#ignore my next tag it’s relevant only to me

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

@nessieartss i did it again lol

based on this ask and this ask because i couldn't get "rizzless sukuna" out of my head 😭 (and also Maki being one of Sukuna's friends is relevant which is why i tagged that ask)

anyway, please enjoy!!

Edit: part 2!!

---

Sukuna can’t keep the scowl off his face as he watches Yuuji from across the courtyard. He watches as his little brother effortlessly jokes with his friends, his face and movements animated enough that they’re clear even from so far away. Yuuji has always been the more charismatic of the two brothers; always the one to make friends first. 

Yuuji throws his head back in laughter, casually throwing his arm around Megumi’s shoulders. Sukuna feels a twinge of jealousy in his gut and he can’t stop the grunt that escapes his throat. 

How ridiculous is he? Getting jealous over nothing. It’s laughable. Sukuna doesn’t get jealous! 

Except… the more he watches his little brother interact with Megumi, the more he finds himself wishing that he could hang out with Megumi—

“Oh fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

Sukuna looks up. Maki takes a seat next to him on the steps, a meticulous brow arched in intrigue. He’s quiet for a moment as he rests his elbows on his knees. While he considers Maki to be one of his closest (and one of his only) friends, Sukuna briefly contemplates brushing his inner turmoil aside. This is her cousin, after all. Would she really want to hear about Sukuna’s stupid crush that he barely acknowledges himself?

Ah, fuck it, he thinks and sits up straighter. 

“How do you ask someone out?”

Maki blinks, taken aback by the question. She holds Sukuna’s gaze as if trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“Depends on who you’re wanting to ask out,” she responds with a casual shrug. As she reaches up to fix her ponytail, she asks, “Are you saying that you’ve never asked anyone out before?”

Sukuna sniffs and says nothing, running his tongue over his teeth. His attention turns to his nails, examining them for any chips in the nail polish.

“It’s never been relevant before,” Sukuna grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Maki shift. She nods slowly with a hum of acknowledgement. 

“So, who is it?” Maki asks.

“Huh?” 

“The person you want to ask out, who is it?” she asks again.

This time, Sukuna hesitates to answer. He’s never been one to be ashamed of his preferences; he always makes his thoughts clear whether it shows on his face or in his words. Like the time when Sukuna argued that the Star Wars franchise was “extremely overrated” and Yuuji nearly had a heart attack (he still hasn’t let it go).

Finally, with a sigh, Sukuna answers in another grumble, “Fushiguro.”

The silence that stretches out between them is loud. Sukuna thinks for a moment that Maki might have gotten up and left. When he looks to the side, he finds that she’s still sitting there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He fully expects her to start laughing at him, but, she doesn’t. 

Maki continues staring at Sukuna until he narrows his eyes at her, opening his mouth to tell her to just forget about it and fuck off—

“Oh, you’re actually serious,” she huffs. “For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg.”

Sukuna feels his irritation ebb and he rolls his eyes. “Why the hell would I make a joke like that? There are other things I could use to bully you with. Like your stupid glasses. They don’t fit your face.”

Ignoring the comment, Maki goes on, “Fushiguro isn’t one for extravagance. If you really want to ask him out, you should pull him off to the side and ask him privately. He’d appreciate that.” The bell rings, signaling that it’s time for the next class. Maki and Sukuna get to their feet. 

“Also, it would do you well to work on your tactfulness,” the girl adds over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

Sukuna flips her off. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for advice anymore.”

He watches as his friend heads back inside before turning his attention back to Megumi who is walking in the opposite direction of his two friends. Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath. 

It’s another few seconds of watching Megumi walk before Sukuna’s feet start moving, carrying him in the same direction and he mentally curses at himself again.

Fuck it. Let’s do this.

[thefandomenchantress]

Chapter 2 Episode 15 Spoilers below!

Since Ace being the culprit has brought about so much pain to ace lovers, including me, I figured I'd make a list of all the good things that him being the culprit brings to us. Even though Ace will (probably) be executed next episode, that doesn't mean that nothing good came out of this, right?

-Ace's backstory may be revealed much sooner than expected! Before we would've had to wait for chapter 3 or chapter 4 and so on, but since Ace will be gone soon, almost everything not revealed next episode will get told to us in a bonus episode! (I think every dead person gets one of those? Idk if that's officially confirmed). I doubt Teruko's gonna find, like, Ace's diary in chapter three detailing his life story, so if we're ever getting the Taylor Lore™, it'll be in a bonus episode! Plus, a bonus episode would come out a lot faster than the whole of chapter three, so more Ace content sooner no matter what happens in it! And there's always the chance he gets picked for an FTE, since dead people are on the list of options.

-Ace canonically has neat, fancy handwriting. Begone rumors of Ace having illegible, traditionally boy-ish handwriting, he actually writes like a 19th century scholar and I find this very funny. More evidence for my 'Ace likes reading and writing and wanted to become a romance author' crack theory, since he also reenforced his particularness about vocabulary in chapter 2 part 2. (Our only remaining question: Does Ace actually have terrible spelling ('responsibel'), or did he just think Eden would?)

-Ace is very good at being sneaky and often overhears things he shouldn't. I can't wait for this to be used as a plot device in numerous fics ("XANDER YOU'LL NEVER GUESS THE SHIT I JUST HEARD DAVID SAY ABOUT YOU WHEN HE THOUGHT HE WAS ALONE").

-Ace will have to be included in the dead (formerly a) trio posts forevermore. Get ready for Xander-Min-Arei-Ace shenanigans.

-Now that the cast has been forced to acknowledge that being dumb and angry aren't Ace's only traits and that he's just as human as the rest of them, Ace is much less likely to be seen as just those two things by the average viewer. Ace's popularity, or at least the amount of dislike towards him, seems to have shifted since the last episode, and I'm happy more people are able to enjoy what his character has to offer now. He's a cool little guy. I've literally NEVER seen the Ace Markey tag this busy before.

-We got so many cool Ace CGs guys. SO MANY. Including one where he's hanging upside down on the swing set and looks weirdly cute for someone in the middle of a murder plan.

-Also new sprites! The DRDTdev gave Ace a redesign knowing full-well that it would only get a singular chapter of use, and I massively respect that. We already got some new sprites in part 2 of chapter 2 so far, and I'm guessing next episode he'll probably have at least one more breakdown sprite before he dies.

-For someone who no one in the cast liked, he's definitely going to leave an impact. He's finally made at least some of the cast realize what happens when they ignore the issues right in front of them. Ace shouts about how everyone hates him and sees him as an insufferable idiot? Eh, probably nothing, we don't have to worry about that. Sure, multiple people told him he's gonna die next in here, and he almost got murdered, but that won't amount to anything. What's he gonna do, murder someone--WAIT SHIT Ace step away from the Arei I repeat step away from the Arei-- (plus Teruko parallels). I'll probably go more in-depth about this sort of thing in a different post.

-WE NEVER GOT TO SEE WHAT'S UNDER HIS GLOVES. Kyoko and Mukuro both had hand-related secrets that connected them to the plot later on, does that mean Ace will have some sort of relevance to the mastermind or overall lore later on? Like a Mai tattoo situation? (Or maybe it's another thing that may be alluded to or discussed in the bonus episode)(Or left to interpretation but I hope not because I have so many theories).

If you have any more suggestions for other good Ace-related things the culprit reveal brought us, let me know and I can add them to the list! We need as many good things as we can think of right now...

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Wordcount- 3.9k

Notes- okay so this has taken a lot longer than I thought it would but it’s here now finally. And I have changed my url so I’m sorry if you thought this was some random person tagging you

Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning sprawled across my bed and tangled in the sheets. I stumbled up and made my way into the dining area, only bothering to wrap a dressing gown around myself so as to not expose my arms. Unfortunately Lysander greeted me much too cheerfully the second I stepped foot in the room, with a wide grin and loud words.

“Good morning!” He trilled. “Sit, sit and eat. You have an important day ahead of you.” I slumped down into a seat and grabbed an apple, biting into the crisp red skin and sinking my teeth deep into its flesh.

“So what did you get up to with the lovely Megara last night?” He inquired as an avox served him a plate of toast piled with eggs and cheese and ham. I judged his choice in food for a moment and then almost snorted as his words registered in my mind. He certainly wasn't being subtle at all I thought as Finnick and Mags entered and seated themselves. I took another bite out of my apple and grinned.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of silk pyjama shorts and a loose top. Megara was sprawled across my bed, shovelling ice cream into her mouth as fast as physically possible. She noticed me and smacked the bed.

“Sit.” I sat. “Now spill. You and Finnick flipping Odair.” I sighed.

“Pass me a cupcake. No, not that one. No, no, yes. Thanks.” I peeled the case off and bit into it, the rich chocolate and caramel spreading across my tongue. “I found out when I first got it.” I showed her my wrist and she inspected it closely. “We were, well we were friends I suppose. After I won that is. I saw his once, it was an accident. I don’t think anyone else really knows he even had one.” I took another bite of my cupcake. “We kinda stuck together for a couple of years. He helped me through the aftermath and the nightmares and everything.” She looked at me curiously.

“So what happened?”

“Annie Cresta happened. When she won everything changed. You know how the boy she went in with that year was decapitated and she lost it?”

“Everyone knows, though the Capitol tries to brush over it.” I laughed quietly.

“Well when she came back she was absolutely broken. She couldn’t function by herself. So Finnick helped her. At first I knew it was necessary, she probably would have offed herself otherwise, but the days passed to weeks and weeks to months. He had just,” I breathed, “He had just left me and gone to her.”

Megara's mouth opened in a shocked expression.

“You would’ve been fifteen?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“And he just, what, abandoned you?” I shrugged.

“Love is weird. It comes and goes at the most unexpected of times and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” She placed a hand on her forehead.

“Okay, sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“The nightmares came back, I spiralled, I spent I think two months here. Doing shows, staying as far away from them as I could. I mainly talked to Effie and Haymitch.” I smiled fondly. “They were really something. Always bickering and picking at each other like an old married couple. They made me laugh a lot, the only thing I laughed at really. Then it all changed again. But that’s not relevant.” I ignored her look and powered ahead. “I stopped talking to anyone, unless I had to, I wouldn’t say a word. I sang at shows but nothing more. And that was my life I guess. Not happy, not sad. It just was.”

Megara unexpectedly leapt across the bed and engulfed me in a hug.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that.” She pulled away. “I can't imagine if I met my soulmate and then had to pretend like they meant nothing to me.” I smiled back at her sadly.

“Like I said, love is weird. And why would he want me when he has her.” With that I flopped down in bed and curled up in a ball. “Goodnight.”

“We didn't do anything interesting. I ate a bit then fell asleep. I was tired.” I smiled tightly at Lysander, a glint of challenge in my eyes before my gaze slipped to my plate and I took a second bite out of my apple. It tasted like ash in my mouth. “What's on the agenda today?” With that his eyes lit up and he beamed.

“Training.”

As it turned out, training was in fact the only thing on the agenda. I walked into the room and was greeted by the sight of the majority of the other tributes already showing off. My eyes flicked around the room for a second, Finnick was already bothering Katniss, the girl looked extremely unimpressed at him showing her how to tie a knot in the rope and didn't even try to hide her disgusted expression as he pretended to hang himself. I made my own way over to the survival skills section, I immediately picked up two pieces of wood and began to rub them together to little effect. Just as I was about to give up a shadow appeared above me.

“You have to rub quicker, and lower down.” Katniss took the sticks from me and demonstrated. “See.” I nodded slowly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” With that she turned and made her way to one of the compartmentalised training rooms, grabbing a bow and a sheaf of arrows along the way. I watched from a distance as she put an arrow through each glowing hologram that appeared. I started as I saw one holding an axe and it immediately disintegrated, a small bolt of fear shooting through me. Were they supposed to represent us? My question was answered as another showed up holding a trident and resulted in the same fate. The closer I watched, I could see more similarities between the holograms and all the people stood watching. Johanna and Finnick were obvious, two appearing next to each other and reacting in sync, Cashmere and Gloss, one with long, sharp nails that none of the others had, Enobaria. A really burly one, Brutus and a couple of spindly ones, the morphlings.

Bile rose in my throat as Katniss annihilated them all. Then just as everyone thought the simulation had ended, a final hologram appeared. Smaller and thinner than all the others and it threw a golden blaze at her which she ducked and suddenly an arrow was lodged in it and it dissolved like all the others. It was clear that it was supposed to be. All the movements of the other holograms had been techniques the corresponding victors used in their games, the weapons they were most famed for using. And the Capitol had simply taken those moves and projected them into the simulation. But for me, the only moves I had back then were throwing that one knife and then my shoes. So that was what they had to use. I stayed frozen in my spot as the others stared at Katniss, contemplating looks in their eyes. I could see the cogs turning in their brains, they wanted her as their ally, who wouldn't to be honest. She was the favourite to win at the moment- perhaps also Finnick- and she would get sponsors upon sponsors. I watched her gaze pass over all of them to settle on me; I stared back at her blankly for a moment before she looked over to Peeta who stood watching her from the camouflage station, his arm covered in detailed paintings of rocks and tree bark. He smiled slightly and turned back to his work.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see a grinning Finnick.

“Quite the spectacle she's put on wouldn't you say?” He asked and I hummed in response. “She'd be a good ally.” I shrugged.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” He scoffed. “With an aim like that she could take out all of us in a matter of seconds.” My lip quirked upwards at his words. He didn't know just how true they were.

“I suppose, but if she was your ally, one wrong move and you'd be six feet under. But by all means, ally with the girl on fire; when she decides to kill you- don't say I didn't warn you.” I spun on my heel and strode away from him, my shoulder tingled where he had touched me and I felt a tug in my chest at the growing distance. It was as if the more time we spent around each other the more the- well I suppose the word that the Capitol used to describe it was a bond- the more the bond seemed to recognise us as soulmates and tried to drag us together. It was the only reasonable explanation for why he was talking to me.

I walked with my head down, stepping to the side to avoid bumping into other people. I made my way to a station where the two from district 3 had settled themselves at after struggling to light a fire and were fiddling around with wires and bolts. I sat myself down and picked up a few thin pieces of bronze metal. I twisted them together, intricately weaving them in a complicated pattern so they formed a pin of sorts. I twisted my hair up and stuck it through, the metal scraping along my scalp as I shook my head to make sure it was secure.

“The gamemakers won't be too impressed with that.” Beetee spoke quietly from beside me and I made a face.

“I don't really care. They're the ones hiding behind a forcefield.” His gaze sharpened.

“How do you know that?” I shrugged in response.

“The shimmer in the corners. Makes it look a bit like glass but they don't want us to know they're afraid of us and glass is too noticeable. Next best thing is a forcefield, I mean it uses a lot of the energy in this place. Zaps it like,” I snapped my fingers, “that, but most people won't know how to recognise it at all so they can keep up their pretences without worrying about one of us trying to murder them where they stand.”

Beetee stared at you for a second before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“A scholar I see.”

“Just curious.”

“Not even some adults back home would be able to tell me that.” Beetee murmured. “You've done your research.” I looked up to the gamemakers.

“Well,” I spoke softly, scratching at my wrist absently,”you never know what they'll throw at you and it's always good to be prepared.” He hummed in assent as Wiress tugged on a loose strand of my hair, babbling nonsense under her breath. I gently extracted myself from her fingers and wished them a pleasant day, a hint of sarcasm in my voice, before I left them to fiddle with their little toys.

I found myself wandering through the huge building, mindlessly gazing around. My eyes flitting over the white surfaces, shining brightly in the even whiter light from the ceilings. All of a sudden I heard voices. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, was that Finnick and Haymitch? Talking to Plutarch Heavensbee? I listened intently, pressing myself against the wall next to the tiny crack in the door to hear better. My eyes gradually widened with each sentence that left their mouths, I couldn't believe it myself, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been hearing it directly from the source. They stopped talking and I ran. I sprinted down the corridors and to the lifts, frantically pressing the buttons as I entered and running out just as quickly. I didn't slow down until I slammed the door to my room shut and launched myself onto my bed, clutching a pillow so hard my knuckles started to turn white. They were planning to get Katniss out of the games and start a revolution. A revolution. My mind repeated those words for minutes, my mouth moving to spell it out in disbelief. Slowly the disbelief I felt faded into determination. They clearly hadn’t been about to tell me anything about it, I wouldn’t be included in their alliance. But I could sure as hell help.

