#makes it impossible to find anything (ever)

[ehrenyu]

this is just Sunraku (aka Rakuro Hizotome) from Shangri La Frontier (MMO virtual reality game in same-name anime universe). Somebody turn him into an unruly NPC.

He skipped the tutorial town and all lore-scrolling backstories of anything not presently needed to play the game. He goes out of his way not to read gamer guides until he's like 'oh I should research about this Big bad boss that no one has ever defeated before before I fight it'. He didn't find out about 'combat gardens' to combine and rank up skills until he was complaining to a fellow gamer that nothing was leveling up because he can't be bothered to read through tutorials. What's frustrating is that lore is constantly dropping in his lap and he doesn't even pay attention to it because his motivation is challenging himself in impossible battles (this character loves beating trash games that glitch out in various ways or are nigh impossible to beat for various reasons whether because there's no auto save, the support NPCs get in your way, level of difficulty is obscenely high right off the bat without being able to toggle it, etc, he loves these games because they make his brain go brrrr)

Lore-unfriendly companion who forcibly exits the menu screen to complain that they're bored if you spend more than five seconds reading an item description.

[qqueenofhades]

hi I hope you don't mind but I would love to hear your long tired historian rant you mentioned in your tags on that one post, if you feel in the mood to share? (no pressure!)

(also thank you for existing, you do wonderful work and the world is a better place for you being in it)

Aha. Well. For context, the mention of said rant was in relation to this post:

Basically, this post struck a nerve because of how it exactly encapsulates the anti-intellectual, anti-academia, anti-historical, anti-reality thinking that is absolutely rampant in social media spaces, even and especially spaces that identify as leftist, liberal, or otherwise "superior" to the right wing when it comes to identifying fake news or misinformation. (Example A: anything ever written by a self-proclaimed leftist on Twitter.) We all know that there are huge problems with the American public school system (and the people writing this are almost always American) and the American practice of education in general, and that yes, there are many things that happened in the past (or y'know, the present!) that are not taught very well, or at all. But because the American public school system is so decentralized and largely autonomous, incredibly dependent on the temperament of local superintendents and/or school boards, taxation and funding, availability of teachers, requirement of useless standardized tests, etc., it is very difficult (if not outright impossible) to claim that this is the result of a Unified Grand Conspiracy To Not Teach Real History To The Youth In Order To Make Them Mindlessly Support Capitalism. That is the exact sort of deranged conspiratorial thinking that the right wing does and fits everything into a sinister narrative about how "They" are planning to keep you ignorant and therefore nothing harmful that you ever think or do is really your fault. It's not good.

(Whoosh. That was very calm and reasonable of me. For the rest of this post, please just picture Captain Holt "apparently that's a trigger for me" dot gif.)

Also: even in public school, and despite the Republicans' best efforts, there are plenty of opportunities to study complex or "controversial" subjects. For example, I spend a week every June grading AP Euro History exams with a lot of other educators in a giant windowless steel box (woo-hoo, fun times!) Every year, there are questions on the exam about women's rights, imperialism and exploitation, slavery/race relations, the development of capitalism and the current economic model, religion and science, the history of labor, and other topics that would be considered "controversial" if you're an idiot. This is an exam taken by high school students in all grades from across the country, and there are also AP World History and APUSH (US history) exams every year which are doubtless making an effort to address similar themes. This is an advanced program, yes, but it's widely available to many schools and is not a result of a sinister plot to keep the youth from discovering the truth. Also: you live in an era of absolutely unprecedented access to information. Put down the ChatGPT bullshit generator and visit a goddamn public library. Or even open Wikipedia. The tools are there for you to start educating yourself and they are so easy to find!!!!!

The "Historians Are Hiding The Truth!!!" narrative becomes even more ridiculous in university-level or professional academic historical-study spaces, especially when historical educators and associations (such as the American Historical Association) have been at the forefront of pushing back against right-wing efforts to censor history, punish teachers, and remove culture-war subjects from classrooms. Also as someone who has advanced degrees in history, has taught/worked in several universities in different countries, writes and publishes historical research, and otherwise participates professionally in the field: trust me, we aren't "hiding" shit. There are vigorous debates and disagreements on various bogglingly obscure subjects and points of clarification and so forth, but that doesn't mean we're not talking about them (trust me, we're often talking about them too much). If you're issuing confident blanket statements about how "historians are conspiring to hide x," you're an idiot.

This also has dangerous repercussions in the field of, say, politics and civics, where a lot of absolutely braindead Online Leftists have spent the last four years posting deranged nonsense on social media and then, whenever they're called out on it for that not actually being how anything works at all, whining that "I was never taught this!!!" (And yet, it somehow never actually changes their perspective or their theories....) They whine about how "they didn't know this" and it was someone else's fault, they make up total fantasy about what the Biden administration did or should have done and now are still happy about Trump coming back because "It will teach the Democrats a lesson!!!" and otherwise accelerating us oh-so-quickly down that slippery slippery fascism slope. Their weaponized ignorance and their magical fantasies about what "should" have happened often come back to this same learned helplessness, where it's everyone else's fault (especially Capitalism's) that they're total wankers. Look: I'm not a goddamn fan of capitalism either. But we all grew up in this same system, and some of us aren't raving idiots, so at some point, you have to take the tiniest modicum of personal responsibility for the information you seek out, the content you consume, the opinions you propagate, and the people you surround yourself with. Shocking.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Online Leftists are actively and unrepentantly enabling American fascism and should be treated in the same way as we treat MAGA when it comes to deciding what is good or worthwhile information. This is because their entire political philosophy (insofar as their beliefs can be dignified with the term) is based on the "make shit up and remove it from any basic empirical references, grounding in reality, or 'should I run the most basic Google search and see if I'm completely talking out of my ass in a distorted social media echo chamber? Nah I'm good' " technique. This is, as the original tweet above references, trying to retcon sheer malicious laziness and stupidity into grand ideological theories about how it's actually "better" that they don't know a damn thing and won't shut up. It's your evil history teacher's fault, or "academics are all rich and elitist" (ask any academic-precariat person like me and we will laugh hollowly and then throw monkey poop at you), or "They" wouldn't let you learn this, or on and on. Even in our terrible, awful, no-good very-bad timeline, there are still ample tools to educate yourself, to learn how to filter out bad information and junk news, and otherwise gird yourself even a little for the even-more-massive assault on empirical reality that we are about to experience in the next four years (ugh). I suggest you take advantage of them.

[hopepetal]

This story is set in @applestruda's boatem knights au! I've wanted to write something with Gem for a while, so here it is!

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

It’s been so long since her last bounty, and Gem is itching for a fight. 

This much, she tells Cleo while watching the armorer work on their newest project. Gem’s frequent visits had allowed the two to grow close over the course of her bounty hunting career, to the point where it wasn’t always business that brought her there. Sometimes, it was just for casual conversation, or just because Gem was bored or passing through the area. 

Cleo raises an eyebrow, not looking up from her work. “Tell you what,” she begins, turning the chest plate slightly so that it could catch the light, “it’s all well and good that you want a fight until you get yourself caught up in one you can’t win.” 

Gem scoffs at that as she leans against the counter. “Oh, I never lose. You don't need to worry about me, Cleo.”

“That’s what Etho kept saying, before you chopped his damn head off.” 

Rolling her eyes, Gem flicks her braid behind her shoulder. “That was Etho. And, as you clearly haven’t forgotten, I was the one who did the chopping there. So thanks, but I think I’m good.”

Cleo chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Just return here in one piece, alright? I can’t be losing my best customer.”

Gem sets her elbows on the counter, leaning forward with a cheery grin. “Best customer and best friend?” 

“Get out.”

And so Gem finds herself wandering back to the kingdom of Dogwarts, in search of work and a fight. Maybe both. For her, it usually was. It’s why she chose this path of employment, of course– one didn’t just stumble into becoming a bounty hunter. Unless they were particularly skilled at said stumbling, of course. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s been in the bustling kingdom, and the stark difference between the outer lands and the kingdom always amazes her. She knew that the kingdom boasted the most prestigious redstone academy in the continent, but it’s another thing entirely to see that in action. 

Compared to the sparse population of the outer lands, the kingdom is a bustling city full of people. They continue to add on new developments each year, the construction drawing even more people to the kingdom for work on top of the people already moving in. It was certainly a far cry from the occasional village Gem stumbled upon in the outer lands.

The other difference that really stood out to her was the difference in how prevalent magic was. In the outer lands, magic is everywhere– from daily tasks to impressive feats, it was impossible to go one day without seeing some sort of spell. In the kingdom, it’s a lot more common to see redstone inventions being used in place of magic, though magic is still used. It was much more noticeable to Gem, who travels back and forth frequently between the two extremes. 

It wasn’t long before Gem ends up making her way into the local tavern, the place where she found most of the jobs she took. It’s rowdy as ever, and she finds herself missing the quiet of her friend’s tavern. Nevertheless, she quickly finds her usual seat and orders her usual drink, greeting the bartender with a tired smile. 

“Anything new?” she asks after a few minutes, when the bartender wasn’t so swamped with orders. 

The bartender shrugs. “Not really? But there was something that caught my eye.” They set down their glass for a moment and duck below the bar, grabbing a paper and placing it in front of Gem. “An older one, but it’s resurfaced recently with everyone cleaning out all the more urgent ones.” With that, the bartender gives her a pointed look, to which she responds with a laugh. “Anyway. A runaway who destroyed a very important lab of the king and escaped on foot with precious redstone and technology. He’s assumed to be armed and very dangerous.”

Gem pulls the paper to her, looking it over closely. It seemed to be an average bounty– especially for who had put it out. The man’s face is inked in an artistic depiction of him beneath his ‘WANTED’ notice and list of crimes. What most stands out to her is his incredibly sharp mustache and scruffy beard. “Mm… I see. And this was put out by the king’s advisor himself? I’m surprised it’s gone unclaimed for so long.”

The bartender shrugs, continuing to go about their job as they converse with Gem. “I think most people were daunted by the task. That, and those who tried to find this man simply couldn’t. He’s a slippery fellow, so I’ve been told.”

Gem laughs, her eyes not leaving the man’s inked face. “Well, I’ve been told I have quite the talent for catching those who hide in the shadows.” Quite literally, if she thought back to her last big job. Which, while it had technically ended in success, isn’t really something she wants to go through again. 

Gem had not signed up for magical creatures that revived when you cut off their heads. A simple redstone thief with a penchant for explosions? Yeah, she had this one in the bag. 

“I’ll take it,” she tells the bartender, folding up the paper and sticking it into her bag. “Sounds like a fun little job.” 

The bartender chuckles, shaking their head. “How long do you think this one’s going to take you?” they ask, already knowing Gem’s answer. 

“A month, tops.” She says this with the same confident smile that she always wears when going out on jobs. “Any more than that, and I owe you a drink.”

The bartender throws a towel over their shoulder, laughing. “Well, can’t wait for that to never happen. I’m sure you’ll be back even sooner than we expect as usual, with a story to tell.”

Finishing her drink, Gem stands back up. “I never disappoint,” she promises, sliding the payment for her drink over the table. “I’ll see you then! And thanks for the tip!” she calls, making her way out of the tavern.

It was time to go hunt down a redstoner. 

It actually isn't as hard as she thought. 

The man– Mumbo, his name is– has made a name for himself in the outer lands to the North. Gem can't help but be a little surprised. She's never had a bounty with such mixed public opinion; some people absolutely love him, while others want his head to roll. 

“That man?” Someone had scoffed when she asked, shaking their head. “Void below, I can't stand him. He's a genius, sure, but the noise he makes!” They had clicked their tongue disapprovingly. “And when I complained about it and asked him to be a little more quiet, he threw bricks through my window!”

Another person– a young woman– had a dreamy expression when Gem asked her about Mumbo. “He's such a cute knight! One time, he helped me get my cat down from a tree…” 

Her friend had raised an eyebrow. “Clara, he climbed up into the tree and fell off of it. Your cat got down all on her own.”

Clara hadn't responded, lost in her daydreaming.

The more she asks around, the more mixed answers she receives. 

Gem couldn't help but laugh at that. This bounty would be interesting, if nothing else. 

She finds the camp easily enough. All she has to do is ask where the knights are, and she's pointed in the right direction. It's almost a full day on foot– she leaves her horse at the nearest village to be more stealthy. 

It’s getting colder out. The leaves are beginning to shift from green to yellow and orange, sparks of red standing out amongst the others. Gem’s feet crunch against the ground as she travels down the path, hands stuck in her pockets to keep them warm. 

She’s been wandering around the area for about a week now, gathering intel on the group. From what she can tell, they’re a close group of four friends: Impulse, Grian, Scar, and her target, Mumbo. She doesn’t get close enough to really hear them talking. She’d heard of avians’ enhanced hearing and doesn’t want to take her chances with getting too close. If the stories she’d heard were true, she didn’t want to get caught by these guys. Especially given what she was here to do.

At one point, she got a little closer to the camp to listen in on a conversation. She had an extra invisibility potion, and she figured she could put it to use for this job. Though she knew enough about the so-called “knights”, more information couldn’t hurt. 

The one with brown hair and a very stabbable chest– his name is Scar, she recalls– leans against Grian, the avian of the group. “So, the plan is to head out tomorrow?”

Impulse nods. “Yep. You’re good to stay behind to keep Pearl company, Mumbo?”

Mumbo leans forward, his hands folded in front of him on the table. He looks so polite when he speaks that Gem can hardly believe he’s a hardened criminal. “Of course! I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.”

Gem frowns at that, but quickly shakes away the uncertainty. If there was another person here, she would’ve seen them by now. Pearl is probably the dog that was prowling around the camp.

Grian sighs and pushes Scar off him, standing up. “Well, I’m absolutely shattered, so I’m going to bed. We gotta get up early if we’re gonna be traveling tomorrow.” He looks up, gaze sweeping over the knights and then around the camp. 

At the same time, the wind shifts, and Scar stiffens. His eyes meet Gem’s. Gem sucks in a breath, and has to check to make sure her invisibility potion is still working. 

It is, but it doesn’t stop her from shivering as Scar’s gaze lingers, then pulls away.

After a moment, Scar stands, putting on a fake pouty face. “Aww, okay. Goodnight, G! Night, Impulse. Night, Mumbo!” 

