#he knew the reason why that reference was used

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 5)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 4.1k

Additional Warning(s) for This Chapter: Brief Reference to Vomiting

CHAPTER 5: November 1977 - February 2004

November 9, 1977. 4:30 AM

I saved James for the 5th time on October 9 and my stomach is killing me.

I got home earlier than I thought — I should’ve known Jonny was gonna be a disaster of a date. He told me at the last minute to dress nice and then took me to a wedding. A WEDDING! I thought he was gonna take me to a fancy restaurant, but no. He took me to a wedding, pretending that I was his longtime girlfriend when this was our second date. So I pretended to break up with him and left immediately. 

Of course, I wasn’t going to date Jonny for long, but it still would’ve been nice to be with a man who doesn’t treat you like trash. He was truly a reminder of why I stopped trying to date decades ago, regardless of my curse. Too many shitty people everywhere.

I came home and just crashed onto my couch. I dozed off in the middle of the day, but then I woke up at a party at a giant mansion. Luckily, I was still in my dress from that failed date so I didn’t stick out. Or, maybe it wasn’t luck — maybe you knew well enough to put me in that dress.

When I woke up at that party, I was confused. It always takes me a moment to realize I’m not dreaming — that I’m there for one person.

I moved past all of the snobby people to find James and couldn’t help but notice how many security guards there were. There was a guard almost at every entrance and they all tried to look tough. But based on what I’ve seen from James, these men have no chance against him.

There was a hallway that didn’t have a guard. I’ve learned at this point that those are signs pointing me to James. I kept walking until I heard a loud thud from a private study. When I opened the door, I saw him right by the door, standing over a man — some politician — with a gun in his metal hand.

It’s been about 9 years since I last saw him and I missed him, but he hasn't aged a day and he looks even colder and stiffer than before. The person in charge of him is still trying to carve away the young man from Brooklyn. But when James looked up and raised his gun at me, he stopped.

He’s done this before — look at me and take a moment to realize who I am…but I think it happened faster this time. He was more of a machine than he was back on that plane, and yet James came back in those eyes quicker than before. He kept his gun up, but I managed to walk up to him without him shooting me. I think he looked nervous to see me

I wanted to talk to him, but I felt the pull so I grabbed him. He let me grab him because I think his body knows now I’m not a threat. Considering I’ve saved his ass 4 times by that point, he better know I’m not a threat. I grabbed him and pulled him away and I was stabbed in the chest. I want to say I’m used to being stabbed now, but it still sucks.

What I’m not used to, on the other hand, is getting caught after getting hurt. James shot the guard in the head as he caught me, just like he did on the plane. He helped me lie down and looked at me for a long time. He was wearing his mask like before, but I only needed to look into his eyes to see how confused he was again.

He was supposed to walk away. Let me die alone while he went back to wherever he came from like he did on the plane…but he stayed. He sat next to me, keeping me company as long as he could. I wanted to ask him where he was from — who was in charge of him — but I couldn’t say a word without coughing up blood. I really wanted to ask because if I knew…maybe I could try to free him from his prison.

But then, you’ll never believe what happened next.

James touched my face.

He moved closer and held his hand — not the metal one — against my cheek. His hand was surprisingly soft He blinked at me like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from.

I no longer believe that he doesn’t remember me because we haven't seen each other for years, or that he pretends not to know me… I think he actually doesn’t remember me. He’s always confused when he sees me. 

Are they torturing him so badly that he forgets who I am? Who he is? 

But despite forgetting me, I saw James fighting in those frost blue eyes before I died.

If they’re somehow making James forget who he is, I think I can be the one to get him to come back.

<><><>

February 2, 1978. 5:19 AM

It’s been 3 months and here I am, thinking about how James touched my face like a dumb teenager with a crush. He

Your pen and journal flew across the room before you fell back into bed, throwing the covers over yourself as you let out an irritated yell.

<><><>

August 14, 1981. 5:19 AM

I started to read about James.

I don’t know what made me do it all of a sudden, but when I walked by our archives, I had the urge to find articles about him. I asked Carl if I could look through wartime records from the 40s — he was a little confused by my request but showed me where they were. I never mention James to him.

Considering he was with Captain America for most of the war, it was easy to spot his name. There were so many stories about him and the Howling Commandos taking down HYDRA bases and freeing the prisoners.

I forgot that his middle name is Buchanan. 

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky Barnes.

What a name.

There was also a photo of him. He was young and proud, standing tall with his unit with a smile on his face.

I almost forgot what his smile looked like. It’s pretty cute

I read the articles slowly as if it was my first time reading them. It wasn’t — I read the same papers decades ago when they arrived at my doorstep. I kept up with the news to make sure he was alive, still going out and fighting against HYDRA like the hero he was is.

I remember feeling proud of him, even though I didn’t really have the right to. I wasn’t his family or friend, or a name that would show up in his file or stories about him. But I gave him back to the world twice, so I let myself believe a little bit that I had a small hand in the man he became. A hero. A fighter. A soldier who held the line when others couldn’t.

Because of James, I allowed myself to believe — just for a while — that this curse was a blessing.

<><><>

May 30, 1987. 6:48 AM

I saved James for the 6th time on April 30. I woke up on my couch with the left side of my back burning. 

I went to bed after an uneventful day at work and woke up in a city I’ve always wanted to visit. Tokyo. It was really pretty. There were all of these neon lights that eventually did hurt my eyes, but they lit up the streets in a gorgeous way that I could barely see here in Maine.

It took me a bit to find James this time because I woke up in an empty apartment. I thought he was in the building with me, but then I saw that one of the windows was open, meaning he was outside. I found myself in a dark alley and just wandered from one place to another. I did get worried at one point because I thought maybe I missed him and I already failed. But my worries went away when I finally found him standing by a dumpster in another alleyway.

He heard me and immediately pointed his gun at me, but I didn’t care. I just knew he wouldn’t shoot me. Even if he did, I would’ve saved him anyway. He lowered his gun as I walked up to him, but then I felt the pull and noticed the red dot on his chest. I moved in front of him and the bullet hit my back.

James didn’t let me fall again. I was surprised, but he actually ran to catch me. I think he was already moving towards me before the bullet hit. He moved me out of the way, hiding me behind the dumpster before he used his own rifle to kill the sniper. It reminded me of him from the war. 

He moved me against the wall and watched me. He didn’t look as confused as before — not as distant. I asked him who was in charge of him and he didn’t respond, but I could see in his eyes that he was surprised by my question. I don’t know if he could tell me, even if he wanted to. 

I didn’t realize it for a while, but he was pressing on my wound. It wasn’t until he shifted that I realized his hand was on my back. I think he was trying to figure out what to do, but also didn’t understand why he should save me to begin with. 

I pushed his arm away and he let me. I think he finally understands that he can’t stop me from dying.

I called him James and he said he didn’t know who that was. I tried to explain, but he touched my face before I could. He’d touched my cheek before, but…it was different this time. 

You know when you wake up from a dream and you can’t seem to remember what it was about? And as the day goes on, you might remember bits and pieces but still not get the full story.

I think he’s tired of waking up from a dream. It was like he was trying to memorize my face rather than just remember the bits of me. Trying to hold onto whatever I am to him.

He was finally close enough that I managed to touch his face too. I felt his temples — there were scars there again. I couldn’t see them in the dark, but they felt new. I asked him again who was in charge of him and he didn’t tell me. Then we heard a lot of yelling in the streets — numerous men looking for the person who killed their boss. I told James to leave and he didn’t.

When he looked back at me, I didn’t know what to think.

He looked afraid. 

Afraid for what? I don’t know, but I’ve never seen him afraid. I only saw his eyes, but there was definitely fear there. I wanted to comfort him and

He reached for my necklace and opened my locket again. He stared at it for a long time before looking at me. He asked me who I was, and I said that I was someone who was there to save him. He asked why I saved him, and I said he deserved to live. 

He didn’t understand that.

He tugged lightly on my locket like he wanted to take it — to take something that would remind him of me — but I didn’t let him. I told him to leave before he was caught. He tucked my locket back into my shirt, took one last look at me, and disappeared.

But I think he knows I’ll see him again. I want to see him again.

<><><>

June 6, 1987. 9:15 PM

I’ve had many different careers in my life, and yet I always find comfort in being surrounded by texts.

Right now, I’m using my career to my advantage. I want to figure out why James’s memory is loose — why he can never remember me at first, or himself for that matter. I’m gathering any books and research papers in the library that might lead me somewhere.

I want to fig

I have to 

I will figure this out. I have to get James to come back.

<><><>

The front door slammed open and you rushed into your apartment, eyes welling up with tears and breath coming out erratically. You rushed to your bedroom and ripped the drawer of your bedside table open, your hands trembling as you grabbed your journal and pen. You quickly scribbled down the start of your entry.

