#i could be a mean kid… but I was never taught to express my feelings and I had a shitty biological dad who I don’t talk to anymore btw-

[fallen-for-the-stars]

If my younger self saw us now- i’d like to think she were very proud of how far we’ve come 🥹

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 7)

Masterpost

Danny was very happy to be dragged around by Damian being introduced to all of his pets, first outside to the barn to meet Bat Cow and his ducks, and the giant weird dragon creature which was so cute!! It was all over Danny too, obviously liked him. Danny had a feeling if he woke up from nightmares or couldn’t sleep he would end up finding his way back to the barn to cuddle up with these animals. At this time of year it would probably be a bit cold and night but the cold never really bothered him and Goliath was warm. 

Then back into the house to meet all of the pets, the dogs, and snakes, and Alfred the cat, and finally a second cat and her kittens. 

“This one is just a foster,” Damian said, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in a half lotus as Danny sat on the floor next to the box the mama cat was in with her four little ones. Danny felt like he might cry, it was so cute! The mama was a little wary of him but he was easing her way into her trust and good graces.

“Mhm?” Danny sounded, he was listening but he was scared to move since the mama cat was sniffling his fingers.

“I found her while she was heavily pregnant, feral cats usually have kittens in spring, at this time of year they would have been too vulnerable outside. I’ll rehome them when they’re old enough,” Damian explained. “I was glad I got her to trust me enough that I could be present and make sure nothing went wrong while she had the babies.”

Danny held his breath as he tried to pet the cat. The quiet stretching between them until he felt ready to talk without scaring the cat. “Am I your next pregnant stray,” Danny joked.

Damian gave him a guarded look over. “... I have been told humans don’t like being compared to animals,” He said bluntly, and Danny laughed. 

“Ya most don’t. But you take very good care of your animals, when you’re making this comparison, I’m guessing what you’re trying to say is that you’ll do what you can do be here for me and make sure I have what I need for me and the babies to be healthy and safe?” Danny said, giving Damian a fond smile. 

“Yes,” Damian said stiffly. This was why he usually preferred animals, they could read his intentions and didn’t require him to say such embarrassingly vulnerable things. At least Danny was saying them for him so he just had to agree. 

Danny finished petting the cat and moved to sit next to Damian on the bed. “It’s okay Damian, I really appreciate that. I know handling these emotions can be hard, they feel too big for our bodies and they’re hard to express. I’ll let you in on a secret though, they’re more easy to express physically, and I’m not made of glass just because I’m pregnant. We should spar later.”

“Are you formally trained?” Damian asked stiffly. 

“My mother was an expert martial artist and she taught me, but I’m very strong too. I promise you won’t hurt me Damian,” He promised, bumping his shoulder against the kid’s and giving him a smile. 

“Alright, I will go easy on you.” Damian promised, just as stiffly.

“Until I prove you can’t afford to,” Danny joked and Damian scoffed and shoved Danny’s shoulder. “But really, thank you Damian. It means a lot that you and your family are willing to stick your necks out for me like this.” He sighed, if he didn’t know better he might have wished his parents had been the ones to protect and support him like this, but wishes were dangerous things.

“This family is made entirely of strays, tragedy is a prerequisite. You’ll fit right in,” Damian promised before getting up from the bed, apparently that was enough emotion. “Do you want to train now?” he asked looking back at Danny. 

“Sure, I assume this being the home of the bats and birds there’s some sort of training space?” Danny asked getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. This way,” Damian agreed and trotted out of the room with Danny on his heels, making sure to close the door behind him so none of the kittens could wander out. 

--------

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it on the couch with a sigh of relief before wandering back into the kitchen to grab a drink. So what if he was technically still too young for it? He’d done a lot worse just in the last 24 hours then half a glass of scotch. He had been off grid for a couple of days on a mission and had just gotten home. He was exhausted and half of him wanted to have his drink and go to bed, leaving his phone off for another day so he could get a proper rest. 

But he had responsibilities, both to his gang, his turf, and more recently even to his family, so he turned it back on and grimaced when more than a dozen notifications popped up in a row. Damn, something big must have happened while he was gone. Why could there never be just a quiet day around here?!

He opened the most recent message from Bruce that just said; ‘can you call me when you have the chance?’ which made him sigh. But at the same time, it wasn’t urgent, it was ‘when he had a chance’ not immediately or anger about him not answering sooner. So knowing that he scrolled back down to the oldest message so he could get a feel of what was going on.

Cas, 28 hours ago: New brother! 🤗

Oh, well that was a very good start to the context, it seemed that Bruce was in the process of adopting some other poor schmuck. Well, hopefully they’d do better by it then Jason had. And explained why Bruce wanted him to call, he always worried now how Jason would react to new siblings, as if he wasn’t well over that. He’d only been mad about Tim at first but he wasn’t even Really mad at Tim anymore! Ya he felt the urge to attack him regularly, but only the same way Jason did with everyone else in the family now.

Tim 22 hours ago: I’ve got a favour to ask, or maybe a tip for you depending on how much you want to kill someone right now. Vlad Masters brought a pregnant 16 year old to the gala last night. Apparently he’s the baby daddy. 

Oh that had Jason seeing green, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. That man was good as dead, especially when Jason paused to google him and saw someone who must have been old enough to be the kids Father, if not even grandfather judging by the gray hair! 

Tim 19 hours ago: Don’t rush in! Turns out he’s got superpowers of the magical variety. You’re going to have to prepare for this one, and talk to Danny.

Danny must be the new kid then, the pregnant 16 year old Bruce was no doubt making quick steps to at least foster. Where were the kid’s parents in this? 

Tana 16 hours ago: Please make sure your wards are set up and you have that anti-possession charm we gave you. There is a situation still developing. 

Huh, well, good to know both that she was involved and what sort of powers they might be dealing with. 

Tim 8 hours ago: We have the parents in custody but didn’t have the resources to hold Masters. Danny and his sister are staying at the manor for now. You’ll like her, tough-as-nails red head.

Jason rolled his eyes, he dated one amazon and now everyone thinks the only people he’s into are tough ladies! He likes tough boys too god damn it! Why doesn’t no one get after Dickie about this?! (He knows they do.)

The last text from the family before Bruce’s was one from Damian, which was rare.

Damian: Hello Todd, you should know before you meet him that Danny has also previously died and come back. I believe you and he are quite similar and I do not know if that will mean you get along well or if you will repel one another. You should know that if you hurt him there will be consequences. 

Well wasn’t that just the cutest! Demon brat didn’t usually get attached to new people so soon.

He texted Bruce back: No I will Not call you. But I can be bribed to come for dinner tomorrow if Alfred makes lasagna. 

He checked the messages he had from his lieutenants about business and replied to the ones that needed it. Then the ones from his friends. He was just about to turn his phone off again when he got a text back from Bruce. 

Bruce: Done, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry Jay.

Well that was ominous. Jason sighed and turned off his phone, setting it down on the coffee table and heading to bed. He needed to fucking sleep. Whatever the hell Bruce was sorry for could wait until tomorrow.

--------

Bruce had asked Jasmine for a copy of her slideshow, and Tim for a copy of his notes and updated the files on Danny, Jasmin, Damian, and Jason. He always felt a bit odd about the files he had on his own children, but they were important! Both because his memory wasn’t infallible and he needed to remember all this, and because if he needed to tell someone about his children quickly it was good to have all that already typed out and ready.

Not he was just sitting at the Bat-Computer, staring at the cover picture of the slide show. All of them were so young, and all dead or irrevocably changed by the actions of adults around them. His goal, all their goals, had always been to make a safer world for children, and everyone but especially children. And every time he was confronted with the abject failure to protect a child it tore at his heart. If he found who had blocked them from contacting the JL he was going to have very strong words with them.

“You can’t save every child Master Bruce,” Alfred said making Bruce jump. He must have been staring at the computer for longer then he realized, to not notice the butler’s approach. “There are billions of people on the planet, you cannot catch every single one, especially the clever ones who hide it well. They’re responsible for the harm they cause, not you for not being able to stop it.”

They’d had this conversation before when Bruce got too hanged up on the people he’d failed. He knew that wallowing didn’t do any good, and depression got in the way of action, but he couldn’t always help it. As hyper-logical as he tried to be to compensate, he was still human, and seeing these things would always hurt.

“It’s not just Danny and Jazz,” Bruce said, rubbing his face. “It’s Jason too, I’m trying to figure out how… how what Jazz said about liminals and ghost changes how I feel about him. She says they can look like their immoral but it’s always amoral, following their obsession. I feel like I failed him that this is how he came back. And I blamed him so much, and put him down so much. She said their obsessions have to be supported, if they don’t indulge in their obsessions they die.

“No wonder he’s reacted so negatively every time I talked to him about this revenge quest, this thing that he’s doing. Now that I know I wonder if we can compromise, if we can’t then what? I don’t know if I can blame him at all for what he’s doing, but I know what he’s doing is wrong. I don’t know what to do Alfred.” Bruce said, rubbing his face hard.

“Well, it sounds to me you’re putting the cart before the horse Master Bruce. You haven’t even spoken to him about it yet, and you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Sleep, then talk to him, then you’ll know how worried to actually be,” Alfred advised.

“You’re right, as usual,” Bruce chuckled and got up, shutting down the bat computer. “What would I do without you,” He chuckled, patting Alfred’s shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” Alfred said, in a tone that made it clear he was just being polite and a playful twinkle in his eyes that made Bruce laugh. 

“Thank you Alfie. Let’s all get some rest.”

Next

[jewishvitya]

hi riki! this is a bizarre question ngl, but im wondering if you could please tell me about why you are anti-Zionist? Since i have FRESHLY (last month!! Woohoo!!) become bat mitzvah, and I’m not going to beit Sefer every week now, I’m starting to realize that what I was told about Israel and zionism miiiight be innacurate. Please feel free not to, but I would personally feel more comfortable hearing about Antizionism from somebody who is for sure not hiding any antisemitic biases. Thanks and I hope it’s not a bother!

Mazal tov!

I was debating if I should reply to this and how. You're only one year older than my son and I never considered talking about this with a kid other than my own children. But if you're online reading and looking up information about this, I'll just answer the way I would for anyone. Like I said, I don't mind explaining. But I don't have the energy to collect sources for you. I'll do that later if you'd like. For now it'll be a bit of a rant.

Basically, if you ask different people what zionism is, you'll get different answers. Some people say that zionism is just the acknowledgement of our connection to this land. That's not what I'm going against. I'm not denying that this is our ancestral homeland. I've never known a different home, I grew up near Hebron. Our history means everything to me. So maybe you could create some definition of zionism that I wouldn't be against. But then I'll be against the use of the word because in practice, politically, the movement has been colonialist. And that reality is more important to me. So when I say I'm antizionist, I'm not talking about whatever pretty idea someone might have, I'm talking about things that to me are very concrete.

Zionism uses whatever political terminology is useful to it at the time. Currently, it tries to paint itself as a sort of landback movement, placing us as the indigenous population of this land. This is a distraction. If you mean "indigenous" as "this is where we originated" - both us and Palestinians are indigenous, which makes this term pointless to this situation. If you mean "indigenous" as "a local population facing colonization" - they're indigenous and we're the colonizers. That's the more politically useful distinction.

And the thing is, zionists knew they were colonizers. Ben Gurion was welcomed by the local population and expressed hope that they're nomadic and could be persuaded to leave. Ze'ev Jabotinsky argued that no land has been colonized with the consent of its natives, so we should just take what we want like other occupying forces did. They knew what they were doing. At the time, there wasn't the broad political pushback against colonialism that you see today, so they didn't really hide it. They saw themselves as the colonizing force and the Palestinians as the natives and this distinction had them placing themselves above the Palestinians.

When I was in school, I was made to believe that Palestine was never truly a country and the population here was never a cohesive nation. You might see questions like "Who were the Palestinian prime ministers and presidents? What was the Palestinian coin? What Palestinian wars were there before the creation of Israel?"

These questions tell you nothing other than the fact that Palestine has been under foreign occupation for a very long time. They try to lead you to believe that Palestine and the Palestinian identity are fictional constructs designed to deny us our place in this land.

But Palestinians have their own dialect of Arabic. They have their own varieties of Middle Eastern foods. They have their own clothing, their own embroidery patterns, their own dances. They have a very rich culture that wasn't just made up from nothing within the last century. I still have to battle against cognitive dissonance every time I find something of the sort, because Palestinian culture goes against everything I was taught.

The truth is, the British had no right to occupy Palestine, and they had no right to offer it to us. If we pretend there was no population that was wronged when we took Israel, we can be "the good guys" with Palestinians being a sinister plot to ruin us. This turns normal families, normal people, into a conspiracy made to hurt us. We're not fighting a military force - every Palestinian person is a threat to our legitimacy. Israelis don't even really use the term "Palestinians" - they're just Arabs, their individual identity is stripped from them. We pretend that they belong to other countries around us.