A chorus of goodnights echoes from the group, and Gem slips away unnoticed. 

The forest is anything but quiet at night. Gem is safe up in the trees, and sleep comes easy to her after years of travel, but she remembers her first year of adventuring and the hellish noises that kept her up for hours.

A skeleton rattles below. Further away, a zombie groans. Gem leans against the tree and closes her eyes.

Gem rises with the sun and to the rhythmic sound of horse hooves against well-packed dirt. She exhales, breath turning to fog, before stretching. She turns her head to the side, tracking the sound of hooves. Only when it fades off into the distance does she untie herself from the branch and jump down, finally able to stretch fully.

She takes an hour or two to wake up and gather all her things. It’s almost midday by the time she sheathes her sword after warming up and begins her trek to the camp. It likely won’t come down to a fight, from what she knows about Mumbo, but one can never be too careful. She knows not to underestimate an enemy.

It is somewhat pathetic that she’s able to walk up right behind him without him even noticing, but Gem chalks that up to her being very good at her job.

“Hey there, Mumbo!” she greets, and can’t help but laugh as he shrieks and falls over backwards. “Oop, careful! Don’t hurt yourself.”

Mumbo scrambles back and to his feet, looking up at Gem with wide eyes. “What– what on earth– who are you?! How do you know my name?”

Gem tilts her head to the side, keeping the smile on her face. “I’m Gem. Nice to meet you.” She takes a step forward. “King Ren placed a bounty on your head, and I’m here to collect! Do you want to come with me willingly, or…?” She places a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Mumbo pales. “Well, look, okay, there’s been a misunderstanding!” He holds his hands up as he steps back, eyes darting around wildly. “There’s no need for violence! I’m a very peace loving guy! Peace, love, and plants, y’know!”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “By force, then! That’s cool!” She draws her sword.

Mumbo does what any average person would do– scream, then run away.

Gem, of course, chases. It’s easy enough to catch up to Mumbo and trip him, sending the taller man falling to the ground with another shriek. She quickly puts her sword to Mumbo’s throat, and he freezes.

“...please don’t kill me?” he asks after a moment, chest heaving as he stares up at her. “I don’t, I won’t lie to you, I don’t particularly want to die?” 

Gem laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not going to kill you. I just need to bring you back to the king so I can collect your bounty!” She pulls her sword away, twirling it in her hand. “Whatever happens to you after is on him, not me.” She tilts her head. “Also, didn't you have a beard?”

Mumbo blinks. “What? No, I– hold on, a beard?! I know they always get my mustache wrong, but a beard? And what do you mean, a bounty?”

Gem puts her sword back at Mumbo’s throat. “I think they have to hire a new portrait artist. Anyway! I need to take you to the King, so I can get paid, and you can be brought to justice, et cetera.”

“But we can talk about this!” Mumbo pleads. “Surely I could pay you or something, I have quite a lot of things, I–!”

The only warning Gem is given is Mumbo’s gaze darting to the side. Someone slams into her, sending her stumbling away.

Gem turns and sweeps her sword out in time to block the blade of a scythe. The impact jars both her and her attacker, giving Gem enough time to reorient herself.

The woman straightens up, and her fever-clouded eyes focus on Gem. Her wings are flared out, displaying eyespots that stare down at Gem. “Why are ya messin’ with my knights?” 

From where he’s fallen, Mumbo yelps, “Pearl!”

Ah. So this is the Pearl they had been talking about. Gem curses herself for making assumptions, then tightens her grip on her sword and grins. “You wanna fight? Fantastic!” 

Pearl lets out a sharp breath, and Gem doesn’t fail to notice how her hands tremble slightly holding her scythe. “Not very fair of you to attack Mumbo while he’s all alone, don't ya think?”

Gem laughs as she shifts into a fighting stance. “I’d say it’s more fair than a 2v1!”

“I’m staying out of this!” Mumbo interjects, continuing to back away. “Good luck, Pearl!”

Pearl tilts her head. “That fair enough for you?” She doesn’t wait for Gem to answer, folding her wings tight against her back and lunging for her. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s had a good fight. Since Etho, she thinks, though the fight with him had been made interesting by his strange abilities with shadows and ice. Pearl isn't using any magic– it's pure skill that Gem is fighting against, and it's been a while since she's fought anyone like this. 

As the fight goes on, though, it becomes more clear to Gem just how unfocused Pearl is. By the looks of it, she'd just rolled out of bed when Mumbo screamed. Gem shakes away any doubts about fighting someone who is clearly ill as she blocks a strike that would've taken her arm off. 

“Wow!” she exclaims, ducking and stepping to the side as Pearl's scythe sweeps over her, “you're really going all out, huh?” 

Pearl laughs in response to that, as if they were two friends sparring for fun. “You were attacking my Mumbo! ‘course I'm goin’ all out!”

Gem swings out with her sword again, catching Pearl's leg with her blade. “Your Mumbo is a wanted criminal!”

Pearl yelps and stumbles back. She holds out her scythe in a defensive position.

Gem takes a moment to catch her breath, staring at Pearl. “It'd be best if you just hand Mumbo over! I promise I won't hurt him!”

Pearl shakes her head. “Absolutely not, mate! Mumbo is family!” 

Gem shrugs. “Your grave, then!” 

She lunges. 

The fight has a sort of rhythm to it. Gem lunges, Pearl blocks. Pearl slices with her scythe, Gem dodges. The rhythm is only broken by Pearl occasionally stumbling– which Gem takes advantage of to strike out and nick Pearl. She's never able to make too deep a cut, and Pearl gets her back plenty of times, but she lands enough hits to start feeling much better about her chances of winning. 

...and then she's on the ground, dew soaking into her clothes as she lies there. Her sword is gone, fallen out of her hand in the struggle. 

She looks up at Pearl, who stands above her. Her cheeks are reddened by exertion and fever, her hair is cascading over her shoulders in messy waves, and most infuriatingly there is a smile on her lips even as she holds her scythe to Gem's throat. 

Gem doesn't move. She waits, with bated breath, for Pearl to kill her.

Instead, Pearl sheathes her scythe and bends down, holding out a hand. “There ya go, mate, let's get you back on your feet.”

Gem blinks. “What?”

Pearl tilts her head in confusion. “I'm helping you up. Did you hit your head?”

Gem frowns. “No, I just– why aren't you killing me?” She takes Pearl’s hand anyway.

Pearl raises an eyebrow, pulling Gem to her feet. “Would you have killed me if I lost?” She grins when Gem shakes her head. “Thought so.”

Mumbo peeks out from the tree he hid behind, giving Pearl a little wave. “You don't want to kidnap me anymore?”

Gem groans, grabbing her bloodied sword and wiping it on the grass before sheathing it. “I miscalculated. Thought you were alone and Pearl was the big dog I saw wandering around camp. Turns out, I was wrong.”

Pearl laughs. “Tilly! No, no, she's my lovely puppy.”

“Wolf,” Mumbo corrects quietly, “she's a wolf, Pearl.” 

Pearl shrugs, then looks over at Gem. “Well, if you’re gonna stick around, we have some soup I can heat up? You can tell us all about why you’re here, and maybe I’ll be able to give ya somethin’ for your time.”

Gem lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Sure, why not. This day couldn’t get any more crazy, I think.”

Mumbo, who had slowly been inching closer to the two while they were talking, is quick to grab Pearl when she tries to walk and stumbles. “Pearl! Wait, hold on, I’ll help you over, but you have got to sit down after that. I’ll heat up the soup and get you some bandages.” 

“Alright, alright…” Pearl slings an arm over Mumbo’s shoulders, and gestures for Gem to follow them. “Oof, that took a lot out of me, actually.” She glances back at Gem. “You’re good. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Gem snorts, following them across the camp. “I could ask you the same question. You’re insane.” 

Mumbo helps Pearl sit down on the bench. Gem hesitates, then takes the seat across from Pearl, watching as Mumbo grabs a large covered container of soup. “Honestly,” he says, “Pearl’s one of the strongest people I know. Everyone here is, but Pearl and Impulse–” he laughs, putting the container on what looks to be a type of redstone warming gadget– “they’re incredible.” 

Pearl giggles. “Aww, Mumbo! You’re too kind, mate.” She closes her eyes and lets out a breath. “You mind gettin’ those bandages? I’m startin’ to feel a little hurt here.”

Gem grimaces. “My bad! You got me good in a few places too, though.”

Pearl nods, giving Gem a bright smile. “Dang right I did! Mumbo, can you get some extra bandages for our new friend here?”

Mumbo nods, bending down to open a different wooden container and pulling out some bandages and a dry towel. “Her name’s Gem, by the way. Introduced herself to me before chasing me down.” 

“That’s nice,” Pearl quips, “good to let your victims know who they have the pleasure of bein’ killed by, at the very least.”

Gem blushes. “I wasn’t going to kill him! Honestly! I was just going to bring him back to King Ren, and even then he was probably just gonna be put in jail or something!”

Mumbo sits next to Pearl and begins to dab at the cuts with the towel. “I don’t really want to go to jail?” He hands a roll of bandages and a towel to Gem, who begins to take care of her own wounds.

“We’d break you out,” Pearl assures him, then turns to look at Gem. “Right. This bounty, tell me about it? You said King Ren put it out?”

Gem glances at Mumbo. “Honestly, I think it’d be better hearing it from his side, first. I wasn’t there for the whole reason the bounty was placed.”

Mumbo looks up from where he was wrapping Pearl’s wounds. “Oh! Well, uh, you see. So, I guess, I accidentally blew up one of his labs? I was making something, can’t really remember what it was, and well. Kaboom! Blew it all to smithereens, unfortunately. And because I wasn’t really supposed to be there, they didn’t really have a lot of sympathy for me.” He grabs Pearl’s hand and pulls her other arm up so he can tend to the wounds on it. “So! I ran!”

“Are our things at risk of blowing up, then?” Pearl asks, looking pointedly at the redstone machine that was warming up the soup. Her wings flutter slightly. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Probably not. I mean, I’m much more careful now. I don’t use things until I’m like… 99% sure they won’t blow up.”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “That’s a whole 1% of uncertainty.”

Pearl laughs, pulling her arm back once Mumbo finishes bandaging up her cuts. “Better than 2%! I’ll take it.” 

Mumbo hands Pearl the roll of bandages and stands up to check on the soup. It must be done, because he carefully takes the container off the heating gadget and grabs some bowls and spoons from yet another wooden container. After rifling through the container for another minute, he pulls out a ladle with a triumphant sound and stands back up. “Soup’s ready!”

Once the soup is ladled into every bowl and placed on the table, Mumbo sits back down. “You alright, Pearl?” he murmurs, to which Pearl nods. 

“Just a lil dizzy,” she responds, “but that’s– probably fine. I should get back to bed soon, probably.”

“Eat your soup first, at least.” Mumbo looks up at Gem. “And, well, I guess we should hear your side of this whole thing, huh?”

Gem sighs, taking a sip of her soup before leaning back. “Well, I was looking for another job and yours came up. I figured it’d be pretty easy to grab you and bring you back to the King, and then I’d be set for the next couple months with the reward.” She laughs softly. “To be honest, I didn’t even think I was going to have to fight.”

Mumbo makes a sad noise. “I would’ve fought back!” he protests, “you just startled me!”

“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve!” Gem agrees. “You just would’ve lost.”

Pearl chuckles. “Be nice to Mumbo! He’s a very skilled tactician.” She has some more soup before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table. “What are your plans now?”

Gem shrugs. “I wasn’t hired for this job, so it doesn’t really matter if I complete it or not. The money would’ve been nice, but my reputation won’t take a blow because of this.” She thinks for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Honestly, I might just spend a while up around here to see if any of the nearby villages have jobs for me, if anything. Or I might head to the city to look for more bounties.” She eats some more soup. It’s very good, made with potatoes and bacon and cheese, and it’s slightly spicy nature has her feeling warm despite the cold autumn weather.

 “Oh! Speaking of, you’re going to want to keep an eye on this guy–” She gestures at Mumbo– “for a bit, or speak to King Ren about his bounty. Otherwise, some other hunter who isn’t as nice as me might pick up his bounty.” 

Mumbo’s eyes widen. “Well. I don’t really want that to happen!”

Pearl nods. “Yeah, that makes sense… I’ll speak with the others when they get back and we’ll see about making a trip there. If that’s okay with you?” She directs the question to Mumbo, who holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“I dunno! Do whatever you think is best, mate. It would be nice to get the bounty off my head so we don’t have to worry about people coming to camp.” Mumbo looks a little downtrodden as he speaks, crossing his arms and looking away. “I mean, look at what happened. You’re hurt, and Grian’s probably going to rip my arm off for it!”

Gem inhales sharply. “I might want to head out then, if you have a friend who’s gonna react like that…”

Pearl laughs. “No, Mumbo’s joking– Grian can’t and won’t do that, not to Mumbo. And even if he wanted to do that to someone, I still don’t think he could.” She finishes her soup and leans against Mumbo. “It might be good for you to skedaddle before everyone gets back, though. We can introduce you at another time, when you haven’t just injured me while I’m ill and supposed to be resting.”

Mumbo chuckles nervously, letting Pearl lean against him. “Yeahhh… I can’t imagine that’ll go down too well with the others. Even if you are friendly now.”

Gem takes the last bite of her soup, and sets her spoon in the bowl. “I can’t imagine it would, I really can’t. Thank you for the soup and bandages, but–”

Before she’s able to finish speaking, Pearl jumps up from the table. “Wait! Hold on, I have something for you.” She takes a few steps away, then turns back and grabs Mumbo’s hand. “Sorry, taking this guy with me– still don’t really trust you. Stay right there!”

Gem waves her hand, slightly confused. “That’s fair! I’ll be here.” 

They return after a few minutes, with Pearl holding a few things in her arms. “Right! Here’s a pouch of some gold and iron coins, to cover at least a little of the bounty. And this–” She sets down a piece of parchment on the table– “this is moth mail. It’s a special thing I made a while back. Just write a letter, tap the little sigil drawn on the top corner, and it’ll get to me! You can use that to contact me if you need, or if you’re in the area.”

Gem blinks. “Wow! Oh, gosh, thank you? I gotta know, though, how come you’re being so nice to me? I was going to turn Mumbo over to the King.”

