#i'm still figuring it out a LITTLE bit.... )

[itsabird-itsaplane-nopejustabird]

DPxDC Prompt

I've had this idea for a while (since seeing that art of Johnny and Kitty robbing a bank so Danny can get Top Surgery lol) but I haven't even had the brain to work on my own fic recently (sorry about that btw) so I'm writing this instead

So the concept:

T4T Johnny and Kitty, who died in the 80s after running away together.

Johnny was the kid of some rich asshole automobile mogul from Bristol, and Kitty was one of the workers' kids from the Narrows. They become friends, fall in love, both realize they're trans around the same time and then decide to run. They know that being trans on top of tax bracket difference gives them almost no chance of making it. Johnny steals a bike and a fuck-ton of money from his parents, and Kitty's parent(s) helps them leave.

They're still toxic and spiteful as hell, but nothing the other does can change the fact that they know and understand each other better than anyone else could.

They travel around the country being menaces together for a while until they decide to settle down in a strange city called Amity Park. They figured it could handle a couple more anomalies. But before they can get there, they get into a bike wreck with their final thoughts being of each other and Johnny specifically cursing his bad luck in life.

The next thing they know, they're in the infinite realms being given the chance to stay together and the freedom to simply exist with no strings attached. (Other than each other cause I firmly believe that they're mutually the others' obsession)

About 20 years have passed, a portal to their old world is permanently open and this scrawny little ass kid ghost that they've never even heard of keeps stopping them from going through it.

It isn't until Johnny actually starts paying attention a few months into it that he notices that first, the little shit can actually fight, and second, HE WAS FIGHTING THEM WITH A BINDER ON. (Johnny also vaguely wonders why Danny looks so much like his old neighbor Brucie, but that's less important than the binder thing). Johnny lets out the universal ghost fight timeout signal and vaguely explains the situation to Danny, who seems confused about the noise he made and why it made him stop.

Johnny gets Kitty to spread the word that if the timeout isn't called off by the next morning, stay TF away until they get an all-clear.

That night, *after yelling at him a bit*, he starts teaching Danny how to reshape his ghost form to his preference and even his vocal cords.

From there, Johnny and Kitty sorta ghost adopt him as a sibling and then take him to Frostbite to make sure his T-shots are ecto compatible.

(I hope this was coherent it's 4am for me and I haven't slept lol)

[madebycloud]

You're here that's the thing

jinx x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: Home isn't a four walls and a roof nor the material things that fill in it. It's the warmth in Jinx's eyes whenever she smiles at you, it's the little hands clinging to your shirt as they cross the street. Home is right here. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: FLUFF!! domestic ig, vulnerability (???), slight angsty at the end but happy ending <3 words: 5.7k notes: i'm glad nothing bad happened at the ending and they all live happily ever after :D

You're chowing down on a steaming bowl of seafood at Jericho's. Every bite is a savory delight, justifying your claim that this is Zaun's finest eatery. 

A hooded figure quietly slides into the seat beside you, revealing familiar blue hair when they pull their hood back. Unfazed, you continue eating.

“Bad day?” you mutter, and the blue-haired person helps themselves to a seafood from your bowl without a word.

Life in Zaun is tough, especially after Silco's death, leaving room for chem barons to fight for power. What’s new?

Then, a kid catches your eye. You nudge Jinx. “Who's that?” You nod at the kid in the far corner. 

Jinx, casually munching on your seafood, just shrugs, “Dunno. She's been following me.”

You stop eating and look over at the young girl who's been staring at you both, squinting slightly at her as your gaze shifts back to Jinx. She takes notice of your questioning look and quickly says, “She's not mine,” before taking another bite of seafood.

You roll your eyes at Jinx and then turn to the kid. “You hungry, kiddo?” you call out, gesturing towards the seat beside you.

She hops up onto the stool, though it's a bit high for her and you help her up. You order her a bowl of seafood like you and Jinx were having. She begins eating, her hands stuffing her face.

“So, kid, where's your parents, guardians? Shouldn't you be with them?” But her silence persists, her big, curious eyes locked onto yours.

You and Jinx finish your food and pay Jericho, walking out into the bustling lanes with the young girl in tow. Turning to Jinx, you shrug slightly. “Can she stay with us?” 

Jinx looks at the child and back at you. “Do we even have a room for her?”

Weighing your options, you consider the practical aspect. The answer is likely a ‘no��, but with the environment of Zaun, leaving a child alone on the streets seems far from safe.

“She could use your room,” you suggest, glancing ahead. “I mean, you found her first.”

But Jinx isn't having it. “Nah, you're the one who brought it up, so it's your room.”

You and your parents once owned a house. Thanks to the all and mighty Piltover enforcers who played a role in your parents' disappearance, leaving the house unoccupied. Seeing an opportunity, you claimed the house, not only for yourself but also for your close friend who, without it, would have nowhere to sleep comfortably.

“It's my house.”

“Our house,” she corrects, smirking. “Considering most of the stuff there comes from me, it's not just yours. So that means–”

“By ‘comes from you,’ do you mean the stuff you've stolen?” Your brow furrows as you stop in your tracks, planting your hands on your hips as you stare her down.

Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk still present. “Finders keepers.”

You sigh, knowing you're not winning this argument, especially not in the middle of the street with people starting to watch. “Fine,” you relent. “She can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”

You crouch down to meet the kid's gaze, Jinx standing beside you with her arms crossed. “What's your name, little one?” you ask, but the child remains wordless, those big eyes staring back at you.

You glance at Jinx for help, but she's already thinking of names. “How about Pompom?”

The kid wrinkles her nose at the idea.

“Or maybe Pinky?” Jinx continues, grinning. “Or Sparkles!”

“How about ‘Isha’?” you suggest.

The moment the name leaves your lips, the child's eyes light up.

“Isha it is then.”

Jinx, a bit pouty, muttering under her breath, “She likes ‘Isha’ more, huh? Figures, it came from you.”

“What? It's a nice name,” you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to Isha, poking the girl lightly on the nose. “Well, Isha, you're stuck with us now.”

Isha's eyes dart between you and Jinx. “More like we're the ones who are stuck with her,” you reply, chuckling, as you playfully ruffle the girl's hair.

—

It's been a full month since Isha started living under the same roof.  You catch Jinx making her hold a gun, teaching her how to shoot.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at Jinx, “Seriously, Jinx?”

Both Jinx and Isha look up at you, equally undeterred. “What? It's a fake gun,” Jinx defends herself, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache forming. “That's not the point, Jinx. She's just a kid.”

“Pft, ‘just’ a kid.” Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly not understanding your concern. “It's harmless, I promise. Just a little fun.”

“If you're looking for something fun,” you reach into your bag and pull out a coloring book and colored markers. “I found these in the lanes,” you explain, offering the items to Isha. “Much better than play-shooting,” you suggest, giving a pointed look to Jinx before she can protest.

She watches as Isha's face lights up, her attention quickly shifting to the coloring book and markers. “But…” Jinx starts. 

“No buts, Jinx. She's coloring now.”

Jinx lets out a heavy sigh, clearly dissatisfied, but she doesn't protest further. She pouts, leaning back against a wall as she watches Isha happily coloring in.

You join Isha, sitting next to her. Her young hands grip the markers tightly as she fills the pages with colors.

“Making something nice?” you ask, peering over her shoulder to see her work.

Isha nods, her tongue slightly sticking out of her mouth as she carefully adds some color. She glances at you, offering a shy smile before returning to her drawing.

Once Isha is finished with her drawing, she proudly holds it up for you and Jinx to see. The drawing shows three stick figures on a bright blue sky. The two tallest figures, with one that has what looks like braids, are holding hands with the small one in the middle. The three figures smile under the sun.

“Wow, look at that! It's us, all together.”

 Jinx, though reluctant at first, can't help but crack a smile too.

She leans in closer, “Why are my eyes so big?” she snickers, pointing at the comically large eyes drawn on her figure.

You laugh along with Jinx, pointing to a comical squiggly line drawn below your feet in the picture. “And what's that supposed to be, hm?”. Isha giggles, a small blush creeping up her face.

“It's your shadow, duh,” Jinx quips back. 

“In that case, my shadow looks like it ate too much and grew extra limbs.”

“Well, if your shadow's a glutton, mine's got tentacles.” She points to her shadow drawing, which indeed looks like it has several wriggly appendages attached to it.

“You know, I think this is fridge-worthy,” you grin, holding up the drawing. "What do you think, Isha? Do you want to put this on the fridge?"

You turn to Isha, who nods excitedly, clapping her hands together. 

You hand the drawing to Isha, who eagerly takes it to the fridge. You follow her, lifting her up slightly so she can stick the drawing against the fridge door with colorful magnets. She smooths out any wrinkles and carefully adjusts it until she's satisfied.

“Ta-da!” you say, as the drawing now has a permanent place of honor on the refrigerator door.

“Not too shabby, squirt”. She glances at the drawing again, and then her gaze shifts towards Isha. For a moment, a soft expression appears in her eyes—a flicker of something you can't quite make sense of. “Who knows? Maybe one day we'll see this piece in a Piltover's museum, valued at a million golden hexes.” 

“Only a million? I think it's worth a lot more. Maybe we should start an auction right here and now.”

Isha giggles, her small fingers tracing the colors on her drawing again.

“Alright, alright, don't go getting ideas. We don't need some fancy Piltie art collector trying to buy this and hang it in their mansion.”

“Come on, Jinx,” you nudge her. “Don't you think it'd be hilarious to see this hanging in some fancy mansion surrounded by all those fancy Piltover paintings? Maybe we should get Isha to paint more of this and turn this whole place into a gallery.”

—

You meant ‘place’ not your face.

Laying down on the couch, you squint your eyes open as you feel a moist sensation along your face. When your vision clears, you see Isha, giggling, marker in hand, and running away as fast as her legs can carry her. 

“Hey!” You sit up, a chuckle rising in your throat. “You little rascal, come here!”

The sound of a door opening makes you pause. Turning, you see Jinx standing there, half-asleep and clearly irritated.

