#it's about how we must protect these differences in meaning /because/ we are all the same

[athenamikaelson]

Chapter 22 just had me screaming, rolling, "aw"ing and gave me butterflies, and I just have so much to saayyy!! I love how it just focused on every Mikaelson sib, bringing out deep parts of them, some deeper than others. Each wonderful part made me think so many different stuff that I wanted to share with you, so I thought I'd send you my thoughts in 2 parts; the first (this one) being about the sibs, and the other focusing on Nik and Elijah CUZ YOU JUST TRIGGERED SO MANY FEELINGS WITH THAT CHAPTER.

First, can I say that I loved every bit of her interaction with Finn? I watched this season when I was very young - I was like 11 or 12 years old, I think, and I never got to rewatch it, so I never just thought of Finn on a deep level. So, it just hit me how he was actually not the eldest - cuz of Freya - but he suddenly found himself the eldest when he lost his protector and playmate, his older sister. Knowing Mikael, he probably put a lot of responsibility on the boy... Or just ignored him entirely if he had reminded him of Freya. Then, more sibs kept coming, taking more of Finn's space... Meaning it just got "loud" (Mikael's abuse, Esther cheating, Elijah and Nik fighting over Tatia, Henrick's death, so many younger sibs to look out for but he couldn't protect them from anything really) 🥺💔 It must have hurt him so much to be daggered and shunned by his siblings, because he was the only one who actually knew and remembered when they used to be a healthy family before Freya was taken. Aaand I can see how he could still tell Reader "you're peculiar" when he sees her in New Orleans! It could just be their thing. I will die inside when both Finn and Sage died. Probably the way I should have felt when I first watched the episode, buuutt I was 12, so I didn't really feel anything to them.

Also, it really came to my attention how you wrote that Theo was chatting Rebekah's ear off, and she way just smiling at him, and I couldn't help but tell mysef that he probably reminded her of her baby Henrick. 🥺 I love that when Reader said "he probably has a tracker on me", Bekah went "girrrll, they probably both have trackers on you, your bro, your car and any potential car you might ever think of stealing" because Bekah knows how far they can go, and we know she knows. 😂 I love their bond and how natural their friendship is, Pukey can deny that all she wants, but their friendship is just so easy. But I can totally imagine Theo trying to hook Bekah up with Matt.

Kol, this chapter, was the polar opposite of Finn. But let's face it, he was obviously the nonchalant middle sibling back when they were human - Esther and Mikael had probably forgotten they even conceived him, so he felt he won at life (which he did). Having spent centuries making friends with witches and caring about magic to use against Lijah and Nik before he was daggered, was probably why he didn't know a thing about anxiety. I can understand how he and Theo might not like each other, because it so makes sense. Kol trying to kill Theo's boy, Jeremy, so Theo not liking Kol... That, I can totally understand. In addition to that, we have a saying in my dialect "A bean wouldn't get wet in their mouth" which refers to the inability of a person to keep a secret as in "oh, they spit secrets out so quickly and easily that a bean can be spit out just as fat so it wouldn't even get wet in their mouth". That was the only thing going through my mind as he told her what was supposed to be Elijah and Klaus' secret.

This brings me to my favourite brother, though! Not a Mikaelson brother, but a brother, nonetheless! The best brother, might I add? Theo, our diva queen, just glowed this chapter. I love how lrotective he is, and how his personality just showed. Our bro doesn't know how to back down even when Kol was up in his face. I adore how he only listens to two people: his boy, Jer, and his real mom, his older sister. He really reminds me of Molly from Alice in Wonderland. He just keeps waving an imaginary sword around, threatening everyone, but as soon as Pukey tells him to shoo, he shoos.

Now, let us discuss Pukey's older brother from another father and mother, Damon Salvatore! He is her brother, and I will stand by that to my last breath. As soon as I read-

"Pukey, we're leaving." Damon's tone was harsh, but something in his eyes made my heart tug.

-I instantly remembered the chorus of My Demons by Starset.

"We are one and the same

You take all of the pain away.

Save me if I become my demons."

He was sad and reckless and just wanted to leave, yet seeing how worn out she probably looked, he knew she wanted to leave just as much as he did. And even when he was acting stupid, he reached out to her. He's her brother - the uncle of any babies she might have with Nik and adopt with Elijah. He's simply her platonic soulmate.

STOP I LOVE THIS.

I’m so glad this chapter was able to bring so many thoughts and emotions out for you

Finn definitely deserved better!!!

[bloodnikki]

Ekko loves Jinx. He loves every side of her even if he can’t get the name right. He wonders why it’s a struggle to accept her as Jinx until she’s gone and it hits him.

Guilt. It’s guilt that made him unable to let go. It’s guilt for his people. If he accepted as Jinx, and loved her anyway, he would’ve been a failure to them. He wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eyes as he fought to protect them.

Powder’s still in there was code for I’m not a bad person for wanting her. It maybe why he was so angry he wouldn’t let him call her that. Jinx wanted him to remember her crimes. Jinx needed him to see her for who she was.

He gets why she stayed with Silco. He was an awful man but at least he cared for her enough to respect the person she wanted to be. Ekko had been ashamed to love her.

‘Hey, I know we were meant to have this big talk after the battle but I can’t. I’m tired of talking. We run around in circles. Powder, Powder you say and I say I’m Jinx and you give those big eyes and I feel shitty for being me and you feel shitty because I’m me. I can’t do that. So, I’m just gonna listen to Silco. I’m going to end the cycle. He came to me the other day talking about being brave enough to end cycles or some nonsense. He talks too much. I guess it’s finally time I listen. Kinda owe him one time seeing as I killed him.

Ekko, do you ever wonder what we could’ve been? I do. Not all the time. I’m not that crazy but I do. It reminds me of how fucked and jinxed I am and your stupid big eyes and I just can’t do this anymore. It would’ve been easier if you just killed me.

So, no big talk. Instead, I’m ending the cycle. I’m going to this place I heard about from Vander when he was still kicking around. Maybe if we met there things would’ve been different.’

Ekko.hates when he finds the letter stuffed in his things at the lab. He thinks how he thinks of it as their lab but it’s not. It’s all hers and she’s gone. Vi said she didn’t make it. He cries for what feels like hours. He leaves and can’t will himself back to their shared space.

He misses her so much. Everything reminds him of her. His feet take him back to their lab and he’s ready to mourn her all over again when he sees a letter that wasn’t there before. In large pink ink, the top read She Lives.

He flicks it open and the first lines make him chuckle. ‘I just can’t seem to die. So, the world is stuck with me. The world is stuck with me but that doesn’t mean I have to be stuck here. I doubt you’d like to come with. I’m scared you’d say no. So, I’ve gone on ahead. I’m going to check out this place here. If I miss you, which let’s face it, you most likely aren’t gonna come, I’ll leave a note on where I’ll head next. It’ll be like a game.’

Ekko hates how excited he is she’s alive. He hates the idea of not telling Vi or anyone. He tells Scar though. Ekko’s packing a bag and he tells Scar “she made it. I’m going. Things are covered here and ya got this and I’m going and-“

“Good. Go.” Scar understands. “Come back once you both are ready.”

“I… thanks.”

Ekko follows behind her. Some stops, he knows he just missed her. Everyone tells him stories about her and he reads her letters. He cries some nights looking them over. She leaves a photo behind for him. The back reads ‘look at me! I’m finally putting on some pounds. Maybe I’ll finally grow boobs.’ She looks beautiful.

Their messages are a one way street. She can talk to him but he can’t talk to her. It must be justice for all the times he shut her out when he wanted to speak to Powder and only got Jinx. Ekko buys a notebook on the way to the third town. He wants to write down his thoughts to share later with her.

It’s almost two years and he’s just missed her more times than he could count. He wonders if she’ll ever slow down enough to let him catch her. From her letters, it sounds like she’s scared he isn’t coming. He hates that she’s no faith in him. Of course he’s coming. He loves her.

It finally happens. He finally sees her in person and there’s no way she’s getting away, unless she runs. He really hopes she doesn’t run.

“Ekko.”

And that’s it. He’s never letting her out of sight again.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[hella1975]

by pure evil accident taob zuko's current mental state is the exact same as the one ive been stuck in for the past few weeks and that's a bit funny to me. like i started writing this chapter months ago and knew what i was doing with it even longer ago and suddenly ive manifested it into reality. we are both facing the horrors rn

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

[bet-on-me-13]

The Ambassador

So! It was finally happening. After Years of Pleading with the Guardians and other Ruling Bodies of the Galactic Community, the Justice League had finally gotten then to agree to create an Alliance with Earth.

With an Alliance, Earth would gain the Protection of Multiple Empires and The Guardians, which would mean an end to the Constant Alien Invasions they faced. There was also the legal opening of Trade Routes between Planets to exchange Technology and Resources on the Galactic Scale.

Of course Earth would return the Favor, legally being able to defend it's Allies with its unusually large population if Superheroes and quickly advancing Tech, while also trading Tech and Resources between Planets.

Of course the battle was not entirely won yet.

They still needed to begin Negotiations to see if both sides would even agree to the Alliance in the First Place, as well as decide on the specifics of the Treaty. The United Nation's would decide on Ambassadors to represent the different countries, while the different Alien Governments would send an Ambassador Each.

When the Ambassadors arrived, they asked to be introduced to the Representatives of the Planet. Except, they claimed that there was a missing Member.

They claimed that there was one more Major Kingdom on the Planet, the most Powerful One, which they felt must be at the Negotiations.

When asked who this missing Ambassador was, they simply replied, "King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, he and a Shard of his Kingdom reside on this Planet, do they not?"

Now they are working around the clock to find this missing Kingdom, because the Alien Ambassadors refused to negotiate without the most powerful Kingdom at the Table, and they woud not wait forever.

Just who was this "King Phantom", and why had he not revealed himself yet?

...

Sam and Tucker sat on the Couch in their apartment, staring at the TV as the Chosen Representatives for America finished their Speech. Apparently the Peace Talks had been put on Hold for a few more days as they did some last minute preparations. Something about making their Guests more comfortable before they began discussing politics.

"Hey Danny, they're delaying the Negotiations for a few more days." Sam called over to the Kitchen.

"Aw, what?!" Shouted Danny from the Kitchen, sounding extremely disappointed, "I just finished making all the Popcorn!"

"I know Honey, its too bad." Tucker comforted his Partner, "Let's marathon Star Trek instead, how about that?"

Danny slumped out of kitchen and into the Couch between them, steaming bowl of Popcorn in his Lap, "I guess. We can make good use of all this popcorn at least."

Sam patted him on the arm, "Hey it's okay, the Talks will just take a few more days."

Danny shrugged, "Yeah, you're right. Man, what I wouldn't give to be in that Room."

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run

pt 4

Ghost was silent as you disinfected his hand, watching with interest as you dab the cotton against the wounds. “You really don’t have to do this, I deserved it for being so rough with ya.” He mutters after some time, and you wave him off.

“You did deserve it, but I still don’t want it getting infected and you don’t seem the type to take care of it.” You huff, grabbing the bandage off the bathroom counter.

He watches you, tracking your movements as you gingerly wrap his hand. “There. We can check on that in a day or two.” You announce, patting his cheek and you bite back a smile at the indignant scoff he makes, batting your hand away.

“Oh so you and Price can grab me but I can’t touch?” You roll your eyes, cleaning up the small mess you made as Ghost flexes his hand, looking at the bandage with an unreadable look in his eye.

“Did I wrap it too tight? I’m sorry, let me-“

“It’s fine little bird, thank you.” His voice is soft, his eyes locked on the white wrap. He blinks when you gently slip your palm into his, squeezing gently.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I can tell you need it.” Your voice is barely a whisper, and you smile when you feel him squeeze your hand ever so slightly in return, but makes no move to stand. His eyes are tired, and there’s a strand of hair sticking out from the eye hole and you pause.

“Would you… would you be more comfortable with that off? I can wash it for you.” You offer, wincing only slightly when his grip tightens.

“Don’t wanna scare ya anymore than I have.” He states bluntly, making you frown. “How is your face going to scare me?” You ask, raising a brow as you cautiously reach for the edge of the ski mask. You anticipate him grabbing your wrist, but not the flicker of panic that flashes in his eyes and you back off, guilt settling low in your stomach.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to, I just thought you’d be more comfortable with it off…” You apologize, lowering your gaze. You go to pull your hand back, clearly having overstepped, but he stops you, pulling your hand back to his lap and he glares at the ground.

“It ain’t pretty.” Is all he offers after a moment, and you tilt your head. “Doesn’t mean you’re gonna scare me Ghost.” You soothe, trying to get him to look at you. A few hours ago you would have laughed seeing this guy acting so small, but now you just want to help them feel… safe. How funny.

As though he’s reading your thoughts, his eyes lift to meet yours, and you can see a million different questions dancing there. “You ever looked into the face of a monster?” He asks, and that takes you back, and he watches the way your eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t-“

“I have done some awful fuckin things little bird. Monsterous things. Things that keep me awake at night, I’m a-“

“That doesn’t make you a monster.” You hiss, and he narrows his eyes, ready to bark back but you cut him off. “Do you view your team as monsters? Do you deem them any less human because of the lives they’ve taken? Is Price a monster?” You snap, and his mouth slams shut, teeth clacking and you see his nostrils flare. Price must be a sensitive nerve.

“He told me. He told me what the four of you have done. He told me all the awful fucking things you four had to witness first hand. The things you did to keep those who needed protecting safe and I want to do that for you!”

His eyes widen behind the mask, and the silence hangs heavy in the air.

You search his eyes for a moment, before slowly reaching back towards the hem of the mask.

“You don’t scare me Ghost. Maybe a few hours ago but not now.”

“How can you be so sure?” He whispers, gripping your wrists but his touch is gentle, hands shaking.

