#people being like oh did you apply elsewhere. no i feel like if I can’t get in here where the department loves me and aligns with my

[everymanpdf]

they literally have to let me in the phd program or else i need to keep doing this sooooo bad

[ananke-xiii]

Sailing from Byzantium or Parents shouldn’t outlive their Children.

    As you set out for Byzantium…

Okay so. I’ve been writing illegibly scribbling about resurrection in SPN for over a month now, so I think it’s finally time to talk about Jack’s (first) resurrection in “Byzantium”. Let’s goooo, I really hope it’ll make sense! As usual, it’s gonna be loooong, without images and with baaaaad paragraphing so just FYI. Here we gooooo.

I’ve described S13 Castiel’s forbidden resurrection (Chuck didn’t want him back, Billie couldn’t care less, no other entities were interested in him being back, like, at all) as a team effort: Dean, Jack, Cas and the Shadow all worked, consciously or not (but mostly not), to get Cas’ ass back on Earth. I’ve also compared it to the myth of Isis and Osiris because, to me, this specific resurrection has some very, veeeery strong romantic undertones to it. Of course, it bears repeating, it’s my interpretation that Cas got back because he was immensely loved and he loved hard in return. The show doesn’t outright say it, but it strongly implies it, and I’ve picked up on that vibe. However, his resurrection was possible in the first place because Jack willed it and he willed it because he missed his father. So another strong theme here is parental love and I loooooooove this stuff. Let me explain.

I’ve elsewhere said that Sam failed Jack the moment he didn’t tell him that he was missing Mary and he wanted her back. If he did, Jack would have latched onto that like I don’t know what, because he understands what it means to miss a mother. A similar thing applies to Dean, although he’s way more emotionally (and brutally) honest with Jack than Sam is. However, what Dean doesn’t outright say is that he blames Jack for Cas’ death (I’ve talked about I many times and I don’t want to repeat myself here, but basically I think that it’s not about Jack per se but about Cas’ choice to leave them and go away with Kelly. In other words, it’s complicated and I can’t always write the same things over and over again, lol, so sorry if I oversimplify sometimes). The moment he does, when he yells in Sam’s face while Jack is eavesdropping, an-already-attuned-to-his-moth-Dean Jack finally understands Dean because Dean’s pain, like Sam’s, is also his.

This is no moral judgement of the characters but an interpretation of the little tragedy that the first episodes of S13 are: three people, closed-off in themselves like monads, who are all grieving and don’t have the tools and/or the strength to really sort through their own emotions. A scene that stuck with me is when Jack is in front of his parents’ fucking pyre and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s a brief scene that tells a lot: Jack’s lost everything the moment he was born and, of course, he doesn’t know what to do with that. Because he’s just born. He’s left with…. The Big Empty. But this is also what Sam and Dean are feeling, in their own ways, so basically if they all knew how to communicate they would have found out that Jack was THE person who could have understood/helped them the most.

But, of course, if that happened, there wouldn’t be any tragedy in the first place so that was the whole point.

Back to Jack’s eavesdropping. I don’t think Jack picks up on the reason why Dean’s out of his mind over Cas’ death because he doesn’t have the same picture that we do. But what’s important is that he understands Dean’s pain because he also feels a similar pain but, of course, in his case he’s missing Castiel as his father. Just like the Quest for Mary isn’t solely due to Jack’s tendency to appease Sam and Dean, the Resurrection of Castiel happens because Jack is attuned to Dean, absolutely yes, but also because he wants it for himself. As in: Oh Dean’s not okay and one of the reasons why is Cas, but wait! I’m also not okay and one of the reasons why is Cas! Because I was supposed to have at least one parent looking out for me and he’s not here for me.

To sum it up: Cas’ resurrection is spurred by romantic love but it’s actualized because of filial love.

I’ve had to say all this because Jack’s resurrection in "Byzantium" follows the same path but in reverse: it’s about parental love but it’s actualized because of… (a-very-twisted-but-here-we-are, let’s-just-say-it-and-be-done-with-it) eroticism. Yes, ‘cause, sure, Chuck has his pervy thing for Dean but the Shadow surpasses even God when it comes to Castiel. Cas is “Of the Shadow”. Because it’s either that or I am the weirdo that instantly associates “I’ll come when you let the sun shine on your face” to la petite mort, the little death. Eros and Thanatos, the usual. I mean, it could be that I’m the weirdo. Let’s see!

If Dean, Jack, Cas and the Shadow were all needed to resurrect Cas, in Jack’s case…

Lily, Jack, Cas… and the Shadow again are needed.

(lol, when I write “and the Shadow” I have that song in my mind, the one that goes “and your friend Steve, tutututuruduuduuuu, Steeeveee, lol)

((also… Dean and Mother Figures… one day I’ll also have to expand on that))

(((also II… I’m super aware that Sam is a VITAL piece in both Cas’ and Jack’s stories and you can find a little bit about it here. I’m soooo sorry to do my little giant dude so dirty by erasing him, but if I add Sam to the picture as well this post becomes a behemoth or something and I can’t have it, I’ll make up to him I sweeeear)))

(((( I know it’s taking so long but we’re going to Byzantium which is pretty far away, be patient))))

All Aboard!

What is Byzantium exactly? Well, “Sailing to Byzantium” and its following “Byzantium” are two poems by W.B. Yeats which constitute the foundation of… “Byzantium” in S14. I’ll be focusing mainly on the first poem because I think it’ll be enough but the two are strongly connected and should be considered together rather than separate.

That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song,

As we can see, one of the main themes in “Sailing to Byzantium” is old age vs “the young” and mortality (of the body) vs immortality (of the soul). These are the same themes of this episode which are translated for the show’s sake into the old theme of the “it’s not natural for parents to bury their children”.

In the bunker, after Jack’s death, Sam, Dean and Cas are lost and don’t know what to do:

[Cas, Dean, and Sam linger in the hallway outside Jack’s room] CAS: Maybe we should… start thinking about next steps. DEAN: Wake and a bonfire, Hunter style. It's what Jack would've wanted. [Sam says nothing, but storms off. Cas tries to stop him, but Dean stops Cas with a hand on his arm] CAS: Sam. [to Dean] Your brother's in pain. DEAN: Just let him be. If he needs his space, we're gonna give it to him.

They need to “bury” Jack and this triggers Sam into running away. Dean and Cas find him defeated in a forest: Sam wanted to gather woods for the pyre and made a whole mess out of it because he’s not okay and he feels like he hasn’t done enough. Like he has failed Jack. To that this is what Cas has to say:

CAS: This doesn't feel right. It's just not how I thought Jack's story would end. SAM: Yeah. None of us did. CAS: The certainty… of death, even for angels, it's always felt natural, but this doesn't. Jack being taken before his time. I mean, taken before me.

This scene establishes that Cas, maybe for the first time, understands relativity… deeply, into his own heart. Death is certain, it’s natural so how come Jack’s death doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel… natural? Jack’s being taken before his (Jack’s) time is not unnatural by definition, it’s unnatural by Cas’ relative notion of Time: Jack’s time (before HIS time) is defined by Cas’ time (before ME) and Cas, like all parents, simply logically refuses the idea or even the possibility of seeing his child being taken away before him. It’s not a law of nature but it’s a law of humanity: no parents should ever see their children die. If that happens, it means that something went wrong, that it wasn’t right. That is no country for old men and no country for parents outliving their children.

In “Ouroboros” when Cas is confronted with the finality of death again, he’ll try his best to reassure Jack and make him understand how time works differently for “things like them” compared to humans. He’s trying to be brave in front of Jack but he’s not reaching him because he doesn’t believe in his own words. He betrays himself when he says that “when Dean wakes up -- and he will wake up -- we just have to remember to appreciate the time that we all have together now”. Even if he’s telling Jack that he must accept Death, he’s not accepting it himself. WHEN Dean wakes up AND HE WILL wake up. PERIOD. This is thinking coming from the heart rather than the mind. And it’s… truer? More vulnerable? Honest?...Human? Maybe the greatest tragedy of humanity is not that we don’t accept our death but that we can’t even conceive of the death of our loved ones. When Death arrives and takes everything from you but… you. And Cas cannot accept either Dean’s not Jack’s death. He simply can’t.

Together with Sam, Cas contacts Lily Sunders, the same woman that wants to kill him to avenge her daughter’s death. Lily, we’re tactlessly reminded by Dean in case we hadn’t noticed lol, is… old.

SAM: Dean, you remember Lily Sunder. DEAN: L-- You got old. LILY: Did I? An unfortunate side effect of giving up magic, I suppose.

She’s old and almost soulless but she can, perhaps, “pull off a miracle” or… a trade. “Resurrection and a cure” in exchange for getting into Heaven… to see her daughter, May.

Old age and the soul is another theme in “Sailing to Byzantium”:

An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence;

The body decays but the soul lives and claps its hands and sings! Despite the “mortal dress” the soul can still be magnificent. In the character of an old(er) Lily Sunders the episode conflates all of its themes: parents and children, soul and mortality.

Yep, because there’s a little caveat in this trade and that’s Jack’s soul. Jack’s first resurrection doesn’t come for free, it has a price that he himself has to pay.

Now this is the point where I have issues with the episode and the series as a whole because “Byzantium” poses an interesting moral dilemma: your life or your soul? Sam, Dean and Cas all have their own take on the matter and the episode explores them. But what about Jack? Since, you know, it's his life and his soul.

Well, unfortunately I don’t think he’s given much of a choice and I think it was unfair.

When in Byzantium…

Yeah, okay, but WHAT is Byzantium? Well, Byzantium is, of course, Heaven. Crumbling empire under siege. Christian stronghold, holy city. Yeah, that’s Heaven right now in s14. So this means that people/entities will have to sail to Byzantium, aka Heaven, in this episode. Conversely, since Heaven is a place for the dead and the Angels, some other people will sail from Byzantium and back to life.

Heaven-Byzantium, however, has a little bit of a problem in the form of the Shadow storming its gates to take Jack’s… soul? The ghost of his Grace? His essence as Nephilim? I mean, I don’t know exactly what the Shadow wants because Jack belongs to two realms at the same time so I guess it wants its half. What I know is that it wants him in some capacity. Although, to be fair, for a cosmic entity that wants to sleep forever, going to great lengths to take one “soul” or whatever seems… weird? I don’t know, what I’m trying to covertly say is that, I think, the show has never really explored the Shadow/Empty and I think it was a shame. It wants to sleep forever but it storms Heaven’s gates for Jack, it wants Cas to suffer BUT it wants him to be happy AND it also wants to stay awake to come to Cas when he’s happy… The Shadow is confused, lol. Or, maybe, in love?? (Okay, now I’m joking but you must admit that the Shadow wants a lot of things. *In Lucille Bluth’s voice*: Good for her!).

Jack’s in Kelly’s heaven but they don't share much screen-time together. As a matter of fact, Jack’s not given much choice to begin with. The “life or soul” dilemma is left unexplored because the plot takes precedence: it’s 46,750,000,000 human souls vs Jack’s soul now. I like that, at first, Cas downright says no to Naomi when she tells him that he must help her stop the Shadow by handig over Jack. But then, when he finds Jack, he seems to change his mind a little:

CAS: Sam and Dean and I-- we found a way to bring you home. JACK: So, I'll be alive again? CAS: Yeah. But to do so, we-- we need to use magic that will draw on your soul. JACK: W-What do you mean, my soul? CAS: It'll be just a small piece. And I know it's too much to ask, but it's the only way. KELLY: No. I-I don't know. CAS: It's not just Jack's life that's at stake. It-- The Empty has invaded Heaven because it wants you.

Kelly going "No" and then "I don't know"... I love her so much, Queen of Messes.

Although Cas told Dean that Jack should have a say in the matter, he eventually decides for Jack and asks “too much” of him. Again, I want to say that this is a judgement-free zone, if I had the possibility to resurrect my dead child I would burn cities and commit genocides, ngl. This kind of prevarication, a prevarication out of love, is something that I can see fit in this episode because it relates to its foundational themes. What I don’t like and think takes something away from Jack is the “It’s not just Jack’s life that’s at stake”. Mmmm it doesn’t sit well with me. Fuck Heaven, fuck cosmic balance and fuck the Empty: if the cosmos can't do its work properly it's not my problem. Overriding personal dilemmas with imminent apocalypse-level threat is something that cannot be overused every other episode or it'll get boring. The stakes cannot always be so high, I need to see characters make their own choices and Dabb era takes this away from me! *Clenched fist raised to the sky for emphasis*.

Since Anubis has been literally summoned in this episode (the Egyptian myths, man... I've been saying... I've been saying) I think I can safely say that on his scale Jack’s soul weighed less than all those billions of souls. In other words, the Greater Good prevails. But what about Jack? Leaving aside whether I like it or not, he still doesn’t get a vote because the whole point is that the Shadow wants what it wants and it wants Jack. So Cas has to interfere and cuts a deal with it. And then we totally forget about Jack’s choice. It’s a given now because it’s the billions of souls and, ON TOP OF THAT, his father’s sacrifice. Even before becoming God Jack was asked to take on his shoulders such impossible burdens and… I don’t know, I actually feel very sorry for him.

So “Byzantium Delivered” by our very Castiel and him and Jack are ready to sail away. For one people leaving, one must arrive. Cas wasn’t the only one who made the sacrifice: Lily pays with her life and we know that her sacrifice is selfless because she manages to enter Heaven’s Gate. As Dean puts it, she couldn’t let anyone go through what she did: outlive their children. There’s a part of me that’s sad that she paid the price and died but another one is happy because now I can speak about something that I adore: parents saving their children.

Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Here Yeats is saying that once he’ll be “out of nature”, aka dead, he’ll never take another bodily form but he’ll become a work of art made of “hammered gold and gold enameling” that will set upon a “golden bough” to sing the past, the present and the future.

I have to tip my hat to Meredith Glynn here because this was awesome. As I’ve said she has used Yeats' poem to talk about parents going to other dimensions and making sacrifices for their children. This is the meaning of the “Golden Bough”.

The “golden bough” refers to an episode in the Aeneid where Aeneas goes into the underworld to meet the shade of his deceased father Anchises. In order to do so this, he must give a gift to Proserpina, the Queen of the Underworld and the gift is the golden bough itself.

I said this was awesome because Aeneas is the son that goes to another dimension to meet his father but in “Byzantium” it's a father and a mother who go to Heaven for their children!!! Which first of all, I think it’s BEAUTIFUL, second of all we have, AGAIN!, a reversal of myths at play here!!!

When I say that Castiel and Jack are exploding myths from the inside I’m not saying it because I’m crazy but that’s because this is what the show was telling me up until a certain point!

If you scratch and scratch and scratch, “Byzantium” is a retelling of the myth of Demeter and Proserpina, the mother going to the underworld to save her daughter (it's waaaay more than this but bear with me or this post'll never end). I mean, isn’t that awesome??? I fucking love it!

I swear I could go on and on (and I will!It's a threat!) but I think it’s high time we left Byzantium…

Goodbye stranger, it's been nice!

I hope I’ve made clear how Jack’s resurrection involved Lily, Cas and Jack himself (although he didn’t have much choice in the matter and that’s regrettable). I have to talk about the Shadow before I let you go of the insanity that is this post. So let’s end it with more insanity, shall we?

O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.

Now this is where my weirdness potentially shows: here Yeats is talking about his desire to meet the “sages standing in God’s holy fire… and be the singing-masters of [his]soul”. He wants his heart to be consumed and freed from the chains of the material body (“dying animal”) and be gathered “into the artifice of eternity”. Now Yeats, to me, is talking about a sort of transcendental and mystical experience which, as we all know, has very clear sexual undertones. And, I don’t know, I guess I see these (much darker) undertones in this episodes too? The Shadown is the master of Cas’ “soul”, it owns him, to it “years and eons” (the time of the heart for Cas) are nothing. Now or a billion years from now means nothing to something like the Empty. It wants to take Cas when he’s outside of time, in the moment of “happiness” which is the moment when things “happen” (“the artifice of eternity”), which, in turn, is a moment outside of the deterministic world of SPN.

It’s just like when, in “The Big Empty”, the Shadow tries to seduce Cas and persuade him to go back to sleep because, out there, there's nobody who loves him but here with it? There’ll be peace. Only, this time, the Shadow is pretty pissed and it’s like: I don’t want you now because you don’t want me so I want you to suffer now. Go back, live your life, one year, one thousand, it means NOTHING to me. You’re already mine. No, I want to own you to the point that I’ll come to take you the moment you will be happy, when you’ll be outside of time, I’ll come then and take you away with me. Because you’re mine in time and outside of it. Beyond eternity.

I mean, this is perverse and insane but also very erotic :D And, to be honest, it kinda makes sense because the energy of the “Eros” (not sex, "eros" in the psychoanalytical sense) must be involved in a process so delicate as the resurrection. One needs to want life to go back and make people go back to life, you know? And since we’re talking about resurrecting souls, Psyche if you will, you sort of have to have Eros? The two go together.

So to really sum it up this time: Jack’s first resurrection was another team effort. It required a lot of love as usual and this time it was the parental love for their children that pierced the veil and saved the day. But it also needed a bit of erotic sparkle to ignite it, the final, unseen ingredient of the spell. The Shadow provides this sparkle in a capricious way just like only very ancient cosmic entities can do. However, the price that they’ve all paid is very, very high: Lily’s life, Cas’ happiness and Jack’s soul. It’s a bittersweet victory that announces catastrophe.