“What the hell is going on here?” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

A snicker escapes Isha's lips.

“Looks like you've got a new makeup look, Jinx.”

“What?” she asks, her voice still groggy from sleep.

Silence.

Jinx looks at your face. Isha's hand. Finally placing her own hand on her face. Wet mark on her face. Smear of color on her hand.

“Isha.”

You and Jinx exchange a glance. Grins matching hers. Without hesitation, you both rush after Isha, who breaks into a run.

Just as she turns a corner, you quickly change direction and outstretch your hands, successfully scooping her up into your arms and spinning her around, her hands grasping at your shirt and arms around your neck as she continues to giggle.

While still holding Isha, you see Jinx's eyes as her hand darts towards a nearby marker and begins to draw on Isha's face. 

“Hold still, you little gremlin!” Jinx says, struggling to keep her marker strokes even while Isha wiggles and giggles. She manages to add a few squiggles and dots before Isha's laughter becomes uncontrollable, disrupting any further attempts at ‘decorating’.

“Come on, lemme finish it.” A few more ink-blots make their way onto the girl's face before she's set down. “Ta-da!” Jinx declares, wiping her hands on her pants. 

Isha, still giggling, runs to the nearest mirror, who is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she takes in her reflection. She turns her head from side to side, admiring her new ‘makeover’ from Jinx.

Feeling a tingle in your chest, you steal a glance at Jinx, watching her smile at Isha. 

Idiot, you silently scold yourself.

But your lips still curve into a small smile. 

Damn it, you silently curse to yourself, hoping Jinx didn't notice you staring at her with that expression written all over your face.

But Isha doesn't miss that. She looks between you and Jinx, the gears in her young mind turning, and a sly grin slowly spreads across her face.

Oh. She knows something that you'd prefer to keep hidden.

—

Isha's been down with a cold.

Today, you made her a bowl of porridge. Jinx volunteered to help.

You stand at the stove, stirring the simmering porridge, with Jinx by your side, carefully cutting up some fresh fruit to mix into the meal. You carefully ladle the porridge into a bowl, checking to make sure it's just the right temperature for Isha's sore throat.

You glance down at the bowl, satisfied with the consistency and temperature, before moving it onto a tray along with a spoon, a glass of water, and the bowl of fruit.

You head towards Isha's room, with Jinx following close behind. You can hear the sound of soft coughing coming from inside, along with the rustle of blankets.

Pushing open the door gently, you enter the room to find Isha sitting up in her bed, her blankets piled around her. Her face is slightly flushed from the fever, and she looks a bit tired, but her eyes light up when she sees the tray in your hands.

“Here's your porridge,” you say softly, setting it down on the bedside table. 

Jinx moves to the other side of the bed, plopping down next to Isha and gently placing a cool hand against her forehead. “You're still a bit warm.”

Isha nods weakly, trying to suppress a cough.

“But that porridge should help,” you add, settling on the edge of the bed and offering the bowl to Isha. “Slow sips, okay? Don't want you getting a tummy ache on top of everything else.”

Isha accepts the bowl and sips the porridge carefully. 

“There you go,” you smile, watching as Isha continues eating. Jinx grabs the glass of water, holding it up to Isha's lips once she's taken a few spoonfuls.

Once she's done, Jinx continues to check on her, fluffing her pillows, adjusting the blankets, and giving her the occasional pat on the head.

—

It's late evening. 

Jinx sits cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the footboard of the bed where Isha is lying down. The little girl's eyes are focused on Jinx, her hands covering her face partially as if trying to stay up a bit longer.

Jinx tells a story she learned from Vander, one that he used to tell her when she was a child. A story about miners getting stuck in a mine and rescued by a mysterious, wisp-like woman that guided them to safety.

When Jinx finishes the story, she glances at Isha, expecting her to be asleep by now. Instead, she lies there and watches Jinx.

Peeking through the door, you expect to find Isha asleep, but she is still wide awake. Jinx looks like she's wracking her brain to think of more stories, still determined to get the little girl to sleep.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you settle down on the floor next to Jinx. “She's not tired yet, huh?” you whisper to Jinx. 

“No, not yet,” she replies. “I've run out of stories to tell and she doesn't seem even a bit sleepy.”

“She's just like you.”

“Hush,” she says, trying to suppress a smile. “I'm not the one keeping her awake right now.” She turns back to Isha, who is still awake and watching both of you.

“Well, neither of us are helping,” you point out, looking at the little girl who's staring at you both. “Isha, it's time for bed. You need to close your eyes and sleep.”

Isha pouts, clearly not wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looks at Jinx and then at you, her eyes pleading for another story. 

“Come on, kid,” Jinx says. “It's well past your bedtime. No more stories.”

Isha’s pout deepens, her bottom lip jutting out stubbornly.

You stand up from the floor, walking over to a nearby bookshelf where you keep various children's books and comics. After a quick rummage, you find a colorful comic book that should interest Isha.

You return to the bed, carrying the comic book, and sit down next to Jinx again. Isha leans forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the book in your hands.

“Found one,” you say, holding up the comic book for the little girl to see. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the vibrant cover. 

Flipping open the comic book to the first page, you begin reading aloud about a group of animals in a forest. Isha listens intently, snuggled up in bed, her eyes darting between the images and your face as you read the story.

“Every day, these animals would wake up early,” you read, pointing to the drawing of the animals waking up and stretching. “Some would eat breakfast, some went to play, and some went to search for food.”

“One particularly lazy squirrel woke up late.” You turn over the page to reveal a picture of a sleepy little squirrel yawning and rubbing his eyes as the other animals were already out of their nests.

“By the time he woke up, all the nuts were already gone.” You flip over the page again to reveal an image of the squirrel, now wide awake, frantically searching for something to eat but finding nothing but empty trees and bushes.

“The squirrel was shocked and saddened that the nuts had run. But then,” you change your tone dramatically, “one of the rabbits heard the squirrel's cries and decided to help him!”

You turn the page again. This time, the picture shows the rabbit coming up to the squirrel, a nut in his paw. “The rabbit, seeing the squirrel's plight, decided to share his own breakfast with him.”

“The squirrel was delighted and grateful,” you read, and you turn the page to show an image of the squirrel happily sharing the nut with the rabbit. “The two of them ate and ate together, until their tummies were full and they fell asleep in a heap on the forest floor!”

You glance up from the book and see that Isha has finally fallen asleep. Her small head is now lying on her pillow and a tiny smile graces her lips, as if she were dreaming about the animals from the comic book.

You close the comic book and set it down, but then there's a weight on your shoulder.

Looking to the side, you see Jinx, who has fallen asleep. Her head rests on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your neck. Her eyes closed.Her mouth slightly open, softly snoring.

Still as a statue. 

You find yourself staring at the soft curtain of blue hair, your fingers itching to reach out and push it aside. 

But you don't. You can't. You don't want to wake her up. Don't move.

It would be a small action, but you know that it might wake her up, and the last thing you want is to deal with a grumpy face and her snarky comment. 

But your hand moves as if it has a mind of its own. Inch by inch, your fingers close in until they gently make contact with her hair, brushing it back over her ear. 

Jinx lets out a soft sigh, her head leaning into your hand as if aching for your touch.

Her face, now with her bangs brushed aside, shows her features—so fine, so distinctly her.

Your eyes trace her face. You want to hold her in a way that you'll remember forever. You want to know her in every way possible, to learn every inch of her, to understand every thought and feeling she's ever had.

Her arms are the only chains you'd gladly wear. Her eyes in which you'd forever be lost. Her smile is the one you can never say no to. Her voice is the song that you could listen to for hours.

You wonder if she would lean into your touch, if she would arch her head into your palm. Would she let you caress her face, your fingers tracing the slope of her jaw and the curve of her cheek? Or would she pull back, pushing you away?

But as quickly as it began, it ended.

You pull your hand away. Your fingers clenching into a fist and returning to your lap. The memory of her soft hair against your skin remains, burning at the edges of your thoughts.

Then Jinx slowly stirs from her sleep. She lifts her head from your shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours, then your mouth, then back to your eyes again.

You saw her throat move. Are you hallucinating? Is it just your imagination? You can't tell for sure. You wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Your thoughts are fogged by the way she's looking at you.

Her eyes linger on your face, tracing every contour, every feature.

Your heart is in your throat. You can hear it pulsing in your ears. You can feel your palms getting sweaty. You try to hold her gaze, but your own eyes are drawn to her lips, soft and slightly parted.

Finally, Jinx breaks the silence. “You're staring,” she murmurs.

You blink, her words snapping you out of your trance. “I–” you start to respond, then realize how stupid and obvious it sounded. “Just making sure you didn't drool on me.”

She chuckles, her hand pushing your face away from hers. 

“Hey!” you say, putting a palm to your face.

You watch as Jinx stands up, heading towards the door, opening it slightly, and pausing to look back at you. 

“Good night,” she says, eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Night, Jinx,” you reply, one hand still resting on your face.

You catch a glimpse of a small smile forming on her lips as she disappears through the door, leaving you sitting there with a palm still on your cheek.

You hear a soft, barely suppressed giggle coming from Isha's bed. Confused, you turn to look at her, only to find her looking at you with a wide grin. 

“Isha,” you say, surprised, “I thought you were asleep!”

—

“You could have warned me,” Sevika grumbles. Isha continues to focus on coloring her hat.

“Fat chance,” Jinx responds, turning to face Sevika. “About what?”

Sevika glares at her, obviously displeased. “Your stunt at the checkpoint.”

“No idea what you're babbling about.”

“That wasn't you?” she scoffs. 

Jinx pauses, a flicker of realization crossing her face. She glances at Isha with a knowing look, noticing the smirk on the child's face.

The conversation with Sevika continues, with Jinx growing more and more restless as it does. Once the discussion is over, Jinx rises from her spot. “I gotta go bother someone,” she says, before walking out.

You notice the look on Isha's face. Disappointment.