“Do you feel bad about holding that knife to my throat?” You ask, and his eyes flash, and he tugs you closer by your wrists. “More than anything. We… I was just… scared.” His voice is small, eyes shining with unshed tears as you slowly pull the ski mask up and off, and he shrinks back as you look over his features.

He’s waiting for it, waiting for the gasp, the look of disgust.

But you only hum, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes before gently tracing one of the scars littered along his cheek.

“Now where is that monster you were telling me about, hm?” You tease softly, and his lip trembles as you softly cup his cheek.

“I don’t see any monsters here, just a man who desperately needs some sleep.” He tries to fight back the tears, but his cheeks are hot and sticky and he struggles to suck in a breath.

He freezes when he feels you tug him forward, just for his head to land on your chest, a hand in his hair, grounding.

Comforting.

“You guys are safe here. I promise.” You whisper, the only answer you receive is Ghost fisting the back of your hoodie as he buries his face deeper into your chest to muffle his sobs.

“Absolute fuckin idiot.” He chokes out, and you raise a brow, running a hand through his hair. “Who?”

“Who ever fuckin’ divorces a walkin’ fuckin’ dream.” He spits, yanking at your hoodie like a pouting child, cheeks shining with tears and you can’t help it, you giggle, loud and bright.

“So you’ve said.” You laugh, and he shakes his head. “Should ‘ave his ass kicked.” He mutters, and you have to bite back the sharp reply waiting at the tip of your tongue, instead just tilting his head back so you could meet his gaze.

“You need to rest. Let’s get you to bed.” You order, and he blinks at you, before the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Inviting me to bed already little bird? Cheeky.” He grins, and it’s a little crooked, and it makes your heart stutter, a shy smile fighting its way to your face.

“The hell the two of you doin’ in here?” Price gripes, and you jump, Ghost tugging you closer instinctively. “Bonding.” He mumbles, resting his cheek against your chest and you glance over your shoulder. Price stares at the two of you, brow raised, but when his eyes settle on the man wrapped around you, you can physically see him soften, an easy smile spreading across his face.

“Gonna stop wearing that damn thing then?” He asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the door frame, and Ghost shrugs. “Thinkin’ about it.” He admits softly, propping his chin on your chest so he can gaze up at you. It’s oddly intimate, and it has your heart racing, giving him one last timid smile before tapping his cheek.

“Bed. Now.”

“Oh she’s a bossy one.” Price chuckles, and you shoo him off. “Both of you, bed!” You laugh, cheeks warm as you step away from Ghost, who you swear whines at the loss of you in his arms.

The three of you shuffle out of the bathroom, and you glance around. “Didn’t have the heart to wake ‘em. Gaz is just about crushing the poor lad but they’re both out like a light.” Price explains, and you nod. “Well, I’ll leave some blanket for them.” You decide, grabbing one of the bigger fur blankets from the closet, and when you stand straight, you’re sandwiched between the two of them, and your breath catches.

“What are you two doing?” You squeak, just to feel two pairs of lips brushing your cheeks.

“Thank you pretty. For everything.” Price mutters, voice low and tired.

“Can’t tell you how much it means to us, really. We’ll repay you anyway we can.” Ghost continues, a rough hand caressing your cheek and you swallow down a whimper, nodding.

“Of course. I’m glad I can help.”

“Don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you.” Ghost whispers, and your heart slams in your chest. “I-I better get to my room.” You stutter, stepping away from them on shaking legs.

“Goodnight pretty.” Price hums, already tugging Ghost towards the large mattress as you close the door, clutching the blanket to your chest as you dash down the hallway.

Ghost allows himself to lead towards the bed, laughing when Price pushes him back, eyes bright.

“You know I love seein’ you out of that damn mask.” He breathes, crawling over his lover as Ghost gazes up at him, brown eyes tired but brighter than Price has seen them in ages.

“You sure this isn’t about you droolin’ all over our host?” He muses, reaching up to card his fingers through Price’s hair, who catches his wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Like you weren’t in bloody heaven bein’ buried between those tits.” He chuckles, lowering himself next to Ghost, who curls into his side, resting his head on his shoulder. The mattress sinks under the weight, and it’s not lumpy or stabbing his side with springs as he relaxes, sinking against Price and the fresh blankets surrounding him.

“She’s nice.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering as exhaustion sinks into his bones. Price snorts at that, pressing a kiss to Ghost’s temple as he feels his own fatigue winning its war.

“A god damn angel.” He huffs, dropping his head back as he caresses the skin at Ghost’s hip.

“Get some sleep love.” Price hums, letting his eyes drift shut, listening to the way Ghost’s breathing evens out. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to sleep like this, wrapped around each other and Price swallows the rising lump in his throat as he settles in, tugging his man as close as he can before finally letting exhaustion take over, drifting into a dreamless sleep, finally.

[watashijeon]

Mon Ange. | KTH

listen while reading — Is there someone else The Weeknd

— I made you mine, or so it seemed. I might as well be two feet tall. You never will love me at all. —

You’re calling out for his name, nothing can kill this moment. He feels sweetness and ease.. never has he let himself slip. But tonight is his birthday or so it was hours before.

Nonetheless, nothing could kill the stillness.

"Hm?" he’s mumbling with his speech, nose buried into pretty flushed skin. He feels confused, feeling you still when your words came out so blurred in his mind.

“I have to tell you something.”

Completely lost now where this was going, he stills his touch. Awkward and stiff, you make eye contact for what you are about to say.

He doesn’t understand the build up, he just wish you would say what it was. Maybe you had to take some time away from him due to your work.. he understood, he didn’t mind that.

"I think we should end our arrangement."

Oh. It’s so different from what he had just suspected, why does his heart feel like it just plummeted to another oblivion of nothing?

Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s undisciplined and chaotic with his very few next actions.

You need to leave. Freezing up, ready for his immediate impulse, because you know him like the back of your hand. The man picks you right off from his lap, rather rough and he would have time to regret on the meanness of it later.

He’s quick to pointing his hand open palm stiff and stern to the now sad wrinkled dress on the floor that laid lonely.

“Well, go on then.”

Your eyes looked at him pained, you had not a clue what his reaction really meant but you moved. Wiggling on your dress, back faced to him before looking once more to see his distracted stare. He is so out of it now, he doesn’t know.

“You understand.. right, Tae?” oh why must you speak so sweet to him using his shorten nickname in that especially nauseating sweet voice, even the way you are ending this is a million times nicer than he has ever ended a fling with a person.

“I do, bye.”

He’s being so mean, harsh and rude.

Taehyung hopes you won’t dwell on it or let it hurt your heart like it will to his very own.

But somehow he wants it to pain you, make you feel the same burn and ripping he feels in his chest right now. What did he do wrong?

“Goodbye Taehyung.” and that was it, the door clicked and so did his very front one. Left with the forbidden but likely delicious and perfect red velvet cake you’ve made, and a gift that sat perfectly next to it wrapped in his favorite color for wrapping paper on his kitchen island.

And indeed you had to make his favorite cake flavor, meaning you remembered the stupid detail when he told you on a night together.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He remembers so clearly on the morning you stayed after for the first time coming over for six months. The two of you had lazed in his bed between tangled limbs and sheets “I will, I will protect you.” your lips dropped into a pout tracing your nimble finger over the man’s jaw.

How could you even say that when you leave him not much later, he doesn’t get it. This isn’t like you at all. Maybe being in pained denial he couldn’t accept the sore fact that someone made the first move on with abandonment.

You weren’t supposed to lie, it’s uncalled for and unacceptable. But even deep down the man knew he was being ignorant, he’s lied to many people to avoid hurt and it was his own field of career to lie if necessary.. that’s all you were trying to do.

The man can’t dare to muster up to think you have a bad bone in your little body that was filled of nothing less of kindness. But right now he won’t be rational with his assumptions.

He’s angry and selfish with dire need for your presence now all over again, no matter the situation that this is. But whatever really, big deal that you are gone. He will find someone else to fuck his life into, you are no different from any other living human with a hole.

…

He pauses.

Never mind that, fuck that. He deserves a good and perfect reason for why you did this.. leaving him in the dark, quite literally. Taehyung can't stand not talking to you even if he never took time to speak so much into your conversations. He still appreciated all of your efforts and presence you put into whatever what you had was, now it’s all fucking gone.

He used to act upon impulse when he would have multiple play things through out the month. But you, you make him stop to think. It makes him wrinkle his nose because he does not have a clue why you turn him to be this way. It’s simply you being you, no spell.. no great manipulation in your words. Just you.

In the beginning of this arrangement he was reluctant given the age gap, especially with the relation that you were a long time family client of his.

Once he became enthralled with someone.. he could say it took a lot to kill it.

You weren’t the only one that had the privilege, he’s turned thirty two this year and definitely doesn’t have enough fingers to count on with how many girls he has used up and nicely dumped off to the side — kindly.

Sparing the honest reason that he needs to focus on his career before weeks later he would latch claws into his new toy, it’s only painstakingly different now.

Much different because he had never held onto a “toy” for over a few months at a time, the man liked variety and trying new things. With you in the picture, it was sickening at the fact that he grew real attachment to every little thing about you. It made him want you more. While he is nothing great of the sort for you, he was only a warm body to give you what was desired. You gave him your body and time, in return he would give you lust driven pleasure.

He was the one who established what you two were from the great beginning, he was not allowed to feel betrayed and cheated. Someone could hate him and he would cackle at that, a girl could scream at the stoic man and he’d chuckle again. Once you lose his interest there is no winning him back, it's as if getting stuck in a never ending pit of quick sand that could swallow you in pitiful eyes. He thinks it’s valid to feel this way, he’s coming to terms with the whole ordeal of what all this was.

Being your damn family lawyer and you had met him when you were the young age of nineteen, a mere baby. It definitely took some time for him to be ok with the fact that he would end up fucking you almost weekly with your given age — he’s not a pervert.. right? But you were a mature girl as you grew up, he liked you for this reason.. different and good for whatever he wanted and still you set healthy boundaries not letting him walk over your toes.

Time will pass nicely, right? He will be fine and move on — find someone even better. A little reflecting won’t hurt his soul.

It has been a little over two months since the grouch for a man has seen you, turning slowly into the twentieth century version for Scrooge.

Promising himself each day he would not give in and call you, you will be the one to run back.

He’s been saying that to himself since the day you up and left.. now his very once high and wild ego was now dwindling day by day and he is pissed beyond belief, because wow, wowww. You really did leave him as if he planned to do the exact for you in the beginning of meeting with you, that was before he caught a liking and it was only for your body, of course.

Yes.. that’s what is was. It was only really your gorgeous body that gave him pleasure to see you again and again, never mind the fact of your amazing personality or one of a kind glowing aura that brought a sweet genuine smile on his usual crest fallen features.

Broken from his reverie he’s receiving a call, he’s been sat still buried in his office since six am. It’s how he gets through his days to not think about you or testing the waters of calling.

The phone clicks and clatters, he needs to get himself a new desk phone or better yet just buy another smartphone. Huffing and puffing, he inhales and exhales seeing the caller id.

“Hello, it’s been awhile sir.”

It’s your father, he has to fake a front for the sake of niceties and also being civil because your very own damn dad has been using the Kim’s for any law or business relations since Taehyung was probably born, he’ll complain and grumble later on to a nice white wall of his.

“Oh yes! Things have been crazed.”

Taehyung really wonders about that, a hotel tycoon can only get so wild and crazed.. right?

“Hmm, I understand. What can I help you with.”

“Ah, Mr Kim. let’s get down to it—“ the grinch for a man licks and licks his lips again out of great big habit, becoming nervous of the lingering for just how long it takes this man to get to a point. Many clicks and clattering over the other line.. the older would continue.

“So, I need to talk through some paperwork with you regarding about merging contracts.”

“Go on, sir.” he can’t be this vague.. come on. Shouldn’t he know better than to speak so small about important shit, god help his ticking time bomb for patience being not a virtue.

Ping

If silence could kill it would be deathly here and now, he receives the paper work faxed over. A skim and scan later — Taehyung feels his heart plummet to places beyond his comprehension.

It’s just so now, he realizes your father has been blabbering about whatever this whole time.

“What is this all for?”

His eyes ogle and ogle for more than a few times he could count, reading the bold letters of “Marital License and Contract Briefing.”

“Well if it wasn’t obvious, our dear y/n is going to get married next month. We have set her up with the perfect man who is a well respected hotelier heir, a perfect match for our family.”

Of course.. of course your father would set you up with a person that is in the same position of business as him, you probably had no word or real say in this. God, why does he feel wrath and anger. He wants to rip his hair out straight.

He should be happy for you, your new husband to be probably feels like home in his arms.

So much that he bets he mends you with warm healing long hugs, and utterly disgusting kind smiles that remind you of honey mixed into sweet vanilla, your very two favorite things.

He continued to offer your father a tight-lipped smile as if he could see him through the phone, briefly looking up from the contracts on his computer screen — faxed papers sitting nice and crisped on his desk. He thinks it’s best he ends this call now before he yells off.

“Ok sir, I’ll look over them and we will discuss the terms and things that will be strewn.”

“Oh that is great to hear! I invite you over tomorrow for tea, we will discuss all of the paperwork then. Yes?”

He won’t allow himself to think about that, he will agree just to get off this damn phone call.

“Yes sir, I’ll see you then, good night.”

Click.

He’s here, he can’t believe he actually came.

Sat in the way too high ceilings for a living area, he will blame it on why he feels this nauseated. God, he knows you live here obviously. It’s been your parents odd and traditional rule until you were ready to move out when they thought it was best, you always said that was why you still stayed with them. What he didn’t know was the bizarre underlying conditions were marriage.

“Ah Kim, here we are.” The meeting begins and ends with the blink of an eye.