Pearl shrugs. “I mean, you’ve been chill after that, so why hold grudges? Gotta make friends where ya can.” She straightens back up. “Really! Feel free to come back any time, as long as you let me know first. If you don’t, I might assume you’ve come to collect some other bounty we don’t know about and fight you again.”

Gem laughs as she stands up, taking the pouch of coins and parchment paper. “Wouldn’t want that to happen, for sure!” She takes a step back. “Well, thank you both for the kindness… and entertainment, I suppose. This morning was certainly an interesting one.”

Mumbo smiles nervously. “Yeah, I agree. It was nice, uh, meeting you? And not getting kidnapped by you? And not being put in jail. Yeah.”

Gem only laughs louder at that. “Yeah, I’m glad I could contribute to things you’re grateful for.” She takes a breath, looking between Mumbo and Pearl. “Well. I’ll be heading out, then. Thanks for the coin and the paper.”

Pearl leans against Mumbo, who is doing his best to steady her. “No worries, mate! Have fun with… whatever you’re going to do!”

As Gem starts walking back toward the forest, she just barely hears Pearl mumble, “I need to pass out right now,” to Mumbo. 

Gem pays the stable manager for taking care of her horse with some of the money Pearl gave her. Honestly, she’s still a little shocked over how the whole ordeal went down, but hey; at least she still got paid. 

“And I got some new friends out of it, too,” she tells her horse as she rides off into the forest. “So that’s a plus!” 

She isn’t quite sure what she’s going to tell the bartender when she inevitably returns, but she’ll figure something out. For now, she’s good to look for her next bounty– wherever it might be.

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock — Without Me

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3.9k Warning : Angst as requested but with fluff ending. Insecurity. Miscommunication/Misunderstanding. Synopsis : She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. Notes : this fic was a request. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

It was never easy.

No matter how many years they've spent together, the countless dates they went to, and the umpteen charming moments they've shared, dating Matt Murdock was never easy still.

Lord knows just how hard she tries to turn it off. To stop her mind from wandering to the dark places and to not think of the worst possible scenarios whenever the slightest inconvenience happens. She's tried her best, truly she has, to be a little more nonchalant whenever it comes to him, but it proved to be an impossible task to do. Perhaps when you care about someone a little too much than needed, the chance of keeping one's self collected inevitably becomes impossible.

Foggy and Marci’s wedding invitation laid proud on the coffee table, silently mocking her name whenever she was the only one left in the apartment. She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. There’s just too many things in his hands, too many problems laid on his shoulders for him to ever weigh the possibility of matrimony.

She understood, a little too well, the reason for his silence. And though she once dreamed of having a family of her own, having mini versions of her and him running around the apartment and knocking over the cup of tea that would stain their rugged carpet, she’s learned to bury such thoughts in the deepest pit of her heart. She reckons, sacrificing something that she’s never had before would be less painful than losing the one she already has.

Five years of being loved by Matt Murdock would certainly make you a little too attached to the man.

But even with his gentle touch, the sweet nothings he whispered in her ears and the embrace he would always blanket her nights with, fear was never kept too far away. As much as she loves and understands him, as much as he worships and adores her, Matt was never an easy riddle to solve. His mind works with such complexity she’d never truly decipher. Oftentimes his actions speak much louder than his words and the past few days have only served as the new demons she has to battle with at night.

There’s always been more paperwork, more cases that needed his urgent attention before he could excuse himself out of the office, and even when his job was done, his other calls would already become too urgent for him to ignore. One too many rain checks done for their dates, that she couldn’t even bother asking if they could find a replacement date. Matt’s a busy man, his growing reputation and the demand Daredevil would have to serve at night were something she’s accepted, what she’s yet to understand, however, is his lack of communication. There were less words, less explanations and reassurance for her to hold on to. The blackhole that she’s currently drowning in was quiet and deadly. Something that he would not notice with the lack of presence.

Now she sits alone in their apartment, eyes vacant and barely blinking while her brain haywired. Perhaps this sudden change of action was caused by her wrongdoings. She tries to trace down every possible mistake she might have made, every misspoken word and unintentional actions, in an attempt to find a way to fix it. To apologise for whatever fault she’s committed before the sin stained a little too deep to ever be fixed.

If this was anyone else, she would’ve been upfront and ask if there’s anything wrong, confront the issue head-on without a care in the world, but this is Matt. He pushes people as easily as he draws them. One wrong movement and she fears all hell would break loose for them.

“Baby?” she heard Matt call, turning her head to see him entering from the staircase “What are you still doing up? It’s late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answers, walking to him and taking his helmet away “Was it an easy patrol?”

“Quite, yeah. Not too bad but not too boring either,” he says with a grin “I’ve missed you.”

She sighs, letting his hands rest on her waist while hers encircle his neck, “Yeah, well, you’ve been busy.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says regretfully “Say, why don’t we go to that restaurant you’ve been wanting to try? The Italian one? How about this Friday, will you be free then?”

“I don’t know, will you? You’re the one who’s been so occupied lately.”

“I’ll be free on Friday, I promise,” he says excitedly, stealing a peck on her lips “So what do you say? Friday after work?”

Another tired sigh escapes her. Moments like this melts her worry away. Staring into his beautiful face, seeing that charming smile tugged on the corner of his lips, while his body was pressed against her. But as much as she treasures this, as much as she appreciates the comfort he could always bring her, she knew that the dark cloud would return the moment he’s out of her sight.

Gently, she leans in and kisses him. Matt’s grip on her shirt tightens, smiling between the kiss in satisfaction. Perhaps he misses her just as much as she missed him.

“Friday, it is.”

—-

She peeled herself off of the blanket with a huge sigh. The other side of the bed was cold, signifying that he’s been out for quite some time but she couldn’t find it in herself to frown. They do have a date afterwards. Perhaps Matt just wanted to make sure that he’s done all his work on time before they could escape their hectic lives for an hour or two.

It was still early for her to get ready for work, but coming early and finishing her tasks as soon as possible so she could have more time to doll herself up before the date sounds like a better plan to do. She sits up from the bed, hand carelessly reaching for the hair tie on the bedside table before knocking Matt’s phone in the process.

She picks up the item, thinking that it was one of the rare occurrences for him to forget his belongings. Reckon she really needs to get ready now so she could drop by his office and give him his phone, but her frown grows when someone calls.

“Hello?” she says as she picks it up.

“Oh, shit,” the other end of the line says before hanging up.

It was a woman. A voice that she was unfamiliar with. The twist in her gut grew, spreading through her veins like venom. She’s never one to pry on Matt’s phone, always confident in his loyalty, but given his absence and the strange call, her fingers couldn’t stop themselves from punching the passcode.

There was no text history with the caller, but there were several call logs, dating far into the past few weeks when he started to be ‘busy’. She wanted to call back the woman, ask her who she is and why she has been on frequent calls with her boyfriend, but she was too scared to face the possible truth. Too afraid to welcome the pour of the icy reality— that he’s found someone else.

“Oh, you’re up!” Matt says, cheeks flushed with slight panting “I forgot my phone.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, her voice caught in her throat. Still trying to process the event that’s just happened and how to act in front of him “I— Someone— Gwyneth called.”

“Oh,” his tongue darts to lick his lips, visibly looking nervous now “What did she say?”

“Nothing, she— She hung up.”

“Your heart is beating fast,” Matt notes “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just— Did you run back here?”

“I did, yeah. I was already at the office when I realised I'd forgotten my phone. I need it for the case I’m currently working on,” he answers, walking to her with careful steps “Can I have it, please?”

She swallows the lump in her throat, handing him the item in silence.

“Thank you,” Matt says, placing a kiss on the crown of her head “Listen, I have to run back, I’m having a meeting with a client in five minutes. I’ll see you later for our date, okay?”

She was still silent, breath hitched and sweats forming in the back of her neck.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, okay,” she finally answers, looking up to meet his eyes “I’ll see you later.”

Matt hesitated. He looks as if he was debating to ask something, looking conflicted over whatever it is that might be troubling his mind but the words died in his tongue. Perhaps unsure if he would want to pour petrol over the turmoil that’s evidently building between them. His finger taps on the phone in his palm as he says instead, “I love you.”

She forces a smile, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it but it was the only attempt she could pull to suppress the tears that were slowly watering her eyes, “I know.”

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“You know I love you,” She says, kissing the back of his hand that was holding the phone “Go, you’re going to be late for the meeting.”

Matt smiles, stealing a kiss from her lips before heading back out.

—-

Her breathing was rigid. The movement of her chest forced as if trying her best to compose herself. Her lips were pressed in a tight smile, chewing her meal silently as she tried to focus on the words Matt was saying.

She tries, God knows she tries, to forget about this morning’s incident. Perhaps Gwyneth was the client he was supposed to meet. It surely isn't strange for him to have frequent calls with her if that was the case, but why does it feel wrong? Why does it feel like there’s something bigger that she wasn’t aware of? Why does it feel as if there was something Matt wasn’t telling?

“Love,” Matt calls, taking her hand slowly in his “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies through her teeth.

“Are you sure? Your heart has been beating like crazy all night.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop listening to my heartbeat for once, Matt.”

The smile on his face waters, surprised to hear her bitter spat.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as cruel,” she sighs, taking her hand away from him to rub her temples “I just have a lot of things in mind.”

Matt sighs, nodding in understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, she wanted to say, let’s talk about the affair you’re having behind me.

But is she ready? Is she ready to be stripped off of the fantasy that she’s tried so hard to build with him? Is she ready to bid goodbye to all the dreams and hopes she’s made with him? Is she ready to accept the fact that there would be no Matt in her future?

It was pathetic, sure, to hold on to the last strings of hope when the most possible outcome is laid bare in front of her. To be stubborn for once against the demons that are torturing her mind. But Matt is the only good thing in her life she’d never be ready to lose. He is the one thing she would rather risk her life for than to ever be separated from. Even if she has to turn a blind eye and pretend as if the romance they’re living in was pure and innocent.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, letting out a sigh to collect her composure “How’s your meeting? Did it go well?”

“Splendid. Listen, I have something to talk to you about,” he says, deflecting the topic. Matt takes a nervous gulp. His hands are now under the table, invisible to her eyes “I– Uh, I don’t know where to start.”

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the tears threatened to form on her eyes. This must be it. The nervousness that has been bleeding out of him, the continuous rambling he does the whole night to mask his uneasiness, the way he keeps on rubbing his palm on his trousers. This must be it. This must be their end.

“You know how we’ve been together for quite some time now,” Matt starts, his hands still hidden under the table “I know five years with me must not have been the easiest for you. I know just how difficult it could be, living with me and accepting the life that I’m living in. I know that we didn’t always have sunshine and rainbows. Most of the time we have storms and thunders, really, yet we’re still here. You’re still here,” He says gently, his left hand reaching for hers “I know that you deserve better, that you can find someone better—”

She abruptly stood on her feet, letting his hand go in the process that he retreats it fast and hides it under the table once again. Her breathing was heavy, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Matt asks with a worried tone, still sitting on his seat.

“I have to get out of here.”

“W-What?”

She spared him no other word, grabbing her purse and bolting herself out of the restaurant.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest. By the time she hailed for a taxi, her cheeks were already wet with tears. The night she’s been looking forward to, the one date she hoped would flush all of her worries down the drain, turns out to be her worst nightmare. Never would she ever expect Matt to be this cruel. To lead her on, promising a lovely date when they haven’t seen each other for so long, only to break up with her before the clock strikes at nine. With an illicit affair she wasn’t aware of until the very morning, should one add.

“Wait, wait,” Matt says, stopping the taxi door before it closes “Where are you going? What happened?”

“Just leave me alone, Matt, please,” she begs through her tears.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

“Leave me alone, Matt. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

“I— What did I do?”

“Just— Please, don’t make it any harder than it already is.”

Matt was appalled, confused as to what might trigger this response, but he could feel just how upset she was. Her body was shaking, fingers trembling as they frantically wiped the tears that kept on flowing. Never had he ever seen her this distraught and Matt was scared that he would do more harm than good to try and talk with her about it, so he surrenders, “Okay, we’ll go home, okay? Let me just pay for dinner first.”

“No, I’m not going home. I told you, I don’t want to see you, okay!” She says, this time with a raise of voice as her anger slowly seeps in “I just want you to leave me alone, is that really too much to ask for?”

Hurt was evident on his face now, but she was too caught up with her own emotions to notice it.

“Please, Matt,” She begs, her voice hoarse in plea “Please let me go.”

Matt nods, ceasing his last attempt to hold her as he closes the taxi door. He listens as the driver steps on the gas, driving her away to wherever it is she might go. Though the car drives further from him, the sound of her sobs only grows louder in his ear. He wasn’t sure what he did, what he said that might have prompted this response, but whatever it is, he knew that he’s royally ruined what could’ve been the best night of their lives.

—-

It has been a week since she fled Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that there’s no corner in the city that he wouldn’t scour to find her, so she had to go a little farther to find shelter. She needed time and space to think, to take in the cruel reality that has finally caught up with her, before she could take baby steps towards acceptance. 

On the second day, she no longer breaks in tears whenever she looks into her phone and see the many messages Matt has left. By the fourth day, she could partly accept the fact that their ship had sunk. That trying to mend what’s been broken would only restrain him from his freedom, from loving the one person he might actually meant to be with. She loves him, too much for words to ever truly express it, but if being with another woman brings him better happiness, then she would sacrifice herself and blow the candle out. She would let him go.

The suffocation she feels in her lungs the moment she steps in the apartment was unbearable but she dragged her feet still. She whispers her silent goodbye, fingers tracing the walls of the apartment that she would soon leave. Her eyes study the surroundings, memorising each detail of Matt’s loft that she loved so much before she’s no longer welcomed.

She wonders if whoever would live with him next would keep the flower vase by the window. She wonders if they would change the lights in the living room. She wonders if they would paint the walls and fix the squeaky bathroom door. She wonders just how much of her remnants would be left untouched.

“You’re home,” Matt greets, breathless as if he just jolted out of bed.

It’s clear to see that he was in a wreck. The stubbles on his face were unkempt, new bruises littering his body. Matt looks defeated. Like he’s been dragged through a losing war and shattered beyond saving.