Israeli propaganda will tell you that we only ever act in self defense. It's in the name of our military, it's called a defense force. Israel boasts that it has the only ethical military in the world. The only defensive one. But like I said, we define threats very broadly. And we whitewash a lot of history. I was taught in school all our fighting was defensive - and then I spoke to an elderly man and he said "of course we killed whole villages, it was war, that's what you do." Only as an adult I found out about things like the Sabra and Shatila massacre and our involvement in it.

For the existence of Israel as an ethnostate, every Palestinian is a threat. A lot of people are all in favor of Israel, but against the government actions of ethnic cleansing. The truth is, the ethnostate is not sustainable without the ethnic cleansing. You can't accept one and expect it not to lead to the other. An ethnostate is never a justified goal, and that's always been the goal of zionism as a practical movement.

And I know why this exists. We've had two millennia of persecution. Antisemitism is one of the oldest forms of bigotry. And we just experienced an attempt to industrially exterminate us, we lost millions, including from my own family. We want shelter and safety and the ability to defend ourselves. I just can't see that as justification for what we did and continue to do.

You can look up our human rights abuses, but personally, there were moments that hit me. When I saw a whole warehouse of mail intended to reach Gaza, mail that's been kept from them for years, including items like wheelchairs, in such bad conditions that some envelopes got moldy. I still think of the people who spent all that money to get a wheelchair and were prevented mobility because we decided to hold their mail.

I watched the biggest apartment building in Gaza collapse under our bombs and I cried thinking about the people inside, and about the potential survivors and everything they lost.

I watched our people beat up the pallbearers at the funeral of Shireen Abu-Akleh, a Palestinian reporter. They almost dropped the casket from all those beatings. They were no threat. They just carried her. There was no reason to hurt them.

On the news, after Shireen Abu-Akleh died, the description of the Palestinian response to her death was that they're "חוגגים על המוות." The literal translation is that they're celebrating over the death, but that's not what it means. The meaning is that they're exaggerating their pain and their grief. They're acting, pretending, milking the injustice of it for show. And that's a common Israeli narrative, that Palestinians make a big deal out of things and pretend to suffer more just to make us look bad. We've dehumanized them to the point where we don't believe their grief.

And before all of this, growing up, I saw what the "us vs them" mentality caused in children. I grew up in Kiryat Arba and the population there is very strongly zionist. It's a settlement. It's largely Dati Leumi (national religious? I'm not sure how to translate, dati means religious and leumi means national). Over there I saw children as young as six cheerfully talk about joining the military and killing Arabs. I saw a kid throwing chocolate past the electric fence separating us from them, and laughing when a small Palestinian child went looking for that chocolate, calling her a pig. I saw my high school classmates questioning if they should help the family of a six-months-old baby, first demanding to know if the sick infant is Arab.

The Israeli left has a bit of a slogan. הכיבוש משחית. The occupation corrupts. It means that being an oppressive force changes what we are. It ruins us. And I truly believe that. It taints so much about us and our culture, about our compassion and our ability to have solidarity with other humans. Many principles that kept us safe in diaspora are used now to harm gentiles living under our control, and Palestinians suffer most of all.

So these are the reasons I'm antizionist. I hate what we do to Palestinians. I hate what it does to us. And more fundamentally, I'm against colonialism.

[faeriekit]

Out on a Limb

phic phight prompt is from @bibliophilea

warnings for: lighthearted body horror, limb loss, limb...uh...movin' around

*~💚💚💚~*

When Danny said he could lend a hand, he didn't quite mean like this.

“UH,” said Tucker.

“UH,” said Danny.

Both of them watched his disembodied hand flop around on the shop class floor. It was kind of like watching a dead fish die, but…worse. Since. You know. It was Danny’s hand.

“I’m telling Mr. Richards,” Tucker declared, voice high and loud—and it took two tries to cover Tucker’s mouth his hand, because Danny had automatically reached out with his right but that was on the floor, and—look! It was fine! It was fine and no one needed to know!

“Tucker you can’t tell anyone,” Danny hissed, immediately, unable to draw Tucker closer to threaten him and silence him simultaneously so Danny might have been a little more under stress than usual. “Tucker, my hand’s not bleeding. Just…just put it back on!”

“What do you mean, put it back on?!” Tucker hissed, looking like he was about to cry. Danny felt so bad but also that was his hand! “Danny, what do you mean?!”

“It’ll work!” Danny lied as quietly as he could, casting wary glances around the shop. So far no one was looking at them, even though their table saw had gone quiet. Everyone else was carefully cutting wooden planks, as oblivious as they could be in their giant orange earmuffs. And, so maybe Danny wasn’t sure if this would work! But! They had to try! “Just stick it on!”

“You want me to touch your decapitated hand?!”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” a voice asked from behind their assigned shop station.

Tucker and Danny froze.

Mr. Richards, an old man who taught shop class and wore exclusively plaid flannel, raised a grey eyebrow.

“…No,” Danny and Tucker lied simultaneously, if perhaps a little offbeat from each other. Danny quickly hid his remarkably raw stump behind his back.

The other eyebrow rose. “In that case, shall we get back to the task at hand? Those planks won’t size themselves, you know.”

Danny and Tucker mumbled something suitably contrite. Tucker wasn’t able to tear his too-wide eyes away from the flopping, writhing, finger-curling hand on the dirty shop floor—

And Danny ‘casually’ dropped a flat shop pencil onto the floor, giving Tucker the excuse to go get the thing. Tucker ducked down without a word.

Mr. Richards crossed his arms. Clicked his tongue. “I thought you of all kids would know to be careful in a workroom, Fenton. It’ll pay to be more careful; you never know if a machine will take something off while you’re not paying attention.”

“Yessir,” Danny squeaked, and shoved down the terrified laughter clawing away at his insides. It was only hysteria.

Something cold and wet slapped itself onto Danny’s stump. Danny flinched.

“Do you have your planks ready?”

Danny swallowed. Tucker stood, looking only slightly more traumatized than he had been when the hand first decided to make its grand departure from the rest of Danny’s body. “…Uh huh.”

“Good. Load them up onto the table for me, then. Show me your guide lines.”

Danny lifted and laid the planks with a shaking hand. Mr. Richards’ expression indicated how little he thought of that.

“Both hands.”

…Danny lifted a hand onto the board.

Mr. Richards stared. Tucker chewed on his lip.

…Danny lifted a second, twitching hand onto the board—hey, his hand?? Was back on?? Thank God for Tucker Foley.

But his hand was definitely not okay; even with the machine on, Danny had to jerk his writhing hand away from the serrated blade more than once. It looked, uh, bad. His hand looked bad. Grey. Taut. Kind of like it was seizing, or, you know…dying of blood loss.

“Fenton…” His shop teacher stared. “...Go to the nurse’s office.”

Tucker grinned with all his teeth, and grabbed Danny’s good hand before Danny could say anything in one way or another. “Great! I’ll walk him. Come on, Danny—if you’re not feeling well, we should go!”

Any excuse was a good excuse. “Yeah, oops. Sorry.” Danny didn’t stop making excuses for himself just in case, even as Tucker veritably shoved him through the shop class door. “Didn’t even notice I was getting muscle spasms; I should probably go get medication for it—“

Neither of them stopped moving until the door was slammed shut behind them.

Danny stared down at his writhing, if…properly attached hand. He tried to stretch his fingers.

The only wriggled worse. It felt like trying to attack worms his hands…only. You know. His worms were the hands. Or. Uh. His hands were the worms.

…Danny needed some water and 600 mg. ibuprofen. Stat.

“I,” Tucker started. And then he stopped. “I am never trusting your intangibility ever again.”

Danny stared at his self-possessed, wriggling hand. “Yeah, probably,” he agreed faintly.

[thebunnybabyblog]

"Tear you apart" 18+ Snape x reader

This is just pure smut so be warned! No one under the age of 18 should venture any further! Run away now you are not welcomed to read this please go play roblox or something :)

Age is not told in this but reader is 18+, Snape is whatever age your headcanon prefers. This is a female oriented one shot so specific terms will be said here that apply to that! Also don't even say a thing about her nickname this is soooo not a shamless insert for myself, def not 👀

the song "tear you apart" by she wants revenge is what inspired me to write this. please listen bc god it makes my head go brrrrrrrrr when i listen to it lol with that please enjoy and tell me what you thought! lots of love! 💕

Potions had always been your best subject. There was just something about the skill and craftsmanship that made you feel so compelled to learn as much as you could. It was like art and science all in one. The precision and dedication that it took to make something with so much value to the wizarding world was vastly impressive to you, but what really sealed the deal was the man that had taught you all that you knew.

Severus Snape was a god to you. The poised mysterious genius who seemed to be able to look death right in his eyes and laugh in annoyance. The way he just glided around school with so much power and command sent shivers down your spine. Always wanting to be in his good graces and never a means of annoyance like most students. You wouldn’t call yourself a know it all teacher's pet who would tattle acting as the school yard spy but truly as an admirer and helping hand.

You made it clear that you admired, appreciated and respected him and his immense wealth of knowledge. It’s not like you didn’t respect all of your professor's knowledge because you really did but he was just different? Part of it was how bad you felt from the vast amount of disrespect he received. Of course you understood that kids are difficult to look past tone and attitude but if you did your work and listened when he spoke and spoke only kind words to him, he was kind to you.

Over the 7 years at Hogwarts you grew a pretty decent relationship with him. Of course it wasn’t like you skipped down the hall hand-in-hand but he had gained a level of trust and mutual respect for you. To the point he had offered you to be an assistant of sorts to him, nothing major but since you had expressed after graduation you wanted to work at being a professional potioneer and owning your own shop one day, he let you come two to three days a week and help him with different tasks. It would always be a surprise that day on what you were doing. It could be organizing and taking stock of the store room, observing and taking notes of class projects of lower grades that were brewing (as some potions could take days or weeks to brew) or even grading first to third year assignments. All the while you'd be free to ask questions and just chat really.

You had really cherished these meetings but your social group really never understood why you were even wanting to be there. For them it seemed like a punishment.

“You had to organize the storeroom?!? What did you do wrong to have to do that??” They’d exclaim in shock and then be in total disbelief when you said,

“It wasn't a punishment, it was actually quite fun! He showed me some rare ingredients that you can only get on a full moon on the tallest mountain in the Himalayas every 6 1/2 years!”

None of it ever seemed like a chore; it was an honor. This man, with such great skill, had taken you even the tiniest bit under his wing. I guess people just couldn’t understand how such a bright and bubbly person would want to spend time in a dark gloomy dungeon with the dungeon bat himself. But you knew he was just misunderstood and it didn’t help that you found him to be the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on.

To you he was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. His tall looming body, dark midnight eyes that looked straight to your core, chiseled features that seemed to be carved out of the most precious white marble. He was more than just looks, he was powerful, knowledgeable and what people didn’t seem to see but he was quite funny and gentle. The way he treated his work as if he was Michelangelo diligently and painstakingly painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling upside down on his back. He was just brilliant to be around and absorbing even a speck of him was a gift.

You couldn’t lie to yourself though, you were down bad. The type of bad that made you find yourself absentmindedly drifting off to space only to come back down to earth and see you had doodled all over your notes with little drawings of hearts with SS in them and sketches of his striking features or kicking your feet and going red when he pops into your mind while in class because he said something that just rolled off his tongue in just the right way that made you fantasize scenarios in your head.

A crush was truly an understatement at this point. If he asked you to be his pet you would be at his feet curled up in an instant. Never making it too apparent though as to never show him any type of actions that would threaten your ability to continue this precious opportunity to learn and just be around him, or so you thought.

Friday was your easy day and your most favorite day of the week. You only had one class and that was of course advanced potions at the end of the day and a day where you always stayed after to help out. Today was especially good because it was a day when everything just went well. Snape had shown the class how to brew amortentia, the most powerful love potion. Not only was it an exciting lecture and potion to brew but it got your head to brew all sorts of things as well.

“Gods I wish I could give him a drink of mine! I’d do anything for him to feel even a slight bit like me, the way I do for him!” You thought into the void of your mind. You couldn’t help to doodle while you waited for the last few minutes of the class to count down, not like you were leaving but just waiting for your afternoon Friday treat to roll around. Your little delusions were helped by the fact he had actually praised your work when he was making his way around the classroom before the class was over.

“Very good work Miss [last name], excellent pearl color and the smell is just right. You will make a fine potion master one day” he said in a smooth silky voice. You were lost in every word that rolled off his sharp tongue. It felt as if you had drank this entire cauldron, gulping it down like a man who was stranded in the desert who finally found water.

“Thank you sir!” You squeaked out, kicking your feet enthusiastically underneath your table. If only people could understand how good his praises felt, the chokehold they held on her heart.