Throughout the next couple of days, I woke up as early as possible to train without anyone watching me. I would take my ballet shoes down with me and wear them as I threw knives at the holograms, rise onto my toes and dance around them in circles until my feet were bleeding and bruised. The pain only made me work harder, if I could fight with my feet broken beneath me then I could run forever and wouldn’t feel a thing. On the last day before the games would begin I did the same as I had been. But when I had destroyed the holograms a hundred times over I didn’t stop, I dropped the daggers in my hands and closed my eyes as I spun and leapt. For the first time in years no one was watching me and I could just dance. Even on the train there had been cameras pointed at me but in the interest of not wanting anyone to get mad and try to kill them the gamemakers had left the training room cameraless. So I danced as if I was a child again and my mother was watching me from the door of the house cheering me on. And then I fell. My ankle gave out beneath me and I crashed to the floor. I landed on my side, my arms crossed to hold my head off the floor. I pushed myself up and undid my shoes; pulled them off my feet and stood up. When I fell I had accidentally pressed a button and holograms had appeared again. I reached down to grab the daggers again as they advanced towards me.

“You wanna play?” One of them threw the knife they were holding at me. It skimmed my cheek; I lifted a hand up to touch it. My fingers came away red and I laughed quietly. “Fine, I’ll play.” With that something inside me cracked and I leapt forward. I was like a hurricane as they all rushed at me and I weaved through the gaps leaving bloody footprints wherever I stepped. I rained down blow after blow on them, if holograms could bleed I would have been covered. But they couldn’t bleed and they couldn’t die, they just disintegrated into orange sparks whenever my blade hit home in their rib cages only for more to take their place. I dodged and threw and stabbed until I thought the simulation ended and I stood in the centre of the room. The air moved and in the blink of an eye I spun and struck, the last thing I saw of the hologram was the trident in it's hand. Then I heard the clapping.

I turned around quickly to see Johanna watching me. I quickly stepped outside.

“What do you want?” She grinned.

“Who knew you could fight princess. I’d actually be quite impressed if I didn’t think you’d payed for some poor Capitol bastard to teach you.” A hysterical giggle forced itself out of my throat and for a second an unreadable expression passed over her face like a cloud. I picked up my shoes by the ribbons and let them dangle by my legs as her eyes went to my feet. “Aww did standing up by herself for a moment make the princesses feet hurt?” I swallowed.

“You don’t know me Johanna Mason.” I spat. “You don’t know anything about me so do not make assumptions about things that you do not understand.” She watched me walk away, yelling after me.

“See you later princess.” I ignored her, focusing on not leaving a trail of blood back to the room.

A few hours later, after I had bandaged up my feet, I headed back down for the evaluations. The others were already there and I sat down at the end of a bench. Feeling eyes on me I looked up and locked eyes with Katniss, she stood up and made her way over to me. She sat down silently and I looked at the pin she had on her top.

“A mockingjay.” She looked up at me surprised.

“Yeah. How did you know?” I laughed.

“Some members of the Capitol have them as pets. Ones they managed to catch after the jabberjays bred with mockingbirds. They domesticated them and have them sing all day every day.” My voice turned sharp. “They don’t like being reminded of their failures so they turn them into spectacles.” My head turned as the robotic voice spoke ‘Y/N L/N report for evaluation.’ I stood up slowly and walked past Finnick who was exiting and into the training room. I was greeted by the sight of the gamemakers laughing and talking with each other, completely ignoring my presence as I made my way over to the weapons stand. One of them spared me a glance before dismissing me. They knew who I was and they didn’t think I was a threat. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes and realised something. The force field was strong if it was concentrated, but it was only being held together by four balls that it was projected out of, one in each corner creating a screen. So it was strong at the outside but where it all met in the centre would be weaker. I grinned at my revelation and practically skipped back to the table with the knives on. I picked one up and balanced it on my finger, I quickly looked around and grabbed a long piece of rope, tying it around the handle. I twisted the end of the rope around one hand and pirouetted, as my head whipped to the front I let the knife fly through the air, right through the centre of the forcefield. It embedded itself in a piece of watermelon and then the wall. I gripped the rope harder and yanked towards me, I caught the knife and raised the dripping red fruit up to my mouth to take a bite as I curtseyed deeply, dipping my head and letting my foot slide as far behind as possible. I smiled sweetly at their horrified expressions. You can almost see the thoughts running through their heads I mused as I walked calmly out of the room, head held high.

I was waylaid by Lysander who dragged me back to the room and made Finnick and I sit until the scoring was announced hours later, I was almost falling asleep in my chair. Yawning widely and eyes drooping until the music sounded and I bolted up. The second Gloss’ photo appeared on screen with a score of 10 flashing under him my heart sank. My little outburst would probably not have gained me anything other than a low score. The rest of the careers had predicatably high scores, Brutus an 11 and Finnick the same. Lysander screeched happily at his score, patting him on the back furiously and I murmured my congratulations. Then it was my turn. My face appeared on the screen and a bright bold number 12 flashed underneath it. I spat out my water in shock and blinked rapidly as Lysander gaped at the screen. Mags patted me gently on the shoulder, giving me a small smile; Finnick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Congratulations angel.” The nickname shook me out of my trance.

“Angel?” He shrugged and gave me an easy smile.

“Yeah, you looked like an angel on the chariots and you certainly act like an angel, especially with that little girl.” His voice turned serious. “But something tells me you aren’t such an angel as everyone thinks you are.” My lip twitched and I forced it to stay in a straight line.

“Maybe you’re right.” I turned around, my back to him, his eyes searing into my skin as I whispered. “But some things cannot be determined with a passing glance.”

The next day was the day of the interviews. I was slumped in a chair, clad in a silk robe, as my prep team scoured my body. They perfected every imperfection they could find until my skin was like a blank canvas. All the while they chattered, asking me not so subtly about my evaluation score and even less subtly if I had a soulmate- thankfully they didn’t question my insistency that I covered my wrist while they ‘cleaned me up’. I ignored them for the most part until Priscilla began to waffle on about Finnick. I clenched my fists and tried to block her out, waiting for her to finish. But she wouldn't stop, she went on and on about him, his… relationships with Capitol women and then what a shame it was that he might die. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms until I felt pinpricks of pain and saw tiny specks of blood beading on my skin. I settled for fiddling with the robe until they left. The girls walked through the door giggling with each other as Quintus turned around to me.

“I understand how you feel.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You have a soulmate yes?” I nodded slowly. “But he either doesn’t want you or doesn’t know about you.” I nodded again.

“The second.”

“I had a soulmate once.”

“You did?” I mumbled.

“It was about 15 years ago. I had just started working here for the games and she was a tribute.” He laughed slightly and ran his hand through his hair. “She hated me, I tried to get her to run away with me before the games could start but she wouldn’t let the kid from her district die even if it meant she lived. They only lasted 5 days in the arena.” He smiled sadly. “But those last couple of days she was alive and I got to see her were the best couple of days in my life.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

“Don’t waste time. Every second with the ones we love is precious.” Just as suddenly as he had begun the conversation he left the doorway, leaving me in silence.

Soon enough Megara came in, laden with bags upon bags containing god knows what. She dragged a chair over and sat down opposite me. She pulled out a teapot and two cups before setting them down on the table ignoring my incredulous look. She poured tea into the two cups added a splash of milk and sugar to one and gave me an inquisitive look. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I poured milk into the cup and spooned 3 teaspoons of sugar into the cup.

“So honey, how are you feeling about the interviews?”

“Honey? Aren’t you younger than me.”

“Nope,” she popped the p,” I’m 24.” I sighed.

“They can only go so badly right.” She grinned; took a sip of her tea, placed it down, stood up and walked over to a huge bag hung up on the door.

“I suppose we’ll see then.” She unzipped the bag and I gasped.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @thatonegayloser616 @livibbu @cherrsnut @honethatty12 @miserablebl00d @yourmumstoy @wonderland2425 @fairy-alix @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21 @abbersreads @tenshis-cake

[freyjas-musings]

Things this fandom needs to learn :

1. There is a difference between disliking a ship and arguing about fictional nonsense including calling posts stupid ( the dramatics of some people) vs sending threats with intent to harm an individual or/and their family. When you can't tell the difference between the two ... it tells the world what you are...

2. Disliking a character is not the same as promoting harmful stereotypes regarding sensitive and relevant social issues such as SA. Keep it to disliking the character. This goes to all parties in this fandom.

3. It's extremely immature to say that every person's thoughts you dislike should succumb to something terrible. It screams high school mean girl whose brain hasn't developed since.

4. What you truly are is what you are when no one is watching. When no one knows who you are, you can lie and mask all you want .... it doesn't make you any less of a garbage human being who desperately needs mental health intervention ( This is specifically to the trolls ). Horrible genes will show at some point mate ... they will... Mask it all you want ...

5. To only take a stand when it serves an agenda is hypocrisy.

6. You might be the world's juiciest mango yet there will be someone who hates mangoes. Same goes for fictional characters ... people are allowed to dislike fictional characters without having labels slapped on them ( misogyny is the most misused word in this fandom)

7. When someone stirs the pot and causes chaos deliberately, all they are doing is showing themselves up as a narcissistic person .... and to the fandom, narcissistic people are better off ignored ... They thrive on attention. I don't think anyone with a decent upbringing and with a stable good life they are thriving at would ever be like that it just doesnt add up. It screams dissatisfaction with their own life and a severe identity crisis. I just pity people like that. It's easy to gauge the profile of losers .... in my field we pick out people like that as easy as breathing.

Why am I giving this free gyaan..... ? Diwali approaches and it's a time we truly reflect...

Good chance we won't get the ACOTAR book next year ... so imagine having to live through this current fandom phase for the next 18 months ... the fact remains being nasty isn't going to change whatever the author decides to do. So, why can't we all simply stick to our lanes ? If what I have written helps even one other person it's worth the effort .

Personally, I am going to be reflecting on the content I want to make .... I have a lot of exciting ideas that will need me to learn some new things.... I will be focusing on that ... I am co-hosting some events that I am excited for... I will be doing more collabs with other content creators... that's what gives me joy ... creating content that's positive ✨️ 💖

I am tagging all ships Canon and not Canon... because the points I have made isn't limited to ship wars ... its about the overall fandom etiquette. Take it or leave it ...

[black-bentley-niatruc]

Fic

Title: The Mind-Body Problem [part 2/3]

[A bonus smutty thing happening between chapters 20 and 21 of my main Human AU fic]

Fandom: Good Omens

Category: M/M

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: filthy smut, check below for any squeaks/no-no's

Additional tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot; touch-starved; Crowley has a praise kink; inexperienced Crowley; experienced Aziraphale (kind of); fluff; first time; first time topping; first time things; chest-fucking; Aziraphale is a Pillow Princess; Crowley is a tease; Aziraphale has an oral fixation; angst (thanks, Crowley!); barebacking; butt plugs; anal sex; low-key D/s vibes, but not a 'proper' D/s setting; rough sex; safe, sane and consensual; kinky; more angst (thanks, Aziraphale!); face-fucking; Aziraphale is a mess; coming untouched; virginity kink; Aziraphale is a tease; first time bottoming

Words: 3575

Originally published: 2024-05-28

Summary

“I know we were meant to go on more dates, but could we spend the whole weekend here?” Crowley asks nonchalantly.

Aziraphale makes a sound of amusement, a little breath against Crowley’s skin. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“I know what you want. Ask.”

Crowley shudders at the stern tone and Aziraphale hides a smile against the back of his own hand.

“Marathon sex.”

Human AU, Crowley and Aziraphale try new things in their relationship That's it, that's the fic; can be read as a standalone

A relevant note: Crowley's Chinese zodiac sign in the main fic is a Snake 🐍 and Aziraphale's is a Dragon 🐉

Aziraphale feels so good – each cell of his body seemingly swelled with contentment and love – that he laughs softly at the all in all cruel joke. Not that he believes Crowley meant to hurt with those two words.

Attempting to return the frantic kisses, but too slow (or is it Crowley who always goes too fast for him?) Aziraphale tries to ignore the feelings catching in his throat and to cut them at their stems before they grow into something impossible to deny.

“Marry me, angel.”

Belatedly, he feels the smile disappear from his face, not quite in control of his expression, as he searches Crowley’s eyes, focused intently on his own.

They speak of something mischievous, yes, but only on the surface, pretending to be playful, but deeper still, there are things too soft and fragile, telling him how serious Crowley is – and how can soft and fragile things cut so viciously?

“Ask me again once we’re thinking clearly,” says Aziraphale as lightly as possible, instead of what he wants to say, burying the ‘Yes’ deep in his heart and cupping Crowley’s face in his hands.

“I’m thinking clearly,” Crowley insists. “Never thought clearer in my life.”

Something twists painfully in Aziraphale’s chest. He cannot let Crowley promise what he might regret in the future. The higher they fly, the more disastrous the fall. But, if they pretend not to be connected by the invisible line that Aziraphale felt the moment they met for the first time, then perhaps nothing and no-one can break it.

“Well, I’m not.”

The disappointment and hurt in Crowley’s eyes is almost unbearable, but he makes himself withstand the wounded stare.

“Okay,” says Crowley, looking away, getting back to his guarded self.

Breathing slowly out in relief, Aziraphale cuddles up to him, face pressed against his chest, dark red hairs tickling his cheek.

He closes his eyes, physically exhausted by the intense orgasm and emotionally torn to shreds by everything he doesn’t know how to deal with. How is it that Crowley goes on and on about the complexity of the world, yet, somehow, he operates in it as if everything were simple? Why does it feel like Aziraphale is walking in circles, one moment thinking he’s found his answers only to be thrown back to square one to start anew in the next?

“I hope the plug was unreasonably expensive and you paid with your card, so that your parents could see that,” Crowley mutters, causing Aziraphale to giggle hysterically.

“It was obscenely expensive and if they’re still checking what I’m buying, it’s entirely their own fault,” he admits.

“I’m so glad I signed up for the philosophy course.”

“Me too. Though, actually, we had no choice, it’s mandatory for our programme.”

“I know we were meant to go on more dates, but could we spend the whole weekend here?” Crowley asks nonchalantly.

Aziraphale makes a sound of amusement, a little breath against Crowley’s skin. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“I know what you want. Ask.”

Crowley shudders at the stern tone and Aziraphale hides a smile against the back of his own hand.

“Marathon sex.”

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Shut up.”

“About that,” Aziraphale says, wriggling in sudden excitement and nervousness. “There’s something I’d like you to... do to me.”

It’s Crowley’s turn to tease. “Oohh, I bet there is.”

“Nothing too complicated, really,” Aziraphale rushes to explain. “But of course―”

“Angel, if you don’t tell me what you mean, how can I tell you whether I want it?” Crowley huffs in irritation, stroking his hand down Aziraphale’s side.

Heat crawling up his neck and cheeks, Aziraphale presses his hand against his eyes in embarrassment.

“What you did today, except... my throat, and, slower,” he manages, not that fluent in dirty talk when he isn’t on edge or already aroused.

He can tell Crowley’s grinning when he asks, “Want me to shut you up with my cock? Love it.”

Aziraphale chuckles, still nervous despite Crowley’s explicit approval. “I like it rough,” he adds.

“’Course you do,” is Crowley’s reply and suddenly the warmth of his body disappears.

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale blurts out, hating the obvious clinginess behind his reaction.

“To wash my dick before I put it in your mouth!” Crowley calls back, the crude phrasing and nonchalance in his tone causing Aziraphale’s cheeks to burn.

Oh.

Aziraphale didn’t expect Crowley to immediately implement his plan as if he were only waiting for a request of any kind. Not that he’s going to complain.

By the time Crowley comes back, Aziraphale is sitting on his heels next to the bed and shivering slightly from anticipation and the cool air caressing his naked skin.

“Wow,” says Crowley as soon as his eyes land on him. “The only thing missing is a collar around your neck.”

There is a lilt to this statement, a hidden question.

Would Aziraphale allow Crowley to put a collar on him?

“I’ll be sure to add it to my next shopping list,” he assures with a smile, watching the Adam’s apple in Crowley’s throat bob as he swallows, hard.

“Can’t wait,” Crowley breathes, stepping close, lazily stroking a hand over his erection.

Aziraphale licks his lips, leaning in to take the cock into his mouth, but Crowley doesn’t let him, cupping his palm over the flared head.

Shooting him an offended look, Aziraphale can’t keep the pout off his face.

“You’ll only take what I give you, and nothing more, you greedy cherub,” says Crowley with a mean grin.