January 25, 1990. 6:42 PM

I can’t fucking do this. I

The journal fell to the floor as you stumbled to your bathroom, your stomach no longer happy with your meal from earlier.

<><><>

January 25, 1990. 6:42 PM 11:25 PM

I can’t fucking do this. I

I threw up. Like, a lot. All because of a theory that seems too real.

I’ve been reading novels and stories for many decades, keeping up with history and fantasies from around the world. But I’ve always avoided reading anything gruesome or tragic — I deal with enough bloodshed and loss in my life.

But ever since my last encounter with James, I started to read about anything I could find about memory loss. I found novels, research, and memoirs about what it means to lose your memory. But then I ended up having to read horrifying cases of experiments and medical studies, and it took me a while to get through them because I have a weak stomach for this kind of thing. I know it’s ironic considering I’ve died in the most gruesome way imaginable, but when it happens to other people, it makes me sick.

For years, I wondered why James always seemed to forget me, trying to grasp me like I was just out of reach. I tried to tell myself it was because I only saw him after so many years apart or a form of amnesia, but the way he touched my face told me that there was something more to this than just forgetting — than just being forced to go on missions as a ghost. I slowly started to suspect it was some form of mind control, so I started to read about anything that was about altering the brain.

I knew something was wrong. But when I read about studies where electric shocks were used to wipe a person’s mind, I wanted to scream. 

It's not drugs. It’s not mind control. 

It’s brainwashing.

Those scars on his temples make sense. They’re burn marks. There were always new ones whenever I saw him — evidence that they were ripping him apart to make the perfect soldier, only meant to follow orders and nothing else. They’re forcing him to forget. That’s why he doesn’t remember me. His instincts tell him that I’m a friend, but his mind has to piece me back together.

No wonder he looked so scared when I told him to leave. Leaving means to go back to THEM and get burned and torn apart all over again. I wish he told me who was doing this to him. If I knew, then maybe I could get the authorities involved — put him on someone’s radar and find a way to get him out. I have to find out next time. I have to free him.

But how do you free someone who doesn’t even know they need to be freed? Every time I see him, he looks at me like I’m a distant memory, something slipping through his fingers even though I’m standing right there. And yet, he always reaches for me, just enough to make me see that James is still in there. I need James 

But if I keep showing up as a reminder of who he was, does he feel more pain when they shock him? Does it hurt more when there are more memories to burn away?

I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want him to die either. I need him to survive long enough for someone to free him. 

I have to save him over and over and over again. I don’t care how many times it takes. 

<><><>

October 7, 1998. 7:26 AM

I saved James for the 7th time on September 7, and I woke up just in time to miss my baby’s 100th birthday.

You have a twisted sense of humor.

I was gonna spend the whole day celebrating her, but that day happened yesterday. I’m so bitter about it but I know that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve always been fucked up.

But still, you couldn’t have given me this? I’m sure with how you’ve controlled my life, you have some say in deciding when James needs me. I’m not mad about saving him — I’m mad that you couldn’t have let me comfortably walk around yesterday to celebrate my baby girl. Get some of our favorite eclairs and maybe a teddy bear — one that has a dress and pretty shoes that she would’ve liked.

You let me lose her when she was 6. You know I still grieve over her. Did you not have the decency to let me enjoy my baby’s big day?

I fell asleep after finishing my book and I woke up in the middle of a fight at a warehouse. I was hiding behind a crate, surrounded by weapons and gadgets, listening to a bunch of men yelling in what I could only assume was Russian. 

I looked over the crate and I saw James killing men left and right. He was more robotic than before — every move he made was calculated and efficient. It’s been 11 years since I last saved him, and he's only become more skilled at ending lives. There was so much blood and those men didn’t have a chance. 

Then I felt the pull and looked over to see one of the men hiding too, but he had grabbed a…I think it was a gun? It looked strange like it’s been tinkered with. It reminded me of the weird, strange weapon James fought against back in the war. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure James was attacking an arms dealer of some kind at the warehouse — the weapons they were using were not normal.

I ran in front of the man as he shot at James and holy shit — whatever he used was painful. It got me in my thigh, which was surprising because I’m so used to getting hit in the chest or stomach. Leg wounds aren’t lethal, but that just meant that this weapon was deadly enough to take me out like that.

The man who shot me was so confused and distracted by my presence that he got shot in the head. I looked at James and he was different. He was still terrifying but when he saw me on the floor, he turned into an animal. He went through the other men so brutally, slicing their skin so fast that their blood would hit the floor before their bodies did.

He was angry. He was normally collected, but he was horrifying then. I was actually scared that he would kill me next in his rage, but I couldn’t get away. My thigh was burning so much that I couldn’t move the rest of my body. I just closed my eyes, hoping to die quicker to stop the pain.

But then I was no longer on the floor. I opened my eyes to see his cold ones. He was carrying me in his arms — he never did that before. He held onto me tight and ran out of the warehouse. I didn’t know where we were going, but he carried me like I wasn’t a burden. 

We eventually ended up in an abandoned building, empty except for some medical kits and cases with bullets. I think that was where supplies were dropped off for him. He laid me against the wall and grabbed the kits.

I never expected that he would try to help me. I could barely keep my eyes open until he started to put pressure on my leg and I screamed. Fuck, I screamed so loud because it really hurt. I don’t know how much blood I lost, but that didn’t stop James from trying to fix me.

But I didn’t want him to. There’s no point — I always die in the end. I told him to stop because it was better to end my pain than to pretend he could help me. I’ve saved him so many times, but there he was trying to return the favor. But it wouldn’t work.

I was crying from the pain. I told him to stop again and he wouldn’t listen to me. James ignored me and kept on trying to tend my wound, but I was already cold and felt death approaching. I just wanted it to stop. I tried to grab his arms and I begged him to stop.

Then he yelled.

He fucking yelled “no” at me.

He was so desperate

I have known this man for so many decades, and yet we’ve only ever spoken to each other a few times. It was only ever a few quiet words, and most of the time it was only me talking.

He’s never yelled at me before.

We just stared at each other. I was surprised but him? James was appalled by what he did, like he didn’t know he was capable of…that. In his eyes, I saw a terrified young man, bruised by war yet so loved by others. He wanted to save me. God, he really did want to save me.

I wanted to see him. So I reached up and he let me pull his mask down. He wore despair and pain in a strange way like he couldn’t figure out how he could feel this way after so many years of being a killing machine. 

He was so lost, so I held his face, touching the scars around his temples again. I asked him whose orders he was following and I saw his lips tremble, like he wanted to tell me but something in his body stopped him. I kept on asking him and he kept on opening his mouth, but no words ever left. He couldn’t tell me.

He was still holding onto my wound when I told him to let me go. He listened that time.

But instead of letting me sit against the wall, he picked me up and put me in his lap.

It was like we were back in the war when I was dying in the mountains and James held me close. That was fifty years ago and we’ve both been broken again and again since then, but the comfort I felt was the same. James said sorry to me back then, and I knew he was saying sorry again despite not speaking.

I finally got to tell him his full name. James Buchanan Barnes.

He looked at me like I said a random string of words. But I said his name again and he said he doesn’t know who that is. I said that it was his name. Hopefully, that’ll help his memory. Maybe he’ll remember who he is and escape wherever he’s from. Maybe he already has. James wanted to ask more and I wanted to say more, but I couldn’t. I lost too much blood to keep talking and stay awake.

But when I looked at him one last time, I realized something else. He was scared. He didn’t want me to die because he needed my presence. Because maybe…maybe I’m the only thing still human left inside him.

I died in his arms, but I felt his hand on my cheek before I did. He whispered Rose again and I felt my heart beat faster despite dying

I can only hope that he’ll find another way to be human without me.

<><><>

January 16, 2004. 10:38 PM

January 17, 2004. 9:13 PM

February 18, 2004. 10:10 AM

I have never been more scared in my life until January 18.

I saved James for the 8th time, but I almost failed.

