#so he just comes off as more callous and unlikeable

[heybiji]

supe npc (Then and Now) for a MASKS: A New Generation game I'm gonna be running for some friends. TrueStrike, mentor to the protégé character. left was him before he disappeared from the public eye after the intense ridicule brought on from accidentally killing destroying a city institution: the giant, beloved balloon mascot of the city's favorite donut shop (Dino Donut, the D-Rex, of Dino Donut), traumatizing a generation of children who loved it and all the adults who grew up with it. there were a lot of kids screaming, crying, The Day Dino Donut Died. The Dino Donut balloon has since been replaced with a statue of a hipper version of the D-Rex that wears a backwards baseball cap and everyone hates it.

TrueStrike currently lives inside a storage unit, monitoring the city with all his high tech computers as he sinks deeper into paranoia and self-pity, missing his ex-wife and kid, and tries not to spend too much time refreshing the FUCK TRUESTRIKE geocities page. he mostly uses his protégé to get him pizza.

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

[leashaoki]

use me

pairing: sub levi x fem reader

wc: 1.4k

warning: this post includes nsfw content, minors do not interact.

The Captain's formidable nature and cold, callous ways were certainly infamous amongst not only the corps, but all who knew his name. He was unforgiving, ruthless and an expert of his craft: war. Levi was feared amongst his men, even those above him in rank were hesitant to get too close; his aura was one of darkness, a darkness that was to be avoided by most.

That's what made turning Levi into a begging, moaning mess beneath you, all the more enjoyable.

"Please- fuck, I need more..." You watch as his eyes roll back, a particularly lewd whine leaving his lips as you stroke him ever so slowly. Your fingers gently tease the tip as they pass it, swirling under the head and back down to the base. Each movement leaves him more tightly wound, each touch feeling like too much yet not enough at the same time.

Levi's hands are bound by his cravat behind him as he rocks back and forth in his chair, desperately trying to thrust up into your hand for more friction; only to be met with you slowing your pace, much to his dismay. There’s beads of sweat trickling down behind those dark locks, spayed across his forehead. He looks unkempt, much unlike his usual demeanour, his teeth are bared almost as if he’s in pain, brows furrowed upwards and his cheeks a rosy pink.

"If you want more..." You purr, his eyes snapping open at the sound of your voice, "You're gonna have to be a good. Can you do that for me, pretty boy?"

He groans at the term of endearment, pulling his lip between his teeth and nodding desperately. You tilt your head to the side, arching a brow as your hand leaves his cock. The Captain practically whines at the loss of friction, essentially pouting up at you like the insolent brat he is.

"Words, Levi. Come on baby, you can use em, right?" You command lightly, running your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. Levi's jaw tightens and the soft blush painting his cheeks darkens significantly; the pleasure derived from the pain evident in his expression.

"Shit." His voice is hoarse, strained by the hours of teasing he's endured at your hands. He struggles to string a sentence together, mind hazy with lust, "I'll be good," Levi looks up at you, his intense silver orbs lidded and lips puckered and swollen; his harsh cheekbones look softened as his gaze begs you for more, "I'll be your good boy, just- please- please fucking touch me again."

Your hand returns to his length, pumping faster now as Levi writhes and shivers beneath you; the sound of his scattered breaths and flustered moans fill the room. The noises go straight to your core, intensifying your own arousal.

He tries to fuck into your fist, chasing the feeling that has him whining like a bitch in heat and writhing against his restraints. Levi's eyes flutter closed in his attempt to keep them open, jaw slack and hair messy, gods, how he loves being under your control. He often pondered how a man as demanding as himself could be brought to his knees so very easily; how a certain look from you could have his cock hardening and brain turning to a pile of submissive, slutty mush. Not right now though, the only thing the Captain could think about right now was the feel of your tight, gummy walls clenching around him while you use his cock.

"Fuck me, please-" His words are cut off by a gasp when your fingers dance over the tip, a low growl erupting in his chest afterwards as he attempts to keep his composure, "Please - please baby, wanna make you feel good too." Levi’s whole body is shaking with pure desire, goosebumps painting is pretty porcelain skin.

You comply, stepping back and undressing yourself in front of him. His mouth hangs open, a fire in his dark eyes that burns only for you. Levi tries to steady his breaths, but the sight of your naked form has his breathing staggered and cock twitching. "Gods," He groans, his tongue briefly wetting his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I fucking need you."

Straddling his muscular form, you tease him once more; rubbing yourself against his length and watching as his gaze turns to one of ice. It's only now you see a glimpse of the man he is to everyone else, his expression that of a devil as a growl rips through his throat. Levi's desperation had never been so evident, rutting into you from below at an attempt of slipping inside, biting his lip so hard it looked as if it might tear.

"I swear to fucking god, if you don't- " You finally lower yourself onto his length and his ramblings are cut off by his own lewd whine, brows knitting together in the centre as the look on his face turns to one of pure ecstasy. His mind is swimming in pleasure, drunk off the feeling of your heat around him; he’s looking up at you with so much emotion that it stalls you, lost in his eyes momentarily before proceeding with the task at hand.

Slowly moving yourself up and down on his cock, you bask in the way he's shivering beneath you; his muscular chest rising and falling quickly as his breaths become more uneven. Levi's mumbling an array of praises and thank you's, his tone unrecognisable from the one that barks orders at you during the day. His voice is so soft, so gentle that if someone were to hear the two of you, they would never guess it was humanity’s strongest.

"Use me," Levi's lids squeeze shut briefly before his gaze is locking with yours, swallowing and taking a breath before he begins to beg, "Please, don't...stop. Use me, I’m yours." His eyes are wide, teary and doe like; blinking up at you with his pretty dark lashes.

You increase the speed of your hips, bouncing swiftly on his lap and rolling your body expertly above him. He groans when you pull his head back by his hair, his mouth hanging open and his eyes rolling back once again at the sweet combination of both pain and pleasure. It throws him over the edge unexpectedly and he cries out, "ngh- shit, oh fuck i'm gonna cum."

You smirk and tilt your head condescendingly, pouting a little and taking his jaw in your fingers so your eyes meet, "Can you hold on a little longer for me, hm? I know you can do it, Captain." The use of his title makes him tense up and he nods wildly, his raven locks bouncing as he bobs his head obediently. He squeezes his hands together behind his back as he holds off his impeding orgasm with all his might. He hisses through his teeth, biting down so hard on his lip that he tastes blood in an attempt to stall his ecstasy. You curse when you feel your own climax nearing and Levi's eyes widen at the realisation, a fire blazing in his chest at the thought of making you cum around his cock. He does what he can, rutting his hips up into your sweet spot and whining when he feels you tighten around him, "Please, baby,” Levi begs, his own cock pulsating with the need to fill you up, “I need to feel it - Need to feel you, mmm, ngh- Please, cum, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.”

Seeing Levi like this is as close to heaven as you'll get, the way he moans your name like a mantra and his sinful expression twists with pleasure is truly your nirvana. It sends you over the edge and you see white, blinded by the hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Just before you lose all cognitive thought to the ecstasy, you make sure to order Levi through your moans, "Cum for me, baby boy." You barely finish the command before Levi is filling you up, crying out and shivering uncontrollably beneath you. You’re both lost in the feeling, your mouth open in a silent scream and Levi’s wanton moans bouncing off the walls.

It feels like forever before you both come back down to Earth, your lids fluttering open. Levi's eyes meet with yours and a warm, rare smile spreads across his stony features; his gaze filled with admiration as he shifts his head to kiss your chest, your jaw, your cheeks. “Thank you, love,” He murmurs before pressing his lips lovingly against yours.

[girls4yuuta]

𖦹 cw: dark content! (step/in)cest (not specified), oral (f receiving), ‘nii-chan’ usage, n.sfw under the cut… wc: 1k

choso loved being his little sister’s safe place. he doesn’t feel bothered when you’d crawl to him after a long day to ask for hugs or when you’d end up being a little snarky after a particularly bad night. you’re his dearest little sister; of course, he’d indulge all your little requests, humor all your whims, hug you to sleep, and wipe your tears away.

but tonight was a little… different. you’ve come home to choso with teary eyes and a crestfallen expression. apparently, your (now ex) boyfriend had dumped you for… a multitude of reasons. being too emotional, too clingy, too needy, too… everything. your ex claimed he felt like he was being choked by what you call ‘affection.’ he couldn’t even so much as glance at another woman without you being upset!

so now, here you are, being cradled and coddled by your beloved older brother. he engulfs you in a warm embrace, his arms a protective barrier between you and the world. his hand absentmindedly traced up and down your back. it felt warm. safe. it felt like home.

so really, who could blame you two when you fall back into old habits— the ones you swore to break the moment you entered the dating scene? before long, choso’s lips were on yours, eagerly kissing you like a starved man. his hands quickly found the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside carelessly. without wasting another moment, he peels your shorts away too, leaving you in your panties. he stares at you with a glimmer of awe in his eyes.

he says, “spread your legs wide.”

“nii-chan…” you whine, a little embarrassed. you can’t help but rub your thighs together with the intensity of his gaze, going against his words.

he doesn’t let you keep your legs pressed close for long; he takes the initiative, taking your knees and pulling them apart. he can see the damp spot on your panties, the evidence of your arousal.

“i’m glad he dumped you.”

his words feel cold, almost callous, but in his gaze is pure adoration and affection. he positions himself between your legs, coming face to face with your clothed cunt. he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and it garners a shaky breath from you.

you demand rather weakly, “stop teasing.” and who could say no to you? definitely not your older brother.

he licks a stripe through the fabric, tasting traces of your wetness leaking through it. then, he pokes the tip of his tongue where your entrance would be. he repeats the process a few more times until you’re squirming and near simply shoving his face against your pussy.

“nii-chan… i said stop teasing…”

choso gives you a low chuckle before briefly pulling away. he presses your legs together once more, just to slide your panties off you. he takes note of the way the fabric slightly sticks to your dripping hole, and he almost moans at the sight.

“i’ll take care of you. i’ll make you stop crying about your stupid ex,” choso says as he opens your legs again. you could feel the cold air as well the warmth of his breath against your core.

he doesn’t give a moment for doubts as he dives right in, parting your folds with two fingers and licking deep into you. a wanton moan escapes your lips, and your knees buckle at the sensation. it had been a long time— too long— since you’ve felt this.

“i bet he couldn’t make you moan like this,” choso says in a low voice, but it almost sounds like a taunt. “did he even bother eating you out?”

honestly? no. your ex had hated doing it, believing he was beneath such a ‘dirty’ thing. you shake your head no in response to choso’s words, and it makes him frown.

“what a useless thing. couldn’t even please you properly, unlike your nii-chan,” is what he says before he starts to give your cunt more attention that it had been missing for months. he eagerly licks at your folds, spreads them open, pokes his tongue in your pulsating core. he doesn’t let up— not even as his mouth and chin is messily covered in your wetness, not even as you make a fist around his dark locks, tugging on his hair. instead, he places his hands on your thighs, holding you open as he tastes you like a feast he’s long been waiting for.

maybe it’s the sensitivity of not having been treated to such pleasure in so long that makes your release build up quick. your legs close around his head and he doesn’t mind. that knot of pleasure forms deep within you, and before you know it, you’re shivering and begging for choso to stop to spare you from the feeling of overstimulation.

“stop, stop, please… i said stop!”

choso pulls away after hearing your frantic moans. he gently puts his hands on your waist instead and gives you a look that can only be described as pleading. he mumbles, “sorry… i’m sorry…”

you catch your breath and close your eyes as you try to regain your composure. as soon as your breathing evens out once more, you mumble a weak, “it’s okay. it’s just… too much. no more.”

choso looks not so different from a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t help it. he was quite eager to be with you again. still, he slowly nods, “okay.”

that was enough to make you bite your lip before sighing. you motion with your hands, spreading your arms so he could fall into you. “kiss me, nii-chan.”

just as quick, he perks up and leans forward to give you a kiss. you could taste yourself in his mouth, slightly salty, and it makes you moan against his lips. he takes it as a signal to wrap his arms around you too— and you know that your words ‘no more’ might as well have fallen into deaf ears.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

If the Sun Starts Setting

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: Swearing, family drama, characters celebrating Christmas, mom with terminal illness, crying mentions

a/n: Sorry to post this so late everyone! I have had the WORST brain fog today. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs fuel me!

