#so now they have to make an effort to be civil for his sake

[dccomicsbookshelf]

Damian Wayne has three parents; a Mother, a Father, and a Grayson.

He does not get what is so difficult to understand there and yet the one time he tried to explain it at school he just got more weird looks.

[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 3) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f) ft. Jimin

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 9028

Synopsis: Giving you what you wanted seemed to put more of a rift between you and Jungkook. How could you enjoy his every touch, but despise him for it at the same time? Now you were stuck working on a huge project together, adding to the tension building between you two. High tensions and deadlines finally brought things to a head, forcing some truth out of each of you. But somehow that only seemed to make things worse. You couldn't handle it anymore. You needed a distraction. And what better distraction than a certain pretty red-haired man that you worked with?

Note: the plot and smut might be equal for once lmfao. as always, i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! (longer note at the end)

This time around, you didn't have the privilege of avoiding Jungkook. You were still very much stuck on the project with him, despite all the excuses you had tried to make to your boss. She was having non of it; determined to get you two working together. So, you grit your teeth, and for the sake of professionalism (mostly just to keep your job), you remained civil with him. Your job was made surprisingly easier by Jungkook. After your last encounter, he'd become distant and quiet. He was now only talking to you if he really needed to, and doing everything in his power to not be in the same room as you.

Jungkook was not happy. Despite giving you exactly what you wanted the last time, you still loathed him and he couldn't understand why. When you left that file room, he was quick to get himself off - still reeling from your taste, how you felt, your sweet moans. But even after climaxing, he was still rock hard. As much as he wanted to keep going, he knew he'd been gone for too long and someone would come looking for him soon. So, he fixed himself up as best as he could. He tucked his cock up into his waistband, tried to fix his collar, and ditched his stained blazer. The rest of the day, he seemed normal enough to everyone else, but he was all too aware of his arousal. Jungkook couldn't have gotten home quicker that night; immediately pulling your panties out of his pocket and his cock out of his pants. Once he finally felt satisfied and his hormones balanced out, that's when the reality of his thoughts hit him. He'd put up with so much of your shit; but you treated him like trash, started rumours about him, humiliated him at work and in front of your boss - all because you wanted him to touch you. And when he did just that, he was still the asshole at the end of the day somehow. Did you really hate him that much? The frustration that was building up in him wasn't healthy and he knew that. He couldn't help himself when you looked at him with so much defiance and self-righteousness. He just wanted to wipe that look off your face - put you in your place. Jungkook had to stop himself; stop giving you what you wanted every time. So he decided to distance himself.

You'd think you would've been happy with his efforts to stay away from you. And you were, at least in the beginning. You were fully expecting this project to be a nightmare because Jungkook was going to give you a hard time. But he didn't. He was as civil as you were. Initially, you thought that maybe he finally understood how poorly he'd treated you- felt bad even. Maybe that's why he was making this easy. That was until you noticed how he was rushing out the door whenever you were the only person in the room. Or how he'd stopped quipping back when you slipped in any passive-aggressive comments. Or how rigid he was around you - all the time - despite being completely normal with everyone else. That was when your blood began boiling. He was basically turning the tables on you now, even using your tactics against you. Granted, in all your rage, you'd gone too far before. It was only fair that you'd humiliated him just as he'd done to you. Even though you didn't feel even by the end of your last exchange. While his degrading words never failed to drench your panties, some of it felt a little too real. Did he really think you were just one of these women that throw themselves at him? Extra desperate for him? That you were just waiting around for him to pay attention to you? You tried not to think about it, knowing it would only piss you off more. His new behaviour was most definitely not helping. It felt like he'd proved his point to himself, and now he was ignoring you as if you were a bad one night stand.

Despite your growing frustrations, part of you did feel bad about starting that rumour about him and the boss. You still didn't know whether it was true or not (although you were strongly leaning towards it being true). Jungkook had never clarified that; he had seemed more offended by your accusations of his lack of skill. But whether he was sleeping with her or not, the whole office didn't need to know. Not that she didn't make it obvious that he was her favourite anyways. You felt the need to clean up the mess you'd made, just to clear your own conscious, if nothing else. Just as sneakily as you started the rumour, you began discrediting the idea whenever people brought it up around you.

"He acts like that with everyone."

"He's everyone's favourite, apparently. Of course he's the boss' favourite too."

"He does get a lot of the shit projects that no one else wants too."

Your passive-aggressive comments and the fact that everyone had forgotten who'd started the rumour, helped with the damage control. Soon the rumour began dying down, and thankfully before your boss had heard them. But while you were doing a saint's work, Jungkook continued treating you like a stranger. You fought the urge to march over to him and give him a piece of your mind, but the last thing you wanted was to draw more attention back to him. Maybe this distance that he was putting between you two was for the best.

The next two weeks went by quickly as you engrossed yourself in the project and ignored Jungkook's weird behaviour. You were surprised to find that you actually worked well together when you weren't at his throat. He worked hard, made sure to get his work done on time, and - despite refusing to socialize with you - was good at communicating with you about the project. At first, you found it hard to move past Jungkook's cold behaviour towards you. But you certainly couldn't let it affect your work either, so you decided to stick it out - at least till this project was over. When the project finally came to a close, you were quite proud of your work. But the lingering feeling that you'd never speak to him again after this was slowly eating away at you. Why did you even care?

The night before your submission and presentation, you and Jungkook were the last ones left in the office. As you closed the last tab on your computer, you sighed contentedly and stretched your back. After sitting at your desk for so many late nights over the last few weeks, you felt like your entire body was sore. A disgruntled sigh from behind you made you swivel in your chair. While you'd just wrapped up the presentation for the next morning, Jungkook was still busy at work. His brows were furrowed as he carefully examined the papers in his hand, his desk scattered with more paper. He had taken on the responsibility to finalize the submission documents which is what he'd been working on the entire day. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from the past few days, or maybe you felt bad, but you decided to try and make conversation.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, standing up to stretch a little more. Jungkook's eyes flitted over to you as you broke the silence, his gaze roaming over your figure briefly.

"No, I'll manage," he replied blankly, quick to get back to his reading. You rolled your eyes, not entirely surprised by his cold answer.

"I'm gonna get some coffee. Looks like a late night for you, do you want some?" You asked as you walked towards the door.

"Yeah," he answered curtly. You froze in your spot momentarily, not expecting him to agree. This was probably the most friendly he'd been in over two weeks. "Oh and do you have the final drafts? I need them to cross reference and edit."

"Yeah, I do," you said, turning on your heels to get back to your desk. But Jungkook just waved dismissively.

"Just leave them on your desk before you leave. I'll get them later." You nodded, heading out to get the coffee. You returned with the two coffees, stepping behind Jungkook's desk to hand him his.

"Here. You like yours sweet right?" you asked, handing him his cup. Your stomach fluttered as his fingers brushed against yours while he took the cup. Jungkook didn't miss the way your gaze dropped to your touching fingers, but he didn't say anything. He simply nodded, sipping his drink. You sighed, walking back over to your desk and plopping in your chair.

"Don't you have manners?" you snapped, annoyed with his dismissive behaviour. Jungkook looked up at you, an amused glint in his eyes. You snapped your fingers. "Hello? You're supposed to thank people when they do things for you."

"Really?" he asked condescendingly, turning back to his papers. "I've done plenty of things for you, and haven't heard a 'thank you' either." The insinuation of his words made your face heat up with embarrassment and anger.

"You're such a fucking prick," you cursed, quickly grabbing your things. Suddenly, you couldn't get out of the office quicker. You didn't know why you'd bothered to try to talk to him at all. Why stay here and suffer further humiliation when you could be at home, taking a bath instead?

"First an asshole, now a prick. I must really be the worst," he said, a bite to his words despite his disinterested tone. You scoffed in disgust, feeling stupid for thinking he'd even consider being polite. Without another word, you shoved your things into your bag and left the office. Jungkook's eyes only lifted to watch you walk out the door, a certain frustration building up in him. But he shoved his feelings down to focus on his work.

When you finally got home, you ate something sweet with your coffee, took a hot shower, and climbed into bed. Pushing aside all thoughts of Jungkook, you knew you had to get a good night's rest to nail your presentation in the morning. Luckily for you, your exhaustion from the past few weeks caught up with you the moment your head hit the pillow. And then you were out like a light. At least until the sound of your phone buzzing woke you up a few hours later.

"Hello?" you mumbled groggily into your phone, beyond pissed that someone had woken you up.

"It's Jungkook. Where are the drafts? I can't find them anywhere," he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. It took you a moment to process what was going on as you wiped the sleep from your eyes.

"They must be on my desk," I groaned angrily, just wanting to back to sleep.

"If they were on your desk, why would I be calling you?" he snapped. You sat up, trying to think clearly. You knew they were on your desk, but then it dawned on you - you had shoved them into your bag in your hurry to leave. You cursed under your breath, knowing that Jungkook was about to give you more shit for this.

"Fuck, I think I might've taken them by accident," you admitted, bracing yourself. There was a moment of silence which was followed by a quiet groan. You could picture him pinching the bridge of nose in irritation.

"I need those drafts to finish to finalize the submission docs," he said blankly, as if the solution to this problem was glaringly obvious. You pulled your phone away from your face, staring at the screen in disbelief for a moment.

"I am not coming in to the office right now Jungkook. It's 3am for fucks sake," you said, bewildered.

"Well I need them now," he grit through his teeth. "We have to submit these at 8, you know that."

"Look, I'm sorry. But I'm not coming in at this time. I can come in earlier in the morning," you offered.

"I need them now," he repeated. "Fine. I'll just come pick them up myself. Text me your address," he demanded before hanging up. Once again, you were left staring at your phone in disbelief. What other choice did you have? You texted him your address and laid back down to rest your eyes for a minute - which meant you went right back to sleep.

You jolted awake as your doorbell rang incessantly, over and over again. Groaning in irritation, you reluctantly got out of bed, dragging your body out of your room.

“Can you fucking stop?! I’m coming!” You shouted. You weren’t the nicest person to start with, but you were much worse when people fucked with your sleep. You unlocked the door, angrily swinging it open. “Do you have to be an asshole even at 3 in the morning?” You spat, groggily rubbing your eyes. Jungkook shot you a dirty look, like he was repulsed to just be in your presence. He took in your disheveled state. Without a word, he pushed past you, stepping into your apartment. You scoffed at his attitude.

“The drafts?” He asked curtly. You groaned, feeling your annoyance build up.

“You’re seriously gonna walk into my apartment and act like this?” You asked, your words laced with venom. Jungkook stepped closer to you, his presence suddenly feeling intimidating.

“I wouldn’t have to be here if you knew how to fucking listen, hm?” He grit through his teeth. Your jaw nearly fell to floor, bewildered by his audacity. “What did I tell you earlier today?” His voice was deeply condescending.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, still in shock. He took another step closer to you, now towering over you.

“I told you to make sure you left the drafts for me. Did you listen?” He questioned rhetorically, the anger in his voice rising with each sentence. When you didn’t answer, he grabbed your jaw and forced your head to shake a no. “I wouldn’t have to be here, with you, to get those fucking drafts if you’d just done what I said,” he spat, practically shoving you away as he let go of your face. There was no fucking way he just did that. "What is it? Does everything I say go through one ear and out the other? Nothing in here to make it stick?" he asked, flicking your forehead, a dark glint in his eyes. It was obvious that he wasn't just talking about the drafts anymore.

Finally snapping out of your shock, you grabbed his hand as he was about to flick you again. Tension swam in the air as your grip tightened and your gaze pierced him. "Jeon Jungkook, you're crossing the line," you said firmly, trying to contain your anger.

"Crossing the line?" He laughed loudly before pulling his hand away from you. "Like you did?" he asked with dry amusement. You winced slightly at his words, feeling like he'd slapped you with them. He leaned against your kitchen counter, seeming tense despite his lax posture. "Actually no, I'm crossing the line in the privacy of your home - with no one around. But you felt the need to do it in front of other people. So I guess this isn't the same, is it?"

Your eye twitched at his words. Logically, you knew he was right. What he was doing now wasn't the same as what you'd done. It wasn't nearly as malicious as your actions and you probably deserved some of this. But, as guilty as you felt, anger was quickly replacing the feeling as he continued to behave so disrespectfully. Besides, you were also fighting back your irrational side that was telling you to slap him in the face.

"Do you feel better now? Are we even?" you grit through your teeth. He chuckled darkly, not a hint of humour reaching his eyes. He stepped forward again, backing you against the counter with no room to escape.

"Not even a little bit," he said, the depth of his voice rumbling through your chest. He leaned down, looking into your eyes so intently that you felt vulnerable; like he could see all your innermost thoughts. “We’re nowhere near even Y/n.” Your heart raced as you braced yourself against the counter, staring up at him.

“Then what else do you want from me?” Your words came out as a hoarse whisper. His hands enveloped yours on the counter, keeping you trapped under him.

“I want you to tell me why.” It felt like he was consuming you with his body and his words. Your stomach churned at the thought of baring your feelings to him. You tried to turn away to avoid his gaze, but his hand quickly grabbed your jaw and forced you to meet his eyes. “I’ve been very considerate; waiting for this project to be done and keeping my distance at the office. So you’re going to do one thing for me, and tell me why.”

“Why does it matter? Don’t you just want to get your revenge?” You retorted, a new fire burning in you that was fueled by embarrassment.

“Y/n, I’ve had to deal with people looking at me like I’m a walking STD for weeks. It’s truly a miracle boss never heard about the rumours or I would’ve been in so much shit,” he seethed, leaning closer. “So yeah, I wanna know why you did it.”

“I-I fixed it! No one really thinks it anymore. I already undid what was done. Isn’t that enough?” You tried to justify, squirming in his hold.

“Enough?” His voice dropped lower as he spoke mere centimetres from your lips. “You want me to thank you for fixing your own mistake?” When he put it that way, you felt even more stupid. “Why Y/n?” He repeated. You took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let you go if you didn’t answer. There was no way around it.

“You left me. In that bathroom, you used me and you left me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest from a mix of emotions. Jungkook didn’t react. His expression stayed the same, indifferent, still staring into your eyes. Silence followed your answer which somehow felt more humiliating than actually being left in that bathroom. Your rage quickly built up.

“Seriously?! You have nothing to say about that?” You asked, angrily yanking his hand away from your jaw. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You were the one that didn’t want anyone to know,” he finally spat. “So yeah, I left. Did you want to walk out together?” His voice began to rise a little, but he was sure not to yell.

“No, but–,” you started, but he interrupted you.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed. “And as for using you, you were pretty eager yourself.” He pressed you harder into the counter as his expression darkened. “I remember you taking my cock all the way to the back of your throat; so determined to make me feel good, to make me cum.” You tried to even your breathing so you wouldn't give yourself away as your mind raced with the memory. It wasn’t working too well. “I barely had to do anything. You were practically begging to suck me off.” The embarrassment was making it a lot harder to maintain your eye contact but you didn’t want to back down.

“Fuck you Jungkook. This is why I did it.” Your eyes were fiery as the truth came out. Well, part of it at least. “All you’ve done since then is humiliate me. Is this a game to you? Fuck with me and then make fun of me after?”

“Humiliate you?” He looked at you like you were insane. “You think this is me making fun of you?”

“What the fuck else is it then?! You make me sound like…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling like this conversation was getting too real. You had to turn away to hide the emotions that were most definitely written all over your face. Jungkook shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wasn’t even sure how to explain that he wasn’t making fun of you.

“Y/n.” His voice was serious. “If I wanted to humiliate you, I wouldn’t be doing it here, when no one’s around. I’m not interested in pulling any stunts like you did.” His words stopped your thoughts in their tracks. He leaned down next to your ear.

“Because as much as I want everyone to know that it's me that makes a mess of you," he whispered, "I don't want anyone else to see what a dirty little slut you turn into for me." It felt like the oxygen was sucked out of the air as the soft words hit your ears.

"Every filthy word, every depraved sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours is only for me to hear." Why was it that your brain turned off whenever he spoke to you like this? His body was now fully pressed against yours, trying to get as close as he could. But his hands stayed put, keeping your hands pinned to the counter. He nuzzled his face against your hair, right above your ear. His own breathing was heavy and this somehow felt more intimate than anything else you'd done before.

"That lewd face you make for me when you finally get what you want, fuck," he groaned. "I don't want anyone to see that but me." The possessiveness that laced his words should be setting off warning signs in your mind. Instead, it was making your chest heavy and building an ache in your core.

Jungkook was starting to feel more vulnerable than he wanted and he could feel his mental fortitude chipping away. He'd vowed to himself that he wouldn't cave to you - to his own desires - after your reaction last time. But he was finding it extremely difficult in the moment. He pulled away enough to look at you again. You found yourself searching for something in his eyes as you stared back at him. Sincerity maybe? You weren't sure you'd even be able to see it past the frustration that adorned his features.