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl

Thanks for reading :)

[lastofthewardens]

SPOILERS i'll probably be talking about mostly foggy but also some other things so read at your own risk

alright. i said i'd wait until the end of the season to be mean, but now the season is over, and i have no reason to care or be cautious anymore.

i'm the most livid about the foggy stuff so i'm going to start there.

last week, when they revealed vanessa ordered the hit, i was pretty hopeful. but i thought about what this episode could look like over the past week, and i decided my worst case scenario was if it was confirmed that vanessa specifically wanted foggy dead. if that happened, it was over, and i wasn't going to let them fuck with my emotions anymore. that was my line in the sand.

and so here we are. because vanessa ordered dex SPECIFICALLY to kill him.

i really don't think, after seeing that finale, that foggy is coming back. i already didn't after watching the way they chose to film his death scene, but against my better judgment, i let myself believe as the season went on, especially this past week, and i wish i had just kept the same energy the whole time now because this hurts way more.

but i'm also kind of glad i didn't because it makes me more angry too.

i've said it before, but they've been outright cruel in the way they've handled things with foggy. they've laughed about wrecking everything, they've done really weird interviews saying frankly really weird things, they've directly teased brubaker on social media..

the most cruel part though, to me at least, is adapting foggy's fake "death" from the brubaker comics without it being fake. filming the scene with similar or at least comparable shots, the matt hearing his heartbeat stuff, having it be an ordered hit, having matt think fisk was behind it only to reveal it was vanessa, having all the necessary characters and puzzle pieces around, using so much of that plot.. and then stopping short of having foggy be alive. THAT'S fucked up.

they have, i believe intentionally if i'm being honest, strung foggy fans along for most of this season. they had to know they were inviting brubaker theories, they had to know people would hope, speculate, wish for an adaptation of the secret life of foggy nelson. there's no way they didn't know exactly what they were doing when they chose these plot points.

i complained about the "maybe i didn't want to give you an excuse" line back when it happened because it doesn't make sense for foggy to be complaining about daredevil anymore given where the original show left off. and even after how stupid it already was, they somehow managed to make this line even worse too?

because karen told matt that foggy saw the true matt, light and dark, matt/daredevil/etc, and believed in him anyway. so what the fuck was that line of dialogue from episode 1 then? lmao. WHY did they have him say THAT, especially as his last words to matt EVER? i allowed myself to hope that if foggy was alive, that line would be out of context, that maybe he knew the red hook stuff was connected to fisk, and he was hiding it because of the deal matt made with fisk/not wanting matt to potentially accidentally break their truce. in that case, the dialogue could be referring to not wanting to give matt an excuse (to break the truce). but no, he had no idea about any of that, he thought it was a random truck robbery apparently and had no clue what he stumbled into lmao. great.

the only explanation i can think of is that they had foggy say that because it assisted the plot. they wanted matt to feel bad and just did it, and then by episode 9, they probably forgot because it made no sense to begin with. that's part of the problem this show has btw. so many lines of dialogue and other stuff is entirely dictated by the plot or wanting to sound cool or be quotable rather than anything that makes sense for the characters. i'm still not fucking over "my mistake was believing i was immune to the darkness". what a wildly bad misread of the character, just a horrible line of dialogue. i don't know if there's any basis for that in other materials that i haven't seen, but in the netflix show iteration of this character, matt knowing he's got darkness inside is half the plot, dude.

speaking of character assassination though. cole n*rth is probably going to go through some weird redemption plot next season i'm sure, but uh. wow. the things they've done with him have certainly been a choice.

and kirst*n mcd*ffie.. hoo boy. she's one of my top 5 favorite characters in the comics. i see the potential in her scenes, but they wasted her the whole time and barely gave her anything, and i'm annoyed as fuck about that too. i would've loved to see this actress play her alongside matt and foggy like in the comics (and being able to include karen could've been fun).

i also just want to say.. i'm a mattfoggy first and foremost, i'm sure anyone reading my posts can gather that, it's very obvious. but i'm also a fan of matt x karen, it's my second favorite ship after mattfoggy. and in a world where foggy wasn't dead, i'd be glad to see them work it out, but. watching them use foggy's death as a prop to make that happen makes me mad as fuck. foggy deserves better, i think foggy fans probably feel that way, but i think matt x karen also deserves better than that. and while i understand people do bond over these things, the way they did it here just felt weird to me. i've felt this way since "i refuse to believe a tragedy had to destroy everything", which is something the real matt would NEVER say about foggy nelson being dead. comics matt and even netflix matt would NEVER. and the scenes about it tonight only made me feel that more.

some of those scenes also gave me the impression they think they can just replace foggy with karen, which will never be okay. karen is her own person with her own personality and her own function in the narrative. neither of them can replace the other, that's not how it works.

like the scene where karen tells matt how foggy felt about him.. why her telling him that? it literally makes sense, i guess, but why? why not have a foggy hallucination at some point express those things? or even when he's 'dying' after taking the shot for fisk, he could've talked to foggy if he's really dead? or even a foggy who came back from being dead! because those words would've meant a lot more after a foggy is alive reveal! karen telling him that stuff couldn't possibly have the same impact as foggy saying it after "maybe i didn't want to give you an excuse". (a stupid line of dialogue, yes, but if they chose to roll with it anyway and try to explain it away). can you imagine after matt thinks foggy hated daredevil, he reluctantly picks up the mask against "foggy's wishes", only for foggy to eventually come back and tell him he knows him and believes in him?

i've said it before and i'll say it again, this show, EVEN THE NEW EPISODES BY THE NEW TEAM, is mostly just missed opportunities: the show.

also i clocked the clumsy attempt to explain how fisk got out of prison and it just made me laugh. 'oh there was fbi corruption so that's why my husband got acquitted' LMAO. what a weak explanation for a plot point that should've been adequately handled but whatever.

extra side note just for a bonus.. the slowmo in the fight with matt, frank, and the police in matt's apartment was horrible. no idea why they did that. it actively made the fight seem worse than it was lol.

and i'll say one more thing. there's a world in which foggy is like.. in actual witpro or something. like for example if there's a case being built against fisk that we don't know about yet, and he's stuck in real witpro until fisk and vanessa are dealt with. i hesitate to say that because i honestly do not think that's happening at all, but i have to acknowledge that it's at least a small chance. resuscitated in the ambulance unbeknownst to everyone, hidden away by actual law enforcement who aren't corrupt... idk, i guess it's possible, right?

but i seriously don't think you guys should get your hopes up at all. i don't want anyone to be sad or hopeless or anything like that. it's just that i think the only real possibility of foggy coming back now in the capacity he deserves is if people are angry.

because i don't think these showrunners (or half the people involved tbh, despite 'we care a lot' lmao) give a fuck about foggy at all. it's transparently clear they bring him up to inject easy emotion into scenes and that's it. i mean, come on, the avocados at law thing? don't get me wrong, in a world where foggy's not dead i'd eat that fanservice up, but they're purposely invoking these things for a reason. which doesn't have to be bad but reads as pretty shitty in the context of everything else they've done. they're doing it because it's easy to make you emotional that way. they don't have to write better dialogue that way. nostalgia bait indeed.

so i think if you're mad, you should use that, you should be open about this foggy stuff on social media and wherever else (don't be aggressive or hateful though; if you are, you'll just get blocked or ignored, and it's better if they hear you out). because if everyone sings their praises for these last two episodes, they'll think no one cares, and they need to know people are unhappy or they'll just carry on.

i don't know why they have elden in season 2, or what foggy's role will be, but let them hear you. even if they've started to backtrack on their own (press x to doubt), speaking up would only be good for foggy either way. they need to know fans do care and aren't happy with this.

[satsuha]

what are your thoughts on the japanese version of spirit of justice not depicting nahyuta and apollo as brothers?

oh boy.

well first off as a disclaimer i haven't looked too deeply into aa6 in japanese as a whole (though i have seen scenes here and there in japanese) so my thoughts are based less on like... actual original text and translations and more on the uh discourse surrounding it

i want to start off by saying i feel like it's a stretch to say the japanese version "didn't depict" nahyuta and apollo as brothers and that the english version unequivocally "did depict" them as brothers because the way i view it neither of those are true but it also... doesn't... matter?? in both versions the fact that dhurke raised the two of them remains unchanged and while i have noticed that the english version of dhurke's dialogue is a lot more explicitly fatherly, i wouldn't say that the things he says to apollo in japanese is unlike a father either - one of the scenes i Have watched is the cave scene where dhurke refers to himself as "daddy" but the japanese text is. essentially exactly the same and is what a father would say to their child with or without the explicit language.

Dhurke: When you act like this, it's like seeing you from way back then again. Apollo: D-don't treat me like a kid! Dhurke: There, there! Alright! I'll buy you whatever you want once we get out of here!

i feel like apollo's feelings on the matter are more nuanced even in the english version; his profile for dhurke calls him "the man who raised me" but he still introduces him as his father to ema. it's clear that he has complicated feelings towards dhurke but i feel like it's also clear that dhurke is the closest thing to a father he's ever had, he even very clearly says he doesn't feel much about jove because he never knew him. also, apollo's profile for dhurke in japanese is actually more explicitly familial, with him calling dhurke 育ての親 (foster parent) which is also how he introduces him to ema!