“I’m just here to take my things,” she says with a shaky voice, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected “I won’t take long. I’ll take whatever I couldn’t pack today on the weekends.”

“Where are you going?” He frowns, tilting his head a little in confusion “Why are you leaving?”

“Well, I’ve held you back long enough, haven’t I? It’s about time I let you go,” she says with a heartbroken sniffle, forcing a self-pitying smile “I won’t keep you from anyone, anymore. You’re free.”

Matt takes a few steps closer, his brows knitted as he finds himself further lost in the conversation, “Hold me back— Free— What are you talking about?”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The other night? You wanted to break up with me,” she explains, swallowing the hard pill “I understand. I’ve accepted it, too. We don’t have to go through that conversation again.”

“Break up— What?”

“Matt, don’t play dumb with me,” she says with her patience wearing thin “I know everything. I know why you’ve been so busy lately. I know about your affair with Gwyneth, I know it all.”

“Affair? Gwyneth?” Matt questions, running a hand through his hair as he tries to place the puzzle pieces together “What are you talking about?”

“Look, you can really stop being a douche and just get off with it, alright? Do you really expect me to spell it to you? You cheated on me with Gwyneth. There, I said it.”

“I— What makes you think that I cheated on you with her?”

“Well, you’ve been gone. You have lots of call logs with her and they all aligned to the days when you started being distant. And that day when she called, she hung up because she heard my voice, didn’t she? She was scared that I’d find out about you two, well, guess what, I did.”

Matt’s lips were parted. The crease on his forehead was still deep as he tried to let her words sink in. He visibly looks baffled to the point that she starts to wonder if she’s making the right sense, but she wouldn’t let that puppy eye and innocent look on his face water her walls down. She’s given more than enough understanding for him to ever play her this way.

“Well? What do you have to say about yourself?” she asks, folding her hands in front of her chest “No arguments to defend yourself, Mr. Attorney?”

The corners of his lips tugged upward as he let out a satisfied sigh. Colours returned to his face the moment his brain caught up with her words. Like a lighting bulb glowing after it's been switched on. Without a word, Matt walks back to the bedroom. He returned not even a minute later with a small box in his hand.

“I have not been cheating on you,” he begins, taking one of her hands gently “I would never, ever, betray us like that. I love you too much to ever think about anyone else.”

“But Gwyneth—,”

“Gwyneth is a jeweller that has been helping me find the right ring for someone,” Matt cuts in, opening the box for her to see “I didn’t know what kind of ring you’d like, what design or what gem you’d like on it, so I looked for some personal jeweller to help me out.”

She was left speechless, looking down to the ring with utter embarrassment.

“When you picked up her call, she was trying to tell me that the ring was ready, but she didn’t expect you to answer. She was caught off guard, scared that she might spoil your surprise.”

Her head hangs low. Just how ridiculously stupid could she be. She was ashamed of thinking the worst, labelling names on Matt that should never have even crossed her mind. How is she supposed to apologise now after ruining their moment? After tainting their relationship red? Would she even have the chance to mend what she’s broken when she’s betrayed the trust between them?

“Hey,” Matt calls, holding her chin up gently “I've never cheated on you. There was never anyone else and there will never be. There’s only you, just you, and no one else.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a misunderstanding,” he says with a chuckle, pulling her for a hug and rubbing her back “It’s okay, Baby. It’s my fault for being too occupied too, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t get to apologise, okay? It’s only going to make me feel worse,” she sobs in his embrace “I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted you or at the very least asked about Gwyneth, before jumping into conclusions.”

“Well, honestly, if you asked me about her, I wouldn’t have known what to say either. I’m not the best of a liar in front of you,” he answers, letting out a sigh “That morning I knew your heart was beating erratically but I was too scared to ask because I didn’t want you to ask about her. I didn’t have the answers to give without spoiling the surprise.”

She let go of the hug, wiping her tears while his hands still rested on her waist, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“It doesn’t really matter. What matters is your answer,” Matt says with a nervous smile, letting go of his hold and kneeling in front of her now “I’m just gonna keep it short before either of us falls into another misunderstanding,” he says before the two of them break into a short laughter “Will you marry me?”

Her grin spreads, nodding as she kneels to his level, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Matt beams as he slips the ring on her finger. A satisfied exhale came out of him. Like he's just successfully removed mountains from his own shoulders. He pulls her for a kiss, hands cupping on cheeks gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock,” she answers, her hand combing the strands of his hair with her fingers “You’re really a wreck without me, huh?”

He lets out a sigh, stealing another kiss through their laughter, “You have no idea.”

[antizenin]

𑁤 OVERBEARER ⋮ OKKOTSU YUUTA

now that you were older, you felt like you could venture out in the world. however, with an overbearing step-brother like yuuta, it's nearly impossible.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, okkotsu yuuta, dark content & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 3.7k words !

➛ okkotsu yuuta & fem-bodied!reader (they/them), stepcest, one year age gap, dubious consent, stuckage, spanking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, one (1) clit pinch, degredation, squirting, momentary free use fantasy, implied vouyerism, etc.

College was supposed to be a freeing experience for you. Something that could be utilized to escape your family because while you loved them, they could annoyed you. Unfortunately, you came to the realization that your dream to freedom could wait when the cost of living on campus didn’t quite meet your expectations and the idea of commuting aroused in efforts to help save money. You thought it would dim your high expectations for independence, but as you got older and your first semester of college came into play, your parents backed off of you. 

You gained some sentiment of freedom as you could move more freely in the world, but with a few added expectations. Nothing dramatic, just make sure that you always communicated where you were going beforehand and tell them when you arrived and left. The conditions were completely reasonable, so why were you sneaking back into your bedroom through the window?

Because while your parents saw you as a responsible person, your step-brother— older by one measly year— still saw you as the little kid who couldn’t make the right decision for themself. Oftentimes would the two of you bicker about it, your mother and his father having to intervene to try and dissipate the ever growing heat. However, the two of you were stubborn mules stuck in your ways. 

It was cute in early years how Yuuta would be protective of you, truly viewing you as a little sibling. Always coming to your side in order to protect you. You thought it was nice and because of it, you two had a bond like no other. You clung onto him, wanting to hang around him and his friends, wanting to do what he did, wanting to always stay in close proximity. However, now that you were gaining autonomy and felt like you had truly found yourself and your confidence, you didn’t need to cling to him like plastic wrap anymore. You had your own crowd that you wanted to be around, and frankly, you no longer found him as interesting as you first did.

And it hurts, Yuuta can’t lie. Losing your attention and admiring cuts deeply and wounding a side to him he didn’t know was there. So, when you got mad at him again when he chastised you for the clothes you wear, asking you where you were going to like he was the authority figure, and made slick comments under his breath when you didn’t do something right in his eyes, it infuriated you. But, he loved the attention he got from it— from you— when he did this. It’s why he keeps picking fights with you, but it’s also why you decided to sneak out in the first place. 

You didn’t owe him anything, much less an explanation about your plans for tonight. Your mom and your step-father knew, that’s all that mattered to you. You didn’t think twice when you first did it, hiking up one leg out of the window, your short dress riding up and revealing your lacy pair of underwear as you hop out and make the most of the night. Late until the wee hours of the morning while your parents are away for the weekend and your overbearing step-brother is fast asleep and unaware of your whereabouts. 

You hold no regrets when you get back, having your friend drop you in front of the house this time as you’re no longer worried too much. As long as you make it through the window without a sound, you’ll be fine. At least, that’s what you figure. 

It’s a struggle, you realize. Finding a ladder to climb up on is one of them as you realize the height of the window getting in wasn’t something you prepared yourself for when coming back. And when you do find one, you realize that pulling the window up from the outside is an even more difficult process as there’s no ledge to pull at. Huffed breaths you make as it moves open inch by inch, a tedious amount of time that’s wasted with each second that you take. You groan in annoyance and exhaustion, but eventually, you have the window open. 

“Yes,” you pant out in relief, going in head first without a second thought. You’re halfway inside, feeling the hard exterior of the window pressing against your stomach when you hear a click, and then— you have to withhold the cry you want to let out as you feel the window panel fall against your back. The tears are threatening to fall, pain eating away at your waist as your legs dangle from the outside, the ladder you borrowed from a neighbor a few hours down falling, scraping the wall on its way. 

You need help, you know this. Luckily, you have your purse on the inside as you open it and reach for your phone. It lights up when you press the power button, going to your contacts to click Yuuta’s number when you pause, your smile falling as your thumb hovers over the button. You’re such a stubborn ass that even in a situation you’re in dire need of help for, you refuse to call him. You can’t bear to hear his voice, chastising you and telling you ‘I told you so’ in an effort to make you feel guilty for having a life outside of his video games. It’s not your fault that you want to experience the world while he rather stays pent up inside the house without contact with the real world. 

However, despite your refusal, Yuuta’s woken up to the sound of your shuffling and the knocked ladder. Figuring it was from the outside and it was those damned raccoons again, he didn’t want to have to bear the punishment of having to clean up after them again. Sluggishly, he throws the cover off of himself as he makes way for the back door. Dressed in nothing but a white t-shirt and baggy boxer shorts, he shuffles outside with a broom and his phone flashlight on as he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

When his vision unblurs and he’s blinking away the eye crust, he’s much more awake than he previously was when he sees what’s actually there. He stops in his tracks as he sees your legs dangling in the air. He fixes the light on you more, eyes widening as he can’t help the snicker he lets out as he says your name loudly in the middle of the night. “___?”

Fuck, you curse to yourself, groaning when you hear Yuuta’s voice. So much for not calling him. Now, you feel the shame and embarrassment of it all, feeling the chill of the night against your bare legs. You feel even more self conscious as the air comes to rise higher, not wearing any protective shorts underneath. 

“Shit,” Yuuta cursed, quickly starting to fume. “I should’ve known with the way you were silent for the whole night. Should’ve known you snuck out when you weren’t told to.”

You mutter curses under your breath, beginning to seethe at how impossible he was being right now. “I didn’t need permission,” you sneer. “I told mom and dad where I was going to be, and they were fine with it. We’re not little kids anymore. Stop being an asshole.”

Yuuta reaches for the ladder, setting back up as he climbs it. He scoffed, “I’m being an asshole? Sorry for caring about you and wanting you safe.”

“Oh, don’t try to make me feel guilty,” you retort. “Just open the window and help me out.”

When Yuuta is more sturdy and the light shines down on you more, he can see just how much your dress has risen up. With the floral pattern, he knows exactly what dress it is, the short thing always falling right below your ass as it exposes your underwear. The underwear being worse as you wear a lacy thong and basically revealing yourself to the entire world. He can’t even focus on anything else as he feels his cock twitch and anger blooming inside of him. 

“You can’t be fucking kidding me,” he mutters before his voice raises. “You wore this dress out? Your ass is practically showing right now. What if someone tried taking advantage of you? What if I didn’t find you here first?”

“No one did, so just leave it—” 

It was sheer instinct. His anger bottling up inside with his palm flattened out and the sting of the impact sounded through the night, causing a shriek to leave your lips when he did it. It’s silent as it dawns on the both of you. Your eyes widen as you try to look back at Yuuta, but to no avail, it’s only the curtains and shingles. “Did you just…?”

And it feels so good to have done that to you that he does it again when he comes to realization. “Shut up,” he sneers. “You fucking deserved it.”

“Yuuta,” the next slap courses through your body, your heart racing as you grow flustered. Your legs clench together as you feel arousal pool together, your juices starting to flow. Why did you feel this way? Why did you feel so… turned on? “Stop.”

The way your voice quivers, an uncertainty running through you as you’re not really sure if you want him to stop. You don’t really want him to, but your sense of dignity is being blinded as this arousal floods you. 

Yuuta pushes himself against you, letting you feel his erection against your ass as he palms it, holding both sides of you as he massages the plump flesh. Kneading it as he ruts himself into you, he asks, “Why should I when you deserve to be punished?”

“Because… Because,” you can’t find anything to help your cause, and you’re surely silenced when you feel his hand snake down to cup your mound. He can feel how wet you are from the short time, and the amount of pride he feels vibrating off of his chest, it calls for a smirk to grace his lips. He chuckles darkly as he massages your clit through the fabric, eliciting soft moans that he can’t hear but he knows are leaving you. It’s in the way your body shudders from the feeling and your legs tense together, trapping him there.

“And why should I when I’m making you so wet, huh?” 

There’s a darkness in his voice, but you’re ignorant to the monster you just released as you feel yourself trying to shimmy your way closer to him, gradually losing your shame as his fingers continue to dance and prod at your covered pussy. You feel his fingers pressing down into you, applying more pressure as he grounds his erection into your ass. “Please… Please…”

Those two words fall from your lips as you’ve sparked something carnal deep within him, what he’s been yearning for from you for years, he’s now coming back to receive. You’re begging for him. You need him. 

And just like the good big brother he is, he’s always willing to give to you. He spanks your ass pretty until the palm of his hand stings and he can feel your cunt dripping that sweet and honeyed slick through the cotton of your underwear, the weak and flimsy material making you leak your essence down to his fingers, a web dripping onto the ladder. Oh, how you need him so. 

“Tell me that you need me to take care of you,” he grunts, fixing one arm underneath your legs, nudging you slightly closer to him. With the window pane still digging into your back, it makes the material ride up even further. “Tell me that you need your big brother to make you feel so good.”

You feel so dirty, so downright awful that it feels good. How he addresses himself as your brother despite having no blood relations. A heat sparking against your cheeks as you mewl out in enjoyment. “I need you, Yuuta. I need you to take care of me. Please, make me feel good.”

“But then the question is,” Yuuta straightens his posture, towering over you as he has a steady stance on the ladder as he plants one more slap against your ass. “Should I really? You’ve been such a bad thing lately— so mean to me.”

“No,” you’re quick to cry out. “No, please, Yuuta. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you mean it?” he asks, starting to palm himself through his underwear, feeling how needy his length is, wanting nothing more than to fill up this sweet cunt of yours, his. He can only imagine how good you feel.

You nod. “Yes, ‘m so sorry.”

“Promise to listen to me?” he hums, shifting his underwear down, letting it stand prominent against his abdomen as the night kisses it with its icy air. It makes him all the more erect as he slides it against the crevice of your ass, sliding your thong to the side as he spreads open your legs wide. “Promise to never disobey me again?”

