#perspective matters and i had enough of paying attention

[vanmarkus]

you know what. I had a whole ass post in my drafts about the frankly unhinged and childish behaviour that still surrounds that 1 minute dinner scene despite how clear-cut it was... but I just remembered that being queer used to be illegal; in some countries as recently as during my lifetime.

not as in gay marriage, but as in existing as a queer person was illegal and punishable by law.

so idgaf about what some children bemoaning a fictional guy flirting with his own boyfriend say. I cannot be bothered about any of the people stirring drama and sending hate and all of that stuff... because it's not worth my time or my energy to even think about it, let alone address it.

if your life is so miserable that some ship wars and whatnot can rile you up enough to behave this disgustingly towards other fans, largely queer fans no less... I have no understanding or empathy, but more importantly; I have no time for you.

I am just here to enjoy a TV show full of queer rep that treats me and my peers with respect and doesn't other us in any way. and I am grateful to live during this era and not the one where two men holding hands could've gotten them killed. bless.

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW - L.H.

Summary: To keep up the ruse of Charles, Laura, you and him being nothing but an ordinary family, Logan shares a heartfelt memory he’s been hiding. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Logan is hopelessly in love, Charles being a shithead (lovingly)

A/N: I could not get Old Man Logan outta my mind, so this transpired from all that. I initially wrote it from the reader's perspective, but I changed it to focus on Logan's thoughts and feelings. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST | PART TWO

If looks could kill intentionally injure, then Charles would definitely have throbbing wounds all over his body. Logan shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to calm his increasing blood pressure as listens to the old man enthusiastically accept the Munson family’s gracious invitation to dinner. He sighs, returning to the driver’s seat, avoiding the rear view mirror lest he catch Charles’ smug expression. 

The ride to the Munson house is uncharacteristically quiet. The initial shock from Charles introducing you as Logan's wife subsides, leaving him lost in thought by the idea of being seen as a family. No one speaks another word, figuring that he deserves a break from Charles and you rambling on about stories to entertain Laura. Watching him angrily clutch the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white seems to be enough of an incentive to not pile on to his already shitty day.

Logan slams the door as he gets out the car, clearly agitated by the detour on their way to North Dakota. No matter how wonderful a home-cooked meal sounds, he knows they’re just wasting time by lingering. But once he sees the desperate look on the three of your faces - particularly, yours, he relents, hoping trouble would spare them for a night.

The seven of you gather at the dinner table, Logan steals a quick glance at you while Nate says grace. Laura digs in immediately, picking the food apart with her fingers and stuffing it in her mouth. Logan clears his throat and gives her a pointed look, she flicks her eyes towards you and you give her an encouraging smile. 

“Where're you heading?” Mr Munson asks, looking between Logan and you.

“Oregon-”

“South Dakota-”

The two of you blurt at the same time, the Munsons pause in confusion. Your eyes widen at the sudden turn of events, a flash of panic settles on Logan’s expression before Charles intervenes.

“Oregon, then South Dakota.” He says, smiling as if nothing’s wrong.

Mrs Munson inquires him further, going off into a tangent about traveling. Logan leans back, watching Charles animatedly lie about some "vacation" plans. He stops himself from scoffing, meeting your gaze across the table. 

“James?” Mrs Munson's voice snaps him from his thoughts. He looks at her blankly having missed the first part of her question.

“It’s been 8 years,” You interject, nudging his foot underneath the table, silently warning him to pay attention. “We’ve been together for 8 years.”

Logan’s eyebrows twitch at your lie. He wishes you were together, that you would want him like that. Whatever hopes he had for a relationship with you shattered the moment reality set in his mind. You don't deserve someone like him, a broken old man who's struggling to keep himself going everyday. No. He wouldn't subject anyone, much less you, to an ill-fated man like him.

“Wow! That’s almost as long as our marriage,” Mrs Munson smiles at her husband, “You have any plans of proposing, James?” Her eyebrows are raised, it’s clear she noticed the lack of a ring on you.

“Kathryn.” Mr Munson chastises.

“What? It’s a natural thing to ask!”

Logan shifts in his seat, uncomfortable by the expectant eyes on him. He directs a tight smile at Kathryn, slowly nodding his head.

“Uh yeah… just waitin’ for the right time.” He says with a tone of finality, hoping she’ll drop the subject. She doesn’t.

“8 years certainly is a long while, don’t keep her wondering too long.” She winks at you.

Logan gives her a fake laugh, noting the subtle redness on your cheeks. 

“Oh! You two are adorable!” She exclaims, catching the flitting glances. “Tell me, how did you know she was the one?”

Logan takes a swig of his beer, Charles chuckles next to him and he uses all his willpower to not knock the stupid look off his face. He swallows the nervous feeling in his throat, resisting your intense gaze.

It had been hours, or something like that, since you left his side. Once you saw Storm's concerned expression, you immediately shot out of your seat, running to the medical wing of the mansion. Something must have happen to him on the mission.

Charles had sensed your distress as you made your way to the starkly-lit room. You always hated the medical wing, knowing there's no good reason why any of you would need to be here. The moment you saw Logan on the bed, you knew he had suffered enough to be unconscious. Charles kept reassuring you that he'd be alright in due time, that you just need wait for the regeneration power to kick in.

Storm kept checking on you every few hours, making sure you were taking care of yourself while you sat near Logan. She knew the both of you harboured feelings for each other in a way that was obvious to everyone except you two. She'd noted how Logan would always look for you anytime he entered a room, always made sure your favourite snacks were stocked up since the kids kept raiding the shelves, always made sure your gear was extra secure when you had to go on missions. Scott had caught on too but she secretly threatened him when he was about to tease Logan.

When Logan finally opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming, shocked by the sight of you caring waiting for him. At that point, you had only known each other for less than a year, familiar enough to be considered friends. He didn't want to push you with flirty advances and realise you didn't reciprocate his feelings. That would've crushed him, so he settled with friendship and tried his hardest to bury his emotions around you.

His heart almost gave out when you smiled realising he was awake and he was going to be okay. And for a second, just a little second, a flicker of hope crossed his mind. But it went away when he saw Charles with the same expression. Of course, you were only there because you were worried about your friend. Nothing more.

Storm had advised him to rest for a couple days while his body recovered on its own. Pain was nothing but a sensation for him, after decades of going through utter destruction and slaughter, this was something he could drain out with minimal effort. You didn't leave his side at all. Even after he'd soothed your anxieties about his open wounds. But your response to that kept him up for days afterwards, 'I don't care if it's a paper cut or stubbing your toe somewhere, I don't like seeing people hurt. Especially you. I'm not leaving and I will be here for as long as it takes.'

It was that moment when all the chains restraining his desires let loose. His heart swelled with affection and he recognised that unmistakable emotion. Love. That stupid bastard. But he knew better than to taint your life with his scarred history.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes away from Logan as he finishes the story, keeping his focus on the plate in front of him, hating how silent the room became. Of course, he changed a few of the details to maintain the charade of being ordinary people, but the memory, itself, is something that often revolves in his mind.

Kathryn coos over his words, blown away by the sweet response. Satisfied, she turns her attention to Charles, excitedly asking about his time as a professor.

Logan avoids looking your reaction, even Laura seems taken by the memory - a tiny glimpse into their past. He coughs, ignoring the stabbing pain near his stomach. God, he hopes you won't call him out on this later. He doesn't know if he can keep this to himself any longer, especially since Kathryn had been commenting on your supposed "relationship" with each other.

The Munsons stand up to clear the table, Logan thanks them for the meal and nods his head at Charles, Laura and you, a signal to leave. Kathryn shoots down his intention of driving to a motel and insists on staying the night. Logan sees you stand up, trying to help his cause, but Charles declares you’ll leave the following morning - much to Logan’s annoyance. Your eyes follow Logan as he carries Charles upstairs, Laura right on his tail. Kathryn gives you a teasing glance snapping you out of your daze and you help her with the dishes.

Once Logan returns to the kitchen, Kathryn leads the two of you to the living room, “Here’s the couch, I'm sorry we don't have anything better.” The two of you thank her and she bids you good night, leaving Logan and you alone.

He groans, noting how the couch is hardly enough to support two people, much less someone as big as him. He certainly doesn't want to intrude on your personal space and wind up accidentally cuddling because of his subconscious impulses. Nope. That would definitely push you away.

“What’re you doing?” You ask.

“What’d you think?” He retorts, sinking into the armchair that barely fits him.

“Don’t be an idiot, your injuries are already bad, sleeping on that chair won’t do you any good.”

You stare at him across the dark room, when he makes no attempt to stand up, you sigh and lay back on the couch, turning away from him. A minute passes when you feel the cushion dip next to you, you don’t need to turn around to see the frustrated expression on his face.

The two of you lay down, backs towards each other. The only thing you can hear is the clock ticking in the next room. What Logan had said over dinner replays in your mind. You had been secretly pining over him for years and never showed your intentions, fearing rejection. So why do you suddenly have the urge to reveal your feelings?

“Did you mean it?” Your words pierce the silence and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even awake.

Of course I did. The answer leaves his mind as fast as it came. No one, over the last 8 years, ever came close to him as you did. But, he can’t tell you that, can he? Why would he want to put you through all the trouble that comes with him and his sorry life?

“Had to give ‘em something.” He mumbles, feeling his chest getting heavier.

“Oh. Yeah.. that was uh… I believed it.”

He hears you turn towards him and shuts his eyes, controlling the emotions bubbling inside him.

If only you knew.

PART TWO

[loveinhawkins]

That little window of time after the events of ‘84 and before Steve graduates: where Steve loses the little interest he still had in high school drama, because how could it even matter, he thinks, after everything else?

And Eddie does notice the shift—he’s intuitive that way, can read changes in people so long as he’s really paying attention, so long as he’s looking in the right places—but that doesn’t stop his own thoughts from clouding the picture.

It’s not like the difference is all that dramatic. Steve still has the confidence that goes along with being Steve Harrington, the way he holds himself in a crowd. He’s still well-liked, invited to a respectable number of parties in his last semester; when in conversation, he laughs at all the right moments—still effortlessly fucking charming, Eddie privately thinks, resigned.

But what doesn’t escape Eddie’s notice is that there’s a half-heartedness to some of it, as if Steve’s just going through the motions.

It’s like he’s seen something bigger, that’s the closest Eddie can get to describing it—like he’s somehow seen a world beyond Hawkins, even while standing still.