Apollo: Erm... I guess he's my foster parent.

after trucy says dhurke is also nahyuta's father, ema says in japanese "that means he's prosecutor sadhmadhi's and your..." and while she doesn't finish her sentence it's obvious she was going to say father...

ok i know that was a lot about dhurke but i don't feel like i can talk about their bond as brothers without mentioning him somehow. anyway i think partially the reason apollo's more open to describing dhurke as familial than nahyuta is mostly just because dhurke obviously reached out to him first and treated him like he always had which is the exact opposite of what nahyuta did...? even in the english version neither of them actually calls the other their brother but imo while i would have liked the confirmation i also don't really think it would have changed anything... it just feels like an awful lot of arguing over semantics when i think the fact that they grew up together, that they both see dhurke as a father, and that they wanted to stay together after the events of aa6 are enough to show their familial bond and those aren't events that have version differences...

i don't know. a lot of this is coloured by my own biases obviously but i also feel that it just suits them better that the japanese never leaned too hard into the brothers language because by necessity of the language it would require apollo to call nahyuta by some kind of "big brother" title which just does not suit him at all LOL it's part of why i like to think that the difference between their ages is more like a few months rather than a full year or more. and besides ga'ran does call nahyuta apollo's 兄 (older brother) during the court sequence which is also carried over in english and YES i have seen the post saying ga'ran using this term to describe them is meant to be shocking but honestly i just don't buy it. i've watched several japanese livestreamers play this part on youtube and read out the lines and they don't react to it at All like it all just flows very naturally imo?? like yeah of course she would say that

erm but yeah my thoughts. i think (perhaps incorrectly) that the insistence that the japanese version explicitly denied their brothers relationship is overblown out of proportion. i also think (correctly) that the language used does not matter and whatever happened on screen for english players to interpret nahyuta and apollo as brothers also happened in the japanese version, i think interpretations just vary depending on the person regardless of version language. either way it's not going to stop me from depicting them that way since i believe their sibling bond is what led to them having very strong feelings towards their actual sisters (even despite not knowing the fact, in apollo's case). it just makes more sense to me that way

[ollyissleepy]

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

pairings: jason todd x ftm!reader summary: where jason finds out something his partner burrowed deep inside. tags: coming out, mentions bad dating experience, transphobia, lowkey sappy but who cares, jason loves his partner no matter what cw: implied transphobia, body dysphoria, (name)'s previous relationship were shitty a/n: 'i'll post it on saturday!' my ass anyway I used (deadname) on purpose in this one, hoping to highlight that reader hasn't came out yet and that's it's the name Jason uses in his thoughts

It's a quiet night in Gotham, making it rather boring for the infamous Red Hood. He rests on top of a roof of one of the buildings, scanning the area below for any crimes. There's nobody on the streets, not even a thug causing trouble. Red Hood should be thankful for the much-needed break from fighting, the lingering sting of his healing wounds still present. However, he finds himself wishing for a fight, something that would allow him to take his mind off the current state of his relationship.

Lately things have been off between him and (deadname). There's some sort of coldness coming from his partner. He can't really think of a reason as to why she would be acting that way. Jason hasn't done anything that could've upset her, or at least he can't think of anything.

As he stares down onto the empty street, Red Hood can't help but think about his partner's recent reaction. The way she almost flinches away when he refers to her as his 'pretty girl'. Or how she stopped wearing most of her feminine clothing. And he couldn't forget the way she seemed repulsed by the idea of having sex with him. Has she lost interest in him? Is there someone else who caught (deadname)'s interest?

Jason decides that Gotham could survive one night without him and starts heading towards his partner's flat. He needed to get to the bottom of the problem before he started spiralling. The man uses the fire escape to get back down to ground level, jogging up to his motorcycle.

His partner's apartment isn't far, and, thanks to cutting some red lights, Jason manages to get there in record-worthy time. Hopping off his bike, he makes his way up the fire escape, a part of him hoping that his partner is asleep. Red Hood has no trouble finding the right window, as he regularly climbs through it after patrols.

Jason finds (deadname) in the living area of the flat, watching what looks like some sort of documentary. He sneaks behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. (Deadname) tenses up, caught off guard. She looks down at the arms around her, recognising the jacket surrounding them.

"Jason? What are you doing here?" (deadname) turns her head around. "I thought you were patrolling late tonight."

"Yeah, I was, but there's nothing going on." Jason lets go of her arms and joins her on the couch. "I'm sure Gotham can survive one night without me, pretty girl."

(Deadname) scowls slightly at the nickname, which doesn't go unnoticed by Jason. Neither does the way (deadname) moved away, avoiding eye contact with the man. Red Hood sighs, deciding to not beat around the bush and find out what is wrong with their relationship.

"Listen, (deadname)." Jason doesn't know how to approach the subject without looking like a total arsehole. "Is there… something you want to talk about?"

"There's nothing wrong," (deadname) said, avoiding eye contact. Jason knew she was lying from the way she hadn't met his eyes and the way she played with the hem of her shirt.

"(Deadname), I know that something is wrong." Jason reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. "Just tell me what it is. I'm sure we can work through this."

"There's… something I haven't told you about," (deadname) confesses, her eyes looking everywhere but at her boyfriend.

Jason doesn't say anything, not wanting to pressure her. He moves his body slightly, his hand cupping hers. The man is trying to reassure (deadname), make her feel safe. His partner stays quiet for a while, still deciding if confessing that is worth it.

"I'm trans. Transgender, I mean." Jason's partner lets out a shaky breath, refusing to look at him, not wanting to see the look on his face. "I knew for a while too; sorry."

Jason doesn't say anything right away, trying to process what his partner just said. His mind already accepted that they might no longer love him, so learning that it wasn't the case required him time to allow it to sink in.

"It's ok if you no longer want to be with me—" his partner started speaking, but Jason stopped them from finishing.

"Quit with the bullshit." His voice came out sharper than he intended; he couldn't believe they thought of him that way. "You really think I'll break up with you because of that?"

"Well… that's how all of my previous relationships ended…" His partner finally looks up at him, their hand playing with his.

"Not my fault your type are arseholes," Jason snorts, hoping to lighten up the tension. "I mean, look at me."

His partner nods as they continue to play with his hand. It wasn't the outcome they were expecting. In the past there was no acceptance; there were no soft eyes when their exes were looking at them. And, most importantly, none of them tried to make them feel better. Jason leans in, cupping one of their cheeks, caressing it softly.

"My feeling towards you won't change," Jason confesses, bringing his lips close to theirs, inches away from touching. "I don't care if you're a girl or a boy. As long as I get to call you mine by the end of the day? It's more than enough for me."

[greenfiend]

Will is Superman…

[tj-crochets]

Grandma update! My grandma likes to say I'm her mini me for various reasons, and today we found out we have the exact same but opposite name remembering issue with the same pair of names She keeps accidentally calling Zack, one of her great grandkids, Jake, and I spent like two years in high school fully convinced a guy named Jake's name was Zack

[petrichormeraki]

Do you still have any skulk grian thoughts (that'd you like to share) or has that fixation hopped onto The Mirage (/ref)

I do! I've thought a bit more about it since the King Ren arc; basically Grian channeled ALL of his energy into messing around with skulk in order to hold strong against joining/making a resistance, and he actually got very sick because of it. Nobody really knew the extent of what skulk could do to a Player since it was relatively new and nobody was in a hurry to die and lose all their things in an ancient city, so it was absolutely on accident.

The hermits started to take note that Grian wasn't okay, so they started interacting with him more to pull him out of his cave, ie the Soup Group calling upon his help and Ren asking him to make a room for the Gauntlet. Once Ren was overthrown and Grian had been away from the skulk for a while he started to get better, and didn't regress back into it. A few deaths of leaving skulk behind and all of it was out of his system entirely, although it took a good few days (and baths) to get his wings in proper shape again.

The server for the most part now knew that skulk was dangerous, and shouldn't be tampered with long-term....until a certain mustached man who'd missed the whole thing finally got back from vacation :)c

[designernishiki]

I wanna flesh out a yakuza oc but every time I think about it I end up thinking about an oc of mine who already Exists who’s not a yakuza oc. but is, in fact, an oc who is a yakuza. and that fact is genuinely completely unrelated

[sameteeth]

the flint coming out/silvers worst possible reaction convo is one of the few times we actually see flint like. uncomfortable? or nervous i guess? when silver says he doesn't think the pattern of flint's closest person/partner dying will apply to him because of recent events, flint's response ("it is .. natural for men new to power to assume that it has no limits. trust me - it does.") seems strange. he doesn't argue against seeking out his own tragedies as he did before, or deny the pattern, or tell silver to stop blaming him for the deaths of his partners. he tells silver he isn't as powerful as he might feel at that moment. he's defensive, thrown off-balance by the vulnerability of sharing his most guarded heart and secret, only for silver to throw it back in his face. this conversation is significant for a number of reasons, but one of which is that it highlights flint's devotion to silver (he tells silver he is Entitled to the truth) and silver's reticence to genuine connection with flint. he tells flint he's sorry, but then ruthlessly points out a pattern he sees as a potential danger to him. silver is STILL acting in his own self interest here, almost defensively, whereas flint has given himself entirely over to silver. what happens makes me think of this post - flint has such personal authenticity, he KNOWS what he stands for, he has cast his lot, his narrative is fixed, that he is able to give his truth to silver. whereas silver is still playing at both sides. his identity has coagulated into silver, but he's not Long John Silver yet. he doubts this war, he doubts flint and madi's motivations. why expose a weakness when there's no need? all he sees of flint's confession is a potential threat to him. and then there's flint's response in the face of silver coolly explaining why he will survive flint's self-inflicted tragedy, a weak attempt at silver's feelings of strength, a defensive response to what flint perceives to be an attack from silver.. which silver IMMEDIATELY overturns with his stunt with dobbs, using the men as pawns in his dance with flint, proving to flint that silver is strong, that silver will survive flint. that silver will hurt flint. and all flint has to offer is an uncertain but (to me) very genuine attempt at comfort in the face of silver's ironclad defense of his own strength. that even if they agree silver has such powerful influence over the men, flint can still stand with him, against him if they have to.