“I promise,” you gasp, your tone becoming high-pitched as you feel the tip of his cock against your tight and puckered asshole. He presses himself against it, precum smearing before sliding his cock down. You say you promise, but Yuuta knows you better than anyone else does. He knows how selfish you can be. And he finds it cute how selfish you can be about his cock, but not the fact that you’re a filthy fucking liar. 

The only thing lubricating you is your slick, your juices easing the pain of Yuuta’s length as he presses in. Your pussy tight and now his for the taking. When he completely bottoms out, he pants. Not because of exhaustion, but from how overwhelmingly good you feel. Your cunt sucks him in up like a vice, capturing himself into something deadly. 

You moan, hands holding onto the wall as your nails scratch at the paint, white being caught underneath the beds of them as you paw against the roughness. Your mouth falls into an ‘O’ as your head falls. You whine as Yuuta goes unmoving, trying to look behind you through the curtains and blinds as your vision becomes watery. “Yuuta…”

Two hands that hold your waist as he has to fix his footing, right leg on the highest level of the ladder and the left leg on the second, Yuuta pulls out of you, hearing you whine and whimper at the loss of him. “Don’t worry,” he mutters before his tip aligns back with your entrance and he thrusts inside of you once more. 

Familial ties are forgotten as the two of you become absorbed in your own pleasure, filthy and raunchy moans that fill the air. You’re both disturbing your neighbors' sleep, but they’re all too lazy to quench their curiosity on why it sounds so close. The ladder hits the wall with every thrust as Yuuta rocks in and out of you, languid movements that have your walls clenching around him greedily. How the female anatomy is a greedy thing he comes to conclude, especially yours with how it's trapped a spell on him. Has he been so deprived of it, or is it just you? He can’t come to make a decision and he doesn’t want to. 

Your sweet slick drips from you, running down your thigh as your body moves from left to right. You still feel that pain of the window, but it subsides with every growing second as you become to thank your uncomfortable predicament. You feel so good, so full as Yuuta touches those right spots with his dick. A hand coming to wrap around your leg as he shifts it to a different angle, burying himself deeper inside of you as he comes gluttonous of you. His hands begin to explore your lower body and it pains himself the lack of access that he has to your upper body as he’d love to stuff that filthy mouth of yours with his fingers. Oh, how this situation has called for disgusting fantasies that he always tried to keep in hibernation, always denying himself the simple truth that he’s always wanted you. That his desire to protect you and keep you away from the world wasn’t because he was seeking out your best interests, but his own. 

His thrusts become more brutal, the more his imagination becomes wild, thinking about the potential future the two of you had just unlocked as he can see it with him stuffing you full of his seed. He’s completely tainted you, ruined you for other men to use. What would they think of you if they found out you slept with your step-brother— and continued to sleep with him? 

“Oh, you’re such a nasty thing,” he says. “Letting your brother sleep with you like this. Begging for his cock to fill you up.”

“S–Step-brother,” you correct him, drawing out the ‘s.’

“Who cares?” Yuuta chuckles. “If people were to find out they wouldn’t care. They just know that you’re a filthy slut desperate to take any dick you can get.” 

You start to tear up, not liking his words. He was never like this to you when you were younger, always filling up your mind with positivity as he’d tell you how pretty you looked or just how amazing you are. Even when you argued with each other, it never felt this harsh. “Stop!” You cried. “You’re being so mean to me.”

“And you were so mean to me,” he grits from his teeth, spanking your ass. You cry out in shock more than pain now, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “Have you ever thought about how you hurt my feelings? You’re just proving my point. You’re just a selfish little slut.”

When you’re about to cum, so is Yuuta. He can tell it, too, by the way your pussy pulsates around him, closely mimicking a heart beat. “Yuuta, I—”

He reaches down towards your clit, pinching the dark nub harshly as he fucks into you. “Don’t. Don’t you dare fuckin’ cum.”

But things are easier said than done as you feel that coil inside of your stomach threatening to break. Your walls can only grip Yuuta even more, nearly trapping him when he tries to make an escape. However, the loss of him is heartbreaking as that coil reattaches itself and that euphoric feeling is at a loss. Yuuta is greedy as he pumps himself into an orgasm, spilling his release against your ass. A milky white that drips down into the crack and down your leg. It’s such a pretty sight. 

He jerks himself off until that high leaves him, the urethra dripping what's left of his seed before he’s pushing himself back into you. His presence is ever looming when he says, “you don’t get to cum until I tell you to do so.”

It continues like this, the battering of your poor pussy that has you crying out in pleasure, constantly being denied your release as Yuuta overstimulates himself into plenty. Your backside looks so pretty painted in his cum and your inner thighs have your sweet juices dripping down your legs as he denies and denies you of what you want and need. You sniffle, trying to hold yourself together as you cry and beg and plead for mercy. “Yu,” your voice hoarse. “Please…Please… Please let me cum. ‘M so sorry for being so mean to you. I promise I won’t do it again.”

And finally, just finally, do you sound sincere. He doesn’t say anything as his spent cock dips back inside of you so easily, the wet sounds of your pussy and skin slapping against skin sounding through the night as he grounds himself deeper and deeper inside of you. The smell of his multiple releases is potent in the night air, cutting through his nostrils as his pelvis is damp from his orgasms. You nearly knock over your bedside lamp as Yuuta drills into your pussy, 

trying to find some sort of semblance as your mind becomes hazy. You start babbling a bunch of incoherent nonsense that Yuuta can’t quite catch, but with how your pussy spasms around him, it tells him everything he needs to know. 

Your body trembles as your toes curl. Your arm reaches for the edge of your night stand, gripping it tightly as your legs tighten around Yuuta. Caging him in, he stills himself inside of you as the scene unfolding before him is hot, sparking yet another orgasm and his last one for the night. Your voice gets so high-pitched as you croak out, “Fuuuuckkk.”

Your throat goes dry as Yuuta’s cock presses deep inside of you, your back arching as your legs flexes and contracts. Your release is strong, spraying out of you in a translucent white as it soaks the front of your dress and splashes onto Yuuta, coating his pelvis in your release. You squirt against him, squirming in his hold as you push out everything he has to offer you. His eyes sparkle at the sight, but his cock so spent that it softens as he falls limp out of you, your orgasm splattered to the wall and dripping down. “Fuck.”

He’s speechless for a second as your legs fall weakly as you moan and mewl. Your pussy s[asms, your hole gaping open as Yuuta’s cum drips out and down to your clit before your body fully relaxes. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your body aches badly as you groan. “Yuuta… Can you— Can you open the window?”

And without another word, he does so. He opens the window for you, seeing the deep marks dug into your skin. He should feel some sort of guilt for using you in such a painful position, but instead, his mind continues to wander. Before you could climb back into the bedroom, he grabs at your waist once more. “I should’ve left you there n’ make some stranger use that pussy of yours all night.”

He calls it a night with a last slap to the ass, helping you back inside without making too much of a mess before climbing down the ladder. In the silence of it all, when he climbs down, he stops in his tracks when he spots a few eyes from the window across from him before the blinds are fixed back into place in a scurry. Fortunately for them, Yuuta was too exhausted to even care. 

[colorquest]

~☆~

D: Hey, hey, how much you wanna bet I can jump from the ladder to that chest without getting hurt? D: I'll land on all fours. M: I'm not sure I really want to bet anything on that, D... S: If there's anyone who could do that, it'd be you Debbie. D: Okay both of those answers are useless to me. D: Vilmr can you at least pretend you don't believe I'll make it so I can rub it in your face when I do? V: ... 🔆 D: Vilmr? S: You look deep in thought Vilmr, what's on your mind? V: I am just starting to wonder... V: If maybe we should ask Maja, if we should be streaming this. D: Are you serious. M: Do you mean from a legal standpoint, or...? V: I am thinking more about our karma. V: What if we are attracting bad company, observing this as skeptics? D: Well then you shouldn't have to worry because you're not the one seeing it. V: I can worry for your safety too, you know. S: It's nice of you to worry for us Vilmr, but I think it's alright. D: Yeah a million jillion people have seen eclipses before and ended up okay. D: Probably. D: I mean how else would we be here right now. V: Mmh... V: Maybe...

S: Oh hey, I know we can't tonight, but... S: You know what'd be fun tomorrow night? D: What? S: We should play night tag again! 🔆 S: Since the moon's so new it'll still be extra dark out. S: I know how much you like night tag Vilmr! V: Only if it's not in the woods this time! V: I hate it when Debbie hides in the trees. V: We can never find her! D: Hey okay, nobody ever said it was against the rules. V: Well I want it to be against the rules now. D: Pssh. D: Not my fault I'm super smart and think like, five steps ahead. S: Well, we could fly down somewhere more wide open if Yuan is around tomorrow night? D: Fuuuuuuuck yes, I'd be so down. M: Oh, I don't think I can tomorrow. S: *gasp* S: Oh my gosh right, tomorrow is your first night at the comic shop isn't it? M: Yeah, but I don't mind if you guys go ahead without me! D: Excuses, excuses... D: If you're scared of getting owned just say so. M: You got me, D. M: My job is just an elaborate ploy to avoid losing at tag. S: Well maybe we could save it for another day and go comic shopping instead? :> D: What the heck, are we gonna be shopping for like, hours? D: We could still play night tag, like, we can do both-- OH! D: Ohhhhh, if we do go though, Michael you BETTER remember to bring that hat. M: Haha, of course D.

S: *yawwwwwn* S: Vilmr, you still seem pretty agitated, are you that worried? V: What do you think? D: I'm not even gonna get innnnnnto this anymore! D: Honestly I think it's just so stupid silly. D: If you don't even believe in this stuff for real, what is even your reasoning this time? V: Debbie, just because I do not worship a moon god does not mean I do not believe in bad karma. V: With or without gods, things are always at play in this universe. V: It is not stupid, not to me. V: What happens if it really is a bad omen? V: What if we're doing something really dumb right now? V: Just to say you got to see it? D: Jeez Vilmr, you gave me your cell so you could avoid talking like this! D: I might as well be replaying Maja's voicemail, you two sound so similar. V: You are impossible! M: Vilmr, we're not the only ones watching this livestream.🔆 M: I'm seeing there's at least another fifty on the same page. M: Do you think they're in trouble too? V: Yes, I do. V: I'm really starting to think this stream shouldn't be up in the first place. V: There is a reason why this eclipse is in such a remote part of the planet. V: Think about it. V: The only places this can even be observed at all are either in the middle of the emptiest ocean in the whole world, or on the furthest edge of all of Halvma. V: Nobody even lives there. V: It's almost like nobody's meant to be seeing this one. S: What do you think is going to happen, Vilmr?

V: I! V: I do not know. V: But it feels like something bad. V: The air is biting all around me, I can feel it. S: Vilmr, I don't mean this in any sort of judgemental way or anything, but... S: You tend to say these kinds of things about a lot of things. S: And things usually end up alright. V: Ah, but see you fail to realise, you use the keyword: "usually." V: As in, not always. V: Sometimes, things still go bad. M: ...you do seem to have some pretty impressive foresight from time to time, I have to give it to you. V: Thank you. D: Okay well nothing's gonna stop me from watching this, sorry not sorry. D: If it means I'll die, at least I did it watching something cool, right Samantha? S: ... D: .........Smumantha...... S: Well now I'm nervous! V: And there is good reason for this! D: Well duh, you scared her into feeling that way! D: -_-!!! M: Okay, I know I complimented your foresight just now Vilmr but I really do think it's... a bit of a stretch? M: This time, I mean. M: Like, uh, aside from the fact that this might be legally dubious, D: enough with that already we gettttt it we get it. M: I think we'll be okay. M: It's not like we're actually seeing it in real life, you know? M: It's just a projection of it, after all. S: Oh, I guess that's a good point. D: Literally such a good point, probably the best point you've ever made actually Michael. V: Blughghhhhhh...

D: It's already about to start anyways, huhuhuhUAHAH!!! S: Ahhh no okay I'm still scared! M: It's just a video Samantha, nothing divine about that! V: Maja förlåt miggggggg... D: No turning back now, scaredyturds!

<[Last] || [Next]>

[schoenpepper]

Hii

Can I request Rook and Azul with an S/O(reader) who really hates their real hair color so they dyed it to another color. The boys never seen their S/O with their original hair color but let's say they found a childhood photo of them and questions their S/O about it. Turns out they had the same hair color as their abusive father so they've dyed it to another when they turned into a pre-teen

Sorry if it's too much and confusing but if you ever do it thank you in advance!

Faded Colors

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread

A/N: See how productive I am (please don't throw your tomatoes at me I'm just a poor college student and November fucked me up bad). Presenting two characters I almost never write because they're...not my favorite.

Masterlist

"Is this you?"

Your heart almost stops beating when you saw what Azul was holding up—a yellowed Polaroid with a familiar child clad in a little black outfit. You sit beside your lover, leaning on his shoulder as you quietly trace over the picture.

"I didn't know your hair was dyed."

You know he won't judge you for it, and certainly not when he hears the reason. But right now, nothing leaves your lips. You freeze in place and nod. Azul nods with you.

You don't need to explain.

Not when he scoots closer to you and wraps his arms around you. You know he understands because he presses the softest kiss on your forehead and murmurs, "you look better with dyed hair."

He knows exactly what to say. Always.

"Shall I help you next time? My dear, would you like to emulate my hair color perhaps?"

At that, you let out a little laugh and nod again.

"Sure. If you can find a good box dye that matches it."

Today won't be the day you tell him about your shattered childhood, but eventually, you'll give him the pieces and let him glue you back together.

You don't need to tell Rook anything. If not because of... unconventional methods, he'll already have an inkling of your past and reasons just by watching you. The way you almost obsessively schedule your hair appointments, how you clam up when the topic turns to family history and your childhood, it's all an open book to him.

He is a hunter, after all. And you are his most precious proie.

It's Saturday.

You wake up in a daze, then panic. Every three weeks, you're supposed to get your roots touched up to avoid even catching a glimpse of your actual hair color, but you got so backed up by exams and projects and events that made it impossible to actually remember anything else. You can buy the dye today, you can still make it—

"Bonjour, mon amour. I come bearing gifts!"