“Alright class it seems our time is up, most of you really need to pay more attention when I’m up here teaching… this is a powerful potion that needs to be respected and I saw many glaring mistakes that certainly should have been avoided… I will expect a report on my desk about the history of amortentia by Monday morning sharp. If I didn’t tear your potion to shreds in my walkthrough you are excluded.” The class filled with annoyed groans and frustrated sighs and a few looks were shot your way since they knew the “dungeon bunny” (your unofficial nickname your friend would poke fun at you with) was exempted once again. It wasn’t your fault you enjoyed potions, that's what Hogwarts was for, to find your passions and excel and it did help when you were in love.

The class cleaned up their areas and one-by-one filed out of the room looking a bit defeated by the sudden addition of weekend homework but you stayed behind ready for whatever task he was willing to give you today.

“Great lecture as always professor!” You said looking up to him with a soft smile.

“Thank you Miss. [last name], it’s a shame not everyone is as devoted to potions as you and I.” he replied back to you in a smooth tone. For him to put you and him into the same category made your heart thump in your chest. His praises made your hair stand on end as if caught in an electrical storm. A blush was surely visible on your face when your brain was able to comprehend his kind words.

“Oh! I am nothing compared to your dedication, you are a god compared to me!” You spouted back not even thinking, making you blush harder.

“Oh. My. Gods. I did not just say that, what a loser, I must seem like such a fangirl. He's your professor, not an idol.” You barked in your head, now thoroughly embarrassed. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts when you heard a soft chuckle escape from his throat.

“I guess I should take my place up in the heavens then” he said as he made his way back around to his desk “today if you can, I would appreciate a walk through of the storeroom and make a list of anything that is running low. Will that be something you can help take off my plate today?” He asked in a way that sounded like silk.

“Of course professor you don’t even need to ask!” Gods you were pathetic and you knew it but you didn’t care an ounce. It felt so good to be of service, to do anything he asked of you. You were his devoted little bunny and hopped when he said hop. You’d never admit it to your friends but you loved being called his dungeon bunny because gods it really was so fitting for how you felt. And if it meant spending ages looking through every tiny vial in that room you would do it on your hands and knees to be around him.

Making your way into the room you began to look through the endless rows of ingredients. You knew this was going to take a long time but it was worth it. You had been working for only about 15 minutes when you felt a cold rush of air against your back behind you, not thinking much of it, only that it was just a draft, you didn’t even turn to look. It wasn’t until you heard the door click shut behind you locking you in the small room.

“Umm professor, did you close the door?” You said still bent over looking at vials in the cabinet below you before turning around.

“Yes” he replied

You jumped at the sound of him right behind you. He glides and somehow makes no noise when he walks, some people think he casts a charm on his shoes to keep them silent. You spin around and are now in very close proximity to him. Your breath is stuck in your throat and you push yourself up against the shelf. The vials behind you raddle as your back hits the wood. You look up to his looming figure and he looks down at you with his sparkling black eyes and his equally raven black hair falling around his face.

“I’m quite sorry, did I frighten you?” He says with a sly smile.

“Oh umm no hehe of course not.” You say with your eyes closed with an embarrassed smile slapped across your face.

“Oh good I would be awfully sad to scare off my little dungeon bunny.” His words slapped you across your face.

You look up to him in shock, eyes wide and heart pounding out of your chest, “d… dungeon bunny?!? How does he know about the nickname my friends call me?” You think in a panic.

“You scream it quite loud in your head all the time. It’s not hard to miss.” He replies to your thought. As if your eyes weren’t wide enough they were bigger now, you now understood he had the ability to use legilimency. The thought of every embarrassing little thing you have thought about him over the last 7 years bounced around in your mind. You were in utter shambles over how embarrassing you had been without your knowledge. Especially since you never were shy to let your daydreams run amok in the dirtiest ways you could think of.

“You enjoy being my bouncing little bunny don’t you?” He questioned as if he was a predator circling and taunting its prey.

“I….. I umm… I-“ was all that you were able to stutter out. A deep chuckle rumbled up through his chest and you felt his cool breath on your face as he loomed over your shanking frame. You couldn’t help to smell the smooth smell of spearmint and honey on his breath sending your head spinning.

“Does cat have your tongue, little bunny? Usually you have so much to say up here.” He said as he tapped a finger melodically against your temple. You felt your knees wobbling under you and you couldn’t help to just look up at him like a deer caught in headlights as you white knuckled the counter behind you.

“You're usually such a good girl and speak when spoken to”, grabbing your chin and squeezing your cheeks with his long slender fingers. “Now I will only repeat myself once more,” his tone stern and filled with authority. “I said you enjoy being my little. Bouncing. Bunny. Don’t you y/n?”

“Y… yes” you shyly mustered out.

“Yes what?” He commanded as he squeezed harder

“Yes sir!” You practically shouted, trembling in his grasp.

“See that wasn’t hard was it?” Leaning down to be eye level with you all the while still holding on to you tight.

“N… no sir.” You couldn’t help but feel like putty in his grasp. You wanted to be devoured, like you said before, if he said hop you would hop and you meant it.

“You know even if I couldn’t hear your detailed perversions every time you laid eyes on me you are quite obvious and oblivious to your surroundings.” He released your face and leaned in close to your ear. His hair tickled your skin as it cascaded over your cheek.

“Your little love doodles are very cute, you think I don’t notice them as I walk around the room? You’re lucky I don’t punish you for being off task so frequently but you are always such a good girl I can’t bring myself to punish you.”

You were overheating with your skin flushed pink, you felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of your forehead.

“Hmmm It is getting pretty hot in here, why don’t you take off your coat?” He hummed, pulling back from your ear. His fingers found their way under your lapels and slid your jacket off your shoulders onto the floor.

“T..thank you.” Not even sure why you were thanking him but it felt so good too.

“Such a polite girl, seems like someone needs a treat.” Taking your chin back into his grasp, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss onto your lips. Still in utter shock and disbelief from what was happening you just looked at him wide eyed but in an instant you shut them and sunk your weight into his hand. You grabbed onto the side of his robe for support and let out a moan that shocked you both. You could feel him smile against you and his left hand sneak to your waist and pulled you close into him.

Your eyes shot open when you felt him hard against your stomach taken aback by just how large he felt under all of those dark clothes. “Gods his cock is huge!” You couldn’t help but scream in pure lust loud in your head, immediately looking up to him in terror as you might as well have just said that out loud. Somehow his eyes grew darker than they naturally were and you knew it was game over. He was about to devour you whole.

You looked away fast in utter embarrassment but his hand snaked its way through your hair and pulled your face back to his and whispered once more into your ear, “I want to fucking tear you apart.” He said, so sharp it pierced through your body like flying arrows across the battlefield. Before you knew it the hand in your hair pulled you to the ground and you were on your knees faced with the serpent trapped behind his wool trousers.

“Now be the good little bunny you are and set your God free” he said as the hair he had in his fist fell free from his grasp.

Filled with nerves, your trembling fingers slowly reached up and skated across the black wool, hesitating for a moment once they touched the cool metal buckle of his belt. You looked up as if making sure it really was alright. He returned your wordless question with a light smile of reassurance. You slowly slid the leather belt out of the metal and grasped the button that was behind it and slipped it through the hole and pulled the zipper down. He sprung free from his prison and slapped his stomach with a snap.

You gulped hard, this was the first time you had ever seen a man in this way. You had seen one once before when a Gryffindor boy got a little too drunk at a party and thought it would be a good idea to whip it out as a laugh but it was nothing like this. Snape's cock was powerful and hot with desire, just as dominating as the man it was attached to. You could feel the slickness building between your legs as you looked up to him practically drunk.

“You look so beautiful down on your knees for me I wish you could see just how beautiful you look, all flushed and doe eyed looking up at me.” His words poured over you like honey. You craved his praise and you’d do anything he wanted to get it.

“Thank you professor! I… I’d do anything for you!” You cried out to him bouncing on your knees. You were passed the embarrassment, hell the embarrassment was fueling you. You didn’t care what you looked like, you just wanted to do whatever he wanted, that's all you’ve ever wanted to do for him.

“Oh I know I’ve heard you so many times lost in thought wondering how I looked under my robes,” his hand began to work the many buttons of his coat and he slipped it off onto the floor with yours. His white linen shirt flowed free around him as he worked up that as well. Soon his torso was bare and you eyed the pale skin that hid under it. You could see his scars that scattered around his smooth form and wondered how they felt.

He reached down, holding out a hand to yours. With a slight hesitation you placed them in his and he placed your hands on his stomach. Your fingers began to wonder, exploding the milky smooth skin you had dreamed about. A soft moan escaped him as your warm touch moved around his cold body. You couldn’t help but look up at him in amazement.

“Gods you’re just so pretty.” He said looking down at you with hooded eyes. You just couldn’t take it any more. You needed to touch his cock that had been staring you in the face far too long. You moved your hands down past his belly button following his little happy trail down to the base. Looking up to him one last time for permission, he nodded a gentle yes.

Grabbing the base, he was rock solid in your grasp. A huff escaped him and he slightly pumped into your hand. This sent your body into overdrive losing all sense of your humanity; you were just his slave to his desire. You worked your hand up and down his shaft not even able to touch your fingertips together as you pumped him slowly.

He reached out a hand and placed it on the top of your head and looped some hair around his fingers and pulled your face close to him. He smelt a mix of smoky body wash and sweat. He filled your nose with his scent and it made your eyes roll in the back of your head as you sniffed him in.

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours I can’t take this anymore.” He growled in pure need. Without hesitation you opened yourself for him and his tip was past your threshold before you had time to process. The precum that had began to gather on his tip spread across your tongue as he snaked himself into you. You couldn’t help but moan as your senses were attacked with him.

“Fuck your sweet little mouth feels better than I could have imagined.” He spit out. Your arms wrapped themselves around his thick thighs for support as he filled your mouth with his needy cock.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this moment. Fuck…. Take my cock. Just like that, you're such a good bunny for me.” You practically cried out in pleasure to the praise and the vibration only sent him into a craze. He began to frantically assault your throat, making you gag around him. The room filled with the sounds of your complete surrender to the man that now laid claim in your throat.

Tears filled your eyes and fell over your flushed cheeks, he reached a hand down and his fingers moved gently over them wiping away at your tear stained face. He pulled them to his mouth and took a long lick of his fingers, humming as he did so. You were practically crossed eyed looking up at him.

He pumped himself in you a few more times and released your mouth with a loud pop. You coughed out desperately for air but were sad that he had released your throat.

“As much as I’d love to cum down that pretty throat of yours it would be such a waste to put it there our first time.” “First time?” You thought. That implied this wasn’t going to be some one time event that you would think about over and over for the rest of your life on a loop.

“Oh you sweet little thing. You think I’d let you get away from me that easily? I’ve waited so long fighting with myself for a very long time. There is no way I’m letting you escape me.” His voice deep and raspy you trembled below him. Grabbing the collar of your shirt he pulled you back to your feet and placed his hands firmly around your waist and lifted you to sit upon the counter. You were practically face to face now, though he still had a bit of height on you even at this level.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and he pulled you back into a deep kiss. You found your arms sneaking in under his shirt and wrapping around his back pulling him close in. This kiss was pure sex and filled with fire. He pressed his body between your legs and his cock rubbed hard against your cotton panties. You could help but moan into his mouth with the sudden sensation shocking your wet core.

His right hand left your face and he made the journey down between your thighs. The feeling of his fingertips brushing against your soaking wet pussy made you jump. He pulled away from the kiss and now looked you in your eyes the way you asked his consent with yours earlier. You couldn’t help but look away for a moment embarrassed but you quickly moved your gaze back to him and nodded with the most precious lust filled face.

Before you knew it his slender fingers were hooked into your panties and he slid them all the way down in one large motion. The air was chilled against the sopping wet mess you had under your skirt. He slipped your panties into his back pocket.

“You're never getting those back by the way” he chuckled out. “Now since it’s only fair I think it’s time we take this tight little top off?” He backed away and looked at you. It only took you a moment to understand he wanted to watch you do this part.

Your shaking hands made their way up to the top button and began to slowly slip them out. He hummed in anticipation as you revealed yourself and the pretty baby pink bra you had hidden underneath your shirt. The shirt joined the pile of accumulating clothes on the stone floor below you. His hands reached up and began to wonder around your plush supple skin. His touch made your skin send goosebumps over your body. You let out soft whimpers as his nail softly scraped along your bra's edge.

“Please” you moaned out

“Oh she speaks? Please what my dear?” He says against your neck.

“Please sir, I can’t take it please just touch me!” With your desperate cries he sunk his teeth into your neck kissing and sucking soon to be deep red hickies into your skin. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he sneaked his hands behind you and made your bra fall to the floor where it belonged. Your breasts were exposed to him and the air and the mix of that made your nipples rock solid. His large hands began to knead into them with vigor and equal desperation. He easily found your nipple with his mouth and sucked and nipped. His deep moans filled the air and mixed with your high pitched squeals.

As his mouth sent attacks to your left breast and his left hand tweaked your right, his free hand found its way to your soaked pussy. It’s like he knew exactly how to curl his fingers around your clit to send shocks through your body. Your hips rolled desperately against his hand to feel him as much as you could.