“Let's go, Isha,” you say, already grabbing a bat and some small balls. You don’t wait for a response, signaling for her to follow as you head to the door.

—

It's late, the sun having set and the moon now high in the sky. You and Isha had spent the previous hours playing, but Jinx still hasn't returned. Concerned, the two of you look for her.

Isha rides on your shoulder, her small hands gripping your hair. She looks at the surroundings for any sign of Jinx. 

After some time walking and climbing, you end up on a rooftop. You both climb carefully, making sure not to fall.

Finally, when perched on the edge, you spot Jinx. She's sitting with her knees against her chest, looking out at Piltover.

You gently place Isha down on the rooftop, giving her a subtle nudge, gesturing towards Jinx. Isha catches your cue, nodding quietly and slowly approaches Jinx.

Isha carefully settled herself down beside her. Her legs dangling off the ledge of the rooftop.

You take a seat on the other side of Isha, settling down with a soft rustle of fabric. 

Jinx continues to stare out at the city, her chin resting on her folded arms. “You guys found me, huh?”

Isha shifts her position, moving closer. You notice that she's looking up at Jinx, her small head resting against her arm.

Jinx glances at the child. She reaches over to ruffle Isha's hair affectionately.

“Couldn't stay away.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, “I guess you two are pretty stubborn.”

You reposition yourself, shifting your body so that you can lean back and rest a hand on the cold, gritty rooftop.

Jinx moves herself into a more relaxed position, leaning back and placing her hand on the rooftop next to yours. With her other hand, she pats at Isha, gesturing for the child to lay down.

Isha obliges, her small body now sprawled out across Jinx's lap. She fidgets a bit, clearly beginning to tire.

Watching over the city below while the moon hangs low in the night sky, a familiar touch breaks the silence, fingertips seeking yours.

There's a gentle pressure, a gentle caress, that causes your hand to twitch involuntarily, yet you don't pull away.

Her hand rests on top of yours , claiming its place as if it were always meant to be there. Jinx's fingers gently trace patterns across the back of your hand, almost like a secret language only she understands. 

“Your hands are cold,” she continues tracing lazy circles with the pads of her fingers.

You hadn't even realized how cold your hand had felt until she pointed it out, and now it seems to be burning under her touch.

“Ever thought about wearing gloves?” 

“Gloves?” you repeat, finding your own voice now. 

“Hm, I guess not,” she responds, almost to herself. 

Her fingers suddenly stop their tracing, and for a brief moment, you feel disappointed. But she quickly resumes, her thumb now brushing over your wrist, the pulse point.

Jinx glances up at you, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Your pulse is racing. Am I making you nervous?”

“No,” you mutter, though the speed of your pulse likely betrays your words.

“Uh huh,” she says. “You're a terrible liar.” She continues to hold your wrist, thumb now drumming a slow, steady rhythm against your pulse point.

“Relax,” she murmurs, her thumb gently rubbing against your pulse. “I don't bite... much.”

You try to calm your racing heartbeat, but her touch is making it difficult. 

“I'm relaxed.”

Isha shifts in Jinx's lap, her body stirring slightly. The sudden movement snaps you out of your trance, both you and Jinx turning your attention towards the girl. 

Jinx lifts her free hand and pats Isha’s head reassuringly. Her touch is soft and careful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl.

With Isha settled, Jinx turns her attention back to you. She still hasn't let go of your wrist, her fingers now massaging little circles into your skin. “You're awfully tense for someone who's ‘relaxed’.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming your face, then she suddenly releases your hand. The sudden absence of her touch feels like a loss.

Jinx sits back, creating a bit of space between the two of you. 

“What's on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

You frown, frustrated by her vague response. “About what?”

“About you,” she answers.

Her reply catches you off guard. You feel your cheeks warm, and you mentally scold yourself. Why is she having this effect on you?

“Me?” you ask, trying to remain calm.

Jinx glances down at the sleeping Isha, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, and Isha,” she mutters, her hand absently playing with the child's hair.

Her eyes then dart back to you, studying you intently. “Mostly you, though,” she clarifies.

“Uh, me?” you repeat, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a parrot.

Jinx hums, still absently playing with Isha’s hair. 

"What... what about us?"

Jinx doesn't respond right away. Her gaze flicks between you and the sleeping child, as if contemplating something.

“I've got a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go.”

She turns to you, her gaze meeting yours. There's something almost pleading in her eyes, as if she's silently begging you to understand.

“I just-” she begins. “I don't want anything bad to happen to either of you... because of me.”

Her eyes search yours for a moment before she looks down at Isha. “I'm not sure what I'd do if something happened to you… either of you.”

“I care too much,” she blurts out, looking back up at you. “And honestly, it scares me.” There’s a pause as her eyes lock onto yours. You can see her shoulders tense, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want to mess everything up. Everyone I’ve ever cared about has gotten hurt by me, or because of me.”

You ache to pull her into your arms, to soothe the worries that are weighing heavily on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of restraint you have not to. “No,” you murmur softly, shaking your head. “No, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Isha.”

“You don't know what could happen.”

“Yes, I do,” you murmur. “I know there's a chance we might end up hurt. Or worse.” You take a deep breath, holding her gaze steady with yours. “But that's a risk I'm willing to take,” you continue. “Because being with you, right now, is worth it.”

She opens her mouth as if to protest, but you cut her off with a soft shake of your head. “No. No more talking. You've said what you need to say. Now let me say what I need to say.”

Eyes never leaving hers, you reach out slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. But she doesn't, and your fingers find their way to her cheek, gently cupping her face.

“I care about you too,” you murmur, your thumb tracing a gentle path over her cheekbone. “I care about the person you are, not just the person you think you are. I see the good in you, the good that you struggle to see in yourself.”

Her lips part, as if to utter another protest, but you gently press a finger to her mouth to silence her. “Let me speak. I'm not done yet.”

“Jinx I know you're afraid,” you continue, your eyes searching hers. “You're terrified of the possibility of me or Isha getting hurt. I understand. But you need to realize,” you pause, your fingers moving from her mouth to her chin, tilting it up gently so that she's looking you fully in the eye.

“You're not a curse,” you say. “You're not a jinx. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. It’s not your fault—” 

“I know.” She trembles under your touch. Her eyes glisten.

“No, listen to me. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Despite her best efforts, the dam is beginning to break. 

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat. A single tear manages to escape, trickling down her cheek and into your palm. “You were just a child.”

“But I should have known. I should have—They're gone because of me. It's my fault.”

“No, no, no,” you cut her off. “It's not your fault. You were just a child. You were doing what you thought was the best to help them, to protect them.” You gently wipe the tear away with your thumb, your heart aching for her. You can see the battle she's fighting within herself, and it kills you that you can't do more. 

“You are not defined by your past, by your mistakes,” you continue, your hand still on her cheek, feeling the slight tremble as she struggles to hold back her tears. “You are so much more than that.”

“You are loved,” you murmur, your fingers gently tracing her jawline, before moving slowly upwards to her temple. “By me, by Isha. And by many more people than you realize.”

For perhaps the first time, Jinx lets herself break. She leans into your touch, her cheek pressing harder against your palm. Her eyes never leave yours, seeking comfort, reassurance. She grips your wrists weakly, her hands trembling. “It's okay, I’m right here.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” you murmur, your thumb tracing small, soothing circles on her cheek. “No matter what happens, you hear me? I'm here to stay. We're here to stay. You're stuck with us.”

Slowly, the tears begin to subside. Her breathing steadies. Her body calming down.

You let your fingers slowly shift from her tear stained cheeks to her hair, gently playing with the strands. “I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe,” you continue, your hands moving down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I'm not some damsel in distress,” she mutters. 

You laugh, leaning back on your hands. “I know you're not,” you assure her. “You'd probably kick my ass if I tried to treat you like one. But even the toughest people need someone to have their backs, right?”

Jinx huffs, though you can see the edges of a smile on her face. “That's a cheesy line,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. 

“Maybe,” you admit. “But it's still true. You don't have to face everything alone,” you continue, hoping to drive the point home.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, her hand resuming its gentle stroking of Isha’s hair. “You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”

“And yet?”

Jinx snorts. “And yet somehow... I tolerate you.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Isha mumbles incoherently, shifting slightly.

“Looks like someone's stirring,” Jinx coos.

With one final pat on Jinx's shoulder, you withdraw your hand, silently communicating that the moment is over, for now.

Her shoulders tense slightly at the loss of your touch, disappointment or perhaps longing in her eyes. But she quickly composes herself.

The little girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily and looking around disoriented. She rubs one eye with a fist, then glances up as if just realizing that she's in Jinx's lap.

Isha grins brightly when she sees Jinx, her tired eyes lighting up. She wriggles a bit, stretching her limbs and looking surprisingly cheerful despite being woken up.

“I think we should head back. It's getting late.”

Jinx nods, carefully shifting Isha in her arms as she stands up. The child wraps her arms around Jinx's neck, clinging to her like a monkey.

“Alright, kid, time to head home,” Jinx tells Isha, bouncing her up a bit in her arms. The girl giggles and buries her head into the crook of Jinx's neck.

Seeing Jinx like this with Isha is something else. She looks so... soft.

“Ready to go?” Jinx asks, looking at you. Isha wriggles, eager to get going.

You nod, gesturing for them to lead the way. Isha stretches out a hand towards you, wanting to hold onto you too.

“Looks like you've got a fan.”

“Nah, she just likes me that much.”

“That so?” Jinx huffs. “Or is she just using you to get to me?”

“You know she'd choose my company over yours any day,” you say, sticking your tongue out at Jinx.

“Oh, so that's how it is, huh?” She pokes Isha gently in the stomach, causing another giggle from the child. “Traitor,” she mutters under her breath before addressing you again. “I'm wounded, really.”

“You'll survive,” you assure her. “Somehow.”

The warmth of Isha’s grasp on your hand. The giggle that escapes her every time Jinx spins her around. The way Jinx's eyes soften when she looks at the child.

This, you realize, is what home could feel like.

notes: im so excited for act 4 on saturday!