After just one semester of law school, the drive between suburban Connecticut and the Columbia campus was one you were becoming well-acquainted with. It wasn’t unbearably long, nor flooded with traffic on a dark Sunday evening. Headlights of oncoming vehicles painted swatches of light against the navy sky, a semi-urban work of art unlike anything you’d enjoyed before. Usually, it was a sight you took the time to admire. However, this particular evening you were unable to focus on anything but the tinny voice bubbling out of your phone’s speaker. 

Gritting your teeth and rolling your eyes to the heavens, you cursed the universe for a moment, tuning out the man on the other end of the line while you did so.

The sharp call of your name across the speakers regained your attention. ”Are you listening to me?“

Your father's inflection was grating on the best days. After three weeks spent waiting on him and your two ungrateful siblings while they preached about the importance of family during the holidays, you were ready to scream with every word he spat at you. The two hour drive back to campus was supposed to be the growing light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, you'd spent the last third of it arguing with your father about healthcare charges.

”Yes, I'm listening.“ ‘Unlike some of us’, you thought to yourself. ”As I said, that charge was for her brief hospital stay over Thanksgiving. I've already paid it and it might take a week or two to reflect—“

”This is a debt collection notice, hun. That means they didn't receive the payment yet. Which means they'll be coming after me when your mom inevitably cannot pay.“

Contemplating banging your head against your steering wheel just to remove the memory of this conversation, a flash of movement across the parking lot caught your eye. Expression softening, you almost sobbed in relief when you caught the two beaming expressions of your friends waving from the exterior door. Unfortunately, your father wasn't quite done arguing with you.

”Dad, I understand you don't want to be on the hook for this—“ ‘Not like you would be anyway.’

”I most certainly do not.“ He interrupted. Once again ignoring his rambling, you snatched your backpack and exited your car, slamming the door with a bit more force than usual.

”Dad, just forget about it, ok? I'll deal with it, just—“

”Well, clearly you won't deal with it in a timely fashion, which is why I'm calling...“ ‘Was he trying to kill you? It sure felt like it.’

”Ok, well I just got back to school so I need to go now.“ You tried to nudge him into polite farewells as you practically sprinted across the pavement towards your friends. As expected, he didn't take kindly to being rushed off the phone.

”Of course you do,“ He laughed incredulously. ”You know, this is your mother's livelihood we are discussing. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more compassionate.“ ‘You're one to talk asshole.’

”You're right. I'll try to work on that this semester,“ You remarked drily. ”Gonna go inside now. Bye.“

Not bothering to listen to the screaming that answered your callous goodbye, you hung up, breaking into a strained smile as you greeted your boys. ”Why hello there, strangers.“

As if he didn't just witness you walk literally and figuratively closer to a breakdown, Foggy squealed, nearly taking you to the pavement in a tackling hug. “Welcome back, bug!”

“Christ, Fog, you're gonna crush her.” Matt laughed, hearing you grunt as you fumbled to stay upright with Foggy coiled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I missed you too, Fog.” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being embraced.

You had missed them. Deeply and almost pathetically. After an entire semester at each other's sides, the few weeks in your hometown for Christmas had felt like an eternity.

After Matt and Foggy had been struck with the campus flu, the rest of the semester passed in a whirlwind. The two clingy boys had unsurprisingly infected you, meaning you were unfortunately sick for Thanksgiving and had to remain on campus to avoid passing the virus on to your immunosuppressed mother. Matt had been incredibly apologetic, and plagued with his typical Catholic guilt, so he'd stayed with you while Foggy returned to Hell's Kitchen for Turkey Day.

The next few weeks were spent cramming for finals and, eventually, celebrating the end of your first semester at Columbia—which you had all, amazingly, passed. Leaving for the lengthier winter break had been an abrupt end to the joy you felt over your grades, however.

You returned to New Haven a day earlier than expected to sit in the local hospital's oncology ward with your mother. While you were ill over Thanksgiving, she'd had a recurrence of stage 3 pancreatic cancer, which meant more frequent trips to see her doctor as well as numerous bills that neither of you could afford. Because of her declining health, your father and siblings had come to Connecticut for Christmas. The extra company meant that your holidays–which were meant to be a time for recuperation following a strenuous first semester–had been frustrating to the point of tears. Which, embarrassingly enough, Matt had been burdened with when you called him to complain.

The two of you called multiple times a week, exchanging stories and annoyances just like you did when you were living within a few blocks from each other. But it didn't stop you from missing him and Foggy fiercely for 24 excruciating days.

Swallowing a lump of pent up emotion, you huffed out a shaky exhale, your breath clouding in the frigid winter air. “Ok, Fog. You know I love you, but it's cold as fuck out here.”

“Right! Sorry.” Foggy withdrew from the embrace, blushing furiously as he scratched at the back of his neck.

Immediately replacing Foggy in front of you, Matt took a chance to hug you quickly before pulling you inside. “Glad you're finally here, I thought Nelson here was going to combust.”

Letting Matt usher you inside, you heard Foggy's baffled scoff. “Do I look like a patient man to you, Murdock?”

Matt smirked, “How would I know?”

You and Foggy both groaned loudly, looking to each other for support as Matt cackled. “C'mon, you set that one up perfectly. What's a guy to do?”

“You should've heard him over break, bug. He was driving my poor mother towards a stroke, I swear.” Foggy shook his head in feigned irritation.

“Oh please, she loved me.” Matt shoved his roommate, nearly bowling the three of you down the staircase as you trudged toward their room.

“I bet she did.” You snorted, “You probably dialed the charm up to 11.”

“Try 15.” Foggy remarked, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

Ignoring the jab, Matt held out a hand for your bag, allowing you to slip out of your coat and shoes.

“Who were you on the phone with?” His question was meant to open the can of worms in a structured way, rather than answer his own burning question. He’d bet dollars to donuts that it was–

“My father.” Came your fatigued response, confirming his suspicions. Your words were tinged with a bitterness that he’d expected, but they held a deeper upset thinly veiled by your exhaustion.  

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked quietly, his brow pinching with worry as he studied the bags under your eyes. The blond was less informed on the hell you’d been put through over the last month or so, only picking up bits and pieces if Matt relayed them.

With a groan, you collapsed unceremoniously onto Matt’s bed beside him, leaning heavily into him as one of his arms fell across your shoulders. “Of course, it’s just…it wasn’t the pleasant send off I was hoping for.”

Your pulse jumped when you spoke, steadying out as you reached the end of your sentence. Matt already knew that things weren’t “ok” with your mom or your home life in general, but he blinked in surprise to hear the disappointment that coated your words as you referenced your father’s curt goodbye. Making a note to bring that up when you seemed more inclined to be vulnerable, he rubbed a palm over your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish it had been better.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Me too. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant.” Matt murmured at the same time Foggy clapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I forced Matt to watch all of the Star Wars movies with me and we ate our weight in cookies.” The long-haired boy explained with genuine enthusiasm. As he began to recount the escapades from the annual Nelson holiday party, your eyes flicked upwards to look at Matt, whose arm was still moving slowly across your shoulder and back as he caressed your sleeve. His eyes were trained forward, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as you focused on him, so you had a sneaking suspicion that neither of you were listening to Foggy’s story. You’d forgotten how well he could read you, until he gave you the option to pretend everything was fine with your dad.

He knew it wasn’t, and you did too. And maybe shoving that shit deep down and pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t a healthy way of handling it, but if you met Foggy’s worried gaze right now it would make you cry, which you were not prepared for. So, whether it was a wonderful coincidence or Matt could truly read you like a picture book, you were thankful for his deflection.

Smiling softly, you looked back to Foggy, listening to him talk about his drunk aunts fawning over Matt and feeling the thick tension bleed out of your shoulders.

Eventually, Foggy took a deep breath, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Woah, head rush!”

Matt chuckled, “You didn’t even stand up, buddy. You ok over there?”

“Yah, I’m fine! Just excited!” Foggy waved a hand, unfazed.

“And I can’t wait to hear about everything, Fog. But maybe we should take a break for presents?”

“Presents?” Foggy’s eyes widened along with his grin, his behavior as animated as a child’s at the mention of gifts. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laughed, prying yourself out of Matt’s secure grip and opening your bag. Tossing two wrapped bundles across the room and onto Foggy’s bed, you set the other two in Matt’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely Musketeers!” You giggled as Foggy mime-fenced toward you. As soon as the blond was finished beating you in the imaginary sword fight, he eagerly tore into the glittery wrapping paper. Next to you, Matt looked much more apprehensive about the packages in his lap.

“Go on, Matty. Open them!” You encouraged, bumping his shoulder with your own.

“But we don’t have anything for you,” Matt’s lips curled into a pout, looking like a sulking kitten as he trailed a single finger along the crisp edge of the parcel nearest to his hand.

You rolled your eyes fondly. The poor kid had a strong enough sense of justice for the whole campus. ”Matty, we're in college. And I'm the only one with a job. I didn't expect you to get me anything.“

”But—“ Matt argued, but you cut him off with a laugh.

”No more buts! I got these presents for you because I wanted to, not because I thought I’d receive something in return. Please open them?“ Though he couldn't see your face, you batted your lashes and widened your eyes, hoping he could sense the pleading expression.

With a frown, he nodded once, carefully peeling the tape from the paper as if the task required surgical precision. Grinding his teeth as the paper crinkled raucously, he slid the first gift out of its casing carefully, as if he was expecting it to shock him if he moved too quickly. Withdrawing a lump of the softest material he'd ever felt, he ran a thumb over it, trying to decipher what it was. The strip of wool was composed of thick braided stitches, promising to retain warmth in even the most bitter winter weather.

”A scarf?“ He asked, his lips pursed into a small, surprised oval. A rosy blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

”Yes! I made one for you and one for Foggy. Except yours is a deep red and his is orange.” You spoke softly, smiling over to where the longer-haired boy was wrapping the length of yarn around his neck triumphantly.

“Our favorite colors.” Matt murmured, his fingers still tracing the fuzzy stitching. “You remembered?“

”Of course I did, trouble. That's important information. I'd be a fool to let it slip through the cracks.“ You hoped the joke would make him laugh, but he continued to stare blankly at the scarf as if it was an animal that had just died in his arms. ”If you don't like it, I can take it back, and donate it or something–“

”No!“ Matt looked up, horrified, clutching the scarf to his chest. ”No, I love it. I just...“

Turning his face back to his lap, he licked his lips before continuing. ”I've never gotten something like this before. I don't know what to say, is all.“

”No need to say anything, bub. I'm glad you like it.“ You rubbed your palm over his arm, mirroring his actions from just a moment ago.

Still focused on his own gifts, Foggy's excited screech startled both you and Matt. ”NO WAY!“

Turning to you with a dropped jaw, Foggy shook his head. ”There is no way you got this.“

”What is it, buddy?“ Matt asked, his lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Foggy open a hardcover book eagerly.

”A first edition of The Fellowship of the Ring!“ Foggy was practically giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rifled through the pages. ”How did you even get this?“

Grinning at him, you giggled. ”My mom has a friend with an extensive book collection and asked where we could find one. Turns out, the friend had one of her own and was willing to part with it for next to nothing. Guess she owed my mom a favor.”

Diving across the room to crush you in another hug, Foggy kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”

Laughing brightly, you struggled to shove your friend off of you. When he was this worked up, Foggy had the tenacity of an overexcited golden retriever. As usual, Matt helped release you from his clutches. ”You're welcome, Fog. I wanted to get you a nice copy since you lost the one you brought to school.”

“I'd say you accomplished that, my lovely jitterbug.” Foggy ruffled your hair, retreating to his bed and launching himself onto the mattress–the rusted springs creaking in protest.

Giggling at him, you turned back to Matt. “Alright, Murdock. Your turn, again. After this, I promise never to put you through this torture again. Until next year.”

Matt groaned in response, snatching the second gift with more vigor. “Let's get this over with.”

Approaching the gift with the same systematic tactic as the first, he slid the paper off of the box without a single tear. Setting the wrapping aside, he opened the cardboard package and pulled out his real gift.

“Ok so, I'm not sure how helpful these will be,” You warned, fidgeting with your hands as he ran his fingers along the band connecting the ear pieces. “But, they're, um, noise-canceling headphones?”

Matt's breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed with guilt and affection and surprise at the present, all words of gratitude pulled back down to his vocal chords as he focused solely on not bursting into tears.

Over the past few weeks, the Nelsons had been kind enough to invite him to stay and celebrate with them. He was flattered, and so thankful, but he wasn't used to so many...people. During a few of your phone calls over the break, he'd mentioned that the excessive stimuli, mainly noise, had been getting to him and giving him headaches. And rather than chastising him for being ungrateful, you'd listened and sympathized with him over the phone, ultimately buying him a solution to the issue with your own money.

