#like even if you want to say he deserved the death penalty

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

you had me at 'hello'

the sequel to daddy all along

pairing: dbf! leon x f! reader

cw: alcoholism, p in v, masturbation, oral sex

word count: 10k

a/n: "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" <3 (quote from when harry met sally, title from jerry maguire)

thank you to @thevirgincherry for your feedback!

Leon remembers when you used to call him on the phone as a child. You’d interrupt his work, and Hunnigan would tell him to hang up, but he’d ignore her for a few minutes. You were too important. You’d pace around the living room, telling him about your day at school, what you did at recess with your friends and the art project you’re working on. He loved to hear about it. Most days, it was the only good news he’d get.

It pained him to hang up, but he promised you he’d call to say goodnight, and he did. Even when he drank, he stepped outside the bar and tried his best not to slur his words.

“Do you have a daughter?” A woman he’d go home with would ask.

“No,” he’d say, but it felt like it.

When FaceTime was invented, it became your favorite activity. Leon would pay extra for an international phone plan and for wifi in every hotel room, so he could talk to you. He kicked a woman out of bed once to speak to you. He never saw her again and hasn’t thought of her since.

“It’s an important thing for work,” he told the woman.

She knew he was lying when she heard a little girl’s voice on the other end while she was putting her clothes back on. He didn’t bat an eye at her expression - confusion, distaste, bitterness, who cares? Not Leon.

You’re his favorite girl, the only girl he’s ever cared about.

The morning after your 21st, Leon gently shrugged you off him. He washed his face in the mirror, hoping to wipe away the previous night’s mistakes, but he was still the same old Leon. A fuck-up, an idiot, a pervert who slept with a girl he’d known since she was a baby.

When you woke up, he was in the shower. You’d go on to ask him if he jerked off, and he’d say no, but he did. It wasn’t lust, it was procrastination - five more minutes before he’d have to face you. He tried to think about Ada with one hand on the wall and the other on his dick. Your name slipped out when he came, and it felt like another violation, in addition to lying and then cumming down the drain with your shampoo bottles - the ones containing the sweet scent of you - scrutinizing him.

A long time ago, Leon promised he’d never lie to you. It was the one promise he’d kept - until that morning when he told you ‘something important came up, and he had to leave ASAP’.

You could see it in his eyes, but you took out your anger on your father, who deserved it more after he came home that afternoon with an obvious hangover. You screamed at him until he told you to go upstairs. You were already on your way.

Leon only knew how to deal with his problems in three ways: call his therapist, drink, or fuck. That day it was either drink or fuck because there was no way he could tell his therapist that his mental crisis was caused by fucking his friend’s daughter, a girl who was decades younger than him. It wasn’t an illegal act, but he still felt like he deserved to have the cops called on him. I should get the death penalty, he thought. Unfortunately, capital punishment was not allowed in D.C., but Leon considered the fact that his actions may have been heinous enough for him to be granted an exception. 

He decided on alcohol. He went to the ABC store, bought a handle of whiskey, got home, and dumped it down the kitchen sink. Nope. He promised everyone he was done with that. His therapist, Hunnigan, Claire, Chris, himself, and most importantly, you. He promised you.

Sex it was, then. He never promised anyone he’d be celibate. Leon was well over 40, so he didn’t use Tinder - though he had heard of it. He looked through his contacts list like a little black book, and his thumb hovered over a few names. He debated and picked Claire. Another idiotic decision.

“Hello?” Her voice already sounded suspicious. He didn’t call Claire on the phone often. They usually stuck to emails and texts.  

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay, Leon. Why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to talk. Do I need another reason?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

There was a long pause until she said,“If I promise not to bring it up again, will you admit that you’re trying to get me to hook up with you?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Goodbye, Leon.” She hung up on him. He should’ve expected it. He texted her an apology later, which she accepted.

Soon after, before he could make another mistake, he received a text from a number he hadn't saved. “Are you in D.C.?” It read.

“Who is this?”

“A.W.” She wouldn’t even sign her full name - didn’t want a paper trail. Classic Ada.

“Yeah, I’m home right now.”

“I’ll be there in an hour or so. I have some things to finish up.”

“K” Leon texted and left the door unlocked.

He knew it was her by the click of her heels.

“In the bedroom,” he called.

“Perfect,” she said when she reached the threshold, “Nice of you to be ready for me.”

He shrugged and smiled because he was tired and had been in that position for hours, but he’d pretend like he’d done her a favor by getting down to a pair of sweatpants before she arrived.

She worked on getting out of her dress. “Not going to help?” she asked, annoyed.

“Thought you could do it yourself,” he said, teasing her.

“Thought you treated your guests nicely.”

“I’m about to.” And he did. At least, nice enough. They didn’t talk during sex because they never do. They’d worked out the logistics of their arrangement long ago. It was a pretty sweet deal, especially since there were never any condoms involved. Leon didn’t mind paying the 40 or so for Plan B in the morning. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the cashier at the pharmacy thought of him. 

“Can I talk to you?” he asked after round two. He used to have more stamina. 

“About what?” She was slightly more interested and less suspicious than Claire was when he’d called her earlier that night.

“I need advice.”

“That’s new. I’m flattered.”

“You know that girl, my friend’s daughter?”

“The one you’re always gushing about? She’s practically your daughter.”

Yeah, you really were his little girl, considering even Ada had heard about you from Leon. 

“Don’t say that.” His defensiveness was a confession in and of itself.

“You slept with her,” she said, matter–of-factly.

“How’d you know that?”

“I can see the guilt in your eyes. She’s an adult, right?”

“Yeah, just turned 21.”

“Okay. Nothing illegal, then. Just… an interesting situation.”

“Yeah, I fucked things up pretty bad.”

She hummed in agreement. There was no pity, but no ridicule either. She cared enough not to laugh at his idiocy.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“Either be with her or don’t. Don’t string her along.”

“You’re one to talk,” he mumbled. He wanted the remark to pass through the air as a bit of his dry wit and not his eternal bitterness.

“I’m not stringing you along. You know that this is all we’re ever going to be.”

“That’s what I told her.” 

“But she’s 21. You’re much older, and if you can’t wrap your pretty little head around this arrangement yet, then…” 

He was 21 when he met Ada. And she broke his heart without giving him any reason to think whatever they had was more than a kiss. Ironic. He wondered if she knew the way she was playing with his head at the time. He’d always liked to believe she had a good heart, it was just deep, deep, deep down under all the layers of mystique and her cold disposition.

He was supposed to be the good man, the hero, a beacon of morality, of all things just. But he was on Ada’s level now. Ada the heartbreaker.  

“Can you just tell me what to do?” He asked, pissed off at his own indecision. 

“Why? So you can blame me later when you don’t like the choice you make?”

She knew him well. He stayed silent. 

“I’m not going to be your scapegoat,” she said.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you for your honesty.”

She laughed - almost, but it was genuine amusement because, despite it all, she did care. People never really stop caring do they? She left in the morning and didn’t need an excuse, not like Leon did with you.

You told yourself you wouldn’t call, but weeks went by, and you hadn’t heard anything. You were wondering if was alive at that point. And you missed him. So you called.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table; he picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and saw your name. A part of him still got that same warm, fuzzy feeling that he always felt when you called, and the other part was full of dread and guilt.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you said.

There was a lull. Dead air, not peaceful silence. 

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Doin’ fine.” It was a lie. You missed him too much to be considered “fine.”

Your hands should not have been traveling downward, but they were. They had a mind of their own that lived between your thighs. You couldn’t help the fact that his groggy voice made you ache.

“What are you doing right now?” You suppressed the urge to ask him what he was wearing and where he was. You imagined him sprawled out in bed, naked and ready for you.

“Nothing. I was lying in bed, nodding off when you called.” He wasn’t nodding off, but he was in bed, mind filled with memories and stress per usual.

“Sorry to interrupt your relaxation, then.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He told himself that he’d keep one hand on the phone and the other fidgeting with whatever he could find so as not to reach any lower than his waistline. But there was something about your voice, the way you were talking - it was different than usual. He was probably just imagining things, but it sounded like you were touching yourself.

He was getting hard already, and it was distracting. He had to do something about it. It was either jerk off to the sound of your voice or think about something horrific and grotesque to make his dick go soft. He spent enough time thinking about dead bodies and parasites, so he indulged himself and decided to worry about the consequences later. It’s not like you’d know anyway. Leon could be stealthy.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Calling you.” Your little laugh was light and airy, and maybe he wasn’t just imagining things. It was the voice you used when you asked him, so coquettish, to kiss you.

You thought you heard him moving around, and then he dropped the phone. He was trying to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder while taking his pants off.

“Sorry. Dropped you,” he said when he retrieved the phone.

“How’d you do that? It just slipped out of your hands?”

Fuck. She caught on quick. Too smart for her own good. 

“Guess so.” He didn’t have an excuse. All of the blood that was supposed to be in his brain was in his cock, which was now painfully hard.

“What have you been doing these past weeks?”

“Work mostly.” Thinking about you. I can’t get you off my mind, no matter how many other women I sleep with.

“Anything fun?” your question felt pointed even though it wasn’t.

“A little bit.”

“Like what?”

“Some things should stay a secret. I’ll tell you when you’re older.” He would never tell you about his escapades with Ada.

You thought you knew what he meant. You couldn’t decide whether to be jealous or not. You were too focused on remembering what he looked like during sex, and it was a glorious sight. Someone should paint him, sculpt him, anything to preserve his beauty, you thought. It was worthy of a new renaissance. 

“Have you been up to anything fun?” he asked, not sure whether he wanted to hear about any of your sexual escapades or not.

“No. Just lounging around the house mostly.”

“Hangin’ with your dad?”

“Can we not talk about dad right now?” Your dad really kills the mood.

“Are you guys not in a good place?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t wanna think about him right now. I’d rather think about you.”

The words came out more suggestive than you intended. You could hear his breath hitch, and it might have been arousal, or it might have been surprise, but he knows.

“Oh? You’re thinking about me?”

“What else would I be thinking about?”

“I don’t know.”

He coughed to hide a groan that wanted to leave his mouth while you were biting your lip to hold back any moans.

“Leon…” you said, and it was the same voice you used to call him daddy the night he found out what it felt like to be inside you. 

“Uh-huh?”

“How do you feel about me?”

I love you. “You know how I feel about you. I think you’re great. You’re a great girl.”

“A good girl?”

Fuck it. He’ll take the bait. “Yes, you’re a good girl.”

“Even now?” He could hear your pouty lips and dewy eyes. He could see the image of you coming undone beneath him. Angelic, soft, heavenly, ineffably so. 

“Why wouldn’t you be? Are you up to something… naughty?”

“Maybe. It depends. Are you?”

He didn’t answer because you both knew that you were in the same state - naked and needy.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Your shirt.”

The one he left there. It only aroused him more. It was a white t-shirt, and the fabric was thin enough that if Leon were there, he’d get a peek of your nipples hardening through the fabric. He could slip his hands under your shirt and play with your tits. He could, if only things were different.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. You are naughty.

“Nothing?”

“Are you wearing clothes?”

“Barely.”

“Why did you drop the phone before? Taking your dick out?” You were so flippant and crass that it should’ve sounded ridiculous, but Leon was too hard to care. 

“Might have been.”

“Did I catch you while you were already jerking off or…?” Or was it me?

“No, I wasn’t when I picked up.”

“But you are now.” It was not a question.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll admit it, as long as you admit you’re touching yourself too.”

“I am.”

“Is that why you called?”

“No, I wanted to check on you.” It was true. At least, in your conscious mind, but maybe your subconscious always knew that you wanted to do this.

“And what? You like my voice that much?”

“Yeah.”

Leon closed his eyes and allowed it to happen, giving himself this one little sin because he’d been good for so long, more than good - heroic.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“You, Daddy. I told you.”

Daddy? Jesus Christ. Leon was sure he was pushing his luck with God. He was getting more than he deserved in this bargain. Honestly, he never deserved anything you gave him. You were so perfect and he felt like he was ruining you. 

“Be specific, princess.”

“I wish you were touching me.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I want your fingers inside me.”

“My fingers, huh?”

“No, more than that. I want your mouth, too. I want all of you.”

Your voice faltered mid-sentence like you were getting closer to your peak, but by the end of your statement, your confidence overrode anything else. You didn’t just want his fingers, his mouth, his dick; you wanted all of him. You wanted his fucking heart and soul.

“You have me.”

“I want you here, inside me.”

He needed to be inside you. Fuck his dignity, fuck his sensibility, fuck his morality. He needed to feel your warmth around him again.

“I want that too.”

“Did it feel good for you? Did you like the way it felt with me?”

You were begging for a yes, and it was easy for him to give it to you. The truth is easy.

“The best. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was lying, princess.”

“Leon,” you whined, and it didn’t matter that you weren’t physically there; the sound reverberated through his dick, and he was dangerously close.

“I know,” he said, “Me too.”

“Can I? Please?” You didn’t have to ask, but it was hot when you did.

Leon wanted to make you beg, but he needed you to come first, and if he heard you say please again, he’d risk coming before you - no, he would come before you. He was already teetering on the edge.