[wingwisher]

I was barely aware of what was happening, whatever they'd drugged me with was strong, I had a brief awareness that I might not remember this later

I could swear that the altar had fog pouring off it but I couldn't see where from as they put me on it. The stone was soft like a snake, you just had to pet it in the right direction.

I think I passed out for a bit during the ritual, because the next thing I remember was the chains binding me to the altar shattering, and a figure floating about me.

"What have they done to you?" The figure wailed. It took until the floating entity sat me upright and repeated the question to realize it was directed at me. But I was still so heavily drugged I hadn't really understood the words so had to ask for it to be repeated a third time.

I don't think I spoke particularly coherently, but mumbled something about sacrifice. And asked who the entity was.

"I'm your parent." The figure patiently explained.

"That. Explains some things in retrospect." I managed, struggling to hold onto what exactly it did explain in the moment but certain that it did.

"I can't believe these supposed followers of mine would try and do such a thing to you! I should slay them for even considering harming you!"

"I'm not really big on death…" I mumbled, as the world canted slowly sideways.

"Understood. No matter how long they live, no matter how little food or drink they have, they shall from this point never know the release of death."

A group of demon worshippers are about to sacrifice you but what they don’t know is that the demon they follow is your loving parent.

[aurumalatus]

two.

a short series in which you share a multitude of kisses with childhood friends to lovers!kinich over your lifetime.

your bedroom feels overwhelmingly hot.

the a/c is on, you know because your curtains are billowing from the cool air pooling from the vent underneath them. summers are always this warm, when the humidity grows high and sweat sticks to your skin in layers.

kinich is laying on your bed, fanning himself with a stray magazine he had plucked from your nightstand. on days like these, it's too hot for you to even make the walk to the park down the street, or to the skatepark. you'd be drowning in sweat before you made it there, you're sure.

"so you've never kissed anyone?"

you don't even really remember how the conversation started. all you know is that the two of you had been talking about things you'd never done before, and you'd arrived at this. the girls in the locker room had been discussing it—their first kiss—including who it was with and what it was like.

the mere thought makes you gnaw at your lip, tension filling the room.

"...have you?" you reply, glancing over to your best friend. he doesn't seem nearly as bothered by the subject matter as you are.

"nope. i don't really care though," he sighs, which is so typical of him, you think. unlike you, kinich cares very little what the other kids in your grade think of him.

but you care, and you're starting to worry that you're falling behind in that...developmental area. you've managed to deflect any questions about the topic from the other girls in your class, but you fear that you won't be able to keep it up for long.

kinich sits up, shuffling forward on your bed to stare at where you sit on the ground. his gaze is inquisitive, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable.

"but let me guess," he starts, tossing his makeshift fan aside, "you care."

as always, he has you all figured out. after a moment of hesitation, you nod.

"i do. i know it's lame, but i feel like the other girls will think i'm..."

"a prude?"

you sigh. "something like that."

another moment passes before kinich is crawling off the bed, sitting cross-legged before you. his proximity makes the heat worse, but you don't hate it.

"alright," he shrugs, scooting closer. "then i'll kiss you, and you can tell everyone it was me."

you flinch in alarm, head knocking against the drawer of your wooden dresser. kinich's eyes widen, hands already outstretched toward you, but you interrupt him with your own spluttering.

"wh-what?! what are you talking about? you can't just do that!"

he tilts his head. "why not? is it because you're embarrassed for it to be me?"

"no!" you defend instantly. you'd never be embarrassed to be around kinich. "but...don't you want it to be with a girl you actually like?"

"i do like you."

you shake your head. you know what he means, but you were implying a different kind of like. still, the thought of sharing your first kiss with kinich isn't...awful. it's a bit comforting to share it with someone you trust, even moreso when you know that he hasn't done it before either.

finally, after thinking on it a bit more, you nod firmly.

"okay."

kinich raises a brow. "okay?"

and then he's leaning in, and you don't know whether to close your eyes or leave them open. you're trying to remember every teen romance movie you've ever watched after your mother went to bed, but your memory fails you. but he's already so close, and you rush forward a little too fast and—

your lips bump together clumsily, and you wince at the feeling. it's weird, certainly, and you're honestly not sure if you're doing it right at all. you can feel kinich's lashes brushing against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver.

it's chaste, so brief that it's over before it even really registers in your mind that it happened. your mind is racing by the time kinich pulls away, and you find yourself meeting his eyes far too quickly.

his gaze is warm. "that okay?"

you nod, wondering what the blooming feeling in your chest could mean.

"yeah," you reply, swallowing thickly. "it was okay."

[slightly-knot-insane]

A Little Bit Rusty [part 2]

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: continuation of this short drabble, now with more plot, hehe. also, i imagined this monster as some kind of dinosaur hybrid, but i'll still keep it vague enough for readers to imagine whatever they like ^^ content: nsfw, some steamy moments with clothes on, fingering

You left his apartment before he woke up, figuring it will be less awkward than to have breakfast together and spend the morning in silence avoiding each other's gaze. The night was so good, though, you think as you enter the museum, your workplace.

It's hard to focus on paperwork you left unfinished yesterday in order to have fun with your co-worker, aka supervisor, aka mentor. It's very hard not to think about his long monstrous tongue or his teeth biting your inner thighs.

"Good morning..." You jolt up immediately recognizing your mentor's voice. You didn't notice when he entered the office. He is standing a few steps away from you, like you have a disease. "Are you... okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You are truly surprised with his question. Last night was fantastic.

He suddenly stands with his back straighter than before - if that's even possible. "R-right. Good to know." And then basically runs away.

Maybe he didn't have such a good time? He sure didn't act unsatisfied. You chuckle looking at him trip over his own legs.

It's a busy day, Saturday, and the museum is full of people. You both have tours to lead, but since you only started working, you are mostly free or assisting him.

You actually love listening to him, since he's very eloquent when talking about archaeological findings, especially about bones. He is especially charming with kids and can make them laugh easily. But as soon as he lays his eyes on you, he blushes or stutters. It's so entertaining seeing him flustered you can't help but on purposely make his job even harder.

You shorten your skirt, pull your blouse down to expose your bosom, and tighten the belt around your waist to accentuate your curves even more. When he sees you the next time, his jaw drops like a malfunctioning lid. Luckily, his group is enjoying some free time exploring the science room so he has time to quickly approach you.

"You, um..." he tries to form words, ask you something very polite probably, but you bite your lip and his pupils dangerously dilate.

He pushes you behind 'staff only' little door in the next room and shoves your body against the wall. It is so cramped in there and you can't move - not that you want to. This 'rusty old man' how he called himself, is all but out of practice, and you get wet just thinking about what he could do to you right now.

"I'm not blind," he growls and pushes his clawed hand into your hair pulling your head backwards. He licks your neck along your jugular. "You're toying with me."

"You think?" your sarcastic remark is cut short by his hand sliding between your thick thighs and lightly touching your mons pubis.

"Why did you leave this morning?" he asks you but doesn't let you answer because he pushes his tongue inside your mouth. All you can do is moan and suck. "Why?" he repeats letting you catch your breath.

"I-I'm not sure," you reply, mind hazy, "I wanted us to think about everything, I guess. Analyze things."

"I see," he hums as his finger slithers inside your panties and rubs your lewdness while his other hand grips your hips. "I recon we're both done thinking."

He pulls his finger out and licks it with the tip of his tongue. Your pussy throbs.

"We should get back to work," he says, blushing again, returning to his old flustered self... and kisses his wet finger before exiting the storage room with a naughty wink.

[ third part coming soon! ]

[ohhiimweird]

Reunited but a little Different (Dan Heng)

Or in which you see Imbibity dibity for the first time

Character: Dan Heng

Reader pronouns: they/them (gender neutral)

Tags: fluff, Dan Heng being insecure, Stelle is trailblazer cause that's who I chose

Dan Heng was someone who kept to himself, especially about his past. You were now beginning to suspect that all of his secrets weren't as bad as you thought they were. Because one of his secrets is that he's a beautiful dragon man.

You squinted at his true vidiyadhara form. His long, dark hair draped over his shoulders. A pair of horns sprouted from his temples. Aeons, was he showing skin?! Dan Heng? The most modest man you've ever met had a boob window. March and Stelle weren't as in awe as you were about this. You didn't get it. This man was gorgeous. Well, he was already handsome, and maybe you had a teensy tiny crush on him, but this was so different.

You kept staring even after Jing Yuan accompanied the rest of you to Scalegorge Waterscape. Dan Heng avoided eye contact with you the whole time. It was fine but also not fine at the same time. You found his pointy ears hidden beneath his hair. However, you couldn't gaze into those beautiful blue eyes he has. Oh well, he was never good with eye contact, anyways.

"Are you done staring?" Dan Heng's voice was the last thing you expected to hear.

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you immediately looked away from him. "I'm not staring," you blurted.

"You're a terrible liar."

You glanced back at him. His expression was unreadable. If you looked closely, there was a slight pout.

"Sorry. I don't mean it in a bad way, it's just..." You tried figuring out how to tell Dan Heng you thought he was hot, but you came up empty.

"I'm like a different person?" Dan Heng finished your sentence.

"Kind of...you're still you," you said. "I'm not gonna call you that other guy's name because you got hotter--"

Shit.

"You didn't hear that last bit," you interrupted yourself.

Dan Heng watched as you scurried towards March and Stelle. Your cheeks were dusted with shades of bright pink and red.

Dan Heng always thought you were a simple person. He admired that simplicity. Perhaps that's what he needed right now.

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

"Welcome Sir..." my secretary said. "I'm ready... Willing... And eager to serve you and make your work day as pleasurable and efficient as possible."

Once the initial shock of finding my secretary kneeling half naked on my desk wore off, I smiled as I realize how effective the new company training video I developed turned out to be.

Although looking at her state of undress, one could argue that it might be a little TOO effective.