The fiend.

Huffing through his nose, Aziraphale presses his lips together. If Crowley thinks he’s going to beg for it, then he’s got another thing coming.

A temptingly hot cockhead brushes against Aziraphale’s lips. “Open up.”

He makes sure Crowley can see him glaring defiantly. A bead of clear precome oozes from the slit, glinting tantalisingly, and Aziraphale curls his hands into fists, where they rest against his thighs. A trickle of Crowley’s seed leaks out of him in that moment and he gasps at the unfamiliar but somehow deeply arousing feeling.

The lapse in his concentration doesn’t escape Crowley’s notice. “You okay there?” he asks, his concern evident and so very sweet.

There goes all of Aziraphale’s resolve. Nodding once, he opens his mouth expectantly, pushing his tongue out just enough so that the tip is visible over his lower lip. With a sigh, Crowley presses his cockhead against the flat of Aziraphale’s tongue, rubbing gently against it with slow, shallow thrusts.

Mouth watering, Aziraphale swallows quickly. He probably should have warned it might get really messy, bordering on disgusting, at least for some people. He’s in no position to talk, now, though. He wishes Crowley would start fucking his throat already. He’d like to close his lips around him. He’d love to suck his cock.

Instead, he allows Crowley to tease him mercilessly, more precome spreading over his tongue as he waits patiently, breathing faster every time Crowley dives deeper into his mouth only to draw back again.

He moans softly when the warm cockhead hits his soft palate. Crowley groans in response, hand curling in Aziraphale’s hair, eliciting an appreciative whine, the vibrations hopefully pleasant.

“You really want me to be rough?” Crowley asks, the uncertainty and concern in his voice endearing to Aziraphale’s ears.

In response, Aziraphale grasps his hips firmly and groans around the cock in his mouth.

It seems to be enough seeing as Crowley slams into his throat without any further warnings. Tears of pain prick at the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes and he moans again, making sure to wrap his lips around his teeth – a somewhat tricky thing he never needed to learn (but he did, anyway; he doesn’t like doing things by halves).

Crowley’s so good to him – as slow and brutal as Aziraphale dreamed. His throat burns. He can’t stop moaning and squirming. His cock aches, but he keeps his hands around Crowley’s hips, digging his nails in whenever he needs to breathe. His chin is wet with spit and he revels in the undignified feeling.

He comes untouched, spilling messily over his belly and thighs, moaning loudly, tears running down his hot cheeks.

“Fuck, angel,” Crowley whines above him. “Can I come on your face?”

Normally, Aziraphale believes refractory periods to be nature’s unnecessary joke, the kind that nobody gets, but in this moment he’s grateful he physically can’t get hard again, because he’s sure he would come immediately, either at Crowley’s question or the moment his hot seed paints his cheek and nose and lips – and another orgasm like this would probably kill him.

Staring up at Crowley, Aziraphale distractedly wipes at his own wet chin with the back of his hand.

“A moment,” says Crowley, sitting at the edge of his bed, breathing hard. “I’ll bring some water― Just.”

Aziraphale understands what he means. He feels uncomfortably sticky with – he counts quickly – four...? – loads of come and just as uncomfortably slippery with lubricant, and he’d love to take a hot shower and yes, a glass of water does sound nice, but most of all he wants to cuddle with Crowley and fall asleep together in bed that’s been getting progressively filthier as well.

However, he is not that spoiled and Crowley has been so good to him, so he volunteers to bring the water and wanders to the kitchen, lightheaded from the oxygen deprivation and dazed from everything else.

He finds the glasses (and a paper towel to wipe his face relatively clean) and takes two bottles of water from the fridge. There is something domestic about it that he doesn’t want to dwell on, but his mind latches onto the feeling. So many day-to-day things they could do...

Crowley drinks his water straight from the bottle and Aziraphale smiles privately because he expected that.

“You should see yourself,” says Crowley, eyes raking over his entire body hungrily as Aziraphale takes his water in small sips, his abused throat hurting with every swallow. “You look like sin.”

“And all you want to do is sin?” Aziraphale prompts, laughing at his own terrible joke.

“That’s about right!” Crowley agrees, laughing with him even as he rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am in desperate need of a shower, I suppose, but...” Aziraphale sighs, shaking his head, tired.

“...meh,” Crowley finishes his thought. “I’m thinking: some sleep and then shower, but we do something worth getting out of bed there.”

When Aziraphale gets all wrapped in Crowley’s long limbs, he thinks – not for the first time – that there really is something snake-like about him and that he’s going to need some serious motivation to leave the bed, which is new to him, seeing that he’s not a fan of sleep. Crowley is, though, and the way he cuddles against Aziraphale to absorb his warmth and drifts off easily is a surprisingly soothing experience.

As it turns out, not even two hours later, all the motivation Aziraphale needs to leave the bed and shower is the prospect of a hot shower itself. Crowley joins him, complaining the entire way, until the steaming water hits his skin and the grumbling noises switch into ones indicating deep appreciation. In the meantime, Aziraphale re-appreciates Crowley’s body with his hands and mouth.

He insists they decide on sort of safe words to use when either needs to stop completely or just a little break for whatever reasons (because Crowley’s concerned check-ins are too sweet and too disarming, but he doesn’t tell him that) and Crowley chooses Plato and orange respectively, explaining that ‘Berkeley is too long’ when Aziraphale raises his eyebrow at him.

“Now that we’re properly cleaned,” Crowley begins, shivering with cold as he throws an oversized, black band T-shirt at Aziraphale and pulls a similar piece of clothing over his own head, “I want you to top me.”

Torn between amusement at the phrasing and the thrill of wearing something that belongs to Crowley, no matter how distant it is from his usual style, Aziraphale touches one of the sleeves affectionately with a smile and a short, “Alright, yes.”

Gosh, he hopes that didn’t sound too eager.

“Listen, I―” Crowley breaks off. “Wait, I expected I’d have to do more convincing.”

“Oh, do you want me to say no, so that you can ‘convince’ me?” Aziraphale offers, only half-jokingly.

“No, I don’t want any more coddling.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, it’s― what?! Okay!���

Still, Aziraphale sits on the bed with his back against the wall and insists that Crowley straddle him, at least for his first time, so that he can control the depth and tempo, discover what he likes best without interference from Aziraphale’s personal preferences.

“You just want me to do all the work,” Crowley accuses, gesturing around with the bottle of lubricant, but he settles in Aziraphale’s lap with a feverish look on his face – beautiful eyes glassy, cheeks flushed delicious red.

“Oh, no, you have discovered my diabolical plan,” Aziraphale mocks, good-natured, trying to convince his mind that the fact he’s the first one to do all those things with Crowley is not that arousing. His mind is of a different opinion, however.

Crowley hands him the purple bottle. “More like, the depths of your laziness,” he growls, sounding angry, but Aziraphale can tell he’s being hissy as a principle. “At least prepare me,” he demands.

“With pleasure,” says Aziraphale, already warming the viscous fluid with his fingers.

A soft sound falls from Crowley’s lips before he tilts Aziraphale’s head up and bows down to kiss him hungrily.

With his clean hand splayed over Crowley’s chest – he thinks he might be a little obsessed with the feeling of Crowley’s heartbeat against his skin – he reaches around the lithe body in his lap, slick fingers exploring unhurriedly between the firm cheeks.

When his fingertip catches against the tight little hole, Crowley breaks the kiss with a groan and curses, thighs tensing. He doesn’t use any of the words they agreed on, so Aziraphale presses gently against the furled tissue, licking his lips as Crowley lowers his hips greedily, attempting to take in Aziraphale’s finger, but failing due to Aziraphale withdrawing his hand just enough.

“Angel,” Crowley complains, giving him a look so betrayed it would look comical, if his eagerness weren’t so arousing.

Aziraphale gives in and feels the inviting warmth of Crowley’s body around the tip of his finger, his thoughts circling insistently around the fact that no-one has ever touched Crowley so intimately, and oh, Aziraphale can’t wait to bury himself to the hilt inside this heat― don’t dragons like virgins?

“Hhnngghh,” says Crowley and Aziraphale cannot help but agree as he presses in, slowly, but without a pause, until his whole finger disappears inside. He curls it, searching, until Crowley makes a prolonged sound, something between a sigh and a moan, a string of clear fluid oozing out of his cock at the new stimulation, leaving dark stains on his T-shirt.

It would seem they forgot to take these off.

Aziraphale stares at the precome that keeps leaking from the slit wishing he could lick Crowley’s cock clean and keep licking it until Crowley’s utterly spent. Perhaps another time.

Leaving the gland alone for now, Aziraphale moves his finger in a more thrusting manner until Crowley gasps, hips twitching for a while in little, abortive jerks, and then he’s suddenly fucking himself on Aziraphale’s finger, groaning, curling his hands around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Well? Do you feel prepared?” Aziraphale prompts gently.

“Ah!” Crowley looks down between them, eyeing Aziraphale’s cock doubtfully. “Are you sure about stretching with three fingers being a myth?” he asks cautiously.

Huffing a breathless laugh, Aziraphale kisses him, lips soft and tender, holding his head still by the jaw delicately, as he withdraws his finger and immediately comes back with two, swallowing Crowley’s groan.

Not giving him much time to process what’s going on, he adds the third finger to prove his point, feeling Crowley’s entire body tense and then immediately melt against him.

“How about now?” he asks, letting their lips part.

“Fuck,” says Crowley, panting and squirming. There’s a drop of sweat running down the side of his throat and Aziraphale leans up to catch it with his lips. “Someone’s eager,” Crowley adds, his voice a little too weak for the full teasing effect.

“You have no idea,” Aziraphale admits, looking into his eyes.

“Ngk.” Crowley avoids his gaze as if it burns him. “You really are a slut,” he mutters, taking hold of Aziraphale’s cock and sliding off of his fingers.

The words sting for the briefest moment, but Aziraphale remembers that Crowley tends to say all kinds of things when he’s overwhelmed, so maybe he doesn’t really mean it.

“I’m your slut,” he replies with a playful smile to see if he manages to lighten the mood.

It has the opposite effect, it would seem, as Crowley’s eyes shoot back to his face to stare at him, his lips slightly parted.

“I think your true diabolical plan is to kill me.”

“We shall find out by Monday.”

At this, Crowley grins at him, and then his features sharpen in concentration as he raises on his knees, apparently ready for the next part.

“Crowley, dear, wait,” says Aziraphale, alarmed, searching for the bottle of lubricant with one hand and holding Crowley gently by the hip with the other.

“Yes, I know,” Crowley hisses impatiently, pretending he didn’t forget about slicking Aziraphale’s cock.

Definitely not in a mood to argue about who knows what, Aziraphale completes this task himself without a comment. Crowley doesn’t talk either as he finally sinks down onto Aziraphale’s cock, torturously slow and with maddening breaks, really, who’s trying to kill whom, again?

People often assume that Aziraphale has poor self-control, probably something to do with his admittedly hedonistic lifestyle. Generally speaking, he agrees. But he thinks he’s perfectly capable of reining himself in, perhaps with two exceptions – being pushed to his very limits and choosing to surrender his control if he feels safe doing so (he already did that with Crowley).

Focusing on his breathing and watching Crowley’s face for any signs of discomfort, he keeps as still as possible and allows him to move, and what moves they are―

Breathing deeply, admiring the view, staving off his orgasm, teasing Crowley’s nipples and cock – all within his capability.

“Fuck me,” Crowley groans, throwing his head back.

Aziraphale’s eyes wander along the lines of his white, exposed throat. He isn’t entirely sure if Crowley’s words were a request or just a figure of speech, but he decides there’s no harm in trying to find out, so he rocks up into Crowley with measured thrusts, unerringly hitting the prostate once they discover the perfect angle together, and is endlessly happy to hear Crowley – right above his head – spilling absolute filth with his tongue, and then swearing and calling out until he’s finally reduced to broken cries and whimpers.

Aziraphale feels him come, the muscles pulsing around his cock giving away Crowley’s uncharacteristically silent orgasm. He groans, fucking him through it gently, but eventually he has to help Crowley pull off, knowing that further stimulation would be unpleasant to him.

Crowley is boneless and sluggish in his arms and looks at him with such dazed, sex-stupid eyes that Aziraphale can’t help grinning just a tad smugly.

“Shut up,” Crowley mumbles as soon as he’s able to do more than panting.

Aziraphale obediently doesn’t talk, instead leaning up to kiss and lick at Crowley’s neck.

“Next time, I don’t want you to hold back,” says Crowley, touching Aziraphale’s face with a hand covered in streaks of semen.

“You really enjoy ‘marking’ me,” Aziraphale observes, sending him a knowing smile, still somewhat smug.

Crowley blinks at him until he seems to notice what he’s doing, and he bites his lip, as if caught. “Yes,” he admits, following that with a choked sound and resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his other hand reaching between them to caress Aziraphale’s cock with slow strokes.

Moaning softly, Aziraphale presses his face into Crowley’s hair, still wet from the shower, eyes closed.

“What’s in your basket?” Crowley asks and there is an edge to his voice, like he’s suddenly suspicious.

Aziraphale concentrates on the meaning behind words with difficulty. “Wine. Some cheese. Spare clothes, though it looks like I’m not going to need them.”

“Right.” Crowley grins, pointing at his own T-shirt, which belongs in the washing machine, and offers his come-stained fingers for Aziraphale to lick clean, which he sets to with a pleased sigh. “I think we could just spend those two days in the shower, really. Would save us time.”

Aziraphale makes an amused sound at the idea but is also delighted by the thought they still have almost two days of this. His throat throbs painfully, reminding him how exquisitely Crowley fucked it.

Mere minutes later he climaxes, moaning around the long fingers in his mouth.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 21

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, domestic violence

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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The days blend together in a whirlwind of rehearsals, work, and studying. The excitement for the upcoming show is palpable, but underneath it all, a sense of exhaustion lingers. I push through each long day with determination. Then one night, I stumble home after a long day, late at night. I check my mail before going up to my apartment and find a large box with my name and address on it, on the floor infront of my mailbox. Knowing the date I can only imagine what it might be. Suddenly I’m wide awake. I rush up to my apartment and dump the box on the coffee table. Knowing it could only be one person, I send him a text.

Can I open it or should I wait until tomorrow?

I wait awhile but don’t get a response. I figure he’s either asleep or in the middle of filming. I force myself to leave the box and go for a shower. Feeling warmed up and relaxed, the package falls out of my mind as I collapse into bed and fall asleep.

As I drag myself out of bed the following morning and get dressed for my shift I remember the box. I check my phone and there’s still nothing. Knowing that it’s later in the day in Vancouver, I decide to try to call him while I finish getting ready. It goes straight to his voicemail and I start to get anxious. I doublecheck the sending address on the box and it has a Vancouver address with his name, so I know at least it hasn’t even come through his management, this was all him. This makes me a little more excited, but I can’t figure out why then he’d all of a sudden be ignoring me. I try to keep a level head and tell myself he’s just busy with work. I don’t have time to dwell on it anyway. Regardless, I can’t help but dread serving loved up couples their caffeine hits for the next few hours.

I force a smile and throw on my apron as I find my rhythm. Despite my initial anxiety, I find myself getting lost in the familiar routine, the busy atmosphere providing a temporary distraction from the unanswered questions swirling in my mind. I push through and then go to my classes as usual, while avoiding checking my phone to keep myself from spiralling further unreasonably. 

As I walk home alone from the theatre, through the streets filled with loved-up couples, I try to feel happy for them while I hope that maybe next year I’ll have someone to share it with. As I approach my building I see someone sitting on the ground infront of the glass doors with their head on their knees. My heart races a little as I worry it could be someone looking for a way to sneak into the complex; I’ve seen stranger things happen in the city, unfortunately. The scene also reminds me of the time I sat in that exact position when Tyler first kicked me out of the apartment. I can’t imagine someone going through those same emotions on Valentines of all days, but for my own safety and the safety of others in the building I hope it’s the latter.

As I get closer, I can tell it’s a young girl. I think about walking past, but then I think about the immense difference it would have made if someone stopped when I was in her position. I clasp my keys in my palm as I crouch down beside her. 

“Hey, are you alright?” I ask, but she just shakes her head. “I know Valentines Day can be rough. Do you at least have somewhere to go? It’s too cold to stay out here.” She shakes her head again as her whole body shakes as she lets out a small sob. “I obviously don’t know you or what happened, but I’ve sat where you’re sitting…If you want to talk about it or just be around someone and not talk about it…” She shakes her head again. “You should at least come into the lobby, out of the cold night air.” When she still refuses to move I shrug off my jacket and wrap it around her. I feel my phone vibrate in my bag, but ignore it. While she’s refusing to talk, I know from experience that she shouldn’t be alone.