The familiar dramatic greeting makes you jump back, clutching at your hair to desperately hide the fading dye at the roots, smiling awkwardly.

"Oh, Rook, love, I actually need to go out and buy something."

"These?"

He hands you a plastic bag with your usual supplies, pushing you back into your room. "Dépêchez-vous, I shall assist you in reaching your full potential of beauty!"

Taglist:

@fsh1 @lemon-koii @yummyyummyinmytumny

[fungateshortcakes]

Come as you are

Pairing: oldman!Logan x chubbyfem!Reader

Summary: You have developed a crush on the man that has offered you safety and friendship all these months ago. But how could he ever love someone like you?

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, slight angst, fluff, age gap, body image issues, insecurities, self loathing, happy ending, very self indulging

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The air in the smelting plant was heavy with the silence that stretched throughout. The only sound came from the slow crackle of the fire, its light casting soft, flickering shadows onto the walls. You sat at the edge of the old, worn down couch, picking at a loose thread on your sweater, trying to focus on anything but the man across the room.

Logan was drinking his fifth coffee of the night while reading through some newspapers, his movements methodical while he turned a page, his soft groan cutting through the silence as his reading glasses slipped lower on his nose. You’d always found him fascinating to watch—so gentle with the things he handled, except for when he handled himself. The way his brows knitted together as he read, deepening the shadow of a wrinkle between them. There were so many mundane things he did that drew you to him.

It was part of why you had fallen for him in the first place.

But you would never tell him that.

You sighed quietly, your fingers curling into your lap. Logan had been your friend for a few months now, ever since he helped you out of a scrape you didn’t want to think too much about. He had offered you safety, companionship, and a kind of loyalty you’d never known from anyone else. And you?

You had given him nothing.

Sure, you helped around the home, if you could call it that, cooked dinner for him and Charles, patched his clothes when they tore, patched him when he got into another fight at his job—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. That you weren’t enough. Never enough.

It wasn’t just the way your body didn’t fit society’s definition of “perfect" and that your clothes could only hide so much. You had made your peace with being chubby long ago. Or at least, you thought you had. But sitting here, watching a man like Logan chiseled, hardened, and impossibly strong, you couldn’t help but feel painfully out of place.

And then there was the age gap.

You were in your early twenties. He was... what? Pushing 200? Sure, he didn’t look it. His is healing factor had frozen him in what seemed to be his late 50s, but the years between you loomed like a canyon you would never be able to cross.

Why would someone like him ever look at someone like you?

“Somethin’ on your mind?” his voice startled you, rough and low, breaking through the haze of your never ending, self deprecating thoughts. You looked up to find him watching you, his glasses sitting on the table, his dark eyes sharp and focused just on you. “No,” you said, too quickly for his liking, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

His brow furrowed deeply, a look you had come to know too well on him “Ya don’t look fine.” He states matter of factly. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out forced. “I’m just tired.” Logan didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, leaning forward in his chair. “You’ve been quiet all day. You're never quiet. What’s goin’ on?” Yeah, you never shut up. You were quite the chatterbox around him because you felt so at ease, as if you wouldn’t be judged. Now you thought maybe that was something that annoyed him about you. The constant talking and noise because of you, not a silent moment because you were never able to read the room and shut up. You frowned, turning away from him. “Nothing,” you insisted, standing up abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”

You didn’t make it two steps before he shot up from his seat, striding over to you and catching your wrist in his large, rugged hand. He didn’t grip hard, Logan never touched you with anything but the gentlest care, but it stopped you in your tracks with a gasp.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his tone softer now. You hesitated, your chest tight with the weight of all the things you had been holding back for so long “Logan, just... drop it, okay?” you pleaded, trying to get your hand out of his grasp. “No.” he stood, his hand still around your wrist, his eyes searching yours. “You don’t get to shut me out like that.”

Your resolve started to crack, but you weren't about to let him win, so you forcefully ripped your arm awas from his grip “Why do you even care?” you sputtered out, your voice starting to feel raw. His brow furrowed even more, his chest heaving with your rejection “What kind of question is that?”

“Because you shouldn’t!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m nothing to you, Logan. Just some stupid kid who’s too young, too... too fat—” you weren't able to finish your sentence as Logans hands shot up to hold you by your shoulders, not letting you go “Don’t.” His voice was sharp, cutting through your words like a blade. You froze, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. You swallowed thickly, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he rasped lowly, his tone softening again but no less firm. You bit your lip harshly, a distressed sound ripping from your throat “Why not?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s the truth.”

Logan stepped closer, his rough hands gentle on your body, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. “You really think that?”

You nodded, shrugging his hands off you despite needing the warmth, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, look at you, Logan. You’re... you’re everything. And I’m just... me.” you sniffled, avoiding his eyes. He exhaled heavily, his hand coming up to rake through his grey hair. “You think I care about any of that? About numbers or size or—”

“Yes!” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Because you could have anyone, Logan. Someone more mature. Someone prettier, someone better!.” you nearly yelled, but undeniably got chocked up on your tears. He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, his hands clenching at his sides. Then, without a word, he closed the space between you, making you press yourself against the wall.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but steady, his tired eyes piercing “You think I care about how old you are? About how much curves you've got? Hell, sugar, you’re the only good thing I have left in my life, and you’re standing here actin’ like you’re not enough?”

You blinked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan—” you started breathlessly, but he lifted a warning finger at you. “No,” he said, cutting you off. “You don’t get to tell me what I want. And what I want is you. All of you. Just as you are.” Tears spilled over your round cheeks before you could stop them, and Logan’s hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs firmly brushing them away.

His hands held your face as if it was a precious artifact made out of porcelain, one that would shatter if handled too carelessly “I know I’m not good at this,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “Hell, I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I know what I feel. And I feel it for you.”

Your breath hitched and he tilted your chin up ever so gently to meet his eyes, his gaze locked on yours. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said quietly. “Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

You couldn’t.

Instead, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his broad chest as the dam finally broke. Logan held you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped firmly around your plush waist. He was so warm and he smelled so good. Like home. This was home. “You’re it for me, sugar” he whispered into your hair, his salt and pepper beard scratching your temple “Don’t ever doubt that.”

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, and for the first time in what felt like forever you let yourself believe it. “You mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, rare smile. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” you didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, you leaned in slowly, giving Logan every chance to pull away, though you knew he wouldn’t. Not after that. He met you halfway, your lips brushing softly at first, tentative and sweet.

The kiss deepened, a tender exploration that spoke of all the moments you hadn’t been brave enough to share until now. Logan hadn't thought he would ever feel like his younger self again, kissing a pretty lady while his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. His broad hands smoothed over the soft curves that were your hips, trying to map your body like he had wanted for so long.

When you finally seperated, just a breath apart, you were suddenly lifted up into the air. You shrieked, clinging to Logan while he held you up by your thick thighs effortlessly. He smirked smuggly at you, a rare sight, and you pouted. "Just because I am dying doesn't mean I can't handle a girl like you, sugar" he drawled and carried you back over to the couch. He let himself fall onto the worn down cushions with you on top of him, your weight comforting on him. You were no light feather and he appreciated that. He could actually feel you on top of him, actually had something to grab you by.

Upon his mention that he was actively dying because of the adamantium lacing his bones, a heavy feeling settled in your stomach and your smile dropped. He noticed and gave your cheek a kiss "Hey. Don't worry. I'll be here for as long as you'll have me" and when he leaned down to kiss you again, it was slow and steady and full of promises you knew he’d never break.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

I really hope you liked this short fic and maybe can relate to it as well!

Characters like Logan are always paired with the skinny, dolled up, feminine, conventionally attractive woman and that kind of makes me feel like (if someone like Logan existed) i wouldn’t have a chance because i am fat. I already think that, but still!

We need more representation because we are people like everyone else and deserve to live in peace just like everyone else.

I know it's hard to believe- but you are beautiful and worthy, no matter your size. I still have to believe that myself, but I will get there someday🎀

[blackenedsnow]

ART X A SELF DOUBTING VAMPIRE READER PSLPLSPSLLS!! like they think they taste all rotten and nasty but art doesnt think sooo!

red as snow

WARNING: Self doubt

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Vampire! Reader

NOTE: Omg this is so fun to think about!! thanks for the ask <3 I ALWAYS love writing about vampires OHHHH MAN

SUMMARY: Art doesn’t mind what’s wrong with you. That’s the worst part, really. You can’t understand how someone so perfect in his brutality could ever want something so rotten.

The blood pools around your feet in lazy rivulets, stark and shining against the pale stretch of snow. It’s almost beautiful, in a grotesque sort of way – the kind of beauty you find in shattered glass or a body just before the life leaves it. Art would know what you mean.

He’s doing something behind you, a slow, lilting tune, soft as snowfall. He’s in his own little world, swaying slightly, his bloodied hands clasped behind his back. His clothes look filthy now, stained with deep red streaks.

You think he looks ridiculous. And perfect.

“Do you ever think,” you say quietly, your voice barely carrying over the winter hush, “that I might taste bad?”

Art stops. His head snaps toward you, and even though you know he doesn’t speak, you feel the weight of his question in the tilt of his head, the way his wide eyes narrow just slightly.

“You know,” you murmur, staring down at the corpse between you, “if someone tried to bite me. My blood’s probably awful. There’s something wrong with me.” you glance back at him, watching the way his grin widens like it’s some private joke only he gets. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

You’re half-joking, but it still stings when he laughs – or whatever you’d call that silent, breathy wheeze of his. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little defensive. You fold your arms over your chest. “Why wouldn’t it be bad? I’m rotting from the inside out, Art. I can feel it. There’s no way it’d taste good.”

He straightens up, wiping at his face even though there’s no tears, no sign of any real laughter – just that grin of his, smeared with someone else’s blood. He takes a step closer, his boots crunching over the snow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, turning away. “I mean it. It’s not romantic to drink from something dead.”

He’s behind you before you can finish the thought, his hands curling over your shoulders in a way that makes your skin crawl – and not because you don’t like it. You hate that you do. That you want him to hold you tighter, to crush you in that terrible grip of his.

“I mean, maybe it’s fitting,” you continue. “You’re a demon. I’m a vampire. We’re both monsters. But even monsters deserve something better than this, don’t you think?”

Art spins you around in one fluid movement, his hands dropping to your arms to hold you in place. You can feel the press of his fingers through your clothing, too strong, too insistent, but you don’t pull away. He’s tilting his head again, his grin growing impossibly wider, like he’s daring you to keep talking.

“You don’t believe me,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. Then, quick as a flash, his hand moves to his chest, dragging his fingers down like he’s unzipping it, miming something pulling at his heart.

You swallow hard. “You’re just saying that.”

He glares at you, his grin faltering for the first time. It’s subtle, just the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it’s enough to make your breath catch.

“Okay, okay,” you say quickly, raising your hands in surrender. “You love me. I get it. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his face inches from yours. You can smell the copper tang of blood on him, can see the splatters drying on his skin.

Maybe he doesn’t care what’s wrong with you, doesn’t care if your blood tastes like poison, if your body is too far gone to be anything worth having. He just loves you.

[cultlix]

𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

pair. mob heir! felix x fem reader | genre. toxic relationship, smut, angst | warnings. semi-public sex, penetrative/unprotected sex, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol and organized crime.

synopsis. You raise your head, locking eyes with your executioner. There's still something this hideous place has not taken away from him. His love for you. A love he watched grow in his ribcage like trailing ivy, suffocating his resistance, that he treasured in secret, sacred and fatal, the one that makes you sink obliviously in between bedsheets filled with torment and bliss.

author's note. this one was a wild ride! not because i easily run out of ideas or just lose interest in what i write, but because my kitten kept on running away from home and it was impossible for me to stay focused on this story. but then i spent so many sleepless nights waiting for him to return and praying he was safe that, somehow, the only decision i could make to preserve my sanity was completing it, at any cost. hope this contribution does justice to one of the most appreciated trope in ff world (mafia is such a classic, right?) and that you guys may find it entertaining. thanks in advance for the time you'll decide to invest in reading this work.

➽──────────────❥

You can't enter The Hydra without losing a part of yourself.

It's not superstition, but a tacit agreement, a compromise of sorts. Once you slink into that private club, that dreadful abyss of vices and transgressions, tiptoeing on the fringes of morality, the only way out is giving something back, a sacrifice.

At their negotiating table, every mind becomes sinister, each soul easily corruptible. The Hydra takes, deprives, drains inexorably, then comes back, demanding, expecting more, a mythological beast driven by an endless hunger of tributes and rewards.

You never know how low you can go, how lost you can get, till you get in there. The hecatomb never ends, the monstrous creature grows and never placates, lavishes and purloins in equal measure, in a vicious circle, fed by people's avidity and weaknesses.

Going back is not an option, is a chimera. But this baleful eventuality doesn't scrape your obstinacy even for a second when you decide to cross that goddamn threshold.

When you finally meet his eyes, his devastating beauty is transfigured by dismay. He's disoriented, livid.

"What are you trying to prove, uh?"

Felix grabs your wrist firmly to guide you into the darkest corner of the dancefloor, attempting to shield you from indiscreet and lecherous gazes with his slender figure. He can almost feel the other men's labored breaths as they scrutinize you, each defined line of your profile, each smooth curve of your flesh and how they harmoniously combine into that surreal vision, making them slavering, making them wonder how gratifying it would be to empty themselves in that secret, narrow paradise you preserve between your legs.

Felix abohrs it, but he detests even more he's not that different from them. A ravenous wolf, lurking, agonizing till he catches the majestic fawn.

"Nice to see you too," you start off, trying to free yourself from his iron grip.

"I said I didn't want anything to do with you ever again," he bursts out exacerbated, but his voice, an octave higher than usual, shakes, calling into question the trustworthiness of his harsh words.

"I said I didn't believe you."

There's not a mere trace of hesitancy in your tone, no signs of fear on your delicate features. Just like the first time, when he took you at his place and told you the walls of his attic were so thick that he could have done anything he wanted with you, that no one would have ever heard you screaming. "I think you should worry more about making me first," you answered, loosing the knot of his tie.

He takes you to a hidden corridor and opens the door of an unlit, pushing you inside.

"Get undressed, now," he orders, slamming the door behind his back, taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on a security camera.