"You think I'm making fun of you? You have no idea what you do to me Y/n." His face contorted into a snarl. "It's burned into my brain; the way your throat felt, your pleads and moans, how good your pussy tastes, how fucking tight you are." You knew that your eyes, clouded with lust, were definitely giving you away now. "Makes me rock hard whenever I think about it," he admitted with a humourless chuckle. He was pissed - at you, but even more so at himself. Meanwhile, you were struggling to process what he was saying. "Does that sound like I'm making fun of you?"

You were left speechless. Your mouth opened to answer him, but no words came out. Jungkook scoffed at your lack of reaction, feeling even more frustrated after spilling the truth. While both of your bodies were reacting to the situation, the tension in the room was becoming too suffocating to ignore. Your eyes subconsciously dropped to his lips, and that was nearly enough to snap his thin thread of restraint. His own breathing was ragged with the effort it took him to maintain his self control. He went to say something but quickly stopped himself. His eyes closed as he turned away to collect himself for a brief moment.

"You, on the other hand, are hell bent on ruining me," he grit, finally putting some space between you two as he stepped back. "You wanna talk about making fun of someone? How 'bout all that shit you said about me - that you lied about - in front of everyone?" His anger was becoming abundantly clear, and you couldn't help but start feeling guilty.

"I-I said I was sorry," you mumbled.

"Do you even realize how fucking humiliating that was for me? Or how screwed I would've been if the boss found out?" he grit through his teeth. "I tolerate so much of your shit Y/n. Just because I take it in stride doesn't mean you can do and say whatever the fuck you want. You think this is some joke? You could've destroyed my career Y/n." With every word he spat at you, your guilt resurfaced, taking in the gravity of your actions.

"Do you hate me that much?" he asked, a hint of hurt in his voice. When you didn't respond, he just scoffed. Your answer was clear to him. It shouldn't matter to him, because it's not like he had any reason to care about whether you liked him or hated him. But the bitterness of your silence still left a bad taste in his mouth, making him want to leave as soon as possible. He took a few more steps back until he was near your front door again.

"Get me those drafts" he said coldly, any sign of his previous emotions disappearing from his face. You didn't move for a moment, still processing what he'd just said. When he shot you an expectant look, you finally snapped out of it and grabbed the files out of your bag on the couch. You handed them to him wordlessly, a mix of emotions swirling through you. As he turned your front door, about to leave, he looked over his shoulder at you. "And by the way. You actually haven't even apologized once." Your stomach dropped as you realized you hadn't said "I'm sorry" at any point - too busy defending yourself the entire time. Before you could say it, Jungkook was already out the door.

It took you a while to fall asleep after Jungkook left. There were a million thoughts running through your mind. How were you supposed to process Jungkook's confession and rejection at the same time? It truly felt like he was done with you now that he'd said his piece - like one last 'fuck you' before he never had to speak to you again. You tried your best to push away all the thoughts that clouded your mind. The presentation you had to give in the morning was far too important for you to screw up because of all this shit. With great difficulty, you eventually managed to get some sleep.

The morning went by in a blur and before you knew it, you found yourself in the conference room at work, with Jungkook by your side, in front of your boss and coworkers. Regardless of your lack of sleep and heightened emotions, you managed to keep yourself composed and present your work clearly. Jungkook seemed to do the same, although you weren't sure he cared about what had happened at all. Even under the scrutiny of your boss, you felt confident about your work. This was only solidified as your boss praised you and Jungkook at the end of the presentation. Obviously, she leaned a little heavier into praising Jungkook, but she still commended your work. As your boss collected all the documents and left the room, you felt relief and dread take over you. Yes, it was a relief that this huge project was finally complete. But did this mean that Jungkook would never talk to you again?

Your coworkers came up to you, congratulating the two of you and immediately making plans to go out that night. You tried refusing but they remained persistent until you caved in. You glanced over at Jungkook. He seemed so normal when he was interacting with everyone else; he had a smile on his face, he was joking, and happily agreeing to go out later. You felt a pang in your chest. You focused on the conversation happening around you.

As 5 o'clock rolled around, your coworkers were already buzzing to leave. You followed their suit and began wrapping up your things.

"Hey," a familiar voice caught your attention. "I didn't catch you earlier, but I heard your presentation went well. Great work." Jimin's kind words eased some of your inner turmoil. You mirrored his smile with a small thank you.

"Are you coming to the bar?" You asked, gesturing to the groups of people that were leaving together. Jimin nodded, offering you his arm as you stood up from your chair. You gratefully took it, using him for support to steady yourself in your heels.

"Shall we?" he asked. You smiled again, appreciative for the distraction as you walked together to the nearby bar. When you got there, you wasted no time in ordering your drinks. You caught sight of Jungkook walking in not too long after, your gazes meeting for the briefest of moments. You immediately downed a drink, the burn in your throat working as a perfect distraction. By now you should've learned your lesson; that you and alcohol was the perfect recipe for disaster. But your mind seemed to have forgotten that as it craved for a way to take the edge off. Jimin watched you amusedly as you drank so quickly.

"Stressed?" he asked with a chuckle, sipping his own drink. You turned to him, trying to forget about Jungkook being there.

"Hmm?" you asked, confused.

"You drank that cocktail like it was a shot," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You must be stressed."

"Right. Yeah, just need to clear my mind a little," you answered sheepishly. You sipped your next drink, not wanting to alarm Jimin any further.

"You just finished a huge project. Shouldn't you be relieved? Less stressed in fact?"

"I should," you sighed. "It's not..." you started, your eyes glancing over at Jungkook again, "...work related. I guess." Seeing him acting so normal, as if he hadn't confessed how he couldn't stop thinking about you, was frustrating. You began questioning your memory. Had he really said that? Because anyone who looked at the two of you right now would assume he didn't even know you at this point. You polished off the rest of your drink in seconds. Jimin followed your gaze, a look of understanding washing over his face as he put the puzzle pieces together.

"What's going on between you two?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing," you answered truthfully, turning back to him. After all, he'd barely even spoken to you over the last few weeks. And how would you even define what was happening between you two before that?

"It must be some pretty intense 'nothing' to have you drinking like this," he joked, watching you start on your third drink already. But Jimin took the hint; you didn't want to get into it and he would respect that. While the rest of your coworkers seemed to mingle amongst each other, you and Jimin kept to yourselves, the conversation flowing smoothly between you. Talking to Jimin was easy and it was doing wonders at calming your mind. You noticed that he was moving closer to you as the time went on, soon sitting so close that your knees were brushing. The more drinks you had, the less you minded his proximity, finding it almost comforting in a sense.

Jimin, who was buzzed but not as tipsy as you, noticed every little movement you made. The way you leaned in to talk to him, the way your skirt rode up your thighs as you crossed your legs, the hazy look in your eyes. It was all building up in the back of his mind. He'd always found you interesting, cute even - but between work and your bickering with Jungkook, you never seemed to have the time to actually become friends. He'd also be lying if he said he just wanted to be friends with you. He wouldn't be sitting so close to you, his fingers tracing patterns into your knee, innocently teasing the hemline of your skirt if he wanted to just be friends. Although you continued the conversation, he saw your eyes flit down to where his fingers lay and your breathing get slightly heavier. But you didn't move away.

Maybe it was the drinks in your system, but Jimin's fingers that were threatening to slip under your skirt were making your heart race. It had been a while since you'd flirted with someone else; usually, too busy bickering with Jungkook when you came out to the bar with your work friends. It was a nice change of pace, and it was certainly helping you ignore your guilt and frustration towards Jungkook. You'd always thought Jimin was attractive, but you never got any non-friendly signs from him - until now. Because the dark glint in his eyes as he listened to you speak and whatever his hands were doing were definitely not friendly. You tried to finish the story you were telling, but your brain kept getting side-tracked by him, making you halt momentarily in between words. Your gaze kept going back to his fingers that were trailing further up your thigh now. And when you were looking at his face, they kept dropping to his plump lips.

"Something wrong? You're struggling to focus," Jimin said, leaning in to speak softly into your ear. The feeling of his breath against your lobe sent a shiver down your spine.

"No, just...got a lot on my mind," you answered, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. You sipped your drink as Jimin pulled back a little, a smirk resting on his lips. His other hand came up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, his gaze seemingly more intense now.

"I hope you're thinking about me, especially when you're looking at me like that," he teased. Your face heat up a little as you realized he had could see the effect he had on you. His hand rest in your hair, while the other continued it's ministrations on your thigh. You didn't reply, turning away in embarrassment. Jimin chuckled at your reaction, cocking his head to the side to meet your gaze again. "I don't think I've ever seen you flustered like this before. It's really...cute." You flushed more when he placed a finger under your chin, guiding you to look at him. The kindness - the sweetness - he was treating you with felt foreign compared to Jungkook's ravenous appetite.

"Are you really calling me cute right now?" you asked weakly, hyperaware of his full hand gripping your thigh now. You found yourself leaning into his touch, subconsciously moving forward, as if his simple touch was beckoning you.

"I guess you're right," he chuckled, his hooded eyes roaming over your face. "I'd be lying if I said I'm just thinking about how cute you are." Your stomach flipped at the implication behind his words.

"What else are you thinking then?"

"You do look very cute like this," he said gently, leaning in closer, gaze dropping down to your lips. "But I'm also thinking about what you'd look like if I..." he trailed off, his breath hitting your lips. It felt like every thought in your mind had disappeared as you focused on your proximity. The few moments that he lingered, your heart raced with anticipation. Then his eyes met yours again, hazy with lust and that was the last straw. You weren't sure if it was you or him that closed the distance, but the next thing you knew, his lips were pressed against yours. Jimin's kiss was soft and tender; his hand slid behind your ear, pulling you closer to kiss you deeper. You moaned quietly against his lips - enjoying the sensuality of his kiss. His tongue gently swiped across your lips, slowly meeting yours as you parted your lips. His mouth and hands were doing an excellent job at clearing your mind. And while it worked - you were solely focused on Jimin and how he felt for the most part - a nagging thought broke through your amorous barrier.

Had Jungkook kissed you yet?

The simple thought broke your immersion. You pulled away, breathing heavily to catch your breath. Jimin's gaze was darker as his chest rose and fell.

"How do I look now then?" you asked, gulping down the lump that was forming in your throat as you were silently spiraling. Jimin grunted, his fingers trailing down your neck.

"Tempting," he answered, the one word heavy with desire. Your brain was at war with itself. Half of it was telling you to crawl into Jimin's lap and keep kissing him. And the other half couldn't stop thinking about how Jungkook hadn't kissed you - not even once. The conflicting thoughts in your already drunk mind were overwhelming and you needed a minute to calm down. Despite your urges, you slipped off the barstool.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back," you said, stumbling a little as you straightened yourself. You gave him a small kiss to reassure him that you weren't rejecting him - you truly just needed a cold splash of water on your face to wash away Jungkook from your mind. Jimin's lips followed after yours as you pulled away, but he shot you a smile and nodded as you stepped away. You made your way through the crowd, distracted and hazy from the alcohol. You'd almost made it out of the crowd until you someone bumped into you. The force was enough to make you lose your balance and bump into someone's back.

"Oh fuck, I'm so sor-" you began, only for the person to turn around and of course, it was Jungkook. Your stumble had caused his drink to spill on his shirt. Your words got stuck in your throat as you mentally cursed your luck. You and alcohol is a recipe for disaster. Just walk away. You tried to convince yourself, but the annoyed look on his face was keeping you tethered in your spot. All your guilt and hurt bubbled up to the surface of your skin. The thoughts and feelings you'd spent the last couple of hours repressing came rushing back, threatening to spill from your lips. After a moment of shock, you laughed at the irony of the situation. Jungkook's brows furrowed, realizing that you were already drunk. You grabbed a nearby napkin and started wiping at his shirt, not noticing how close you were getting to him. As you wiped at his shirt, you were dazed with emotion. Jungkook watched you curiously. Your movements slowed down as your thoughts consumed you.

"I-I'm sorry," you mumbled. But it dawned on you that Jungkook probably couldn't hear you in this crowd of people. Taking a deep breath and gathering all your courage, you looked up at him. "I'm sorry Jungkook. I'm really sorry," you repeated.

Although you hadn't said anything else, Jungkook understood what you meant; the heaviness of your words clear. You weren't just apologizing about his spilled drink. His expression softened a little, but he was still upset with you. A drunken apology, no matter how sincere, wasn't going to fix everything.

"Shit, I keep fucking up with you huh?" you laughed, the sound devoid of any humour. You held onto his shirt as you struggled to get on your tiptoes. "I really do have a knack for making your life harder." Jungkook held onto your arm, supporting you so you didn't fall over. Your breath hitched as you met his dark gaze. There was that look again - like he would eat you alive. Your breath hitched.

"You must really hate me," you said quietly, now close enough that he could hear you despite the noise that surrounded you. You could see the frustration and restraint painted across his face.

"Y/n, you're drunk," he pointed out, voice low. His grip on your arm tightened as you leaned in closer, your eyes flitting between his eyes and lips.

"Did you mean it? That you can't stop thinking about me?" You asked, your thoughts blurting out of your mouth before you could even think. Jungkook growled as you pressed your body to his. You were really testing his self control; every inch of his body itching to pull you into him.

"Y/n," he warned, his jaw clenching while he tried to put some space between you. But you refused to let him, leaning on him so heavily that if he moved, you'd probably fall over.

"I think you're lying. You look at me with so much anger, so much hatred," you scoffed. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as you spoke, fighting the urge grab you and shut you up.

"That's why you won't kiss me, right?" you asked, voice shaky as the words finally left your lips. Jungkook was taken aback by your question, his brows furrowing even deeper. "You touch me, everywhere..." you whispered, "...but you won't kiss me. Because you can't stand the thought, you can't enjoy kissing someone you don't like, right?" You felt unbearably vulnerable as the questions lingered in the air. A few seconds passed as Jungkook scanned your face, the gears of his own mind turning. But he didn't answer you. The silence only confirmed your thoughts. Your stomach dropped as realization hit you and you knew that if you stayed any longer, you wouldn't be stay composed. You felt embarrassed and hurt enough as it was; you didn't need to humiliate yourself any further. You slowly let go of his shirt, pushing away from him, spinning on your heels, and heading to the bathroom.

The cold water against your skin did nothing to cool you down. Looking up in the mirror, you were met with your own flustered reflection. Was it the alcohol, Jimin’s kiss, or Jungkook’s lack there of that left you so heated? You didn’t know. You hated that you’d let Jungkook see you in such a weak moment. You and alcohol were a bad mix. Why did you even care if he didn’t kiss you? What would a kiss change anyways? The only thing you liked about him was how he handled you and your body. Kissing him meant nothing. At least that’s what you told yourself as you tried to pull yourself together before walking out of the bathroom. But the moment you stepped out, you were greeted with the sight of some girl pressed up against Jungkook. Your stomach churned at the sight, feeling like you'd been punched in the gut. After baring your hurt to him, this felt ten times worse. He really didn’t care about you or your feelings. You weren’t special; he just enjoyed messing with you, like every other girl he flirted with. How could he say all those things to you - confess that you had some effect on him - and then do this? As Jungkook briefly looked up from the girl who now had her arms looped around his neck, his eyes met yours. He shifted slightly, trying to step away from the girl as he saw the look on your face. You couldn’t stand there a moment longer, immediately rushing back over to Jimin. Before Jimin could even ask what was wrong, you were ordering shots. He quietly observed you downing your shots. With the frustration that was painted across your face, he could only assume this had something to do with Jungkook. One quick glance over to Jungkook, and he was sure; he was already staring in your direction. Jimin sighed softly. He didn't necessarily want to get between the two of you, but if Jungkook was causing you this much distress then maybe he should.

"You okay?" he finally spoke, placing a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to look at him as he polished off the rest of his own drink. You couldn't really tell if you were nodding or shaking your head no, but he must've seen the slight distress on your face because his eyes softened. He pulled you closer, turning you around before lifting you onto his lap. You were too hazy to protest as his chest pressed against your back.

"Jimin," you murmured, "I need a distraction."

"What kind of distraction sweetheart?" Your heart fluttered at the nickname.

"Anything." He leaned down, his breath hitting your neck as he moved your hair to the other side. He hummed against your skin, lips pressing gently against your pulse. The small gesture made your crane your neck the other way, your heartbeat racing more as your worried about whether he could feel it or not.

"This work?" he asked, biting at the skin before kissing it harder.