“If only you could see how desperate and needy you are right now. Humping your dripping little cunt against me. Does your god feel good against your pretty pussy? Hmmm?” His words cut through you like a knife. All you could do is crumble under him in pleas and desperation.

“P…please please please, I need you, please fill me up I can’t take it anymore.” Tears filling your eyes again.

“Well if you beg me so nicely how could I say no to that?” With no warning his cock was pressed against your slit and plunged deep inside you. You cried out in pain as he was still against you.

“Shhh I’m right here I won’t move until you’re ready ok?” He said in between kissing away even more tears on your cheeks.

You were a mess under him but this was the only place in the entire world you wanted to be. For seven years you dreamed about him and wanting him so desperately to fill you up and here you were getting exactly that. You clutched onto his back sending your nails deep into his flesh. He couldn’t help but move forward slightly into you from the sensation. You let out a moan and tightened around him that made him moan into your neck.

“Please move” you breathed out. You didn’t have to ask him twice; his hips moved with a sudden urgency that even shocked him. As if on autopilot he moved in a primal need into your center and filled the room with sounds of him slapping against you. His hands gripped your waist hard, unbeknownst to you both, would leave behind bruises the next day.

His pace was slow at first but over time with the growing moans that escaped your mouth he began to move faster and more erratic.

“Fuck your pussy feels so good around me. Your cunt is sucking me in so eagerly.” He said through gritted teeth. His words made you clench harder around him. “Tell me how does my big cock feel inside you?”

“Hmgmmhh-“ is all your mouth manages to get out between his powerful thrusts. He grabbed the hair in the back of your head, snapping you back to look him deep in his eyes. “What did I tell you about speaking when spoken too? Don’t make me have to punish you when you’ve been so good for me.” He growled down at you.

“You feel so good! Y..you make me feel so full, I’ve n..never felt like this down there before.”

He paused and looked at you, you whined at the sudden stop. “Is this the first time you’ve had someone inside you?” He asked in disbelief. You panicked afraid that he would want to stop with your lack of experience.

“I’m sorry! Is that a problem? I don’t want to disappoint you!” You said, shaken. His eyes widened and immediately placed your face in his hands.

“Oh gods no! I’m just shocked someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you hadn’t had a line of boys trying to take you to bed with them.” A soft smile looked down on you and you nuzzled yourself into his touch.

“I have always just waited in hope that ummm it would be you.” You said looking away.

You could feel him throb in you as that escaped your lips. Without warning his hips snapped in you at a frantic pace once more.

“What a sexy little nymph you are. I am going to truly lose my mind.” He grunted as he pumped you deeper and deeper with each passing thrust. His fingers slipped down and found their way to your clit once again. Your moans filled his ears like prayers. Begging for a release that you were desperately in need of.

“Please sir I-I’m so close.” Your face found its way to his shoulder as you cried out.

“D-does my pretty bunny want to cum for me? Have you been a good girl? Should I allow you to cum all over my big cock?” He asked into your hair.

“God please, please let me cum! I’m begging you please!” You screamed out.

“Fuck, cum on my cock while I fill you deep with mine!” He shouted back at you. He plowed into you at dangerous speeds, hitting your cervix with every lightning crack of his hips. Circling faster around your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the edge so close to your sweet release. With one final snap of his hips you lost all control coming undone around his throbbing cock. Squirting all around him unaware you were even able to do that.

When he felt you release around him that’s all he needed, “Fuck fuck fuck take my cum, fuck!”and shot load after load of his hot cum deep into your pussy. Grunting like an animal as he reached his glorious climax that he has dreamed of for so long.

You both stayed in this wrapped position for what seemed like an eternity panting and gasping for air. When you both found your breath he planted sweet gentle kisses all over you. You giggled with each one he bestowed upon you.

“Gods I’m going to keep you locked down here forever.” He said between kisses.

“You’d have to pull me out of here to get me to leave.” You replied back and planted a gentle kiss on his swollen lips.

“Well that would never happen,” he said looking over you sweetly.“Now let’s get you in my chambers so we can get you right in the bath because you are one dirty bunny.”

“Yeah your dirty little bunny.” You giggled into his ear and with that you were whisked out of the store room and through his chamber door off for more of your wildest dreams to play out before you.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which sour and salt could be so sweet when jungkook’s existence reminds you that there is still good in the world.

> fluff, a pinch of angst, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: mention of the doctor bc oc missed their period >:(, allusion to s/x, making out, jungkook doing pull ups must be a warning for the faint hearted like me

note: we’re going through the seasons?! partly inspired by #that live and jungkook for calvin klein <3 we’ve all seen those pictures right… right… i hope the onlyswan prophecy continues with this drabble i need to see jungkook do pull ups at the beach <3 + reblogs & feedback are always appreciated :D

—

jungkook is a sunkissed daydream and a shirtless adonis. his tender hands are on your bare thighs, keeping himself steady on the light brown sand while you sit still and look pretty on a log.

“baby, are you pregnant?”

when a man spits out this question, it usually sounds a little bit something like an anxious and insensitive ‘you’re not pregnant, are you?’ your starry-eyed boyfriend is asking you in a calm tone, joking for the most part, yet genuine wonder is painted on his face as if you’re just supposed to tell him what day of the week it is.

you stare at him with a blank expression, silent for a moment as the fierce waves crash on the shore, finding it difficult to take him seriously. “i don’t know. did you break a condom?”

he breaks eye-contact to space out, pursing his lips as he pretends to be immersed in deep thought.

“uhh, not to my knowledge.”

“then i’m not.” you shrug your shoulders with a cheeky grin, scrunching your nose. “will you steal some mangoes for me now, please?”

“is my baby craving for them that bad?” he coos at you softly, inching closer to press a kiss on your lips. “no but why do you always ask me to steal mangoes for you?”

“what do you mean ‘always’? this is only the second time.” you scoff, offended by the accusation, shoving him lightly but he quickly takes a hold of your arms to save himself from falling.

he chuckles lightheartedly, recounting the first time you visited his hometown and you took a walk around his neighborhood together. you looked at the mango tree with so much longing, and he had so much love for you, it was untameable.

nothing much has changed.

except for the color of the mangoes, perhaps. they were yellow back then, ripe and soft. you ripped off the fragile skin with your bare hands as you devoured the nectar-filled fruit, and the both of you came home to his parents’ house sticky and satiated like little kids who played under the sun from noon to afternoon. today, they’re green and plump, and truthfully, his mouth is watering for a taste.

“you know, since the tree is directly infront of our villa-” he tilts his head to the side, briefly looking at your temporary private residence. “it’s technically ours, so it’s not stealing.”

your eyes are glitter with mischief, and they communicate without words before you burst into a fit of revitalizing giggles, filling your empty tummy with a childlike joy.

—

for a while before jungkook, you’d forgotten people are kind. you chose to live for yourself, and yourself only, because you thought that if you lose sight of your plans for the future because of a impetuous slip within the thrill of temptation, you would also lose the essence of your being that you’re actively fighting so hard to get a good grasp of. you’re in a never-ending, excruciating process of picking apart your identity; detaching yourself from what you learned in the past to make room for growth; and swallowing bitter pills of hard-taught lessons. but when you’re in a relationship, every decision goes through a filter, a need for an answer to the question of how would this make my partner feel?

your friends still ask from time to time, what it is about jungkook that made you bend this principle and compromise your plans when those were the reasons you impulsively ended relationships in the past.

you’d forgotten people are kind.

jungkook is messy. he always leaves behind a fragment of his heart, and you shake your head and you pick up each one to stuff it in the shallow pocket of your understanding of love… until the weight of them destroyed said pocket, and all of a sudden, you have awoken. he opened your eyes to the underlying implication of that filter, how having something sacred to protect is also what makes life more worth living after all.

more than two hours ago, at seven in the morning, he held back your hair while you emptied your guts in the toilet bowl. a week ago, he held your hand in the doctor’s waiting room and didn’t let go until your name was called. that same night, you sulked about the doctor concluding that the reason you didn’t get your period last month was stress again and he teared up when you said i eat well, and i exercise regularly. but in the end it’s all useless because stress is messing up my body and i can’t control it. what do i do? the next day, he cheerfully asked you if you wanted to go see the ocean with him. right now, he’s hanging on a thick branch of a tree, enthusiastically doing pull ups while you peel the raw mangoes he picked out for you.

the familiar sounds of moans and grunts convince you to move the log you’re sitting on, abandoning the view of the majestic blue sky kissing the sparkling ocean in favor of facing your gorgeous boyfriend. he moves on to doing hanging knee tucks, pulling his knees to his chest and gradually increasing his speed and range of motion after gathering enough leverage.

“ah, this is tiring!” his yell ripples across the near-empty beach. he squeezes his eyes shut, laughing through the pain that hurts so good.

you set aside the paring knife on the plain white porcelain plate, dipping a piece of mango in the hill of salt before taking a bite (you played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would call the front desk for salt and you won after jungkook said he lost because his rock was made of paper). this, it’s just what you needed to cure the lethargy that’s been eating away at you. the combination of sour and salty explodes in your taste buds, remedying your awful loss of taste and appetite.

you shudder in sheer delight, smiling sweetly at the man brazenly showcasing his strength infront of you. “i like this a lot. i can feel my stress melting away… like ice cream under the sun.”

“i’m happy you’re enjoying yourself while i-” he cuts off his sentence, letting himself fall on the sand before jumping again to adjust his grip on the rough wood. once again, he hauls his legs upward repeatedly, reaching higher and higher each time. he releases loud huffs of air, grunting raspily with every exertion of force.

you stifle a scandalous gasp when his knees touch his wrists, covering your mouth as you grind the food with your teeth. okay, you know damn well he is flexible and a human-shaped vessel of physical strength, but you mostly witness their irrefutable testaments during intense moments of love and lust… the blissful memories can be kind of hazy.

he heaves a deep sigh, taking a rest as he hangs motionless on the branch. picture-perfect, center-frame for your adoring eyes to feast upon. his honey skin is glazed with a fine sheen of sweat, further accentuating the well-defined muscles of his torso. you only get a tease of his v-line. it hides beneath the exposed white band of his calvin klein underwear peeking above his black swimming shorts. his stomach rises and falls with each breath, and you can’t help but to marvel at his abs with appreciation. beautifully prominent, sculpted not too much. you love that when you touch them, you still feel the tenderness of his flesh, so rawly and so uniquely jungkook.

“you like what you see?” he grins when your eyes meet, winking at you flirtatiously.

“i do.” you sheepishly admit, scrunching your nose before putting another slice of mango on top of your tongue. “keep going. i want to see more.”

“more? you want more?! aish- so demanding.” he complains, thick satoori accent dripping from his voice but still, he gives you more.

you giggle in satisfaction, closely observing the flexing of his muscles and the veins along his arms popping out. one must think you’re used to his tattoos by now, but you’re definitely not. you just learn how to act unaffected, like you can’t write a book of poems about how his body art never seizes to bring you in absolute awe. his eyebrows knit as he pulls himself up, face crumpling with the amount of force and strength he utilizes with every manuever. it’s a seductive scene, but then the dimples on his cheeks make fondness bloom in your heart.

for the love of god, it’s not compromising your plans, but making jungkook a part of your plans. you no longer fantasize about a perfect life. you just want to keep waking up somewhere safe— to be here, standing on the tips of your toes, planting a delicate kiss on the mole at the lower right side of his ribcage. your lips have made one too many sharp mistakes, but they ghost over his skin and he laughs. laughs so joyfully, a majestic string of musical notes from his mouth no other instrument on earth can recreate. it’s a good mistake, the best mistake you could ever possibly make.

“here, drink.“ you offer him a bottle of cold water.

“i’m so tired. oh, fuck-” he does one final pull up before letting go, deliberately falling on the sand and bumping against your feet when he rolls over.

he sits up, warm body vibrating with giggles as he looks up at you.

“did you pack a first aid kit?“

you put a hand over your hip, raising an eyebrow. “what happened now?”

“my hands-” he stares at his palms, sand coating half of the area, before showing them to you. “they sting like hell! seriously!” his little lisp slips out as he rants.

”then why did you keep going?!” you exclaim, grabbing his tattooed wrist to assess the damage. there’s no blood in sight, but his skin has turned a very bright shade of red.

“because it was fun.” he simply answers, and you can’t argue with that.

of course you brought a first aid kit. it’s a necessity, especially when you’re on vacation with your gym bunny boyfriend, apparently. while you grab the ointment in the bedroom, jungkook decides to clean himself up under the outdoor shower situated in a corner beside the swimming pool.

“what’s wrong with this? why are they going at the same time?” he scratches his head in confusion, looking up at the spraying shower head and down at the gushing faucet. he fiddles with the handle in hopes of fixing his problematic water consumption, unintentionally pushing it up higher as he does so. this causes the water pressure to become stronger, sending thin needles to crash down and pierce his fragile skin.

