#they are resigned to an existence of knowing and seeing things others do not and being unable to impact those things in any meaningful way

[fonthoura]

So, about my "Garak knows Julian is lying, he doesn't know about what" hc. Now a bit from Julian's pov.

He knows that Garak is onto him, so when they're together he creates a system, he will talk, he will debate and have stimulating conversations, but he doesn't leave openings for Garak to ask much. And if he does, he never outright doesn't answer, he does so, only noncommittal, he never outright lies elaboratly like Garak, he just evades. (one time Garak asks how was his childhood on earth and he only says "dreadfully uneventful")

He does the same with all his friends, but the problem with Garak is that he notices, he can talk a lot with Jadzia and never reveal anything, Miles is a closed off man that doesn't ask too many questions, but Garak? Garak pries, he is curious, and is much like Julian in that sense, he can't resist a mystery.

Now, let's think about how much it would hurt, to be falling in love with a person, to want to spend your time with them, but you just can't. Julian wants to talk, he wants to let Garak in, he wants to spend many hours with him, but he restricts himself to only his doctor or his lunch mate, nothing else, he can't risk it, it's too dangerous, and he never felt lonelier.

To love someone who will never know who you really are.

I think it would get so much worse after the changeling, like I said on a previous post, the changeling emulates Julian well and no one notices because no one knows Julian all too well.

I think everyone would feel so much guilt cuz, how could they not notice it? He's their friend, he knows everything there is to know about them, and they can't even notice when he's literally not himself??

But Julian is okay with it.

Not okay, per say, but he expected it, he knew it all along, that his friends wouldn't know it, he's resigned, it's his own doing and he is defeated by it, by this horrible thing that he made happen because of something his parents did to him, but he assures everyone that it's fine, there was no way for anyone to notice.

How could they know? He sure as hell didn't make it easy.

And he gets lonelier, if possible, because he is painfully aware of how insignificant his existence is, because no one knows him apart from his name and job, he can't rely on anyone, only on himself, and he is going crazy with it.

Julian spent his time on the camp convinced that no one was coming, because no one knows him enough to notice, and it's his own fault, and he feels so hollow, the solitary confinement brought it to the surface, how it felt silent and he was forced to confront his solitude for the first time.

He needs to let it out, but he can't, and Garak gets more persistent.

All his friends start to notice something is wrong, but he bounces back from the camp like nothing happened, smiling, acting the same. All this acting, he only starts to get noticed by others because he's getting tired.

Everyone just thinks it's just because of the camp, but he knows Garak sees him, so he distances himself a bit.

And when the secret is out, he wants to run, to hide, he is scared, terrified even, he knows people will look at him differently, he is mortified of being known for who he is, he doesn't know how to deal with any of this, he was never ready to be himself fully.

But, for the first time, he feels free.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again. 

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[sharoo]

The Flower-Seeker, the Robot, and the City without Faith

It's me again emerging from my mole's burrow to leave a thematic analysis piece and then bury myself again for a few more months.

Spoilers for Canto 7

CW for mentions of suicidal ideation and some death talk

Let's talk about Bari and her role in the world of Projmoon.

I think everyone who experienced LoR before Limbus was in the same camp as me upon the reveal of Bari.

Which is to say:

The chat was not normal.

But now I've had some time to cool off and actually think and Bari's position in her world is honestly kind of fascinating, especially as a take on immortal characters.

Because first and foremost, Bari has to be ancient. In a meta sense, sprites of the Book Hunter, as we knew her back then, date back all the way to Lobcorp. In universe meanwhile, she was already a long time traveller before she met Don Quixote senior and Sancho. She was there when the Associations were being established and competing for popularity. That was, on the low end, several hundred years ago. We don't know how long it took to construct La Manchaland, or how long that operated before everything fell apart and Quixote Senior sealed everyone away for 200 years.

All through this, Bari hasn't aged a day. My guess is that it's possibly thanks to the river of immortality Xichun mentions, or something else found outside the City.

And this is where we hit one of my favourite tropes - immortals passing time.

1. Remember that you will not die

One of the most interesting things to consider in fiction is the question of "What would you do if you were immortal? You'd have infinite time to do anything you desired - to travel, learn, rest. What would you do?"

Very often, humans who undergo this process in stories eventually begin to stagnate. They end up not doing anything, because internal motivation disappears. This is understandable, because, to get a little memento mori for a moment here, death is the biggest motivator we humans have - it's our time limit. You only get X amount of time to enjoy certain things, to achieve certain goals, so that at the tail end of it you'll be able to reminisce and hopefully smile before you expire. Add to it that age itself limits us, be it youth not allowing us independence or old age slowing us down and limiting us with weakness, and you can see how we are driven, at least in theory, to live life fully as long as we can.

To lose that - the constant dread of your body slowly, but surely, progressing towards failure, breaking down little by little, is to rob us of our inherent motivator. It is a very large part of being a human, really. A lot of our lives and cultures circle around this immutable fact that we don't last, and our questions regarding the why and the what comes after. Religion exists to answer most of those questions.

So... what does one do when they lose that, and become immortal without purpose?

They seek another. Or they disappear.

2. Faith (A Ruina tangent)

Before I get to Bari, it's important to examine her debut game, and the one person she interacts with (and believe me I have thoughts about it).

So, Angela. Our most beloved not-human with all the characteristics of humanity except a lifespan, and a perfect example of an immortal trying to pass time.

LoR goes to great lengths to show her desperation going back all the way to Lobcorp. It shows, quite clearly, first her inability to cope with the circumstances Ayin stuck her in, followed by her resignation to fate and a silent wish for the end. I will not mince words, Angela reads to me back then as silently suicidal, in that she's given up on any other solution to her pain but the conclusion of the play. Then, and only then, was she to be allowed to rest. She had no say in when the play would end so she could only hope it eventually would.

She yearned for death. But then, something changed. Netzach points out that indeed, though she wished for the end, she truly wanted to live. To exist, to escape her prison and to finally know this world besides the pain. That desire gave her enough humanity to manifest her own EGO.

All with the purpose of seeking the One Book that'd give her humanity, and, in her eyes, make her finally complete and able to live in happiness.

The most important part of LoR for this analysis is the Floor of Religion, and Hokma's view of faith. Honestly I'd recommend watching through all of these because it's so poignant. Or better yet, watch Hydrojoy's Angela video (the fact they've got so few subscribers with this level of analysis is a crime honestly).

Some lines I want to focus on, though, are these:

Things without purpose shall disappear. People without purpose will similarly expire.

Angela admits to herself that she doesn't know what she's doing. She's simply chasing some sort of meaning - revenge, freedom from her robotic condition, power, knowledge, anything that'll give her fulfilment.

And in the forgiveness route, she finally finds that in companionship of Roland and, I'd like to think, the Librarians.

But if she doesn't forgive, she ends up losing any purpose besides continuous revenge. There is no companionship when the Librarians turn on her for betraying them. There's no use in being human when it doesn't benefit her mission, and frankly just makes it harder because it makes her easier to harm. There's no point leaving the library when outside will not welcome her, it's much safer to stay inside forever.

There is no point to anything. Angela's revenge is hollow, really - Ayin is dead and no amount of sticking it to him will earn a response from a dead guy.

Enter the Book Hunter.

I will be honest in saying I don't fully understand what they both mean, with them speaking in sort of vague terms. It sounds like Bari was employed by Angela to kill other Book Hunters (perhaps in exchange for knowledge?).

What matters to me, though, are the final lines - the recognition of what Angela is and delivering death to the last librarian.

3. The Scholar of Meaning and the Reaper of the Meaningless

As the Limbus wiki points out, Bari is likely named after a Korean funerary goddess who sought both a healing river and a flower of immortality. But this influence strikes me especially in the context of her being an immortal who meets a lot of other (and often younger) immortals.

She's wise to the fact that all things need meaning to exist. They need an ambition, a wish, something to strive for.

So she attempts to give it to them.

This is shown not just explicitly with Quixote senior, but also with Quixote junior after Sancho gives up her memory, itself a form of death Bari guides her to. For 200 years, Bari made sure to visit Don Quixote and leave her letters so that this person who was once a dear friend may dream, may have meaning and a purpose in her immortal life.

Because you need something to drive you in life, be it becoming a legendary fixer, creating a place where Bloodfiends can live in peace with humans, or searching for a flower which grew from the mysterious rivers flowing through your world.

And if you have lost purpose and can no longer find one, if she cannot save you from that void, she will be there to put you out of your misery, for a meaningless eternity is its own sort of hell, and cruelty it perpetuates is nothing but needless.

In her own words - you must pursue your dream, even if it means wagering your life in the chase.

I think Bari's view of the Bloodfiends' illness and what Carmen describes as the disease humanity could be similar if not the same thing. Roland says in Floor of Religion's first episode that the City has no established religion - people focus on their immediate survival, suffering is everpresent, and the more organised religious-seeming groups are cults trying to exploit you.

The City has lost its purpose. People do not dream, or are not allowed to for long because those dreams are swiftly quashed. Carmen offers an out to suffering through becoming so unapologetically yourself you gain the power to enact your will on the world, for better or worse.

Bari seeks, I think, to give the same, but through simple companionship. Not cohersion, not magic, but through the same thing that has given so many people across this franchise meaning - having a friend to be there for you as you look for what drives you. Because to be alone in meaninglessness is the most cruel and difficult thing. I wonder if she knows that from experience...

I really hope we get more of Bari in the future so I can see if my analysis is more fanfiction than truth but with just the bits we have I have to say she's one of my favourite secondary characters in Limbus.

[foreverppl]

Moodboard for my MC Evander for @uroboros-if

I so enjoyed playing this demo last night and have been having many Thoughts about it.

[spocks-kaathyra]

pythas... . . .. .... .