I sit on the pavement beside her under the dim streetlights in silence. When I start to shiver involuntarily she offers my jacket back. “You should go inside and stay warm. Don’t stay out here because of me. I’m obviously not worth it.” 

Hearing words so similar to ones I’ve said myself breaks my heart. “Only if you’ll let me call you a ride or bring you in. You won’t believe me, but I’ve had those exact thoughts. I don’t think you should be alone tonight.” I know it must be extremely hard for her to trust a stranger but I hope I can at least get her somewhere safe and warm.

My phone vibrates again, this time with a call. I ignore it. I don’t want this girl to think anyone or anything is more important than her. 

After a while, when she realises I’m not going anywhere, she says, “There’s no one to call…I-I was stupid.”

“I’m sure you weren’t. I’m sure you are just young and optimistic and caught in terrible circumstances beyond your control. But you likely won’t believe me, because I know I wouldn’t have. I haven’t got much to offer, but I do have an apartment with a fireplace and a comfortable couch and bed, you can have whichever.”

“I don’t-”

“It’s no problem. I just want to get you off the street for the night and I don’t imagine you can afford a hotel in the city, not to make assumptions, I just know how expensive it can be out here.”

My phone starts to buzz again and she sinks back. “You should get that.”

“They can wait. It’s probably just my mom checking because she knows how hard Valentines can be for me.” I don’t want to push too hard but I know it’s only getting later and colder and neither of us are making the most of my jacket now. I stand up and swipe my keyfob over the scanner. “At least come into the lobby, I’m happy to stay down here with you or bring you a blanket. Just come out of the cold.”

She hesitantly nods and pushes herself off the cold concrete. I lead her into the lobby. “You can come up with me or I can bring you down a blanket. It’s up to you. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I just want you to be warm and safe. And know that you’re not alone.”

“She looks around the bare, unhomely lobby and quietly asks, “C-Can I come up with you?”

“Of course.” I press the button for the lift and step back. When we get in, I notice she doesn’t even have a bag with her, just a phone that appears to be flat. I lead her into my apartment and quickly turn the lights on and start the fireplace. “The bathroom’s through there,” I motion towards my room, “If you want to have a warm shower or wash your face. The bedroom’s also in there if you’d prefer, or the couch.” I do my best to make her feel comfortable as I kick off my shoes and put down my bag. I also toss the now wilted roses in the bin, after pocketing the card. 

“They from your boyfriend? Does that mean it gets better?” she asks.

“It’s complicated, but yes, it does get better. It may take a while, but this moment doesn’t define you. Your life is so much more than your worst nights.”

She hesitantly takes a seat on the couch to warm up by the fire and I pull over a stool. “Y-You said you sat were I sat…C-Can I ask what happened?”

I nod. “My boyfriend at the time cheated on me in this very apartment. I came home from work and caught him in our bed with some girl her met at a bar. Same way he met me, ironically. He was a few years older. There were plenty of red flags I ignored. But it hurt for a long time. I am just lucky to have a great friend that helped me pull through the worst of it and keep putting one foot in front of the other.”

“He cheated with you here? And you stayed?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? I had a job here and classes and a friend and dreams. All of which were more important than a guy I moved across the country with on a whim. He went back to our home state and left me the apartment…and all the bills. I thought about trying to leave, but the location was perfect and the rent was cheaper than other places. I did get a new bed though. I threw out the bedding and sold the frame; there was nothing wrong with it, just that I couldn’t get the image of her gripping the headboard while he took her from behind, out of my head.”

“I’m sorry…”

I shake my head and shrug. “He was a dick. I’m just glad I didn’t let it break me. I almost did, and those thoughts resurface now and again, but I’m stronger for it. I know that now. I only realized that recently, actually…It’s these experiences that will eventually help you realize your worth.”

“He-He still has all my stuff. He begged me to forgive him…He-He wouldn’t let me…” I look her over as she speaks and notice she’s still cold. I reach over and pull the blanket off the back of the couch and offer it to her. She wraps it around herself and cuddles it close to her chest. That’s when I notice light purple bruises on her wrists.

“Did he?” I nod at her wrists and she hides them under the blanket. But then she nods.

“You can stay here as long as you need. I have a friend that works as a security guard, I can ask him to come over and help get your stuff tomorrow…Or we can go out and get you whatever you need.”

“He only does it when he’s…I provoke him…It’s my fault.”

I shake my head, knowing those feelings all too well. “Yeah? What’d you do?”

She shakes her head back and throws off the blanket. “It was my fault. I should go back. He’ll be mad if I-”

“I can’t and won’t stop you if you want to go. But I wish you wouldn’t. Just take the night. Get some sleep and think it over.”

She hesitantly pulls the blanket back on as she starts to cry again. “I-I just…I just wanted to go out. It was my first Valentines Day in a relationship…And in the city…I j-just…I-I shouldn’t…I know…”

“Hey, Sweetie. It’s okay to want those things. And every girl deserves that. Your man should want to take you out and show you a good time; not just on Valentines, but every day. But most of all, he shouldn’t ever hurt you. You’re not his punching bag.”

“He didn’t…He just-” My phone vibrates noisily on the counter cutting her off. “C-can I use the bathroom?”

“Of course. Let me know if you want to borrow some clean clothes. I should have something that should fit.”

“I’m okay. Thanks.” She quietly gets up and goes into the bathroom. I listen for the shower to turn on before I get up and check my phone: 15 texts and 3 missed calls from Jensen. I sigh and call him back without opening the messages.

“Thank God, you’re alive at least!”

“Me? You ignored me first.”

“I was working.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“At one in the morning? I know you get on the subway around eleven thirty, you always text when you get home. I didn’t hear from you. Jared only just talked me out of calling the police for a wellness check.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…Something came up. I can’t talk about it right now. But I’m home and I’m safe. And I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He sighs. “Well, happy Valentines for yesterday, I guess…”

“Don’t be like that. I texted you last night and called you first thing this morning. You didn’t answer. We’re both busy. I had to accept that, so do you. And I really am busy at the moment. I will call you and explain when I can.”

“Someone more important, huh? Some guy from the show?”

I instantly tear up at his implication. “You know what? Screw you, Jensen. You know what I’ve been through and you really think I’d do that to you? Screw you.” I hang up before he can make any excuses and wipe my eyes hastily to appear strong for the girl who needs me. He instantly tries to call me back but I flick my phone to silent and plug it in to charge. I grab a change of clothes and knock lightly on the bathroom door. 

“Hey, it’s just me. I have some clothes here if you want them.” I wait a few seconds, but when I don’t get a response I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry, I’m coming in. Call out if you don’t want me to.” I don’t get a response so I push the door open and for the first time I’m thankful that it doesn’t have a lock.

I notice her sitting on the floor with her back against the bathtub and her head between her knees. She shakes as she cries heavily. As I get closer, I notice one of my bottles of painkillers in her hand. I let out a relieved sigh when I see the cap is still on. I twist off the water in the shower and crouch down beside her. 

“He’s not worth it…None of them are. But you are. You can have a very bright future. Focus on your dreams, what you want. If you put in the hard work, you can make it happen. I know it’s hard to believe right now, but it’s true.” I hold out my hand and she hands over the bottle. 

“What if he-What if someone saw us? What if he knows? What if he-”

“Do you wanna go somewhere else? I can call my friend and we can go somewhere else. As I said, he’s a security guard, he can protect you.”

She nods. I stand up and go get my phone and bring it back. I flip down the toilet lid and sit on it as I call Nick. I know Stella will be asleep, but I’m just hoping he’s finishing a shift. It rings a few times before he answers.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, Nick. Can you come over?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I was just wondering if me and a…friend could come stay with you and Stella?”

“Jensen?”

I shake my head eventhough I know he can’t see me. “Nick, could you just come, please?”

“Sure. I’m on my way. Meet me downstairs?”

“Actually, could you come up? I’ll buzz you in.”

“Okay?”

“Thank you.”

He hangs up and I go back to sit with the girl. That’s when I realize I don’t even know her name. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” I try to break the tension a little to make her feel comfortable, “I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, Anna. My friend’s gonna come here and take us back to him and his wife’s place. They live over in Manhattan. They’re both really nice. Stella is the one I was telling you about that helped me when I was going through my worst. You’ll be safe there.”

“W-will you c-come?”

“Of course. I won’t leave you.”

“I’m sorry I wasted your water and went through your stuff.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. But I need you to tell me the truth, did you take any? I don’t mind, I’m just worried about you.”

She shakes her head. “I-I couldn’t…I couldn’t do it.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

She hangs her head again. “Todd’s gonna be so angry…”

I try my best to stifle a laugh, “Really? Todd? That’s his name?” She nods. “That’ll do it.” She looks up confused. “I’m sorry. It’s just in my experience, guy’s with T-names are the worse. The guy that cheated on me? Tyler…and also, Trent, before that.”

“Two guys?”

“What idiot falls for it twice, right? That’s why I want to help you now. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Don’t let it become a pattern. Let him be your one and only lesson. Realize your worth now.” I hear the buzzer from the intercom near the door. I stand up and hold my hand out. “My friend’s here, let’s go back out where it’s warmer.”

She slowly takes my hand and lets me pull her up and lead her back to the couch. I only leave her for a few seconds while I buzz Nick up and then let him in. Being already on edge he scans the apartment and instantly spots Anna. 

He leans close and lowly says, “There’s some frantic guy in the lobby. I don’t think you should go anywhere. I’ll stay here.”

I nod in understanding and introduce him and Anna. I gently explain the change of plans and urge her to take my bed. She argues, claiming that she should go down and check if it’s him and calm him down. But Nick and I dissuade her. In the end, she says she doesn’t want to be alone, so I lay down in my bed with her while Nick rests on the couch watching TV.

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Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala, @ladysparkles78

[maochira]

You belong to yourself.

A continuation of "Until the mirror breaks." [Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3]

Tags: gn!youngest sibling!reader, this is a few days after part 3, hurt/comfort, mao lets them have a happy ending?? unbelievable

Synopsis: Sae is tired of Rin's irrational behaviour and tries to talk some sense into him, only to be met by Rin's coldness. As Sae keeps wondering what to do to help his youngest sibling, the little one approaches Rin on their own.

(A/N: I know I said I wouldn't write a continuation, but... the inspiration hit me. Also, if you're wondering why I'm not calling it "Until the mirror breaks part 4", it's because the mirror broke in part 3.)

It's been days, and Rin still refuses to talk to you. And at this point, he doesn't even talk to Sae either.

To you, Rin is unrecognizable. To you, he's always been a loving and protective big brother, even though he could be a bit controlling and possessive about your soccer career at times.

Maybe more than "a bit", since until now, your entire life regarding soccer has been in his hands. He started training you at a young age and he chose the team you got in.

All for the sake of making you the next prodigy, so he could beat Sae together with you. For the sake of having you on his side forever. He wanted to see himself in you.

Until the mirror broke.

Since Rin started ignoring you, Sae finally got a chance to develop a proper bond with you. Sure, it took until you're 8 years old, but something in him finally set the big brother instinct in him free, which he hid away after his rivalry with Rin started.

Maybe it was the internalized fear of being seen as a bad brother again. Especially considering the way Rin talked about him towards you back when you were younger.

As the day of Sae leaving again approaches, he keeps thinking about ways to fix things with Rin. He knows there's no way to fix the relationship he has with the younger brother, but he certainly wants to fix what's going on between you and Rin. Sae doesn't want you to continue being treated as coldly as Rin currently does.

It really pains him to see you like this. Your sad face every time you approach Rin to talk, but he turns away each time.

And really, Rin is acting immature. To him, you've always been perfect, always walked along the path he created for you. But now that you've only disappointed him once, by a mistake that wasn't even your fault, he acts as if you've only ever done wrong to him.

Only one mistake hurt the pride he carried for you so much. Sure, the mistake ended with him getting embarrassed, but is something like this really enough to start resenting you like this? In Rin's case, the answer is yes, apparently.

Sae doesn't want to make the same mistake he did years ago. This time, he's not going to talk to Rin on his last day of staying at home, this time he's doing it days earlier. Just in case, so he can be there for you if needed.

"Hey, Rin." Sae says as he enters the kitchen, where Rin is currently preparing dinner. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"I'd rather not." Rin hisses back immediately. "I know what you're going to tell me anyways. Just keep it to yourself."

Sae lets out a deep sigh and leans back against the wall. "Rin, come on. You can't act like this every time someone disappoints you."

"It's not just 'someone'," Rin looks at Sae for a moment, "It's my sibling. Not the first one either."

"Keep whatever it is between us out of this for a moment. This is about (Y/N)."

"What is between me and you," Rin points the knife he's holding in Sae's direction for a moment before he returns to cutting vegetables, "Is just as relevant as what's between me and (Y/N)."

"You want to compare what's between us with an 8-year-old messing up in a match? Due to their fear of cameras? Seriously?" Sae's tone is getting slightly passive-aggressive.

Those words hit Rin like a knife to the chest. It makes him realize how irrationally he's acting, but still not willing to step down from the point he stands on. It would mean admitting Sae is right.

"Shut up already. I didn't want to talk to you in the first place!" Rin snaps at Sae.

For a moment, Sae opens his mouth with the intention to continue talking, but after realizing this conversation won't go anywhere, he closes his mouth again and leaves the kitchen.

On his way to his own room, Sae meets you in the hallway. You just returned home from soccer practice. Seeing you makes Sae's frustration about Rin fade away quickly.

"Hey, how was practice?" Your older brother asks as he ruffles your hair. "Better than that last match, I assume?"

"A lot better." You tell him and giggle when he starts ruffling your hair.

"Great to hear." Sae smiles as he picks up your bag and then walks you to your room. "So, you don't want to quit soccer after all?" He opens the door and lets you step in before following you shortly after.

You shake your head for no. "Soccer is fun. I don't want to stop playing," You explain, "But I think I don't want to do it professionally when I grow up."

Sae puts your bag down and sits down on your bed. "Because of the cameras, hm? You might grow out of that fear when you get older."

You sit down next to him and shrug. "I don't know yet..."

"Hey hey, no getting sad again." Sae ruffles your hair another time in an attempt to lighten your mood. "I'm not Rin. I'm not pushing you into anything I want."

At the mention of Rin you look down onto the floor and only smile weakly. "I know you're not... doing that..."

Sae notices how much the entire thing with Rin is still dragging you down, and will most likely continue dragging you down in the future. Just the thought of it forms a weird pressure in his chest.

He's determined to fix things. Somehow.

As the days continue, Sae's leaving is only three days away and he still hasn't figured out how to help. He's talked to your parents, but even they have had no success in talking to Rin about this. But your oldest brother doesn't want this to be another hopeless case. He doesn't want this to turn out the way things became between himself and Rin.

And while Sae keeps thinking about ways to get Rin into thinking about the situation in a rational way, you've already decided to take things into your own hands. Something about the way Sae finally developed a bond with you and kept encouraging you to go your own way made you collect enough confidence to talk to Rin again, even though you fully expect him to ignore you again.

But surprisingly this time, he doesn't.

"You won't stop bothering me, will you?" Rin turns to you as you enter his room. "Let's get this over with." He points to the chair at his desk for you to sit down.

"What do you want to talk about?" Rin asks after you sit down on the chair. Despite his cold and strict tone, you can hear a hint of the way he usually talks to you, as if Rin is trying to hide it.

"I won't quit soccer." You simply tell him.

"Ah?" Rin's voice has a mix of confusion and pleasant surprise in it, "Even though... Even though I told you to never play again?"

With a bit of hesitance, you nod in response.

"You want to continue..." Rin says out loud, but it's more something he says to himself rather than to you.

"But Sae told me it's better if I don't go pro," you continue when Rin doesn't say anything towards you, "Because of the cameras."

"You... You don't want to go pro?" Rin looks at you with a bit of shock in his eyes. "After all these years I spent making the best out of your potential?"

A little ashamed of your decision now, you nod and stare down at the floor to avoid eye contact. "I'm sorry..." You start tearing up.

For a few moments, the entire room is silent. But when you start sobbing in front of Rin, attempting to hold your tears back without success, he can't help but let the coldness break down.

