#in the way it will get worse before it gets better it will be hard before it’s easy anything worth fighting for is diffcult

[kleptokure]

Deceit's Favorite 🃏

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

This is bad, you thought to yourself. The outcome of your arrival in Beast-Yeast is far worse than you would have ever thought.

Yes, you expected to encounter the Beast with Deceit engraved into their essence, but within the hour you stepped foot on the foreign terrain? You were not at all prepared to reunite with your old friend face to face all of a sudden.

Being one of the first cookies to be given a Soul Jam, you assumed going to Beast-Yeast would not be a challenge for you, yet the current circumstances proves you incorrect. Now you wish you stayed in Crispia, where the air is not so bitter.

As much as you would love to rescue Pure Vanilla from his absolute contrary personified, there is an obstacle surrounding your shelter.

You are well aware that Gingerbrave and the gang are accompanying Pure Vanilla Cookie, and a battle of them versus one mere cookie seems like an easy fight, but Shadow Milk is a special cookie, which is known to most who are aware of his being. The beast knows the trauma his main opponent withholds, and would not hesitate to use it against him.

Speaking of Shadow Milk Cookie, you’re currently pondering over how he located you in the first place. Your expectations were for his full focus to be on his "Soul Jam thief," but it appears your dough, and crumbs, is much more important in his reality.

Surprisingly, his encounter with you was far from destructive. In all honesty, you admit it was leaning closer to bittersweet.

Shadow Milk Cookie had a lot to say, of course. His words laced with jeers, flirts, yet betrayal at the same time. Though, he did say something along the lines of forgiving you for not standing by his side eons ago.

It comes as hard to remember the exact words, as your mind is fuzzy with all this information. You might be concentrated on the romantic parts of his speech more than you should be.

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt stop, hearing knocks on the front door to your hidden hideout. It must not be so hidden if the one cookie you scurry from has managed to locate you. Shadow Milk seemingly possesses eyes all over the place, though you could've predicted that part.

There is no point dragging out the eventual conversation awaiting you pair. With that said, you pick yourself up and walk towards the door.

Having opened the door with a rigid gaze, you find there to be no cookie to return your stare.

Great, another trick. You should've guessed that. Now what, is he going to be inside your house when you turn around? Candlelight dinner with an empty seat calling your name?

Before you get the chance to close the opening, a piece of paper finds its way slapped onto the middle of your face.

With dread, you tear the sheet off and hold it before your eyes, reading the text it has engraved into itself.

It's... an invitation? To a show, to be exact. The reading says,

"YOU, yes, YOU are invited to a one of a kind show!

Don't be late, as I’d be very upset if you were.

From your dearest jester. XoXo <3"

You feel a warmth in your dough from the heart included at the bottom of the sheet, almost tearing the paper just to rid of a feeling caused by him of all cookiekind. The weather here has to be the cause of your sickly feelings.

In any other situation, you would refuse without a second thought (that's what you tell yourself). But, Pure Vanilla is walking a path of danger, and you'll do what you can to change that for your friend.

Though, the candlelight dinner you expected to occur now comes as more preferable.

Looking further down, you notice the time the show host requests you arrive is a few five minutes away. He was kind enough to give you a step by step map to the location.

The short notice matters not, as you have nothing better to do. Spending all this time huddled up in a random shack is not what one would call time well spent.

Gathering yourself up, you take you and your crumbs out into the eerie outside of Beast-Yeast. With the map given, you follow the path, each step closer to meeting the volatile cookie of deceit.

It is nothing less of a short trip, arriving at an isolated place hidden by the trees, the wind brushing by to rustle the decaying leaves. There is no more than 10 seats placed in an organized manner in front of a puppet stage, even though you’re sure to be the sole cookie watching his upcoming act. Alongside the puppets he controls, of course.

Finished with taking in the environment, you walk towards your seat before a familiar voice stops you in your tracks.

"Well, well, well. Lookie who finally decided to show up!"

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. If you had fallen to his side long ago, you would say the sight of him takes your breath away. But that would be silly to even think about at the moment.

"...Shadow Milk Cookie."

"I know, I know, saying it never gets boring, amirite?" He chuckles, floating in his casual manner to give a little twirl.

"The STAR of the show has arrived! Oh, but am I talking about you, orrrr am I talking 'bout me?" Shadow Milk sends a small wink your way. It seems like now that reunions have passed, getting comfortable with you comes natural to him.

"We need to talk—"

"Now, now, take a seat. The crowd is trembling with excitement!" A selected puppet appears next to you, hand pushing you to your spot. A front seat right in the middle. Aren't you just the luckiest?

Even though more crucial topics could arise, Shadow Milk Cookie is determined to get his way, and you can do nothing but comply.

You should raise your weapon, to save cookies from his future plans. But that all comes to a stutter whenever you see his face; his very pretty face. Your gawking gets cut short when a spotlight is directed on the act before you.

"Once upon a time, there were two cookies. Two cookies who were veeeeery in love, might I add!" He stupidly makes the two puppets kiss, creating a few mwas for extra effect. The brainwashed cookies around all "aww."

If it were a cliche romance story between two unknown cookies, you would not have been bothered. But shown by the cutouts he made quite well, the two cookies in specifics were no other than you and Shadow Milk. Must he make this insufferable to sit through by bringing up feelings from the past?

"They were busy cookies, too. Like, all of the gnats around depended on them!" You dislike the use of the word gnats, your iced eyebrow furrowing.

"But oh dear! One day, a certain cookie got tired of the puny creatures. Never appreciative of what was given..." The cutout of Shadow Milk Cookie is seen with angry eyebrows. It's almost laughable.

"Soooo, Shadow Milk Cookie stopped helping out the doughbrains. All of those ungrateful cookies deserved to be crumbled instead!" His voice takes on a more passionate tone, cheers of agreement erupting from the tiny, feigned crowd.

"Shadow Milk Cookie tried to reveal to his beloved partner the deception in reality, but guess what?" You already anticipate his next words.

Your hands clench into fists; the memories of the exact scene he's portraying pouring through your head. Shadow Milk is not the lone cookie whose face comes to mind. The other beasts, whom you were close with, make an appearance too. Their faces of shock at your disloyalty still upset you to this day.

"HEY! Eyes up here, silly! I’m not done yet!" Shadow Milk Cookie snaps you back into attention. Making sure he has your full focus, which he adores, he continues on.

"Ehem. But then... [Name] Cookie BETRAYED ME! Yes, ME, out of all cookies! When I was so loving towards them!" The crowd of puppets gasp, mutters heard along themselves.

"Oh, the terror, the drama, the heartbreak—"

"Shadow Milk Cookie!" You interrupted his sob story, which is when you jumped out of your seat. Listening his narrative for any longer is not how you would describe optimal.

The jester releases giggles, storing away his puppet show with a poof. His dough in the air, Shadow Milk flies over to you.

"Wooow, big reactions from the crowd! Didja love it? I can tell you loved it." He bats his multicolored eyelashes at you, a twinkle of amusement shining in his eyes.

"Stop with your child's play. There are crucial subjects to speak of!"

"Mmmm, like what—Ooooh! Are you talking about that Soul Jam THIEF? Awwwh, are you offering to help me take em down, maybe? You are just the sweetes—"

"No. You need to stop what you plan for Pure Vanilla Cookie." Shadow Milk Cookie rolls his eyes at your heroic words, showing he dismisses your request.

"Ugh! Honey, are you really siding with HIM?" His tone suggests he believes he is in the right.

"Tsk, I know he'll ultimately turn into me, but why not have the original? HELLOOOO, I’m right here!" His hand waves in front of your face, as if trying to rope you back into reality.

"You'll bring Earthbread to ruins! Your Soul Jam was taken due to your own greed, Shadow Milk. Leave Pure Vanilla alone," you spoke with a stern tone, like it would ever leave an effect on the cookie floating before you.

"Oh, [Name] Cookie, how they've corrupted your sweet mind..." He looks into the gloomy sky, feigning a face of reminiscence.

"Hmmmmm, maybe, just maybe I'll listen to my dearest star if they apolooogizeeeed!" His words are nothing but lies, but fooling you at least once is his on his bucket list. It wouldn't hurt to give it another shot.

"...Apologize? For what?" Seems like your interest is peaked!

"For what?! There are many, many, maaaany things for you to grovel about, ya goof!" His face is just close enough to catch a whiff of his sweetly scented dough.

"But, I suppose for, y'know, not being there when I got out of that stupid tree!" He decided with a tilt of his head.

"What? I am not the one who sealed you in there, even though it was well deserved," you replied. Shadow Milk Cookie decided to ignore that last part.

"No, no, not that! Don'tcha know how sad I was when I got out of there?! I looked for your face between all those pathetic faeries, but you went GHOST!" He places his hand over his chest like the drama queen he is.

"How could my favorite cookie miss my revenance!" He cannot be serious, but deep down, you know he speaks with his crumbs included.

A simple sorry is all you have to say, and it isn't like losing a bit more of your dignity would hurt. For your fellow cookies, you tell yourself.

"Fine. I... apologize for missing out on your reappearance." Shadow Milk Cookie's façade of misery is gone in a snap, instead, a large, toothy grin covers his face.

"Now, you will leave Pure Vanilla Cookie with his Soul Jam intact, yes?"

"Ah, you don't know how long I've awaited to hear that come from your lips!" Ignoring your question entirely, Shadow Milk nuzzles his cheek against yours, similar to a cat. You yourself are unaware of why you failed to pull away.

"Shadow Milk Cookie," you repeated, as he decided to leave you unanswered. He huffs before giving you a proper response.

"Right, right. I'll leave Silly Vanilly alone, all because you're such a good cookie!" Most of you refuses to believe him, but for now, gratitude will be expressed on your side.

"Thank yo—"

"UNDER ONE CONDITION!" Witches. There never fails to be a "condition" with this cookie. You remained silent, waiting for his next words.

"I. Want. A. Kiss!" With each word, he positions himself even closer than he previously was, the blueberry aroma he carries wafting your way.

He is far from surprised when your mouth remains closed. You can get a little shy at times, he would say, when in truth, you really are just that incredulous.

"Earthbread to [Name] Cookie! Do I gotta repeat myself?" He laughs, finding your current expression to be hilarious.

Regaining your state of mind, you find yourself unsure of what to say. Of course, you should decline without a second thought. THE Shadow Milk of all cookies is asking you for a kiss! Who in their right mind would say yes?

Oh, but as the case may be, you were never in your right mind.

"I..."

"I, I, I." Shadow Milk Cookie mocks you, yet it's endearing in his own way.

"C’mon, you know you love me! After all, I can recall certain events that would deem us a bit more than the rivals you act like we are," he chirped, making your mental state even worse as the warmth of his hand lands atop your shoulder.

You want to rid of those memories, you've attempted! However, it is much simpler to say than to do when trying to erase experiences with the one cookie you have ever cherished.

This is why you keep your identity hidden, why no one is aware of the power you hold underneath. It would only lead to more questions of the beasts back then, and that leads to prying about Shadow Milk Cookie.

You will admit that your relationship with Shadow Milk was very different compared to now. He and you shared many tender memories. A couple instances were slightly too tender to label you pair as mere friends, but the both of you were put under too many responsibilities to ever have a chance to change close friends into something more.

However, that never eliminated the love floating in the air, and it surely didn't rid of the rushed kisses taking place in empty classrooms.

While memories from the past appear, feelings from back then aren't too far from showing up as well, and you are very knowing of what said feelings were in specifics. Arising emotions can go for both you and Shadow Milk Cookie, but facing that is mortifying.

The sudden movement of your hood being pulled away struck you back to life.

"Pssh, what good will this hood do? I want to see your entire lovely face when our lips meet!" Shadow Milk Cookie brought his levitating to a stop while you were distracted, standing right before you.

"Who do ya really think you’re hiding from in this old hood? Me? Hahaha, that's hilarious! Perhaps I ought to dress you in attire matching my own?" Your stomach feels heavy, and you hate the fact that you cannot discern whether it's with butterflies or dread. Maybe a mix of both.

"You must promise to not bring harm upon any cookie." Now you're making conditions, but you know you only say them to ease your conscience regarding your soon betrayal of the others. Asking the Cookie of Deceit to make a promise has a predictable conclusion.

"I've been trapped in that cursed tree for so long, deprived of touch I longed for from you! Must you make your beloved wait any longer?"

You can't. As pathetic as that sounds, you cannot leave the beast to wait. That being mentioned, you press your lips to his smooth ones, your partner squeaking from your bout of boldness.

Perhaps Pure Vanilla Cookie can find it in his dough to forgive you for your greed. He should come to know that Shadow Milk is a very manipulative cookie.

Or maybe you never put up much of a fight to begin with.

Shadow Milk melts into you afterwards, returning your kiss with more power than you gave. It's clear to see just how eager he was to have you back in his grasp.

His arms hold a tight grip around your neck, putting the entirety of his weight onto you, with one leg lifted into the air per usual. Repeatedly giving you small kisses afterward, Shadow Milk can't help but giggle.

Underneath, he's giddy at the fact he managed to slip under the walls you placed for him, which, if you asked him, such barriers should be nonexistent for him, your dear soon-to-be spouse.

Besides that, now he's certain to recruit you towards the livelier side of the beasts! You might've refused to call yourself such a term at first, but it was inevitable.

He can't wait to show you off to every cookie on Earthbread, to flaunt how you discovered the lies of the world and came into his loving embrace willingly. Your duo comeback will shake every crumb without a doubt.

Pure Vanilla Cookie's face will be priceless! With you here now, the finest performance he has ever hosted can only be awaited.

He hopes those doughbrains are prepared for a major plot twist.

[miradelletarot]

As someone who also identifies with Gale because of his experiences, I'm with you. People do not seem to understand that when abuse is all you know, the cycle is easily repeated. So of course he's going to do some not-so-great things to get what he wants because it's all under the guise of trying to be better. To do more. To be useful. The road is paved with good intentions, after all.

Diminishing his character would be to (imho here, don't come for me...) allow him to become a god (which, imho, strips him of everything that makes him *Gale*. His humanity, his passion, his zeal for life etc.) he wants to become a god because he thinks he can be better than them, but what happens is that he becomes a shell of the man tav once knew. Also, on the flip side, if we reduce him to simply nothing more than a person without any wrongdoing whatsoever, it strips away the complexity of his being, in the way of doing not so great things to try and get what he wants because what he wants is power. Maybe that power isn't to do big, bad, evil things, but his desire to be free of the gods who "use us a playthings" is him subconsciously screaming for agency and freedom, albeit in the most unhealthy way.

And I realize this is not a popular take, but I like Gale for the complexity he has. He's not a perfect angel, but that's boring. Yes, he's my sweet, adorable malewife, and squishy house hubby, but he's a curious mind. He's GOING to try and stick his hand in the proverbial cookie jar and hope there's no negative consequences.

Imho, out of all the characters, he's the most human and relatable. Not to diminish the core struggles of the other characters bc at the bare bones level they are all relatable in some way, but Gale's whole situation is so very...human.

I won't go into my whole life story to explain how this relates so hard with me. No one needs that. I will say though, that I understand his choices even if they aren't the best ones. That's why, for better or worse, he and the other companions have Tav to either encourage or prevent poor choices.

I love his complexity and how questionable he may be at times, but I do still believe, at his core, Gale's a good person. (Don't get me started on his alignment... That's a hill I'll die on).