Eddie reasons with more than a little bitterness that maybe it’s because Steve’s graduating. Maybe he could’ve had that feeling too if he didn’t keep…

“Hey, Munson,” Steve says in the cafeteria because he can just do that apparently, while Eddie still can’t shift the high school reflex, the instant bafflement that Steve Harrington is actually talking to him like they’re in any way—

“You’ve got O’Donnell next, right?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods. It’s not like it’s an actual shock that Steve knows some of his timetable; you spend long enough in school, and you end up remembering patterns without even really thinking about it. Still, it’s one thing to vaguely know it, another thing to hear it.

“Yeah, she’s not here, dude. Overheard a phone call in home-room, they can’t get a sub for her.”

So? Eddie thinks. He doesn’t say a word, but Steve scoffs like he’s somehow heard him.

“Just figured you wouldn’t wanna sit in class for no reason, man.”

“Right,” Eddie says. “Because I have so many other things to do.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Christ, lighten up. Sun’s shining and you’ve got the perfect opportunity to ditch class.”

Right now the only opportunity Eddie thinks he has is to be huge dick and snap back at Steve. He can’t bring himself to do it.

“Guess I don’t have your perspective,” is what he says instead.

Steve smiles. Even that seems knowing, but Eddie can’t put his finger on it.

What happened to you, Steve Harrington? Can you teach me, before you go?

Steve drifts back to his seat with a nonchalant shrug.

What Eddie doesn’t know is that Steve’s already thinking ahead to the end of the school day; he’d got a note in home-room from the school secretary, Claudia Henderson inviting him to dinner.

Eddie doesn’t understand it yet, but he can sense traces of the feeling anyway: that the sun is shining, and as far as Steve’s concerned, the monsters are gone. He’s seen so much, but today in spite of it—or maybe because of it—he is simply, unreservedly happy.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Helloo can I get The Hobbit/Dwarves headcanons? When they fall in love with a human🍂It doesn't matter which dwarf it is, I'm honestly in love with all of them~

(ooh yes I love the idea of the dwarves with a human! since you don't mind which one I'm going to do a preference scenario with all 4 dwarves that I write for :) if you'd like me to expand on one of them then feel free to ask!)

(Includes Dwalin, Thorin, Kili, Fili (separately) x gender neutral human reader - no warnings here, all SFW fluff)

Dwalin:

You have to be very persistent with Dwalin. He is not necessarily hostile, but he's certainly bristly in the early days. He's almost frustrated with himself when he realises that he's in love with you - your relentlessness and determination to know him are irksome but they help you in wiggling your way into his heart. Once he tolerates you enough to actually pay attention to your little 'conversations' (his replies are usually grunts or single syllables), he becomes interested in you. You make him want to be more open and less gruff, he wants to put effort in, for you.

Thorin:

There's no way to sugar-coat it, Thorin is irritated by your presence at first. He's had poor experiences with humans in the past, and has little reason to trust you until you prove yourself to him. Though, if you are patient and understanding, he grows to tolerate and eventually appreciate your presence. He finds that having such a different perspective can be valuable, and looking at the world through your eyes for that moment helps to change his perspective. Thorin never envisioned himself falling for a human, but now he can't imagine being without your wit, your kindness, your smile...

He might be down bad but will deny it for a long time.

Kili:

Kili really couldn't care less about your race. He falls in love with you for you and, while he values the opinions of his kin, he doesn't believe that humans are as bad as some say. He's eager to learn about your culture, wanting to participate in whatever traditions you may have that you'd like to share with him. In return, he'd love to show you the ways of the dwarves, trusting you deeply enough to give you 'insider knowledge'.

Fili:

Fili is a little slower than his brother to trust a human, being more likely to heed his kin's warnings, but he remains open minded. His fondness for you grows gradually as he watches your routine and your habits, noting the little things that are unique to you. He also notices that you seem to have a lot more resilience than he'd given you credit for. Fili may fall for you slowly, but he falls hard.

[revehae]

day and night (1)

pairing ↠ jeno x (f) reader x haechan

genre .. warnings ↠ noncon, abduction, use of a gun, bondage, unprotected sex, slapping

summary ↠ haechan is one of the sweetest guys you’ve ever met and a pleasure to tutor, but your perspective of him changes forever when you wake up in a foreign room tied to the bed; and only haechan and his team captain jeno are to blame.

wc ↠ 2.5k

a/n ↠ this is part one of a repost! i don’t have the original banner anymore if it matters pls don’t shoot me. here’s part two

don’t like it, don’t read.

maybe all of the signs had been staring you dead in the face - the shy glances haechan casted you, only to glance off as swiftly as possible the moment you caught him staring. the way he always blushed whenever you praised his efforts or called him smart. how he was always so curious about you, and maybe his cute face and innocent smile had lured you into telling him a little more than you should have.

after all, he was merely a stranger before you agreed to tutor him. just the cute boy in class that did his work and kept quiet, and was only found to be close with his fellow teammates on the baseball team. 

but you thought that it only meant he had an innocent crush on you. never did you imagine that all of it would culminate in this way. that you would wake up in an unfamiliar room with haechan towering above you. 

“you’re awake,” haechan whispered, more inwardly, as if he meant to keep the words inside of his head. 

you glanced around, nothing short of confused. the bedroom was quite clearly not yours. for one, the bed you were lying on is much bigger and comfortable. second of all, it’s so much more decorative, looking more like your ideal bedroom than the one you actually own. it’s filled with your favorite colors, posters of your favorite musical artists, and things alike. almost as if you designed the room yourself. but you knew you didn’t. 

when you tried to sit up, you were forced right back in place. you glanced up and realized that your wrists were bound. the feeling of the rope digging into your skin made you grimace. haechan’s eyes flashed with arm, and he rushed to your side. “is it too tight?” as soon as you nodded, haechan went to loosen the ropes. not enough so that you could free yourself from them, of course, but enough so that it wouldn’t be prying into your skin. “better?” he asked. you gave him another nod, and he sported his signature cute smile. you only wished that you could still trust it.

merely seconds later, haechan made another move. he seemed to be pensive and mull his decision over, taking one step forward, then another back, and then he made a few more forward until he was right at the edge of the bed. he reached for your shorts, and in an instant you realized what he was trying to do. you tried to kick, but he held your legs carefully, trying not to hurt you in spite of your attempts to kick him away. “please don’t do this, haechan,” you whimpered, shaking your head. your throat hurt when you tried to talk and your breath picked up a rapid pace to the point where you almost couldn’t breathe. 

haechan frowned, but he didn’t let up. “i have to - i’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

your brain immediately began to think of reasons why he would have to do something this terrible to you. why he would have to kidnap you and lock you inside of some bedroom, presumably in his house. you had never been. all of the studying sessions took place at yours, and he had all of the time in the world to learn every little thing there was to know about you that made you vulnerable to this kind of situation, simply by paying attention. then, it occurred to you exactly how you had been abducted - belt wrapped around your throat from the backseat of your car, until you eventually lost consciousness. that didn’t seem like haechan’s M.O, though. sure he was stronger than you, that much was obvious from the fact that he was holding your legs in place, but even then, he was gentle. the ambush in your car was anything but, betraying every effort of preserving your comfort that haechan had put forth. and then, it clicked. haechan l wasn’t the one that had kidnapped you.

then, who had?

“did someone put you up to this?” you questioned, trying hard to ignore the burn around your neck. the belt was no longer there, but the pain lingered. as soon as the question left your mouth, haechan seemed to freeze, and you knew by now that that meant you had hit the nail on the head. haechan was merely someone’s partner in crime, but you couldn’t imagine who. someone from the baseball team? i don’t even know anyone else from the baseball team. “who… who, hyuck? you can tell me.”

he only shook his head. “i can’t.” 

you bit your lip. “is it someone from the team? you don’t have to do this, hyuck. you can let me go.”

haechan was still hesitant, but his reluctance didn’t side with you this time. unless, he was telling the cold, hard truth when he replied, “no one forced me to do anything.”

you didn’t want to believe that. it made you sick to your stomach to think that haechan was fully willing to do something like this to you. 

“come on, donghyuck.”

“he’s right,” added another voice, deep enough for you to tell that it obviously didn’t belong to haechan. your vision panned to the doorway, where the last person you thought you’d see appeared - lee jeno, captain of the baseball team. “this was a group effort. teamwork, if you will.”

“jeno…” 

jeno lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers before stepping in the room, “that’s me,” he announced, smiling. it wasn’t sweet or even kind, though of course you were biased in that description; he was the one pulling all of the strings. it was… victorious. like the prideful smiles he sported after winning a championship game, when people would flock towards him with their congratulations and asking him how it felt to be so utterly undefeated. at least then, you thought he was respectable. he never acted as if he carried all of the weight, never forgetting to mention that it was teamwork that rewarded him with a victory. but now he was looking at you as if he had won possession over you, and you felt nauseous. 

jeno glanced at haechan with a displeased look, chiding, “haven’t even gotten the bitch naked yet? what good are you for?”

haechan hung his head and whispered, “sorry.” 

jeno sighed and shook his head, then began to walk towards you. and that was when you began to panic. when you were alone with haechan, you felt a tad bit safer, considering you had at least trusted him at one point and he was gentle with you, but jeno wasn’t like that. you didn’t know him personally, but he worked hard, played hard, and nothing about him was ever soft. he reached for something inside of the bedside drawer, and your eyes went round when you realized that it was a knife. he leaned towards you and shut your eyes, begging, “jeno, please don’t hurt me, please, i’ll do whatever you want.”

the man in question tilted his head. “whatever i want?”

tears rolling down your cheeks, you nodded. your eyes only opened again once you heard something rip and your skin suddenly felt cold. jeno had tore your shirt apart with his knife and the air was hitting your bare skin. your chest heaved as you made eye contact with him, so much fear in yours and so much power in his.

jeno dragged the knife down your abdomen and to your underwear. you held your breath when you felt the cold edge of the knife against your bare skin, and soon it was slitting your underwear open. he wasn’t as careful as haechan, and the only reason his pace was even relatively slow was because he knew it would unnerve you. he asked through thick breath, “will you give me something?”

you gulped, mouth going dry. you knew what he wanted. it was clear as day - what both of them wanted. 

carelessly, jeno threw the broken pieces of fabric somewhere across the floor and ran a finger over your cunt. instantly you squirmed, trying to pry your legs shut, and you managed to land a kick on jeno. “you fucking bitch,” he spat, visibly now upset. he stormed over to the uppermost end of the bed and tightened the ropes around your arms again in punishment, satisfied when you let out a loud noise of pain and discomfort. 