It went awful in Taehyung’s eyes, he really didn’t want to hear about you getting married off for a great three hours. It left the man wanting to seethe and bite his mouth off until the older would finally shut up to take a puff or sip of liquor.

Then on he tried to laugh with your father.. even when it felt as if pearly teeth might crack with only how hard his jaw flexed shut.

Your father welcomes the man to stay over for only awhile longer, he won’t accept it, kindly.

He has to get going.. because someone (Taehyung) couldn’t handle on what all just happened. While the hag of your father thought it was a good idea to step out and take a call.

15 minutes before

It’s been minutes now and your father isn’t back, Taehyung decides to dwell around with his eyes to gawk at the various family portraits hung from generations before and other astray framed photographs of little you and family.

He has the urge to trace his finger along the frames but he won’t, definitely not now.

“Tae..?”

Like clockwork, Taehyung’s head cocks in nanoseconds to the spiraled staircase you stood by, gripping on the bar to keep stance.

You look gorgeous right now, still the same as before. He can’t help but let his eyes trail over your legs, he’s no better than any other man. He decides he can’t stare for much longer though, clearing his throat to cock his head off to the side in mimicking a fake neck crack.

“Hello.” he decides on, licking lips for the trillionth time and resting hands into pockets.

Your stare doesn’t stutter elsewhere, you copy him yourself — licking lips except only slower and more tantalizing. Or that’s how he sees it. He hated confrontation, one of his favorite things about you though.. is you’d ask too many questions every time you were around. He’d act like he hated it, but bathed in the attention and attentive wide eyes you once had all for him.

It’s only none of the many questions you’d ask would ever provoke the man to deflect, bother him up the wall and make him drop you soon later in his own sheer annoyance like usual. It’s happened to others, he’s an asshole but he could care less because at least he is honest.

Seeing you now gives him bitter sweetness for deja vu, the memory to when he saw you for the first time when you were eighteen — never having an ounce of interest in you then. You were a pesky teenager though, ogling the man like sweet candy for your taking. Nothing unusual he hadn’t encountered before.. only ever moving forward to do his job and ignore it.

That helped some.

Both of you finally interacted properly then when you were twenty, clear that you had matured fast and you were well with holding good conversation. While.. your dear father ran around with his head cut off like a chicken and leaving a bored lawyer Kim to wait for set business meetings to be done, you were lovely company at least.

Then somehow.. something happened, the day where he took your virginity in your childhood bathroom — it was your 21st birthday after all.

It was almost too universal how the world wanted you two to be alone at this awful time. But the moment happened so fast maybe too fast if he wants to dwell on it now, only once comforting the weeping girl that trembled in his arms to have you seconds under his grasp.

You had to, just had to look down at him with those puppy dog eyes choking a mere sob of “Am I not important.. is that what it is Tae?”

God he hated how you said his name, so sweet and quiet. Full of vulnerability and sadness.

He couldn’t allow a pretty girl like you, sobbing over something so minuscule on her birthday, he had a great plan of course. Comfort? No.

Fuck the sadness out of you, it will do you well.

It’s shameful at how he’s too old for your young sweet heart that still had much to see and live.. he’s nothing but rotten fruit at best.

But why did he want to stay selfishly so.

Your eyes did it in for him, they always did..

Corny and sappy he thinks.

He tries to move on with the passing thoughts of why do you need to be claimed now when he was starting to think he could have tried. He hopes you had at least one passing thought yourself of the what ifs and hows.

Present

All but nothing of silence settles between the two of you, no words are exchanged past that.

Eventually steps dissipate further from him to hear, you leave after the stare off you both shared — thankfully your father interrupts.

It’s been a few hours since you last saw him, you knew way before he was going to dial your phone. Doing exactly this, after your third attempt to ignore the countless calls you press accept to hear the expectant drawl of your name in stupor.

You’re sure he’s grinning dumb and widely boxy, almost as if youth takes over for these very small tipsy minutes. His vulnerability is clearly yours now, it’s so viable at how bad he is vying for attention.

You prepare yourself, clearing your throat and speaking as clear and stern as one could be.

“Hello?”

“Hmmmhmm, hello.”

There’s a pause, awkward, but he’s drunk so he likely doesn’t recognize the rising tension.

“Yes, Taehyung?”

There’s a giggle..? Oh my god he just giddily giggled at your voice. No, no your heart isn’t doing backflips — you’re just concerned.

“At your door, open sesame.” you can hear him try to knock like a madman — even if there’s visibly a buzzer that’s meant to be there so insiders could hear from the size of your parent’s insanely huge home.

Drunk Taehyung doesn’t know that though.

Fuck well, ok you guess. Thank god your father isn’t home for the night — you begin to panic but you can dissolve situations fine, it’s your strong suit or one of the many of them at least.

You practically lunge from your bed to tumble over down the stairs, trying to keep him half entertained while you tunnel yourself to the door before the maids could see the odd sight.

Being quiet as you can be with unlocking the door, Taehyung makes it no issues to pull a dramatic scene. Already seconds in through the door staring you down, like any other would be scared of the predatory stare.

But this is Taehyung, he would never hurt you.

All you can do, Slowly watching him advance at you skittering back until you’re pressed to the wall. He doesn’t touch you, leaned against the victorian wall with each hand on either side trapping you between him.

He won’t stop there yet, drawling your name out in a drunken purr “Aw-huh. Angel, you got yourself stuck..what are we going to do now?" like no moral was ever created — toes curled into wooden floors from the deep baritone voice awakening all of your weaken senses.

You try, trying so damn hard and ignore it.

Staring hard into empty eyes, his bags are awfully visible and you wonder if he’s even slept lately.

You’re so tiny and frazzled by his abrupt actions, feeling him slide a warm hand up to your stomach to trail barely under your tits. The same said empty eyes sharpen at your slip of a pathetic whine, closing you into the wall a tad too close for comfort to make you both bump into each other’s chest.

“Wanna fuck this pretty cunt again.”

His words boom into you everywhere, from head to toe and places you wouldn’t like to acknowledge that throbbed with need. Doomed, definitely, that’s what you are.

You can only exhale feeling a warm shiver travel down your spine from the daring slip of drunken tongue. Able to pull enough strength to squeak a soft response “L-let’s lay down.”

It was your best bet to avoid from ruining your impending future, you won’t allow no more mishaps to happen. It’s all for your father.

He settled off with a hum, you were surprised he’d backed off. Maybe the man recognizing the nervousness in your tone, “Lead the way.”

It’s quiet now, too tense for your liking but you can’t do anything you think to help the off situation. Laid in your bed next to each other with a foot of space between your bodies.

It’s uncanny how alike this situation reminds you of some movie you watched with the man.

You feel like you’re steps away from saying the infamous line of “Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off.”

You won’t have a second to think longer when the big bear decides to speak up into the unknown of silence that had lasted for a long hour, “I get it.. yeah, you don't love me, big fucking deal.”

Silence, absolutely nothing back.

“I’ll never tell you how I really feel, angel.”

Your breath was being held for seconds until he decides to follow with cockiness, there it is.

Always showing a slip of vulnerability followed with the man being plain rude. It’s the way your eyes roll that cause a gasp to stutter from him, almost like he didn’t expect your attitude nor harsh yet honest reaction.

He won’t comment on it properly, never does.

“Hold me.” he mumbles while simultaneously grumbling, trying his definition in hard to get you closer than whatever.. this is. Your brow ticks at him head shifting to properly face his pouted features from his side profile, feeling up for the need to deny him only a bit.

“What? Stop mumbling.”

He won’t take a pause this time, thankfully.

“Hold me goddammit.” he huffs and puffs out even louder — yet incoherently all in the same breath. Taehyung coughs, trying to clear his throat and mocks you with a roll in his own eyes of annoyance, like you did something.

That time you did “hear” him and you did what was asked by the big grizzly bear, only you turned to him closer now — seeing that wry smile on his cruel but godforsaken pretty face.

The spiral begins, you and him are going to give into this hell of fire.. only letting it grow uncontrollable by the end of night.

Are you going to do well without me?

Are we ever going to be okay?

Will we ever be fine?

You were too good to be forgotten in his heart.

It was too quiet in this room, silent and tense.

Taehyung felt nothing but regret, fucking stupid as he closed his eyes and mumbled these pitiful words.

Stupid, as he continued to speak gibberish into the room. I feel stupid. I am stupid.

You finally give up on the swallowing of the never ending silence and endless mumbling under his breath, tongue dry trying to clear your throat so to maybe finally speak — maybe even summon him back, and he does. It works because he lets his eyes finally open back.

You tug him into your chest wasting no more time when there’s not much, arms wrapped tight around his stiff figure that takes only just a minute to loosen once he realized you weren’t going to push him back anymore.

It’s not much different though, his nails still pierced into his forearm with thin lips folded into teeth to feel anything but what this is right now. You were staring at him, Taehyung, your father’s lawyer, your first crush and realization that you really only like and desire older men.

Now wishing you’d rather have gone to therapy instead of pursue that day in the bathroom.

You don’t mean that actually, you just hate yourself at this very moment and so does he.

But this wasn't the Taehyung you knew, wasn't the same man with styled hair and sultry eyes.. looking now as real life death in your arms.

You weren’t trying to be harsh nor hateful, you were worrying your heart out and confirming all the racing thoughts you have figured to be maybe going on. Only for them to come to life. He looks unreal tonight, almost unnatural from his usual sun kissed skin. No more sharpness to his look, the man looks fucking sick.

You want to coddle him to death, your own heart feels like it’s going to lurch right out from it’s chest by any second now if he keeps looking at you with those sad puppy dog eyes. This was not the look you yearned to see, you hated it all so much.

“Well.” clearing his throat, trying to prove something into air. Maybe it’s a lawyer instinct.

You repeat back to him without a beat to really think, “Well..” you use the same tone of voice but maybe yours wavered more in raw pain. The man wordlessly continued to stare like always, holding your hand tight in his grip in bringing it up to his lips. You should reject his warm touch, leave even, run far.

But why are you still laying here.. melting away.

He was being this gentle and just careful, you would giggle if the situation weren’t tense now.

Long fingers playing with lips, digits ghosting over your cheek with a soft caress. You can’t help but shut your own tired eyes, melting more and more and it was just like that.

His control is gone, so fast and fluidly when your lashes fluttered to cold skin. Whispering his name too sweet and soft almost in prayer.

"We can’t.. it would be wrong.” it’s insane how you knew his intentions from the speed his hands traveled to the material of your night dress.

"So fucking wrong," he becomes almost too ready with heavy pants of hot breath kissing your jaw and neck.

Eager calloused thumbs rubbing circles into your hips that were on the brink of trembling.

You whine at the tone he uses, becoming easy to his invasion "Don't.. don't speak like that." Eyes heavy lidded, lips licking with each breath that exhaled from your stuttering chest.

He wants you dead it seems, feeling up your body more and more by every passing second before easy fingers would get to your chest.

"I'm wrong like that.. you like it," the man preaches with determined digits this time skimming back down onto your hips to hear his favorite strangled whines "you want it.”

"Ah.. T-tae” it’s pathetic.. sounding asthmatic in your own ears from mere fingers grazing you rough.

"Who's married? Certainly not you, yet."

You pause to mull it over, eyes falling into his.

He truly doesn’t care now, past gone. Nothing can stop this — you need him.. your sweet eyes tell almost all too fucking well for him to know.

He's moving on autopilot when he pulls you to him with no awareness of anything around him, the man frenzied with his only living goal to feel you wrapped around him. Whether it be with loose limbs or his all well endowed cock buried deep between warm tightness, he needed to feel you again.

Your gasps fall out too soft to be surprised at the sudden roughness, murmuring whining moans that fell into a mantra of "We can't..” tiny cries that quickly later start falling into hungry kisses while neither of you had an ounce of intention to stop, no matter the end of it.

Lips already collided against each other in a perfect mess of motion, tongues lolled out of your mouthes as the pleasure binds you both.

It’s disgusting now, strings of drool dribbling to your chest from every pause he took to pull and nip. The man grabs your scalp, yanking you head back against his shoulder. Jaw slack open to give him the prettiest mouth for him to gladly spit right down onto your tongue, so pathetic all for his demise.

Doing all the nothing but moaning and swallowing, open mouth with all your might.

Leaving a desperate plea in sparkly eyes while you wait impatient for his next move, you missed him. Eyes yearning and lips quivering, legs shaking so early on and yet.. your spine just might go limp quite soon.

You whine almost instantaneously and nothing less of desperate while the devious man began to nibble harshly down on your neck with small bites of love.

Moving on nothing but anger and bubbled feelings at surface, shoes being removed, with the stubborn zipper of your night dress slipping down from your shoulders as hungry lips explored every inch of skin that became exposed.

So quick, licking a wet stripe down your chest to stomach to feeling you shake with desire and need, tasting the want for you on his tongue.

“Hmm, your poor husband to be.”

He hated that, hated the fact that you were about to belong to someone. He knew he wanted and needed you to feel the burn that he had been feeling for months since then.

"I'm not t-telling," you can barely form a sentence let alone a proper sound that didn’t make you sound out to be like a deprived slut.

The man can’t do much other than scoff, you having the strength to use that reassuring tone— with such a soft tone and bat pretty doll eyes in lost of such easy pleasure given.

Looking this fucking gorgeous and it’s going to be all for someone else, not him ever “I know angel, not with the way i’m about to fuck you.”

Like clockwork you moan like a bitch at that, of course. Feeling him sink razor sharp canines down into the squishy flesh of your stomach.

Uncaring completely for the fresh marks, he would hope in your future meeting with that man.. you wouldn’t become so easy to show yourself off for him. Sliding his fingers from your stomach down over to your cunt, slipping long digits between sopping wetness — sticky as if you already had touched yourself earlier.