"Yeah," you replied shakily. Jimin's hands made their way to your hips, holding you firmly against himself. Your eyes closed while Jimin continued kissing your neck, his tongue now laving softly over the contrastingly sharp bites he was leaving. Yep, that was a pretty effective distraction. Before you knew it, your chest was heaving as your breathing became laboured. Jimin's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. But you loved the proximity. It was intoxicating, yet comforting. He made you feel wanted which was something that Jungkook didn't do. Your body was quickly reacting to his touch, heat already pooling between your legs. You shifted slightly - only to feel Jimin's growing erection rub against you. Both of you groaned at the feeling. Jimin's lips moved to your ear, nipping at the lobe. In this position, you could hear his heavy breathing as you subconsciously continued shifting in his lap. Amidst such a good moment, you made the mistake of opening your eyes - only to meet Jungkook's gaze from across the bar. He was far away enough (and you were tipsy enough) that you couldn't make out his exact expression. But the fact that he was watching you was enough to unnerve you. You craned your neck to turn away, pulling away from Jimin with the motion as well. Jimin didn't even have to ask what happened as he caught Jungkook's stare too. A flash of irritation passed through him as Jungkook continued ruining your mood. But he brushed it off quickly, not wanting to upset you further. He held your chin, turning you to face him.

"You wanna get out of here?" he offered, mostly just wanting to get you away from Jungkook. A sense of guilt washed over you as Jimin treated you so sweetly. It wasn't that you didn't like Jimin, and you certainly found him incredibly attractive, but you felt like you were using him to get over Jungkook in a sense. You knew that this probably wouldn't be happening if everything between you and Jungkook hadn't happened. And you weren't sure you wanted anything more from Jimin anyways. Jimin was too kind for you to lead him on and use him like this.

"I-I do," you began, your voice heavy with guilt. "But I don't want to hurt you." Jimin gave you a look of confusion.

"Hurt me?"

"This...this is just a distraction for me." You winced as the words left your lips, feeling worse about yourself. "You're just a distraction." Jimin paused for a moment, but then his lips curled into a soft smirk.

"I'm okay with that. I can be your distraction," he whispered huskily. Your eyes immediately clouded with lust as he washed away all your guilt with two simple sentences. Suddenly, Jungkook was gone from your mind. You grabbed Jimin's hand, sliding off his lap, before dragging him up. He laughed at your enthusiasm, standing up but staying put in the spot.

"Let me settle our bill sweetheart," he chuckled, calling the server over and dropping some cash off with her. The second he paid, you were dragging him out of the bar.

Within thirty minutes, Jimin was struggling to open your apartment door while you messily kissed his neck, your hands roaming over his body. The second he got you through the door, he pinned you against the door and caught your lips in a hungry kiss. His own hands moved from cupping your face to sliding along your silhouette, appreciating your curves under his touch. The alcohol was catching up to you, making your movement sloppy now. But Jimin didn't mind, his own drunken mind loving the desperation in your touch. You slid your hand between your bodies, hastily rubbing his clothed cock.

"Y/n, fuck," Jimin groaned, struggling to contain himself. You took the opportunity to deepen your kiss, letting your tongue battle with his. Jimin huffed, matching your vigour, before grabbing your mischievous hands and looping them around his neck. His hands slid to your ass as he guided you towards the couch, not breaking the kiss for a second. When the back of your knees hit the couch, you tossed your bag on the coffee table. Some of your belongings fell out - including your phone - but you were too far gone to notice or care. Jimin lay you down on the couch, crawling on top of you immediately so as to keep kissing you. You groaned into the heat of his mouth. Your body felt like it was on fire as he pinched one of your excited nipples. When you finally ran out of breath, that was when he broke the kiss.

"Jimin, more. Want more," you mumbled, hastily trying to unbutton his shirt. He chuckled as you struggled with the small buttons. He held your hands to his chest, taking a moment to calm both of you down.

"Patience Y/n. We're not in a rush," he kissed the words into your neck. "We have all night," he whispered, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled away to look down at you, admiring your fucked out state. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded as you looked up at him, and you were biting your lips in an effort to control yourself. The sight made him impossibly hard.

"I'll be the best distraction you could ever have," he spoke softly; but the tone of his voice was so alluring, you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation. And then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The vibrations against the glass were enough to draw Jimin's attention, while you returned to unbuttoning his shirt. Jungkook's name was plastered on the screen. Of course it was him.

Jungkook was still at the bar - now standing right outside for some fresh air. He was dealing with his own conflicting emotions. He was seething when he saw you in Jimin's lap, watching him kiss your neck. The way you were so docile in his hold, just letting him touch and kiss you, it made his skin crawl. Why were you so resistant to him, but so receptive to Jimin? You were meant to be his - his toy alone. He had half the mind to walk over there and yank you off Jimin's lap. But at that point, none of your coworkers had noticed the two of you yet. He didn't want to make a scene and embarrass all three of you; he couldn't afford any more workplace rumours. On top of that, he couldn't get your question out of his head: why hadn't he kissed you? Unable to bear watching the scene before him any longer, he turned away and focused on drowning his thoughts away with drinks. When he looked back, you were gone. His mind immediately flooded with all the scenarios you could be in. Were you with Jimin? He shook his head clear of his suspicions. What did he care? You were a grown adult, capable of taking care of yourself and making your own decisions. He continued drinking, but he couldn't shake off his anger and confusion. After a few drinks, his self restraint was slipping and he stepped out for some fresh air to calm down. But he found himself reaching for his phone and calling you. Why was he calling you? To check up on you? Make sure you were safe, find out where you were so he could come to you, or question you about Jimin? He didn't know as he stood there, watching his breath form clouds in front of him as the phone rang.

Jimin stared at Jungkook's name on your phone and grunted in annoyance. Even when he wasn't physically present, Jungkook managed to get in his way every time. At least this once, couldn't that man leave you two alone? Then a thought crossed his mind - a way to get Jungkook to leave you alone for tonight. Noticing the irritation on Jimin's face, you went to turn and look at your phone, curious to see what was bugging him. But Jimin stopped you, quickly cupped your face with one hand and crashing his lips to yours - effectively making you forget all about your phone. Meanwhile, his other hand slid over to your phone and swiped to answer Jungkook's call.

"Tell me what you want Y/n," he demanded between breaths as he purposefully kissed you sloppily. You moaned softly against his lips as the lewd sounds of your kissing filled your ears.

"Want you, Jimin," you groaned. You pulled at his collar, trying to get him closer.

"Yeah?" he prompted you further, his fingers pinching at your already hardened nipples to provoke you further. You gasped, moaning his name as your back arching into his touch.

"Want you to touch me, wanna taste you, wanna feel you," you rambled. "Want you to keep kissing me," you admitted with a sigh. Jimin's body was reacting your words too, his hips already grinding into you. He hummed with satisfaction, peeking over at your phone. There was still silence from the other end, and he felt his pride swell as he watched the call end. Jungkook wouldn't be bothering you tonight.

another note: HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS! i finally go this goddamn chapter out! I am truly so sorry it took me this long. but i was actually crashing out from life and THEN tumblr fucked me over and didn't save my draft for this chapter TT i literally had to take a break from the app i was so annoyed. it took me forever to rewrite this. to everyone who asked how I was doing and checked up on me, thank you <3 you guys are the sweetest and I am doing much better now! as for the story, was the plot twist what you expected? how're we feeling about reader and Jungkook right now? the tension continues to tension... while i'm decently satisfied with this chapter, i might have to take a break from Dissonance for a bit. i have a lot of other stories i want to write (specifically Love and Deepspace ones lmfao) and Dissonance is taking up a lot of my time right now. I swear I'll still be working on it, just expect some other works to be released before D4. thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you for enjoying my work :)

side side note: if y'all have any ideas for D4, or requests for new fics as well, please let me know! i already have noona x jk in the works lol.

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tag list: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016 @joonwater @jeonzll @hagridshaircare @user-190811 @praetae @llallaaa @chimchoom @persona3012 @softhaes @darkangelfei

[arbiterlexultionis]

Prompt: Oops I’m a King Now

So, I absolutely love Ghost King Danny fics. The way the zone just kinda points at this kid like “that’s him officer! That the one who now where’s the crown!” With Danny unwillingly becoming king and either being really good at it or the ultimate gremlin. Simply Magnificent.

But what if Danny accidentally became the king of ghost without becoming the High King Of Ghost, successor of Pariah Dark?

It started off real simple. Danny started to (somewhat) civilize his rouges gallery, getting them to almost behave while in the human realm. Just enough for him to be able to live his half life and not spend the other half shoving them into a "Cylindrical Container Of Doom". Desiree could grant all the wishes she wanted so long as she did so in a way that could be passed off as luck, usually good but with the Phantom seal of approval when it came to monkey pawing the wishes of people who are due for some karma. Lunch Lady getting the chance to cook for people in need so long as she didn't go full Murderous Mystery Meat on them for having dietary restrictions. Getting to try and beat the stuffing out of him at regularly scheduled intervals that don't just so happen to fall on the days he needs to study and take important test and the like. That sort of thing.

This all resulted in him spending more time in the Infinite Realms then ever before. Learning about culture and society in the zone, making friends and figuring out how to do the whole Be A Ghost thing. Most of that was done in a small community not to far from where the Fenton Portal opened up in the Realms. They weren't the most important society, they didn't have some valuable export, no advanced industries like the Far Frozen's technology, no exceptionally strong ruler or ally like Necropilis had with Pandora. But what they did have in spades was kindness. They taught him what they knew, shared what they had and treated his wounds the best they could when he wasn't in a good enough condition to make the long trek to the Far Frozen. They were some of his first actual ghost friends, rather then just being people that kept trying to beat him to half death but occasionally helped him out, usually for the sake of their own self interest.

So when he found out that a small gang of ghost(small by Danny "Guardian of the Dead, Protector of the Living" Phantom's standards, so not small at all) had been launching periodic attacks on the community, he just couldn't sit back and do nothing. But even with time in the Realms passing around seven times faster then it did in the Living Realm he straight up didn't have the time to sit around and wait who knows how long to defend the town the next time the gang attacked and, hopefully, take them all down in one fell swoop. Even if he did, What good would it do? He couldn't just End every last one of them, and they would know it would only be a matter of time before he was need back in Amity. Fighting them off himself would be a stop gap measure at best.

So, plan B it was. If he can't protect them himself he would make sure they could protect themselves. Run some drill, teach some tactics, set a patrol schedule, that sorta thing. Nice and simple. In theory. In practice, it was anything but simple. His friends were a simple and very small subsistence farming community. They grew what they needed and not a single grain more, and they all worked together to do it. it was a group effort because it had to be, with them only having what by modern standards would be considered incredibly primitive farming technology, tools and knowledge. If someone put down their plow and pitchfork to pick up a spear, someone else would starve. Ghost naturally filter feed ectoplasm from the air in the zone, which provides them energy and a small amount of some simple nutrients so starvation isn't as fast and serious a threat to them as it is to humans. But their bodies, cores especially, need proper food and water to function and being deprived of food for to long can and will bring about their End. Slowing food production to train a militia and protect the town would, once again, be a stop gap measure at best. A stop gap measure that required torturing his friends via starvation in every way that mattered to Danny.

Plan B won't work, but Danny doesn't have a Plan C so he'll just have to figure out how to make it so Plan B can work. The village can't spare any farmers because they can barely produce enough to feed them all as is with their less advanced farming technology. The answer to this conundrum, like most issues the modern teenager faces, is the smartphone. Or rather, is modern technology. Danny spends days at a time in the village pouring over every textbook he can find on agriculture, its history, the technology, modern practices, bribes Ghost Writer into letting him browse his library for long forgotten and not yet written human texts and tomes of food-bidden ghost knowledge on crops and agricultural sciences in the Infinite Realms. Spends a day or two getting his parents to consider Ghost Trees an imminent enough threat to make a purpose built gadget in the form of an overgrown stake with an egg shaped head that when pounded into the ground would evenly spread anti-ghost herbicide across a large area and deep into the soil but with a little modification could easily be used to spread fertilizer and plant seeds at record speeds.(and promptly Gasslit, Gatekeept, Ghostbossed them into thinking they dreamed making the device and it was a bad idea after removing all evidence and saving the blueprints.)

The whole nine yards, and not an inch less for his first true friends on the other side. When he was finally ready he brought it all before people of the village, by the end of the night he had them all agreeing to give this fancy shmancy "Techmogy" a try, and by the end of the week, Living Time, is well on his way to revolutionizing the villages agriculture. They can not only afford to start training and maintaining a small(again, small by Danny's standards) defense force but also export extra produce and begin to develop other specialized, though still low tech, industries. When they've finished dealing with the raiding issue the village starts regularly just kinda handing over a small percentage of their harvest, and at first Danny's super confused cuz like Why??? but then just convinces himself "Oh, they just want me to keep maintaining the militia. Yeah that checks out."("How much taxes did Mister Phantom say we're supposed to pay for all this?" "He just kinda... Didn't? I don't think he expects us to?" "Thats unicorncrap and you know it. And we are not taking advantage of his kindness. Sherral had to give him that 'I'm not Mad, Just Disappointed' look for twenty minutes yesterday to get him to stop working long enough to eat." "You know what, fair. He's gonna be properly compensated whether he likes it or not.")

Danny uses the extra to have a few of his Friends in The Militia keep an eye on the Fenton Portals opening in the Realms, keeping the non-sentient ghost from wandering into the human world and keep track of who passes though/keeping people on the no go list from going and kicking up a fuss.(A Neverborn who has never been to the Living Realm: The Fucks a Passport? What do you mean you have to search me for contraband? Why are you putting on a rubber glove? What's a cavity sear-*High Pitch Traumatized Screaming.*)

As it turns out the reason they had to deal with all the raids in the first place was because the two larger communities to the northwest(well, the "Northwest" as Danny calls it, he just kinda considers towards the Far Frozen to be north) are in the middle of a minor war that initially started due to food scarcity issues, with all the fighting destroying farmlands and bringing laborers away from the fields and into the battlefields only worsening the problem. The so called "Dangerous Bandits" were just starving people fleeing the war and bloodshed that had consumed the only home the Neverborns had ever known and Last Wills had known sense all that they had ever been and knew was ripped away from them. Upon hearing that all this trouble is a result of a famine that's been going on for the last few years Danny just lights up like "Starvation? Food scarcity? Those things that I just spent ages figuring out how to help? I can Help Them? I'm Going To Help Them!" and promptly goes frolicking through an active warzone trying to befriend the locals and share his new found knowledge and technology. Full on golden retriever mode. He makes lots of friends! As the help he provides begins to show results word of him spreads and his reputation grows, more and more people of both waring communities begin searching him out.

It's not long before the oligarchy that rules over one and the queen that rules over the other start hearing about how much good this "Sir Phantom" has done for the people they rule over, hear that good being compared to they good they have done. Then they start hear whispers about people being being jealous of the first friends that Danny helped, jealous of their freedom, technology, lower taxes, safety and prosperity. They start hearing the peasants first whisper and then shout that they might just be better off under Phantom protection and guidance then theirs.

The next three times Danny wanders into the area to try and provide what is essentially humanitarian aid to the locals he is attacked. The time after that it's a full blown assassination attempt, poison coated blades and arrows seeking out his core. When he next meets up with all his ghost friends he complains about it because he's like 73% positive that that one book he read on ghost etiquette said that trying to destroy someone's core was a Big No No. All of a sudden a whole bunch of his "Friends in the militia"(His soldiers. He doesn't know they're his soldiers but they are. They will metaphorically and if necessary literally march along side him into the depths of hell, even if he doesn't actually know he's their leader. Yet.) are coming out of nowhere talking and absolutely refusing to let him head back out there without some sort of escort.

So he and a, by his standards, small escort start going into those territories. They eventually start establishing small outpost from which to distribute aid and leave militia men to protect the civilians. And they start giving him what food they can afford too, they’re so nice!

Word spreads about the Oligarchy and Queen signing some sort of temporary true to handle “A grave threat to their people’s future” and Danny’s so excited for them. Finally, they’re starting to put aside their differences and work towards giving their people a better future!

His good mood is unfortunately cut short when hears about a group marching on his friends community. He rush’s back and finds said group between his community and the warzone, coming to the conclusion that they are more bandits fleeing the conflict. They are also probably the most well put together and organized bandit group he’s ever seen. They’ve got uniforms, supply carriages, banners and even start getting into a battle formation when they see him watching. The people that seem to be leading them have him a little confused though. A lady that could be considered the personification of the term “overdressed” and a bunch of old dudes who a clearly from the wealthier side of society. Half the reason he noticed them at all was because of how shiny all their jewelry is and even from a distance he’s like, 90% positive that’s all worth enough to feed like half the villages he’s been providing aid to for months. So he’s not to sure why they’re leading a raid against his friends for food, but he guesses it doesn’t really matter in the end.