Okay, I can’t believe I’ve made it but I’ve made it. If you’ve been with me until the end,  I thank you and hug you <3. I hope you enjoyed it!

[devinescribe]

Your Girl?

Ch.8 of “My Sunshine” [Treechxreader]

Warnings: cursing and that’s about it tbh 😭

Sejanus left you at your house, and you quickly ran to shower. Your father was out on business so it was quiet.

The hot water felt like heaven on your skin. You scrubbed the dried blood and dirt from your face, washing your hair.

“Sunshine~”

Your eyes shot open and you pulled back the curtain, expecting to see the one person you longed for outside.

“Oh great I’m going insane… ugh I hate this,” you mumbled.

Once you finished your everything shower, you stepped out, grabbing a fluffy green towel. It was your favorite color. It was everywhere without being overwhelming. Your curtains and bed spread were dark green. You had, albeit crudely, drawn some leaves on the window frame.

You dried yourself off, and put some vanilla scented lotion on yourself.

After, you slipped on your robe, doing your hair.

Deciding it was too much trouble to actually style it too much, you left it in its natural (curly, wavy straight) state.

You grabbed a dress out of your closet, not wanting to go in your academy rouges. Of course, a dark green dress with a flared skirt. At the bottom was small little leaf and bird embroidery. The top was a sweetheart neckline and it had puffy poet sleeves. Perfect.

You slipped it on. It reached your knees, so it was an appropriate length for the occasion. Not formal, but also not inappropriately short. If you were going elsewhere… like when you and Sejanus snuck to one of the bars in town… you would wear a shorter dress.

You smiled reminiscing about the stupid memory. You refused to drink, but Sejanus had one sip of beer and threw it up.

Finally being dressed, you applied some lip gloss and smiled at your reflection. Absolutely stunning if you did say so yourself. You looked at the time and cursed.

You had about 40 minutes. It would take you 15 to get there. You huffed, spraying some vanilla and lavender perfume, put on some flats, and took a pair of heels in your hand.

When you got there, you saw the tributes were either talking with their mentors or held by a peacekeeper. You looked in the dark backstage until your eyes landed on him.

You speedily walked over, showing your student ID to the guard before taking him to the back in a corner.

“He-“

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I couldn’t go see you sooner, I heard about the vet how fucking stupid, you got stitches did it-“

“Hey, I’m ok. Calm down,” he whispered, his hands squeezing your shoulders.

You looked down. Tonight would be the last night you got before the games.

It hadn’t really sunk in that your best friend wasn’t in the Capitol for a vacation or a visit. He was here because his name was drawn in the reaping to play in the Hunger Games. A ‘game’ where kids killed other kids in order to survive.

Tears filled your eyes. Through the darkness of the backstage, he could still see your tears.

“Hey, don’t cry. You’ll mess up that pretty face of yours,” he joked, wiping your tears. “You have to help me win the Capitol over tonight, and I can’t do that if people think I make you cry now can I?”

You sat down on a chair and nodded.

“Everyone is doing something different. Some are going to show off how powerful their tributes are. Some how dangerous. Some, like Wovey’s mentor, are going for the feelings angle. We will see what Flickerman sets us up with,” you explained, drying off your tears again.

You began to take your flats off, and were about to put your heels on, before they were taken out of your hands.

“Hey what gives-“

“Let me do this. Please,” he mumbled as he kneeled down on the floor in front of you.

This was so so different than all those times he had offered to tie your shoes when you were kids.

—-

“I’ll help you,” he said with a grin.

You sat on the swing, and pouted. While you appreciated his help, the utter embarrassment of not knowing how to tie your shoes at six was enough to make you hate it.

“You don’t have to be upset about it. We can all do different things. You can read big books, I can tie shoes. You help me read, I help you tie,” he said with the biggest smile you had ever seen.

Although he was a good reader, he’d rather have you read to him.

You launched yourself off of the swing and hugged him.

“Thank you.”

——

“Sunshine, please?”

How could you say no to those pretty begging eyes?

“Fine…” you said, trying to hide the blush that had just taken over your face.

He gently grabbed your leg, softly pulling the heels onto your foot. He fixed the strap, and smiled up at you.

“There…. All done,” he whispered.

You looked down at him and felt your face burning up even more. Now would be a great time to say-

“Alright people, places, we are live in two minutes!”

You groaned.

Treech laughed, and stood up, offering his hand, which you happily took.

Most of the tributes had talked up their skills with weapons. The younger one of course, were played up as being sweet. Lamina went out with Pup, and you were left in the wings. His hand found yours and squeezed it nervously.

“Well, Lamina, I’m sure we are all wondering… after Treech left you for the pack, how did you feel?” Flickerman asked.

You felt Treech look down. He felt guilty.

“Well… I…”

“She was hurt, betrayed, and just so distraught. Wouldn’t stop crying.”

Lamina looked to Pup with confusion written all over her face as if that wasn’t what they had talked about.

“He’s tryin’ to make you look bad. You’re already a Capitol favorite…” you whispered.

The rest of the two minutes went by quickly and you were brought on stage. You both sat on the plush couch and you smiled at the audience then at Cesar Flickerman.

“Well hello there Ms. (L/N), Treech. Now, I wish I could ask all about you, but you only have two minutes, so, the question that has been burning in the Capitol’s mind is: do you have a girl back home? A special sweetheart?”

Treech looked to the audience and slightly glanced at you.

“Well… no. I mean, she ain’t at home, but she wishes she were. And she’s not mine… yet. I mean, there’s not much I can do but hope that I can get back. Even in the games, she’ll be my lucky charm,” he said pulling out the necklace with your grandmother’s ring on it, sort of showing it off. “But I… I hope that I can get back to my sunshine. I’d crawl home to her if that’s what it took,” he said.

The crowd awed and gasped.

“Wait, she isn’t back home, but wishes she were? What does that mean? Where is she?”

“She’s… right here,” he responded, looking down at you, his hand finding yours.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at him.

The crowd gasped, a murmuring beginning to spread through them.

“Well ladies and gentlemen that’s all the time we have for these two. I really wish I could chat more, but off the stage you go!”

You shook Cesar’s hand and left.

Treech was behind you, and when you were off stage you wanted to talk to him.

Had he meant all that? Or was it just playing it up to the Capitol?

You tried to find him, but then noticed only the mentors remained back stage.

“Tributes got taken back to the zoo as soon as they got off the stage,” Sejanus whispered to you.

You jumped at hearing his voice. Even though his tribute was missing, running through the streets of the Capitol, he was still here.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Told ya he was head over heels for you,” Sejanus laughed.

The rest of the tributes went and it was finally the last one. Lucy Gray.

She and Coriolanus stepped onto the stage. Her cheeks and lips looked decorated, and her rainbow dress was even more bright. She had a beautiful wooden guitar in her arms.

You looked at Coriolanus and saw what he had done. After the bombing, Tigress and him must have washed the dress. Then her lips and cheeks must have had some of Tigress’s rouge. You recognized the shade.

He was extremely smart.

Lucy Gray stepped up to the microphone and began to play her guitar and sing.

By the end of her song you were in tears, leaning on Sejanus.

The crowd cheered wildly, people were crying and everything.

You ran to her as she got off stage before the peacekeepers could get her.

“Oh Lucy Gray that was just… beautiful,” you sniffled, grabbing her hands.

“You really think so?” She asked with a small smile.

“Of course.”

——

It was late into the night when you sneaked into the zoo.

There was not many peacekeepers at this time of night. And those who were there fell asleep.

You crouched down next to the bars and whispered his name.

His head shot up and he looked around before coming over to the bars, his hands grabbing yours. They were warm compared to yours. You were always cold.

“Treech I-… I need to ask ya somethin’…” you stammered out. You didn’t know what would be worse. Him saying he was just playing it up or him saying he was serious.

“Go right ahead sunshine,” he whispered.

“Everythin’ you said tonight…. Did you mean it? Or was it just for show? Because I… I can’t live with this secret anymore. I’ve loved you since we were kids, it just took me way too long to realize it, and I can’t keep writing stupid love poems and letters you’ll never see… So… did you mean it?” You whispered, looking into him eyes with a blush on your face.

“Of course I meant it. I wouldn’t lie to you sunshine. I’ve loved you since we first met… obviously that was puppy love but I-i… couldn’t ever get you out of my head,” he whispered back, one of his hands gently grabbing your face to make you look at him. “I mean, when I told you not to come that one night? It was because I was jealous of Sejanus… the way he touched you…but he told me you didn’t shut up about me… and yeah I guess I’ve always been jealous, but I couldn’t say anything… but yeah. It’s all true. All of it,” he rambled, his eyes looking down towards your lips and back to your eyes.

Your face felt so hot you were sure your blush was visible.

He leaned in and stopped just before your lips met his.

“Is this alright with you?” He asked softly.

You nodded and pulled him in.

“Needy thing ain’t you? Still haven’t learned to be patient?” He teased.

“Oh for- shut up and kiss me,” you hissed.

“Your wish is my command darlin’…” he mumbled before pressing his lips against yours.

His lips were slightly chapped, a contrast to your smooth lips with cherry gloss on them. He couldn’t get enough. Your lips were sweet and soft. And you tasted so sweet, he couldn’t get enough, you would have him addicted to you just from one kiss.

But he slowly pulled away. You looked up at him and smiled, a hand going to cup his cheek. He leaned into it.

“Come back to me… please, I need you,” you whispered, leaning your head on the bars.

He did the same.

“I will… but there’s no place for me here in the Capitol. I’ll have to go back home.”

“I’ll go with you,” you said quickly.

“Sunshine, I’d never ask that you leave what you have here-“

“I have nothin’ here. Sej and Coryo? Father’s barely home and Ma is barely human anymore. Sej and Coryo can visit. I will go home with you.”

He looked in shock as you said that.

“If that’s what you want… I’d be thrilled,” he mumbled with a smile.

“Then it’s settled. I’m goin’ back home with you when you win,” you whispered.

You pressed your lips against his softly once more.

“Yeah… I’m gettin out of there because I have years of kisses to catch up on…” he mumbled against your lips.

You heard some of the guards stirring and got up.

“Good luck, I’ll be watching every second. You won’t die.”

He smiled and gave your hand a kiss before you slipped off into the dark night.

[m1d-45]

hidden blessings

summary: thoma takes you to the teahouse, but you two are interrupted. you don’t know whether it’s fortunate or not, but it will affect your trajectory within inazuma.

a/n: this one goes out to @shizunxie and @alexteea, who asked for a part two to small miracles. i now fear talking in the tags [/hj].

word count: ~2.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, spoilers for ayato story quest, probably out of character ayato…. green tea?

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill

<< first part || < masterlist > || third part >>

komore teahouse is warm.

the moment the door opens, it’s the first thing you notice. the air smells of honey and spices, heated by some invisible fire. your hand is still in thoma’s, leading you behind him as he moves into the teahouse.

taroumaru sits up a little straighter on the counter as you two approach, but doesn’t seem on guard. strange, considering you’re not a member of the kamisatos, but since you have thoma with you…

“hey there taroumaru! is anybody here?”

the dog barks once. you don’t know what that means, but thoma seems satisfied, pulling you to one of the tea rooms.

“komore teahouse is owned and operated by the yashiro commission, so only those approved by the con can enter. whoever your hiding from-“ how did he know? “-can’t get in here, alright?”

he waves at a cushion and starts to fiddle with a tea set, lighting a small flame on the end of one of his fingers for the heating element. it’s strange to see such nonchalant usage of his vision… but wouldn’t that be normal here?

people with dendro visions selling herbs grown to order, hydro users automatically refilling their drinks, anemo wielders catching a dropped pen or paper before it hits the ground…

not for the first time, you wonder how you ended up in such a world.

“there! that should be ready soon. i’ve made you green tea, hope you don’t mind.”

you shake your head. even plain water would be fine to relieve the burn of salt on your tongue, and the fact that he went so far to make you tea when he barely knew you..

you lick your lips, “thank you.”

he waves it off with a laugh, sitting down himself. “oh, don’t worry about it. and please, save your breath, id hate for you to irritate your throat on my behalf.”

you swallow. salt stings. you’re quickly getting tired of the taste.

“that being said, i do have some questions, if you don’t mind. for starters, you are hiding from the shogunate, right?”

you pause, watching the fire flicker. yes, he’s with the yashiro commission, but he personally had to hide with yoimiya from the vision hunt decree, didn’t he?

you nod.

“thought so… well, the good news is that i can help you, but you have to tell me why they’re looking for you, alright?”

there it is. the fact that he went so long without asking why you were hiding is a testament to his character, but even he couldn’t trust fully when he’s so close to the kamisatos.

though, he did bring you into the teahouse…

“you stay here, and i’ll go get a notepad from the back room. if the tea’s done by then, feel free to pour yourself a cup!”

he stands up from his spot and exits the tearoom, hesitating for a moment in the doorway before undoing the string keeping the cover tied above the doorway. the mat rolls down smoothly, swaying, and you’re suddenly alone in the room.

though being ‘alone’ probably doesn’t apply in a tearoom belonging to the kamisato clan. you don’t remember seeing the girl at the front, nor have you heard the other two NPCs inside, but that must only mean there’s more security elsewhere.

and that the clan must have moved the prior personnel.

…like to hunt for the imposter running around teyvat.

no matter how kind they looked, they were still involved with the shogunate. there’s no way they haven’t heard of the situation, and have likely dispatched some of their best to find you.

and you’ve walked right into one of their bases.

suddenly the warmth in the room feels oppressive, the soft smell of green tea overwhelming. you shouldn’t have caved. you shouldn’t have agreed to come with thoma, shouldn’t have let his kindness pull at your bruised, beaten heart, you shouldn’t you shouldn’t you shouldn’t-

“-ot necessary, my lord, i-“

“-best for you. please, allow-“

words outside your room pull you from your thoughts, muffled by your heartbeat in your ears. it’s familiar but you don’t know why, footsteps and voices passing through the thin walls. three men are speaking, and are quickly approaching your room.

you tense, but settle for grabbing a spoon to try and soothe yourself. they won’t come in here, you tell yourself. you have to trust thoma.

the footsteps stop.

“is this the room?”

it’s not your room. it’s not. you’re safe in the teahouse. you have to be. thoma is on your side.

fingers fit between the mat and the floor, carefully curling the edge to roll it back up.

no.

three sets of shoes appear. two are dark, one dressier with a golden design on it, and the third are taller, heeled, with a buckle. the mat rolls higher, almost ridiculously slow, revealing details you struggle to place.

white pants. brown striped shorts. a black belt, a jacket lined with purple on the inside, yellow tassels and black gloves and you hate that you don’t know who it is.

the mat reaches the ceiling, hands you now recognize as thoma’s tying it back up.

to his side are two men. one is dressed simply, like the many NPCs around the city, and the other…

kamisato ayato.

his clothes are far simpler than his model, but he’s unmistakable. calculating lavender eyes, framed by deceptively soft eyeliner and baby blue bangs. the vision dangling off his hip, the set of his shoulders….

it’s only by sheer will that your terror doesn’t show on your face.

the unidentified man hums, crossing his arms, and thoma looked between the two of them with obvious unease. they must be the voices you heard.

“hello.”

ayato is the one who breaks the silence, and you almost wish he hadn’t. his presence is far more intimidating in person, very much so what you should have expected from somebody of his status. you clutch your spoon tighter.

“i don’t recognize them, my lord,” the unnamed man says, and something in ayato’s eyes shift. you can’t decide if it’s better or worse.

“so you’re the one that’s caught thoma’s eye.” ayato walks into the room, taking a seat across the table from you. “why?”

you shouldn’t be surprised he knew that. you still are, as information couldn’t possibly be passed all the way to him in time for him to arrive.

thoma walks in, taking off the pot you didn’t notice was boiling, attempting to break the tension by pouring out two cups of tea.

the pot hesitates over the third cup. “hisashi, would you like some tea?”

hisashi. why is that name familiar?

the man—hisashi—shakes his head, but does walk in to lean against the doorframe. “no.”

the teapot is set back down on the table, but ayato raises a hand as thoma steps away.

“please, stay. i have as many questions for you as i do for…?”

his eyes turn to you and you can feel the bitter taste of salt burn away any thought you have of responding. the tea looks too hot to drink, and you’re not sure if green tea would taste the same here anyway.

“ah, i never got you your notepad!”

thoma tries to leave for a second time, and ayato stops him again with a questioning look.

what had you gotten yourself into?

“they’re sick, and their voice doesn’t sound too good. i was getting them a pen and paper to ask my own questions before..”

a small smile crossed the commissioner’s face. “excellent job, thoma. you may leave; and please, take your time.”

thoma quickly bows before leaving with hurried steps.

ayato’s gaze returns to you, and he picks up his cup, swirling it twice before taking a small sip. his eyes sweep your figure, pausing momentarily on the hand with the spoon. you let it go, pulling your hand back into your lap, and he hums. after another drink, he sets down his cup.

“you should really try some,” he says, nodding at your untouched tea. “thoma always makes excellent tea.”

you don’t doubt it, but you’re not keen on drinking something still steaming. it may be wise to drink it, something something green tea has medicinal properties and the warmth will ease your throat…. you still don’t touch it.

his eyes flash, and you feel like you passed some sort of test.

“are the shogunate after you?”

you nod.

“do you know why?”

you hesitate. you technically do, as it’s likely the same reason you were chased out of liyue and everywhere prior, but you still don’t know why they’re accusing you of such things. you didn’t do anything initially, you’d barely gotten out your name before…

“interesting.” you look back from where your eyes have wandered, seeing his smile has grown. apparently your silence was answer enough. “you’re not from inazuma.”

it’s not a question, but you shake your head no anyways.