“hurts?” 

you nodded, lips trembling. 

jeno snickered and moved back to the other end of the bed. “good.” 

he shot haechan a look and he swooped over, holding your legs spread. never had you ever felt so helpless and betrayed. you just couldn’t believe that this was happening, couldn’t fathom why it was happening to you.

“i don’t want this,” you croaked, hoping that maybe something could get them to stop. something could deter them and get them to change their mind. 

“i don’t give a fuck what you want,” jeno retorted bluntly. and just like that, the hope vanished. jeno got an idea and said, “haechan, it’s your turn.” 

haechan meandered towards you slowly, almost looking shy. he saw the way your eyes begged and pleaded for mercy and knew that you saw something in him that you didn’t see in jeno, but you weren’t ready to accept how similar they were. that haechan was capable of terrible things, just as much as jeno was.

“i want…” haechan trailed off, looking down at his feet. 

eyebrow arched, jeno urged him on, “you want what?” 

haechan cleared his throat. “i want her to ride me.”

for a second, you were glad that jeno’s teasing wasn’t directed towards you at the moment. he laughed, amused by his teammate’s honesty. “you’re fucking kidding. you hear that, babe? haechan’s so pathetic that he can’t even fuck you. he needs you to do all the fucking work for him.”

then you saw it. the tent in haechan’s pants. as humiliating as the situation was, he was aroused.

jeno walked back to the top side of the bed, then grabbed your jaw and warned, “listen, you little cunt. i’m gonna untie these ropes and you’re going to be on your best behavior or else i’ll have to hurt you - really, really bad. is that what you want?”

rapidly, you shook your head. jeno went to untie the ropes and you felt a little relieved to have your wrists freed, though they still stung. 

“now be a good girl and ride haechan.”

haechan stripped himself of his clothes and simultaneously you of all of your dignity. it was your turn to hesitate: should you cave in to their desires, or resist and possibly make things worse for yourself? it seemed like no matter what you did they always had the upper hand, and your only option was to submit, whether you did it willingly or by force.

“just do what he says. please,” haechan told you, giving you the most pitiful eyes. whether he was telling you that for your sake or for his, you didn’t know anymore. you thought that there was a chance he wasn’t as sick as jeno was, but clearly you were being proven wrong. his hunger for you obviously outweighed any sense of conscience he had, his moral compass broken. and you felt disgusted.

you swallowed to wet your throat. “do you have a condom?” 

“haechan’ll pull out,” jeno said, unperturbed. much unlike you. the last thing you wanted was to have a baby and especially by either of them. “won’t you, haechan?”

haechan’s eyes flickered. “i don’t think…”

jeno repeated more sharply this time, “won’t you, haechan?”

slowly, haechan nods. you didn’t trust it - especially considering jeno had essentially just forced haechan into saying that he’d pull out - but it wasn’t like you had a choice. you couldn’t imagine the things he’d do to you if you resisted. so with all of the strength you could muster, you walked on your knees towards haechan and straddled his crotch, slowly pushing the head of his cock into you. haechan tipped his head back almost immediately, a high-pitched noise escaping his lips. a noise left yours, but it wasn’t one of pleasure. it burned and tears pricked your eyes.

at least you had control over the pace. that was the only thing that you had power over in this entire situation. you weren’t sure how to feel about that.

“good. you’re complying,” jeno remarked, only observing from the sidelines - for now. “don’t know why you’re crying like a fucking bitch. we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. you should be glad haechan’s such a wimp - i won’t be going so easy on you.”

“shut up,” you hissed. you hadn’t really meant to say it aloud, but it was too late - you already had. and now you were definitely going to suffer the consequences.

anger flashed on jeno’s face in an instant and he didn’t hesitate to reach for your jaw again, forcing you to look at him so rapidly that you thought your neck would snap. “what the fuck did you just say?”

you had never regretted anything quicker. gulping, you swiftly tried to save yourself, “i’m sorry-“ 

the words had hardly left your mouth before the palm of his hand landed against your cheek, and it stung like hell. if you weren’t crying already, you were sobbing now. 

jeno repeated, “i said, what the fuck did you just say to me?” 

you hesitated, but in your best effort to not get hit again, you whispered in the tinest voice, “i said… i said shut up.” 

jeno swung his palm towards your face again and you closed your eyes in preparation, but it never came. you opened your eyes again after a moment, met with the sight of laughing in your face. whether from anger or genuine amusement or a combination of the two, you couldn’t tell.  much to your surprise, he let go of your face, but you should have known that he wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily. the words left his mouth and you gawked when he spoke to haechan, “cum in her.”

“no- no, you can’t!” you yelled to haechan, immediately trying to get away before he got the chance. but you felt something cold against your temple and immediately froze.

“move and i’ll have to coat these pretty walls with your brains. you wouldn’t want that, would you?” jeno asked, holding a firearm to your head. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. the fear plaguing you had broken you. it took every bit of strength you had to even shake your head. “wouldn’t have had to do this if you just behaved like i told you to. but since you wanna be a fucking brat, i guess i gotta treat you like one. see this as your punishment.”

when haechan came with a loud cry, filling you to the brim, it wasn’t long before they switched places. and when jeno forcefully bended you over, you knew that you were in for one hell of a ride. 

and it was going to be a long one. 

[riality-check]

More roadie shenanigans, keeping feedback from this post in mind! part 1, part 2

ao3

It’s before the second show, and they’re already fighting.

“You can’t chicken out,” Gareth says.

“I’m not gonna chicken out!”

“Good, because I’ll tell Wayne if you do,” Jeff says.

Eddie glares at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Shut up and get out of here!” Archie says, pushing Eddie toward the tech booth. He complies, but not without another scathing look over his shoulder.

His friends laugh because of course they do. They’re assholes, but, luckily, they’re the same kind of asshole that Eddie is.

He straightens out his shoulders, breathes, and prepares to grovel.

Robin and Steve are setting up just like they were at the last venue. It looks like a mess of cables and boxes from Eddie’s perspective, but Steve and Robin work with ruthless efficiency, alternately talking and signing when their hands aren’t full.

“Um,” Eddie says. G-d, he’s never been this awkward in his life. But this matters, like, really matters to him, and he’s gotta do right.

Neither of them pay him any attention.

“Excuse me?” he says a little louder.

Robin turns around. When she sees him, her expression instantly sours.

“Hello?” she drawls, sounding bored out of her mind.

Steve turns around, too. When he sees Eddie, his face-

Well, Eddie isn’t sure what that expression is supposed to mean. If he had to guess, he’d say mild annoyance.

Mild annoyance shouldn’t look that hot.

“I just wanted to say again that I’m really sorry,” he says, making sure to talk clearly and loud enough to be understood. He’s not an idiot, he knows that shouting is rude, but he makes sure he can be heard over the general chaos of setting up for a new show. “It wasn’t any of my business, and even if I meant well, it’s not an excuse.”

Steve’s face softens a whole lot as Eddie stumbles through his apology, and then he reaches up to his ears to take out ear plugs.

Huh?

“Mind saying that again?” Steve says with a smile.

Eddie is. So confused.

But then Steve laughs. “You should see your face, dude. I got the gist. Apology accepted, we’re cool.”

Okay, that makes Eddie feel better. A lot better. But he’s still confused.

And his mouth always moves faster than his brain.

“Why are you- why do you have- what-”

Robin rolls her eyes fondly. “This idiot,” she says, pointing at Steve, “always tries to do the first show without the ear plugs he needs-”

“Not this shit again,” Steve mumbles.

“-because, as it turns out, your ears do a lot more than just hear. Like balance-”

“You’re one to talk about balance, Buckley,” Steve says, giving her a light shove. She nearly topples over if not for the fact that he immediately grabs her arm to steady her.

Eddie thinks he might know even less than he thought.

“I want to make it up to you,” he says, and Steve and Robin stop bickering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, and Robin elbows him.

“I want to,” Eddie insists. “What’s your favorite song? We’ll play it at the end of our set.”

Naïvely and terribly optimistically, Eddie hopes Steve might say something that’s already in their set list, or maybe another one of their songs.

From the way that Robin and Steve are looking at each other conspiratorially, he doesn’t think that’s the case.

“No,” Steve says, laughing and shaking his head.

Robin sneaks a glance at Eddie, smirks, and starts signing at Steve.

The only thing Eddie understands about the conversation as their hands move is their facial expressions: Robin with a smirk, and Steve trying desperately not to laugh.

He’s so cute. He gets this little crease on the side of his mouth that Eddie wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Slow the hell down, buddy.

“Fine,” Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air. He turns back to Eddie. “Pretty Fly.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eddie blurts.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t you just apologize to me?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “It’s just that my bassist and lead singer have been gunning for this song for, like, 6 months. Archie chomps at the bit for fun bass lines, and Jeff just thinks it’s funny as-”

“Slow down,” Steve interrupts.

Right. He talks too fast.

“I’ll play it, but it means caving to my asshole friends,” Eddie says.

Robin cackles. “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I love a good bass line,” Steve says. His face is softer again, and Eddie thinks he loves that expression.

He checks his watch. “Soundcheck is soon, so I’m gonna head back. Sorry again.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie loves how Steve says his name.

“We’re good, okay?” he continues, small smile on his face.

“Well,” Robin chimes in. “After the apology song you will be.”

Eddie laughs. He really likes her now that she’s warmed up to him.

“Noted,” he says.

He heads back with a final wave and ducks backstage, where the band is tuning their instruments.

“Well?” Gareth asks, tightening his snare.

Eddie grabs his guitar, closes his eyes, and sighs. “He wants us to play Pretty Fly as an apology.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Archie roars, and Jeff gives him a high five.

“No way-”

“Gareth, I know-”

“You dick-hungry traitor.”

“Hey!”

“The fucking Offspring, Eddie? Punk? Are you shitting me? Punk just because you want a shot with a hot guy?”

Archie starts plucking out the bass line. Gareth throws a drum stick at his head. Jeff beams it back at him and misses.

“It’s one time,” Eddie says.

“Unless your cute roadie likes it enough,” Jeff teases.

“He’s not my anything.”

“Not yet,” Archie adds.

“Not ever.”

“Fucking pessimist,” Jeff says.

A tiny crashing sound makes them all turn toward the drum set, where Gareth is lightly thumping his head into the hi-hat.

“I’m gonna have to do the backing vocals for Pretty Fly,” he mutters.

“Your fault for sounding like a pre-pubescent chihuahua.”

Gareth throws his other drumstick at Jeff. “I’m not begging you for shit.”

“Do it for the bit,” Archie says. “You love doing it for the bit.”

Gareth picks his head up. “I do love doing anything for the bit.”

“Soundcheck in five!” someone calls.