He’s growing impatient, on the aspect of stretching you out when he so gladly craves to stuff you four fingers full. But he’s a gentleman at his very best, always calling out for him in non-stop “T-tae..” or better yet “Touch me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” without any doubt he would answer “Anything for the angel.”

Your thighs already shake from the burn of /slowly/ fucking yourself on long fingers. Tears streaming, overwhelmed by the burning stretch that comes with each motion, soon quiet sniffles and soft gasps turn into sobbing when the man decides to snake his hand and start to tease and slowly circle your clit.

“So perfect, all for me, hm.”

You nod eager to please, blushing all the way down to your toes. Biting your lip, thoughts not holding very well against the feeling of the eager man’s middle finger now slipping out from you to part your cunt and stroke along the sore slit.

“Patient tonight? You must want it bad.” he sighs almost sounding bored, standing tall over you to undo the belt that once looped through his slacks. Long gone leather abandoned to the floor along with his slacks pooled at his ankles, ready, finally.

“You gotta be nice and quiet for me. Yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You’re way past desperate tonight, choking out a broken “Y-yes, fuck! Please.” wild hips winding up for more of the now lost touch.

The older plays coy, smirking lopsided and lazy, kneeling on the bed to line himself up to the pretty plump cunt. Long digits wrapped around his cock, "Open up for me baby."

She obeys immediately, legs opening wider to shakily wrap themselves around Taehyung’s waist. His hips up to slip his cock into the crease of your folds. Grinding there half tipsy now, leaky tip nudging at your clit.

Not wasting another second, the first push of stretch has you whining his name. Long nails piercing into taut honey skin, cock fucking in ruthless at the long thrusts that heat your core up, forming sweat down his neck and shoulders.

“Goood fucking girl.” He drawls with a husky moan, you want to die at how fucking hot he sounds.

He doesn’t care, going faster to no point of being coherent in your mind. Punishing strokes fucking the life out of you, snapping his cock right into your tight cunt. One hand bruised into your hip while the other slipped easily around your neck just enough to have you alert “Look me in the eyes when I’m fucking you.”

Lashes fluttering half open, looking with a fuzzy minded daze. Knowing you look like a slut, feeling drool drip everywhere along with the slickness between your legs. Coming to the reality you would let him do anything and you’d welcome it.

"Just like that baby, shit, taking my cock so fucking good," he grunts almost feral with every punishing stroke "Y-yes, " tiny voice choking out, slamming into you with hips winding harder if that was even humanely possible "Love it so much, I-love your cock.”

“Who’s a whore, uh? Who’s desperate for cock.”

“Tell me.” he growls slowing the roll of his hips into you to pull a desperate cockslut spill a mess of “Me, me, me.” you’re hyperventilating almost with how good he feels “M-me, I’m sorry!” god, the situation is a mess but he wouldn’t be lying if he wasn’t thinking about filling his load in you and pray to the man above that your birth control didn’t work.

feeling walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing the telltale signs you were about to cum.

“Perfect fucking girl, sucking me so tight.”

“S-stop..” you whine in embarrassment with a broken sob when you feel the devil himself sink deeper, balls deep inside you now.

Back and forth, back and forth.

An addictive dance, once friendly boundaries expanding to something that was speaking what will stay unspoken. Taehyung’s cock sliding so good inside your cunt you were dying with bliss for the night.

He can see you struggle to try and put a hand over your mouth, but the man won’t allow that. Snatching your hand in his grasp “Let her hear," he growls, referring to the maids and starts to fuck the life out of your cunt with no care for how loud you moan or scream.

"Y-your slut," you stutter, feeling him start to raise his hips to meet your weak attempt of grinding back, thrusting upward and matching your sloppy speed. "wanna b-be your slut."

His ego growing higher than before and dick hard as ever, Taehyung taunts, already knowing the answer by your dazed features.

“Oh yeah?” he pants grunting with every roll of his hips, and you can do nothing but give him what he wants. On the brink of tears you whine out broken moans, “So fucking bad, please Tae.”

“Come on." the taller’s strokes turning slow and hard, each one pulling a moan from sweet agape lips. "Cum on my cock.” you’re past coherent, cock drunk with drool slipping down your chin.

The ecstasy bursting through your body at an unimaginable rate,legs feel almost numb, smaller fingers gripping your sheets so hard. Taehyung already knew you would rip them off the corners of your bed, seeing how your own skin burned. Orgasm still sending ripples throughout your tiny body. Shaking as you came down from the high, cock buried deep, cum spilling inside as he keeps your body pressed together, skin to skin. His nose buried in the crook of longer sweaty strands of hair.

You begin to feel the feather kisses he mouthed over the expanse of your neck, his body quivering with the last of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck, yeah, ok.” is all he can do to respond, you can only hum in response as you’re being fucked so mind-numbingly good. Body moving along the bed as you’re fucked open for the year.

Your blissed-out state has the man feeling on top of the world, no case he’s won ever given him this much ecstasy for this feeling of high.

Knowing that the same woman he's been getting off to for months, that was only planned to be handed over to someone else is finally getting fucked. His pretty not so sweet angel drooling all for him, ruined for good by just his cock.

The floaty feeling back to how it was, only stronger than ever, the way Taehyung feels so right up against you.

He comes from his feverish moment of just drilling into you, no awareness for how overwhelming it may be. A smaller hand trying to grab his hand to make him stop, he sees nothing less of rage.

"Move your fucking hand.” he snaps with a hiss, snatching your hand in an iron like grasp.

“only I can touch you like this.” he states, hard and stern as if it’s a plead mixed into question. “Yeah?” of course he has to slap you for you to answer, braindead and cock hungry.

“Yes, all for you!” you squeal, body curling into yourself — he begins to dwell how there is not a real thought behind your eyes but his fingers and cock bearing your only passable thoughts.

He wants to laugh, your poor husband is about to be inadvertently about to be cucked.

You moan at how rough he’s being, every yank, spanking and slap getting you more than riled up. Rambling the typical ‘I love you, I love your cock.’

He’s aggravated, not sure why, deep down knowing. "Look at me and tell me what you want.” no way to receive an answer unless he squeezed a generous hand around your throat.

“Y-you, you, fuck!”

It’s not enough, he wants to laugh at his greediness that will not sate him ever.

Again and again, back and forth. Another slap landed across each apple red cheek, going harder each lashing.

“Again.”

You repeat yourself again, hm, still not enough.

He’s done with himself, frustrated and choosing to vomit his words.

“You’re mine, get that through your fucking head.” his thrusts were past hard and fast, bruising now. He grunted and groaned while you continued to moan and whimper beneath him, going so rough he decided to push your skull deep into the bed. Warm palm covering your face whole, feeling you squeeze involuntarily at being used like an object.

“Atta girl.” He didn't stop, not once. You weren’t asking to anyways just screaming his name for more — no mind here with nodding away into a mess full of bedsheets, trying to wind wobbly hips back on his cock to bounce lewdly.

Taehyung does nothing less but snap sharply against your ass, “So fucking tight, mine."

"C-cum in me tae," you moan, seeing white, reaching down blindly to rub your clit in frantic circles, begging at the idea of the older filling you with his cum. "Fill me up, give-give me a baby."

"Fuuuck," Taehyung growls and groans almost feral "Don't fucking say that shit."

"W-why not?" bratty whines beg “F-fill me up? Don't say that?"

Taehyung grunts, pulling you on him, chest to chest, you clamor to wrap shaky arms around his neck. Fuck, he’s holding you upright, bouncing you straight onto his cock. Falling forward with a squeal, crying in pleasure as the tip of his cock hits your cervix with how deep he is inside.

"Want my cum so fucking bad?" he hums, trying his best to sound unbothered. "I'll fucking give it to you then."

Your legs clamp around his waist as he pounds into you, cock hitting every point inside your body and you’re so close you think you’ll die. You feel Taehyung tense, and then a sudden gush of warmth fill you.

"Fuck me, angel. You feel so good." he gasps through l shut teeth spanking you with every thrust he gave.

At the feeling of him actually listening to what you always wanted, your orgasm blinds you in intensity, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps. Body seizing, moans loud against his lips, whining a final tired cry to slow down.

The baby clip once stuck to hair now hung loose, the feeling of warm hands kneading hips before he would give harsh slaps to your ass.

"What do you think he would say," he spits out the name with nothing but disgust. “if he saw you like this?" He shifts his hips, "You think he'd ruin your orgasm?" tone patronizingly sympathetic. “Or.. let you cum so prettily, like you always do.”

He tsks at watching how disoriented daze eyes go through the five stages of grief. Writhing in pleasure as eyes fall closed, breath hitched when he finally lays you back down on the bed. Thighs sticky and all, he sighs at the sight.

“Want to show this cunt off to the world."

“Y-you can’t..” you pout, his eyes watching you fall apart all over again at just words being spoken to you.

“Good thing for secrets.” he smirks his mouth almost falling into a snarl, it wasn’t even spoken this would continue. One last time you agreed.. but you want him more than ever even if your situation is doomed.

“Bath?” he mutters with a whisper of soft kisses to your temple, you nod.

He grabs for his cigarettes, you hand him his lighter and wait until the deed was done so you could put them back off to the side again.

It’s been long since you both have took a bath together. He stretches his arms after he successfully calmed his nerves, you light the stick for him, eyes on him as he throws his head back to inhale. Blowing smoke out, body lazing while it filled with nicotine.

You like calm men, men who dont shout or break things when they’re upset. Men who talked to you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong.

That’s what Taehyung is to you, that’s what made you fall.. hard. You think it over all again in your current predicament, comfortable as ever.

Veiny caramel hands pulling your hips up in the bath for you to be settled nicely. A warm hand fondles your ass lovingly with his other taking puffs of smoke to inhale and exhale lazily, “My pretty girl.” he smiles lopsided before tugging your wobbly hips back down in relief, enjoying the way you whimpered and whined in your own way of retaliation.

Taking mercy before planting a wet kiss on your shoulder to whisper “I love you, Angel.”

Both of you decide on staying silent. Your back rests against his chest, deciding mutually to speak once the cigarette burnt into ashes.

“Does he make you feel safe, like I do?”

You don’t answer.

“I want you, you’re mine no matter what.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You are married now.. being due with a fast wedding to no love involved, business as the main goal.

The meets with Taehyung continue and you two make time to fuck when you can — poor Namjoon.

It hurts he thinks.. hurts so bad. Because he’ll have to look at you every month when you come over to be fucked into whatever.

While he is out handling business, leaving him in the spot to fuck you hard and good like he can’t, at least he tried to convince himself of that for his own comfort.

You keep up with the old routine of pillow talk, just to feel the same mundanity this once all was. You think, he doesn’t care what you speak of after he only just poured his dull sad soul into fucking you.

Not caring at how you talk so highly of your new husband and how well you both are adapting with each other. Rambling all on about your blossoming relationship with him, hearing you nervously speak of the plans on having kids together.

Of course not nervous on his behalf, no, no.

Because you are deathly nervous about if you will be a good mother or not, he knows you will, even if things are like this. You think it doesn’t hurt him, when you say genuinely on how he’ll be the “Cool friend of Mommy’s” to your children.

It drives a knife deep into my heart on how you speak so highly of this new life, how well you are adapting. When.. we could have had this.

“Tae..? You there?”

He’s not caring to respond to your rhetoric question that was all well laced of genuine care and worry, Taehyung can be an asshole just this once.

“Do you know what you are?”

You think this is a game of teasing now, he can tell with that pretty smirk plastered on your gorgeous face “What am I, sir?”

It’s too bad that he’s being genuinely serious.

“You’re my girl.”

You don’t take a second to pause, you play into the narrative with a grin that quickly warped into an innocent and sweet smile.

“I’m your girl, Taehyung.”

He only knew that you meant the world to him.. and he, adored you in his mind until it hurt.

[deadpresidents]

"Mr. Trump's election demonstrates how American tolerance for the unacceptable is nearly infinite. There are hundreds of absolutely mind-boggling things I could point to from the past decade...But three election in a row, Mr. Trump has been a viable Presidential candidate and our democracy has few guardrails to protect the country from the clear and present danger he and his political appointees will continue to confer upon us. Clearly, Mr. Trump is successful because of his faults, not despite them, because we do not live in a just world...And now Republicans will control the executive branch, the Senate and the House of Representatives. There will be few checks and balances...

...Mr. Trump's voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity.

We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.

These are adults, so let us treat them like adults. Let us acknowledge that they want to believe nonsense and conjecture. They want to believe anything that affirms their worldview. They want to celebrate a leader who allows them to nurture their basest beliefs about others. The biggest challenge of our lifetime will be figuring out how to combat the American willingness to embrace flagrant misinformation and bigotry.

As Mr. Trump assembles his cabinet of loyalists and outlines the alarming policies he means to enact, it's hard not to imagine the worst, not out of paranoia but as a means of preparation. The incoming President has clearly articulated that he may dismantle the Department of Education and appears to be giving the wealthiest man in the world unfettered access to the Oval Office. He plans to begin mass deportations immediately and has announced his pick of a Fox News host as the defense secretary -- the list goes on, each promise more appalling than the last.

We would like to believe that many of the ideas on Mr. Trump's demented wish list won't actually come to fruition and that our democracy can once more withstand the new President and the people with whom he surrounds himself. But that is just desperate, wishful thinking. As of yet, there is nothing that will break the iron grip Mr. Trump has on his base, and Vice President-elect JD Vance is young enough to carry the mantle going forward for political cycles to come.

Absolutely anything is possible, and we must acknowledge this, not out of surrender, but as a means of readying ourselves for the impossible fights ahead."

-- Roxane Gay, "Enough", The New York Times, November 17, 2024.

This is one of the best, most spot-on pieces about where we are and what we must prepare ourselves for in the aftermath of Donald Trump's re-election to the Presidency. These gift links will allow you to bypass the NYT paywall and read the entire article, and I urge you to share these links with as many people as you'd like.