“and yet you know me.”

why wouldn’t you? he’s the head of the yashiro commission, a prominent figure in inazuman politics. even outside of inazuma, surely there’s people that know the yashiro commissioner, right? you know he stays out of the public eye most chances, and that ayaka handles that side of things, but still. it can’t be that rare.

ayato takes another drink of his tea. you wonder when thoma will come back. ayato told him to ‘take his time,’ but finding a pen and paper shouldn’t…

…oh.

kamisato ayato. what else did you expect?

“do you have any plans to stay in inazuma?”

you didnt have plans at all, really. you fully expected to die in the ocean, whether by the fall or the waves or the rocks below. perhaps even osial, if you were unlucky. all you wanted was food and maybe some clothes; you didn’t think you’d get this far.

you shrug.

“given your state, i doubt you can leave,” he points out. “do you even have any mora?”

the jab works better than you thought it would, the memory of the kind hilichurls sharing the mora from the chests they guarded for you to get things from marketplaces sparking defensiveness. of course you have mora, because you had friends.

“even if you did-“ oh, he is far too good at his job “-i don’t believe it’s enough for you to make yourself presentable enough to get a job.” he’s speaking to his teacup, watching the tea swirl. “so i offer you a deal.”

of course. of course he wants a deal.

“you tell me why the shogunate is after you, and i will protect you from them.”

what.

there’s no way he could do that. he couldn’t just go against the tenryou commission like that. there’s no way. there has to be a catch.

“i can see you’re confused.” if you weren’t certain it would hurt, you’d have said something sharp in reply. “thoma is an excellent judge of character. though he is sometimes far too kind for his own good, he still knows a criminal when he sees one. i am inclined to agree with his judgement, and this wouldn’t be the first time the tenryou commission has unwittingly accused an innocent.”

…huh?

the sudden tone shift sends your brain in a loop, repeating his words over in your mind. he was offering you an out? why was he willing to go so far from his duties for somebody he didn’t know?

ayato finishes his tea, setting down the empty cup on a platter. he seems to be waiting for your response, surprisingly, and the only problem is that you don’t know what to say.

you’re faced with the same dilemma again: trust, and get involved with people that could get you in severe trouble were you to be caught, or decline, and risk getting caught quicker by giving up that safety.

footsteps project thoma’s rearrival. he hesitated in the doorway, likely sensing the tension, but comes in anyway, placing down first a plain notepad, then a similarly simple pen on top.

“would you like anything else, my lord?”

“sit, please.”

thoma pauses again, and it’s comforting to know that not everybody here knows everything.

that point is driven further home when he chooses to sit next to you rather than ayato.

the commissioner himself seems shocked, his eyes widening slightly as he sits up straighter. beside you, thoma’s hands twist in his lap, and you wonder if even he knows why he chose what he did.

ayato clears his throat, catching your attention once more.

“do you accept?”

[starshipsofstarlord]

There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

[thebadbatch]

Hey! Could I get a wrecker x gn reader with prompts 7 & 10 from the fluff section? Where the reader is having trouble sleeping after a mission so wrecker helps them by going on a late night adventure to cheer them up? If that makes sense? ☺�� thank you!!

A/N: I hope you enjoy this! I can definitely see this happening canon but with Omega! Wrecker is such a sweetheart i'd love to be friends with him omg…

Wrecker x Gn!Reader 

Plot After another tough Mission you struggle to sleep but that is something your close friend Wrecker can help with through a little adventure.

Warnings: Difficulty to go back to sleep but very fluffy and eventually you manage to sleep!

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

Midnight Mantell

"Fall back!" Hunter's voice sliced through the already buzzing air, blaster shots lingering in the air and flying past your skin. With a deep breath you continued to fire your duo blasters, stepping backwards besides Wrecker and doing everything within your power to avoid the heated fire. You don't really remember how you all exactly got into this messy situation as everything felt like a blur. Blasting down a couple more clankers you turned and made a run for the Havoc Marauder with the rest of the batch who had continued to throw bullers behind them. "Tech, get the ship online and straight to Ord Mantell." With a quick nod, Tech ran ahead and began to power on its systems. That all too familiar hum of the attack shuttle always filled you with a feeling of safety and comfort as it always meant you were all about to leave together and safe. Turning to fire some more bullets, one of theirs shot against your cheek making you wince and throw yourself back into the ship. You were used to close calls but you swore they were getting more dangerous per mission. Sighing at the sting against your cheek, you fired a few more bullets as everybody else made it onto the Marauder safely and signalling for the ramp to be closed and to take off for our next destination. Laying on the flour completely worn out, Wrecker joined you after removing his signature helmet.

"That was definitely something new." You laughed a little and nodded whilst re-attaching your blaster back against your armour. 

"Why is it always us that get sent into traps?" You asked, sighing and finally being able to capture your breath once again. The ship finally lit up with the colour of the stars in hyperspace, Ord Mantell just a short while away. Crosshair was leaning against the wall nearby, cleaning his firepuncher as soon as he could. 

"Because we always need the credits." He sighed, putting a toothpick back between his lips. Wrecker laughed lightly before sitting up, 

"Why don't we get some rest before Ord Mantell? You look like you need it." Rolling your eyes you dragged yourself upwards with a light huff, pulling yourself toward the bunks. 

"Thanks Wrecker!" Playful sarcasm rang throughout your tone as you reached your bunk, his laugh making you smile to yourself as you allowed the cool and comforting texture of the blankets to greet you. Closing your eyes, sleep greeted you almost immediately - thoughts of the mission still lurking in your head. You definitely needed this and by the time you woke up, you were all, sure to be at Ord Mantell. 

Once your eyes opened, you rubbed them gently and began to make your way into the cockpit a little worried you missed landing which you did. Looking around the room you noticed it was just you and the planet lay within the darkness of night. What were you supposed to do now? There was definitely not a chance you could fall back to sleep now especially with the dreams you had about the mission and the sting against your cheek. Moving to the side, you began to fumble around with the Med kit and grabbing a single bacta wipe to place against your cheek which just made you hiss a little at the harsher stinging until it settled down. Footsteps soon accompanied you along with a gentle voice, 

"Hey y/n, aren't ya sleepin'?" You smiled gently at his voice before turning around to face him. 

"Nah I can't get back to sleep. I'm sorry I slept through landing!" You grinned slightly toward him. "I trust it was a smooth landing as always?" Your playful tone made him chuckle a little before he began to help apply a light patch of bacta over your cheek. 

"Oh yeah, completely." Gently patting your shoulder he gave you a light smile in return to yours. "Hey, why don't we go out for a little? It might help ya sleep." Tilting your head at him you began to put the Med kit away with a light laugh. 

"Are you suggesting we sneak out to view Ord Mantell?" He just nodded at you, gesturing toward the ramp. 

"Why not? Not like they're gonna miss us, they're out like a light - even Hunter." Your response was just to let down the ramp whilst keeping your gaze trained on Wrecker. 

"Just remember this is your idea so you better take the fall if they wake up earlier." Grabbing his blaster he walked out with you, the cool night air instantly hitting your face as your eyes became glued upon the city lights before you. You could even hear some faint music from the various bars and clubs being carried over to you by the wind. Stepping forward Wrecker followed you whilst rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Where do you think we should go?" With a light laugh you pulled him by his arm, taking you both further away and closer into the city. 

"I've got some spare credits, why don't we grab a couple of things? Kinda like midnight snacks." His face soon turned into a state of confusion at your words. 

"Midnight snacks?" He paused for a moment in thought, "What're they?" 

"They're just treats you have late at night! Come on, it'll be fun." Gently tugging him further along, you both finally reached the city's paths which were still buzzing even at this hour of the night. Pushing past a few people, you both approached the market stalls, many of which were selling a variety of mouth-watering food and a selection of sweeter treats. Rolling your eyes over the colourful selections you hummed lightly, "Have you got a favourite treat?" He replied without hesitation, 

"Mantell mix!" Your eyes fell upon the purple toned treat, instantly grabbing two boxes of the kind and paying the kind twi'lek who seemed pretty pleased yet confused with your purchase. Passing the box to Wrecker, you clung to your own and began to walk back out of the city with him all while embracing the cotton textured breeze that greeted your skin. Warily you took a bite of the sweet treat and instantly grinned ear-to-ear.

"How come I've never tried this before?" You asked, beginning to eat a handful whilst Wrecker did the same. "This is brilliant!" He laughed at your enthusiasm as you both allowed your legs to take you both elsewhere. 

"I have it all the time, we should do this more often!" You just nodded until you allowed your eyes to trail to the sky above you, thousands of stars littering the sky with the slightest hint of a golden sunrise starting to take over the night sky. 

"We should! Let's go eat these back at the Marauder just in case." Wrecker agreed pretty quickly and you both made your way back into the ship's warmth. Upon arrival, you both shut the ramp behind you and lounged around in the pilot's seats laughing and dropping the occasional Mantall mix upon the floor. Eventually you had both managed to drift back into slumber and once the rest of the ship had woken up, Tech wasn't really pleased at the mess. It was definitely worth it though and a loving memory with a close friend you'd keep forever

[bookofmirth]

ok so this might come off as a bit rambly so please bear with me lol

i've noticed that the acotar fandom has this incessant need to be right when it comes to canon and it really sucks out the funness of fandom. shipping is supposed to be fun but when it comes to this fandom, it's almost like a competition to see who will be more right when the books come out. engaging with theories/predictions about characters and the plot is supposed to be exciting but when it comes to this fandom, some of the theories/predictions are problematic at worst and nonsensical at best. like how can you say with your full chest that you're so confident about where the series is heading in the future because of this or that theory when you're stuck in the past and refuse to see what all of the text is telling you in the present. it doesn't make sense. the selective reading is so strong that it has me looking sideways sometimes lol

i guess my question is why do you think the fandom is so divided when it comes to ships right now? i've seen people say this wasn't the case for feysand and nessian, so what's the difference here?

Oh boy Brielle, I have some thoughts on this. It's complex.

To be clear, I am not saying that this applies to literally every single person who ships a certain way. This is a commentary on the fandom as a whole, and there are always exceptions.

This got really, really long, so I'm putting it under the cut.

I think that one of the main draws of this series, and of sjm's writing in general, is her ships. I think that people get very, very attached to their ships.

I also think that sjm does NOT fully think through some of the choices that she makes when writing. See: the way that she takes from all these different cultures and mashes them together, which could be seen as disrespectful of their origin. She has retconned things, like Mor being queer and Lucien being Helion's son. I think that she thoroughly thinks about some of the aspects of her books, like Rhys's reaction to sleeping with Feyre for the first time, but then really half-asses other aspects of her books, like Mor coming out.

Then, we have your good old misogyny and homophobia - people in the fandom don't like Mor because she hurt the poor bat boy's feelings when she didn't sleep with him, and they don't have a mating bond, but she's never really told Azriel "no", and so every single moment of pain that Azriel has felt in 500 years is Morrigan's fault. And Mor's experience as a closeted queer woman who feels unsafe around the people she should trust the most is completely disregarded by the fandom.

Finally, I think that a combination of these factors has created the monster we know as e*riel, and that the fandom is perpetuating its own mythology.

What all of this comes down to, and the real reason I think that the fandom is behaving this way right now, is that e*riel is dead. It's never happened, it's not going to happen, but because we don't have the clear closure we got with moriel (where people would be accused of homophobia for continuing to ship it), people are still trying to figure out any possible way for e*riel to become canon, though every single sign points to it being a non-issue.

This weird thing where people have to be "right" all the time, and the way that "right" = "canon" is a relatively new development. It's as if everyone in this fandom forgot that they are in fact in a fandom, which inherently diverges from canon.

However, I think that the need to cling to canon is because the alternative would be to admit defeat and say "well, even if it doesn't happen I will still ship e*riel, it's fine, I will live with that." But they don't want to do that. In response, they look at canon so hard that they are reading the white space between the letters to create their theories, which as you noted as largely nonsensical and often fail to take into account who the characters are as individuals, how they are connected to other characters, and why it would or wouldn't be appropriate for them to be involved in various plots.

People could say, as eluciens having been saying since day one, "I really ship this thing but I can see that it might not become canon". But they don't say that. They literally refuse to see any other possibility than e*riel becoming canon.

You pointed out that people are stuck in the past - absolutely. The number of reimaginings I have seen of scenes where either Azriel or Elain has literally zero to do with the scene, but people try to shove one or both of them in there. And this from books ago. People are stuck on the Truthteller scene, and refuse to acknowledge that neither of them have acted on their feelings, whatever those might be, for years. And they ignore the fact that once Elain and Az do act, it goes horribly wrong.

Here are the facts as of right now:

ACOSF is the most recent book. In that book, sans extra chapter, those two had no interaction other than looking at one another.

If we include his POV, then he said it was wrong, we got confirmation that nothing has ever happened between them, she returned his necklace. Elain was aroused, but that does not mean she was ready to even have sex. "Yes" to a kiss is not "yes" to every single sexual act Az can think of. They parted on awkward, bad terms after a scene in which it seemed like they were about to start something. Yikes. Unlike Wings and Embers, they did not end that chapter still thinking of one another. After they part ways, the omniscient narrator does not mention Elain, or Az thinking about Elain, again.

His POV occurs months before the end of the book. They do not interact after that.

Elain has a mate she has not rejected, nor accepted.

So anyway, your question was why are people like this. lol. I think the fandom created a monster, and that monster is clinging to life. It can't accept the idea of morphing into a non-canon ship, though it never was canon in the first place. It had just convinced itself that it was.

There are other aspects to this, that have to do with gwynriel and elucien.

Gwynriel is a new ship, it's almost guaranteed to happen, people are super excited to ship it and give Gwyn all their love. I'm sure they would rather create content for that ship than argue about whether or not it's going to be canon, but they are in constant defense mode. Some people honestly didn't like e*riel before because they don't like Elain, or because they don't like Azriel, and those are valid reasons for not liking it. Why people ship gwynriel doesn't matter. The tone of the discussion is, unfortunately, being shaped elsewhere, which I will mention below.

Elucien is an old ship, older than e*riel. I can speak from this perspective - personally, I have been holding my tongue for 4.5 years. I have been letting people live, and just talking about the things I like. Then when acosf came out, it was like I could finally say all the things I had been thinking about Azriel, because I now had proof that the things I thought about his character (and because of that, about e*riel) now had solid canon foundation. This is 4.5 years of me holding in a lot of shit and finally being able to say it. Sometimes yes, I might take joy in having been right.

I think that a few people are clinging to canon, and that sets the tone for the discourse in the fandom. Someone says "according to page whatever, blah blah blah" and people feel the need to respond, and then it turns into and "I'm right" contest instead of... a fandom... A lot of us like debating. To me, it's fun. But when Person A starts a conversation that's about canon and it actually ignores canon, it's hard to let that conversation go by and just keep creating whatever we want to create. Instead, we respond, and so the tone of the conversation is shaped by what Person A decided to say.

I also think that there is a lack of distinction between theories (what will happen in the future) and meta (analysis of what we have now).

There is also a lack of "I" statements. Opinions are being stated as fact.

idk if there is a way to make it better, other than to just go back to ignoring one another. This whole situation makes me want to throw out every single canon ship I like and create exclusively non-canon content, just for spite. Except I really like doing meta, and so I don't want to. I guess for my point, I'll just keep doing meta, keep creating different content, and keep reminding people that they aren't here to continue perpetuating canon, but to play with it.

[hanibalistic]

#67509E | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | fluff

word count | 1889

warning | appearances of vampire fangs, mention of blood sucking

tag | @fluffyskzclub​

note | i miss hyunjin.

hyunjin pouted like he was throwing a tantrum—well, to a certain degree, he was throwing a small tantrum.

he curled himself around the fluffy blanket that you two left on the couch from yesterday's spontaneous movie night as he pouted at you bitterly. he tried to fit his tall body within the blanket, but his long legs awkwardly jutted out of the end corner, unable to bend enough to curl himself into a tiny ball. his head poked out of the blanket he draped around his shoulder and over his head.

"must you open the curtains all the time?" he whined with furrowed brows, lightly kicking his feet against the couch. "i hate the sun, you know that!"

you rolled your eyes as you closed the curtains after being drowned in his mindless complaints about the last half an hour. you had opened them so the plants could soak in some sunlight. you even took into consideration that hyunjin would be asleep for longer like he always does, otherwise, you would have never let the sunlight into your shared apartment. but for some reason, he decided to leave his stupid coffin earlier today.

to listen to the birds' chirp perhaps. that's the kind of leisure activity a hundred-year-old would like, you bet.

the same thing happens every time you open the blinds, which is that hyunjin does not shut up about him disliking the sun and how it weakens his vampirism as opposed to it actually killing him. he would not stop until you close the curtains and turn on the lights, which often made you scoff. not only was he annoying, for a vampire who was supposed to burn under the sun, he sure does speak of it a lot.

"we will need sunlight somehow, hyunjin," you said as you turned around to glare at him. "the plants you stole, from outside, in the morning, will need sunlight."

you emphasized your words to make sure he knew of all the heinous frustrations he has caused you. the puppy pout on his face, as well as the pitying glint in his eyes, only deepened with each emphasis of your voice, his body flinching and shrinking when he could tell that you were upset with him.

watching him, there was a rush of conflict brewing like bubbles in you. you weren't sure if you felt more annoyed or endeared about the fact that hyunjin, a not quite literally ancient but old enough to feel ancient vampire, gained such comfortability from you that he was fine with throwing a childish tantrum in front of you.

he looks cute, surely! he always does. but sometimes, you genuinely could not stand another second of him whining.