We see this a lot in books, movies and TV. Think... Breaking bad for example. Walter White was a simple high school teacher, living as a poor middle class, average man. He does something completely out of character with the intention that he's only doing what he needs to provide for his family. In turn, he realizes that he thirsts for the danger and excitement because it deviates so wildly from what he knew. That power is a rush, a drug in itself. Sure he's making an illicit substance (you know what) but the real drug is the adrenaline rush of power and control because he never had that before. His desperate desire to be a good provider and not fail his family, took him down a darker path and turned him into something that his family ultimately rejected.

Again, the road is paved with good intentions. What Gale and Walter White have in common is that they are both trying to do better. To be more valuable, useful. Loved for what they can do and what they can provide to those around them. The end goal, however, isn't all that glamorous if they are left to their own devices.

I didn't mean to go off on a tangent here, but tldr: I agree with op.

I was trying to read some arguments on the whole "did mystra groom gale" debate. It doesn't make too much of a difference to me whether she did groom him or not because the relationship was still deeply unhealthy even without the grooming aspect. As a csa survivor, I tend to accept the grooming interpretation simply because I see a lot of myself in him. Out of the whole cast of companions, it's him that's painfully relatable oftentimes. I do understand this interpretation might not be canon though, so I wanted to look more into it to see the truth.

But aside from that, I saw people arguing that turning gale into some victim of mystra would diminish his character arc because gale would be lacking in agency and that it excuses all his wrongdoings and that... irked me.

A person being a victim doesn't mean they're free from all blame and are some sad little meow meow. We see this in ascended astarion, who falls into the victim becoming the abuser cycle.

It's a very black and white view of victims that would ultimately do more harm than good because it leads people to being dismissive of real victims because they don't fit the pure and ideal mold of one.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Playing for Keeps

Fandom: Women's College Basketball (LSU, USC, UConn)

Pairing: Juju Watkins x Reader x Paige Bueckers

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Heavy angst, jealousy, territorial behavior, unresolved tension, eventual poly relationship

Summary: Being close friends with both Juju Watkins and Paige Bueckers was already a lot to handle, but when they both caught feelings for me? It became a full-on war.

Both were competitive. Both were used to winning.

And both, apparently, had decided that I was worth fighting for.

"You sitting courtside for me, right?" Juju had asked, leaning against my desk in my LSU dorm like she had all the time in the world. "I need my number one supporter looking good in red and gold."

I opened my mouth to answer, but my phone buzzed.

Paige [4:35 PM]: Hope you’re packing some navy and white, ma. Can’t have you out here in Trojan colors. Wouldn't be a good look for you.

I groaned, tossing my phone onto my bed. Juju smirked.

"That her?"

"Don't start," I muttered.

Juju chuckled but didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to. We both knew that she and Paige could barely stand to be in the same room, and the fact that I was friends with both of them only made it worse.

The game between USC and UConn was already set to be a battle. But for them, it wasn’t just about basketball.

It was about me.

Sitting courtside felt like sitting in the eye of a storm.

Juju was putting on a show—deep threes, crossovers that sent defenders stumbling, celebrations that felt just a little too directed at Paige.

Paige? Oh, she was taking it personally.

Every time she made a play, she looked at me. Every time she scored, she smirked like she was reminding me why she should be my favorite.

And then came the third quarter.

Paige went up for a layup. Juju was right there. They collided mid-air, and Paige hit the ground hard.

The whistle blew, but neither of them cared.

Paige shoved Juju’s shoulder as she stood up.

Juju shoved back.

And suddenly, they were chest to chest, jawing at each other.

I saw it before the refs did—the pure, reckless need to prove themselves.

Over me.

"Man, they’re really about to fight over you," Taylor muttered beside me.

I buried my face in my hands. "I hate them both."

"Sure you do," she laughed.

They both got hit with a tech. The game went on, but the tension never left.

Three days later, I was still recovering from the absolute embarrassment of watching my two best friends nearly get ejected because they couldn’t stop competing for my attention.

So when I heard a knock on my dorm room door, I should’ve known it was them.

What I didn’t expect?

For them to show up together.

I folded my arms. "Y’all better not have come here to argue in my dorm."

Paige sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We’re not."

Juju nodded. "We figured it out."

I blinked. "Figured what out?"

They exchanged a glance. Paige spoke first. "We’re gonna share you."

I stared. Then laughed. "Hilarious. Get out."

Neither of them moved.

Oh. They were serious.

Juju shrugged. "Look, we get it. You’re not gonna pick between us. And we’re not about to sit here and act like we don’t both want you."

Paige leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "So instead of fighting over you, we’re just gonna make it work. Together."

My head was spinning. "You—what?"

Juju smirked. "What, you can handle both of us, right?"

Paige grinned. "Or are we too much for you, ma?"

I glared at them. "I hate y’all."

Paige tilted my chin up. "No, you don’t."

The worst part?

She was right.

I thought the madness would end after they worked things out.

I was wrong.

Because now, instead of fighting over me, they were ganging up on me.

And that’s how I ended up at my lacrosse game, standing on the field, watching both of them sit front row in LSU gear.

They looked way too comfortable. Juju was leaning back in her seat like she owned the place. Paige had her feet propped up on the railing, arms crossed like she was analyzing my every move.

Taylor, sitting on the bench beside me, snorted. "Yeah, that’s not normal."

"Tell me about it," I muttered.

The game hadn’t even started yet, but they were already making themselves known.

Juju cupped her hands around her mouth. "Yo, baby, don’t let me down out there!"

Paige smirked. "She never lets me down, Watkins. She’s built different."

Juju scoffed. "Please, she’s my girl too. We’ll see who she winks at first when she scores."

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "I’m actually gonna die."

Taylor patted my back. "Nah, girl, you’re just stuck between two of the craziest ballers in the country."

"That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

She shrugged. "You picked them."

I sighed. "No, they picked me. And now I have to deal with—"

The ref blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game.

And before I even ran onto the field, Paige and Juju were already yelling for me.

Loudly.

Taylor smirked. "Yeah, you’re never escaping them."

After the game, I barely made it to the locker room before Juju and Paige cornered me.

Juju draped an arm around my shoulder. "Not bad, superstar. But next time, point at me when you score, yeah?"

Paige scoffed. "Oh, so you didn’t see her looking at me after that goal?"

I groaned. "Can y’all not?"

Juju grinned. "Nah. We’re invested in your career now, babe."

Paige smirked. "Exactly. We gotta make sure our girl knows we’re here for her."

I exhaled. They were never gonna let me live this down.

Taylor walked past, shaking her head. "Man, y’all are something else."

Paige and Juju high-fived.

I sighed.

This was my life now.

And honestly?

Maybe I didn’t mind it so much.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[lightlycareless]

Naoya as our bully ?🤭

If you can, can you write something about it with dubcon and all those things

( feel free to ignore if you don’t like it ❤️)

Hello!!

Heheheh bully naoya is most likely to happen if I were to be realistic; however, I do not think it'll be as sweet as we would've liked—but that's ok, it's good to explore other things :)))

warnings: non-con; it's not explicit but it is implied so proceed with caution. minors DNI. I know you asked for dub-con but wow I just let my imagination go I am sorry I still hope you like it though 🥹 also, naoya is a prick. but that's expected. minimal proofreading, excuse the weirdness.

Happy reading!!

Naoya being your bully is, hands down, the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.

Or more likely the precursor of the most horrific thing you’d ever suffer.

Your expectations for Jujutsu High were big—and for good reason, for everyone around you made sure you’d always look to your first day at school as the biggest, most important thing to happen in your life and career. You were to obtain the first glimpse of this amazing society you were part of, how could you not be thrilled?

But perhaps what enthralled you the most was the possibility of meeting the love of your life, after all, you were a hopeless romantic at heart.

Sure, it was somewhat of a selfish, if not baseless goal when compared to your duty… but there was no harm in dreaming, right?

And as if God had willed it, you’d soon catch the attention of someone in particular not so long after your arrival.

Unfortunately, not the type you desire.

The other thing you’d quickly come to learn about as days went by were the rumors and gossip surrounding your fellow classmates; just about the usual information you’d need to survive—who’s the popular one, who to go to when struggling with schoolwork—but primarily, who to avoid.

Naoya, the heir of the Zen’in, as on top of that list, though you were already aware of such cautions since his reputation… precedes him. Thus, it didn’t make it hard for you to simply walk the other way whenever stumbling in his path.

Not that it was any difficult, since he always seemed to be entertained by other things, other girls. And since you never considered yourself comparable to them, it was safe to say that you remained under the radar.

Until the day you didn’t.

Your efforts thrown out the window when accidentally bumping into him, a seemingly innocent act that transpired in the hallways, when you were in a rush, anxious to arrive to your next class on time that you barely had taken a sip of your drink—the weapon that perpetrated your transgression, soiling his pristine uniform.

To you, the beginning of your nightmare.

To Naoya, the moment he was waiting for.

“I’m so sorry, I—I didn’t mean to do that!” you fret, hands trembling as you frantically looked for a way to clean up your mistake. “I’m so so so sorry, please, let me pay for the cleaning service, or I can—I think I can even get you another one—”

“Do you know the level of stupidity you’ve committed?!” Naoya would belittle, cornering you into feeling worse than you already were.

“I—I didn’t mean to.” You cry, shaking your head. Seems that the rumors were true regarding his personality were true after all, if not worse. “It’s just that I—I was in a rush, and you came out of no—”

“Ah, so now you’re blaming me? Is that it?”

“No—No, it was an accident! I really didn’t mean it, I swear!”

“Then you better show me how regretful you really are if you don’t want me to take this to the higher ups.” He threatens, and while a part of you doubts this incident is worth their attention…

His patience is not something you want to test, nor the limits of his wrath.

And so, your servitude begins.

First, he has you fixing the immediate cause of your despair, which seems you could never achieve thanks to Naoya’s impossible standards. You either missed a spot, didn’t use the cleaner he ordered you to (they always change) or it wasn’t as nice as it was before. The excuses go on and on, such as your debt to him, and all you could do was comply.

Of course, Naoya didn’t really care much about the uniform. In fact, he got one as soon as the other was spoiled, but what reason did he have to ignore the adorable way you fretted to fix your mistakes? Always eager to please him, it was the kind of entertainment he could not miss!

After growing bored of the endless back and forth relating to his uniform, he decides to move you onto doing his schoolwork, the boring, theory side of jujutsu nobody could care less about, to compensate in some way.

Which, once again, never fits his criteria. He just had to find something wrong, a small slip-up for him to nitpick and embarrass you.

A somewhat hard endeavor given how good you were at doing these things, Naoya that much could admit. But, well, he always preferred the teary look in your eyes when ripping apart the work you presented that day, even if it meant he’d end up doing it later himself.

“I was only—I was only doing my best—” you silently whimper, picking up the pieces of your efforts from the floor.

“Your best isn’t good enough.” Naoya coldly declares, and though your heart is sharply pierced by his crude, cold words, enough purpose to finally take a stand and leave—

You still don’t find it in yourself to stray away from him.

Because at the slightest hesitation, Naoya always found a way to pull you back in. Remind you of your mistakes and how far you really are from redeeming yourself.

Perhaps he knew of those deep, hurtful insecurities you’ve carried along since you were a child; those that made you doubt your aptitudes, if you were worthy of being a sorcerer, your family’s relative…

It would’ve been easier if you simply remained as an errand girl. The type of person to fetch him something to drink, or snack on… instead of dwelling on the old wounds of your upbringing that only worsened with his targeted frustrations—

His so called “jokes.”

Naoya’s approach didn’t take long to escalate into denigrating, personal acts against you, from cruel exchanges between his friends, pointing out your supposed flaws both physically and personality-wise, to pulling your hair whenever passing by, sneering at the stupid bow you decided to decorate your hair with—how childish it made you look—to lifting your skirt just to see what a prude girl like you could wear.

“Not that anyone is dying to know, but I thought I’d do you the favor of knowing what it feels to be desired for once in your life.”

Amongst other nasty things that just made you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

You didn’t know what hurt the most. That there was a group willing to mock you, enough to do so whenever he wasn’t around… or that Naoya didn’t have the decency to ask them to stop.

After all you’ve done for him, that was the least he could do.

Whatever business you had with him solely pertained to the two, there was no need to bring others along, less to incite him to do that…

But expecting such was too much, and so, you simply did your best to ignore him and move on with your life while anxiously waiting for whatever humiliating task you’d be graced with soon. Praying that one day, he’ll be merciful, or perhaps forgetful enough, to set you free.

…

…

…

Unless you weren’t to deliver anymore.

Unless you were to simply… disappear.

Just now show up after class to hand Naoya all his assignments, like always. Making him wait for a few more minutes before accordingly preparing himself to scold you in the nastiest way he could imagine when you finally arrived—but you never did.

At the peak of his anger, he decides to hunt you down instead and directly confront you. Figure out how your small, stupid brain convinced you to betray him, and subsequently make you regret it.

Which there were too many ways to do so, really. But as long as you suffered, as long you experienced a fraction of his shame, he was indifferent to the methods.

But of all the things he expected to find when facing you, he never once considered the sparks of your rebellion starting by an outside influence.

A fellow student you were walking annoyingly close to, revealing his efforts of isolating as futile; of filling your mind with nothing but his presence easily replaceable by a classmate of his. That stuck-up blonde-haired guy that everyone seemed obsessed about just because he was a foreigner.

And now, you too.

He should’ve known that your gullible mind would be attracted to someone like that. It was natural that you’d do so.

Perhaps what he didn’t expect was for Nanami to grow interested in you; surely, there were far better options to set his eyes on than someone as mundane and stupid like you.

Far more intriguing to find enjoyment in, as seen in the warm smile he gives you.

His perception of Nanami undoubtedly crumbled given this advancement; but if that was the only thing that bothered him, then why is there a burning, nauseating sensation settling in the pits of his stomach? Far beyond anger at your defilement, or even disappointment, but instead something akin to jealousy?

Protecting what was his, something that he never intended to share?

Naoya would entertain his feelings for a few moments, even come to consider it wasn’t worth his time to get so worked up for someone all his friends (and himself) ultimately found replaceable.

But he stops believing such things the moment his blood runs cold upon witnessing the act that fueled his definite wrath once and for all:

You, shyly leaning towards Nanami and kissing him.

What you had with him was more than a simple friendship, that much was obvious now. Far more intimate that he would’ve liked to imagine—

And far more infuriating as well.

Is this how you repay him? After all he’s done for you, acting like a whore was the best way to show your appreciation for him, after he’s given you a purpose in life? Saved you from becoming the useless, weak sorcerer you were fated to be?

…Perhaps you do need a reminder of who you belonged to.

“What are you—what are you doing in my dorm?!” You cried the moment Naoya barged into your room, the perfect location for him to corner you; keep you away from the intruding eyes of your friends, and so-called boyfriend, and finally confront you. “You can’t be here—get out!”

“Drop the act, this rebellious façade does not fit you.” He scowls; you frown. It was evident you were always nervous whenever he was around… but today, there was something different about your trembling voice. About your hesitating movements.

It was if you were pushing yourself to remain through all your fears and put an end to his tyranny or at least die trying.

That shy, people-pleasing girl was long gone—Undoubtedly, the work of someone whose mere remembrance only made his blood boil.

“I—I don’t care what you think, Naoya, you cannot be in my room!” you cry back. “Get out or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Call your boyfriend?” You blink; he lets out a mocking chuckle. “Think I wouldn’t notice? You’re awful at keeping secrets, you know?”

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t keeping a secret.” You continue. “I just—I just didn’t care anymore about you!”

“Excuse me?” he responds, offended. “Did you just—"

“Shut up! For once, just shut up!”

Naoya flinches, taken aback by your sudden outburst, as if it had come out of nowhere; and not the exhaustion of his mistreatment, his constant disrespect towards your persona and all your acts.

Had it been the you from before, you wouldn’t have even dared.

