your arms.

“Your turn,” you bent down to tug at his boxers, and he smirked at the difficulty you had trying to get them off of him at this angle. He gently shooed you off, taking them off on his own, before pulling you in for a long, slow kiss. It was somewhat needier now than the one you had shared at the door, but it still felt just right; his tongue broke through your lips and, after sucking gently on it for a few seconds, you pulled back, too desperate for him to fuck you now to focus on anything else.

He pushed you down onto your back gently, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed and propping your legs on his shoulders. Fisting his cock, you watched him spit down onto you, letting the saliva trail over your hole before he ran his cock through your folds, gathering your wet on himself. You squirmed, eager and impatient, and he raised an eyebrow, smiling down at you.

“Needy.” He reiterated, before pushing into you. You felt the initial stretch, the blissful pressure of his cock plunging into you, and in this position, with your legs raised above you, you could feel him nestled deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you heard him mutter when he bottomed out, and one of his hands came down to your side, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your hip bone. “God, maybe we both needed this…”

“Mhm,” you sighed dreamily up at him, eyes half-lidded and lips parted.

He pulled his hips back less than an inch, focused on staying close to you and drawing your pleasure out, before pushing back in—not rough, but certainly hard; the force pushed you up the mattress slightly. Caught off guard by his movement, combined with the feeling of his cock pressing into you even deeper than it had before, you couldn’t help the moan of his name that was knocked from your lungs.

He kept fucking you like that, slow and deep, hands sweeping over your skin like he wanted to remember every curve and bend of your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shayne managed to speak out between low moans, “So fucking beautiful.”

You placed a hand over his where it sat on your thigh, still holding your legs above your body and against his chest. “All for you.” You squeezed his hand gently, and he leaned his head back.

“God, yeah—that’s right,” his thrusts started to get rougher, just enough for his cock to push against your most sensitive spot and keep you hovering over the edge. “All for me.”

He leaned forward, pushing your legs back with his body; he had even more free reign like this, thrusting into you hard and fast, and you mewled underneath him, letting out whimpers of delight at the way he pushed you closer to your high.

Propping himself up with one arm, his other hand resting on your waist, he dropped his head down to your chest and licked messy stripes over your breasts, capturing your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it before alternating to the other. You arched your back, struggling to decide whether to focus on the way his cock felt brushing against your g-spot or the way his tongue felt teasing your nipples.

You quickly decided that now wasn’t the time for decision making, allowing yourself to succumb completely to the way his movements worked in tandem to bring you satisfaction.

When he came up to kiss you again, you grabbed at his chain, pulling him further into you, and he moaned into your lips, tongue immediately seeking refuge in your mouth and licking into you. You returned the favor, eager to taste him. He moved his hand, positioning his thumb over your clit and kneading it in time with his thrusts, and you gasped at the friction. Mouth open and unable to tear your gaze from him, you yanked on the chain around his neck again, and he growled, pushing into you with less regard now—nice and rough to get you over the finish line.

“Fuck me just like that—oh my god, Shayne!” Your legs trembled from the strain of the position and the orgasm that built in the pit of your stomach, and when he licked his lips, panting, and you felt him press harder against your clit, you were engulfed by the electricity that seemed to shoot from him straight into your bloodstream. You cried out his name, throwing your head back and letting the pleasure take over.

You heard him hum above you, the combination of a contented sigh and a desperate groan as he watched you cum on his cock; panting, you placed a hand gingerly on his cheek, the other still toying with his chain, pulling his face towards yours, ghosting your lips over his.

“Cum in me,” you whispered into his mouth before kissing him, and you felt his lips part against yours with a moan, stuttering your name and spilling into you.

His head rested against yours, both of you breathing hard and trying to regain your composure. He kissed your ear, then your cheek, your nose, your other cheek, your other ear, before finally placing a sweet kiss against your lips, soft and full of love.

He took a deep breath before pulling out of you, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

“I know. Come here, baby” he helped you straighten your stiff legs before scooping you up and placing you properly along the bed; you curled up instantly, satisfied and relaxed. Shayne crawled into bed behind you, a box of tissues in his hands that he pulled from to wipe the excess mess from between your thighs. He was gentle, quiet, kissing your back while he pulled your legs apart to clean you off.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, turning over to face him, “I feel…much more relaxed.”

“Glad I could help.” He kissed your forehead, tossing the box of tissues across the room and cringing when they landed awkwardly in the middle of the floor instead of on the dresser he had been aiming for. “Never want you to think that you can’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I know,” you trailed your fingers over his chain, looking up to meet his gaze, “I’m sorry I was grumpy.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I’m sorry you felt so exhausted.”

“I’m still exhausted,” you smiled, “just in a much more enjoyable way.” You watched him break into a smile, pulling you against his chest and kissing the crown of your head.

“You can sleep in tomorrow.” He stroked your hair.

“Only if you sleep in with me.” You nuzzled into him, already feeling sleep tug your eyes closed.

“Can’t pass up an opportunity like that.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

what do you think Jack's flaws are? I believe that one of them is that he tends to idealize people like Leona he doesn't see the unpleasant sides of people.

Real quick, wanted to thank @/tinyfantasminha for taking the time to share their thoughts with me + give me some ideas on where to look for supplemental Jack lore ^^

I won't be going out of my way to make a list of all his flaws due to the reasons cited in this post. However, I'm going to discuss the idea posed by this anon. I don't know if I'd phrase it as "[Jack] doesn't see the unpleasant sides of people". I actually think the contrary: Jack is often suspicious and unwilling to trust others. This is particularly true for Octavinelle (see: book 3, Jack Labwear vignettes, etc.), but also extends to the general student populace, as he prefers to work alone. Jack does have more leniency towards his Savanaclaw senpais, Ruggie and especially Leona, but they're exceptions and not the rule. I think Jack would ideally like to have honorable senpai to look up to, but ideals are very different than what life handed him. Additionally, I don't think Jack has a habit of idealizing (like Kalim or Silver, who are oblivious to red flags and/or choose to think the best of their peers) or idolizing others (like Sebek does Malleus), at least not to the same extremes as some of his classmates do.

Back to Jack’s feelings about his Savanaclaw senpai for a moment. He first saw Leona on TV before ever meeting the guy, so it’s very possible that Jack formed a parasocial attachment to him and projected his own just ideals onto this stranger. That’s not uncommon or unexpected behavior for a preteen or teenager, who’s still trying to get a sense for their own identity and their place in the world. When he actually meets Leona, Jack is then taken aback by reality being totally different than his expectations.

Though Jack claims to operate as a lone wolf, he respects and adheres to pact hierarchy very strictly. In his own dorm uniform vignettes, he expresses that he believes Ruggie is Savanaclaw’s second-in-command and goes out of his way to try and earn Ruggie’s trust. Even when Ruggie says it’s annoying or acts suspicious of his junior, Jack persists like a wolf on the hunt. And that’s the thing about Jack: he is stubborn, and that can lead to problems, especially if others are involved. In his attempts to help out Ruggie, he’s being overbearing. By trying to do everything on his own, he’s potentially shouldering more work and shutting his peers out. That’s part of Jack’s brand of NRC pride—all the students have it to some degree.

Jack’s real fatal flaw is that he’s too judgmental. I already mentioned earlier how he tends to be very suspicious of others, but Jack also has a tendency to see things “as they are” and is inflexible with his thinking. Like… he sees things as very face value. He sees Leona ordering Savanaclaw mobs to injure other students? Automatically goes, “that’s wrong!!” based on his own moral compass, doesn’t ask himself “why might they be doing this?”. He also assumes Leona is acting out of cowardice or just isn’t “trying hard enough”. This is a behavior Jack exhibits in other situations too. For example, he laughs when Leona talks about the honorable lessons he’s supposed to grant to the Sunset Warriors (implying he doesn’t see Leona as honorable). He calls Vil an “old man” when everyone returns from S.T.Y.X. He expresses surprise when people he thought were twigs at a glance (Silver, Azul, etc.) are actually muscular or are at least making efforts to bulk up. This all makes Jack come off as blunt or, at worst (unintentionally) callous or insensitive.

I know this is technically a post about Jack’s flaws, but I think it’s pretty admirable that he consistently apologizes when he’s wrong and tries to learn or to make up for it. He willing worked in the Mostro Lounge to replace Jade’s wood ear mushroom that he accidentally disposed of (Labwear vignettes). He realizes townsfolk find him physically intimidating so he tries to take customer service training to be friendlier (Port Wear vignettes). He tries to protect child!Vil but learns that Vil can protect himself. There are countless other examples—and for a first year, he is remarkably mature in genuinely owning up to his mistakes and striving to be better next time.

I guess I’ll leave you with that ^^ just so we can end this post positively!

[suddencolds]

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks. 

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around. 

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow. 

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says. 

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

 “He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this… 

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him? 

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return. 

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will. 

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that. 

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe. 

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

[megabuild]

hey megabuild can you elaborate on the complicated feelings re: bdubs apologizing to tango thing because I too have feelings about it that are complicated and i either need you to confirm I'm insane, confirm I'm not insane or make my insanity feel more enabled

(cracks my knuckles loudly and uncomfortably) the number one c!bdubs defender has logged on for another take hated by all

i think the most key thing to take away from this interaction is not that bdubs is being manipulative and dishonest but that it very clearly lays out the main issues with tuff guys' ability to function, that is, they all have different goals and ideals of what an alliance should function as, but also they have far too much baggage and history that they are all either unable to or unwilling to move on from.

looking at this conversation and taking it at face value- that is, bdubs went in with the intent to manipulate and lie, and then immediately caved when called out- is extremely uncharitable at best when similar behaviours from other players (such as scar) is often handwaved away as them playing the game correctly or exhibiting trauma responses. why these players are afforded such leniency while bdubs never is.. well, that's simply a mystery because i can't think of anything that immediately and obviously might set bdubs aside from the majority of his peers (hint: there is.). this coupled with the fact that bdubs has spent the first two sessions making genuine, if extremely flawed attempts at communication and problem-solving (see: horse discourse, which DID actually work though only after etho defused and approached it on his own terms, and the formation of tuff guys, which is an extremely flawed plot but also tackles the main issues at the core of the alliance- etho's commitment issues, tango's fear of betrayal, and bdubs' reputation) and i find it extremely difficult to believe that this conversation is entirely made up to gain some sort of leverage, because by saying that one must imply that retroactively both of those prior conversations were also probably in part manipulation- at which point we're painting bdubs as a multi-session plotting mastermind and that's just not who he is.