Danny figures that facing an organized force would be a good training experience for the militia and good practice leading for him so he gathers up the militia and leads them to battle. Dispute being out numbered by a pretty significant margin it goes pretty well. As expected of bandits fleeing a famine, most of the enemy is half starved and their morale is in the mud so despite being pretty disciplined they can’t really put up much of a fight.

Once the militia gets a hang of fighting against enemies in proper formation and seems to have learned all they can from the battle Danny calls them back and moves in to sweep up. Most of the “bandits” are captured and he sends the rich weirdos packing. Or rather, sends them flying at high speeds one at a time. Spends some time making sure all the captured “bandits” get some food and medical care. Works on the logistics of getting them brought into the militia at the suggestion of the commander he left to lead it.

By the time Danny gets back to the war zone it’s, apparently, no longer a war zone. Everyone’s partying and celebrating, as while he was off fighting those bandits a brave and mighty hero had freed the people from the rule of Wicked Queen and Oligarchy. He goes on a tour of the territories, just to do one final check for issues and stamp out the last of the fighting and such. But nearly every village and town he stops in are pretty worried about the future of their nations, what with most of their governments being metaphorically and literally kicked out of the country and what’s left actively collapsing. So he decided to stick around a bit longer, grows the militia to better keep the peace, spreads some more modern tech to boost the economy. “Man y’all’s infrastructure is falling apart. Ah don’t worry about it, I’ll get some people working on it.”

This process just kinda repeats. Slowly but surly Danny finds more and more people in need of help. So he helps them. Makes friends. Gathers allies. Princess Dorothea was for some reason worried that being his friend would come at the cost of her crown but once she finds out that’s not the case she was more than happy to work with him. Gave Walker a new rule book to enforce when it comes to those under his protection. Pandora was pretty happy with the technological advancements he brought to Necropolis.

Getting the Far Frozen under his protection is probably the easiest of them all, and he even gets a really cool helmet out of it. Or well, he calls it a helmet but it’s not really all that helmet-y, as it’s mostly just a ring with a bunch of spikes poking out he top but it’s a really cool ring with spikes.

Made from the rarest and most valuable form of Eternal Frost within the Far Frozen the Nihil Glacias, it normally reflects and gives off absolutely no light. But as his power flows through and fills the ice microscopic imperfections and impurities within it become places where his energy gathers and collapses in on itself, creating brief beacons of light winking in and out of existence like stars in the night sky. When Danny first gets it he spends three hours in front of a mirror learning how to control it so he can make specific constellations appear and in the process learns that if he pours enough energy into it the excess power will begin branching out in ribbons of light, wrapping around him and flowing out like an aurora borealis. The fact that is multiplies his power a few times over and greatly accelerates the rate at which he grows stronger too is cool and all, but it’s his favorite accessory because of the stars. Apparently Frostbite got it for him so that his people would always be able to identify him, which makes sense. He wants them to know they can always come to him when they need help, and having a nice identifying feature so they can pick him out in a crowd or find him in an emergency will go a long way in ensuring they can.

Apparently Pandora’s something of a competitive gift giver as not long after word about how much Danny liked his new helmet got around she presented him with an enchanted ring, forged from a piece of the hope that resides within her box. Allowing him to not only sense the emotions of his people and always know when they are in danger but also draw power from the hope and faith they have in him, it very quickly rises to the position of second most prized possession. Just behind his fancy helmet because ✨Stars✨(and because it was a gift from Frostbite, the first adult in his life to ever actually Adult Properly for him and be there to support him. But Danny’s not gonna admit that part.)

Eventually Danny

Creates rules and laws

Funds and organizes a force to enforce the laws

Manages the economy to ensure continued growth and stability

Funds the construction and maintenance of public works and infrastructure

Raises and trains army’s to protect his people from outside threats

Appoints officials to act in his name and carry out a number of jobs

Danny, wearing a crown, sitting on a thrown, in the royal palace: Pft, no. I’m not a king or anything lame like that. I just help out around these parts, make sure everyone’s okay and all that. They’re all my friends!

What Danny Says: You guys wanna be my Friends?

What people hear: I’m annexing you. Accept my rule quietly or End Screaming.

Pandora does wind up a competitive gift giver. At first the ring she gave Danny was a calculated political move, meant to ensure her and Necropolis remained in his good graces and that the Far Frozen wouldn’t wind up with to much of The Kings favor. But then she finds out that her ring, which she spent weeks crafting by hand, put her heart and soul into, forged from a piece of Her Hope, was only the second favorite gift not because of any practical or even political reason. But instead Because ✨Stars✨. Alright Frostbite you fuzzy bastard, this just got Personal. She Will be the best and She Will be Danny’s favorite. Frostbite is more than happy to compete if it means Danny gets more cool stuff that makes him happy and safer and starts actively making the best gifts he can. This eventually results in Pandora becoming the other Adult in Danny’s life who Actually Adults and Supports Him. One day when she was trying to get Danny away from his paperwork and in bed she heard him call her Mom in his sleep and she most certainly Did Not cry happy tears. Anyone who says otherwise Will taste the steel of her blade.

[deadpresidents]

"Don't get distracted. Don't get overwhelmed. Don't get paralyzed and pulled into the chaos that President Trump and his allies are purposely creating with the volume and speed of executive orders; the effort to dismantle the federal government; the performative attacks on immigrants, transgender people and the very concept of diversity itself; the demands that other countries accept Americans as their new overlords; and the dizzying sense that the White House could do or say anything at any moment. All of this is intended to keep the country on its back heel so President Trump can blaze ahead in his drive for maximum executive power, so no one can stop the audacious, ill-conceived and frequently illegal agenda being advanced by his administration. For goodness sake, don't tune out.

The actions of this Presidency need to be tracked, and when they cross moral or legal lines, they need to be challenged, boldly and thoughtfully, with the confidence that the nation's system of checks and balances will prove up to the task. There are reasons for concern on that front, of course. The Republican-led Congress has so far abdicated its role as a coequal branch of government, from allowing its laws and spending directives to be systematically cast aside to fearfully assenting to the President stocking his Cabinet with erratic, unqualified loyalists. Much of civil society -- from the business community, to higher education, to parts of the corporate media -- has been disturbingly quiet, even acquiescent...

...America faces a new reality, and it demands wisdom, endurance and courage. The United States is now led by a President who appears willing to stampede over any person, law, congressional statute or country that stands in his way. He is driven by impulse and is disinterested in rules, history or reality.

How Americans and the world handle such a President will determine much about the next four years, and it will ask much from all of us. We must meet the moment. Mr. Trump won the election fair and square, but his position is that of President, not king or god-emperor. Every time Congress allows him to exceed his constitutional role, it encourages more anti-democratic behavior and weakens the legislature's ability to check further erosion of the norms and values that have helped make this nation the freest, richest and strongest in the world."

-- Here's a gift link from me to bypass the paywall and read today's New York Times editorial, "Now Is Not the Time to Tune Out."

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi I was the one who requested the Furina-like reader and i wanted to clear up that:

Alastor and Vox are still archenemies they just have something new to fight over (basically just like petty divorced exes fighting over custody)

Since I just realized that sinners can't have kids in hell i'll make that reader was a teenager who died young

Also I'm so sorry my req was alot for you I tend to get away with asks sometimes 😭

Haha! All good, hun! Tbh. I really do like this idea. They are like petty divorced exes most of the time and now, they’ll be petty divorced exes that love their precious daughter so much, that they won’t let one another become the favourite parent and actively sabotage. I only chose female since Furina’s female. Hope that’s okay!

Alastor and Vox- Climbing the Ladder

The Overlord of Technology and the Overlord of Radio are genuine archenemies, rivals, they cannot stand one another and their mutual hatred even extends to their personal relationships… but when their love becomes targeted on the same person, this situation gets all the more dangerous

You, a cute hydro-sea animal-styled young teenage sinner, didn’t just catch the fatherly love of just Alastor but of Vox as well… somehow and now. They begin fighting on sight and arguing and berating one another nonstop to try knock each other down so you don’t like one over the other

Yes. Alastor and Vox openly tug on you and argue loudly but eventually, Charlie makes them agree on a… ‘co-parenting’ deal. Alastor has you in the Hotel one week then Vox has you in the Vees Tower the next week. They are basically like fathers with joint custody and they hate it

Because they hate each other far too much to be civil and everytime they have to meet up to share you. Both are holding back the desire to murder each other. Otherwise, the tension inbetween them is so thick, you can cut it with a butcher knife

Both of them are the type of surrogate father to shower and pamper their daughter so she’ll like them over the other. Vox showers you in gifts and gives you specific technological devices so he can keep his eyes on you, whilst Alastor showers you in affection and keeps your attention on him with all his cool tricks and nicknacks

Alastor tries to make you dislike technology but Vox tries to make you rely on technology, and their contrasting efforts to have you love them like your one true father makes their already tense relationship even worse

Both Alastor and Vox can recognise your love for the theatre so Alastor uses his own theatre speciality to teach you to dance and sing and perform whilst Vox arranges a whole drama class for you to learn from the professionals. They both attend any drama performances you happen to atten. Vox is recording it to treasure as Alastor can’t take his eyes off his precious babygirl

Will these two ever not fight with each other? The only time they willingly get along is when you’re ever being threatened or being harassed or being bullied. Then, they shove aside their differences and their deep disdain for each other to protect you

Alastor and Vox do not like the whole ‘co-parenting arrangement’ they agreed on. They don’t want to share you at all, they both want you as their own surrogate daughter. Vox is pissed since he is worried he may seem like the lesser father and Alastor is annoyed that some flat-faced freak is trying to take his daughter away from him

Your kind, laid-back, down-to-earth, chill girl demeanour is kinda hard to get around for both Overlords. Alastor is dapper, sophisticated whilst Vox is a bit prickly and arrogant. Neither are good with handling you yet both are equally supportive and listen to you

Alastor and Vox are both equally protective over you. You’re so selfless and self-sacrificing towards your friends that you’re willing to jump into danger for their sake. Luckily, you have two very powerful Overlords as backup. Both willing to tear apart your enemies to make sure you’re safe

Your dads, Alastor and Vox are both working to shake out your very assuming and judgmental mannerisms. Those are unfitting for a lady like you. Alastor teaches you to be a prim proper classy lady and Vox teaches you to be a ‘bad bitch of high class’

At the end of the day, both of them love like you are their biological daughter so they’ll always consider you as and they’ll do anything for you, even try their best to get along and tolerate one another. If it means you’ll be happy and you’ll get to stay in their afterlives, that’s all that really matters here

“My dear. As much as I love you, this flamboyance and imprudence is below you. You’re a beautiful lady of the highest class, you must show that. Come with me now. May we go to the mall together, a day out to work on yourself, princess”

“Leitora, I get it! The bravado and dramatic flare is definitely unique but I wish for you to drop now. You’re becoming bratty and no daughter of mine is a diva, I’ll show you what I mean. Let’s go for a walk around the tower, honeypot”

[billskeis]

ᡣ𐭩 sharing a bed w bill

it was quite an evening you were having. you and the guys decided to have a little get together, the five of you were laughing, drinking, and just overall doing stupid shit teenagers would do.

you haven’t spoken to bill at all tonight.

you’re not quite sure why it’s like this. you got along with everyone, especially tom. so why wasn’t it the same case with his brother? at this point you thought he hated you. whenever you came over, he didn’t really acknowledge you, nor made the effort to even have a conversation: let alone say hi.

one could ask, why didn’t you make the effort?

that’s because you did. you did, on multiple occasions, and it was either always a shrug, a nod, or one worded answers. “he definitely doesn’t like you, not even as a friend.” you decided at this point to be content with it. it feels as though despite the obvious gap and disconnect between the two of you, bill and you remained civil for the sake of keeping the whole group together.

it also didn’t help that you had a little crush on bill.

but he’s basically proven with his actions he’s wanted nothing to do with you. cross out all possibilities that bill will ever like you back..

downing another shot, tom screams at the burning feeling down his throat. “WHOOO! i could definitely go for another, dare, truth, or not,” you however, could not take anymore shots. being the idiot you were you decided to occasionally pour yourself some without even playing the game. you knew that this will be a long night being within the proximity of bill so the alcohol was much needed. but now, even one whiff or drop of alcohol will have you puke.

“y/n, truth or dare?” georg asks, he almost slurs on his words, obviously tipsy, and gustav is already blacked out on the couch sleeping peacefully. “mm, i’ll do a dare.” both georg and tom made eye contact with one another and grin, tom then whispers something in georg’s ear and georg snickers, tom following.

what they had in store for you, you would’ve never expected.

“i dare you to share a bed with bill tonight.”

what? say what now? did you hear that correctly?

your jaw most likely and probably did reach the floor, even though you were so close to it. because why would they even declare a dare like that? especially tom? it’s not like you could even step out of the dare, because if you did. you would have to take another shot, and you were NOT trying to throw up tonight. so you just had to suck it up.

you may ask, what did the other guy’s think of this? you had once talked to tom about your concerns and he just brushed it off, saying some bullshit like “that’s just bill, it’s nothing personal.” did he do this to purposefully fuck you over?

oh, but it felt oh so personal.

bill didn’t speak, although you could tell that he was a little displeased by this dare. his eyes went wider for a second to then quickly return to his nonchalant face. did he really hate you that much? you twiddled your thumbs not knowing the words to put in your mouth.

tom and georg were just giggling. those fuckers. unfortunately for you, you’re so drunk that any doing anything requiring physical strength is impossible. you’ll deal with them tomorrow morning. “is.. is that okay with you bill..?” you ask, bill just heavily sighs and walks away from the living room. assumingely this gives you the okay and you follow behind after him.

“goodnight y/n! have fun!” georg and tom chant while waving you out of the room teasingly. shit, did they know you like bill? did you make it that obvious? you look behind them and look at the stupid looks on their faces, sticking up a middle finger at them as they laugh a little harder.

this is going to be a loooong night.

“sleep on that side.” bill tells you, he attempts to sound stern but his voice is softer than from what you usually hear. which is like, once in a blue moon. his makeup is all cleaned off and he’s in his pyjamas. you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile as he fixes the bed up before letting the two of you get in.

you nod at him, slipping into the bed and under the sheets. he turns off the lamp and does the same as you. you feel the bed dip with his weight added to it, as he adjusts himself to get ready to sleep. your bodies are facing opposite ways, clearly wanting nothing to do with one another. but how true is that?

“goodnight,” you say, no answer.

wow, he can’t even say goodnight back? you feel so disheartened by this. the constant attempts to get to know him, make conversations with him, all for nothing. it feels as if he’s completely shut you out by building a wall between the two of you, even though so close together. why couldn’t he just want to be together with you like you wanted with him?

you decided to just close your eyes and try to sleep the night off. as soon as it’s morning, you’d leave the room to let bill be. there’s no point in good-mornings if all he’s going to do is ignore you.

a pair of arms begin to wrap around your body, pulling you closer to theirs. is that.. bill..? is he drunk..? no, he had no shots tonight. he wasn’t even participating in the game. this couldn’t be him behind you. it must be a stranger. wait, that’s even worse..

your body is frozen. you don’t know what to do. in the dim light, you look down to the pair of hands that hold you so closely together.

black nail polish. with white french tip.

you begin to feel your face heat up. what the hell is he doing? you’re so confused. head and thoughts conflictingly filled with the thoughts of how the boy who hated you the most is cuddling with you at this very moment.

“i don’t hate you.”

tense. your body tenses at his words. should you reply? oh god, what the hell do i do? the alcohol is making your brain all fuzzy and you just can’t seem to come up with anything to say, being completely silent and motionless. however, the way you’re breathing indicates to him you’re awake.

“i’m sorry, i just don’t know—how to talk to girls… it’s quite embarrassing. i want to get closer. i want us to be.. together.”

it feels as though a thousand weights have been lifted off your chest, your body relaxes within his touch. noting this, bill continues to speak and you hear him out. not like you can say much anyway, you’re shocked, stunned, flabbergasted and quite bashful right now.

he actually wants to get to know you.

“i hope i can make it up to you with this, sorry if you’re uncomfortable. i can let go if you wa—“ you immediately shake your head no. he quietly laughs at this. bill then lets his chin rest on your head while the two of you lay on your side.

he’s so tall his body engulfs you, making you feel safe. safe in a space that once has you so awkward it felt as though whenever you were with him it was like walking on eggshells.

intertwining your hands together, he runs his thumb back and forth across the surface of your own hand caressing it. it soothes you. his hand is soft and warm along with his whole body.

“comfortable?” you nod and giggle at him.

the whole reason why bill “disliked” you was because he lacked experience. reflecting back on it, bill has never really done anything to show that he hated you. he just ignored you or ran away. it’s quite cute.

you begin to feel yourself drift into sleep. it’s so cozy here you never want this moment to end.

bill kisses the top of your head, “goodnight.”