Yet, just as you confessed, you simply stopped caring about him. What he had to say or what he thought—if he were to lash out at you or dump you with more work.

And all thanks to Nanami’s company; his affection. A supporting figure that reminded you of your strength, of your value and importance. Of how you were still deserving of being cherished and respected, without having to go through these endless ordeals to prove your worth. Those worthy to keep around wouldn’t make you go through that, anyways.

But most importantly, he showed you the power you had over your own life. How you were capable of putting a stop to the tyranny that pushed you to this bottomless ocean of self-doubt, and leave all your pain behind.

“You’re the most despicable, disgusting, horrible man I ever had the disgrace of meeting in my life!” you begin, letting out all your bottled-up anger through tears and yells. A cathartic occurrence that your heart so desperately needed. “You’re—You’re a monster, I don’t know how I tolerated you for too long!

But I won’t allow it anymore, because—I—I have Kento by my side and he’s—he’s showed me all these wonderful things I’ve been completely unaware of thanks to you!

He taught me to be strong, to be—to be fearless. To appreciate what little I have and cherish my loved ones!

To—to be honest with myself, and to—and to never let anyone else hurt me ever again!!

So today—today I denounce you! Whatever agreement we had, whatever it is that I was supposed to make up to you, it’s done! I refuse to keep being your slave, the center of your mockery. All I’ve ever did was try to please you but it’s obvious I will never commit to that, and you—you never had intentions of letting me go; if it were up to you, I’d simply remain miserable all of my life as long as you remained happy!

But… but that is finally over. It’s done. I won’t allow you to ever hurt me, to ever treat me like I was beneath you!

And I really do hope you get all you deserve. All that someone as despicable as you could ever hope to get!

I—I hope I never get to see you again, I hope that after today, you’ll walk out of my life once and for all!

Because I really, with all my existance—

hate you!”

The last thing Naoya remembers from that point forward was feeling irritated by your obnoxious rambles drowning in with burning rage. An overwhelming need to make you eat your words and apologize; so grave that it blinded his sights, his memory.

There were only brief moments here and there that managed to make way to his thoughts, such as the stinging pain on his palm after striking you across the face following your words, continued by the deep betrayal you’ve inflicted in his heart as he pulled you by the hair to force you to listen and reflect on the stupidities you’ve just spewed upon him.

“Did you really think I would allow you to disrespect me without suffering the consequences?! Did you really think I’d sit by as you preached things you don’t even know what they mean?! All because a silly, stupid man managed to convince you were deserving of them???” Naoya berates, bringing your face close to his and imposing you to see him—the anger you caused, the gravity of your actions.

“Na—Naoya—!” you squirm, trying to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter in place; painfully subdues you to become responsible for your life for once.

“You’re nothing but a stupid, foolish whore that got placed in a pedestal simply because someone wanted to fuck you.” He chuckles. “You think Nanami likes you? Really?? Don’t you think that if he did, he wouldn’t have pushed you to do something stupid like this?? He ought to know better, but I suppose that for a stupid girl like you, you’d do anything to obtain a man’s favor, even if it means betraying those who care for you.

Fortunately, I know exactly what to do in situations like this, how to deal with people like you.

I’ll show you that all I’ve done came from a place of compassion, of pity.

That I’m the only person that would ever dare to do so.”

It’s clear what he intends to do once he throws you onto the bed, once he begins to strip you of your garments and ignore your pleads of mercy. A possibility of reconsideration—how you didn’t mean to offend him as gravely as you did.

“But that is long gone, and now, I will make you see the error in your decisions. I will make you regret ever crossing me.”

And overall—

“I will make you see I’m the only man you need.”

Naoya’s defilement does not stop no matter how much you beg him to.

No matter how much you weep, you beg for his forgiveness, profess your regret and promise to do better… he was simply uninterested in what you had to say.

Instead, he succumbed deeper into his emotions, allowing them to control his rationale and do all kinds of horrifying, disgusting things to your body with the sole purpose of branding you with his anger, with your transgressionsso that you’d never forget.

You’d never dare to insult him the way you fervently did.

You’d never dare look onto another man, when he was there to be the object of your sole veneration.

Of your affection.

To keep you solely focused on him, and eventually, get you where you deserved to be.

It’s a shame things had to end this way, he manages to muse as he continued to desecrate you. But some people could only understand the hard way, the stubborn, stupid, naïve way. You just had the misfortune of falling into that category.

And he did just that. He drilled that notion onto you, both mentally and physically, what you should’ve known the moment you crossed paths with his.

The moment he set eyes on you, you were his, and it was always meant to be that way.

“St—Stop it, Naoya…” you gasped, tears in your eyes as you tried for the nth time that moment to fight him off. But too weak after his aggressions, all you could do is weep. “Please—please… I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Naoya only stops once he believes your lesson to be learned. From there, he barely gives you a second glance as he composes himself and leaves your dorm; far too indifferent to oversee your wellbeing or if someone were to find you in a broken position.

He simply goes on with his day as if it were any other, occasionally reflecting on your absence once realizing you went missing for the rest of the day, but outside of that, nothing.

Because ultimately, that is what you deserve.

Nothing.

Naoya allows you to keep your distance for a few days more after… his act. Whether because he didn’t feel in the mood to see your face, still resentful of your words, or because he was busy… It didn’t matter much; for he kept on with his life as if nothing had transpired. Treating you like an occasional remembrance, the junior he’d grown somewhat close to but eventually outgrown when another came along.

Even when his friends pestered him to find out about your situation, Naoya dismissed them. He had far bigger matters to attend to, after all, silly little Y/N was just another fish in the ocean; if they were so desperate to know, why don’t they find out themselves?

However, he wouldn’t be able to continue putting on this act once his classmate, your disgraceful boyfriend, began to mope. Becoming even moodier the longer you went on without attending school, even enough to go around asking if anyone had seen you after that fateful day—no one had.

Except your friends, the only few that somehow were able to place the pieces together and know what occurred to you; or at least, make a theory out of their findings—which eventually led for the whole school to gossip about.

“Did you hear?” Someone would begin. “Y/N has dropped out of school.”

“What? Dropped out? When??”

“Not too long ago, it seems. Just a few days ago—”

“What makes you think that? She could just be sick…”

“Come on, why do you think her siblings are all moody nowadays? If anything, the question we should be asking is why? Why would someone drop out in the middle of the school year? It’s not like she a bad student…”

“Are you sure she didn’t just transfer?”

“No, she didn’t. I saw the records, she dropped out. But you’d never know why… and honestly, I didn’t think she’d have it in her.”

“Have what in her?”

“More like who.”

“What—what are you implying?”

“Oh, and she seemed so innocent too…”

“No—no way you’re…”

“Yeah, I am. Y/N’s—”

Pregnant.

In other words, a child grows inside you right now.

And Naoya knew just who the father was.

What he didn’t know is why the idea seemed to thrill him enough to seek you out. Why he didn’t just… force you to take that damned pill, as he’d done countless times before, and move on.

Instead, he decided to travel all the way down to your home and demand the presence of your family; of your distraught parents he could see were disappointed in their seemingly promiscuous daughter, yet respectful enough to receive him. Perhaps because deep within, they knew he was related to your situation.

Or because it was one of the many perks of being the heir of the Zen’in.

Like being given the liberty to do as he pleases, painting a story that greatly deviated from the truth: making them believe you and him had a relationship, but given the nature of his position, he couldn’t divulge it. His family were… traditional, in some sense. They would never allow their heir to approach women in casual settings.

But love proved far stronger, and such demonstration now came in the small life nurtured inside your womb.

The same one he sweetly promised to take care of—as long as you married him.

Everyone had a price, and it seems your parents’ was prestige and honor; things easily obtainable through his titles, but at the sake of your happiness.

“What—what is he doing here—” you stammer, frightened to see the face that troubles your thoughts, your dreams, in the last haven you got. “How did he get in here?!”

“Oh, Y/N, this is wonderful!” your mother would cry, rushing to your side to take you into her arms. ��All of our prayers were heard!”

“What—what are you talking about?!”

“You no longer need to worry about your future now, pumpkin. Naoya here will take care of everything!” Your father continues.

“Wh—what?” you breathed, sight blurry and head dizzy at the sound of their delirious words.

“He told us of your situation.” Your mother adds. “About your relationship with him.”

But not the true one, is it? For their reactions didn’t correlate to the horrors you were haunted by.

“What—what did he say??”

“Our truth, Y/N.” Naoya responds. “About our love, and my commitment to provide for you.”

Naoya painted himself as your savior, as the sinner than changed for the sake of love and was now willing to do everything necessary to give you, the mother of his heir, a suitable life.

Through a divine vow.

A life sentence.

You wept. You wailed, screamed, begged your parents to set you free from the hands of your tormentor. Exclaimed that his acts were far from a lover, but rather, an abuser. A demon—all that he had done was with your suffering in mind, not the other way around!

But even if they were to decline his offer, your family were far too eager to cling at the opportunity of returning to relevancy. Of getting into the Zen’in’s good graces and bask in the prestige they once lost to time.

Your eager nature could’ve not come sooner, what they once condemned, now they welcomed as a blessing.

And such, amidst poisonous congratulations, your new life was set: permanently bound to the man that had broken your spirit, defiled your body, and now, claimed your future.

No one would come to believe the atrocities he had inflicted upon, no matter how much you tried to convince others—it was simply easier to assume that he acted such way because… well, women were difficult, were they not? And you weren’t exactly the prime example of a proper woman either. If anything, you should be glad that you’ve managed to catch a man as devoted as him; any other would’ve bailed out on you.

But Naoya didn’t; he may not have the greatest reputation, nor the best temperament, but he still stepped up—and if that’s not worthy of admiration, then shame on you. Many women would’ve killed to have a partner like that, so, it’s best if you comply and stop being ungrateful.

Do what you’re supposed to do as his future wife—this is the life women of your status were expected to do anyways, don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into.

“I—I at least want to finish school.” You sadly lament, the last of your excuses before your fate was doubled down.

“You won’t need that once we’re married.” Naoya interjects. “All you’d need to learn is how to be a good wife and mother for our family, you’ll hardly have time for sorcery so just forget about it.”

Just like he always imagined the moment he laid eyes on you, only that he never professed it out loud.

It’s true: since the time he was aware of your existence, there was something that mesmerized him.

He just didn’t know what precisely; it could’ve been your beauty, your untainted image, pure in all imaginable ways—he couldn’t let anyone else get to you first.

And after all that happened, he can safely assume that this was his destiny. It was God putting you on his path while Naoya did the rest.

If anything, he laments it took this unwanted pregnancy to realize him so. Naoya would’ve liked something a bit more… traditional, but he supposes this will work too. Can’t complain much if he got what he wanted in the end: to claim you.

All that he’s left to worry about is drilling that defiance out of you. Something a baby ought to do the trick.

But if not, Naoya doesn’t worry much. After all, he’ll have all the time in the world to do so.

Naoya would be the type to find porn actresses that look like you and then show you a video or something, ask you if you'd make the same sounds/faces and such. Just had to get it out there.

Also, did I not tell y'all that in all universes naoya and y/n end up together? For better or for worse? lmao i'm sorry i'm just delusional rn. it's been a stressful week if i am being honest but coming back to these asks, characters, all of you, makes me happy :')

Well, I don't really have much to say, except that I hope it was to your liking 🥹💖💖💖

Now, take care and hope to see you soon. 💖💖💖💖

[slighlyconfused]

It's a complicated question. And sorry long answer. We are both being slow boiled, and also there are things that are obviously going to come. With regulations loosened and government employees laid off, there is going to be more public health problems (salmonella, e-coli, bird flu, ect) and pandemic response will get worse. We have already seen an increase previously with Trump and with Trump again it will get even worse.

While progressive states have made great improvements, red states have rapidly detiorated schools in favor of religion and anti I'm not even sure. Housing prices are already entirely unaffordable, a small house that needs hundreds of thousands in renovations with .4 acres of property can cost over a million if it's in an area that is decent (not amazing). Groceries and other amenities have been rapidly increasing in prices due to profit gaging just because companies can get away with it, but now with tariffs and food supply issues, they will increase even more and have an excuse to price gauge further. With the tariffs houses will only get more expensive.

Obviously the problems with healthcare, won't even get into that.

But also the fact that it's becoming glaringly obvious that a good progressive president can come in and give us a few rights and solve a few problems. But that a bad president can undue it easier and so much more that damage control is next to impossible. It's easier to undue, than to do, it's easier to break than too fix.

Compounded by the problem of people not understanding what they are voting for. A lot of people who voted for Trump, didn't even want a lot of what Trump wanted to do and is doing. They want healthcare, they want help, they want more money into America and more trade coming out. But problem is complex in voting, first while they want their lives to be better off, they want others too suffer, they don't have a concept of in order for them to win others need to win too. Second they are voting against "the woke", a lot of voting in the US is party based, people don't don't about it, they vote for their party which is bad no matter which way they vote. Third, schools are failing so many people in the US simply aren't capable of parsing the policy information, which the founding fathers foresaw, so we have a republic not a democracy. The downside, is that companies are legally allowed to bribe career politicians, so it doesn't matter how we vote, all politicians are giving us is lip and the voting is done by corporate entities and billionaires. The billionaires are insane and villains by definition. So people who don't know anything about trade believe Trump when he says tariffs will only bring money in, not understanding the mass repercussions of it, but honestly, before you judge, how much does an average person really know about international politics? We cannot know everything, it's simply not possible nor is it our job.

There is also honestly a fear that Donald Trump will try to King himself (personal fear of mine).

But honestly, what most people don't understand, while it's really bad in the US, it's not great anywhere right now, except in places that essentially wouldn't accept strangers. The US is just everyone's favorite spectacle to mock. There are true concerns, and there is a large possibility of another pandemic and a recession. But then a lot of fears are also possibly overblown. There is also a lot of fear mongering coming from the other side. Propaganda is coming from both places. It's hard to say, you never know.

Also the US is really states in a trench coat masquerading as a country. In the states I'm in, not much has or will change on a state level soon as it's a progressive state, other than things such a public health pandemic problems that are inescapable. And increase in prices. But even that is limited for me (well my parents, currently living elsewhere) because they get groceries from local farms. The damage is mitigated or increased depending on which state you live in. States have their own governments, their own laws and regulations, and their own response teams. So it depends where you are.

Serious question, are things really going that bad in the United States right now? Because my cousin, who has his whole life there —a nice house, job, a family that doesn't even speak Spanish— just told my father he and his wife are seriously considering the idea of dropping it all and moving to Spain with their kids. My aunt from the other side of the family (I do not like her at all, she is bigoted in many ways, but she is Anti-Trump and married to a Latino man) has apparently gone back to the US after six months here so they could sell their house and move back here permanently. I heard her son who I've never even met because he hasn't been to Spain in over 25 years is also considering moving back here, apparently. Shit's that insane?