reading over the transcript there's a few key points that i think are really important-

bdubs comments that he's truly apologising, because he apologises in last life (poorly, but still) right after the matter, saying "he's sorry, but he had to". not in any way justifying his treatment of tango in last life, because moments before he also calls him fodder, but this gives us some insight into what bdubs is thinking- that is, it is likely he DOES feel genuinely bad about tango, or at least is able to acknowledge that they need to resolve their prior conflicts if they have any hope of succeeding. otherwise, there is little point in bringing such conflict to the forefront of tango's mind; that's manipulating him in the wrong direction by reminding him of his past traumas and giving him more ammo against bdubs. strategically i cannot understand why he would do this (outside of from a creator standpoint having more drama to mess with, because cc!bdubs is known for this, but if i get into the very murky territory between cc and c here it'll stretch everything out a million miles longer).

bdubs also barely gets a chance to defend himself after his initial apology is not accepted- tango is the one who builds up a "self reflection hole", both immediately dismiss it as manipulation (they are the first ones to suggest this, not bdubs!), and they pick on small tells such as him not having his head down and smiling as proof that he isn't genuine. indeed, when bdubs goes into the hole he asks them to come up with a plan since he won't be leading them, and tango openly laughs at them, signalling to Me that there was never any chance of genuine communication; tango has already made his mind up from the get-go that this is bdubs fucking with him and is unwilling to take it any further. (the phrase "i'm not going to perform my rock bottom for you for the sake of being believed" comes to mind.) it's only after this sentiment is echoed (more unsurely) by etho that bdubs gives up. at no point does bdubs add anything of his own to the conversation past this, he only agrees with what tango and etho are saying about him. with his attempt at communication having failed he defers to "yes and"-ing all the negative things they are saying about him. when bdubs has just spent most of secret life imo proving that he doesn't need to be dependent on others after being dismissed as such for multiple seasons, i think that immediate rejection of his independence and ability to stand up for himself must sting, a lot.

I know they're his teammates but jesus christ he could not have picked worse people to do this with. every character can be assumed to be extremely traumatised as is the nature of the game but etho and tango both have severe issues with communication and trust, both of which stem in part from bdubs' actions in last life (which again, i will defend him to the grave but that was fucking insane of him.) tango on the whole, however, is a character to me defined by his bitterness, especially in WL where he's acting out and being openly cruel to others (which given his previous experiences is honestly understandable). his immediate dismissal of bdubs is exactly what i would have expected of him given everything right now. meanwhile, etho is more cautious and unsure, only committing once he has tango's backing, because despite his issues with bdubs he has more reason to believe him (see: horse discourse once again) and also he's just extremely insecure. go girl.

little to say on this point but the bravado he exhibits after being dismissed also to me reads in line with other bdubs moments where he's putting on a show- he isn't gloating about pulling the wool over their eyes or laughing about how quickly he was found out, he's just.. bigging himself up for the sake of it? i don't know exactly how to word this point but i hope you understand.

tl:dr; i don't think bdubs is intentionally trying to manipulate people here, though i also don't think his timing and choice of apology was especially well-thought out; he's making a lot of attempts at genuine communication this season, for better or for worse, but it's coming from a place of recognising the necessity for it if he wants to get anywhere rather than a sign of genuine emotional growth. and while i wish they could have heard him out i do not fault etho or tango even for a second for assuming it was a ploy.

[thewistlingbadger]

idk if this is a 'hot take' but i see way too much of people lusting after Sevika only after erasing her less palatable elements. in headcanons she's admittedly tough and violent but wouldn't hurt anyone unless she had to (i've even seen one where she "only raises her hands in self-defence"). bitch one of the first things we see her do is attempt to square up to a bunch of teenagers for the crime of trying to free their dad! she's willing to kill children with her bare hands. she personally enacts the edicts of a drug kingpin. she taunts vi and jinx during their altercations with the most provocative, soul-destroying shit she can think of. she's the type of fighter who grins manically as she scalds her opponent's cheek. she is not simply someone who nobly sacrifices her own moral purity for 'the greater good' but is otherwise a soft loving Mama Bear™, she gets *nasty* with it! and don't get me wrong, i give enormous moral lenience to most Zaunite characters because the violence of the oppressed is by definition incomparable to the violence of their oppressors. there are myriad explanations and justifications for every single thing they've done. but beyond that, i NEED it to be ok to say that she's a fucking dick sometimes - both interpersonalliy, and on a greater ideological scale - because regardless of how justifiable we find her actions, we should collectively be in a place where we can thirst for Sevika without defanging her as a character. she's compelling and fascinating and attractive BECAUSE she's imbued with agency, which necessitates the capacity for genuinely immoral actions and unlikable behavior! i mean come on! if the white twitter lesbians can so eagerly embrace the moral greyness of their rich fascha femme, we can do it for our butch freedom fighter!! i believe in us!!!

anyway tldr i love Sevika warts and all and everyone do your thing but if you don't love her warts i think you're missing out

Valid valid and valid. Not a single thing you said was incorrect. Sevika is DEVIOUS point blank period. In season 1 she is a minor character so I can understand why she's overlooked a lot but when you actually do look at her she can be VILLAINOUS at times. "It's just a matter of time before you implode and Silco finally gets the hint that you're just about as good for our cause as you were for your family. Jinx." Like DAMN Sevika!! Okay it's like that!! This rudeness that she showed Jinx is a bit fascinating to me because the only other character in this show that is just about as rude as Sevika is in this scene is Mylo. I made a post talking about how she has some similarities to Mylo and someone responded to that by also highlighting that at least Mylo was a teenager beefing with a child, meanwhile Sevika is a whole ass adult beefing with Jinx. I just think that's interesting and funny.

You brought up something that truly is just a plague to all fandoms. Whenever someone says they like a character that has a negative reputation in the source material, everyone starts coming out the woodwork to say it's bad to like that character. People don't seem to understand that just because you like a villain and find their character to be enjoyable doesn't mean you actually condone their actions and would be ok with someone acting like them irl. There are many reasons to like a villainous character and sometimes one of those reasons is BECAUSE they're a villain. Sometimes you like that a character does bad things because it's interesting and entertaining, and liking that doesn't make you a bad person. You should be able to like antagonistic characters for their villainy. Do I understand what they did was bad? Yes. Do I still like them? Yes, and not in spite of it but BECAUSE of it. And you don't have to erase those parts of a character just go openly admit that. You should be able to openly like a character in their full extent. You shouldn't have to ignore certain aspects just for your adoration of a character to be accepted.

Sevika really always has been That Bitch she has no problem telling people how it is directly to their faces. She calls Vander weak in front of everyone. She tells Vi Vander "had his chance" knowing damn well what Vander meant to her. She calls Silco out on his bullshit SEVERAL TIMES in front of him. Sevika isn't restrained as a character at all she's always being her full self. I feel that season two has made Sevika more popular and because her screentime was limited and the writing was different in season two people have allowed her character to become warped. I definitely think that if someone is ok with justifying and excusing the actions of Caitlyn and/or Vi then they should keep that same energy when it comes to Sevika. Sevika is a tough, loyal lady that has a very fun personality and she's also a criminal who has done terrible things for the sake of the cause and most times? Most times she enjoyed doing those things. Most times she went out of her way to revel in instigating. Silco didn't even know Vi was back yet and did that stop Sevika from almost killing Vi? Did that stop her from whispering "who Jinx? She's like his daughter" and looking dead in Vi's eyes just to see her reaction? No. Sevika is a bit messy like that she likes to play with her food lol and honestly I don't blame her lol

[shadow-bringer-ao3]

How to Save the World by Hatake Kakashi

It all starts when, for the first time since he lost his team, Hatake Kakashi shows up precisely on time for a meeting. The Sandaime Hokage, who has grown used to his current most skilled shinobi being an upwards of three hours late most days, had not actually been prepared for Kakashi to slip through his window at exactly seven, landing without a sound just inside the room before wandering over to his desk.

He looks more tired than usual, Hiruzen notes, not even making an attempt to hide his weariness. It bodes ill, he thinks. Last time Kakashi had looked like this, he had taken so many S-rank missions back to back that Hiruzen had had to put him on guard duty to get him to rest. This doesn’t feel quite the same but he can’t help but think it’s no better.

“Hokage-sama,” Kakashi greets.

“You’re early,” is all Hiruzen can think to say for a moment. Kakashi hums, rolling his shoulders in the approximation of a shrug.

“I had a nightmare,” Kakashi says lightly. Hiruzen blinks, surprised that the man would be so candid— “You see, the moon came down and it told me ‘Kakashi, one day you’ll be the Rokudaime Hokage’ and then it started dancing with Uchiha Madara except Madara had Hashirama-sama’s face on his chest.” Ah. Well, that kind of excuse is certainly more in line with how Kakashi usually acts even if it makes Hiruzen more concerned for how the man’s mind works.

“Is that so.” Hiruzen carefully makes sure his voice is nowhere near questioning. Kakashi nods gamely anyway, his visible eye curling into a smile that gives Hiruzen a bad feeling.

“Mhm but that’s not all the moon told me,” Kakashi says cheerfully.

When it’s clear his shinobi is expecting some sort of response, Hiruzen responds blandly with, “how intriguing.” Kakashi leans forward conspiratorially and, despite himself, Hiruzen copies the movement.

“It also told me…” Kakashi pauses dramatically before saying, “that I must go soul-searching.” Hiruzen blinks at the Hatake before mechanically dropping his blank gaze to the hitai-ate slid across his desk. Hiruzen looks slowly back up at Kakashi. For the first time since the war, Hiruzen can see both of the boy’s eyes.

“Soul-searching,” he echoes. He’s fairly sure Hatake Kakashi, perhaps his best ANBU and the most unlucky shinobi currently in the village, just quit. Something which is actually illegal, despite his leniency towards Tsunade.

“I’m glad you understand!” Kakashi chirps. Chirps. What.

“What.” Kakashi just beams at him and… vanishes in a swirl of air? Hiruzen stares at where the shinobi was and then realizes that, before anything else, he’s going to have to find a new prospective sensei for the new prospective Team 7. He’s also going to have to fill out the paperwork to officially discharge Kakashi from ANBU. He’s also got to decide if he’s going to list Kakashi as a rogue-nin or hand wave his absence like he did Tsunade’s.

“Fuck.” He says emphatically and gets busy trying to figure out who to assign Team 7 to. Ebisu doesn’t have a team but he’s never been the sort Hiruzen really wants in charge of teaching the next generation of shinobi, Genma doesn’t have a team but he’s as liable to throw the brats headlong into the Forest of Death as he is to actually teach them, Tenzo is strong and worked with Kakashi long enough to understand the basics of the sharingan but Hiruzen would be loathe to lose another skilled ANBU…

Kisame is being followed. Or Itachi is but it amounts to the same thing. Itachi’s noticed it as well, his sharingan active and his eyes flicking to take in the forest around them. There are very few people out there that could follow around the two of them without getting caught and none who would have a reason to as opposed to attacking or running.