“see man? i told you this was a good idea. i can’t believe for a second you doubted me,” tom smacks georg on the chest gently while georg is taking pictures on his digital camera.

“i am, NEVER, letting them live this down..” georg says as he continues to flash his camera pic after pic. tom runs to the side of the bed bill is sleeping on, posing at the edge of the bed so he can get in one of the pictures.

you and bill were cuddling closely. you switch from your spooning position to you with your head on top of bill’s chest, his arm wrapped around you waist. completely oblivious to this as the two of you were sound asleep.

gustav then walks past the room to use the restroom. he then stops to see the buffoonery that was going on in the room. watching as georg and tom were fucking around whilst you and bill were sleeping. he notes that the two of you were indeed hugging while sleeping. still drunk, he thinks while scratching his head,

“they must be really good friends now.”

[waywardwhispersblaze]

Thinking of Tobias Kiramman.

Thinking of how he'll probably never be totally accepting of Vi's presence in his life, not because she's a zaunite, but because she is related to Jinx, and that's just not something they can get around. I don't think he blames her for what happened, but it was obvious even in act 1 she was always going to have a conflict of loyalty because of her sister - and of course that's exactly what happened.

And unlike Caitlyn, he has no strong feelings for Vi personally, that would make him reassess his feelings and try to make things work anyway.

My headcanon is that 1-2 days passed between the moment Vi frees Jinx in ep 8 and the actual battle, so at one point in the Kiramman manor it was "discovered" that Jinx had escaped her cell (Caitlyn and Vi totally had a "oh really?" pikachu face reaction to it). Anyone present would of course have automatically assumed Vi set her free, including Tobias, and I think he would really have resented her for it (not suspecting that Caitlyn played a part in it, though this is an interesting question: would Caitlyn tell him and how would he react?)

Flash forward to the series finale, and… here he is, having mourned the loss of his wife, and now he has to share his home with Vi, who is mourning the loss of his wife's killer.

They are simply not compatible, and Tobias is only human. I do think he's not a bad man, and that he loves Caitlyn, so he'd try to make an effort and keep things civil for her sake, but while time can do wonders, I think it will take him a long, long time before he can ever be truly comfortable around Vi. Which is why I like the idea I've seen somewhere that Tobias moves to another house / estate after the finale.

Of course that puts Caitlyn in a similar situation to Vi - she loves both Vi and her father but the two probably won't get along, just like Caitlyn wouldn't have gotten along with Jinx if she had stayed in Piltover (I mean - it's one thing to let go of one's hatred, another to be totally accepting of someone's presence).

And it's all very tragic, and it makes the idea that Caitlyn and Vi keep choosing each other anyway all the more powerful.

[kathlare]

glimpse of her

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando encounters Stella and her children in Baku, where he is reminded of his past with Amelie. As the kids play and share memories of Amelie, Lando is confronted by the striking resemblance between Carlota and her aunt.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

June 9th, 2022 - Baku, Azerbaijan

Lando adjusted his cap, his eyes scanning the Baku track as he made his way around with the team. The heat of the sun bounced off the concrete, the hustle and bustle of the paddock a constant hum in the background. He was focused, his mind running through the upcoming sessions, but something caught his attention as he walked past the barriers.

There, near the pit entrance, he saw the familiar sight of Checo’s kids playing with a ball, rolling it between themselves and laughing. Chequito and Carlota were chasing it down, their faces lit with the carefree joy only kids that age seemed to have. Lando stopped for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. The kids had been around a lot during his past visits, always in the background when he and Amelie had been close, but it had been a while since he’d seen them.

Carlota, the younger of the two, was clapping her hands and giggling, her blonde hair bouncing with every movement. Lando hesitated for a moment, wondering if she’d even recognize him.

He pushed those thoughts aside and approached, making his way toward the small group. He noticed Stella standing by, holding Emilio in her arms. The baby was sleeping peacefully, nestled against her chest, his small head resting against her shoulder.

Lando walked up to her, offering a polite smile. —Hey, Stella,— he greeted her, the words coming out more naturally than he expected, even though the last time they spoke had been under... tense circumstances.

Stella glanced up, offering him a small, controlled smile. She hadn’t exactly been warm toward him in the past after everything had gone down with Amelie, but these days, she was more neutral. Still, Lando could tell the coldness lingered beneath the surface, even if she was making an effort to be civil. He wasn't sure if it was for him or for the sake of their shared history.

—Lando,— Stella replied. —I didn’t expect to run into you here.—

Lando scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. —Yeah, just doing my track walk. Didn’t realize you were bringing the kids along today.—

Stella’s eyes softened as she looked down at her children. —They wanted to see the cars up close. And Checo’s busy with the team, so it’s easier for me to bring them out here.— She shifted Emilio slightly, her gaze briefly lingering on the baby’s peaceful face. —This one’s still pretty new to all of this.—

Lando smiled. —He’s adorable,— he said, his voice gentle. He hadn’t gotten the chance to meet Emilio yet, and seeing him now, so small and content in Stella’s arms, hit him with an unexpected sense of nostalgia.

Stella nodded, looking down at Emilio with pride. —He is. He’s been good so far, thankfully. Just... a little bundle of joy.—

Lando smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on the baby. It was hard not to feel a sense of longing when he saw how happy Emilio seemed in Stella’s arms. He had always admired how much Stella had evolved as a mother, the warmth that radiated from her when she spoke about her kids. It made him wonder about his own relationship with his family, his parents and siblings, who had always been supportive, but never quite as present as Checo’s.

He shifted his focus back to the other two children. Chequito and Carlota had found a new game, throwing the ball to each other with uncoordinated excitement. Carlota’s giggles filled the air, and Chequito’s efforts to keep the ball in play were met with a mix of frustration and amusement. The sight brought a soft chuckle from Lando.

—They're growing up fast, huh?— Lando commented, watching as Carlota stumbled over her own feet but managed to grab the ball.

Stella followed his gaze, her eyes softening. —Yeah, they are. Carlota’s the wild one, always getting into trouble. But Chequito... he’s such a little gentleman. They’re a handful, but they’re also a joy.— She looked down at Emilio again, and for a moment, her expression softened even more. —He’s a little more relaxed than these two ever were.—

Lando nodded in understanding. —He seems so peaceful. I bet it’s nice to have a quieter one for now. But... uh... Carlota, yeah, she’s definitely the mini version of someone.—

Stella’s brows raised slightly as she watched her daughter tumble and quickly recover. —Oh, don’t get me started, Lando. Every day she gets older, she’s literally a little Amelie in the making. The way she speaks, the attitude, everything. It’s... uncanny. Honestly, I keep thinking Amelie’s haunting me through her.—

Lando’s chest tightened at the mention of Amelie. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the way Stella spoke about Carlota, about how she resembled Amelie, made his stomach flip. He had spent so much time thinking about the past with Amelie that he didn’t realize how much he’d subconsciously missed her family. Carlota’s loud, boisterous laughter—so familiar in the way it echoed off the walls—reminded him of better times, of when things were simple.

—Yeah... I can see it. She’s got that... spark, you know? Like Amelie had, too. I guess it runs in the family.—

The sudden voice of Chequito interrupted their conversation, his small hands tugging at Stella’s pant leg.

—Mum, I’m hungry!— he called out, his face scrunched in a dramatic pout.

Carlota immediately chimed in, her voice equally demanding. —Me too! Snacks, Mum! Snacks!—

Stella let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head in exasperation as she glanced down at both of them. —Alright, alright, I get it. You’re both hungry. But first, say hello to Lando.—

The two children looked up at Lando, their faces blank for a second, before they both simultaneously muttered a quiet and unconvincing, —Hi, Lando.—

Lando’s smile faltered slightly, but he hid it quickly, his heart sinking at the realization. It had been months since he’d last seen them, and the distance between them felt wider than ever.

Lando gave a small wave in response, not quite knowing what else to say. Stella smiled gently at her children. —Good, now we can go get snacks. We’ll head to the paddock club. Lando, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.—

Lando hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend more time with Stella, but at the same time, he liked the idea of being around the kids. And if there was anyone who could make him forget about the weight of his own thoughts, it was Carlota and Chequito with their boundless energy. Plus, he’d always had a soft spot for Amelie’s family. Despite everything, they were still family to him in a way.

—Sure, I’ll join you,— he agreed, giving a casual nod. —It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all.—

Stella smiled warmly at him, a genuine friendliness in her voice. —It’s good to see you, Lando. I think the kids will be happy to have you there.—

The walk to the paddock was filled with the usual chatter of kids excited about snacks and cars. Lando fell into step beside Stella as they made their way toward the club, the sound of Chequito and Carlota’s voices occasionally ringing out behind them.

—So, how’s life been treating you?— Stella asked after a moment of silence, her tone polite but not overly familiar.

Lando shrugged, his gaze flickering toward the kids. —It’s been alright, you know. A lot of races, a lot of work, but... can’t complain. How about you? How’s everything going with Checo and the kids?—

Stella smiled, a fond look crossing her face as she glanced at her children. —It’s been crazy, but in a good way. Checo’s always busy with the team, but he’s a great father. The kids are adjusting to the new one; Emilio. They’re both really good with him, actually. A little too good sometimes, but that’s just sibling love.—

They reached the paddock club, where they found a quiet table near the window, giving the kids the view they craved. Carlota immediately climbed up into one of the chairs, looking around for snacks, while Chequito hovered near his mother, clearly having something important to say.

As soon as their food arrived, Lando barely had a chance to settle in before Chequito began the one topic Lando had been hoping to avoid: Amelie.

—Titina would’ve liked these snacks,— Chequito remarked, his voice full of certainty. —She always said the cheese ones were her favorite!—

Carlota quickly chimed in, her eyes bright as she remembered more. —Titina! She is so funny. She made us laugh all the time!— She threw a look at Lando, her face scrunched in concentration as she chewed her snack.

Lando’s stomach tightened at the mention of Amelie. The word Titina—the nickname the kids used for her—stung like a ghost from the past. He hadn’t expected them to bring her up, let alone so easily. It was almost like she was still here with them, lingering in every conversation, every moment.

Chequito’s voice broke through Lando’s thoughts. —Titina would have made us laugh even more with these! She always have the best jokes. She tell us stories, remember, Carlota? About the cats and the chickens!—

Carlota nodded vigorously, her mouth full of snack. —Titina always have the funniest stories. I miss her.—

Lando’s heart clenched. It was clear they missed her. And though the kids were still so young, they remembered her in such vivid ways, as if she had only just left. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of regret, the weight of all those unanswered questions and the silence between him and Amelie.

Stella, noticing the shift in Lando’s expression, shot him an apologetic look. —Sorry about that, Lando. I know it’s not the easiest subject for you...— She shifted in her seat, clearly aware of the discomfort but unsure of how to ease it. —The kids love Amelie. She is really good with them, especially with Carlota. They miss her a lot.

Lando gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, nodding as he tried to push down the discomfort gnawing at him. —It’s fine, Stella,— he replied, though the weight of the words didn't make it any easier. —I’m sure they miss her a lot.—

Carlota, in her typical energetic fashion, leaned forward in her chair. —Titina always made us laugh! She told us about the time she had to teach a chicken how to swim!— She giggled as she mimicked the action, flapping her arms around for emphasis.

Lando couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. The memories of Amelie telling stories, making everyone laugh with her wild imagination, came rushing back. His heart squeezed at the thought, even though he did his best to hide it behind a smile.

Chequito, still serious in his observations, added, —Titina made everything funny. She is always happy. I think she would’ve liked this race a lot.—

Stella, noticing Lando’s deepening quiet, gently placed a hand on Carlota’s arm. —Alright, sweetie, let’s eat some more and save the stories for later, okay?—

Carlota nodded, still chewing happily, and Lando finally exhaled in relief. The conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t quite anticipated, and now he was left with the delicate task of navigating his feelings.

Before Lando could respond, Chequito suddenly stood up, his little legs wobbling as he tugged at Stella’s sleeve. —Mum, I need to go to the toilet!— he said urgently.

Stella sighed and stood, carefully adjusting Emilio in her arms. —Alright, Chequito. Hold on, I’ll take you. And I need to change Emilio’s diaper anyway. Lando, do you mind staying with Carlota for a bit?—

Lando blinked, slightly taken aback by the request. —Uh, yeah, sure,— he replied, glancing at Carlota, who seemed oblivious to the fact that her mother was leaving.

As Stella gathered the baby and guided Chequito away, Lando turned to Carlota. The little girl was already distracted by something on the table, her eyes wide with curiosity as she played with a piece of fruit.

For a moment, Lando just stared at her, trying not to think too much. But it was impossible.

Holy shit, she really was a mini-Amelie.

The resemblance was uncanny. From the way she tilted her head in concentration to the way she spoke with that playful, mischievous look in her eyes—everything about Carlota screamed Amelie. It was like looking at a younger version of her, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat as memories of better days flashed through his mind. The way Amelie used to laugh, her playful energy, her sharp wit—it was all there, in Carlota. The resemblance was so strong it made his head spin, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d ever get away from the memories of her, or if they would just haunt him forever.

He shifted in his seat, trying to distract himself, but his eyes kept drifting back to Carlota. Her bright green eyes—those damn green eyes—stared up at him with such intensity. It was as if she was silently daring him to acknowledge the truth, to admit that she was so much like her aunt.

Lando blinked a few times, trying to push the thoughts away. It wasn't fair to put all of this on a kid who didn't even understand the weight of it all. But damn, it was hard not to see Amelie in every little thing Carlota did.

—Are you okay, Lando?— Carlota asked, breaking his thoughts as she looked up at him, her voice small and curious.

Lando cleared his throat, forcing a smile. —Yeah, just... thinking. About how much you remind me of your aunt.—

Carlota's face lit up with a proud grin. —Really? Mum says I look like her a lot!—

—Yeah, you do,— Lando said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He couldn't help it. Carlota was practically Amelie’s mini-me.

She giggled, clearly enjoying the compliment, and Lando found himself smiling despite the weight in his chest. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, but seeing Carlota, so full of life, with those same eyes, those same mannerisms—it just made everything about Amelie feel... real again. Like she was still a part of his life in some strange way.

They continued to chat for a while, the conversation light, with Lando doing his best to entertain Carlota as she asked him questions about racing, cars, and what it was like to go fast. It was hard to keep up the act, though, with his thoughts constantly circling back to Amelie.

Eventually, Stella returned, juggling Chequito and Emilio, who was now awake and making tiny, cooing sounds. She looked at Lando, a slight apology in her eyes.

—Sorry about that,— Stella said quietly as she settled back into her seat.

Lando cleared his throat, trying to shake off the unexpected wave of emotion that had flooded him when Carlota's face lit up with that same infectious energy Amelie had once had. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on anything other than the way her eyes seemed to glimmer with the same mischievous spark he’d seen in Amelie a thousand times.

Carlota looked up at him, tilting her head slightly. —Lando, do you know how to make a chicken swim?— she asked, her expression so earnest it made Lando blink.

His lips parted in surprise, then he let out a breathy laugh, not sure whether he should be amused or slightly unnerved by how familiar she felt to him. It was like staring at a piece of the past, but twisted into something new.

—Uh, no, I don't know how to make a chicken swim,— he answered, his voice light, his words stumbling over the unexpected nostalgia that had hit him. —But I bet Amelie would have had a pretty wild explanation for it.—

Carlota grinned, a little too enthusiastically. —She did! She said she had to teach the chicken, and it was funny because the chicken didn’t like water! I think... it was like this big adventure!— She giggled, her hands mimicking a chicken flapping its wings.

Lando chuckled despite himself, the sound strange in his chest as his thoughts kept wandering back to Amelie. It felt surreal, sitting here with her niece, having a conversation that felt just like it could’ve been with Amelie herself. The way Carlota’s voice, full of excitement, bounced with the same tone Amelie had used in so many of their old conversations. It was almost like Amelie was there, just out of sight.

His gaze lingered on Carlota, unsure of how to navigate this strange, bittersweet moment. He didn’t want to feel this way. He didn’t want to let Carlota's innocence hit him so hard. She wasn’t Amelie. She was just a kid, full of life and curiosity, and yet, every movement, every word felt like a reflection of the woman he once knew.

Chequito’s voice broke through Lando's thoughts as he reentered the room, holding Stella's hand while his little brother, Emilio, snuggled against her chest.

—Carlota, we have to go soon!— Chequito said with urgency.

Stella smiled, walking over to the table with her kids. She handed Carlota a snack and gave Lando a small, appreciative look. —Thanks for keeping her entertained. I think we’ll head out now.—

Lando gave a slight nod, still trying to process the strange feeling that had settled in his chest. As he watched Stella gather the kids, he noticed Carlota stealing a glance at him, her curious green eyes wide as she chewed her snack.