Sure, there was no guarantee that these would work for his heightened senses, but you didn't know that. And the idea that you were willing to go to such immense lengths to ensure his comfort...it was evidence of a love he hadn't experienced in a decade.

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Your worried murmur broke his train of thought.

“No,” He choked out. ”No, they're perfect. So is the scarf. Thank you, bug.“

”Of course. Merry Christmas, Matt.“ You kissed his cheek gently and he felt a flush crawling up his neck. Wrapping an arm around you, he tucked you close to his chest, hand cradling the back of your neck.

”Merry Christmas, sweetheart.“

The two of you sat there in silence, holding each other close for a minute before your phone rang. Sighing deeply, you rested your head against Matt's shoulder as you fumbled for your phone. Thankfully, the screen displayed your mom's contact information, not your father.

“Sorry, trouble. I have to take this.“ You squeezed his arm, pulling out of his embrace and stretching as you stood. ”I'll be right back. Hopefully.“

Smiling at your near-groan, Matt jerked his chin towards the door. ”We'll be here.“

Slipping into the hallway, you lowered your voice. ”Hey mama, everything ok?“

”Hey baby, everything's fine, just had a couple questions for you about bills.“ Her sweet voice was strained and you could practically see her flicking her gaze to meet your father's, his metaphorical gun to her head as she made the call.

”Ok,“ You ground out, trying not to snap at her when she wasn't the reason you were frustrated. ”Um, what questions did you have?”

“You did pay the one from November?” She asked, predictably.

“I did. It'll reflect soon and Dad has nothing to worry about. The bill is attached to our names, not his. That's why Collections isn't writing to him.“ You explained as calmly as you could, knowing that she was aware of this already, but probably had you on speakerphone. ”Was that all?“

”Not exactly.“ Her tone shifted, pitching lower and sounding almost embarrassed. A crackle rippled over the line and suddenly your father's gruff voice replaced the one you adored.

“You need to come home next weekend to help your mom with the next round of billing. I've run out of time off and can no longer assist.” He commanded, the ‘compassion’ he held for her livelihood nowhere to be found.

‘Oh because you were so helpful this month when you were ordering us around.’  You griped internally. “What round of billing? The one from Thanksgiving–”

“Was four appointments ago. These things aren't free, you know. They’re wanting us to pay for them.”

Both you and your bank account were intimately familiar with the steep cost of her treatment. Inhaling deeply, you paced a few steps from Matt and Foggy's room. “I know they aren't free. We signed her up for a payment plan two weeks ago that offers a deferral–”

“She was denied.” His laconic answer made your spirits plummet as time came to a halt. Your pounding heart froze in place, dread creeping up your spine. 

“What?” On the off chance that he was being unintentionally misleading, you needed to clarify.

Your mother's apologetic voice came over the line once again. ”I wasn't accepted into the financial assistance program, baby. But, it's ok! I can pick up more shifts–“

”No!” You exclaimed, the shrill edge of your cry echoing down the hallway. You tried again, digging your nails into the flesh of your palm as you fought to keep your voice steady.

“Don't...you don't need to do that mama. I don't want you to overwork yourself. I'll come home on Friday and we can talk about options, ok?“ You bargained, running through your work schedule in your head to create a plan.

”Are you sure, honey? Won't you be busy getting a head start on the semester?“ 

Blinking back tears at her obvious care for you, you cleared your throat before answering. “It’s alright, mama. It’s just syllabus week, I’m sure I’ll have time to come home and sort things out.”

“She’ll make time.” Your father’s promise was more for your mom than you, but it felt like a swift kick to the gut all the same. 

Because you would make time. You had to. No one else would. You were your mom’s last line of defense. Prioritizing yourself and failing to be there for her wasn’t an option you had. The emotional burden you were carrying felt impossibly heavy, as if there was a line of anvils across your shoulders and chest, slowly forcing the oxygen out of your lungs until you perished. 

“Of course I will. I’ll see you this weekend, mama. Love you.” You choked out, slapping a palm over your mouth before you broke. 

“I love you too, baby. Have a good week at school!” You could picture her tired smile as she wished you a proper goodbye, the image cracking your composure. 

You hung up before the first tear rolled down your cheek. Dropping your face into your hands, you bit your lip to stifle a sob, letting the tears flow silently instead. Falling back against the wall behind you, you let your legs give out as you collapsed to the disgusting dorm hallway carpet. 

The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the noises drifting through the thin walls, an urge to scream churned in your chest. Ugly, rage filled sobs were barreling up your throat, desperately trying to claw their way out, to make your pain known. Hunching over your knees in a pitiful crouch, you shielded your face with your arms, preventing any passersby from seeing your much-needed meltdown. 

Choking out a breath around another half-smothered sob, you nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up frantically, the outburst downgraded to a strangled whine when you saw Matt’s furrowed brow directed at you. 

Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, opening his arms with a frown. Throwing yourself into his embrace, you couldn’t help the hideous sounds that escaped you as he enveloped you in his muscular arms with ease. Tucking your head under his chin, you shook violently against his chest as you bawled. 

“I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t–” You gasped out, your breath stuttering as you wept forcefully into his shoulder. 

Shushing you gently, he rubbed circles into your back with his large hand.

Whimpering at the touch, you wiped at your tear-streaked face furiously. “”I’m barely an adult. How am I supposed to do this?” Your voice shattered around the words, throat constricting with anguish.

“I don’t know,” Matt cooed, stroking a fresh pair of tears away from your skin with his thumbs. “But I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ll get through it together.” 

Burying your face into his neck miserably, you shuddered with distaste. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispered gravely, pressing a kiss to your crown. 

With that promise, your brain seemed to shut off. Your tears gradually slowed to a halt, leaving you dazed and exhausted in Matt’s lap. Heaving out a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting his soft touches wash over you like the tides. Kissing your forehead tenderly, Matt cupped your cheek. 

“Why don’t we go sit somewhere softer than this shitty floor, hmm?” His small question was meant to make you laugh, but your fatigue had chased away every other emotion. 

Nodding softly, you let Matt pull you from the ground and back into his room, welcoming the darkness after the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Sliding off his glasses and placing them on his nightstand, he guided you to Foggy’s bed. The blond frowned at you, setting his book aside. 

“You ok, bug?” He asked, sitting up to inspect your puffy eyes.

Shaking your head tiredly, you crawled onto his mattress and let him wrap you in a hug. Matt, with an impressive amount of agility, somehow leapt onto the bed behind you, snaking his arms around your middle so that you were sandwiched between him and his roommate. You listened to their steady breathing, letting the sound lull you into a more peaceful state of mind. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Matt’s lips scratched over the back of your head. “Fog, think you could read some of your book for us?”

“Uh, yah totally.” Foggy pouted, gaze still lingering on your drained face. “Let me just find my page.”

The combination of your worn-out consciousness and the comforting presence of your two best friends was dangerous. Your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel yourself drifting off. 

As if reading your thoughts, Matt kissed your hair. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Squeezing his fingers, you stopped fighting the darkness pulling at the edges of your vision, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind

Please tell me if these tags aren't working for you all because Tumblr has been acting up :/

[total-drama-brainrot]

Thinking about the fake dating AU again. 🤯

What if, during his segment on the Aftermath, Noah plays off his 'cheating' as something so emotionally detached it makes him look almost psychopathic, in an attempt to make himself as unlikable as possible?

The 'cheating' was simply strategic, is all. It wasn't his fault the two of them had to go and catch real feelings; Noah was just playing the game. Nothing more.

What? You thought he had feelings for them? Don't be ridiculous, Noah felt nothing for either of them- they were just there to carry him through the competition.

(He doesn't anticipate the ache that twists through his chest after that statement. It isn't true in the slightest, yet even just pretending to not care about his partners is physically painful.)

At first, both Geoff and Blaineley commend him for enacting some long overdue karma/vengeance on the antagonistic duo, but the more Noah intentionally digs himself into a hole- the more hateable he makes himself- the more people actually begin to pity both Heather and Alejandro. Which was the plan from the beginning, so Noah fully commits to it, playing off every interaction as just another cog in his manipulation machine; he's the 'High IQ', after all, of course he planned it all.

And he hides the nausea writhing in his gut from the blatant lies he's sprouting under a carefully blank, uncaring mask of indifference. Every claim he makes is said in the most casual tone- as if he's commenting on the weather instead of admitting to masterminding the heartbreak of two strong competitors- and that's somehow worse than if he would at least seem smug about his achievement. Because at least then he'd (appear to) care.

So, when the Aftermath finally ends, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to even look at him- who knew the little snark could be so ruthless? So uncaring?

And Noah, knowing that he can't confide in Owen (who can't keep a secret to save his life) or Izzy (who's too unpredictable to trust- and who also 'leaked' fake information about him to Sierra during her time on Celebrity Manhunt, so who knows what else she's leak?) turns to his friend Eva, who promptly decks him in the face.

"I'm not friends with cheaters."

And when he tries to explain himself, clutching at his quickly bruising face and hoping that she'll see reason or at the very least afford him some decency, she throws his actions back in his face (actions have always spoken louder than words with Eva). Claiming that, if he's willing to lead on two people romantically, who's to say he isn't also faking their friendship? How can she trust anything that comes out of his slimy mouth?

It hurts. Every accusation is like a wave of searing heat against his already blistered heart, and yet Eva's eyes are so cold as she looks at Noah like he's the scum beneath her shoes.

So he flees to his hotel room.

And, for the first time in years, he weeps.

.

Given the informative finale of World Tour, the Aftermath crew were given the go-ahead to host one last hurrah, to properly question their finalists about their scheme, and to clear Noah's name.

Their audience was practically frothing at the mouth for an update.

During their interview segment, Blaineley (in an attempt to stir up some drama- she's always endeavouring to stay on brand after all) plays clips of Noah's callous 'confessions' on his Aftermath segment post-elimination, hoping to cause some trouble in paradise for the lovely throuple by sewing the seeds of doubt in their minds.

To her surprise, both Heather and Alejandro start laughing at the clips as if they're the funniest thing they've ever seen, huddling closer to Noah as they poke and tease him. Noah, in turn, sinks in unto himself, red-faced and mortified.

"What? How can you be alright with him saying that?" Cries Blaineley, scandalised that her attempt at brewing tension somehow didn't work.

"Because he does not mean it." Alejandro explains. To his side, Heather nods in agreement.

"How can you be so sure?"

Heather points to the screen, where past Noah is lying his ass off for the world to see, stoic save for the barely noticable twitching of his fingers and the occasional jump of his leg.

"He's lying through his teeth! It's so obvious- you weren't even trying to hide your tells, and after all the practice we did!"

"I didn't need to. Neither of you were there to call me out on the bluff."

[csolarstorm]

Thoughts on Agatha All Along - Finale!

Well, I've managed to piece together a post from the notes I took after that awesome two part finale. I enjoyed it a lot, so this is gonna be a long one! So follow me, my friend, as I give my thoughts on Episode 8 and 9 of Agatha All Along.

Now this is one of the most interesting character redemptions I've seen in young adult/family media, because it isn't really a redemption! 

Agatha's redemption goes just as far as her motherly bond with Billy, but other than that, the show is less about redemption and more about retribution.  We thought when Episode 5 said "Punish Agatha", that would be an outlier, a temporary obstacle to the coven coming together.  Nope.  There's too much red - I mean, purple - in Agatha's ledger.  Agatha is who she is, and the show never rewards her for her treachery.  In fact, her cynical, callous worldview costs her everything…even her death.  Agatha is literally reduced to a ghost because she rejects the literal embodiment of the life cycle.  (And she can't face Nicky.)

She's literally "mommy Voldemort"!  That is one of the weirdest things I've ever written!

The only thing Agatha doesn't lose at the end of the series is her bond with Billy - and that's even a close one.  He almost banishes her! That's a fun inversion of the beginning where he deliberately seeks her out. But in mentoring Billy, Agatha has a sort of second chance at parenthood after losing her son. So she is given that grace.

Okay, technically the show does kind of give Agatha the anti-hero treatment, or else she wouldn't end up Billy's mentor.  Clearly Agatha has something to teach Tommy about the nature of power and ruthlessness of the world.  Billy's chaos magic is unfathomably powerful - like his mom, he was bound to accidentally hurt people at some point.  And Agatha was absolutely right about this: "get used to this feeling if you're going to be a witch".  That's unfortunately what being powerful is like.  Think of all the collateral damage the Avengers have caused.  Heck, Wanda at Lagos.  Billy really does take after his mother.