"Maybe the implanted compulsion to show her body off combined with the compulsion to dress in a way to inspire lust in her immediate superior..." I muttered to myself. "And if THAT also combined with the 'see yourself as a sexual object' suggestion... That would certainly explain this..."

"I'm sorry Sir." she said. "I'm afraid I didn't quite hear you. Is it anything I can help you with?"

"No no... Just thinking out loud..." I said, admiring her figure. "So you are eager to serve?"

"I am Sir!" she said, smiling broadly.

"You are dressed rather provocatively... Am I to assume that your eagerness to serve includes a lot more than simple clerical work?" I said as I stepped up close to the desk.

"Why else would I be dressed like this?" she said smiling coyly.

"You are huh? That's very surprising..." I said, smiling. "Especially when you consider that just last week, you stood in this very office and threatened to file an official complaint with HR if I didn't stop hitting on you."

"I'm sorry about that... Sir..." she said, visibly blushing. "I had this misguided notion that being a proper and professional secretary meant that I needed to keep business and pleasure separate."

"And now I assume you know otherwise?" I asked.

"Yes Sir! I thought you were hitting on me because you wanted to go out with me, but hat training video made it so clear that I was completely wrong." she said, smiling even as she bit her lower lip. "You were obviously within your rights and it's my fault for not understanding that being a proper secretary is all about using pleasure to boost your Boss' business performance."

Somehow, I managed not chuckle at the complete conviction in her voice as she repeated the idea my video had brainwashed into her mind.

"I'm glad you finally understand and that further more... You are willing and eager to be a proper secretary for me." I said as I took her chin, caressing her lower lip with my thumb. "Not all secretaries do and it often creates embarrassing mix ups. As well as extra work for HR."

"You don't have to worry about me creating extra work for the HR department..." she said, clearly a little aroused by my touch. "I'm very eager to serve ALL of your needs without restrictions in the hopes of being your perfect secretary."

"All of my needs huh?" I said, smiling.

"Yes Sir." she said, kissing my thumb. "All of them..."

"In that case, no reason not to take advantage of your lovely display and see how well you can fulfill my desires..." I said as I removed my hand. "After all, we still have time before our lunch break ends. So be a dear and go lock the door before you get yourself out of those stunning garments..."

"Right away Sir!" she said excitedly as she got off my desk.

I knew the training video probably had it's flaws, but for now, it looked like it worked marvelously well and I as I watched her incredible form slip out of her bra and panties, I couldn't wait to start tweaking the program to see how much more I could brainwash her...

Faye Reagan

[munsonsmixtapes]

Eddie requests, you ask? 🧐

What about something where the reader pines for Eddie from afar (maybe she’s not super close with him but share mutual friends) and over time has to stand aside as Eddie hooks up with other girls. Perhaps Eddie is in a bit of a fuckboy era and is a little teasing (or at times harsh) to the reader. Something happens where the reader’s feelings are put on blast (oof, embarrassing) and choices have to be made on how things move forward.

It could be an angst —> fluff or pure angst depending on where you see it going!

cw: hurt/comfort, mention of vomit and throwing up

You see him flirting with yet another girl as you stand behind the counter at Family Video. You hate how pathetic you feel pining for someone who will never feel the same way about you. You know he won't because you're not his type. You know you're not because you've seen the girls he goes out with. They're nothing like you and you've come close to changing your entire look just to make him notice you, but Robin and Steve convinced you not to.

They're laughing now and you have to turn away because you want so badly for it to be you. So badly that it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You hate the way it makes you feel and you hate how you're so hung up on someone who doesn't even know you exist.

Steve sees you turn away and his heart aches for you. You're one of his best friends and he just wishes that Eddie would finally see you for the wonderful woman you are.

And he wants the two of you to get together. He wants it so bad. Not only because he wants you to be happy, but also because he thinks you'll be good for Eddie. The one he settles down with and maybe even eventually marries. He's rooting for the two of you and he really hopes it works out.

But the thing was, Eddie had no fucking clue. And it wasn't that he didn't like you, he barely knew you. He actually thought you were sweet and was no stranger to waving at you or even greeting you when he sees you around town.

Eventually, they break apart and head to the counter where the girl puts a DVD on the counter as you scan it while Steve is behind you typing some stuff into the computer as he enters the returns into it.

The girl, Molly, maybe? Or was it Martha? Definitely something with an M, hands you what she owes you while staring at you with her eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where she knows you from. As you hand her back her change, it hits her and her face lights up as she gets the realization.

"Now I know where I know you from," she says like it's been killing her not knowing. You wonder what she's talking about and nothing can prepare you for the words that leave her mouth. "You're the girl who has a crush on Eddie here," she laughs, jerking her thumb over her shoulder as the man behind her. The way she says it doesn't sound like he's making fun of you, but you still feel your cheeks heating up.

"All the girls are talking about it. We think it's really cute, by the way. I um, I saw your notebook when you let me borrow it one time. It had his name scribbled all over it with hearts. So adorable."

Your expression matches Eddie's as your eyes widen in unison. His cheeks are bright red and you feel yours getting hot. You don't even know what to do or say. Your mouth is dry and now you feel like you're going to throw up.

And before you can stop yourself, you're running out of the store, your stomach churning as you hurry to your car. You unlock the door and Eddie's racing after you, hurrying to where you're opening the door and pushing it closed so you can't leave. You whip around and stare at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you looked at him.

"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask, wiping your tears from your eyes and his hands move to rest on your shoulders, leaning closer to you, his lips capturing yours. You gasp into his mouth, but eventually melt into him, not able to resist the exact thing you've been wanting for months.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," he says as he pulls away but only for a second before he's kissing you again.

"It's okay," you reply, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"It's you," he mumbles against your lips. "It's always been you."

"It's always been you too," you tell him as he pushes you against the car gently, wanting to do this exact thing for hours. And if he gets his way, he will.

[julymusings]

Jason Todd & Cooking

I always go back and forth on how much I want to include "Jason loves to cook" in my writing because I'm not sure how much is canon and how much is fanon so can we open it up to discussion pretty please I'd love to hear other people's thoughts.

Here are my arguments:

Experience: Jason grew up poor and largely had to parent himself. So he must know a little bit of cooking, even if it's the bare basics that's only enough to keep him alive. It's plausible this taught him how to be creative and thrifty with meals because he had to make do with whatever he had, so we can assume that if you drop him in a kitchen with random ingredients, he can figure something out.

Knife skills: I've seen other authors (myself included) write him as good in the kitchen because he's efficient with a knife from being a vigilante. I don't have much to say on this, just that I think that's also a fair assumption considering he underwent training with the League of Assassins and became highly-skilled with wielding blades.

Love language: He's the kind of person who, due to his trauma, has difficulty opening up to people and trusting them (it's confirmed he cries during sex so this is an objective fact idc). When it comes to having a romantic partner, it might not be easy for him to express affection through words, so he relies on actions. If you like flowers, he buys you flowers. If you like a dish, he makes it for you. So yeah, this might not have concrete evidence in canon, but I'm gonna choose to believe that he would enjoy cooking for someone he loves.

Art hoe?: We know he appreciates good literature, so does that extend to other forms of creativity?

Hands: (I don't actually know how much of this is based in canon but whatever) He likes to work on his bike, he's meticulous with taking care of his guns & weapons, so it's safe to assume he likes working with his hands. So even if it's not something he loves to do as a "safe space" because of cherished memories with Alfred or anything, he might still enjoy it.

^^on that note, what do you think some of his 'safe spaces' are? Like I guess reading would be one, maybe working on his bike would be another? Idk, what does anyone else think. p.s. I'm using safe space to mean something that makes him feel happy and gives him a break from his demons yk

Also I did only make this as a defense for the "Jason Todd had a charcuterie board obsession phase" post sitting in my drafts because I BELIEVE he DID!!!!!!!!

Anyway please let me know your thoughts I'm frothing at the mouth for human interaction

[akanemnon]

Normally, I'm not the type to send an ask (I'm not particularly active on Tumblr, so it feels a little weird sending a msg over), but the comic has been an inspiration for me for months now (and this week's one has really hit the feels! xD) and I figured it wouldn't hurt, especially when I've been through the ringer a couple of times recently myself.

I hope you heal well on your hiatus, I've had a good relationship with taking walks in [personally significant location] whenever I need to cool off, or if I'm at home I just listen to the same music on loop until I fall asleep. (Not that all stressors have those as good counters, but still, whatever works.)

I don't want to ramble too much (a bit late for that, I know), so my point is: well wishes your way and all that!

On a lighter note, I also hope Chara's doing alright because they clearly were also impacted by the abort-geno run if that expression is any indication...

Thank you so very much guys. It's kinda hard for me to properly express all my gratitude, but I really mean it when I say it means a lot to me.

I will definitely use that break wisely. Also because I didn't completely recover from my cold and now it's back with a vengance.

EDIT: was at the doctor's today, turns out I got a FUCKING BRONCHITIS

Little fun fact about that panel with Chara specifically:

In the first draft of the script Chara was supposed to look back over their shoulder at Frisk with an angry and disappointed expression. And Frisk used to say "Chara has become a lot angrier since then. I don't blame them".

But after thinking more deeply into it, with the whole counter thing that Chara does for the Player, it made more sense for Chara to be disturbed by themself going along with it and even encouraging it. It ties into their change of mind regarding their own plan way back when.)

[cjlouwho]

He'd forced himself to stay out of bed until at least eight o'clock. Glancing at the clock on the wall every two minutes as he flipped through the channels on TV. He had exited out of his DVR pretty quickly. Most of the things on there were shows that Buck had recorded for them to watch together later. There was a documentary on beetles of the world that they had only gotten halfway through before they were stumbling into the bedroom, not that Tommy minded. He'd never really wanted to watch the documentary in the first place. Now he'd give anything to have Evan beside him, talking over everything the narrator said.

He wanted today to be over. Wanted to fall asleep and wake up and it be another normal day. Just Friday, November 29th. Nothing special about that.

The second it hit eight, Tommy was shutting off the TV and getting up to head to his room. He stopped as he passed the front door. He swore he could hear something on the other side of it. A rustling, mixed with someone cursing under their breath.