[meo-eiru]

hi dear, I'm not sure if ur ask box is already open, sorry if it isn't, please take your time and stay healthy

soo I've been thinking about that whole concept of delulu elf babying us and BOY isn't that depressing?? like I'd have a whole ass existential crisis after some time

I mean in my perspective, it must be pretty humiliating for a grown person to be not be taken seriously to such extent. like our boy doesn't even trust us to leave the house and is convinced that his darling needs his absolute protection. no personal space, little to no social interactions except for him, etc.

ANND the worst part is that Silas doesn't even realize that he's doing something wrong, unlike classic yanderes. in his head, he's only doing what's best for darling, without any ill intentions (man's head is filled with unicorns and rainbows). in a way, he's the child here; one that accidentally breaks a kitten's paw because they hugged it too tight.

so can you really blame him? can you really bring yourself to hate him? even if you're upset at him for taking away your basic human rights, he's only trying his best for you!! even if his concept of that "best" is a bit twisted. it's a whole ass internal conflict for darling we have here!

and like, I'm a pretty empathetic person, so I'd hate to see him cry. I'd hate myself if I ever snapped at him (he should only cry from pleasure uh huh). so the only choice I have is to slowly convince Silas to change, but can that really work? what if I'd have to spend a millenia like this, slowly dying on the inside?

that's kind of a hilarious concept for me, like, he's the mama here, but you have to sit him down and patiently explain how your body works, to not die because of overfeeding or smth like that

you created a masterpiece, my brainworms are brainworming so hard rn. I also have some interesting thoughts abt Elias ^^

(DESPAIR!! SUFFERINGS!! ok I'm sorry I still want to squeeze his booba like a stress ball)

I love this ask a lot because that's exactly the vibe I was going for with him.

It's very contradicting. On one hand his mothering is appealing because someone taking care of you with such genuine love is... nice. No matter how you act, no matter what tricks you pull, Silas will forever and ever love you with all his heart. You are his precious flower and he has so much affection for you. He can heal you, he can keep you fed, he can give you the love no one else can.

But at the end of the day that love will be the thing that ruins you. The fundamental difference between you two's existence, how you two view life and each other is just too much. While Silas can take care of your basic needs and give you love, him being so unable to fully understand you and your capabilities can and will eventually break you.

Silas is nice but he isn't. Silas can keep you healthy but also can't. He thinks he's sufficient for you but he just isn't.

He's beautiful and lives in a bright world full of colors but will be the one who'll strip your world of color.

You'll slowly change as he continues to suffocate you with affection.

And he will do all of it with genuine love and good intent in his heart.

Which is what makes him so contradicting. He's like your doom wrapped in cute packaging and presented to you by someone who loves you. He's a poison turned into a warm homecooked meal.

[natsaffection]

Wait and Hope. Pt 1 | N.R

Warnings: None.

Word count: 7k

A/n: First of Three is here! If you want to know what happens next, you can read the request here.

Natasha entered the apartment she shared with you, her body aching from the day's work. The mission had been long and exhausting, but successful. Yet, as she walked in, she felt the familiar sense of home, the quiet comfort of returning to the one person who made all the chaos worthwhile. She hung her jacket on the hook by the door and took off her boots, sighing in relief as the burden of the day slowly lifted from her. The apartment was quiet, except for the soft hum of the television in the living room.

She found you sitting on the couch, a laptop on your knees, your eyes focused on the screen. The gentle light from the lamp on the side table cast a soft glow on your face, highlighting the thoughtful expression you wore. Natasha watched you for a moment, her heart swelling with love for this woman who had somehow managed to break through all her defenses and become the center of her world. But there was something else, something in the way your brow was furrowed, in the way you were biting your lower lip in concentration. Natasha's instincts, honed by years of reading people, told her that you were deep in thought, perhaps even troubled.

"Hey.." Natasha said softly to announce her presence as she stepped into the room. Your head snapped up, a smile spreading across your face as you saw Natasha standing there. "Hey, you." you replied, closing the laptop slightly, but not entirely. "How was work?"

"The usual.." Natasha said with a shrug, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was on your mind. "Tiring, but we got the job done." She moved closer to the couch, her eyes briefly flicking to the laptop before returning to you. "And you? You look like you’ve been thinking about something."

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze falling on the laptop before you looked back up at Natasha. There was a hint of nervousness, maybe even anticipation, in your eyes. "I've been thinking..about something. Something I wanted to talk to you about." Natasha’s heartbeat quickened slightly. In her line of work, unexpected conversations were rarely a good thing. But this was you, and whatever was on your mind, Natasha knew they could face it together. "What is it?" she asked gently, sitting down beside you on the couch.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of the laptop as you gathered your thoughts. "Do you remember how we joked a while back about what it would be like..to have..kids?" Natasha’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah, I remember. I think I said I’d teach them how to escape from a locked room, and you said you’d make sure they stayed in one place long enough to learn something."

You smiled at the memory, but there was a seriousness in your eyes that told Natasha this wasn’t a casual conversation. "Well..I’ve been thinking a lot about it since then. About what it would be like, I mean. To have a family. To adopt.." Natasha felt a small flutter in her stomach at the mention of adoption. She had spent so many years locking away her feelings, protecting herself from the kind of attachment that could be used against her. But with you, everything was different. You had made her feel things she never thought she could feel..love, vulnerability, hope. And now the thought of expanding her world to include a child or children was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You must have sensed Natasha’s hesitation because you placed your hand on her knee. "I know it’s a lot to think about." you said softly. "And I know you’ve been through things that make this complicated. But..I can’t stop thinking about it, Nat. I want to start a family with you. I’ve looked into adoption agencies, read stories, and..I think we could do it. I think we’d be great parents." Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked into your eyes, the sincerity, the longing there. She glanced at the laptop, which was only slightly open, and felt a wave of fear mixed with something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

"I..I need time. To think about it." Your expression softened, and you nodded, clearly expecting that she would react this way. "Of course." you said quickly. "I didn’t mean to spring this on you out of nowhere. I just wanted to share what I’ve been thinking about. But I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for." Natasha took a deep breath to steady herself. "It’s not that I don’t want it. I do, more than I ever thought I could. But my past..what if it catches up to us? What if I can’t be the kind of mother a child needs? I don’t want to bring a child into our lives if I’m not sure I can protect them, make them..happy."

Your hand squeezed her knee tighter, your touch warm and reassuring. "Natasha, I’ve seen how you are with kids. You’re great with them. You’re kind, protective, and you have so much love to give. Yes, your past is complicated, but it’s made you who you are today. And who you are today would be an incredible mother." Natasha looked down, her thoughts racing. She knew you were right, she had changed, she had grown, and she had found a kind of peace she never thought possible. But the thought of bringing a child into her life, of being responsible for someone so vulnerable, still filled her with fear.

You seemed to sense Natasha’s internal turmoil, and you gently squeezed her knee again. "You don’t have to decide now." you said quietly. "I just wanted to start the conversation. We can take it one step at a time." Natasha nodded, grateful for your understanding. "Thank you." she whispered. "For being patient with me." You smiled, leaning in to kiss Natasha’s cheek. "Always." you replied. "Why don’t we go get some rest? We can talk more about it later." Natasha nodded again, watching as you headed toward the bedroom. You called out, "Coming?"

"In a while." Natasha replied, watching you walk away. "I just need to unwind a bit first."

"Alright." you called back over your shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. "Don’t stay up too late." Once you were out of sight, Natasha’s gaze drifted back to the laptop on the coffee table. The conversation had unsettled her, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix of fear and curiosity. She knew you were serious about wanting to adopt, and deep down, Natasha couldn’t deny that she had thought about it too..had dreamed about what it would be like to have a family with you.

With a shaky breath, Natasha reached out and opened the laptop, the screen flickering to life. And there they were..children of all ages, some smiling brightly, others with eyes that looked too old for their young faces. Natasha’s heart clenched as she scrolled through the profiles, reading snippets of their stories, their hopes for a family. She tried to keep her emotions in check, to stay detached, but it was impossible. The more she read, the more she felt herself softening, felt the walls she had built around her heart slowly crumbling. There was a boy with a shy smile, a girl with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and a baby with a tuft of curly hair. Each of them touched something deep inside Natasha, something she had tried so hard to protect.

Before she knew it, tears were stinging her eyes. Natasha quickly wiped them away as if trying to erase the evidence of her feelings. But it was too late. She was already falling in love. She snapped the laptop shut again, her hands trembling as she did so. She felt overwhelmed, torn, but also..something else. Something that suspiciously felt like hope. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was a big decision, one she needed to talk to you about, one they had to face together. But for the first time, the idea of having a family didn’t feel so terrifying. It felt..possible. Even right.

With that thought, Natasha stood up, taking the laptop with her as she headed to the bedroom. She found you already in bed, your eyes closed, but Natasha knew you weren’t asleep. She set the laptop on the nightstand and quietly slipped under the covers, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You stirred slightly, a smile forming on your lips as you felt Natasha’s embrace.

"Hey.." you murmured sleepily. "Everything okay?" Natasha pressed a kiss to your neck, her heart full of warmth. "Yes." she whispered. "Everything’s okay. I.. think I’m ready to talk about it. About the adoption." Your eyes opened slowly, and you turned slightly to face Natasha, surprise and joy reflecting in your expression. "Really?"

Natasha nodded, her voice soft but firm. "I looked at some of the profiles. And I think, I think we might be ready for this. Together." Your eyes filled with tears, but they were tears of happiness. You reached up and gently cupped Natasha’s cheek before leaning in for a tender, loving kiss. "I knew you’d get there!" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "We’re going to make a wonderful family, Nat."

Weeks passed, and you found yourselves at the adoption agency. The room was filled with comfortable chairs and soft lighting. You sat side by side, your hands entwined as you waited for your appointment. You squeezed Natasha’s hand, barely containing your excitement, but Natasha could sense the underlying nervousness. This was a big day, and although you had spent weeks discussing and preparing for this moment and now, the reality of it was setting in. You were about to take the first step toward expanding your family, and the weight of that decision was palpable.

A door opened at the other end of the room, and a woman in her mid-forties stepped out, her smile warm and welcoming. She had the kind of presence that put people at ease, her movements calm and deliberate. "Y/n, Natasha?"

Both of you stood up, exchanging a brief glance before you walked toward the woman. "That’s us." you said with a smile, though Natasha could feel your hand tighten slightly around hers. "It’s wonderful to meet you both." the woman said, extending her hand to you. "I’m Rebecca, and I’ll be guiding you through the process today. Why don’t we sit down first and discuss a few things before we take a tour?"

You followed Rebecca into her office, a cozy space filled with pictures of smiling families and framed certificates on the walls. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, adding to the warmth and comfort of the room. Once you were seated, Rebecca leaned forward slightly, her expression gentle but serious. "First of all, I want to thank both of you for being here. The decision to adopt is a huge one, and it’s one that comes with a lot of responsibility, as I’m sure you know. This journey is as much about finding the right addition to your family as it is about giving a child who needs it a loving home."

Natasha nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been through a lot in her life, more than most people could imagine, but this felt different. It felt like a step into the unknown, into something that would change both your lives forever. "We understand." you said quietly, your voice calm. "We’ve talked about this a lot, and we’re ready. We want to start a family."

Rebecca smiled, clearly pleased by your determination. "That’s wonderful to hear. Now, I know from your application that you’re primarily interested in adopting a younger child, perhaps a toddler. That’s quite common, especially for first-time adoptive parents. But I want to encourage you to go through this process with an open mind. Sometimes the child that’s meant to be a part of your family isn’t the one you initially imagined."

Natasha and you exchanged a thoughtful glance. You had indeed focused on adopting a younger child, someone you could raise together from the beginning. But both of you nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of what Rebecca was saying. "We’ll keep that in mind." Natasha said, her voice steady but open. Rebecca nodded, satisfied with your response. "Good. If you’re ready, why don’t we take a tour of the facility? You’ll have the opportunity to see some of the children currently living here, and we can discuss any questions you have along the way."

Natasha felt a mixture of anticipation and fear as she stood up to follow Rebecca out of the office. Your hand remained firmly in hers, a silent source of comfort as you walked down the hallway. The facility was bright and welcoming, with colorful artwork on the walls and the occasional burst of laughter echoing from the playrooms. As you passed by one room, Natasha caught a glimpse of a group of younger children playing with blocks, their faces lit up with joy. She felt a tug at her heart as she imagined what it would be like to bring one of these children home, to watch them grow up surrounded by love and security.

But as you continued walking, Natasha noticed something else..a row of doors leading to private rooms, some of them slightly ajar. Through one of these doors, she saw a teenage girl sitting on her bed, her back against the wall, headphones in her ears as she wrote in a notebook. The girl’s posture was relaxed but alert, her eyes focused intently on what she was writing.

Rebecca noticed Natasha’s gaze and paused, glancing into the room. "That’s Lila." she said softly, her voice taking on a gentler tone. "She’s fifteen. She’s been here for about a year." You looked into the room as well, your curiosity piqued. "She seems focused." you remarked, a small smile playing on your lips.

Rebecca nodded. "Lila is incredibly smart, but she’s also been through a lot. She’s had a hard time adjusting, and because of her age, she knows it’s harder to find a family willing to adopt a teenager. Most people are looking for younger children." Natasha felt a pang of sympathy at these words. She knew what it felt like to be unwanted, to be overlooked because of who you were or what you had been through. She could see a spark of that same pain in Lila’s guarded demeanor.

As if sensing she was being watched, Lila looked up from her notebook, her sharp eyes locking onto the group standing in the hallway. Her expression shifted to one of wary annoyance as she quickly assessed the situation. She pulled out one of her earbuds, raising an eyebrow as she looked from Rebecca to you and Natasha. "Let me guess." Lila said, her voice cool and distant. "You’re here to adopt. But I’m not what you’re looking for, am I?"