[fragmentedblade]

I hate that when I look up the "Kalpas" tag here there's me and then there's me again, but on another blog. Fake moustache me

[calebsdraft]

warnings : stepcest, possessive caleb, pussy inspection (again), fingering, bimbo/dumb!reader, manipulative caleb?? idk, use of pipsqueak, angel, gege, caleb refers to your pussy as your princess, he also tells you inaccurate things about your pussy, caleb brings up that y’all guys are step-sibilings, like a lot :(

౨ৎ au : 𝓼tepbrother!caleb x 𝓼tepsister!reader ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

𝒴ou nervously knocked on your step-brothers door. it was late, but you needed caleb’s help. something happened—you woke up to your panties all damp and sticky; not to mention the annoying ache between your legs. you knew that caleb would help you, like usual. before you could knock again, he opened the door and you were welcomed with the sight of him without a shirt, grey sweatpants low on his hips.

again, you felt the ache between your legs get stronger and you pouted. “pipsqueak? what are you doing up this late?” he asked you, lifting an eyebrow. suddenly, you felt nervous. when you thought about it, it sounded silly now. you could’ve just asked a friend or looked it up. you made a small little uh, glancing down and rubbing your thighs together.

you heard a sigh from caleb before he tilted your head up with two fingers, making you look up at him. “angel, what’s the matter?” you let out a whine and bit your lip. with one hand, you pointed to the spot in between your thighs as they rubbed together. it did little to help the weird feeling, but at least it helped.

caleb looked down at you and a small little smirk formed on his soft lips. “sorry, what? i don’t understand. ‘need words,” he said and you knew he was teasing. you whimpered and rubbed your thighs again. “caleb…” you tried looking down again but he just pulled you closer, making you hit his chest. “i need words.”

“i-its—achy. i don’t know why, but—but i woke up and they were all wet,” you whispered, looking down nervously as you did. all caleb did was hum and pull you inside his room. he shut the door behind you and locked it, making you look up at him curiously. “i think i know what’s the problem. here, lay down on the bed for me.” you didn’t know why you had to, but you did it anyway. after all, caleb was much smarter and older than you. he must have a good reason!

you did as he told and lay down on his bed carefully. he watched as you did, standing in front of you. “good girl. now, can you lift your hips up for me?” you felt yourself pulse down there at the sound of his voice and you felt your panties sticking to you, making you whine. you did as he said, lifting your hips. to your surprise, he grabbed the hem of your silk pajama pants and slid them down to your ankles.

“mm—caleb?” you asked and lifted your head up to look at the larger man. he hushed you and his hands ran up your legs to your thighs, squeezing the fat gently. “you want me to help you out, right? this is what all big brothers do.” you hummed and nodded, plopping your head back down on the bed. if caleb said that this was normal, then it was. why would he lie to you? his hands left you and suddenly your panties were getting pulled off, revealing your wet folds. “ah, you really are wet, pipsqueak.” you lifted your head up a bit and saw him on his knees inside your legs.

you watched as he shamelessly put the wet spot against his nose and breathed in deeply, letting out a low groan. the sound made you let out a soft whimper, feeling you clench. “gege… the ache…” you whined and he hushed you again. “i know. do you know what that ache is, angel?” he placed your panties beside him and his large hands came back to your thighs, massaging them. you shook your head at his words, blushing. he hummed in understanding. “well, you feel this achy feeling whenever your pretty princess down here wants your gege. she gets all wet and it’s like it has own heartbeat, y’know? when that happens, you go and immediately tell me. i’ll make it feel better.”

you listened to his words carefully, your lips spreading apart a bit. you nodded. “will you help me right now?” you asked, your voice small. caleb gave you a comforting smile and nodded. “jus’ gotta see what she needs.” with that, he grabbed your knees and put your feet on top of the bed, making you spread your legs. he got as close as he could to your princess and he spread your lips with his fingers. you shivered when the cold air hit you but you didn’t stop him. after all, he was just checking what your princess needs.

he hummed as he inspected your pussy, a slim finger coming to run down your wet slit, making your hips jolt. “god, she’s so wet. were you thinking about your step-brother, pipsqueak?” he murmured and you bit your lip. you did have a dream about him—but all you were doing to him was what you do to your pillows! nothing bad. when you told him that, he looked up at you with a smirk.

his thumb came to your clit, rubbing and circling it and you gasped at the pleasurable sensation, hands coming to his hair. “and what do you do to your pillows?” he asked and a finger came to run over one of your folds. “i-i just rub against them.” that wasn’t bad, right? no, of course not.

much to your demise, caleb tsks his tongue. “dirty girl. rubbing against your pillows? i bet your princess was achy then, huh? i forgive you, though, angel. you didn’t know,” he said and you let out a sigh of relief. that sigh turned into a choked moan when caleb’s finger ran down your slit again, gathering your wetness before he circled your hole.

“this is where your gege’s fingers go. they enter this tight little hole and your princess will stop aching then, okay? it’s only pleasurable if your big brother does it, no one else though, okay?” he told you and you nodded, eyes fluttering shut. he pushed the tip of his finger in and you let out a mewl, tugging at the soft strands of his hair. it was a strange feeling, but you didn’t want to disobey caleb and tell him to stop.

he slowly pushes it in bit by bit, stretching you out. you gasped at the feeling, your walls fluttering around it. thankfully with how wet you were, it was easy for him to push his fingers into you until he was knuckles deep. you let out a moan when he began to move, thrusting in and out. you had never actually touched yourself, only rubbing or bouncing on a pillow—but this was much better. you felt another finger nudge next to it and soon he was pumping three fingers into you.

all you could do was let out moans and whines, your head splaying around on your silk pillow. your legs twitched and caleb gently hugged you, mentally thanking that your parents weren’t there. “good girl, let it all out. moan for your gege, hm?” he murmured and your hips bucked at his words.

the lewd sounds of your squelching wetness filled the room and you felt small tears form in the corner of your eyes. the more and more his large fingers massage that spongy inside of you the more you felt your gut clench. you were starting to feel a weird, strong coil in your gut and you let out a whimper. “gege! it feels weird—stop, stop!” you sniffed, hands coming to try to push his fingers away. the feeling was too much, too overwhelming—too new.

he tsked and slapped your hand away, making you let out a small sob and you felt his hand press on your stomach gently. “go on, cum for me, angel. come on my fingers,” he snickered and your jaw dropped when you felt the coil finally snapped. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you saw bright stars as you gushed all over his fingers. your walls fluttered around him as you came, your small body squirming.

“good girl, atta girl,” he praised you. you were left panting, sniffling as your cheek lied on top of your pillow dumbly. his fingers entered his mouth and he let out a groan at the taste of you, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the divine taste. once he sucked your cum all off, he gently picked you up. “alright. your gege’s gonna take care of you now, hm? just go to bed, pipsqueak.”

you let out a stupid, blissed out hum, head resting against his shoulder and you knew that your gege would always help you. no matter what ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

[fullhalalalchemist]

URGENT: 🚨🚨EARN IT ACT IS BACK IN THE SENATE 🚨🚨 TUMBLR’S NSFW BAN HITTING THE ENTIRE INTERNET THIS SUMMER 2023

April 28, 2023

I’m so sorry for the long post but please please please pay attention and spread this

What is the EARN IT Act?

The EARN IT Act (s. 1207) has been roundly condemned by nearly every major LGBTQ+ advocacy and human rights organization in the country.

