#i need to stop being so selfish and listen to others instead of doing whatever this is.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

seriously considering telling my therapist the One Thing i have only ever told one person in my life ever. but it doesn't feel real because nobody's actually worried and also it hasn't affected me physically or mentally in a somewhat debilitating way yet so. {:

[starkeynation]

I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God…i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

[gaysindistress]

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man? - part two

a/n: I know John isn’t American but I kept picturing him as Joe from SIX and honety Gibs from NCIS and I couldn’t stop myself. I sincerely apologize that this John is American-grumpy-hot-military-older man coded (not really). Also I know it took a month and I’m so sorry 🙈 I got so busy at work but it’s here! Enjoy!!

Warnings: smutty smut smut, phone sex

non-mcu masterlist

part one

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @calicocat45 @whos-fran @vonev @yyiikes

The situation at hand is tricky to say the least. Waiting around and trying to be careful of everyone’s feelings will push you away. On the other hand, he’s wanted to show you the love that you deserve and now is his chance.

Fuck Simon.

Fuck him for treating you like a safety net and like you’re replaceable. Fuck him for letting you shoulder the burden of your relationship and expecting you to always be at his beck and call. Fuck him for lying to you instead of having the balls to just be honest about why he wanted to break up. Fuck Simon Riley for saying that you could find a better man and expecting you to not listen to him for once.

“I want a lot of things,” he starts and takes a moment to choose his words, “I might be a gentleman but I’m a selfish man. I won’t take what’s not offered but you’d be hell bent to find me sharing my life with others. If you say that it’s over and mean it, well then love, I’ll be the most selfish man you’ve ever met when it comes to you. Im not some young lad anymore; I’m settled in my life and now that things are stable I want someone to share it with. I’ll follow your lead when it comes to how we share it but just know that I don’t want something casual or even friendship.”

You’re still resting your chin on his shoulder, listening to his every word as hope begins to fill your eyes. It’s the last sentence he whispers as he gazes down at you that causes your breath to hitch;

“I’ll love you until my lungs give out.”

And this man Delivers. The capital d is not a typo. John Price understands that you’re an independent person and he respects that. That’s not to say that he doesn’t spoil the absolute shit out of you and ensures that you are happy in every facet of your life imaginable.

The dogs are being wild today and overwhelming you? As soon as he gets home, he’s taking them out on a walk and giving you instructions to go have yourself a nice hot bath. Dinner is already taken care of so no need to worry about that. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the quiet.

He’s been on deployment for a couple weeks and the loneliness is starting to creep in? You will be getting at least two check in texts a day and a call or FaceTime if he can before you go to bed. You should also expect some sort of care package to be on your doorstep weekly. This could be anything from flowers to your whole ass Amazon cart, all you need to do is say you miss him and he’s got you covered.

Things have been a little tense between the two of you? Well get ready because you’re going to be doing a check in that night where the two of you talk about whatever is going on. If it’s something small like you’re both stressed from work and a weekend getaway is needed, he’s already got that planned. If it’s something that needs more work, he’s ready to dive right into it and figure it out.

Still true to his internal word, nothing physical happens between you two at first. He wanted desperately to kiss you when he told you he would love you until his last breath but he didn’t. Disgusted by the enormity of his craving for you, John vowed to wait until you asked for his physical affection. Of course this meant he wouldn’t give into any of your advances until you told what you wanted.

After that night, you began the long and arduous process of breaking down John’s resolve. While it may have been unspoken, you knew what he wanted but you weren’t going to give into him so quickly. It started with closing the distance between you two. Instead of sitting on opposite ends of the couch, you’d lay your feet in his lap or move just close enough to trail your fingers over the back of his hand. Only would you move to sit beside him if he slung his thick arm over the couch’s back and beckoned you closer. Then you would take every opportunity possible to cuddle into his side and slyly skirt your hands across the waistband of his sweats when you wrapped your arms around him. If you were in the kitchen together, you were always just out of his grasp. His fingers could grasp at the back of your shirt but never fully grab you. You’d swiftly slip around him if he moved behind you but not before brushing your hands over him in some way.

Eventually you grew bolder and began to shower with the door propped open. You’d said it was so the dogs could still see you but John isn’t stupid. He knew that you wanted him to catch a glimpse of your body through the foggy glass doors. But here’s the thing; he’s not Simon. Simon would’ve joined you and fucked you on that glass door like your life depended on it but not a captain price.

No no no. John Price is going to make you say those three little words, ‘I want you’, before he touches you even if it means leaving on for a mission without so much as a chaste peck on the lips. No amount of sly looks and sneaky touches is going to convince this man to give into you.

He starts beating you at your own game though. his bedroom door is suddenly always cracked open making it so that you can hear every rumbling moan and gasp of your name when he fists his cock at night. You no longer feel the waistband of his underwear when you wrap your arms around his am waist during your cuddles. Instead your fingers find the thick trail of hair that disappears under his sweatpants. Speaking of which, John knows about grey sweat pants and he exploits that turn on every chance he gets. Soon it goes from just wearing them low on his hips to forgoing boxers (as mentioned above) and sometimes he even ‘forgets’ his shirt. The memory of his thick bare chest on display alone is enough to make you clench your legs together.

When he finally does have to leave for work, he presses a light kiss to your temple and tells you to be careful. It goes without saying but John makes your promise anyways. Eases his old heart as he likes to say. If only he would go easy on yours…

Nearly every photo, FaceTime, what have you, this man is bare chested with lidded eyes and a knowing smirk on his face. He knows that you’re frustrated with the way things have played out; namely his departure with no memorable moments. He’s already become an expert in you, knowing what your body langue means, what your blushes mean, and most importantly, what your words truly mean.

Probably about a month in to this mission is when it comes to a climax. Your hands were doing nothing to ease the ache between your legs and your toys were making it worse. It was as if your body knew that it was you instead John rubbing small circles into your clit late at night. You’d tried nearly everything you could think of aside from finding someone in a pub and telling the older captain about your dilemma. While you two weren’t anything more than roommates with feelings at this point, it still felt wrong to find someone else to help you out. With only one person that your body wanted and nothing you could do about it, you settled for being sexually frustrated and irritable.

John is finally able to get some alone time to call you and actually talk to you. Settled into some poor excuse for a cot, he makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to pick up. It makes maybe a few rings before your tight voice comes through with a short ‘hello?’

He wants to chuckle and fails to suppress it, “Well hello to you too, love.”

Immediately you sigh when you recognize his voice, “oh John it’s you. How are you?”

“Been better. What’s been going on with you?”

You let out another deep sigh, pausing to answer as you contemplate what to tell him.

“What is it, love? Something bothering you?”

“I…I’m just….im just irritable,” you attempt to pass off as the full truth but John knows you better than that.

“Irritable you say?”

You can hear him shuffle around on his end and it causes your legs to cross to even think about him. God it’s beyond annoying to be this turned on over just hearing him move around, let alone hear his voice right now.

“I’d say a relaxing day is in order,” he teases with a low pitched sultry tone, “find some relief in a massage maybe.”

Relief.

The word feels hot as it washes over your brain and invokes images that would make a nun curse under her breath.

You snort at his suggestion. In that small noise, he finds all the answers he needed; you’re about to break and murmur those three sweet words.

“No appeal to that, love?” He asks and you can just hear the smirk he’s wearing. “A massage isn’t the relief you’re looking for though is it? You need a different type of relief, isn’t that right love?”

That bastard.

You hear him shuffle again and you swear to god you hear the sound of a belt coming undone.

“Talk to me. Tell me how I can help.”

If you weren’t needy before, you must certainly are now. You feel pathetic, a bitch in heat with the way your body starts to react to his simple words. Practically mumbling you attempt to tell him to fuck off but it doesn’t sting as much as you’d hoped. John laughs off your feeble attempt at hiding the true reason you’re in a mood.

Instead of adding flame to fire, he stays quiet.

It takes 40 agonizing seconds of silence for you to groan his name out of frustration. The captain only hums his acknowledgment that you spoke.

Phone sex isn’t new to you by any means however there’s something about this time that causes you to falter. There’s something about the way he initiated it but is allowing you to lead where it goes. There’s something about the way he knew what you needed within seconds. There’s something about the way your body seems to know that it craves his without ever touching.

“Yes,” you mumble while your cheeks burn and your body sings at the thought of getting what it truly desires.

John chuckles under his breath and the sardonic sounds causes your eyes to squeeze shut.

“Be a good girl for me and slip your hand into your panties.”

Your hearing dulls to a muffled tone as your hand follows his instructions. Barely does your ears register the sound of skin on skin, a slick hand taunting an impossibly hard cock. Your name comes out as a groan when you tell him to continue.

“Fuuckkk, love. Tell me are ya wet?”

“S…soaked.” You sigh as you roll your clit with your fingertips.

He lets out a string of curses as his hips buck up into his hand and his cock throbs from his slow pace.

“I want you to keep rubbing your clit and fuck yourself with your fingers,” the captain orders you, “and dont try to hide any of those pretty sounds.”

You mumble a weak ‘okay’ as you work your clit in small circles, feeling yourself become even more wet.

Strings of curses fall from his lips as he listens to your desperate cries of pleasure. The sounds of his thrusts get louder and louder in time when you bury two fingers in and become to fuck yourself like he told you to. It feels better than all of your other attempts but it’s not enough.