"stop yelling at me! you know what the sun does to a vampire!" he retorted.

oh, god—blah, blah, blah.

"yeah, a vampire that doesn't have an accessory of the sigil," you said cleverly as you moved over to him. you yanked the blanket off his body, ignoring his protest, and you pointed at his neck. "like the necklace you never take off!"

"i only got this recently! the witch would have never sold me this if you hadn't come with me," he argued, pulling the blanket around him again. "i'm not used to the sun yet, just let me have a little more time."

you pursed your lips together, your neck turning sour at his poor mumble as you softened. he did only just get the necklace—by just, it was about two to three months ago. however, while that alone may seem like a long period, comparing that to almost a whole decade of no sunlight, perhaps he really just needed more time to adjust.

but! zooming past the streets, leaving normal people wondering where the sudden gust of wind came from, and hiding in the apartment that leaves no room for any traces of sunlight was not the way to go about it!

"how about just a little bit, hmm?" you said then, suggesting a compromise casually while you walked toward the window. "take it little by little!"

hyunjin widened his eyes in disbelief as you moved farther away from him. he shook his legs in protest, his body moving animatedly on the cushiony couch as he protested loud and clear. "hey! you better not open the curtains, [name]!"

you grabbed the hem of the curtains, your mind occupied with calculating the correct amount you would flip open. it has to be a very small amount, to a point where the sunlight could only hit one leaf of the plant on the window rail, or just one square of your marble floor. it has to be the form of sunlight that could not hurt even a fly, so you could show him just how goddamn dramatic he was being.

"[name], i swear!"

"oh, bite me," you muttered under your breath.

there was a gust of wind—a familiar kind. it blew at the tip of your hair, making it waft around, and the hem of your thin shirt also danced at the breeze of hyunjin's vampiric speed.

blinking consciously, you loosened your grip on the curtains and turned around. immediately, upon feeling the heat of his face, you flinched back and closed your eyes to settle yourself.

"jesus–what the hell, hyunjin?" you muttered with a hand on your chest before you slowly opened your eyes.

hyunjin was glaring at you; no malice, just alluring intensity. his hair fell over his face prettily. the sunlight that he didn't seem to care much for now shone a soft haze over half of his face, making him glow and glitter naturally.

"those are some reckless words to say to a vampire," he said lowly, tilting his head to the side lightly as he arched a brow, "don't you think?"

your heart pounced.

the matter of blood, or just his general nature as a vampire, like his need to feed off of human beings, has only come up once.

he mentioned it to you when he was applying to be your roommate, having a foul plan to erase your memories in case the truth was not well-received by you. he told you that he has been a vampire for a while so he knew how to control his urges, therefore you would not be in any harm, and the matter was never spoken of again.

he held up his words. he has never discussed blood with you, he has never shown any blood-thirsty behavior at all. he acted like any other roommates you have had; being too loud at night, eating cereal in the living room and eyeing your bed-head with a judgemental gaze, knocking at your door and asking if you wanted to pick a takeout place.

if he used his powers less, you would have forgotten about his vampiric side.

why was your heart thumping then? was he too pretty for your own good? or was he standing too close for familiar comfort? or perhaps both?

you scoffed, making your thoughts vanish. "you won't bite me."

hyunjin softened in a way you couldn't catch. deep within the tender wash of his eyes was a sea of wildfires he hid behind closed doors.

you were right, he won't bite you, but he wants to, especially because the smell of your blood happened to be more enticing than others because he likes you.

the art of blood sharing (in a sense) is done between lovers; consider it like leaving a love mark, of a sort. it is an act of claiming and reassurance, and hyunjin has been wanting to sink his fangs into your flesh for a while so he could leave a bite mark.

but he could never do that. that was a desire trapped in his throat, urging to be let out and to be voiced, and hyunjin would not allow it. there were too many risks of unleashing the deep-seated yearning in his chest. it lingered in his head in withdrawal, cautiously threading through his mind to keep his urges contained.

he puts his want elsewhere. his want to taste your blood, to kiss your neck, has to grow somewhere, so he has to put it somewhere, and he puts in it his daydream which that manifests gently when he is with you, and ferociously when you were away.

"i won't," he muttered under his breath, to which you relaxed at. but then he grinned, and he opened his mouth to speak first, "doesn't mean i can't, though."

you widened your eyes when black veins draped beneath his eyes and his sharp fangs appeared. it was a terrifying sight, but you were only shocked to see it than scared. rationally, you reached your hands up and slapped your palms against his cheeks, startling him.

"hmmm... " you grumbled, sounding thoughtful as you surveyed his shocked expression.

the veins under his eyes retreated and the colors returned to his face. the innocence flooded back into him, bright and boyish, and he dared not move an inch under the pressure of your gaze—beneath your touch hyunjin is but a gentle boy hapless in love.

"ah...aah...wha–" he closed his eyes slightly and opened them with furrowed brows, confused and helpless with his head slightly tilted up. his words were muffled but jot too hard to understand. "[name]–why–uhh–"

you pushed at his upper lip with your thumb and looked at his fangs, wondering why they did not retreat with the dark haze of his eyes. then, ignoring hyunjin's muffled questions, you carefully poked at the tip of his teeth—razor-sharp, but very real.

he was whining again. his hands reached out to the hem of your shirt and desperately, as well as timidly, tugged at it. meanwhile, he put on a defeated face. as much as he would with your thumbs poking his fangs, that was.

"ahh, please stop–[name], stop touching my fangs–why," he feigned a sob, shaking his head as a blush reached his cheeks, "they're just teeth."

"teeth that puncture," you commented when you let go. the way your thumbs briefly smoothed over his top lip was not lost on him.

seeing his pout, you pursed your lips with faint guilt. rubbing the back of your neck, you shrugged. "sorry about that, i just got curious."

"it's okay," he waved you off quickly, "i was curious too when i first got them."

hyunjin looked at you when you giggled under your breath; soft, hearty giggles that tried to conceal themselves without the anticipation for his vampiric hearing. gentle, funny giggles that never once questioned his problematic past. lovely, adoring giggles that are here before and after he revealed who he is to you.

he came to your apartment begging for a home where he could be himself, and you allowed him safety with you.

"alright," you said with a curt smile, "i'm going to go change, need to get grocery."

"i–i'll come with!"

you seemed shocked for a moment, accessing him like a trick question. then you relaxed and nodded with nonchalance. "yeah, whatever."

he melted despite the lackluster reaction. it was the excitement that counted. smiling to himself, he twirled and twisted his body shyly as the sun shone from outside.

yeah. hyunjin truly is but a simple boy in love with you.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yandere Behavior: Dabi

→ Yandere MBTI type: CAHL. (Cruel, Aware, Honest, Lenient).

Dabi is a yandere that doesn’t see the point in beating around the bush. He takes a far more direct approach once you manage to secure his interest, though he does tend to do his own fair share of stalking. The information he gets on you from stalking is more of a byproduct than his actual goal, which is to watch you purely for fun. Has a massive amount of knowledge on your schedule from the hours spent tailing you. Doesn’t mind slipping this knowledge into when you’re talking, asking how meeting with a friend went when you both know he shouldn’t have that knowledge. Stopped trying to hide it a long time ago.

He doesn’t mince his words when speaking to others, this also applies to when he speaks with you. The cruel category fits him slightly more because of this. While there is a special fondness reserved only for you in his heart, it’s all the more reason to tease and see how much you can handle. He wants to see everything -- from your frustration to your cute tear-stricken cheeks -- knowing it was him that garnered such a reaction. It’s a pride thing.

Unlike delusional yanderes, he’s in touch with the reality of his actions. Dabi knows you must resent him. That you even have good reason to. It’s not enough to drive him away to be aware of this, he’ll continue his quest of plaguing your life, having no intention of letting you slip away. It feels nice knowing that he’s important to you, even if it’s for negative reasons; this role is reserved solely for himself. This little cat and mouse dynamic is addicting. 

While manipulation isn’t an area that he’s incompotent in, he just doesn’t see the point to it most of the time. It’s far more intriguing to see how you’ll handle his true intentions on display. Dabi still might nudge you in the direction he wants, he takes a somewhat more hands off approach. Watching you scramble to get around the casual threats he puts out on those close to you is endearing. What will you come up with? How much more can you handle? This prospect of the unknown is exciting to him.

He could resort to kidnapping, and might end up doing it eventually, but normally lets you run around living your own life. Or at least you’re under the impression it’s your life. Paying you a nightly visit and then watching from afar as you try oh so hard to continue on a normal schedule is adorable to him. You never fail to entertain him. Should he feel you’re neglecting to pay attention to him, he’ll send you a picture of yourself from afar for good measure. Just a little reminder that you’re never alone like you hope you are.

This perfect little fantasy he’s created can be imposed upon by others. Undesirable people that soak up too much of your time for Dabi’s liking are treasured as pests, and he’d never acknowledge this should you mention it to him. He just shrugs, saying something among the lines of, “Who knows? Maybe you’re just cursed, dollface.” No one is capable of antagonizing you as well as he does. Dabi boasts that it’s a natural born talent of his.

There’s also this suspense factor of not knowing when exactly he’s going to show up in your life again. Sometimes you can’t go an hour without multiple unknown numbers texting you, and on the flip side of that, sometimes he “disappears” into thin air for weeks. Only to rear his face again when you’ve grown complacent, tearing away the hope of living a regular life again. Dabi wants you to never stop thinking about him. What he’s doing, what he might do, when he’s going to show up in your life next. 

When he promised there was no getting rid of him, he meant it. How Dabi deals with things depends solely on you. Should you try and contact law enforcement or heroes, he’ll give you an ominous warning about what could possibly happen to those you care for. If you keep ignoring him, he’ll do something similar, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. There’s no winning.

He leaves tiny gifts around your residence. It serves a few purposes in his mind. One, that you really are his favorite to have earned all this attention. Two, that he’s capable of bypassing any security measures you try to put up. And finally, the added bonus of you always having him in mind, whenever you stumble across one of his “gifts”. They actually tend to be stuff you like. A game you wanted, a new pair of shoes. Or they can be lascivious in nature. Lingerie, obscene notes, short skirts. It depends on his mood that day. 

Quotes.

“Surprise. I heard you got a raise at work, how wonderful is that. I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in... I just thought you’d might want to celebrate. Ah. Put your phone down before this gets ugly, won’t you? I’m here purely on innocent intentions.” 

“Aw, what’s with the look doll? Did you think you got rid of me or something? Ah, how cute is that. Sorry to disappoint. I had some business to do elsewhere, but don’t you worry your pretty little head, I didn’t forget about you. I sure hope you didn’t forget about me either.” 

“Hm... I can’t say I know what happened to him. Maybe he tripped and hit his head? Hey, I am being serious here. What does it matter anyways. Guy was a loser, move on already. Seeing you mope for this long is starting to bother me.” 

[psychoqomp]

coward montblanc

Suitcase open.

Take out the parts. Check one last time that everything’s in working order so there’s no jamming, clean every part with a rag, he has time.

Assemble the rifle. 

Open up the thermos and take a long, long sip of coffee. Let out an exhale and watch the breath waft into the air in a cloud of warmth into the chill autumn air. . .

And then lay down and take aim to the field a block away, scope trained on a single man sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field. He only has one guard with him, and the audience besides them is sparse;

it’s just an elementary grade football game, after all.

About thirty minutes pass in silence, with Eagle occasionally lifting the thermos to his lips to sip. It’ll stay warm for another hour before it gets too cool for his liking.

“Soooooo,”

the grating voice in his earpiece speaks up, causing him to cringe mid-sip. He doesn’t couch, but he feels the scalding heat run up his nose for just a bit before he regains control of his faculties.

“You gonna kill him this year or should I schedule the assassination for the next year, buddy?”

There’s no answer from his end for about five minutes, at which point Silk starts to whine in an annoying manner right into his ear. His focus doesn’t sway, but the constant noise is distracting enough that he finally chooses to grumble an answer, shifting on his hip so that the pressure from laying down applies elsewhere for a bit.

“Don’t want to shoot him while he’s watching his daughter’s footie game.”

Simple, really.

“Woooow. So, what? Did you just come here to watch the game too? Christ, Eagle, you’re a real fruitcake.”

He can hear the way Silk leans back in his chair and throws his feet onto the table without actually hearing it, and he’s amused for the briefest of moments- mostly at the thought of pissing his employer off. All the while he digs out his own phone and sets it down on a small stand next to his rifle, turning it on.

He’s got another reason why he’s taking his time with this.

. . . As far as his family knows, he’s currently in Ethiopia, overseeing a project for the company he works for as a security consultant. In truth, he’s “merely” at the other end of the country, and he promised he’d watch his daughter’s oboe recital through a stream. It just happened to coincide with this job.

Of course, he has to take precautions-

“Sorry, I can’t have a face cam or anything. It’s so late here and I look like a mess, haha.”

“Sorry dear, I can’t really talk during it. We’re in this barracks- plenty of people together and all that. Wouldn’t want to disrupt everyone else’s sleep.”

“I’ll try and write some comments, but I can’t promise anything.”

Little white lies like this are what keep a relationship afloat, of course. And he took his precautions- He actually did visit Ethiopia for a job like this a few years ago, and he still has footage he hasn’t shown or used for anything. He’s been sending that to her when she asks for pictures.

Does he feel bad about lying to her?

Does he feel bad about lying to the kids?

The scalding hot taste of the truth disappears down his gullet as his attention swaps between the scope and the stream now and then, quietly watching both. The game will last longer than the stream will.

“Seriously, why’s he still alive?”

Or he would be listening if not for the annoying voice again. Eagle squeezes his eyes shut to rest them for a bit.

“Do you want an honest answer, Silk?”

“Waoooo-”

oh, he wants to fucking strangle him.

“you’re implying you’d give me a false answer if I said no. You’d lie to me? Your number 1 guy? The guy of your dreams? Eybor, you’re gonna make me cryyyyyyyywaahhwahwahwah- duh. Tell me. I’m your /employer/, Eagle. I should know why the target isn’t dead already when you’ve had the shot for the last half an hour.”

Ah, he’s mad now. He's very glad. He likes making him mad. Not like Silk can do anything to him from here.

He shifts the scope and watches a child kick the ball about. Game’s been boring, on account of it being played by a bunch of 9 year olds that have no relation to him. The scope shifts back to watch the target.

“Don’t want to traumatize a whole field of kids, obviously. Besides. . . He’s with one guard. He’ll get into his car once the match is over, and then I’ll just shoot him while he’s in the car. That way, his kid will remember him by something good.”

The silence is deafening as he finishes his coffee in his thermos, watching his daughter’s recital in peace and quiet until it ends fifteen minutes later. She did take breaks between, of course, but still.

“Wooooooow. You’re such a loser, Eagle.”

Silk does not elaborate, and Eagle does not ask for clarification. He’s learned that Silk is best left alone. Only talk to him when the job absolutely demands it, and he’ll get bored and swap lines to bully someone else.

(little does he know, Silk’s occupied flirting with a new hire anyway.)

. . . 

If he died out here, how would it get explained to his wife and children?

They think he’s in Ethiopia, and he went through multiple measures to try and ensure that the world also thought the same. Would they just declare Eybor a missing person and move on? 

That’s one of the many parts of this life that he hates, watching the match come to an end as he loads a bullet into the sniper rifle, breath slowing down. He watches the man hug his child and pat them on the back- they lost, but that’s fine, they’ll get ice cream later- and then he starts to head for the parking lot with his bodyguard.

He’s the CEO of a mid level company that a much larger competitor wants to take over. Hostile means are encouraged, as seen by this job. Pay is high with little risk. Most people just don’t want the job due to the nature of it;

boring. 

His thermos is empty, the stream has ended, and he has typed no comments as Eagle trains his eye on the slowly moving car, catching it in the red lights. The angle he has is perfect, passenger’s side in view- wind is calm, no obstacles, and-

bang.

Load.

Bang.

. . .

That’ll do. He took the driver out too to be safe, just in case he’d happen to look the way the shot came. The rest of the crowd’s in a panic already, and shooting the driver just as the lights turned green means that he’s caused quite the traffic jam. Time to take out his second, disposable phone and take a picture. Zoom in as close as you can, and there.

He’ll just text that to Silk later. A low whistle leaves him in a broken tune as he disassembles the riffle, stores it in his suitcase, places the thermos into his coat’s pocket and makes sure he’s leaving behind no evidence of his presence, including meticulously sweeping some of the leaves on the roof around with his foot around where he was lying before.

That should do it.

Down the fire ladder before the police get here and down the streets. With the job done, he has about three days of “vacation time” before he can turn up back home.

. . . He almost calls his daughter to tell them about how proud he is of their performance, but he realizes that’d break the veil. Why would he call while sleeping in some barracks in Ethiopia? He’d have to wait for at least five more hours before he could make the call, and he’d have to fake being awake and in a crowded environment for it to sound believable.

Blue and red lights flash past him as he walks down the street, suitcase in one hand and phone in the other, frowning as he sighs and just texts a quick “loved it. good night” to his wife instead.

He does this all for them, he tells himself.

The paycheck for this job will be amazingly thick. He can take at least a month off of work and attend as many practices and recitals as he wants, and he can take his wife out for a fancy dinner.