It's the same way in the real world. Any decision a politician makes, money a billionaire invests, has ripple effects the victimize somebody, a shadowy cost to match the reward.

It's one thing to trample others on accident when you swing around your power, but hurting others on purpose actually does actually hurt you, and I think this show expertly portrays that.  It doesn't fall into this trap of making Agatha some amoral badass that people idolize for giving them permission to be assholes.  The power of virtue is not a metaphor, not just a moral gimmick meant to promote societal adhesion.  The callousness of treachery actually affects your ability to form meaningful relationships, which is part of living a satisfying life. Under that facade of bravado and villainy, Agatha is suffering deep inside.  Of course, your mileage may vary, only the good die young, yadda yadda.  There's plenty of happy monsters and sociopaths in the world.

This show has some really interesting parallels with Loki.  You can even argue that Agatha ended up with a parallel but also opposite fate to Loki: a ghost to the world, cut off from life and death.  Only unlike Loki, she can still interact with others.

Agatha All Along DEFINITELY follows Wandavision's footsteps when it comes to flipping audience expectations.  Only this time it's not as simple as Ralph Bohner or those "devils in the details".  Agatha All Along is deliciously character driven, so all the devils in these details are character-related.

The Coven and Sisterhood

Let's start with the biggest "twist": around the middle of the show, the story was about sisterhood: four wayward witches and one familiar setting aside their differences and learning to work together as coven. 

That all goes to hell with Agatha kills Alice and Billy yeets everyone into the mud.  (In retrospect, that's definitely part of why I was disappointed with Episode 5. I could feel the change in direction in the awkward writing.) Sure, Lillia embraces the coven before her death, but Jen definitely does not find kinship with Agatha in the end.  In fact, Agatha screwed her over a hundred years before the show began, and Jen's final challenge is getting away from Agatha's toxic influence. 

And then the whole coven plot definitely goes to hell when it turns out that not only was the road not even real, but the legend of the road itself was just Agatha's lie to lure witches into her coven to murder them over and over again!  Granted we knew that Agatha wanted to kill the coven from the beginning, but this is a whole other layer of deception.

I know this pisses some people off, because obviously it feels like Alice and Lillia died for nothing now - or at least died for a cause they never signed up for.  This was all about resurrecting Tommy, not working together for sisterhood!

Even though the coven didn't last, I think it still matters that it was part of the show, and it was explored. The theme of sisterhood is there. And like Vision said, something is not beautiful because it lasts. 

But I know a lot of people wanted to see this conventional story where everyone survives, and Sharon learns analog witchcraft and her skills come in handy in the last trial when she saves everyone from a sticky situation, and the newfound coven of sisterhood teams up to defy Death and save Agatha and Billy.

That's why we have fanfiction.  *sigh*

Defied Expectations

Speaking of fan disappointment, there's no moment where all is revealed about Agatha's relationship with Rio, at least not all that the fans wanted to see.  Instead, we get an admittedly cute and emotionally compelling flashback to Agatha raising Nicky that shows us exactly how she started the legend of the Witch's Road, and how the ballad started as their song as mother and son.  I'm not disappointed that they went this route instead of a more Rio-centered flashback - I think it brings the story full circle.   

I could tell people were going to be disappointed when Agatha didn't end up in a fulfilling relationship with Rio/Death.  Their relationship had such rich chemistry and it was so intriguing - but to me, the writing was on the wall that it would not be a particularly positive relationship.  I don't imagine Marvel would show a relationship between a serial killer and the embodiment of death and make that a happy, healthy relationship.  My condolences to shippers who wanted this to be a positive representation of lesbian relationships.

And on that note: I'm not sure why Agatha tells Rio that the truth about Nicky's death is too terrible.  Was she absorbing life to keep Nicky alive, and once he refused he finally died? Is that why she says to baby Nicky "You like that? I think we're going to work together just fine."  If this is what they were going for, then yeah that truth is terrible enough for me. Obviously Agatha isn't going to tell the coven she needed to kill other witches to keep Nicky alive.  There's no use trying to rationalize serial murder, even if it's to support your son.

I like how Agatha's name for Nicky follows the "Namor" rule. Since they changed Namor's origin, instead of his name being "Roman" backwards, they made him "N'Amor - the one without love!" So sure, sure, Nicholas Scratch isn't named after Nick Scratch, an old name for the devil, perish the thought! Agatha names him Nicholas Scratch because she made him from scratch. Aww, that honestly was adorable, name retcons aside.

We don't flash back to Agatha's first coven.  The Salem Seven and Evanora originally seem like they're going to be a bigger part in the story, but they're a footnote by the finale.  And although I'm glad they chose the story of Nicky and the origin of the Witch's Road, it would have been nice to commit to actually explaining some of Agatha's actual origin. 

Did Jen's trauma bind her magic?  Nope, Agatha did it.  I mean it doesn't exactly rob us of Jen's trauma narrative - it was still there, implicitly, it's just funny that everything in the series really is Agatha All Along, except for that one big time it was Billy All Along.

Oh, and I guess that one time it was Lillia All Along.  But that's different, that's Patti LuPone.  You have to get Patti Lupone in on the fun.

There are always some editing mistakes in TV shows, but it seems like Marvel needed to go back and tweak some (alleged) discrepancies in the story that don't match the final version of the series, or at stop and clarify things more often.  (For instance, how was Rio "torturing Agatha" throughout the years?  Was she responsible for all the disasters around Agatha, hoping to break her into finally accepting her death?) 

This lack of clarity is a problem with the series overall, to the point that Jac Schaeffer had to keep explaining things that the narrative didn't make clear.  But I have to say, the fact that we were so on the edge of our seats wanting to know means that the story was doing its job.

All Roads Lead To...

So in the end, I think that just like Wandavision, the show went in a direction that a lot of fans weren't expecting - but unlike Wandavision, in some ways I think that's to its benefit.  The coven may not have lasted, but damn that is a richly emotional character study of Agatha Harkness, and I am excited to see "The Ghost and Billy Kaplan" return in Vision Quest, or maybe Young Avengers. 

There were some (alleged) plot holes from Marvel's trademark editing process, and they should have been clearer about some things - but holy triple goddess was this an amazing series nonetheless.  Pound for pound, I think it's the best series Marvel has to offer right now.

Follow me my friend, to glory at the end.

[ddarker-dreams]

being a cynic comes naturally to scaramouche.

if he had a heart, it'd undoubtedly be hardened by this point in his centuries-long existence. to be made callous is not so bad. it offers certain protections, acts as both a sword and a shield. he's never had reason to regret the towering walls erected around his soul, if anything, his only regret would be that he hadn't done it sooner. he saps the energy from the room upon entering. excited conversations die down into cautious whispers for those who are brave and silence for those who are smart.

he is feared, rightfully so.

it's a wonder, then, that he tames his unruly tongue in your presence.

certainly, he's still disagreeable. petulant, argumentative, always ready to give an opinion you never asked for. compared to how he treats everyone else who has the misfortune of knowing him, though, the difference is stark. for the longest time, scaramouche never dwelled on this out of self-preservation. the door to exploring the deeper reasons behind his behavior isn't locked, yet he acts like it is. he writes it off as begrudging intrigue for as long as he can.

yes, it's to satisfy some mild curiosity that he winds up in your area more often than not. allows himself to sustain wounds he could've easily avoided so that he may experience your healing touch. why he falsely claims he's still recovering so that he might sleep beneath your roof another night. this is a passing fancy that'll lose its glow as every star is fated to. maybe he'll even revel in the reveal that he isn't who he's presented himself to be — you've been granting sanctuary to a harbinger, sharing silly childhood anecdotes with a being who delights in cruelty.

he entertains the thought, finds amusement in it. he'll part his lips, ready to unleash vitriol that'd shatter the illusion he's meticulously maintained, then you'll smile. or laugh. or maybe make a joke that's perhaps the tiniest bit clever. then he'll forget himself, the monster which lives beneath his unblemished skin. he'll lose his appetite for sadism. what you offer tastes far superior, and just when he thought he was averse to sweet flavors, you challenge the notion.

you'd look cute with glassy eyes, a trembling lower lip, and upturned eyebrows. but you almost look like you were the one destined for divinity when your countenance is beaming, enthusiasm carved into every crevice.

it irritates him to no end. if you happen across a pretty flower, you can either pluck it and delight in its beauty until it wilts, or leave it to bloom in peace. why is he opting for the latter? preserving this mirage is more trouble than it's worth. he has to go days without you — weeks even, when dispatched into the abyss — he should just secure you in a fatui stronghold and be done with it. perhaps your petals would wither away, but it's no matter, he'd see to it that you'd blossom again in time.

and still, he leaves you where your roots are spread. it's unlike him. this benevolence, this consideration.

when it comes time to leave, he'll often mull over these thoughts. this could be the time he takes you back. the difference in your strength is laughable, he'd barely need to exert any effort. while he weighs his options on an internal scale, you'll amble over, giving him homemade snacks for the road and a hug. your warmth envelops and washes over him, softer than the first rays of sunlight come dawn. as always, he falters. next time, he'll think. next time for certain. there's no more convincing liar than oneself.

the world made him cynical, but for as long as he can, he wants to prevent it from doing the same to you.

[allgremlinart]

haiiiiii friend can you explain jianzhu to me I keep seeing you post about them and I’m nosy and wanna know (<- stopped watching atla bc I realized zutara was never gonna be canon)

also jetko. can you explain jetko too (I’m thinking they’re more on the ghostbat spectrum where it’s like. intense friendship that left both emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives)

TEEHEE HEEHE HEE <- me when I get the opportunity to explain/infodump cross-fandom stuff to mutuals

ok so Jianzhu... ahhh Jianzhu... ((SPOILERS for anyone reading the Kyoshi novels))

This is Jianzhu and also like... probably one of maybe 4 canon images/art there is of him... he's not from the original cartoon he's from the Avatar Kyoshi spin-off novels that take place abt 400 yrs before the events of the show (idk how much you know abt atla lore from osmosis so this might get a little tedious? I'm just gonna explain as succinctly as possible.)

To be brief, he's a cunty old man. But unlike when I call, say, Minhkhoa a cunty old man it's not really loving ... its more like... I love to hate him. He's a REALLY good villain.

He's a politician. He made 500 people dig their own graves and then buried them alive. He beheaded his friend of like 20+ years. He drugs and kidnaps teenagers. etc. It's great.

His whole character arc is like... He's in control. You start off the book and he is very clearly in control, and he knows what he's doing, and he even sounds halfway reasonable sometimes but over the course of the novel he gets more and more desperate to grab hold of a situation that spirals wildly away from him and you get to watch it happen. His justifications for his actions get crazier, he gets sloppier and sloppier with his murders....

OH also you know how sometimes people think Bruce is some callous asshole who was only using his adoptive son who worshipped him as a weapon, and when he died he quickly sought to replace him without remorse ? Yeah he's like that but. Like actually this time. His dead adoptive son also then comes back after eating an eyeball in the spirit world (idk) and kills him by pressing a pebble through his sternum so. More successful than Jason at patricide I'd say. Look there's a lot I didn't cover, here's his wiki.

ok Jetko... ah... the ancient yaoi..

Important required reading before I explain this ship is this post. What you have to understand about Zuko is that for basically like... 40 episodes the only person he shares significant screen time with is his uncle so when him and Jet met in s2 and had a decent 3 episodes worth of interactions ... it was enough, lets just say that.

The basic Jetko timeline is they meet on a ferry while Zuko and his Uncle are disguised as refugees and they steal food together -> Jet tries to get Zuko (who he only ever knows as "Li") to join his emo band gang which Zuko refuses -> Jet sees Uncle Warcrimes heating his tea and correctly deduces that they are firebenders (ie not who they say they are; the enemy) -> Zuko and his Uncle work in a tea shop while Jet stalks them and steals things from their house and watches them from behind clotheslines (yeah) -> Jet confronts them in the teashop, sword fight, Jet gets arrested and brainwashed by the secret police (yeah) -> Jet dies under a lake which Zuko only finds out about a season later.

So they never had the 4 years of intense homoerotic cohabitation that ghostbat had,.. their chemistry and potential are pretty much instigated by a few of Jet's weird intense lines, such as "As soon as I saw your scar I knew exactly who you were - you're an outcast, like me." And the crux of the ship is like.. Jet both does and doesn't know who Zuko is.