Maybe they want to join the Akatsuki? Although if they think this is the way to make a good first impression, Kisame is pretty sure they don’t want them. Of course, there’s not really any missing-nin listed in any of Bingo Books that are skilled enough to be considered for the Akatsuki anyway.

Of course, Kisame thinks blandly when their stalker finally wanders into sight, nose buried in a book, Hatake Kakashi is not a missing-nin by any measure and he’s definitely at the skill level of an Akatsuki prospect. Kisame and Itachi do not exchange a glance because they’re more professional than that but the urge is there.

“Oh hello Hoshigaki-san, Itachi-kun,” Hatake greets pleasantly, eyes curling into crescents. And that’s a surprise too— last Kisame knew, the Konoha shinobi wore his hitai-ate over his scarred eye. Although, now that Kisame is looking for it, he can’t actually see any hitai-ate.

“…Hatake-san,” Kisame returns because Hatake was polite. Itachi appears to have gone catatonic. In light of this, Kisame finds himself asking “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” Hatake says happily, “soul-searching.”

“Soul-searching,” Kisame echoes. The situation is not making any more sense as time goes on.

“Mhm,” Hatake hums, attention back on his book. Kisame finally gives into the urge to glance at his partner but Itachi is placidly watching Hatake and doesn’t seem to notice Kisame’s questioning look.

“…Kakashi-taichou?” Itachi finally inquires after a long pause. The honorific is a little concerning since Itachi hasn’t been a Konoha shinobi for a long time now but Kisame’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt considering how strange this interaction has been.

“Say, Itachi,” Hatake starts, eyes still glued to his book, “what would you do if the moon was evil?” Okay, what the fuck. That’s not a normal question. Itachi’s brow furrows but Kisame genuinely can’t tell if it’s because he’s pondering his answer or because Hatake just asked something insane. Sage, what if Konoha shinobi are just like this? Kisame can’t deal with Itachi asking him his opinion on evil moons or— or lonely suns or whatever.

“I would destroy it,” Itachi says eventually. Kisame wonders if his partner is being serious or if this is some sort of weird code. At this point, he’d almost prefer it if his partner was a traitor and this was all some weird code that would make sense at a later time. Hatake hums again.

“If you say so,” the weird man says cheerily before wandering into the forest with his nose still buried in his book.

“What the fuck.” Itachi, ever in Big Brother Mode, gives him a Look for the swear.

Maybe this whole day has been a fever dream…

Kakashi is in Kamui. Obito has no idea how long Kakashi has been in Kamui but there he is, relaxing against a block, reading Icha Icha. He does not, Obito notices, have a hitai-ate. He also doesn’t have his father’s tanto and Obito honestly can’t remember a time Kakashi was without that tanto when outside Konoha. Maybe he assumed Kamui is safe? He would have no reason to think otherwise— he would have had to get through with Obito’s mangekyo and as far as he knows, Obito is dead.

Although, as far as Obito knew, Kakashi didn’t have access to the mangekyo. That must have changed, clearly, but he doesn’t know when or how and Obito— well, Obito has known everything about Kakashi these past years. Every mission, every failed genin team, every visit to the Memorial Stone. He hasn’t checked up on Kakashi in three days. What could have possible happened in three days to have Kakashi gain access to the mangekyo, learn to warp into kamui, and apparently retire. Or go rogue or something.

“You know,” Kakashi muses apropos nothing, “I always wondered what I would have done if I had a second chance. Save Minato-sensei, save Kushina-nee, save my father?” Kakashi flips a page in his book. “Save you, Obito?” Obito stills, every tiny fidget vanishing as his focus narrows down to Kakashi and the space between them. “I suppose it’s a moot point. I’m now, not then. There’s nothing I can do to change those events in this time, no jutsu I can use, no sacrifice I can make. The past is gone, the dead are dead. And there’s nothing either of us can do about it.” Obito debates leaving Kakashi here, talking to empty space, snuffing out whatever tiny hope his former teammate thinks he found. He debates going down there, playing Tobi or Madara or just some random eye-stealing shinobi. He debates for one moment killing Kakashi. He leaps down to land in front of him but Kakashi doesn’t so much as glance up, even though he’s clearly not reading any more. If he ever was.

“How?” He asks. Kakashi fingers the edge of Icha Icha for a moment before he snaps the book closed and slides it away, finally looking up at Obito.

“Does it matter?” Kakashi asks. Obito stares at him, thinks about his hand through Rin’s chest. He doesn’t kill Kakashi.

“Where’s your hitai-ate?” Kakashi blinks at him, apparently not expecting that question. He smiles or at least the way his eyes curve implies he does.

“I turned it in. I’m soul-searching.” Obito stares flatly, disbelieving.

“And, what, the Hokage just let you go?” Kakashi beams. Really truly beams. And it doesn’t look fake. Played up, yes, teasing, absolutely, but there’s no sardonic edge to it, no sense that it’s empty. Three days. Three days and Kakashi might as well be a different man.

“Oh, he didn’t really have much of a choice. He can’t follow me into Kamui, after all.” Kakashi sends an appreciative look around like Kamui, blocky and unending and just generally creepy, is a place to like.

“Why are you here? Why are you doing all this?” Obito asks, a note of frustration curling out from his careful control, infecting his voice and demeanor. Kakashi had always been able to drag his less savory emotions to the forefront. Irritation, annoyance, anger. Hate.

“Because you’re stuck in the past,” Kakashi says simply. “You’re looking back. For once, I’m looking forward.” Obito closes the gap between them in a moment, wrenching Kakashi up by the front of his flack jacket and slamming him back into the wall behind him.

“I am creating a future that not even you can ruin,” Obito snarls. “I’m dragging these violent, unforgivable nations to peace kicking and screaming.” Kakashi reaches out and Obito expect to feel a hand at his throat or cheek but no— Kakashi’s fingertips just hit his mask, curling lightly along it’s edge. He had forgotten he was wearing it.

“It won’t bring her back,” Kakashi says softly. “It won’t bring any of them back. An illusion is just an illusion and it will never be the same.” There’s a half-second of warning, Kakashi’s chakra spiking as the air warps, and then he’s gone, no hint of him having ever been there at all beyond the fast-fading smell of dog.

Orochimaru is in his lab when the Hatake brat steps in. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say ANBU Inu steps in. There’s no sign of Hatake’s perpetual slouch or his wandering attention, just the smooth movements and sharp focus of ANBU. Orochimaru sets down the vial he had only just picked up and keeps one careful eye on Hatake. Hatake has always been skilled, a dangerous opponent even to the Sannin, but he had always been weaker. Now, Orochimaru isn’t so sure. His chakra is smothered to just the barest hint of ozone but there is a difference in the way he holds himself, a confidence in his movements, that puts Orochimaru on edge.

The sharingan, he realizes suddenly. It no longer stands out as distinctly other. Hatake has somehow managed to integrate it into his chakra system. It probably doesn’t take nearly as much chakra as it used to, though Hatake is still keeping his eye closed. There’s no hitai-ate covering it. How… curious.

“Was there something you wanted?” Orochimaru asks. Hatake stops his circling between Orochimaru and the door. He looks far more wolf-like than he usually allows himself to.

“I’m giving you warning,” Kakashi says, “because you were once friends with people close to me.” Sakumo, Orochimaru thinks, though he hadn’t know the younger Hatake was aware his father once ran with the Sannin. “Leave Uchiha Sasuke alone,” Kakashi continues, just the hint of a growl in his voice, “or I’ll tear your throat out with my teeth.”

“Oh?” Orochimaru says dangerously, shifting forward in a clear threat. Hatake doesn’t blink, doesn’t shrink back, doesn’t tremble. There’s no fear scent in the air. “And what, pray tell, would you know about that?” Hatake regards him coldly.

“I’ll only say it once more. Leave Uchiha Sasuke out of your plans. If you want a sharingan so bad, take it up with Danzo.” Hatake is gone in the next moment, vanished into the air with no hint of a shunshin or other jutsu. Just the barest hint of red.

(Zetsu dies screaming.)

The door that blocks the entrance to the Akatsuki hideout scrapes open. This would be less noticeable if everyone in the Akatsuki wasn’t already gathered in the meeting room. Everyone stops and turns almost as one, waiting to see what idiot decided to waltz into their lair. (Konan and Pein don’t appreciate it when Deidara calls it a lair but he calls it like he sees it, un.)

When the idiot is revealed to be Hatake Kakashi, of all people, the air turns just a hair more panicky. The sound of Kisame’s forehead meeting the table is loud in the quiet. Hatake wanders further in, nose buried in a book (is that porn?!), and drops into the seat Zetsu once used without a word. It was shock that stilled everyone’s hand initially but now no one makes a move because if they can avoid a fight with Hatake Kakashi, man of a thousand justsu, why the fuck wouldn’t they? He couldn’t beat them all but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t do some serious damage before he died. It is, surprisingly, Itachi that speaks up first.

“Why are you here, Kakashi-taichou?” He asks politely.

“I’m terrorizing your boss into having morals again,” Hatake informs. He flips a page in his book. Itachi placidly stops Kisame from slamming his head against the table again.

“What the fuck?” Deidara puts out there. Because honestly, what the fuck.

“Don’t mind me,” Hatake says cheerfully. He flips a page in his book. Deidara’s not sure he’s actually reading.

“…I have morals,” Pein says after a long moment. Hatake hums and flips another page in his book. He doesn’t respond. After a moment, Konan clears her throat.

“If you don’t leave, we are going to have to kill you, Hatake-san.” Finally, Hatake looks up, book snapping shut in his hold. His one open eye scans over them all and Deidara scowls when it gets to him. Hatake might not be an Uchiha but everyone knows he has one of their eyes. Deidara hates the stupid sharingan.

“Maa, that’s not very nice,” Hatake says lightly. “I’m really only here to visit an old friend.”

“Who the fuck is friends with you?” Hidan snaps. “Fucking Itachi?!” Hatake blinks. It’s slow and lazy like. Deidara wonders if the guy thinks they’re threats at all.

“No,” he says. He does not elaborate. After a moment he opens his book back up. There’s only a second before the air twists and an arm appears to drag Hatake away into thin air. They all stare at the now empty seat. Kisume attempts to brain himself again, once more stopped by Itachi.

“What the fuck?” Deidara says again because it really cannot be said enough. Seriously, Konoha nin are the worst.

“What are you doing?” Obito snarls. He’s got Kakashi jammed up against a cube in Kamui again though considering the stupid genius asshole managed to escape last time he doesn’t figure he’ll be overly successful at keeping him here this time. He should just stab him. Leave him to die. Obito’s going to get a better version of him and Rin in the Infinite Tsukuyomi anyway, what’s the point of leaving him alive if he’s being more trouble than he’s worth?