Nothing will be enough until you can feel John’s cock deep inside of you. Until you can feel his hips rut against yours and his hoarse moans in your ear. Until you feel the burn that his facial hair will give you when he eats you out like a starved and neglected dog. Until you feel his warm speed leak from you after he’s worked you through several of your own orgasms.

The thoughts of what is to come push you over the edge and you moan out his name in an absolutely pornographic manner. It stirs something disgustingly powerful and sinful deep in his gut when he hears it. He can only imagine the beautiful display of pleasure and bliss that you’ve come as you lay panting post orgasm.

You can only imagine how stunning he looks with his sweats pulled down to his mid thigh, his bare chest rapidly rising and falling while his stomach is painted with his own cum.

“John?” You whisper after your breathing has returned to normal(ish). “When are you coming home?”

His lips turn up in a smirk at your word choice, “missing me more than you let on, now are ya love?”

“Yeah it’s lonely without you here. you can’t leave on another deployment like this without fucking me before.”

“I promise it won’t happen again, my love.”

[igotanidea]

Cracking: Damian Wayne x reader

part 5 of "Family rules" series.

He was going mad.

For a girl.

Nothing he ever thought would happen to someone like him.

A guy raised by assassins and Batman, who was used to putting his feelings at bay if even having any.

And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was impossible for someone as perceptive as Robin himself to miss her paleness and sadness. At least whenever he was near. 

And avoiding him at any cost.

And – as it usually happens – the teachers were completely oblivious to the situation and that was about to be the source of a hell of a problem for both Damian and Y/N.

“Pairs? What do you mean we’ll be working in pairs?!” she exclaimed at one history lesson upon hearing the great idea of their tutor.

“Is that such a horror for you, Y/N?” the teacher smiled through the glasses and in any other situation it would be almost benevolent but not this time.

“Yes!”

“Well I am afraid the class has already divided so you just have to comply.”

“But—”  she spun around and groaned both internally and externally upon realizing that her little outburst only left her one person to work with. “Fucking great…” she muttered noticing Damian swinging casually on his seat, not having a single care in the world.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

“I’m not working with him!”

“Getting scared, Y/L/N?” Damian smirked, knowing well how to use the opportunity. He’s been trying to talk to her for the last two weeks since that little beating in the hallway but she was surprisingly skilled in disappearing in thin air. And since he was also a teenage boy, mocking and teasing seemed the only way to reach his goal.

“Pff!” she scoffed, crossing arms over his chest. The need to prove herself superior to him was fighting with an iron resolve to forget his existence.

“Y/N, sit down now and do not make a scene. I do not understand what’s been happening to you lately.” The teacher instructed, clearly losing patience with one of the best students.

“Fine…” she muttered, plumping on the chair as far from Damian as possible, still grumpy, hardly even listening to the teacher’s instructions on the task.

“Fate definitely has a wicked sense of humor huh, Y/L/N?”

“Can you just shut up?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, no shit genius.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well I am asking so clearly I do.”

“You don’t really strike me as a caring type, Wayne.”

“Maybe not by your definition. Not my fault you are so conceited you mess up care and selfishness.” He mocked.

“What did you say?” Y/N hissed

Damian smirked. This was the exact reaction he was trying to get out of her.

“You call me selfish, you little prick?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You piece of shit. You look down on everybody because you are fucking Wayne and you dare reflect all your fucking traits onto me!?”

The girl didn’t even notice how her voice got louder and how she was suddenly standing instead of sitting and quietly working on the task. She missed the fact that she was making a scene for the whole class to see, once again dragging all the attention to herself. And once again the reason for her emotional outburst was Damian Wayne. Who she hated with all her heart. Who made her act like a fool and clearly – bring out the worst of the good girl she always considered herself to be.

“Who do you think you fucking are?!” Her self-control was now completely gone “You think you can just do whatever you fucking want and have zero consequences coming from it!?”

Thank god the phones were not allowed in classes cause at this moment she would definitely end up being a meme on social media.

“Y/N!” the teacher finally woke up from the shock that her transformation brought upon everyone. “Enough! Principal’s office. Now. In fact – “ he looked around, his gaze landing on Damian. “Both of you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. There is no basis for me to go –” Damian stated with the most cold voice he could produce.

“I don’t care!” the teacher seemed to finally lose his cool “you two are trouble and I’m not having either in my class. Now off you go. Out!” he pointed to the doors and with exchanged hateful glances Y/N and Damian decided to obey. Part of the reason was also the fact that they both knew they were in full capacity to drive the principal crazy just by showing up on the doorstep to his den.

***

“The hell is wrong with you?” he muttered as soon as they were out the door and on the empty hallway.

“Oh, me? You are the one who seems to be constantly looking for my attention.”

“And why do you think that is?” The sudden change in his tone took her by such a surprise she stopped and dared to do something that did not happen in a few weeks. She looked at him. More precisely, into his eyes. And in them, she saw something she did not like. At all.

Emotions.

Pain.

Confusion.

Embarrassment.

Affection!?

“Damian…” she gulped heavily trying to clear her head and calm her rapidly beating heart.

“You are annoying. Unnerving.” He hissed, his eyes fixed on hers “Messed up. I don’t understand you. You are a mystery I cannot crack. And it’s making me angry.”

If he was a normal person he would probably clench his fists right now.

“Then why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Stop yelling.” Damian grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest empty classroom so that no one would catch them causing disturbances in the hallway. “How come for years we didn’t care about each other and now we can’t seem to be within five feet distance without fighting?”

“Oh please!” she scoffed leaning on the door “Care? Have you been reading a dictionary and learning new words?”

“You are getting on my nerves here Y/L/N.” Damian took a step closer to her trying to look menacing and as much Robin-like as possible.

“Then let me ask you again – why don’t you fucking leave me alone!?”

“Because I can’t!”

There. The armor cracked and even though he barely said anything it felt awful. He exposed himself. Showed his weak points to the enemy.  Lost on his own wish.

For a moment his words seemed to echo from the empty walls of the classroom, the air filled with tension.

“You’re not even trying are you? Damian?” her voice was surprisingly quiet and soft, even to herself.

“No…” he confessed, unable to fight against those e/c eyes fixed on his face “no… no, I am not trying.”

“Damian…”

“Please…” now he was so low as to stoop to begging. And it was humiliating. Downgrading. Scary. “Please don’t run from me, Y/L/N. You are driving me mad.”

All it took was one more look. One more exchange of glances filled with mixed emotions.

And they were back to that gala night.

The classroom was gone, the school forgotten and all that mattered was holding her close, preventing her from running away and that strange, strange, unknown feeling in his chest.

Everything important in this moment came down to the feeling of his arms around her, hearing his heartbeat against her ear and calming the storm of the emotions neither of them understood.

For some reason, simply holding onto each other felt like a peace amongst the storm. Like a lighthouse guiding them to safe haven amongst the families feud and last-names competition.

“What are we gonna do-?” he was the one to cut the silence, the weight of questions pressing onto his shoulders making him speak before he could think about the consequences of his doubts.

“I don’t know-“ said implications took form of her pulling back from him “I don’t know Damian-“

“Don’t go-“ with the reflex of a vigilante Damian gripped her arm causing her to whimper in pain. “Y/l/n? You good? What happened?” The strength he used was definitely not enough to make her react like this.

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing!” she responded quickly trying to wriggle away. Too quickly. Quickly enough to make him suspicious and ignoring her protest to push him to roll her sleeve a little.

“What--?” the words died in his throat as he noticed the purple bruise on her forearm.

“It’s nothing!” she yanked free “you had no right!”

“I’m –” Damian stuttered. He messed up again.

“You’re a prick!”

“I’m sorry! But if we’re about to do- this-“ it was impossible to use the word concerning possible relationship or anything of sort – “you need to tell me. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, torn between a lot of mixed things. Could she tell him? Could she not tell him? Every move came with the consequences, almost like she was reduced to a figure on the chessboard, constantly moved by someone else. Without any power to control her own life.

But one thing was certain.

Some things and some feelings were worth protecting.

And that’s why she had only one way of surviving.

“I can’t.” she whispered with a sad, apologetic smile. “I can’t, Damian.” Without missing a beat she leaned forward, kissing him as if trying to sweeten the bitter words. Pulling everything she had into the brief contact of lips on lips, like a silent apology of putting him through the mess.

Before Damian realized what was happening he was kissing her back, pulling her close, caressing her back, in his own way trying to show her he was going to protect her. But what did he know? He was only 17 with zero power to shape reality. And when he felt her slip from his grasp and losing her warmth against him that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

But it didn’t mean he was going to give up.

Not now. Not ever. Not until she explicitly told him she didn’t want him.

***

 “How was school today?” her father asked her as soon as she stepped over the door to home. There was no denying Mr Y/L/N became very interested in his daughter's progress at school.

“It was normal.” Y/N couldn’t care less about his fake concern, trying to walk past him and get into her room.

“Ah! Not so fast, young lady. Did you do what I asked of you?”

“No.” The girl frowned, putting hands on her hips in a poor attempt at a power pose.

“No?”

“No!”

“Then I suppose we have to have the talk again, don’t we, little girl?”

She was in deep trouble that seemed to have no end….

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

BLADE NSFW ALPHABET

My first time writing NSFW alphabet, enjoy. + 18 content under cut. Who should I do next?