[pupyuj]

tha photo of yujin with her bulge out but her hands toed behind her back nd her pants at her thighs, teasing and edging her with your mouth while she squirms ugh 😩

can’t wait to get my empathy albums just to stare at her handsomely pretty face in the “and us” version 😋 MY BABYBOY 💕💕

[cw: g!p yujin, blowjob, breeding.]

i fear this is the most experimental yujinnie can get before she starts getting scared 😭 bcs come on… binding up her hands when all she wants to do all the time is touch you? teasing her and having the upper hand when she usually has all that power? ohh the lack of control would make her head hurt but she can’t deny that the main reason she’s hard as a rock is bcs of the situation you’ve put her in and all the things you’re doing to her.. 🤭

oh it would be torture! between you being annoying and leaving a bunch of kiss marks all over her thighs and the lack of attention her cock was getting, yujin would get increasingly agitated but she was too proud to beg to be pleasured 😒 and you knew just what you were doing to her too, which was the worst part of it all… looking up at her with the fakest innocent eyes yujin has ever seen, acting like you weren’t so fucking delighted that you even got yujin in a situation where you would force her hand and submit to you for once… oh, this was perfect!! 🥰💕

watching relief wash over yujin’s face once you finally wrap your perfect lips around the head of her cock, sucking so painfully slow but it was definitely way better than you refusing to be anywhere near it at all… her moans getting louder and louder the deeper you take her cock inside your mouth, her head thrown allll the way back, letting you see all the pretty hickeys you left on her neck earlier 🥺💓 sucking her off so good to the point that her thighs start twitching and she starts looking at you with pleading eyes but your tap her calves to remind her that she made a promise not to cum until you want her to… and ofc, yujin has no other choice but to obey her princess 😚😚

it all gets better and worse when you start using your tongue which you are unfortunately so fucking good at that yujin would actively struggle against the restraints on her hands bcs god she wanted to take over so fucking bad!! babbling nonsense with tears in the corners of her eyes, feeling like she was going to lose her fucking head when you somehow even thought of grinding your needy cunt on her shoe and actually fucking doing it, which only happened bcs yujin looked so good from where you were watching her that you couldn’t resist your own needs 🥺

and when you did finally let yujin cum, she barely allows herself to recover before demanding you to untie her 😵‍💫😵‍💫 it was scary undoing the bindings on her hands, but only bcs you were afraid that you might have gone overboard and hurt yujin more than please her ☹️ but yujin made sure to assure you that you did please her well—not by words but in the form of making you ride her cock until midnight, and until you felt absolutely full of her cum 🤭 it was the second easiest way for yujin to say thank you 🫣

[adkawariatka]

Back of or I will bite

Cold rain drips from Danny’s jacked, water slushes in his shoes when he walks through dirty streets of Gotham. He is cold. It should be rare experience for him nowdays, since his death actually. However, recently he discovered that if he mistreats his human half, this is what happens. He hadn’t eaten anything for too long and now cold can affect him. He is starting to get used to that feeling, when hunger twists his stomach and chill runs on his skin like snake. Normal humans would be already dead. Unfortunetly he isn’t normal human. It is why he is in this streets anyway. When goverment with your own parents hunt you like an animal you try to be invisible.

There is no better place to dissapear than city as dangerous as Gotham. Here no one will pay attention to some homeless kid when every other week some psycho tries to murder bunch of civilians while a furry in bat costiume fights them off. That is why he and his friends chose this place. He blends in, dissapears. They decided he needs to lay low. He can do that he can be invisible goddamit. Well could be invisible like a week Ago. Right now his physical state isnt really cooperating. Where is super-healing when he needs it.

Right now he turned to his other special abilities. Ones he buried deep, into The back of his head, as deep as sands of The cursed desert he was born on. Right next to The memory of a twin that he loathes with his whole existence. He moves with practise even if his stealth skills are a little rusty. They were trained in him since he was a baby.

He needs to find Food, Danny lived in gotham for three weeks he knows some spots for leftovers, not fresh ones, but enough to sustain him. Sometimes he steals something fresh but lately he has no energy to do so. His gun-wound is still healing even if it should be gone by now. It is not deadly obviously but painful enough to remind him of its existence from time to time.

Danny checked trashcans behind two restaurants before he found one that wasn’t already occupied. He learned hard way to stay away from others who will do everything to eat, even long expired goods. He is not proud of it. However, Danny survived far worse. He died for fucks sake! Some trash Food isnt going to do him.

Danny was just peaking into The containers before he Heard loud bang and angry shouts. It was a little early for big fishes to get out on street. Sun heven’t even set yet. He needs to hurry. As he was to pull out that half eaten sandwich, footsteps Sounded behind him. Before he turned around there was also a heavy thud and loud groan. Immedately, he turned around and came race to face with Nightwing. He was doing so good up until now. He just had to came across one of Batman’s sidekicks.

- Hey there, you alright?

He sounded genuine but was also part of justice league that worked for goverment. So he was a big no no for Danny. That’s why he nodded and sweeped his eyes around to find possible exits. They were in backalley with only one exit which was a source of fight noises.

- Okey kid we need to get out of here. I can see that you prefer to keep your distance but Right now we don’t have time for comforts

Then he catches Danny by his waist and hoists them both on The nearest root. His left side with a wound is on fire, vision goes white for a moment and he stumbles when Nightwing lets him go. Danny doesn’t know what happend after but when he can normally breathe he is alone. On a roof. How The hell is he supposed to get down without his powers or any gear in the matter!? He goes to The edge and observes The fight. It looks like one of The gangs had some sort of a deal and The Bats had a tip that it will take place here. Just Danny’s luck to end up in The middle of a mess. At this point it can’t really get worse. There is no sense in trying to get down now. He will wait until fight is over. There is too much gangsters and people in spandex for Danny’s liking down There. So he sits and waits. Eventually fight dies down. He might have dozed off there a little bit. Light footsteps alerts him of new presence on his roof. Danny stands up when short figure in black yellow and green costiume stops before him. He assumes that it is his lift to the ground but the hero stops suddenly. He watches long enough to make Danny uncomfortable. Then Danny hears words he hoped never to came across again:

-Danyal?

He sharply backs away. No! he thinks. Not him! Not now! He knows that voice. God Dammit! And he thought that his situation couldn’t get worse. He was already starving, wounded, without roof above his head, hunted by goverment and his parents! Why not add an assassin cult to the mix?! Whoever fucks with his fate has twisted kind of humour. Danny heels hit the end of the roof. But the hero is still getting closer.

-Danyal its you. I know it is you. You need to stop…

- Stay away from me! - Danny thinks that he might be screaming. He is not sure. He is terrified, last time they saw each other didnt end well for him. His vision starts to swirl again, his wound stings, he might throw up. Does he even has something to throw up with? Danny is pretty sure he is going to die. Maybe that’s why just in spite for monster of a brother he bends backwards just a little too much. Last Think he hears are Damian’s screams he does not know why he seems so panicked. He probably came here to finish the job so why bother? Or worse he came back to bring Danny back. Doesn’t matter not Right now. He is falling, it reminds him a little bit about flying. God he loved it. He wonders if second death will hurt as much as the first. Will he get to go away? Will he be able to fully die? Or will he gets stuck as a full ghost? It is his last thought before his vision goes black.

I know I wasn’t here for some time. But I had this idea and wanted to share. I will probably continue it. I want to include interaction of Danny with Damian. There is a lot of fics with them loving each other and they are amazing, However, the concept of Danny hating Damian peaked my interest. How would that work? Besides, Danny’s angst is of course a must😆

[tojisteddy]

Always, forever.

or: the one where you and Toji make your way home after getting stuck in the snow on Valentines Day.

cw: 1.5k words, pure fluff, curse words.

most recent toji core masterlist

“Good God, it’s cold as SHIIIIIT!”

“How many times are you gonna say that?”

“Until you get it into your thick ass skull.”

Valentine’s Day.

A time for romance. For love. Cute dates, chocolate, sweet kisses, proposals, and red hearts. For warmth with a loved one.

Well that didn’t happen this year, there was a blizzard.

The only people who were out and about were the people who had to work through the snow unfortunately and even then, businesses were closing early. With canceled Valentine’s Day plans and little to no food in the house, you and Toji made the treacherous journey through the falling snow to the grocery store. It was supposed to be a thirty minute trip, max.

But one thing about Murphy's law— it will always get worse.

You two had finished grocery shopping and headed to the car. Well what’s wrong with the car? The ten minutes you were in there, the car got stuck in the parking lot. So you and Toji were forced to walk in the snow. Streets we’re empty as ever, it’s fairly dark out, and you were cold as fuck.

“I told you wear a your scarf, but you don’t fuckin listen!” Toji griped, you two finally got to the main road that would lead you to the house. It looked miles away through the 7 inches of snow.

“I did listen! ‘it’ll be quick,’ you said. ‘yer over thinkin,’ you said! You know who didn’t listen? You! I told you we should just walk but you said the car would be able to make it, now look!” You raised your hands, gesturing to the current situation.

You looked over at Toji who was ignoring you. Sticking out his tongue to catch the snowflakes that fell from the sky.

“If my hands didn’t feel like they were gonna fall off, I’d sock you. I’m soooo serious.” You tried suppressing your chuckles but some still managed to get out. He looked so cute when he did childlike stuff like that. You could never stay fake mad for long.

The only sound being the crunch of snow from both of your feet. You were a shivering mess. You stopped in your tracks for a second, stuffing your hands in your turquoise coat pocket and shuffling them around to heat up.

“Why’re you stoppin?” Toji just six feet ahead of you. Tall ass.

“I’m inch resting to gettin hypothermia or somethin! My hands are freezing!”

“You don’t have gloves on ma?”

“What gloves?!” You exclaimed, stomping your foot over the packed snow.

Toji finally turned to look at you down to your hands. But he felt movement in his back pocket.

Oh, right!

The taller man marched his way over to you, taking his large hands in your and brought them to his mouth to breath on them.

“Better?”

“A little.”

He rubbed them a bit for more heat to circulate around them, then pulled out the black mittens that he accidentally put in his back pocket before you two went to the supermarket. Slipping them each on your hands.

“I- why do you have my mittens on?!” You frowned, glancing down to see your hands and there this big man was. With your like green flowered mittens on that you’d bought for yourself, being stretched out to greater capacity by Toji fucking Fushiguro.

“They’re warmer.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You run warm Toji!” You whined, and Toji playfully whacked your forehead with the back of his hand.

“So? This is reimbursement for all my lost hoodies.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

A devilish grin formed on his face, pecking your lips and turning to keep walking. “I will, when we get home baby.”

You groaned in annoyance, a silly smile on your face.

You two walked for another ten minutes, snow finally ceasing for the time being but still hard to get though. Somehow you’d managed to get farther away from Toji who was making his large strides like it was nothing. This couldn’t have been his first time tracking through the snow like this.

It wasn’t, but that’s another story for a different day.

You stopped again.

“Mama—“

“—I don’t think-“ you clasped your heart in fake agony, “-I don’t think I’m gonna make it!” You yelled out, setting the over filled grocery bag in the snow. You crouched down. You were sick of walking through the thick snow, even though you were warmer, the bag was heavy, your body was heavy. This was all exercise you didn’t sign up for.

“If you don’t make it, we’ll just die out here then. together.”

Your brown eyes whipped up at him, who was completely resolute with the statement. Your eyebrows furrowing, mouth slightly agape from shock.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” A cheeky grin on his face.

…

Oh this guy, seriously this guy was something else. Your lips formed into a pout, bringing your knees closer to your chest. Toji clicked his tongue, huffing and puffing as he marched to you again. Standing you up on your feet by your armpits like a child.

“Seriously though, we really gotta get home mama. Dogs ‘re waitin for us.”

“But ‘m tiiiired!” You whined out, “can’t we just take a break?” You looked up at the man. Big brown eyes, snowflakes danced on your lashes and a cute pout in the perfect combination. You looked too damn cute for your own good.

Toji flicked your head again, “this is your break Doll.”

Before you could object, the man had your grocery bag in your left hand and took your right hand in the other. Gently tugging you forward so he could grab his two grocery bags he’d sat on the snow.

“You just need a little motivation. You like music right? Sing something.”

“Anything?”

“Anything baby.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. Leading you two through the snow, making sure the very few cars that passed didn’t come near you. You quickly thought of whatever subject that came to mind. Snow.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful—”

“—Too close to our current situation.” The older man sighed, “Something else.”

“You said I could sing anything!”

“Anything but that!”

You squeezed his hand tighter, showing him how irky he was being but he didn’t react. You went through your mental catalog again, going through genre to genre like changing the radio station. And then you hit something good.

“I been on my worst behavior~ but, baby, I don’t need no savior—”

“—Love Ariana, but I don’t wanna hear that.”

You gasped, “How do you know that? You’re an Ari stan?”

Emerald green eyes rolled, “you’ve been playin it like your life depends on it all fuckin week!”

“And another thing, because Positions Deluxe is her best work to date—“

“—god damn, Doll. Just shut up and sing something.”

You grumbled, something about Toji being an ass. But complied none the less. Your eyes went down to your held hands, to the sky, the houses with chimneys puffing out smoking. You started humming an intro, a little joy entering you with each heavy foot step.

“There must’ve been an angel by my siiide~”

“Something heavenly lead me to yooouuu!”

“Look at the sky!” You made your way ahead of Toji, still hand in hand. Some kind of adrenaline hitting you.

“What color is it baby?” Toji hummed.

“It’s the color of loooove~” you belted out.

You weren’t a phenomenal singer, neither was Toji once he joined in. But the man loved seeing that giddy smile on your face, your skin heating up from how much you were smiling you were doing in the moment, breath forming in the harsh winter air, lyrics wrapped in giggles.

He swore he fell in love with you all over again at that moment.

Your voice filling the small Japan streets, as you lead the two of you home.

“Shit, we made it!” You yelped out. Jumping for joy as you two finally made it to the top of the hill where Toji’s fairly traditional home sat.

“Baby come on! it’s freezin!” Toji called out to you as you fooled around outside the gate of the home. You finished your mini rushed project, dusting your hands of snow and snagging the grocery bag to join your spouse and dogs in the awaiting home.

The night was cozy.

You two put a beef stew on before heading to the shower and bath (of course). Eating a much needed, soothing, and itis inducing dinner with a wine for you and a beer for Toji. Sitting comfortably in the large, stolen sweatshirt that once belonged to the older man. The dogs were right at the feet of your bed when the two of you called it a night.

Sade’s ‘Kiss of Life’ filling the both of your ears again, vanilla essential oil diffuser filling the air of your bedroom, putting you two in a much needed, deep slumber.

Snow gently trickled down on your quiet home.

Two small makeshift snowmen sitting comfortably inside of a heart under the stone nameplate of the house that read ‘Fushiguro.’

a/n: my v day post being pure fluff is crazy lol. But happy Valentine’s Day, much love to everyone. Genuinely think Toji isn’t one to do much for Valentine’s Day but he’d always set aside time for you.

[p3achslimes]

caught in my web !

spiderman!charlie x gn!best friend!reader

fluff | tw for a lil bit of blood ig? reader is a little dense LMAO, also swearing

wc. 6k (what in the actual fuck happened here)

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

when he first discovered that such a simple and seemingly harmless spider bite had such irreversible effects on him, charlie, to put it bluntly, was petrified.

even from the moment the spider bit him, for all he knew he could soon be literally petrified by the way the bite was making his arm feel weird already and though he can’t say he’s necessarily well versed in arachnids, that was not a spider he’d ever seen before.

he knew most likely it was just paranoia, but his brain was swirling with worst case scenarios.

nonetheless, it was very late at night and a college student such as himself did not have the money nor the means for an emergency room visit, so he decided to attempt to sleep it off, and if it seemed to be worse in the morning he’d see what he could do.

well, maybe that’s an oversimplification of events.

he’d called you, practically hyperventilating and saying his goodbyes, scaring you shitless as well for a good minute before you’d finally pried out of him what had happened.

luckily, entomology was something you were actually studying, and you had enough knowledge of various spiders that when you arrived at his apartment (for his own peace of mind and yours) you were able to calm him enough to the point that planning his own funeral was no longer at the forefront of his mind.

with the strange spider safely captured in a small jar (as afraid as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to kill it) he felt a little better even just from your calming presence.