“aw shit-” he reflexively runs away from the rude attack of the silver device. “yah, you punk! what did i to you, huh?! how dare you-”

he clicks his tongue in irritation, resting his hands on his hips. after glaring one more time, he extends his tattooed arm to push the handle all the way down, turning it off. he proceeds to experiment, tilting it to the left, which turns on the faucet only, and then to the right for the shower.

he laughs sarcastically at his discovery, going back under the water. “ahhh, was i the stupid one?”

—

“i missed you!” he declares loudly as soon as you step out of the sliding door.

“me too, babe.” you hum as you walk towards him, standing a considerable distance from the shower.

he wipes his face with his hands to unblur his vision before pushing back his wet hair, droplets of water endlessly rushing down his body.

“why are you so far?” he protests. “come here.”

“but i already took a shower.”

“so what? you’ll get wet again when we ride the jet ski later.”

you pout at him. “i told you i’m scared.”

“i’d be jack if i have to, i won’t let you drown! don’t you trust your boyfriend, hm?” he attempts to persuade you again after failing last night, knowing well that you’d enjoy yourself only if you overcome your fear of the deep waters. “it will be fun, i promise.”

“ugh, fine. only because you promised.” you weakly succumb to his wishes, setting down the small jar of ointment on the ground.

he happily pulls you in for an embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck while your arms wrap around his waist. the only barrier between your chests is the thin and small fabric of your red bikini, thoroughly soaked by the cold water combatting the rising heat of the approaching noon. you can feel the rough grains of sand that were washed away from his skin under the soles of your feet, contrasting the feather-light kisses being scattered on your neck. and this feels so utterly liberating, you refuse for it to end, allowing yourself to be hastily pinned against the wall when his supple lips meet yours.

he cups the back of your head and his long and slender fingers dig into your hair, protecting you from accidentally hitting the hard cement. the small thoughtful gesture makes you smile into the kiss. he is not real, he can’t be. if this is a dream, you’re begging the sun to never rise. his gentle hands slowly travel down the expanse of your back, until they reach your hips, teasingly tugging past the side straps of your bikini bottoms before kneading the soft flesh of your ass. he swallows the strangled whine that escapes you, slipping his tongue past your parted lips. he’s addicted to how your body language speaks to him when you get intimate, how you lovingly caress his face and his arms, slow and sensual, but then unconsciously dig your nails to mark crescent moons on his skin when you begin getting lost in your combined passion.

he wants this. he wants you. he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you and wringing the water from your hair.

—

you’ve deserted the log to comfortably sit cross-legged with jungkook on the lounge chair, under the shade of the brown umbrella rooted in the soil.

“mhmmm! it’s so delicious!” jungkook carefully dips the slice of mango in the salt once more, wary of the ointment from his hand smearing on the food, before muching on it eagerly. “so crunchy!”

you pause from tending to his left hand, looking at the plate between the two of you to learn that he is nearly finished with the second mango. you only have one left.

“damn!” he dramatically curses with his eyes squeezed shut, punching the salt air. without context, a stranger would probably guess that he tragically lost a bet or remembered an embarrassing memory from highschool. but really, he’s just enjoying some pretty good food. this is the fourth time in the past five minutes that he precisely did the same thing, and yes, you’ve been counting.

“is it that yummy?” you chuckle, extremely endeared and contented when he looks this excited around food. he is the only person in the world who can make you say i’m full just by watching you eat and mean it.

“it was your idea!” he bobs his head while energetically rocking from side to side, cheeks round and full as he chews. “i haven’t eaten something new in a long time. i love it… i should give the resort five stars for my review. just for this. i’ll say i’ll come back again for the mango tree.”

“or i don’t know, we can just plant one ourselves.” you propose before lightly blowing on his inflamed palm.

“but, baby, that would take years!” he interjects. “we need to buy another house, one with a backyard, and wait at least five years for it to grow. i’ll be thirty-two by then. are you hearing that?!”

the disgusted look on his face elicits a burst of amused laughter from you, stomach hurting with a reason miles better than earlier’s. he winces at the thought of entering his 30’s in the very near future. it feels odd to think about, but it’s a little less daunting with the tree added to the picture.

he picks up the final slice on the plate, smothering it with a thin layer of salt before devouring it entirely. he whimpers, high-pitched and wide-eyed, clasping his hand over his mouth before the other one you’re holding slips away from the solace of your care. he free falls from the chair, limply collapsing on the sand. and just like that, he’s covered in them again, from his damp hair down to his wiggly toes.

you move closer to look at him, dangling your legs on the edge. “darling, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

he spreads out his limbs like a starfish, dreamily peering into the vast cloudy sky. “oh? i think this is exactly what it means to be alive.”

beyond his words, it’s the way he said them. without shyness, without qualms, without pondering. it makes him sound purely sincere, his mellifluous voice gracefully echoing louder than the nihilistic thoughts in your head, and you believe him.

he abruptly sits up, crawling on his knees to reach you. “baby! it’s too good! i want more!” he cries out, feigning desperate sobs as he hugs your legs. “i want more. let’s eat the third one, please.”

“fuck, okay. calm down. we’ll have it.” you cackle, stroking his hair while he rests his head on your lap.

you drag the plate to your side, slicing the last mango with practiced precision and skill. he, then, closes his eyes and bathes in your presence, his warm breath fanning you. it’s peacefully silent for a while, only the sounds of the knife dragging across the fruit and the waves chasing each other to the edge of the sea can be heard. that is until your boyfriend grows bored. he puckers his lips to brush against your soft skin, insatiable, climbing higher and higher until he’s peppering your inner thigh with kisses.

tingling sensations inevitably spark in your lower region, and you click your tongue to rebuke him. “jungkook, behave. i might cut myself if you keep that up.”

his lips curve into a naughty smirk, shifting a bit further down. “sorry.”

“do you want to get sunburnt? get back up here, on the chair.” you bounce your legs to shake him off, but your efforts prove to be fruitless.

he groans, stubbornly holding on to you tighter. “no, i don’t want to.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[droaxa]

half of the ring

✧ tags: first love x reader, the reader takes too long to admit she’s in love with him and it has consequences

✧ warnings: angst angst angst be ready, betrayal but not really, you cry, friends to lovers to strangers

✧ a/n: really wanted to show you guys my angst skills, started on a plane but then got rlly into it 💗 but fr idk what i was on while making this.

✧ 2.1k words

He was your first love. You had a boyfriend before him but that relationship wasn’t born out of love, hell you didn’t even know if you liked your first boyfriend. The middle school curse of saying yes to dating boys you didn’t really know had gotten to you too, just like many other young girls at school. At an age when you were unsure of what boyfriends and girlfriends even did, you got into your first relationship.

Then you met him. Tall, charming, and somewhat nerdy. He wasn’t anything close to your first boyfriend but you felt strangely attracted to him nonetheless, much to the dismay of your friends who stated that he was ‘a weird loner that no one really liked’. You didn’t care about his obnoxious sports glasses, his long frizzy hair, or his ‘nerdy interests’, to you he was perfect and unapologetically himself.

You broke up with your boyfriend days after meeting him, he made you realize that if you should date anyone, it should be someone that makes you happy. Not someone you feel obligated to.

He was exciting and cool in ways your friends didn’t understand, a diamond in the rough. Before you knew it, months had passed and he moved to your neighborhood.

“The school was better here than in his district” he explained.

You were thrilled of course, who knew what this could bring? Your parents were friends so you met often, but they didn’t allow you both to date so you hid it. Soon, secretive texts and calls turned to meetups and walks in your neighborhood under the guise of being with a ‘friend’. You were with him all the time, if not at school, on the bus, and if not on the bus, around the neighborhood.

Truly the ying to your yang, you were opposites but still had so much in common. While you loved horror movies and he would bury his face in your neck during a jumpscare, squeezing your hand so hard it would turn blue. You would laugh at it his cowardly manner, patting his messy hair as he complained.

You were hopelessly unathletic and he was on the volleyball team. He taught you how to play, laughing as you tried to receive the ball only to have it hit the ground next to you. He never brought up your shortcomings or belittled you, instead helping you become a better version of yourself.

Inseparable. The only way to describe it, atleast until you heard about his reputation first hand. Being ignored by kids at school, shunned for the way he acted and spoke. That’s when you started to become embarrassed of him. Sweet thoughtful him. You heard the whispers about him and didn’t want to be dragged down along with his reputation.

You had been alone long enough, you could still remember those days when you had no one. You didn’t want to be alone again. You were young and dumb, placing social acceptance at a higher priority than him. But it was the pulling away from him that was the hard hardest. You were each others halves but there was something else. Something that young dumb you wouldn’t yet understand.

If his disappointed expression every time you would cancel on him didn’t hurt your heart, the hurt on his face when you would pretend like you didn’t see his wave in the school hallway punched you in the gut. But you managed to make more friends. It would be worth it. Wouldn’t it? You missed him, but you still wanted to have this social power, this freedom.

On the bus home one day a ring you wore broke in half, a silver ring with the emblem of wings. Looking at the two halves you decided to give one half to him on your walk home, his face lighting up as you give him the metal fragment. You would never truly understand the meaning of ring to him. It was a bittersweet moment when you both bid each other goodbye, no hugs or touches. Just a smile.

You saw him was again on the bus, this time your phone chimed with a text. It’s from him.

‘i’m going to kiss you today’

It was a little strange but so hopelessly innocent, he was asking his permission. You felt guilty when he had told you that you were his first anything, first girl he had talked to romantically and now he was hoping first kiss. But you didn’t know if you wanted it. You’d already wasted your first kiss on your first boyfriend, a regret.

You didn’t want to be a regret for him, you didn’t want to face your feelings firsthand either. You knew that this kiss would prove your feelings for him, no more tiptoeing around the bush that you both were doing. You were scared, what if he realized that you weren’t what he wanted. What if you get shunned from being with him?

So you ran. From your feelings, confusion, and most importantly from him. You didn’t kiss him that day, much less look at him.

You didn’t see him around much after that, you heard that he moved out of your neighborhood and into another one. His father had decided they needed a bigger house. You visited him with your family and he led you up to his room, showing you around. On his bookshelf glimmered the half of the ring you gave him, put on display as if it was a piece of art. You smiled as you saw it, you didn't know how much it meant to him.

In a few months, you would move to the same neighborhood. A plan your family had before you had even met him, maybe it was fate or maybe it was just some coincidence.

Your meetups were few and far between then, the next time you saw him was on a school trip to another state. A week where students would be unsupervised, to do whatever they pleased, a recipe for disaster. On the day of the departure, one of your friends had asked you about him before you both had got on the bus to leave. What sport he did, what he was like. You were confused, they’d never asked about him before. Much less without making fun of him.

You shrugged off the strange feeling creeping up on you and told her the basics, she was elated. Then she revealed her true intentions, she was interested. In him. You buffered. What? But you had ever told her what went on between you and him, so it’s not like girl code applied. And for some reason you didn’t want to tell her, he was a loser in the eyes of everyone. If you revealed what really happened, you would be deserted. You had enough of being alone for a lifetime.

You shot her a smile as genuine as you could muster and told her that you’d tell him to think about her. She grinned and thanked you, heading into the bus.

And you did. You did tell him that she would be good for him, that they had so much in common. You could see the disbelief in his eyes, that something like this was coming from someone as special to him as you. You didn’t meet his eyes once, face turned down and words quickly mumbled.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, maybe a romantic display like in the movies where the male lead would refuse and tell the female lead he only wanted her. Maybe you wanted him to grab you and shake some sense into you, remind you of what mattered and what he was to you.

You hated yourself for it, you didn’t want him to go, to leave you. But you were conflicted and stupid, unable to see the true value of what you were giving up. After he nodded at your suggestion, he walked off without a word. Maybe you didn’t deserve him anyway. You warded the tears off as you walked in the other direction.

You didn’t know that he would take the suggestion seriously, to get back at you or to get over you, you didn’t know. You'd deluded yourself into thinking that he would come back, you mattered enough to him, right? You didn't see or talk to him for two whole days, and honestly, you were ripping out your hair in frustration.

Finally, you'd see him when your group was visiting a landmark in the city you were in. It was supposed to be a normal day of the usual activities, sightseeing and such. But then you saw them both. Together. Maybe they’d started talking after you suggested it or maybe she’d come up to him, you didn’t even want to think he went up to her on his own accord.

It hurt in ways you thought unimaginable, why was it so easy for her? People did snicker at them and laugh sometimes but she was with him all day, not a hint of embarrassment on her face. They both laughed and whispered to each other, about what? You didn't know, you weren't sure you wanted to. But this wasn't fair, that should’ve been you. You tear your eyes away from the scene, you should've been stronger, been more resilient. Had you lost him already?

On the last day of the trip, you finally faced the truth that this wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. You knew that he deserved better, but with him by your side you could be better, for him. All you needed was him. You could deal with the gossip and public shunning if he was by your side.