“Thank you five!” Eddie yells back. Shit, he’s gotta tune his guitar.

Soundcheck is a breeze, and, after that, the time flies. Before he knows it, they’re out onstage, playing their usual set list.

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. The energy, the lights, the sounds, G-d, all of it. There’s nothing like being onstage and playing until his fingers hurt, nothing like joining in on the backup vocals, nothing like hearing the crowd roar with them.

It’s perfect. Touring is everything he dreamed of and more.

Eddie wants to do this for the rest of his life. They’re gonna headline one day, he knows it, but this is an amazing start.

What Eddie doesn’t want to do is talk, at Jeff’s request.

“Okay, okay,” he says, getting the crowd to quiet down. “We’ve got two more songs. The first one is one we’re playing because I fucked up.”

“And because he finally caved to us,” Jeff adds.

The crowd laughs, but it doesn’t feel mocking. Eddie laughs with them.

“So, Steve, consider this the final part of my apology-”

“And my peak embarrassment!” Gareth adds.

The crowd laughs again, and Eddie sighs, fondly long-suffering. “Let’s do it.”

The backing vocals are fucking embarrassing. Eddie’s with Gareth on that one. They suck, and he feels himself flush for reasons other than the heat.

But he imagines Steve smiling as he watches the show, and Archie is clearly having the best G-ddamn time on the bass, and Jeff is basically cackling his way through the song, so it’s worth it.

They get through it and then their closer without a hitch.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff tells the crowd. “Y’all were amazing, so keep that energy up for the other opener and for the main act!”

The crowd roars, the lights black out, and they make their way backstage.

In the green room, on Eddie’s guitar case, is a note.

Apology more than accepted. Here’s my number in case you want to apologize again. Or maybe grab a coffee.

Text, don’t call. In case you haven’t noticed, my ears don’t work.

-Steve.

Eddie has never added a contact faster in his life.

I think I saw a 24 hour diner down the road. Hopefully they have good coffee.

Steve’s response is immediate.

Do you really think I care about the quality of the coffee?

You could be a coffee connoisseur for all I know, Eddie types back.

I don’t know a lot. Hence the date.

Date.

Woah.

Eddie tries to get his heart rate under control and text Steve back. He’s never been good at multitasking though, so by the time he’s able to formulate words again, the lights have gone down and the second opener is on. Steve’s working, and he shouldn’t be bothered.

Besides, Eddie should probably use the time between now and the end of the show to think before he speaks for once in his life.

Yeah fuck it I’ll keep the tag list (or you can follow the shiny new tag #gi;pe au): @vampireinthesun @paperbackribs @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @omgshesinsane @bestwifehaver @marklee-blackmore @gleek4twd @steddiestains @chaoticvictorianspirit @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @alienace @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @punctualhowell @pluto-pepsi @voidpacifist @sunfloweringstories @anaibis @evillitteguy @hallucinatedjosten @avi17 @b-u-g-g-y @shinekocreator @l0st-strawberry @brassreign @abbiecadabi-blog @rainbow-freckle @gregre369 @rehfan @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel

[gabessquishytum]

College AU

Hob was sitting in his Speech Class bouncing his leg. They were going to deliver their big speeches today on why they were artists. Hob didn’t like looking at the guy across from him directly, he just had a dark broody aura about him. The guy dressed head to toe in black, had eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and black messy hair. Hob never talked to him really all he knew was that his name was Dream. Hob hated listening to the speeches, then Dream is called up. He talks about how art should be dark and uncomfortable, how being comfortable all the time is stupid especially in art. The direct antithesis to Hob’s which was about how art can bring hope and light to a cruel world. Hob can feel Dream glaring at him when he gives his own speech.

After class Hob is suddenly shoved and pinned against the wall.

“How dare you!”

It’s dream, he’s tiny but his grip is strong.

“You undercut everything in my speech you stupid jock! How am I supposed to be taken seriously? Art shouldn’t be turned away from the world it should reflect it!”

“Can you let go of me?”

Dream lets him go. Hob brushes himself off.

“Art should reflect the world, the world is beautiful”

Dream looks incensed.

“How could you say such a thing?”

Hob motions for Dream to follow him.

Hob takes the long walk back to the dorm full of parks and natural beauty.

“This is my walk home everyday, isn’t it lovely?”

“It would be more efficient to take the bus,” dream grumbles.

“Sure, but I’d miss out on all of this,”

He motions to the luscious greenery around them.

“I had a dream like this once” Dream muses.

“I wanna show you art the way I see it, you wanna go back to my dorm and watch a tv show?”

Dream looked reluctant.

“I don’t want sex”

“Wasn’t on the table” Hob responses quickly.

Dream looked confused. “You really just want to watch tv?”

“I mean yeah?”

“My apologies I’m just so used to guys just wanting me for-“

Hob stops him. “No need to explain love, cmon”

Hob’s dorm is colorful. It’s mesmerizing, hob leads dream to the couch sitting a respectful distance away.

“I want to introduce you to something called Fraggle Rock”

Dream gives him a look.

“That is a children’s show,”

Hob does not pay attention to him and hits play.

By the end of it Dream is inconsolable.

“They are so silly… but they love each other, their world is beautiful and bright,”

Hob simply nodded, now Dream was getting it.

Soon Dream adds more color to his wardrobe (very dark purple and blue) and Hob sees the merit in disturbing art. They’ve become a bit like each other, a balancing out force for the better. And Dream’s end of the year speech talks about how both comfort and disturbance belong in art.

-🦎anon

This is adorable. "Disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed" is such a dreamling vibe. Both perspectives can be true and both experiences of the world are equally meaningful.

And I honestly don't think we talk enough about Hob as an artist!!!! Of course it makes sense for Dream to make art, but I truly believe that Hob would also make a wonderful artist. I can really see him as a sculpter or maybe working with ceramics - something that really gets his hands into the clay, probably making the biggest mess you can imagine. I figure he probably makes some pretty fucked up disturbing art (maybe Dream’s influence shows here), because after a long time trying to make everything positive and cheerful, he eventually sees that the truth of the world is kind of dark sometimes! And that's actually an okay thing for him to express in his work. He doesn't have to try and make everyone happy. He can just be himself!

Dream is a big fan of Hob’s dark periods and definitely ends up being one of his first customers. But he also has a soft spot for Hob’s radiant, gentle art. Hob’s art is definitely the only primary colour allowed into Dream’s house!!! Along with Hob himself, of course - he is always welcome, no matter how garish his outfits may be!

[betterinvienna]

" unprofessional " ; nanami kento

synopsis — nanami's patience grows thin in the office, but it's not because of the project you keep putting off | (nanami x gn!reader)

song inspo — i've never been in love before by laufey

tags — fluffish(?), office romance, flipping perspectives

content warnings — mention of stalking, gender neutral but reader does use a female marketed perfume and wears lipstick

word count — 2k

authors note — i miss u nanami come back home ill take u to malaysia. anyway this was more agonizing to write than i expected it would be i hope someone out there likes it

You make rational, well-thought-out, calm decisions, and always put your career first. If not, what else did you work so hard for?

If that stood true, you wouldn’t have been borderline teenage-esque awkward beside your coworker, Nanami Kento, as your boss went on and on about a new team project. In fact, maybe your mind would’ve been clear enough to hear an adequate chunk of the project so that you wouldn’t later be stuck in the sparsely decorated office of the aforementioned coworker as he criticized your contribution (or lack thereof) to said project, talking about – what again? – Right. See what I mean? Pay attention.

“Are you listening?” Nanami rumbles, causing your stomach to flip as you place a hand on your temple, nodding.

A pause. “Yeah – I mean – yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep and my car –”

However, he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m not interested in personal matters.” Here – I’ll give you a quick spoiler. He’s lying. “Please complete this part,” – a gesture to his computer screen – “of the project by next month, or I’ll have no choice but to report to HR about this sudden lack of awareness in the office. Do you understand?” It’s clearly rhetorical because he gets up immediately after – you’re not that dumb — so you don’t attempt to respond. Nanami pops the manila folders into a wired organizer on his desk and exits his creaky seat to escort his guest out.

A nod and an uncomfortable, brief smile. “I will. Thank you, Mr. Kento.” 

. . . 

Eros Pour Femme. Versace. 

Top notes: Sicilian lemon, pomegranate, and Calabrian bergamot.

Shocker. Looks like he is interested in personal matters. It’s unmistakable. This is not regular knowledge; however, Nanami gets mind-numbingly high off your perfume. Obviously, he searched it up on Fragrantica last night, drunk off a “pinch” of whiskey and missing you. Don’t look at him like that – he’s normal.

If you’re still unconvinced, he’s at least as normal as a guy can get watching the epitome of his standard waltz around the break room, oblivious of her deafening effect on him. Nanami spots you filling up a lipstick-stained mug at the new Keurig coffee maker – the previous one had to be replaced after Haibara somehow flipped it on its side while it was running and left it like that – mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

He only realizes he’s staring once you’re staring back.

You give a formal “good afternoon” smile and return to what you were doing, but he spots the faint red tainting your ears and the nails digging into your palm. He’d love to massage the crescent indents they left, yet he looks the other way to avoid acting on it. He looks down into his coffee and stirs it, checking his watch. It’s good to know he has that effect on you, but he soon regrets the fleeting thought after he turns his head and watches you spill at least a third of your coffee all over your chest. 

If getting caught staring wasn’t enough embarrassment for the day, Nanami adds another regret to mull over tonight by getting up and offering a paper towel to you.

“It seems hot,” he muttered a faulty excuse to you (though more to convince himself) pale hand outstretched.

“Thank you,” you laugh awkwardly. “This is embarrassing. Please excuse me.” You start in the other direction, clearly humiliated. Luckily for you (and him – he doesn’t want anyone eyeing you) Nanami is gentlemanly enough to not let a lady walk cold.

“Take my jacket.” Without much thought, Nanami shrugs his pinstripe suit jacket off his broad shoulders and drapes it over yours. “It’s fine. I have a lot more at home.” He offers a tightlipped smile, keeping the professional piece together. Unfortunately, you look up and smile at him, saying something about a button-up shirt that flies past his ears and has him staring at your lips.

Again, he only realizes he’s staring once you’re silent. How’d he make it this far this absentminded?

“Is there a problem?” You prompt, and he clears his throat.

“No.” Tightlipped, formal smile again. Ugh, he’s so good at this. He needs a raise. And you. But he’d like that raise too.

. . . 