He knows he is also angry and restless, like himself - he knows he is running from his past, like himself - and he knows he is going to Ba Sing Se to create a new identity. These things are all true, for both of them; what Jet doesn't know is that Zuko is from the imperialist nation that brutally murdered his parents and invaded his home and he incorrectly assumes that the anger he recognizes in Zuko stems from the same need to enact violence on those who have taken everything from him.

So I guess the "thought you were exactly like me but then I found out you're not which enrages and humiliates me so know I'm going to beat the shit out of you" thing from BTK no. 6 is something they share with ghostbat but.. Jet's anger is probably a little more justified than Minhkhoa's lol...

In conclusion it's your basic "doomed relationship/they work great together but that doesn't fix anything" ship premise. It used to be more popular back in the day... pretty sure I owe my life to maybe 3 different Taiwanese/Chinese doujin artists from 2009... yeah that's the gist of it.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Confrontation

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 27, Danny wants some answers.

Author's Note: Hey, sorry to leave you on the last one for so long, I honestly was planning on posting this one in like, two days, and then I got COVID. So uh, better late than never? Hope you enjoy!

...

Danny remembers where the training grounds are well enough to make it back there, which is good.  He doesn’t want to bother Tucker or Sam for directions, and he has a feeling Valerie and Jazz wouldn’t want to let him go alone.  But he needs one more answer than he currently has, and he doesn’t want to put anyone else at risk to get it.

He didn’t really get a good look at everything last time, since they’d all been such a desperate hurry, but Vlad really put a lot in the place.  The heavy duty ghost training set up is everywhere across the large space, from training bags to some kind of ceiling obstacle course to those dummies that do in fact look just like him.  (He really hadn’t noticed the human ones before.  He’s gonna try not to think about that.)

There’s also the fact that Vlad is sitting off to the side in ghost form, in one of two large plush chairs, sipping something from a mug and looking like he’s been waiting for him.  He smiles at Danny as he notices him.  “Daniel.”

Danny clenches his hands into fists.  “Vlad.”

Vlad gestures at the chair across from him with a smile.  Danny walks over and sits down, making sure his anger and determination both come across on his face.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by,” Vlad says.  “We have a lot to talk about.”

“No shit,” Danny snaps, crossing his arms.

“I think I’ll start,” Vlad says, and Danny grits his teeth.  “So, you held up remarkably well.  Much better than I’d have expected you to.  What didn’t I take into account?”

“My sister,” Danny spits.  “And I’m not here to answer all your questions.  You’re going to tell me something.”

Vlad gives a ‘go ahead’ gesture.  “Sure, Daniel.  A question for a question is fair enough.”

“Why Sam and Tucker?” Danny asks.  “Why them?  If you were just trying to get information, you could have just kept using the spy cameras in Valerie’s suit.  Why did it have to be them?”

Vlad gives him an almost disappointed look, like he expected more from him.  “Daniel, don’t be ridiculous,” Vlad says.  “It didn’t.”

Danny digs his nails into his hands.  “Then why—”

“They were simply the most effective tools to get the job done,” Vlad says with a shrug.

Danny feels an ectoblast start to build up around his hands, but Vlad keeps going.

“I was trying to break you down to a point where you’d accept my offer for a mentorship and we could start building our father-son bond,” he says.  “They were in a place to be easily manipulated as a means to that end.  If you wanted to avoid it, all you had to do was tell them sooner.”

Danny tries to take a breath in and mostly succeeds, but it comes out sharp and jagged.  He thinks of Sam’s desperate tears and panic when she told him what happened, of the lost guilt in Tucker’s face after they saved him.

“You,” he growls out, standing.  “You sick, callous, son of a bItCH—”

A scream comes out along with the last word, but along with it a huge burst of ectoplasmic energy that shoves Vlad suddenly across the room.  And, well.  He actually didn’t know he could do that.  But it works well enough for his end goal of ‘break every goddamn bone in Vlad’s body,’ so he keeps going.  Along with Vlad, he can see the equipment all throughout the room getting knocked over, torn to pieces, or disintegrated, which is also a nice bonus.  Vlad, after a couple seconds, is forced back into human form, which is helpful.

As tends to be the case with new powers, eventually Danny can’t quite keep going, but unlike what tends to be the case with new powers, this time the adrenaline gets him easily across the room and yanking Vlad up by the collar of his suit.

“Sam and Tucker are PEOPLE,” he screams right in his face.  “They’re not PLAYTHINGS for you to use just to get to me!”

Vlad stares at him for a moment, likely surprised at the power output he just witnessed, but seems to get over it quickly.  He chuckles, seeming wholly unbothered by Danny’s statement.  “On the contrary, Daniel, they served that function rather perfectly,” he says.

Danny’s certain his eyes are glowing bright green in rage.  He lets go of Vlad with one hand and summons a ball of ectoplasm, then fires it into the side of Vlad’s head, knocking him to the ground.  For good measure, he slams his foot onto his head to hold him in place.

“If you ever,” he growls, “EVER come near them again, I will shove you into a thermos and let you ROT IN IT.”

Vlad’s face has twisted up slightly in pain.  “And I’m sure your parents will wonder where their old college friend has gone,” he says.

“LOOK ME IN THE EYES,” Danny screams, leaning down into his face, “And see that I do not give a SINGLE SOLITARY FUCK.”

Vlad does, his eyes widen, seeming to finally understand that Danny’s being serious.

“Daniel, for heaven’s sake,” he says.  “You won the chess match.  Why are you so angry?”

Danny bends down and yanks Vlad up by his ponytail.  “I wasn’t PLAYING!  Believe it or not, I do not see what passes for our relationship as an all important chess match!”  Danny drops Vlad to the ground again, buries his head in his hands, and screams for a good couple seconds.  He pulls his head up finally, tries to calm down just a little.  “I was thinking about high school,” he says.  “And how to deal with my new powers.  And figuring out how to tell my friends that I died a couple months ago, and it really fucking sucked, and I wish they’d have been there.”  His voice cracks on the last word.  He shakes it off and turns his hate filled gaze back to Vlad.  “Newsflash, fruitloop, unless you show up to make yourself a nuisance, I don’t think about you.”

Vlad stares at him, clearly confused.  “But,” he says slowly, sitting up.  “I’m… I’m the only other being in existence that’s like you.  I’m the only one who could possibly understand.”

Danny laughs, because that’s hilarious, and what else is he supposed to do with this massively fucked up situation?

He glares at Vlad one last time, putting into his eyes all of his rage and hatred and a little bit of the grief he’s suffered at this fucker’s hands.

“If you ever come near Sam and Tucker again, I will make you regret it,” he says.  Then he turns and leaves Vlad in the ruined remains of his training grounds.  He slams the door on his way out.

[hifirushimagines]

Hello if those suggestions are still open can we see more yandere characters, with how much fun yadere Rekka was it would be really fun to see Korsica or Zanzo in the position!

Yandere!Korsica and Zanzo

TW; Yandere, stalking, misuse of position, unprofessional behavior (nothing too weird, just something out of place for Korsica)

Notes; Why not both giving some love to Zanzo

Korsica

Korsica as a yandere is hard to get by since she's head of security and has a lot of resource she's able to keep a very close eye on them without them knowing she'll know everything about her darling before the week ends

Even though she's lovestruck Korsica hides her true feelings very well she'll act normal around her darling, but whenever someone tries to talk or make a move on S/o the head of security turns cold and callous as she stares them dead in the eye that could turn even the most harden person shivers down their back

As said she has a lot of resources able to have a lot of video and knowledge of S/o's likes and dislikes, interests and hobbies as well as the advantage of having such sources that she's able to have bots help and serve S/o that also help her find more closed off info about them

When she and her darling are together it seems that Korsica can't help but have a hand on them everywhere they go; on their back, shoulder, arm, hips and hands some may consider it cute just cause, but really the redhead wants to make sure that no one tries to take them away from her

Korsica does hate when she can't be near S/o while they work but she'll always have the cams on hand as well as the staff bots but that's not enough to reassure her, so she'll constantly text/call S/o every few hours nothing too weird but something to put her mind at ease

Whenever she brings them over to the band Korsica will always have her hand on their hip or will stand really close to them while they're talking to either Chai, Macaron or Peppermint, she knows that they don't pose harm to S/o but she can't help be possessive protective Korsica is just worried something she can't let anyone get too close now

Zanzo

Zanzo is a wildcard at best and worse one moment S/o will be treated like the most precious thing in the world then the next you'll be testing out a experimental 'VR headset' that give them a weird neck pain but though nothing of it as Zanzo says it's just an after effect of it, never noticing a strange small bump on the back of their neck

The scientist will always know where and when S/o will be he doesn't need a flybot or cams to know where they are unlike Korsica or Rekka, he's overconfident but knows what he's doing when it comes to his obsession

He hates when someone tries to take interest in S/o the man will make it known by either having said person fired or demand to get back to work, it's obvious that Zanzo has a thing for S/o but everyone doesn't know how far he's welling to go just to have them

The man will put anyone that poses a threat by putting them as test subjects for his new invention with either the person left in critical conditions or has unfortunately died, but either with data is data and no more rivals to deal with for now

[achaotichuman]

Five times Lucien Vanserra proposed to Tamlin, one time Tamlin said yes.

So, I wrote this like six months ago, put it on Ao3, took it down a week later. Now we're here. If you like sappy, totally, completely, undeniably in love Tamcien, then you'll like this.

The first time Lucien proposed to Tamlin he had barely known the male two weeks and had been completely off his face on Faery wine.

Their group of friends had decided to hit a bar on the far south side of the Autumn Court. Tamlin had happened to join them and Lucien was excited to get to know the male a little better.

They had first met when their fathers demanded a meet up after a mishap with some trade between the Autumn and Spring Court, both Lucien and Tamlin had snuck off and found solace in each other's company. 

The Spring gardens had been lovely to look at but not nearly as lovely at looking at the youngest Prince of Spring. Light golden hair that fell down his back and shoulders in soft waves, it was cut softly around the front nicely framing his face. He was not nearly like any other Prince he had ever seen.

Unlike the other heirs of the Courts, Tamlin had a softness to him that balanced out his warrior build. Along with an other-worldly sense of balance. Lucien had found him strolling through the dense gardens of Spring. The gardens were unlike anything, they were in a confined space, but seemingly left to their own devices, branches and flowering vines curled over each other in a way that would seem erratic and chaotic anywhere else but fit the Court so well here.

Tamlin had stood up on the tips of his toes and wrapped a hand around an unfurled rose. When he removed his hand the flower was in full bloom with specks of shimmering gold floating off of the petals.

Ground Magic they called it. The magic that allowed Spring Fae to control the growth and life of plants.

Lucien, in a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness, stepped on a branch. Immediately the Spring Prince turned to him, and Lucien’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of those bright green eyes.

Tamlin narrowed his eyes and Lucien stood there dumbly. He wasn’t like this; he shouldn’t be like this. Normally he could easily fall into small talk, using his charm to woo people into connecting with him, but not with this male. Lucien felt like he was six years old again and standing before the whole Court, wholly on display and vulnerable.

“Who are you?” Tamlin asked quickly.

Lucien blinked, he opened and closed his mouth like a dead fish, just staring.

“What are you doing in my garden?” Tamlin asked, sounding more threatening, that snapped Lucien out of it.

“I was getting away.” Lucien said quickly, nearly smacking himself at how high-pitched and awkward his voice sounded.

Tamlin tilted his head slightly, then in two smooth leaps he was before Lucien.

Lucien, logically, didn’t have much to worry about if the lordling thought him to be a threat. Their builds were quite similar, even if the male before him was a good fifteen years older and taller than him. And Lucien knew he was quick enough to easily overpower those even twice his size. Still, he was intimidated.

After a moment Tamlin asked, "You're one of the Autumn Princes, right?”

“Um, yes, yes! Lucien.” Lucien stuck out his hand. Good Gods what the fuck was wrong with him?

Tamlin again regarded him with suspicion, then he tentatively took Lucien’s hand. His fingers were long and slender, with callous’ on his palm. 

“Tamlin, nice to meet you.” He said, eyes still looking him up and down but significantly relaxed.

After Lucien got past his original awkwardness, Tamlin and he began to talk. The Princeling showed him around the gardens, apparently most of it was allowed to run on its own, but occasionally a gardener would come through and trim it up, and Tamlin would often help. He gave Lucien a detailed explanation on what certain plants were and the meaning behind them.