“Come for me,” he said.

And you did. You were muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth, but you were close enough to the phone that Leon could hear it. He was lucky he was alone because he didn’t hold back when he moaned out your name. He shouldn’t have done that at all, though. Just another tally to add to the endless list of sins.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, meaning it two-fold. Please do not mention this.

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Yes, you’ll see me again.”

I’m never going to leave you, and you know it.

The next time you two saw each other, Leon picked you up from the hospital. You were not the patient, thank God. It was your dad. Drunk driving accident. Leon was more pissed than anything else.

The nurse asked if they should call your mom, and you laughed. Dare you to try, you wanted to say. They understood.

“Is there someone you can call?” They could see the loneliness behind your stoic facade.

“I can try.”

You called Leon.

“Hey,” he answered, not knowing his nonchalance was inappropriate for the circumstances.

You didn’t cry when you drove to the hospital. You’ve been your father’s emergency contact since you turned 18. Your heart was beating out of your chest, but no tears fell. You didn’t break until you heard Leon’s voice.

“I need you,” you cried into the phone.

If it weren’t for your tone, he’d think you meant, “I need you in my bed,” maybe even, “I need you inside me.”

But you were crying. He could hear the tears before they’d fallen.

“Where are you?” He masked his panic with sternness.

“Hospital,” you managed to say through your sniffles.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Leon was already grabbing his keys and jacket, imagining the worst.

“It’s not me, it’s dad.”

Leon was only slightly relieved. He doesn’t want your father dead, but you’re his girl; you can’t die on him.

“I’ll be right there.”

Leon didn’t drive fast, he drove safely. 

“Name?” The woman working at the front desk asked.

“Leon Kennedy.”

“Relationship to the patient.”

“A friend. His daughter called me. I’m here to come get her.” He knew they’d want more of an answer than ‘friend’, and he was more than just a friend. He spoke with such conviction as if it were his right to be there as if they had to let him see you.

You didn’t talk on the way home - not to your house, but to Leon’s apartment. You insisted. You couldn’t be in that house, and Leon knew precisely why. 

It was over a decade ago. You were at least 6 or 7, but no more than 10. It was one of those things that Leon tried to forget.

You called him on the landline and gripped the phone with both hands, slippery with sweat.

“Leon, I need you.” He swore he could hear a whispered ‘help’ at the end of your sentence, or maybe it was just his instinct.

Thank God you called his cell. He talked to you while he drove.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Dad. I don’t know what happened.”

“Is he okay?”

“No. He’s in the kitchen. On the floor. He’s not moving.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I think so.”

“Did you call 911?”

“No, I called you.”

I can be your father figure, your guardian, or the one who tucks you in at night, but I am not a paramedic.

“You need to call 911. Tell them what you told me.”

And you did. Leon got there after the ambulance arrived.

“Sir,” they stopped him before he could enter the front door, “we’re dealing with an emergency. We need you to wait out here.”

“I can’t.” He brushed them off and called your name. You came flying out the front door.

“Who are you?” One of them asked.

“Leon,” he said because that was the only answer.

He slept on your bedroom floor that night.

No, he didn’t sleep. He watched you sleep, constantly checking to see if you were breathing.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Leon offered.

“No,” you said.

“No? I don’t have a guest room.”

“I wanna sleep in your bed with you.”

Do you want to sleep with me? Absolutely not.

He raised an eyebrow, not daring to say the words aloud lest he put them into your mind.

They were already there, and you both knew it.

“Not like that. I just don’t wanna be alone. And I don’t think you wanna sleep on the floor.”

“No funny business.” He held out his pinky finger for you to take.

“No funny business. Serious business only.” You took his pinky and cracked a smile that mimicked the one he was holding back. You shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this, but you have to if you want to avoid crying.

Leon let you wear his clothes to sleep because you didn’t bring a change of clothes. You didn’t stop at home. It wasn’t the same as last time.

He was about to turn off the lamp on his bedside table when you said, “Leon?”

He turned to see you lying on your side, facing him.

“Yeah?”

“One kiss?”

“I thought I said no funny business.”

“I’m not trying to be funny at all.”

“I know,” he breathed the words into your mouth as he accepted his fate.

You gripped his shirt for dear life and wrapped one leg around his hip. He expected your tongue to be in his mouth and your hands in his pants soon. But he was wrong. It didn’t go any further than that. Your lips left his, but you never entirely pulled away. You clung to him.

“I just want to feel loved,” you whispered, answering questions he didn’t have the words to ask.

“You are,” he said confidently.

You fell asleep on his chest. This time, he did sleep because he could feel your steady breathing. 

You found him in the kitchen, making breakfast in the morning.

“I have good news,” he said.

“Pancakes?”

“No. I mean - yes, if you want, but that’s not what I meant. Your dad’s awake.”

“Really?”

“Really. You wanna stop by your house on our way over to the hospital? For a change of clothes.”

“I can’t wear this?”

“I don’t think the hospital staff would appreciate you not wearing pants.”

“Why not? They make everyone wear those little hospital gowns anyway.”

“You’re not the patient. Plus, I think your dad would prefer you in pants, too.”

His expression told more than he was willing to say. He’ll think we had sex. We didn’t. But we did.

“I was kidding.”

“I know you were.”

“I’d like to see you in one of those hospital gowns.”

“I hope you never have to.”

“We could play doctor and patient.”

He turned to face you, mouth agape in surprise but holding back his laughter.

“If we did - which we won’t,” he held out a finger as he spoke, “you would be the patient.” Joking is a slippery slope.

Your dad went to rehab. Finally, it was a win in everyone’s book. Leon moved into your guest room during the months that your dad was away. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you alone when your life had been shaken up like that. Leon made it clear from the beginning that you would be sleeping in separate beds. He loved you, but not like that.

“You don’t wanna do it again?” You asked one night.

“Do what again?” Leon was tired from work. You were used to seeing the good version of him. He can’t hide behind the facade of the happy-go-lucky, charming guy 24/7.

“Have sex,” you said, making sure to enunciate, “with me.”

“No. We’re not doing it again.”

“Why? You said it was the best ever.”

“Why? Because this,” Leon gestured between the two of you, “cannot get more complicated than it is. I cannot take care of you and fuck you at the same time.”

You’d never seen him get so serious. Even on your 21st, when you were flirting with him, and he tried to brush you off, he was still being playful, still willing to let you try to win him over.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You stood still until Leon grabbed the remote control and un-paused the TV. Then, you turned on your heels and walked upstairs. You put yourself to bed that night.

You hadn’t realized the possibility that you were anything but an angel in Leon’s eyes. You were a burden to your father, a bigger burden to your mother - enough that she packed her bags and left, but being a burden to Leon - you’d never imagined it. Maybe he was just strong enough to carry the weight of you. Maybe your problems were too heavy for him now.

You didn’t cry. The wells had dried up. You cried them out over your parents. There weren’t any left for Leon. You fell asleep to the sound of the fan overhead.

You and Leon didn’t speak about it. He wanted to say, “I’m sorry for talking to you that way,” but he didn’t want to open the door for you to proposition him again. Maybe you’d just forget, he hoped.

Leon continued to be distant, and you had no one else you could talk to the way you did with him. You had no one but a few friends from high school who were home from college. You loved them, but you couldn’t relate to them a lot of the time. You knew they would accept you if you talked to them about your dad and his situation, but it always felt like there was some sort of wall between you and the rest of the world. One that was never there between you and Leon. Sometimes your dad managed to break through it, too. Sometimes.

As your father progressed in his recovery, you allowed yourself to let optimism back into your life. You went to visit him one weekend and ate lunch out in the yard.

“How’s Leon?”

“He’s fine, I think.”

Your father could see your attempt to evade further discussion.

“Is that it? You used to talk about Leon all the time when you were a kid,” your dad smiled as he spoke, “I’d come home, and you were always blabbing on about ‘Leon, Leon, Leon’.”

“Not much to blab about. He’s just Leon.”

Your dad accepted whatever you were willing to say and whatever you weren’t. He asked you about your friends, too. You’d spoken to him over the phone, and for the first time in a long time, he’d remembered what you spoke about. You didn’t have to retell the same stories because he was sober now. Your dad was drunk so often you thought you hated him, but sitting next to him on that sunny afternoon, you remembered why you loved your dad. He didn’t mention the tear that slipped down your cheek when he pulled back from his goodbye hug. He just gave you an extra “Love you, Kiddo” with a smile before sending you off.

Leon lived in your guest room, but emotionally, he was miles away. He had always been a workaholic, but it felt like he managed to spend even more time at the office than usual. One afternoon, when Leon was at work and you were sulking in your room, you got a call. 

Leon used to schedule his lunch breaks around you. When you were in middle school, struggling to make friends, you sat at a picnic table out in the courtyard on the phone with Leon. You cried on your first day. Your voice shook with every word, “I can’t do this.”

“You can do this.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re you. You’re my girl.”

You told the mean girls who bullied you that you were talking to your boyfriend who went to a different school and they were stupid enough to buy it. Leon made you promise to stop, threatening to spill your little secret. 

One time, you went to the nurse after having a shitty third period, and subsequently getting cornered by the worst of the bully clique. They told you that you had to call your parents if needed to go home or you had to go back to class. You called Leon and lied, saying you felt too sick. He knew you were lying and he didn’t have to call you out on it for you to see that you’d been caught. You climbed into the passenger seat and he flashed you a look.

“So, what’s really going on?”

You dished out the gossip over milkshakes. You sang Sheryl Crow on the drive from the Burger King drive thru to the pond just far enough away from the school.

“This is a one time deal,” he said, “or Hunnigan will take the stick out of her ass and make me into a kebab with it.”

You laughed so hard that vanilla milkshake came out of your nose. At your expense, Leon laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes.

“You better not tell your dad about this either,” he said.

You pinky promised on it.

Middle school was long gone, but the days of you needing him were not. He was the one to break first. He needed you, too, it seemed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, princess. I have an important question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“There’s a thing I have to go to for work… that I completely forgot about until Hunnigan reminded me… it’s an event with a bunch of diplomats and shit - point is, they’re sending me as the rep for the DSO and I need a date.”

“What’s your question?”

“Will you be my date?”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? How formal is it?”

“Black tie-ish, maybe, I guess. I don’t know that much about dress codes. Hunnigan usually helps me with this.”

“I don’t have anything that formal.”

“That’s why I’m giving you advanced notice. So you can get something.”

Fuck it. “Okay,” you said. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll be home early tonight and we can figure out the plan for tomorrow.”

You were not Leon’s girlfriend, not his wife, not his daughter, but you were his date for the night. 

This wasn’t the first time you and Leon had danced together. He’d gone to a father-daughter dance with you when you were in kindergarten. Back then, you wore a little pink dress, cheap tulle fabric, and a tiara atop your head. Tonight, your gold dress was form-fitting around the hips with a tailored hem so you could dance without tripping over your feet. It didn’t quite brush the floor, the fabric stayed clean. The slit halfway up your thigh could only be seen when you moved. The classiest tease.

“Dance with me?” you asked with your hand out as an invitation, already inching towards the dance floor.

He thought about it for a good moment, and with an eye roll, he took your hand.

“For you,” he said.

It felt like prom night, in the awkward ‘where are we supposed to put our hands’ way. There was a novelty about it. Your arms around his neck and his carefully placed at your waist, no lower. You swayed back and forth, and Leon felt at peace for the first time in a long time. There was no pressure to be the father you never had and no expectation of the two of you sleeping together. It was just you, beautiful as ever, smiling as you swayed back and forth in time like you’d practiced.

“Did you take dance classes?” you asked him.

“No, why?” he asked.

“You dance effortlessly.”

“It’s not hard. You’re doing it too.”

“But you’re leading.”

“It’s simple,” he says, counting each step 1-2-3-4, slowly leading you through a box step.

Your smile made Leon smile. You made him giddy like no one else.

“Can you twirl me?” you asked because you knew he could unless he’d somehow forgotten how to in the years since he’d done it when you were a little girl.

“Of course,” he said with an unwavering grin as he spun you around, and to your surprise - and delight - he dipped you, too. He even dared to press a kiss to your cheek when he pulled you back up.

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth closed. Your smile said enough.

You and Leon made the mistake of getting tipsy on champagne, but the open bar was too tempting for either of you to refuse.

“I usually leave these things early,” Leon said to you around midnight. 

“You usually don’t invite me.”

“I should more often because you are a great dance partner.” It became effortless once you got the hang of it, so you both danced until your feet hurt, and then you danced a little more. 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my dancing because I’ll probably never walk again after tonight,” you said, leaning onto him for support, “I need to get these shoes off.”

Wait until we get home, he tried to say, but what came out was, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Leon had complimented you a thousand times. This should not have felt so novel. You were always his pretty princess, right? But his smile was not light and playful like it usually was with you. The look on his face was so sincere. The redness rising in his cheeks was the confession. It was real. 

“Should we go home?” You asked, secretly hoping you could get him to crawl in bed with you when you got there. 

“We have to wait until one of us sobers up enough to drive unless you want to get a cab…” he said, “or, we could get a room.”