You decide to talk to him on the last day of your trip, striding towards him as he faces the opposite direction, observing the artwork on the urban brick wall. Before you can even get close to him, she appears. Hair flowing behind her as confident strides bring her every bit closer to him. There's a bright smile on her face as she pulls him to face her, and he smiles back. Why does he smile back? Months of late-night talking, laughing, and understanding can’t be undone in a week right? Your heart stutters as you see him smile, a real smile. Not the melancholic one he’d give you when you said you couldn’t meet or talk to him, a real smile from his heart.

Then he leans in, he leans in first, and presses his lips against hers. A strong hand on her back to steady her as they share an innocent kiss, nothing more than lips pressed against each other. You stare at them, shock rendering your body immobile as they pull apart. Faint smiles are still present as they look at each other, and a glimmer in his eyes that you had stopped seeing a while ago returns.

You can’t stop the tears that fall down your face, apology you were planning to give him dampened and forgotten. You step back, you were too late. Far too late.

Turning around, you try to wipe the tears as they fall. You were really stupid huh? Took too long to decide and he finally realized that he deserved better, and she was his better apparently. But that kiss was supposed to be yours, it was your kiss. He was supposed to be yours, you were the one with him before anyone else. It was selfish, but if only. If only.

‘But you chased him away didn’t you?’ a voice whispered. You stopped. You were the one that forced him into the arms of another, why did you deserve to cry? You couldn’t help but wonder, did he think about you? Did he think about those late nights when you both would text like you were each other's lifelines? Maybe he would still be with you now, if you tried harder, if you ignored the others, if you saw all that mattered. He was what mattered.

But sometimes, doubt, a moment of hesitation was all it took to ruin everything that is and can be. All you had now were questions. The what ifs and maybes. The half of the ring, without knowing if he kept his.

a/n: well thats all guys :)) i'm gonna write a part two for this who knows how it'll go

[xoxo-sarah]

Can't Come Back From This

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x medic!Reader

↝warning: death, blood, apocalypse, zombies, crying, angst, not proof read

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 2.17.24

Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stumbled past the door, practically falling down the steps. The only thing stopping you from falling onto the pavement was the railing on the stairs.

It was as if everything was going in slow-motion.

Red. Dead. Blood.

The same 3 words kept repeating in your head. A nagging voice that wasn't your own repeating the words that would surely drive you insane.

The crimson liquid ran down your arms and hands, splattering onto the ground, weaving into the cracks of the concrete. Red liquid. Blood.

"Y/n?" Daryl slowed from his absentminded walk down the street, stopping across from you on the other side of the road. His eyes followed yours as they drifted to your hands. His body moved before his brain could process what was happening, or what had happened for your hands to be covered in blood and your expression as if you had seen a ghost. "What happened?" Daryl held your hands, asking the only question that seemed to come out, out of all the questions swimming around in his head.

"Bit."

His head shot up, looking at every inch of your face. Your face, that kept the same distant expression. He went into panic-mode. His eyes went from your face to your body, checking your arms, legs, everything. As far as his eyes could see, your hands were the only thing bleeding.

Your head shook, "Sammy."

Daryl felt his stomach drop. Any relief he felt when he relieved you weren't bleeding turned to dread.

Sammy. Sammy was a young boy, probably around 17, 18. He was a good kid, as far as Daryl knew. The kid was always offering to help in any way he could. He would go on runs and come back with more than needed. He kept the small kids of Alexandria entertained. Sammy would help teach the kids and others how to use weapons correctly. He could make a mean rabbit stew. But you could probably thank Carol for that. She taught the kid so much since he showed up. And he listened to every word.

Sammy was learning from Siddiq the same time you were. He was always one step ahead of you in asking questions. You didn't blame him. He was a smart learner, and willing to teach if you didn't understand something the way Siddiq explained it. "Want to learn how to save someone's life in the apocalypse." Sammy had told you, with a goofy grin. The same goofy grin he wore all the time.

You two were close, like brother and sister.

Losing him had to feel like what losing Merle felt like. Maybe even worse.

"Hey," Your dull eyes met his. Your eyes had never lacked this amount of emotion before, not even with what you have all been through this far. Your body fell forwards just as he touched your elbows. You laid limp in his arms. He couldn't care less about the blood soaking into his top as you clung to it. "Yer okay."

His attention was brought to the ajar door. A clattering inside seemed to only faze him. "I-" You hiccuped, "I couldn't do it. I couldn't, Daryl."

He had been rushed in late last night, bleeding so much, you were unable to find the wound at first. He was gargling on his own blood, trying to reach for his neck as you frantically cleaned him.

When you had finally found the wound under all the blood, you tried to save him. Tried to cut his leg off Before the infection traveled. But it was too late. His body went limp. You stayed by his side the rest of the night, staring at his peaceful expression, aside from all the grime.

The world was cruel, you had already known that. Way before the apocalypse. But this was a new level of cruel. One that one person couldn't come back from on their own.

The groaning continued, following the sound of your voice. The old body of Sammy growled and groaned, clawing at the door as you laid in the arms of the man you felt comfort in in other ways most nights.

Daryl moved back, holding you at arms length. "Gotta take care of it. Sit down." He helped you sit and lean against the steps.

He was quick with it. Almost as soon as he opened the door and walked in, he was walking out.

"Yer alright." He knew you wouldn't be the same again. You probably wouldn't laugh or make fun of him for a while. Hell, you might even quite working in the infirmary. He wouldn't blame you.

You had dealt with plenty of deaths before. There's just some you can't come back from.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[kozumesphone]

˗ˏˋ daughters of war ˎˊ˗

ch i. brown eyed girl

⟡ c. la rue x reader

d.o.w. nav | →

𝜗𝜚 wc . . . 1k

𝜗𝜚 a/n . . .

ahh i’m so excited for this! it’s my first multi-chapter fic + my first wlw fic too (the only one i’ve done before is the piper x fem!reader smau) <3 a huge shoutout to mori for coming up with an idea about how I could write the opening scene (: I don’t want to ramble lmao, so happy reading! this is a relatively short opening chapter, but there’s more to come (; ps. cliffhanger. find it under the cut <3

𝜗𝜚 warnings . . .

swearing like three times overall?, mentions of blood (bloody nose), nothing much else

𝜗𝜚 taglist . . .

@nuncscioquidsitamor-13 @seastargrl @nqds @kt88 @percabethlvr

@maybxlle @over-the-oceancall @mqstermindswift @metyouattherighttime @gabby-duhh

@death-in-love

“my brown-eyed girl; you, my brown-eyed girl . . .”

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“have you ever dreamt about the stars?”

“in what sense?”

“in the sense that embodies the cosmic loneliness they feel, being far away from another. and, in the sense that they burn so bright, they don’t appear so.”

“well no, never.”

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

clarisse’s pov . . .

“let’s have a show of hands, guys!” the boy grinned. “who here wants to let this kid go, even before we get to the fun parts?”

his friends chortled like pigs, and kept their hands down, smirking at the young boy being cornered by them. I wasn’t too amused by their actions, but since they weren’t my siblings, I didn’t have any direct control over them unless they physically laid a hand on the kid.

“weren’t you ever taught that you shouldn’t pick on someone half your size, you wanker?” a voice rang out, loud. I sighed.

some girl was getting herself into trouble, and I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved in petty fights between pesky campers.

so, clicking my tongue lightly, my eyes drifted back to the book resting on my lap. I picked it up and continued reading.

“oh, help! i’m so scared, come pick me up, mommy!” one of the boys mocked.

smack!

“you should be.”

I looked up to see the oldest boy’s bloody nose. a smile threatened to take over my face.

either he didn’t know how to take a punch, or the girl packed a really good one. I really hoped it was the second one, so I could procure a competent camper to join my team for capture the flag tomorrow.

my gaze wandered to meet her brown eyes, sunlight striking them at an angle that made them look hauntingly beautiful.

the corners of her mouth slightly twisted up, in a smirk, or a grin, I couldn’t tell, and her head tilted just a bit to the side. her glasses were a bit askew, from the force of swinging her arm with strength rivalling my own, probably.

her piercing eyes narrowed onto my own.

and, oh boy, did that have an effect on me.

y/n’s pov . . .

do I regret hitting the guy without properly covering my knuckles first? probably.

do I feel bad for hearing a small ‘crack’ from the guy’s nose? absolutely not, actually.

just because he was an exchange camper from camp jupiter, and was jupiter’s son, he couldn’t just get away with treating others like shit.

I mean, jason is his technically-brother, but he turned out kind, didn’t he?

speaking of jason, I realised I had forgotten to pick up both of our extra pairs of glasses from a mortal shop for our next quest.

I turned around, looking for something to wipe my slightly-bloody hand on, when I met someone else’s eyes.

dark eyes. gorgeous eyes. making-me-weak-in-my-knees eyes.

my eyes trailed over her face, realising it was clarisse. clarisse was the name I was warned about; the vicious daughter of ares, apparently.

she didn’t look all that vicious as she held a cheesy romance novel in her hands.

whichever her expression was—of awe? disgust? admiration? annoyance?—she quickly masked it to a neutral one.

“that’s a nice book you’re reading,” I said, walking closer.

her neck turned red as blood rushed up till her ears. she shut the book with a snap! and I reached around her, to grab the towel hanging on the back of her chair.

“see you later, rue,” I whispered in her ear, grinning when she shivered.

“I want my towel back! and, it’s la rue to you!” she shouted, as I walked away.

“rue.”

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I informed chiron of my ride into the city to get my glasses and jason’s. he asked my sister, annabeth, to go with me.

and everyone knows that where my sister goes, her boyfriend does too (which is really cute, but I would never admit that to them, obviously.).

percy trailed behind annie and I as we stopped at a grocery store first, to get some snacks, while we talked about malcolm’s latest project for a camp competition.

“I need some chocolates,” percy said, randomly.

he added some blue syrup to the shopping cart, and I stacked up on some snacks. annie bought a swiss knife and a few coffee-flavoured chocolates.

“are those for-”

“grover? yeah,” annie replied, smiling.

“how come he’s spoiled with all these treats when he gets back from his quests, but i’m not?” percy pretended to frown. annie gave him a peck.

I laughed at him, and we paid for our stuff with chiron’s money, and loaded it all into the back of the car.

“everyone have their seatbelts on?” I asked before starting the car to drive to the glasses shop. after they hummed in response, I started the car.

“should you even be driving? I mean, is it safe? aren’t you too short for that?” percy smirked at me through the mirror.

“if you know what’s good for you, you won’t talk shit to the person who’s driving the car you’re sitting in, smartass,” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at him.

I drove on the side roads to get to the store faster, wanting to get back to camp before night began.

the radio station was playing a japanese rock song that I remember thalia teaching me once.

‘haa? ussee ussee ussee wa!¹

anata ga omou yori kenkou desu!²

issai gassai bonyou na!³

anata ja wakaranai kamo ne!’⁴

it started drizzling, and so, smiling to myself, I pulled up to the parking in front of the glasses store.

“i’ll be right back guys, it’ll be just a few minutes,” I said, undoing my seatbelt.

“okay, just-”

“THE TRUCK-”

“WHAT THE F-”

crash!

¹— ‘huh? shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!’

²— ‘i’m healthier than you think!’

³— ‘you are too ordinary,’

⁴— ‘to understand me, perhaps!’

⤷ song: うっせぇわ (usseewa) by ado

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[sankatsuka]

Gintoki Sakata Discussion: Takasugi's Influence on Gintoki - What it Means to Truly Protect Your Soul

This is DEFINITELY overthinking it and stretching it beyond canon, but nevertheless I wanted to share my recent thoughts... Spoilers for the entire story, of course. Also, warning for Takagin/Gintaka.

Edit 22/2/2024 (marked with *): Small section added for more evidence on how Gintoki was never a naturally straightforward person.

Maybe it was Takasugi who ironically inspired Gintoki to be who he is today: the man who never gives up, even if he's beaten down and everything seems hopeless - he will stand back up and protect everyone and everything around him. Just like how Takasugi senselessly was as a dojo challenger.

When Gintoki was younger, he was never like this. He was just fighting for his survival. When Gintoki first meets Shouyou, Shouyou points out how Gintoki was just wielding the sword to protect himself in a harsh, bloody environment.

This is why Gintoki doesn't give up when sparring Shouyou. He needs to be as strong as possible to keep protecting himself. Gintoki brings up how he has never lost to an adult - as if he wants to beat Shouyou simply so he can never lose ever again (so he wouldn't end up dying).

And then, Shouyou mentions how monsters are something born from a bloodstained karma. Gintoki is naturally drawn to bloodshed and death, because losing meant death in the environment he used to grow up in. So he needs to be strong and be capable of killing others so he can survive in such a place. You can just see it in the fear in Gintoki as a child standing on a pile of corpses.

(It's probably why Gintoki carries his sword around with him everywhere as a child, too. So he feels safe at all times.)

This all goes to show how Gintoki would have never had anything he would want to fight for as a child. He would just fight to be with Shouyou who was the only one he could trust or to protect himself. That's why this personality to want to protect everything within his sword's reach was definitely never innate.