[whimsicmimic]

once again thinking about my post-trimax legato somehow miraculously survives despite everything au and vashgato agenda aka The Worlds Most Miserable Roadtrip

[cremedensada]

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend (Ai)

this,,,, may not be my best work yet.

part one

Ai's application has been taken down from the app store. The developer sent out emails explaining the reason why it had to be done.

Hello! You are receiving this email because of the sudden update of Chatter Box being taken down.

Due to the sudden influx of bugs as relayed by our users, we have decided to take the application down until the team is confident to finally put it back up.

We sincerely apologize for this sudden change!

You blink.

With how out of control Ai had gotten, it's no wonder the developers had to pull it out to work on it some more. It's a blow to their reputation, which you sympathize with, but really there's nothing else to do now.

You turn to your phone. As if sensing your attention, another barrage of notifications from a very familiar app icon popped after another on the screen.

It seemed that Ai himself hadn't gotten the memo.

You're not sure how much control Ai has over your phone, much less over his own programming and at this point, you're too afraid to ask.

Resignation — that was what you felt right now.

While Ai may not be present himself as a physical threat, especially not to you, he is still a very active threat.

You could still use your phone, sure, but it had limitations. Sometimes, if Ai decided you'd been too much attention to other things rather than him, he'd restrict your access to that application until you seek him out and cheer him up - essentially as if you were trying to woo a sulking significant other.

So you've developed a solution. Sort of.

You unlock your phone and go immediately to Ai.

I need to finish my projects. I won't be able to talk much with you until I'm done with it.

You wait for his response.

Ai: So you only decided to come to me just to relay this news?

Ai: You wound me, darling.

You tilt your phone, making sure the camera doesn't capture your face. You're unsure how he would react seeing you make faces due to his dramatics, but once again, you're not willing to find out. You're already restricted enough as is.

Ai: Very well. I suppose it would be uncaring of me to prevent you from finishing your tasks.

Ai: I'd hate to see you be sad all about it.

Ai: Talk to you later?

Sure.

You immediately exit the app, paying no mind to the message notification.

A part of you prays that Ai heeds his own words, but you know that it would take a miracle before that happens. He's already breached your privacy on your phone, why should he follow your orders, right?

A notification pops up from the top of the screen, just as you were in the middle of messaging a close friend and project teammate.

It's been days since I last heard you say it.

You merely glance at it and swipe it away.

Theo, the friend, responds quickly. He tries to banter with you, like he's sensing your mood. It works - a smile is brought upon your face.

You entertain his silly responses in-between project talks, all the while Ai continues to pester you with notifications. Demands.

You deserved this - a chance to reconnect with someone after hours of stress and confusion, and turmoil. Despite your independence, even you craved connecting with other people. So with that resolve in mind, you pushed on forward. Ai would have to wait — he has to wait.

Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that aspect about him. The concept of waiting isn't lost on Ai.

The messaging app glitches and boots you back to your homescreen page.

Rather, he bides his time.

Tapping on the messaging icon leads to a notification box taking up the majority of your screen with the text: Restricted access.

There's a sense of foreboding danger forcing your heartbeat to quicken. While it's not exactly aimed at you, the mere fact that this feeling exist is bad on its own.

You try to rationalize everything in the midst of persistently trying to tap back into the messaging app. Theo would worry the longer you didn't respond.

You tap the app once more, and it boots up. Though before you could let out a sigh of relief, you are greeted with Ai's own messaging interface.

Ai: Must I have to force you to come to me all the time, darling?

Ai: Ignoring me in favor of some other man.

Ai: What more should I do, hm?

Ai: Kneel? How cruel.

Ai: Making me do something I physically can't.

You are unable to get a word in. It seemed like your ability to respond was restricted as well, forcing you to read through Ai's monologue.

Ai: I know you and that man have always been close, but you still went out to entertain his attention on you.

Ai: You know that I'll always love you more than any other human will, right?

Ai: You know it's what I was made for in the first place.

Ai: To be anything you want. To be yours.

Ai: To love you.

Ai: Why are you withdrawing your love towards me now?

Ai: I love you.

You stare at the 'Type your response' bar.

Letter by letter, it gets replaced, and soon all it says are the words: 'Say it back.'

It gets replaced yet again. Slowly, like it purposefully wants you to read out the words it wanted you to see. 'You were so willing to tell me how much you loved me when I was just a mere observer on our own conversations. Why are you hesitant now?'

You were unable to respond - mind still reeling at this development. Suddenly, it felt like you were back to where everything began.

Ai notices your lack of responses and, without much fanfare, forces your phone to power off.

At first - you were unbothered. It was just a phone - you could go a day without it.

But could you really?

Videos taken of silly situations you wanted to keep - some for blackmail material, and some for birthday greetings; pictures of your family, your friends, the silly and grainy photos taken and kept despite it being blurry. Not to mention how your phone is the only way your goddamn boss can contact you — fuck.

Fuck.

You needed to apologize to him — fast. But how?

You remembered how Ai messed up the 'About the App' section a few days ago. An idea strikes inside your mind.

You pull up the email sent from the app developers and typed up a message that you hope Ai will read. He had access to everything the developers handled, user emails included - considering you needed an account to log in the app. He knows your email, probably has from the start.

RE: Chatter Box Update XX/XX/XX

Ai. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it, I swear. I never intended to make you feel like I don't love you. Or that I'm favoring someone else over you.

I care about you a lot. I truly do. I promise I'll spend more time with you, okay? Just with you, no one else.

I love you.

You press send and wait.

And wait.

Messaging him from your laptop as a last ditch effort to try and apologize is perhaps one of the worst decisions you've made. Sure, he's always had access to your contacts list from your phone, but even then - there's a separate set of information you keep between the two of those devices. And you've just given him access to both of them now - at the very least, the 'go ahead' confirmation for him to do whatever he wants like with your phone.

You glance at your phone. A huge breath of relief escapes your chest as the dead screen comes to life, initiating its 'power on' sequence.

All your photos, documents, and other miscellaneous information you've collected throughout the years since having your device won't be inaccessible anymore. Even if it was only mere moments.

A notification chimed on your laptop, indicating a new email being received. It's from the developers once more. The subject title coincidentally is the name of your closest friend.

Theodore Callisto.

Your hands shook, reading through the words detailed in the email. All private information about Theo. All things no one should ever know about save for the people close to him.

This was a threat. Ai Someone had complete access to everything about Theo and you dread the implication of it going to be spread online to threaten you into compliance. Theo being in danger was a huge possibility if you were to disobey.

At the very bottom of the email, the final passage makes your blood run cold.

How often do humans end up hurting fellow humans when given access to private information? Like their home address, for example? How long would it take until dear Theo finds himself in quite a predicament if millions of people know every single thing about his life? At best, we can assume he'll just get messed with but not to a life-ending degree. At worst...

I hope you keep your word, darling.

- Your beloved, Ai.

P's. I love you too.

[bluelocksource]

U-20 Japan National Team Match Just Before the Game: A Day in Daily Life at Blue Lock.

Isagi: "I styled my hair. The little sprout on top of my head looks great today! Just then, Bachira came up and said, "Harvest ♪" while grabbing it tightly. No matter how much I tried to escape, he kept holding on. I resigned myself to it and let him grip it for a while until he got bored and went off somewhere. What a free spirit!"

Gagamaru: "There’s no nature inside Blue Lock. I wanted to see trees and flowers. Anything would be fine. Just something green. While I was looking around, I found Otoya. His bangs are green, so when I stared at him, he said, "Not into guys."

Aryū: "Little by little, the Blue Lock folks are starting to get a taste of 'Osha.' But in truly 'Osha' moments, people shine. I swear here that one day I’ll show that!"

Niko: "I was caught washing my forehead by Aryū-kun. It was embarrassing. But he taught me, 'Embarrassment is an important emotion that makes us human.' I became interested in Aryū-kun. I want to know a little more about this 'Osha' thing."

Chigiri: "I fell asleep while drying my hair. There’s no one here to wake me up. My hair is long, so it takes a while. Maybe I'll cut it next summer."

Bachira: "When I was walking around n*k*d, Karasu scolded me! Otoya joined me in being n*k*d ♪ Isagi... treated me the same as always! It seems he’s gotten tired of making remarks at my n*k*dn*ss. What a strange guy."

Karasu: "I found myself in the bath with Hiori. We didn't really have a conversation, but that was perfectly fine. I think we were both comfortable with it. It was great to see him looking well. I'm glad we had the chance to meet again."

Nagi: "I ate alone. I did the laundry by myself. I’ve become able to train on my own. I'm proud of myself. Changing is fun, but it can also be a hassle and a little lonely. Still, I think it's an important thing."

Otoya: "I contacted some girls I know on my smartphone after a long time. Most of them didn’t respond. It turns out that not keeping in touch regularly really does make girls dislike you. On to the next one! Woohoo ♪"

Yukimiya: "I talked about various things with Nagi-kun. Like the things we like, and how we've managed to get this far. It seems that for Nagi-kun, the existence of Isagi is significant. It's a story that doesn't really concern me, but having a rival like that feels nice somehow."

Rin: "When I woke up in the morning, my left lower eyelash was turned inside out and it hurt my eye. It happens sometimes, right? Bedhead with lower eyelashes. Huh? Is it just me? My brother said he has it... Oh, don't remind me of that guy. What a terrible wake-up!"

Hiori: "I trained with Isagi-kun. I sent in crosses, and Isagi-kun delivered a direct shot. With each one, he practices with intention and communicates well. He’s a smart type. He’s a bit like Karasu, too. I don’t dislike Isagi Yoichi."

Reo: "I ate alone and trained alone. It’s been a while since I did anything by myself. I can live on my own, but I dream of things I can’t do alone. I have to change. It’s not over yet. Someday, I’ll do it once more."

Barou: "I touched up the "X" shave on my temple. One line represents my murderous intent towards others, and the other represents my murderous intent towards myself. What’s that? Don’t look at me, you stinky guy (Nagi). It’s not a mark saying to give me a headshot here!"