“Weren’t you listening?” Kakashi asks innocently. “I’m terrorizing you into having morals again. I can’t punch you and make you good or talk you into being better or threaten to take away your right to bones or anything so this is the best I can do.” The worst part about it, Obito thinks, the worst part is that he sounds so genuine while saying such insane shit.

“Kakashi.” Obito stops because he’s not entirely sure how he should respond to something like that. “Kakashi, literally what the fuck.”

“What’s the point of putting the entire world under an illusion, anyway? Sure. everyone would get their perfect little worlds but they would all starve to death,” Kakashi says. Obito stares at him.

“What.”

“If everyone was in an illusion,” Kakashi says patiently, “how would they eat? Or drink, actually? Or have kids? Everyone would just die.”

“That— no, they— this fucking world sucks, anyway, and if everyone dies happy, what does it matter?!” Kakashi frowns at him. He looks disappointed which is entirely unfair. Kakashi should hate him or be angry with him but he just looks— tired. Disappointed. Sad but in a resigned kind of way. It’s not— even now, it’s not the empty exhaustion that’s plagued him since Obito killed Minato-sensei and Kushina-nee (oh god, he killed them, they were family and he killed them).

“It’s not peace if everyone’s dead,” Kakashi said. “And illusions aren’t real. That happiness isn’t real. Even the sharingan can’t trick an entire world to believe an entirely fake lifetime. It won’t work, Obito. If you don’t want to come back to Konoha, that’s fine, I’ll stay with you. If you want to work towards peace, that’s fine. But starting a war where the end result is an entire dead planet is not the way to get it.” Obito stares at Kakashi. Kakashi, who would leave Konoha for him even though Konoha is everything to him. Kakashi, who was always the smartest one on their team. Kakashi, who agrees that things should be better. Kakashi, who he can’t bring himself to kill. Kakashi, who he knows is right.

Obito runs.

Something very strange is happening in the world right now. Jiraiya has feelers out in just about every nation. He’s probably the most knowledgeable spymaster in the world. The things he knows go as follows:

One: Hatake Kakashi, his grand-student, has left Konohagakure in a not dissimilar way to how Tsunade left Konoha. This makes less than zero sense because Kakashi adores Konoha. It’s all the kid has left. Jiraiya lost everything and left. Kakashi lost everything and he sold his soul to Konoha. Kakashi is obsessive to the point of concern and there is no earthly reason Jiraiya can possibly come up with that explains why Kakashi is not still at Konoha.

Two: something happened with the Akatsuki. They’ve been exceedingly quiet lately, barely doing more than the absolute minimun required to keep a terrorist organizaion afloat. Nagato and Konan have redoubled their presence in Amegakure which feels a little like a step in the right direction, if Jiraiya’s being honest. There’s not been a whisper about the Akatsuki’s plans regarding the bijuu.

Three: something happened over at Mountains’ Graveyard. Let him rephrase. Something exploded over at Mountains’ Graveyard. It had to have been a big explosion as well because that’s an area that’s pretty universally avoided.

Four: Kiri has gone abruptly silent. The only thing Jiraiya’s managed to get out of that is that the Mizukage apparently had a complete change in personality.

Other things have happened as well, a cascade effect of change across every nation. Kakashi seems to be at the center of a good quarter of things he comes across. Nothing that makes sense. Most of the rest of it seems tied to the Akatsuki’s missing presence or the missions they are taking or it’s tied to the absolute nothing coming in and out of Kiri.

Something very strange is happening in the world. Jiraiya just hopes it’s a good strange.

Tsunade opens the door to the Hatake brat and a guy in an Akatsuki cloak and an orange mask. Tsunade slams the door shut. Shizune is gone, dealing with their last matters in town before they leave. Tsunade is not drunk. She knows this. She knows intimately every stage of drunkenness and how it affects her. Tsunade is not drunk. She opens the door. Hatake and the Akatsuki guy are still there.

“What the fuck do you want?” She demands.

“How do you feel about healing—” Tsunade slams the door in their faces. When she turns around to go out the window, they’re in the middle of the room. “Rude,” Hatake says, like he didn’t just teleport into her hotel room uninvited. “I know you don’t like blood and all but I’m trying to stop the end of the world, here.” Tsunade stares at them. She thinks for a moment about the effects of repeated head trauma and then about the average injuries a shinobi usually gets in a year. She decides that Kakashi has no brain left and that she does not want any part in this, for a variety of reasons.

“Get out of my room,” she says.

“It’s not technically your room,” Hatake tries.

“Out,” Tsunade interrupts loudly. Hatake sighs and looks like a kicked puppy but does grab his oddly silent companion by the elbow and drag them past her, out the door.

“I told you she wouldn’t help,” the Akatsuki guy says with a surprisingly low voice before Tsunade slams the door shut behind them. She waits until she’s sure they’re gone before opening the door and heading down towards where she knows Shizune will be waiting. She’ll deal with whatever the fuck that was exactly never.

It started with Hatake Kakashi showing up on time. Hiruzen will not budge on that. He’s half convinced he somehow ended up in an alternate universe where everything is just a little weird and that was the first sign. It started with Kakashi. It continued with Jiraiya coming back, looking uneasy and hesitantly hopeful with news that apparently bad things are just. Resolving themselves. It continued with Team 7 (under Gekko Hayate) starting to act just plain weird. It continued with Danzo’s death— apparently of natural causes but everyone has their doubts, of course. It continued with Team 7’s disappearance and Gekko’s miraculous recovery of his lifetime illness. Gekko himself seems entirely uncertain on both of these topics. It continued with Tsunade’s return and subsequent hostile takeover of the hospital, complaining about ‘stupid silver-haired brats’ and ‘creepy fucking undead Uchihas’ and ‘that asshole is blackmailing and bribing me, the little shit’ all the while. Hiruzen decides he will not deal with this any longer. He resigns.

Shikako is pigeonholed into becoming Hokage. He makes sure that it is everyone's problem.

Obito will admit, he was distracted. He didn’t see the attack coming. Then again, who the fuck would expect a tiny red and pink arrow of a genin to come flying out of the woods at speeds even the sharingan can’t keep up with just to put a tiny fist through your chest? No one, that’s who.

Obito still gasps awake, sorer than he has been in years, a backlog of guilt choking him up. He is surrounded. Kakashi is behind and half under him, apparently acting as his not-death-bed, and the pink-haired menace that killed him in the first place is disturbingly close to his face, staring at him intensely. Sasuke is on his left and Naruto on his right and he feels a little like he might die a second (third?) time.

“What the fuck?” Obito half-sobs with feeling.

“It’s better not to question it,” Kakashi recommends sagely.

(“Hey so are we ever going back to Konoha?” Naruto asks a week later after Obito has cried enough tears to last at least seven lifetimes and feels a little more like a human being. The whole group turns to him. Obito doesn’t particularly want to return to Konoha. He’s still sorting through the mess of emotions Madara manipulated him into having in his head but he knows that Konoha definitely isn’t his home any more, if it ever was. It’s hurt him too much and he’s hurt it too much. Sakura, little pink-haired she-devil that she is, shrugs.

“Nah,” she says after a moment. And that, apparently, is the end of that.)

Gekko Hayate's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Team

[sophie-frm-mars]

Hi Sophie! In light of the genocide in Palestine and the conspiracies around it, do you have any thoughts on how to avoid conspiracy thought?

You pointed out in Conspiracy on the Left that conspiracists will often switch from using language that recognizes incentives and structures, to language that indicates direct malice and intent. I've seen this in real time with Zionism where people will stop using it as a term to describe the ideology and actions of Israel and America (economic and military interests, the historical inertia of the british empire, the interest of capital and western nations using Israel as a base in the Middle East), to using it as a placeholder for jews (people accusing individual people (usually american) of attempting to silence voices with media platforms)

I was gonna say I find this one really straightforward, but at the same time I myself have actually rushed into condemnations of Israel that gave too much leniency to antisemitic ideas, so there probably is a bit more to it. I'll get to it

Firstly, the straightforward part of it is that there are jews all around the world who absolutely fucking despise israel and its genocidal project, so even saying "Israel doesn't represent jews" is too mild. Israel actively denies citizenship to ethiopian jews for instance. I think the main thing is to recognise it for what it is - an outpost of imperialist white supremacy in the Middle East - and to recognise Zionism as a primarily American and imperial core phenomenon rather than a jewish one.

Once you have those ideas down it's pretty easy to separate it out because assuming that any jewish person or org supports Israel just because they're jewish is clearly antisemitic. But here's the rub, Israel uses jewish identity as a shield to justify its actions. At the same time that there are illegal settlers literally giving interviews saying "I describe myself as a fascist" the Israeli state claims that Hamas reads Mein Kampf and that Palestinians are literal Nazis. Not only that but Israeli statesmen use references to things like Amalek to signal their genocidal intentions, basically using the cultural references of Judaism to simultaneously hide behind and also attack.

Where I fell into something antisemitic was when I found out about the IDF cumjacker squad, the guys who go out to get the semen of Israel's fallen dead. the Jizzrael Defence Force if you will. Someone who was talking about it said that the justification had some kind of origin in the hebrew bible and I parroted this without thinking until a jewish friend pulled me up on it. There was no source and there was frankly no reason to repeat it even if it had been true, right? but I got carried away. The reality is that the cumjacker battalion exists for the same reason as sterilisation & organ harvesting programs, because Israel is a Starship-Troopers-Ass fascist nightmare state that sees the bodies of the pure and good as essential to the domination of the future and the bodies of the impure and wrong as wretched at worse and resources at best.

How I think we can avoid the trap of sharing these rhetorical points is by remembering what Israel's relationship to judaism is, which is primarily as a shield. "Shoot and Cry" is the phrase to remember. Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir said "We can forgive them for killing our children but we can never forgive them for making us kill theirs". This bogus remorse over their genocide of palestinians (because they understand genocide because of the holocaust, see?) and constant preemptive counterattack (Amalek attacked Israel first, see) is the place where Israel touches base with jewish identity, but if you can't see any benefit to Israel's strategy in association with jewish identity, it's likely someone is just trying to say The Jews instead of Israel or repeating the talking point of someone who is.

[classyinnie]

Patch Me Up. featuring Keisuke Baji

彡 SYNOPSIS: Bandages and lingering confessions. Perhaps it's the worry in your eyes or the gentleness in your touch that always draws him back to you.

Notes: Surprise, surprise!! Going through a tokyo rev hyper fixation woop woop!!

Baji believes that his selfish tendencies are the cause of him knocking at your door in the dead of night. While everyone seems busy navigating the nearby hospitals or rushing home, he finds himself yearning for your touch instead.