Leon’s face lit up, almost like he was proud of himself for coming up with the idea - a little giddy about it, too. 

You had an even better idea to accompany his genius plan. “Can you hold the glasses while I get us a bottle?” You whispered. 

“What?” He whispered back. 

“Here.” You thrust your champagne flute at him after you down what was in it. “I’m going to go grab us something.”

“Wait,” Leon said, stopping you. 

“It’s not like they’re going to miss it.”

“I didn’t say ‘no’, I said, ‘wait’. Let me book us a room first. Then, we'll come back to conduct your little ‘operation’.”

Leon made mistakes, but he wasn’t completely careless. He flashed you two room keys a few moments later. 

“Take this,” he said, handing you one, “and go up to the fourth floor, room 405, take the glasses. I’ll get the bottle.”

You nodded and snuck out. You were lucky that no one was in the elevator to catch you with stolen goods since you didn’t have a jacket or a big enough purse to hide them in. You opened the door to find a lovely room with only one bed for the both of you to share. 

“Perfect,” you said to yourself. You stepped out of your shoes and slipped off your dress. You were down to only a thong, no bra. Seducing Leon was a secondary motive. You really just wanted to get out of your clothes. 

You covered yourself with the sheets before Leon walked in. You wanted it to be a surprise, and you were freezing your ass off. He swallowed hard when he saw your dress pooled on the floor. 

“So?” He asked, holding up the bottle. “Want me to do the honors?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured one glass for each of you and said, “A toast?”

You nodded and held up your glass, giving him the go ahead. 

He hesitated. “A toast to you,” he said, “for being the prettiest girl in every room.”

You clinked glasses with him and tried not to look too emotional. 

“Like Celine and Jesse, right?”

“Hm?”

“Stealing the champagne. In Before Sunrise they steal a bottle of wine and wine glasses.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that. I think I’m Celine and you’re Jesse, though.”

“You do? Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.”

You put your glass on the bedside table while Leon took off his shoes and his jacket. He left his glass sitting on the dresser next to the TV. Every rational part of his mind would be telling him not to do this, but they had all been lulled to sleep by the alcohol. 

He didn’t climb into bed next to you. He leaned over and kissed you. It was better than you remembered. You reached out and pulled him in again when he pulled away to take a breath. This time he didn’t argue, he leaned into the kiss. It was more passionate than the last time you’d done this. 

Leon murmured something about taking his pants off and you made no effort to stop him. The room was quiet minus the clinking sound of his belt buckle and then the pop of a button and the pulling of a zipper. You’d seen Leon’s dick before. You were eager to see it again, and yet, waited patiently while you watched him undress. His calloused hands ran down his torso, taking his shirt off button by button. He hung up his clothes in the closet, though he’d send them to the dry cleaners regardless. He wasn’t sexy, hot, DILF-ish. He was beautiful. You pretended you were watching your husband take off his suit after a long day at work. A familiar man, one you’d chosen to lie down next to every night. You longed for that choice. 

He returned to you in nothing but his underwear, matching you in his state of undress. 

“Wanna let me in?” He asked. 

You lifted the covers. When he got under the sheets, he lay down on his side facing you. Your bodies drifted closer to each other until your skin was touching his. His lips were on yours again. You weren’t sure whether or not to ask. You didn’t want to shatter the delicate moment. 

His hands roamed your body, ending up on your waist. 

“Can I touch you?” you asked. 

“Mhm,” he said. Not a reluctant yes, but a guilty one. If he didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

He watched as you palmed him through the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched, and you asked, “Can I go down on you?”

He didn’t respond at first. “Please?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. His gaze was hazy and warm despite his icy blue eyes. He changed his position so that you could be on top of him. You kissed down his stomach, making your way down to the v-line of his hips. He pulled the covers down before you could dip your head below them. You thought it was a courtesy. So you could breathe. 

He said, “I wanna see you.”

You were slightly nervous for your performance, but he looked pleased with the show by the time you’d gotten his dick out of his pants. You licked a stripe up the side while you looked into his eyes. He rubbed your cheek and smiled. 

You took him into your mouth, slowly easing yourself down so as not to gag. You couldn’t go all the way down, but he didn’t mind at all. He was focused on trying to keep his eyes from closing and his head from lolling back. 

His breath was ragged and his hands ran through your hair. He didn’t dare move his hips. 

“Fuck,” he said, “C’mere.”

It was clear he was getting close. He pulled you up so that you were on top of him, your noses touching. He asked in a whisper, “Do you wanna do this?”

He was nervous. You could hear it in his voice. You’d had sex before. It wasn’t your first time doing this with each other. But, it was your first time making love. Something Leon hadn’t done in so many years it felt brand new to him, too. 

You nodded and he swiftly flipped you over, so he was on top. He was going to take care of you. He always took care of you. That was the one thing that never changed between the two of you.

He kissed you with such a passion that every other kiss you’d shared before that was put to shame. Every time he touched you, he did so with reverence. The last time you were naked and entangled, it was morally dubious at best, a cardinal sin at worst. This was something holy.

He slipped your thong down your thighs and you kicked it off, letting it disappear somewhere in the sheets. He’d peeled back the final layer that stood between your skin and his. Leon paused. Everything paused. All that was left was your heavy breathing, matching his, and the thrum of your heartbeat, hard, but steady in your chest. Sure of its own existence more than ever at that moment. Leon ran his hands over your entire body, making sure to learn the way every atom made up your physical form. He understood you more than ever when his hands grazed your inner thighs. Your breath hitched when he brushed his fingertips over your clit. 

Then, he began to finger you, getting you ready for him - which didn’t take very long. 

You felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

It took you a moment, but you realized what he meant: I don’t have a condom. 

“Yeah,” you said, confidently as the thought of feeling him inside you without any barrier made you more aroused. 

He began with slow thrusts. He kept his body close to yours. He didn’t increase his speed, but you could feel him deeper inside you. When he was finally fully encased by your warmth, he groaned. You could feel his cock pulsate and it made you moan. He never pulled all the way out, he stayed deep inside you for as long as he could, rocking his hips slowly. You wished for your bodies to melt into one. This was the closest you’d ever get. 

It didn’t make you scream or cry or swear, but your breath quickened and your legs trembled. You got close to the edge faster than the last time. It took all of Leon’s willpower not to come when you did. You didn’t warn him, though he saw it coming. You arched your back and dragged your nails down his back. You could apologize later if you even remembered. He pulled out just in time to paint your thighs with thick white ropes.

There was the briefest moment of clarity. The duality of ‘this was a mistake’ and ‘I love you’ was at the forefront of both your minds. 

“Don’t think about it,” your eyes said when he returned with a wet washcloth to wipe you down. 

He got into bed beside you and pulled you close. 

You didn’t talk about that night, but things got marginally better. In some ways, it was like the sex had smoothed things over. You noticed the creases forming next to Leon’s eyes when he smiled at you - it wasn’t forced anymore. But that was all it was. When you brushed up against him in the kitchen, he walked past you, not thinking anything about it. You wanted his arms encircling your waist, his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. Since that night, your thoughts were filled with wedding bands, baby clothes, watching Leon get dressed every morning from your shared bed. You wondered sometimes how well he remembered that night in the hotel. His credit card sure did. 

You started spending time with friends. You needed to get out of the house before you made yourself crazy. When you did go out, you stayed out late, and Leon gave you the typical “if you’re going to drink, don’t drive,” which was all too pertinent given your dad’s situation.

You didn’t drink that night, so you did drive home. Your friend had a family obligation the next day - oh, what it would be like to have one of those, you thought. 

You got home around midnight after having been out since the afternoon. You walked inside, took off your shoes, and planned to go to your room until you heard rustling coming from the living room. You walked into the living room, your living room, your father’s living room, to see Leon balls-deep in some woman you’d never seen before.

With messy hair falling upon his forehead and sweat beading on his brow, Leon locked eyes with you. The mystery woman was facing away. You could only see her brown hair on the throw pillow and her legs wrapped around Leon’s hips. You bolted upstairs, worried you’d be physically ill if you stayed in that room for one second longer.

This time, you did cry - after screaming into your pillow. This was worse than leaving you. There was no contract between the two of you about being with other people; rather, he’d specifically told you to find someone else the first time you’d had sex. It was a one time thing. But it was a one time thing that happened twice, more than twice if you count the time over the phone. Every act of love you shared, no matter how right it felt, was still a broken promise, still a foolish decision, just kicking more dents into your fragile relationship.

This was the greatest violation in all of human history. You wanted to tattle to your father, but what would that do? Yeah, fucking on his couch would get Leon a read of the riot act, but to truly explain the severity, the double backstabbing that he’d done, you’d have to tell your father that you’d slept with Leon. And you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him about that.

There was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Go away,” you yelled.

“Open up,” Leon called back.

“Go tell that to the stupid whore downstairs! I don’t want you anymore!”

She can have my sloppy seconds, you thought. But, in reality, weren’t you having someone’s sloppy seconds the whole time? Leon was your first, your only, but you were a notch in his bedpost.

Leon could scold you about calling the woman a whore, but he didn’t. “She’s gone. I kicked her out.”

“Pumped and dumped her, too?” Just like you did with me, Leon. Only you can’t leave physically.

“Excuse me?”

“Come and go, blow your load, and hit the road; how else would you like me to say it?”

“Open the door,” he said again, but you could hear the smile forming on his face. At least you were funny, even if you couldn’t be good enough for the true once-in-a-lifetime love you wanted from him. 

You opened the door, dressed in your PJs, which consisted of a tank top and a pair of panties. He didn’t deserve to look at you like that. You covered yourself with the door.

“What do you want, Leon?”

“To apologize.”

“For what?”

“For having sex in the living room.”

“Why?”

“You know why. All of the reasons why.”

He knew you about as well as you knew yourself. He knew all the ‘whys’ even if he couldn’t verbalize them.

You remember when you were little and got in trouble for a stupid thing you did as a child. You disobeyed Leon in some way - secretly ate a cookie while he wasn’t looking, snuck out of your room to watch TV, messed with his paperwork, etc. You drew him an ‘I’m sorry’ card in crayon.

He wasn’t going to pull out the crayons.

“What can I do to apologize to you?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s all wrong. It’s all gone. Everything.” Everything we were, everything we could’ve been.

When you were a little girl, you thought you were going to marry Leon. He and your dad both thought it was funny, so you had a fake wedding ceremony. It was innocent at the time. You had ring pops instead of wedding bands, and he kissed you on the cheek, not the lips.

You were going to be ‘Mrs. Kennedy’. Your brain persisted, and Leon only solidified the idea in your mind when he took your virginity. It was the last piece of you that you held from him. He had your soul but never your body. Now, he had that, too. You had an old t-shirt of his and tainted memories. Nothing more.

“What do you mean?” He asked. There was a partial understanding. Everything between the two of you was always going to be different. He’d warned you before you had sex with him. But there was more to it than that.

“I just saw you with that woman. I can never unsee that.”

“You’ve seen me naked before, and you know I’ve had sex with other women.”

And I promised you nothing.

“But, it’s like, you’re totally different now.” You gestured vaguely at his body, something that now held more meaning, a complex layer of disgust covering him.

“How?” I’m the same man I’ve always been.

“Not to me.”

He sighed and held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I think you see me as someone I’m not, someone I’ve never been.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always been good to me.”

“But you only know what I show you.”

“So you’re a dick to everyone else? You’re a fucking asshole every moment I’m not in the room with you?”

“I don’t think I’m that bad, but I’m not anyone’s knight in shining armor.”

“You were mine.”

“No, I wasn’t. You thought I was. I didn’t want you to see the bad parts of me. I still don’t. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Goodnight,” you said and closed the door in his face.

There was nothing you could do to forget. You felt something you’d never felt before. You wanted your mom - a woman you had no memory of, someone you’d never known. She left when you were a baby, but your dad never talked badly about her. His words were rare but had a nostalgic sweetness. You’d heard Leon say a few nice things about her over the years, too. You had a picture of her in a drawer in your bedroom. You pulled it out and looked at a face almost identical to yours. You wished, in some way, that both your father and Leon had left with her. Surely she wasn’t perfect - in fact, you should resent her for leaving, but you’d never heard anything to taint your image of her. She was just a woman who made a bad choice once, but you weren’t attached enough to be angry, and no one had cracked the facade you put up around her image. If you had her phone number, you’d call.

Leon was in the next room over, and somehow, he was further away than her and more absorbed in mystery. 

Your dad came home. He came home sober with suitcases in hand, holding his arms out for you. You ran into them. You sobbed harder than you ever had. Happy tears flowed easier than sad tears. There wasn’t anything holding you back from crying.

Your dad’s hand held the back of your head while you buried your head in his chest. You ate dinner at the kitchen table together. You felt lost without Leon. He left your house, you stayed, and yet it felt like you’d woken up in a completely different place than the one you’d fallen asleep in. It wasn’t bad, just different. You wished there was a way to put all of the parts of your life together. You’d have to put super glue on mismatched puzzle pieces. It would always be a futile effort. You had Leon, you have dad, you’ll probably never have mom. 