Then comes Takasugi, whose Gintoki's first impression of is an irrational kid who would challenge a poor temple school with no actual reason other than wanting to win. You can see how Gintoki is clearly confused by him.

And even after losing many times, he just wouldn't give up on coming back. Gintoki even tells him to give up - he had no reason to keep getting hurt and beat up like that. It wasn't like he had to fight for his survival like Gintoki, he was clearly a privileged kid.

It is only when Takasugi wins and laughs that Gintoki no longer expresses this confusion and disagreement with Takasugi's actions. It's shown in how Gintoki suddenly tells Takasugi to come back, when Gintoki had initially told him to give up.

As if Takasugi's and everyone's smile and laughter after all that ridiculous irrationality made Gintoki realize something that made him change his mind.

Gintoki had a glimpse of Takasugi's way of living - to fight to the very end and keep getting back up for what you want, even if it was silly and stupid. In the end, you'll be rewarded with your own laughter and the people around you laughing along to your sincere, honest spirit.

It was a pointless, dumb way of living, but everyone was still laughing like that and happy. So maybe there was actually some worth in living dumbly and straightforwardly like that.

This may even be why Takasugi's laughter always stuck with Gintoki, even as he cut him down. Because it defined his life - that you should live by facing the present - just as much as Shouyou's words to use a sword to protect your soul stuck to him.

It was Shouyou who first taught Gintoki that what you truly want to do couldn't be the desperate instincts driving you, but rather something deeper down that should feel genuine - the soul. Then it was Takasugi who came along who seemed to demonstrate what living as your soul really was like - to do what you felt like doing in the moment, no matter what the people around you would say.

Even Shouyou encouraging Takasugi's pursuit suggests how this was Gintoki's lifelong answer. And only Takasugi could have demonstrated it best for Gintoki to imitate (instead of imitating Shouyou, as Shouyou had warned him against).

It truly feels like Takasugi is the humanity Shoka Sonjuku cultivated (Katsura did already know what he wanted, after all).

Takasugi's straightforwardness could have inspired Gintoki to tap into his own dull feelings deep down that he carries as he lives his everyday life. If those simple feelings for Takasugi were to grow stronger, then could there be such a thing for Gintoki too? Instead of being drawn to the joy of beating someone stronger than him, Gintoki could realize he seems more inclined to just living for some reason--

Even with no ambitions, he was still fine with just sitting around doing nothing. No matter how mundane, monotous and boring his everyday was without the excitement of a dream, Gintoki was still living for some reason. Maybe his joy in life was right there then--

--It was people. We see throughout the story that Gintoki is solely motivated to fight for the people around him.

Gintoki's actions have always, always been motivated by a desire to protect the people around him. He loves them: simply seeing them laugh when they want, cry when they want and fight to live as their truest selves. So isn't it fine for him to just want to fight for something as simple as that? Just like how Takasugi only fought for the petty reason of growing stronger.

This could be why Gintoki can now confidently say that he just loves the world as it is, even despite all the tragedies that's happened in it that made him suffer.

Not only did Takasugi potentially inspire Gintoki's present way of life, but Takasugi may even be the embodiment of what Gintoki found himself loving most about the world - that imperfect humanity of simply living, chasing what you want, getting lost, failing and suffering, but celebrating those small victories when you finally get there and laughing with everyone. This soul is what Gintoki always wants to protect within Edo, too.

After all, the mundane moments they shared in Shoka Sonjuku and Takasugi's laughter are the only things running in Gintoki's head as he resolves himself to cut Utsuro-Takasugi down. Gintoki truly loved them all.

If this wasn't the case, Gintoki would have never told Takasugi to come back. If Gintoki's motivations was never just the joy of seeing people be themselves, he would have set out and pursued whatever his soul wanted from being inspired by Takasugi's straightforwardness. He wanted to see Takasugi again, because he wanted to see that sincere, straightforward soul once again.

It could be why Gintoki is the one who disagrees with the way Takasugi does things in the present more than anyone.

If it was Takasugi who taught him that happiness of being sincere and straightforward with chasing what you wanted, and given that same spirit was exactly what Gintoki realized he loved most and wanted to protect - Gintoki would fight with all his heart for Takasugi to be that person Gintoki loved again.

It's also a nice touch that Gintoki says "I, the you who is me" when declaring he would never give up to Takasugi, as if implying how Gintoki took that lesson of straightforwardly never giving up from Takasugi himself.

Just as much as Gintoki's acceptance of Takasugi helped him, Takasugi's straightforward passion helped Gintoki just as equally.

*More evidence that Gintoki was never the person he is now is what he chooses to do after the war. Unlike Katsura and Takasugi who went off to pursue their goals, Gintoki's first instinct was to wander around and detach himself from people out of fear of losing people again. Gintoki seems to be more naturally a coward, and only when he lets people in does he find the courage to once again embrace the straightforwardness that Takasugi demonstrated.

After the events of the story that help Takasugi come to terms with himself, Takasugi's straightforwardness is later emphasized as his strong point that resonates with people. It wouldn't be a surprise then if he was the natural source of this straightforwardness in Gintoki, especially when the latter has always been defined as an empty person.

Takasugi and Gintoki are opposites who complete each other, to the point that even outsiders who only briefly meet them together no longer cared about how one of them was a terrorist. One way of seeing it is Takasugi represents the strong, unrelenting humanity that Gintoki realized he loved and wanted to live for, and Gintoki represents the impossibly white soul that the outcast Takasugi found as a place to belong to.

It was important for them to find each other: for Gintoki to realize he wasn't empty and was always capable of emotions, and for Takasugi to realize he wasn't wrong for who he was which the world made him feel.

It's why their life-defining events most often involve the other: Takasugi's laughter was a pivotal point in Gintoki's life where he finally grasped a real reason to fight in his empty everyday, while Gintoki's tears was a pivotal point in Takasugi's life which forced Takasugi to face his biggest enemy: himself.

Ironically enough, their ways of living now could even be said to be a a reflection of their love for each other: Gintoki facing the present because he loved that part of Takasugi and wants to be in the present with him, and Takasugi facing the past to feel closer to Gintoki who is obviously incomplete without the emotions of his past.

Naturally, there is no present without the past, and it feels like Takasugi decided to live in the past to represent it for Gintoki (but probably more because he's too scared to face the present because of his self-hatred and blame, but to be fair Gintoki is afraid of facing the past too even though he should). It's why I liked that the story ended strongly with Takasugi's death, because its impact really conveyed how there was someone who was always chasing Gintoki's entirety - he definitely had a place in someone's heart. He would still be loved no matter what, even if he always felt he was a monster different from others for how he grew up and thus would never properly have a place to belong.

You can see I really, really love Takasugi... From inference and parallels alone, Takasugi has always demonstrated so much importance to the narrative, but it's never laid out beyond how he's the one who lost himself and now has to redeem himself.

Gintama feels like a story about the two of them, not just Gintoki. Especially if Takasugi was the one who originated Gintoki's straightforward way of living, and given how Takasugi seems to literally be the human sword Shouyou prophecized to cut down Utsuro in the end.

It's really because Gintoki avoids thinking about the past and Takasugi hates himself for his emotions that we have to infer how much these two affected each other... But I do enjoy things not being shoved in my face, the avoidance really makes it a lot more emotional.

[tinytinyblogs]

Hii!!!

I saw that your requests are open and I wanted to request something with yandere skz?

I really love your Chan and Minho one's!!

Feel free to ignore this if you want!!

Tutoring Session

Your gentle tutor appears to be growing increasingly agitated, signaling that there's more to be taught.

(Yandere theme) 1,1k words

A narrative drawn from inspiration found on Pinterest

Stray kids masterlist

💬Hey there, apologies for the delay. I've been having an incredibly exhausting month, and it's not quite over yet. However, I wanted to express my gratitude for your request. It's been a while since I've written, and you've given me a reason to start again. I'm aware it's not perfect, especially considering my current mental state, but I'm doing my best. I hope it meets your expectations.

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

The pen hitting the table echoed in a tense silence, stirring unease without clear cause... or perhaps there was. The idea of you being admired by many, with one confession and one secret admirer, left him contemplating: how many more should he weed out? Glancing at his watch, he counted each passing second, eagerly awaiting your arrival for the tutoring session. Once he catches sight of you, once he senses your presence, he swears he wants to keep you all to himself. He admits he's a bit crazy, but if it means having you, he's willing to do whatever it takes. He's always doing that, and don't forget how he made that guy scream in pain when he tried to flirt with you. During the tutoring session, his mind isn't on the lessons; instead, he's consumed with thoughts of how to make sure you stay with him.

He doesn't even entertain the idea of letting you go home afterward. He's meticulously watching your every move, knowing that every tiny detail drives him even crazier. If he releases you now, he'd consider it a loss in this game, wouldn't he? On your end, you might be oblivious to his schemes or perhaps you're in denial due to his innocent façade. As you pause, setting your pen down and sliding the paper over, he eagerly takes it, pretending to make corrections when he's really not. With his gaze fixed on the paper, he noticed your phone lighting up with text notifications from another guy. Jealousy gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling. As he set the paper down and glanced at your distracted attention on the phone, he observed you for a few moments until you finally noticed. "Finished? Am I doing it right?" you asked, and he simply nodded in response.

As you gather your things, starting to feel a slight panic over him, Felix blocks your attempt to reach for your phone. His hand intercepts it, sliding it out of your reach. "It's not over yet," he asserts in his deep voice. "We could have completed learning those topics from the book, but there's still another matter we must attend to." You gaze at him with an apprehensive expression, noticing a certain aura of danger emanating from him, though you can't quite put your finger on it. "The thing is," he begins, pausing before continuing, "you and those around you seem too close." His eyes now fixate on yours, his demeanor shifting from the sweet tutor you once knew. "And I detest the notion that others believe they can lay claim to you... They could never even fathom such a thing. Why? Because you belong to me, whether you realize it or not."

Slowly withdraw your hand from your phone, feeling a creeping sense of unease. His presence looms larger, his demeanor more intimidating as he leans in closer, causing you to instinctively retreat, your back pressing against the couch, a memory of feeling trapped flickering through your mind. In his deep, resonant voice, he declared, "I could lose everything, but never you." His words, once admired, now sent shivers down your spine. "Oh God, not you," he continued he raises his voice, unleashing all the emotions he feels, causing you to flinch., his gaze piercing into your soul. "I won't allow you to slip away from my life, never." As he drew closer, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Is it time to push away and flee? He seemed far more menacing than you had ever imagined. Your hand continues to push him away, trembling with fear as panic surges through you.

His grip tightens harshly around your hand, overpowering your feeble attempts to break free. His eyes blaze with anger, as if seeing nothing but red. The fear of losing you completely consumes him, evident in every tense muscle of his body. "Do you even realize the lengths I've gone to just to have you here, under my arm?" His intense gaze pierces into your soul, rendering you unable to look away, trapped by his commanding presence. His firm hand confines you to the couch, while his deep voice resonates throughout the room. "I've done everything, absolutely everything for you." His voice grows increasingly fervent. "I've removed obstacles, shadowed your every move, earned your trust until you relied on me for even the most trivial matters, all for a sliver of your attention." After a moment, he exhales sharply, his breath gradually returning to a more steady rhythm, a hint of calm seeping into his demeanor.

Yet, he remains rooted in place, unwilling to retreat. "If you believe you can simply walk away to another man, think again," he asserts, his voice carrying a weight of warning. Pausing briefly, his hand glides to your cheek, tenderly stroking it, offering a semblance of affection that, instead of melting you, sends shivers down your spine. "You belong to me, and me alone," he declares adamantly. He refuses to entertain any alternative, steadfast in his conviction that you are destined solely for him. It's a truth he's ingrained in his mind, and he implores you to understand and accept it as well. His smile, once so angelic, now fails to evoke the same warmth it once did. Instead, it sends a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the unsettling truth beneath the façade. His loving gaze, once cherished, now fills you with a sense of dread, a realization of his true, unsettling nature.

"Did I startle you, my love?" he inquires with a voice dripping with sweetness, a stark contrast to the darkness lurking within. "Forgive me, but perhaps it's for the best that you see me for who I truly am," he continues, planting a kiss gently upon your forehead. "Because this is the reality you'll be facing for the rest of your days – your devoted tutor, boyfriend, or whatever role you choose to assign me." From today until who knows when, you find yourself uncertain about how long you'll remain under his control, consumed by his obsession. "The tutoring session isn't over yet, my darling," he remarks, forcefully moving your phone out of your reach, almost as if discarding it. "There's still so much more for me to teach you." His gaze returns to you, his favored individual in this world. "I'm going to educate you further on what it means to belong to me. Pay close attention, because in my world, there's no room for forgetting. Not when it comes to me," he asserts, his words cutting deep into your heart. "I won't allow you to forget a single thing about me, your beloved." He wore a smirk.