He longs for your kind caresses and patient eyes. Emotions he can’t seem to place. The calm after the storm.

You don’t greet him as you open the door–already moving aside to allow him enough space to slip through the threshold–an indication of becoming accustomed to these nightly endeavors.

Baji strolls through your kitchen and sighs as he slumps on a stool, his head throbbing from the sudden drop in adrenaline. He winces as his shirt brushes up against the scratches and bruises on his side.

"Who was it this time?" You ask.

He squints at you, offended by your unprovoked accusation. A playful grin on his lips. "You've got to have a little more faith in me, sweetheart. It wasn't me who threw the first punch. They were the ones provoking."

"Say that to me when you don't look as if you're about to collapse. Take your shirt off."

He whistles at the bold remark but doesn’t argue. All he can think about is getting a good night’s rest. He winces as he pulls the shirt up his figure, careful not to let the fabric graze some of the open wounds.

He didn't say that the real reason for the fight was someone's disparaging comment about you. Insults were nothing new to him. But, the mere mention of your name and the nasty remark that followed forced Baji to strike. Their pleas tuned out by the anger ringing in his ears.

He wouldn't say the only reason for not beating them unconscious was the satisfaction of imagining their figure beg for your forgiveness.

Simply recalling the incidents is enough to ignite the anger, so Baji chose to settle instead on watching your mechanical movements. There’s something in the way you navigate under the dim kitchen light that evokes a sense of familiarity. Allowing the stillness to calm his head.

As you open drawers, he is now only aware of a slight tremble in your hands. Your supposed "profound" confidence about where supplies are is replaced with uncertainty. Doubt dabbled at his conscience at the extra tightness in your face and the way your shoulders is way more tensed than usual.

Guilt made him sick to his stomach. Maybe this wasn’t a good time. Maybe he shouldn't have bothered you.

Baji tries to erase his dubiety as you turn to face him. If you didn’t want him here, you’d have kicked him out moments ago. Or better, you would’ve never opened the doors for him. He was sure of that.

"Are you mad at me, sweetheart?" he asks, grinning at your silhouette.

You tuck yourself neatly between his extended legs, maintaining the same expression aside from the sudden sharpness in your eyes as you consider which wound to treat first.

“Hey, stop igno–”

The clean cloth against his wounds is abrasive. Baji attempted to stop from yelping. Although a little leniency would have been greatly appreciated, what did he expect?

“Taking it easy would be nice.” He gritted his teeth through the fresh, piercing pain as you press a tepid cloth to a scrape–an obvious result of skidding on the tarmac–on his side.

You don’t seem to relent and he regrets riling you up even more.

“Be quiet.”

It’s difficult when you’re practically jabbing at his injuries. He concentrates on counting breaths, trusting you to know what you're doing, as you’ve proven many times before.

Minutes pass, and Baji is certain he will pass out soon. He's sweating profusely, although you've progressed to a much gentler process of applying cream to his cleaned cuts.

“You worry me you know.” He startles at your voice.

“You worry me so much. Every night, I think about the possibilities of you passing out in the streets all beat up. I worry if you’re hurt, or if you’re stupid enough to start fights you can’t handle.” You laugh, but it comes out all wrong. "And as much as I hate to see you in pain, I tell myself that it's better to know you're here. That I can see you. Not passed out somewhere. Here. Unscathed. I hate myself for finding reassurance in that. I hate myself for not knowing how to be angry with you." There’s a slight tremble in your voice now.

The open honesty with which you spoke. The intensity of it distracts Baji from the years of repressed confessions that twisted into the only two words he can bear to utter. "I’m sorry."

He leans his head against your shoulder, scared to admit more. It wasn’t a question of why. He’s always known why he’s drawn to your kindness.

Captivated he might, it’s something that can’t be helped. You’re the dawning of a future where he allows himself to be worthy of such light in a bleak world.

Rather, he’s scared of the hows.

How can he tell you without scaring you away? He fears of feeling too much. Of burdening you with ‘something’ he himself can’t even explain.

He absentmindedly presses his lips against the delicate skin of your shoulders. Mindful of any slight changes in your figure and prepared to withdraw if necessary. When he senses you relax, however, something in his chest aches more than the already forming bruises on his side.

Your head slightly leans on his. Almost cradling his head.

“It’s alright. Just...” You pull back, staring at him with so much resolution. “Refrain from doing anything stupid.”

Baji nods, preparing himself to pull away. He was foolish enough to believe that he has a chance beyond this.

But you don't let him, already threading your hands through his hair. "And stop trying to hold yourself together; Either way, I'll be there to patch you up along the way," You add.

Maybe he's not as selfish as he thought because that could only mean one thing: Stay.

And who was he to deny that? After all, you're the only fight he'll never be able to win.

[bnhaobservation]

Any predictions for how the next Todofam chapter will go? The two week break has already beaten me down 😭🔫

You aren't the only one! I'm worried as well!

As for the predictions... they're probably not what many expect.

Premise, I'm not Horikoshi, I'm not even Japanese and I'm just speculating so I might be wrong but here are my two cents on the future.

Let's start with Enji.

I know many hope he will be punished for what he did to his family but I think it's safe enough to assume this won't be the case.

Rei, Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shouto aren't interested in dragging him to a trial, if they do nothing, there's no reason for the police to act. They will just judge it a private family business and let it slide (which yes, happens in Japan). I honestly doubt Rei is interested in asking for a divorce so there probably won't be a divorce.

At most they'll live in separate residences.

If there will be a punishment, it will be in having to deal for the rest of his life on the consequences his actions had on Touya.

As I said in another post I think the Todorokis contribution to the final battle helped them to stop being social outcasts due to what Touya did, especially Enji and Shouto's final stand against All for One (for more explanations about why they risked ending up as such read this).

I think they won't use Eri or Overhaul's power to regrow Enji's arm and I'm not sure the scarring the Todorokis received when they attempt to stop Touya will be erased.

There's to say while in real life scarring is a source of social rejection, in BNHA Shouto was considered an ikemen despite his scarring, so I don't think it'll be a problem that will cause them to become social outcasts.

Differently from Aoyama, Shouto didn't mention he'll have to leave U.A. high, so I think the Todorokis will be mostly fine.

Will Enji drop his job?

I don't think they'll ask him to do so, as they are in need of strong Heroes... and by serving as a Hero he keeps on atoning to society.

If he'll do, it'll be of his own will, likely in atonement (when you screw up doing your job, in Japan is common to resign... Enji didn't exactly screw up as a Hero, just as a father but it's still something he might feel he'll have to do) or due to the wound he received... which actually aren't serious for BNHA standards (considering they can regrow arms, restart a heart with no damage for the brain despite it having been stopped for likely more than 3/4 minures and that a meeting up close with Dabi's very hot fire didn't cremate Hawks on the spot nor caused his vital organs to be damaged after a few minutes which would have lead to his death and so on) but Horikoshi can change the rules if he wants to. After all Enji is shown sitting on a wheelchair, wearing bandages and in what looks like hospital pajamas so who knows what's his exact physical state. He has the highest fire resistance but he was also the closest to Touya so he might not be well.

I guess what everyone wants to know is what will happen to Touya (and consequently to the rest of the league as I think the league will end up with the same fate).

Chapter 425 shows Enji watching someone.

I'll be surprised if that someone isn't Touya.

Now...

The most realistic scenario is Touya and the rest of the league will be jailed into Tartarus or the new prison equivalent to it and sentenced to death as BNHA has death as one of the available punishments (I'm not saying this is what I want for them, just that it's more likely).

The only ones who can hope to get some leniency are Himiko, who's still a minor and saved Uraraka and, ironically, Machia, who, despite having the highest death count of all of them, helped the Heroes fight All for One which, in manga and anime, is always a good reason to give a character a lot of leniency. In real life relevant cooperation can spare you from death sentence if you make an agreement first... which Machia didn't but that's usually not a manga/anime problem. If a story decides you were helpful and heroic enough and you didn't end up killed, they might hand you a free pass card... which was why I was hoping the league would turn against All for One. It would have helped a lot their case.

They didn't though.

By all account the league kept fighting until they were stopped and I honestly doubt society cares about their motives.

Still, I think the idea is that the Todorokis are going to meet Touya, that that's why Shouto said he'll go to the farewell party as long as it isn't today and then left, because he's going to meet his brother and, with him, likely will come Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei.

This was, after all what was hinted in the final preview sentence, 'The Todoroki family faces...'

The perspective in the image is... weird because it seems they're keeping Touya vertical instead than horizontal, which reminds me of when the characters met up with prisoners.

The window is different from the ones in Tartarus (but also from the one in Central Hospital) however Enji seems wearing hospital pajamas.

I don't think they would have carried him to a prison to meet his son in pajamas.

Also I don't think Horikoshi will be so morbid as to show us Touya being executed, so that he's about to give his last salute to his family before being killed off. If he dies, it's probably because they'll fail to keep him alive as they did with Nighteye. If that's the case it would probably be another case of 'we could save his soul, not his life' like with Shigaraki.

Long story short. I like to think/hope he's in a hospital (maybe a Villain hospital but still a hospital) and they're probably either curing him or just keeping him alive.

I said the perspective is weird so I might be mistaken and Touya is actually lying down and being operated or something as there are cables coming out his chest.

In severe burn cases the patient might be put into coma until he's better, so it's also possible that's what's going on and the fact the Todoroki family would face him only now might mean they had to wait for Touya to wake up.

The fact they're giving him medical care doesn't necessarily means things will be okay. As I said I guess the general idea is to jail and kill the league off.

Considering how long All for One was kept alive (he's captured in August, he escaped at the end of March) despite everyone knowing who he was to the point they jail him in a special detention center without a trial or sentencing... (chap 94)

...this might mean they'll stay jailed for a long time before being killed. Well... maybe the Heroes managed to plea for their lives so they won't be killed. I don't think they'll be give the chance to get some form of house arrest, even if I would love if this were to be the case.

Unless this mini arc is going to give the league a chance to socially redeem themselves, I doubt their fate will be different, though there's a huge chance this mini arc is just to show us the Heroes saving mystery guy who looks like Edward Scissorhands before he'll become a Villain... as to say it's too late to save the League but now the Heroes might save other people from following their fate.

So if the League's fate is going to stay jailed and possibly end up executed in a future we won't see... or stay jailed and be spared.

Japan isn't big on psychological aid, so I genuinely doubt Horikoshi will have someone say 'let's send them to therapy'.

So... if that's Touya's fate, why Horikoshi kept him alive? Isn't this depressing and cruel? What's the point?