He sighed. He was supposed to be getting a new part for his truck delivered soon, and the guy probably tossed it, angry about having to make deliveries on Thanksgiving.

He flipped on the light before opening the door, freezing when he saw it was definitely not some random delivery guy on the other side.

"Ev- Buck? Why are... What?"

"I dropped the pie," Buck whined, scooping pumpkin pie off of Tommy's front porch and plopping it back into its container.

It took Tommy a second to understand what was happening. There was a brown bag by the door, filled to the top with containers, and a couple more containers beside it.

Then there was the pie, most of it back in the container with some smeared in Buck's hand, and remnants on the porch. There would be ants everywhere by morning. But that was a tomorrow problem.

"Here, Buck, it's fine, just-"

"You weren't supposed to come out yet," Buck explained in a bit of a panic. He was still bent over, picking at the crust on the ground. "I was gonna ring the doorbell and go before you got to the door."

"You were gonna ding dong ditch me?" Tommy asked, trying to lighten the mood. When it didn't work, he took a step closer to Buck, "Buck, seriously, it's fine. You didn't need to do all this."

Finally, Buck stood, his pumpkin covered hand held out. "Well, I know you don't wanna see me or talk to me, but I wanted you to have some of the food because when we planned everything it was with you in mind, and we had a lot leftover and I knew you wouldn't fix yourself anything and-"

"Buck, just... just come in and wash your hands, please, okay? I'll grab the food."

Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'll be in and out."

Tommy stepped to the side, letting Buck in first. He grabbed up all the food and followed behind him into the kitchen. "Feels like there's enough here to feed me for a week."

"I figured you might want to take some into work with you, or freeze it or something," Buck replied, scrubbing the pumpkin off his hand.

"I appreciate it. You, um, you really didn't have to do all this. I did end up making some Thanksgiving foods for myself."

Buck huffed out a laugh. "What? Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce?" He grabbed the towel from beside the sink and turned to Tommy looking at him from across the kitchen island, his face blank and eyes a little red. Buck shook his head. "Sorry, that was mean, I- I didn't mean it to sound like that."

"It's fine. You're not wrong about that, actually."

"Still, I, uh, I shouldn't have said it like that. Sorry." He dropped the towel back by the sink and pushed himself away from the counter. "I'm gonna go, but Happy... Happy Thanksgiving, Tommy."

Tommy pursed his lips as Buck walked by, heading for the door. Part of him was saying to keep quiet, let him go. The other part told him he was an idiot if he did that.

"You are wrong about something though," he blurted, stopping Buck before he could get too far.

Buck turned back to him. "What's that?"

"I have wanted to see you, and talk to you."

They stared at each other for a moment, both of their hearts thumping in their chests.

"You have?" Buck questioned. "Could've fooled me."

Yeah, he deserved that. "Listen, are you hungry at all?" Tommy asked. "I could get this warmed up and we could eat, talk, fight, whatever. I... I feel like I left a little too soon and you deserve more of an explanation than what I gave you. No pressure though, if you wanna go, I'll understand, I just think-"

"I could eat," Buck interrupted. "As long as you mean it all. Even the fighting part."

Tommy smiled softly. "I would really, really love to fight with you this Thanksgiving, Evan."

"You sure?"

Tommy nodded.

"Okay then," Buck agreed. "I'd really, really love to fight with you too."

“The team is off this year, and you are too, so I’m going to show you what a real Thanksgiving looks like.”

That’s what Buck had told him a month ago, a late night discussion in bed at the loft, Buck’s shoulder healed enough to lie down but Tommy making no effort to leave him.

Being off for Thanksgiving was rare, both of them being off was practically a miracle. Buck was determined not to waste it.

He’d asked Tommy about what his Thanksgivings were like growing up. Tommy had told him, the first few he could remember were his dad yelling about something not being done right and his mom ending up in the bedroom crying.

After she died, there was no more Thanksgiving at all. The only thing Tommy would do, more for his mom than anything else, is make her “special homemade dressing” (a box of Stovetop), and cranberry sauce. He’d eat it alone in the kitchen while his dad downed one beer after another in his chair in the living room, watching whatever game was on.

And once he was an adult, he worked pretty much every Thanksgiving, so he didn’t think much of it.

Buck had kissed him hard after that, promised this year would be different. They’d all be at Maddie and Chimney’s place, but everyone was going to pitch in with the cooking. There would be kids running around, and games, and way too much food, and maybe once everyone else left they’d watch a Christmas movie.

Tommy played it cool, but he felt like a kid on the inside. He was so excited. He’d get to be with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s family, which were his friends too. There would be laughter and embarrassing stories told. The kids would be getting excited for Christmas and he’d ask Jee what she was wanting so he could get her present sorted out. It would be perfect.

Tommy cleared his throat as he turned off the stove, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He set the stuffing on the back burner, letting it sit while he scooped two spoonfuls of cranberry sauce on his plate. From the fridge he grabbed a beer and set it at the table. Then he went back to the stuffing and stirred it, satisfied with the thickness. He added a bit more than a regular serving size to his plate, then walked back to the table.

From his seat he could hear the game on in the living room. If he pretended enough, he could imagine his dad in there. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

[letsbangts]

end of a day || jjk

⤷ summary: when the day tries to weigh you two down you both are there to lift each other up

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.1k

⟶ genre: angst, fluff, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, stress, crying, & a comforting koo

⟶ warnings: none

↬ a/n: inspired by one of my all time favourite songs end of a day shinee's jonghyun ʚ♡ɞ

↬ a/n2: p.s the italics are the song lyrics & as always let me know what you think i really appreciate feedback :) recommend a song if you’d like and i’ll write a scenario with it like i did with this song!

masterlist

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hold out your hand, wrap it around my neck.

a little below, massage my shoulders.

at the end of a tiring day, even if the sun has already come up

i'm finally closing my eyes

 Sometimes it can feel like there are too many hours in a day. The day has been going on for too long. A day where life felt a bit too hard, where the world got a bit too busy, a bit too heavy and decided to lay its weight upon your shoulders and your heart. A day that all you needed was a hand to reach out to you. It was one of those days for me today, a day that is finally coming to a close as I see the sun going down on the horizon as I make my way back home ready to shut my eyes. Home. The place I could not reach any quicker. It is not the four walls I am racing to arrive to but to him, as he is my real home.

 i close the door to my day later than others

playfully tickle my earlobe

because even though we’ve been in different worlds all day

we always end the day together

I enter my house and close the door also closing the door to my day. Many others have probably retired from their days long before me. I hear the clicking of a mouse an all too familiar sound to me, almost a reassuring sound. And that is when I knew although we were both in two completely different worlds the whole day, my day was just as draining as his. As I walk in and turn to see Jungkook’s tired face and slumped figure still working away, illuminated by his monitor screen I realize his day has been just as long as mine. Seeing him released all the pressure off my shoulders and I can almost release a sigh of relief knowing as always we can end our day together.

your small shoulders, your small hands

become my cozy blanket at the end of a tiring day

For some reason seeing Jungkook today, maybe because of the stress or exhaustion, whatever it is the second I see him a welling feeling emerges in my chest.

“Kook?” my voice shakes out.

He turns his head, not noticing my presence before being absorbed in his work, only ready to go to bed as soon as he’s pleased with his edit.

“Hmm?” as he turns his head his glasses reflect the glare caught from the screen.

We make eye contact and he watches as I approach him. As I walk closer to him he immediately wheels back his chair from the desk making space for me. He opens his arms when he sees my quivering lips and watery eyes, pulling me with his lap. He wraps his arms around my small shoulders, my small hands clutch onto his shirt as I cry into him. With my face buried in his chest, I stain his shirt with my tears, shedding my day. He rubs my back letting me get out the feelings I pent up for hours. He is silent as he embraces me until I hear him let out a deep sigh himself and I suddenly feel like I am comforting him at the same time. For the first time in my day, I finally take a breath of contentment able to relax and Jungkook seemingly doing the same.

you did a good job today, you worked so hard

i hope my shoulders and my thick hands

will become cozy comfort for the end of your tiring day as well

Jungkook pats my head with his thick hands probably stiff from all the clicking and typing the diligent work he always puts into everything.

“It’s okay. You did a good job today. You worked so hard, I know you did.” he soothes me with a gentle voice.

I sniffle and pull back to look up at him. I remove his glasses from his face and place them on his desk. I look into his eyes, red with dark bags underneath them as he stares back at mine, red and filled with tears.

I blanked out as I admired him filling myself with the warmth of satisfaction I get from simply being with him.

i want to naturally sync my breathing with yours 

like water in a bathtub that wraps around you with no space left

i wanna warmly hold you without any space left

I want to end my day with Jungkook. Merge me with him, with his breathing, with his heartbeat, with his movements, his everything, with his very being.

“I missed you,” I say to him “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” He replies hugging me tighter.

“You must have had quite a day as well I shouldn't be crying on you like this.” I wipe away my tears and laugh at my selfishness, burdening him with my tears.

 at the end of my day, filled with awkward mistakes

you, my prize, are waiting for me.

i can’t cry all I want or even laugh all I want

at the end of a tiring day but still, if I’m next to you

like a child, I can whine and then laugh till I run out of breath

i’m not used to seeing myself like this

He takes my face into his hands, cupping my cheeks his thumbs rubbing them back and forth. His gaze is loving as he says,

“No matter what kind of day I have, one filled with accomplishments or one filled with mistakes, once we come together my day can never end on a bad note. You are my prize, you being here with me is all the reassurance I need to know I can get through this day, and the next, and any more that may come. I may be one to suppress my feelings and not express myself fully, I don’t cry all the time or laugh as often as I should. But at the end of a tiring day, I know if I'm next to you, you will let me whine like a child and then you'll have me laughing until I’m out of breath. And it still surprises me after all these years with you seeing myself like that.”

I glide my hands up to his neck and pull him in for a kiss so deep that it feels like we become one, breaths intertwined.