"I..."

He shushes you immediately with the index on his mouth, then pulls out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and starts typing.

They can hear us.

He jumps on a table and removes cautiously a laminate panel from the ceiling, taking out a small-sized jammer. Then unfastens his belt, making sure the buckle clinks noisily.

"Nice sweetheart, like this, lay on on the table, oppa wants to fuck you raw from behind, he needs to drill that tight, pretty hole of yours real bad. Will you let him? Will you help oppa feeling better tonight?"

You can easily tell his words sounds affected, unnatural. They come out in a deluge, potent and evocative, yet plainly strategic, shallow. A well-written script acted masterfully for a mysterious audience. But behind the accurate sham, that diabolic mouth of his can still make sound those sordid trifles persuasive, alluring, emphasizing the unrest you perceive within yourself without his touch.

He nods, suggesting you to fake a verbal consent.

"Yes," you murmur a bit puzzled, but audibly.

He eventually turns on the device. "We don't have much time left. That fucking paranoid of Kim Seungmin will probably come soon to check why mics have stopped working—"

"Mics?"

"Yeah, mics, you can use to them to convert sound waves into electrical signals you can record, you know," Felix exclaims with a sarcastic tone.

"Record? Is that even legal?"

"Is that even relevant?"

He pours you a flûte of champagne, but you decline. He drinks it avidly, collapsing on the leather couch. "They're watching us constantly, they put our allegiance to the test and keep everybody under strict control."

"Felix, are you trying to tell I've just entered the Death Star and you're enslaved to the Empire?" you chuckle incredulous.

He laughs, wholeheartedly. "No, Y/N. I'm just telling you I'm the commander of the Death Star and the heir of the entire fucking Empire."

A subtle smugness slowly takes possess of his elegant lineaments as he placidly lets you drown in a bottomless ocean of veiled truths and dark revelations. He barely hides his amusement while he waits for a reaction, for a demonstration of what you'd be willing to risk, to endure only to stand by his side.

You try to listen with aloofness to his stories, to each one of his shocking confessions adorned with vibrant shades of blood and violence, to his tales about supremacy and honor.

Is it still you, Felix? you think, heart brutally clasped in the firm grip of desolation, Are you still the one I fell in love with?

"Mr. Hwang now only needs to designate his successor, me or his biological son. Then, The Hydra, every shady affair concluded between its walls and all the shit coming with it, will be my own fucking business."

Felix drinks and strides nervously in a room too small to contain his anger, his bitterness. He stops and turns to look at you, motionless, composed, betrayed only by a single tear falling from your eye to your quivering lower lip. A pearl of rare pureness in that hideout of evil. He knows you're disgusted, but still, despite his shame and the abomination towards himself, he needs to exhort you to believe he doesn't worth this agony.

"What's wrong, angel? Ain't what you always wanted? Am I not the knight in shiny armor you've always dreamed of?" he provokes you, pouting, coming closer, catching that solitary tear with his thumb, then tasting it, mischievously.

You raise your head, locking eyes with your executioner. There's still something this hideous place has not taken away from him. His love for you. A love he watched grow in his ribcage like trailing ivy, suffocating his resistance, that he treasured in secret, sacred and fatal, the one that makes you sink obliviously in between bedsheets filled with torment and bliss.

"Fuck knights in shiny armor. They're so overstimated."

You push him against the door and kiss him.

Your tongue finds him unprepared, but submissive, rage runs through your veins faster then heroin, a poisonous aphrodisiac, a fire in liquid form turning doubts and trepidations into a heavy rainfall of ashes.

As he steals your breath with every swirl of his skillfull wet muscle, he grabs your hips, forcing you to move and making you hit the wall with your back. He breaks the kiss, taking your hand and guiding it on his still coated bulge.

"You like this, right? You want to see me crawling, begging. It must be so sublime for you watching me while I try to resist you and miserably fail each fucking time."

"How can you be so full of shit?" You protest, sighing, lost in the rapture of feeling his body responding instantly to your presence.

He loosen his grip but you continue to palm him, now feverishly, making him groan, close his eyes, press his forehead against yours as he tries to find support with both arms on the flat surface in front of him.

"I swear I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N, that you'll still feel me inside you even when I won't be there anymore."

"Please."

He pulls your panties down to your ankles and frees his throbbing lenght, then lifts all your weight by grabbing your buttocks, helping you to wrap your legs around his waist. Felix penetrates you rapidly, frenziedly, doesn't even wait for your walls to enfold around his hardness that he starts thrusting into you with an untiring impetus, making you bounce on his cock heavily. His movements are swift but precise, hard, intense, targeted to make this stolen moment culminate in a violent blaze.

He moans, curses as he swims deeply in your warmth, praising the way only you can take him so relentlessly when he needs it, though he knows it hurts, confesses how he could never escape this, the two of you, even if he wanted to, and makes promises, million vows with the weight of a zephyr because it's his lust speaking, cruel and consuming, and you won't trust them till he won't reemerge from this state of fleeting elation.

You let him come inside, his pearlescent seed obliterating the last crumbs of your lucidity, inundating what's left of your broken soul. Your orgams follows with arythmic contractions, a devastating force that makes you almost stifle, calling his name in feeble pants.

Felix covers your mouth, delicately. "I know, angel," he whispers, exhausted, totally uprooted from his surroundings, caressing your lips with his thumb, kissing them one last time before going back to his abode of doom. The world, his world behind that door, hasn't stopped turning, carries on its waltz of nefarious alliances and murderous games, blessed with cupidity and ignorance.

Once outside that place, immersed into the nocturnal symphony of calmness, the hammering music in the club's nothing more then a white noise and the silence lulls your senses. Felix sends a message on his phone, then adjusts your coat over your shoulders.

"You know I can't save you."

"I've never asked you to. But we can always start from something easier, a call, maybe? You think you can do that?"

"I'll try" he says, smiling. A black car stops in front of you.

"Stay away from trouble," Felix recommends, kissing your forehead.

You gently push him away, leaving him upset.

"Step back, then."

He smirks, watching you get in the car, waiting for you to disappear behind the misty drapes of the night and into the most remote corner of his dreams.

"Now I totally get why he's so obsessed with you," the driver says, an irritating tone, cool shades and long black hair.

"Pardon?"

He starts the car before you can even reflect on the prelude of that strange conversation, then stops at the first red traffic light and turns around. He's stunning in a disturbing way, eyes piercing, mad, making him look handsome, yet rotten.

"Hwang Hyunjin," he says, waiting for a cordial handshake, but you stand still, freezed and paralyzed after hearing that name. Felix's last request still resounds in your head and you already know you won't be able to keep your word.

"Welcome to the family, uhm...angel? That's how he calls you, right?"

© cultlix, 2024. all rights reserved.

[cuntressgoingdigital]

RUNAWAY | abby anderson x reader

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you and abby are in a mutually destructive situationship. after everything you put each other through, you both always find you way back to one another.

notes: gonna be sooo honest, this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea and that's okay! heed the content warnings. this is a super angsty catharsis piece.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment., top! abby, mutually toxic relationship, no happy ending, honestly neither of y'all are good people

word count: 1k

all you could do was sigh when you read the text that popped up on your phone. 

can i see you tn?

it was 2AM, you and your friends were on the way back home from the club. you had texted abby hours ago. you always did this after drinking. not because your judgment was impaired, instead you wanted to be able to blame your actions on the alcohol. you would’ve texted her completely sober. you often did. 

“what are you staring at on your phone?” your friend tried to snap you out of it, but nothing would stop you. your friends learned to stop trying.

the text interaction was instigated by you, around 8PM, after one sip of a cocktail your friend had made for you. 

fuck you abby

who is this new girl? 

what happened to all the shit you said last week?

she had posted a picture with some pretty redhead on her arm, her face buried in the crook of abby’s neck. she always did this. she knew it would make you mad.

and you always took the bait. 

now it was 3AM, your friends had left you for the night, and abby was knocking on your door. you had sobered up in the last hour or so. your mind was clear. all of your actions were your own. 

immediately abby leaned in for an embrace, prompting you to practically leap back. 

“who the fuck is she?” there was an undeniable venom in your voice. you didn’t have time for pleasantries. 

abby moved past you, crossing the threshold into your apartment. “she’s one of manny’s exes. we’re still cool so me and nora had dinner with her. that’s it.” 

cue the inevitable repetitive screaming match that you two would end up in once every few weeks. the walls were thin and you knew your neighbors could hear. luckily, they minded their business. 

“abby it’s like you don’t give a fuck about my feelings! all week you're texting me ‘i miss you’, ‘you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way’. what happened to that?”

you couldn’t ever stay mad at her. you used the same playbook she did. after a couple weeks of not talking, a post on social media would lure her back in. an “accidental”

i had so much fun with you last night <3

that was immediately unsent. it was a song and dance that both of you were perpetually stuck in. after this long, it felt like you couldn’t leave the dancefloor now. 

for the record, abby wasn’t lying. it was just dinner. nothing else. it was clear the girl wanted her. hugging her for just a moment too long, getting a little too handsy when they went to the club together, the frequent requests for one on one hangouts. 

abby wasn’t anywhere near interested. 

she didn’t want any of the girls she would entertain for a week, sometimes a month (never longer). she couldn’t fuck them without thinking of you. without missing you. one too many times when a girl was between her legs she had accidentally uttered your name. 

that’s why every argument resulted in the pure bliss of hate filled make up sex. whoever was on the receiving end of the accusations would placate the other with ‘they dont mean anything’, ‘i just miss you so fucking much’, ‘i wanna be with you’. 

that night when you’re face down in the mattress, back arched, her strap buried impossibly deep inside you, you forget everything. the reasons you hate her. why you would never work. she takes you by the chin and pulls you up, back flush against her chest, fucking up into you while she whispered in your ear.

“fuck, you look so good like that. my pretty girl.”

you would always be her’s.

“such a fucking slut. only running back to me when you need to be fucked back into your place, yeah?” she hoped that wasn’t true. she wants to hear you say that it isn’t true.

“i love you, abby.” was all you could manage to say between thrusts.

abby starts thrusting with a fervor. her hands were gripping your hips so tight you feared they might bruise. she knows your body so well that she can tell when you’re about to cum. you’d dig your nails into her arms, gasping for air, whimpering her name. 

“i love you too, baby girl.” 

that was all it took for the floodgates to open. 

neither of you had lied. you both loved each other more than anything in the world. you said it during arguments, over dinner, at the end of a phone call, and most often during sex. 

if it came down to it, you would die for one another. 

the orgasm was so intense it brought tears to your eyes. abby could fuck you for hours, and she often did, especially when you were mad at her. tonight was one of those nights. by the time the sun had fully risen in the sky you were both sweaty, sore, and exhausted. 

you spent the next few weeks together. she had a key to your apartment that you hadn’t taken back after any of your fallouts. after work, you would find her at home, making your favorites for dinner. she came and went as she pleased, but you knew she’d be back. such was the nature of your relationship. 

when it’s good, it’s amazing. when it’s bad, it’s miserable. the good never lasted long. your record best was a little more than two months. then, one of you would get antsy, terrified of the ‘what are we?’ conversation. 

after being away from each other, the monotony of peace set in. one of you would find a way to snake back in. 

you were mutually destroying each other. you knew that. abby knew that. a happy ending wasn’t likely for either of you. 

but, that was okay. 

she was familiar. this was easier. you had to leave or live with it. 

and here you were, laying in her arms, pressing kisses against her chest and collarbones, while she whispered sweet nothings in your ear. 

[tino-i-guess]

Need some opinions/help

TLDR; In October, in a somewhat impulsive decision, I started worshipping Athena and Hermes. I am having doubts and feelings of inadequacy due to not being as invested as some other people. Does all of this mean I should leave the religion or stop for the time being?

I am quite new to hellenic polytheism. I've always had an interest in polytheistic religions, occasionally doing some research but never really doing it heavily. I knew the very very basics of hellenic polytheism, since a friend of mine practices. In the beginning of October, I had a slight breakdown. I have been struggling with school a lot and was feeling completely lost and abandoned by most people in my life, so I did what looking back on it was a rush decision. I made an altar for Athena and prayed (more like begged, I'll be honest) for some kind of help. I made a small offering based on what I knew and that was that. It wasn't a completely unexpected decision, since I had been thinking about it for a while.

Well, it worked. I did quite well on my upcoming test and felt calmer in general. I decided to make a small altar for Hermes too and do more research. For the past few months, I have thus been trying to do as much research as I can, pray and make offerings based on what I know the best I can. However, recently I've been having some doubts.

I feel out of my depth and overwhelmed. I've never been religious, nor has my family ever been religious. Every time I try to research more, I feel overwhelmed and tear up with all the new facts and seeming rules. Things are contradicting each other and I have no one to check with because my friend is also pretty new and we're not very close. I feel as if I'm constantly messing up. A lot of the practices relies on instinct and reading between the lines. I have anxiety and I'm autistic so these two places are my weaknesses, in some cases even impossible for me without direct guidance. I'm confused on so many concepts that everybody else seems to find obvious.

I feel inadequate. Everybody I have seen talking about the religion seems really fully into it and devoted to it (something that I think is amazing and wonderful) but I feel like that cannot be applied to me. I feel like I somehow don't believe/love the Gods as much as others. I don't want religion to take up a big part of my life, at least not as I am currently. Additionally, I don't have much free time or energy in general, so I am not able to make offerings and pray properly every day. I also struggle with intrusive thoughts, which makes prayer and worship extra hard. However, I do love the Gods and the thought of taking down their altars and just stopping makes my heart squeeze. But then again, I don't feel as close to them as a lot of people I have seen, tho that might be a time issue. Part of me is definitely stopping me from getting closer to them by constantly saying how ridiculous I look trying to 'bond' with them. I want religion to be a casual facet of my life, to be able to make a weekly offering and pray once a day maybe without much worry or anxiety, to learn about the religion and Gods more and more.

I feel upset and stressed about this whole situation. I don't want to stop but part of me feels like I am being constantly disrespectful. A small part of me also feels like I have somehow offended Athena specifically. I also am hesitating stepping back, lest I upset kharis, if somehow I've managed to establish it with my flaky track record. I want honest, hard opinions and advice. Am I simply not cut out for this? Is this just a beginners rut sort of deal I need to power through? Did anybody else feel like this? How did you deal with it?