This is the point:

We have Tobita's family kicking him out of the house for what is really just a mistake in judgement, we've Himiko's family calling her a demon child (with Himiko being forced to escape) for something she couldn't control, neither of them back then causing someone to die and then... we've the Todoroki family being still willing to be with Touya despite what he had done.

For many of us, what the Todorokis do would be normal... but the Tobitas and the Togas show instead what's supposed to be the norm in the BNHA world (and in Japan). If you commit a crime even your family will turn against you and kick you out.

So the fact that the Todoroki family, who could be socially pardoned, isn't willing to cut strings with Touya despite him being jailed and possibly sentenced to death, likely gives a strong, hopeful, positive message to Japanese readers.

To us it mostly fall flat because we've plenty of families who, despite their relatives' crimes, they don't stop loving them and will still visit them.

Likely that's the positive spin Horikoshi wanted to give to the whole story, that the Todoroki family will be there for Touya, Rei and Enji even apologized to him instead than doing like Himiko's parents, claiming they did all they could but Himiko was just a demon child.

In Japan this is BIG. In the west this is... often normal.

It's similar to how Midoriya saves Shigaraki's soul and we aren't impressed, but Japanese readers are.

In the western culture when someone dies, at most, we only worry about the soul regretting his wrongdoings or he’ll end in hell (that and that he won’t look deserving of being forgiven by the audience if he doesn’t regret them).

In Japan, when someone dies in a violent way including murder or suicide or dies leaving behind unfinished business or do not receive appropriate funeral rites upon their death, they believe his spirit remains trapped in the world of living and can’t move on and this is torture for said soul.

So the idea that Shigaraki's soul was soothed, that was put to rest, is really important and equates to salvation in a Japanese mind-setting... but, to us, it's only a last smile before death.

BNHA is a work that talk about Japanese society so, differently from other mangas, it strongly relies on Japanese society rules which are different from ours, which leads us to react differently from the intended audience.

Anyway... I really, really hope things will go different for Touya, but I expect the most we'll have about the Todoroki family will be that, the family is socially forgiven except for Touya but, despite this, they'll remain close to him.

Likely they'll also keep working to atone to society.

I don't dare to hope for more, actually probably Horikoshi will likely be stretching things (if not outright retconning them) because it was established it was hard to visit prisoners in Tartarus, meetings needed to be set up and All Might of all the people couldn't just drop by to meet up with Stain, no, they need to set up a meeting in order to allow people to visit prisoners (never mentioning Tartarus was blamed of violation of human right and keeps its prisoners tied... only for the ties to come away during the escape)...

...but the story will likely paint as easy for the Todoroki to meet Touya (after all Uraraka planned to meet Himiko in jail to give her blood donation... how I don't know since Himiko would have probably been kept tied and behind a glass window) but I already knows it'll feel depressing because, for me, it's nowhere near enough and I really hope I'm wrong and we'll get a more positive ending for the family.

I just fear Horikoshi won't feel like stretching things that much as, currently, there's no hint society is willing to also take the blame for the reasons why the league decided being a Villain was their best option instead than becoming Hikikomori, Jōhatsu or Toyoko Kids or something like that... or just follow Shōji's path and endure the abuse, hide the scars and become upstanding citizens in hope this will change the world.

Likely the world will somehow change but this will likely regard the future.

So for my standards the future of the Todoroki family is pretty sad... but likely for the Japanese audience the Todoroki family will be more a role model of how a family shouldn't leave behind his family members even if they make mistakes. We'll see though. Sorry for the depressing thoughts and thank you for your ask.

[utilitycaster]

Perhaps it’s because I’m religious (Jewish to be specific) but I really vibed with the perspective of The Lawbearer and the Covenant that they have with mortals.

Specifically, bc I find the pushback on the deity superiority and the “there are things you cannot undersand” complex as so interesting. Bcfrom my perspective yes the gods are more powerful and eternal than mortals. Yes they know more and understand more - far beyond comprehension.

Isn’t that why you enter into the covenant in the first place? It’s not an insult it’s a reality. That entity - that God IS more powerful than you as a mortal and is capable of more than you.

And this is maybe where the Judaism comes in - but like - there’s no guarantee that a covenant will be easy or pain free. Or that others will not hate you for your covenant. Or that there won’t be times where you want to break it because God(s) have done something you don’t agree with, asks too much of you, or you’re being persecuted.

And I guess the question I’ve been circling around - esp for the Society of Primes - is what is the point in serving or saving Gods you want to weaken?

Hi anon!

I am also Jewish and practicing, and have...experimented feels like the wrong word, but certainly changed, grappled with, and otherwise tried to figure out what that practice looks like and what I specifically believe in, which would be a long and rather personal discussion but suffice it to say both the background and the fact that I have questioned what I specifically do (and the fact that it is a background that is like hey questioning is great and you should do that) informs a my interpretations of deities in other works.

It's funny because I completely agree that the idea that you should both strive to understand the divine and that also it is, by its nature, beyond human comprehension. I also, coming from the Jewish tradition, think that the idea of negotiating with an entity far beyond your power or comprehension is on the table. On some level I think the discussion on last night's 4SD of how Nick approached the Dawnfather (rather more like the triple goddess than, in my opinion, the Trinity, if we're referencing religious mythology; I think it's interesting how people skewed to the latter) evokes, for example, Sodom and Gomorrah; you can put forth an argument! Indeed, Abraham does! People talk back to God a lot in the Torah. I don't think gods are beyond questioning for their actions, and there are fictional works where I think the gods shouldn't live. But getting back to your point, I think in those works it does come down to a covenant that seems broken that makes me go "yeah, gotta go."

I promise I am not making this up but I've been writing this during a summer thunderstorm - and I have an easterly-facing window through which I see a lot of rainbows, and there was one this time, which naturally made me think of the blessing on rainbows, which is one that focuses on God as, essentially, one who remembers covenants and keeps promises, and is reliable; it is very much like the vision of Erathis. It is, on some level, an exchange - not an equal one, but still an agreement, and one both are expected to keep.

The thing with Cassida is, and this is where I need to at least attempt to set aside my own religious biases, that's not the deity she was praying to. I would be interested to know more of the Society of Primes but I don't think they necessarily wanted to weaken the Prime Deities - I think they did believe fully in the power of the Primes and felt they were saving people by killing the Betrayers, and frankly that's not unreasonable to believe, given what we know. But at least for Cassida I do think it's really relevant that she was a follower of a goddess of mercy and healing, someone who from whom one would expect lenience and forgiveness, more so than reliability. It's also relevant that this is a polytheistic society and Judaism is monotheistic, so, for example, the idea of God as embodying mercy and destructive forces and agriculture and nature and beauty is not something that Exandrians would necessarily ascribe to. I think the revelation that the gods are both much more complex than expected but not infinite and specifically fallible (vs. the irl monotheistic view that does generally treat God as eternal and infinite) is something one has to keep in mind in understanding how Exandrians engage with the divine, and especially in Cassida's disillusionment.

[azrielsmommy]

Dark Paradise (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem! Reader

Summary: Never in the existence of Prythian had there been a rightful heir to two courts, much less a female, but there you are, in the flesh. With war upon the lands, and questionable family dynamics, a certain shadowsinger takes it upon himself to make your life just a little bit more interesting.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: sexual themes, mentions of assault (not towards reader)

a/n: Hey y'all just an fyi this is set right after the end of a court of mist and fury, like where Hybern sends Feyre back to the spring court with Tamlin after the failed attempt of destroying the cauldron, and she's now like plotting an escape. But Prythian is still like at war with Hybern. So shits going down, but she still hasn't made her way back to Rhys and the night court yet.

Cold sweat slid down your body, forcing you to readjust your grip on the broadswords, one in each hand. Licking your dry lips, the saltiness from the sweat coated your tongue. As you twirls the swords, their flared tips catch the suns rays. You huff out a breathe as you keep your eyes locked on your swordmaster.

He has trained you since you were a mere child, claiming that both you and your brother required proper combat training, rather than rotting away at a desk learning about the lords and ladies of Prythian. Over the years you had mastered a variety of weapons, swords, spears, bows, the list just goes on.

Yet you found yourself to be pushed just a bit more harder than your brother, and you wondered for many years why that was. How come Neo had it easier than me, while I was left to endure more? Learn to fight against harsher odds. The swordmaster never answered any of the questions, he didn't have to.

When you killed your first male, that's when you finally understood why. Understood how much physically stronger the average male is compared to a female. Understood that being a female, no matter the the social status was dangerous, you could be nobility or a librarian, males stop at nothing. And in that moment, drenched in blood, you vowed to never let yourself feel weak ever again.

But here you are, panting as you watch the swordmaster stand seemingly unphased. He stands tall, chin held high with unwavering confidence. It pisses you off. Holding a wooden staff, tip coated in metal, sharpened neatly to a jagged point, he gives it a quick lookover.

"Old man," you twist your blades around, getting a proper grip on them hoping the sweat pooling in your palms wouldn't affect the grip on the weathered hilts.

He smiles at that before lunging at you, swiftly swinging his staff down in a wide arch, you managed to avoid the metal tip by rolling out of it's path. Seamlessly getting up on your feet once more, you waste no time in returning the favour as you released a flurry of attacks, swinging your swords in such fervor even he had some difficulty blocking and dodging.

You must've lost track of time as you sparred, the midday sun beginning to set, bathing the sparring ring in pink and orange hues. Exchanging blows back and forth, neither of you sparing each other any leniency. Just as you were to deliver a heavy blow, the sound of your father voice echoed throughout the room.

"Y/n my dear, that should be enough fighting for today, don't you think?" Barely having enough time, you stop your arm mid-motion, gritting your teeth at the abruptness of the action. Blowing a loose piece of hair that had slipped out of your ponytail from your face, you spin around to face your father. "I suppose so." Your words uneven from your panting.

"As much as I relish in seeing you fight with the strength of a thousand suns," he teases as he playfully pushes against your forehead, causing your face to scrunch as you stumble a few steps back. "I'm off to visit the Summer Court." You raise an eyebrow as you stare at him, waiting for him to continue.

"The loss of alliance with that idiotic beast Tamlin, I've decided to gain the support of the Summer Court before Hybern can wrap his filthy hands around them," Helion reaches a patch of sunlight and outstretches his hands towards the light. The warm rays caressing his tan skin in glimmering beauty. "So to not waste time, you will be meeting with the High Lord of the Night Court." He rolls his neck back, enjoying the warm touch of the sun.

You swerve your head around, searching for your swordmaster, taken aback at how openly your father is discussing sensitive information, but he's nowhere to be seen. You snort, surprised you didn't hear his old bones squeaking as he left.

You walk over to the water station by where your father stands and pour yourself a cup of once ice cold water, but now room temperature due to the blistering heat. "When does he arrive?" You take a swig of water, soothing your dry throat as it slides down. "Tonight."