So why’s this somehow feel worse than two timing them?

Somewhere, a child is sitting at the bleachers of a slowly emptying football field with their friends, wondering what kind of ice cream they’ll have with their father. 

[neverdoingmuch]

Wait cql lawyer/law school AU

i got you my pal dont worry!!

law school, im gonna be honest and say i know like nothing about law or law school so pls ignore any inconsistencies or inaccuracies

lwj goes to law school and he is definitely the top student in his class. they’ve been there for like a month and everyone already knows he’s gonna be the best

his one and only competition is this dude called wei wuxian but lwj isn’t particularly worried about him

so far they’re still in the stage of the course where they do the fun things to sucker people into doing the class for the semester so there’s been some practise debates and arguments and stuff in their tutorial classes

wei wuxian has that Charisma and like yeah all of his arguments are perfect but also he has an amazing smile and people are like yes i can trust him 

(he’s definitely the sort to be like hm, the easy way to argue this case would be to quote some laws and use precedence to justify this but that’s boring)

lwj is also good at that sort of stuff because his arguments are perfect and everything is so perfectly researched that there should be no ground at all for someone to lodge a counterargument

(wei wuxian manages somehow and it makes lwj so mad)

but that’s whatever lwj thinks,, a lot of people join law thinking it’s gonna be like the tv shows and books and then get completely blindsided when it comes to the rote learning part or like the actual laws 

and for all of wwx’s confidence, lwj hasn’t actually seen wwx so much as touch the textbook/s and he always studies in the law library so he knows that wwx has probably never even been there bc he hasn’t seen him even once (why’s he looking? bc he needs to see which books wwx uses to study,, bc there has to be something going on there,, obviously)

then they do their first like proper written assignment and lwj and wwx tie for the highest scores and now lwj has a Rival and he refuses to lose to someone who thinks that putting a ‘-us’ sound at the end of a word makes it latin (did wwx say habeas corpus and then point at a soft drink and go  sprite-us can-us,,, maybe,,,,)

anyway! lwj and wwx are kinda rivals for the top spot and it’s one of those situations where one test lwj wins by a point but then the next test wwx gets full marks and they just keep exchanging the top spot in class

and this whole time wwx is like The Worst to have in class. he’s always interrupting to ask questions or just straight up not listening and spends the class doodling pictures of rabbits (they’re cute but wwx is terrible and he’s not allowed to make cute drawings)

so after a few months the most horrible thing happens.... they get put together in a project and lwj is like ugh. internally of course but his face is also saying ugh

the first time wwx and lwj get together to work on the project, lwj is prepared with a proper list of tasks to do all nicely split up between the two of them and a schedule for when they should get certain parts done by. 

needless to say, lwj does not expect wwx to be ready, but wwx is definitely on top of things

he rocks up and is like yeah let’s do this, this and this and have them done by this time - basically proposing to do everything that lwj has already written down

and lwj is pleasantly surprised and is like hm maybe i misjudged wwx and decides to like re-evaluate his opinion on him

in doing so he realises that when he’d never seen wwx studying, it wasn’t an exaggeration at all. he’s never seen wwx so much as touch a textbook or spend more than a minute on a laptop doing something that wasn’t minesweeper or solitaire

but wwx is also making all of their deadlines and even adds extra information and resources to their document that could be useful elsewhere and sometimes he shows up to their study sessions and he looks absolutely exhausted

eventually lwj manages to get the truth out and wwx is just like yeah it’s easier to get worse grades than a genius but if you both study and you still get lower grades, it’s not easy,, for jc or for me

so wwx usually studies at night when his brother is asleep and lwj is like that’s bad, you can’t keep that up and just when wwx is about to go off at him lwj is like you can come study at my place

and thus begins the wonderful time where everything is alright and lwj falls in love with wwx

they work really well together and wwx is strangely considerate and nice? when he finds out lwj likes rabbits, he goes out and buys bunny post-it notes for lwj and starts to always bring him a doodle of bunnies every time he comes over. he always gets his work done on time, early even, and his work is always so brilliant and every time wwx smiles at him, lwj feels warm inside etc etc

for a long while lwj is like yes (: this is friendship (: bc he’s never had a crush before but then on the day they submit their project wwx is like hey,, the two of us make a great team,, we should always work together,, now and next year and even when we graduate,, i want to help the innocent people who need our help and i think i’d like it a lot if you joined me and lwj has his oh moment

they get a perfect score on the project of course and even after it finishes, wwx keeps coming over to lwj’s place to study or just hang out and lwj is just falling more and more for wwx each day

they’re best friends now and everyone gets used to seeing them work together on projects and then turn around to try and decimate each other when they’re working one on one and lwj thinks that he might just be the happiest he’s ever been

but then one day wwx doesn’t show up to class. it shouldn’t be strange but wwx has never missed class even once and he ends up hearing from lxc who heard from jgy that wwx was caught sabotaging some other student’s work (the other student was jzxun, who had a fondness for playing devil’s advocate and other than wwx once telling him that his argument was shit, wwx never spoke to him or seemed to know who he was but lwj is a bit too angry to remember that)

he manages to find wwx outside of his dorms as he’s moving out and he’s just like why did you do that? and wwx is like oh y’know,, bc he’s not really sure what’s happening himself,, one second he was at the top of his class and the next he was being brought before a board and being told that he was being expelled but he’s not going to tell lwj that bc lwj would definitely try and stand up for him and then they’d both get expelled

but lwj is furious and just spits out well if our dreams meant so little to you then maybe it’s a good thing you failed now,, bc his mother was a lawyer who took all these little jobs that helped people who actually needed the help and lwj was looking forward to doing that with wwx and he doesn’t even seem to care that now they can’t do that 

wwx flinches and then smiles at him and just cheerily says, that’s me and leaves. he doesn’t look back and lwj doesn’t chase after him.

lwj doesn’t see him again for years (you can do 13 or 5 or however long you feel like)

lwj is a fully licensed lawyer and he’s working for the family company and he spends half of his time working on cases and uses the rest of his time to do like outreach programs where he goes and visits schools and runs sessions on what it’s like to be a lawyer, how to apply, and to provide assistance to any students who decide to study law at uni

and then at one of these programs he meets this kid, wen yuan, who is ridiculously bright and enthusiastic and has a smile that seems oddly familiar

at the end of the second session he comes up to lwj and is like mr. lan, is your name lan wangji? and lwj just says yes, expecting the kid to be a fan of one of his cases or something but then wen yuan is like oh wow! i thought i recognised you from my dad’s photo!

and lwj isn’t expecting much but he asks what the photo looks like and wen yuan pulls out this photo from his pocket and lwj immediately recognises it,, it’s the only photo he has of him and wwx

your father is wei ying? lwj asks him and wen yuan is like yes, hesitates, and then asks, would you like to see him?

and that’s how lwj finds himself following wen yuan to some dinky little office that has a plaque outside that reads wen and wei

(wen ning is the nicest and sweetest person ever and lots of people underestimate him but then he’s an absolute monster on court. he gets up and completely decimates the opponent and then at the end is like (: it was so nice to meet you!! i am baby!! and all that,, you know our boy)

anyway they walk in and wwx turns to greet wen yuan but then he sees lwj and is like woah! you! and he’s not sure whether to hide or go and hug lwj so he just gives him a fist bump,, like a bro,, and immediately wants to shrivel up and die

anyway they get the reunion stuff out of the way, swelling music, tender wrist holding, lots of staring, lwj silently declaring his wholehearted love for wwx and refusing to believe rumours about him again even though he doesn’t actually know what happened, you know how it goes

from wwx’s side of things,, after he got kicked out he went to some small uni. good in its own right but not known for their law program and ended up specialising in family law

the first case he ever won was for the wens to have the right to keep custody of a-yuan and the first case wen ning ever won was to let wwx adopt a-yuan bc i’m soft like that

so wwx has just been kinda vibing,, being a single dad, living with the wens and helping to make that difference he always promised he would

now this isn’t gonna be some au where lwj goes oh my! i must give up my high salary job and work with wwx! bc lwj has been doing good stuff at his current job and for all of his family’s stuffiness, they run a fair and just company 

but! he does end up helping wwx when wwx gets a letter with a bunch of information about the jins and how they’re actually super corrupt and evil (big surprise,,) and how wwx was maybe definitely framed bc he was doing some casual work on the side and stumbled across some bad shit on the jins back in uni

lwj ends up being the one to take the case officially but wwx is definitely the guy leading it and so lwj ends up spending most of his time at the wen-wei office

lwj definitely bonds with wen yuan, who also wants to go into law, and writes him recommendation letters and helps him edit his applications and stuff

(and one day wen yuan is like leaving you was the hardest thing dad ever did and i dont think you appreciated how much he cared about you. he really did think that he annoyed you ‘til the end and lwj is like no! he didn’t! and wen yuan is like yeah i know but you gotta tell him and lwj really does mean to but the time is never right or something like that but also wen yuan is all but calling lwj dad at this point)

anyway they end up going to court, side by side, working as a team just as they promised to do and just as they finish their final day on the case, ended with the jury ruling jgy guilty and wwx’s reputation all but saved, wwx turns around and flings himself at lwj

is he crying? is he laughing? a bit of both tbh but wwx ends up confessing right then and there, still on record and everything (is that how that works??? idk! let’s say it does)

and what can lwj do but make out with him?

did a news crew come in to film the results of this massive court case just to end up with five minutes of wangxian kissing?? maybe! but when it played on tv it meant wwx and lwj didnt have to actually tell anyone they got together

(and does lwj eventually pop the question using wwx’s bad latinification? yes and wwx is too busy laughing to accept at first but he does and they end up being the worst possible tutors for wen yuan as he goes through law school bc they keep being all gross and lovey-dovey and acting like law school is the most romantic place in the world)

[may-day-voice]

Prom Night Lights | The Middle

Shouto Todoroki Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/7lymhRiqtrA

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1119594884-shouto-todoroki-pro-hero-au-172732014-prom-night

Seasons come and go - summer to winter, hot to cold, and we all adapt to the smallest changes. We strip off when the heat gets unbearable, and rug up when the chill bores to the bones. But every small change can affect us - past pains and injuries being the most sensitive to these things, and between these extremes, the smallest change could be the greatest and most powerful experience that could change you.

It could even break you.

A yawn escaped your lips while you stretched your arms up above your head, pulling at every fiber across your shoulders and chest. The graduation ceremony was long and arduous, despite you sitting in a chair for hours. Well, at least three hours, but who was counting?

You glanced around Heights Alliance, watching students walk to and fro. The atmosphere was a reminder of the hardships and the hard work put into your studies on and off campus. You recalled the training sessions, the Joint Training Exercise, the constant rivalry between the classes, which made you chuckle a little at the thought. And then there were the harder times - the War being one of a few. One that you could not assist, could not dive into the front lines, and especially, if not importantly, one that you couldn’t be beside-

“Can you believe we graduated?” piped Awase with a grin plastered on his face.

You wondered how he was doing now; what he must be thinking; how his family was going. You smiled while recalling the times you rendezvoused between dormitories worrying over the smallest things, mostly over studies. And then you remembered the radio silence when the War happened, including the slow days reconnecting with him again afterwards. It was a tough road paved with difficulties, only compounded by the fact that you were in a different class from him, constantly worrying and checking your phone.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Awase, concerned.

“Yeah, of course,” you piped, snapping out of your reverie. “Just wondering how 3-A must be doing.”

“So much has happened to them, huh?”

Yes, so much has happened, and you have been confused over the years. But you couldn’t tell if it was his aloofness or his sudden shift in behavior since the War, having to deal with the aftermath. Ever since the commencement of your second year in UA there was this tension in your gut; a heavy solid feeling that grew with anxiety outside of the times you had spent with him. On top of this, days leading up to graduation felt odd and a little strained. You had noticed a flock of students following him around campus, most likely those keen on inviting him as their date to the prom the academy decided to plan to celebrate the graduating year. The amount of students who fluttered around him left you hollow, feeling hapless to the hope of being his for the night.

You hoped he would have-

“Excuse me, hi!” Called a voice from behind you and Awase, finding another student walking up to you with an awkward smile. “You don’t know me but I wanted to ask, if you weren’t too busy that I could, I mean, I would like to take you out tonight, to the prom tonight.”

You stared, shocked at the proposal from a random student out of the blue. He looked a little rough around the edges, but you didn’t recognize him until you spotted his shoulders, his blazer adorned with buttons akin to the Support classes.

“They’d love to,” answered Awase, bringing you back to speed.

“What?” you exclaimed.

“That’s great, thanks,” piped the student with a beaming smile. “I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Six is perfect,” continued Awase with a smile of his own. “We’ll make sure they’re ready.”

The student smiled wider, happy to hear the answer before he walked away, returning back to his band of friends in the distance. All you did was stare at them before turning your eye onto Awase, still with that smile on his face.

“You’re welcome,” he said before continuing on his walk through Heights Alliance.

“Why did you do that?” You questioned while catching up to him. “I could answer for myself.”

“You stood there like a deer in headlights, so I stepped in as your proxy.”

You deeply sighed before you shoved Awase playfully by the shoulder, silent with your smile but still with a heavy weight on your own.

“Hey, Monoma’s been teasing you lately about not having a date for tonight,” explained Awase. “I just helped you secure no more embarrassment.”

“I don’t even know the guy, and besides, it’s easy for Monoma to say those things,” you muttered with a sceptical brow. “He’s got that fanatic that trails behind. Where are they from? General Studies?”

“Hey come on, not his fault there’s someone out there who tolerates him, let alone idolizes him.”

You still stared ahead with a distant look in your eye, your mind elsewhere. You had hoped otherwise. You hoped you would have heard from him about this special day, but after these weeks leading up to graduation, you hadn’t heard a word. Perhaps he wasn’t ready, still dealing with the War and his family, and having to deal with school on top of that. Conversations with him outside of it all were far and few between. Perhaps he already had a date, seeing those that flocked to him wanting to garner attention or his affection for the prom. Perhaps Awase intervening with that proposal out of the blue was a good thing.

“Look, now you have a date to the prom tonight,” he continued. “So you can’t go back against your word.”

“It’s not my word. You agreed to it,” you reiterated. “Maybe you can take him out, seems like a fair trade.”

Awase laughed at your retort, only causing you to smile in return. The plan was that Class 3-B was going as a whole group to the prom, date or no date, thanks to Monoma. He was extremely teasing towards you, knowing of your connections with Class 3-A and ignoring any other follies, such as Tetsutetsu and his bromance with Kirishima, or even Awase and his growing attachment with Yaoyoruzu. But you had not heard a word, and now with a proposed date to this prom, it would be unkind to reject it now. You rolled your eyes at the thought, recalling Monoma’s haughty tone and his ever-present need to show up Class 3-A, even after all of these years.

DING

Still, plans were made to go off the rails.

“Have you heard from any agencies?” Asked Awase, curious while his eye was on you. “Any takers?”

“No,” you trailed while you looked at your phone screen, replying back. “Have you?”

“A couple, but it’s still up in the air. Heard Class 3-A already have their responses.”

No surprise there, you thought. They were the leading class of Heroes to turnover in Musatafu, and gaining a reply from any agency was becoming a pipe dream. Hearing Awase already receiving offers only made your stomach drop a little. You’ve heard nothing, wondering if your Quirk was looking more like a liability than anything else.

As if by instinct, you began parting ways from Awase, your feet taking you away from your dormitories and onto another path, leaving him behind.

“Where are you going?” He called out as you parted ways.

“Off to see a friend,” you chirped while you pocketed your phone.

You ignored Awase’s few words behind you, something akin to Monoma’s plan for the prom before jogging across Heights Alliance towards Class 3-A’s dorms, now filled with its graduating class. Years of hopping between dorms had given you a reputation amongst your class, especially Monoma of all people. But the text message was undeniably from the one person you hoped to hear from:

Would you like to come over?

Graduation was officially over, at least the formalities, but hearing from Shouto Todoroki was a blessing in disguise. After all, you both agreed to see each other before the presumptuous prom of the night.

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

----

Reaching the large doors, you cautiously walked through to find a few of the students already relaxing in the lounge and foyer. A few were in mid-conversation, while others held up their phones in cheer. Awase was right to believe that the students of Class 3-A had already received offers to agencies once they stepped out into the world. You wouldn’t think anything less, seeing their smiles beam with joy, but your eyes glanced around with no luck locating Todoroki, until you spotted a certain brunette chiding away with friends in the foyer.

“Graduated at last, congratulations,” you chirped cheerfully while you walked your way towards Uraraka.

“You too,” she piped with a smile, turning to you. “Have you figured out what agency you’ll be placed in?”

“Not a word actually. I’m sure I’ll hear something.”

“Where have you applied?”

“Genius Office, Fat Gum, Fourth Kind, Oki Mariner…”

“Oh, that’s a good one! They could be taking their time. I only heard from a few five minutes ago.”

Well, there was hope yet if students were only receiving news just now, especially those from Class 3-A. A wash of relief swept through you, knowing that there was still time to hear any news of your residencies in Musatafu before you returned back to the task at hand.

“Have you seen Todoroki?” You asked, still looking around the foyer.

“I think he’s been cooped up in his dorm ever since we got back from Gym Gamma,” informed Uraraka thoughtfully. “He’s been awfully quiet. More than usual.”

Odd. For all you knew, Todoroki was becoming despondent over graduation, wondering if the event made him so. It was a big deal for everybody in UA, now stepping forward into another world, one that had transformed in and out of the school’s grounds.