This week at the office has been as discomfiting as ever. Not because you have the matter of the team project at hand – though you want to keep your job, so you’ll make good progress on it later, perhaps – but because Nanami Kento keeps looking at you. Not in a “Get the project done or I’m gonna bash your head in with my signature mug” kind of way, but possibly a different way you can’t quite seem to put your finger on. For a man who so evidently boasts a simple, straightforward life, he’s harder to read than an elementary picture book. Like, The Very Hungry Caterpillar sort.

Sorry, that level of specificity seems uncalled for. Let’s resume.

Incident Number One: The Office.

If you told your friends this story, they wouldn’t believe you. It happened on Monday, a week after the Coffee Incident. Wait – maybe that one should’ve been marked as Incident Number One. Regardless, Nanami’s demeanor seems to have changed around you. This isn’t the surprising part, however. The atmosphere around anyone will change once they see you completely dehumanized by some espresso. 

Yet this atmosphere was less… tangible at first. Sitting in your fishbowl of an office, you’re conjuring up a monster of an email to the local manufacturing company for getting the fundraiser t-shirts all mixed up when you look up and notice Nanami Kento – 6 feet, one-seventy-something pounds, by the way – hiding behind the water cooler like an elephant behind a thin Saharan tree with a file in one hand and a mug in the other, taking two side glances into your office before walking off with the same, bored expression once he realized you witnessed the ordeal. Had you not seen him aggressively rub his jaw like he was bothered as he walked off, you would’ve thought you’d done something wrong.

Okay. Let’s put two and two together. Is it crazy to say Nanami Kento is irked by your presence? Are you full of yourself or just observant?

Say we go the observant route. That would explain Incidents Number Two to a Million: The Parking Lot.

Nanami is infamous in the office for leaving exactly when dismissed – no need to stay around when you’re as efficient as he is. However, you’re notorious for the contrary. You stay late often times, as you handle financial disputes – and there’s a million of them.

The sky darkened as you shut your laptop and checked your watch – nearly midnight – and popped your head outside your office. To your surprise, Nanami’s office light was on, and even if you strained, you couldn’t hear keys clacking. Okay. Weird. Packing up your stuff, you put on your shoulder bag and breeze past his office.

The instant you’re in his line of sight, Mr. Kento begins to pack up his essentials as well, shuffling behind you until you both reach the elevator, where the two of you stand in silence until you reach the ground floor, where you go to your car and unlock it, driving off as Nanami does the same. But rewind. The moment you step out into the chilly night, he lingers behind and there’s a burning set of eyes on you until you reach your car. Had this been a coincidence, you would’ve shrugged it off and counted it as a gentlemanly gesture he’d done in the heat of the moment.

But it wasn’t.

Because it happened on the next day, Tuesday.

Then Wednesday.

Then Thursday.

Now, it’s happened on Friday.

Now we’re putting four and four together. It is not crazy to say Nanami Kento is looking out for you. Obviously, you’re not complaining about 6 feet of gorgeousness stalking behind you each day, but those two incidents combined? You have a bold assumption to make, but it’s going to take a bit more evidence to assert it.

. . . 

Nanami Kento is a patient man, but you prove to be pushing his limits.

For the first time in a long time, Nanami Kento felt giddy over someone. Like, he’s excited to see you. He thinks himself to be a genius of sorts, surreptitiously escorting you to your car when you stay late and sneaking glances at you when you aren’t paying attention.

He even feels nervous. Clearly, he doesn’t show it – age has refined his Herculean ability to suppress showing emotion in great quantity – but he feels nervous around you.

. . . 

Remember the evidence you needed? Thankfully, Nanami Kento gave you exactly that – and more – after the obligatory employee meeting. Your boss swears up and down it was originally for team bonding, but when he begins to complain about the progress everyone has made on the team project, you realize it’s going differently this time, again. 

“If we don’t get this done, we’re going to lose a couple thousand. I don’t know how much longer I have to drive the point home,” a snarky glance to you, “but no other assignment is more important than the task at hand right now.” Is he serious? A loss of a couple thousand for a million dollar company is peak stinginess. And a call out in front of the whole staff?

It only gets worse after the conference when Nanami pulls you aside and informs you, once again, about your work on the project. 

“Excuse me for this, but as the subunit leader, I do have to inform you that you still haven’t made much progress on the proj–”

You cut him off, worn out. “I don’t need you on my back, Mr. Kento.” An annoying smile from you, so that you can drive the point home that the workload has been too heavy this month – and entirely too important – to be focusing on something you can get done in 2 days. “I can get it done. Please have faith in my skills.” An eloquent way of saying “Shut up and leave me alone.”

“I understand, however, external assignments cannot be tolerated right now. Please trust me, you’re not the only person in this subunit who hasn’t completed their fair share. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you’re excluded.”

Now the air feels hot and you aren’t sure if it’s because of your proximity, anger, or both, but you mumble something you regret, channeling your previous teenage energy. “Yeah, well you seem like you sure are excluding me. I told you to get off my back.” Nanami’s face hardens, seemingly mildly irritated as your mouth, unfortunately, decides to keep running, louder this time. “You and Mr. Whats-His-Face can’t leave me alone. I apologize for my insane informality, but I will get it done. You cannot expect one person to juggle so many tasks at once. I’m already multitasking, and that –” you make a dismissive waving gesture with your hands, “mediocre – again, I apologize – project is the least of my worries. I can get it done. Just – please. It’s like you all want to be this needy, overbearing boyfriend at this point.” At the end of your rant, you sigh heavily and look up at him, and his expression is once again, unreadable, yet stunning. There’s not a single beat of silence before he responds.

“I do, though.” What?

“What?”

“I do.”

You throw your hands up in the air and huff, still confused. “You what?”

“I want to take you on a date. Not be needy and overbearing, though. Don’t mistake me.” He does not apologize for the bluntness, but instead for how sudden it was.” I wanted to do this in a more romantic and ceremonious setting, but it appears that you have me blurting.” He rechecks his watch like the sudden confession isn’t anything big. “And I apologize for the constant probing – on both ends.” Your heart thumps in your ears. He gives you a lopsided smirk, expectant and unnaturally awkward for Nanami Kento.

"Nanami…” 

“May I take you out on a date?”

[katnissmellarkkk]

The parallels between Katniss and her mother are quite apparent when it comes to their reactions to grief (as displayed when Mrs. Everdeen lost Katniss’ father and when Katniss lost Peeta and Prim). There’s been posts made about that on here many times before.

But we never really explore the opposition in their choice of man. What I mean is, we’re led to believe (granted, based on very little hints in the first book) that Mrs. Everdeen was with Mr. Mellark in some fashion, at the very least. Enough that he felt it was not only plausible that he could marry her but seemed to be still holding a candle for her all those years later. Mr. Mellark was a merchant, someone from her side of the district, part of the well-to-do class of Twelve. But she instead chose Mr. Everdeen, a poor, coal miner who couldn’t only give her a simple life in the Seam. A life that is much more difficult objectively and in a place that even her own daughter claims she sticks out like a sore thumb in (appearance wise).

Katniss, her daughter, on the other hand, chose Peeta in the end. Even before Mockingjay, it was obvious to anyone really paying attention (in the story or as a reader) who’d she fallen in love with. Gale was a strong, attractive guy from the Seam, who’d lived a pretty parallel life to hers, who was her partner in crime — literally — and her best friend. Everyone expected them to get together. Even the reporters who came from the Capitol took one look at him and thought he seemed like a threat to the idea of the Star-Crossed-Lovers being portrayed on the television screens. And yet, Katniss chose Peeta, not Gale. Peeta, who at the start, she seems to have nothing in common with. Not in terms of their upbringings (she was super poor and starving, he was popular and more comfortable but implied to suffer from heavy child abuse) and not in terms of their mindsets either. But there was an inexplicable attraction between the two, an instinctive pull bringing her back to him no matter how much she tried to fight it. And I suspect her mother had the same feeling, for Mr. Everdeen. That feeling is what led Katniss to choose Peeta over Gale, despite the fact that Gale may have seemed from an outside, detached perspective, like her natural choice of romantic partner. And that feeling is probably what also led her mother to make the same choice all those years before.

Idk I just think it’s interesting that Katniss chose Peeta but her mother — in a lot of ways — chose her Gale. Although there’s a strong argument to be made that her mother was actually choosing her version of Peeta by choosing Katniss’ father but my brain’s not there quite yet.

This post also could have been written and summed up a lot quicker if I’d just said, the love triangle between Katniss, Peeta and Gale and the love triangle between Mrs. Everdeen, Mr. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark are actually parallel love triangles that ended with the woman choosing the opposite type of man.

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖 𝚁𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜 -- 𝙰𝚄

William Rollins x Fem!Reader

◢ Genre: AU, Dark Fic, Smut, Plot Bunny — Suitable For Adults Only

◢ Warnings: darkfic, alternative universe, sexualization of a bad guy, toxic relationship, mentions of stalking behavior, manipulation, mentions of being institutionalized, mental health talk, keeping secrets, possessive!William, use of petname: kitten, exploring kink with William, body marking, knife kink, pain play, Dacryphilia (turned on by crying), katoptronophilia (sexual acts in front of mirrors), sexually recording the reader. Proceed with caution in case I missed something.

◢ A/N: This is an AU headcanon style fic list where William didn't die, but instead had been institutionalized for his behavior, and later released. It's based off William and his personality, though in a non-canon setting. Keep in mind, William is a psychopath, so don't always expect fluffy stuff with him. If you want a more direct x fem!reader insert with him based off this concept, let me know. Gif credit goes to myself.

◢ I do not consent to my work being post anywhere else.

The first time you had talked to William, it had been in a chat room.

Old habits die hard, and the internet has progressed so much.

You wanted to vent to a stranger about life and he was willing to listen.

He's charismatic, knowing exactly what to say to make you feel like you are on top of the world.

It was his way of learning you. He wanted to know what made you tick.

You found yourself confiding in him, telling him your secrets, fears, and insecurities.

Naturally, he knew how to use these things to his advantage.

To make sure you trusted him back, he started to confide in you.

But not the whole truth.

He's only told you bits and pieces of things.

Like that his mental health had declined as a teenager.

That he ended up institutionalized because of it.

It was just enough to make you feel sorry for him.

But not so much so that it would scare you away from him.

And it was likely a little warped in perspective.

That doesn't matter to him, so long as he has you at this point.

As far as you know, he's okay now and you are the reason he keeps going.

And that might not be a whole lie, he's actually become rather attached to you.

Maybe more so than you realize.

Dangerously so.

You might even have some darker things in common.

Which, if you do, he's going to find out one way or another.

After establishing yourselves, you finally agree to meet.

When you first met William, he had come off as perfect.