Sometimes it can feel like there are too many hours in a day. The day has been going on for too long. But right now I realize there can never be enough hours in a day for me when I am with Jungkook. So the day can go on for as long as it wants because no matter how long it is I can make it through knowing that at the end of it, I will make my way back to Jungkook.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

you did a good job today, you worked so hard

you are my prize

[demonpiratehuntress]

anxious

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - you're very anxious and prone to panic attacks, and your boyfriend seems to forget that after a bad mission.

warnings - a little bit of angst, mean and kind of toxic Ace, hurt/comfort, panic attack triggers (or at least they are for my anxiety, idk about you guys but a warning anyway)

You were just trying to be thoughtful.

You hadn't known his mission had gone so sour.

It was a harmless surprise, and you hadn't known that he felt so strongly about it.

"SURPRISE!"

His expression went from anger, to shock, and back to anger in the span of ten seconds as he realised what was happening. One look at the decorations and the cake confirmed it.

"(Name), what is this?" Ace's hard gaze turned on you.

You shrunk back a little ,not used to being on the receiving end of that look, "You never celebrate your birthday, so I wanted-"

"There's a reason I don't!" He raised his voice, making you flinch.

"I-I'm sorry-" You started, panic flooding your body. "I didn't-"

"Think? No, you didn't," he cut you off harshly. "If you were thinking, you would have asked me first!" Small flames flickered on several parts of his body as he stepped closer, glaring menacingly.

At the first sign of your body trembling, Marco stepped between the two of you, "Ace, stop."

You felt humiliated. The rest of the crew had seen everything, and your face burned with embarrassment. You shook slightly, the panic growing until you became unsteady and stumbled, catching yourself on the wall.

You turned and fled, hot tears streaming down your face.

You barely made it into the room before you couldn't take it anymore, your entire frame shaking so violently you couldn't keep your balance. You fell to your hands and knees, unable to breathe as you sobbed.

Someone came in behind you, and you made out a figure trying to help you up, but you couldn't tell who it was before you passed out.

-

You woke up in your bed, but with an empty spot beside you. You frowned deeply - Ace hadn't slept here with you last night. He was never that upset with you, he always craved your touch regardless.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You felt horrible, not just emotionally but physically too. Still, you got up to get ready.

Your first action was to find Marco, because if Ace hadn't come back last night then it must have been the doctor who put you in your bed. Which you were grateful for, but embarrassed about.

"(Name)! How are you feeling?" He offered you a warm smile when you eventually found him.

"Better," you admitted, "But..."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not you who needs to apologise," you sighed. "But anyway, thank you for helping me last night. Have you seen Ace?" The moment you saw Marco's expression, your anxiety returned. "What?"

"(Name)..." He sighed. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Why?" But even as you asked, unease gnawed at you slowly and made you uncertain you wanted to know the answer.

Before Marco could answer, someone's shout from outside made you freeze up.

"Ace, there you are! Finally made it back from the bar? With all those pretty women that were surrounding you, we feared the worst!"

It was a harmless joke to the crewmate who'd spoken, but those words crushed whatever hope you were holding onto that you could talk to Ace about what happened.

Marco quickly went to close the door, "You can stay here if you'd prefer not to see him." He eyed your trembling hands, then added, "I think it would be best if I go talk to him."

All you could do was nod, before you had to force yourself to sit down. The anxiety you felt increased tenfold, making your head spin. The dizziness worsened, to the point that you felt as if you were going to faint again. You tried breathing in and out deeply, but that failed and the tears came before you could stop them.

How could one small issue, that could have been talked through rationally, cause this much hurt?

When you eventually ran out of tears and stopped shaking, you decided you'd had enough. Ignoring Marco's suggestion to stay there, you left his room and left the ship, going onto the island it was docked at.

Acting as if you didn't hear the confused calls and shouts of your concerned crewmates behind you.

A hand closed around your wrist before you could get too far, and without thinking you swivelled around and punched your assailant square in the nose.

Ace let go and stumbled back, a surprised and pained grunt leaving his lips as he covered his sore appendage, "I deserve that."

"What do you want?" You asked emotionlessly, arms crossed.

"To apologise," he looked up at you, guilt clear in his eyes. Hurt and panic joined it when he reached for you again but you flinched away from him. A first.

"For insulting me or for going to be with other girls on your birthday?" You snapped, crossing your arms.

His guilt worsened, "I...both."

"This is the worst apology I've ever heard."

"Look, I'm sorry," he pleaded, "I'm really, really sorry. You didn't make me upset, you never do. I was just...the mission went bad, and I barely got out of there and I was just so frustrated that I couldn't see or think straight. And I ended up hurting the person I love the most because of it." He stepped closer slowly, shoulders sagging in relief when you didn't move away. "I know it's not an excuse, and I feel so, so horrible for being the cause of a panic attack...But please let me make it up to you, I want to celebrate my birthday with you. You're the reason I want to celebrate it now. Please..."

The sincerity of his words and the pain in his eyes were enough to convince you that he was truly sorry. You sighed, finally letting your guard back down and taking his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I forgive you, just...don't do it again. If you do I will throw you into the ocean."

His eyes lit up and he engulfed you in the tightest of hugs, "Deal!"

He sucked up to you hard the following few days, doing anything and everything you asked. He knew the crew took advantage of that and asked you to tell him to do certain things, but he never protested because he knew he had a lot to make up for.

He brought you breakfast in bed, forcing himself to wake up earlier than he would usually just to get you food for when you woke up. He made the bed and cleaned the room, organised your clothes and attended to you every need.

Because the thing about Ace is that he cares deeply, and loves even deeper. If he hurts someone he loves more than anything, he doesn't forgive himself easily and he grovels, hard. Even if you've already forgiven him.

But that's what you loved most about him, his passion for and commitment to the ones he loves.

[evenyvn]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄. — detective!alhaitham x troublemaker male!reader

chapter 02 ; nice to meet you

cw : lowercase intended.

previous. — masterlist — next ; original work

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　　　　after several hours of fruitless interrogation, (m/n) finally allowed to leave the police station, he stood up from his chair, stretching his cramped muscles with a hint of boredom on his face. in the office, several police officers were still busy with their work, their voices could be heard faintly.

(m/n) paused for a moment near the door, looking at the police station that always seemed busy and full of hustle and bustle. however, his eyes immediately fell on a man, namely alhaitham.

alhaitham was a rather striking figure, though he made no attempt to stand out. with his milky pale skin, silvery gray hair, and green eyes with a hint of sharp red, he was certainly different from most of the men in the precinct. alhaitham wore a dark suit that fit him well, and despite his simple appearance, there was something very elegant and mysterious about the way he carried himself.

not many people could hold their gaze at alhaitham without feeling a little bit of awe or curiosity. however, the detective himself seemed oblivious to (m/n) staring at him from afar.

(m/n) stared at him with growing curiosity. he recognized alhaitham as a detective who sometimes patrolled darker places and rarely talked to others. alhaitham was known for his extraordinary skills in solving cases, but he was also known as a very secretive person, even can be passed as arrogant, and always worked alone.

(m/n), who was used to dealing with local police and many more accessible people—felt something was different about alhaitham. the genius detective had an aura that made people feel as if they shouldn't approach him.

(m/n)'s eyes remained fixed on alhaitham, feeling an invisible attraction connecting him to the detective. he didn't know why, but something inside him made him very curious, maybe even a little fascinated. (m/n), who usually didn't care much about other people, felt an urge to approach alhaitham, something he had never felt before towards anyone in this police station.

with increasing curiosity, (m/n) finally step closer to alhaitham. even though he knew that he was often considered a local thug or troublemaker and was not accepted by many people, he felt that he needed to talk to alhaitham, even if only a little. maybe, he thought, alhaitham could give him something new.

however, his steps were still hesitant—he was not someone who usually paid attention to others so deeply. when (m/n) was a few steps away from alhaitham, the detective was still busy with the files at the reception desk, and did not notice his arrival.

(m/n) stood for a few seconds, looking at alhaitham from behind, waiting for the right moment to greet him. finally, after feeling sure enough that he would not be thrown out just like that, (m/n) spoke up.

"hey, detective... alhaitham, right?" (m/n)'s voice was a bit loud, trying to get attention.

alhaitham turned his head slowly, looking a little surprised that someone was facing him with such an attitude. however, his expression remained cold and unchanged, as if he wasn't bothered.

"yeah, what do you want?" alhaitham answered shortly, his voice calm but full of caution. (m/n) smiled slightly, feeling the tension in the air. "i just wanted to chat. i see you around here a lot, and... you seem different from most people in this police station."

alhaitham raised an eyebrow, showing a hint of indifference. "it's none of your business," he said, his voice as cold as ever. "i don't have time to talk to the likes of you."

hearing that, (m/n) felt a little offended, but he didn't back down. he felt, for some reason, that there was something he should know about alhaitham. (m/n) knew that he wasn't someone who could be easily pushed aside, so he decided to try again.

"you don't have to worry, i won't bother you. i'm just curious," (m/n) said, his voice softer and a little more serious. "you always look... alone. no one can get close to you, huh?"

alhaitham stared at him sharply, the green eyes that reminded (m/n) of emerald were now cold and calculating. "i don't need anyone else," he answered firmly, still in a low and indifference tone. "i prefer to work alone."

(m/n) snorted softly. he felt a little frustrated, but didn't give up. "okay, okay, i get it. but you have to admit it, you're also curious about me, right?" (m/n) teased a little, trying to lighten the mood.

alhaitham, who usually avoided confrontation or unnecessary conversations, started to feel a little annoyed. however, even though he tried to remain calm, his eyes gave away that he was struggling to not be affected.

"i'm not interested in someone like you," he replied firmly looking at the other man ridiculously, there was a slight stiffness in his voice that indicated that he couldn't quite contain (m/n)'s attention.

even though alhaitham's attitude was cold and rejecting, the (h/c) haired man still felt that there was something interesting in the detective. while alhaitham tried to keep his distance, (m/n) was even more determined to dig deeper into this mysterious man.

the two of them faced each other, although there was tension between them, but there was also a kind of connection that began to build-even though alhaitham didn't want it.