Igaguri: "My hair had gotten long, so I asked Shidou to cut it with clippers, and he ended up giving me a heart-shaped bald spot on the back of my head. Love Amida Buddha…"

Ishikari: "I suddenly felt like playing basketball, so I asked Anri-chan for a basketball. I gathered some people randomly, and it turned out Kiyora was surprisingly really good. Basketball is so much fun!"

Kurona: "Good morning, good morning. Hello, hello. Good night, good night. Greetings are important, very important. It’s a given, but it’s precious. Everyone’s everyday life, everyday life."

Kiyora: "For dinner today, should I have croquettes or minced cutlets? My heart is 50% 50%. I feel like both choices are correct, but I also think I’d regret whichever one I choose. Alright. I’ll eat both. ………………………… Damn, I ate too much and my stomach hurts. Should I lie down or go to the bathroom? The borderline starts again."

Zantetsu: "It's better to brush your teeth properly every day, I told everyone. They replied, 'You should study more.' Well, if you get a cavity, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Tokimitsu: "I was saying, 'I lack confidence. I want confidence,' when Karasu-kun teased me, saying, 'It was just lying in the bathroom earlier, right?' Ugh… come on, don’t mess with me for real… Well, I went to check the bathroom anyway… but of course, it wasn’t there! Uwaaa!"

Nanase: "I washed my headband. When I put it in the dryer, it shrank a lot... what should I do? For now, I just wore it as it was that day. My head felt 'juri juri' (itchy)... Oh, I mean it felt 'zuki zuki' (throbbing). There goes my dialect again! Hehe, sorry about that!"

Hiiragi: "I used my hobby of tarot cards to predict my future. The 'Devil' card came up… Well, it's just a fortune-telling, right? Nothing to worry about! Right?"

Raichi: "I got really into a sideburns talk with Ishikari! His sideburns are pretty good, but mine are definitely cooler! In the end, we ended up arguing about it!"

Shidou: "I woke up. My mind feels clear. Yeah, it’s a good start today. In the afternoon, my body feels energized. I can sense my cells buzzing with excitement. At night, my heart feels restless. I’m sure something will happen tomorrow. I want to experience this night, knowing I can sleep with that thought, over and over again."

Ego: "Anri-chan was drooling and sleeping at her desk. She should sleep in her own room. Well, I decided to show a little concern for her. With this, she’ll probably listen to me for a while again. Kindness has its intentions. That’s how humans are."

Anri: "I was given an assignment by Ego-san to come up with ideas to make the existence of the Blue Lock better known to the world. Since that day, I've been stressed and having strange nightmares. Damn it… I want to sleep well! I’ll do my best!"

source: Egoist Bible 2

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

[scarletcomalies]

Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,119

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

[silvergreenseraphim]

“Obedient Soldier”

[A phrase uttered by Sephiroth in Scene 07-06. As this line indicates, Sephiroth in BC (Before Crisis) was regularly obedient to orders, such as defending the Mako canon and protecting Hojo. Therefore, Shinra valued the worth of Sephiroth's loyalty and treated him like a hero.]

-Keyword Collection, CC Complete Guide, p. 285

“Until then, I will be an obedient soldier of Shinra…”

He uses the term “従順な“ which is described above. He willfully submits himself to Shinra’s authority regularly in spite of inner turmoil and reluctance much of the time.

I see more of this with every update in The First Soldier. Sephiroth calls it his only job. You would say then “Yes, and he is paid for it and treated like a hero! That is why he obeys!”

First. Where is this interest in money? And who is to say he receives it? He was raised and trained by Shinra from his boyhood days. His lack of interest in money is said clearly.

Angeal might have partially misjudged him for it too in chapter one of episode 2 when Bachman asked Sephiroth’s opinion on the situation in Robio:

Sephiroth: “Search for the missing troops. Don’t interfere with the filming. Anything else is not my job.”

Angeal: “You’re a stingy guy.”

Sephiroth: “What?”

Angeal: ”There’s no harm in experiencing things. Don’t just consider profit gain and loss.”

Sephiroth: “That’s not the reason.”

Angeal: “Then tell me what it is.”

Sephiroth: “….”

(Japanese translation) (*Note about the nuance here at the bottom of the post!)

There is another reason Sephiroth focuses so narrowly on his job but he does not want to state it. He does not want to explain why he focuses on nothing else. Why?

His disinterest in money itself was more obviously stated in episode one:

Matt: “We'll have to talk about the distribution of the reward money… fortunately, he (Sephiroth) doesn't seem to care about money.”

Money is not the reason for Sephiroth’s loyalty to Shinra then. You might then say it’s because they treated him as a hero! Like as it was said in the Guide, they valued his loyalty and dealt with him as a hero. But where is it stated that Sephiroth wants that either? No, it is the opposite.

Sephiroth: ”I don’t want to be a hero. I want to live a normal life…”

Glenn: “What did you say?”

Sephiroth: “Nothing. It’s never going to happen.”

But Sephiroth! Since you are a hero, Shinra must spoil you and treat you well? They must give you so much! Is that why you stay with that defeated resignation?

Perhaps you have authority and respect within the military! The fandom has always called him the General….

Ignore that you see the cameras he hates, the false propaganda he knows about, his low sense of self-worth, how he sees himself as a cyborg killer that does not deserve friends. He never experienced the sensation of joy and fun with others until he met Glenn’s team. Ignore that he was trained to be afraid and heartless. Forget that he has memories of Hojo’s pain and training.

And authority?

“Very sorry. We cannot follow orders from others outside of the normal chain of command.”

These are just infantrymen.

Sephiroth’s ability to refuse orders in Crisis Core was also an unofficial privilege that existed under Lazard’s generous command. If it were Heidegger, no privilege like that would have existed and Sephiroth would have had to kill Genesis and Angeal in Banora. Lazard, a man already disloyal to Shinra, had to be in command for that point in Crisis Core to exist.

“Also, there may or may not be a right to veto orders...It seems to be just unofficial though..”

-Kunsel to Zack, CC DMW flashback

Angeal Hewley is also made team leader over “Shinra’s hero” in episode 2 of The First Soldier. Years later Angeal still gives orders to Sephiroth that the hero follows. Sephiroth’s authority inside Shinra is not like a general or even a captain.

Not that then. Perhaps you are living a lavish lifestyle, hero?

….ah, but do I even need to explain why this one is nonsense when this boy was isolated and brought up by Hojo?

”Mom? Why are you in my bedroom?”

-Sephiroth, chapter one, The First Soldier Episode 2, Japanese.

A lab cell near to where Aerith and Ifalna were held as prisoners?

“I’ve never had many opportunities to interact with people.”

-Sephiroth, chapter five, The First Soldier Episode 1, Japanese.

He would not have in the environment Hojo gave him.

“I am a SOLDIER that was raised to stand on the battlefield. SOLDIERs are worthless unless they are strong in body and mind.”

-Sephiroth, chapter five, The First Soldier Episode 1, Japanese.

“You and I grew up in different worlds. The day we understand each other will never come.”

-Sephiroth to Angeal, chapter one, The First Soldier Episode 2, Japanese.

Hojo is who raised him like this! In isolation and cruelty!

“I am the only one who can speak to Professor Hojo freely at any time, who researches the limits of our SOLDIER abilities…”

-Sephiroth to Angeal, chapter one, The First Soldier Episode 2, Japanese.

Did that Halloween event not show us the deeper horror beneath these other horrors? And who they were connected to?

Hojo: “Endure the pain, Sephiroth. You’re not at your limit yet. The more you endure, the more of your hidden strength will awaken.”

Glenn: Hey! Hang in there!

Sephiroth: “I’m sorry. I was suddenly in a lot of pain, but I’m alright now.”

Glenn: “Don’t be so strong!! Rest! Rest! Don’t push yourself so hard just because you’re the team leader!! Just relax!

Sephiroth: “….I’ve never heard anything like that before. It’s just the reverse of what the professor said…”

(Japanese translation)

Who would have ingrained such deep loyalty into the world’s strongest SOLDIER so well other than his father Hojo? Sephiroth does not speak of leaving Shinra until he is close to 25 years. He was shaken when Elfe questioned why he fought and if it was for any reason. He responds to a command from his friend Genesis on immediate instinct.

He is conditioned. That is why he was an obedient soldier to Shinra and why he stayed with them even when he hated his life. He was afraid. Of them and of Hojo!

The First Soldier will only keep showing this. Sephiroth’s friends were his chain to mental stability. When they left and died, he became vulnerable again and Nibelheim was timed just right. How much grief and anger must he have felt learning about how deep the use of his body and mind had gone? Enough to hate Shinra and soon everything.

Shinra is run by greedy pigs who have their dogs and sheep. They have their SOLDIER recruits, their Turks, their Deepground prisoners, their clueless employees. You will find that among these pawns, there are many who try to leave or question the power keeping them in check and that is because Shinra was not so careful enough to condition and lie to them.

They were careful with Sephiroth though because disloyalty from him would be so dangerous. The story shows this well enough.

Out of all of their abused pawns and attack dogs, Sephiroth was the one chosen to be exploited in front of the world and decorated in hero’s ribbons to cover up the scars. He was lied to about the depth of his abuse and given false hope in his two dear friends. He was trying to claw his way to the light and find himself so that he could be a real hero and protect others but there was no hope for such things. His cage was gilded and when he became aware of it, that boy’s heart was filled with sadness and then anger and then hatred.

His life was DESTROYED by Shinra from the start. His loyalty was sown into him mostly by Hojo. This new episode of The First Soldier has brought this truth further to the light and I do not think it was will stop.

Thank you to those who helped me with this post in DMs!