“What are you thinking about?” Your dad’s voice called you back to the present. 

“Nothing,” you said, faking a smile. 

“What are you really thinking about?”

“Mom,” you said. You were, you always got stuck when you thought about her because you were trying to imagine a woman who was a stranger to you. 

“Mom? Why?” You expected him to be somber, maybe bitter even, but he was intrigued, it seemed. 

“She’s been on my mind recently. I’ve been thinking about you, my dad, my parent, and- and I don’t want to sound greedy because I’m lucky to have you here, but I wish there was more than just us.”

“You’ve got Leon,” he offered. 

You scoffed, waving it away with your hand. “Don’t bring up Leon right now.”

“Is there drama between the two of you?”

“No, I wouldn’t call it ‘drama’.” 

It’s way, way worse than that, you thought.

“You’ll get over it, he’ll get over it. It always works itself out.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my dad? What’s with all this optimism?” You playfully nudged his shoulder. 

“What can I say? This whole therapy thing has given me a new outlook on life.”

He paused before taking on a more serious tone. “And, a near-death experience gave me a new appreciation for life. I didn’t care much about my own life. I could take it or leave it.”

“Dad…” You couldn’t find the right words. 

“No, no, let me finish: you are important to me.” He put his hand on your shoulder and locked eyes with you. “I remember going in and out of consciousness the day of the accident, and seeing your face. I hate to see you cry like that. I didn’t realize how much the things I do affect you.”

You raised an eyebrow. I’m your child, you thought, how would it not affect me?

“I’m serious. It sounds stupid. I was being selfish, and I always knew that, but I didn’t realize how much you needed me. You had Leon, and you always liked him better anyway. I figured you didn’t mind being left alone with him sometimes.”

“I don’t mind seeing Leon, but I still need my dad.”

“I know. I was making excuses for my own behavior. I know it’s a little late to say it, but I want to be a good father.”

“Better late than never. Better than mom…”

“No,” he said, “you don’t know your mother’s reasons for leaving. It wasn’t you. She loved you.”

“She left because of you.” You were blunt with him. You usually were. 

“She couldn’t take the drinking problem, my constant working. If she could’ve taken you with her, I think she would have.”

“If she wanted to, she would have.”

“No, babies are expensive, and I was always the breadwinner. I think she hoped it would be a wake-up call and I would get better. She thought it was the right choice for you.”

You sighed and tried not to roll your eyes. You wished he’d get angry at her for leaving. Shouldn’t that be easy? Shouldn’t that be right? Whatever, you thought, maybe he’s like you - good at making peace with people leaving. 

“I know it wasn’t due to my parenting, but you turned out pretty darn great.”

“I’m kind of a disaster, actually.”

“Blame the ‘disaster’ parts of yourself on me. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re smart-”

“I’m not that smart, trust me.”

I’m such an idiot. You have no idea. 

“I’m not going to ask because somehow I feel like whatever you’re up to, it’s something I don’t want to hear about. Just promise me you’ll be safe, okay?”

“I promise. As long as you promise, too.” You held out your pinky. 

“Promise,” he said, interlocking his pinky finger with yours. 

You let yourself believe him. You decided to take a dose of his optimism, irrational as it seemed. At least let yourself fantasize, right? You’ve got something. Maybe not everything, but something. Maybe not Leon, but you’ve got dad, and isn’t that what you wanted the whole time? 

That same night, Leon went out with a woman he’d been casually talking to - it was time to move on from you, at least in the romantic way. 

You’d always have some sort of bond.

Leon sat through dinner, dissecting his steak out of boredom. It wasn’t worth the price. He could cook a better one himself. The woman sitting across from him was talking about something, but he wasn’t quite sure what due to the fact that he wasn’t listening. 

“Leon?” She said, irritated. 

“Yeah?” He said with the least fake-looking smile he could muster. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, why? What did I miss?”

“I asked you-”

“-have you seen the movie ‘Before Sunrise’?”

“Yeah? I never really understood the hype.”

“What? It’s a great movie. The sequel is great, too.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You should. Maybe it’s unrealistic to think about that once in a lifetime love, but don’t you think we should try to find that? No matter how irrational it seems?”

“You do realize you’re on a date right now, and you’re talking about love and romance like it’s this lofty, unattainable concept.”

“I see your point.”

The waiter comes by with the check and Leon thanks him, and thanks God silently, too. 

“I don’t think you’re ever going to find it if you can’t even pay attention to a woman. I like you, Leon, and I’d ask you to come home with me, but-”

Leon knew he shouldn’t see you again, but when he got his credit card out of his wallet to pay for dinner, he saw your picture. He’d always kept it there. He’d change the photo about once a year and keep the others in his bedside drawer. It’s a picture of you in your cap and gown. He was so proud of you; he is so proud of you. He loved you then; he loves you now. The problem is that he’s falling in love with you now. It’s not just familial; it’s not lust, either.

He thought about When Harry Met Sally, which is your third favorite movie after Jerry Maguire and Before Sunrise. The woman asked him if he wanted to take this back to her place, and he was barely paying attention when he said ‘no.’ He gave her a half-assed excuse and dumped tic-tacs in his mouth so he didn’t have wine on his breath because he knew you hate the taste of red wine. He wasn’t drunk, though. If he were, he wouldn’t drive. Leon’s an idiot, Leon’s a fuck-up, but Leon knows he’s a shitty driver. He won’t risk his life on his way to you. This isn’t a tragedy, he hoped.

He forgot your dad was probably home, but fuck it. If he’s really in love, he’ll confess it in public.

“I’m in love with you,” he said when you opened the door. It wasn’t ‘Hello’. You couldn’t say, ‘You had me at hello’ because he began with, ‘I’m in love with you.’

You stared at him long enough that he started fumbling through apologies and excuses. You didn’t say anything. You pulled him into a kiss, which was to say what he should’ve known all along.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. evil)

— the bad —

Me and my husband, we’re sticking together — Me and My Husband // Mitski

We’ve explored the ‘good’ of modern! Davos. But now it’s time to explore the bad.

cw — toxic behavior within relationships. Possessive behavior.

Davos is a gamer. And does have gamer rage. But it’s not the type where he’ll cool off after the game or where he’ll laugh about it. These fuckers are throwing his ranked games—they deserve the death penalty and to get doxxed AT LEAST. A bad night on league, csgo, or valorant has a chance of making him violently angry. It’s like you need to leave the room for safety type shit. He has punched his monitor, and he does punch walls. He snaps out of that behavior when he gets with you. Or tries to at least. He doesn’t want you to see that but you do, once in a while. He just can’t stand it! Idiots—idiots with keyboards in front of their fucking blind faces. Goddamn—not to mention you- … just—just get out! He’s fine just—! GET THE FUCK OUT! Close the fucking door behind you Jesus Christ—.. can’t do the simplest shit…

Temperamental. Almost to a startling level. The smallest thing can set him off sometimes, but that’s only if he’s already in a bad mood to begin with. Someone looking at you a little too long? He’ll glare at them, maybe even take an intimidating step toward them. On the road and some fucker’s going too slow? He will lay on the horn and curse them out. Once he did get out of the car to “deal” with “this jackass”. Someone wanted to fight? He’ll stand on business too don’t worry (he did win, but a win that didn’t make you feel good watching it). Laying a gentle hand on him cools him down a little, but what really stops him is the look of disbelief and fear on your face. What? He was just showing that guy what was up—you honestly think he’d kill someone? It looked like he would, are you dumb? That wasn’t even a full fight—don’t be stupid..

Don’t look at his Twitch dashboard. He will still follow people who’re ‘problematic’ or are just straight up cringe. Yes, there are also essentially naked egirl streamers too. Oh what? He can’t follow them? Why? They make good content, plus he was following them before he was with you. He doesn’t even watch them anymore! Don’t tell him you’re policing his media consuming now too—wha? No no! He didn’t mean it like that—

If you fight, he will not let you leave. He wants to settle whatever it is right then and there, no cooling off or whatever. It does stem from a good place somewhat; he doesn’t want to prolong the argument, or revisit it ever. So he wants to just figure out the solution right there. Which means he’ll do anything to stop you from leaving. This behavior makes the argument and situation much worse. Grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. Blocking the door… what? You wanna go? You can’t just walk off like that! You’re just ignoring the problem! He’s not letting you—Get back here!

Davos’s apologies… are technically sincere. He’s more so scared of being left alone, without you. So he’ll say anything to make you stay with him. Sweetened words, kisses against your skin and face. Spamming texts, repeated phone calls. You know he didn’t mean it! He’s just got an impulsive tongue, he says things he doesn’t mean. You know this already.. he’s trying to be better! Better for you! Won’t you come back? Please? He’s sorry, really. No take backs. He’ll be better this time around..

He is loyal. Which is good, but also that means he’s clingy. You could be the toxic one of the relationship, but he would stay regardless because of his unwavering commitment and love to/for you (and fear of being alone). He stands on business with you, whether if it’s your fault or not. If someone’s gonna swing at you, he’s gonna be there to take the blow and swing right back. But his devotion can turn suffocating, smothering. He needs you to respond to his texts and calls, he needs you to check in with him throughout the day. He’s loyal to you.. but how does he know you’re loyal to him..? He just missed you! ..you texted him ten minutes ago?—so what?? You’re his! he should know what’s going on with you. Plus he’s bored, can’t you do something with him? …you don’t have time for him? What?! Why?! …are you with someone right now—

That leads to this. He will absolutely be in your business. Where’re you going? Who’re you texting? Hey who was that? A guy friend? Hmmm he looks suspicious.. the way he smiled at you… maybe you should drop that friend. Davos doesn’t like his intentions. Yes, there are always intentions—why can’t you just listen to him for once? God didn’t you see the way that guy looking at you? Davos would be the type to get into a fist fight because he deems someone’s glance toward you as making a move. That fucker’s been staring at you the entire time you’ve been here! He had to do something. What if that guy had bad intentions hm? God—you just aren’t aware of things are you? ..he didn’t mean it like that c’mon now—

Returning back to his gaming habits.. Davos will ignore you if he is gaming. If you’re not someone who plays the same as him? You’re getting ignored for at least five hours or more at night. But if you are a gamer and you both play together? He’s the guy who “kindly” criticizes your every move. Backhanded comments, mansplaining basic gameplay mechanics. Yeah… he’s that guy. Hm.. he guesses that was a nice move. He would’ve made a different play that wasted less resources however. It was good enough he supposes. Do you even know how this mechanic works? You do? Oh.. well you act like you don’t understand the basic macro of the game—

[2mny-glockis]

Express your love my love >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Light Yagami x Black fem reader

(I was thinking how I use to hate Light but the I realized all the guys I’ve had a crush on are exactly like him…)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

Academic student! Light Yagami who since he was a little boy, only cared about his grades.

Academic student! Light Yagami who, even in his senior year of high school, never held a girls hand.

Academic student! Light Yagami who does have a lot of girls that want him and yet he pays them no mind.

Academic student! Light Yagami who met you when a you got paired together for a project.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

“Nexted, let’s do…” your teacher scans the class, trying to figure out who doesn’t have a partner. “Light and (y/n).” Light scans the room for a “(y/n)”. He’s pretty self centred, forgetting peoples names after 3 seconds off knowing them.

Finally he finds you, looking at the work sheet your teacher previously handed out. Light wasn’t going to lie to himself. You are one of the most beautiful girls he set his eyes on but his main focus is his grades.

Once your teacher said begin, Light walked towards your desk with some of his notes in his hand. He takes an empty chair and pulls it to the opposite side of your desk. “Hi” A warm smile forms on his face. “Hey. Um let’s get started.” ‘Very straight to the point.’ Light thought as you pulled out both a blank piece of paper and the rubric.

“So what topic do you want to do?” You asked, placing the pieces of paper on the desk. “I think we should do this one.” Light points to the topic section on the rubric. “since it’s seems simple, but when you look more into it, it’s more complex than what most people think.” He continues. “Yeah I agree but…” Light rises an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that there are limited things we can write for it?” You question.

Light is confused. Because he’s so smart, no one really question his better judgment, especially when it comes to projects. “Well what do you think we should do?” He asks “Well..” you look at the paper. “We should do it on the death penalty. Reason being, there is so much we can do for examples. We could reference crimes that didn’t deserve to have the penalty. We could reference ancient be headings. We can also contrast and compare certain ones and use out better judgment to determine if they were deserved or not.” You continue.

“Hey..” He’s impressed. “I really like that idea. Yeah let’s do that.” He smiled. A slight blushie smile appeared on your face. You were kind of rambling yet he was still really engaged. Usually people just tune out what your saying.

Academic student! Light Yagami who became more fond of you during and after the project done.

Academic student! Light Yagami who would help you with your work, if you help him with his.

Academic student! Light Yagami who started to come home later because you two would spend the weekends studying together.

Academic student! Light Yagami who suggests that after you’re done studying for the day, the two of you watch a movie before he leaves.

Academic student! Light Yagami who gets all red when you move closer to him.

Academic student! Light Yagami who when you fell asleep on him, stoped watching the movie to watch you. He admired every single one of your features. From the braids that he pushed out the way to see your face. To your lips that he stared at, imagining they were kissing all over him.