GENERAL MASTERLIST

Aftercare

Blade is a bit awkward during aftercare, he is very touch deprived person and most people don't even dare to look him in the eye, afraid of his criminal record and mara. Still, he cares about your wellbeing so if you tell him to clean you up or bring you a glass of water he will do so immediately. He just needs to learn how to take care of somebody properly once again.

He will let you do whatever you want with his body tho, you can cuddle him (don't worry about his initial stiffness, he will relax if you massage his scalp), give him kisses, even braid his hair. He very rarely allows somebody to get into his inner circle but once you are there he is very lenient person overall. He got very distrustful and aloof with age, he is too tired to sleep around with people he doesn't have emotional connection to if he can just rub one off in need instead of being vulnerable in front of a stranger. To get anywhere close to his body you need to get through his defences first, and once you do he gets kinda soft for you.

You know how he allows Stellaron Hunters to use his phone, accepted Kafka's nickname for him, listens to Silver Wolf yapping about games etc.? Now you have that privilege to annoy him as well.

Body part

He feels very detached from his body, to the point of objectifying himself as a Blade. He doesn't like any part of his body in particular but he is entertained by your reaction to his chest. When you swoon over it, cuddle his boobs or suck on them he definitely is amused. Might even pat your head when you push your face in it.

On you he absolutely adores your face and all the cute expressions he can observe on it. He especially likes it when your eyes light up at his sight and when your gaze gets clouded with desire.

Cum

He doesn't mind making a mess at all, but if you prefer it inside of your holes he will do as you wish. He doesn't care much about that, he's not disgusted by yours or his bodily fluids with one exception. If it lands on your face anywhere besides your lips and chin he will wipe it down in a second, he doesn't want to feel like he disrespects you.

Dirty secret

So Blade is a very flexible, fit man...Once during jerking off he realised he can bend and lick the tip of his pretty long dick. He came instantly.

Experience

I believe his experience as Blade is limited to occasional quickie with Kafka, just to release some tension in between missions. I don't see them as proper lovers, more of a coworkers with occasional benefits, of course he respects her and cares about her but nothing else. Once he got committed to you he stopped sleeping with her. Kafka isn't bitter about that cause she has many options but if she finds you cute she might suggest threesome sometimes.

As Yingxing his situation was much more interesting. I don't necessarily see High Cloud Quintet as a polycule, but you can't convince me that him and Dan Heng didn't play around a bit, even now their fates are intertwined in special way and they reference each other. They just give divorced couple vibes, sorry not sorry. The way Blade refers to Baiheng so tenderly makes me believe he had a certain past with her as well, I ship her with Jingliu but I think Blade was in love with Baiheng at some point. His feeling were probably unreciprocated.

It's just my headcanon so don't cancel me pls.

Fav position

He likes it when you ride him, doesn't matter of it's his face, thigh or dick... He wants you to get yourself off on him in selfish way. When he gets on top he likes missionary cause he loves your lewd expressions so much.

Goofy

Blade takes intimate situations very siriously, it's not easy for him to show you his scars and he prefers to not joke around during sex. If he feels like it, he might tease you a little bit after it but that's it.

Hair

Just like in case of his beard, he takes good care of it. It's not completely shaved like his face but it's soft and clean.

Intimacy

For him to turn into your service switch you need to make him feel very safe and accepted, it makes him very vulnerable to give himself like that. It's important for him that you don't want to change him and appreciate him with all his scars. He can't be fixed and if you understand this and you don't mind - it's a very good beginning.

He might not be the most affectionate man out there but he will hold you like you are his greatest treasure, carress your hair and kiss your forehead so you feel safe in his arms.

Jack off

He doesn't get horny often if his sex partner isn't around to arouse him, after 800 years he doesn't see much appeal in jerking off. Still, he will do that to put himself to clear his mind and put himself to sleep faster. His hands are stiff and get tired fast so he masturbates by pounding into a fleshlight.

Kink

To me he is a switch (leaning sub) so I will split kinks into sub and dom. As a sub:

This man calls himself a Blade. It's easier to go through all the pain as a cold weapon without soul than as a shadow of his former self, genius who lost his ability to create and his main ambition. So he gave himself a new purpose, objectifying himself in the process of becoming his last masterpiece.

The thing about swords is they are meant to be used, directed by hand of their owner. Centuries of self-objectification messed with the way he perceives his body, also during sex. He wants to be used by you to please yourself and he needs to know he does good job as your toy. He has heavy praise kink, please tell him how great he feels and how he fulfills all your needs.

His extended life lost spark centuries ago, he craves intense sex to feel something. Blade has a high pain tolerance, he likes it rough. While he might be a bit skeptical towards typical tools used on masochists like whips or paddles, scratch his back really hard when he pounds into you and he will go crazy. He will mock you if you try to give him love bites but secretly will enjoy the sensation.

As a dom:

He is still obsessed with being used for your pleasure, but this time he takes matters into his own hands. He will figure out how to give you best sex of your life, even at the cost of overstimulating you. Trust me, he's very observant. He will use every trick known to him to fulfill you with his fingers, tongue and cock until there is not a single coherent thought left in your brain.

Sometimes he feels like this is not enough to ruin you properly. He will use toys to play with you even more, on a rare occasion he might think about threesome but he is very picky about who can touch you and he has one strict rule - nobody but him can slide into your tight hole. He will let Kafka satisfy you with her mouth and scissor/grind into you tho, if you are fine with it.

If you want to see the dominant side of him more often you just need to ask or to misbehave a bit, he is a natural brat-tamer. Loves to show you your place and fuck the attitude out of you, sight of submissive look in your teary eyes makes him very hard. Knowing he earned this look from you feeds his pride.

Location

He needs to feel safe and in control of his surroundings. Sorry, the only places he can unwind in are his room and his car. Don't worry, he made sure the backsits are extra comfortable and warmed up.

Motivation

In the past he used to have sex to get his mind off certain things from his past, but with a regular sex partner he will most likely be turned on by the thought of his body being the source of pleasure instead of pain for once. He wants to be nothing more but a weapon, tool of destruction, so why does he feel so proud when you let him know nobody could satisfy you like he can?

No

He will never ever approach you during his mara attacks, he can't bear the thought of hurting you. Fetishizing his condition in any way will result in getting kicked out of his life so no feral mara-struck beast Bladie for ya.

While I see him as a bit poly and I believe under certain circumstances he could rarely share you with Kafka, I also think he doesn't trust people so easily anymore, he is very protective about his closed social circle (it's literally just you and Stellaron Hunters) and he won't take it well if you suggest threesome with somebody whom he doesn't know very well or with one of his old friends from Quintet. His reaction depends on who do you suggest tho, if it's Jing Yuan you will receive cold shoulder for many nights but if it's Jingliu or Dan Heng - instant break up.

Oral

He wants you to ride his face and is proud of all the things he can do with his skilled mouth, especially in contrast to his long and beautiful but stiff fingers. He hollows his cheeks when he sucks on your clit/dick, looking you straight in the eye all the time and forgets to breathe when he french kisses your hole. Does he even need to breathe as an immortal?

When he receives head he likes the sounds you make the most, gagging on his length, salivating around it, kissing up his vein... Lick right under his foreskin and watch him lose control over his body.

Pace

He can go very fast and hard when he wants to fuck the brains out of both of you or he can go so gently it breaks your heart. Nothing in between. When it comes to your pace he wants you to do it however is the most comfortable for you.

Quickie

He would only indulge in them if he uses sex as a distraction, this elder prefers to take his time with you and take care of you thoroughly. He especially dislikes skipping foreplay, cause getting in the mood is very important to him.

Risk

With his fighting skills he could totally do risky stuff and come out of this with no trouble but to him sex is a time to relax and feel good, not to give himself more stress. He might do such things if you really, really want them, but it's not his style and he would rather not to be honest.

Stamina

His physical stamina is almost endless, with his self-healing and regenerating abilities he is capable of lasting for much longer than any mortal, but his emotional and mental exhaustion influences his stamina. If he gets overwhelmed at any point he will stop. Just hold him tightly and tell him it's alright. Otherwise he has no problem lasting for the whole night.

Toys

He will use toys on your nipples and clit to give you even more pleasure but no dildos or anything that could penetrate you cause that's his job and you don't need anything but him in your pretty holes.

Unfair

He teases you only if you have been a brat before. He doesn't like to deprive you of pleasure, that's not what he wants do to. But if you behave like you need to be tamed, for example smile a bit too much at another man, don't expect him to go easy on you. Once you've been too friendly during your trip on Astral Express and Blade edged you five times before you fainted.

Dont think you can tease him too much either, this man is very old and very patient when he gets petty. Just look at how long he holds on too grudges. He will tease you back and make you swallow all your words. You can't win this game with him.

Volume

Not a loud man, you can hear a few grunt here and there, quiet moan rarely and that's it. Let's just say he prefers to use his mouth differently in bed. It's not much but you know those sounds are genuine so you appreciate them. Also, who wouldn't get weak being praised in that husky voice of his?

Wild card

You surely heard of people having sex rooms in their places, but have you ever heard of making one in the car?

He lives in Stellaron Hunters headquaters and as much as you guys like to spend spicy time in his room, collection of toys you guys keep in there is nothing compared to the one he has in his car. He knows the rest of Hunters can hear you two so you need to keep quiet when you are at home, but in the garage you can moan his name as loud as you want to. He takes you out on dates in secluded spots like empty beaches or near the lake so you can enjoy each other's bodies while connecting with nature (but you guys stay in car during the do so he feels secure, comfortable and covered) . He lived in wilderness for years before joining Stellaron Hunters so if you encounter animals he will know how to behave.