“Thanks!” You quickly piped while you made your way towards the elevators. “See you tonight?”

Uraraka only smiled and waved, seeing you off before you entered the elevators. It was like every other day when you visited his dormitory. You recalled the floor and his door, even cringing at the thought when you arrived one too many times in the middle of the night, fretting over studies and non-existent practical exams. In fact, it was the only way to speak to him after all that he had been put through. And Todoroki had been nothing but supportive and attentive to your own worries.

A light tap on his door left you standing there by the hallways again, wondering what your response would be. It’s been a while since you actually talked with him, let alone heard any invitation to visit. You assumed the graduation was a big event for his family, always referring back to the War in your mind. Was it a good idea to visit him now that the official graduation ceremony was over? You hovered your hand above the door, wanting to knock again in case he missed the first time, but you began to wonder how he must be feeling. Already with a career in Hero Society paved for him, under his father’s name, in an established agency which by all accounts would be under question because of the family drama and his-

“This is stupid,” you mumbled, turning heel to leave before the click of his door caught your ear. You spotted him by the door, dressed casually and out of uniform, but not yet dressed for the night.

Of course, this prom was hours away.

“Oh, you made it,” he remarked, his aloof eyes staring at your almost-departed form.

“Of course, is everything okay?” You asked, returning back to his dorm door.

“I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Oh no, all the congratulations goes to you, really.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

You smirked at him, a little embarrassed and a little nervous at his almost compliments, until you lightly punched him in the arm. “You asked me here to congratulate me?”

“I would be happy to meet you at your dorm if you wanted,” replied Todoroki before he stepped out from his door, shutting it behind him.

“Oh no, I would not hear the end of it from Monoma if you did.”

Todoroki chuckled while you spotted a sneaky smile from him. It was a pleasure to see him smile, even if it was brief. They were always hard to come by, and for a moment, you felt that only you could see them outside of everybody else. It made them special.

“So, have you heard from agencies?” You asked, catching Todoroki off guard. “I mean, it seems like everybody else has, and I was just curious.”

“I’m off to my father’s when I leave UA,” he replied bluntly.

“… oh.”

“And you?”

You gulped, a little paralyzed after realizing after the fact that he would ask the same question himself. “I’m… still waiting to hear back. I mean, everyone seemed to have received news not too long ago, so it shouldn’t be long now.”

“I hope so,” he replied with a smile. “You’ll do good out there.”

“You think so?”

All you saw was that smile, a larger one than the last unhidden from the world. It only made you feel warm inside, to know that he was in your corner, and open to express himself. It had been a long journey while he worked out what to do with his family and his future, tormented by the fact that-

“I asked you here because I wanted to ask you something,” he announced, catching your smiling eyes staring at him. “I know I’ve been quiet over the past few weeks. I needed to work some things out.”

“Oh, of course,” you replied. “Graduation is pretty big.”

“Yes, I needed to work out what I wanted to do and what my path was going to be once we all left here.”

He trailed a little, silent while he tried to put together the words he wanted to say. You saw it in his eyes, calculating what to do, as if he were training with you. Ever since being put together by your own choices to train one another, you had come to notice his little quirks, no pun intended. How he processed the situation, how he reacted, how he would assess his next move. It felt like that now, watching his eyes dart in thought, wondering what to say.

With all that was said, you wondered if he was trying to say farewell, even though the both of you would most likely see each other at this prom night for the graduating year. Yet he had clearly stated he wanted to ask you something on such a big occasion. And then it hit you, wondering if he was going to ask about the prom tonight. Just as he was deducing his next words, you tried to guess what they were.

Was he going to ask you-

“Would you like me to put in a word for you at my father’s agency?” He asked calmly.

“… what?”

“If you haven’t heard from any agencies by now, maybe you might not.”

That stung. You swallowed and processed his words, a little offended, but a little perplexed over the situation. Did he ask you to visit him so that he could-

“Are you offering me a place?” You asked back.

“Yes.”

“Out of pity?”

“No, I’m saying that I can get you a residency if other places don’t work out.”

“So I’ll do good but no other place would have me,” you stated, hurt.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sounded like it.”

“I thought you’d be happy.”

“Yes, if I got in on my own merit, not because you’re able to pull some strings.”

It felt like there was a fire in your gut, the worst kind that seared so severely you felt nauseous with anger. You wanted nothing more than to leave, but something kept you here, still standing before Todoroki despite what he had called you over for. Did he truly believe that you weren’t ready or capable? Did those late study nights not prove how hard you wanted to put in the work? Or did he only see you for your faults all this time?

It was unfathomable.

“Todoroki, I appreciate your offer, I do, but you’re giving me something that I didn’t work for,” you explained, keeping calm and keeping your anger at bay.

“I wanted to say thank you for being there for me,” explained Todoroki, his eyes searching in yours. “You still reached out to me after everything that has happened, and I wanted to return the favor in any way I can. Please understand.”

Your mind trailed away for a moment, seeing the genuine look in Todoroki’s eyes. Despite his aloofness, you could see how much he saw in you, but the way he said it was-

“I can’t accept that,” you answered, looking into Todoroki’s eyes with sadness. “I can’t accept your offer. I'm sorry Todoroki.” You turned towards the elevator, leaving Todoroki behind before you realized the floor numbers were counting downwards.

“Where are you going?” Asked Todoroki, following after you.

“Back to my dorm to get ready for my date,” you informed him while you decided to head down the flight of stairs, despite being on the top floor of the dormitory. Todoroki stopped for a moment, ingesting your words in his head before he trailed after you, hopping down the stairs while he continued to question.

“You have a date?” he asked aloud.

“Yes, yes I do,” you immediately replied.

“Who are they?”

“He... is from Support.”

“What’s he like?”

“Nice guy? A little awkward.”

“So you don’t know him?”

You had only reached the fourth floor before turning to find Todoroki on your trail, his feet still on the stairs while he eyed you for an answer. You saw them searching, waiting for your breath, for you to speak.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, part curious, part annoyed by his questioning.

The bell of the elevator took both of you out from the tension that grew in-between, finding Bakugou exiting the doors with a friend trailing behind him. It was a well-timed interruption, turning back onto Todoroki now calmer than he was moments ago.

“Nothing,” he answered in a low whisper.

“I’ll see you later,” you whispered to yourself, feeling eyes on you from the stairs other than his. All you were met with was a nod from Todoroki before you left him by the stairs, leaving with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Todoroki only stood by the stair railings, confused by your reaction, but more so his insistence. It was like a bout of energy surged through him all at once. Where did all of that come from? All of those questions interrogating you about a guy who asked you out as his date. It confounded him further about what he felt about you with somebody else. You were a friend, finding an affinity with each other despite you being in the other Hero class. But those nights studying and those days training were the closest he had ever grown to work with someone outside of his class. He even recalled how elated he felt when the classes could mix to find compatibility working together, having ever since worked alongside you.

Todoroki shook his head, wondering what this feeling was that was mixed in with his confusion until the sight of a familiar well-dressed student made their way to the elevators, immediately being able to board before they waved quickly towards him.

“See you tonight Todoroki,” they exclaimed before disappearing into the box.

He waved back, being met by a smile by the student and soon spotting Bakugou’s door still ajar to see how he was doing. A few words were exchanged between himself and the irate blond, noticing the frustrated look on his scowl, most likely from the student who had just left from his dorm. Todoroki knew too well of Bakugou’s dilemma for the past couple of years, only ever chatting in passing about the situation and also advising him.

“We all know he’s bad news. Nepotism at its best,” informed Todoroki.

“Look who’s talking Half-and-Half, son of the Number One,” spat Bakugou with disdain.

Todoroki felt the sting from his words, realizing his folly earlier. He should have realized how much of a hard-working person you were. It showed in your studies and your training, always pushing yourself to the best of your abilities despite the drawbacks, the flaws, and your failures. He loved that part of you. It left him perplexed after speaking with Bakugou, while he decided to make his way downstairs to where most of the class still spent their day.

Did he truly say something wrong? All he ever wanted was to help you in any way he could. And perhaps, after much reflection on the fact, he had only insulted you on an important day. Yet he thought he was giving you something you would have wanted. Or, was he wanting you instead?

——

Todoroki went about his day speaking to his classmates and hearing some good news between them all. Many of them were offered a residency into some fairly well-known agencies, either one or a few or a handful. And though they were primarily from their work studies, it was the best fit for many of them. Todoroki ignored some of the more exasperatedly whinier comments about his placement, but it was a given despite his own feelings about the situation. Soon, the entire class readied themselves for the night, including Todoroki who was interrogated a few times about being date-less for the prom. A simple shrug was all they received, explaining that he had declined all invitations, which almost broke Kaminari’s heart hearing that. Still, with the night early to begin the celebrations, Todoroki joined in with his classmates and friends alike, making their way to Gym Gamma.

He wondered about your date, this mysterious man who asked you out so suddenly. You had never been a liar, or at least you were a bad one for him to know. He deduced it must’ve been recent, no earlier than yesterday at least when you were asked. It still made him wonder why he chose you. Has he always admired you? Were you friends? Did you know more than you were letting him on? At the end, Todoroki began to wonder how different this man was to him.

Gym Gamma was in sight while all of his classmates made their way inside. Todoroki trailed behind until something caught his ear a distance away, drowned by the music that thumped against the walls of the auditorium. He strayed from the pack of students, walking along the side to find you with your wrist held tightly by a very inebriated man before the both of you disappeared around the auditorium. His feet suddenly flew, chasing after the both of you after spotting the concerned look on your face, even briefly around the corner. Todoroki soon laid eyes on your date, gripping your wrist with a wide grin on his face, drunkenly swaying with you and handling you carelessly while you tried to pull away.

“You’re my date, so let me be your date,” he cooed slovenly, his grip tightening on your wrist.

“Stop it, you’re drunk,” you yelled, pulling away from him, tugging at your wrist to no avail.

“I’m having fun,” he retorted, his grin wide and his breath lingering over your skin. “Don’t you want to have fun with me?”

“I’m not some toy, or some prize to show off to your friends, whoever they are!”

“They’re just teasing, come on.”

He pulled you in, closing the gap between the both of you before his breath washed onto your face, smelling the bitter and rancid smell of alcohol. You pushed against his chest, pulling your face away from his, his strength overwhelming until-

“No, let go of me!” you cried before you pulled back your hand, slapping his face hard. The slap pulled him out of his drunken reverie, but not without releasing you from his grip, finding a disdained look on his face, chuckling to himself from the assault before being refueled by rage.

“Who wants you anyway?!” he yelled back, pulling his own hand to return the favour.

Suddenly, his own wrist was gripped by another’s, pushing against a strength that overpowered his own. Todoroki stood beside you, his fingers gripping onto your date while he stared into his eyes, disapproving and venomous.

“I suggest you walk away,” he warned, watching your date flinch from the fractals of ice that began to frost across his skin and sleeve, prickling like needles. He pulled away violently, releasing his grip on you as well, walking away with a contempt scoff and affixing his attire before he stomped towards the auditorium. Todoroki kept an eye on him until he disappeared around the corner, most likely returning to the prom before he turned to you, standing there, ashamed and hurt.

The smell of alcohol still lingered, but now it no longer pervaded your senses while you fixed your own formal wear and hopped towards the wall of the auditorium outside, leaning against it, your eyes drawn towards the pavement. Throughout the mess of it all, you realised one of your shoes had fallen off, now missing part of the pair a short distance away. You felt Todoroki’s presence next to you, following after and standing by your side, leaning against the wall as well in an uncomfortable silence.

“Nice guy,” he commented.

“Shut up,” you retorted weakly, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

A moment passed when it all fell silent, at least to you, still listening and feeling the vibrations of the music that echoed and reverberated through the walls. You felt like you drowned in it, washed in the overwhelming feeling of sadness that you couldn’t hold in. You breathed deeply, hoping that could staive the storm, but your tears burst from your eyes out of your volition.

“No, no I’m not,” you finally answered. “He’s right. No one wants me.”

Todoroki turned to you, watching your tears fall and holding in the hiccups that escaped your throat once or twice. He couldn’t explain it, but he hated that look on you.

“I’ve not heard back from anyone at all today. I don’t know why,” you continued, your mind elsewhere. “And, he only invited me to impress his friends, and we met up when he’s really drunk and, well, you saw what happened.”

With all that was going on for graduation, Todoroki watched and listened to your words, realising and processing his feelings over the matter. It wasn’t true. He wanted you, more than anything, comprehending his feelings and how he interpreted them all the same. Graduation was weighing on his mind just as much as any other student had all day, yet he realised now, in this moment despite what his future may hold, that this moment mattered. He eyed your shoe from afar, walking towards it to collect it from the ground until he stood before you, his eyes waiting for you to meet his.

“No, I don’t want to go inside. Not yet anyway,” you reasoned while you tried to wipe away the tears from your face, spotting the shoe in his hand.

“May I?” asked Todoroki as if he had ignored your request.

You turned to him with tear-stained eyes, only seeing him hold your shoe. It dawned on you that it was only the both of you outside the auditorium with no one else around.

“What about your date?” you asked, confused.

“They’re right here in front of me,” he stated calmly, straight-forward without flinching. “Please.”

He lifted your shoe once more, warranting a nod from you, permitting him to kneel and slip the shoe back onto your feet. He was gentle while he maneuvered it with ease, lifting himself close to you before he opened his hand, gesturing to take yours. With a calm breath, you accepted his hand before he led you into his arms, swaying to and fro despite the music that played inside Gym Gamma beside you. Underneath the stars, you began to waltz, glancing up into Todoroki’s eyes that only smiled down at you, that same smile that he expressed while you were with him.

“Thank you Todoroki,” you whispered. “I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” he interrupted, still keeping to the rhythm of his feet. “I didn’t think about how strongly you felt about the career and the life you wanted. I was selfish.”

“You can be selfish. You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you weren’t. Now I feel like an idiot.”

The thought of your former date moments ago sprung in your mind, despite it being a last ditch effort by a classmate, even if it was innocent at first. However, you felt Todoroki clutch onto your waist tighter, hugging you into his chest while his fingers intertwined with yours.

“This is where you should be,” he motioned, his head laying on yours. “You deserve a good night.”

For the first time since arriving at this prom, you smiled, nestling into his chest and hearing the calm heartbeat that thrummed in your ear. His warmth, that familiar heat you had come to love, pervaded on your skin and kept you safe, here in his arms.

The sound of your phone broke you out from the moment, catching both Todoroki and yourself a little unguarded before you broke away a little to check it immediately. Todoroki still held you, not wanting to release you from his grip before he watched your eyes scan the screen, soon lighting up with excitement.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “I got in, I got in!” You hopped on the spot, still in his arms, bubbled with elation.

“Where?” he asked immediately, only to be met by a moment of spontaneity. A sudden kiss on his lips, pulled in by your hands while you deeply pressed onto him. The moment broke as you pulled away, realising what you had done within the moment and met by Todoroki’s perplexed stare.

“Oh god, I’m sorry-“

Your words were choked by Todoroki returning the favour, pulling you into him and kissing you instead. His arms held you close to him, feeling the waves of heat from his body and his kiss alone. A fire unlike any other filled you inside, not searing through with anger, but fueled by passion which was Todoroki. As he pulled away, you stared into his eyes, pools of silver and blue while you watched him smile, caressing your cheek tenderly. You smiled back warmly with words unspoken.

“I love every part of you, my Love,” he whispered close to your ear.

“I… I love you more,” you whispered back, growing more sure with your words.

“Exactly where did you get accepted?”

“Your father’s agency,” you quipped, suddenly taking him back by surprise. “What? You thought I never considered it a top priority?”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Because I hadn’t heard anything,” you reasoned while you fixed his suit. “It made me wonder how many applications your father’s manager had to go through today.”

A small chuckle escaped from Todoroki, soon turning into laughter along with you while he held you in his arms under the night sky. He felt like twirling you in the air, feeling you next to him and knowing you were beside him. With the prom already under way, he offered his arm with that ever-present smile, warm and inviting.

Seasons come and go - summer and winter, hot to cold. But despite the change in weather, you’ve learnt to adapt slowly over time and nurture something new through the faults. It only continues to grow from here, stronger than before.

[twst-campos13]

Hello!! May I request a shy!male staff reader pining for Crowley??? Can we have a happy ending to it as well? Please and thankyou ♥

Another sappy soft staff pining coming up!! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧! I made this as a headcanon instead, I hope you don’t mind!!

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, nurse!reader, fluff, pining, flower language

➸ Let's say you've been NRC's school nurse for the last 3 years. You know everyone who comes in and out of the infirmary especially the students who frequent their visit in that wing

➸ You're a lifesaver in a more literal sense. The students at this school are beyond rowdy—seeing students at different dormitories getting along is a rarer sight than seeing the infirmary completely empty. You get recognition from the staff and the frequent troublesome students for your hard work. From fights, magical accidents, and now the overblots—you're a hero without a cape, always making sure the students are in shape before you discharge them.

➸ Although the work is tiring, there are certain things that motivate you to continue your duty as a nurse. It isn't just the small praises your co-workers give you or the grateful gestures former patients do. Rather, it came from the bumbling headmaster of the school—Headmaster Dire Crowley.

➸ Also known as the guy you’re into. 

➸ Now when did you meet? Crowley had taken you in for an interview when you applied for a job at Night Raven College. You must admit he did have a tendency of talking over people and interrupting them, and you didn't get a chance to explain to him that "no sir I'm not applying as a permanent school nurse" when he immediately hired you as one. 