This is the third time the Senate has been trying to force this through, and I talked about it last year. It is a bill that claims "protects children and victims against CSAM" by creating an unelected and politically appointed national commission of law enforcement specialists to dictate "best practices" that websites all across the nation will be forced to follow. (Keep in mind, most websites in the world are created in the US, so this has global ramifications). These "best practices" would include killing encryption so that any law enforcement can scan and see every single message, dm, photo, cloud storage, data, and any website you have every so much as glanced at. Contrary to popular belief, no they actually can't already do that. These "best practices" also create new laws for "removing CSAM" online, leading to mass censorship of non-CSAM content like what happened to tumblr. Keep in mind that groups like NCOSE, an anti-LGBT hate group, will be allowed on this commission. If websites don't follow these best practices, they lose their Section 230 protections, leading to mass censorship either way.

Section 230 is foundational to modern online communications. It's the entire reason social media exists. It grants legal protection to users and websites, and says that websites aren't responsible for what users upload online unless it's criminal. Without Section 230, websites are at the mercy of whatever bullshit regulatory laws any and every US state passes. Imagine if Texas and Florida were allowed to say what you can and can't publish and access online. That is what will happen if EARN IT passes. (For context, Trump wanted to get rid of Section 230 because he knew it would lead to mass govt surveillance and censorship of minorities online.)

This is really not a drill. Anyone who makes or consume anything “adult” and LGBT online has to be prepared to fight Sen. Blumenthal’s EARN IT Act, brought back from the grave by a bipartisan consensus to destroy Section 230. If this bill passes, we’re going to see most, if not all, adult content and accounts removed from mainstream platforms. This will include anything related to LGBT content, including SFW fanfiction, for example. Youtube, Twitter, Reddit, Tiktok, Tumblr, all of them will be completely gutted of anything related to LGBT content, abortion healthcare, resources for victims of any type of abuse, etc. It is a right-wing fascists wet dream, which is why NCOSE is behind this bill and why another name for this bill is named in reference to NCOSE.

NCOSE used to be named Morality in Media, and has rebranded into an "anti-trafficking" organization. They are a hate group that has made millions off of being "against trafficking" while helping almost no victims and pushing for homophobic laws globally. They have successfully pushing the idea that any form of sexual expression, including talking about HEALTH, leads to sex trafficking. That's how SESTA passed. Their goal is to eliminate all sex, anything gay, and everything that goes against their idea of ‘God’ from the internet and hyper disney-fy and sanitize it. This is a highly coordinated attack on multiple fronts.

The EARN IT Act will lead to mass online censorship and surveillance. Platforms will be forced to scan their users’ communications and censor all sex-related content, including sex education, literally anything lgbt, transgender or non-binary education and support systems, aything related to abortion, and sex worker communication according to the ACLU. All this in the name of “protecting kids” and “fighting CSAM”, both of which the bill does nothing of the sort. In fact it makes fighting CSEM even harder.

EARN IT will open the way for politicians to define the category of “pornography" as they — or the lobbies that fund them — please. The same way that right-wing groups have successfully banned books about race and LGBT, are banning trans people from existing, all under the guise of protecting children from "grooming and exploitation", is how they will successfully censor the internet.

As long as state legislatures can tie in "fighting CSAM" to their bullshit laws, they can use EARN IT to censor and surveill whatever they want.

This is already a nightmare enough. But the bill also DESTROYS ENCRYPTION, you know, the thing protecting literally anyone or any govt entity from going into your private messages and emails and anything on your devices and spying on you.

This bill is going to finish what FOSTA/SESTA started. And that should terrify you.

Senator Blumenthal (Same guy who said ‘Facebook should ban finsta’) pushed this bill all of 2020, literally every activist (There were more than half a million signatures on this site opposing this act!) pushed hard to stop this bill. Now he brings it back, doesn’t show the text of the bill until hours later, and it’s WORSE. Instead of fixing literally anything in the bill that might actually protect kids online, Bluemnthal is hoping to fast track this and shove it through, hoping to get little media attention other than propaganda of “protecting kids” to support this shitty legislation that will harm kids. Blumental doesn't care about protecting anyone, and only wants his name in headlines.

It will make CSAM much much worse.

One of the many reasons this bill is so dangerous: It totally misunderstands how Section 230 works, and in doing so (as with FOSTA) it is likely to make the very real problem of CSAM worse, not better. Section 230 gives companies the flexibility to try different approaches to dealing with various content moderation challenges. It allows for greater and greater experimentation and adjustments as they learn what works – without fear of liability for any “failure.” Removing Section 230 protections does the opposite. It says if you do anything, you may face crippling legal liability. This actually makes companies less willing to do anything that involves trying to seek out, take down, and report CSAM because of the greatly increased liability that comes with admitting that there is CSAM on your platform to search for and deal with. This liability would allow anyone for any reason to sue any platform they want, suing smaller ones out of existence. Look at what is happening right now with book bans across the nation with far right groups. This is going to happen to the internet if this bill passes.

(Remember, the state department released a report in December 2021 recommending that the government crack down on “obscenity” as hard the Reagan Administration did. If this bill passes, it could easily go way beyond shit red states are currently trying. It is a goldmine for the fascist right that is currently in the middle of banning every book that talks about race and sexuality across the US.)

The reason these bills keep showing up is because there is this false lie spread by organizations like NCOSE that platforms do nothing about CSEM online. However, platforms are already liable for child sexual exploitation under federal law. Tech companies sent more than 45 million+ instances of CSAM to the DOJ in 2019 alone, most of which they declined to investigate. This shows that platforms are actually doing everything in their power already to stop CSEM by following already existing laws. The Earn It Act includes zero resources for proven investigation or prevention programs. If Senator Bluementhal actually cared about protecting youth, why wouldn’t he include anything to actually protect them in his shitty horrible bill? EARN IT is actually likely to make prosecuting child molesters more difficult since evidence collected this way likely violates the Fourth Amendment and would be inadmissible in court.

I don’t know why so many Senators are eager to cosponsor the “make child pornography worse” bill, but here we are.

HOW TO FIGHT BACK

EARN IT Act was introduced just two weeks ago and is already being fast-tracked. It will be marked up the week of May 1st and head to the Senate floor immediately after. If there is no loud and consistent opposition, it will be law by JUNE! Most bills never go to markup, so this means they are putting pressure to move this through. There are already 20 co-sponsors, a fifth of the entire Senate. This is an uphill battle and it is very much all hands on deck.

CALL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES.

This website takes you to your Senator / House members contact info. EMAIL, MESSAGE, SEND LETTERS, CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL. Calling is the BEST way to get a message through. Get your family and friends to send calls too. This is literally the end of free speech online.

(202) 224-3121 connects you to the congressional hotline. Here is a call script if you don't know what to say. Call them every day. Even on the weekends, leaving voicemails are fine.

2. Sign these petitions!

Link to Petition 1

Link to Petition 2

3. SPREAD THE WORD ONLINE

If you have any social media, spread this online. One of the best ways we fought back against this last year was MASSIVE spread online. Tiktok, reddit, twitter, discord, whatever means you have at least mention it. We could see most social media die out by this fall if we don't fight back.

Here is a linktree with more information on this bill including a masterpost of articles, the links to petitions, and the call script.

DISCORD LINK IF YOU WANT TO HELP FIGHT IT

TLDR: The EARN IT Act will lead to online censorship of any and all adult & lgbt content across the entire internet, open the floodgates to mass surveillance the likes which we haven’t seen before, lead to much more CSEM being distributed online, and destroy encryption. Call 202-224-3121 to connect to your house and senate representative and tell them to VOTE NO on this bill that does not protect anyone and harms everyone.

[thegr33nc0met]

*drops this and runs*

Mark Grayson x healer!reader ♥︎

Warnings: NSFW, GN!reader/unspecified anatomy, reader’s a little mean, cumming in pants, canon typical violence

he was honestly the most insufferable person you had ever put up with.

yes, even more so than rex.

rex at least gave his all when he fought. he didn’t pull his punches or refuse to use his explosives because he felt it was ‘unfair.’ at least he had a valid reason for being in the space used as your office.

mark on the other hand…

you grumbled to yourself as you watched him on tv, clad in his new suit. you sighed in agitation as you watched the villain he was fighting fling him across the ground, leaving a meteor-like hole as he crashed.

great, another injury for you to fix. one he could have easily avoided if he had just taken this guy out.

but no. he has to pretend like he’s the good guy. it really drove you up the wall. everyone knew he was strong enough to finish half his fights in a fraction of the time it normally takes him, and he’d be finished without a scratch.

you flicked off the tv, too annoyed to watch anymore. you knew he’d just be here in a bit to have you heal up his cuts and bruises.

you’re a healer, having discovered your powers at a young age. well, healer was the nicest term you could have used. once cecil got whiff of you, he knew you were something he’d need to control if you were to ever give into those angry urges of yours. all organic matter was under your domain. he once saw you split a man in two, forcing his cells from one side to the other.

it’s not like you enjoyed it, though. you had always had what others referred to as a strong sense of justice, only using your powers to harm those who you thought really deserved it. that’s why cecil convinced you to be a healer at such a young age. you were 14 when you joined the teen team, but you never went out on the field. you simply patched the others up after a fight. you had seen the rise and fall of the team, along with the new guardians. now you were back at the old teen team compound, doing the same work you’d been doing the last few years.

yet despite being through multiple different groups of teams, mark had always been your number one client.

your nostrils flare as you recall the image of him getting injured on the tv. at first, you thought maybe you should feel bad for the guy. you never enjoyed seeing him get hurt. but after finding out what he was capable of and still seeing him hold back in the most dire of situations, it really boiled your blood.

the sound of the door to your office opening snapped you out of your thoughts. you audibly sighed as he limped inside, clutching his ribs as he struggled over to the medical gurney, wheezing as he took a seat without you having to instruct him to. a flash of worry trickled through you at the sight, but it was quickly replaced with anger.

mark knew you didn’t like him, or at least didn’t agree with his methods. he could hear your heart beat faster with anger whenever he showed up beaten and bloody.

you wordlessly step over to him, silently seething as he removed his mask with a grunt. his face was bloody and bruised, his left eye nearly swollen shut. you grimaced.