He flashed you that charming smile and batted the lashes on those pretty blue eyes which naturally caused you to bring your guard down.

He makes you feel safe, wanted, desired.

He's forward, but not overly so.

It's his way of testing the waters a little more.

But when you let him, he gives you these soft and sweet kisses.

The kind where his lips hover over yours after, and he simply smiles against them before he kisses you again.

You are his now.

He has his claws in you, and has no intention of letting go.

But being away from you doesn't exactly sit well with him.

He starts to keep an eye on your social media. He watches where you post from or what you are posting.

He checks on who you are talking to and who interacts with your page.

If he feels that someone is getting a little too close to what is his, William won't hesitate to make his presence known.

He'll leave little comments here or there to show you that he's paying attention.

At first, it's not going to come off overly possessive, but as time goes on it will start to become more clear in his wording that 'what's his, is his.'

Depending on the type of girl you are, this is either good or bad.

It will either turn you on, or it won't.

Let's assume that it does.

You like feeling that sense of being desired so badly.

In a way, he makes you crave it.

Even through a screen, this man a way of making you feel different things and deep emotions.

But with that being said, he has a way of convincing you of things.

Be it, he's trying to get you to change your opinion about something or someone.

Or he's trying to convince you to do something.

It doesn't take too much at times, and he's able to have you doing things that you don't quite realize is bad right off the bat.

You are blinded by love to really notice the bigger picture.

But even than, you might not care.

You might accept him for how he is.

And depending on the type of friends or family you might have, they could see right through him.

There will be people that will try and warn you about him, but that doesn't mean you will listen.

And if he keeps having it his way, he'd prefer it if you didn't listen to them.

"They are full of shit, Kitten. I'm always doing what's best for you. What's best for us."

Eventually you find yourself defending him at times.

His own little shield that he will head-pat and tell you that you're a good girl.

Eventually things will start to sexually escalate.

It had been a mutual starting on both parts, with some light flirting texts that headed into a round of sexting.

Which had left both of you craving more and it starts to become an almost daily thing until you see each other again.

You can rest assured that the first moment you got the chance, clothes were stripped off and William was pressing himself roughly into you.

He learns what gets you wet. Be it fast or slow, a little bit of both.

He'll get a little dirty in his language if he knows it's going to make you tighter around him.

And he's a moaner.

Soft at first, but the more he presses and the closer he gets, the louder he can get.

"Fuck! Kitten you feel so good."

"Keep going Kitten, you're gonna make me cum."

"That's my girl."

If you're the kinky type, William is willing to explore.

He may have a particular fondness for more edgeplay related kinks.

He would also enjoy marking your body.

Hicky marks in various spots.

Maybe he'd drag a knife against your skin from time to time. Leaving little cuts here and there.

The more things continue the more he develops an enjoyment of pain play.

Be it spankings or simply manhandling you, William knows that you belong to him and he will use you as he pleases.

If he can make you cry during this, he gets even more turned on.

There is something about seeing you in that moment of being particularly vulnerable that he enjoys.

There is added bonus if you happen to have a full body mirror around.

He likes to watch himself with you, and he particularly enjoys watching you.

This will eventually progress into him wanting to record you.

Even if he isn't involved in what you are doing.

He'll get you to play with yourself and it won't be long before his phone is out and pointed right at you.

He'll take pictures of you while you're naked. He'll even take pictures of you when you aren't even aware of it.

The stalking, no matter how long you are together, it won't stop. Which means, some of those photos are of you through out the day, or on your video calls with him.

He actually starts to enjoy the type of control that he has over you.

It's a different type of control than what he's used to having over people. But it's satisfying in it's own way.

This doesn't mean he stops manipulating you, or others at that. He wouldn't be William if he didn't try and manipulate you, or those around you.

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

May consider doing a part two and expand on this more. I'm not sure yet. Tagging: @voxmortuus @earth-elemental18 @bettytaylorversion @liveandbreathesmut

[hysteriamodes]

i keep looking at this and--

Me when I read this:

You know, for someone who calls them a fan, you sure do like disparaging Alice as a character.

"My family died of mysterious circumstances and the conclusion doesn't make any sense." Doesn't constitute as a character as "whining".

Her experiences are her past, Her past is an experience. The second game is about accepting memories, no matter how bad they are, are a part of herself. That's actually something you learn in trauma therapy.

Again, someone didn't pay attention to canon. We already know that some elements of the first game have been retconned and it's not a perfect story, but I think it's genuinely shitty to label a character as "whiny" when they're probing more to understand more about their past. If this person just thinks that one trip down to Wonderland is going to fix all of Alice's issues with major trauma and psychosis, they're wrong. Especially the latter if she suffers from psychosis.

Like, let's be realistic, here. If you're locked up in a place for ten years, especially during the most critical times of your emotional and physical development, it's going to mess you up. Alice was struggling when she left and several people exploited that. The way I see it, the first game was about accepting her family had died and she was growing up. The second was accepting she couldn't have changed what had happened and gotten over survivor's guilt as well as memories being a core part of her. As flawed as this game is and McGee has issues not retconning some of his work, it works because that's how trauma is. You will have ups and downs in the course of learning to accept what happened to it.

So calling Alice "whiny" or "selfish" is just so wrong, not only from a narrative perspective but also from her character. When she confronts Bumby at Moorgate Station, it's not about her, it is about the children who were being affected and passed out along Whitechapel, London. And if you're not familiar with the history of that area, it was known for trafficking, poverty, and prostitution, that's where Jack the Ripper was. Because Bumby was sadly right: nobody would believe Alice because of her history and when he tells her to leave, she has a change of heart, because she dares to stand up for not only herself and those kids.

Killing him wasn't an act of selfishness, it was the opposite. She could have given up and languished and become nothing, but she didn't. She almost did but Alice was too stubborn. And if this person paid attention to the dialogue enough, they would have seen Alice and Nanny being so critical of what's been happening in Whitechapel.

And... again, she has psychosis?! She was struggling to keep herself grounded and needed the help. She wasn't aware of what was going on sometimes because she struggled with her psychosis and that's a very real issue for some people with C-PTSD. It's done beautifully in "Hellblade". It's not perfect in these games, but it doesn't weaken her as a character, it makes her stronger. I didn't think that Alice seeking help for her psychosis was seen as "whiny". Like, come on, dude.

Did we even play the same games lmao.

[theerurishipper]

For me, the most hilarious thing that broke Ladynoir's neck will forever be that Marinette in Kuro Neko never even realized that Shadowmoth presumably having akumatized Chat Noir as a civilian is a BAD THING for more reasons than mostly her having been a bad guardian.

That was for real at the core of her breakdown in that episode, you can re-watch it, its right there, and what Adrien had to accept and sympathize with.

That is hilariously pathetic bc that girl never even realized that if it truly had been civilian Chat Noir who had been akumatized, then merely deakumatizing him wouldn't have been enough by a LONG SHOT bc ShadowMoth fucking FOUND HIM.

Chat and his loved ones would from then on never be safe again in Paris until ShadowMoth is defeated, but Marinette at no point in the episode or even by the end of season 5 ever realizes that.

Straight up canonly speaking, In the scenario of Chat Noir being found by ShadowMoth as a civilian, the biggest victim in Marinette’s eyes was herself and her poor guardianship. That is hilariously depressing.

That boy has barely any worth in her eyes, it's questionable if she even noticed for how long he stopped showing up in the beginning of the episode. If the father son Story had dared to happen like in Ephemeral before and Adrien had been caught behind her back and now was in desperate need of her PLEASE realizing that Chat isn't showing up anymore, man, if Gabriel had been using the opportunity to try and manipulate Adrien into thinking Ladybug doesn't care for him Gabriel would have straight up succeeded here.

But sure, Ladynette is bestest gurl, leader and partner in all of fiction lol

Not to mention, Marinette just dead ass let CatWalker be the deciding voice of the Ladynoir conflict, despite him from her perspective having no right to claim he has any strong opinion on this at all.

À random prince charming showed up for 10 minutes, told her she's the most amazing and blameless person who ever walked upon earth and that Chat's an ungrateful count with no rights so HE - CatWalker - will now dedicate himself to be her magical perfect care taker 'as she deserves'

And gurl just went "well damn, you are right! Chat IS a cunt, I AM blameless and deserves a perfect therapy prince!" and just called it a day and never learned from this.

From Marinette's perspective CatWalker should have been the most blatantly obvious manipulator ever since she has no idea if Plagg actually made it safely to Fu's "second black cat" and she should have punched him in the face for how bluntly he shit talked Chat Noir and tried making her fall for and trust him - CatWalker.

But nah. shit-talking Chat and stroking her ego were when Marinette genuinely fell in love with him for good and only send him away when having CatWalker around wasn't practical for her hero performance (which was then ALSO indirectly blamed on Chat Noir in the end lol

Nice, good to know that Marinette's dream love interest and partner being a magical desperate care taker of perfection who would rather rip himself apart than ask a single thing of her, and that alarming romantic type of hers having made her incapable of paying attention to the fight was CHAT NOIR'S fault, or how else could she be a flawless queen?

That episode is AWFUL lol

And she never even learned anything at any point. She still considered Monarch finding out Chat's identity irrelevant in Elation bc one "No" in over 4 seasons was enough for her to almost agree turning into his enemy and give Monarch Chat's identity herself so she can know what name his lips are attached to. An akumatization CHAT had to prevent by kissing her despite not wanting it.

Amazing, what a role model for girls.

And at the end of season 5 Chat Noir still was the human sacrifice because Adrien knew he has no right to ask for help from Ladybug bc she's all that matters, but at least he could tell Plagg that Ladybug will "forgive him" and he'll be Chat Noir again.

Magnificent. Feminism truly peaked with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

What value does she see in him again beyond her comfort and endless moral free passes and rewards for barely giving a damn? Because I truly can't figure out what Marinette's oh so pure love for her Kitty is actually supposed to be. The more I look into it, the more superficial Marinette's side of Ladynoir and Marichat becomes.

Writers really dropped the ball on the one thing their show was hinging on huh.

Thank you for your ask!

[pentition]

As usual, SPOILERS AHEAD.

Been thinking about some things as I lurk on the My Time/Sandrock Discords and subreddits. It's a blast seeing other Pen fans out in the wild. Actually, it's super comforting. I'm so used to liking niche titles or characters that don't get the love or introspection they deserve, regardless of where they fall on the morality spectrum.