They ended up staying out there for four hours. Lucien said nothing but marvelled at the garden, usually he hated it when people rambled and didn’t allow a word in, but something in him told him to shut up and pay attention to what this male was saying.

Eventually Eris came to find him. It was time to return to Autumn.

Lucien and Tamlin ended up meeting every morning on the border for the next two weeks. Catching fish from the river and talking till late afternoon.

Lucien didn’t quite know what got him so invested in the Princeling, but they became good friends quickly.

Which led him to propose to the Spring lord in a drunken state.

Poor Tamlin had just been sitting at the bar, listening to the music, conversing with one of Lucien’s many friends and enjoying the atmosphere when Lucien came stumbling up to him, barely being able to stand upright.

Tamlin had laughed and gotten off his chair to help stabilise the drunk Prince. Lucien laid eyes on that pretty face and got down on one knee.

Lucien took the metal ring off his own finger and showed it to Tamlin, slurring “Marry me!”

Not even a question, more of an outright demand.

Tamlin had stared at him for a moment, his face caught between shocked and incredibly amused. He then laughed and helped pick Lucien up off the ground.

“Alright, my Fox, that's enough wine for you.” Tamlin had laughed, starting to take Lucien over to the entrance of the bar.

Lucien leaned fully onto Tamlin, “Fox? If I’m a fox what are you then, Spring Prince?”

Tamlin smiled, “Well I don’t know, I guess that's for you to decide.”

He had meant it in a joking manner, but Lucien still took it seriously. He studied Tamlin long and hard before tapping his nose and saying “Golden ray. Because you like a golden ray of sunshine!”

Tamlin had been silent for a moment, before he burst out laughing, “Alright then, my Fox.”

***

The second time Lucien proposed to Tamlin, he had been completely sober and dead serious.

But Tamlin was not aware of just how serious Lucien was.

It had been the hundred year anniversary of Jesminda’s death and naturally Lucien had been feeling pretty shitty.

Tamlin had a memorial for her. It was the centre of the gardens, surrounded by every flower Lucien had ever said she liked. A park bench had been built, it was made of Autumn wood, and in the typical lesser fae country style. On the backing there was a golden plate with the words In memory of our dearest Jesminda Roseturn, whose sarcasm and teasing will be missed but never be forgotten. 

Lucien had laughed through the tears when he saw it. It was just what Jesminda would have wanted, she always hated the typical style of graveyards. Always thought them to be so morbid.

He had been sitting on that bench. Tears flowing freely down his face. He had long moved on from the deep sadness that made him never want to love another like he did her again. Still he stayed away from anything romantic during this week of the year.

Then Tamlin came out from the manor to him. Tamlin and his stupidly, obliviously, romantic whims.

He sat beside Lucien and pulled him into a hug. When she first died Lucien had avoided all touching but as the years went by, he found more and more comfort in his friends arms. 

Then, in such Tamlin fashion, he made a tub of chocolate ice cream appear from the pocket between realms. It was basically just a pile of ice cream absolutely smothered in chocolate syrup, cream and strawberries.

He made two spoons appear, along with a bottle of Faery wine and set it down between them, “I figured you’d just wanna get drunk and eat sugar so I got this stuff for us.”

Lucien once thought he could only ever love Jesminda, he was very wrong, because the next words out of his mouth were, “will you marry me?”

Tamlin had laughed, taken a spoonful of ice cream and shoved it in Lucien's mouth, who fake glared at him and snatched the spoon away, sucking it clean.

Lucien didn’t remember how they even managed to finish all that ice cream. They got extravagantly drunk and didn’t remember anything after that.

***

The third time Lucien proposed to Tamlin, it wasn’t really him asking for the High lords hand, more him expressing his desire to marry him.

Both of them had been laying on the rooftop of the Manor. Looking up at the starry night, the full moon shining brightly in the sky.

The cool Spring air was biting, it didn’t bother Lucien, the fire flowing freely in his veins keeping him warm.

That wasn’t the case for the High lord beside him. Tamlin shivered and cuddled closer to Lucien. The fire lord chuckled, Tamlin was resting his head on Lucien’s shoulder, Lucien’s arm wrapped around him, keeping him pressed against the fire lord’s side.

“It’s colder than usual tonight,” Lucien quipped.

“It’s fucking freezing you walking matchstick, not that you would know considering you’re the Fae equivalent of a fireplace.” Tamlin angrily snuggled closer.

Lucien pressed his lips into Tamlin’s hair. Rubbing his hand up and down Tamlin’s back, heating his hand so it warmed his friend.

Tamlin let out a small satisfied sigh, “I love you.”

The words sunk into his skin. Lucien nearly made his skin too hot for comfort.

Lucien freely expressed his love to Tamlin with his words, but the latter rarely used his voice to express his love.

Tamlin made up for it in the endless gestures that he only extended to those he held close to his heart. But Lucien always wished he would say it back.

And right now he had. Lucien basked in the feeling like the sun had just come out.

“I love you.” He whispered back, “so much.”

Tamlin laughed quietly, “How much?”

Lucien started drawing circles on his back, “So much so, that if I had to choose one person to spend the rest of my life with, the choice is obvious…”

Tamlin gave him a bright smile, Lucien then said, “Andras, all the way.”

Tamlin slapped his arm, laughing, “you’re an asshole, we were having a moment, how dare you!”

Lucien wrapped both his arms tightly around him, pulling the squirming High lord close, “No, Golden Ray, I’m sorry. If I had to pick one person to spend the rest of my immortal lifespan with, it would be you, without hesitation.”

Tamlin rested his head on Lucien’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I would choose you as well, always.”

The fire lord knew that Tamlin didn’t mean that romantically, maybe would never mean that romantically. But just for a moment, just for tonight, he let himself hope.

***

The fourth time Lucien proposed, it was after their whole lives had just come crashing down.

Fifty years to find a human woman who would love Tamlin despite a hatred of Fae. A joke, pure mockery of the High lord. Amarantha’s way of proving to Tamlin that only she could love him.

And Tamlin was believing her.

He was covered in bruises and blood as was Lucien. Both of them were locked away in Lucien’s room. Sitting on the bed, tears streaming down their faces. Their masked faces.

Lucien took Tamlin’s face in his hands. Even with the mask he knew what he looked like under it, he knew just how beautiful his friend was, and would never forget it even if these masks never came off.

“How am I going to do this?” Tamlin whispered, “how am I going to find someone to love me enough to break a fucking curse?”

Lucien rested his forehead against Tamlin. The gold of their masks clicked together, “how could anyone not fall in love with you?”

Tamlin huffed, “the only person to ever pursue me is the reason we’re wearing these godforsaken masks.”

“That’s not true-“

“Yes! Yes it is Lucien! We are in this mess because of me! Now because of me I have to send a sentry to his death! How can I do that?! How can I look any of my men in the eye and tell them to cross a wall knowing they’ll never return in some desperate hope of a maiden potentially killing them?!”

“Tamlin! This is not your fault! Amarantha is fucking insane! None of this is because of you! As for the sentries, we will give whoever we choose a send off worth remembering for centuries to come. This is for not just our Court but all of Pythian now.”

Tamlin was silent, those tears dropped off his face staining his shirt. Lucien took Tamlin’s hands in his.

“How am I going to get someone to fall in love with me?”

Lucien smiled slightly, “who wouldn’t fall for you?”

Tamlin shook his head, “No, no. No one would fall for me, besides that psycho bitch Queen.”

“Tamlin-“

“Lucien, I can't charm people. I can’t woo females or even flirt properly, that’s your domain. Even if we find a human that meets the criteria, she will hate me, I am just not loveable-“

“I love you!” Lucien shouted.

“It’s not the same!” Tamlin shouted back, “You’re my friend! We love each other differently than people who are lovers!” 

The words were poison, but at this point Lucien couldn’t back down. He was losing Tamlin anyway, what hurt would it do to finally say it, “No, Tam, it’s exactly the same. I love you, you are not just a friend to me and you have never been just a friend to me! I love you so much it hurts! And seeing you like this, thinking that no one could ever love you, breaks my heart more than you’ll ever imagine!”

Tamlin went completely silent at that. From the look on the High lord’s face Lucien might as well have said he was going to go over the wall himself to retrieve a maiden. 

“I… Tamlin I-”

Tamlin brought Lucien’s hands to his face, kissing them relentlessly, “Why would you say that?! Why would you tell me that now?!”

Both of them were shaking, Lucien was using every fibre in his body to not start crying right then and there.

“Why would you tell me that when I can’t love you?! When I’m doomed to never be able to love you?!” His words were near incoherent from the tears choking his words. Lucien understood him all the same.

Lucien lost the battle to his tears, he started sobbing, resting his forehead against the crown of Tamlin’s hair, “Because I can’t go another day without you knowing! Tamlin, I have wanted you forever, I will always love you!”

When the two of them calmed down enough, they both laid down on Lucien’s bed. Tamlin’s face pressed into Lucien’s chest. Their arms were wrapped tightly around each other.

“If… if we could start over, and this never happened…” He wanted to ask. At the same time he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Just say it, Luce.”

“... will you marry me?”

Tamlin didn’t answer, he never answered. Not that night, not the next day, not fifty years later. He just pressed himself harder against Lucien, more sobs falling from him.

One day, forty-nine years later, a Huntress named Feyre with light brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a pretty face came into their lives.

Lucien hated her with every piece of his soul.

***

The fifth time Lucien proposed to Tamlin he was turned down flat.

They had come out from Under the Mountain barely two days earlier. The two of them were sitting on the rooftop, like they had done so many years prior.

The moon was high in the sky, the stars settled above them like drops of sunlight scattered throughout the darkness.

“She’s Fae now.” Tamlin murmured, “She’s going to live as long as us.”

His tone was not said in the happy way it should be. It should have been said joyfully, it should have been an acknowledgement that the female he loved was going to be beside him forever.

Instead he sounded resigned, like the idea of Feyre being immortal was yet another curse.

“Yeah. She’ll be with us forever,” Lucien said.

The Fox couldn’t help it, he conjoined his hand with Tamlin’s, “She loved you enough to go Under the Mountain for us.”

Tamlin nodded, “We owe her every life in Prythian. She is our saviour.”

There was a beat of silence. One heartbeat, then the next. Tamlin said, “I can’t let that happen to her again.”

“Amarantha is dead, it will never happen again.” 

Tamlin shook his head, an opened envelope appeared from the pocket between realms. He handed it to Lucien.

The Fox was confused for a moment, he opened the letter and scanned over it. 

Oh… shit.

Tamlin spoke, “Hybern wants to establish a meet up. They want to weasel their way back into Prythian, now that Amarantha is dead, their puppet is gone. Hybern will be looking for a way back in.”

“Why us?” Lucien asked.

Tamlin’s eyes went uncharacteristically cold at that, “It may have something to do with Feyre being the cursebreaker. They may want to establish contact with her, and if they want to get into Prythian and create another Amarantha situation, they may be looking to eliminate her before she becomes a problem again.”

“You mean they want to kill her?” Lucien asked, it made him a horrible person, but the idea she might die and leave Tamlin all to himself made a tiny part of him light up.

No, she sacrificed her life for all of them. He couldn’t be so hateful of her anymore.

“That's what I’m thinking. We need to keep her here and in sight. There's no telling if they send in a spy, with the economy down and most of the Court in destruction it would be easy to send in a spy or assassin. Feyre can’t be left unguarded.”

“So what? You want a group of sentries to follow her around all day?” Lucien asked.

“For now… that's not a bad idea. Especially whilst she’s getting used to her new body.”

It made sense. Hybern was psychotic, it was where Amarantha came from, but they were intelligent. Most people had left Spring once the Bitch Queen was brought down to go see family in neighbouring Courts, so the grounds and Court were in chaos. It would be the perfect time for a snake to get into the hen house.

More silence past them. Lucien gripped the letter a little tighter. He glanced at Tamlin who was staring up at the moon, his eyes had fallen closed. It was like he was bathing in the silvery glow.

“Tam.”

“Yeah.” Tamlin replied, his eyes still closed.

“Are you going to marry her?” He couldn’t help it, the question slipped past his defences.

Tamlin opened his eyes and looked at Lucien. The fire lord cursed himself for ruining the peaceful moment.

“If everything goes according to plan, yes. Yes I will.”

Another heartbeat, then the next, “Do you want to?”

Tamlin sucked in a breath and looked down at the gardens, now surrounded by darkness, “She saved our lives, because of her love for me… Marriage is what's expected.”