(“charlie why did you put a piece of cheese in there?” “i wanted to be hospitable.” “.. cheese.” “i don’t know what spiders eat!”)

you spent the night on his couch that night as well (he hadn’t asked, but you knew if you left he might start typing up a will) so you were able to keep an eye on him.

the next morning charlie wakes up feeling fine, albeit a bit groggy. he flops out of bed, and he rubs the sleep from his eyes as he wanders across the hall to the bathroom.

grabbing his glasses and sliding them on, he looks down at the spot on his arm that he’d been scratching at to check it’s status.

but its.. blurry?

he rubs at his face again and blinks to focus his vision, and the same thing happens.

its not until his hand pushes his glasses up and he gets a view without a lens that he realizes that its actually his glasses that are the issue. he moves them out of the way, and to his shock he can see completely clearly without them. he lifts them up to sit on his head, looking at himself in the mirror, absolutely dumbfounded.

“what.. the fuck?”

“charlie?”

he jumps, banging his knee on the counter.

“jesus! sorry,” you chuckle, hands up. “not a spider!”

“har har,” charlie mocks, massaging his leg, a cute pout on his face.

you step into the bathroom, reaching up to adjust his glasses that had fallen from the crown of his head to the tip of his nose. he squints, rubbing at his temple.

“you.. okay?” you venture, watching him blink hard a few times.

“yeah! uh-“ more blinks, eyes wide- “i’m good.” a fake smile. its your turn to squint, not quite believing him.

you see him instinctively clenching his fist, shaking out his arm a little. you grab it and drag him forward a little to examine the splotch on his forearm.

“mm.” you hum. you brush your fingers along the bump, making a shiver roll up charlie’s spine. he watches you over the rim of his glasses.

“its a little red, but it looks okay. i don’t think it was poisonous.”

“great! uh- cool, that’s good news,” charlie bumbles, an awkward smile on his face.

he stares at you.

you stare at him.

your face is blurry.

he adjusts his glasses.

“right..”

he gulps.

“well. i have a lecture soon, so i should get going.” you give his arm a little pat and release it from your fingers. he nods, scratching at it absentmindedly again.

“still on for movie night later?”

charlie answers without thinking through it.

“of course.” shit.

you grin at him. “great.” shit shit shit.

but the twinkle in your eyes and the way your fingers ruffle through his messy hair makes his heart flutter less with anxiety and more with something.. warmer.

you turn and round the hallway corner and charlie lets out a tense breath he didn’t know he was holding. he knocks into a small table from his lack of clear sight as he follows you, and swiftly blames it on lack of sleep when you quirk a brow at him.

a minute later you’ve gathered your things from the living room, the bottled spider included to take to your class to be studied, and give him a wave as you walk out his front door.

“see you tonight, spider man.”

charlie takes off his glasses once the door is closed behind you, sighing heavily and rubbing a hand down the side of his face. he rubs his thumb across his forearm, your touch lingering in his mind.

“spider man.” he scoffs, but he can’t help the fond smile that turns up his lips.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

“where are your glasses?”

“i got contacts.” charlie lies through his teeth.

“today?” you question incredulously.

“… yeah.”

you clearly don’t believe him, if the way your brow furrows is anything to go by. you’d seem him just a few hours ago.

“is it because i always call you a nerd? you know i mean that affectionately right?” charlie hears the hint of guilt in your voice and panics.

“no! yeah i uh, i do- i just-“ he trails off. he isn’t sure where else to go with this. you catch the awkwardness, watching as he scratches the back of his neck, and decide to let it go before he starts sweating.

“well if you can’t see the screen don’t ask me what happened,” you joke, lightening the mood to charlie’s relief. you set down the snacks you brought and plop down on the couch, propping your feet on the coffee table, remote in hand.

charlie relaxes in his spot next to you, ripping open a bag of chips. “you’d probably be asleep even if i did.” you roll your eyes and smack his arm. charlie lets out a laugh.

fourty five minutes later, charlie does have to ask a question about the movie you’re watching (but not because he couldn’t see, he’s just been daydreaming for most of it.)

and lo and behold, you are asleep, so he’s left to wonder.

charlie starts to reach for his drink on the table in front of him, but you, wrapped around his right arm and sleeping comfortably, tighten your grip when you feel him start to move.

he moves just the left side of his body forward, ever so slowly, wiggling his fingers as he strains to grab his can without disturbing you.

but suddenly, something knocks into the can, denting the side and sending it falling over with a tinny clang against the wood. liquid spills from the opening and dribbles over the side and onto the floor.

“how the fuck-“

“shhh,”

he freezes, looking down at you. you pull him back again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. your cheek presses up against his sleeve, smushing up your face and charlie’s heart almost explodes. he reaches up gently, pushing a tuft of hair away from your face, and you hum happily.

charlie thinks for a second that maybe a stain on his carpet is worth it if he can stay like this forever.

something stuck to his wrist catches his attention.

its a strand of web.

charlie yelps before he can catch himself, frantically flicking his arm to detach it and startles you awake in the process. you let out a similar yelp in practically the same octave as his was, jumping up and clutching tighter onto his bicep.

“what!! what happened?” you squeak.

he doesn’t answer, just continues his task of brushing off every square inch of his body to rid himself of any potential dangers. when he deems himself safe, he looks over at you, and is met with crossed arms and a disgruntled look.

“sorry! sorry,” charlie huffs apologetically. he clears his throat, his face flushing red from embarrassment as he explains, “spider web.”

you chuckle incredulously, rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn. “spider web,” you giggle through a playful smirk. you stand, stretching your limbs, and hobble in the direction the bathroom.

“try not to die out here without me, alright?” you quip as turn the corner.

charlie groans. he gets up himself to grab a towel from the kitchen, coming back to crouch down and sop up the mess still dripping from the table. he picks up the can and tries to set it back on the table top, but it sticks to his hand. even when he uncurls all five fingers from it, its still stuck snugly to his palm.

he uses his other hand to grab it and pry it away, and it disconnects with a sticky snap, leaving multiple strands of web connecting his skin to the metal.

“jesus fucking christ,” he gripes, watching the web strands flutter under his breath.

“oh, there really was a spider web,” it’s charlie’s turn to startle, jumping a bit as he sees you crouched down right beside him, observing the wiggly webs.

charlie gives you an indignant look, one that reads ‘did you think i was lying?’

“honestly i just though you were being paranoid.” charlie rolls his eyes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“sorry! not my fault you’re a scaredy cat!”

“i am not!” he defends, pressing the towel further down into the carpet plush.

you glide your fingers up the back of charlie’s neck in a gentle tickle, and right on cue he lets out a little ‘eek!’, slapping your hand away. he pushes you softly and you giggle, falling back from your crouched stance on your toes and onto your butt. you hug your legs, resting your chin on your knee as you watch him continue to dry up the mess.

“they probably just like you, i know i do.” you drop a little hint at the end. he never seems to catch on.

“they can like me all they want, just far away from me please.” he grumbles, taking the can to the kitchen to toss it in the trash.

“spiders are friends!~” he hears you sing from the other room.

he drops the can into the bin, hoping this is the last of his spider related worries.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

charlie never thought he would ever be friends with spiders. let alone be one.

it took him a while to realize that the spider bite had caused him more trouble than just a slight fear of the nooks and crannies of his apartment. much more trouble.

he discovered that it was him creating the webs he was finding around when he dropped his pen once while writing out some notes for a class, and when he tried to grab it before it hit the ground, he’d caught it with a collection of web strands that shot out of his wrist instead.

he discovered how strong his webs were when he tripped on the staircase while running late one day, spurting out a web that stuck to the wall and caught him, and tugged him upright before he hit the ground.

and he discovered how useful this strange new talent could be outside your apartment.

“so, any news about that spider? you brought it in to study it, right?” charlie asks as nonchalantly as he possibly can.

“oh, actually yes! we think it might be a-“

suddenly a hooded figure runs by, snatching your backpack from right off your shoulders, and sprinting down the sidewalk through a dense crowd of pedestrians.

the stranger nearly knocked you to the ground with the push and shove of stealing your belongings. charlie caught you, steadied you on your feet, and booked it after him, leaving your confused cries to stop behind him.

his speed and reflexes seem to be heightened as he caught up in a few seconds flat, and in a fraction of that time he had a web wrapped around the strap of your bag, pulling it directly into his chest to wrap his arms around, and a leg out to sweep the thief’s legs straight out from under him, sending him face first into the pavement.

you caught up to charlie after a moment, heaving heavily from your tired lungs. your eyes widen at the scene in front of you; a completely unscathed charlie and a nearly unconscious criminal bleeding from the nose below.

“how did-“ you struggle for a full breath. “how did you do that?”

“uhm- adrenaline, i think?” honestly, charlie isn’t quite sure how he did this either.

“charlie, you could have gotten hurt!” you scold him, trying your best to sound steady and serious, but by the way your hands tremble and your voice wavers it tells him you were more worried for his safety than anything else.

“i wasn’t gonna stand there and do nothing,” he says like its the most obvious thing in the world. he settles your bag back on your shoulders, looping your arms through the straps for you. your eyes gloss over and you’re gnawing at your lip like you’re trying your best not to cry.

“your laptop is expensive. we can’t have you lose that,” he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

you let out a trembling laugh, and yank him into a hug him with a full crushing force. “you’re such an idiot,” you whine, and he returns the hug with a chuckle of his own.

charlie isn’t sure how he did this or what exactly is going on, but what he is sure about is that whatever is happening to him, using it to protect you will always be his first priority.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

the idea to become a “hero” of sorts struck charlie one day like a bolt of lightning.

the notion sounds absolutely crazy, charlie knows that, but the circumstances have fallen directly into his lap, and he knows that if he has the ability, the real ability to protect people, he should take it.

he practices his web slinging in private, and he’s gotten quite good at it; he now can do it on command instead of at random, and can control it when he needs to.

(and yes, he’s made all of the jokes, even if he’s the only person around to laugh. he can shoot sticky white goo from his wrists, did you expect him not to be a little silly with it?)

he practices his dexterity in the air out in an old alley that no one has any reason to frequent. in doing so, his muscles have bulked up significantly, and he was flustered beyond belief when you of all people were the one the pointed it out.

he told himself that if he was going to be this new face of justice, he should protect his identity and keep it separate from his personal life. he didn’t want anyone he knew and loved getting involved; if someone got hurt because of him he wouldn’t be able to bare it. so he’s made a few suit prototypes from old clothes and green acrylic paint. he may not be the craftiest, but he made do, and he learned some sewing basics in the process (though you really wouldn’t be able to tell. overall he commissioned someone to make a suit for him.)

the last thing he really needed came to him after he’d successfully helped a woman with an issue involving a man following her down the street late one night. after making sure the woman was safe enough to leave, he attaches his web to a fire escape and is about to swing away.

“what do i call you?” she yells out from below him as he hangs from the rail.

he thinks for a second. web boy? no, that’s dumb. arachnid kid? a little silly, he likes that it rhymes, but it still doesn’t feel right.

and then it hits him.

“spiderman.”

he swings away, and within the next few weeks, ‘spiderman’ is everything that people are talking about.

you included.

“have you seen him?” you ask him excitedly, rocking back and forth on your heels as you both stand in line at your favorite ice cream shop. “he’s so cool!”

he chuckles a little. “i’ve heard of him.” a blush creeps up on his face he hopes you don’t see, but you’re too excited to even notice. “cool, huh?”

“so cool!” you thank the worker for your milkshakes and leave the small shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step outside. “i want to talk to him so bad, i bet he’s so interesting, and he’s probably so cute under the mask,” you daydream out loud as you walk down the sidewalk.

charlie coughs a bit in surprise. “what makes you think that?”

“don’t be jealous,” you poke, a smirk on your face. “just a hunch.”

in a split second you’re suddenly yanked to the very side of the sidewalk by charlie as you’re about to step onto the crosswalk. before you can comprehend why, someone comes barreling through on a bicycle, shouting a faint ‘sorry!’ as they whiz by, the wind fluttering your hair. your milkshake slips from your fingers, a small gasp leaving your lips, and charlie grabs it before it can splatter across the ground, placing it back in your hand for you.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing off your jacket. you don’t answer, still staring off in the direction the bike went in shock. as soon as everything catches up to you, you look at him, eyes wide. “that was insane! when did you get such crazy reflexes?”

“what do you mean?” charlie sweats a little. “didn’t you hear him coming?”

you shake your head. “no that’s not it, you did that so fast, and my drink-“

“i think- i think you were just caught off guard,” he excuses, checking both directions and ushering you forward to keep walking.

“so um. you were talking about spiderman?”

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

and talk about spiderman you did.

specifically, you talk about how you would love to meet him, to speak to him.

so, who would charlie be to keep that from you when he is the one you want to meet?

well unfortunately, it wasn’t his choice.

(how was he supposed to go about that? knock on your door and say “hello random citizen, i’m spiderman! your best friend charlie who i totally don’t know and definitely am not the same person as said you wanted to talk to me”?)

no, in reality, it was a total accident.

he finds himself crash landing onto the roof of your apartment building after a particularly brutal fight he’d gotten himself tied up in, his fatigue and pain not letting him swing any longer to make it all the way back home. he groans loudly, cradling his leg in his arms as he lays on the cold roof in the fetal position.

“spiderman??”

fuck. he knows that voice.

he lifts his head up in the direction it came from, seeing your head pop up over the ledge of the building. before he can say anything, you scramble up from the fire escape and run over to his side.

‘great,’ charlie thinks. this is the second worst byproduct of you having a top floor apartment. (he still remembers how sore he was after having to help you drag your mattress up several flights of stairs when you moved in.)

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i’m good, i just-“ he attempts to stand on his own, but groans again, and crumples under his own weight. its your turn to catch him before he falls.

“oh god, um, i can help! just- here-“ you sling his arm around your shoulder and huddle into his side, and you help him hobble to the edge. he clambers down the fire escape, using his webs to keep him relatively stable, and fumbles through the window and onto the floor of your apartment. he hits the carpet with a thud and a moan.

“sorry! um, i’ll get my first aid kit! i’ll be back!”

you leave and come back in a blind hurry, making quick work of rolling up the torn part of his suit to get a clear enough view of the gash in his leg to start your process. it hurts at first, a lot actually, but the pain subsides not long after. maybe because its you doing it, and he trusts you more than anyone, but he feels so much love and care in your movements.

he lets you focus in quiet for a while before he finally decides to say something.

“for someone who studies bugs and not medicine, you’re pretty good at this.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, wrapping a bandage around his calf. “how do you know i study bugs?”

shit. “just a hunch.”

you glance at him, not convinced.

“the pinned butterflies on your wall.”

“ah,” you say, nodding.

whew.

“maybe i just like butterflies.”

“that could be it too.” he chuckles under the mask. “i mean they’re pretty. like you. so it makes sense.”

you blush, a smile tugging at your lips. “smooth.”

“thanks, i know,” charlie drawls, leaning to suavely rest on his elbow next to him, and hits his head on a table. “ow.” you both laugh.

when you finally get him patched up, he thanks you (he almost leans in for a hug on accident, but settles for a firm handshake instead) and climbs over the windowsill in preparation to take his leave.

“hey, can i ask you something?”

charlie’s heart pounds. “sure.”

“can you.. come back sometime?” you twist your fingers nervously as you ask, avoiding his eyes. “i always wanted to talk to you but, this wasn’t really.. under the best circumstances, i guess.”

charlie’s brain doesnt know if he should say yes, but his heart knows he could never say no to you, spiderman or otherwise.

“of course.” your smile makes it worth it.

he slings a web up onto a bar of the fire escape and flings himself out.

“wait!”

he turns back, glancing back down at you leaning out the windowsill, the chilled wind fluttering your hair.