I'm usually lurking. Liking comments or posts because I'm a shy creature on the social front, mixed with low energy all around. But one thing I always appreciate is seeing peoples perspectives and taking time to consider them. It doesn't matter how much or how little I agree/disagree - in the end, my brain incorporates what it views as right. And what it disagrees with, I further want to know about - but also won't be bothered if ideas I have don't match others. Echo chambers are boring. I want to see people take ideas that don't match mine and see if they make them work.

That all being said, I've had something on my mind regarding Pen for a number of weeks now. Between Reddit and Discord, there have been such interesting perspectives on people who want Pen to come back but then get split on him being romanceable in the future.

I've expressed in previous musings on here that I think the Sandrock Builder and Pen's history is something I love, and it wouldn't be the same with another character. But I also kind of failed to elaborate on that. After having some cool exchanges and hearing perspectives from various sides, I think I've settled more on where I am. Not that it matters to anyone but me, but it's a fun thought exercise to write out in regards to Pen's character.

I still believe Pen and the Sandrock Builder's relationship is like, my golden child for three main reasons:

1.) It has conflicting emotions both positive and negative. You get a full range of emotions. It's vague enough to allow people to speculate which also giving enough for people to know there was something serious there. I say serious because even if it was a ruse, it meant something to Pen based on how farewell and what he left behind if you romanced him. While I believe in the symbolism of what was left behind in the chest, I'm also try to take into account on the what-if that it doesn't matter to the devs the way it matters to us.

2.) Imagination is important. When you have a character like Pen, who is so himself but still shrouded in mystery, your mind tries to fill in the blanks and make sense of things. There's what we get, what we perceive and what is mixed up in the middle. Whether it's making things more toxic to making them more sincere, there's so much possibility with a character like Pen. It's appealing and an endless chew toy for my brain.

3.) The potential. This mixes the prior two. But it really comes down to it, the history they have and that potential of what could be is why I adore them. All relationships will encounter bad periods, it's what you do during those bad periods that define the outcome. Potential is always a defining aspect in anything, it's not something that has a moral compass - it just is what it is. Which means it's versatile. Potential is important to me, personally, so when I see a character like Pen who has so much of it... it's hard not to pay attention. And in instances like this where so much plot can exist, it's hard not to get invested.

Because I am not a big brain person and sleep deprived, here's the sentence that shittily segways into the next talking point that'll eventually circle back on the prior.

The diamond ring. What if it wasn't for the Sandrock Builder, but for whatever Builder (or other role) the player will have in a future game? Maybe the reason it dropped for everyone (and not a bug) was a two-fold reason. If the Sandrock Builder romanced Pen, it could be intended for them. If they didn't romance Pen, maybe it was a set up for a future game where Pen is romanceable again.

So, future romance possibilities with Pen. That's the talking point here. I said that the Sandrock Builder and Pen are my ideal because of the reasons above. Interesting history, imaginative with its positives and negatives, so much potential. Of course, I can only be biased because I don't know and haven't yet experienced the possibility of what it's like for Pen to be with another player character.

That being said, and despite my preference, I'd still be okay if Pathea had Pen in a future installment as a romanceable character for another character. Characters should be allowed to develop as characters that don't hinge on the player. And given people don't always play the games in order, it would be kind of sucky/selfish to deprive anyone of a Pentacular (sobad) romance route.

I've run a character and story editor job online since I was fifteen, I've done a lot of work in this area with clients and with my own work. And I've also been a DM/GM for about ten to fifteen years now. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that characters aren't great because of the writers - but because of who they are and can become as characters themselves. Just look at the differences between the Chinese and English versions of Pen. Yet despite the differences all Pen fans have found that same foundation that breaches language barriers and different writing directions. That is incredible core character foundation and it's that potential that has made me so invested in his character.

My ideal is probably so dumb sounding of a compromise. But it would be cool to reintroduce Pen in a future game with a romance rival option like Portia had. As in, if you want to romance Pen then you can. But if you don't, he automatically will seek out the Sandrock Builder. I don't mean up and leave asap, but whenever he is done having a role in that game he'd head out to find them. If Evershine is going to allow the Sandrock Builder to possibly appear, then why not do the same there? Only problem is it would be tricky to do a reunion that way when people have different perspectives of how it would go. Especially depending on how long it has been. It's easy to say, 'just let the player take control!' but the thing is, if players haven't played the previous games before (as in, they are a new player to the series) it wouldn't at all make any sense to do.

And selfishly, I'd totally want to have a game right after that returns to the Sandrock Builder for a Pen return. But then, that's only based on if the Builder was close or romanced Pen. For people who didn't care or go that route, it also wouldn't make sense to do.

So for a Pen and Sandrock Builder reunion that matters, we'd have to play as that Builder again in a future game. Maybe that means the Builder has to leave Sandrock for whatever reason. But it would have to be a reason that makes sense for people who didn't romance or care about Pen, too. It's all just tricky.

Which is why I thought a lot about a Pen romance without the Sandrock Builder. Of course there's potential there. It's not the same, as much as I'd love to explore my duo having a reunion. But it's not terrible either, to me, at least. In any case, Pen needs some time to figure his shit out as a person. If that means he grows and lets go of the past romance, that's okay. If it means he wants to try and see if he can salvage things after his betrayal, that's also okay. I just hope the devs come around to taking their audience seriously, because so far their players that like other characters (like Miguel, Burgess, even Ernest or Venti) aren't treated very respectfully for the characters they/their builder likes.

This is mostly be just airing out thoughts in my head since I wasn't too happy that a prior post or two didn't elaborate that I'd be okay if Pen moved on - even if I really want to see things work out between him and the Sandrock Builder. Both have strong narrative possibilities, but I like the ups and downs of the latter and the potential of it more at this time. Maybe that'll change in the future, whenever that game comes out. Who knows. ^^

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

new bat-fic idea, bc of course as soon as i post the first chapter of one fic my brain decides "oh look another!"

OC-fic from the perspective of a janitor working at Wayne Enterprise who gets promoted to the highest level clearance: i.e., they're the only janitor that is allowed to clean Mr. Wayne's office

i've seen fics about other employees like secretaries, and obviously being a secretary lets you in on interesting secrets (HA, i get it lol) but i feel like janitors/custodians pick up on a lot of shit while they work bc no one's paying them attention.

they're just doing their job and trying to follow their predecessor's advice of "Do Not Ask Questions. You will see weird shit happen around Mr. Wayne and his family. They might say some things that would have lesser men squealing to the papers. You are not a lesser man, not when you work here. Mr. Wayne is a good, kind man that will pay you enough to buy your own house or two. You won't have to worry about loans or medical bills or anything while you work here.

"So if you see or hear anything... strange? No You Didn't."

i like the idea of the Waynes being pretty damn good at keeping the vigilante thing secret, BUT there's only so much you can hide from people who work for you and see you on a regular basis. good thing Bruce Wayne is all about paying his employees way more than living wages, with all the benefits and then some, and has a tendency to find out when someone has medical, housing, or financial problems and just. quietly fixing the problem. or at least offering enough assistance to make their lives easier.

so even if the Waynes weren't as tight-lipped as they could be, employees at WE are so protective of them that it doesn't even matter. the ones who've worked there longer than a few years will even lie on the spot to cops for him.

A cop: "Mr. Wayne claims he was in his office late Friday night during the attack downtown. You and a few others were clocked in during that time. Can you verify this?"

The janitor, knowing full goddamn well that Mr. Wayne hadn't stepped foot in the building that night: "That idiot must've pissed off his butler or something, he was drinking in his office and crying over John Denver music. I had Country Roads stuck in my head all the next day."

just. imagine the shenanigans. the Situations one might end up in working the night shift at WE. bc anyone who works that shift will, at some point, come across one of the Bats. they're on a first name basis by now. but even though no one's made them sign an NDA, the night shift knows better. this is Gotham, after all.

if you saw or heard something, no you didn't.

[lighthouseshepard]

ahhh been too afraid to pm you but hi from a silent mutual!!

writing prompt: john and yorick chat while arthur sleeps :))

HI HELLO!! im also always too afraid to pm everyone! thank you so much for sending this in and so sorry it took me a while! been a very busy few days (:

"Is he fully asleep, my king?"

John groans in annoyance among the relative darkness he'd been sulking within. Ever since Arthur's eyes shut once he fell into an exhausted, heavy slumber nearly thirty minutes prior, he'd been reluctant to try and exercise what little muscle control he possessed to squint them open again. Manipulating those muscles usually woke him regardless of how careful he was, leaving him with a splitting headache neither of them could explain. And at the moment, John couldn't bring himself to disturb the hard won sleep, as fitful as it was.

Yes, he's asleep, he hisses impatiently. Yorick's voice came from somewhere to their left, still attached by the chain threaded around their waist. Arthur's right arm twitches, fingers scrabbling for some imaginary thing, before falling still.

"Excellent," says the skull. "Our master requires much rest after that entire ordeal."

Our master? John snorts. The subtle stirrings of a cool night's breeze brush against the skin of his left hand, welcome after the wet, stale air of the cave. He's your master, not mine. 

"He is master to both of us!" Yorick exclaims, far too loudly. "Just as you are a king to him and myself. An inseparable pair, the dies irae, intertwined inexorably, dominion over one another and all else."

Jesus fucking Christ, John mutters, wishing he could wince. What does that even mean?

“Exactly as I said. Would you like me to repeat it?”

No, no. Can you quiet down? You're going to wake him.

“Certainly, my king.” His reply drops to a tone only slightly less loud than before. 

 And stop calling me that, he adds irritably. I'm not a king.

"You were once a king," Yorick states matter of fact, jaw clacking solidly as he speaks, a peculiarly troubling imitation of human life. "I do not see the issue with proclaiming this."

Once, he emphasizes. I'm not... I'm not that being any longer. I don't claim to be any kind of ruler anymore.

"Fair enough! What shall I call you if not a ruler, then?" 

John, he grinds out, the last droplet of water among the barren desert of his patience threatening to dissolve. John is fine.

"Alright," Yorick says, sounding pleased. "King John, how may I serve you?"

John heaves a haggard sigh. Unbelievable, he groans, and attempts to turn his attention away for a brief, blissful second to collect what surely remained of his sanity.

The thing that called itself vanguard spoke incessantly. Within the caves, climbing out into rain-damp earth and sky, walking to find shelter for nightfall in the hopes of catching at least a few hours sleep - it had not stopped talking the entire way. John had half a mind to untangle Yorick from Arthur's belt when he wasn't paying attention and throw him as far as his eyes could see. He'd never liked the thought of the vanguard anyway, had never wanted Arthur to take the head, keep the tooth. Something about a creature which existed simultaneously in the Dreamlands, the Dark World and their own reality never sat well with him. 