“But do you want to?” Lucien pressed.

“She saved us, Lucien. She saved us-”

“Forget that! Forget everything about that! She’s because of Amarantha! She is a direct byproduct of that hateful witch! You can’t tell me you want to chain yourself to those memories!”

Tamlin snapped. Lucien knew he’d gone too far when the word ‘chain’ left his mouth. The High lord gave a low growl and that was the only warning Lucien got before he was being pinned on his back. Tamlin’s sharp claws punctured through his fingertips, digging into his arms, just not drawing blood.

“Don’t speak about her like that! We owe her a life debt, we all do and you are no exception!”

Lucien always marvelled at how Tamlin’s eyes glowed when he was angry. From a first glance the High lord was just that, royalty. He had a softness and grace to him that even Lucien couldn’t muster, but those claws… the eyes he had and the fangs that gleamed in the light revealed an animalistic side of him that Lucien hadn’t ever truly seen his High lord embrace. Almost like he was afraid of it.

 “I know, I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry.” Lucien whispered.

Tamlin relaxed, his claws withdrew and his eyes dimmed. He sat back on his heels. Lucien just realised Tamlin was straddling his waist.

“I miss you.” Lucien revealed.

Tamlin looked back down into his eyes. There was a longing in them. Lucien’s heart selfishly leapt at the idea Tamlin still wanted him as much as Lucien did.

“I miss you too.” Tamlin murmured.

Lucien took the High lord’s hands in his, “Tam… will you marry-”

“No, no I won’t.” Tamlin said, his voice hardening.

He knew that would be the answer, his heart still shattered all the same.

“I won’t marry you, Lucien. I miss you, I do. I love you more than you’ll ever imagine, but you’re not worth the price I would have to pay. If I could do it all over I would marry you, I would spend eternity with you, I would have children with you, but I can’t. We can’t be wed, and there is no use in mourning what could have been.”

The fire lord nodded, “I know.”

Tamlin leaned down and brushed his lips against Lucien’s, he longed to lean up and kiss him properly, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew this was Tamlin’s way of saying goodbye.

“I love you, my Fox, and I always will.” With that Tamlin kissed his cheek, pulled himself off of Lucien and strided inside, never looking back.

Lucien waited until he heard the rooftop door close, before he let the tears fall.

***

One day. One rainy Spring morning, Lucien asked again.

Spring was restored. The people were back, festivities were under way. Years had passed since Tamlin and Feyre’s fall out, people had moved past it. The Court was thriving and Spring was three times the size it was before even Amarantha.

Kosechi had been eliminated. Vassa and Jurian themselves now wore wedding rings, their one year anniversary would be coming up in a few days.

With Beron now dead and Eris on the throne, Prythian was united at last. After Feyre and Tamlin settled their past with an exchange of letters the other Courts were far more receptive to deals with Spring.

Lucien no longer worked as Emissary to any Court. He stayed in Spring, helping his best friend.

Though he wanted to change that soon, he always wanted to travel outside of Prythian. But he didn’t want to go alone.

Now that Spring was all in order, with advisors and Courtiers they trusted running the place. Maybe Tamlin might want to give travelling a go.

Tamlin was currently standing out in the rain. It had been raining since early the night before. The ground was well and truly soaked, as was Tamlin but he didn’t seem to mind that.

Lucien snuck up behind him, either Lucien was getting better at sneaking around or Tamlin was losing his touch, but either way when the Fox grabbed Tamlin from behind. The High lord startled, throwing them both into the mud.

Lucien laughed, pinning Tamlin down into the wet dirt. Tamlin rolled his eyes, “great, now we’re both dirty, good job.”

The fire lord gave him a grin, “Thank you, Golden Ray. I will say you are still magnificent, even covered in mud.”

If Tamlin rolled his eyes any harder they’d get stuck, “You’re a suck up, get off of me.”

The Fox huffed, but stood up, grabbing Tamlin and pulling him to stand, Tamlin tried to brush the mud off of his green shirt, “Why would you do that? I liked this shirt.”

“You say that like it won’t wash out.” Lucien said, wrapping his arms around Tamlin’s waist and pulling him close.

Tamlin was significantly taller than Lucien when they first met, but Lucien had grown since that day, grown into his limbs and grown into his body. Now Tamlin looked up to meet his eyes. The High lord smiled up at him, wrapping his own arms around Lucien’s neck, “I guess you’re right.”

Lucien returned the smile and rested his forehead against Tamlin’s. Gently swaying them from side to side.

Neither knew how long they stood there, be it minutes or hours, either way Lucien didn’t want the moment to end.

“What are we going to get for Jurian and Vassa’s anniversary?” Tamlin asked eventually.

Lucien’s eyes had fallen closed, he hummed, “not sure yet, I know Summer does week long cruises to the islands across from it. We could get them that?”

“Maybe… you’ll need to remind Vassa as well. Jurian will run himself ragged, getting her everything romantic thing he can think of just for her to forget it's even happening.”

The fire lord laughed, “I’ve already sent her a letter, she sent me a very snappy one back.”

“She didn’t forget?”

Lucien laughed, “No she had. Didn’t thank me though.”

The High lord chuckled and pressed his face into the crook of Lucien’s neck, “Such Vassa fashion.”

“I know.” Lucien murmured, letting his chin rest on Tamlin’s head.

Everything was good again. Lucien wouldn’t fool himself into believing it was better than before. Tamlin still struggled day and night with the memories that were haunting him, though he was certainly getting better, his temper significantly calming down.

Lucien struggled as well. About a year ago he was invited to train with the newly formed Valkyrie. When he went there one of the girls, Roslin might have been her name, was accidentally shoved into him. Lucien had a horrific panic attack when she fell on top of him, all he could see were the priestess robes he tried so hard every night to forget.

He had since gone back there a few times and was finding it easier and easier, but Roslin, poor thing, was still incredibly apologetic even now a year later.

Regardless, he knew he was getting better, he knew they were both getting better.

There were some nights he wished to curl up beside his friend, to kiss him how he had once before. To feel his bare skin under his hands, to hear him speak in that loving tone he only gave to Lucien when they were alone. 

For the longest time, he didn’t push. Not while Tamlin was recovering, the last thing either of them needed was to worry about a romantic relationship.

But now…

“Tam…” Lucien whispered.

There must’ve been something worried in his tone because Tamlin pulled away from Lucien just enough to see his face, “yes, my Fox?”

Both were absolutely soaked through and covered in mud. They were surrounded by the wild flowers and vines of the Spring Court gardens. They were here, they were alive, they were home.

“Remember when we first met, and I stared at you like dead fish, barely able to speak?”

Tamlin gave him a sly grin, “yes, I was so confused because all the stories I’d heard of ‘that Lucien Vanserra’ painted you like some sort of seductive tempter and there you were… looking like a stunned deer.”

Lucien laughed, “You want to know why I was staring like that?”

Tamlin looked confused at that, so Lucien continued, “It was because you were the most beautiful male I’d ever set my eyes on.”

A deep blush spread across Tamlin’s face up to the tips of his pointed ears, he opened his mouth, presumably to deny, but Lucien interjected, “You were and still are the most stunning, ravishing male I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You are the most beautiful person to ever walk into my life, and not just on the outside. You have a heart of pure gold that you give to everyone you meet. You are the most open and honest person I have ever met and even after you have been dragged through trial after trial you have never lost that.”

“For a while I thought I did lose you, I thought I had lost the light of my life forever, but I was wrong. Your flames came back, as they always do. And I have had the honour to watch them come back.”

“Lucien, you deserve everything.” Tamlin said.

Lucien’s smile couldn't get any bigger at this point. Tamlin was giving him that look of pure love that he had missed so, so much.

“Tamlin, I am selfish, and I want to love you forever, I never want to lose you to anybody ever again. I want to keep you all for my own self.”

“You have me, Lucien.” Tamlin said, it was hard to see in the rain but there were tears flowing down his High lord’s face, “you have always had me. You deserve everything of me, I have done nothing that would even begin to make me deserve you. I will spend every waking moment of my life trying to deserve you. Trying to atone to you for what I’ve done in the past. But I am always yours.”

“Well in that case… I want everyone to know you are mine, and that I am yours. So, Tamlin Fairburn, will you make me the happiest male to ever live…” Lucien slid down onto one knee, pulling out a box from his pocket. He opened it up to reveal a golden ring, encrusted with fire opal and emeralds. It was shaped like a vine with tiny, fragile golden leaves attached to it.

“Will you marry me?” Lucien asked.

Tamlin was covering his mouth, looking like he was caught between laughing and crying, he nodded. Lucien couldn't help the giddy grin that split across his face.

“Is that a yes?” Lucien laughed.

“Yes, yes it's a yes, you stupid romantic moron, yes I will marry you!” Tamlin said.

He laughed and stood back up, taking Tamlin’s hand and sliding the ring on. Tamlin marvelled at it, running his finger lightly on the gold.

“I love you.” Tamlin said.

“I love you.” Lucien said back, cupping his face and kissing him hard.

Tamlin wrapped his arms around his neck and stood up on the tips of his toes, kissing Lucien with the same passion.

This was it. This was happily ever after.

Lucien would never forget his first love, Jesminda. He held a special place in his heart for her.

And he forgave Feyre for the heart ache she caused.

But this was the male he loved. This was the life he loved.

Lucien finally realised that through all these years, he had been collecting the pieces of his heart and putting it back together. This was the final piece; it was complete the second he slid that ring onto his soulmate's hand.

[artdivadej]

Survivor's Remorse (XIX)

Part One | Part 11+

Peeta

After 30 minutes of more of his time wasted, Peeta let out a sigh so loud and deep, it shook the large table his cheek rested on.

"You brought me out of my room.... for this? Can I have my morphling and go back to my nightmares in peace now?"

"Peeta, is there something you'd like to add?", Plutarch asked chipperly.

Peeta turned his head so that his right cheek rested on the table and he was looking over the military and diplomatic officials of 13. All of which were looking at him with differing expressions., none of which he cared to decipher.

"No. Which is why I want to know why I'm here. I have no reason to be at another war mongering table, as it makes its plans, to do just what it was made to. So again....why am I here?"

"We would like to bring you in and involve you in the taking back of the Districts. Haymitch has informed us that you've agreed to become a part of the rebellion", Plutarch explains gesturing between Peeta's slumped form and Haymitch sitting directly across from him, trying not to appear as though he was sleeping for half the meeting.

"If Haymitch led you to believe I wanted any part in the planning of killing innocents, he lied", Peeta scoffed still refusing to lift his cheek from the table. "I've had my fill and unlike all of you, with your guns and bombs, it's a bit bloody and personal for my taste"

"War is never personal", the snow haired woman he'd come to know as Coin, spoke coolly.

Now Peeta was enraged and repulsed, his head lifted quickly from the table, eyes locking with the cunning leader. He hated how both she and Snow had such bright white hair, though hers had streaks of deep grey that matched her name. Peeta did not like this woman or her callous attitude towards life in the slightest.

"Murder is always personal", Peeta rumbled so lowly, it was practically a growl as his eyes held hers, refusing to break contact with their soulless depths. They were such a light grey they were almost as light as her snow-white hair. Even her lifeless eyes irritated him. "Just because you have the luxury of commanding other people to do it for you, doesn't mean it isn't personal. People aren't just numbers. Every. Single. Life. It was someone with hopes, dreams, family and love to give. You clearly have been underground with your perfect little soldier fucking fantasy world where everyone falls in line, living the life you designed for them. Come topside and join us in the real world, where the children are forced to kill each other and watch the life leave their eyes as your hands are covered in their blood, clawing at you to get just one more breath. Not with guns. Not a bomb that you can drop from miles away, to reap the fruits of your deadly gifts with no guilt as you watch it melt the flesh from women and children! No! We are forced to murder each other with our bare hands, while all of you sit here in your cozy little fuckin pods ordering us to do it for you!", Peeta roared now on his feet, having thrown his chair at the wall opposite him, Haymitch having long since ducked seeing this outburst coming.

When it hit the wall, Peeta pushed away from the table and stormed out of the room without a backwards glance, one hand in his pocket and the other tugging at his hair.

"I told you", Haymitch shrugs at the rest of the diplomats who were looking to him for an explanation. "A teenager he may be in age, but that is a man on the brink. And he is ready to burn the world to match the flames of pain it's dished out to him from day one. He doesn't give a shit about your battle plans. If it doesn't involve a way to get her, he could truly not give a damn"

"So, what do you propose we do to make him more amicable?"