For a second, Lando froze. The green eyes, the spark, the way she looked at him like she could see right through him—it was hauntingly familiar. Amelie’s eyes. Amelie’s gaze.

Stella picked up on his discomfort and quickly changed the subject. —We should get going, though. It’s a long day ahead.—

Lando nodded, finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. —Yeah, it was good catching up with you all. I’ll see you around.—

Stella smiled warmly, offering a soft goodbye. —Take care, Lando. The kids really enjoyed your company.—

As they walked away, Lando stayed rooted to the spot, his mind swirling in confusion. Carlota had left such a lasting impression on him. It felt like she had put a mirror up to his own soul, showing him a side of himself he hadn’t expected to confront today.

Carlota really was a mini Amelie.

And as much as he tried to push the thought away, it lingered in his mind, haunting him with every passing second.

Shit.

[lvlyghost]

Half My Soul: II

PAIRINGS: John Price x F!Reader

SUMMARY: The morning after John takes you home.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

TW: smut, suggestive themes. john is the man we all deserve! descriptions of injuries. reader gets a tiny bit of background. mentions of abuse. comfort, fluff. think that's it. lmk if i missed any. mind the english!

A/N: i'm so very sorry for how long i made you wait! here's the final part. maybe i wasn't dealing with lack of inspiration it would've been longer, i even had planned another situation for this fic but oh well. i may turn it into a separate drabble. enjoy💕💫

Masterlist✨Part 1

John looks up from his phone when you walk in, he was about to take a sip from his tea mug. You're wearing one of his shirts that's nearly too big for your body. He likes it when you wear his clothes, not that he'd say it out loud. Not that it was the first time he had seen you wearing his shirts; the black hoodie he had insisted you could keep now ruined because of the blood and the lower part of the fabric that had been torn apart.

He clears his throat. Setting both the mug and mobile down.

"Sleep well?" He asks.

You hum in response.

"Too early to be awake if you ask me." John chuckles when you roll your eyes feigning annoyance.

He was far too good to you. Too good for your own sake. You didn't want to think of how inappropriate it was that you were at his apartment, wearing his clothes. Sleeping on his bed. It also didn't help that he was wearing just a pair of black sweatpants. This thing between the two of you whatever it was... made your stomach flutter and your heart warm when he looked at you the way he was right about now.

"There's coffee for you." He declares. "Know you don't fancy tea. A terrible mistake, may I add." There's a playful grin on his lips when you laugh. "How's your body?" His voice drops a few degrees. You know he's trying to be nonchalant about it but you know him. You know he's worried. Know that he hates the man who hurt you with all his being.

What you don't know is what he did as soon as he woke up. It took one more glance to your face and body. One glance to the bruises and scratches and he was climbing on his pickup truck. John knew the address. He had intended to have a civilized conversation with your father; after all you didn't want him to get hurt, despite him making your life a living hell. One thing led to another. A heated argument. Shouting and swearing. He couldn't let that monster speak about you the way he did. A staring contest. Hands pushing the other. And then there where punches being thrown. He didn't care if he was a former ranger back in the states. There was no real pride in what he did. Fuck him. He was glad he got discharged from the military. He gave soldiers a bad name. He was a blemish in everything they stood for.

"My eye's not swollen anymore. That steak really came in handy." You joke remembering the night before, when you both got to his home. And John wants to laugh, he's aware you're trying to joke about it. To brush it off like it meant nothing. Why were you such a beautiful person? No one deserved you. "Really John? The mug's on the top shelf!" You sigh, standing on your tiptoes stretching as much as you can but only had managed to graze the cabinet door to open it.

John snorts at the sight of you trying to reach it, so he stands from the stool and gently pats your shoulder, giving you a soft squeeze as he reaches out for it without effort and placing it in your hand.

"You made it look like it was hard, love. Was starting to think if I could do it myself."

You hit his arm in a playful manner making him chuckle.

"Thank you John." You murmur. He staring down at you intently. Like there was nothing else in the world to him.

"It's just a..."

"I mean for everything." You interrupt him. At first you hesitate but end up grazing his fingers until you take his hand in yours. It's warm and bigger than yours, it swallows your own entirely. Both of you stop breathing when the silence settles. Outside the sky is cloudy, rain threatening to pour down anytime soon.

"Lovely." He mutters.

"What?"

"You, love. Just you."

Something shifts in the air after those words. John and you... had been holding back each other's feelings. You more than him. He wasn't fighting them anymore and neither were you. Who were you lying to?

Just yourself. The man cared for you like no one else did. He pours some coffee in your cup with his eyes set on you all the time, even when you take a sip and place it back on the kitchen counter. "Want me to check your wounds?" He asks, but you're not listening anymore. You're lost in the deep sea that his eyes are. In the way he cleaned up your wounds yesterday. Something you had done to him many, many times before. Lost in the moment when he saw your deteriorating state last night, the anger that sparked in his blue eyes. You inhale deeply, the smell of his cologne and cigars.

John shifts his weight from one foot to another. You were staring in silence. He wonders if you're regretting accepting his invitation to his home. God knows that if you decided to leave that would be the end of him.

Why were you so silent all of the sudden? Had he made a mistake?

Bloody hell.

"No need for that John. I just need you."

And you grab him by the back of his neck pulling him down for a gentle kiss. His strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed together. His lips are soft and mouth warm, you wish you could do more... maybe you can.

"Y'know how long I've waited for this?" He asks, voice raspy. A small kiss on your nose. His eyes are bright and adoringly watching you. "If I could stay like this forever..."

He kisses you again and lifts you up so your legs immediately wrap around his waist. John handles your body with so much care it makes your heart flutter, he avoids touching where the bruises are more prominent on your abdomen as he walks barefooted to the living room.

John lays both of you slowly onto the couch so that you're straddling his lap and he gives you the most gentle squeeze on your hip while his other hand tuck back a strand of hair behind your ear. It's a silent ask. A silent plea.

Do I have you permission? Can I make you mine?

And you nod. You kiss him again. Hard and hungrily. Biting down his lips. You too have waited for this. All the pent up desire that's been building over months. The longing stares, the casual touches. It's all led to this very moment where your—his— shirt get tossed to the floor, his pants don't make it all the way down and your underwear is merely pushed aside. The embarrassing amount of slick that coats your folds when John slides his fingers up and down your cunt making you gasp. His hands already making wonders that your own could never. Or the sight of his sheer size; he's big, you wonder if he'll even fit all the way, so he prepares you. Fingers slip in and out, limbs trembling as he works you through your climax and orgasm. Makes you forget about everything, about not being cared for before about all the pain that was your life before he showed up with his acts of service and unyielding protection. No one ever truly cared for you the way John did. No man could ever come close to him.

"John..." you moan his name, lips parted. "Please."

He wastes no time and he's finally sliding inside you. Blue eyes never leaving yours. And he's fucked. He has been for a long time, the moment he saw you. The first time you smiled at him.

His body shudders at the sensation of you swallowing him whole, not being able to think of anything else than being consumed by the woman on top of him. He wants you not just for today but for eternity. Another heated kiss when you're both nearing the end. A muttered promise to love you, a lone tear and soft graze of his hands as you come undone.

Falling apart together, deep breaths and mumbles of soft nothings into each other's arms. You trace his lips as he tries to even his ragged breathing. The faintest sheen of sweat that pearls his body.

"This isn't so bad."

John smirks.

"Not at all, love. Not at all."

[thebottomfromhell]

In a scenario where the reader is a hashira, what do you think would happen to him if his relationship with a demon was discovered. I know you wrote something along those lines where the reader was someone ordinary. The Hashiras, in the original work, are mostly nice, but they are very strict-minded about demons, so I wonder what their reaction would be if one of their own basically "betrayed" them. If you think it's going to be very similar, you can just ignore it or just say what you think would happen, without it necessarily being a story. I would appreciate it just the same

The Hashira request I like, the one where we treat them as the corporation of hunters they are instead of the avengers! I usually don't like making reader a Hashira, since I like to make it relatable to most, and let's be honest, the power fantasy is nice but most wouldn't live past Kanoe XD. Besides, it's funnier to make powerless MC's who need constant saving. But once or twice can't hurt.

The Hashira will refer to reader as L/N, as Last Name. Like last time it won't specify gender nor who's Uppermoon reader is with. One difference would be that as a civilian, last time reader only knew about the corps due being warned by their couple, hence only saw them as a bounch of psychos, here they will be more aware of certain things.

Hashira find out Hashira!GN Reader has a relationship with an Upper Moon

Warnings: Manga spoilers, Torture (Mostly non-physical, and the ones ññ, Excesive violence, Mutilation, Mentioned non-consented drug use, Mention of character's death, Implied sexual content, Suicidal character with survival guilt (Giyuu) and Open ending.

You became a Hashira to save others, you were told sometimes you were someone that loves too much, even for this line of work, specially for this line of work. In your ranking, most of everyone is civil to each other (depending on your definition of civil), but there is at least a level of trust. But not the tradiotional trust of sharing your burdens or being able to do things together, every Hashira prefers to work without the others, but trust that everyone else will do their job and kill every demon they meet or die trying.

That is exactly the trust you broke, so everyone is angry, upset and thirsty for blood. Most Hashira think positive things about each other, you also had only good things to say when asked, but now? After all that conversations you had with your lover about the inferiority of humanity, that they are pests, barbaric, backstabbers, a necessary evil... you have to wonder. After they caged you without any warning or mercy, sending Kocho and Shinazugawa for you, ending up beated and drugged.... you wonder. You just wonder.

Is it actually right?

The fellow Hashira could have at least confronted you out of the sake of the this fellowship, you could recieve visits from someone that isn't Kocho, drugging you for the sake of being easier to handle for the kakushi. And not only she drugs you, she always makes sure to remind you of your situation. To shame you, to taunt you, to hurt you. "Ara ara, aren't you eager to move? This is the second time I have to drug you today. You should really give a slack to the kakushi, they are just trying to do their job. But again, considering what you did, I must really question if you care about the efforts of the people in the corps." She says smiling, even if your blurred vision doesn't let you see it clearly, you can tell by her tone. Shinobu spits poison so cafefully with every word. Because she hates you. "You know? A mere civilian or commoner would have a an excuse. The don't know the level of sacrifice we have made, the pain the demons have caused. You? You did. And you had one job, the same as us. To stop that pain or die trying, you should have done the later."

You know about Kanae. You were never told about the demon who killed her nor the details, but it's almost (Tokito...) impossible to be a Hashira and NOT know about her death on the hands of demons. You knew, know that most Hashira have lost something to demons, and yet you decided to get close to one. Close enough to become lovers. But... it was right, at the time. The gentle touches, the vulnerable moments, the softness. The beatings inside your chest, the warmness in your face, that lightness in that voice... you are in love. And that Uppermoon is too, or else you would be dead, like everyone seems to wish you were, already.

You have too much free time in your thoughts, since you are tied up in a way you can't move any of your limbs and struggling cut's your circulation, kept in a dark room, when light and noise only appear when the Kakushi are told to feed you, once a day at most. You have no idea if they were told to do it that way or they are only scared to face a "renegade Hashira" or whatever they call you when you can't hear them. Your body is sore, it has been for the longest time, and you feel constantly sick due Kocho's drugs. Dizzy, tired, too hot, wanting to throw out when anything touches your throat, and even after hours the needles stings remains in wherever she managed to shot you. You also never healed your leg when fighting Shinazugawa, at lealt not properly. You can still feel empty tissues and the bone in your thigh stabbing the flesh, with smaller piece stuck. Your nose is also broken, making you need to breath through the mouth. The only thing Kocho actually tended was a cut through your hand, so you don't die from the blood loss.

You still remember grabbing the tilt of your sword to protect yourself, only to have all of the digits cut out of the hand, keeping in each different fractions, but all of the without the tips. At first there was a fast and intense sting, similar to a burning senssation as your katana started to fall from your grip, then, for a second, a coldness that was at worst, annoying, some sort of emptyness. Finally, when the realization sink there was pain in your pulsating fingers, mixing a lasting feeling of both previous ones, fighting to be the dominant one. You still can feel, on a lesser extent, all the time, those sensations.

It takes a lot for you to not go mad with the lack of contact with everything, and that sensation of being ill. Part of you wonders if your beloved will save you, if any other Hashira will speak to at least let you defend yourself in vain. Every day it becomes less of a reality, which adds resentment. Part of you tells you that you were the one to betray them first, another that longs that sweet voice and touches angers, wanting nothing to get out, to go somewhere safe, with the demon you love. "My sister and my best friend were killed by demons..." One day you suddenly feel a voice besides you... Tomioka. He is giving you his back, speaking only high enough so you can make up what he is saying. "So I really hate them... how... how were you able to love such a monster, knowing well what others suffered because of them?"

You don't know the answer, you can't even speak coherently due the drugs on your system. That is a question you asked yourself so much, thinking that if you didn't fall like that, you wouldn't be in this situation... but... "Sp-cil.... hom.... looovd...." you wonder if the silence means resignation or understanding, but you are glad to have someone close. "You will not be forgiven... there is someone that might, but... he is not here right now, and seeing the situation is probably for the best. I'm sorry." You... honestly can't understand it. That is why you curse Tomioka after he leaves, even if he was the only one willing to listen to you. That feeling only gets worse when you realize he is not in your "trial", he didn't go. The others, as always were neither fast to condemn him or dismiss him because of it, but besides some of them changing the subject, nobody came to his defense. Like you have already realized nobody is comming for yours.

You don't listen when Oyakata-sama speaks, is your attention lacking or he is just talking too low due being sick? None the less you just watch the others. Tokito is there, you want to trash out, but are still drugged and tied up, at the fact the child is here. That is child is going to see you being excecuted... but does it make a difference, this child has killed even more powerful demons than you, and you has never seem to care. Is it really that different to see a human die than a demon? Because everyone else seems so eager to see you die as one. You wouldn't know, you never wished death upon any specific human nor killed any. Yes, sometimes you curse some more anstract subjects, like people who hurt others, some criminals, and so, but you have never talked to anyone and wished you could kill them.

Every Hashira seems obsessed with death in one way or another, even if it's only to avoid it like Mitsuri, who is crearly sobbing and trying to keep it down. "Where is Tomioka? We shouldn't start without him!" Asks Rengoku impossible to not hear him, even in your state, but you know that he isn't comming probably asked permission for it. Damn him, that coward. You can also basically hear the scoffs from Shinazugawa and Obanai. After some seconds you feel the Serpent Hashira stab your shoulder with that irregula blade, making the cut difficult ans uneven, not covering the bleeding at all. "Obanai! Stop! Do not let your anger cloud your judgement!" Himejima acrually screams, and Obanai is close enough for you to hear and see him decently.

There is also a significant, loud, growing hatred in his eyes. Being any other situation you would tease that it's because you made Kanroji cry, but you know better. It's because he trusted you to kill demons and die trying, and you didn't. Come to think about it, it's an unfair standard to hold against anyone. What about those who had someone to go hone to? What about those too young to die? What about those who have a bright future ahead? Is everyone expected to? "My judgement?! What about L/N's judgement! This level of treason is unforgivable! It deserves more than a quick death! I apologize, Oyakata-sama, but I can't accept your desition!" Kanroji only cries harder at the time she speaks. "NO! NO! Y/N-SAN IS STILL OUR FRIEND! WE SHOULD AT LEAST MAKE IT AS PAINLESS AS POSSIBLE!"

"OUR FRIEND? A FRIEND DOESN'T GO AND SLEEP WITH THE ENEMY! IF L/N SIDES WITH THE ENEMY THEN WE TREAT THEM AS SUCH!" Shinazugawa screams at her, moving her direction angrily, so both Kocho and Rengoku put themself in between. You can't hear what Kocho says, but you can definetely make up what Rengoku does. "Shinazugawa! I understand your anger! This betrayal woould never go unpunished! But if we torture and rip L/N as we pleasw we won't be better than demons! We must answer with humanity!"

There is arguing, a lot of noise, Himejima and Tokito-kun are the only ones that are not with to it, besides the big boss who will only let them cool down by themselves, but you don't know that because you can make any voice out of the sounds, but because you know them. You know them... You spoke with them, shared meals and stories with some, worked with them... you know them, and they know you. And still, they will be the ones to kill you as long as they sort their shit out before you bleed to death.