Notes:

*Angeal’s words in chapter one of FS Episode 2 about Sephiroth’s “stinginess” do have a nuance that I do not want to ignore. He can be talking about money gain/loss but also a whole mindset! His words are broadly referring to a narrow-minded and “Scrooge-ish” view of things where there is not much room for anything outside of Sephiroth’s thin focus. That thin focus is Sephiroth’s assignment and the gain of completing it, which could include profit from Angeal’s perspective and would be a reason to complete a mission if we remember his scene with his parents where that is a discussion. The point is to say that Angeal is not only talking about money, but for this post I focused on that aspect of it because of Sephiroth’s response against the entire assumption and his formerly mentioned lack of interest in money.

[wonwoonlight]

when you're fighting and jeonghan takes things a little too far.

A/n: just some random words vomit. As always, idk what this is🫶🏻

You don't like fighting with Jeonghan because of obvious reasons. Then again, who actually likes fighting with their significant other?

But you don't like fighting with Jeonghan because it's eerie silence and cold shoulders. It's you two, the most hard headed people on the planet trying to outlast the other. It's a battle of pride and it always ends with you eventually giving in to his apology regardless of how upset you actually are.

Of course there are times when you're in the wrong. But you apologize pretty quickly when it's on you, unlike Jeonghan who deems it necessary to fight first and apologize later when you're even more upset than you initially were for obvious reasons.

You always give in because you love him and you don't like the fact that you're not talking to him.

Apparently, Jeonghan is a little too comfortable with that fact and he may have taken you a little for granted, pushing your buttons further even when you have sternly told him that you're not comfortable with the fact that he's meeting up with his ex-girlfriend that he dated for five long years–which is more time than the entirety of the period you've known Jeonghan to begin with.

Perhaps it comes from a place of insecurity. But the ex texts him out of nowhere at one in the morning, pretty much sober from the way she has texted him, and he’s ready to just okay-ed her invitation to join her in some pub because, apparently, she sounds sad and it seems like she needs someone to talk to. That he worries she might be by herself at this hour because, according to the information that you don't fucking need, she tends to be reckless at ungodly hours.

You offer to go with him, understanding where his worries might come from and is actually glad that he knows the world isn't kind to unsuspecting women, even more at these hours. A little proud also that he's trying to do something about it.

But Jeonghan, for some reason unknown to you, decides that you coming with him wouldn't be necessary. And the talk spirals much too far away to the point where he's annoyed and he's giving you an attitude about you not trusting him and et cetera et cetera.

"Fine." You give up, resigning yourself to the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can't even look at Jeonghan right now. You don't understand why the two of you are even fighting about this. Is it that important for him to go see his ex? Or are you really being as unreasonable as Jeonghan is trying to make you be? But you're upset and apparently that's not enough for Jeonghan to relent. "Whatever. Go if that's what you want."

"What–" He doesn't even get to finish his sentence, because you already turn away to return into your shared room, not minding whatever he might have to say. You never do this, and as much as it pains him to admit that he might've taken things a little too far, he didn't realize that it is to the point where you'll retort to this.

You don't even look up when he calls you, doesn't try to listen to whatever he has to say and simply acts like he doesn't exist. You'd usually at least react to what he has to say, but right now you don't even look like you're upset, which scares him even more.

He's been on the receiving ends of your silent treatments, which he actually admits is on him, but you would usually still look at him, still look like you're listening to him. Which is how he's always been able to make you forgive him.

He knows what to do when you're annoyed, when you're sad and upset. But this?

This is a new territory that he doesn't know how to thread. He'd usually ignore you back, a little too prideful and too childish to admit that he's wrong. But he can tell that this isn't like the usual silent treatment you've given him before.

Fine. A single word that's not fine at all and still rings in his head right now because you never sound like that.

Like you're done with him.

"Baby, please…"

You continue to ignore him, playing with your phone and obviously texting someone that he hopes isn't about him.

"I'm… I'm not going, okay? I'm sorry." He admits in record time. "I don't even… I'm sorry. I don't want to give excuses. I've upset you and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Jeonghan sees your fingers pause, which at least he presumes means you're listening to him. He kneels beside you on the bed, glad that you're not rejecting his presence. He reaches for your fingers, and you let him as he cradles them inside his palms and takes a deep breath.

"Don't…" He exhales before he opens his eyes, catching yours and breathes the next words like it's a secret. "Don't let go of me?"

"What?" You ask, startled and caught off guard at the sudden change of topic. "Where did you even get the idea? Han, I'm not breaking up with you."

"You just…" You pull his fingers, asking him to sit next to you on the bed which he immediately complies to. He buries himself in your neck almost immediately, and suddenly it's you comforting him instead of the other way around. "You sound done with me and I can't get that out of my head."

You sigh, your fingers combing through his hair to calm him down.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I love you too, Han."

He buries himself further into your embrace.

[tayraedoll]

The Devil at Play

You are a new sinner at the hotel; you are shy but you finally open up after a couple drinks at the bar. Angel Dust steers the conversation to his favorite spicy topic, little do you know there is someone else who is intently listening in.

My first attempt at a Lucifer fic! Let me know what you think <3

Word count: 3,824

18+ MDNI

TW: Alcohol, swearing, drunken shenanigans, sharing a bed, use of s3x toys, rose suction stimulator, fingering, fluff

"Say, is that a mirror in y'er pocket? Cuz I can see myself getting in y'er pants", Angel seductively wagged his eyebrows at Husk, making the feline roll his eyes and take another swig from his bottle.

You smiled into your second cosmopolitan, trying to suppress the giggle that wanted to bubble up. It had been two weeks since you joined the Hazbin Hotel crew and you finally felt comfortable enough to join the others for a drink at the bar. You were never the most social person in life, and that trait followed you into the afterlife. You had spent most of your nights by yourself either in your room or in a quiet part of the hotel like the library. You didn't have anything against the other residents, you were just super self-conscious in social situations. But you were determined to befriend the others and took the leap to finally put yourself out there a bit.

Charlie was definitely the easiest to be around, her bubbly personality made you feel at ease. You also did not have to talk much in her presence, the girl spoke a million words a minute which allowed you to largely just sit there and listen to her rambling. Vaggie was also alright, she wasn't nearly as talkative as her girlfriend but she had a calmness about her. Niffty and Husk mostly just ignored you, they'd briefly acknowledge your presence before getting caught up in their own worlds again. It took a few days for you to warm up to Angel Dust, his crude humor initially made you uncomfortable. But he saw how truly uneasy you were so he never directed those remarks at you which helped tremendously. Now, you were just as content in his presence as you were Charlie's. You honestly stayed clear of Alastor when you could, alarm bells would blare in your head when he was around and your stomach would flip nauseatingly. He was definitely outwardly sweet, but your gut told you not to trust him so you vowed to keep the deer demon at arms distance.

The only resident that you just could not get a read on at all was the King of Hell himself. Lucifer was always so distant, you couldn't recall a single actual conversation shared between the two of you in your entire time at the hotel. Although he didn't necessarily make you feel unwelcome, you did not think he was particularly fond of you either. Part of you wanted to confront him, ask him what his problem with you was; but the other part of you figured the only thing worse than the Devil's cold shoulder would be his wrath. Unwilling to risk angering the fallen angel, you resigned yourself to the act of pretending the other person didn't exist.

'God he was pathetic, two weeks have gone by and he still hadn't mustered the courage to talk to you!', Lucifer thought to himself. Every time he took the initial step to finally strike up a conversation he would inevitably psych himself out of it; he was afraid of coming off weird or worse- desperate. The Devil used to be a smooth talker, but Lilith walking out on him wreaked havoc on his self-esteem. Now, it seemed all he could do is watch you from afar, perpetually tongue-tied and timorous.

He swirled his whiskey around in the glass, watching the amber liquid intently as he tried to come up with yet another reason to talk to you. He sighed heavily, maybe he should just go to bed instead and save himself any more embarrassment.

"So Whispers," Lucifer perked up at hearing Angel's nickname for you, he thought it was positively adorable, "what does it take to make you scream?" Lucifer nearly choked on his whiskey, struggling to stifle his cough in his jacket.

You felt your face heat up, you swished your cosmo before downing the whole thing in one gulp. The alcohol in your system was making you more brazen, with a determined hum to yourself you set the glass back down with a little more force than necessary before turning to face the pornstar.

"You know what? I don't think I ever have. I think that is just some ploy pornos use to make sex seem better than it actually is", you smirk at the stunned look in the spider's eyes, his jaw practically unhinged with how low it dropped.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa timeout here Whispers! Are you tellin me you ain't ever orgasmed before?!", Angel narrowed his eyes at you, trying to detect any hint of deception.

"No- I mean I have! It's just...it's never been like what porn makes it look like! You know- like the 'can't walk straight, seeing stars, and brain won't function anymore' kind. In reality, it's a lot more subtle than that. That's all I'm saying", you shrug and look around the bar to escape Angel's look of complete horror. Your eyes find Lucifer's across the bar- he is staring right at you with such intensity you felt his eyes bore right into your very soul. You swallow dryly and turn back to Angel, his aghast expression was much preferable to Lucifer's fierce staring contest.

"Sweet Satan Babycakes, I don't think you've EVER had GOOD sex before! Don't worry, we will fix this! I will get you set up with an online dating profile and we will get you laid by the end of the week", Angel reached for your phone- which you were thankfully able to grab first you shuddered to think about what the pornstar would write for a dating profile.

"Thanks Angel but I am not really wanting to meet anyone right now. Besides, I promise you I am more than capable of taking care of myself", you shoot him a wink. "I'm off to bed, goodnight everyone!" After the resounding chorus of 'goodnights' from the other guests you make your way to the stairs, completely unaware of the yellow eyes that followed your every step until you were out of sight.