“happy to see me?” he managed to wheeze out, a shit eating grin on his face despite his pain.

“shut up if you want me to fix you,” you hissed, a hateful gleam in your eye. he was too out of it to tease much more, the pain in his face keeping him tamer than usual. you brought your hands up and loosely placed them on his neck, the only exposed bit of his skin you could reach. there was a low hum tugging somewhere in your body as you willed his cuts and bruises away. it took longer than it would any human, not used to his viltrumite dna quite yet to heal him as quickly as you could others despite doing this countless times. the silence stretched on, your eyes closed in focus. you could feel each and every one of his cells flexing and pulsating beneath your touch.

“just say it,” mark sighed, sensing the mean thoughts he knew you’d unleash on him one way or another.

“you’re a fucking idiot.” he grinned at that, a soft puff of air coming out through his nose in a lazy sort of laugh. “do you understand how many more people are gonna get hurt because of you?” you hiss.

“okay, ouch…” he mutters halfheartedly, wincing as a cut fuses back together.

“and look at you. it’s honestly pathetic,” you spit out, clenching your teeth. “it’s almost like you enjoy being in here.”

something swirls in his lower gut, his breath hitching at your words. it’s such a small noise that you don’t even notice. you keep trying to focus on getting the swelling around his eye to go down.

he knows once you’re start, you can’t stop though. you hurl insults at him as you fix his wounds, your fingers digging slightly into the flesh of his neck. he’s breathing heavier, but you blame it on the healing. you hardly even notice the flush on his face as you continue degrading him.

“…and if you had any self respect, you wouldn’t show your face in here,” you finished, the last of his wounds disappearing as if they were never even there to begin with. you finally take your hands off his neck and the loss of contact makes him whimper. the sound catches you off guard, your eyes flying open. it’s then you notice the flush on his cheeks, the way his pupils are so dilated they nearly swallow his iris’ whole, the heavier breathing.

“mark-“ you start, your eyes flicking over his body rapidly before they land on the very prominent bulge in his suit.

“fuck…” he sighs, a fresh wave of hot humiliation clogging his atoms.

“you need help fixing that as well?” before you can even think to regret the words, he’s nodding his head, a bit too eagerly.

you really shouldn’t be taking pity on him. you should keep berating him, tell him he’s sick for enjoying this so much. but instead, you spread his thighs and step between them, closer than before. his hands are on your hips in an instant, a needy noise leaving his mouth.

“stay still,” you tell him. he nods, watching as you hesitantly bring your hand to the lump in his suit.

“fuck…” he breathes out once more, his hips twitching to meet your touch.

“i said stay still,” you say more firmly than before, gripping the outline of his cock tighter. he whines softly, nodding his head as he brings a hand up to quiet himself.

you swallow nervously. the sight of him like this is really doing something to you. you hadn’t really ever considered yourself as super powerful before, but seeing one of the strongest men on the planet crumbling in on himself all because your hand is cupping his crotch through his suit…

it makes you feel high.

maybe this is why he always let himself get beat down. maybe he enjoyed it just a little too much. maybe he liked being weak.

the thought made you pity him. you moved your hand faster against his cock, making him mewl and squirm on the cot. you bring your other hand to the back of his head, encouraging him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he obediently does so, fighting his urge to buck up into your hand.

you can’t bring yourself to speak up, only the sounds of his whimpers and the creaking of the medical cot filling your office. you can feel the wet patch on the crotch of his suit against your hand now. he’s so painfully hard beneath the damp fabric.

“oh god, oh fuck…” mark grunts, his eyes rolling back. “gonna cum, fuck!” he whines.

“yeah?” you whisper, your voice wavering. “you’re doing so good for me,” you tell him, almost gently.

oh, that really does it. the slightest bit of praise. his noises get louder, his body bucks and writhes uncontrollably as it builds up.

“oh! f-fuck!” he grunts before letting out a series of high pitched moans and whimpers. you feel him tense and tremble against you, feeling the fabric getting wetter beneath your hand as he explodes in his suit. he pants softly as you slow your hand, letting him come down from his high. you stand there for a moment, petting the back of his head like one might a cat before slowly disentangling yourself from him.

he watches you dazedly as you take a step back, his eyes still glossed over with lust. undeniably, the way he looks at you makes you flustered. it’s too intense. you give a light smack to his thigh, making him flinch (knowing damn well it didn’t hurt).

“welp, you’re all healed up, champ,” you tell him, doing your damn best to avoid looking at those eyes that’ll just suck you right in if you let them. “get outta here…” you say, thumbing to the door as you step to the side. something flickers across his face - a pout, almost - before he neutralizes his features and sighs. he turns his head to look at you, narrowing his eyes before a smirk spreads across his lips and he stands.

“see you tomorrow?” he asks, though you know it’s not a question. you just hum in response, watching the way his hips move as he walks towards the door, waddling slightly from the mess in his suit.

what the fuck just happened?

this was heavily inspired by @swtheartz healer stories! go check out his blog♥︎

[astonmartinii]

popularity contest | alex albon social media au

pairing: alex albon x fem doohan!reader

jack is struggling with making friends in formula one, good thing he’s got an annoyingly popular sister and a reluctantly friendly brother in law.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,209,778 others

f1: for the first time ever, we have in-laws on the grid! jack doohan makes his full debut for alpine alongside his brother in law alex albon, who is married to y/n doohan, one of australia's biggest business women!

view all comments

user1: not for long

user2: for real admin is being a little bit optimistic here

user3: the way franco was last season, i think he’d also like to take y/n off of alex’s hands too

user4: omggggg can you people let us have anything

yourusername: proudest big sister ever

yourusername: and wife i guess

yourusername: alex has been doing this long enough he can wait for the praise

alexalbon: i’ll let him get away with it this once just because it’s his debut

jackdoohan: you’re soooooooo generous alex!

alexalbon: i know this is sarcasm but i’m choosing to ignore that

user5: i’m not reading all of that - don’t care - bring back franco

user6: true i need his cute face back on the grid

alexalbon: never disrespect those doohan genes again

jackdoohan: i knew you believed in me alex

alexalbon: you’ll kill it dude, but i was referring to the fact that i am hopelessly in love with your sister

yourusername: doohan face card never declines

jackdoohan: 💅

user7: i’m so glad jack will have his sister in the paddock and alex, his entry to f1 hasn’t been the kindest

user8: alex is such a beloved personality in the paddock as well so hopefully that’ll help jack make friends

user9: i know y/n has been bugging alex about taking jack to the padel dates

yourusername: ho are you in my walls

user10: flavio briatore if you tear my family apart you will be hearing from my lawyers

user11: i’ll be needing a lawyer after my actions

user12: we need him to ban him again

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, pierregasly and 892,046 others

tagged: jackdoohan

yourusername: baby brother is a formula one driver! words can’t express how proud i am watching him zip around albert park.

view all comments

user13: nothing you people (alpine) can do will ruin this moment for me

user14: her literally crying in the alpine garage with their dad watching him was so cute eventhough sky insisted on yammering on about franco the whole time

user15: i can’t wait for jack to prove them all wrong

liked by yourusername

jackdoohan: it felt 100x better knowing you guys were there too

yourusername: we wouldn’t miss it for the world

yourusername: that includes alex

jackdoohan: he’s contractually obligated to be here

alexalbon: doesn’t mean i’m any less proud!

yourusername: oh great, now i’m crying again

user16: yeah this is cute and all, but am i the only one getting annoyed at her shading franco constantly

user17: yes there’s literally no reason she needs to be liking those kind of comments

yourusername: chat is it illegal to be excited for and protect my brother?