“i don’t just like butterflies. i like spiders, too.”

charlie grins.

“i didn’t used to like spiders. but i think they’re growing on me.”

and with that, he swings away.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

despite his better judgement, charlie does come back. more than once.

he knows he shouldn’t appear as spiderman in front of you more than he needs to, but it just makes you so happy, it was physically impossible for him not to when he knows he’s the reason for your smile every time.

he sits with you now on the roof of your apartment, the same place you found him the first time, and the same place you two always meet now.

“-and that’s the story of how i met my best friend charlie.” you finish your story, face flushed from laughing, and he’s forever grateful you can’t see his face under his mask. if he’s being honest (having lived through that torture with you) you actually told it way less embarrassing than he remembers it being. whether you perceive it less humiliating than he does or if you’re just gracious enough not to go into detail with strangers he’s not sure, but he’s thankful nonetheless.

“seems like you really care about him.”

“charlie?” you ask, leaning back to rest on the heels of your hands. “well, yeah. he’s my favorite person in the whole world. don’t you feel that way about your best friend, too?”

charlie feels his face heat up. “yeah, um. you pretty much took the words right out of my mouth.”

“yeah? tell me about them. what’s their name?”

“hey, whoa,” charlie lifts his hands in defense. “ask me about my favorite ninja turtle all day, but i can’t be giving out my best friend’s identity. why do you think i wear the mask?”

you laugh, nodding in understanding. “okay, okay, fair.”

a comfortable silence falls for a moment, and charlie watches you gaze at the stars above the city lights.

“you remind me of him, you know.”

“huh?” charlie snaps back into the present.

“charlie. you guys seem really similar, honestly. same mannerisms, same cologne-“ you know the smell of his cologne? “you say things sometimes that i definitely think he would say. same favorite ninja turtle, too.”

he never really realized you paid this much attention to him. his heart flutters.

“ehh, i don’t know. guy sounds like a total nerd.”

you snort out a laugh. “oh he is,” ouch?? “but he’s my nerd. i love him just how he is. i wouldn’t change a single thing about him.”

“.. you love him?”

another silence. this one a little more.. tense.

“i love all my friends, but charlie is.. different.”

“different how?”

“i’m not in love with my other friends.”

charlie’s brain nearly short circuits right then and there. how he gets a single comprehensible sentence out of his mouth after that is honestly beyond him. but he’s not charlie right now, he’s spiderman.

“i’m in love with my best friend too.”

“really?” you look at him, a sense of hope in your eyes, like you just found the only other person in the world in the same position as you. if you only knew.

“this,” he motions to his suit, and in turn the whole act of being spiderman at all. “its for them. i help everyone i can, of course, but,” he seems to be lost in thought for a second, drumming his fingers on his knee. “like you said, they’re different. i’d do anything for them. anything at all.”

you tilt your head at him. “wow, who knew a superhero could be so sappy.”

“yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively. “my bad, gotta protect my stone cold image.” you huff out a laugh.

“have you told them?”

“no.”

“why?”

“same reason as you, i’m guessing.”

“fear?”

“fear.”

a knowing look is passed between you.

“my best friend doesn’t actually know i’m spiderman.”

“wait really?” you ask, surprised.

“how am i supposed to tell them that? ‘hey by the way i’m risking my life every day for you!’ that seems like a horrible conversation.”

you chuckle. “yeah, i get that. i suppose its similar to the reason you haven’t confessed. the fear of rejection is present either way.”

“exactly,” he sighs.

after a second, a light bulb seems to come on above your head. “hey, i’ve got an idea. you tell your best friend you’re spiderman, and i’ll tell my best friend i’m in love with him.”

“that’s a terrible idea,” charlie admits through a chuckle.

“is it?” you feign indignant. “if they love us, they’ll accept us, right?”

charlie thinks it over for a second, his heart racing so fast he hopes you can’t hear it.

“okay. deal.”

you grin. “perfect.”

how the fuck is he gonna do that?

“charlie should actually be on his way, i’ll call him to make sure.”

shit. shit. he forgot about movie night.

you pull out your phone, tapping quickly to find his contact and press your phone to your ear. charlie panics, pulling his phone from his suit just as it starts to ring, and presses end as soon as he can reach the button.

you give him a puzzled look, and he huffs nervously. “sorry, scam calls.” he shoves his phone into his suit before you can see it.

“hm. it went straight to voicemail. that’s odd,” you muse, glancing at the ‘call ended’ screen.

“maybe he’s driving. yknow, gotta stay safe,” he bumbles, nerves flooding his system as he stands up and dusts off the back of his legs. “hey listen, its been great, but i just remembered i have to go-“

“wait, wait!” you jump up as well, grabbing onto his gloved hand. “can you stay for just a minute? i think charlie would really love to meet you!”

“i really uh- its- its important- i should-“

“it’ll just be a second! i promise! don’t move!” you plead, pointing at his feet as if that could cast a spell to keep him here. you give his hand a squeeze, and before charlie can stop you, you hop down the fire escape and scurry back into your apartment.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

charlie is fucked. absolutely fucked.

as soon as he sees you disappear into your apartment to wait for, well, him, he slings himself down to an alley to ‘charlie’ himself up.

luckily, he has spare clothes stored across the city in case of emergencies like this. he stuffs his hand through a hole in the bricks of an abandoned building and pulls out a backpack, and as quickly as he possibly can, he pulls his clothes on over his suit, shoves his mask in and zips it up. he ruffles his messy hair in an attempt to seem a more presentable type of messy, and sprints out into the street.

now trekking up the stairs toward your apartment door, he thinks there wasn’t even really a logical reason to do this. he could have just told you right then that it was him, but something inside him told him that wasn’t the right time or place.

stopping in front of your door, he prepares himself, catching his breath before he knocks.

you swing it open, a huge smile on your face.

“charlie! i have something to show- why are you so sweaty?”

“i uh- i was running late so i ran.” he fumbles for an excuse. he walks in and is about to kick off his shoes when you grab his arm, dragging him across the living room to your window.

“come with me first! i have something to show you!” you say, brimming with excitement.

“hold on- i need to-“

“hurry!” you squeal, and hop out the window to climb the ladder. charlie internally groans, following after you.

he grabs the rungs and hoists himself up behind you. “can i tell you something first?” he calls upwards. “its important!”

“this is important too! he has to be somewhere!”

oh, so now you listen to that information.

when his head pops up above the ladder to see the rooftop, you’re already looking around, confused.

“where did he-“

“why are we up here?”

“i’m looking for someone! he said he would stay for a second,” you whine.

he never actually agreed to that, but he’ll let it slide.

you grip the barrier of the roof and pull yourself up to stand on the ledge, putting your arms out to steady yourself as you survey the area.

“what are you doing!” charlie yells, running up to you and grabbing your waist to prevent you from falling. “you have terrible balance!”

“relax, i’m fine. maybe if i fall he’ll come back to swoop in and save me.” you joke, lifting your hand up over your eyes like a lookout.

and as if the universe took that as some sort of sick challenge, a huge gust of wind blows through, knocking your balance off. you tilt forward with a strained yelp, flailing your arms. charlie tries to grip your belt loops but they slip from his fingers, and he lets out an exasperated ‘fuck!’

bracing yourself for a horrendous fall, you let out a scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

but it never comes. you’re suspended in the air, but there’s no wind rushing up, no sinking feeling in your gut, everything just.. stopped.

you pop an eye open, met with the rough red texture of the brick in front of you. you follow your arm that’s outstretched above you upward, expecting somehow to see charlie’s grip wrapped around your wrist, but instead you see a bracelet of weaved white. you lock eyes with him, a terribly worried expression on his face, the same white around your wrist attached to the underside of his.

for the first time, it all clicks together.

the webs in his apartment. the way they have the same voice, same habits. the way the spider on the suit is charlie’s favorite shade of green. his change in demeanor these past few weeks. charlie having a limp from the same leg spiderman injured at the same time. the fact that you called him spiderman the very first time. it all finally makes sense.

“you-.. you’re-..”

“surprise,” charlie whispers, a small, guilty smile on his face.

“can you. pull me up, please?” you tremble.

“oh! yeah, sorry.” charlie brings you in with ease, grabbing firmly onto your body until you’re sat on your knees on the safety of the roof. you lunge forward, trapping charlie in a bone crushing hug, like if you let him go you’d fall right back over the edge with no one to save you again. he feels that you’re still shaking, and wraps himself around you with equal fervor.

how could you have been so stupid? so clueless? you had every single piece of the puzzle, yet you were so blind to the placements.

it hits you then, that you had confessed to him without knowing it.

charlie pulls you back when you stop trembling, and holds onto your shoulders, scanning you for any injuries. “are you okay?”

when he locks eyes with you, he sees how flustered you look, the blush on your face, and he has to bite his lip to supress a smile.

“well, this is a little awkward,” he chuckles.

“you’re such an idiot,” you scoff, but he hears no real weight in your words.

“i should have known. no ones favorite ninja turtle is leonardo except yours.”

“don’t bring my boy into this.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“well i think spiderman already explained that.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, he told me quite a bit actually. some pretty gushy stuff.” charlie whines nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“big mouth on that guy, huh.”

“charlie.”

“hm?”

“i have something to tell you.”

he smiles shyly. “yeah?”

you grab charlie by the zipper of his jacket, pulling you together to connect your lips in a kiss. his hands immediately find your waist to pull you closer, practically falling on top of him. he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. you sigh happily in tandem.

after a second your hands find the sides of his face and you pull away, giggling at how you both can’t stop smiling and its making it hard to continue.

“i love you, charlie.”

“i love you, too.”

you run your thumb across his bottom lip, admiring the contours of his face and how his goofy grin and lidded eyes are so full of warmth.

“don’t you have something to confess to me, too?”

“i still don’t like spiders.”

“charlie!” you push him back by the chest and he laughs, wrapping his arms completely around your torso.

he wiggles his fingers up your spine in a crawling motion, making you shiver and swat him away in a fit of giggles. he leans in close to your ear, and whispers-

“i’m spiderman.”

— 🕸️🕷️🕸️ —

tagging @slcmml i hope u like it <3

[slippinmickeys]

I have come to you for information, O Wise One. o.o

Can you outline what is normal and not when it comes to showrunners, producers, and executive overhead? For example: what was normal, what was abnormal, and what expected in Chris's battles with Fox? How much control was he already expected to have before The X-Files took off? What are lies or obfuscation on his end? What is the truth behind his claims? Or how can one decipher without an intimate knowledge of behind-the-scenes workings? (For my part: lots and lots of interview deep-diving.)

He often said he had to protect his vision from outside forces... but as far as I've seen, CC ended up getting his way most (if not all) of the time. On the one hand, I get preserving inspiration to keep an endeavor close to one's own "truth"... but on the other, it seems his protective streak went into overdrive more often than not. And, even more often than not, when it wasn't warranted. (I get it stems from his childhood circumstances and etc., but there comes a time when leniency needs to be met with reality. )

I'm not really sure what I'm asking because I don't know what to ask. So. I lay this out to you and hope you can spot and inform my ignorance. :DDDDDDD

I’m not that wise, I’ve just been around the game a long time, have a lot of friends who write for film and television (including showrunners) and have seen a lot. With the initial caveat of pointing out that I have far more experience in film than I do in television—I’m certainly not an authority, though I’ve been around the block—I do feel like I can at least speak to what I’ve seen.

As I’m sure you already know, in television, showrunners are the ultimate authority. They oversee not just the creative direction of the show—running the writers room, hearing pitches on story, shooting down bad ideas, running with good ones—but also the budget, the physical production, post, everything. They’re the intermediary with the studio, who hold the purse strings, and can wield some control, but if you’re a wily enough showrunner, you find a way to get your way, and I think Chris Carter is as wily as they come. It’s a hard job. You have to wear a lot of hats and juggle a lot of everything, and the burnout rate is HIGH. For someone to last as long as Chris Carter has and did (on a show that got as big globally as almost any show ever has) speaks to his capability and guile. (I speak to his capability and guile as Hollywood animal, by the way, I have as many problems with his choices on story and show direction as anyone else.)

Before the show took off, he still would have had a decent amount of power, just in the inherent nature of Showrunner As Position. And Fox was such a young network at the time, I think he was probably a very capable smooth talker, able to navigate his way in order to get his way amongst the various machinations of a studio that was still finding its way. As the show got big and the network got bigger, I think he was given the benefit of the doubt…a lot. I can’t speak to all the battles he had with the network, but I think we have to take him at his word that he won most of them. For better or worse. This was a man who made Fox a LOT of money. I think he’s a guy who knew how to navigate the system he was in and ultimately stayed on top of the snow in every avalanche.

As for lies, truth and obfuscation on his end? I can’t speak to that. I wasn’t there, I don’t know. I can only follow the things that happened as were reported at the time—as you are so capably (honestly, I bow to your skill) doing now, all these years later. You ask how one can decipher these things without an intimate knowledge of behind-the-scenes workings? One can’t. behind-the-scenes workings are different on every show, within every network, and things now don’t work exactly like they used to due to the nature of the ever-evolving beast. Bottom line, only those who were there really know.

What I can say is that I have spoken to him in an intimate setting (as intimate as you can get eating lunch with twenty other people, though I sat directly across from him, and due to the nature of my life experience and job, wasn’t as nervous as I think some of my peers were, so I feel like I was able to absorb a lot), we spoke mainly about the show, and a lot of the stuff he told us “Clyde Bruckman’s prediction of Scully’s immortality informed all the choices I made after that, including Tithonus!” I fucking believed it as I was sitting there. (In retrospect I’m kind of like “…god, really?” But he has an undeniable charisma. And I gotta say, I get why he got his way.)

I wish a lot of things when it comes to this show and his choices. I wish he’d kept a show bible, for one. (“I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist.” JESUS FUCKING CHRIST) But I do respect a lot of what we DID get, and I think we have to give credit where it’s due. Even if David Duchovny and Kim Manners and Gillian Anderson and whoever else wielded their influence where they thought it was necessary. The buck stopped at Chris Carter. That’s just the nature of the television beast. And for a man to survive in his position as long as he did…that man had some serious game. Again, for better or worse.

I’m not sure I answered your questions. Maybe I’m talking completely out of my ass. But this is how I see it.

[wh0rrorb4by]

Neeeed to hear more about uncle tsumu 🙈

tw: stepcest, noncon/dubcon, crybaby reader, mean uncle ‘tsumu, noncon kissing + touching, size

18+, mdni

a/n: PLS i've been wanting to write this for so long 💗 hope u love it!! i love love love the miya twins

.

mean uncle 'tsumu who sees how well his brother's trained you, and now he wants a piece of the pie.