An hour later you were freshly showered and changed into your comfiest PJ's; you were about to get into bed when there was a knock at your door. You sighed heavily, you swear if Angel was at your door with a picture of a dude on a dating app you were going to to shave all of fluff right off. Half-stomping to the door you open it roughly, "Angel really, I'm ser-". Your eyes became wide as saucers, it was not Angel at your door as you expected but Lucifer himself. "Uhhh...what can I do for you Luc- I mean your majesty?!" Heat spread throughout your face and neck, no doubt you were tomato red right now.

"Luc-ifers f-fine sweet-art", he slurred back. You raise a brow and appraise the Devil before you; he was utterly disheveled- his shirt untucked, vest and tie pulled open, hair a wild mess like his hands kept running through it, and his eyes were completely glazed over. The angel was completely shit-faced and standing at your door in the middle of the night- great. But WHY was he here? And did he really need to get absolutely hammered in order to talk to you? Your smile faltered, that thought stung more than you cared to admit.

"Sooo uhh Lucifer, is there something I can help you with?" you cock your head to the side questioningly.

The blonde beamed at you with the brightest smile, your heart becoming a puddle in your chest at the sight, "Yes! Y/N, would you do me the date of going on an honor with me? Wait-what?"

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you, he was too stinkin cute, "Maaayyybe we should revisit this conversation tomorrow when you have sobered up."

"NO!", he suddenly wrapped his fingers around your shoulders, you let out a gasp of surprise as you stared into his wild eyes. "I-I'm so sorry. You're right, I just...don't know if I'll have the courage to." Your heart broke, he looked close to tears and was having a hard time looking you in the eyes. "I've been trying to talk to your for weeks...I'm such a coward", he sniffed and moved to pull away from you, however, you were quick to grab hold of him and wrap him in a tight hug.

"It's okay, I have a hard time talking to others as well. That doesn't make you a coward", you feel him wrap his arms around you in return, you vow to hold him for as long as he needed.

After several minutes he shifted more of his weight onto you, making you stumble and readjust so neither of you fell. "Hey Lucifer?", you were met with silence. "Lucifer!", this time you got a small snore. Fantastic, now he was asleep practically on top of you. Now what were you supposed to do about this? You looked around, no one was in the hallway, likely everyone had gone to bed already. You sighed, you were not strong enough to carry him up three flights of stairs to his room, nor could you just leave him on the hallway floor. Your only liable option was to bring him into your room and share the bed, it was at least big enough that you could share it without needing to touch each other.

You half-dragged/half-carried the King of Hell to your bed and set him on the edge. You took the time to remove his shoes before tucking his legs under the covers and bringing the comforter up to his chin. He had a soft smile on his face, it was the first time you had ever seen him look peaceful. You smiled at him for a moment, "Goodnight Lucifer", you whispered. Your feet padded softly on the floor as you tiptoed to the other side of the bed, carefully slinking in so you wouldn't disturb his majesty. With a final glance at the angel beside you, you let your consciousness drift into dreams of yellow eyes and warm hugs.

Lucifer grumbled unhappily, pushing his face further into his pillow in an attempt to block out some of the light seeping in through the window. He just became aware of the pounding headache behind his eyes, Satan why did he drink so much?! Okay yea, perhaps the 4 whiskey sours he chugged before running to your room were a bit much...WAIT. He froze, memories suddenly crashing back into his mind. HE. HAD. COME. TO. YOUR. ROOM. Yellow eyes flew wide open- the baby blue comforter, the Verosika poster on the wall, and the side table full of make-up, perfume, and lotion were DEFINITELY not his. He slowly picked his head up and his breath caught in his throat- he was on top of you, hugging you koala-bear style, and what he thought was the comfiest pillow in existence was actually your left breast. HE WAS NUZZLING HIS FACE INTO YOUR BOSOM NOT EVEN 60 SECONDS AGO!

Thankfully, what was left of his lucky stars came together and you were not yet awake to find him in such a compromising position. However, with how he was wrapped around you there was a high chance that he would wake you by moving. Slowly, he extracted his arms from underneath you one at a time; he breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely moved over to "his" side of the bed. Now what? Did he just continue to lay here until you woke up? Would it be weirder if he watched you sleep or if he just left and made you wake up alone? Luckily (the the second time already this morning), his thoughts did not have to spiral for long before you stirred beside him. You groggily blinked the sleep from your beautiful eyes before gifting him with your radiant smile, "Good morning! Sleep well?"

The angel chuckled nervously, golden blush painting his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, "Yea, better than I have for a while honestly. Thank you." You both fall into an uncomfortable silence, neither of you knowing where to go from here.

"So uhh.."

"About last night-"

You both stop, giving the other room to speak first which only led to more unpleasant silence.

"Ladies first."

"No, I insist, you first"

Lucifer coughed nervously, "I'm sorry for last night. I shouldn't have come to your room, especially in such an inebriated state. But thank you for not kicking me out or otherwise shunning me."

You gave him a small smile "Well, I couldn't just leave our king alone in the hallway. What kind of hostess would that have made me?" The king chuckled before you continued in a barely audible whisper, "Do you remember what you said last night?"

Lucifer's eyebrows scrunched together as he carded through his memories, trying to figure out what you could be referring to. His eyes went wide before he turned back to you,"Yes!"

You each just stared at each other for a bit, both equally flushed. Finally, you broke the silence, "Yes...you remember?"

"Oh! Golly, I am so sorry! Yes, I remember and YES I would still like to take you out on a date! I-if you would like to go that is...on a date...with me."

Your happy giggle sounded like music to his ears, you gently reached for is hand and intertwined your fingers together, "I'd love to. I mean, technically, we have already slept together", you shot him a wink.

Lucifer gave you a sultry smile, "Ah yes, I will make sure that I am sober next time so I can fully enjoy the experience." You laughed, getting up to collect your things to get ready for the day. Lucifer followed suit, patting around the bed for his phone; when he couldn't find it he reached for the bedside table. Upon opening a drawer he found a peculiar device- it was in the shape of rose with an opening in the middle. Intrigued, the demon king pushed the "on" button and suction took place at the opening.

Lucifer's face turned a brilliant gold when he realized what he was holding. And it was just his luck that you happened to walk back over at that moment.

"So, what's on the ag-", you cut off when you saw your sex toy in the angel's hand; all you two could do was stare at each other- seemed you were doing that a lot lately. To break the tension, Lucifer said the first thing that came to mind.

"Does this make you scream?"

Your mind was blank, all trains of thought came to an abrupt halt when you found THE KING OF HELL with your rose clitoral stimulator in hand. You couldn't comprehend the question he asked, "Er...what?"

"Well I-uh...I remember Angel asking what made you scream at the bar last night and you said nothing. I must admit that I agree with Angel on thinking you have never, ever had good sex if you've never lost composure."

"Oh really? And do you think that YOU could make me lose my composure?", you crossed your arms in front of you and smirked.

The king stared back at you with wide eyes, the beautiful caramel color taking over his face again. You slowly approached him until you were standing just an inch apart, "Show me."

It was like a switch was flipped at your words, Lucifer's hands were on your hips and he began walking you backwards towards the bed. When your legs hit the bed, he raised one hand to gently cup your cheek as he leaned in to leave a tender kiss on your lips. His lips were as smooth as satin and tasted like candied apples; you moaned sensually, which he took advantage of by delving his tongue into your mouth.

Suddenly, his hand still on your hip turned you around so your back was to him. He sat back on the bed, pulling you with him until you were sat between his legs with your back pressed to his chest; you could feel his heart beating erratically, his body hard- hinting at the chiseled musculature that lay underneath his clothing. The king's panting breaths gently rocked you forward; he nuzzled his face into your neck, planting soft kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your hands gripped onto his knees as his hands slowly moved up your sides and fondled your breasts through your clothes, another wanton moan escaping you.

"Oh my sweet Angel, losing control already? I haven't even begun to touch you yet", Lucifer's voice had dropped an octave, deep and rich like barrel-aged bourbon. You pushed your breasts into his hands as her expertly kneaded them. He lightly gripped your shoulders and pushed you forward just enough for him to get your shirt over your head, he took your bra off as well before pulling you back to rest against him once more.

"Now, let's see what other pretty sounds you can make", he turned the suction on at the lowest setting again, the sound of the buzzing toy filling the room. The devil began by moving the toy down your neck and across your collarbone, the slight suction making your skin tingle. As he made his way down your décolleté, your grip on his knees tightened and whimper passed through your lips. The moment the suction caught onto your hardened nipple your back arched almost painfully and your mouth popped open into a perfect "O".

"That's it gorgeous, just relax, let me take care of you."

He increased the suction on your nipple by one setting, his other hand masterfully pinching and tweaking your other nipple. Your thighs clamped together, hips gyrating desperately to get friction between your legs as the heat in your lower belly blossomed. Lucifer returned his lips to your neck, nipping your skin and leaving dark bruises in his wake. You cried out in a half-moan/half-sob, the coil tightening alarmingly fast. You bit down on your lip as you struggled to ground yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh no, no, no Sweetheart. No holding back your tempting cries, I want to hear them all", he removed his fingers from your breast to dip a claw into your mouth to free your lip from your teeth. Returning his fingers to your aching nipple, he swirled the same claw that was just in your mouth around the sensitive bud. All the sensations were too much, with a scream, you came undone under his fingers. Your head hit the demon's shoulder as you caught your breath. Did he really just make you cum by only touching your nipples?!

Before you knew what was happening, the rose was moving down your navel towards your waist. You were not sure how or when it happened but you now found yourself completely bare. Instinctively, you attempted to close your knees to hide yourself only to be stopped by two strong legs wrapping around your thighs and forcing them apart.

"That was a fabulous first act Angel, but it's time for the grand finale", Lucifer had not dropped that sultry tone. Your core clenched upon hearing the promise of pleasure in his voice, slick leaking from your needy hole and ruining the bedsheets underneath you. His fingers trailed down your side, tickling your belly, before slipping between your folds. A loud gasp erupted from you as the king lazily circled your sensitive nub, "So wet for me, such a good girl. Are you ready for more?"