user18: you can keep franco’s name out of your mouth to do so

yourusername: i’ve never said a bad word about franco, so watch your tone, especially when he hasn’t been the most respectful towards my relationship himself.

user19: omg why is she spilling the tea when it’s 3am in europe 😭

oscarpiastri: two aussies on track at albert park - we love to see it

oscarpiastri: but now i’m thinking about it, why aren’t i sponsored by doohan me?

yourusername: girly i think you have enough sponsors already

jackdoohan: this is the greed they wrote about in the bible…

user20: so jack is a nepo nepo baby?

yourusername: tell me you don’t love your brother without telling me you don’t love your brother

user21: also she literally sponsors alex as well… why wouldn’t she help out the people she loves when she owns the biggest apparel and makeup companies in australia…

alexalbon: i’m chopped liver this weekend…

yourusername: you can be second for one weekend

alexalbon: fine… i’ll hold you to that

yourusername: and i’ll hold you too

alexalbon: oh hehehehehe

georgerussell63: loser

alexalbon

liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 672,099 others

tagged: yourusername & jackdoohan

alexalbon: p6? and Q2 for jack? i guess you could say we're doohan okay :P

view all comments

user22: doohan/albon family you are so precious to me

user23: this post got me crying in the club at 6am

user24: the way jack RAN to alex in parc ferme was so so so cute i can’t

yourusername: it’s sweat in my eyes i SWEAR

alexalbon: okay baby, we believe you

jackdoohan: i always knew i was your favourite brother

yourusername: you’re the only one?

jackdoohan: omg p1

alexalbon: a win is a win

user25: jack being second of all the rookies is just what he needed this weekend !!!

user26: babe is not playing around

georgerussell63: get in there alex!!!

georgerussell63: but please stay away from my car tomorrow

yourusername: i know this man ain’t talking

georgerussell63: i’m not engaging with this

yourusername: … pussy

alexalbon: when your wife and friend get along

georgerussell63: eh hem * best friend

alexalbon: slow your roll there buddy

georgerussell63: who could possibly be your best friend - and don’t say y/n because that doesn’t count

alexalbon: jack is right there

georgerussell63: i’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that

alexalbon: well the rest of you have hardly made him feel welcome have you?

user27: omg alex is out here gagging the girls

user28: and he ate!

user29: i mean alex was lucky having george and lando when he made his debut, jack has the other rookies but i’ve got the sense he’s been made a bit of an outsider

user30: this whole situation is so sad i’m not going to lie - i’m glad alex is clearly there for him and that y/n goes to like 90% of the races

danielricciardo: flying the aussie flags high boys, proud of you!

jackdoohan: thank you daniel :))))))))

alexalbon: the thai flag is right there… but i’ll take it dude! see you for dinner tomorrow xx

yourusername: we’ll see if we can kidnap oscar and make it a full on aussie affair

alexalbon: i am not aussie !!!

yourusernamel: yes you are

alexalbon: yes i am

user31: how all husbands should be ^^^

f1newsandgossip

liked by user42, user50 and 11,045 others

f1newsandgossip: it’s being reported that both alex albon and max verstappen called a grid meeting to call out the exclusion of jack doohan. insiders state it got extremely heated, with alex albon not holding back.

view all comments

user31: i mean…. i have to agree with alex like that dinner was unnecessarily cruel

user32: it’s SO strange that they managed to invite all of the other rookies but not him

user33: if it’s not cruel it’s extremely negligent from the grid

user34: hey wasn’t george on some anti-bully tirade at the end of last season? what happened to that…

user35: he’s the head of the GDPA and likely was the one to organise this meal - he should know better

user36: if george did organise it and alex was as incensed as they say, it was BAD bad

user37: max standing up for jack is so needed thank you

user38: i mean we all know how max was treated as a rookie…

user39: and he was super chatty with jack at the photoshoot so at least he’s tried

user40: more than what some could say

user41: i think it’s crazy that the grid haven’t made an effort with jack considering they are constantly licking y/n’s ass trying to ride her coat tails

user42: SO TRUE

user43: they like the doohans so much that they’ll constantly use and wear her products, making sure to tag her but they can’t invite her brother to dinner?

user44: anyone seen those pictures kym illman posted of y/n on the phone in the paddock?

user45: baby was PISSED

user46: rightly so tbf

user47: the fact that both her and her dad ignored sky this morning >>>

user48: i mean, as they should, all they do is talk about franco when jack is on screen

user49: alex and jack coming in together this morning, both wearing doohan me merch …. kings

user50: the only positive from this meeting/ idk fight is the fact that a load of drivers flocked to alpine

user52: charles bringing leo ???

user53: took too long, but i’m glad they pulled their heads out of their asses

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and 2,945,300 others

tagged: jackdoohan

f1: aussies… are you doohan good? jack doohan scored points on his full debut at home, picking up a p9 finish. we don’t think anyone was happier than his sister, but brother in law alex albon was pretty pleased too…

view all comments

user54: flavio briatore… come outside… i just want to talk

user55: aussies we be smoking on that briatore pack tonight

user56: y/n’s smug smile at him in the garage was ALL of us

oscarpiastri: aussie aussie aussie

jackdoohan: oi oi oi

oscarpiastri: stoked for you dude honestly

jackdoohan: much appreciated - congrats on the podium!

user57: my aussie boys !!!!!!!!!!

user58: alex holding jack while he cried is the moment of the season already i don’t think we’ll top it

user59: i need it tattooed on the inside of my eyelids for real

user60: the other drivers all coming to congratulate him - better late than never

user61: i honestly think alex was happier for alex than himself even though he got fourth

user62: that’s family right there

yourusername: jack doohan world dominance would bore no one

yourusername: but on a real note, unbelievably proud of you baby brother

jackdoohan: would never have happened without you - i love you <3

alexalbon: nothing but love for my favourite brother in law!

alexalbon: there’s been a lot of chat about him but jack is the real deal

yourusername: my two favourite boys, i love you guys and i’m so proud

user63: jack getting points at home is such poetic justice

user64: i need him to know we love him

user65: i mean other than oscar’s podium his points was defo the biggest cheer of the weekend!

alpinef1: it’s just what he does 🤩

yourusername: and what he’ll continue to do…

user66: the way this is an actual threat LOL

jackdoohan

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 348,208 others

tagged: alexalbon & yourusername

jackdoohan: this weekend has been everything and more for me. to get my first points at home, means the world, and to be supported by my favourite people in the world made it all the more sweeter. y/n, these points are for you, thank you for always supporting me and alex, thank you for being there for me - it’s been lonely but you’ve welcomed me as best as you could. here’s to the rest of the season!

view all comments

user66: i am NOT crying

user67: thank the lord for alex albon!

user68: my shaylas

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: congratulations jack, the first points of many!

jackdoohan: thank you max, maybe i’ll be able to get close enough to race you personally…

maxverstappen1: hopefully it’s for podiums…

lewishamilton: well in jack! congratulations!

charles_leclerc: congratulations on your first points jack :D

user69: looks like a stern talking to by alex albon works a plenty

user70: we love to see it

alexalbon: mr jack, there’s nothing me or your sister wouldn’t do for you - never hesitate to reach out. we’re so proud of you and will be here for you every step of the way!

yourusername: what he said

yourusername: i love you baby brother and i’m so so proud. i won’t stop saying it until i die

jackdoohan: i love you guys so much

yourusername: also @alexalbon you’re the best husband in the world, looking out for jack. you’re the most amazing man in the world xx

alexalbon: i’d do anything for you and for jack. i love you and i wake up thankful everyday that you decided that i’m worth marrying

yourusername: there’s no one else in the world worth marrying xx

landonorris: @jackdoohan how are you so chill about them professing their love under your congratulations post?

jackdoohan: i love them and i love that they love each other?

user71: i need a relationship like y/n and alex

user72: i need siblings like them omg

isackhadjar: you slayed jack!

kimiantonelli: 🔥

user73: why are we all fawning over the drivers in being in the comment section? it’s clear alex just guilted them into doing it

user74: for real, f1 isn’t a popularity contest it’s about winning

yourusername: jack doesn’t have to be popular, but he will be respected

alexalbon: and if anyone is ‘guilted’ into being a nice person, that’s their issue

jackdoohan: :3

fin.

note: she's back? she's also been up since 3am to watch the f2 so enjoy my sleep deprived fuelled love for alex (let's go p6????) and jack (because seriously, give him a shot god damn)!!!

[dilf-docs]

It Always Leads To You

dbf!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

cr: divider by @kodaswrld / gif @tomshiddles

[tarotsoul]

Ghost in the Wind — Part One

SUMMARY: All your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. So why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to Prythian?

WARNINGS: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

A/N: Thank you for reading!! This is the first instalment of this mini-series that I literally got the idea for two days ago lol. It'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! Unfortunately I'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but I'll likely repost the ones I have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them.)

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3