Academic student! Light Yagami who immediately stoped himself from thinking these thoughts but he couldn’t help it.

Academic student! Light Yagami who finally realizes and accepts the fact that he’s in love with you<3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

A/n𐙚🧸ྀི: sorry this took so long (˘•‿•) I had exams lol. Also I think I will start doing death note fics

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

[tired-and-panicked]

yeah….. i cant stand any of this anymore i logged in yesterday and ya’ll were already hating and meme-ing Lance bc someone wrote some stupid lyrics and now its back to masses of death threats and disgustingly ableist comments because everyone suddenly decided they like Daniel again. Funny considering ya’ll were calling him washed and a misogynist a week ago.

and i’m not at all sorry, Daniel has called people cunts over the radio 100 times he can SHUT THE FUCK UP about lance and anyone else for all i care.

did Lance hit him? yes. did he deserve the penalty? yes. was the accident caused by a chain reaction at the front? YES.

this sport has become less about the actual driving and more about ripping apart other peoples fav drivers and teams COMMENTATORS INCLUDED HERE. and the ONLY reason i’m saying all of this is because all the people clowning Daniel in regards to Yuki, now only to turn around and start clowning Yuki now bc Daniel was having a good race. also please note the way a lot of you speak about Yuki your microagressions do not go unnoticed.

also i LOVED Daniel. i did for a long time, but its time to stop with the “hes so unlucky”. hes not. he made his own decisions when it came to leaving redbull and thats on him. no one else.

plus his incessant support of horner simply bc he wants a seat at RB (which he wont get) when that man HARASSED A WOMAN SO BAD SHES NOW OUT OF HER JOB AND STILL HAS HIS???

yeah no.

and this also doesn’t just apply to Lance or Daniel or Yuki tbh. ya’ll have been starting wars so insane it makes Pierre and Este seem neutral. let me say that again YOU HAVE MADE THE BAGUETTES SEEM NEUTRAL. jfc.

I have lost so much love for this sport this year because of fans that cannot grasp even the basics of how it works, the fia being grossly inconsistent and corrupt (even more than before which we didn’t think was possible), and team principles being absolute ding bats (please see Toto, James, and whoever the fuck runs alpha tauri - I REFUSE to say the new name).

anyways give Liam Lawson a seat. thats all.

[ofmdsalt]

i do think it’s funny that the gentlebeardies who proclaim their love for the revenge crew don’t actually talk that much about or create content for the revenge crew. they don’t give a shit about the “boatful of queer poc that Izzy sold out” (LMFAO) unless they can use the crew’s diversity as some kind of moral gotcha. they care about GB because that’s the only thing that matters about the show in their eyes. and it’s so fucking unoriginal!!! just endless regurgitated post about “omg they’re soooo in love~~ and isn’t it great that love conquered all their problems~~!” it’s unoriginal derivative dreck unless they have to invent new ways to lie about how izzy deserves the death penalty.

oh anon you get me

you have no idea how much i hate the diversity of the crew being used as a literal weapon in this fandom when it comes to demonizing izzy and washing Ed and Stede of any of their wrong doings.

im frustrated by the use of the crew in season 2 only because it was so painfully obvious to me that the budget cuts really affected the ensemble. the way the Swede and Buttons were written out of the show felt rushed and like it came out of nowhere, especially as those two characters, felt the 'least' developed out of the rest of them. so giving them both this long winded set up to be written out was too clunky for me.

i miss when Frenchie was singing and strumming along on his lute. i miss when Jim was Jim, because lbr that was Vico in s2. it just felt like Jim wasn't there anymore. i can't say what happened in the writer's room at that time or what sort of material Vico was given or if it skewed more to improve, but a lot of what was established for the characters in s1 was missing for me.

the rhetoric of this being the Ed&Stede show i think did more harm than good. the assertion that the other characters are only here in service of Ed and Stede's development reduces the sense of scale and scope and also agency these characters have.

a lot of the foundational aspects of GB as a ship i think falls a bit too much into fan service. people talk about how revolutionary and groundbreaking the ship is as a cis gay couple on screen. as if it hasn't been seen before. like i didn't get the wow moment of Stede in the mermaid costume as other fans did. Stede's dream at the beginning of season 2 with him killing Izzy and then colliding with Ed in this romantic gesture of love and passion on the beach is straight up fantasy for Stede, but i think fans took the idea of Stede literally killing Izzy a bit too seriously because that is Stede's fantasy. he wanted his reunion with Ed to be simple and understandable. that it was all Izzy's fault when the reality of the situation was so much messier and complicated. like David and the writers were literally telling us that Izzy is not the enemy here because this moment on the beach was pure fantasy. and fantasies can be dangerous

and then the fans said that Izzy deserved it, should have had his second leg shot and amputated, that he deserved to die, that he's still a nuisance even in death despite the fact that he's dead. that is both a master manipulator but also a cringe fail loser incapable of doing anything right. and it's like. okay. you don't seem to understand this character either.

like a lot of the problems in this fandom have existed before and will continue to exist in other iterations. every fandom has its ship wars. every fandom has long ass call out posts about characters they don't like. but let's not pretend this is anything revolutionary

what i've noticed is that this fandom will reach a burnout period and it's probably already upon us. the constant need to be like 'we're trending!!' when all algorithms are dog shit and glitchy as hell doesn't mean anything. plus the fact that there are only two seasons, less BTS content to go around, it's all coming from the same overdrawn well and eventually it will come up empty.

it's okay to step back. it's okay to leave a fandom for a bit and come back to it years down the road. it's okay. but all of this is exhausting

[sourkannas]

Loosely inspired by villainess manhwas I've read.

Sukuna x reader kinda (not a lot in here if any at all), reader refered to as 'Madam', existence and use of concubines, can be considered isekai but not for reader, pregnancy, reader is a little mean

Being Sukuna's wife barely gave you any perks, he didn't love you more, he didn't care more, you were just a means to an end. He still had concubines, still ate people and barely went to you out of his own volition.

These acts didn't mind you, with the bar being in hell for him, this was a plus. You didn't have to do chores, which was really the only plus of this marriage besides your own servants, serving you mostly and Sukuna if he asked for them.

The concubines and your relationship is fine, now at least, you've come to realize that most of them were women who had no other choice, this was a better arrangment than living on the streets. The women were convinced you were going to throw them out and were pleasently surprised when weeks passed and you didn't.

It wasn't uncommon for Sukuna to lay with the concubines, the fact didn't bother you. If anything, it pleased you. Any heir would be demanded by your family and your worst enemy wouldn't deserve this.

But this time was different, the words that Uraume had told you rang in your mind like an incessent buzzing.

"A—a concubine is with child?" You asked again, Uraume had a pinch of annoyance in their face at your repeated question. "From, lord Sukuna?" You ask, Uraume nodded.

"Who else would it be?" Uraume answered your question with on of their own, but you didn't mind the sass. "Yes, it's Lord Sukuna's, fornicating with other men is a death penalty." They say, for the nth time, studying your laxed position. "Any problems?" They're eyes narrow, like a silent promise.

You scoff in amusement, waving your hand. "Of course not, I'm just surprised." You giggle, eating your breakfast happily. "Send my regards to the mother." You chime, cu55⁵tting up your food.

Uraume raised a brow. "The to be mother wants to see you, now." They say blandly, like this is just another order. You sigh and finish your food, wiping your mouth.

"Why? I don't have a gift if that's what she wants." You mumbled, wracking your head for any gift ideas.

Uraume rolled their eyes. "She just wants to see you." They say and before you bother them with more questions, they leave and come back with the woman, black hair, blue eyes, a simple robe covering her body. Uraume leaves soon after, leaving just you and the woman.

You guesture to the seat opposite of you. "Don't stay standing, sit sit." You hum, the woman quickly sits opposite of you, she seemed, squirmish, like a rat, or a bug. "Congratulations, I hear your with child Mrs....?" You give her a look.

The woman perks up. "Oh uhm, Kira, my name is Kira." She said quickly, still stiff before her face hardens. "I—I need a favor." She said, gripping her lap.

Your eyes widen slightly, asking for a favor on the first meeting, though you can't say you hated the bold.

"Oh my," You hum, stirring your tea. "That's a little ill-mannered, can't you ask how I am first?" You joke, chuckling softly, but Kira doesn't seem very amused, frowning instead.

"I'm sorry madam, but I..." She takes a pause, looking away before turning to you with a determined look. "I need to become Lord Sukuna's wife!" She yelled, standing up, shocking the maids standing near the wall and even yourself.

You blink once, then twice, then a third time but your lackluster reaction didn't stop Kira.

"I'm sure you love him—" You don't, you love the privledges you got by being his wife. "—but I'm having Lord Sukuna's heir! I should be his wife!" She said eagerly, slamming her hands on the table, looking you dead in your eyes. Your mouth open and closes like a fish out of water.

"I know your jealous—" You'd like to think your above jealousy. "—And maybe you want him!" You can't remember the last time you wanted a man in any capacity besides amusement or plain bullying. "But, Lord Sukuna is mine!" She yelled, there's a small thud outside, a servant no doubt falling over at the noises coming from your room. Not to mention your maids weren't very welcoming.

"Is—is she serious?"

"Maybe madam is pranking us...?"

"Oh, she has been into those light novels lately, maybe it's that?"

Your face tightens, to think your growing like of light novels is being used against you. You snap back into reality as Kira began to poke you.

"Watch the finger," You say, sighing as you rubbed your forehead. "You...you do know Lord Sukuna can take on multiple wives, yes?" Kira nods, her hair bouncing in waves. "Then, then why do I have to leave?" You ask, tilting your head in annoyance.

Kira, for all her faults (which your thinking might be endless) looked as determined as can be, staring straight at you.

"It isn't common for the woman having the heir to be the second wife!" She said sternly, while you could name 8 people that had wives that went up to the twelfth be the ones to give them children, you stay quiet.

"Even if that is, what makes you think I'll leave?" You ask, sipping your tea again, Kira looks shocked and her hands shook.

"Shouldn't..." Her voice trailed off as she began to shake in anger. "Shouldn't you want to help me?! I'm giving your husband a child!" She yelled, panting from using her lungs so much.

Your lips form a thin line. "Even if I wanted to divorce Lord Sukuna, I can't." You say plainly, standing up and brushing off your robes of any dust. "If he wanted me gone, he'll just kill me." You say, like this was common knowledge, (it was, but you didn't think Kira was all that knowledgeable) but Kira only grit her teeth.

"Then, I'll have to be the second wife?" She asked breathlessly, to which you nod, for some reason, looking at her gave you a odd feeling in your throat. "But, but..." She collaspes to her knees, all the mood swings were making it hard to take everything in, so you didn't.

"Don't worry Kira," You coo, a hand under her chin to force her to look at you. A grin spreads across her face and Kira hates the sight. "I know how to share~" You chime, eyes half lidded in amusement before you stand up. "You've said your piece, now leave." You hum, walking back towards the bed.

Kira doesn't know when she was standing up and standing in front of the door, two of your maids flanking her. She never felt so unwelcome, the othet concubines were guarded yes, but she never felt so alone.

"Oh, Kira?" You call out and she stiffens, her heart beat thumping loudly, she can only imagine what type of horrid grin you have. "I probably said it already," You say, voice soft and relaxed, your steps drawing nearer until your chin was resting on her shoulder. "Congrats on the pregnacy." You chirped and Kira all but ran out of the room.

You tilt your head and gasp. "Oh my! She must've been tired." You say, shaking your head as you turn to your maids. "I think I should take a bath." The maids break from their confused shock and nodded.

"Yes madam!" They say in unison, helping you into the bathroom.

Sitting in the warm tub of water, you frown, thinking about the interacting between you and Kira. You had been sent, like Sukuna, every letter from families or women themselves asking to be Sukuna. Most times, Sukuna would let you take the reigns, something about you having good judgement. But you never got a letter from Kira or about a Kira. Maybe, maybe you overlooked something?

[theshipdiaries]

Saw someone complain saying that it made no sense for Frank to call Karen family on the punisher season 1 and that that hug was also out of nowhere which must mean it was all fan service. I was answering but while doing so the post was deleted... so here is what I wrote:

Well she was the only one who cared about what happened to his family and fought tooth and nail for him to get answers and for him to have a reduced sentence.

He started caring about her there and she already cared because she saw something of herself in him (she projected) and understood him. She was obsessed with finding out more about him from the start. And that was not fan service. She thought if he could be saved then so could she. Everyone else thought she was crazy for caring but she knew there was more and she had been through something similar when her brother died. All the lies the town and the local news paper spread because they didn't care to get the real story.

He was ready to DIE. Like- he had given up when he was at that hospital on DD season 2 and Karen came in and showed him that she cared about what happened to him and she wanted to help him, that not all hope was lost, that he COULD find out what happened to his family. She is the reason he decided he wanted to keep living because otherwise they were gonna give him the death penalty and he knew that.