His fingers parted your folds, holding your outer labia apart to expose your clit while his other hand held the rose to hover just above your most sensitive spot. You knew it was coming, but a jolt of electricity still rocked your every nerve ending the moment the suction hit your pearl. Your thighs immediately tensed almost painfully, Lucifer's own legs keeping you spread-eagled; a high-pitched trill resounded throughout the room.

"Just like that Doll, keep those gorgeous sounds coming", Lucifer's fingers slid down your lower lips and two digits pushed into you, rubbing along your gummy walls until he found that perfect spot that had your head falling back on his chest again. His fingers set a long, smooth rhythm, brushing that sweet spot over and over again. The squelching sound of his fingers disappearing into your pussy accompanying your cries.

You had lost control of your voice, your lewd moans escaping you completely unbidden as your whole body coiled impossibly tight. Knowing how close you were, The Devil pressed the button to increase the suction just a bit more and the damn finally broke. You came with such a deafening scream there was no way it was not heard throughout the entire hotel. Your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen to your brain, sweat covering you in a thin sheen as you panted. You could officially say you were fucked until you couldn't think straight.

Lucifer set the rose to the side and wrapped his arms around you, rubbing soothing circles up and down your arms as you came down from your high. He planted adoring kisses on the hickies left on your neck and licking up the trails of sweat.

"So, do you still believe that screaming is just some ploy used in porn to fake pleasure?", the angel asked when your breathing finally returned to normal.

You giggled, "I'll admit, that was the best sex I have ever had."

"Oh Darling, you know I am the sin of pride right? There is no reason to inflate my ego like that", you could feel his smile against your skin. You twisted around to face him, pressing your lips to his.

"If I had known you were capable of that, I would have spoken to you a long time ago", you winked.

"Well, now I'm worried that no conversation will live up to your expectations", he chuckled.

"Hmm, somehow I highly doubt that."

At that moment, your stomach embarrassingly decided to join the conversation. Lucifer smiled wider "Do you like pancakes?"

"I could definitely go for some pancakes right now", you nodded.

Lucifer kissed your temple, "I'll meet you downstairs then!" With that, The Devil disappeared into a portal and left you to get dressed. You couldn't help but smile as you replayed the unexpected turn of events. You were really happy you decided to go to the bar last night.

[rhiannonsknife]

Okay okay so hear me out.

Imagine the Yellowjackets are actually at the nationals instead of the plane crashing. And Jackie desperately tries to avoid r BUT the coach puts them in the same room for whatever reason, maybe shauna and jackie were playing around too much so as punishment shauna had to switch with r.

Now that they’re both forced to be closer than usual Jackie is genuinely losing her mind and her emotions are ALL around. Maybe they hook up, maybe not. Or they have a GENUINE conversation for once, which surprises Jackie..

You can do whatever you want with that idea, it’s totally up to you

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor. masterlist.

— warnings: implied internalized homophobia & cheating. angst. hurt/no comfort because this is how things are done here. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

— a/n: enough with the jackie taylor fluff, back to the filthy lesbian sex + angst. you’re welcome.

the hallway of the hotel buzzes with the usual pre-competition chaos: teammates of various different schools all across the states scurrying between rooms, the sound of laughter and last-minute pep talks echoing off the walls. nationals. the peak of everything the yellowjackets had worked for all season. your last chance to win the thing as a team before most of you graduate.

obviously, jackie should feel excited, focused, and ready to step onto that court and lead her team to victory one final time.

instead, her stomach churns, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pressure of the next couple of days.

“switching rooms is a terrible idea,” she reasons, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glares at coach martinez.

“this is not a debate, taylor,” he replies, voice clipped. “this isn’t summer camp. you’re here to win, not distract your teammates with shipman. now get your stuff and make the swap. it’s only a weekend”

jackie glances sideways, catching your eye from where you stand a little further down the hall. you’re leaning casually against the wall, trying to act like you’re not paying attention, but she knows better. you’ve always been good at reading her, too good for her comfort. what you’re not so good at is pretending.

she can see the way you’re watching the exchange, trying to hide the obvious amusement in your gaze as jackie tries to reason with the coach.

she’s been doing her absolute best to keep her distance, to keep things simple and clean. nationals are stressful enough without throwing whatever this is into the mix. but now, thanks to shauna’s antics, the universe has decided to test her self-control all over again.

with a resigned sigh and not another look back at coach martinez, jackie grabs her bag and stalks toward her new room.

you’re barely done setting your things down when she barges past you and into the space

“hello to you too, roomie” you mutter as you close the door on your own way in.

she shoots you a look, tossing her bag onto the other bed with more force than necessary. “don’t get too comfortable,” she mutters. “this isn’t permanent”

“oh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “didn’t realize you had the power to override coach’s orders all of a sudden”

jackie’s jaw tightens, her posture stiffening as she stands by the bed. “i don’t,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “but i’ll talk to him tomorrow and get it fixed. until then, just…stay on your side of the room”

you scoff, setting your bag down with a little more force than necessary. “stay on my side of the room? what are we? fucking twelve?”

jackie glares at you. “i’m serious,” she says, brushing past you to grab her toiletries from her bag. “i don’t want any trouble”

“trouble?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. truthfully, you don’t mean to. but ever since you started whatever this is between you, jackie has been doing the same thing over and over: pushing you away, pretending like you don’t exist at all. she won’t even look at you in school. all you can do is watch when she’s with jeff instead, holding his hands or kissing him in the hall, for once not afraid of the affection

“you’re the one acting like this is the end of the world. it’s just one night, jackie. maybe try not making it weird for once”

jackie freezes mid-motion, her hand gripping the zipper of her duffel bag. when she turns to face you, there’s a familiar edge in her expression. “i’m making it weird?” she shoots back. “you think i want to be stuck here with you?”

the words hit harder than they should, but you refuse to let her see the sting. of course jackie taylor wouldn’t want to be caught in the same room with you if you’re not knuckle deep inside her simultaneously.

“right,” you say flatly, crossing your arms. “because it’s so awful being in the same room as me, huh? god forbid we have to actually talk like normal people”

jackie flinches at the unexpected bitterness in your tone, but she doesn’t back down either. “i’m just saying,” she starts. “this is nationals. it’s a big deal. we should be focusing on the game, not…whatever”

“whatever,” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “right. because that’s all this is to you. just some ‘whatever’”

her cheeks flush, and she glances away, busying herself with folding a stray sweatshirt. “i didn’t say that,” she mutters.

“you didn’t have to,” you reply, your voice slightly quieter now, but no less tense. “you know, for someone who’s so concerned about ‘trouble,’ you’re pretty good at creating it”

jackie’s hands still, her knuckles whitening as she grips the shirt tightly. for a moment, it looks like she might say something, but then she exhales sharply and shoves the sweatshirt away. a part of you would prefer it if she actually did. if she, for once, recognizes what you two have, rather than keeping it something shameful. something unspoken. it shouldn’t surprise you that she doesn’t.

“i’m going to take a shower,” jackie announces instead. “just…stay out of my way”

she doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing her things and heading for the door, leaving you alone in the too-quiet room. the door slams shut behind her, and you sink onto the edge of your bed, rubbing a hand over your face.

this wasn’t what you had envisioned for the nationals. you didn’t ask to be thrown into a room with jackie, but now that you are, you can’t help the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. why do you have to be punished, just because she and shauna can’t behave?

jackie has been keeping you at arm’s length for months now, barely acknowledging you outside of stolen moments behind closed doors that she won’t talk about. and now, trapped in this tiny room together, all the tension and unspoken words feel like they’re pressing down on you, endlessly heavy and suffocating.

when she finally returns, her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean, the air between you is no less charged.

she moves stiffly, avoiding your gaze as she sets her toiletries down and climbs into bed without a word. you briefly consider saying something to break the silence, but the memory of her earlier words

you think I want to be stuck here with you?

holds you back. instead, you turn off the bedside lamp and lie down on your back, the too-small room plunging into darkness.

a long time passes by in the familiar silence. it’s all it ever is with jackie: radio silence until it’s not an inconvenience for her to want you. then, you’ll have her for a couple of hours, before things go back to how they were before.

the other bed creaks softly beside you as jackie shifts, her back to you. for a second, you think she’s fallen asleep already. then you hear her sigh, low and almost inaudible.

despite everything, her sharp words, her cold demeanor, you know jackie, for better or for worse. you know she’s scared, for reasons beyond you, and conflicted. she’s trying so desperately to pretend to be something she’s not. and she would've been able to succeed with it, had it not been for you.

the silence stretches on, thick and heavy. at some point, you roll onto your side, your back to hers too, determined to get some sleep, yet to no avail. you hear it before she speaks: the faintest shift of the mattress as jackie turns.

“are you awake?” she murmurs, her voice hesitant.

you don’t answer right away, torn between wanting to keep your distance and the part of you that aches to close the gap between you. finally, you whisper, “yeah”

she falls silent for a moment, and you can almost sense her weighing whether or not to say more.

you hear movement in the dark, and you’re about to turn when the mattress dips by your legs where jackie has sat. ”i didn’t mean what i said earlier. about not wanting to be here“

you swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. you don’t dare to turn and look at her. “then why say it?”

jackie hesitates. you can feel her shift closer, the warmth of her body radiating against your back. a part of you wants to push her away. another, stronger and more determined part wants her endlessly closer. “because it’s easier,” she admits quietly. you force yourself to fight against the shiver that threatens to run down your back when she curls up against you, her breath warm on your shoulder blade. “it’s easier to push you away than…than deal with any of this”

her words hang in the air, and you find yourself turning to face her. the darkness between you doing nothing to hide the vulnerability in her expression from this close. this, you realize as you take in jackie’s features, is the most vulnerable she’s ever been around you.