Natasha was taken aback by the directness in Lila’s words, but she couldn’t help but admire the girl for her honesty. There was a strength in her, a resilience that Natasha recognized, something that spoke to her in a way she hadn’t expected. You, always the more open of the two, stepped forward slightly, your expression gentle. "We’re here to meet everyone." you said softly. "We don’t know what we’re looking for yet."

Lila laughed lightly, though there was a hint of bitterness behind it. "Yeah, well, you’re not the first people to come here looking for a cute little kid. That’s okay. I’m used to it." Natasha felt a protective instinct rise in her chest. She could see that Lila had built walls around herself, the same walls Natasha had spent years constructing. And she knew how exhausting it could be to keep those walls up, always ready to be disappointed.

Without really thinking, Natasha found herself speaking. "You don’t know what we’re looking for." she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "We’re here to meet people, to see if there’s a connection. It’s not about age." Lila blinked, clearly surprised by Natasha’s response. For a moment, her cool facade wavered, a fleeting expression of vulnerability crossing her face. But just as quickly, she straightened up, the walls coming back up.

"Sure.." Lila muttered, "Well, don’t let me keep you from finding your perfect little family." You exchanged a look with Natasha, something unspoken passing between you. There was something about Lila, something that held you both and wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t just her strength or her resilience, it was the way she tried to hide her pain, the way she had already written off the possibility of being chosen, of being loved.

Rebecca then showed you the rooms where younger children played and learned. The sight of toddlers and preschoolers laughing and interacting with each other tugged at your heart, and Natasha could see how your eyes lingered on the small faces. Yet even as you continued the tour, another image kept coming back to Natasha..Lila.

As you walked down another hallway, Rebecca continued speaking, her voice warm and informative. "As I mentioned, we have children of all ages here, from infants to teenagers. Each of them has their own unique story, their own needs and dreams. Finding the right match is more than just a matter of age or background,it’s about connection." Natasha nodded, though her mind was still partly in Lila’s room, replaying the brief but intense encounter. She could still see Lila’s sharp eyes, the way she had tried to protect herself from disappointment, and it gnawed at her.

You seemed to be having similar thoughts. You gave Natasha a thoughtful look before turning back to Rebecca. "How often are older children adopted?" you asked, your voice gentle but tinged with concern. Rebecca’s smile faded slightly, her voice becoming more serious. "Unfortunately, it’s less common. Many prospective parents are looking for younger children, hoping to start from the beginning, so to speak. Teenagers, especially those who have been in the system for a while, often have a harder time finding a family. But that doesn’t mean they don’t find families, it just takes the right people, people who are willing to look beyond age."

You exchanged another glance with Natasha, a silent conversation happening between you. Natasha could see the question in your eyes, could they be those people? But you continued the tour, following Rebecca as she led you through the rest of the facility. You met several more children, young, energetic, full of life and potential. A toddler with big, curious eyes reached for your finger and let out a giggle, and Natasha could see your heart melt in that moment. Natasha herself felt drawn to a little boy who proudly showed off his block tower, his face beaming as Natasha knelt down to admire it.

Yet throughout it all, Lila’s image kept returning to Natasha’s thoughts. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special about the girl, something that had spoken to her in a way she hadn’t expected. Finally, the tour ended, and Rebecca led you back to her office, where you sat down to discuss what you had seen and felt. Natasha and you sat, each of you lost in your own thoughts, as Rebecca began speaking again.

"I know this process can be overwhelming." Rebecca said kindly, her eyes moving between you and Natasha. "There’s a lot to consider, and it’s okay if you’re not sure yet about what you want. The most important thing is to take your time and think about what feels right for both of you." You nodded, though Natasha could see the uncertainty in your eyes. "We definitely have a lot to talk about.." you said softly.

Rebecca smiled reassuringly. "That’s completely normal. This is a big decision, and it’s important that you both feel confident in your choice. If you have any questions or if you’d like to meet any of the children again, just let me know." After a few more minutes of conversation, you and Natasha thanked Rebecca for her time and made your way out of the building. The drive home was quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts as you tried to process everything you had seen and felt during the visit.

When you finally arrived home, you placed your handbag on the kitchen counter and turned to Natasha, your expression serious but open. "So..what do you think?" you asked gently. Natasha took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, gathering her thoughts. "I don’t know." she admitted. "I mean, all the kids we met today were wonderful. But..I can’t stop thinking about Lila."

Your eyes softened, and you nodded, as if you had expected this. "I can’t stop thinking about her either." you said quietly. "There was just something about her, wasn’t there? She was so guarded, but there was so much..depth there. So much potential." Natasha looked down at the floor, her thoughts racing with the implications of what you were considering. "She’s older than we originally thought we wanted.." she said thoughtfully. "But I don’t know..maybe that doesn’t matter as much as we thought."

You stepped closer, placing a hand on Natasha’s arm. "Nat, I saw the way you looked at her." you said softly. "And I know you saw how much she’s been through. We could be the ones to help her, to give her the love and stability she needs." Natasha looked into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, any doubt. But all she saw was the same love and hope that had always been there, the same belief that you could do this together.

"What if we’re not enough for her?" Natasha asked, her voice tinged with worry. "What if she needs more than we can give?" You shook your head gently, your gaze steady. "We’ll figure it out." you said with quiet confidence. "We’re not perfect, and we’ll make mistakes, but we have so much love to give, Nat. And maybe..maybe that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who won’t give up on her." Natasha felt a surge of emotion at your words, her heart swelling with a mixture of fear and hope. She knew this was a big decision, one that would change their lives forever. But she also knew that she might regret it if she didn’t take this chance.

"Okay." Natasha finally said, her voice firm but soft. "Let’s do it. Let’s start the process to adopt her." Your eyes filled with tears of joy, and you pulled Natasha into a tight embrace, your heart pounding with excitement about what lay ahead. "Thank you, Nat.." you whispered against Natasha’s shoulder. "I know this isn’t easy, but I really believe it’s the right thing to do." Natasha held you close, feeling the warmth of your love and the strength of your bond. "We’ll do this together." Natasha said quietly. "We’ll be her family."

Natasha and you returned to the adoption agency, your hearts pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The familiar hallways, which had seemed so intimidating on your first visit, now felt purposeful. You had made your decision. You were ready to adopt Lila.

Rebecca greeted you with her usual warm smile, but there was a slight hesitation in her eyes as she offered you seats. "Natasha, Y/n, it’s good to see you both again!" she began, her voice as friendly as ever. "I understand that you’ve given this decision a lot of thought." You nodded, holding Natasha’s hand tightly under the table. "Yes, we have." you said, your voice firm. "We’ve thought about it a lot, and we both feel that Lila is the one we’d like to adopt."

Rebecca’s smile widened, but there was still a hint of something in her expression..something that made Natasha’s instincts prick up. "I’m so happy to hear that." Rebecca said, "Lila is a wonderful young woman, and I believe she would thrive in a home like yours. But before we proceed, there’s something important we need to discuss." Natasha and you exchanged a glance, a flicker of concern passing between you. "What is it?" Natasha asked cautiously.

Rebecca took a deep breath and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. "Lila has two younger siblings." she explained gently. "A brother, Jacob, who is 10, and a sister, Mia, who is 6. They’ve been in the system together for a while now, and it’s been difficult to find a placement that can take all three." The words hung in the air like a bombshell. Natasha and you both blinked in surprise, the realization slowly sinking in. Three children? You had prepared yourselves to adopt one, maybe two if the situation called for it, but three? The thought was overwhelming, almost paralyzing.

"Three..children?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked at Natasha, your eyes wide with shock. "We..we didn’t know." Rebecca nodded sympathetically. "I know it’s a lot to take in, and I want to assure you that there’s no pressure to make a decision right away. But I wanted to be honest with you because it’s something we try to avoid whenever possible, separating siblings. Lila, Jacob, and Mia have been through a lot together, and they’re very close. They rely on each other." Natasha felt her heart racing, her thoughts swirling with the consequences. Three children. It was more than you had planned for, more than you had prepared yourselves to handle. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake the image of Lila, how she had looked at them with that mix of hope and skepticism, how she had seemed so strong yet so vulnerable.

And now there were two more faces she had to imagine. Jacob and Mia, both younger, both searching for the same love and stability that Lila needed. Your hand squeezed Natasha’s tighter, and Natasha could see the conflict in your eyes, the same conflict she felt in her own heart. But she also saw something else: a determination, a belief that together, they could make this work.

"Can we meet them?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly but filled with resolve. "Jacob and Mia, I mean. Can we meet them before we make a decision?" Rebecca’s expression softened, and she nodded. "Of course. I think that would be a very good idea." A short time later, Natasha and you found yourselves back in the familiar hallway, but this time with a different kind of anticipation. Rebecca led you to a playroom, where Lila sat on the floor reading a book. Beside her were two younger children, a boy and a girl, both quietly playing with some building blocks.

As soon as Lila saw Natasha and you, her expression shifted to one of surprise, followed by a cautious look. But there was also something else, an underlying hope that she couldn’t quite hide. "Lila, these are the people I told you about." Rebecca said softly. "Natasha and Y/n. They wanted to meet Jacob and Mia." Lila’s eyes moved from Rebecca to Natasha and you, as if trying to understand what this meant. The younger children looked up from their play, curiosity shining in their eyes. The boy, Jacob, had a serious expression, much like Lila’s, while the little girl, Mia, had large, innocent eyes that mirrored her brother’s.

Natasha felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at the children and the reality of the situation sank in. These were Lila’s siblings..part of the package you hadn’t expected, but couldn’t ignore. And as she watched Jacob and Mia interact with Lila, the bond between them was undeniable. You knelt down to their level, your voice gentle and warm. "Hi, Jacob. Hi, Mia. I’m Y/n, and this is Natasha. We’ve been talking to your sister Lila."

Jacob looked at you with a mix of curiosity and caution, but he didn’t say anything. Mia, on the other hand, gave you a small, shy smile. "Hi!" Natasha felt an unexpected wave of affection for both of them, but she also felt the weight of the decision they were facing. It was no longer just about Lila, no it was about all three of them, about creating a family in a way that was bigger and more complex than they had ever imagined. Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally spoke, her voice cautious. "You wanted to adopt a younger child, didn’t you? Not three. It’s okay. I get it."

The statement hit Natasha and you hard, and Natasha felt a pang of guilt at the truth in Lila’s words. But there was also something else, a determination that had been growing since your first meeting with Lila. "We came here thinking we knew what we wanted." Natasha began, her voice steady but thoughtful. "But things change. People change. We didn’t expect to meet someone like you, Lila. And we didn’t know about Jacob and Mia. But now that we’ve met all of you..we need to think about what feels right."

You nodded, your eyes full of sincerity. "We don’t want to make promises we can’t keep." you said softly. "But we also don’t want to walk away from something that could be really special. We just need..a little time to talk it over." Lila’s expression softened slightly, though she still looked unsure, as if she couldn’t fully believe what she was hearing. "Okay." she said quietly, her voice uncertain.

Rebecca stepped in, her voice gentle. "Why don’t you take some time to think about it? You’ve been through a lot today, and I know this is a big decision. Take as much time as you need." Natasha and you nodded, your minds and hearts swirling with emotions as you left the playroom. The drive home was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. It wasn’t until you were back in the familiar comfort of your living room, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders, that you finally broke the silence.

"Three children, Nat." you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I don’t know if we’re ready for that. But at the same time..I can’t imagine leaving them there. They’re already a family. I don’t want to break that up." Natasha sat down beside you, her heart heavy with the gravity of the situation. "It’s a lot." she admitted. "More than we planned for. But I can’t stop thinking about them either. Lila..she’s strong, but she’s been through so much. And Jacob and Mia need stability, they need someone to show them that they’re not alone."

You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for answers, for reassurance. "Do you think we can do this?" you asked, your voice filled with hope and fear. "Do you think we can really be the parents they need?" Natasha reached for your hand, her voice filled with quiet determination. "I think we can try." she said softly. "It won’t be easy, and there will be challenges we haven’t even thought of yet. But I think..I think this might be the family we’re meant to have."

Your eyes filled with tears, but you nodded, your grip on Natasha’s hand tightening. "I don’t want to walk away from them." you whispered. "I think we can do this, Nat. Really." Natasha pulled you into a tight embrace, solidifying the decision in her heart. "Then let’s do it." she murmured. "Let’s bring them home."

The drive back to the adoption agency weeks later was filled with a quiet determination. You and Natasha had spent the last days talking, weighing the pros and cons, but in the end, your hearts had guided you to a decision. You were ready to take on this challenge together. As you entered Rebecca’s office once more, there was a sense of resolution between you. Rebecca greeted you with her usual warmth, but there was an added depth to her smile as she sensed the shift in your demeanor.

"Rebecca." Natasha began, her voice steady, "we’ve thought about it, and we want to move forward with the adoption. We want to adopt all three. Lila, Jacob, and Mia." Rebecca’s smile widened, her eyes reflecting both surprise and joy. "That’s wonderful news!" she said, her voice full of genuine happiness. "I know this is a big decision, but I truly believe you’re going to make a great family." The process that followed was a whirlwind of paperwork, meetings, and preparations. Rebecca guided you through every step, ensuring that you felt supported and informed. The more you learned about Lila, Jacob, and Mia, the more certain you became that this was the right decision.

The day finally came when you would bring the children home. As you pulled up to the adoption agency, there was a mix of excitement and nervousness in the air. Natasha glanced at you, her hand resting on the gearshift. "Are you ready?" she asked softly. You nodded, though Natasha could see the nervous energy in your eyes. "I’m ready." you replied, your voice steady but full of emotion. "Let’s bring them home."