A hypocritical perspective, possibly, considering. Yet that similarity alone made him nervous, straddling a razor's cautious edge. He knew what he was capable of. Yorick remained a mystery.

They'd found an oak tree, its canopy stretching out far enough to provide cover from the last stray rain clouds rolling by, so long as Arthur kept curled at its trunk. He had fallen under almost immediately. One or two words exchanged between him and that damned skull, and he was out, John's name half formed on his lips in what sounded like the start of a question. It would likely be forgotten upon waking. Already Yorick was taking time meant for him.

Regardless, John knew him to be valuable, an asset they couldn't afford to get rid of. Certainly not now, with nothing to their names except the clothes Arthur wore and the bag he carried, no money, no food. If Yorick could be a wealth of information like he claimed, they'd have to put up with him a while longer. 

And then John could toss him into a lake.

In the stretch of thankful silence, Yorick apparently finally listening to his demands, he reaches over and inspects what remained of the wound. Dried blood coated Arthur's wrinkled shirt close to his heart, stiffening the fabric. Laying his palm flat and hesitantly across his chest, John takes solace in the flighty pulse tangibly felt there. Not too long ago there was none at all.

Arthur murmurs something wordless under his touch. John retracts his hand quickly, mildly guilty at having potentially disturbed him.

“You dislike when he sleeps,” Yorick says. Despite his position by Arthur's hip, rolled sideways where he'd come to rest as they laid down on dry grass, his voice still seemed to come from somewhere else around them. 

John waits a second for more to follow. Nothing comes - it's a statement, not an inquiry.

I don't dislike him sleeping, he huffs. He has to rest, obviously.

“Yet it troubles you regardless? The absence of him.”

I don't, John sputters out, struggling to keep his voice level. I'm not… lonely if that's what you're suggesting. Will you just shut up already? We're both going to wake him up at this rate.

“Our master is blind to the world in multiple senses of the word,” says Yorick. “Deep within a dream. He will not wake for some time.”

How do you know he's dreaming? he asks, perplexed. You can't… see into his mind, or-

“I know a great many things.” Another beat of silence, decorated by the cricket song in the surrounding brush shielding them from view. Again John waits for an explanation, growling agitatedly when none is forthcoming.

Such as? he prompts. What is he dreaming about? 

“I do not know the specifics,” clacks Yorick. “Yet I'm aware of the turmoil of his thoughts. There is a string of piano keys tied like wire around his ankles, a bathtub overflowing, a yellow sun-”

Okay, I get the specifics! John mutters. So a nightmare, clearly.

“Precisely! Excellent conclusion, King John.”

He was starting to immediately regret accidentally adding John to that title. Is there a way we can help him, then?

As if on cue, subconsciously aware he was being discussed, Arthur lets out a low, pained breath of air. Instinctively John’s hand jolts to attention, fingers delicately skimming the wound like he would find answers or assistance there. His legs were twitching, again his arm reaching and then recoiling from something John couldn’t see or understand. 

Nightmares were the only times he felt useful, whenever Arthur slept. Lingering in the corners of his mind, stuck between drifting into his own thoughts and keeping an active listen for anything that might hurt them while he was out - it wore him down in ways be couldn't explain. Yorick was right, even though John would rather revisit the Dark World than admit it. He did hate when Arthur had to sleep for the emptiness it left him with. Being able to wake him from a bad dream as soon as he caught the signs left him aware of a strange, disjointed sense of selfish pleasure. Even if it came at the risk of Arthur’s unhappiness, helping him out of a nightmare was one thing he could do consistently right.

“He will not wake until the nightmare is complete,” Yorick says nonchalantly. “He is too deep.”

Which will take how long?

“I know a great many things,” he says for the second time. “Yet this, I do not.”

Another whimper, softer than the last. John taps the side of his head, tugs at his shirt collar, goes so far as to flick his nose multiple times in a row, as hard as he could manage. Nothing caused him to stir. He could slap him, sure, but in this state he might break apart altogether.

Great. John heaves a sigh. So we just have to listen to this, then? Until he’s, what, done dreaming?

“That is correct. We could always pass the time discussing, my King.”

Discussing what? He snorts. The maggots we just crawled through? No thanks.

“Or,” Yorick adds, “you could always return your hand to his chest.”

What? 

“Your hand,” he repeats, jaw clicking knowingly. “It is the one thing which calms the dreams. I’ve witnessed it many times before.”

You didn’t even have eyes, then, John says sardonically. What could you possibly have witnessed?

“I have no physical eyes now, but I can see you and the master. I was aware then, and in a way, I am aware now.”

In the shrouding blackness of Arthur’s slumber, John imagines the two points of white light where the prince’s eyes once rested staring sideways up at them, awash in tendrils of green smoke. Was this how Arthur felt all the time, kept in the dark, left to wonder how everyone was looking at him? 

Carefully, he puts his hand back in the center of Arthur’s chest. Fingers splay out, one wooden pinky, the rest a thin collection of bruises and scars and broken, chipped nails. That fidgety pulse returns, a bird’s caught wing under his palm. The rhythm remains so for nearly a minute, stuttering and jumping to some melody John couldn’t follow along, and he’s about ready to give it up for nonsensical, stupid advice before he hears Arthur sigh.

It’s not the same troubled exhale as before. This one comes calmer, more even-keeled. As he focuses on his heartbeat he notices it begins to slow, calming bit by bit into a steady, softer pattern. Arthur’s movements drift to a halt. He shifts among the roots, mumbling something too quiet to comprehend, and eventually falls silent.

“He sleeps much like the dead in appearance,” Yorick states thoughtfully. “I believe the dream has come to a close, for now.”

Good, remarks John, at a loss for anything else to say. He wasn’t going to tell Yorick thank you; but it was tempting. The gentle rise and fall of Arthur’s breathing is a placid current, subtler than the new rain beginning to break through the clouds overhead in the night. He could plainly picture him, sprawled out uncomfortably, breeze touseling sweat damp hair, a downward curve in a mouth which always seemed to be frowning lately. Protected just enough beneath the oak, protected enough beneath John’s palm.

Well, at least one of us is content.

“I am much content, King John.”

That makes a total of two. Can you please shut the hell up now? 

“If that is what you wish," the skull says amicably. "Then I will."

It is, John bites. Just thirty minutes of fucking silence. Please.

Yorick says nothing. Relief settles over him as the break distends. Minutes pass until he finally accepts his desire had been properly observed. Crickets sing around them once more.

Sleep well, he whispers, hand firmly over heart. Perhaps we can wait a little longer to get rid of him.

[tcfactory]

ngl my secret favourite ship is lbh sqh and mbj. i just think it'd be really funny for them to fight over the bestest little servant in the world and said guy just thinks they're fighting for the right to skin him alive.

That's honestly amazing? Like, I would read that.

I'm trying to figure out how this could work with SVSSS!Bingmei and what I have so far is like.

Binghe gets out of the Abyss early, head full of static and Xin Mo and Shizun (does he hate Shizun? does he love him?? he doesn't know, nobody knows, but it's all Shizun and the world better fall in line and let him figure it out) and when he goes to kick Mobei-jun's door down so he can have a sidekick in his demon realm conquering (he wants to do it to prove something to Shizun... it's not clear to him what, but he's sure it was a good idea when he came up with it, Shizun always said he's his smartest student so this has to be The Smartest Idea Ever too) and Airplane is like

"Wait, stop right there, (You are not supposed to be here yet, System wtf, all right all right if we can change things now let's see if I can FIX THIS SHIT so we don't all have to live under an overly horny tyrant forever) that sword is cursed, it's bad for you, it will consume you, if you want to do this right you have to put it back where you found it."

And Xin Mo is whispering all about how Shang Qinghua is lying, but Mobei-jun is very insistent that his weird little peak lord guy Knows Things and Is (almost) Always Right About Relic Stuff so Binghe caves. All right, they will put Xin Mo back for like a week so weird little guy can see that Binghe is FINE and HEALTHY and THINKING ABSOLUTELY CLEARLY because Shizun taught him to always approach things from multiple angles to find the best course of action (it was, as you guessed, Shen Yuan trying to make Binghe think twice about turning him into a human stick. In the heat of the moment even a few seconds of hesitation can be life-saving, you know!)

But a few days after Xin Mo is removed from him his thoughts start to clear. His mood stabilizes. He realizes that he had a horrible low-key migraine all along without realizing and it's now gone. He's not as strong without Xin Mo - maybe not strong enough to take over the demon realm yet, actually - but he can feel the aftereffects of the sword. He thinks back on the plans he had while holding Xin Mo and blanches at them, because omg Shizun would disapprove so hard.

Not that Shizun's approval matters anymore. He pushed Binghe away. He regrets it, he mourned for Binghe, according to Shang-shishu, but that doesn't matter because Binghe is clear headed enough to realize that as a heavenly demon he can't go back. It was the correct thing to do, even if it hurt both of them. So he'd better get back on the training grind to make himself a life here in the demon realm so his Shizun can live the rest of his life in safety (oh that's what the conquering idea was about. in hindsight, he's really not sure he could have pulled it off, he has no idea how empires work). But now he has a fledgling king as a friend who can maybe set him up with a tutor or something so he can actually make that empire thing into a workable idea eventually.

Also, almost accidentally, he starts paying attention to Shang Qinghua, Mobei-jun's hypercompetent scared rat man of an underling, and realizing that Shang-shishu has Layers. Very interesting, kinda appealing layers. And he didn't have to speak up about Xin Mo but apparently cared enough that he did anyway so if Binghe maybe starts having a little crush, well Shang Qinghua is also very pro-demon so he's a much safer option to crush on than his Shizun. Mobei-jun seems rather territorial about him, despite doing his courting completely wrong, but that's fine, Binghe can work with this and charm Shang Qinghua into being his before Mobei-jun could. Shang Qinghua won't even know what hit him!

Meanwhile from Airplane's perspective it's a concerning development because he wrote Binghe, he wrote Binghe's go to forms of manipulation and courting and he can see them being directed at him, but can't for the life of him tell why. Is he still mad at him for telling him to throw Xin Mo away??

And the demon boys are getting territorial over SQH because LBH has like Young Demon Hormones or some shit which makes him act very combative and stupid around MBJ who he now sees as a romantic rival. SQH would love it if they would stop fighting in the middle of very breakable buildings please! What are they even arguing about this time??? He's so confused and a little bit scared and maybe more than a little hot around the collar because LBH and MBJ inevitably end up tearing each other's clothes during their scuffles and Airplane's gay little heart just can't take this. T_T

It's all such a clownshow from start to finish, as befitting these idiots.