Backsits are warmed up, they can be extended so you guys can lay down almost like in the bed, Blade carries you favourite blankets with himself. Locked up together with you toybox, so none of his coworkers can find those things when he gives them a ride.

How did he manage to get warmed up sits in such an old car? Well, this man was hella good at mechanics during his previous life as Yingxing. His memory and hands got worse but his brain is as sharp as it was when it comes to such things.

X - ray

Very long but not so thick, not overly prominent veins, very fragile head and base. His balls don't hang too much. Sorry, I never know what to write in this cathegory.

Yearning

He's an old guy, his libido went down with age to certain extent. He doesn't have the best relation with his body, doing physical things isn't something he does just for the sake of it.

He usually has sex for one of two reasons. To get stress out of his body and distract himself from his flashbacks or when he is deeply attracted to somebody and being in their company turns him on. Since he met you his libido woke up again after years and if you spend quality time with him on a daily basis you will have regular sex.

Sometimes he just wants to be left alone but it's not about you, he needs to deal with demons of his past on his own from time to time. There are nights when he just needs to be held, he will be grateful if you stay for him.

If you want to turn him on the easiest way to do this is first making sure he's relaxed and relatively in good mood at the moment, sometimes you can improve it with massages and hugs, sometimes you need to give him space. Then, sit or lay down very close to him, initiate a slow make out session and he will get hard in no time.

Tip: His ears and neck (especially on the back) are very fragile. Tease them well and see what happens.

Zzz

Blade needs a lot of sleep, you have to let that senior citizen rest his eyes in peace. He usually falls asleep surprisingly quickly, especially when he can smell your perfume and make sure you are safe and content, but he wakes up as soon as he hears anything suspicious, even if it's as quiet as leaf crushed under shoe. That makes him a great bodyguard. Also he can fall asleep while standing, with his eyes still open, holding onto his sword. He looks like a Halloween decoration when this happens.

There are nights when ghosts of the past and pain from mara won't let him sleep. He likes to watch over you on those nights, finding peace in slow rhythm of your breathing.

Face he makes when you sext him on his public cellphone:

[iceman-kazansky]

Did You Even Care?

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: none

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!Reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, explicit language (swearing), arguing, graphic kissing, reader is a naval aviator, my writing lmao

A/n: Wrote this on a kinda-whim. Also, first publicly published Rooster fic on Tumblr? what? No wayyyy. This is a product of my recent Rooster/Top Gun obsession as of late btw.

Taglist: @footprintsinthesxnd @inglourious-imagines

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥

Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you walked alone, lost in your own thoughts. Further down the hallway, behind an almost closed door, you could hear muffled voices as you passed. Voices that raised into yelling. Unable to resume your own thinking, consumed by the argument that is rapidly escalating, you stop.

Truthfully, you hadn't planned on eavesdropping– but it just kind of happened.

Standing just out of sight, hidden behind the door frame, you listened to the two men arguing.

“Why did you stand in my way?” The one yells, and instantly you recognize the voice to be Bradley Bradshaw’s.

You listen intently as Bradley throws countless insults at the other person you've identified as Maverick, and with each one you think of how cruel and unfair Bradley is being.

The argument seems to be ending, but Bradleys quiet voice reminds you it's not yet over, “If you care about me then make it up to me by not choosing y/n for the mission. Choose me instead.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in anger and hurt at his sudden words. Confusion rapidly overwhelms you. What did you have to do with this? And what business did Bradley have removing you from the chance of being picked as a possible pilot?

The small thought occurred to you that maybe he'd wanted the position himself. And you threatened that. How, you weren't certain, but it was enough for him to try persuading the team's Captain.

Not needing to hear any more and sensing the argument was soon to be finished, you turned on your heel quickly and marched down the hallway in a pained rage.

Who did he think he was, getting you removed from the mission? You'd trained just as hard as everyone else so why did he go out of his way to guarantee you not getting picked as a pilot on the mission?

Hot tears sprung to your eyes as you borderline ran down the hall to escape Rooster and Maverick. You had truly thought Bradley cared about you. Had foolishly wondered if he'd ever give you the time and day and see you as more than a friend. But now, the looks that he'd sent your way, the tender softness and care he'd displayed seemed nothing more than a masquerade. Whatever his reasoning, you didn't care to hear.

You heard Bradley's unmistakable voice call your name, and next the quick tapping of his shoes as he ran down the hall to catch up with you.

He called your name again, a lot closer, but when once again you didn't answer, he grabbed your arm and turned you around to face him.

“Y/n–” He began, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, Bradshaw. I don't want to hear it!”

“Just listen– please! I can explain” He pleads.

You can feel your anger building inside of you, “explain what?” You shriek, not caring if anyone hears you, “How dare you! I've worked just as hard if not harder than most to get to where I am, to be called back for a mission, and you've selfishly gone and ruined it for me!”

He sighs in frustration, his voice also raising to meet yours, “Would you please just listen!?”

You don't follow his words, instead pressing further, “What reason could you possibly even have to fucking stop me from going? Because the way I see fit, you're nothing but a selfish asshole who wants to secure the position for yourself! Are you insecure I'm going to beat you to it and it'll be on my record, not yours? Then fine, Bradshaw, have it. I don’t fucking care!”

Bradley is fuming, his skin hot in anger, he was already fired up from his argument with Maverick and this was only fueling his rage. Why won't you listen? “I did it for you!” He all but yells at you, his voice loud in the empty hall, making you shrink away a little in shock, “Why don't you fucking understand that?”

Stunned, but not missing a beat, you reply sarcastically, “I'm sure removing me from the mission in order to get yourself the position is totally ‘for me,” your words are sharp like barbed wire with an unseen rage that simmers beneath your skin, pumping through your veins.

“I did it to protect you, goddamnit!” He bellows suddenly, catching you off guard.

For a long minute, there's nothing but silence, Bradley's angry face dark and dangerously close to yours, his hot breath fanning your face as he puffs loudly in anger. To protect me? You think, why? You don't say anything, instead staring at him with shock. His deep brown eyes ignited with flames of fury as they stared into yours, and you can physically and emotionally feel the anger ebbing away and confusion settling in to take its place.

“Why?” You croak quietly, breaking the silence.

“Because I love you,” he whispers back hesitantly, his hardened face softening.

“I don't need your protecting, Brad,” you say calmly, your voice hushed.

Perhaps it's the gentle, calming softness of your voice, or the heat from the previous confession and emotions left to linger, or maybe even the use of the short nickname from you, but whatever it is has him leaning forwards slightly to place his lips gently on yours in a passionate kiss.

You don't reciprocate immediately, instead pausing in a stupefied state and paralyzed with shock. However, the feeling quickly passes, and your body is overcome with a hunger– a desire– making you melt into him and supply as much passion as he does.

Together, your lips pressing together like two lost souls who've finally found their way back to each other in the most ardent way, you let the strong sense of love you'd held out. Through the years you'd known Bradley, you'd kept your feelings at bay, pushing them down with acceptance that he'd never see you like that, but now– with his admission of love, you'd been handed a key to unlock those pent up emotions in one passionate kiss.

You knew you were standing in the hall and any unsuspecting personnel could walk up at any moment, but you didn't care. The whole world pauses around you and the only thing you focus on is the solstice you find in each other.

Leaning away from Bradley, you breathe a sigh of happiness, “I love you.”

His brown eyes are filled with admiration and awe when he repeats, “I love you more.”

[tsbs-shipfessions]

*CrAshEs out from the tragedy SolarNexus closet; in an absolute mess.*

Salutations folks of all nations, it's me again! And I bring a new proposition!!

V4 Eclipse shipped with EAPS Moon (+EAPS Sun for the double AI shippers).

Reasons?

*Slaps billboard of opportunity.*

(Ramble warning ahead!)

V4 Eclipse has gone through it; lad had learned that the best way to live is to live alone. Antagonism brings him nowhere.. and being some emotional fellow isn't his cup o' joe. Yet we know, we know, that this is not entirely true.

Factually stating, especially with recent episodes (of other characters being ridiculously pushy towards Eclipse, mind you. They need to STOP. That's nOt how you hElp somEoNe.) is that Eclipse's anger has died down to a tired state. He's sickly annoyed on how he is, yet he has no proper reason as to why it stays this way.

Eclipse doesn't understand positive social cues nor how to be a "normal" being. Though instead of actually taking the heartfelt effort to learn anew, he stays stagnant in his gifted role of just: being the one nobody likes. And by my guess: it's because he doesn't see himself to have the ability to be loved.. tis either through fear or anger.. trauma stabbing his core and bitterness in his mind. It's always been like this since day one after all. How could it possibly change for him? This is who he is.... or, who he was that he has to keep up.. right?... there's no way life could ever get better than the consequences he laid out for himself! No matter how many times he died over and over- it's always the same!

Though in some small quiet way, Eclipse wishes to be wanted. All parts. Seeing right through his stubborn, biting behaviour and to be understood. With no harsh criticism and judgment that makes him regret ever being in the conversation.

There's a reason why he mentioned all that he's done to Puppet and such- he tries to make a statement that he is no good. Like it's verbal confirmation for himself that this is how it is and ever will be. That there is no hope for Eclipse.. always the asshole nobody wants... yet in it's own way it is also a cry for help.

One that many characters seem to miss as blatant sarcasm.