"Stop wasting his time. It's only pissing him off. You want a voice for the rebellion that the people resonate with, you have it and you're wasting his time with strategy meetings about things he'll never need to know about. Use his voice. His intellect. Peeta isn't the type of person that revels in the killing of others. He wants peace, to be able to love and live free. That's all he's ever wanted for himself and everyone else. If it's not about that, he just Does. Not. Care", Haymitch shrugs, chewing on his lollipop and doodling on the paper in front of him, still not looking at the rest of the room. He was annoyed that he had to be at the meetings, he couldn't imagine what the pointless chatter did to Peeta.

"A voice. You want us to let him talk directly to the people? You think that would work?"

"He's had it with the bureaucratic politics. All a Victor cares about is action. Words have meant very little to any of us", Finnick tacked on, popping a sugar cube in his mouth, adding his own doodles to Haymitch's paper. "If you want all our cooperation, give us yours"

"Here, here", Beetee slapped his hand to the table in agreement.

"Then, what would you all suggest?"

****

Peeta sat on his bed and rolled the pearl he'd given you on the beach across his lips. He remembered with a deep sadness your last words to him when you'd placed it back into his hands that night of the Quarter Quell.

"Give it back to me when I come back. Remember, we protect each other?"

"Always" Peeta nodded, his hand on your hip and forehead resting against yours.

-Excerpt from

Survivor's Remorse

Chapter 19. Damn Diplomacy!

Available on Wattpad: MADDINK0318

[suffarustuffaru]

why otto is so pissed off at subaru (arc 8 ch 24)

hello im otto posting Again but im writing this in an attempt to understand this subject myself (and totally not as a reference for later…) and also bc some people in the fandom seemed to be confused on Why ottos so angry at the moment. but i really think the key reason why hes so mad at subaru right now comes from this: otto treasures the people he cares about far above anyone else—to the point where if he needs to make sacrifices, he absolutely will because the people he cares about (his friends in emilia camp) go First before everyone else in his mind.

like. thats ottos key reason for everything hes been doing in arc 8. all his other reasoning branches off from that—like him wanting to leave vollachia for dead and only take the people his camp cares about. otto sees the path that will keep his camp safest—ie just going into vollachia to rescue rem and subaru and then immediately getting out—and he chooses that rather than subaru and emilias more noble approach of refusing to leave vollachia and its population of 50 million people to die. otto himself is aware that his own strategy is Callous, especially after roswaal told him in chapter 24 that he agrees with ottos proposed strategy of just leaving vollachia. but otto thinks that its 1. entirely necessary and 2. he Knows that thats the optimal way to keep the emilia camp safe.

he knows that staying in vollachia and helping vincent is a massive risk to his whole camp. otto being a merchant values equivalent exchange and Hates too much cost, which is On Top of otto knowing that going out of their way to help vollachia is risking the entire emilia camp’s lives. but otto Knows subaru and emilia. and he knows that subaru and emilia are idealists at heart that will do everything they can to save Everyone, which is why despite being Extremely Unhappy about all of this, otto plays hard to get so vincent is the one who asks for their help. that way, at least the decision to help vollachia looks more like accepting the request of vollachias emperor and adding more accomplishments under their belt and Less Like just going out of their way to vollachia for no benefit at all.

otto valuing his camp above everything else is also why he creates distance between himself and julius and anastasia and emphasizes that theyre enemies. for otto, its Absolutely the emilia camp above everyone else.

then theres the whole louis situation. otto, of course, knows that subaru cares about louis Despite everything shes done.

so. essentially. i think ottos extremely pissed about subaru always going out of his way to try and be a hero because otto knows this comes at a Detriment to subaru (bc otto CARES about subaru!!! he knows subaru is WAY too selfless and forgiving and he cant agree with that!!!) and otto worries for the cost of subarus decisions, especially with the current conflict regarding louis. otto has accepted that, unlike the majority of his camp, that he has to be the Bad Guy. because in ottos mind, no one else in his camp is going to be bold enough to be the ruthless morally questionable one. he thinks its 100% necessary to play this role to minimize the costs and threats to his camp.

which is why he hasnt told anyone, despite knowing this from his dp, that louis/spica is innocent.

hes fully aware that—even though hes manipulating his own camp—louis will be more likely to be eliminated if he keeps quiet about the fact that she has Zero malice. louis being eliminated means one less threat to his camp. and otto KNOWS that subaru cares about louis and is upset at the idea of her dying (which is at least partly why otto snapped at julius in chapter 23!!), but ottos decided that killing louis comes at a far less cost than keeping her alive. because keeping her alive means dealing with the consequences of the emilia camp calling her an ally and rem and subaru recognizing her as their daughter when louis has affected So Many people. otto knows this and wants to prevent it at all costs.

otto wants her dead for these reasons. otto figures that he has to be the one walking in darkness bc he not only wants to help emilia and subaru and preserve their idealism (bc he Knows that its important to them!! its who they are at heart and he cares about them in turn bc of their kindness and goodness!!!), but otto also wants to help by being the necessary evil. because someone has to.

that, of course, wont stop otto from being pissed at subarus decisions. this also, of course, wont stop subaru from being pissed if he ever finds out otto withheld the fact that he knows louis is 100% innocent just so he can make sure that 1. the rest of emilia camp stays suspicious of louis and 2. louis gets killed. i really do think ottos questionable decisions will eventually catch up to him—because he stands in direct opposition to everything subaru stands for.

subaru wants to save everyone. he wants to have it all, even if it costs him. otto, meanwhile, chooses only who he cares about because hes not idealistic enough to believe he can have everything, and he believes that sacrifices have to be made even if its cruel. and he knows that subaru cant do that, but it still angers him because hes trying to keep subaru safe while subaru insists on trying to accomplish everything without sacrificing anyone. otto doesnt think its possible at all. but otto knows its not in subarus nature to be pragmatic.

which is why otto takes A Lot of the things subaru has been doing in arc 8 Extremely Personally. because its Very personal for otto.

[trillscienceofficer]

I wanted to add on this post but I realized it was only tangentially related, so I'm making my own.

I totally agree that trying to explain away Tom's behavior by saying 'he has ADHD' is part of a troubling trend where neglectful behavior from partners gets justified on social media with armchair diagnoses of neurodivergence. In the specific case of Tom and his place in the Voyager fandom I think this is also similar to an attitude I see applied to Seven all the time which really pisses me off... Yes she is very strongly coded as autistic (although it's VERY unlikely this was intentional, just as it wasn't intentional coding for Data), and yes she is rude and an asshole. The two things can coexist, and be true at the same time. Even if the word “autistic” was uttered in the show to refer to Seven it wouldn't change the fact that she is often inappropriate and callous, because a diagnosis does not grant moral absolution. That is not the purpose of any diagnosis, and I'm not fond of seeing it used this way, especially in a fandom context. We could talk more about how queer headcanons are used in the same vein but I'll leave that to another post.

I am not shy when it comes to defending Seven as a character and her traumatic backstory certainly goes a long way to explain her behavior, but it doesn't make her suddenly above any criticism. Hell, I think Seven is a better character when she's far from perfect! And the show fails with her precisely when it wants the audience to believe she's better than everyone else when she's not. It's very worth asking why two white characters like Tom and Seven are granted so much leeway both by the narrative of the show and the fandom, and why diagnoses of neurodivergence are selectively used for this purpose by fans as well.

[ming-sik]

How do you think canon would react to your au?

there's definitely a lot of them who are mostly unrecognizable, like tuuli's personality overhaul is so substantial and her original character is so flat that i think that baon!tuuli would scan as a completely different character who happens to share her name if they ever actually met. there's also a lot who are similar enough that there wouldn't be a huge clash, although canon angelica and baon!angelica are very different, you wouldn't notice the differences unless they were called to perform a task without using enhancement magic and angie suddenly had to deal with dyslexia symptoms. so im just gonna do the highlights

canon rozemyne would probably find baon!rozemyne to be a bit of a coward. myne entering noble society under conditions that force her to constantly keep the danger nobles pose to her in mind means that she has to act way more cautiously than canon rozemyne gets to since she cannot solve any problem that canon rozemyne solves by brute force. i do think she would be very worried about the fact that rozemyne is hartmut's retainer. surprisingly, otherwise she's the character who changes the least since i already find her interesting to mess around with.

ferdinand is basically the same in personality with only the details changed. he's an analytical, callous proponent of noble society who is the way he is because he views his own life as a tool. he's a version of himself who wasn't surprised by myne and therefore didn't allow her to influence him. that said he comes across as way more villainous simply because we don't mainly see him through the perspective of the one person he likes and respects, we see the way he treats everyone else.

hartmut would be one of the more divergent comparisons. in the AU he fixates on printing itself instead of rozemyne, fascinated by the myriad of practical and social challenges to implementing widescale printing. this comes after rozemyne earns his respect by accurately and viciously chewing him out in a way he's never experienced. his initial assignment to help with the printing industry ended up in him slacking off and sabotaging it bc he doesn't care, but despite everyone else knowing it was common sense to just wait for it to be over and try to pick up the pieces, rozemyne pointed out that he was being such a jerk because he didn't have any actually helpful knowledge since he refused to listen to lower-status nobles long enough to learn the basics and didn't back down when he tried to strongarm her into giving up. idk if canon hartmut would be impressed by rozemyne being good at arguing(or extremely stubborn when it comes to books) but baon!hartmut's main problem is that his entire brain revolves around whatever he finds interesting and anything outside of that is for the most part beneath his notice, so when rozemyne interests him and makes printing interesting, he latches onto it. he mirrors ferdinand, but because of his age she's able to push their dynamic closer to peers and unlike ferdinand he comes to see her as someone who is intellectually his equal, as well as them being very similar kinds of autistic. also he ends up playing the comedic role sylvester does since he's a silly guy who is her boss but who she isn't especially scared of and has a personal rapport with.

sylvester is as always my special little guy. i cannot decide if he and baon!sylvester would totally get each other or fight to the death. i push sylvester a Lot farther, with him being forced to choose and choose and choose whether he cares more about preserving his status or doing what he feels is right with the cost of doing what he feels is right getting higher every time and eventually him having to accept that his fundamental worldview is incompatible with him as a person. canon sylvester might think he's kind of a dumbass since most of those problems are solved for him by someone else so he doesn't have to deal with them or just don't exist in the first place and while in my heart sylvester is just waiting for the right push to go full communist i dont think that's supported by canon if we don't ignore the back half of the series. he spends a lot more time as an antagonist or at least a character who is definitely doing something wrong, and unfortunately his silliness is very constrained by how on fire everything is for the majority of the story. born to game forced to adult as some might say

charlotte might view baon!charlotte as a kind of wish fulfillment, at least at first. since charlotte decides to take advantage of wilfried's condemnation by launching a story-long mission to become aub ehrenfest at any cost, she's a wayyyyy more active force in the story. she's a massive schemer and although her goal is to stabilize ehrenfest and become an aub who can save it from the brink of collapse, she is ultimately incapable of doing that on her own using the tools of her nobility, almost getting turned into georgine's pawn through trying to exploit her without fully understanding who she's up against. how much and how viciously she fights with sylvester is definitely very different, since their conflict between sylvester wanting to keep charlotte safe in the immediate future and charlotte wanting her life to be as valuable to her duchy as possible, plus an entire childhood of bad blood from sylvester's neglect mean that charlotte actively hates him for a lot of the story.

detlinde is more expanded than changed. detlinde's narcissism as a result of the abuse and neglect she's under means that she clings until her fingers bleed to the idea that someday she will be big and powerful enough to leave all the haters in her dust. she's aware that her mother only cares about her as a pawn, but she's bad at that and so she rails against it, refusing to throw herself at whichever noble her mom demands she curry favor with when all it has ever done is make people hate her more. charlotte is initially just a target georgine gives her, but charlotte is too committed to gaining her as an ally at first and too sympathetic to her later to give up. detlinde is in a very complicated place for a lot of the story, torn between wanting to stay in her comfortable shell or follow charlotte to the terrifying world of trying to function within society instead of hoping to spontaneously escape it one day. this kicks into overdrive when georgine starts treating charlotte as the daughter she always wished she'd had, which explodes her and charlotte's relationship, and is unfortunately After hartmut is engaged to detlinde on charlotte's promise that he would be a reliable ally in her own quest for the throne. detlinde & hartmut end up being a team of antagonists once charlotte defects to the revolutionaries but that's way later i havent thought about the details yet. probably they're tragic antagonists because that's fun :)