When you entered the agency, Rebecca greeted you with a warm smile, but it was Lila, Jacob, and Mia who drew your attention. They stood together, holding hands, their small bags at their feet. Lila looked nervous but hopeful, Jacob’s serious expression was tinged with curiosity, and Mia clung to her sister’s hand, her wide eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. Natasha crouched down to their level, offering them a gentle smile. "Are you all ready to go home?" she asked, her voice soft.

Lila nodded, her grip on her siblings’ hands tightening. "Yeah.." she said quietly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Mia looked up at Lila, then at you and Natasha, before nodding as well. Jacob remained quiet but gave a small nod of agreement.

"Okay." you said gently, "let’s go." The drive home was quiet, the children sitting in the backseat, their expressions a mix of anticipation and nerves. Natasha kept glancing in the rearview mirror, watching them closely. She could feel the weight of the moment, the beginning of something new and beautiful, but also challenging and uncertain.

When you finally arrived at the house, Natasha parked the car, and the two of you turned to face the children. "Welcome home." you said softly, your voice filled with emotion.

Mia pressed her face against the window, her small hands leaving prints on the glass as she took in the sight of the house. "It’s big...." she whispered in awe. Jacob looked at Lila, who nodded slightly, giving him the courage to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Let’s go." Lila said quietly, leading her siblings out of the car. You and Natasha helped them with their bags, and as you approached the front door, Natasha handed the key to Mia. "Would you like to do the honors?" she asked with a smile.

Mia looked up at Natasha with wide eyes before carefully taking the key. She hesitated for a moment, then looked back at Lila and Jacob, who gave her encouraging smiles. With a deep breath, Mia stepped forward and unlocked the door. As the door swung open, the children were greeted by the warmth and coziness of their new home. The living room was inviting, with a large, comfortable couch and shelves filled with books and photos. The kitchen was bright and welcoming, with a small table already set with snacks and drinks.

"This is your home now." you said gently, your voice full of warmth. "You can make it your own." Mia was the first to move, her small hand slipping into Jacob’s as she led him toward the living room. Jacob followed, his eyes still wide with curiosity. Lila hesitated at the door, her expression cautious but with a glimmer of hope.

Natasha and you exchanged a look, understanding that this was just the beginning. The children would need time to adjust, to feel safe and secure in this new environment. It wouldn’t be easy, but you were committed to making it work. "Would you like a tour?" you suggested, your voice bright with encouragement. "We can show you your rooms and where everything is."

Mia, who was always the most enthusiastic, nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!" she said, her voice full of excitement. Natasha led the way, guiding them through the house. She showed them the kitchen, where they would eat together, the living room, where they could watch movies and play games, and the small study, which had already been transformed into a cozy nook for reading and quiet moments. Finally, they reached the bedrooms. You and Natasha had spent hours decorating each room based on what you had learned about the children during your visits. Mia's room was done in soft colors, with a bed covered in stuffed animals, Jacob's room had shelves for his books and toys, and Lila's room was decorated with a mix of bold, vibrant colors that reflected her independent spirit.

Mia was the first to run into her room, her eyes lighting up as she saw the array of stuffed animals on her bed. "Look!" she cried out happily, turning to you. "They're so cute!" You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness at Mia's joy. "I'm glad you like them, sweetheart." Jacob walked slowly into his room, his fingers gliding over the shelves lining the walls. He seemed a little overwhelmed, but in a good way, as if he could hardly believe this was real. "This is...really nice." he said quietly, looking up at Natasha with a shy smile. Natasha returned the smile, her heart warming at the sight of Jacob's tentative happiness. "It's all yours, Jacob." she said gently. "You can arrange it however you like."

Lila was the last to enter her room, her steps slow and cautious. She stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the space that had been prepared for her. The bold colors on the walls, the comfortable bed, the desk by the window, everything was so different from what she was used to. She walked over to the desk, running her hand over the surface, her expression difficult to read. "It's your space, Lila." you said softly as you stepped into the room behind her. "We want you to feel at home here."

Lila turned to you, her eyes filled with mixed emotions..gratitude, uncertainty, and a hint of vulnerability. "Thank you." she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. You smiled and placed a comforting hand on Lila's shoulder. "We're glad you're here." you said gently. "All of you." As the day turned into evening, the house gradually filled with the sounds of life. You and Natasha prepared dinner, a simple yet comforting meal of pasta and salad. The children sat at the table, still a bit hesitant, but slowly beginning to relax. Mia chattered excitedly about her new room, while Jacob quietly observed, taking everything in.

Lila, as expected, was more reserved, but she engaged in the conversation, her responses growing longer and more sincere as the evening went on. Natasha couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she watched her new family begin to come together, each moment a small step towards building the bond they all longed for. After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie. Natasha let the kids choose, and they finally settled on a family-friendly animated film. Mia cuddled up next to Natasha on the couch, resting her head on her shoulder, while Jacob sat between the two of you, his attention fully focused on the screen.

Lila sat in an armchair, slightly apart from the group, but Natasha noticed how she occasionally glanced over at you all, as if slowly allowing herself to become part of this new dynamic. Natasha caught her gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile, which Lila returned with a hesitant yet genuine one. As the movie played, Natasha felt a deep sense of contentment wash over her. This was her family now. Imperfect, still finding its way, but full of potential and love.

When the movie ended, you suggested it was time for bed, and the children reluctantly agreed, their excitement finally giving way to the exhaustion of the eventful day. You and Natasha helped them settle into their rooms, giving each of them goodnight hugs and words of reassurance. Mia clung to Natasha a little longer than the others, her small arms wrapped tightly around her neck. "Good night..." she whispered, her voice filled with contentment.

Your heart melted at her words. "Good night, sweetheart." you replied, kissing Mia's forehead. "We'll see you in the morning." As you and Natasha retreated to your own room, you finally allowed yourselves to relax, the weight of the day lifting as you climbed into bed together. Natasha pulled you close, holding you tight as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"We did it." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "We brought them home." Natasha smiled and pressed a kiss to your temple. "Yes." she murmured. "We did. And we're going to make it, Y/n. I know we will." You nodded, your eyes closing as you nestled closer to Natasha. "I love you." you whispered, your voice full of warmth.

"I love you too."

[rmbunnie]

It's most likely just Starlin trying to get to Jason dying faster because he did not like Robin, but the whole "Jason's spiraling because of his grief for his parents" thing they were trying to spin was honestly really weird, not supported by the rest of the run INCLUDING the parts Starlin wrote, and kinda reads like an unreliable narrator situation because all of the information supporting it is given through Bruce's narration, him speculating on Jason's thoughts and actions.

The plot thread of Jason's grief for his family affecting his behavior shows up like TWO issues after Jason first becomes Robin back when Collins was writing, and gets sorted out after one conversation where Jason gets to confront Bruce about hiding his father's death from him for 6 months. After that Jason is behaving normally until they encounter three predators in a row, and each time Bruce insists that they can't do anything because of The Rules and assorted red tape/diplomatic immunity plotlines. (The sister of a woman who got dismembered actually tricked the violent-misogynist killer who dismembered her sister (and then got his serial killings dismissed through a technicality) into attacking her, and ends up killing him in self-defense, and then Jason's like "seems fair" and Bruce is like "no. it's NOT. we need to follow laws and not take justice into our own hands. which like wtf Bruce! you are a vigilante who just used a custom tank to fight an evil televangelist! who then got ripped to shreds by his followers while you watched!)

Bruce kinda just decides with Alfred that it must be grief upsetting him and not the dozens of brutally killed women and their predatory killers who the law inexplicably protected, (all written by Starlin, so retconning it for DitF like five issues later would be an odd move) but the only text claiming that's why Jason was upset is from Bruce's POV and through Alfred's dialogue. Jason himself doesn't display any signs of grief in the story itself, or even act or speak in a way that alludes to Catherine and Willis beyond looking at a picture of them and smiling fondly while he sorts through their possessions. He kinda just happens upon the box with his mother's info by chance, and is like ok i guess we're doing mom searches now. He was only going for a walk through his old neighborhood, not actively searching out info on his family. When Jason is deciding whether or not to run off without telling Bruce, he considers telling him and then goes "no, all he cares about is being Batman, he wouldn't even understand why I want to see my mom." Which, I mean, "Bruce wouldn't get it" is a REALLY odd angle if the sole motivator for spiraling, then getting benched* and running away to search out his bio-mom, was because he was mourning his dead parents, a thing he notably has in common with Bruce. That statement only really makes sense if he's thinking about a different thing that was greatly upsetting to him that Bruce brushed past, like maybe a combo of hiding the murder of his dad for half a year and allowing several cases involving sexual violence to freely develop body counts in the name of the law.

Lots of people have written about how Jason's stay in the manor might have seemed dependent on being Robin with how he was kinda just scooped up, but (if we're including Detective Comics in our characterization,) Bruce had offered to let him resign from Robin and just live with him (a little late, but still. It's worth noting Batman proper shows Jason afraid and uncomfortable at the thought of Dick taking Robin back, which lends more merit to the housing-dependent-on-Robin-misunderstanding interpretation, but canon is pick and choose anyways.) The lack of trust involved in his choice to search out his mom kinda reads like it was bred by more than that alone, and Bruce's prioritization of the law over the protection of the people it ignores is notably upsetting to him in the prior issues. tbh I really do believe the outcomes of those cases could have informed Jason's stance that Bruce's method of justice is ineffective right alongside his own murder and his experiences in Lost Days.

It would make sense for Bruce to not consider his own actions while he's thinking through things that would upset Jason, because from his point of view the things there that were bothering Jason were the criminals alone, not the way that the methods with which they were approaching their crimes continually led to the perpetrators evading actual justice. During the point in DitF where he's thinking through motivations for Jason's running away because something isn't adding up for HIM, the idea doesn't so much as cross his mind. It would also add another layer to Jason's sulkiness upon Bruce's arrival if he held the belief that Bruce is ignoring the consequences his brand of justice has on victims (and the way it's affecting him to helplessly watch it play out), starts to hope that Bruce actually can understand his thought processes/relate to him when he shows up, only to be told to his face that Bruce is prioritizing his style of justice over Jason again. With the way everything that led Jason to his bio-mom was comically circumstantial and the context of the previous issues, it's kind of the ONLY way Death in the Family makes sense to me. Tldr: I feel like the grief claimed as reasoning for Jason's actions leading up to his death is mainly speculation from Bruce and Alfred and the more textually-supported reason for his erratic behavior and lack of trust in Bruce is the lack of intervention in several sensitive cases that led them to worsen unobstructed and eventually permitted them to escalate into casualties in 2 out of 3 cases.

*Also, side note, but the idea that Jason got benched for the Filipe situation, while perfectly reasonable, is not quite spot on. The Filipe situation escalated into the fight in the junkyard where his dad is crushed by a car and Bruce is all "everything you do has consequences" which is kinda big words for a guy whose lack of action indirectly lead to a girls death earlier in the storyline, but true. Jason actally gets benched because he jumps directly into gunfire while fighting the third set of predators and Bruce starts to worry he's getting a little suicidal with it. He baits a guy into shooting at him on purpose again trying to protect mom prospect number 1 later on in DitF, so Bruce might have had a point with that one.

[the-alarm-system]

SYSTEMPUNK

Systempunk: A term or Subculture surrounding the liberation of plurals and the critique of psychiatry. We're outspoken on how the psych community mistreats us and how we will force the breaking of the chains that continuously fakeclaim or harm us whenever we do something singlets/psychiatrist do not like. We have been silenced and told that if we are open, it is a sign of us lying. We have been forced to follow the strict guidelines of the dsm5 in order to avoid being told that our experiences are false. We have been forced into psychiatric wards and abused because we are not singlet. We have been the face of the liars for too long, plural liberation is something we must push. The future is plural.

ANTI ENDOS AND RADQUEERS DO NOT TOUCH.

Meaning of the flag:

Brown and Black: The POC-bodied systems who are put down by both the community and the society around them. POC-bodied systems who have had their diagnosis's rejected due to their race. POC-bodied systems who have a cultural origin or connection and are hurt because of it. POC-bodied systems who are appropriated by other systems and are not listened to. POC-bodied systems who are hurt by the white dominated psychiatric system. POC-bodied systems who deserve to be heard and understood.

Purple stripe: Endogenic Solidarity, allyship, love, liberation. Endogenic systems are continuously harmed by antis who remain uncritical of psychiatry, are against the liberation of plurals, and deny a plural future in order to push singlethood onto others. Endogenic systems are also used in a lot of fakeclaiming content made by singlets and psychiatrist despite the research that supports their existence. It's because singlet society hates plurals and hates any form of existence we have. Love your endogenic siblings. They are the diverse experiences of plurality, they have helped us through so much.

Yellow Stripe: Disordered and traumagenic system solidarity and liberation. Disordered systems are horribly abused by the psych system, we make up most of those hospitalized and we are put down as too crazy to make our own decisions. Even if our existence is from trauma or a disorder, we shouldn't be forced into a singlet cure, we deserve autonomy.

Pink stripe: Abolition of psychiatric wards used to abuse us, hide us away, and silence us. Our autonomy is stolen from them, we deserve resources that help us instead of force us into a place that fucking hates us.

White stripe: Psych-critical beliefs or Anti-psych beliefs, despite their differences we still stand together against the harms of the psychiatric system. ACAB included in this.

Barbed wire: Anti-fakeclaim culture, systems deserve to be believed. Pro-plural protection. Protect another no matter your beliefs, cops and psych wards fucking hate us and want us dead, protect those you love. protect the closeted, protect all systems.

Fangs: Fight for your existence, be loud about it, write essays, make art, do whatever you can. Force plural liberation down the throats of singlets. Force the future to be plural.