Eclipse doesn't wish to be forced, not monitored and tracked like he's some dog meaning to play tricks. Not shunned for "repeating and wallowing his complaints of all his wrongs". No. No, actually seen and allowing him to ease into this frightening change of peace in his own time.

But at the same time Eclipse fears it. He doesn't know how it'll end.. believing he'll be so vulnerable and pathetic.. but.... would it really be that bad?

We do see this with Earth when it comes to recognition, and their friendship has grown so sweet which I deeply appreciate! But she isn't always around for him, so aid is rarely available for his daily struggle now.

But I think EAPS Moon (and at times EAPS Sun) successfully inch towards that comforting direction too. In... their own playful way.

They're talking together, asking the right questions, showing genuine concern when Eclipse is unwell. None of it is fake or selfish, most likely due to EAPS Moon's/Sun's innocence.. but it's needed for Eclipse's sake.

He needs a breather.. and I really do believe EAPS Moon provides that.

Calm, open minded, confused at Eclipse's actions at times yet tries his best to understand. Allows Eclipse to do what he needs to do when it comes to precaution; because he knows there is careful meaning in there somewhere.

Heck, even managed to have Eclipse say and do some rare polite things. And Eclipse doesn't entirely push EAPS Moon away and listens to some small suggestions. That's slow growth and improvement! A healthy way to transition to a more passive life! To find himself with some sweet soul as EAPS Moon. :)

I hope to see this to grow further, perhaps comfort deeply when Eclipse be having another panic from a nightmare. A non-pushing conversation that allows Eclipse to share whatever he wishes. Maybe have the two gain an interest in some fun activity to enjoy life a little better. To prove how there is such thing as a good day. Maybe EAPS Moon can have more updates on his little game for Eclipse to test. :3

It feels like a good opportunity to break harmful habits, you know?

Besides... tis a gay silly nerdy game-dev X grumpy ex-villain ship with a hopeful healing arch. How could I possibly resist? I.. I mean come on! That's adorable!

Quite the long read, eh? Heheh.

Thanks for allowing me to share this confession! As a treat have a song that I've been listenin' on repeat while writing this. Tis fitting for how I see V4 Eclipse's mindset: ' girl in red - i'll die anyway. '

As always: Have a pleasant day/evenin' to everyone who read this! Till we meet again! :)

All of these color-coded essays are so fun to receive.

[professionallydeadinside]

The masters!! They're in the same order as their apprentices :]

More on them under the cut! (+ some relationship stuff because I think about the curators sooo much more then I do the apprentices asdgfd)

(Also if you want to humor me and hear me talk about design details then just ask because I have some THOUGHTS asdfghgf)

Giles Finchetti: Many like to characterize Giles as cold or antisocial, mostly because it's usually Cain telling them these things. But Giles at his core is caring and fatherly. Although, Cain isn't entirely wrong, as Giles is indeed also selfish, vain, and strict. But close friends and colleagues find it easy to look over these traits seeing how much of a hard worker he is and how willing to help others he proves to be. He holds high standards for his apprentice and adoptive son Luka, sometimes not realizing how crushing his expectations can be.

Cain Conroy: Being the oldest of the curators (by only a few years), Cain has taken this to mean that he's the one in charge. Cocky and stuck up and always open to a good fight of either swords or words, Cain thinks very highly of himself and takes his title of healing curator incredibly seriously. He's not above sneaky tricks and straight up murder to get what he thinks he rightly deserves. When he's not bragging or doing actual work, his favorite pastime is bothering Giles.

Olive Emers Lovestein: Some question how a lady like Olive Emers could ever become the textile curator, but her strange and eccentric tastes always seem to be incredibly popular. She values people feeling good in the clothes they wear and believes that clothing is a huge part of self expression. She's often nicknamed the Aunty of the curators seeing how she treats everyone as if they were a long lost friend. When she was younger, she was quite popular for her beauty, but nowadays she doesn't have too much care about beauty.

Bubba Cherdae: If any of the youngsters of the city wondered why it seemed like the Cooking Guild was so ubiquitous, they quickly understood after meeting Curator Cherdae. Bubba is very social and loves sharing the teachings of his guild to anyone who will listen. He thrives off of community and loves socializing. He takes it upon himself to look out for the other curators (cough cough Giles and Ishmael cough cough) but sometimes he feels a bit awkward around them considering that he, like his apprentice Bedelia, is largely just a normal guy. Regardless, he's a highly respected and skilled curator (no matter how much he may deny it).

Ishmael Newbon: The master seen as more animal then man. No one knows what exactly turned Ishmael to live so ferally, but all they know is that they can't stop him now. He rarely speaks actual words and instead communicates with growling or other gestures. There are also a good amount of people who claim to have been bitten by the curator. Ishmael lives deep in the surrounding woods of the city, surviving off of whatever he can use. The only time he's ever indoors is when Giles drags him inside for the winter Offing. Although he lives an extreme lifestyle, he actually doesn't require his apprentice to do so as well (instead letting her live with Anthea and Apollo). He admittedly has a soft spot for her.

Derse La Delphinium: A terrifyingly cold blooded and mysterious person. They're one of the only head curators that people actively try not to apprentice under based off an old rumor that they killed their apprentices. The only thing they show any care for are their plants (and some select people). Not much is known about Derse other then the fact an injury caused complete blindness in both of their eyes and that they always seem to be smiling.

Claudia Goswell: If you're not talking to her about work, then you're likely to not get an answer at all. Claudia is aloof and (according to some people) completely emotionless. In reality, she just doesn't really see the need to fake a personality in order to interact with people. She's hard working and independent, no load is too heavy for her to carry. Her sense of duty is usually interpreted as old fashioned, with her having a thing for dainty ladies, but everyone in the city knows that if they have a problem, they can always depend on Curator Goswell.

Anthea Bellerophon: The golden child of the curators and the youngest person to ever become a curator. Her father was her master and he was able to get her to become head curator quicker than she should've. Anthea is heroic and protective of her community to a fault. She was raised to believe that whatever the Bellerophon family believed in was correct and anyone who disagreed would need to be kindly enlightened to the correct way. Some of the curators find her a bit annoying and some are upset with the fact she barely had to work for her curator stance. But Anthea is none the wiser, continuing to stay her irritatingly optimistic self.

[ADDITIONAL RELATIONSHIP STUFF]

The main reason Giles forces Ishmael indoors for the winter is because he's seen countless instances of Frost Rot and he knows he would have to deal with Ishmael's corpse if he died (which, he really does not want to deal with) Giles survives keeping Ishmael inside by taking his coyote pelt as Ishmael feels significantly less comfortable/more exposed without it so he tends to be more reserved. Ishmael actually considers Giles a close friend even if Giles is a little scared of him

Olive-Emers and Giles are super close! Mostly because their curators were married when they were apprentices. So more often then not they can be found gossiping with each other or spending their breaks together

Cain has been in love with Olive-Emers since practically the day they met. Unfortunately, Olive-Emers knows exactly how much of a bastard he is towards Giles so she refuses to ever even consider his courtship offers

Derse and Bubba are courting each other! But the only reason they aren't married yet is because both of them are (secretly) deeply insecure about themselves. Derse thinks of themself as "imperfect" or not as good of a curator as Bubba (who is a highly revered curator) because they got injured while doing their job and Bubba has a lot of anxiety over the fact that Derse has never seen him. (Bubba is sure that if Derse saw him then they would leave because in Bubba's mind, Derse is a beautiful young person who shouldn't be wasting their time with him) (Dw, once they open up to each other and talk this out, they get married because they do indeed love each other)

Also here are their ages!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mike Luckovich, Atlanta Journal Constitution

* * * *

As once-in-century hurricane heads for Florida, major media is silent about Trump's disaster relief lies

Hurricane Milton threatens to hit Florida on Wednesday as a once-in-century storm. FEMA and the National Guard are already stretched thin in their response to Hurricane Helene. And Trump continues to spew his disinformation about their response in North Carolina—creating an aura of distrust and the potential for vigilante violence by misguided storm victims who believe Trump's lies about the disaster relief.

The good news is that many responsible Republican elected officials have criticized or condemned Trump's lies. The bad news is that the criticism hasn’t stopped Trump. He as at it again on Monday. See The Guardian, Fema chief warns ‘dangerous’ Trump falsehoods hampering Helene response.

While the major media outlets are rightfully focused on the potential damage from Hurricane Milton, they have already lost interest in Trump's disinformation campaign. It has disappeared from their platforms—even though Trump has not relented. His lies continue unabated.

Never before and never again in the history of our Republic will we witness a presidential candidate leverage the lives and safety of victims of natural disasters into pawns in a campaign. Kamala Harris condemned Trump's statements on Monday—and the major media yawned (except for The Guardian). Harris said, in part,

People are in desperate need of support right now and playing political games at this moment, in these crisis situations – these are the height of emergency situations – it is utterly irresponsible and it is selfish and it is about political gamesmanship instead of doing the job that you took an oath to do, which is to put the people first.”

And I cannot stress enough to all the folks in Florida in the Tampa area, please listen to evacuation orders. Please listen to your local officials because I know a lot of folks out there have survived these hurricanes before; this one is going to be very, very serious and I urge you to grab whatever you need. The other point I’d make is there’s a lot of misinformation being pushed out there by the former president about what is available, particularly for the survivors of Helene. First of all, it’s extraordinarily irresponsible. It’s about him, it’s not about you. The reality is Fema has so many resources that are available to those who desperately need them.”