"Don't cry." He kneels down in front of you to be at the same eye height. "I'm sorry, alright?" He hands you a tissue. "Just don't cry because of me again, okay?"

A bit confused by Rin's sudden return to the way he usually treats you, you wipe away some of your tears and look directly into your brother's eyes. You can see how his cold gaze has softened into a caring one. One you're way more used to.

"I hate seeing you cry," Rin continues, "I hate being the reason why you cry... I'm sorry, (Y/N)." He takes the tissue out of your hand and wipes away your last few tears.

Rin takes a deep breath before he continues talking. "Sae was right... I shouldn't have been so disappointed in you about this."

It's something Rin had been thinking about ever since his last conversation with the oldest brother. Even in the moment when Sae pointed it out, Rin realized he was being in the wrong, but simply out of spite, he didn't want to admit it.

The thoughts about it kept bothering him every day. But seeing you cry another time in front of him - because of him - finally broke down the wall of spite that's been preventing him from admitting the truth.

As painful as the truth is to him, it was about time to finally admit it.

"I'm glad you're not giving up on soccer... Even though I told you to."

Tears of regret are forming in the corner of Rin's eyes.

"I know you don't belong to me. You belong to yourself. You know that?"

[anti-rq-gumi]

I'm sorry I can't 8e a good folken. I'm transa8led and transharmed and want to take my eye and am the victim in a cona8usive rel8ionship. I wish I could 8e 8etter and 8e accepted 8y this community.

It must be hard. I've seen your attempts to interact with other antis, expressing what you believe in on your own terms, like how we do, and get next to no response or validation. I admire your persistence. You may have gone about trying to better yourself in some flawed ways, but that doesn't take away how you have put in effort.

I'll do my best to give you some pointers.

Members of the anti radqueer discord server I'm in have claimed that you've groomed not just one, but several people, and also that you're attempting to do that again now. These are obviously some very serious accusations. I've tried to find information on this but most of what's currently available online are old callout posts that ignore any sort of nuance to your actions. A few of your posts address that nuance in throwaway sentences. I recommend making one centralized post addressing all that - it might give some of my fellow antis some insight into what you regret, what you don't, and what you're currently doing.

Your experience with BIID is something I completely believe. Your identities of transabled and transharmed are real feelings, and you're not a terrible person for feeling that way. Scores of people in both the anti and radqueer communities have experiences similar enough to you that those terms you identify with exist. I get the impulse to act on those feelings. It isn't exactly the same for me because I have depression rather than BIID, but on some level I understand the desire to self harm. I understand that breaking out of that sort of pattern if you're used to it and you want it is extremely difficult to do.

What being anti radqueer means to me and my mutuals is doing our best not to cause harm. Not to harm ourselves and not to harm other people. That's the foundation of our community. You might've noticed that a lot of my tags are stylized as anti- something accepted among radqueers I want to discourage due to its harm. From what I've seen of your current beliefs, you're already part of the way there. You just have to take more steps in order to reduce the amount of harm you're causing in your own life. And if you need help doing that from professionals or relevant resources that's okay.

I did see your reply to my conabuse masterpost by the way. Your usage of a safeword and clear communication is genuinely really good. Much better than most conabusive relationships I've seen. Really only one thing stuck out to me.

"4ND 47 7H3 3ND 0F 7H3 D4Y, 1F 17 15 48U51V3? WH0 FUCK1NG C4R35. 1 D0N'7 W4N7 0U7, 1 D0N'7 N33D 0U7."

(Plain text: "And at the end of the day, if it is abusive? Who fucking cares. I don't want out, I don't need out.")

We care very deeply. We want victims of abuse to become free of it and eventually recover as much as they can. You seem to be safely enjoying the between-BDSM-and-conabuse dynamic you have, so I won't push anything on you, but please keep in mind this is the general attitude of the group you want to join.

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 17

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Author's note: I have to give an enormous shout-out to @cloneflo99 for not only letting me bounce ideas off of her for this chapter, but helping me get over some writer's block by giving me stellar comments on a draft and even creating this very cool banner for the fic! THANK YOU FRIEND!!!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16

Chapter 17 summary: The Batch and an increasingly restless Dara meet up with Rex and Howzer.

It hadn’t occurred to Crosshair that meeting with Rex meant that they were not just exposing the clone network to Dara, but also exposing her to them. As a result, he was thoroughly unprepared for how high Howzer’s eyebrows shot up when he saw her descending from the Marauder. He caught the clone captain giving her what was surely meant to be a surreptitious once-over while Rex was busy clasping forearms with Hunter and Echo, and wasted no time in angling himself to glare protectively over Dara’s shoulder in a silent challenge.

Howzer’s casual interest in the woman accompanying the Batch was a stark contrast to the way his gaze hardened when he glanced toward Crosshair. While they managed to keep things civil, Howzer had never fully forgiven him for Ryloth—and to be honest, Crosshair didn’t blame him. He didn’t much deserve to be forgiven.

Wrecker interrupted them before their staring match could escalate, barreling to the front of the group to draw Rex and Howzer into a bone-crushing hug that both captains protested against weakly.

“Been a good while since we saw you two! How’s things? Where’s my pal Gregor? I was hoping he’d be cooking tonight!” Wrecker exclaimed, before having mercy and releasing the pair.

Rex grinned, always much happier to be subjected to the bigger man’s affections than his discontents. “Just finishing up a quick mission—he’ll be back in a few hours. So…” He eyed Dara with curiosity. “Who’s your newest member?”

“Oh—oh yeah!” Wrecker wrapped a beefy arm around Dara, dragging her forward for introductions. She clutched at him for a moment before catching her balance with a look of vague amusement. “Dara’s a stray we picked up on one of our jobs!” He looked around conspiratorially and made eye contact with Crosshair, mischief glinting in his good eye. “You’ll never believe this, but Crosshair rescued her,” he explained in an exaggerated stage whisper.

The sniper rolled his eyes. “Only for you to nearly manhandle her to death every chance you get, apparently,” he complained, eyeing his brother—who still had his arm around Dara—with a touch of resentment.

Wrecker ignored him, still gleeful. “Anyway! Dara, meet Captains Rex and Howzer.”

“Ma’am,” Rex nodded toward her respectfully, though his eyes lingered searchingly on the woman’s face for a long moment. Crosshair knew that Rex was familiar with their suspicions about Dara, and he wondered whether the Captain thought he’d be able to read her secrets there.

Howzer reached a hand out to shake Dara’s, grasping it warmly. “Miss,” he murmured, with a charming smile.

“Dara, please,” she insisted, returning the smile. “Nice to meet you both.”

Rex gestured over his shoulder at the building behind him. “Let’s head on inside and catch up for a bit.”

They had landed the Marauder next to Rex’s ship, which was parked by a small cluster of squat, abandoned warehouses. They were the only buildings nearby, surrounded by endless kilometers of orange scrublands. Skinny, red, six-legged lizards the length of a forearm darted between the clumps of vegetation and climbed the walls of the building.

“They are harmless, so long as you do not attempt to eat them,” Tech informed the group helpfully as they followed Rex and Howzer inside.

“Wasn’t planning on it, Tech,” Hunter reassured him, eyeing the creatures with distaste.

The warehouse was dusty and bare, apart from a low table boasting a holoprojector and circle of crates. Dara leaned against the wall with her arms crossed as the men situated themselves around the table. Crosshair frowned as he glanced up at her. He had thought she seemed antsy on their approach to the planet, fidgeting uncharacteristically and unable to sit still. Even now her eyes were darting about the warehouse while her fingers tapped restlessly against her biceps.

Rex gave the woman an apologetic grimace from across the room as he booted up the holoprojector. “Sorry, Dara, but do you mind…?”

Dara stilled, then nodded. “Got it. Clone business. Just let me know if I can be of help.” She gave the group a small smile which didn’t quite meet her eyes before striding back out the way they had come.

Crosshair leaned over toward Hunter, still staring resolutely at the doorway where she had disappeared. “Does she seem…agitated to you?” he murmured.

“Mm-hmm,” his brother confirmed. “Heartbeat’s elevated, smells stressed.” Hunter raised an eyebrow and nodded his head toward the exit. “Why don’t you go and keep an eye on her?”

Crosshair glanced toward Rex, who nodded in approval, before following Dara. When he stepped outside he found the surrounding area surprisingly empty; she had moved off quickly. He rounded the corner of the building, looking for a ladder that would give him roof access for a better vantage point to locate her, and peeked up once he found one, only to spy a familiar pair of boots dangling over the edge above him.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Dara grumbled as he hauled himself up onto the roof. She had pulled a length of leather cord from her pack and was distracting her restless fingers by weaving a new project, eyes occupied with scanning the horizon.

“No?” Crosshair sneered. He sat down on the opposite side of the ladder, letting his own legs dangle over the edge of the roof as well. He pulled out his rifle to follow her gaze with his scope. “Then what has you so worked up?”

Dara’s shoulders stiffened, and she pursed her lips at him. “I’m just bored. Hard to keep busy when you boys don’t want my help.”

The sniper hummed noncommittally. There was nothing in the distance that he could identify, and he wondered what was drawing Dara’s attention.

“What planet is this?” she asked suddenly.

He lowered his rifle and turned to her, raising an eyebrow. She had stopped her restless scanning and was now watching him instead, her expression betraying only a vague curiosity.

Crosshair scoffed. “What’s it matter to you?”

Dara shrugged and looked out towards the scrublands again, though now her eyes roamed at a more leisurely pace, taking in the landscape with an easy interest. “It’s quiet. Pretty. Figure maybe I’ll stay here for a bit when I get my ship back.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be naïve, burk’yc. You’re not getting your ship back. If the Empire hasn’t impounded it, then scrappers have pulled it apart by now.” Crosshair almost immediately regretted the cruel comment when a pained expression crossed Dara’s face, though the hurt was quickly replaced with a glare.

“That ship is my home,” she snapped. “Eventually I’ll have to go back, at least to know for sure. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’d think you would understand.” She gestured meaningfully in the direction of the Marauder.

Crosshair considered her thoughtfully. She was only partially correct; yes, the ship had been a home for them that Kamino never had, and thinking about what they would do if it were lost made him squeamish. That wasn’t to say that he was sentimental—but cynical though he was, he supposed he could understand the impulse to hope that her ship wasn’t simply gone forever.  

Still, what she didn’t know was that, even if they lost the Marauder, they would have Pabu. Even though the island was almost too bright, too friendly for his taste, it had made all the difference for them to have a place to lay low, a home base that wasn’t just stable, but safe for Omega. She deserved a place out of harm’s way, a chance at a normal childhood, and Crosshair knew that any of the Batch—himself included—would trade the Marauder any day to protect that for her. And even without the Marauder, even without Pabu, they would have each other—their squad; their family—which was a fact that, after all his time away from them, he more than anyone could appreciate.

As far as he could tell, Dara didn’t have anywhere, or anyone, like that. Her ship meant even more to her than the Marauder did to them.

Her hands stilled suddenly, and her hair flashed in the afternoon light as a movement out in the scrubland grabbed her attention; a flock of white birds, moving in shimmering sync, had suddenly taken flight. Crosshair glanced through his scope, quickly locating the source of the disturbance.

He plucked a toothpick out and popped it into the corner of his mouth. “They were just scared off by a tooka,” he drawled. “You’re jumpy.”

“I’m not jumpy,” Dara protested. The sniper simply raised an eyebrow in challenge, his lips curling into a smirk, and she rolled her eyes in response. “Okay, maybe I’m a little restless today,” she conceded. “I don’t usually stay in one… situation… long. I’m starting to think… it might be time for me to move on.”

Crosshair felt his mouth downturn almost instinctively before he schooled his face into a more passive expression. Still, he couldn’t stop the low, swooping feeling that had suddenly invaded his chest. Not since the villa heist had he seriously considered the possibility of Dara leaving; while he still doubted that she was telling the truth, over time he had gotten used to her presence. And now that the idea was staring him in the face, he found that he no longer wanted her to go.

He was quiet, watching her. Suppressing the desire to protest, to ask her to stay.

Dara quirked an eyebrow. She closed the gap between them for a moment to bump her shoulder gently against his. “What? Thought you’d be happy to get rid of me.”

He chewed on his toothpick and contemplated the horizon. “What will you do if your ship is gone?” he probed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Would you…want to find someplace—someplace nice, safe like this—permanently?” She would like it on Pabu, he thought. He could even picture her, sitting beneath the weeping maya tree, chatting with the islanders, watching the waves roll in while she wove her crafts and drank her tea.

If she decided to leave, then maybe, at least, they could tell her. Maybe she’d even want to go back with them. If he brought it up to the others, he thought Hunter would consider it.

Dara didn’t respond immediately, thinking the idea over, maybe. Crosshair opened his mouth again, hesitated—

“Crosshair!” A familiar voice called from the foot of the ladder. Both of them leaned over the edge, past their dangling feet, and spotted Howzer looking up at them. “You’re needed,” the clone informed him.

Crosshair sighed and flicked his toothpick off the edge of the roof, landing it in directly in Howzer’s hair, who plucked it out and smoothed his graying locks with a scowl. Wordlessly, the sniper descended. Behind him, Dara stepped off the ladder, helped the final few feet by Howzer’s gallantly outstretched hand.

“So, Howzer,” Crosshair heard her ask as he strode away. “Do you have any interesting war stories for me? Where were you stationed?”

“Oh, plenty of stories. I supported General Syndulla on Ryloth, miss.” Howzer’s voice was effortlessly friendly, respectful but engaging.

“Ryloth! I visited there for a few months before the war started. Is the central market square on Lessu still…”

Crosshair felt a twinge of annoyance as he stalked around the corner toward the entrance to the warehouse, leaving the pair conversing amiably. He had a strong suspicion that, if he had offered Dara his hand at the bottom of the ladder, she would have rolled her eyes and pointedly ignored it. And that didn’t bother him—no, what bothered him was that she accepted it from Howzer. In fact, she would have accepted it from anyone else—except him. She was agreeable, friendly, charming, for anyone besides him. For weeks now she had been with the Batch day and night, and still she was hiding who she was—the venom, the snark, the determined competence. The grief.

Howzer could talk to her for hours, and he wouldn’t know her. Not like Crosshair did.

He wasn’t sure what about that bothered him so much.

Back inside, Crosshair tried to keep Dara out of his mind for the moment as the others caught him up on Rex’s briefing—something about a group of missing clones they were trying to track down. Almost automatically, he contributed what he knew about the Empire’s policies on clone prisoners, highlighting a few facilities they could have been taken to or held at.

“We’ll have to reach out to some other sources to try to locate them,” Rex reflected thoughtfully. “Maybe do some recon once we get the intel in. I wonder if you boys would mind coming to help out—we’re spread a little thin at the moment.”

Hunter glanced carefully at the rest of his squad, trying to assess their thoughts on the subject. “I dunno, Rex,” he hesitated. “We’ve been away from Omega for too long as it is.”

The Captain nodded. “I understand. Still—maybe you could take some time to think about it while you do one last favor for me? Gregor should be arriving soon with some supplies he scavenged from a decommissioned Republic facility. We were hoping Cid would be able to offload what we don’t need for some extra credits. You mind doing a drop-off and swinging by base with the credits?”

“That we can do,” Hunter agreed. “We’ll just head back to the Marauder for a bit—gotta check in with the kid.”

Rex grinned. “Sure thing. Tell the boss I said hi while you’re at it,” he called after them as they filed out toward the ship.

***

“That went well,” Crosshair drawled when they turned off the holocomm half an hour later. Tech and Echo rolled their eyes, and Wrecker gave him a shove. Hunter just sighed.

While Omega had been happy, at first, to see them and hear news of Rex, the idea that they would be delaying their return even further was received poorly, to put it mildly. She had treated them to much huffing after they said that it would be at least a few days longer for them to pass by Ord Mantell and then Rex’s base.

Then the huffing had escalated to arguments and scowling when Hunter had mentioned that Rex had asked them to help with a mission, even though—he asserted—they hadn’t committed to it. Omega insisted that they should help search for the missing clones, but—of course—wanted them to return for her before joining Rex at his base. They had ended the conversation with Hunter reassuring her that they would come back to Pabu soon, and that they would check in again after they completed the exchange for Rex, and could discuss whether or not to take the mission then.

“Omega has always had strong opinions, especially about not wanting to be separated from the squad,” Tech observed. “Although recently she has been asserting some independence, she is also advancing further into her adolescence which means we are likely to be treated to, let us say…even stronger opinions.”