"better not tell on me, either." he grunts. "wouldn't wanna get yer favorite uncle in trouble, would ya?"

you're shaking like a leaf. you don't even want to think about what your daddy will do if he catches you letting your uncle stuff you full of cock. god, this is so much worse than when he sneaks nasty, wet kisses from you when daddy leaves the room, or asks you to rub his sore muscles when he’s shirtless and still glistening with sweat from his morning run. you like your uncle a lot — love him, even. you really do. he’s your daddy’s fun, silly brother who makes you laugh a lot, and who’s a little too generous come your birthday and holidays. the one who encourages you to stay up late and watch scary movies and eat too much pizza when he comes over some weekends. he’s right, you don’t want to get him in trouble.

but letting isn't really the word for what's going on. you're only taking it because he’s got your face pressed down into your mattress, his other hand holding your hip to keep you upright as he takes you from behind. the tv’s on in the background, a volleyball match or something he put on to drown out the sounds of your cries and whines for your uncle to ease up on you. he’s not daddy, he shouldn’t be doing this, he doesn’t belong in there. daddy will be so mad when he finds out. you tried to tell him, tried to warn him what your daddy will do if he catches you, tried to beg him to just use your hand instead when he pulled you onto his lap and made you feel what you did to him. you cried and apologized and told him you really didn’t mean to, you didn’t know that anyone other than daddy could get all hard and leaky like that just from a little kissing. you didn’t really wanna kiss anyway, almost wincing when you remembered how hard daddy’s palm came down on your bare ass the last time he caught wind of uncle ‘tsumu squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered and making you kiss him until he was satisfied.

daddy warned you not to let uncle ‘tsumu touch you again. he warned uncle ‘tsumu, too, got in his face about it real bad, made you think they were going to really start fighting. they only stopped because you jumped in between them, crying and blushing and choking out that it was your fault, that you told uncle ‘tsumu it’s okay to kiss you the way daddy does because you didn’t know any better. that was before daddy ever gave you his cock, and back then you didn’t really know why you felt all needy and empty. being squished in between them, their much taller and solid bodies pressed against you as one stared down at you in anger and the other stared down at you in complete and utter adoration — it made you tremble, made your knees weak and your tummy flutter. but you’re broken in now, adjusted to taking a cock nearly identical to the one that was pounding into you now, but the feeling was different because it wasn’t your daddy this time.

“answer me, darlin’,” he cooed in your ear, his hard chest pressed against your back. you arched a little more for him the way daddy likes, just out of habit. “oh, fuck, that’s good— that’s a good girl. ya love yer uncle, hm?”

you’re crying, choking out a weak yes because you do. he knows you do. but you love your daddy, too. so much. you feel like you’re going to faint. it’s too much, the stress of your daddy walking in at any moment—

“hey, relax, yer squeezin’ me too tight,” he grunts. he pulls out nearly all the way, so just the fat head of his cock is still inside you. “‘samu’s not comin’ home anytime soon, so just relax.” he mutters, sinking back in slowly until he’s buried deep inside again. you whine, and he pets your hair as tears slip past your eyes, then trails his hands down your back, kneading and massaging in certain areas that help soothe you a little. from there they trail down to your ass, rubbing soft circles into the skin until he suddenly grips the flesh in his strong hands — hard enough to make you yelp.

“and who’s to say my punishment’s not worse than his, huh?” he asks in your ear. his tone isn’t mean, still as cheerful as ever as he uses the bruising grip he has on your hips to move you up and down his length, fucking into your sweet spot over and over as you cry. “stop worryin’ so much about that bastard, and start worryin’ about what i’m gonna do to ya when i lose my patience.”

you turn your face to bury it into the sheets beneath you, hoping to muffle some of the screams that leave you as he fucks you harder. it’s brutal, but blinding all the same as he pushes you to the edge. daddy would pinch your clit to make you cum with a jerk, put you out of your misery as your body shakes with need, but uncle ‘tsumu’s not letting you off that easy.

“that’s it, that’s a slutty little girl,” he groans. “might just tell yer daddy about this myself. let him know what his little baby does when she’s left all alone with another man’s cock.”

you cry a little harder at that. it’s not fair. you didn’t want this, didn’t ask for it. only thought about daddy the whole time his brother made your pussy all wet. well— thought about him as much as you could, but after uncle ‘tsumu’s fat cockhead pushed up against your sweet spot, it was sort of hard to think at all. it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. your brain’s all fuzzy and you’re crying and you just wanna get kissed a lot because you’re about to cum.

“oh, yer squeezin’ me, princess. ya gonna cum, hm? does gettin’ punished turn ya on?” he teases. you wanna shake your head, say no, wanna whine and scream til your daddy comes to rescue you. but you can’t, because now you’re on the edge, dizzy and blushing and panting as you reach your high.

“maybe we’ll both get to punish ya. stuff ya full of yer two favorite cocks and see how long you last.”

that’s all it takes to make you cum around him— hard. it’s blinding, makes your whole body shake and spasm as he fucks you through it. you’re nodding, completely dumb and cock-hungry while he fills you with his cum. you can hear yourself babbling but can’t be bothered to think about the words as they tumble out. yeah, you want it. you want both of them, wanna be full. wanna make them proud. you want to break for them.

it seems so right, so blissful as he collapses on top of you, still keeping you full of his cock as he wraps you in his arms. he’s not daddy — doesn’t have quite the same feel or smell. close, but not completely identical. but it feels right all the same. you love him, you really do. wanna love them both forever.

that bliss comes screeching to a halt as you hear keys jingling, then the front door open and shut. you move on impulse, heart pounding as you squirm and writhe beneath uncle ‘tsumu, trying to push him off, panicking as your daddy’s footsteps come a little closer.

“shhh, darlin’, it’s just yer daddy,” he mumbles, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “why don’t you tell him what you just told me?”

[pascaloverx]

I don’t know if you taking requests but I have one if you are!

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader; they are married and the reader finds out everything and on top of that he is cheating on her with Megan (aka Lois was right) and leaves him without him knowing until he gets home and finds her and all of her stuff gone. She later finds out she’s pregnant (though she was told that she couldn’t before) while she’s staying with Lois and Charlie finds out the hard way when she’s in the hospital either something happened like she gets attacked or something but she doesn’t lose the baby OR she’s in their for a check up or had said baby.

I love the way you write him and absolutely love Haunted!! Also you can change it however you like!!

BACK TO BLACK

Summary: You and Charlie have been married for a few years, but something feels off. You've been growing distant, caught in the struggle of trying to expand your family through adoption. But then, something happens—something that changes your life for the worse.

Author's Note: I’m honored by this request and hope you enjoy what I’m preparing for this fanfic. If it goes well, I can certainly guarantee more chapters. The story will include betrayal, marital issues, and pregnancy. Engage if you like it! I would like to say that other requests are welcome and that I loved writing this chapter. If you like the chapter, interact. The chapter will contain inappropriate language and explicit adult content. Minors should not interact.

AO3 LINK

ONE (+18)

At times, you have wondered how one knows when a marriage is over—if there is a sign that marks the end or if you simply wake up one day and decide to leave the man you love. For better or for worse seems far too abstract. Even now, as your husband holds you gently, pressing his body against yours. Once again, he has returned from work with a heavy expression, carrying the scent of a sweet perfume. If only he weren’t so handsome in that white coat, perhaps you would be able to think clearly enough to question him.

"My hermosa esposa, how did you spend your day?" Charlie asks, his hands settling on your waist as he embraces you from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Aunt Lois took me shopping. She advised me to start buying furniture for our child’s room," you say, turning to look at your husband, who does not seem pleased.

"I don’t like you getting ahead of yourself about having a child. Buying furniture and clothes is premature. That imaginary child does not exist yet," Charlie replies, his tone edged with bitterness, as if the idea of preparing a nursery had been weighing on him for some time.

"I should have known you would react this way," you say, pulling your husband's arms away from you. It is almost as if, little by little, he is becoming a stranger—a complete stranger.

"If this continues, it would be best if we abandoned this altogether," you say, your gaze serious as you look at him.

"You want to give up on the idea of adoption?" Charlie asks, and you watch him closely, trying to decipher his thoughts. Deep down, you are almost certain he is relieved at the mention of giving up.

"Perhaps I want to give up on my husband," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. Charlie’s expression remains unreadable for a moment, his sharp eyes studying you in silence. Then, ever so subtly, the corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown.

"Don't speak like that, mi vida," he says, holding your face and pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. "You are the reason I live." Charlie’s voice is low as he leans in, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin.

"I love you, Charlie, but if you don’t want to build a future with me, then it’s best that I move on with my imaginary child, and you with your own life," you murmur. It hurts to say it. You don’t want to give up on your marriage—but with each passing day, it feels as though the man before you is slipping further away.

"Forgive me if I gave the impression that I don’t want a future for us. I just think what we have now is already good," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips. Your eyes close, surrendering to his touch. It’s always like this.

"What we have now is you being a successful doctor and me being a journalist who gave up the column I was responsible for because it required too much time away from home. I thought at least one of us should be present to care for our child—but we don’t have a child yet. And I remain here, waiting for some form of company," you confront him.

Some time ago, you tried to conceive, but due to a medical condition, none of your pregnancies survived. Eventually, the weight of it began carving an emotional void within you, a void that only seemed to push Charlie further away. He never put words to what he was feeling, and perhaps that was what hurt the most.

"I can keep you company now," Charlie says as he puts his hands on the strap of the dress you're wearing. He slowly pulls your dress down as you believe you should be discussing your relationship, but feeling his gentle touch on you, you feel like you can connect with him once more. "Eres deliciosa, I hope I'm being clear about this," Charlie says as he finally gets rid of your dress.

"As much as you're praising me, I don't know if fucking now will help us, mi esposo ," you speak with a shaky voice as you feel the touch of Charlie's hands on your exposed breasts. His cold fingers touched your nipples, causing you a pleasant sensation as he went from caressing your nipples to lightly squeezing them. You bite your lip holding back a moan that is almost escaping your mouth.

"Mi vida, being between your legs, feeling your juicy pussy around my cock, will always be the best option to help," he says as he pulls your neck. Immediately his lips capture yours, before you can even say anything. And quickly you feel something soften inside you, not just your legs but your heart. Charlie's arms hold your body, naked. By chance, you were without panties and bra, because the dress you were wearing was tight. He lifts you off the ground, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. His fingers pressing into your ass with a force that makes you gasp, while you cling to his neck, kissing every detail. You can't remember the last time he held you in his arms, that he wanted to be so close to you. "Doctor Charlie Mayhew, you are overdressed," you murmur in his ear as you nibble on his earlobe.

"Why don't you help me with this, Mrs. Mayhew?" he says as he places you on the edge of the bed. His body raised in front of you, his cock visibly erect covered by his pants so close to your face. He then takes your hand, putting two of your fingers in his mouth and sucking. The erotic look he gives you is enough to make you hot inside, you remove your fingers from his mouth and hurry to help him take off his clothes. You remove his lab coat, then unbuttoning his shirt and taking off his tie.

"Tell me how much you want to have me inside you, mi vida," he says as he gently pushes you down onto the bed. Then he gets on top of you, licking your lips and then kissing you deeply. His tongue entering your mouth and sucking yours as you lost yourselves in each other in the middle of the kiss. He uses his hands to separate your legs, running his fingers over your pussy, making you shiver slightly. Your pussy is wet, you can feel how easy it is for Charlie to run his fingers under it, as if he's just teasing you.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me," you mutter. He chuckles as he gently presses two fingers onto your clit, while kissing your neck. He sucks the skin on your neck as he enters your pussy with both fingers, inserting them into you slowly.You arch your body slowly, feeling pleasure build inside you as his fingers they come in and out of you faster and faster. You moan slowly as you watch him give a naughty smile watching you squirm. You feel your orgasm approaching, as you make increasingly loud noises at the stimulation Charlie is giving your pussy. You dig your nails into Charlie's back as you scratch him, feeling him inside you with so much passion. He then takes his fingers out of you, licking them and slapping your pussy, making you grunt.

"I'll give you what you wanted so much, hermosa," Charlie speaks as He removes his belt from his pants and lowers his pants and underwear with admirable speed. You place your hand under his cock, stroking his cock with your hands and gently squeezing the tip of it. He mutters "mierda" while feeling your hand stimulate his cock, feeling his pre-cum lubricate your hand making the movements more slippery. He squeezes your breasts as he massages them, causing you to let out a soft moan. Quickly, he holds your hand, kissing the hand that was previously on his dick and without delay, puts his cock in your pussy. His first movement is slow, as you get used to his cock inside you, but quickly amidst your attempts to assist with his movements, he begins to thrust his cock in you more quickly. You can't contain your moans as you feel him nibble on your neck and hold your legs upwards, to bring your body even closer to his. You drag your fingers down his back as you force him deeper into you, grinding slightly. You pull on Charlie's hair as you feel your orgasm coming, feeling the sweat from your bodies mix as your husband continues to explore your body with his hands. You let out a loud grunt as your husband thrusts deeper into you, as your cum melts his cock.

As you cum, he squeezes your ass tightly, making you even more horny for him. His balls slapping against your pussy as he still thrusts his cock into you, while your pussy is sensitive from cumming. You hold on tight against him as you try to keep your legs steady on his waist even though you feel a slight weakness in your body as you recover from the orgasm. Charlie says your name as he cums inside you, and you feel his cum spurt inside you hard, making you let out a loud involuntary moan. Charlie licks your neck moving up to your face and kissing your lips.

"I hope you're ready for round two, mi vida," he says as he runs his fingers down to your pussy, feeling his cum dripping down your pussy and pressing his hand against your sensitive pussy, giving it a light slap under it. You sigh as you prepare for another round of sex with your hot husband.

"I'm always ready for more of you," you whisper against your husband's lips as you feel him take control of your body. He has always had this power over you—the power to ignite you, to give you exactly what you need to feel whole. Sexually, the two of you share an otherworldly connection.

But then the night fades into dawn, and once again, your husband slips out of bed. It isn’t a medical emergency—his pager never went off—but you definitely heard him receive a message.

After several long minutes of pretending to sleep, you wait for him to leave before following him. You are certain now—he is hiding something. It has been weeks since Aunt Lois first warned you that something about Charlie felt off, and now you need to know what is so important that he had to leave your bed in such a hurry.

You remember all the advice Aunt Lois gave you for moments like this. You’re using your own car, keeping a safe distance, wearing a disguise. And yet, Charlie doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious.

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you see where he finally parks. Megan Duval’s house. More specifically, Detective Megan Duval. She and Aunt Lois are partners, though their relationship has been strained ever since Lois suspected Megan was angling for a promotion. Thinking back, Megan used to visit Aunt Lois’s house often. And Charlie never minded going there either. Coincidence or not, Charlie suddenly became too busy to attend Aunt Lois’s dinners—just as Megan stopped going as well.

Then you see him. Charlie steps out of his car, smoothing his tousled hair—hair you ran your fingers through just hours ago. He straightens his shirt, a fleeting effort to compose himself before heading toward her door.

Your body tenses as you watch him smile, a smile you once thought was meant only for you. He nearly rushes to her, and she opens the door as if she had been waiting, as if this were routine. Without hesitation, she throws herself into his arms, and he kisses her. Passionately. His hands find her waist, pulling her close with a familiarity that makes your stomach turn. Then, slowly, one of them slides down to caress her backside.

Your heart shatters. Your blood boils. Tears blur your vision as you watch them disappear inside, and the weight of reality crashes down on you. The man you built your life around, the man you sacrificed for, the man you loved—he is gone. Or maybe he was never truly yours.

Every instinct screams at you to get out of the car, to tear her house apart, to make him regret this betrayal. Years of devotion, of trying to give him a child, of bending yourself to fit the shape of his life—wasted. You want to scream. You want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But more than anything, you want to be free. And that will only be possible if he never sees it coming.

Your hands grip the wheel tighter as you drive home, heart pounding in your chest. The moment you step inside, you move with purpose. A suitcase—essentials only. Clothes, documents, enough to disappear for a while. But as you pack, rage takes over.

You shatter every framed photo of the two of you, as if breaking the glass could erase the years you wasted on him. You tear apart his favorite clothes, rip them to shreds. His expensive colognes? Smashed, their luxurious scent mixing with the bitter stench of betrayal. Then, an idea forms. If Charlie takes his time realizing you’re gone, it will be even easier to slip away. With renewed determination, you grab every bottle of alcohol he cherishes and pour them over the furniture, the floors, every surface in sight. By the time your bag is packed into the car, the house is drenched in liquor.