Trump is subordinating the lives and safety of hundreds of thousands of Americans to his partisan political interest. That is a scandal unmatched in American history—and it is missing from the front pages and websites of nearly every major news source. Shameful!

Florida threatens local news stations with jail time for running political ads supporting ballot initiative

If you want a view into what a second Trump presidency would look like, check out Florida. Governor Ron DeSantis has threatened to prosecute local news stations for running political ads in support of the ballot initiative to protect reproductive rights in Florida. The threats are plainly unconstitutional, but the fact that the state is threatening jail time for political speech is beyond the pale. Let’s hope that all Floridians are outraged by this abuse of power and government overreach—and motivated to turn out in massive numbers on November 5. See Talking Points Memo, DeSantis Threatening Jail Time for Running Abortion Rights Ads in Florida.

Again, the fact that the major media has not come down on DeSantis like a ton of bricks bespeaks an inexplicable quiescence in the face of an onrushing fascist threat.  

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[rainbow-femme]

Random driving into work thought: If you rewrite them a little, in Encanto the songs of the sisters would work better if you switch them

Because Surface Pressure is about being this emotional anchor for the family who takes on all of this burden and responsibility while pretending it’s easy and not slowly wearing them down, and What Else Can I Do is about having who you are be diluted down to a singular trait that others assign you and don’t want you to deviate from so they never see you as a full person and you never get to see yourself as a full person

Now to me, Isabella’s thing is that while technically her gift is growing flowers, her family role is The Perfect One, and as such she has to conform to what other people decide is perfect. And given how Abuela kinda runs that place with an iron fist, perfect would be whatever she wants. That if Isabella is perfect then she only thinks what she’s told she thinks and she only does what she’s told to do and she seems to be this community symbol for why the Madrigal family is great so she has to forever be this symbol and not a person, including marrying someone she’s told to marry even if she doesn’t want to because saying no would be going against what’s best for the family, which would make her not perfect, and everyone else in the family has to work hard and all anyone ever asks of her is to sit around and be perfect so if she suddenly is “selfish” and not perfect, then what is her purpose?

So I feel like for her, it works having a song about how she’s existing only for everyone else and never has any time or space for anything that doesn’t exist to serve other people and she feels like she’s being slowly crushed by the pressure of being everything that everyone else wants of her all the time because there is this amorphous terrible consequence for the family if she stops doing all of this for them

And Luisa seems to exist only to the family and community as Strong, she is Strong and nothing else, all they do is tell her to go do tasks for them that involve being strong because that is her single point of value and there’s no point listening to her or getting to know her beyond that because she’s just The Strong One

So a song about being tired of being defined by one single trait and instead wanting to explore everything else she can do outside of being strong seems like it would work because no one, including her, knows who she is or what she can do beyond lifting things

Idk I just remember I heard the songs before seeing the movie and thought it was weird that the song about carrying the burdens of the family was given to the person who really just exists to do physical tasks while the song about being defined by one trait was given to the one who from childhood has been forced to exist only in a way that serves the image and needs of the family

[sourpatchys]

A wip that I never finished because I need to get back on that writing grind instead of rotting in bed

Title: Petals

Warning: none, mentions of blood and injury

Word count: 870

A/n: I cannot seem to figure out a good ending for this oneshot, originally it was going to be a battle of stubbornness, with the reading refusing to admit their true feelings as to not get in the way, and Shigaraki refusing to admit his feelings because he just assumed he’d be turned away. Then it was going to be just an angsty mess and I got sad writing it haha. If you’re feeling up to it let me know how you’d end this story properly, I’d love to hear it!

Masterlist guidelines

—

All it took was one touch.

The gentle caress of your hand on his shoulder accompanied by a shiny reassuring smile.

It was honestly pretty pathetic to say the least. It definitely wasn't something that Shigaraki was prepared to deal with.

But suddenly he couldn't stop thinking about you. Every move you made, every off handed gesture— everything— he paid attention to it all. It was almost as if he were in a trance, completely fixated, unable to look away.

You started to haunt his dreams, and while he was never one to shy away from nightmares, he found that the pleasant dreams you accompanied him in were much more horrific.

He had it bad, and it was all your fault.

It was easy to ignore for while— he avoided you— making Dabi or Toga talk to you instead for whatever task you were being assigned. He never answered your questions, he wouldn't even look you in the eyes.

But then you touched him again, one big hug after an accomplished mission. It almost knocked him out cold.

After that he couldn't ignore it anymore, deciding to just say fuck it and see what else there was to learn about you.

He would invite you to play games with him on his shitty old DS he managed to keep with him— he listened to your rambling over your favorite bands new songs— he watched you indulge in your hobbies and even tried them out for himself when you weren't around.

He knew it was a bad idea from the start, getting close to you, letting you give him friendly hugs and pats on the back.

And when you kissed him on the cheek as a thank you after he gave you a stupid little prize he won in a claw machine— he felt it for the very first time.

A cloudy feeling in his lungs that made his throat feel as if it were full of glass, the shards ripping his throat to shreds.

It started off slow— for a while it didn't really impact him at all, just an uncomfortable feeling brewing in his chest. It didn't slow him down, he never had to stop what he was doing— and no one even seemed to notice.

But then the coughing fits started and the petals started coming out— closing his windpipe and ripping through his body in an unforgiving rage.

Funnily enough, they were your favorite color.

To see something you loved so dearly mixed with his own blood— it honestly made him sick. You were no saint, your hands becoming just as dirty as the others as the days moved on and the league progressed— but there was nothing morbid within you. You killed to live, not to take.

By this point everyone knew something was wrong, even if they couldn't pinpoint an exact reason. He did his best to keep the petals out of sight, shoving them in his pocket or decaying them before they could even leave his mouth. The coppery taste became something he couldn't avoid, his teeth growing weak and his skin going pale.

Their oh so fearless leader was now slow, out of breath and coughing up blood seemingly out of nowhere. Really— who could blame them for being so concerned?

Especially you. The one who started it all.

He knew he was too far gone— that his days were sure to be numbered, and every moment you stood by his bedside was another year off of his life. But really— he didn't care at all. Shigaraki was stubborn, even if in the end it would mean his demise.

He was stubborn enough to keep the issue to himself and he was selfish enough to let it eat away at him— so long as you were by his side.

If anyone were to figure out his situation, to put the pieces together and diagnose his ailment from afar—he was sure they'd laugh right in his face. He had so much to do, so much to live for, and yet he allowed himself to stay dying in your arms.

God, he really was pathetic.

He hated himself for it— he wanted to hate you— but the velvety blood soaked petals shoved in his pocket were there to mock him— to tell him it was far too late for that. There was no hope of escaping, even if he had wanted to.

Your hands were always so warm, tender, reminiscent of something he had long since forgotten. You fluffed his pillow every night and brushed his hair every morning. You were no villain— you had to have been an angel dropped from the sky.

As his body grew weaker, your attention towards him doubled in size— If he had known dying was all it took to keep you glued to his side then maybe none of this would've been happening.

Had this happened only a few months earlier he would've had the damn plant removed— he would've forgotten you, buried your body along with your memory. He didn't want this, he didn't need this.

But oh how he wanted you— oh how he needed you.

You were a curse. His own personal fallen angel.

[annzy-bananzys-corner]

With a new Sanders Sides episode potentially on the horizon, I have of course been rewatching the series and paying extra attention to the hints of the Orange side that we’re all anticipating. And I keep trying to think of what, exactly, it’s going to represent.

Because the most obvious trait that Orange seems to have is anger, indicated by the outbursts Logan has had (I count both the “Stop ignoring me!” incident and the time he threw paper at Roman to be parts of these outbursts. But who knows, maybe anytime Logan has raised his voice has been a bit of Orange). But I know many people don’t think that anger is going to be his main trait. And there are plenty of wonderful theories out there that I love! I particularly love @let-roman-bite-someone ’s theory that Orange is desperation, as I feel like it makes a lot of sense.

I just wanted to throw a some different ideas for traits or concepts that Orange could embody that I think also make sense! Going purely from the two outbursts that Logan has had, it feels like when Orange is overstimulated he has big reactions; he reacts more violently, one could say, as opposed to Virgil who shuts down when he’s overstimulated, or even Roman who simply becomes more defensive and verbally attacks the other instead of resorting to physical means. So I feel like Orange could take on this concept of “intense emotional reactions” in general, not just anger. I.e. reacting in ways considered violent when emotions run too high. And if we’d go by just this alone, perhaps Orange’s title is Violence. That would definitely be a part of himself that Thomas would not want to admit is there. But I don’t know if I’d believe Thomas (real life Thomas) would want to go that route.

The concept that I think would really fit Orange at this time is a need for control. A lot of Thomas’ issues seem to stem from an overall feeling of a loss of control in his own life. Lack of control over: his own schedule, the motivation to do what he needs to do, time spent with friends, his friends thoughts, the reactions of his friends and audience to him, his own thoughts, romance, etc. With that in mind, what would bring Thomas the most feeling of control? What would decrease the risk of Orange being overstimulated? Being alone. Isolating himself. Because if he’s alone, no outside forces can overwhelm him, disappoint him, nor upset him, and he can do whatever he wants; if he’s alone he’s free to pursue anything he wants without worry for how other people will react to it. Logan kind of voiced this idea pretty well in the first Selfishness vs Selflessness vid: “Thomas has several friends, and they all tend to distract him from his responsibilities. So perhaps two less isn’t so bad.” Losing friends means improving his sense of control.