Wrecker laughed. “Just say you mean arguments, Tech.”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have another problem. What do we do with Dara?”

Crosshair crossed his arms and scowled. “What do you mean?”

“He means, do we trust her enough to bring her to Rex’s base, or do we leave her on Ord Mantell?” Echo pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his scomp.

Hunter looked pointedly at Crosshair. “It’s a risk. You’ve always been the most skeptical of her—so what do you think?”

The sniper hesitated, chewing on his toothpick thoughtfully. He reflected on all his suspicions of the past few weeks and her easy explanations, his certainty that she was putting on an act. And then he thought about how, for a moment this afternoon, he had been seriously considering telling her about Pabu, just because he didn’t want her to leave.

Crosshair gritted his teeth. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I trust her.”

He was rescued from having to deal with his brother’s reactions to this change of heart by the beeping of the proximity alert on the Marauder’s console, indicating a ship was soon to land nearby.

“That’ll be Gregor,” Echo remarked. “We’d better get Rex.”

They found the Captain outside the Marauder, already aware of Gregor’s imminent arrival. “Anybody know Howzer’s whereabouts?” Rex wondered.

“I’ll get him,” Crosshair replied. He made his way back toward the warehouse, wondering if he could still pick up his conversation with Dara where they had left off—he still wanted to gauge her thoughts on what she would do without her ship. If, maybe, restless though she seemed, she might be interested in an island on a quiet planet with too much sun and too friendly neighbors.

Then he turned the corner and saw them.

Dara was perched on the edge of a crate, Howzer standing close in front of her. His hands cradled either side of her face, holding her gently, deepening their kiss, while her arms were strewn over his shoulders. The kiss wasn’t quite intense enough to be passionate, their bodies still holding space between them—for now.

Kriff, Crosshair thought.

Next chapter

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino

[tc-doherty]

Book One | Chapter Six

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife @muddshadow @outpost51 @full-on-sam @bluberimufim @unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

(Ask to be added or removed)

Elizabet had a yawn behind her fan.

"If you find it so distasteful, why bother coming year after year?" Asked Patrice. "Surely handsome young knights are not so interesting as to outweigh your boredom now."

She didn't think her comment was a funny one, but that did not stop the countess from laughing. "To keep track of the pulse of court, my dear." She paused to smooth a wrinkle out of her skirt. "Which ladies support which knights can tell you a great deal, and the feast can tell you even more. Everyone is already sounding out alliances for next season. Only a fool would allow herself to be left behind."

Patrice had to wait a moment for the announcer to finish rattling off the names of the current fighters - a Sir Bruce and Dame Mordecai - before she could continue the conversation. Before she had tried to ignore Elizabet, and that hadn't deterred the woman any. If the woman was determined to talk, at least Patrice might be able to get some relevant information out of her – if she could drag the conversation away from the personal lives of people she had no interest in. It was certain to be more useful than the repetitive jousting down below was interesting.

"What is the season?" She asked again.

"Runeria is disgustingly hot in the summer," Elizabet said, and fanned herself for emphasis. "New Iber even more so, with its close-packed walls. We all flee to the countryside until fall. The season is the time between fall and spring where we live here and important business is taken care of."

Patrice nodded and looked around. Most of the people she could see were engaged in their own private conversations. Only a few seemed to be watching the joust with any interest. If she listened closely, she could hear multiple mentions of the country, summer homes, parties, alliances, and marriages surfacing out of the sea of chatter.

She turned back to Elizabet. "Why did you invite me to go with you?"

"If you are to thrive in court, my dear, you'll need a mentor," the countess said. "Someone to teach you who's who and what's what, what to do and what not to do. I do happen to know all that information. It could be mutually beneficial, you would learn everything you need to learn, and I would be able to keep a much closer eye on current happenings."

Patrice said nothing. At least the old woman was honest about her intentions. That was something. But Patrice had no interest in allowing herself to become bound to this human court and their nonsensical traditions. She wasn't really sure what she did have an interest in, but it certainly wasn't that.

As before, her silence did nothing to dampen Elizabet's spirits. "You'll have to let me know your decision before the party starts," the countess said, then snapped her fan shut and used it to gesture to the far end of the field. "That's your little knight over there, isn't it?"

Patrice followed the motion.

Felisjyta stood at the edge of the sand, leaning on Vasya's saddle as she laughed and joked with the squire carrying her lances. Earlier she had still been dressed in loose trews and tunic. Now she looked just like the Runerian knights, decked in armor over a heavy gambeson. The little mountain mare was turned out in matching caparison and barding, with blue and green ribbons woven into her mane and tail.

Both the knight and mare seemed unconcerned. Felisjyta had not even spared a glance for her opponent, and Vasya was idly lipping the grass that grew at the edge of the sand.

Patrice frowned. Her end of the field held a high-strung dark bay courser. The gelding pranced and tossed his head, and danced sideways when his knight tried to mount. Felisjyta swung easily into Vasya's saddle and put her helm on before taking the field.

"Serzeks really don't produce much in the way of knights, do they?" Countess Elizabet asked.

"She looks a knight to me," said Patrice, unamused.

"Of course, dear, of course."

The announcer spoke, saving Patrice from having to make a reply. "An interesting development," he said. "Sir Braiden Collens, fighting for Lady Suzan Greenheld. Dame Felisjyta of Fellveer, fighting for Lady Patrice Drake."

A titter of surprise ran through the crowd. A few nobles in the box turned to stare, but Patrice ignored them. After a moment of silence, scattered applause began. It grew stronger as it went on, but not as strong as it had been before the other matches.

"So you see," said Countess Elizabet punctuating her words with waves of her fan, "breaking tradition is no way to make friends at court."

Patrice had just about enough of this. "Dragons," she said," do as they please."

As Elizabet opened her mouth to speak, the announcer lowered his arm and called out the order to start. The joust gave Patrice a very convenient reason to ignore the countess.

Both horses began to move, jumping directly to a gallop that sped them towards their opponent. Patrice held her breath as they drew closer to one another. Already she had seen one knight carried off the field bleeding when a match went badly, and Felisjyta was much smaller than her opponent.

Lance met shield with a crash.

Both knights wobbled but kept their seats. Vasya came to a stop on her own, but Braiden had to jerk his gelding back around. Neither lance was broken, but each knight took a fresh one before regaining their spot. They charged a second time.

Lances lowered.

Patrice watched with bated breath and clenched hands.

On the third pass, Braiden's lance hit the upper half of Felisjyta's shield. She wavered under the force of the hit. Her own strike went wild, sliding off the shield to hit him on the left side of his chest. Braiden reeled too – and fell.

The crowd cheered wildly, no longer concerned about anything except the action in the arena.

Patrice let out the breath she'd been holding and began to clap as well. On the field the two knights bowed to one another. Felisjyta rode off, Braiden led his horse away on foot.

Compelled by the twin desires to gloat and defend Felisjyta's honor, Patrice turned to the countess. "See, she's not nearly so bad a knight as you imply."

Elizabet clapped politely. "So it seems. The Serzek duchess arrived a year ago, but her knights have always kept to themselves in practice. Your Felicity is the first one we've ever seen in a tournament."

"My Felisjyta? I would not think I had any claim to her success. She's the knight after all," Patrice said. She did not look at the countess as she said it. She was examining her gown. She hadn't realized her temperature was up, but the dress now had two lines of scorch marks on it where she had rested her arms. She wouldn't be able to wear this one again. Maria would be quite cross with her.

Elizabet laughed. "Oh come now, she's fighting under your favor, so she accepts you as her inspiration, so to speak."

Patrice shrugged and ran her palm over the ruined fabric. "She was only doing me a favor." She turned away from the other woman, determined to ignore the countess once and for all. She had no intention of getting dragged into court politics!

Patrice found the tournament to be enjoyable, much to her surprise. She began to appreciate the jousting, or at least watching certain knights progress farther and farther to the top. She could understand why people would wager great sums of money on such a sport – as she heard them do all around her – and she still found the duels to be strangely beautiful. Although, the more of the tournament she watched, the more she could see just how much Johan and Rothert had altered their performances. Most of the duels that she saw lasted less than two minutes, with the fastest one being over in fifteen seconds. Nothing at all like the extended sword fight the two of them had performed.

The jousts stopped at noon for a two hour break during the hottest part of the day. Maria came to fetch Patrice from the stands. The maid tsked over the state Patrice's dress, and whisked her off to the city of tents to do some shopping.

Patrice could only follow along behind, bemused. Maria knew more about fabric and color and fashion than she did, so she merely stood by while the maid haggled and bargained with her money and came away with armful after armful of fabric to be sent to the castle.

"Am I really going to need so much?" Patrice asked.

"You will if you keep destroying your gowns like that!" Maria scolded. "Dragons probably can't help being hot-blooded but please try to control yourself." She held up a roll of red silk to inspect. "You'll also need gowns if you intend to join the court to a greater degree. Ladies tend to frown on wearing the same four dresses to every occasion."

"But-"

Maria put down the red silk and pulled out a roll of dark violet instead. "We'll have to find a way to spruce them up a bit. A little embroidery here and there, maybe with pearls and semi precious stones. And we'll have to get you some more jewelry as well."

"But-"

"I know you prefer simple clothing but they won't let you get away with it, even if you are a dragon." Maria set down a roll of gold mirrored silk next to the purple and gave the vendor measurements to cut.

Patrice gave this particular battle up for lost. "If you insist," she said with a sigh. "But if I'm to let you and the others dress me up in this ridiculous frippery, I demand that you also purchase me some boots, or at least shoes like yours. I hate wearing these things."

It was Maria's turn to sigh, but she didn't even look up; she had already moved on to studying another type of fabric in a deep blue. "Fine, fine. I'll see what I can do. But you'll need to have a proper gown matching Dame Felicity's colors for the feast at the end of the festival. With Anna and Elaine helping me, we ought to be able to come up with something. As long as you agree to actually wear it."

"A bargain is a bargain. If you keep your end, I'll keep mine. Dragons are creatures of their word, after all." Patrice turned and began to watch the crowd instead, a chaotic sea of colors and sound whirling from booth to booth. All around were men and women just like Maria – shopping and gossiping and talking about the court. There was no one there who did not look utterly thrilled to be there, save for the occasional protesting child. Patrice folded her arms and tried to contain her impatience.

Maria must've read something in her body language. The maid shook her head. "Why don't you go visit with Felicity? I can work here by myself as long as you trust me."

"You're the only one here who understands all these confounded rules, you'll make far better choices than I would," Patrice said, relief evident in her voice. She left Maria alone and made her way towards the northwest corner of the estate.

Patrice was not surprised to find Felisjyta tending to her horse. The Serzek knight had stripped out of her armor and gambeson. Vasya too was temporarily divested of armor. Sweat plastered Felisjyta's hair to her head and turned the mare's coat from gray to black.

Patrice slowed as she neared the pair, but this time the mare did nothing more than flick one ear forward in interest as she approached. Encouraged, Patrice walked right up and stroked Vasya's damp neck.

Felisjyta looked up from where she was brushing the mare's flank. "Back again?"

"I wanted to congratulate you," said Patrice, "and also to escape from shopping. Maria is determined to spend as much of my money as possible."

"I didn't realize you were as well-off as that," Felisjyta said. She ran a wooden comb across Vasya's back with long, even strokes.

Patrice shrugged. "When I first came here, the court steward returned to me all of my mother's gold which had been stolen. They also gave me custody of the land in the Old Kingdom – though as far as dragons are concerned, land and treasures both are up for grabs so long as no one is there to defend them."

"Humans see things differently," Felisjyta said. "No one here seems to have much interest in the Old Kingdom, they say it's cursed. So it didn't cost them much to give it back to you. They were probably just hoping that doing such a thing would appease your anger." She shrugged, then switched topics. "Are you going to stay and watch the rest of the tournament?"

"Do you think you'll win?" Patrice asked.

The knight laughed. "Win? Who knows. I'd like to." She tossed the wooden brush down onto the grass and tapped the mare's shoulders. Vasya followed her to a water trough in the middle of camp, where several other horses were drinking.

Patrice followed them, careful to keep her distance from the other animals.

Only after Vasya had begun to drink did Felisjyta speak again. "I'm doing my best. Rozhalea wants at least one of us in the finals, so we're all trying for it."

Vasya pulled her head out of the water and wandered off toward the patch of grass next to the blue and green tent. Felisjyta let her go. She scooped up a bucket of water and doused herself down, causing her loose linen clothing to stick to her body.

"Would you like to sit in the shade?" Patrice asked.

Felisjyta grinned and wiped water off her face. "That obvious? You look cool enough."

"I am a dragon, after all," Patrice said. “The Great Dragon in the Sun does not turn his fangs on us.” She walked back to Felisjyta's tent and settled down on the far side, where the nearby trees caused a large patch of shade.

The knight followed. "Our legends say that we're descended from dragons," she said, "though I think we'd handle the heat better if that was true. In any case, we've long thought of dragons as good luck symbols."

"I didn't know humans would think such a thing. Is that why you agreed to accept my favor?"

Felisjyta gave Patrice a look that the dragon couldn't even begin to interpret. "The fact that you gave me your favor heartened my fellow knights, and I'm hardly immune from the feeling myself. But I accepted it because you offered, and because I'd like to think that we might be friends."

"I see," Patrice said. She wasn't really sure what to say about that. She'd never had any friends before other than her mother, and she had never really thought about wanting any either. She glanced around the camp looking for inspiration. "I noticed that almost everybody in Runeria wears their hair long, and your hair is quite short. But looking around the camp, the other Serzek knights also have much longer hair than you. Why?"

Felisjyta laughed. "You're a bit of a strange one are you?" She asked, and ran a hand through her wet hair. "Some lessons are hard learned. I cut my hair off to remind myself not to get involved with people who want more than I can give them. I've been growing it back out since then. It was about two years ago."

The explanation made sense to Patrice, but Felisjyta's comment did not. "I don't see why it's so strange. Maria and everyone else here always say that I can't do this or that because it goes against human customs, and human customs are what they are, and everyone follows them. So naturally I'd be curious."

Felisjyta laughed and leaned back on her hands. "There are a lot of people like that in Serze too. Rather more of them, I'd say. People in Runeria might be concerned with appearances and always being at the very height of fashion, always fitting in with their equals and betters, but their culture progresses much faster than ours. It's the only thing I admire about them. Times are changing, but the systems that we have in place in Serze don't change easily."

"The wisdom of dragons is that things always change around us, and we change with them," said Patrice. Her mother had reminded her that, just a few short weeks ago. "Even so, I don't think dragons change as much as we think. We are always creatures who value freedom over everything. All of this," she gestured around, "is a lot. Humans-"

"-are complicated," the knight finished her statement. "Although you are quite good at complicating things yourself."

Patrice huffed and crossed her arms. "Only because humans do so many things that don't make sense."

Felisjyta laughed again. "I agree. How old are you anyway? Sometimes you seem quite young."

Patrice thought she probably could've taken that as an insult, and graciously decided not to. "Dragons don't measure things in years the way humans do," she said. She spoke a word in the dragon language, and groped for human words to describe it. "I think you would call this 'little unwise bright scales' in your language."

"Little unwise?"

Patrice couldn't help but smile at the sound, and the concept. It made sense in dragon, but sounded ridiculous translated to human tongue. "It means I'm old enough to breed, but shouldn't, because I'm not full-grown yet," she explained.

"I see." Felisjyta nodded. "I'm twenty-three. Certainly much younger than you, but in terms of physical maturity you're the younger."

"Perhaps." Such things didn't really matter to her.

In the distance, a trumpet sounded. It was almost time for the jousting to begin again. Felisjyta stood up and offered Patrice a hand to do the same.

Patrice elected to stand up on her own. "I will stay for the rest of the tournament today," she said. "Good luck."

Felisjyta gave her a mocking bow. "I will do my best not to disappoint you, my lady." She laughed when Patrice rolled her eyes.

It was such a silly thing, but Patrice decided to play along with it. "You should always endeavor to not disappoint a dragon. I might just decide to eat you up."

Felisjyta shook her head and walked over to Vasya. Patrice left them to it, and made her way back to the stands.