(m/n) didn't know if alhaitham would ever open up to him, but he felt that there was something much deeper hidden behind the cold and indifference figure of the detective.

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[nor-4]

Meant To Be Yours - LH

Tags - Violence, Obsession, Murder, Sickening Love, Jealousy

"Dear, look at this news..." Lewis called out from the living room, he's sitting on manspread on the couch while watching the TV news - very comfortable only wearing grey sweatpants. His upperbody exposed his tattoos on the view.

"Oh come on, you have to show something when I'm literally doing something." You sighed rolling your eyes as you walk out of the walk in closet to the living room seeing lewis' state with roscoe's head resting on his lap.

"Nah because look at this. The guy killed his OWN girlfriend, can you believe that?" He said pointing on the TV emphasizing the word 'own' which made you giggle a little before looking at the TV screen. The news reporter explaining what happened with a disgusted look that she tried to hide but failed miserably. "I apologize to people who are eating. The suspect chopchop the victim's body part before burying them on a different locations. Such as in the fronyard of his house, on the park, feeding the others to his pets and the rest are the most unimaginable thing ever happened."

They showed a blurred yet bloodied and you can still see clearly the dead body on the woman. It's so disturbing, you are pretty thankful that you're not eating dinner at the moment. It sends shiver down your spine same as it did to your boyfriend.

"Shit... Tsk, baby, I'm getting goosebumps please come hug me here..." Lewis look at his back to see you standing behind him as you giggled at his words before sitting beside him on the couch opposite side of roscoe, his hand automatically going to your shoulder pulling your body closer and flushed into his. "You know for a 7th world time champion you sure are easy to scare.." You teased him as you snuggled closer to him, smelling the familiar scent of his manly cologne.

"Hey there's a whole difference of being the best driver on track and with that heartless bastard on the news. Men these days..." He shook his head disapprovingly a bit disturbed at the sudden murder news when he's trying to enjoy his free time and peace with you. He wonders how could a boyfriend - the main man of someone's life could do that to them, heartlessly and selfishly.

He never even imagine a moment of laying a hand on you, from all your argument you talk it out with him reaching out to you first. Never letting you sleep with heavy heart and anger towards him and your relationship, he always want peace between you.

"You've got to be kidding me, you're bothered by this? On the news seriously?" You mockingky asked turning to him raising one of your eyebrow in question, "Baby, are you hearing what the news reporter said? He killed his own girlfriend, of course I am" He said squeezing your arm trying to defend himself.

"Oh wow, that's rich coming from you, huh..." You rolled your eyes as you look at the large mirror hanging on the wall in the living room. There's only one human figure - lewis' and roscoe who's head is still resting on his thigh, Lewis look stupid holding the air but from his perspective he's holding you.

July 5, 2024 3:45 A.M - The day of your death or let's say, The day of his murder.

"Lewis, I'm done okay. I'm already tired, we are always going to this endless fucking loop. You getting jealous of this, of him, of whatever then what? We'll have a stupid argument about someone, it's like you never even trust." You frustratedly said rummaging on your walk in closet opening your suitcase putting your clothes and stuff even if it's messy just so you'll have enough stuff to leave with.

"Baby... What the fuck are you doing? What do you think are you doing?!" His voice starting to raise as he tried to stop you but you push his hand away continuing to pack, "I can't stand your bullshit, you're always like this. I'm always walking on an eggshell around you, I can't even breathe." Your murmured as you continue to pack as his anger is rising even more.

"I hate you, Samantha. You've ruined everything. Our relationship, our future, my life. All because you're selfish and stupid. You're meant to be mine and I'm Meant To Be Yours." He spits the words at you, his face twisted in anger and heartbreak. "Oh wow, so I'm the selfish now. Stop trying to reverse things, Lewis, You're the selfish one, you're the one I should be hating!" You jab back to him as you zip your suitcase close.

"I'm not letting you go, Samantha. I don't care if you hate me, if you fear me. You're mine, whether you like it or not. And I'll do anything, anything to keep you by my side." He watch as you stood up before he slams you on the wall his hand quickly wrapping around your neck his thumb on your pulse. You tried to push him away, squirm, scream, punch him but he's far too strong - definitely because of his years in racing. It doesn't give any justice that he's too strong than you.

"Don't fight me. I'm warning you, I'm all out of fucks to give. I've been patient, I've been understanding, but you... you pushed me too far." His voice is low, threatening once you tried to push him again but in one go he squeezed your throat and your pulse point making your vision blurry in every energy and breath left you tried to talk to him but his anger is ringing in his ears to even hear you.

As you collapse on his arms like a ragdoll, trying to catch the oxygen but it's far too late. That's when he snap out of it, "Baby... Baby, wake up... Hey hey... Hey..." He kneel on the floor as you drop he tried to shake you awake, cpr and everything but nothing happened. You're not breathing, you're starting to pale. That's when the panic sets in him, he killed you with his own hands. The same in that used to caress you with love, that touches you gently, the one that never failed to flatter you.

As he broke down crying he can't destroy his career no, not the same ones he build with you, the ones he build for you. He decided to go downstairs taking a glass of water with many ice in it before putting it on the floor beside you - basically making it seems that you choked on ice since the public knows you love to chew on eyes. No one would suspect cause in the autopsy they wouldn't see anything, they wouldn't know anything because in their prediction the ice just melts without knowing that it's your obsessive boyfriend the one who did it to you.

He quickly left the scene he went into the paddock for his practice race. No one would suspect that he left you there, dead and cold in the walk in closet. He acted normal in the paddock, the interview only sees him as a stressed man in his homerace in Silverstone. When they found your body he stated that he never knew anything, that he's too busy to look after you, even cried on live news acted all shock to hear the news.

He stood infront of the camera as the stressed innocent boyfriend who had lost the love of his life. Even said a reminder to always be careful and always look out for your love ones no matter how busy or stressed you are. In your funeral he cried very hard not only because of your loss but also out of guilt. But one the things he know because of this everyone will only remember him as your boyfriend and you as his dead girlfriend. He doesn't have to worry about any man getting near you, stealing you away. Because even in your last breath he is your man.

[alexfeelyx]

I may be a little bit more forgiving towards the use of anachronisms or modern terms (Titans come from Greek mythology and champagne comes from France, neither of these words have a place in a fantasy universe if we're being very strict about it), but I also bristle at how the issue of gender and identity is handled in Veilguard. (I haven't finished the game yet, so these are just my impressions so far.)

I'm happy that we have a queer companion character. I myself am a trans man and so is my Rook. I don't particularly relate to Taash or the way they are portrayed, which on the whole feels rather shallow, but 1. I don't have to relate to every fictional character and in my personal opinion that is a GOOD thing (queer people tend to be upset when a queer character doesn't map 1:1 to their experiences. Guys, we keep asking for diversity! This is why!) 2. every companion character feels rather shallow, imo. I don't recognise my own experiences when I look at Taash but I think that I don't have to, and if their story feels shallow, well that's not unique to them.

But I have a big problem with the language it is couched in. It feels jarring! I would be ecstatic to discuss non-binary genders in a fantasy game, but for the love of god, come up with some terms for it! Aqun-Athlok was a great example, in that at least ONE culture in Thedas already has a word for a similar concept, it's a culture that Taash is connected to, they could have brought that up and iterated on it. They could have had a conversation on how in the Qun, gender is tied to function but in Rivaini society, it isn't. How one could be a warrior and still a woman, and how that doesn't have to have anything to do with one's body. Et cetera, et cetera.

There's a lot of... shoehorning in real world, modern day terms that I consider to be... hmm, I wanna call them ‘social media-speak’ similar to therapy-speak? Maevaris telling Taash that they are ‘valid’, or Taash (and rarely others) repeatedly calling artifacts ‘cultural’. How to tell the audience that you've read someone talking about colonialism on Twitter and just unthinkingly migrated that terminology into your fantasy game, lol. I would have been okay with them calling an item ‘culturally important (to the Dalish)’ or something but it's constantly Cultural™, almost as a noun. (Let's not get started on how they basically managed to make every single faction toothless as hell... The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything, The Crows becoming Assassin Daycare, etc.) Feels jarring as hell. ‘Gender’ and ‘gender stuff’ also hurts my ears a little bit, especially with the constant repetition. I can barely have a conversation or hear any banter with Taash without it coming up.

And this leads me to another issue, which is that I think they bring up the topic constantly. Not just with Taash! There's one NPC you run into in the Hossberg Wetlands, who gets addressed as they/them from the first moment onward. I really enjoyed how nobody questioned that, there was just a random non-binary NPC in the game. Except later when I returned to talk to them further, the NPC told my Rook how another character was a super close friend to them, helped them figure out the whole non-binary thing and I was like... buddy we've known each other for 5 minutes. I think they knew that a lot of queer people were super fucking tired of characters being touted as queer representation when it's like... if you look at them and squint and tilt your head you can MAYBE tell they are queer, and they wanted to avoid that and overdid it a little.

In a way this game feels a little bit like Uncle Tom's Cabin, it has that ‘he a little confused but he got the spirit’ energy. In my opinion they have made the entire topic and conversation around gender exactly as annoying, inescapable, jarring and cringe as the average gamer dudebro would fear. Ya know? Like, if you put a trans character into a game who mentions being trans ONE time, those people would complain about the Trans Agenda Being Forced Down Their Throats. With Veilguard? Even I'm getting annoyed.

And I'm annoyed especially because they did a good job with these in Inquisition. They wrote a character whose personal quests revolved around being gay in a big way but 1. they didn't need to use any jarring modern day terminology 2. they managed to write it in a way that was emotionally resonant and made sense for both the world and the character; and they wrote a trans character who also didn't need any Gender Studies 101 terminology to explain who he was.

im definitely not a fan of this man on a personal level for several reasons but guys im starting to think da lost a load bearing wall when he left