"SILENCE! THIS IS SO UNFLASHY, WE SHOULD NOT BE GOING AGAINST EACH OTHER AFTER SUCH AN EVENT. We are already too on edge for this treason, we we can handle it. We should not be losing trust on each other!" Suddenly screams Uzui as he takes out his weapons, unecesaryly moving them for show, having the blades surrounding his torso, arms and shoulders without a single scratch on him. "I should be the one who deals with this. I know how to make it fast." He gets close to you as your vision becomes even more blured, to the point everything is red. Not black yet, you can basically see your eyelids and your own blood on the ground. You feel cold, trembling violently, you are pain, wanting to throw up your empty, tight and twisted stomach, feeling as if your organs will leave your body through the mouth the second you give into that urge. You pant, having a hard time breathing, every muscles is sore and protests... You are scared.

You swore that was what forced you to stay awake, even after loosing so much blood, but then... "Well, isn't this sad?" You hear a voice loud and clear, masculine. One that you have never heard before but still edges you. Your heart beats faster and normally you would worry about what that would mean something for the bloodloss, but... you don't feel like you are loosing blood, on the contrary, you feel more. "To be honest, I didn't notice at first you had my blood in your system, but now that you are weak, loosing the liquids of your body, the few drops you had inside are taking over. I won't pretend I don't know about your... intimacy with one of my powerful demons, but let me tell you this. It can save you."

You.... can be saved? You want to be saved, you have no idea where Uzui is, if he is near and ready to make the last blow or the arguing is stopping him. "You see, right now I can speak with you, share myself, but I can't take any look in your mind. But if you were to say where you are, I will gladly save you. Just tell where where are the ones who hurt you, and I'll even reward you with more blood. Don't you think it's a winning deal for you?" You cal sell out everyone for your own survival. Do you actually want them to die? To be killed. You feel suddenly a bit better, as the demon cells fight off the drugs.

You take air into your lungs softly and-

Tomioka Giyuu is in his home. He didn't want to be part of this. For now he doesn't want to think about it, the fact that one day he might take your place for not killing that demon girl. Urokodaki sends him letters of Kamado Tanjiro's process, the boy sends him his own letters too. He reads them all. Right now he has a brush in his hands, wondering if he should answer. He is tempted to write back, congratulate him, tell him he is doing good, to take care of himself and his sister, or at least to warn him about some difficulties he might face.

He can't. He doesn't want to get attached, no matter how nice and lovely the boy is, of how much he reminds him of himself when younger, except Tanjiro has more talent and is more capable that he was at his age. He will make a great water Hashira, far better than him. But for that Tomioka can't risk the others undermining his judgement by defending you. He didn't know if he would or not, and he didn't want to find out. Right now, that important thing is to ensure that the boy will take his place, and that means taking his distance too. Because everyone that Giyuu has ever held so dear into his heart dies. His sister and Sabito.... and even if you too were not close, not really friend... but still.

"It shoukd have been me." Is the only thing he can think as he sets the brush aside, not having written anything, and saving the letters carefully in a box. Then, just silence.

It doesn't matter anymore.

[agonydefying]

Black Rock Shooter RP blog

hi uuuuuhhh it's kris back with another fucking 2am impulse blog

this one's for my girl black rock shooter... from black rock shooter. specifically the 2012 anime verse, about 13-15 years after canon.

sideblog to @djsangos so i'll follow back from there

same rules as all my other blogs apply, 18+ only, no personals, you get the gist

i get fucking lazier and lazier with every pinned post but can you blame me? i do this shit too fucking often lmao

ooc/rules carrd

stats below cut:

did a toon me picrew of my own interpretation of her design until i feel like actualy drawing one, whenever that is, so here's this for now:

it's fucking impossible to get her asymmetrical twintails with any fucking picrew man i'm doing my best

This blog takes place about 13-15 years after the ending of the 2012 anime. Run as if BRS is the one running the blog, all posts should be assumed to be in-character unless preceded with “//”, tagged “#ooc”, or otherwise stated.

Name: Black★Rock Shooter

Nickname/s: BRS, or, alternatively, “Rock.”

Age: about 27-ish

Pronouns: she/her

RELATIONSHIPS

Mato Kuroi: Human counterpart

Dead Master (Yomi Takanashi’s other self): they have a… situationship?

The other… other selves: Acquaintances, adversaries, friends. All those words mean the same thing in the Hollow World.

LAST SEEN ON B★RS..

(Note: some of this is canon, some is headcanon extrapolated from canon, and some is just straight headcanon)

True to her promise, BRS continues to bear Mato’s pain and fight for her sake in the Hollow World, though their situation isn’t as dire as it once was. In her adolescence, Mato’s continued repression and ignorance of her pain and grief meant that it was all pushed onto BRS to bear, causing her to become progressively more powerful and ruthless, indiscriminately slaughtering other selves, freeing them and their human counterparts from the pain they bore… and the memories of said pain. This all reached a head when Mato, determined to save Yomi from her own pain, fused with BRS in the Hollow World to stop her from killing Dead Master… but she was too late. Seeing Dead Master as Yomi, impaled on BRS’s blade, Mato couldn’t take that pain, and the trauma it caused pushed BRS over the edge, driving her insane and transforming her into something overpowered and nigh-invincible. At Mato’s declaration that she wanted to feel pain, she promised she’d show her just that, beating her counterpart to a pulp until Mato, realizing that she really couldn’t make it through life without hurting anyone herself, finally fought back, snapping BRS out of her frenzy. With Mato’s friends’ other selves having been revived, restoring their memories, the two part ways, with BRS telling Mato that she fights for her because she loves her.

Now, in adulthood, Mato does her best not to run from her pain, to let herself feel it and deal with it. This doesn’t leave BRS out of a job, however, and she dutifully fights for Mato’s sake as she always has, in the endless battlefield of the Hollow World. But it’s safe to say that both of them are at least a bit healthier due to Mato’s efforts.

Mato herself is now a professional basketball player, turning what was once her hobby into a career. She still remains close with her friends, and is dating Yomi, though her travels for games mean she’s not always able to spend as much time with everyone as she’d like.

Though the majority of BRS’s interactions with her fellow other selves involve violence, there isn’t necessarily any hatred in their battles. They’re generally able to have civil conversations whenever they’re not trying to rip each other’s heads off. They’re friends. Probably.

BRS sees glimpses of Mato’s life in her dreams, just as Mato sees BRS in hers. A literal world apart, they don’t see much of each other otherwise, but that doesn’t mean either of their love for their counterpart has waned.

anyway that’s where i’m calling this it’s 2am bye

[twothpaste]

Showing (as opposed to Telling) how much 2 characters respect & cherish & care for each other is one of my fav things to write. like a little silent gesture of support. or remembering fond stories about times they spent together. or teasing in a way that they know will prompt laughter instead of hurt feelings, implying they've learned the nuances of each other's boundaries. i love tryin to see how bigly i can convey deep affection without dropping phrases like "she cared about him" in prose or "i love you" in dialogue (except for rare & special occasions where i think it hits harder). and i'm really used to writing characters (especially siblings) who love each other simply and obviously. so i get to weave in lots of sappy little moments like this. it's fun, and sweet, and i like it :'D

porky & agnes are complicated because the unconditional familial love is there - it's there despite them both knowing better and it hurts like hell - but there's so many layers of strain and distance and trauma between them that neither can say so. they can't let themselves think it, so i have to tiptoe carefully around it in the prose. they can hardly even show it, except just by the mere fact they chose to be present with each other at all. throughout their conversation they both make lots of little sacrifices & concessions for the other's sake, and it's kind of up in the air whether these are strategic ploys to keep things civil, or expressions of genuine care. they're holding this tense unspoken truce that whispers "i care about you whether i want to or not. we suffered a lot together. i understand why you've done the things you've done. you and i did deserve better." but that love is not enough to save them - least of all porky - on its own. and they both know it. even though by now they know how to maintain surface level courtesy like grownups, there's a thick air of mistrust and guilt and pity hanging over the whole thing.......

(and on top of all that, porky's still just inherently an asshole. so he has to strain against his bad impulses & insecurities constantly in order to maintain the conversation. which is probably the effort that best shows how much he cares about his sister - hell, it's almost selfless! that's a huge deal for him!! but it doesn't really look like love or kindness, cuz he's so gnashed up and bitter on the inside 🥲)

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 9 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near-death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Steve POV continued

“Sorry.” Lying in his bunk in the gloomy cabin, Steve drags his fingers miserably across his eyes. How freakin’ embarrassing—mistaking his best friend for his parents. “Still dreaming, I guess.”

“How do you feel?” asks Robin.

“Oh, peachy! How d’ya think?” He’s beyond tired of feeling this crappy. What the hell happened this time?

Oh yes. He and Eddie kissed, and then…

“Okay, bad news first,” she says, perching on the bed. “You bled through your bandages again. Got all sweaty and yuck.” He knows this already—from the gnaw in his side, and how he’s sticking to the lumpy mattress. “Good news? The bleeding stopped. The really juicy news—we have a theory about what might fix you.”

She spouts a load of stuff about the water from Lover’s Lake giving him some kind of vaguely defined power. And Eddie sucking it out of him?

He snickers. “Did you get that crackpot theory out of the ‘The Weekly Watcher?’”

“Come on, Steve, this is way beyond a shot-in-the-dark.” He rolls his eyes. Even though he sort of agrees with her. “We need to test the theory. Eddie’s gone to fetch lake water.”

“He’s gone back to Hawkins? Is he out of his mind?” He can’t spare the energy to worry about Eddie. He still does, and it makes him feel worse.

“You all right?” asks Robin. “You’ve gone… kinda gray.”

Yeah, feeling kinda gray. He stops scowling, simply because it’s too much effort. “Is there any non-Fairyland water in this shit-hole?”

“There’s a pump.”

After he’s had a drink and splashed his face, he feels… not much better, actually. He slumps back onto the pillow with a hard sigh. “Robin, I wish it was just us, stuck in this together. You're literally the only person in my life where there’s, like, almost zero tension. I mean, we bitch at each other and all—”

“Never!” she snarks.

“Haha, point taken. It’s about nothing that ever matters, though. I know.... You'll... You know, we’ll…”

“Always be there for each other? I sure hope so.” There’s a quiver in her voice that alarms him.

“You still think one of us might not make it this time?”

“No! I mean... We've gotten through that part, haven't we?”

Sure doesn’t feel like it from here. 

“Listen,” she says, “it doesn’t have to be tense or cringy between you and Eddie, just because you like each other.”

“Yeah, right. We kissed. I passed out! Not cool.”

“Like he’s gonna hold that against you.” She squeezes his arm. He stares at her chipped nail polish, battling a fresh assault from his candy-ass emotions. “As per ever, dates keep belly-flopping into your lap! When we get through this, I swear I'm gonna slap you for—”

An owl hoot interrupts her. She scuttles to the window, crouches down and peeps out. “It’s okay,” she hisses, “It’s Eddie.”

“Your signal is an owl noise? It’s the middle of the goddamn day! Why don’t you wait till dark and send up fireworks?”

Steve grumbles for the sake of it. On the other hand, he wasn’t lying to Robin. He really doesn’t want to handle Eddie right now. He turns his face to the pillow, muffles his ears with the blanket. Someone prods him. “Steve,” says Robin. “We’ve got the lake water.”

He rolls over. Eddie’s there, brandishing a plastic bottle of clouded liquid. He fixes on Robin. “You want me to drink that shit?”

“Not unless you want to die of what half the soldiers in the Civil War did,” says Robin.

Steve shares a moment of bafflement with Eddie. “How am I gonna get shot drinking lake water?”

“They died of dysentery, Dingus! You literally did nothing in history other than crack moronic jokes and eat breakfast, did you?”

“Whatever,” mumbles Steve. He’s not sure what dysentery is. Sounds sucky. “What are we supposed to do with it, super-brain?”

“Erm, try pouring it.” Robin peels off the freshly bloodied bandages from Steve’s side, grimacing as dramatically as ever. “To be fair, this is disgusting and almost as risky. If nothing good happens, though, we can wipe it off. Yay!”

She drips on the water. For a split second, it’s ice-cold, and he hisses. “Ow… Jesus, Robin!”  

“Sorry.”

“Nothing’s happening,” he says. “Oh, hold on. Gnnng, no, no, no, no, no!” 

Steve’s flesh and blood blend into pink froth, sizzling like he’s been doused in boiling chip fat. Robin jolts backward; Steve whimpers, helpless to stop himself. Eddie, meanwhile, grabs Steve’s hand, as the unbearable scalding subsides into a strong but tolerable itch. Steve inhales raggedly, lifts his head to confirm that the bat bites have knitted again, leaving a wet mess of red puckered marks and scars.

“I guess that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie sounds spooked.

“Could’ve gone worse? It hurt like… What just happened? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” Steve’s got a crazy urge to scream… no… run! Pushing himself up onto his elbows takes everything he’s got. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“Ssssh, it’s okay.” Robin’s now gotten her arms around him, and Eddie’s still holding his hand. “This proves that it’s the water. You’re not flayed, or Vecnad, or Henryd or whatever. Eddie and I discussed it and—”

“What!?!” Steve wriggles free and laughs, because this is hysterical. “You discussed that without including me?”

“We never believed you’d been taken by the dark side,” says Robin, her hand on her breast. “I swear!”

“That’s not the… Ow!”

“Does it still hurt?” asks Robin.

Steve stares daggers at Eddie: “Can you quit crushing my fingers already?”

“Sorry.” Eddie drops Steve’s hand, a little too keenly—leaving Steve oddly desolate, despite his request. Other than that, he does feel better.

And grouchier than ever.

Half an hour later, he’s well enough to get up. He washes himself down at the pump, attempts to salvage his hair, then joins the others in preparing a baked-bean and banana supper. He argues forcefully that both parts can be served together, and it will taste awesome.

Which they do.

Ignoring Robin’s advice, he sips a bottle of bad beer. Eddie is clad in a clean Hellfire Club t-shirt—given to him by Henderson—and regales them with news from Hawkins. This proves depressing, given that Eleven and Hopper are now outlaws too. Then they chat about what hiding places they might move onto next.

“We’re not quite as remote as we thought here,” says Robin. “I found a track that leads pretty close, and you could probably get an off-roader all the way to the camp.” She glances at Steve. “We need somewhere really tucked away, and maybe closer to Lover’s Lake, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” he snaps. “You two seem to have all the answers. I haven’t a clue.”

Steve crawls into his bunk first. For once, sleep doesn’t clobber him instantly. Despite what he said to Robin, he has got theories—stupid though they seem—about the lake, and that time he nearly drowned in it.

He should’ve been terrified of swimming after that. He never was. Plus, he’s been dreaming about that period of his life lately. Dreaming about it a LOT, now he thinks about it.

After a while, he gets sick of his churning thoughts and sits up. Moonlight streaks through one of the high bunk room windows, revealing that Eddie is awake too, cross-legged on the floor. He’s muttering to himself, fiddling with his hair, then his hands. 

On spotting Steve staring at him, he presses a finger to his lips, picks up a flashlight, and motions toward the door. Steve pulls on a sweater and follows him outside. It’s a dry night. Banks of bruise-brown clouds semi-obscure a near full moon and a few hazy stars. It’s cool too, though Steve’s palms are getting clammy.

He tracks Eddie into a nearby cabin, filled with a ton of old rope and lumber-hauling equipment. He then remembers he’s annoyed, and folds his arms.

“Totally love how you two went behind my back and discussed whether I was flayed or not.”

Eddie plonks down the flashlight. “Kinda obvious that we had to. We didn’t tell you, because we didn’t want to stress you out, and… honestly? We never bought it. Dustin was highly sceptical—”

“You discussed me with Henderson too? That’s great!” Steve plants his hands on his hips, growing too hot and bothered to think straight: “Maybe you’re ALL idiots. Maybe I am somehow flayed! Right at the start, that Upside Down thing came through my pool. Possibly. To take Barb. Now the water from near a gate fixes me and—“

“And I make you fix me!” Eddie’s preening grin is vicious. “Perhaps I’m the source of the magical shitstorm? Did that ever cross your egotistical rich-brat mind, Harrington?”

Eddie might as well have punched him. Steve’s still reeling from the blow, when Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose:

“Look, I’m sorry, man,” mutters Eddie. “I’m pretty stressed, too. Dustin was telling me about how you got sick whenever you left Hawkins as a kid, and—"

“Wow! Good job I’m an EGOTISTICAL BRAT, because I really am a hot topic! Did Nance reel off an article for the Hawkins Post?”

“Uh, Steve?” Eddie takes a step closer then abruptly pulls short. “I apologised, okay? Why exactly are we arguing about this?”

“I… Oh Christ, Eddie, I honestly don’t know.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. How excruciatingly typical! That little egg-head Dustin had a hunch about something that’s only just occurring to Steve, and which… Shit, the whispers in his mind are scary.

This is where you come clean, Harrington. This is where you say: "I almost drowned in that lake in 1978. What if it wasn't 'almost?' What if I died back then, at eleven years old. What if something or someone in that water brought me back, and for good or evil, it's still got a hold of me?"