Standing at the door, you flick open a lighter—one you haven’t used in years. You quit smoking when you started trying for a child, when you still believed in the future you were building together. That future is gone now. So you let the past burn. The flames catch instantly, licking hungrily at the alcohol-soaked wood. You took the batteries out of the smoke detectors. There are no neighbors nearby. By the time Charlie realizes what’s happened, he’ll have nothing left. You slide into the driver’s seat, heart racing, and dial Aunt Lois.It’s time to tell her everything. As you drive away, the fire glows in your rearview mirror. But you don’t look back.

Months later, you struggle to carry a package into your new home. Aunt Lois made your escape possible, securing a false identity and forged documents so you could start over. You relocated to the family's countryside house in another state, renting it under your new name for a modest sum—just enough to avoid suspicion.

They never found your body in the fire, so you were declared missing. You abandoned your car in a river before boarding a train that took you close to your new home. Now, you drive a rented car, living in this secluded house, far enough from prying eyes. The people in town seem to like you—you’re not sure if it’s because of your demeanor or because you're a pregnant woman living alone.

Yes, Charlie managed to get you pregnant—perhaps in one of the few times he hadn’t even tried. Now, you spend your days working as a waitress in a local restaurant and ghostwriting for a newspaper. You need every bit of income to prepare for the arrival of your child.

But something is wrong. There’s someone inside your house. You spot the intruder from a distance, rummaging through your belongings. Your pulse quickens as you slip back to your car, your fingers closing around the gun in the glove compartment. You don’t give him a chance—once you have a clear shot, you fire.

He collapses, blood pooling beneath him. You approach, cautious but steady. He’s still breathing, but barely. Then, as you turn his body over, your world tilts. "Y/N... is it really you?" Charlie rasps, his voice weak, his hand grasping at your leg as if trying to convince himself you’re real.

You stare down at him, heart pounding. "Charlie," you whisper. Your hand instinctively moves to your belly, feeling your baby stir inside you. What a cruel twist of fate.

[starlight-eclipsed]

Very random but if the chain ever happens to visit legend's time again

Or even worse they happen to visit legato’s era and get dropped in front of legend's hut

And Ravio happens to be there …

Oh boy , I can only imagine the sheer salt and acidity in legato’s entire being as Ravio ends up getting “friendly” with Legend

While legato is seething with rage in the background at the display of affection and feeling deeply hurt at it

Because Ravio would always rather choose his older still hylian and more mature looking self over him

He did prove it when he got back to him

Even if legato felt so much more comfortable as a dopple Ravio would only see it as his death being disgraced by this circumstances

He did never get to hold a funeral for legend

Legend died in his eyes and a doppelgänger took his place not giving him the opportunity to mourn

Which both probably are in the right in some way because Ravio couldn’t bare it any longer to see legend get hurt over and over again while he sees him become less and less the person he once was for better and worse

While legato was given the opportunity to no longer be in pain at the expenses of his mortal body and he was more or less comfortable with the losses of many things that came with being a dopple the eventual rejection would hurt in a way nothing ever hurt before

He lost Marin through circumstances and it hurt

But he never experienced the kind of pain of being rejected by someone he loved the way he was now

While he still has to deal with the fact the person is alive and very much just over it

He probably copes like shit with it because he has no idea what to do about it other then put it in a box and pray he never has to deal with it (master at suppressing trauma and pain that he is)

He already is kinda unhappy about the way he looks

It would get so much worse when he sees that Ravio likes legend more (even if it is a version of Ravio who doesn’t even know who the random kid that looks at him with ill intent even is )

The sheer hit to his self esteem would be the equivalent of a nuke going off

Complete annihilation

The sheer amount of jealousy that would then proceed to generate towards legend as a result (even if he doesn’t want to)

Lil guy would throw a hissy fit at the very notion of legend and Ravio being in general proximity while he can’t do anything about it

And he is both happy for them and also intensely bothered because he knows exactly how painful it would be when it ends and he doesn’t want this pain for legend to experience as well

The chain meanwhile would be concerned why Ravio seems to bother legato too such an intense degree

He would have a hard time explaining why exactly he is seething at Ravio and probably get Ravio killed by accident when he messes up one single excuse for his intense sad meow meow behavior and why he wants to protect legend from the guy who kinda broke up with him and he never really had the time to get over it but that part he obviously can’t name lol he just doesn’t like scammers and there is no other reason whatsoever

But with the context that he is in a very very exploiting industry

By himself with no real support system

And apparently hates scammers with a passion to the point where he throws his first ever tantrum in front of the chain over it

When he always seemed to be a happy go lucky lil dude with only sunshine and rainbow energy to the point where getting maimed and being on the death bed is taken with a smile and no problem

He still is legend after all he can get bitter as a lime it would probably need a lot nonetheless because he is hanging around with his brothers to get his mood sour enough to metamorphose back into legend … like having to deal with his ex and a version of himself who he hopes won’t get dealt just as horrible of a hand as him

The chain gotta wonder just how worse it can show itself to be

Okay, quick disclaimer before I fully answer this: Ravio's side of things is more complicated than Legato knows. The situations you're describing would not play out that way in the series due to a variety of factors.

That said, I do enjoy angst and can appreciate the directions you're taking with this, so let's get into it :D

Either way you go, Ravio would probably be more comfortable interacting with Legend. And as you mentioned, Legato has a tendency towards avoidance whenever he can get away with it--he spent most of their visit to Legend's era hiding away and not really interacting with anyone.

Granted, he was able to get away with this because of the incident in Kakariko. Everyone thought he was upset about that and elected to give him space so long as he didn't wander too far. This would not be the case should they end up in Legend's era again.

With the newfound context that Legato is Legend's sort-of successor, Legato would have to be careful about the others interpreting his awkwardness as meaning something regarding Ravio's future. He could play it off as trying to avoid influencing the timeline too much with what he knows of it. But if he slips...

A Plot: Legend has a (not so) mild crisis, spiraling as he tries to figure out what Legato's attitude towards Ravio means. Time and Twilight try to reassure him but fail miserably due to their own personal struggles with trying to fix the past--ultimately Wild turns out to be the voice of reason, to everyone's surprise (minor callback to that LU comic about Kings of Hyrule, wherein Wind lectures Wild about fighting for the future).

B Plot: Legato sneaks off since staying in Legend's house will drive him insane, Wind and Four follow him. Wind specifically points out that it'll be good to have him along for emergencies since his pirate charm can connect to Wild's slate. They get to have a fun day of visiting the different treasure caves and mini games (and trying to cheat at them) scattered around central Hyrule. As a nice break from the angst.

C Plot: Warriors, Sky, and Hyrule are checking in with Fable at the castle. Warriors does most of the talking, while Sky and Hyrule hang back and get to wander around the castle. They talk about legacy and what it means, both as a predecessor and a successor. Their conversation mirrors some of the stuff from the A plot, in that terrible things may happen in the future but the most you can do is try to keep going and leave something for future generations to work with.

Anyway the whole thing concludes when everyone regathers at Legend's house, and it's Warriors who accidentally lets slip that Ravio was part of the War of Ages, and that's probably why Legato was worried but insisting that it all was fine. Legato is quick to latch onto that excuse and run with it.

(Ravio is very panicked about how he'd fare in a war, but quickly warms up to the idea when it's pointed out that he could make a lot of money through opening a shop in Warriors' Era. Legend now has a new thing to worry about.)

[rexxdjarin]

Clone x OC Week 2025

Day 3 - Conflict

Captain Rex x OC: Mari Vontas

The time has come to talk about the saddest, most difficult part of Rex and Mari’s relationship.

Some fic planning and some spoilers below the cut, so avoid if you don’t want to know👀

tw: SFW (for once lol), it is the big BIG sad though.

Despite the fact that Rex and Mari are together immediately following the fall of the Republic in my long fic Captain’s Log…

…they actually were broken up for quite a few months directly before the events of Order 66.

I know, I know. You never saw that coming or would’ve believed it either. Neither did they.

As things continued to escalate and get worse toward the end of the war, Rex and Mari both had less and less time for each other, no matter how much they wanted and needed it.

Mari, being a junior senate staffer, is dragged into more emergency senate meetings, more committee meetings to come up with some kind of plan to fight the obvious corruption taking over the Republic and eventually more secret meetings to assist Padmé and Bail with forming what eventually became the Rebel Alliance. All of that on top of working tirelessly to draft bill after bill trying to make clone rights and freedom a reality for the many clone troopers left in the Republic.

At the same time, she’s surrounded by all her friends who, in the 3 years since she’s been secretly dating Rex, have all gotten married and moved on or moved off world. Mari starts to feel immense pressure to follow their lead, to fulfill a childhood dream of a family and a comfortable life with a husband that she had always wanted. It’s a pipe dream with Rex and she knows it. She gets so carried away talking about it and trying to find ways to get them both there that Rex starts getting understandably upset by it.

Because Rex is fresh off dealing with some of the worst battles he’s lived through. The scars and losses from Umbara still haunt him, the weeks of slavery he endured while undercover on Zygherria, losing Hardcase, Echo, Tup, Fives dying in his arms, Ahsoka leaving…and the war just keeps pushing on. Never ending. Nothing ever getting much better. And the more he fights, the more he loses. Because he doesn’t get much time off anymore. He can’t run off to be with Mari, no matter how much he wants to. And the times he does spend with her…lately it seems like she’s looking toward a future path that his circumstances will never allow him to tread down. Even if it’s the path he desperately wants to be on.

It’s all just too much. He can never be the man she deserves to have that life of her dreams with. He can’t bear the thought of knowing she put her life and her dreams on hold to wait for him knowing he could easily die on one of these miserable missions and never come home. He might never be a person whole enough in the eyes of the galaxy to be legally, publicly married, free to choose a different life. He internalizes that guilt of never feeling like he could measure up to that life she wants and ends it with her. And he never tells her why. He figures it would be easier.

He up and does it one day. He goes to her place knowing he doesn’t intend to stay, for once. He can barely bring himself to open the door though he knows her chain code like he knows his own name. She runs to him for comfort and he allows himself a kiss and embrace. Unknowingly, the last ones she’d give him until Order 66. And when the words come out of his mouth, that he can’t do this anymore. They have to end things. It’s too hard.

It’s written all over her face. She is devastated. He could see it in her eyes. He could practically feel her heart crack in two, a debilitating pain he now knows too because they share the same wound. He’s as respectful as he can be. She’s as dangerously quiet as she’s ever been and that terrifies him the most. She does the one thing she’s never done - asks him to leave. And so he does.

The second her doors shut behind him he feels the weight of miscalculation punch him so deep in the gut he could’ve been sick on the spot. He walks the entire way back to the barracks, helmet sealed firmly on his head so no one can see his tears. He’d never really cried before. Not like this. And the raw, guttural emotion alone should’ve been the proof to him that this was wrong. But he took to treating it like a mission and tried to use his head. Cutting his losses, finding a way forward.

He went on for days, months…carrying the weight of the decision that killed him most, next to all the other bad ones he wished he could take back. Wished he could’ve done differently. And he presses on, numb and broken, with his soul left lingering in her hallway.

Meanwhile, Mari is quite literally destroyed. She doesn’t leave her place for days, choosing to work from her home in order to help Padmé any way she can. Burying herself in her work. She was so distraught that she couldn’t even find it in herself to be angry, which was her usual go-to emotion after a break up. That’s how she knew this wasn’t like any other relationship she’d ever had.

Her life becomes all about work. She sees no one else. She barely speaks to anyone outside her job. After what happened with Fives, she’s been no contact with Fox for almost a year. Even though he’s the only other person she would actually want to talk to right now, she just couldn’t bring herself to. It wasnt the same.

She has to grapple with how her own unrealistic expectations might’ve been what destroyed the best thing she’d ever had with the person she loved most in the universe. How maybe it was her own fault. That she pushed him too hard to meet an expectation that the reality they lived in refused to allow him a path to. She had to seriously consider if all of that keeping up with the jones’ was really what she wanted. And she realizes it wasn’t.

Because the second he stepped out that door, she died. No future of hers was worth living if he wasn’t a part of it. That sobering fact took her too long to realize. And he was gone. She might never see him again.

Her best friend Siviee practically begs her to come to 79s every night to see her, anything to help her move on. And understandably it’s impossible to go be around any other clones. But she finally wears her down enough that she does go and who decides to be there that night but Commander fucking Cody. Who knows everything about them and probably knows what went down.

And even Cody, though he doesn’t know her quite as well as Torrent Company did, can see she’s hurting, badly. He makes it a point to pull her aside, asking her if she’s alright to which the answer is, of course, no.

Cody is never one to give much away, but Mari could tell he was less than enthused to see her so upset. That maybe he didn’t agree with how his brother handled this. And so Mari does the only thing she can do, be honest and say the three words every clone dreams of but likely never lives long enough to hear. She tells him that she loves Rex. That she’s in love with Rex. And nothing that could ever happen would make that love go away. She can tell it hits Cody like a ton of bricks and she’s sure he tells him.

She never hears a word back. Months go by and she puts Rex’s stuff aside, hidden in the back of her closet so she doesn’t have to see it and be tormented by it. Her sheets, her clothes, her place…doesn’t smell like him anymore. She’s relatively back to normal with work and life. But she’s still not herself. Not the version of herself she liked most anyway. She has his comm channel hidden, so even if he tries to contact her she won’t see it. She just can’t be reminded of him if she’s ever going to move on.

But then the events of the Republic’s fall start happening…work is chaos. The Chancellor takes almost all remaining senatorial power. Padmé is M.I.A. The Jedi Temple is burning. Nothing makes any sense anymore. And the only person she wants to go to is him.

When she reopens their comm channel, she finds a message from him, a month or so old, and he looks…well about as good as she does. Maybe even worse given the state of things. And he confesses his love for her, too. The ol’ if you love her, let her go explanation. An honorable line of reasoning and yet still a painfully stupid one. Cody must’ve conveyed the message to him.

He must’ve been dying inside as much as she was. With everything else about both of their lives going up in flames at that very moment, she had nothing left to lose by punching in his private frequency and praying he was still alive to answer it.

And thus…we pick up at where Captain’s Log Chapter 1 begins.

—

Note: since captain’s log was started before mari became mari some of the tie-together of the story is a little bit off. namely the timeline. I am eventually going to change this captain’s log chapter to be more cohesive and seamless with where Unwritten ends. But minor details, you still get the main point of the story here and frankly I think my writing has gotten better since I wrote CL so long ago. With a little more interaction, maybe this will be the drive I need to go back and adjust things again. thanks for listening to my rambled fic plans/ideas. I’m SORRY ITS MESSY AND SAD.

tag: @clonexocweek

[i-reblog-everything44]

The fandom when Anya is nice to jimmy and compliments/butters him up after the crash: obviously this is a fawn response. She doesn’t actually think these things about jimmy, she is simply trying to protect herself against a volatile, unstable person by placating him

The fandom when curly tries to placate jimmy by telling Jimmy he’d fix things, after being very nervous about jimmy’s anger and reaction when talking to Anya right beforehand and his heart racing so hard on the way to confront jimmy that he’s likely on the verge of a panic or anxiety attack: hmm. Obviously everything curly is saying to jimmy here is completely genuine and not motivated by anything. He obviously doesn’t care about the fact jimmy raped Anya and only cares about helping jimmy at the detriment to Anya. He’s a rape apologist. There could literally be no other potential explanation for why curly is saying the things he is saying right now. Let’s take everything curly is saying here completely at face value and not analyze anything else about Curly’s behavior or the rest of the scene.

[seriously why are people only capable of recognizing the fawn response in Anya and not Curly]

[abbey-abdominal]

Hi, I’m a sad lesbian obsessed with these two sad women. Have a nice day.