It takes all of your willpower to not spit out the water. Tonight?! What does he mean tonight, you haven't prepared whatsoever. "How soon is 'tonight'?" You ask wiping away excess water from your mouth.

"Eh, in an hour give or take." He nonchalantly responds with the flick of his hand. Without even a second thought you burst out of the sparring ring and run to your room. You clash into many employees, throwing several 'sorry's' over your shoulder as you sprint down the halls. Finally you make it to your room, drenched in sweat, eyes immediately fly to the bath. Practically ripping your clothes off, you wash yourself, scrubbing your skin with lavender milk soap until there was no chance for any remaining grime to be left.

Letting your hair fall in soft waves, you wear a white top, held up by one shoulder, dipping down to slightly show off your cleavage, wearing a matching white skirt, a slit in it's side to show off your leg. Finishing your outfit you don your neck and fingers with intricate gold jewelry that swirl and loop in all sorts of patterns.

Taking a final look in the mirror you place a gold crown on your head, the small spikes protruding out of your head, the sun reflecting off of the tiny gems in the crown. Taking a couple of deep breaths you waltz your way to the throne room, playing with the rings on your fingers as you anticipate your meeting with the High Lord.

As you enter the throne room and approach your seat, a fleeting thought slips past your mind. Wouldn't it be funny if that man from your dreams accompanied Rhysand here, tonight. You snort to yourself as you ungracefully take a seat in the middle throne.

But for now you wait.

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

The ticking of the clock was driving you mad, it felt as though years had gone by, but reality crushingly sunk in when you checked the clock, and only mere minutes had passed by. You had taken it upon yourself to cure your boredom, passing the time by with checking how many cartwheels you could do in a row without throwing up. Which ended up being 57, a new record!

You had even tried to pick up a new skill by attempting to juggle the rings from your fingers, albeit you weren't very good. Loosing one of them as it ended up in some unseen corner. Now here you sit waiting, with a sour expression on your face, and hair in slight disarray.

Before you could even begin to think of abandoning this meeting, the menacingly large white doors begin to open, groaning as they grated against the floor. A male strolls into your view, yet you can't quite make out his face clearly, the sun doing little to illuminate the darkness that surrounds him. It's as if he's made of the very night sky, soaking up that onyx beauty and releasing it with each breath. The heavy thrum of his power reaches you before he does, it takes you aback, having never felt such raw power. Quickly you send back waves of your own powers, both sun and fire emitting from your very being. If he wants to have a pissing contest then so be it.

He stops before the dais, now fully visible as the shadows dissipate in the light, you catch the look in his eyes immediately, those violet hues capturing you, an amused look swirling in them. Besides his eyes, his beauty was striking, you're certain that he's had many lovers in his lifetime, without a doubt. Yup, that's definitely Rhysand.

Rhysand slyly spoke, voice like a cold drink on a hot summer day, smoothly, enticingly. "You aren't Helion."

"Really, and what makes you say that?" Sarcasm dripped from your voice as you propped your chin on a hand.

"You're much to young to be a...high lady." Rhysand carefully crafts his words, but his eyes speak his true thoughts. "My mind is well beyond my years Rhysand," flicking a hand in the air dismissingly "besides am I not just as capable as my father? Or do you wish to speak to a male rather than a female on such matters?" Raising a brow at him.

Slowly but surely a cheeky grin finds a way onto his face, as he raises his hand towards you. "Not at all, I actually find that I prefer you instead of your overzealous father, quite the lovely change of pace really."

A hum of approval leaves your throat after digesting his words, and the insinuation behind them. You begin to descend down the stairs to meet him, eye to eye, on common ground. Yet try as you might, you can't deny that view, having the most powerful High Lord of Prythian by your feet, it's a rare sight. You're feet land on the floor of the throne room, finally being able to see Rhysand up close. Just as you were about to suggest moving your conversation to one of the study rooms a cluster of shadows spiraled together behind him, forming a portal of sorts as a male steps out into view. Your mind short-circuits as you realize who stands before you, clad in swarming shadows.

It's the man from your dreams. Well you're certainly not laughing, as you recall the silly thoughts you had earlier, thinking about what ifs. Instead there you stand, eyes large like saucers, your mouth probably would've been opening and closing like a fish if you hadn't controlled yourself.

There he stands in all his glory, devastatingly beautiful, just one look at his face makes you want to dance. The planes of his face are elegant and chiseled, strong eyebrows furrowed as he stares back at you, seemingly having his own mixed thoughts. His dark hair falls gracefully over his face, curling away as a result from the heat, some strands sticking to his sweat slicked skin. His eyes are nothing like you've ever seen before. Not just green and brown, no. They are breathtaking, shinning brighter than all the stars combined, the calculated coldness at the center drew you in, yet they teem with emotion. His sparkling eyes are irresistibly charming, your skin growing hot wherever he glanced, feeling as if you were bathed in sunlight.

He was clad in battle leathers, leaving nothing to the imagination as they clung to his body so desperately you thought that they would pop just right off if he breathed too deeply. You completely ignored Rhysand as he spoke to you both, bouncing between waving his hand in front of your faces and loudly speaking to you. You paid him no attention as you watched the man before you, studying the way his eyes roved over every inch of your face.

You shoot out a hand towards him, voice coming out strained, "I'm y/n." You watch as his eyes flicker to your outstretched hand, softly he places his hand in yours. It's callused, rough skin squeezes yours as he shakes your hand ever so gently, like he's afraid that if he grips too harshly you'll shatter like glass. The azure siphon rings cool against your heated skin.

"Azriel." His voice rich and sweet like honey, sending a chill down your spine. He holds on for a little longer before dropping his grip, hand returning to his side. Realizing quickly that you've been ignoring the reason of this meeting you quickly clear your throat before turning to face Rhysand, "Where are my manners, I'm y/n, heir to Autumn and Day Court, anyways enough of the overbearing pleasantries, I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in one of our study rooms." Ushering the two of them out you lead the group towards the nearest study room, as you walk you feel Azriel's eyes burning into the back of your head, it takes all of your willpower to not look behind you and meet those intense eyes.

You barely register the sound of the slap followed with a pained grunt as you lose yourself in your thoughts. This time you look back over your shoulder. You're met with a rather strange scene, Rhysand's clutching his chest as he directs Azriel with a shit-eating grin, the latter remains unphased as he ignores Rhysands pointed looks.

You finally arrive to the study room, closing the doors as the three of you enter. You gesture to the two cream sofa chairs that sit across the matching sofa, a coffee table separating you from them. Taking your seat on the sofa, you use your magic to summon refreshments to the table. You watch carefully as Rhysand and Azriel settle into their seats before Rhysand finally speaks.

"Hybern's attacking Prythian, but I'm sure you already knew that," you nod as sip at your water, "we need as many alliances as we can get, without it Prythian will succumb to defeat, cities and fae of all kind will be pillaged and destroyed. I refuse to stand by and watch as everything we have built become nothing but dust, not after her." His voice laced with pure disgust as he sneered. You knew about the stories that were whispered about him and Amarantha, how he had to please her, you felt his pain and sorrow, making the decision to stay silent you urged him on.

"Helion already agreed to unify with us, but we are spread thin, not enough agreements being made, we came to ask Helion to reach out to other courts and see their stances, but we seem to have missed him." Setting down your glass you catch Azriel, from your peripheral, staring at your fingers, fixating onto your rings.

"Summer Court." You quickly respond as you lounge back into your seat. Rhysand gives you a confused look. "He's in the Summer Court smoothing things over, which I recall was your doing." You smirk at him, the High Lord sending you back a comical look, not too amused by your slight jab at his all too recent activities in the Summer Court.

"Well isn't he just a sweetheart," you chuckle at his comment, "since your father is being sooo helpful with the Summer Court, maybe you can too." "How so?" You question.

"Go to the Autumn Court." Your heart drops to your stomach. You haven't been there in over a century, just the idea of entering that cursed land and seeing that swine Beron along with your treacherous half-siblings sends your head spinning in all directions.

"I have no business there, how do you think Beron will take it if his wife's living proof of adultery comes back after decades? It will raise all hell." You seethe through gritted teeth, body tensing up at the image of Berons face.

"If I had anyone else to turn to for this matter, I would, but we have to know whether we have Autumn Court's support or not, and quickly." You huff, not only in annoyance at having to visit your other "home" but also because Rhys's right. We are running on short time, not much wiggle room left. "Fine." So you oblige, agree to attempt to make a pact with the Autumn Court, or at least you finally get to visit your mother after all these years.

Rhys tells you to pack your belongings as you will be staying in the House of Wind, with the rest of his Inner Circle for the remainder of the war. Claiming it's more convenient for you to be close, he winked before winnowing back to the Night Court, leaving you and Azriel alone to get ready to leave.

As you gather your belongings in your room, bringing what you thought was necessary, along with your twin blades, you feel cool whisps by your ankles. You look down and see that some of Azriel shadows are slinking around your legs, some making it up to your waist as they circle playfully.

"Sorry they sometimes don't listen to me." Azriel rumbles from behind you, as he watches you from the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. Eyebrows pulled together in annoyance at the rare un-behaved nature of his shadows.

You giggle at the chilly feeling of them sliding along your skin, "It's alright really, I think they're quite adorable." You throw a quick smile behind you, showing how easily entertained you are by the shadows.

They continue to swirl around you, even as you finally finish packing the last piece of clothing you deemed absolutely necessary. The sound of heavy footsteps behind you draw your attention towards Azriel. He stops mere centimeters from you, so close you could see freckles that dotted his skin that are easily missed if you don't pay attention. Your breath hitches as he grabs your hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out your ring that you lost earlier this evening. "How did you find that?" You question, your voice coming out just above a whisper.

He ever so carefully slides the ring onto your index finger, it slides on smoothly, but he holds your hand for just a bit longer, almost like he yearns for it. "My shadows have an eye for shiny, pretty things, they bring them to me." His voice low, making your stomach do somersaults as he gently lowers your hand, before making his way over to your bags. Silently letting out a shuddered breath you pick up your twin swords and securely strap them onto your back.

You stick out your hand, preparing yourself him to winnow the both of you to the House of Wind, but his hand doesn't meet yours. Glancing into his direction you open your mouth to ask what was wrong, but were immediately met with a jacket flying towards your head. Yelping you just manage to catch it before it smacks you square in the head.

"You'll freeze if you walk around the streets dressed like that." He gestures to your outfit, the thin material of the skirt wouldn't even stand a chance at keeping you even remotely warm. Rolling your eyes you slip the large jacket on, the material engulfing you in cocoon of heat. You catch a whiff of remnant notes cedar and lavender from the jacket. Wrapping yourself up tightly you stretch your hand out. "Thank you." You gently smile, he nods back and accepts your hand, gripping it softly he begins to winnow you to the House of Wind.