➸ Being a timid person, you find it hard to speak up about your thoughts even when you want to defend yourself. When your voice finds the courage, others' loud and abrasive tone intimidates you. You realized that a way to stay out of confrontations would be to just stay quiet. Crowley came off as pointless to argue with. 

➸ Your first impression of him was not the best and you intended to just leave him a note and find another job elsewhere when both of you stumbled upon a student choking. Your instincts were quicker than his and medical action was performed immediately. You were quite the hero and professional in Crowley's eyes during that day. That's how you were insisted to take the job. 

➸ You could've left anytime. Yes, you were shy but you aren't a pushover. So why did you stay? Well, somehow, someone has to take care of the residents of this school. 

➸ Admittedly, you are annoyed that the Headmaster worries more about financial and collateral damage than the rivalry of students that can result in scuffles. You tried to talk to him about hiring a school therapist or counselor so that it may lessen the injured students. You know what his response to that was? He laughed merrily and gave your shoulder a pat. "That is why we have a kind gentleman such as you to take care of them!" 

➸ His dense statement could give anyone a headache but oddly enough you didn't feel a migraine from that. Instead it...the praise—it motivated you to just keep doing what your work is. The primary reason for your duty is to take care of the prideful and rowdy students at this school. The secondary reason being that...hearing Crowley trust you and praise you felt...good. 

➸ And he kept praising you for your hard work. He told you how grateful he is to have a kind and soft-spoken nurse to be taking care of his students. Although you want to retort that he should be taking care of them as well, you kept those remarks to yourself and took in his compliments. 

➸ When you thought he picks and chooses his responsibilities, he had surprised you upon defending you when your professionalism is being insulted. You've learned to keep quiet and continue doing your duty. But having the Headmaster defend you from a sharp-tongued student? It was shocking...and quite admirable. You thought it was a one-time thing but it didn't just happen to you. Despite being rude and bumbling, the Headmaster does care for the wellbeing of the residents of the school. When certain boundaries are being overstepped he would jump right in, providing to be a voice to those lesser than him. 

➸ Perhaps that's why you had a crush on him? Because your types are seemingly dense, idiotic, seemingly prideful men who can be also caring at times you least expect them to be? Or you just fancy mysterious men behind masks and top hats, whose smile is so annoying you couldn't do anything but shake your head fondly?

➸ Did you get called out or-

➸ Well it's just a crush now isn't it? After all your relationship remains strictly professional. Oh, you were so sure your feelings wouldn't develop any further...until Crowley accidentally hit himself with a lamp trying to kill a cockroach in his office. Ah, that was the day you saw his handsome face—and the day your heartbeat earnestly for him.

➸ let's admit homeboy looks like muzan jackson

➸ He looked like a pale white boy which excellently brings out his brilliant honey gold eyes. He looks really, really handsome, and you wonder if the mask just made seeing his real face so exciting. You tripped over your own words when he called out your attention for the icepack you're pressing his bruise with started stinging.

➸ The image of his face is burned in your mind. Before that revelation, you were already shy when speaking to him. Now, oh Sevens, you had to practically stop rambling so the Headmaster may get a concise word from you. 

➸ He's always visiting the infirmary as well which only made your feelings for him bloom and bloom like the yellow and white azaleas he leaves when you are on breaks. Crowley adamantly denies the flowers being sent by him. Still, you appreciate the gesture and made sure to speak highly of your "mysterious" sender. You do not miss the way the feathers of his cape seemingly ruffle happily. You're not one for horticulture but you don't want to jump to conclusions as to what those flowers may mean. And whenever Crowley visits it feels like a visit from a friend you are reluctant to accept into your home but you do anyway, because admit it or not, his presence is very welcoming. 

➸ When you do ask him why his visits are routinely, Crowley's reasons are always about checking the wellbeing of students in the infirmary as well as yours. He's aware that the medical field is a serious job and as the Headmaster he takes it as a duty to lessen your stress by acting as a friendly colleague. Now, isn't he so gracious? 

➸ You don't complain about his visits anyway. In fact, you like them a lot. With Crowley being so talkative you find yourself often exchanging lighthearted conversations with him. Never small talk. Crowley learned that small talks with you are awkward and started conversation topics that will lead to deep chats. Did you appreciate his efforts? Oh, you did, and it surprised you how much he paid attention to your rambles that it made your heart skyrocket. Your mind wanders in circles if he's starting to like you back or if he's just being friendly and wants you to feel at home in NRC.

➸ But how could he return your feelings when you never even??? confessed to him??? 

➸ Are you ever going to confess to him, that is the question. No? Maybe? Probably? In due time? It's complicated. Even when your colleague Prof. Crewel suggested that he might be into men you still bite at your tongue and swallow the words. 

➸ It's just...it's hard. It's easier to speak up for yourself inside your mind than outside. You aren't a pushover but you don't like confrontations. It's easier to treat patients than to treat yourself. 

➸ Luckily, there are other people willing to play nurse to cure your lovesickness. Although the academic staff of NRC is dumbfounded at your special someone. Out of all the people you could've pine after, you had to fall for the densest and irresponsible man at this school.

➸ "But Headmaster Crowley isn't that irresponsible!" You would argue over tea with Mr. Trein and Prof. Crewel, who would then roll their eyes at you. My, you have fallen deep and you can't go back. 

➸ You could've just bottled your feelings and let it eat you inside-out, but it's chewing you so hard you can barely perform your tasks when Crowley is around. You had to give yourself peace of mind. Although rejection isn't that far you're still willing to take that risk.

➸ Since you couldn't confess to him verbally, you decided to buy an item from the school shop. It was your first idea which...okay, it's cute but it's not that bright. Luckily, Sam was available and suggested something else that can get your point across. Crowley had given you specific flowers so why not do the same to him?

➸ You dropped by his empty office and left one stem of red chrysanthemum at his desk. You made sure to also put a small wrapped biscuit beside it. You followed Mr. Sam's advice about leaving a piece of a treat along with the flower. Crows like shiny things and treats, right? You just hoped this would work. 

➸ Hope started to crumble inside you and the pieces being snacked on by your anxiety. Crowley is less frequent with his visits at the infirmary and when both of you would talk there is this thick awkward wall of tension. You were only awaiting the day when the yellow and white azaleas will be accompanied by a single yellow and striped carnation. The day did come when a flower was left on your desk—but it was not a striped carnation.

➸ It was a bundle of beautiful ambrosia flowers freshly bloomed. 

➸ You could've thought Crowley wanted to poison you with those flowers until you remembered from reading a book about the language of flowers that it meant something more. It brought you to tears, so much so that the few patients in the infirmary asked if you were okay. 

➸ Ambrosia. Love reciprocated. 

➸ When Headmaster Crowley announced to the staff that he will be courting you to be his boyfriend, a wave of relief washed over the entire college. Turns out, both of you were tiptoeing around each other, failing to find the proper words to admit that you like each other. Mr. Trein can rest peacefully without Crowley crying to him about how he can ever confess to such a handsome man such as you. It made you blush deeply, realizing that you have been doing the same thing with Prof. Crewel and Mr. Sam. 

➸ The Headmaster had certainly become more prideful now that you are together. But it was sweet in a way. You were glad that you scrapped the letter idea for you may have misused a few words. 

➸ Although you are still shy in participating in PDA, both of you know that love doesn't have to be expressed verbally. Crowley does it excellently on his own. He always tells anyone he comes across that you are his beautiful, handsome, lovely little nurse. You had to shut him up by pinching his ear which you will treat later with a caring kiss.

[pear-pies]

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in  Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

[into-crazy]

horror and chill

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader one shot

Summary: You and J watch a horror flick. Eventually you both grow bored, turning your attention onto one another. You don't make it through the movie.

Warnings- Cursing, NSFW, SMUT, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, light knife play, spanking, use of the word daddy(once), unprotected sex, brief degradation, choking, light blood play, J style fluff, ages 18+

This sort of popped into my head while I was watching a scary movie. I'm a sucker for watching horror movies in the dark. Let's just say my self indulgences deff kicked in with this one whew! Also forewarning, it’s very long.

The month of October has always been a favorite for you. That time of the year when Autumn is in full effect. The air outside is cooled down, where it's not too hot and not quite cold yet. Seasonal items return with a comeback, available to stock up on- whether they be edible goodies or scented candles. Then, of course, there's Halloween. Or spooky season, as the kids like to call it.

That special time where watching horror movies is an absolute must. Ordering takeout, nothing on but panties and an oversized tee, cuddling on the couch with a blanket, turning out all of the lights, and blasting the volume on the television to get the full effect. Yeah, it's one of your most prized traditions.

You and Joker have been together for well over year now. Let's just say he was around this time last year. He knew of your passion for this month, but he hasn't fully experienced it with you. Since that was a point where your relationship- if that's what you want to call it- was still fresh. Too early to establish complete trust and understanding in one another. Actually, you believe that still may be the case for J.

Not that you have anything against it. He's a highly complex and guarded man, he has a difficult time trusting people. In fact, he doesn't. But he's allowed you- and no one else- to come this close into his life, and it's pretty damn close. He trusts you enough and he's trying. There's nothing you'd ever do to betray that. You've come to accept it'll take a longer period before you'd get there fully.

Though it can be rough sometimes, you've had your fair share of fights. But he's never given you a reason to leave. You trust him, you've grown to love him. And while J would never confess to it, would never say it aloud, he adores you. He shows it in everything that he does for you. As for love, you've become aware and accepted that the word doesn't apply to him. He can't love. And that's okay.

Fast forward over to now, already a week into October. It's a Saturday night, and you're ready to continue your cherished routine, but with your beloved J. You've only watched two horror flicks thus far. Both nights had been alone, minus him and the takeout. He's been busy with his usual chaotic jobs, which kept him out later hours into the night. However you don't care about that right now, he called and informed you that he'll be home for tonight's showing.

"An' don't ah, don't ya dare start without me." J warned on the other end of the phone line.

"Well then you better hurry back," you playfully teased into the phone, "I already ordered the pizza and the movie is set to play."

That conversation ended about forty minutes ago. You sat on the couch in your shared apartment, waiting for him. Everything good to go, pizza has arrived, scented candles are lit, movie ready to proceed at the click of a button, and the lights are off- save for the small lamp by the entryway. The overall setting feeling eerily, just how you like it. It also feels quite romantic, which is a bonus.

You're wearing one of J's dress shirts with a blush thong underneath. Wrapped snug in a huge fluffy blanket in your designated spot(rightfully decided by you as this was your apartment first). Since he prefers to keep the apartment cold, you tend to get chilly a lot. Which was fine considering you have J and a vast selection of blankets to keep you warm. Currently, you have the blanket. All that's missing is J.

What's taking him so long? I'm gonna start the movie, I don't care. He'll just have to deal with it.. and I'm not rewinding it either.

You began to ponder while sitting in silence. Fingers tapping impatiently on the remote, debating whether or not you should carry on without him. With a loud huff, you glance over at the pizza box on the small table directly in front of you. In the amount of time you've waited, you managed to eat two slices already.

Then, you heard the familiar ruffling noise at the front door. The sound of the lock hurriedly being turned getting you to shoot your eyes towards it without moving your head. The door swings open and in walks J in all his glory, quickly shutting and locking the closure behind him.

"I'm home-ah!" A lilt in his voice as he exaggerates his arrival.

"You're late," you return displeasingly.

He narrows his glare at you, "well uh, hello to you too."

Rolling your eyes, you motion with your fingers, "I was this close to starting the movie without you. What took you so long?"

J works on shrugging off his plum trench coat. "What can I say? It was such a ah, easy breeze to get here." He throws sarcastically.

Shaking your head, you laugh, "I'm sorry J, I didn't mean to sound rude. I just missed you is all." You really do appreciate the extra efforts he goes through to make sure he gets here safe and undetected. To not be traced or followed. Be it by his fellow rivals, Gotham police, and in some cases- the Batman.

"Yeah doll, I know," he licks his lips, "I know." You watch him remove a few of his other articles to get more comfortable. His face paint isn't too disheveled which tells you his day went rather smoothly. Or as he prefers to call it- boring.

You open up the blanket to make space for him. Patting the empty spot right next to you, "hurry and get over here, pizza's getting cold."

Left in his purple slacks, dress shirt, and socks, he shuts off the last light before making his way over to plop onto the couch next to you. He allows you to snuggle against him. With the cover behind him, he doesn't feel the need to wrap himself in it. You, on the other hand, have your end burrito wrapped over you. Finally, you stick your hand out the blanket to hit play on the remote.

Twenty minutes in, you were beginning to grow less and less interested in the film. Nothing but a predictable storyline with a bunch of weak jump scares. Not to mention the overly cheesy acting. Though it wasn't completely terrible, it had a few good points to it. However this film probably won't make it onto your rewatch list. You failed to previously read the reviews for this one like you normally would when picking a new movie to watch. The plot sounded good when you had read it. Oh well, you gave it a shot.

J wasn't fond of the movie either. He's actually more bored of it than you are. Occasionally would he exhale blatantly or comment on one of the bad moments that came across. This. Is. Torture. He thought to himself staring blankly at the screen. And not the good kind. Alas, he'll bite his tongue and miserably sit through another hour because it is your movie night, and he knows how much this means to you.

You can't help but feel bad for having him sit through this with you- for you. Soon, you lost total interest in the film and your mind began to drift.. elsewhere. To his hand, resting freely between your soft thighs. His palm feels so warm against your flesh. But that's just J- always giving off heat. He's like your own personal heater. Sometimes warming you to the point you don't even need a blanket because it becomes too hot. Speaking of which, you removed the cover, preferring his signature warmth over the fabric's any day.

Your fingers start to brush lightly on his wrists and knuckles. The subtle touch earns you half smile followed with a pleased hum, which you see in your peripheral vision. He hasn't caught on yet, but your need for him is building fast.

You scooch closer to him in attempt to get his hand where you need it most without him catching on just yet. It didn't work, his hand isn't touching you. It's right there, mere millimeters away. Thinking about how amazing his hands feel when he touches you. When he grants you with friction as he rubs your throbbing clit. The wonderful spots he reaches when he relentlessly fucks you with those paint speckled fingers. Curling them deep, making you writhe and cry beneath him.

Clamping his wrist, your breath hitches at the thought. Shit. That was audible. For a split second, you thought you might have blown it. But Joker took it as something from the film frightening you.

"Quiet doll," he shushes, "you an' I both know the ah, movie ain't scary."

Fuck, you can't take it anymore. You want him to touch you. With a slight roll of your hips, you manage to get his hand to brush against your clothed heat. The smallest bit of friction causes you to release a muffled whimper.

J's arm stiffens and his face instantly snaps to look at you. You seize, halting your movement. No question, he felt what you did, sees the burning desperation in your eyes. Tossing his head back, he erupts in a delighted, high pitched cackle. "Oh-" more cackling laughter as he glances at you again, "so that's what that was." A malicious smirk spreads his scarred cheeks. He firmly grips the inside of your thigh, pulling you against him. "What happened bunny? Growin' needy?" Cupping your clothed mound, his fingers rub you teasingly.

"Yeah," you admit, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Tightening your thighs around his wrist. Would've been no use lying to him when he'd easily seen and felt otherwise.

His rubbing comes to an abrupt stop. He taunts, "Ahh, this was your idea, hm. You were the one keen on a movie night, remember?"

"I know, but-"

"Ah-ta-ta," He cuts you off, "But nothing. This is what ya wanted, so that's what we'll do. We'll ah, sit here and watch."

Suddenly, he lifts you, effortlessly moving you into his lap. You yelp as your back is pressed flush against his torso. He separates your legs apart, you can feel his cock beginning to harden under you, pushing into the plush of your ass. One hand wraps around your chest, to roughly knead your breasts. The other slides under the shirt, gliding over your abdomen, down between your legs. To rub harsh circles on your excited clit through the thinly soaked fabric of your underwear.

"Ahh- fuck!" You whine, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, reaching around to grip his green locks.

J starts to kiss and nip his way down your neck. Leaving dark patches into your skin, accompanied by red and white splotches- completely marking you. Once he was satisfied with his marks, he leans closely by your ear. "You're dripping, doll," he whispers huskily, his hot breath brushing against your neck. "Now, you will sit here and watch the flick like a good girl, while I play with this needy little cunt of yours. No fussin' or fightin'. Got it?"

"Mhm, yes sir," you answer. Biting back the urge to smile at the thought of finally getting what you want. Fighting it off because, let's be real here, you know with J, it never comes along that easy. But he always makes it damn well worth it.

"Good, now sit still." He growls lowly onto your neck. With that, he pushed your panties to the side and began his torture. His fingers transitioning from fucking your aching hole to rubbing the drenched digits on your throbbing clit. Whispering twistingly sweet and dirty words into your ear while he slathers your own arousal all over your pussy.

He'd bring you close, on the verge of your orgasm, only to stop his movements entirely. Tearing it away from you before you could fall over that edge into pure ecstasy. You grew more and more frustrated each time he'd do that. Though you haven't fully, but you're rapidly losing your composure. Which already may be broken. Sweat is forming on your hairline, tears are prickling your eyes, your breath is starting to hitch. Starting to want it so bad you're teetering towards retaliating to get what you crave.

Joker's counting on it. He thrives on edging you, demands the control over you. As much as he prefers having you entirely at his mercy, he likes it when you lash back. Finds it rather amusing, makes for something a little bit more interesting. See how far you'll go before you snap so beautifully.

And that's now.