This could be why Orange is mainly shining through in Logan, because Logan seems to also think that Thomas would be better off if he spent more time alone, working on what he needs to work on, rather than spending time with friends. And on a deeper level, it’s clear that Logan also thinks Thomas would be better off if he listened to Logan more often than if he listened to the other Sides. Logan is trying so hard to incorporate compassion into how he motivates Thomas, which we can see most obviously in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts, where Logan allows Thomas simple distractions to keep Remus at bay. Of course the logic there is that if he doesn’t give Thomas this time to recuperate then nothing at all would get done, but I’m sure a part of Logan thinks, “If you’d just ignore all of these senseless emotional thoughts then everything would be fine.” If he would just listen to Logan more often in the first place, Remus wouldn’t be such a threat and Thomas wouldn’t need these little distractions just to get through life. He would be more productive overall, he would feel in control of himself, and he would feel less pain from the unpredictabilities of life.

So perhaps Isolation is Orange’s main title. When you put the “Dark Sides” together, I think it fits: Anxiety, Deceit, Intrusive Thoughts, Isolation. All things that society views as bad, but have some good to offer if you think about it. Obviously this could be completely wrong, and if so I wouldn’t be upset or anything, it’s just fun to think about.

So excited to finally/hopefully see Orange!!

[hrhoffman]

So I finished binging The Magnus Archives

and I genuinely have so many thoughts that I can't even put into words

Spoilers for TMA as a whole, I guess

I'll start with Sasha because I want to do every point that hit heavy for me and if I don't do it in order I'll forget something

The idea of being replaced and forgotten, just, my God. And really, how little of the real Sasha we even got from the whole podcast is tragic. We got so little of her, liked her when we first heard her encounter with Michael, and then, boom, she's gone. Replaced. And as listeners, we Know Something will happen, but you just get that building dread every episode, what will Not!Sasha do? Is there a chance real Sasha could come back?

And by the end, we forget about Sasha because of everything else happening.

Tim was worse for me because as soon as his new arc was building up, I knew immediately there was ever going to be one ending for him. His building anger, his loss of his previous self, the information on his past and how it related to the next big fight they were going to. It was obvious he was going to get blown up as soon as the explosives were introduced.

And we don't get much mourning for Tim, because Jon is in a coma, Daisy is trapped, and Martin is losing himself.

I could go on a whole side tangent about the Lonely, make a list of all those hard hitting lines Martin said.

I'm not enough on my own. Can't get it out of my head.

The finale hurts. I can't stop myself from crying. I keep going back and forth about Jon's character

We watch him make questionable decisions for the entire podcast. His whole conspiracy fueled paranoia and just driving everyone away as if it's going to keep them safe. His final choice to take over instead of Elias

It's selfish, because ok, fuck lemme try to get this in words

Jon and Martin are opposites the whole time, I think

Martin's big speech to Peter and Elias where he says, "I'm not a chosen one" always stood out to me. Because there's times where Jon seems to believe HE needs to fix everything, that HE needs to keep his friends safe, that HE needs to save the world because he is SO SO guilty.

And Martin thinks so little of himself, but he puts so much love in others. It's so sad to see his change in S4 with the Lonely, because it's so distinctly not Martin.

He never stops hating himself, never stops loving Jon. Everything he does is for Jon. He had nothing to live for when Jon was gone.

They are each other's reasons. But Martin could be anywhere with Jon and be happy.

Jon needs to fix his wrongs to make them both happy. Whether that is true or not doesn't matter, because it is wholeheartedly what Jon believes.

And so he believes sacrificing himself to try to fix things will be better for Martin, but he never asked Martin what would actually make him happy.

Martin just wants to be by Jon's side.

And back to the selfish thing, I don't mean it in a negative way. I mean that Jon felt he literally needed to give himself up to atone. Like he had lost all self worth. Like he didn't care about himself.

He puts Martin in the worst possible position.

And I cried so hard at the ending, because I knew that they weren't Somewhere Else. They were dead. It mirrored Gertrude and her assistants, the foreshadowing of their deaths as Sasha and Tim dropped one by one.

There was no happy ending for us. There was no fixed world after what traumatic experience had been unleashed. Jon had to pay for his mistakes, but love caused Martin to go with him. (I think about those last few moments of Martin. Alive. Looking down at Jon's bleeding corpse. The panopticon crumbling around him. Martin knows he will die, but he's just had to kill his only Reason to live anyways)

I can't even say they're happy together in the fucking afterlife because the End or whatever exists and claims everyone. I always interpreted that as Hell existing for everyone after death.

And don't even get me started on the themes of finding happiness and love in the middle of the apocalypse

They just wanted to fix things man. It wasn't even Jon's fucking fault, AND OKAY THIS IS ANOTHER THING

I SWEAR Elias has to be Web aligned I fucking swear the strings he pulled throughout the whole fucking series dude. I think the Eye and Web are pretty close anyways but that Manipulating Bastard FUCK HIM

Jon believes he's done everything wrong, because he refuses to blame Dickhead McGee. Doesn't help that everyone is on his ass the whole podcast, and like, yeah, Jon does some stupid shit but come the fuck on why did the foreshadowing of his slowly worse decisions have to end like this man I can't stop thinking about it

[isekyaaa]

About Follow the Wind I and II. I'm kinda bored, so I thought why not type up the backstory of some of my other fics.

Basically, the whole story starts off right before the final decline of the Kaedehara clan. Reader's mother works as a maid for the clan while reader grew up in the servant's quarters. Because Kazuha's father was kind, reader spent a lot of their younger years as a companion to Kazuha. They learned swordplay together and things of the sort. Though reader would always profess their loyalty to Kazuha, he'd always smile and would say he wishes for them to be free.

Reader's relationship with Kazuha is similar to a young kid crushing on someone older than them, in this case, Kazuha being three years older than them. Honestly reader was probably a pain in the butt. They'd always follow Kazuha around. They were the moody sort too that'd cry if Kazuha wanted to be alone. Kazuha always tried to keep them at a distance, yet reader would never stand for it.

After Kazuha's father passes and Kazuha eventually has to close the estate, reader's mother decides to take in Kazuha to stay with them. Seeing as though Kazuha is feeling lost at the time, she feels that having a stable home will be good for him. But after a few weeks, Kazuha decides that he needs to go on a journey. Upon hearing this, reader breaks down crying begging him not to leave. But he pats them on the head and says he doesn't want to burden them and it's for the best. Also that he'll keep in touch. Reader's mother tries to explain to them why Kazuha needs this to heal, but reader cant bring themselves to understand.

The years following this, Kazuha keeps his promise and keeps in touch through letters. Unfortunately, reader is never able to respond to his letters because he's always wandering all the time. Still, he visits for a week or two every year. During the first couple times, reader tries to spoil him and sabotage him to get him to stay. But when that doesn't work, they beg him to take them along. But he never listens to them, often times trying to guilt trip them or scare them into staying (as in Follow the Wind I).

Right before the start of the Vision Hunt Decree, Kazuha comes to visit, but with a friend in tow, Tomo. Reader is completely thrown off by Tomo and how friendly he is. Honestly due to their jealousy, they can't stand Tomo. They try to fight him for Kazuha's attention. At some point, they end up snapping in front of Kazuha, and ashamed, they run away. Tomo goes after them and finally they open up to him about how they feel Kazuha doesn't care about them. Tomo tells them this isn't the case and Kazuha cares a lot (as mentioned in Follow the Wind II).

A few months after they leave, the Vision Hunt Decree starts and a couple months after that, reader gets a letter from Tomo. They find out what Tomo is planning on doing, but by the time they get the letter, it's too late to stop him. So instead, they follow his instructions and save Kazuha. You can read Follow the Wind II to see what happens.

Before I go on, I should probably elaborate more on Kazuha's feelings towards reader. Kazuha's feelings are very… complicated. Kazuha truly does care for reader, but he also is oddly….. controlling over them. As much as he is a wanderer, he doesn't want reader to change. In that sense, reader acts almost like a rock for him to keep him steady. As long as they're there, as long as they're in his grasp, he can be calm. In a way, it's pretty selfish? He can do whatever the hell he wants as long as he knows reader is there to return to. So in Follow the Wind II, it's his first time letting go.

Also I should add like…. He feels this way towards reader despite hating how much they live for him. Kazuha knows reader loves him. He knows how much reader has dedicated their life to him. He wants them to live for themselves. However, he wants them to live in the way HE feels to be the best.

After this, Kazuha joins the Crux and loses contact with reader. It's only upon visiting Watatsumi Island that he runs into reader again. This time around, reader has a vision and they're a captain in the army under Gorou. Kazuha is furious. When he gets them alone, he asks if reader's mother knows what they're doing (guilt tripping)? If they realize how dangerous war is (fear tactics). But reader says they don't care. They'll make Inazuma a place Kazuha can be safe. And once again, reader is acting out and doing something dangerous for him and he hates it.

I have a feeling they get into a huge fight here, but I never really bothered to flesh it out much. But I know how it ends. Reader refuses to listen to him and continues on their path as a soldier. They apologize to him and say that this is the only way they know. They want to make him happy. What I do know is that another kiss probably happens during this fight, but this time initiated by Kazuha.