And during the trial and before that she was the only person he would talk to. And that lasted a few weeks. So we can assume they saw each other very frequently during those 3 weeks and had long hours working on his case together. He saved her life more than once and yeah, he used her as bait but it was also to kill the minions going after her. The blacksmith was gonna kill her and he saved her by crashing the car. He put the song in the car first so she would know to keep an eye out. She also spent ALL night at the docks waiting to see if he was there and Matt heard her heartbeat when she thought Frank was dead, meaning he knew she was in love or at least cared a lot about him. That was before "fanservice".

All of this was during Daredevil's season 2. They found a connection through their losses and brokenness. She told him he was a monster because she was talking about HERSELF, again, projecting because she thought if he killed again that meant she wasn't worth forgiving. Even Deborah talked about that. She was just trying to make him stop by any means. If Frank killed the Black smith he was never gonna know the truth about his family. He said he was already dead because he felt like he didn't deserve her help or her compassion. You can see in The Punisher that he isolates himself because he doesn't believe he deserves to be loved. Even curtis says that he can keep pushing people away but it won't stop them from caring. During The Punisher, aside from Curtis, she is literally all he has. The only other person that cares about what happens to him. Believe or not that can mean a lot to someone who's whole family was murdered in front of him and has no one.

Also, the actors pushed for her to be on the show. And even if it is fanservice…. it was well done, their relationship makes sense if you analyze it or at least understand it and I eat it up.

[ggomos-maribat]

Soul-Stitching: The Heir and the Guardian

Masterlist

Chapter 3: to remember and forget | AO3

CW: Panic attack, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death

If Marinette can put it in simple words, the Justice League's prison doesn't look like a prison at all.  

The neatly-done bed, a queen size perhaps, leans against a large headboard. There's a desk positioned at one corner with a rolling chair tucked into it; at the center sits a sofa set on top of a comfy rug. In the other corner, a narrow door leads to the bathroom. The room is well lit, the palette is quite friendly, and the golden accents speak of lavishness. 

She barely caught onto what the Justice League discussed with the Parisian Government, but suddenly she found herself escorted into the Watchtower. Into space. If he had not already known where she was taken, Adrien would've freaked out.  

Speaking of Adrien, her biggest inconvenience is her lack of direct communication with the others. She trusts that her second-in-command will take care of things while she's gone but if they do get into non-guardian-permitted trips, it's not her problem if they incur more expenses.  

She looks down on the special handcuffs they put on her. Apparently, they are supposed to suppress powers, whether of the meta kind or the magical kind, but as soon as the metal hits her skin, she realizes that the cuffs don't do anything to her. Next, she stares up at the two heroes ordered to escort her. They stare back at her.  

“Um . . .” The shorter one breaks silence, rubbing the back of his head, “You're not actually a bad person, are you?”  

Marinette blinks. “What do you mean?”  

“Are you actually Hawkmoth?”  

“What difference does that make?” She asks. “If I say no, will you let me go?”  

“I—um, no we can't but why didn't you insist that you're innocent?” The masked man asks, “With the right evidence you could've won, but you weren't saying anything. How do you not care about being imprisoned?”  

“I'm not the only one falsely convicted because of the flawed justice system, you know,” says Marinette with practiced nonchalance. “The judge said I'm guilty, so I'm guilty. Nothing I can do about that.”  

“But this is a serious crime. Terrorizing Paris? Causing widespread trauma?” This time, the taller leather jacket-clad one interjects.  

“How is this any different from the situation of the ones wrongfully accused? Does that mean I deserve freedom and they don't?” She tips her head towards the room. “Ironic, how you're imprisoning me, a supposed ‘world threat’, in a luxurious room. If you ask the people in Paris, they'd probably tell you I deserve a death penalty, so this is actually a light punishment.”  

The two seem to have difficulty replying to her words, until the shorter one sighs and tells her, “Still, keep in mind that you still have a chance. The members of the JL are still half-and-half about what to do with you. Some of them want to keep you here under close watch while you're serving your sentence. The others are pretty convinced you didn't do anything—they're having a pretty heated debate right now.”  

“What do you guys think?”  

“I dunno, really. You're weird,” says the tall one.  

“Cool. I'll take that as a compliment.” 

“As a detective, I'm taught to consider every clue first before I act,” says the other. “For now, I still can't say for sure.” 

“Okay, that's reasonable.” She gives a flitting smile. “Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt.”  

She can tell they're feeling awkward based on their expressions and stances. She holds out a cuffed hand. “I'm Marinette, by the way. Nice meeting you both.”  

Marinette nearly laughs at their astonishment. She's aware she's unexpectedly direct even though she's the criminal. The brightly-dressed man steps forward to shake her hand first. “I'm Superboy.”  

And the other tentatively follows: “Nightwing.”  

“Superboy. Nightwing.” She nods, finally stepping into the wide threshold of her room and activating the automatic barrier. “I like you both. Before you go, can I ask when I can eat?”  

The two share a look before Nightwing replies. “Your meals will be delivered at set times. There's some kind of chute over there.” 

“Thanks. See you around?”  

---

Marinette easily falls into a rhythmic routine inside her ‘prison cell’. Though the bed is beyond comfortable, and the meals are filling, she finds that she has nothing to quell her boredom. So instead of walking around aimlessly, she decides to make use of the space to exercise. The other heroes don't seem bothered by this; in fact, in the first two days, rarely anyone stopped by her room. Later on, she wonders if she can request a sketchbook or two.  

Finally, on the third day, she's taken out of her cell, bound into handcuffs again, and brought to what looks like an interrogation room. There is only one occupant—Superman—but the glass panel on one of the walls tells her otherwise.  

She looks up and down at the hero, who gives a polite smile and motions for her to sit. 

“I think you're already aware of the situation you're in?” Superman asks.  

Marinette nods. If unfair treatment and injustice is her current situation then, yes, she is very well aware of that.  

“I know there are things you cannot simply say in court.” His face is grim. “I was there the whole time. But you can tell me, and we'll see what we can do for you. It's safe here.”  

Her eyes stray towards the glass panel, wordlessly saying, ‘Is this what you call safe?’  

“Fine,” Superman sighs, “But can you at least elaborate on why you can't tell us. Is this a binding secret? Will you be harmed if you divulge anything or are there drastic consequences for it?”  

“I'd say a little bit of all three.”  

“Is there anything that will make you talk?”  

She shakes her head. “By keeping silent on the matter, I'm not lying, but I'm not giving the full truth either. I can't tell you because this is what I think is the best course of action to protect you and many other people.”  

“What do you mean?” he presses.  

“You know about what happened to Paris, yes?”  

“Hawkmoth and the akuma attacks . . .”  

“Let's say Ladybug and Chat Noir decided to globally broadcast the existence of miraculi, magical jewels that can grant anyone immense power. What do you think will happen?”  

“It will be chaos. Everyone would be fighting to get a miraculous for themselves.”  

“A perfect example of why knowledge is dangerous.”  

Superman looks like he's thinking it over; she can only predict that he's trying to guess what kind of knowledge she holds, and how far worse it is than the Paris situation.  

“Fine,” he relents, “Can you at least tell us about Hawkmoth's reign?”  

Marinette notes how he said Hawkmoth's reign, which leads her to inwardly ask if he's one of those who believes in her innocence.  

“Why?”  

“What?”  

“Why do I owe you my trauma?” She makes her tone calm but her words impactful. “I've set my expectations for the Justice League, and now I can say that you've gone below it.”  

“What are—”  

“What gives you the right to persecute someone from Paris when you neglected our city when it mattered?” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Much less ask that someone for intel you can't be bothered to find yourself?”  

It's already common knowledge for the Parisians: at one point, the young heroes had called on the JL for aid during Hawkmoth's time, but they were unanswered again and again. It’s just bemusing, how in the most urgent of times, they haven’t responded at all, but when a random girl is convicted of terrorism, suddenly they're all up in their feet.  

The silence in the room is deafening, and Marinette can tell the onlookers outside are speechless as well.  

Superman's voice is painted with deep regret. “I'm sorry. We’re trying to extend our help to the city, even if that doesn't make up for our mistake. We want to do that with you as well, but why do you want to be in prison?”  

Partly, it's because she owes Paris that much. The city never found out who Hawkmoth was, so their anguish was directed at the heroes instead for keeping them in the dark. Then a year later, they find a girl fitting into the profile of their villain. If she's the convenient scapegoat they choose to blame, then so be it.  

“I didn't go here on my own. You guys brought me here,” Marinette says pointedly.  

“That's not what I meant.”  

“You know I can't cooperate even if you try to convince me.” She looks at the window, even if she can only see her reflection. “I think it's best for you to spend your energy elsewhere.”  

---

“That sign is flickering,” Adrien comments with a mouthful of burger in his mouth.  

Eating double-decker burgers in a Batburger parking lot at nearly two in the morning certainly isn't their usual gig. But Adrien gathered from the reliable internet that the Batburgers are a must-try during a Gotham visit, so he decides to hunt for them. Kagami surreptitiously heard about his plans and wanted to tag along, as did Luka. Fei has to join to babysit them.  

“Here, Gami, flip it upside down. The bun will absorb the sauce,” Luka suggests to the girl beside him, who has been attempting to bite down on her burger for a minute already.  

“Seriously, we are being americanized,” quips Fei, who squeezes out some more ketchup on hers.  

“Aw come on, it's a celebration for Adrien,” Luka says, “He did a good job in his defense attorney debut.”  

The boy in question groans, pausing mid-bite to drop down his head on his free hand. “I did so badly! Even when I spent all night reading that textbook on French law and making my cute little badge. She was still proclaimed guilty!”  

“We all know Marinette doesn't mind.” Fei picked up her soda from beside her to let Adrien have a sip. “You could've, you know, told her you'll be representing her. To get the trial running more smoothly.”  

“I had it under control,” the blond insists, “It's just that they brought up the childhood issues card, which is a foul by the way, they basically breached her privacy. I'm still so mad about that!”  

“If I could give my critique, I'd say you should've done a worse number on Rossi,” says Kagami.  

“I couldn't. They would've kicked me out of that trial and disbarred me.”  

“Adrien, you're not a real lawyer in the first place,” Luka reminds him.  

“Whatever. That trial's done and we just have to think about what to do next.” Fei makes a face at the grease on her fingers and furiously rubs them into a napkin. “Marinette's aboard the Watchtower now, so we have to do our work down here—”  

“Marinette's in the Watchtower?!”  

“Yes, Adrien, the JL took her away, remember?”  

“Do you think if I turn myself in for fraud, the JL will take me there too?”  

“Adrien—”  

“What if I say my father's the supervillain, do you think they'll take me? That earns me criminal points, right?”  

Kagami delivers a light slap to his arm. “I thought we agreed that you would not joke about that.”  

Adrien lets out a huff of defeat, focusing back on his burger. Just then a noise sounds out from above them—looking up, he sees that a vigilante has landed on top of the restaurant, partially cloaked by the night. The figure offers a friendly wave, which Fei snorts at.  

“Did we do something?” Adrien whispers as he looks at his friends. “If this is about the camembert stash in our hotel room, I swear to kwamis, it's not me.”  

“What does the infamous Red Robin want with us?” Fei yells up at the stranger.  

“Oh good. You know me.” Red Robin drops down to a ledge, much closer so they can hear him.  

“This is about Marinette, isn't it?” Luka guesses out loud.  

The vigilante nods. “The Justice League is conducting its own investigation for her case. I was hoping to hear from you, since you four are her closest friends.”  

“What's there to hear from us?” Adrien asks. “I already gave my statements to the court.” 

“Before you ask us, we knew nothing about her involvement with the Butterfly miraculous before the whole thing blew up,” Fei supplies firmly.  

Red Robin taps his fingers on his leg. Adrien wishes he can see him better, because he's pretty sure the Gothamite is buzzing with eagerness. Entertainment. “This isn't a formal interrogation so I call your bullshit. You're obviously lying.”  

“Even if we are, you don't have the evidence for that claim.” Adrien licks the sauce that has gathered on his thumb. “The police already asked us. They got nothing from us.”  

“But aren't you concerned that your friend just got thrown into jail?”  

Ah. All the while, they've been munching on fast food in a deserted parking lot. Adrien can tell there's something wrong with that picture. 

Kagami smiles wryly. “Marinette assured us she'll be fine before she was arrested. Unless the Justice League has turned inhumane and is currently torturing her?”  

“No—no, of course not! A handful of the heroes want to prove her innocence, in fact. Don't you want to help out?”  

“Even if we do want to fight for her freedom,” Fei replies, “Are you insinuating that we try to break her out of space prison?”  

And Luka adds, “Marinette's very stubborn if you haven't seen yourself already. We can't help her if she doesn't want to be helped.” 

“Any idea why she's like that?”  

The four of them simultaneously shrug.  

“So your lips are sealed like hers. Got it.” Red Robin sighs. “Why are you in Gotham?”  

“Oh? Did tourists need clearance from the Bats before vacationing in Gotham?” Adrien quips, raising an eyebrow.  

“No, I thought you'll be in Paris. Imagine my surprise tracking you down here.”  

Fei crosses her arms. “Marinette's trial opened up fresh wounds in that city. Of course anyone would want to escape for a short while.”  