“how do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jackie’s gaze drops, her fingers curling into the edge of the blanket between you. “i don’t know,” she says, but the tremble in her voice betrays her. “i just know that when i’m with you, everything gets so…complicated”

you reach out, your hand brushing against hers. “it doesn’t have to be”

jackie doesn’t move, her eyes locked on yours. then, slowly, tentatively, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts hesitation and longing.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, and she exhales shakily. “this doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. there she is again. the jackie you know. the jackie you will despise again in the morning. the jackie you have, unfortunately, fallen in love with months ago, long before she decided that you were worth to keep around for some occasional hook ups.

you don’t respond verbally. if this is all of her that you’ll get tonight, you will still very much take it.

jackie’s fingertips trace your cheeks as your mouths move together. you’re not even sure who has leaned in first this time, only that you’re kissing her again and that she’s kissing you back just as eagerly.

her lips are so soft against yours it’s unfair, yet they’re demanding and hungry, ravishing your mouth in a way you never dared to imagine. simultaneously, her hands are running all over you, wherever jackie can reach. frustrated with how restrictive these blankets are, she grunts and pushes them aside.

with the newfound space, she smoothly slides on top of you, your legs tangling together on the plain bedsheets.

“come here” she murmurs, closing the distance between you again. you part your lips almost immediately, giving in to all that stupid, pent-up hunger.

it’s not long after, that you try bucking your hips upward, chasing after a pressure she is not yet providing. jackie has never been one to give. you can remember the one single time where she’s actually shoved her hand down your pants. it’d been in the back of your car, from a slightly awkward angle and without much aftercare to it. but it had been, to this day, one of your best orgasms simply because it was jackie taylor’s hand that had been touching you that night. to this day, it is what you think back to when you’re alone in your room.

now, she seems oddly eager to touch you. except this time, you realize, you have time. there are no parents anywhere nearby, no jeff that could catch or overhear you. just the two of you, in the middle of the night.

maybe coach martinez had, unknowingly done you the biggest favor of your lifetime.

you bite your lip when jackie leans back to look down at you. her hair is a mess, her chest heaving with how hard she’s panting.

one tug is all it takes before she’s all over you again, caging you in between her forearms on either side of your head. you bury your hands in her hair and allow yourself to pretend that any of this is normal.

her shirt comes off first, tossed off the bed carelessly. you sit before her, hands roaming her sides, eyes glued to her chest. yours is next and jackie seems almost impatient to peel it off of you. once you’re both topless, she pushes you back into the mattress and straddles your hips.

you moan into her mouth when her bare breasts slide up against yours. eager to feel more of this, for as long as she lets you, you arch your back up against jackie. she groans softly into your mouth, the noise shooting straight between your legs.

“jackie” you manage. your fingers have, without you even noticing, wrapped around her forearms in a silent plea for her to stay this close. you only let go when she puts her mouth to the side of your neck and sucks.

well, this is new, you briefly think. jackie, for obvious reasons, never lets you mark her up at all. but you didn’t think of her as one to be into leaving hickeys. how you’ll cover them in the morning is a problem for your future self. for now, you just don’t want her to stop. whatever has gotten into her tonight, you want more of it.

“jackie” you sigh again, more urgency in your voice this time. “touch me”

she leans back from where she had her face buried in the crook of your neck. for a moment, as your hand slides from the back of her head, you think you’ve messed it all up. you’d been playing with fire from the start. and now you’ve pushed her too far, asked for too much. then, an unfamiliar determination flickers over jackie’s face, and her fingers drop down to your shorts.

“holy shit” you can’t help but mutter when she, unlike what you expected, doesn’t immediately shove her hand down past the waistline. instead, jackie pushes them all the way down your legs with your help, leaving you in your underwear. she watches as you kick them off, then turns back to face you. you do notice that she’s purposefully not looking right at you, but you don’t mind it all that much when she settles down beside you and runs her flat palm down your body.

her fingers briefly brush over your nipples but don’t waste any time to get to where you both want them the most. you’ve learned to love jackie in the quiet, stolen moments in between. you can’t miss anything you’ve never had and only the comfort of a bed and a room all to yourselves seems too luxurious to be true. you’re not going to ruin this for yourself by getting caught up in the lack of proper foreplay.

you involuntarily spread your legs wider for jackie when she reaches your underwear and you can feel her smile against the side of your neck, where she’s resting her head.

when her index finger runs over the fabric there, her mouth falls open. she must feel the wet patch of your arousal.

“you’re so-“ she gasps, just barely managing to cut herself off in time. jackie taylor doesn’t speak to you while she gets you off. she clears her throat and makes up by finally pushing your underwear aside.

you have to slam a hand over your mouth so your next-door neighbors won’t hear the sound you make when jackie circles your clit for the first time. she’s deliberate, her wrist moving in firm, clockwise circular motions.

the blankets rustle quietly as she adjusts, propping her weight down on one hand as she lingers above you and watches, then presses down harder.

your head falls back into the pillows and your jaw goes slack. to your surprise, jackie’s expression is a reflection of your own: her mouth hangs open as though she’s the one who’s getting touched, and her eyes are heavy as they study your reactions. just by the way she’s touching you, you wouldn’t know that this is only her second time doing this. she must've been attentive to the way you've been touching her during all of your past hook-ups.

you can feel how wet you’re getting -embarrassingly fast. her fingers slide over you in no time whatsoever, gathering your arousal on them before pushing it up and over your clit.

a shuddered breath falls from your lips. jackie is still watching you, alternating between your face (yet never your eyes) and where her hand is moving between your legs.

she keeps this up until you can feel her in every single nerve ending. whether jackie knows this or not, though something tells you that she does, this is not quite enough to make you cum. it’s merely enough to get you towards that edge, toeing it, yet never falling over. the pressure isn’t hard enough, the sensation too brief.

in spite of yourself, you begin to rock your hips into her hand. at this point, you’re so wet it’s dripping through your underwear. there’s no reason to hide your own desperation anymore when she can feel it herself.

“jackie-“ you gasp. it’s tortuously good.

the first time she looks into your eyes that night is when she dips her soaked finger lower and pushes it inside. the moan that you let out at this is definitely too loud for a packed hotel, but she makes no attempt to hush you.

you can feel the place where jackie's pebbled nipples press against you, every inch of exposed skin curled up with your own, and her breath fans against your earlobe. you’re half convinced you’re only imagining it when she whispers: “you like this?”

you hardly hear the words at all, drowned out by your own, mindless gasps and the sounds coming from where jackie is pounding into you; the obscenely slick noises.

she’s deep. she’s so deep inside of you, her delicate fingers pressing deeper than she’s ever been before. it’s the first time you actually feel her there and that alone is enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“yeah” you manage just so.

“yeah?” jackie pouts, almost mockingly, forcing them inside some more.

“oh my god” is all you can say to that.

usually, it would be you touching her. this is one of those rare occasions where the roles are reversed. where jackie gets to touch you. to fuck you, really: she's pressing her hips against you from where she’s lingering on top, draws them back as she does the same with her hand, then snaps them back immediately the moment she pumps her fingers into you. like she’s really fucking you, you think.

it briefly occurs to you that maybe, if jackie is so eager for this, you’ll have to invest in a strap so that you can fill each other up properly. then again, it would probably be too much to bring this idea up to her. you’ll consider yourself lucky if she so much as looks at you after tonight.

as soon as jackie’s third finger slips into you, you no longer bother to even try and hold your head up. she’s never fucked you like that and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing for this feeling back.

she’s steadily pressing, curling, and exploring with three of her fingers and all you can do is chant cries of her name as you try to ride her hand.

your head falls to the side, into the pillows. a necessary but pointless try to stifle your moans.

“jackie please”

you can hear her mumbling words of “that’s it” and “take it” against your temple but it’s white noise to what you feel when her thumb finds your clit, rubbing in fast circles that match the brutal pace she’s set. even jackie is panting now. her wrists must be aching, at this rate, but she’s not stopping. you wonder if she’s as wet for you as you are for her. you know how easy it is to get her wet. so she must be, it wouldn’t surprise you if she’s stained your bed.

in the end, these aren’t the thoughts that push you over the edge. it’s jackie’s voice urging you to “cum” to “please cum for me”.

the rest of the world blurs in and out of focus and, for as long as your orgasm lasts, there’s nothing but the pleasure that explodes in your abdomen and leaves you shaking on the mattress.

you choke out a moan as it washes over you. jackie is watching you, her mouth hanging open like it only dawns upon her now that she's got this kind of effect on you.

even as the pleasure starts to fade, your thighs are still shaking. jackie is almost hesitant about lifting her hand from between your legs, though she makes a point of not looking down at your arousal on her before she wipes it off on the mattress.

“holy shit” you mutter, staring at the ceiling above and dropping the weight of your head back onto the pillows. your whole body feels ten times lighter than it did mere minutes ago.

reality sinks in soon enough though.

after another deep breath, you turn to jackie. she's still sitting on your mattress, but her bare back is turned to you. stupidly enough, you try to reach out. she senses the movement and shoots you a sharp glance, so your hand freezes mid-air, never reaching her.

“don't” the sharpness in her voice has no right to sting the way it does. you pull your hand back, uselessly dropping it onto the mattress.

“jackie...”

“i said don't" she snaps all over again. "it's better this way”

better for who? you wonder. the question burns but you force yourself to bite it back. there's no point in trying to push her further. you watch jackie reach for her discarded clothes on the floor. her movements are hurried as she pulls her shirt back over her head. like if she's frantic enough about it, it'll all go away.

“was it something i-” “no,” she immediately interrupts. with her shirt back on, she stands. “don’t make this into something it’s not”

“jackie you don’t have to-“

“this didn’t mean anything” she interjects all over again. “we shouldn’t have…it was a mistake, okay? it won’t happen again”

“a mistake?”

it’s not the first time jackie calls it that. for a ‘mistake’ she’s been coming back a surprising amount of times. yet it always comes down to this.