At the end of the war, stuff probably happens between them idk. But it basically ends with Kazuha asking reader if they want to join him. This signifies the first time he decides to completely open up to reader and accept them into his life. To which they start bawling and say yes, they want to stay by his side.

[motherhenna]

am I the only one who's starting to feel like self care culture and therapist speak has lowkey done some serious damage to a lot of mentally ill young people over the last 8 or so years? It's literally the perfect vehicle for justifying insanely unhealthy coping mechanisms and addictions but I haven't heard anybody talking about it on here. Instead, I keep seeing posts that are like "be gentle with yourself: go at whatever pace is comfortable for you" and "it's okay to say no to things you don't want to do" but like...what if that thing you don't want to do is taking a shower or leaving the house or cooking your own meal at home? What if moving at a pace that is "comfortable" for you means you still haven't stopped smoking for the last decade because nicotine withdrawal and anxiety are not "comfortable"? And hey--at least you're only smoking ONE pack a day instead of two now, so that's almost as good as quitting entirely!

I'm saying all this as someone who is only just now coming out the other side and realizing how much of my late teens and twenties I've wasted because of my lack of accountability and aversion to the hard work that's necessary for recovery from addiction, eating disorders, and depression...and the whole time, I thought I was just practicing self care. But a lot of us should probably take a closer look at our behavior and ask ourselves, "is this really self care? Or is this just complacency, fear of failure, and denial?"

There's a word in addiction treatment that's used to describe family members, friends, or partners who give into their deeply disordered loved one's every demand--even when they know it's hurting them: enablers. I've seen a documentary of a 700 lb immobile man who was still managing to pile on weight because his wife went out every day and brought him every kind of junk food he asked for, all while claiming to love him more than anything else. But genuine, healthy love isn't watching your partner literally waste away before your eyes because you'd rather make him happy in the short-term: it's being fucking honest, and helping them get the assistance they need to get better even if you have to drag them kicking and screaming into rehab. And I'm of the belief that a lot of you out there end up confusing self-love / self-acceptance with self-enabling. One is easy while the other requires you to wake up and do the work every single day, even when it's ugly and messy and painful.

And listen--if your therapist has given you the full go-ahead to take the whole "gentle" route, or it's clearly working out really well for you, then by all means: keep at it. But more often than not, I think we need to stop wrapping ourselves in cotton. The way we treat ourselves should be how we'd ideally parent a child: obviously the overly harsh, critical, strict route rife with threats and punishment is a recipe for disaster, but the other extreme can be extremely damaging too. An overly compliant, indulgent parent who gives into their kid's every whim is likely going to produce selfish, entitled brats who have no concept that their actions have consequences. Neither approach is going to do their children many favors in the long run.

While I'm not fond of the boomer bootstrapping rhetoric, as I think a lot of it comes from an extremely skewed perspective of reality and the expectation that "if I can do it, everybody else should be able to do it just as easily", I also can no longer stand by the victimhood mentality so many fellow young millennials / gen z'ers seem to be living by. Because I spent the last ten years wallowing in it and all it gave me was lowered standards, a million excuses, self pity, and obesity. And it fucking sucks to confront the fact that you are ultimately the one who's responsible for your own behavior as an adult: it means you can't just blame it on society or your parents or your illness or whatever 'ism or 'phobia applies. Are all those things contributing factors that should be taken into account? Absolutely. Should you compare your progress to more privileged people's and feel shame that it's taking longer? No. But that doesn't mean you have no control of your life and choices--that you're powerless to do anything but wait for someone else to save you. Unless you're literally being held hostage at gunpoint, there are always things you can do to `improve your life and yourself. So next time you want to give up on a dream of yours, or justify not changing out of your pajamas for a fortnight in the name of self care, maybe ask yourself what an enabler would do vs. what a true friend would do

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Storyteller

Ao3

Summary: Dorian's portrait is to be Basil's masterpiece, in more ways than one. If only he could get its subject to stop killing him. Content: Gods and Goddesses AU (kinda), time loops (kinda), ambiguous relationships, unhealthy relationships Relationships: Platonic Basil and Henry, whatever the hell you'd consider Basil and Dorian

~

A blinding pain in his neck. His fingers twitching, useless. His damned portrait taunting him from the wall as the one who had been its likeness slaughtered him.

Basil opens his eyes in his studio and curses.

‘Lord’ Henry, disinterestedly smoking upon his couch once more, merely laughs at his agitation. “I take it things are still going poorly?”

Basil doesn’t dignify the mocking question with an answer, instead turning to his again blank canvas. By the time he has crossed the room to where it sits, a paintbrush is in his hand, and without hesitation Basil begins his masterpiece anew.

Behind him, Henry sighs. “Can you not at least take a break between these attempts?”

“No. I fear forgetting him if I do.” Basil answers, though it’s a half-truth at best. He could never forget Dorian Gray, not now, not in eons.

“Basil, there is only so long I can be contained to this era.” Henry bemoans even as Basil ignores him and continues his work. “And as fun as it is to toy with this promising young lad, I long to see what other temptations and naïve mortals the future holds.”

“Perhaps, then, you should consider your words more carefully this time.”

“Now you are simply being unreasonable. You know this is my nature. You picked me precisely for it. Who am I to deny it?”

Basil huffs, silently conceding the point. Dark desires, selfish wantings, unthinking wishes granted- that was Henry’s very essence, had been even before Basil painted his own portrait and rendered him immortal. It had been Basil’s mistake to allow him near his newest project.

“Even if it weren’t,” Basil listens as Henry stretches out further upon his divan, shifting so that he may always be at his most comfortable, “it is your story. I cannot change it myself. If you truly wish me not to say such things in this iteration, it is only yourself who can stop me.”

“You think I have not tried? I beg you not to ruin him, you ignore me. I beg him to not listen to you, he ignores me. I send you away before you have the chance to say anything at all, and somehow you always return to my story regardless. Were it possible, I am afraid I would have resorted to killing you a hundred paintings ago.”

For a moment, Henry has nothing to say to that. He has not stopped smoking, and wisps of the noxious pleasure float past Basil as he paints, this particular piece of art so well-known to him by now he needs not give more than a second of thought as the colours change and swirl with every stroke. He is careful, however, to avoid the face. Its completion is his story’s beginning. It must wait.

“Have you considered that, perhaps, this is how this story is meant to go?” Now Basil turns towards Henry, frowning, no pause in his work even as he looks away from it. Henry merely shrugs. “It sounds as though I am drawn to him. Could it not be that he is meant to become beautiful corruption, or fallen graces, or decaying decadence?”

Despite the distance between them, Basil recoils from Henry. “Don’t say such awful things, Harry. I would know if he was meant for that. I can assure you he is not.”

“In any other case I would trust your judgement unquestioningly, Basil, but I fear it may be clouded here. I am aware there is a certain level of precision your work demands that occasionally necessitates do-overs, but it has gotten out of hand with this boy. I should know.”

“It took me nearly a dozen tries to perfect your painting.”

“And in the time you have spent on this painting, you could have done mine over another several dozen times.”

Basil turns back towards the painting in question. Once again, it was nearly finished. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?”

“I have told you of the pull I’ve felt to him. I have known every mortal there has ever been to know, but never has one been so clearly made to be worshipped. His very being is woven through with gold and ambrosia. He personifies beauty, elegance, summer youth. There can be no mistaking it. He is no cast-off Lucifer or errant Icarus. His story must be flawless.”

“He will be worshipped no matter what you make of him, Storyteller.” Henry reminds Basil, his title rolling off the indulgent god’s tongue with none of the respect the rest of the pantheon would pay their creator. “That is not why you are insisting upon trapping yourself in a decades long cycle that keeps ending with your demise at the hands of your Adonis.”

“His story must be flawless,” Basil repeats, setting down his brush. The painting has returned to the state it is always in when the story starts, only a bit more work away from becoming something empyrean, “just as he is. I will not let it be set off course, no matter how hard you or anyone else tries. If it takes a thousand attempts to do so, then so be it. My work is the highest calling of this world, my every story as important as the other, yet this masterpiece transcends them all. Take no offense, Harry, for this is greater than you. This is greater than even I. He shall be the pinnacle of all that is good, and all that is blessed. It is what he is meant to be. I know it to be true.”

Basil feels Henry’s stare on his back, the queer piercing gaze he uses to look both at physicality and at the parts of a man’s soul that belong to his domain. He will find nothing, both because there is nothing to see, and because Basil’s stories are not permitted to turn their tales and tricks upon their author, and as such Basil pays him no mind. Their time is running short as is. Dorian will arrive soon, and Basil’s work will begin anew, and Henry will join the narrative he will remember nothing of if Basil is forced to scrap it again.

“It seems I cannot change your mind. Not now, at least.” Henry looks away from Basil, the weight of his stare leaving Basil like an anchor lifted off the seafloor. “Perhaps in another few attempts.”

“Have you no faith in my capabilities?”

“In your capabilities, never. It is you who worries me, Basil.”

“Rest your worries, then.” Basil moves to take his seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as though the slight change in posture might be all the alteration he needs to guide the story right this time. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Henry sighs, rearranging himself and unconsciously assuming the same position he has always begun the story in, and likely always will. “That is what I am afraid of.”

Basil doesn’t notice the mumbled comment, putting his focus to the coming story. Golden curls brushing the fair skin of his clavicle. His arm linked in Basil’s. The portrait that will capture his mortal self and let him live on, unaging, divine.

“It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done.” Lord Henry says, and the story begins again.