Ampersand: PLURAL PRIDE, PLURAL ACCEPTANCE, PLURAL LIBERATION, PLURAL HISTORY, PLURAL FUTURE

[zipper-neck]

Trans Rules of Engagement

By Florence Ashley

Strong communities make us all safer. As anti-trans movements gain in power and influence, holding space for each other through our flaws remains critical. Yet the very conditions that create our need for community care make it hard for us to care for each other. We are raw, wounded, traumatized, and hypervigilant. We make mistakes brought on by fear and hurt. We lash out at each other when we do wrong, often partaking in pile-ons facilitated by the synchronous nature of online interactions. Whether we realize it or not, we often exclude trans people from community when they need it most.

I have lost count of the number of trans people I have seen cast out of online trans spaces for misdeeds both major and minor—far too often with my help. I sometimes find myself wondering where they are now and whether they are still alive. Because, as Kai Cheng Thom has taught us, social death often means real death for trans people. Trans communities are life-sustaining in a world that hates us so, so much. In a world that wants us dead. We have lost too many people not to stop and think about how we can foster life among each other.

This goal I have for myself—that of fostering life—motivates the following principles and rules for engaging in online intra-community conflicts while preserving the life-sustaining spirit of our communities. Countless times have I failed to heed these principles and ignored these rules. This failure, which many of us share, is precisely why I now want to lay these principles and rules down on paper. If only as a reminder of my aspirations. The principles and rules are meant to be adopted for oneself, not imposed onto others. Their purpose is to foster productive engagement, not create even more conflict and rigidity. I hope that this will be a living document, and invite you to make your own version if you would like. Borrow what is useful, supplement with what is needed, alter what can be improved.

Some, and perhaps all, of the principles I acknowledge are false, hence the need for a living document. Each of my suggested rules have exceptions. In setting them out, I am staking a claim as to the sort of myths and half-truths that are necessary to sustain life in a world that wants us dead. We must treat them as true if we wish to foster life-sustaining communities and survive the hellscape we belabor.

Principles

1. We are all flawed, traumatized humans at the end of their rope. Many of our actions say more about the conditions we live under than who we are as people.

2. No one is disposable. No one is unsalvageable.

3. Life holds greater value than being right or comfortable. Hurt is preferable to death.

4. No one should be deprived of community.

5. Harm does not require further harm. Punishment does not equate protection or healing.

Rules

1. Do not depart from these rules, unless you have to.

2. Morgan M. Page’s Rule: Try to avoid criticizing other trans people in public. The world does it enough already.

3. Favor in person or private conversations: Addressing someone’s comments or actions in person or privately is typically more constructive and effective. It allows you to communicate more cogently and with more nuance problems in someone’s actions or words and because it is less likely to make them react defensively from a place of trauma or fear.

4. Take your time: Few things require an immediate response. Responding while caught in a surge of thoughts and feelings is often unproductive. Ask yourself how much harm was done, versus how much we are reminded of an earlier harm. Ask whether your response is rooted in misperception or potential biases towards the person due to race, disability, gender, or other marginalized identities. Consider whether their words or actions reflect a different kind of thinking or communication style, a lack of access to education, or limited access to progressive communities and norms. You can respond tomorrow, once you have collected your thoughts, talked to others, and gained perspective.

5. Don’t mob: Be aware of group dynamics. Ask yourself if you are connected to this person and in community with them. Avoid jumping into the fray when others are already criticizing the person. Do not invite others to join in and mob them. Withdraw if others join in, and kindly ask people to stay conscious of mobbing dynamics. Mobbing rapidly grows out of proportion.

6. De-escalate: Focus on de-escalating conflicts. Ask what people mean or want, and why. Ask them for clarification or elaboration if needed. Ask yourself if you know enough about the context of the situation. Distinguish the action from the person, and acknowledge that it is normal to respond defensively or aggressively to public criticism and mobbing. People are traumatized, mentally ill, and are scared of losing the little social support they have. As a result, conflict can trigger a fight-or-flight response in both those who are criticized and who criticize, which leads to escalating conflict and ends in a loss of community. Dropping the conversation to return at a later date is preferable to escalation. Often, I find it best to limit myself to three replies in conversations that aren’t constructive.

7. Respond proportionately: Responses to words and behaviours should be proportionate to their harm, and reflect a need for healing and protection rather than punishment. When we speak from a place of hurt, we can understandably but unfortunately forget the measure and impact of our response. Use language that reflects the nuances and gradations of harm rather than a coarse good and evil binary. Cutting all social support and community banishment are rarely a proportionate response, even for someone who doubles down and does not apologize. Responding proportionately is asking first and foremost what response sustains rather than dissolves life. Especially when it comes to words, it is better to under-react than to over-react.

8. Ensure support for everyone: Check in on those who are criticized and those who criticize them. Remind people that we are all in this together, and that banishment is not how we work as a community. Everyone deserves to have their needs met. Do not shun or reproach people who offer support to those who were criticized or called out. Distinguish supporting a person from enabling their behavior.

9. Hold space for people to grow: Allow space for people to be accountable, change, and move on from previous conflicts. Do not hold past behavior over people’s head, nor dig up past misdeeds to fuel present conflicts.

10. Resolve conflict and harm as a community: We must ask how our communities enable and cause hurt and harm, and find ways to transform the conditions that create them. Holding accountable, problem-solving, and conflict resolution are functions that should be taken up by the collective, not isolated and unsupported individuals.

11. Center those most hurt or harmed: Focus on supporting and empowering people who are hurt and harmed rather than on punishment. Ask what they need to be safe and integrated in our communities, while committing to support for everyone; what they need to repair their relationship to the person who hurt or harmed them. Focus your involvement on bringing people together, fostering dialogue and mutual understanding, and restoring a sense of community togetherness, rather than deciding who is right or wrong.♦

[niby-skaje]

Emmrich shouldn't be allowed to become a Lich if romanced.

Okay. Hear me out.

Regardless of our personal views as a player/Rook on a subject of lichdom, I feel, given what we've learned, that lich lords of Necropolis should not allow Emmrich to become a lich if he has a beloved.

Lichdom is important. It is rare - so rare that Emmrich himself mentions that he was the lords' first living petitioner in a long time. There aren't many liches there I suppose. We only get to see a maximum of three at a time. It is not something to be trifled with, as the process is some high, advanced magic with the soul sifting required and the journey one has to partake - journey of self-discovery and learning to even be considered worthy. And then it still can go wrong. Our soul may still fail the final test (I assume it must be a possibility).

And then, the burden - the burden of knowledge, of power and responsibility that they have. We know that if we choose to bring Manfred back, then lichdom is lost for Emmrich forever for it shows that he cannot accept that others, those dear to him, will inevitably die, and that would mean that he might be susceptible to the abuse of power, as the lich we speak to states. Such power in the wrong hands could easily lead to tyranny.

But when Emmrich is romanced, he becomes even less able to accept mortality - this time not only his own, but Rook's as well. And while lichdom may take away the fear of death he's felt all his life (if in a healthy way, that's another matter entirely), it replaces it with something new - the fear of losing his love. And not just fear - the knowledge, the certainty, that Rook WILL die. If not now, then someday, in twenty, maybe forty years. But it will. It is as certain as life and death itself.

And Emmrich has waited so long for the love of his life! Even if we omit all the banter and all the little things in the game, he himself tells us that we are the best thing that has ever happened to him. Most magnificent, in his own words. And from the little bits here and there we get to know that he longed for that kind of love all his life.He has turned to other things, to the pursuit of knowledge and immortality, because he has given up hope - only for love to find him so late, right on the doorstep of his lichdom. He accepts it, he allows himself to be swayed by that love, he immerses himself in it completely, like a besotted fool (again, in his own words).

With all that, we know that once the time comes, he cannot and will not let Rook go. He may have slight doubts and we may talk to him about it, but we know that he cannot really choose and in the end he refuses to do so, assuring us that his love will be unchanged even as a lich. But that is not true, for now his love is different, as he now knows that we will be parted and he will remain. The dread he's felt all his life now changes its target, and the love and the fear become so intertwined, so painful, in a way he didn't even expect.

Very, very dangerous for someone with such immense power.

And then, after being trapped in the Fade he tells us that he will allow nothing to part us again. "Not in this, nor any other world". He will find a way, no matter the cost. Even as a lich, though some of his senses may be altered or dulled, he still feels, the emotions still flow within him as they did when he was mortal, perhaps even more so. He loves Rook more than anything in the world, he dreads the time when they will be separated, he dreads how he would go on without them, how he would mourn them for eternity... though now he has all the power and knowledge and time of the lich. He may be able to find a way - even if it is an abuse of the responsibility of his new position. He is blinded by love, even in a state that should transcend all things mortal.

Lich lords are not supposed to care about themselves, for they are meant to serve the Necropolis, to thwart any dangers outside of mortals' grasps, they are to guide and protect. A higher purpose, not of the flesh and the heart, but of wisdom and reason.

With all that in mind, with all the potential for abuse of power he is given, I cannot fathom how the lich lords could entrust such power to romanced Emmrich - or anyone else, for that matter, who is unwilling to sever their ties with the mortal world once and for all. For me, there should be no doubt that to ascend as a lich, one must shed all mortal ties, whatever they may be - and that includes love.

Emmrich's obligatory tax.

[uriekukistan]

JJK 265: The Role of a Sorcerer

one of the focal points of jjk since the beginning has been the roles and responsibilities of jujutsu sorcerers. it's a question that gets thrown around a lot between different characters: as sorcerers, what is the right way to live? it's a driving force behind many of the major events of the story, and the cause of fragmentation, where different paths could have been taken, but weren't. and in one chapter, yuuji dismantles it all.

as much as i'd love to talk about this when it comes to every character, i picked a few that i think are interesting (to me) and carry a lot of weight throughout the story to discuss, including gojo & geto, megumi, yuuta, and, of course, the man of the hour, yuuji.

Gojo & Geto

the main difference between them right from the start is the way they view their roles as sorcerers, and this fragmentation influences their trajectories going forward, and the trajectory of jjk as a whole.

at the start, geto believes that his role as a sorcerer is to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers. as someone who is strong, he must protect those who are weak, and he must keep those who are also strong in check. he accepts this as his role without much question, and he takes it seriously.

in contrast, gojo thinks that idea is, well, garbage, and he argues with geto about it, calling him self-righteous for thinking that way. where geto focuses his concept of his role on those who are weak, gojo focuses his on those who are strong. his role is simply to be strong. he acts to get stronger and prove that strength.

another place where their opinions diverge in conceptualizing their roles as sorcerers is when it comes to finding meaning in their actions. where gojo doesn't think there needs to be meaning in their actions, geto disagrees.

ultimately, his search for meaning leads to his downfall, as he reaches the conclusion that being a sorcerer is a thankless job, cleaning up after and saving the humans from their uncontrolled cursed energy. he decides that sorcerers are the ones who need protection from humans, because they are subjected to the horrors that humans generate, while those humans live in ignorance.

meanwhile, as gojo matures, he doesn't ditch the idea that strength is what matters as a sorcerer, but he shifts his idea of role to raising a generation of strong sorcerers who can rely on each other. and ultimately, these leads to his downfall too. thoughts on this here under point 1.

regardless, their ideas of their roles are major driving factors of their decisions, and therefore the plot of jjk. their roles are what doom them to their respective fates.

Megumi

megumi has made damn sure we know what he believes his role is. he's a sorcerer, not a hero. he doesn't save people because he has to or because it's the right to do. he saves the people he wants to save. that's all.

he uses his conscience to decide who he wants to save, and that is his decided role.

and this is what dooms him too. his decision to save yuuji is what left him vulnerable to sukuna, and his desire to save tsumiki from the culling games left him open to be manipulated by yorozu, as she pretended to be his sister in order to take advantage of what megumi was willing to do so she could play her own version of the culling games. that shock and hurt is what let sukuna latch onto him so easily, and submerge his soul in the depths of his body.

Yuuta

yuuta decides that his role is to not let others be alone. of course, this is most notable when it comes to gojo, but it's shown throughout jjk0 as well, such as when he refuses to let inumaki go against the curse that geto planted alone.

he also expresses this to yuuji after he fake executes him. he makes sure yuuji knows that he isn't alone in his feelings, and that he's not to blame. empathy is one of yuuta's strongest traits, and he makes it his role.

this is why he is willing to go as far as taking gojo's body, because he knows how gojo has to toss aside his humanity to fight all of these special grade curses (for example, when he used his domain expansions while humans were around despite knowing it would cause damage to them), and he doesn't want him to be alone in his inhumanity.

and while yuuta isn't dead yet, his role has doomed him, because, well...

Yuuji

now we come to yuuji, the sorcerer who shakes this concept to its core in jjk 265.

he's someone who'd decided his role before he even became a sorcerer. he wants to help people, and he wants to guide them to proper deaths.

he also accpets his role as sukuna's vessel, and tries to maintain those two parts of his chosen role simultaneously. however, as we know, he fails to balance being sukuna's vessel and saving people in shibuya (i hesitate to use the word fail because it was not a failure of yuuji's, but i hope you know what i mean).

this causes a shift in his idea of his role, especially once megumi asks for his help in the culling games. he embraces this role as a cog. he will help out fushiguro, he'll help unseal gojo, and then he will die. that is his new role.

quote from yuuji in 265:

until recently, i thought i should simply live to fulfill my role as i understood it. i thought if i died like that, i could at least consider it a proper death. but now, i feel like that's not entirely right. ... just the tiny fragments of memories that make up a person drifting elsewhere give value to a human life. ... people aren't tools. we aren't born with any set roles

yuuji completely rejects the idea that people are defined by theid roles at all, whether they are jujutsu sorcerers or not. he sheds his mindset that he needs to help people, or give them proper deaths, or fulfill a role than die in order to be worth something. instead, he accepts the value of his life as a collection of all the things he's experienced and the people he’s known.

and in doing this, he shakes the world of jujutsu kaisen to its core, and creates another crack in the cycle.