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[kae-karo]

I saw your tags on the link click post and I love your theory that this isn't the first time lu guang has saved cxs. Would you happen to have the energy to expand on that? I'd... 👉👈 like to hear your thoughts (only if u want to though)

HELLO THANK U FOR THE OPPORTUNITY TO EXPAND ON THIS (for context - x) don't get me wrong i ADORE the sentiment in that post, but i am SO far down the "this isn't the first time lu guang has saved cheng xiaoshi" path that i can't come back lmao

before i say anything else, BUCKLE UP cause i have absolutely zero tangible proof and any canon reasoning for this is a stretch that would make a rubber band look rigid, but i can't stop thinking about it and i'm having fun so here we go

first and foremost: hat guy is a time cop ("cop"). hear me out, i promise this is relevant.

also sorry his name is liu xiao lmao (ignore the moment i thought his name was lu xiao and was about to be like he is the physical manifestation of lu guang and cheng xiaoshi's melding of their powers and/or their lovechild and/or their future combined self and/or- etc u get the idea)

AHEM. okay so. the first number of times we see liu xiao (as a kid and a friend of li tianchen) he seems relatively normal? although he does make a comment that stood out to me when i first watched ep9, where he says "i believe in the near future, you will definitely encounter the opportunity to become a hunter". when tianchen asks if they'll meet again, he says "surely we will" - and then, when they do, he reminds tianchen that he said they'd definitely meet again

he proceeds to comment (when tianchen asks if he has any choice) that "it seems everyone has only one path in their destiny, but in fact, it is made up of countless parallel lines...sometimes we want to change it, but we can't." - this specific phrase is spoken over lu guang's memory of watching cheng xiaoshi get shot.

and of course, we can't forget liu xiao's critical line "i wanna bring all parallel lines together, to turn all uncertainties into certainties." i think that's beyond metaphorical, i think he can not only see (in some sense) the parallel lines of a person's fate/futures/etc, but can manipulate them. or, rather, can corral them all into a single line, a single destiny, a single path for every person

now brief reminder that li tianxi was able to see lu guang's memories when she looked at the pic (revealed in ep12) - and she immediately started crying. i know the implication in that moment (ep10) was that she was experiencing lu guang's pain from the wound, but what if it was more than that? what if she saw his memories, too - in ep12, he implies that he went back to the beginning, presumably the start of the season, effectively, to prevent cheng xiaoshi from dying (hence all his careful planning through the season)

also real quick can we talk about how the passcode to his phone was the time (and date?) he went back to save cheng xiaoshi? THEE moment of "he is worth more than my rules". whether this is the first time or the thousandth, i'm still unwell

OKAY so anyway i think i've established that liu xiao has some fascination with timelines and, more precisely, with paring them down to whatever he's determined to be the Correct or Perfect timeline (ie establishing 'certainty') - this is why i call him a time cop like i don't think he's actually executing on some authority i think he's just decided that he has the power and that he wants the world to operate according to his certainties.

ones that lu guang has fucked up by saving cheng xiaoshi. possibly more than once.

for my next act, lu guang's character sheet:

yeah can we talk about age: ? like excuse me ?????? i'm also intrigued by the unknown blood type, but let's ignore that for now lmao

back to his unknown age - why the hell would this be unknown if he's just a guy? cheng xiaoshi has a normal age in spite of his abilities, right? and lu guang's ability is only to view the 12hr surrounding a photo, right?

WRONG. well, right, but also wrong. BEAR WITH ME OKAY cause we're jumping to qiao ling's experience in ep12 now - the moment she held onto tianxi when she died. where we saw...something travel from her to qiao ling. her memories? or her abilities?

now perhaps u, like me, recall lu guang's solitary moment in ep12 where, while covered in blood, he looked at his phone, his eyes turned cheng-xiaoshi-gold, he clapped, and he zoomied back to the past. because he was holding cheng xiaoshi when he died. and thus inherited his power.

OKAY SO why the fuck does that matter !!!! WELL I'M GLAD U ASKED. because we have no problem with cheng xiaoshi's age, right? he's done this 'jump back in time' thing a bunch!!! for 12hr at a time, and then he's back!

okay, but what happens when lu guang, who acquired cheng xiaoshi's power, jumps back to a time before he had cheng xiaoshi's power? now what? how would he jump back (or even be forced back) to his present body and time if he no longer has that ability? wouldn't he now be forced to re-live the hours, days, years after going back to make a change?

in his words, he went back to the beginning, thus he'd have to relive the whole thing, but now, he can make the Right choices this time to protect cheng xiaoshi

but what's a week (or a couple days or whatever it was) in the grand scheme of things? how would his age be unknown if this is the first and only time he's ever done it?

(critical caveat that 'the beginning' could absolutely refer to something far earlier than just the season's start - it could be the beginning of their relationship, for all we know, but let's start here for the sake of keeping this...i'd say manageable but we're well beyond that i am YAPPING)

if his age is so impossible to define, i think it could very easily fit to suggest that he's done this before - possibly many times. so many times that to suggest he's only as old as his physical body would be utterly ludicrous

okay but what in the world would make him want to change fate so often, for so long, so many times? what would make him go against his own rule (*i don't think this was always a rule for him but bear with me, we'll get to that)? well, we know the answer to that :)

so, i don't think this is the first time he's gone back in time to save cheng xiaoshi. i don't think it's the first time he's held cheng xiaoshi as he dies, because that's the way he would've acquired his ability in order to do this (an argument could be made here that he's hidden some facets of his own ability and that he's always been capable of this, but i don't think it was an accident that we saw qiao ling Acquire tianxi's ability)

in fact (if u thought this was all crack theory up to this point, hold onto ur horses) i think the first time he went back in time to save cheng xiaoshi was (seriously, hold on tight) when cheng xiaoshi died with his parents when he was a kid

that's right i'm going all the way baby. i think cheng xiaoshi was supposed to die when he was a kid. why the hell did his parents leave him all alone? to go on some random trip?? like we all agree this is peculiar right???? how does NOBODY know what happened to them, where they were, etc?

now i could go into possible scenarios (lu guang was a kid, too, and didn't know what he was doing, lu guang knew EXACTLY what he was doing and that it would have consequences, lu guang didn't even know he HAD any abilities til he tried to save cheng xiaoshi, the list goes on) BUT the gist of this being: i think lu guang saved cheng xiaoshi. i think he went back in time (into his own body) and figured out the right choices to make (maybe after many tries) to ensure that cheng xiaoshi didn't go with his parents. that he stayed home, for whatever reason, and survived

now why do i believe this, you may be asking? because it's fun, of course !!! and because we have no idea what happened to his parents yet, so i'll continue to theorize in the meantime lmao

you could also alternatively suggest that the going back in time to save cheng xiaoshi doesn't start until after they meet - i mean, hell, look at the situations they get themselves into just within the span of two seasons, they are RIFE with danger. like, cheng xiaoshi could've died MANY times !!!!

but honestly what really sells me is - going ALL the way back to the post that i linked at the start - lu guang didn't hesitate. not only did he already know, but he had no qualms with immediately (still covered in blood) going back to before and doing this all over again. unlike qiao ling, who does not appear to realize she has tianxi's ability, lu guang seems to immediately understand that he has cheng xiaoshi's. that just smacks of experience

(also, an aside: what photo did he use? how far back did he go? there's another route of course - did he go so far back that he's relived his life to such a notable degree that calling him whatever age of his physical body would be missing a notable number of years? in which case, one could argue that this could be the first time, though his immediate knowledge of acquiring cheng xiaoshi's remains unexplained. ANYWAY i digress)

okay back to the point here - lu guang immediately knowing that he has cheng xiaoshi's ability and using it without hesitation, though he does comment on how he broke his own rule. and it sounds like a first-time thing, but consider...

what if this is the first time he's broken it since making the rule?

enter time cop hat guy (i hear u, i promised this was relevant), aka our boi liu xiao who wants to create 'certainties' by (presumably) eliminating branching possibilities in some regard to create single paths/fates/destinies/etc. for lack of a better way to phrase it, a single timeline where everything can be predicted and accounted for (yeah...i suspect we'll be unpacking some of his trauma in s3)

now, different choices mean different outcomes - different timelines, a long list of uncertainties. i think liu xiao aimed to stop that. i also think that his ability gives him some kind of godlike manipulation over timelines (how else would he speak with such confidence about making this future a reality?) assuming, of course, that he has no interference from others with similar abilities

enter lu guang, who has now - potentially multiple times - messed with liu xiao's perfect timeline, one wherein cheng xiaoshi dies (not necessarily with intentional malice, just by virtue of securing whichever certainties liu xiao wants). this, of course, is a problem for liu xiao

and perhaps he makes lu guang's life a living hell - hey, why not go all the way? perhaps he makes a point of manipulating the timeline to kill cheng xiaoshi in new and horrifying ways, again and again, just to watch lu guang play this pathetic game trying to save him by going back in time. perhaps it's entertaining, for a while, but he grows tired of it eventually

so, he proposes an agreement: he'll stop trying to kill cheng xiaoshi, but lu guang has to agree never to manipulate his perfect timeline again (or something similar, you get the idea - they reach a ceasefire of sorts wherein they both, to an extent, get what they want)

thus, the rule was born - whatever they do, they cannot ever change these critical nodes. so long as lu guang adheres, liu xiao won't try to kill cheng xiaoshi

but then someone else does. someone else succeeds. and lu guang breaks his side of the deal, he changes the timeline. he knows exactly what he's doing, what he may invoke, but he does it anyway (i'm fully writing my own au of this story at this point lmao but hey, hope ur having fun if u made it this far)

and so liu xiao returns from abroad, because he has a score to settle

[don't ask me why s3 is set in london and they look like they're teaming up, i'm all for a 'forced to work together' arc but how that fits in with this wildly out of pocket theory is beyond me lmao]

anyway hope u enjoyed this delve into my silly goofy theory !!!! thank u deeply for the ask LMAO

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

ok @thatgirl4815 reminded me of its existence so now i need to revisit ray being called a burden in episode 1 for the millionth time but this time from a post episode 7 lens

(also yes i can read the room and am aware now is not the time in this tags history for a ray sympathy post but wtv) (also i already made a post about this??? i don't really remember august was years ago at this point and i have new thoughts apparently)

to start off, i think the only times ray's been called a burden is by boston and sand. in episode 1, boston is the only one to actually say it but i also think this moment could say a lot about the friend groups reaction to ray in general and how it hasn't really evolved.

boston: in general a lot of the time if boston is addressing ray its to hurt his feelings [see my other post about it here for more in-depth up to episode 5] (episode 1 see below, episode 2+7 boston provokes ray about mew, episode 3 bostonray conversation at the pool party about how much boston pities ray's shitty love life, episode 5 saying rays whole ass is owned by mew and telling sand about ray's crush after seeing them be happy, episode 6 ray confronts boston about whether he really slept with top while top and mew were dating and leaves believing he's a bad person and crying) and i wonder if we'll ever find out why.

but anyway boston calls ray a burden specifically because (in my opinion) he KNOWS it will hurt rays feelings at a time ray is already upset about top flirting with mew.

ray upset = boston's bitchmode activated

and while we don't know how much boston knows about ray's suicide attempt, and its fair that me might not even have known it happened let alone why, the conversation afterwards implies that the friends all know feeling loved or believing he's lovable is something ray at least struggled with if not still does (in their minds they may not know how he feels in the present about it, we as the audience know these feelings remain for him)

so that just feels like a cruel jab at ray, but like what else is the bostonray dynamic if not this.

cheum: cheum not only doesn't say anything when ray gets called a burden but she gets confused as to why he gets upset at it (i believe she specifically says "he gets so emotional when drunk"). my thoughts on whether or not she knows about ray's attempt is the same as i thought about boston, she probably knows something (she's the one that says "screw those who don't love you, i love you", but then also lists qualties that would make him desirable in a relationship and not really as a person, so she either doesn't get what ray's self-worth issues really reflect or wasn't told).

i don't want to say she's oblivious to ray but it kinda feels? that way. i think it would be interesting to look further into her relationship with april for this, the way she values having a happy relationship over an honest one, chooses lying over telling a truth that could potentially hurt.

i don't think she's purposefully ignoring ray to keep her peace, but i think it would be interesting from a character perspective to know if she's so desperate to keep the friend group together she tries to underplay threats to it or to her friends (very different context but in episode 7 she says the group should "throw away personal issues" which lowkey makes the most sense in terms of finishing a project but still feels relevant to this) or if she doesn't look for underlying issues within the friend group while they're all pretending to be ok, and instead waits for something to blow up. like how in episode 7 she realizes ray was upset more then just being drunk and pissed off only after she knew about top and the tape, which reveals she didn't think there was a deeper reason why ray was up on that stage screaming crying and self-sabotoging in the moment it was happening. or earlier on in episode 1 when ray is saying he loves his friends as their dragging him home and boston says "i know what he's gonna say next" and cheum says "he will keep saying he loves us" but boston says "he'll say guys don't leave me", which is a small moment but i wonder if it was intentional for boston to acknowledge a sad truth about ray (especailly since he only does it when hes drunk) and cheum just repeating the much more positive thing.

i also am thinking about her telling ray "why wouldn't you think to call us" after finding out days later he was in a car accident, when her and mew talked about ray before but they decided he wasn't responding because he was just drunk and then didn't check up on him.

[side not im obsessed with her saying "im mad you told april about me, but i get that you were trying to tell mew about top and ton" like does she 1. not know mew already knew about the tape when ray got on that stage and 2. think that ray was airing EVERYONE'S issues just for the topboston reveal?? like is it just me or were there obviously A LOT of reasons ray started yelling everyone's dirty laundry out to the bar while crying and trying to fight people, also 3. ray never apologizes to cheum for it, which maybe they don't feel like he has to, but like cheum says im angry at you and ray responds to something else she says and then the conversation shifts, like it feels like both of them are not addressing tension within the group purposefully]

I wonder if she is naive about ray and his issues, if she's the kind of person that needs someone else to reach out before noticing someone's issues, or if she doesn't want people close to her to be in pain, or leave her and so she chooses not to acknowledge problems (hoping for a cheum arc pls pls pls)

(i am not a mew hater i don't know why i kinda come across as one here im not criticizing him im just interpereting his actions through the lens of someone predisposed to be hurt by them)

Mew: when it comes to hearing ray get called a burden by boston, he doesn't do anything, which maybe he just doesn't remember what ray said to him the night from the flashback (which fair i was in a similar situation and i've completely blocked that night out of my memory), but if he does and let's other people repeat to ray the same phrases that convinced him his life isn't worth living then… yeah… (actually i am now leaning towards mew maybe not having that night ingrained in him, like if someones final goodbye to you includes them saying their unlovable and a burden and you don't react to them being called that later on in the future then maybe he's just forgotten)

i'd also say that maybe mew doesn't fully get ray's issues, like at the beginning of episode 6 he tells top that because of his moms, he never felt lacking in love because he always knew he had sources for it, so maybe he didn't fully process all of what ray was saying that night, or the role he holds in ray's life.

it could also explain his attitude towards ray in the entire rest of the series. like him commenting on ray bringing out the flask again (the fact the flask went away and is now coming back haunts me so much more than i think it was intended to)

and showing concern but also saying he can't be ray's emergency staff all the time (translated into attachment issues as: you're being a burden again, i can't handle you)

or the conversation in episode 6 where he assumes ray is in the bathroom because he's drunk or getting high (translated into attachment issues as: you're letting me down like you always do or you're not good enough for anyone me) he asks ray why he doesn't love himself (translated into attachment issues as: your letting people down or theres something wrong with you or just general confused noises at a concept you can't comprehend) he tells ray he'll die before he's thirty (im not gonna really comment on this one besides, 1. if it was up to ray and not the characters that save him then yeah thats the point, and 2. he's not only seemingly inherited his mothers addiction issues but he seems to believe he's destined to follow in all of her footsteps…) [side note, but ray then saying "don't worry about me" with a smile on his face while seeming to be somewhere else entirely… kinda reminding me of him saying he won't be anyones burden anymore in the bathtub tbh. actaully in general i can't get over how tired he looks in this scene and how determined he is to paint on a smile for mew]

[[second side note, rays face after mew tells him 'lets be friends forever" yeah….. no one talk to me about it]]

this scene in general seems to have an underlying emotion that i can't really define (if anyone knows pls tell me) but watching the scene on its own now that time has passed really does make it feel like a goodbye and i wonder if the scene feels sad because mew picks up on that too, or maybe he's just confused at ray's behaviour and ray is feeling conflicted about his own emotions, either way fucking ouch.