Does it make any sense? Would Eddie simply think him egotistical again, or stupid? Suddenly, all he wants is to forget the whole wide world, especially the freaky parts. Everything apart from… 

…Eddie.

Who is hunching awkwardly away from Steve, palpably scared to get too near, let alone touch him. The naked longing in those gorgeous brown eyes, however, is reassuring. 

“Look, I'm sorry too.” Steve licks dry lips. “I’ve been a complete asshole today, I know. It’s just… What happened when we kissed is so humiliating.”

“Why? It’s not your fault. Believe me, Stevie, I’d kiss you again in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for… uh…”

Eddie’s adorable blushes and the silly pet name are invitation enough. Steve closes the gap between them, leans in and whispers:

“You win. Maybe we shouldn’t kiss again till we’ve figured out exactly what’s going on, but… C’mon, man, you’ve touched me plenty without any bad repercussions. I slept in your lap.” We freakin’ spooned! “There’s gotta be something fun we can do.” 

Eddie shakes his head, squirming hilariously. “You take a turn for the worse, papa bear will rip my guts out.”

“What are you talking ab… Oh, Robin? Seriously?”

“Look, I really don’t want to hurt you.”  Steve’s chest pangs, because this could be a brush off. 

Or it might not be.

“C’mon, Munson. Promise I’m not gonna break.” At that, a dirty little smile plays on Eddie’s mouth, which sends sparks through Steve’s veins. “What you thinking?”

The smile evolves into a filthy laugh. “All right, before you get out the thumb-screws—I used to have this fantasy about you. It’s totally messed-up, kinda kinky. I wouldn’t expect you to be up for it, even if we didn’t have our current, uh, issues.”

“Oh!” To be fair, Eddie is right. Steve has never been into kinky shit. That said, before this guy hijacked his heart, he’s never salivated at the mere thought of tattoos. “Um, try me?”

Eddie husks his little scenario into Steve’s ear, and Steve decides he’s totally game. 

“It’s a kook-ball daydream,” says Eddie. “We shouldn’t really—"

“You wanna tie me up, Munson? We got plenty of rope a night to kill.” He slinks his arms up and under Eddie’s t-shirt. “Let’s do this.”

Part 10

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11

[zanukavat]

OOOO OP DROP RICK AND MORTY OCS

OH BOY HERE WE GO.

so, I made these cute ref sheets in the shows style yesterday (and today), apologies if you cant decipher my scribbly handwriting, ill summarize below:

Rick (nicknamed on the citadel "Seven")

Rick's home dimension is M-121.5 but you could hardly call it a home. He left his Diane and Beth behind shortly after acquiring portal technology from Prime or one of his subordinate Ricks, wandering off to absorb himself in the vastness of infinity.

His original dimension never ended up birthing a Morty, since his Beth and Jerry had trouble supporting themselves and had Summer as their only child.

Rick, eventually growing lonely but refusing to admit it, joins the citadel in an effort to be useful and climb the ranks there with the hopes of living a fulfilling life in a safe, Rick-made bubble. He gets assigned a Morty as standard, but said Morty dies in combat on a riot not too shortly after.

Rick gets a (small) punishment, one you'd get for breaking a doorknob or forgetting to turn off the lights in the building before you leave; getting a Morty killed. He probably just has to scrub toilets for a week or something.

He gets his new Morty and resumes work on the teleportation deck as normal and lives with his Morty in a small apartment, until S301 where they manage to flee the citadel together.

Morty ("unlucky charm" / other similar insults behind his back)

Has forgotten his original dimensional code due to constant changes of ownership. Only the Morty databanks know it now. He took M-121.5's dimension as his and carries a small wristband with the code written on it.

This Morty has gone through a LOT of Ricks. Six in fact, which is why his new Rick is mockingly called "Seven" by others on the citadel, making fun of him for ending up with such a shitty excuse of a Morty. Asking him if he'd lost a bet.

Morty's left arm has been surgically altered to fit a tracker interface that'll show Rick's current position and vitals to Morty. Though he only gets this later, after they flee the citadel.

The jacket he is wearing was originally merchandise stolen from a small shop he worked in while living on the citadel. They later add patches to it in an effort to cover up the citadel logo, since Morty doesn't want to give up the jacket, and Rick is paranoid about association with the citadel after they've fled. Pretty rich coming from the guy still wearing his uniform under a stinky coat, but what can you do when those are the only clothes you've got.

They go through an intense period of struggling for survival, with the Federation collapse and chaos left behind, the two of them retreat to more desolate spots of the universe to wait for the dust to settle. After a bit of "holy shit we lived" euphoria, they fight a lot, with Rick slowly noticing the many flaws in this Morty he is now -- in his assumption -- forever stuck with. He also pushes Morty too far numerous times but reels him back in again anytime because what other option is there? Being stranded alone in an asteroid gas station restaurant?

Eventually Morty suggests returning to "their" home dimension. Rick's home dimension. He's reluctant but eventually (after a really long while and lots of convincing) does give in since their circumstances are dire and they could use a little civilization, even if it means returning to the family he abandoned.

I don't have much worked out for this Smith family, but I'd assume Summer is a good deal different from the Summer we know, due to being an only child. Beth's daddy issues are just as intense as Beth Prime.

This Beth and Jerry probably also never end up divorced and stay together for Summer's sake, honestly probably unhealthier than just splitting up for the time being and working out their issues separately.

Once they crash (probably literally) into their new "home" and everybody gets over the initial insanity of the situation, Rick struggles to confront the reasons he left and kind of just drowns himself in unhealthy habits. Besides the known drinking issues which is kind of the baseline, he makes sure to never let Morty out of his sight and pretty much makes a normal life for the kid impossible despite desperately promising it to him when they turned to move to Earth.

He builds a new portal gun out of scrap they've harvested while surviving and old things Beth never threw away because they reminded her of her father, and he's gone again. Gone with Morty. Gone God knows where. Except he returns at night to sleep in a shitty little cot and fuck he probably drags Morty's air mattress into his room with him without any explanation. Blames it on Morty not being able to sleep alone since they left the citadel. Blames it on anything but himself.

They go into what I'd describe as a narcissism-fuelled grace period, or honeymoon period, the more time they spend together off-planet after crashing at the Smith's house.

They go from Rick being very controlling and making Morty feel like an inferior sidekick, to Rick actually opening up and helping him become better. Very slowly and gradually, he realizes that, well, he's stuck with this Morty now. This is *his* Morty by all intents and purposes, and he doesnt have a fuckin replacement Morty ticket and after constructing and unregistered portal gun he'd not be let back into the citadel anyway even after reconstruction - so might as well invest his time and effort into this one Morty as much as he (claims to) hate it.

The kid is so broken already, having witnessed so many versions of his grandpa die, which Rick realizes after a while would just make it easier for him to reassemble him anew and mold him how he wants it. He's a sick bastard but if it aint broke dont fix it and especially dont fix it if it promises to always stay by your side and begs you not to leave

The whole "unlucky charm" curse only serves to fuel Rick's ego too because, unlike all these previous Ricks he only knows about on paper, *he* hasn't died yet with this shitty excuse of a Morty around him. which makes him better than all those before him. He's cocky, priding himself on living where those Ricks failed.

He gets too confident, as all Ricks do, and after a few too-close brushes with death he does decide to invest into various failsafes and "upgrading" Morty to a standard he sees fit. This is when Morty gets the tracker arm enhancement and various other augmentations that'll essentially turn him into a lifeline for Rick. He's driven by anxiety of his past mistakes, past deaths of Ricks, repeating. This time there'd be no scolding by teachers and new Rick two weeks later. There'd only be grief, and nothing.

Morty's trained not only in combat and survival skills but also shown how to reboot and even replace certain cybernetic parts of Rick's body.

surgery, baby!

Not on a clone, not a simulation, the real him. Train for the real deal.

They spend weeks in the newly constructed underground labs, Morty cutting him open and putting him back together; surgeries upon surgeries without any anesthetic so that Rick is fully aware and awake to guide Morty through it.

Eventually Morty does have to put those skills to the test when shit goes wrong on an adventure, but this is already so long so I'll spare you!! I'd be surprised if you read to here, if you did, thank you and I'm glad you're interested in my little guys !!

[itsusernotfound]

In the beginning there was agony. Under the empires of old, the strong did what they willed and the weak suffered what they must.

But over the centuries, people built the sinews of civilization: Constitutions to restrain power, international alliances to promote peace, legal systems to peacefully settle disputes, scientific institutions to cure disease, news outlets to advance public understanding, charitable organizations to ease suffering, businesses to build wealth and spread prosperity, and universities to preserve, transmit and advance the glories of our way of life. These institutions make our lives sweet, loving and creative, rather than nasty, brutish and short.

Trumpism is threatening all of that. It is primarily about the acquisition of power — power for its own sake. It is a multifront assault to make the earth a playground for ruthless men, so of course any institutions that might restrain power must be weakened or destroyed. Trumpism is about ego, appetite and acquisitiveness and is driven by a primal aversion to the higher elements of the human spirit — learning, compassion, scientific wonder, the pursuit of justice.

So far, we have treated the various assaults of President Trump and the acolytes in his administration as a series of different attacks. In one lane they are going after law firms. In another they savaged U.S.A.I.D. In another they’re attacking our universities. On yet another front they’re undermining NATO and on another they’re upending global trade.

But that’s the wrong way to think about it. These are not separate battles. This is a single effort to undo the parts of the civilizational order that might restrain Trump’s acquisition of power. And it will take a concerted response to beat it back.

So far, each sector Trump has assaulted has responded independently — the law firms seek to protect themselves, the universities, separately, try to do the same. Yes, a group of firms banded together in support of the firm Perkins Coie, but in other cases it’s individual law firms trying to secure their separate peace with Trump. Yes, Harvard eventually drew a line in the sand, but Columbia cut a deal. This is a disastrous strategy that ensures that Trump will trample on one victim after another. He divides and conquers.

Slowly, many of us are realizing that we need to band together. But even these efforts are insular and fragmented. Several members of the Big Ten conference are working on forming an alliance to defend academic freedom. Good. But that would be 18 schools out of roughly 4,000 degree-granting American colleges and universities.

So far, the only real hint of something larger — a mass countermovement — has been the rallies led by Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. But this, too, is an ineffective way to respond to Trump; those partisan rallies make this fight seem like a normal contest between Democrats and Republicans.

What is happening now is not normal politics. We’re seeing an assault on the fundamental institutions of our civic life, things we should all swear loyalty to — Democrat, independent or Republican.

It’s time for a comprehensive national civic uprising. It’s time for Americans in universities, law, business, nonprofits and the scientific community, and civil servants and beyond to form one coordinated mass movement. Trump is about power. The only way he’s going to be stopped is if he’s confronted by some movement that possesses rival power.

Peoples throughout history have done exactly this when confronted by an authoritarian assault. In their book, “Why Civil Resistance Works,” Erica Chenoweth and Maria J. Stephan looked at hundreds of nonviolent uprisings. These movements used many different tools at their disposal — lawsuits, mass rallies, strikes, work slowdowns, boycotts and other forms of noncooperation and resistance.

These movements began small and built up. They developed clear messages that appealed to a variety of groups. They shifted the narrative so the authoritarians were no longer on permanent offense. Sometimes they used nonviolent means to provoke the regime into taking violent action, which shocks the nation, undercuts the regime’s authority and further strengthens the movement. (Think of the civil rights movement at Selma.) Right now, Trumpism is dividing civil society; if done right, the civic uprising can begin to divide the forces of Trumpism.

Chenoweth and Stephan emphasize that this takes coordination. There doesn’t always have to be one charismatic leader, but there does have to be one backbone organization, one coordinating body that does the work of coalition building.

In his book “Upheaval,” Jared Diamond looked at countries that endured crises and recovered. He points out that the nations that recover don’t catastrophize — they don’t say everything is screwed up and we need to burn it all down. They take a careful inventory of what is working well and what is working poorly. Leaders assume responsibility for their own share of society’s problems.

This struck me as essential advice for Americans today. We live in a country with catastrophically low levels of institutional trust. University presidents, big law firms, media organizations and corporate executives face a wall of skepticism and cynicism. If they are going to participate in a mass civic uprising against Trump, they have to show the rest of the country that they understand the establishment sins that gave rise to Trump in the first place. They have to show that they are democratically seeking to reform their institutions. This is not just defending the establishment; it’s moving somewhere new.

Let’s take the universities. I’ve been privileged to teach at American universities off and on for nearly 30 years and I get to visit a dozen or two others every year. These are the crown jewels of American life. They are hubs of scientific and entrepreneurial innovation. In a million ways, the scholars at universities help us understand ourselves and our world.

I have seen it over and over: A kid comes on campus as a freshman, inquisitive but unformed. By senior year, there is something impressive about her. She is awakened, cultured, a critical thinker. The universities have performed their magic once again.

People flock from all over the world to admire our universities.

But like all institutions, they have their flaws. Many have allowed themselves to become shrouded in a stifling progressivism that tells half the country: Your voices don’t matter. Through admissions policies that favor rich kids, the elite universities have contributed to a diploma divide. If the same affluent families come out on top generation after generation, then no one should be surprised if the losers flip over the table.

In other words, a civic uprising has to have a short-term vision and a long-term vision. Short term: Stop Trump. Foil his efforts. Pile on the lawsuits. Turn some of his followers against him. The second is a long-term vision of a fairer society that is not just hard on Trump, but hard on the causes of Trumpism — one that offers a positive vision. Whether it’s the universities, the immigration system or the global economy, we can’t go back to the status quo that prevailed when Trump first rode down the escalator.

I’m really not a movement guy. I don’t naturally march in demonstrations or attend rallies that I’m not covering as a journalist. But this is what America needs right now. Trump is shackling the greatest institutions in American life. We have nothing to lose but our chains.

[triggerhappyhavac-academy]

It would be best if you all forgot that the outside world even exists. The sooner you can accept the school as your new world, the better chances you have of survival. And for now, that takes priority. Once you have a system in place, you can figure out how to escape.

Speaking of a system, I think you should create some of your own rules, so you can have structure. Night guards, division of tasks, a 24/7 buddy system, that sort of thing. It would make things safer, more efficient, and would forge the group together.

And for those of you who don't see the point of working together because you want to win: This is not a game. This is a trap. And that sort of "dog eat dog" mentality is precisely what the Mastermind wants. You're not competing against each other, you're competing against the person who trapped you all here. The one who watches, and attempts to control you. Who anticipates your every move. Are you going to let yourself get tricked by their mind games, or will you have enough determination to face the real threat? For all of your sakes, I sincerely hope it's the latter.

Good luck, and may you overcome this despair together! I believe in all of you.

- S.C.

Jeez, do I really have to read all of that? It's just a lot of words. I think I'd fall asleep if I tried.

This is mostly just a more in-depth explanation of what I've been saying this entire time.

Though it does not just tell us to adapt, it gives us some amount of advice on how to which could be useful. Creating our own system and rules would lead to less deaths, and a more peaceful school environment.

Although it would be a complicated process, not to mention getting everyone to go along with it is tricky on it's own.

I mean... I can agree with a lot of what they're saying, but to give up on the outside world entirely?

Don't get me wrong, I think we should do our best to keep things civil between us.

But giving up on our lives is giving up everything we've worked hard to achieve, and it also means accepting living a life where Monokuka controls our day-to-day lives forever.

Y-yeah, and sure, h-having night gaurds and a b-buddy system would make things l-less stressful, but

That j-just makes our lives m-more complicated and a-annoying. I d-don't want to deal with that e-everyday for the rest of my l-life.

Well of course we all want to get back to our ordinary lives, but most of this advice seems like it holds it's weight anyway.

So as long as we're all in agreement on creating a system similar to what this person is suggesting, I believe-

I never agreed to this.

Huh...? But they said-

I am aware of what they said, but unfortunately they are wrong.

Spend as much time searching for a way out as you want, but it has been made clear already what you need to be willing to do in order to leave.

Of course you're gonna be the one to make things difficult! What's it gonna take to knock some sense into you!?

Come on, man. This is about our survival, isn't it?

I can manage my own survival and I don't personally care for yours. I'm not a pawn to the mastermind, I'm simply playing by their rules for now.

It's not possible to convince everyone to agree. Your efforts will only lead to frustrate you further, so it's best to just leave him to his decision.

Personally... I don't like the idea either.

Their world of advice intrigue me. They seem to be headed in both the right and wrong direction. Working together may seem smart, but the amount of trust that requires has proven to be dangerous.

I'll likely be able to agree to some amount of regulations, but to limit myself completely for the sake of communal life isn't a possibility.

I suppose it depends on the details of the premise, so why don't we take the day to discuss it, and then decide?