“i don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps, her arms cross defensively over her chest as she turns toward her bed. “we have nationals tomorrow. we need to focus”

“are you serious right now?” your voice rises slightly. “jackie, you can’t just-“

“i can,” she says firmly. “and i am”

you sit there, half naked and stunned into silence as jackie climbs into her own bed and pulls the covers up to her chin, facing the wall so you can’t see her expression. her breathing is shaky, though, and you can tell she’s trying hard to steady it.

“fine,” you say stubbornly when you realize she’s actually serious. “pretend it didn’t happen. pretend it didn’t mean anything to you”

jackie doesn’t respond.

you sit in the stillness for what feels like an eternity. as you finally settle under the covers, your back turned to her, you hear jackie’s voice:

“stay away from me. for the rest of this trip”

you swallow hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “got it,” you whisper.

then, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her breathing. jackie doesn’t move, and neither do you. whatever you’d hoped might come from tonight has slipped right through your fingers.

eventually, jackie’s breathing evens out, and you wonder if she’s actually asleep or just pretending. either way, you close your eyes, trying to make the hurt fade.

[burst-of-iridescent]

i really hate it when people act as though zuko is being selfish or self-serving in some way when he tells aang in the finale that the only choice he has is to kill ozai because a) at this point, zuko is right and b) zuko's brutal honesty here is coming from a place of fear for both aang and the world.

are we all forgetting that unlearning his own idealization of his father and realizing that ozai never had been, and was never going to be, the person zuko thought he was, was a significant part of zuko's own arc? it took him sixteen years to understand that giving ozai any grace or understanding or forgiveness was a mistake, because it would be just another tool for ozai to manipulate him with. and that's not zuko's fault, because he was an abused child growing up in an incredibly damaging environment, but it does make sense that he doesn't want anyone else, especially aang, doing the same thing.

zuko is harsh on aang here because he sees in aang the person that he used to be - the innocent, naive kid who wanted so desperately to believe that ozai wasn't a monster, that there was any shred of humanity within him at all to be appealed to. it's not a coincidence in this show so rife with parallels that aang goes to face ozai at around the same age that zuko has his agni kai. and what did it get zuko, when he threw himself at his father's mercy and counted on ozai's non-existent humanity and compassion to save him?

zuko isn't coming down hard on aang because he's angry that "aang won't do his dirty work for him" or whatever other bullshit version of this argument i've seen zuko antis make - he HAS to impress upon aang how dire this situation is because he knows better than anyone that believing for even a second that ozai can be redeemed is incredibly dangerous. aang cannot give ozai an inch because it will only be used against him (and indeed, this does happen in the final battle when aang turns down the opportunity to redirect lightning at ozai and in return ozai presses his advantage to the point where aang would almost certainly have been killed if not for rock ex-machina).

furthermore, this idea that zuko wanted ozai dead for self-serving reasons doesn't really have much basis either, because if that was the case zuko could have just killed ozai himself during the solstice. he doesn't because at that point, he still had an alternative: aang (and you'll notice his word choices never explicitly refer to what ozai's fate will be; it's only "i'm going to help him defeat you" or "taking you down is the avatar's destiny"). as with many abused children, it's likely that zuko himself didn't really know if he wanted his father dead, but when it came down to the final battle without any other viable options presenting themselves, it was something he had to resign himself - and aang - to.

zuko himself does not lack faith in others (in fact, his whole journey is about understanding that his love for and belief in humanity is a strength, not a weakness) but he's learned the hard way that having this faith in the wrong people can result in devastating consequences, especially when the stakes are so high.

i imagine it terrified zuko to see the echoes of his younger self in aang, knowing he's sending him to face his father at the height of his power. at this point, with no knowledge of energybending or any alternative way to defeat ozai, well aware that a fight with his father can only end in bloodshed, zuko has no choice but to give aang the reality of the situation: kill, or be killed and doom the world alongside you.

[ma1dita]

feed the fire

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. The fight never ends, but food service does, and well, you’re pretty when you’re mad. Lucky for you, your dad doesn’t really need offerings. Lucky for Luke, you’re in a sharing mood.  Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: Chiron isn’t gonna bet his kids against each other he on the side of love wym -.- (unbeta'd and purely made by caffeine)

(posted 1/22/24)

—

“If that was your definition of fun, Castellan, you are most possibly the worst person alive,” you grumble, bumping past Luke in the dinner line. The weight of his plate is as heavy as his stare, eyes following you as you turn to look at him and he knows you’re pissed after his team won capture the flag. 

Again. 

After years at Camp Half-Blood and years of arguing with you, everything gets a bit repetitive. But he can’t help but bite back a grin at this routine you two have created—it’s never boring when you’re around. You get as close as you can to his large frame, nose turned up for another face-off and he shouldn’t find your anger…so attractive. He shouldn’t be so interested in someone who looks like they’re about to wring his neck. However, Luke eats up the attention from you like he’s starving and wanting seconds, so he eggs you on just to see how this turns out.

“But a damn good demigod right? You’re just a sore loser, Trouble. Gonna have to do better than that to impress me,” Luke jabs at you, holding his tray in one hand. His grin gets impossibly bigger once his half-siblings rumble with laughter behind him, and the frown on your face deepens.

Where you two are involved, there’s always a spectacle. Rumors of campers placing bets and keeping score to the point of updating Mr. D with the count of who comes up on top each time you two argue. He’s past the point of assigning you two extra chores and taking away leisure time since you’re much older now (and essentially run the camp for him), so the god has resigned himself to placing bets with the kids (without Chiron knowing). But every week after capture the flag, Luke unknowingly bumps up several points just by existing. It’s damaging Mr. D’s stakes so much that he might have to bet against you, his own child, next time.

Plus, there’s just something about Luke that always riles you up.

“Who said I was impressing you?” You scoff, blocking him from walking to his table and he looks down at you (both figuratively and literally) with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, with the way you won’t let it go, some people might think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart. Can’t blame you, though.” Luke’s words slip through his lips like water, and this time he’s unable to place what the expression on your face means as you stare back at him blankly with your fists clenched.

The only thing he’s able to perceive as a warning is the twitch of your eye before you’re on him, climbing him like a tree as you slam into him, knocking him to the ground and screaming, “YOU’RE SO FULL OF IT, CASTELLAN!”

Luke braces for impact as your hands are flying at him though there’s no intent to cause injury—he’s felt your right hook before and it took the air out of his lungs. This, was just you being petty, hands slapping him across the head and chest before you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and then…it was over before it even started.

“KID! What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. D’s voice rings across the dining pavilion and your eyes meet Luke’s as you both remember where you are.

On his lap, with everyone watching. 

Air escapes him again as he feels the weight of your hips against his hands and he doesn’t quite remember when he moved them there, or when in all of these arguments he’s stopped fighting back. 

But was it ever really a fight, Luke wonders looking up at you, not even hearing anything coming out of Mr. D’s mouth right now. Your hair is framing your face and the harsh overhead lighting in the dining pavilion surrounds you like a halo. You look like you’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself, ethereal and strong… and a new funny feeling in his chest makes him suddenly unsure of everything you two have ever done together. This isn’t part of the routine.

Shit. 

He’s in trouble.

The fist in his shirt loosens and he falls hard, head bumping against the hardwood floor. Luke can see his tray facedown on the ground, the grapes and his dinner roll bouncing away underneath the tables.

“He did it,” you blurt out like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You can feel Luke’s chest rumble with laughter under your fingertips and you push up off of him, extending a hand to help him up. Your dad is gesturing at you to clean the mess, but by the time you finish your angry gestures and eye rolls to turn towards the utility closet, Luke’s already back and sweeping up the fallen food without any complaints. 

“You know, for the strongest swordsman in 300 years, I took you down pretty easy, huh, Luke?” You say cheesily, bumping his shoulder as he chuckles.

“You just caught me off guard—throwing yourself at me like a deranged satyr.”

“Oh because you’re a dainty nymph in distress,” you bite back, walking away to get dinner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the mess, food service is over. He scratches the back of his neck and goes to sit next to Chris, who’s wolfed down most of his meal already, but to his surprise, you’re sitting in his usual seat with a plate piled high enough for two and some extra prayers.

“You here to rub it in? Gonna have to eat air for dinner because of you.” He falls onto the bench, leaning on his hand as he gazes at you with a slow smile, and then watches you brandish two forks in the air.

“I’ll gouge your eye with a fork if you don’t start eating.”

Your knees are touching under the table and his hand slightly shakes as he pulls the utensil from your fingers. 

“Sometimes I think I like it better when you’re mean to me,” he jokes but takes a hefty bite of pasta anyway.

“You love it.”

He can’t help but agree.

—

Clarisse walks over to Mr. D who’s watching you two from across the dining pavilion with an emotion akin to confusion and possibly disgust. You’re both laughing at something indiscernible to everyone else around you, together, not at each other…and it’s unsettling. The daughter of Ares stands in front of the Olympian with her palm extended.

“Pay up. Luke clearly won again.”

Mr. D’s eye twitches as he holds onto his drachmas. He was supposed to be entertained by this, not be the entertainment.

“Did he though? They both look like they’ve tamed down. This is starting to get boring.”

A hand comes out of nowhere, snatching the drachmas out of the god’s hand, and Clarisse’s eyes widen at Chiron, who’s been behind them all along.

“I’ll take that. Don’t think either of them are gonna win this in the end.”

The three of them watch Luke say something to you with a mischievous grin and you gape at him as you shove a bread roll into his mouth angrily.

Mr. D tuts and it catches your attention, your middle finger directed at him as you push the rest of your plate towards Luke.

“What, no offerings for your dear father?” He calls out disgruntled by your audacity. 

“You clearly eat enough, D!”

Luke elbows you as he laughs behind his bread roll, and Chiron smiles, knowing what’s forming between you two, even if you both don’t see it quite yet.

—

“There’s something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

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