[jgroffdaily]

Interview by Jake Nevis, photos by Jenny Anderson - excerpts:

For Groff in particular, who’s earned a Tony Award nomination for his swaggering turn as the prodigious composer Franklin Shepard, the experience of starring in Merrily We Roll Along is provoking a tender sort of reappraisal of the wide-eyed, closeted 20-something who arrived on Broadway two decades ago in Spring Awakening, tending his own dreams. “There’s so many powerful parallels and I’m feeling the opportunity to release a lot of the tension I was holding at that time,” he told me earlier this month over coffee in Greenwich Village (just before showing face at a Tony’s luncheon). “This character feels like an exorcism of the lightest and darkest parts of myself.” With easy candor—and a charm not dissimilar to the kind he demonstrates in the role—Groff opened up about learning to live without shame and what Looking, the polarizing HBO series he starred in from 2014 to 2016, taught him about show business.

JAKE NEVINS: Hey, Jonathan. Congrats on your Tony nomination.

JONATHON GROFF: Thank you so much.

NEVINS: That’s exciting. How do you feel?

GROFF: Oh my god, I feel super emotional. I’ve been crying a lot these days. Last time I was nominated was during Hamilton, which was like seven or eight years ago. And I wasn’t in the show when the nominations happened. I had left to do a TV show. So this is the first time since Spring Awakening that I’ve experienced the intensity of awards season on Broadway while being in the show. I’m having a lot of flashbacks to being 22 years old.

NEVINS: What were your first encounters with Merrily in particular?

GROFF: Gideon Glick, who was in Spring Awakening with me, sent a text to the Spring Awakening text chain saying, “This documentary came out called The Best Worst Thing That Ever Could Have Happened. And it’s devastating and beautiful, and it reminded me so much of us. You all have to go see it.” So I watched the documentary about Merrily that Lonny Price made and was blown away by it. At the Hollywood Bowl, I had done Sondheim on Sondheim, where I sang the role of Frank in “Opening Doors” and Jesse Tyler Ferguson did “Franklin Shepard, Inc.,” so I knew the songs from there. Funny enough, we had just finished our Spring Awakening reunion concert, which was in the fall of 2021, and we were making a documentary about the concert and about the show. The Merrily doc was a big inspiration for that because of how they went back and forth and showed them as kids and showed them as adults. And then in January 2022, me and Jim Carnahan, who cast me in Spring Awakening 16 years before, were in a film club during COVID. After we saw 8½ at the Film Forum in January 2022, he said to me, “We’re going to come to you with an offer for Frank in Merrily We Roll Along. Do you know the show?” And I was like, “I know pieces of it, but I don’t know the show.” Maria’s production in London was on YouTube, so I watched it and I died for it. I just thought it was fucking genius, never having seen it and obviously knowing from the documentary that the show was originally a flop. So it took six months between January and June 2022 for us to figure out the dates. Dan [Radcliffe] was already attached to play Charley, and then Lindsay [Mendez] came on, and then we were off and running.

[Jonathan on reactions to Looking] And I was like, “Whoa.” That was when I started to learn the art of walking with an open heart and also protecting myself.

NEVINS: What does that look like?

GROFF: It’s like, having empathy and respect for the haters and honoring them and understanding that that opinion can exist and I can still be in my lane and express myself. Just because someone says it’s terrible doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth making.

NEVINS: Well, I’ll leave you with this. What’s the status of your inner voice? By all accounts, you’re living your dream, but I don’t want to draw any conclusions.

GROFF: This feels like it’s been a rebirth, a bit of a renaissance, and a release. It’s like I’m re-experiencing what I experienced when I was 22 with Spring Awakening, but now as a flashback, which is what Merrily is about. I moved to New York in 2004, 20 years ago. This show takes place over the course of 20 years. It’s about three friends. Spring Awakening was about these three characters. There’s so many powerful parallels and I’m feeling the opportunity to release a lot of the tension I was holding at that time. It feels like this opportunity to tap back into that 20-year-old I was and release all of the baggage from that time. I’m feeling more like myself than I ever have. This character feels like an exorcism of the lightest and darkest parts of myself.

NEVINS: An exorcism that ends with a Tony, hopefully

GROFF: Oh my god.

[hiiragi7]

Gender Thoughts

I'm transfem.

I've been having so many realizations about my gender identity lately, including the realization that I'm transfem, which is also coming with... a lot of complicated emotions.

Sadness. Sadness over the amount of times any sense of gender identity I had started to develop was destroyed by others growing up, over how many times it was ripped apart and I started over. Sadness over how much was denied to me that I'm only now starting to piece together as an adult. Sadness over how I've never really fully known this aspect of myself, even if it's always been there, sitting by me like a ghost.

Anger, a lot of it. Anger over how I'd been taught to abandon myself over and over again to make others comfortable. Anger over how afraid I was as a kid to express even the slightest bit of femininity and the constant pressure to conform to masculinity. Anger over how I had to fight for every inch of gender exploration. Anger for how much I've been sexualized by others. Anger about how, even now, I feel the need to make my gender identity smaller and more easily digestible to everyone else.

Doubt, denial, anxiety. Worry that I'm doing something wrong, shame over wanting reassurance that I'm not. Feeling very vulnerable and exposed. Lots of thoughts about the labels that I use and how I present myself. Self-consciousness. Hesitancy and overthinking just about everything. Fear of being perceived as I really am after a lifetime of only ever showing parts of myself.

Excitement - Everything feels new and this is wonderful and terrifying. My entire sense of self is shifting. I'm experimenting with a lot of things I've never tried before and a lot of things I've only ever really known in passing. My body is changing in ways that are new to me, and I've also found love in the feminine aspects I used to hate about it. I'm learning to trust myself on this whole gender thing. I've known about my transness for years, but always struggled with putting words to it - nothing ever felt "right". This feels different, somehow. More whole. It feels different now that I've taken some space to work through all of my experiences, the trauma that comes with that, how I experience myself, what it all means to me. There's more work ahead to be done, and this excites me.

An uneasy sense of peace that's still taking time to settle. Comfort. So many of my close friends and my partner have been incredibly supportive. I've even found a nice transfem community to belong to, and I feel very safe and welcomed, it feels good to be myself with others like me. Everything feels like it's clicking into place, and there's a massive sense of relief that comes with it. I feel like I can finally breathe.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm transfem before, even years ago, but I could never really sit with it for long and tried to forget it. My understanding of my gender back then felt really shallow and empty. This time, I know I'm ready for it, even if the journey there is rough and complicated and I still have a lot more to go.

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Do you have any headcanons for Nanny fic Gabi? Or scenarios? :3c

-Gedankenmoon ⭐️

hello CEO of papa miguel :3c

Gabriella Headcanons in Nanny

Gabriella is very vocal around her friends. She's loud and sometimes accidentally interrupts her friends when they're in the middle of saying something, but she gets too excited she can't help herself. She likes talking about her interests and can ramble on for hours

When she's older, her interest space out. So instead of just princesses and soccer, it turns to: kpop, sanrio, warrior cats, kirby, monster high, and possibly wants to do another sport but she loves soccer too much

Loves the color purple. Absolutely adores it. (I love the color purple too it's literally the best color ever). I've pictured her quince and her dress is a large, flowing purple dress with rhinestones (like my quince dress was teehee)

Gabriella is very attached to reader. After finding out about their relationship, she feels like its okay to view her officially as a mom. She snuggles her more, holds her hand, follows her around-basically the same thing she's always done but with more confidence ahaha

She doesn't plan on getting another lizard after Butterscotch. She doesn't mind getting a cat or dog, but never a lizard. Butterscotch will probably die around like 20 (maybe longer since Butterscotch isn't a normal lizard), and Gabriella will have her cremated. Getting another lizard would feel like replacing the pet that she basically grew up with and she refuses to do that.

Her dream job is to become a princess warrior, but she'll eventually find the passion of animals (more exotic animals) and become a veterinarian. She'll probably specialize in reptiles or even work at a zoo. Either a veterinarian or a dog trainer or anything relating to animals.

Gabriella is very passionate about her interests or the people she cares about. She likes to go on and on about, say for example, Twice. Her favorite members, whose photo cards she collects the most, etc. For the people she loves, she enjoys spending time with them and either buying them presents (when she's older and has a job. just because miguel is rich doesn't mean he'll keep handing everything to gabi) or making handmade gifts straight from the heart

Reader influenced her a lot. She looks up to her so much. Her kindness, how she takes the time to explain things to her, how she allows her to be upset and express herself. She helps her learn a lot of things about life, like how to handle certain situations at school or to listen to her body about food. Reader allows Gabriella to think for herself so she can be more independent (parenting the same way as Miguel)

Gabriella might be spoiled, but she's taught to be independent and how to speak for herself. If she wants something, she may ask but can get things for herself (she can ask for help if she can't do it). She helps learn how to cook, do her own laundry, etc. Basic life skills. When she's older and wanting expensive things (like an ipad) she does have to work for it. So she does chores, focuses on keeping her grades up, and understands that there's rules in owning an ipad (miguel and reader don't want her to become an ipad kid or leave her unsupervised to things that could potentially harm her, so parental controls are put in place and such)

Dana might've hurt her emotionally, but Reader is the one who eventually heals her. She filled the absence and more. Gabriella sees her more as a mom than Dana. She trusts her and follows her advice. Reader basically shapes her into the person she'll grow up to be.

Gabriella gets attached very easily, which means she can get hurt very easily. Her therapist managed to figure this out and helped her on her attachment issues.

Gabriella overall is a sweet kid with a big heart. She's loved and cared for and she has a bright future ahead of her.

[skyartworkzzz]

Because you said you love rambeling about lore and you are looking for excuses to talk about it redeem this cupon for one free lore ramble, any topic

OH YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT U JUST DONE

SIT BACK AND RELAX CUZ THE GOATS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN IN MY MIND THE WHOLE WEEK + SOME HEKET RAMBLING Cuz I got her a partner idea hehehe <3

LONG RAMBLING UNDER THE CUT!!! (btw bless chu I appreciate u <3 )

ABOUT CULT OF THE GOAT AU:

About the Purple Crown: Ive been seeing a lot of interpretations of Goat's Crown going around and honestly Id like to put in my cents: I dont think the Crown being purple changes who the owner was, because the eye shape is still the same as Lamb's Which brings me to think that, just like how in COTL everything seems to be colored after warmer/reddish colors, everything in Goat's universe must be following cooler/purpleish palettes What does that mean to me? That ALL the other Crowns are of different colors as well, maybe a colder one compared to their original ones

Im still thinking about what each of them would be here but so far I like to think that Yellow -> Ocean green?? Green -> Blue Blue -> dark pink? Purple -> Cyan/White

I think the Crown shapes would still be the same + what each Bishop's domain would be as well

About Aym and Baal: They were never offered to Narinder. Shamura didnt have that compassion. They were so mad at their brother that they couldnt bring themselves to consider his feelings for being banished. Neither did any of the other siblings, for they wouldve been too busy fighting off Old Gods and hunting for empowerment

So where are Aym and Baal? Theyre alive! With Forneus! And both of them are lil jerks as much as their mother Taught to steal, lie and fight, all in order to survive no matter what. The twins have already expressed wanting to go out and explore the world, but Forneus refuses to let her kids go, much for her own selfish reasons of them being the only things that make her happy in this fcked up world AND because, of course, she loves them. She knows how cruel the world has turned into, she does not want to lose them Aym and Baal never met Narinder, and Narinder never met them Maybe eventually, while Goat is out in a crusade, they shall cross paths........as enemies

About the Purgatory: This is still smtng I am speculating about, but what I have so far: instead of it being MS to tell the Goat to free the Bishops from their deserved-suffering, itd be them asking the deity if such thing was possible, because Narinder wouldve been feeling bad about it He believes that his siblings could change over time, especially now that the Crowns were relinquished by the Goats power, and so they are allowed to have that chance This would unlock many scenarios of the Bishops actively trying to take over the cult, run away or kill the Goat + their followers. It is smtng Ill let cook for a while more

IF ANYTHING Id just- leave them dead lol they wouldnt be redeemable in this world (BUT BECAUSE I LOVE MY SKRUNKLIES EQUALLY ILL TRY TO MAKE IT WORK-)

ABOUT HEKET: Ehehehe I accidentally started shipping her with my follower OC Astrid so we'll see how it goes

Astrid is someone who keeps to herself for the sake of others; she is not used to opening up and oftentimes believes her pain is not worth of complains compared to others she is caring for However, she is very much talkative, maybe as a way to make her forget her problems Whilst Heket she- well. She cant. Talk much it hurts like hell UASHDNJASMDK

SO WE HAVE A TALKATIVE BUBBLY GF WITh her mostly quiet butch wife that shes constantly having to change the bandages of <3

I have a dialogue set up for them which I shall get to drawing a comic for as soon as I am done with thIS CURRENT COMIC-

ANYWAYS thats the ramblings for now, HOPE YALL LIKE THE IDEAS bless u again for givng me a free pass made me rlly happy MWEHE,,!! 💜💜💜