I am sorry if anything is unclear. Writing this made me quite emotional and my thoughts are all over the place. If I haven't mentioned a crucial detail or something, please ask and I'll happily respond and give more details on some things. Thank you in advance, χαίρε.

[that-girl-ru]

Focused Intention: Late Night Advice Part 5

Have you ever seen those methods or stories of manifestation where it seems that just by making a wish, or writing a list, the impossible becomes possible. Then when you go to make your list or your vision board or your script and you just cannot seem to make things go the way you thought they would, or it comes to fruition, it’s kinda what you wanted but appears in a very unexpected way.

If this sounds like you, let me help you troubleshoot a bit

Possible Issues

1) Kid in a Candy Store Syndrome

You can have multiple intentions, that’s not the issue. The issue comes when you find yourself constantly “grazing”, or shifting from place to place (or intention to intention) without putting any meaningful effort into anything.

Advice

Something that helps me is limiting my consumption of social media. If you find yourself just adding pictures to your vision board (especially if you use Pinterest because it is very easy to just scroll) without any intention, just put the phone down. If your desired appearance is based on the whim of every social media beauty standard, put the phone down (and I would like to add, fix your self image). I’ve said this before, but block out the noise and really focus in, meditate and see what you want, go on a walk, get in touch with yourself.

2) “Monkey’s Paw” Syndrome

Okay, I know the name is a bit hyperbolic, the original short story is realllllly messed up (if you haven’t read it, you should) but the whole principle of getting something you manifest in a way you don’t expect or in a way that’s out right negative for you is something that can be really demoralizing.

Advice

Get clear on your intentions, as well as the means of getting them. Like if you’re manifesting money be clear on if you want it to be a scholarship, or a gift, or money you find lying on the street. The means in which you get your intention can also be as times influenced by the emotional state you are in while manifesting (i.e. manifesting from a state of obsession or longing vs a more fulfilled, calm state will yield different rewards and outcomes).

A friend of mine said something really insightful about the fact that you should come from a place of “yes, and” while manifesting, you acknowledge all the good in your life and approach your desires from a sincere sense of fulfillment.

Anyways that’s all I have to share, If you want a more practical application on how to apply these principles, I made a how-to guide on how to improve manifestation with vision boards (with personal stories) here.

Until next time🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[kirkwall-tourism-department]

Extra Reading, Ch.3

the amount of effort it takes me to not let stuff that's supposed to be fluffy and happy slip into angst and sadness is crazy

i would not say i was totally successful this time

Her eyes burned from strain, a pounding headache resonated inside her skull, and her body had a heavy weight of exhaustion pressing down on it. While it was impossible to tell the time of day from her windowless room in the Lighthouse, she could tell from her physical state that she had gone a night without sleep, but it was worth it. She had done it. 

She read a book.

An achievement that long seemed impossible, reserved for those with better upbringings and more intelligence than her. But thanks to the professor, she did it. And she knew the first person to tell the news to.

Bolting up from her bed, she ran to Emmrich’s door, lights already peering out from his door. Walking up to it, she lightly knocked against it. As time passed without her question being answered, doubt started to creep into her mind, a sensation that had been forgotten to her until a few weeks ago. Would he be annoyed by her bothering him this early? It was hard to imagine him irritated at somebody, but maybe this would be what did it. Maybe he slept with his lights on and she was waking him up. What if-

Light filled the hallway, banishing the gloom that lingered in the hallways of the lighthouse. Emmrich stood in the open doorway with a drowsy smile on his face. “Good morning, Rook. I must admit my surprise at your presence- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you awake at this hour.” 

“I sort of forgot to sleep last night… but I finished it! I finished the book!” she exclaimed, smiling so wide her cheeks started to ache. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this.  Normally, her happiness felt like a shallow puddle, based on nothing but an indifference to the troubles surrounding her. This time, it was an endless ocean, rooted in a sense of accomplishment she hadn't felt since her first battle as a Warden.

“Rook, that’s wonderful!” he congratulated her, stepping aside and motioning her into the room. Crossing the threshold, the familiar sights of the room greeted her. The comforting glow and crackle of the fireplace, the subtle whispers of incense that hung in the air after his rituals, and the chair she had claimed as her own, draped in a blanket Emmrich had found for her when she had appeared cold. In the past week, she spent more of her waking hours here with Emmrich than in her own room. “Would you like to discuss it?”

“Yes! I have a lot of thoughts, professor. I love that I get to say that.” she responded, sitting down in her chair, wrapping herself in the plush blanket. Emmrich sat at his desk, and gave her a look of pride that made her heart skip a beat. “Given the Warden’s love of secrecy, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about how much of this I didn’t know but… the whole thing with the Commander of Soldier’s Peak going crazy and needing to be forced to go on his Calling made me think a lot about how long the First Warden has been doing his job. And if what happened then might be happening now.”

“And that is precisely why we must study history!” Emmrich exclaimed, beaming at her with satisfaction, jewelry singing as he gesticulated with his hands. “To understand the past is to understand the present. I can’t tell you the joy it brings me to see you find those connections. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been a Warden?”

“Seven years.”

“I suppose that would explain your skill on the battlefield.”

Rook tried to fight away the blush rising on her face, giving a small shrug, unsure of how to respond to so much praise.  “One thing I wondered about- the only names he mentions are commanders. It makes it sound like they did everything. Obviously, they do a lot, but in my experience, they wouldn’t be able to get anything done if they didn’t have soldiers underneath them helping. Just makes me think of how many things are being credited to the commander’s whose names actually got written down somewhere when it may have been their subordinate actually getting the work done.”

“I… you’re absolutely correct.” Emmrich responded, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think you may have just changed how I interpret historical texts. This is one of the things I was hoping to gain from leaving the Necropolis- different perspectives. We tend to be such an insular community, we forget about the diversity of experiences in the world above us.” Emmrich spoke like he was conducting an orchestra, hands moving alongside his voice to help punctuate his sentences. It was difficult not to get distracted by all the golden jewelry adorning his arms when he gestured like that. Her fascination with everything that seemed expensive was the origin of her nickname after joining the Wardens- after growing up in the squalor of the alienage, seeing the ostentatious livery some of the senior Wardens wore distracted her with thoughts of envy and awe. Once it had happened enough times, the other recruits started calling her Rook- like she would try and steal the shining ornaments of her superiors to bring back to her nest. Despite the implications of the name, she had been welcoming of a new identity, hoping her old name would simply wash away with time. “Rook?”

“Sorry, what?” she apologized, snapping out of her thoughts. Emmrich stared at her, clearly expecting a response to a question she hadn’t heard.

“You seemed to be distracted.”

“Sorry again, it’s just… the jewelry on your arms. It’s really pretty.” she explained, somewhat embarrassed to have to admit how easy it was to draw her mind away from the topic at hand. 

“You think so?” Emmrich questioned, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Is that surprising?”

“I’ve just never seen you wear anything like it.”

“There’s no way I could afford something like that!” she laughed, imagining the absurdity in stretching the pittance she got as a Warden enough to afford golden jewelry. Emmrich’s eyes fell from her face in embarrassment at her retort, and the easy cadence of their conversation ground to a halt.

“My apologies for bringing up the matter.”

“It’s really not an problem.” she reassured him, the absence of his standard calm affability making her feel uneasy. She wanted to get him back as fast as she could. “What’s your next assignment for me?”

“I found a history of the Wardens in the Free Marches, like you asked.” he prefaced, clearly thankful Rook moved them though their conversational hiccup so quickly. “But the language is a bit… verbose. I apologize if this appears condescending, but I fear you may have trouble reading it without assistance.”

“That’s fine. It’ll be a good excuse to spend more time around you.” she smiled at him. For the first time since meeting him, Emmrich looked flustered. His eyes went wide, slight color appeared in his cheeks, and his mouth opened slightly in surprise. Satisfaction rose in her chest at her ability to make someone as dignified as him blush. As much as she hated to admit it, she had been hoping to break his composure like this since they first met at the Necropolis. She wasn’t sure where her innate desire to ruin beautiful things came from, but it certainly extended to Emmrich. After a few moments, he regained his typical poise before giving her a slight smile.

“You never have to find excuses, Rook. I’ll always welcome your company.”

—

This was a poor decision.

Emmrich paced his room, turning a small jewelry box over in his hands. It contained a small silver bracelet with a single blue gemstone inlaid between the delicate metal chainlinks. He had picked it up in Nevarra City earlier in the day, his conversation with Rook from the previous morning lingering in his mind long after she left him. He had been telling himself it had no deeper meaning than a kind gift to a colleague. After all, he had been in her position once- unable to afford all the luxuries he saw others indulging in. It didn’t have to have a deeper meaning than simple empathy.

But he knew he was lying to himself. On some level, he wanted to impress the beautiful woman who had been spending her evenings with him. He knew his desire for her companionship was improper- she couldn’t have been older than her late twenties. However, knowing something illicit rarely did anything to calm one’s heart.

Or other body parts.

So he walked circles in his room, trying to make the decision before she came by later for their standing appointment. Would she appreciate the gift as a simple, thoughtful gesture? Would she read into his implicit intentions? Would she be repulsed by them, or would she-

“Hi Emmrich!” Rook cheerily greeted him as the door opened without warning, Manfred holding it open for her. “I ran into Manfred on the way over. What’s that?” She questioned as she walked to meet him in the center of the room. Emmrich cursed his anxiety, the decision having been taken out of his hands. 

“I was thinking of our conversation yesterday, and I thought you might appreciate this.” Emmrich explained, trying to mimic Rook’s matter-of-fact manner of speaking to prevent any potential miscommunication. He handed the box to her, and she took it curiously, examining the fine velvet exterior. He held his breath as she slowly opened it, and her smile fell. 

“Emmrich, this…” she whispered, shock and confusion intermingling on her face. She stared at it silently for what felt like an eternity, her face frozen in the inscrutable expression. The anxiety that had been nipping at his heels before her entrance overwhelmed him, tearing open his chest with its vicious claws. 

“Rook…” he began, unsure how to correct his error. What had he done? He had let his romantic imagination get away from him, a relic from a time long past. And now he risked not only a professional relationship, but a friendship he had come to cherish. 

“Why are you so kind to me?” She interrupted him before he could further embarrass himself. She turned her gaze to him, tears starting to well in her eyes. The anxiety that had been mauling him since the exchange started disappeared, replaced by a yawning void of sorrow. She didn’t understand why she would be given a gift like this. This woman, a shining beacon of joy who fought against the tide of Blight that threatened to swallow the world, couldn’t comprehend why someone cared for her.

“It’s nothing less than what you deserve.” he assured her, tucking a strand of red hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. She wiped away the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes, blinking away any more that threatened to appear. Lifting the bracelet from its resting place, she delicately placed it on her wrist, taking a deep breath and studying it for a few moments once it was where it belonged. Raising her gaze back up to him, her typical smile had reappeared, any vulnerability she had let escape tightly leashed back. “Are you ready to start the next book?”

She nodded, clearly relieved to be able to move past her emotional display. Taking her seat, she grabbed the book from his desk, and opened it to the first page. The rest of their evening proceeded like the rest, a constant rhythm of silence and questions, all pertaining to the text, save for one.

“Emmrich?”

“Yes?”

“Is the blue stone to match my eyes?”

[slasherparty]

Hi! Could you Please do Beej with An S/O with PTSD? (Possibly he accidentally scares them with something that Triggers a PTSD Attack?)

i can try my best, for sure! (disclaimer, i don’t have ptsd and have no experience with it outside of discussions with friends who have it, so if anything i write here is an incorrect or harmful portrayal please let me know!)

beetlejuice 🪲 x reader with PTSD 💭

as usual when it comes to beetlejuice, it begins with a joke gone horribly wrong — a flickering illusion of something monstrous. a moment frozen in your eyes, wide with dread, as beetlejuice realizes he’s stumbled upon a memory far more terrifying than his gags could ever conjure.

ever the showman, he tries to apologize in his own bizarre way. maybe it’s with a bouquet of dead flowers plucked from some poor soul's gravestone, or a song sung by a ghostly quartet he's conjured, their harmonies more unsettling than soothing.

determined to avoid making the same mistake, bj starts paying attention — truly paying attention. he listens (a rare feat for him) to your stories, your fears, weaving his manic energy into a solid presence instead of a disruptive force.

to help you feel secure, he transforms your living space into something magical yet oddly comforting. the shadows on the walls stop feeling like threats and start feeling like guardians. they whisper reassuring nonsense, a soft hum of distraction from the noise in your head.

in his own twisted way, he tries to help you reclaim power over your fears. he turns nightmares into comedies, mocking the monsters that haunt you until they’re laughable, grotesque parodies.

for someone who thrives on disorder, beetlejuice attempts the impossible — reining in his instincts. when he wants to pop out of the floorboards or summon swarms of skeletal insects, he pauses, remembers your needs, and opts for a (relatively) gentle knock instead.

beetlejuice becomes fiercely protective. your very own "guard dog of the underworld." when someone or something from your past tries to resurface, he steps in — not subtly, but effectively. a howling wind of curses, spectral barriers, and his disjointed grin scare the intrusions away.

when you’re caught in the spiral of an episode, he’s there, pulling ridiculous faces or juggling severed ghostly heads to coax out a reluctant smile. sometimes it works. sometimes he just sits quietly with you, a presence more comforting than one might expect.

when words fail, bj doesn’t. he wraps his striped arms around you awkwardly, his voice softening as he promises, “I’ll make sure no one — or nothing — hurts you again. Scout’s honor... okay, not a scout, but still.”

therapy, in his mind, is far too dull. (do not listen to him on this.) instead, he tries to pull you on otherworldly journeys to the neitherworld to confront your fears head-on, safely, with him as your guide. each step is riddled with his snarky commentary and oddly heartfelt encouragement.

for someone so used to quick fixes and chaotic solutions, he learns the slow dance of healing. he doesn’t rush you — well, not too much — and sticks around when it matters most, even if it means suppressing his inner urge to turn everything into a spectacle.

thank you for reading!! 💌

you can find more of my writing here on ao3!

[askblueandviolet]

Macaque, you are a freeloader...

At least give The Mayor a kiss. 😗

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