You start to buck your hips against his fingers that are going in and out of your pussy, along with his thumb assaulting your clit. Feeling that powerful knot reforming, you need to orgasm. "Oh f-fuck! Please!" You start pleading, "I-I can't take it anymore. Please J, l-let me cum!"

"You wanna cum?" He hints, removing his chin from your neck.

"Yes, God- yes please!" You cry out, clawing your nails into his thighs. Clamping down to gain better leverage. The wild rolling of your hips gets your ass brushing more against his hardened cock. Your arousal had already soaked through his pants a long time ago.

"Fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth, digging his fingers hard into your hip that's sure to leave an array of dotted bruises. He bucks absently into you, licking a wet, hot trail up your neck. "Mm, dirty girl. So you wanna play that game-ah?"

He moves his fingers faster and harder. Even over the loud volume from the television could the wet squelching sounds deriving from his ministrations be heard. The air filled with the scent of sex- your sex. So desperate and ready to let go and orgasm. It's driving you crazy.

"P-please- Ahh! Can I cum?" You plead. Hoping he'll reward you at least for asking.

"You can cum. Go on, babygirl. Cum on my fingers." He finally grants, fingers continuing to get you to ecstasy.

Well you didn't have to be told twice.

You release with a broken cry, orgasm gushing out onto his digits. Drenching the fabric of his pants beneath you. Your body spasming madly over his own while you ride out your high.

Coming down, J removed his hand from your pussy. His fingers are glistening, coated in your cum. He sticks them into your mouth. "Clean my fingers of the mess you made," he growls the command in your ear. Groaning in approval when you comply. Eagerly licking and sucking his digits clean of your juices. "Come here," he grabs your face, turning your head, making you look at him. "Give me a taste."

He kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to savor the taste of your delectable juices. You kiss him back feverishly. One hand fisting in his hair, the other goes to stroke his cock. Still clothed, still hard. The action causing him to snarl against your lips, "such a greedy little thing. Always ah, wanting more. Ya just can't get enough of me, huh?"

"Never," you huff with a grin, "and telling by this-" you rub him again, "neither could you." His eyes snap to glare into yours viciously. Ohh, he's gonna make you pay for that snarky remark.

With hasty movements, J turns you around so that you're now facing him. Straddling his lap. He tears the shirt that adorned your body open, buttons flying to scatter the couch and floor. Someone's gonna have to sew those back on later, most likely you. He removes the shirt from you, carelessly tossing it aside.

With the large article gone, it granted him with a better view of the mess you made on his custom, pricey slacks. His entire crotch and thigh area is completely drenched in your juices. He gave a sigh which tried to make him sound annoyed or displeased. However, with the straining bulge pushing against you below, you know that was far from the case. His eyes traveled to land on your barley covered pussy, he groaned at the sight. The flimsy fabric of your thong sticking to one of your wonderful, wet lips. Your orgasm, still dribbling out your cunt.

He hooked a finger under the thin strap hugging your hip, pulling far enough only to have it fall and snap against you. Chuckling at your slightly startled reaction. "Bad girl. Misbehaving, talking back, making a mess of my pants? These aren't exactly 'buy at the store' ready. Maybe I should put your dirty mouth to use and have you suck your own juices up, hm?"

"I misbehaved?" You mock a pout, fully knowing what you did. Regardless, asking anyway.

His kneads the plush of your ass roughly. The callousness of his hands making you shiver in his grasp. You may think this position is in your favor, that you could use it to your advantage. But Joker's got you right where he wants you. The stern look in his blackened eyes and the firm hold he's got on you make that known. "You ah- were supposed to make it through the film without so much as a fuss. Remember that?"

"I was?" Your fingers ghost up his chest, "I don't remember that part." Now you're pushing it. He notices the smile threatening to creep your face. One of his hands shoots up to grasp a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your marked neck.

"Yes," he acknowledges slowly trailing his lips up your throat, "yes you do. You just chose to be a brat and not listen." His tone is dangerous, and it would've been absolutely frightening had you been anyone else instead of the only person he cares about in his life. Even though he'd never verbally admit that, frustrating as it is for him, he does care. He does. Which is why whenever you feel that tingle dubbed as fear creep up your spine, you still hold assurance. The flesh of his scars brush the underside of your chin, making you moan unabashedly. "Ya know I gotta punish you for that."

J uses his hold on your hair and hip to guide you to lay over his lap, your naked stomach pressed against his wet thighs, and most of all, his erection. He reaches over to the small table beside the couch, plucking an item you assume to be one of his signature knives. The distinct clicking sound indicates you were correct. It's a switchblade.

He drags the razor sharp blade along your spine until it reaches your underwear, almost on the verge of slicing into you. The thrill gets your heart pounding faster in your chest and ears. You love it when he cuts you, and he's aware of that. But this is a punishment, so you won't be getting what you want.. least not yet. Placing it under the strap, he tears the article to shreds, carelessly nicking you a few times in the process. Alright, so the little nicks he can't control. Those just come naturally. Tossing the ruined fabric aside, he palms your ass cheeks, favoring a spot to start spanking. "Count. We'll ah, stop when I decide you've had enough."

His palm came down hard against your ass, sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body causing you to yelp. "One!" You count. The stinging grew worse with each spank. He hit you hard, but it wasn't anything you couldn't bare. Warm tears steamed down your reddened cheeks. It hurt in a wonderful way, your pussy leaking more arousal as it progressed. He continued to spank you until he grew bored of hearing the same cries and whines.

"Last one bunny," he subtly praised, soothing over the bright marks in your flesh that are starting to welt and bruise. With that, his hand came down a final time. This one stinging the worst.

"Fif- fifteen." You manage to rasp, mind overcome with the lust you had building up. At this point you need him inside you. You need his cock buried deep in your aching core and you need him now. "Please f-fuck me J. I need you!" Your body arched into his as you begged.

J snickered, "need me huh? How bad?" His hand went back to your abused ass to shove you forward, so that your pelvis was atop his as he purposely rolled his erection against your painfully heated sex. The friction drawing a long, strained moan from your lips which pleased him. "Tell me bunny. How, how bad do ya need my cock?"

"Bad- oh so fucking bad- I need your cock! P-Please J, please daddy, fuck me!" You practically shout, resorting to the word daddy. A word which you hardly use, but do when need be. And now was a time of great need.

A snarl left his lips as he yanks you off briefly to undo his pants and shove them down. His cock finally free from the uncomfortable confines, he sighs with relief as he takes it into his hand, pumping a few times. The tip, red and angry with his precum beading out. "Get over here now," he growls impatiently.

Wasting no time, you swing your leg over both of his, reclaiming your previous place of straddling him. You grabbed-rather pawed- his shoulders for leverage. His thick head lines up with your dripping entrance, then he pulls you down, driving his length inside with a powerful thrust. Knocking the wind from you as he filled you. Fuck, how he stretched you so good.

After a brief second for you both to adjust- you to his size and him to recompose himself- he instructs you to- "Move."

To which you do. Rapidly bouncing yourself up and down on his cock. Unashamed at the loud moans and whimpers continuously leaving your lips. This was exactly what you needed, and having been denied lots tonight it felt amazing to finally have this. You moved like your life depended on it.

J grunted as he met your thrusts with his languid ones, his hands guiding the movement of your hips. He held back from pounding into you, oh how he's going to pound into you, just not yet. Which means he's definitely in the mood to tease you to an extent, in any and every way that he can. What an asshole.. Your asshole.

Your arms went to wrap around him. To your surprise, he didn't shove them off. Instead, his chin went to rest in the crook of your neck, catching glimpse of the illuminated TV screen. The movie was still on.

"Mhm, you're just a horny little slut, aren't ya?" He sneered. "Can't even get through a movie without having my cock inside of ya."

There was no way you could give him a proper response. So wrapped were you in the exhilarating feeling of him that any words to a sentence you tried to form wouldn't come out. What did manage to slip out was muddled babbling. He snickered at your incoherence.

The female protagonist on the screen started to scream. The shrieking noise caught both your attention, though your actions didn't falter. "This woman's a terrible actor," J criticized the lady, "her scream is so fake, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes- ah," you return finding your voice, "It s-sure is."

He removed one hand from your hip, gliding it up the valley between your breasts to grip your neck. Glaring menacingly into your eyes momentarily before muttering, "I think you could give me a better one." You knew from his low tone that something malicious just popped into his head. His fingers tightened, "Let's see if you could scream louder than the girl on the screen. Can ya do that for me sweets?"

You nodded feverishly within his hold, "yes J."

Satisfied with the answer, he began driving his cock vigorously up into you. The harsh slapping of skin heard as his hips pound mercilessly against your own. The spontaneous change of pace left you almost completely breathless. Your orgasm was fast approaching. Eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you relentlessly. You screamed, "Oh fuck!"

Your beautiful screams rang harmoniously in his ears like a favored tune. That he could play on repeat over and over and never grow tired of hearing. Your screams and moans are definitely his favorite sounds, aside from explosions and gunfire. He can't help but want more. Crave more.

"Come on doll, get louder," he teases, "I know ya could do better than that." He went to tug your head to the side, exposing the junction between your neck and shoulder. Sinking his yellowed teeth in, biting down hard to draw blood. That was just the push you needed. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench tightly around his length, releasing a shattering scream as you cum violently around his cock.

J lapped the fresh blood from where he bit you. "Hm, that's it," he groaned, "now that's a real scream." He kept going, his pace never letting up. In fact, soon as your hands went to tug at his hair did his thrusts speed up.

You yank his head from your neck to look into his intoxicating eyes, moving to glance towards your blood on his lips. Crashing them with yours to taste that savory metallic flavor for yourself. You take his bottom lip between your teeth and bite down harshly, earning a rumbling groan from him.

He's getting closer and closer to his own peak as you're nearing another. When you feel his thumb move to rub rigorous circles on your sensitive clit, you release his lip with a sharp cry. "J!"

Your walls clamping painfully tight around his throbbing dick, vision blurring as you cum. Nails digging into his broad chest, probably creating tiny bruises under the shirt.

He relishes in the pinch of pain you give him. Combined together with your sinful noises, the sight of your face contorted in ecstasy, and the feeling of your tight warm walls. With that, he buries himself in you and cums hard. A moan mixed with a groan like noise slipping from his lips while he shoots his hot load into your cervix. So much, that some leaks out while you milk him of every last drop.

J collects his breath before lifting your weight up to slip out of you. Your pussy lips are so swollen that his cum isn't even able to drip down once he's out. He sets you onto the couch beside him, getting up to go into the restroom to clean himself and grab a damp rag to bring back to you.

As you regain yourself, you manage to sit a little more up on the couch. Wincing, trying not to sit up all the way due to the soreness already starting to form between your legs. You wrap the blanket around your naked form and silently contemplate. The sex was amazing sure, but you still felt bad for ruining movie night with a terrible movie.

The sound of J coming back in hadn't even registered with you until he waved his hand in your view, tearing you from your thoughts. You blink quickly, offering him a smile to hide it. But J had already seen the small frown when he walked back. And he wanted to know the reason behind it, since it was out of the ordinary. Usually you're always smiling in your post orgasmic state.

"What's carving a frown in ya, pumpkin?" He asks, a hint of concern in his tone as he hands you the small towel. The strange nickname causes you to giggle and he eases knowing you're alright.

"It's nothing J," you say shyly, "I'm just.. I'm sorry the movie sucked. I promise I'll pick a better one next time."

He hums, saying nothing else as he sits back down beside you. Draping his arm behind the couch behind you. Blankly watching the last of the movies end credits while you clean yourself with the rag.

You start to laugh again, "Well, now I really wanna carve a pumpkin. This place could use a couple. How about tomorrow I get some for us to carve?"

He grins sinisterly, "ya know, I'm usually carving into people."

"Pumpkins are less messy. Like, way less." You playfully respond.

"I like messy," he huffs.

"Yeah I know you do." You smile knowingly at him, lightly tracing the hexagonal patterns on his shirt. "I thought it would be fun. You don't have to if you don't want to."

J licks his scars as he ponders on it. Any activity having to do with a carving into something with a knife, count him in. "Ah, what the hell. Alright. What better way then to uh, help me spruce up on my slicing skills." He traces his hand out in front of him, as if he were carving a smile into something. This action causes you to release a genuine laugh. And in that moment, J relishes in hearing yet another one of his favorite sounds~

Woah, so that's the end! I hope you guys liked it. Again, sorry that it was so long. I can't help but make these super lengthy when it comes to smut😭

[marvelsuperfangirl]

Spooky Coincidences

Bucky x Reader

A/N : I wrote this and the following chapter in a day, I don’t why but the idea of unfortunate encounters with Bucky inspired me, it’s been a while I haven’t written for the Marvel fandom, so I hope you’ll like it :)

Warnings : Punch, broken jaw, spilled burning coffee ( is it really a warning? ) and crappy writing... ( sorry )

Halloween was commercial ! It was an appropriation by the consumation society to make an even bigger profit than the other period of the year.

Candies, seasonal snacks and drinks, decorations, events, haunted houses… Their only goal was to steal the honest people’s money.

Which is why, this year, you decided to become one of the instrument of that overpowerful society. By becoming a monster in a haunted house !

At the time, it sounded like hell of an idea… Now not so much….

You’ve heard about the super fun and well paid experience of working in a haunted house, so of course, you’ve applied to the job and became the ephemeral place’s entitled werewolf.

At first, you scrunched up your nose at the news. Yay, being disguised as a half human half dog being, so cool…

But at least, you were a cool version of a werewolf, wild hair, long white teeth, fake claws fake contact lenses, teared clothes and make up to match the style and give a scary touch to the mix.

After only a few shifts in the haunted house, things started to go south for you, and unbeknownst, itw as only the beginning….

The house had transformed one of its wings into a dark forrest, which floor was covered in fake grass and «  jonchée » of bones, cracking under the feet of the visitors. And you were supposed to jump from between the trees, covered in blood and baring your fake fangs to the already rather scared people who dared to wander in your territory.

The very evening of Halloween, you had to step up your game and look twice as scary to make all the children and daring adults shit their pants, at least, that’s what your boss said, even if you prayed it wouldn’t literally happen, at least not in your area…

You were waiting, crouched behind the fake trees, for newcomers to enter your wing, legs starting to hurt from how long you’ve been maintaining the uncomfortable position.

« Calm down, Bucky, we’re almost out »

As the masculine voice reached your ears, you stood up abruptly and got into character, giving yourself a mental speech.

«  I’m a mean werewolf, hungry for human flesh, and mostly for money, so if I want it, I need to scare the hell out of those humans, let’s go »

« I can’t understand by you get shit scared by fake monster when you’re fighting nazis almost every week » another voice rang , sounding closer this time.

You heard a groan and waited for your preys to be at the perfect place to be pounced on and jumped right out from between the trees.

There was a tall bulky man right in front of you and without thinking you chose him as your dedicated victim for this group.

You advanced toward him, but alerted by your roars he’d already turned to you, eyes wide in fear and had a small backing movement before his fist came colliding with the side of your face.

The punch sent you flying back against one of the fake trees, which produced a very unpleasant noise, and all you could feel was pain and shock.

Your whole skull was throbbing from  the impact of his fist and the pain in your back was almost able to rivalize with the previous one.

Around you, gasps and scream echoed while you were gritting your teeth in a vain attemps at controlling your pain.

« Oh god, are you alright ? »

Someone has crouched down beside you and held your shoulder, trying to get a look at your face, you noticed a few other pairs of feet in your line of vision, joining the first person.

As the shock subdued, on the complete opposite of the pain, you replayed what happened and remembered your attacker. You tried to lift your head as slow as possible as to not worsen the throbbing and search the little crowd with your eyes for the guy who was responsible for the possible concussion you would be diagnosed for, except if you were going to die, that is !

And there he was ! The fear was still evident on his face but now it was twisted with a dose of remorse / guilt.

With you teeth still gritted like your life depended on it, you managed to give a piece of your mind at that stranger.

« Why the hell did you punch me ?! »

Everyone person present in the area turned to him, waiting for an answer but as he start to open his mouth, visibly even more embarrassed, you didn’t let him say anything.

« You f*ck*ng idiot ! What the f*ck, if you’re scared of haunted house don’t go there, you asshole ! Go f*ck yourself elsewhere before I call a lawyer, you dick ! »

You spat all the harsh words you could think about at the moment, your mind blurry from the adrenaline =, while the pain gave you the urge to get it all out and maybe feel a little bit better. News flash : it wasn’t the case.

« Miss, we’re sorry, itw as an accident he’s just »

« Y/N ! »

One of your colleague who was responsible for the lights and cameras in your wing came running toward you, pushing throught the crowd, flanked by a few other members of the team.

« We already called an ambulance to check on you »

« We’ll evacuate the house, stay there and wait for them, it wouldn’t be a good idea to move you ourselves. »

The first one nodded and settled down next to you while the others started to usher your attacker and his friends out, leaving you alone with your colleague.

« It probably sounds stupid but how are you feeling ? »

You glared at him, at his more than known stupidity before softening.

« Like hell, that guy has a killer punch, seriously, I feel like my head’s gonna explode, and my back hurts as well, you tried to move to stretch but your colleage held your shoulders.

« Don’t move, it could be something severe, we’ll see what we can do for that guy and regarding your state if there will be legal pursuit or no, don’t you worry about that »

You leaned abck against the fake tree, replaying the exact moment when you decided it would be a good idea to work in a haunted house to make « easy money ».

« Fuck I hate Halloween »