Darkness surrounds you, as wind rushes around you, blowing your hair around. As the darkness dissipates, and light filters through the remaining shadows you squint your eyes to get a better view of the city.

There you stand, in Velaris, the city of starlight.

tag list: @dr4g0ngirl @tothestarsandwhateverend

[sleeplesssmol]

Vertin during part 2 of Green Lake.

I love her dynamic with Jessica! When she's with Jessica, you can see both her playful side and her parental side.

Vertin calls Jessica before her exams to check up on her. She is relieved when Jessica isn't anxious. Vertin seems more anxious than Jessica, who picks up on this and asks her about it. It's precious.

Vertin kept Sonetto's notebook from their school days. She used Sonetto's notebook to help her study and stay out of the guardhouse. She lets Jessica borrow them. It appears after the break away event they punished Vertin with the guardhouse treatment for not doing well on her homework or exams. Before the break away event it was only used for “correcting behavior” (according to what we see anyway). This makes Vertin’s later punishments feel like targeted attempts to harass her since her arcanum is weak and she was not a good student.

Vertin is constantly negotiating with the Foundation to make Jessica more comfortable and to give her leniency. The instructor goes as far as calling it “special treatment”.

Vertin stopped the Foundation from using “fasting” and “grounding” as punishments (flashbacks to guardhouse).

Vertin asks about how things are going/doing for Jessica in every call. Priorities. The Foundation isn't allowed to bully her little bambi! I think Vertin is scared they're going to hurt Jessica the way they hurt her as a child. She's very on top of things when it comes to her crew.

Also, we see her hide her face a lot. She's always done that when she feels negative emotions throughout main story but here she does it whenever she "fails". As in, she failed to give Jessica the best life she could. She does the hat tilt when Jessica expresses unhappiness, longing, or loneliness. Vertin takes her feelings more seriously than she does her own smh. I think my HC of Vertin going out of her way for her crew as a provider has more strength behind it after playing this event. Side note, imagine if a crew member snapped at her for some reason and decided to leave the Suitcase? From what I've seen during this event, it would hurt her a lot.

Vertin visits Jessica while she's at the Foundation dealing with Horrorpedia. No one knows she's done this because the speaker doesn't announce her visit. Could this qualify as more of Vertin being stealthy? That or she told the security guards to get bent because she is the Timekeeper. First one sounds more likely but the second one gives me joy.

The school complains to Vertin about Jessica's behavior. Vertin tries to find out the cause of the misbehavior and creates a solution instead of berating her. A very gentle Suitcase Dad. Finding ways to redirect a child's energy in productive ways is a skill. She might have learned this specific one from Tooth Fairy, who also does this for Jessica. Make promises within your power. Find solutions to problems by tackling the source.

Talking to Jessica makes her nostalgic so she does have a few good memories of the Foundation.

She compliments the tiara Jessica made. She accepts Jessica's gift even though she never takes off her hat lol. She does say she’ll wear it though and so far she's kept her promises to Jess. Maybe we'll see her wearing it one day? Just her, Jessica, and Jessica's Critter friends doing a photoshoot with Blonney lol.

Vertin gives Jessica a room in the Suitcase right next to Jennifer's. She gets it.

She is the King of the Living Dead! She plays along with Jess's idea to scare Blonney and Horrorpedia. They aren't scared, but Blonney puts on an act for her little “monster”. They're all so cute!

I may not be around to reply as much, but I do read your responses! If you have HCs or observations you want to share, pls do ☺️

[blanketorghost]

A taste of Something New (Pt. 1)

"When I'm not with you, I think of you always..."

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Yuu vignette!! I did promise some Yuu pining pre-Azul catching feelings so <3

Fic under the cut!

Summary: Against his better judgement, Yuu wants to bring Azul a meaningful souvenir from the scalding sands.

• Pairing: Yuu Fujisaki x Azul Ashengrotto (one-sided), Azul Ashengrotto x Jamil Viper (implied, one-sided)

• Timeline: During/Post Al'ab Narya and Ch. 4. Pre Ch. 5

• Notes: Azul may be OOC? Have never been good at writing him convincingly imho

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A simple, recycled cardboard cover. Lined ivory paper with the faintest smell of persimmon. That's what Yuu first saw when he got the idea. The item in itself... wasn't something that really caught much attention when placed besides its other, flashier patterned hard-cover companions. But it was what he could afford on his meager budget. Either way, what mattered was the content.

For the writing materials, though... pencil would be best in theory. But wouldn't that be a bit tacky? Careless, even? Pencil meant insecurity of oneself... leniency. It meant you didn't trust yourself not to make any mistakes. At least, Yuu thought, that's what Azul would assume, right? He was all about appearances. Maybe ink would be a better option.

What if he messed up writing, though?

Yuu picks up another notebook from the stall and ponders. He could always write two just to be safe.

With a heavy sigh, Yuu pays for the stationery alongside some trinkets Grim had gotten enthralled by, checking the price on each one.

Still on budget. Nice.

The idea of gifting Azul a recipe book had come to him on a whim, something he only realized when Jamil was guiding them through Camel market. Seeing all the foreign fruit, smelling such different scents than he was used to... Surely, this could benefit Azul's research for Mostro Lounge. At first, he had thought of just buying the book ready-made, full of expert recipes and images for reference. But wouldn't that be just... too easy? If Azul wanted a Scalding Sands recipe book, he could just order it online. If anything, Yuu could even accidentally gift him a double of one of the many, many books he had on his personal library. So why not make a unique one instead?

It would definitely be a challenge to write in such short notice, though.

To be entirely honest, Yuu wasn't exactly a foodie. His cooking was meant to be easy and cheap as to not go over the meager allowance Crowley gave him each month, and he barely had any time to indulge on cooking anything else than what was essential for him and Grim to survive. He didn't even know where to start. Compared to people like Trey or Jamil, he was already at a disadvantage. And his own skewed sense of self and ego didn't allow him to ask for any help in the matter, so he was stuck at square one.

All of these thoughts and others flooded Yuu's brain as he chewed on the veggie shawarma he'd been offered for lunch. In fact, if it weren't for the sudden disappearance of one of the orders, he would've kept on chewing at it while looking absentmindedly at the crowds passing by.

"Grim... what did I tell you about stealing food?"

"Fgnah! Don't look at me that way!! I didn't take anything! Why take ONE wrap when I could swipe a whole spit of meat from the stall? I'd get way more food!"

"Please don't do that. Ever." Jamil chimes in. And for once, Yuu has to agree with anything he says.

As the group recounts their orders, Yuu looks down at Grim, who's spared little talk after being wrongfully accused of shawarma theft. The little guy was glaring at the ground and had his arms crossed, tapping his foot on the sandy floor as he awaited an apology.

"... wanna try mine?" Yuu crowches down to his friend's level and offers his own wrap to Grim, who side-eyes it momentarily before whipping his head away.

"You ain't gonna eat it?"

"I'm not hungry." Yuu dangles the shawarma in an attempt to make it look enticing, some veggies falling to the ground.

Grim eyes the wrap suspiciously before quickly swiping it from Yuu's hands with starry eyes, basically devouring it as soon as he gets it. Taking big bites and making a little mess on his hands with the sticky sauce. "Mmmh! The vegetables are so fresh and crunchy! The onions and bell peppers are perfectly sautéed and the cumin really makes the cauliflower taste even better! Mnh..." Grim takes another bite of the shawarma, completely delighted. "The lime's also super refreshing. And the chickpeas are crunchy on the outside and butteyr on the inside! It's a perfect balance!"

"Hm. You can really taste all that?" Yuu asks, a little amused at his friend's detailed explanation.

"An'... *munch* this is *munch* just the basics!" Grim exclaims proudly in-between bites. "I could totally tell you every ingredient in this!"

"Do you, now?" Yuu hums. It may be a long shot, but maybe Grim's big appetite could finally be useful. He may not get ratios right, but that would be a good start. "... Hey, Grim? I've got a proposal for you."

[cannibyl]

@implsvly sent: i think i’ve seen you around before .

THE JUKEBOX PLAYS A HAUNTING country tune  in  the  background,  punctuated  by  the  occasional  clinking  of  glasses  and  muffled  conversations—the  volume  lower  than  it  had  been  only  a  few  minutes  ago  after  a  fight  had  broken  out  between  him  and  some  drunken  fellow.  The  owner  of  the  bar  had  gotten  the  latter  kicked  out regardless of who was responsible for starting it,  as  Johnny  had  built  up  some  form  of  respect  from  the  owner  by  dealing  with  a  few  problematic  customers  for  him  in  the  past.  It  was  safe  to  say  they  had  some  sort  of  understanding  now,  though  he  had  received  a  warning  a  few  times  before  too for unfavorable behavior. He is allowed some leniency, but not outright invincibility.

Johnny  stands  at  the  bar,  wiping  the  blood  from  his  knuckles  after  the  recent  scuffle.  The  pain  is  nothing,  mild  in  comparison  to  the  previous deep  cuts  and  stab  wounds  that  left  a  hefty  number  of  scars  along  his  body, some raised and whitened, others still red and angry from being fresh.  As  he  finishes  off  his  drink  with  one  final  swig,  he  notices  a  figure  approaching  from  the  corner  of  his  eye.  Thus,  his  gaze  cuts  to  the  side  to  land  on  an  unfamiliar  male.  Tall,  strong,  displaying  a  build  somewhat similar  to  his  own.  Cocky  as  ever,  Johnny’s  first  thought  is  that  he  could  take  him.  It’s  fun  to  toy  with  the  ones  who  are  weaker  than  him,  but  he  enjoys  a  challenge  too  if  he’s  looking  to  pick  a  fight. 

The  statement  from  the  stranger  lingers  in  the  air  for  a  moment  before  Johnny  answers.  He  can’t  tell  if  it’s  a  threat  or  not  ;  if  he  recognizes  him  from  the  streets  or  from  something  more  sinister.  Drayton  always  did  call  him  careless,  claiming  he  was  gonna  get  the  family  into  a  whole  lot  of  trouble  one  day.  ❝ Y'know, that don't surprise me none. You might’a  seen  me  workin’  up  at  the  gas  station, ❞ he  answers  easily in his usual gravelly tone, his  body  angling  away  from  the  bar  to  face  the other.  Dark eyes lock onto bright blues, attempting to read his face and body language. Whoever he is, he doesn't appear to be immediately hostile. Or maybe he's looking to finish what the other man couldn't. ❝ It’s  a  small  town, but I sure as shit don't recognize you. What's it to ya anyway? ❞