“You're not from Paris.”  

“I was close enough to Marinette to understand what it was like. I'm from Shanghai, which Hawkmoth also targeted once, in case you haven't done your research.”  

“You're having a getaway in Gotham, though. Why in Gotham?”  

“Why does that matter?” Adrien rakes a hand through his hair. “If you're concerned about our safety here, don't be. We have experience beating up akumas while half-awake.”  

“Actually we wanted to see what's so great about Gotham that Batman chose to neglect Paris all this time,” says Kagami casually.  

That seems to have struck a nerve. “We didn't know—!”  

“You ignored a city crying for help,” Fei says, “Sorry birdy, but this is a touchy subject if you ask all Parisians. They may have given Marinette to the JL, but everyone still holds a grudge. It's not just us.”  

Later on, they finally chase off the talkative bird, but Adrien has grown quiet. While the burger did lift his mood a little, Red Robin's appearance has soured it again. He angrily sips on the last of Fei's drink (which he promises to replace at another time), leaning against one hand on the pavement.  

“The nerve of them,” he mutters. “Now I don't want to stay in Gotham anymore. Let's go back to base.”  

---

Damian's heart is practically leaping out of his chest. The incidents in Paris and the convicted girl are all the talk in the Wayne manor. At first, he had no mind of looking into it himself until he saw a picture of her.  

Before he knows it, he's suited up, headed towards the Zeta tubes and the Watchtower, breathless but persistent. He knows that face from his dreams. He has memorized that girl in his memories. If there is a chance she's alive after all, he doesn't care how; he just needs to confirm it with his own eyes.  

Finally he's there and he sees her sitting on the foot of the bed. Her blue eyes widen when they meet his, and she presses herself against the wall when he subconsciously opens up the barrier himself. That's when it dawns on Damian that it is her, it's Marie in the flesh, the girl he killed when he was a child. Overwhelmed with the tightness in his chest, he drops on the ground, trembling. 

“Hey, are you okay? What's going on?”  

He feels her presence nearby but her voice seems warped, like he's hearing her underwater. He tries to blink his eyes back into focus, only to be met with a hazy double vision. Hot tears run down the sides of his face; he doesn't notice the hands holding onto his arms.  

“You—you . . .I don't—” he chokes out.  

The voice is closer now. “Stay with me, okay? You're going to be okay. Come on, deep breaths.”  

Damian cannot even control himself, which is such a foreign feeling. His body is wracked with sobs as he holds onto her tightly in the fear she'll disappear before him again. He can't form coherent words, nor stop the shaky cries from his throat. It's as if all the grief he's bottled up in his childhood is coming out all at once.  

She slowly shushes him. “It's okay. I'm going to touch your back now, is that okay?”  

He nods against her shoulder, hearing his heartbeat become less erratic. A small hand presses against his suit and rubs circles on it. He starts to savor the warmth— 

“What are you doing?!”  

He's suddenly separated from that warmth, but he can't register what's happening. He can hear loud yelling and footsteps rushing, and from the corner of his eye, he catches the movement of his father's cape. Damian whimpers, clutching his head.  

“I don't know! He suddenly came in and—”  

I needed to see her! 

“You used magic on him!”  

No, she didn’t harm me. I need to talk to her! 

“No, I did not, he's having a panic attack—”  

Stop, please—the words seem to dissolve on his lips.

“Stay away from my son!”  Damian doesn't know how or when, but he's being carried away from the warmth, from her. His body struggles to break free, but he's forcefully held down. The tears come again, unstoppable as his whole body shakes. 

←Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Fun Fact! The idea of Adrien being Marinette's defense lawyer came from a joke between him and Kagami. If you ask Luka, he'll say he had no part in it. They carefully kept the secret from Fei and Marinette until the day of the trial . . . for obvious reasons Taglist: @noisydreamlandkoala

[trekkingthroughthestargate]

McCoy: : What's his problem, Commodore?

Mendez: Inspection tour of a cadet vessel. Old Class J starship. One of the baffle plates ruptured.

McCoy: The delta rays?

Mendez: He went in bringing out all those kids that were still alive. Just wanted you gentlemen to be prepared.

——

This moment is so good for so many reasons.

First of all, Bones, as the doctor, is of course the one who asks Mendez what happened to him. And then the utter horror in his face when he asks if it was delta rays is perfect. Because Bones is a doctor, and chances are he’s treated people with injuries so severe they didn’t survive. And the way he says it makes me think that he’s possibly had a patient who died of exposure to delta rays. So he knows, deep in his core, that if Pike managed to survive that exposure… he probably wishes he didn’t.

I also love that, while at this point in time Pike isn’t much more than a throwaway character from a failed pilot episode that they’re using to pad out a couple of episodes and remain under budget, they gave him an ending worthy of the character he was envisioned to be.

Pike went out a hero. He died in the exact same way we would watch Spock die 15 years later - an inspection tour of a cadet vessel, and he willingly sacrificed himself to save all of their lives. It’s no wonder that this man is someone that Spock would willingly risk the death penalty for, because he clearly deserves that level of loyalty.

But unlike Spock, his sacrifice didn’t result in death, but in a fate worse than death. Trapped within his own body, probably fed intravenously because he can’t even move his body enough to swallow food, unable to reach out, unable to be reached out to, trapped forever.

And like Kirk in SFS, Spock risks everything for Pike. He risks his career, even his life, all for the slight chance that Pike can be at peace.

And it’s one of the most beautiful things ever to come out of Star Trek

[plus-i-miss-you]

hey can i request anything (rom) shidou related . please t2 prisioner reader and in jail setting . besides that go wild i love that man so much no matter the scenario it'll be great + the 1 post u have up at time of requesting is REALLY good so .. idk i trust itll be good no matter what

▷ listening to:

"maybe it's okay to give love a second chance" (gn!reader)

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılıㅤ

♪ note: SO SORRY ANON FOR TAKING SUCH A LONG TIME WORKING ON THIS... uni be damned i'll try my best to finish writing all the requests i have in my inbox! (also i really should make a masterlist..)

♪ summary: after the first trial, shidou has been voted innocent.. not the verdict he was hoping for. and now he has mahiru and fuuta's injuries to take care of. the second trial is already a lot for him, so you can only hope you can help him somehow.

♪ warnings: none 

♪ shidou just couldn't understand why he was forgiven. he literally asked for a death penalty. yes, he knew about the three trials system, but he could still be voted guilty after the first trial, right? he thought this would make es's work easier, they don't even have to think about his verdict, they just have to vote him guilty and that's it. but for some reason unknown to him, the 15 year old guard still decided to forgive him. why? maybe there was something wrong with his video? or.. it actually was their idea of punishing him?

♪ you didn't know anything about shidou's crime. you had some thoughts, but theorizing about a fellow prisoner's crime felt wrong and weird. however, you still couldn't agree with his own opinion on his crime. you've talked to him before, you've seen him help others, you just couldn't believe that someone like him could've committed such a horrible crime that he deserved to die for it. maybe you did like him. maybe you were biased. but hey, you doubt that the guard's judgement was 100% unbiased either.

♪ you've seen him help mahiru and fuuta. mahiru could've literally died if it wasn't for him. how can someone like him deserve to be executed for his crime? maybe you just don't want to accept the truth. maybe you just don't want to accept that even someone like shidou is responsible for murdering someone. maybe even more than one person. yes, you're a prisoner as well, but it was hard for you to accept that other prisoners are murderers too, especially someone as young as amane.

♪ shidou doesn't understand why you're so nice to him. don't get him wrong, he appreciates it, but he still feels like he doesn't deserve to be treated this way by you. you're just so gentle, so kind, so sweet, he doesn't understand why you're here just as much as you don't understand why he's here. he will never ask you about your crime though. he understands that it obviously can be something that is hard for you to talk about. if you want to talk about it though, he will listen.

♪ your conversations with shidou are calm and quiet. nobody knows what you two are talking about. nobody can even hear you. sometimes you two sit in complete silence and it's not boring or awkward or anything. you appreciate each other's company and you both just feel a little lighter. if shidou looks tired, you ask if there's anything you can help him with. whether or not you have experience with medical help, you don't mind taking care of other prisoners even if it's just staying by their side while they sleep. you just want to help shidou somehow.

♪ when shidou goes back to check up on mahiru's condition and sees you talking to her and making her laugh and smile even if she's still in pain and making her day brighter, he can't help but smile too. even if he doesn't ask you, you still offer him your help. you still continue to treat shidou with kindness and you don't expect anything from him. when he asks you about everything that you do, you simply shrug and say that "it feels like the right thing to do". haha, you're even more pure than he thought.

♪ when shidou spends time with you, he forgets about his own pain for a minute and at first he felt extremely guilty for that. how can he forget about it? how can he even think about possibly forgetting about it? this is why he deserves a death penalty, this is why he deserves a guilty vote, this is why he deserves to be here. he doesn't know what it is about you that makes him feel like maybe it's okay for him to keep living. ah, no, no, it doesn't mean that you, uh.. remind him of someone from his past. you are you, after all. and it's you who adds at least some kind of meaning to his life at the moment, not counting the prisoners who need his help, of course.

♪ shidou makes sure you get enough rest as well and he's quick to notice if something is wrong. maybe you look more tired than usual, maybe you're refusing to eat, maybe you move a bit slower. he will gently remind you to take a break and will even make sure you get one. you can take a nap while he's in the same room as you, it's fine, there's no need to rush or push yourself. of course, he's worried about all the prisoners here, but for some reason, the thought of losing you.. hurts him the most. 

[lazerswordweilder]

I love outsiders perspective, so lets say the rebels (before Luke joins) capture Vader and the emperor and everyone, and put them on trial. They summon someone from a universe where they’re fictional to make sure they’re sentences will be enough to keep the person down (after the whole, Sidious clone debacle, and I’m not talking about the sequels). So they summon a fan

Rebel 1: we have called you here for the trial of Darth Vader!

Fan, with nacho chips still hanging out of their mouth: wat

Rebel 2: he is to be given the death penalty by blaster shot will this be enough?

Fan, quickly brushing off the crumbs and jumping up: NO!! No, no, no, no. He does not deserve a death penalty.

Rebel 2, glancing at rebel 1: many life time sentences then? He is a villian

Fan: no! Force. Look he’s a villain but he’s not the villain. He’s been a slave all his life! Just- just get him some help and put him in some place where he doesn’t have to fight to survive then see who he actually is

Rebel 1: what.

Vader: I AM NOT A SLAVE AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN

Fan: okay first of all you literally had a bomb under your skin and were sold as a child so we both know that’s not true, second of all name one choice you’ve made which was completely yours

Vader: joining Sidious

Fan: manipulated to make that choice since you met him, it was a part of a plan in the making generations before your birth, also a lot of other stuff that I can’t be bothered to get into like the Jedi being corrupt and not giving you any other options.

Vader: making Ahsoka my apprentice

Fan: you didn’t want to bring her into the fight and you would’ve preferred she stayed safe, you took her on as your apprentice because if you didn’t she’d just go to someone else who might not be able to help her. Also you never wanted an apprentice Obi-Wan set that up

Vader, whispering: I knew it.

Vader: Marrying my wife?

Fan: okay you’ve got me on that one. But the circumstance? You had to get married before even a month of dating because you were afraid you’d be found or die, also two droids were the only guest and you couldn’t change your outfit from your uniform.

Vader: …

Vader, in a very small voice: was i a slave?

Everyone watching:

[jacksprostate]

primal fear thoughts

the thing about primal fear is it sets itself up for so much moral ambiguity... but in the last scene, the line about killing Laura — it takes it all away. Okay, Roy, Aaron whatever, is a gleeful murderer and murdered not just the priest (who deserved it) but his fellow victim. The moral ambiguity is lost to stick it to Vail.

Which is like, I guess that works. But is it not more interesting to keep it on the note where: yes, he lied. Yes, he's not so innocent and perfect. Yes, he murdered the priest. But does that mean he deserves the death penalty that was set up for him? In the eyes of the law its wrong, but is that itself wrong? The fact that the discovery of his sexual abuse was a negative, something that condemned him rather than the reverend; is there not something wrong about that? Of course supposedly in those cases things should go through the proper channels, but as the movie itself illustrates, these men often face no consequences by the law.

I don't know. I find that more interesting. Especially as it would interweave with Vail's own sense of righteousness in representing his golden hearted sleazebags; they're sleazebags, but he proves them not to be, by getting them off in court as they deserve, right? He's able to just... make the moral and legal rights align. Isn't that nice. And he did here too, but not knowingly, and the legal right is false. Does he still believe in innocence when it's not legally ordained, even when the corruption and flaws of the system are what pushed him out of his job in the state office?

So idk, I find that a lot more worthwhile. If I do anything with Primal Fear you can assume I'm treating this as a version of the story where the Laura murder comment is in some way either not real or fake. Maybe Aaron says it to get Vail to fuck off. After all, he saw what happened the last time a man offered him so much for free. Etc. Don't think I mean to retcon Aaron being much more violent, abrasive, etc, either. I don't. But the pointless murder which only serves to stick it to Vail's savior complex but also dunk on his belief in goodness or whatever? Nah, I'll pass. I want a better story than that, and it set itself up for a damn good one. Even within the story presented to us... It's not completely offbase of an assumption, I think. There's no evidence he's telling the truth then any more than any other time he's bullshitted to Marty. Of course, you know due to author's intent that that's supposed to be true. But, well, I suppose it's death of the author.