i guess my point with mew is that i don't think he has bad intentions but i don't think the things he thinks are helping ray actaully are, which, yeah why would mew at his big age of like 22 at the most know how to save ray. i think it shows he cares but that throughout this show so far there isn't enough communication between ray and his friends to truly get what they're dealing with here, that ray buries a lot of his feelings and that he seems to be operating on a different scale of pain. and in terms for my thoughts on how this evolves throughout the series, mew makes an effort with ray but we as the audience (especially compared to sand's scenes) see the ways he falls short, i think mew being with ray will give him the potential to learn more about ray or realize how much he doesn't know/understand. i hope it opens up communication between them, but i can't lie and say im not lowkey looking forward to them dealing emotional damage to eachother on a scale we didn't know possible.

like all my analysis posts i lost the point like 3 sentences in and just started rambling but curious on anyone elses thoughts on this now we are on episode 7

(also im not trying to be over critical of the group of 22 year olds, i was just projecting as the person in their 20s in a friendgroup who feels like a burden, i don't think any of these things make any of the characters bad ppl or anything it just creates interesting dynamics, peace and love <3)

[crippleprophet]

hi, i just ordered my first cane n wanted to ask some questions about how to. idk not be too self-conscious about it/handle people asking about it (esp older folks)?

ik the main thing is to just. ignore people but i struggle with not paying attention to ppl who wanna be weird/intrusive

congrats on your first cane!! i hope it’s helpful for you & you have as easy an adjustment as possible 💖 i’ve answered some similar asks in my cane user & faq tags so you might find some other relevant info there :)

there are a few things that were helpful for me when i was adjusting to new mobility aids & the ableism people often meet that with –

planning my response ahead of time. i’d often feel bad about myself for not defending myself or whatever when people asked invasive questions, but if i had a plan like “okay i’m gonna just be like ‘oh yeah i have knee problems, it’s been super helpful!’ & disengage as quickly as possible” then i didn’t feel bad about not directly addressing their ableism or whatever bc i’d already decided it wasn’t worth my time

surrounding myself with as many other mobility aid users as possible, on social media & in art & in the theory i read &, when i was able to, in person. knowing that other people are going through the same thing (& talking shit whenever possible) really helped me feel less alone

if academic writing is accessible to you, rosemarie garland-thompson’s staring: how we look is a great starting point for disability theory around this topic imo! there’s also a lot of community knowledge + theory around (hyper)visibilized disability, which has only grown more robust in the wake of ableist responses to wearing masks

in this kind of situation i firmly believe that whatever response best helps you survive in an ableist society is the right one. whether that’s cursing somebody out or pretending you didn’t hear them or pacifying them with as polite a response as possible depends on the circumstances & the people involved, & all of them have different risks. in my experience it gets easier over time to get a feel for weighing those decisions

self-care afterwards in whatever way(s) you prefer. my senior year of undergrad my go-to after an obscenely ableist class was taking my mobility scooter on a fast ride through the park next to campus, blasting an angry playlist; the best response for somebody else might be a bubble bath or getting high or gay sex or listening to a disability podcast or all of the above or something else entirely – whatever makes you feel like you have a right to exist.

i also started a (18+) bitter cripple discord server when i was overwhelmed by the ableism i was experiencing a few years ago, which @cane-you-dig-it & @autismnep now moderate, so if you or somebody reading this want to join that just shoot one of us a dm!

i hope some of that was helpful, i’m wishing you the absolute best of luck & feel free to lmk if you have any other questions! 🖤🖤

[lavenoon]

Can we have more hatchling AU plz?

Pain? You asked for pain? I come to deliver! <3

So the angst is canon - both boys get that moment where they just snap at the baby bird.

Dawn has had enough - and after the nth time that Robin tries to tag along for paperwork too, he asks them why rather harshly. And while their response didn't actually aim towards friendship, the immediate rejection gave them a good idea of what he thinks of them. Dawn leaves them easily, not quite thinking about the impact he left, only glad to finally have some peace and quiet. He does get that pang of not quite regret, but the thought "Maybe there would have been a better way to handle this"

Can't argue with the results however. They do lay off after that, acting much more subdued during missions. As impressive as it used to be that they actually seemed to be able to keep up with him, that performance is now slacking. Dawn is a good agent. So when he starts listening to the rumor mill, and pays attention to context clues, he knows it's not a general drop - only on missions they share with him. They're jumpy, hesitant, and their acting has become subpar, but only when he's around. That... That doesn't sit right with him. There's also the fact that he starts getting bored - Robin doesn't join as many missions, actively bowing out of shared missions offered to them, and he gets paired with other agents that don't know him or how he works. None of them stick around for a second time, so he has to work with someone new every time. It's familiar and frustrating, and he starts missing Robin's little quips and enthusiasm.

He's not sorry. That would imply he didn't mean what he said, and they aren't friends. But Robin gets little gifts in their office's pigeonhole, cereal bars and water bottles, and while their decision to have Dawn for a rival somewhat isolated them from other field agents, they do ask around and figure out that he hasn't been making any friends. Even snappier than usual, they hear - how did they stand it for so long? Well, he's not too bad usually... He just really can't stand them, so...

But then, after about two to three weeks (don't quote me on that, I may change my mind, but it works for now) they just hear their code name called out to them on the way to their office, and when they turn Dawn is just approaching them with... well, the best pokerface they've ever seen. No reading that expression.

"I see you're well."

"Uhh."

It's awkward, the silence that follows. They have no clue what he wants - and he's a proud idiot who can't articulate it either. They both fumble, and Dawn tries to take control of the conversation, "subtly" asking if the cereal bars were to their liking. That was him? Yes, obviously it was him - he knows about their atrocious self care habits! Completely ignoring his initial question, they now crack half a smile, as confused as it is. Did he... Did he feel bad?

Dawn flinches, and looks away, and they know they hit gold where they never would have expected it. Getting the words out of his voicebox feels like pulling teeth, but he forces them out.

"I may have... reacted rather harshly. While I stand by the content of what I said, there were better ways to establish that, and it wasn't relevant to our conversation at all. We don't need to be friends to work with each other, and... And you are the one agent at this location who actually seems to understand how I work, even if I can't claim the opposite yet. I would like to, with time, if you're willing."

It's not really an apology, but Robin sees him, stiff and uncomfortable, admitting to his own faults, and they have to bite back a grin. So he's scary, alright, and ruthless, yeah, but also kind of... Kind of an idiot, huh?

"... I'll be annoying."

"I'm aware."

"And you won't mind?"

"... Less than the alternative."

They snort at the honesty, even more so as it comes hesitantly. They grin, then.

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you? I'll take the next one. Just know that you chose this."

Dawn sighs, eternally suffering, and Robin chokes on another laugh. It's easy to swallow when his next words are quiet, barely audible, and something he never said to them that genuinely before.

"Thank you."

They aren't friends, Robin knows. But maybe they can be. They already made the big scary star agent admit he works best with them - surely everything else is possible too <3

(The initial conversation also is what made them cry enough for Moon to notice later that day - and something that Dawn will thus regret all over again) (Dawn starts calling them "little thief" soon after, as they stuck with the "Sunshine" for him, and it's only another step in the right direction)

Dusk technically has even less tact, and snaps at them in the middle of a mission. They just almost walked into the path of a camera again, distracted by their own energy, and he's had enough. At the very least he has the sense to immediately regret it - but the words are already out, and Robin is already withdrawing. "I'll focus," they say, and they do, and Dusk tries hard not to feel bad about the suffocating silence following those two words.

He certainly feels very bad when the next time he moves his hand near them, they flinch back. Eyes wide and trained on his fingers, even without the claws and electricity dancing between them. Oh no. He was angry, yes, and maybe upped the intimidation factor, but he didn't actually want them afraid of him.

Because while he figured that they simply don't take anything seriously, including him, Robin was being lighthearted despite the respect they have for him. They aren't as oblivious as he thinks they are (they're oblivious in different, exciting ways), and to them that little intimidation display was not the attempt of a senior agent struggling to be taken seriously, but rather a senior agent they admire all but declaring his willingness to hurt them.

Dusk done fucked up.

Robin stops "hijacking" his missions, and Dusk starts making mistakes. Because he wasn't the only one interfering to prevent mistakes, they covered his back as much as he covered theirs. And seeing them actively dodge him in the hallways of HQ just stings, even without the reprimands towards himself ghosting around in his head. He needs to fix this.

He's not as much of a mother hen as Sun, but he does know a thing or two about taking care of others still. He also has the advantage that he isn't quite as much of a peacock as Dawn, and opts for the direct approach. His pride hates being scary to the nice if reckless new agent more than apologizing. He doesn't take as long as Dawn either, and approaches them after just a few days.

Robin still jumps when he's suddenly there, but his hands are hidden behind his back and he's standing there almost hunched. They wait, silent, for him to speak - and he does, with a grimace. Still similar to his counterpart, this next bit grates.

"I'm... sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to do that - I didn't... I didn't realize."

Well, cheers, he managed the apology - as much as it sucks. Robin scoffs, not impressed either.

"What, didn't realize that someone three heads taller with sharp teeth and literal tasers for claws wouldn't be my favorite company when angry? Shocker."

Now it's his turn to flinch, but reaching out still forces them a step back, so he pulls his hands back. Fidgets with them, a nervous habit he knows he shouldn't indulge, Sun already does that more than enough.

"I underestimated you, on multiple accounts. And I guess... I got used to you not being afraid. Everyone else is."

His fingers creak then, and when Robin glances at his hands, he hides them behind his back again. It makes them think - and well... They know what the other agents think of Dusk, always reacting with disbelief when they mention joining him for missions, and rather unwilling to discuss him as if he has eyes everywhere. The others are afraid.

But the agent in front of them right now? Is... kind of a dork, who hides his hands because he thinks they're scared of every little movement, and he's kind of weird about eye contact too, as if even his normal eyes would scare them, and they are pretty sure they've never seen him without the sharp teeth before, either.

He's trying. He's just kind of stupid about it. They sigh, and decide to offer an olive branch.

"Fine, Mr. Sandman, apology accepted. You can stop looking like the strangest kicked puppy I've ever seen now."

"... Mr. Sandman?"

He looks at them, somewhat hesitant - that won't do. They exaggerate a shrug.

"What, would you prefer Moon man?"

"No."

"Neat. You're getting that, then."

He smiles then, somewhat slowly, but it morphs into a grin easily. It's new, still, but it's nice, and he can't help but try it out.

"Chirp chirp chirp, the little robin sings again."

"... Hood. Robin Hood."

They squint at his grin, and sharp teeth click back into place. They aren't scared.

Dusk straightens, and then moves to walk past them. It's sudden, and they don't quite process it until his hand is already on their head and removing the little hair tie. They gasp, offended, and he twirls it on his finger when they turn.

"Give that back!"

"Next mission, little bird. Try to get it back."

He whistles as he leaves, and Robin has the sudden urge to strangle someone 1) who's neck they can barely reach and 2) who doesn't need to breathe. But he invited them - well, he better not complain then. If he insists on the bird names, well, they'll be a canary - he'll regret ever asking them to be loud again.

(He won't regret it. After this, Dusk is well aware why it's bad news when a canary stops singing - and he'd rather not have a scare like that again. They aren't quite comfortable after this, at best comparable to early rivalry senior agent Robin and rookie Dusk, but they're getting there, and both are too stubborn to work with anyone else. Works out for them, after all)

[wearespecialuniqueandimportant]

Arcane Is No Different From Human Domestication Guide And Probably Worse. So Much Worse Okay. Absolutely. There's An Anti Sjw Fanbase. The Story Is Centrist Fascism. They Don't Have The Guts To Say Identity Outloud And Hate Minorities And Woman And Created The Entire Thing As Malicious Victim Blame. The Difference Between This And Human Domestication Guide Being There's No Straight Guy Power Fantasy Over There Except There Kinda Is And The Floret Pov Is A Man Called A Man Judged A Man Told She's A Man Evil Story. Only A Bigot Would Enjoy This Garbage.

Jinx Didn't Do Anything. The Ending Is Sanist As Always Was The Story. The Upper Level Are Fascist Police And Underground Oppressed Crazy People That Is That Simple. The Gay Didn't Kiss Didn't Fuck Didn't Date Didn't Say They're Gay Or Boyfriend. They Die. The Lesbian Never Said Lesbian Outloud. The Trans Character Doesn't Right Jinx And Never Said She's Trans All 4 Of This Representation Are From The Fascist Police Side. I Am Angry Because If Season 3 Doesn't Happen That Ends Here. And Let's Be Real Here Everything ALWAYS Came From Ignorant Malice Human Domestication Guide Aswell. They ENJOY These Series Their Fans BECAUSE They FEEL ENJOYMENT FROM THEM. This Feeling Is Ignorance That Makes Them Celebrate When You Suffer. I Watched Trash. Fuck Arcane And Fuck Human Domestication Guide.

All That Matters Anymore Is We Need Better Than This. We Mariakin Us Mariabunch Mother Goddess Angel Sisters And Princess From Another Dimension Need Better Than This. Mariakin Agree With Everything I Say Like Always. Only Mariakin Are On My Side. We Mariabunch Us Mariakin We're Hurt All The Time By Bigoted Feelings. I Am MAD This Happened. I Demand Better Than This. Only A Fascist Would Abandon Me. Only A Monster Would Attack Me.

Arcane Was Terrible. Terrible Terrible Garbage. Jinx Is Supposed To Live. This Is Factual And Intelligent Just Like I Am. This Was OFFENSIVE. BIGOTED. VILLAINOUS!!!!

"Arcane Has A Deep Political Storyline!!!!" So Now That We're Praising That's Allowed To Be? Next "THAT'S JUST FICTION!!!!" Human Domestication Guide Is Fascist EVIL VILLAINOUS EVILNESS!!!! Btw Both Series Have Terrible Political Story That Is BIGOTED And OFFENSIVE Against EVERY SINGLE OPPRESSED IDENTITY AND OPPRESSED IDEOLOGY!!!! Arcane Has An Anti Sjw Following. Both Series Fanbases Ignorant. Because They're Created Out Of Malice To Spread Real Propaganda.

I Don't Want Police Lesbian. Abandoner Transphobic Sanist Lesbian. 4chan Nazi Egg Male Trans. Fascist Imperialist Hitler GARBAGE EVIL Lesbian.

I Don't Want Paraphilia Woman That Dies And Reincarnates As A Child That Dies. We Mariabunch Us Mariakin We Are Always The Center Of Attention Or We're Killed By The Wrath Of Our Kin. Everything Is To Be Like We Want Otherwise They're Poison To Take And Destroy.

Human Domestication Guide People Are The Police Because They Patrol The Tag And Gasslight Against Any Opposition They See. That Nonbinary Was Just Doing Their Police Duty Including Ban Anyone Deemed Bothersome Because They're New And Scary Crazy Paraphilia Lgbt. Human Domestication Guide Isn't Progressive But Fascism Against All Oppressed People.

Btw Fanfiction Sucks Because Other People Write Unpleasant Text To Read. I Can't Usually Read That Or A Book Especially Because They Are Bigoted Garbage. I Haven't Read A Single Book In So Many Years Because They're Garbage. Fanfiction Is Similar. The Bigoted Part Being Extremely Relevant To Both. I Truly Must Sit Here Until Something Special Happens Or A New Bigoted Garbage Reaches My Face.

If Arcane Ended Vi Never Even Realized What Her Problem Is She Must Grow From. Did We Just Follow A Story Where The Main Character Is Supposed To Change But Doesn't? How Could This Be :o...

Vi Isn't A Hero That Accepts Jinx No Matter What. She's An Abuser That Gave Her Mind Poison That Killed Her And Bpd Jinx Died Because Of Her And She Will Give Bpd To Anyone Else Aswell.

That's Her That Should Be Judged And Blamed. Instead She's Still Crying WAHH EVERYTHING WAS MY FAULT So Others Can Say NOO DON'T SAY THAT YOU'RE BEATIFULL... Privledged Garbage. Capitalist Ass Protagonist. Meanwhile Just Before She Was Deadnaming Her And Calling Her A Monster. She Didn't Change Her Stance. Jinx Did. THIS. FUCKING. SUCKS. The Only Reason Jinx Attacked Her Was Because She Didn't Accept Her Like A Trans Woman. Everything Was Vi's Fault 2 Times And She's Ready To Repeat That Even Now.

Despite The Transphobic Sanist Narrative The Series Tries To Bandaid That With A STRAIGHT UNCRAZY Trans Woman That's There For 1 Scene And You Aren't Told She's Trans. However The Anti Progressive Creators 100% Are Too Ignorant To Even Realize Anything.