[bellaxgiornata]

Big congrats on 2.5K!!! You deserve all of the success!!!

I don’t remember if I hit send after typing this earlier in the week but I had a difficult question!

What is your favorite episode of Daredevil? Or even a favorite from each season!

Thank you so so much, friend!! ❤ And don't worry, you definitely hit the send button but you really did send me the most difficult question out of all the questions I received, so I was really trying to think before I answered it 😆 Especially because I have been doing a very slow re-watch of Daredevil and it's been about 2 years since I last watched it all the way through, so I don't remember off the top of my head which episodes would be my favorite. Especially because I have favorite scenes that I've watched over and over and they're scattered throughout different episodes. But my answers for what are currently my favorite episodes are below the cut!

Season 1 Episode 10 Nelson V Murdock

Yes, that episode. I both love and hate this episode SO MUCH and that's why I ended up picking it as my favorite from this season. I don't think any other episode of Daredevil actually affects me quite as much as this one always does no matter how many times I've watched it. I love seeing the glimpses into Matt and Foggy’s friendship over the years and seeing how important they've become to each other. And it hurts me so damn much when Foggy finds out the truth about Matt and goes off on him like he does because I can feel both of their pain in this episode. Like Matt suffers a lot of physical pain throughout the whole show (and especially in this episode) and that makes me want to take care of him and help him, but that stray tear when Foggy is going off on him on the couch??? And that broken face and his fidgeting hands when Fog is just done and leaves??? THAT HURTS ME. EVERYTHING FOG SAYS HURTS ME. But so does the pain I feel for Fog for having been lied to for so long. It just makes me want to lock them both in the apartment and force everyone into a group hug with me and not let them leave until somehow they fix everything 😭

Season 2 Episode 4 Penny and Dime

It was hard to pick one episode for this season for many reasons, especially because Episode 5 shows us Matt's two very different relationships (even though Karen isn't quite a relationship). And as a fic writer for him, that plays a big role in how I write him romantically and how I write him handling relationships since I can actually see the few examples we really get of his love life here. And they're vastly different from each other. But ultimately I think getting Frank’s backstory in episode 4, watching Matt come rescue him and then having that very emotional moment in the cemetery where he's telling Matt about his daughter and what he lost is probably my favorite scene out of the whole season. Frank is just so vulnerable and Matt can see the redeeming and human bits of Frank here. Which I think is incredibly important and plays a big role in why Matt wants to take his case to keep him from getting the death penalty. I think it's a big moment between the two and it got me in my feels the other week when I was re-watching it.

Season 3 Episode 13 A New Napkin

There's a lot of great moments in season 3 but I think the final episode is the best. After watching Matt’s struggle through the whole season after the loss of Elektra and his senses, to slowly gaining those senses back, to pushing his friends away to keep them safe, to how he decides he won't let Fisk ruin who he is by killing him after wanting to the entire time... There's a lot of growth in Matt in this episode. He even tries to begin a relationship with his mother despite that whole messy history after finding out the truth about her. And the way he comes back to his friends at the end instead of trying to push them away and pretending he can't be Matt Murdock anymore is such a big moment. It's truly my favorite part of season 3 seeing how everything comes together in the end. And I've been dying to see where things went for everyone after this episode ever since it first aired but we never had the opportunity. So I'm hoping Born Again gives us some of what I was hoping to see since Netflix couldn't continue the show.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Okay hear me out

Lan qiren is very stringent with the rules bc reasons we all know this

Nie mingue has to keep baxia in check (and so are the other nie with their sabers? Unclear) from trying to ride the world of evil bc shes bad at the gray areas of that

What if au where lan qiren abides by those astringent rules but theyre made by saber morals?

Lan Wangji hated Nie Huaisang.

He had any number of reasons as to why, if anyone asked - the other boy was whiny, obnoxious, useless, irritating - but in his heart, he knew the truth wasn't any of those. It was much simpler than that.

It was that Nie Huaisang, who wasn't even a Lan, got to live with Lan Wangji's uncle, and Lan Wangji did not.

It simply wasn't fair.

In Lan Wangji's mind, his shufu was by far the best member of his family - by far. He'd been the one to take care of them as children, even though he didn't have to, even though it would have been easier not to; Lan Wangji was young, but even he remembered how the sect elders had complained about his uncle taking all that time to raise them instead of doing more work for the sect, instead of getting married and having more children of his own. His uncle hadn't agreed with them, not once.

"This is my duty," he'd always said, "It is the right thing to do," and when he spoke it was with that implacable surety that was characteristic of him. People used to say you'd have more luck moving a mountain than Lan Qiren, once he'd decided on something and set down his roots, and Lan Wangji believed it wholeheartedly.

His uncle was the sort of person who meant what he said. He obeyed the Lan sect rules with a fervor that made the rest of them all look like hypocrites - the rules said do not tell lies, and so he didn't, not even when he wanted to, not even when it would make things easier. The rules said shoulder the weight of morality, and he did.

(The rules said do not take a life in the premises, and so he didn't. At least until he was beyond the boundary line...)

Because of that, Lan Wangji knew, and could trust, that his uncle loved him. His uncle had said so, and his uncle did not lie. His uncle showed him his devotion in every line of every letter he wrote.

Which is why it was dreadfully unfair that his uncle lived in the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang instead of here, at home, with Lan Wangji.

("Wangji, he killed someone," Lan Xichen said, rubbing his eyes and groaning when Lan Wangji just raised his eyebrows at him with an expression of disinterest. "And not just someone, but - anyway, Wangji, don't pretend you don't understand. You know just as well as I do what the penalties are, what would happen to him if he stayed, if he ever came back without a pardon. You know what it means."

"It means that it was deserved," Lan Wangji said firmly, and when Lan Xichen still looked troubled, added, "Xiongzhang, you don't really think shufu would have done it if he hadn't believed it was right."

Lan Xichen had to nod at that. Anyway, Lan Wangji didn't know why he was so troubled by what their uncle had done; it wasn't as if their father had been of any use to them before that, anyway.)

"Hey, Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!" Nie Huaisang called, chirping like a little bird, and Lan Wangji glared and wished death upon him. "You want to come home with me to visit? It's my birthday, and da-ge said I could invite my best friend!"

On second thought, Nie Huaisang could live.

[house-of-lebedov]

Prolouge (2/2)

Transcript below

[Prison guard]: Estlor, you got a visitor. Come with me...Remember, we got cameras all over this place. So, don't try anything funny.

[Claude]: Well, well. Looks like the little princess finally found her courage.

[Leon]: Blurt out all the insults you want, Claude. I'm not the one behind bars.

[Claude]: I can see you still lack the respect of your imperial peer.

[Leon]: As if you ever deserve it. But, I digress. I am not here to play your mind games today. Quite the opposite.

[Claude]: Ah, I see where this is going.

[Leon]: Do you now?

[Claude]: I do. You've finally realized that you messed up.

[Leon]: Come again??

[Claude]: Don't act surprised, Princess Leon. Of course, it takes a while to forgive, but I am willing to look past your betrayal toward Glessia and our family.

[Leon]: ...

[Claude]: I'm sure whatever plan you have in mind to minimize the casualties to us will be enough to get you back in power in no time. But, for now, we should keep our meetings on the lowdown. I also wish for you to get the support of the Chemios Duchy as soon as possible. Is that clear?

[Leon]: ... Pfft--

[Claude]: Huh?

[Leon]: LAUGHS

[Claude]: Was it something I said? Why are you laughing?

[Leon]: Forgive me, I just--...Did you really think that I would--? Oh, this is just too rich.

[Claude]: Do you find this funny?

[Leon]: In a cosmic sort of way, yes. But Claude, you can't be that stupid to think I was still going to help you. Even after everything you put me through? I'm not the kid you kept hostage and brainwashed anymore. So, I'll get to the point: You will face the consequences in the eyes of the law.

[Claude]: You're going to sue me?!

[Leon]: It's more like me and Clastein are suing you and your family.

[Claude]: You ungrateful bitch! I promised you a place on my throne--!

[Leon]: You mean the throne you last during the war? the same one that'll be merging with Claostein's?

[Claude]: The Glessian nobility would never agree to such nonsense! No Glessian would!

[Leon]: Your precious nobles are the reason why this merge is happening. And even if they could, they lost the power to do so.

[Claude]: Leon, I swear--!

[Leon]: Uh uh. I wouldn't do that if I were you.~ Just because we're alone, doesn't mean there isn't anyone watching. You're lucky the cameras don't have sound installed.

[Claude]: Eugh. You really are your father's daughter.

[Leon]: please, we both know my father would not dream of this, even if he tried. All I want is to see your overdue downfall. You have no one else to blame but yourself. As I was saying, the next we see each other is in court. So, I suggest you find a lawyer desperate enough to plead for you.

[Claude]: Where do you think you're going, you bitch? This isn't over! I am still the Emperor of Glessia, dammit!

[Leon]: Not anymore, you're not.

---------------------------------------

[Judge]: In the case of Claostein versus Estlor, the jury had found the defendants guilty of all charges against the country and the imperial family. They will be sentenced with the death penalty. I would like to thank the jury for their service today. This court is adjourned.

[sketching-shark]

Me ghink theres lot of hate towards tang sanzang some of which IS UNDERSTANDABLE

But alot of it goes too far and say the most rancid shit ever all bc hes book character. Mind ya hes based on actual person and is being use his likeness. Like some lmk fans be saying the worse thing ever towards this guy(for example wanting him get the d*ath penalty n amongst others).

We forgetting that yes some of his treatment towards swk IS horrible but we tends to forget swk had done some atrocious things that sanzang was witness to in full view. No human would journey like that without being completely scar and traumatized. Some of my friends while looking through the book had found that sanzang be using the circlet all in one go and then never used it in years.

His character development does happen yall in where he do trust his companion more and then *insert traumatizing moment* happen. I do think wukong didnt deserves the maltreatment tho(i want to say this bc later i get ppl saying that i support ab*se bc i defend sanzang for a bit, not knowing that i also disagreed w some his actions)

Most ppl forget that the first arc that the gang actually face as a group was the gingseng tree arc, not white bone spirit.that u have him defending wukong and countless other times where he do trust swk judgement in some cases. (i just wanted to get it out there since not many ppl realize it n im fully blaming osp for this bc they are skipping arcs. N they don’t really tell what arcs they’re skipping)

This just me rambling but dam all these ppl need therapy.

THEY'RE SAYING WHAT NOW ANON AAAAAAAAAAA but haha wow on a lighter note that is kind of funny that the fandom which routinely portrays the Six-Eared "I am going to try to murder-replace you for completely selfish reasons / repeatedly try to kill a young mortal that you love" Macaque as a monkey who never did anything wrong ever would then go out its way to demonize Tang "I do lash out & often don't trust my senior disciple but have also been threatened with death for fourteen years" Sanzang. Like geez I've seen many another fandom where the assumption is that for one character to be good/be "redeemed" you need to make another character horrible (tbh I'm starting to suspect that that's what's happening with the lego show version of Sun Wukong & the Six-Eared Macaque), but wild if true that some lmk fans would go THAT far in the attempt to paint the monk as a guy so awful that he literally deserves the death penalty.

Now to be fair it does need to be noted that even in Wu Cheng'en's classic (or at least from what I've seen in the Anthony C. Yu translation), Tang Sanzang was in many ways intentionally written as a caricature of a fussy Confucian scholar who may have memorized many doctrines but who doesn't really understand them, and who is often made a figure of fun for falling off his horse, and who does use the headband against Sun Wukong is some very explicitly painful and unjust scenes. In at least the book he's also a much more static character than the Monkey King in that we don't see any real changes in his thoughts or behavior over the course of the journey, which I can see as a something that would sour many against him. THAT SAID, you are very correct anon in noting that besides one traumatizing event after another happening to him, from his mother's suicide to constantly being threatened with death and/or rape at the hands of many yaoguai, this monk does have a number of reasons for why he's constantly crying and acting with hatred and suspicion towards the Monkey King. And let's not forget that one of the things SWK told Tang Sanzang early on in the journey was that he had literally killed so many he couldn't remember them all, and that was right before he tried to kill the monk himself! Point being that yes both Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong are extremely flawed individuals who often clashed with each other in some pretty upsetting ways, but there's also many understandable reasons for why they act the way they do. It's a real disservice to their characters and the underlying implications of the journey (or its retellings tbh) to forget or ignore that! *

*(and on THAT note this is another reason why it's kind of frustrating that the Overly Sarcastic Production & Monkie Kid retellings of Xiyouji seem to be the primary ways that western audiences are understanding the journey. Liking explicitly cartoony retellings is one thing. But then basing all your knowledge of the work on these retellings and/or even outright refusing to understand the classic in any other context makes for some really simplified and even really insulting beliefs about a culturally important work as a whole)