#this happens frequently but i never know why

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Sentient Gotham

- Bruce regularly chats w her. Like, full blown conversations. He can see a physical manifestation of her like she’s right in front of him, but completely invisible to everyone else

- Zatanna does not believe him. She’s Gotham born and bred and a powerful magician, but she cannot sense a living breathing Gotham the way Bruce claims he can

- Constantine does believe him, but it’s mostly to spite Zatanna

- Gotham calls herself Bruce’s mom and frequently whines about him not calling her that

> “I had a mother. And a father. They’re both dead.” > “WHEN WILL YOU STOP BLAMING ME FOR THAT?!” > “When I’m convinced it’s not true.”

- Bruce’s kids also don’t believe him about the whole ‘I talk to Gotham’ thing for a long time and think he’s either lost his mind, he’s schizophrenic, or that he’s fucking w them

- they do eventually see and speak to her themselves

- Jason first sees her right before his death, which was an incredibly difficult task for her. It’s a combination of reasons. 1) like Bruce, Jason is a Gotham City native and has deep ties to the city, 2) he has deep ties to Bruce, 3) she was also there to comfort Bruce because she knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. But Jason sees this gorgeous woman who cradles his cheek and murmurs soft words to him that he’ll only end up remembering many years later

> “Your father loves you. He tried. So please don’t hate him. It’s my fault, not his.”

- Bruce frequently wonders why it’s him who can see her and no one else, to which she always just says it’s because he’s her son

- Bruce’s connection to Gotham…changes him. He is human, at least…mostly. But there’s an otherworldliness to him that grows over the years which he’s stupidly oblivious to for a very long time

- Gotham has beef w Alfred purely because he’s British

> “I could’ve raised you better than that man!” > “I do not tolerate disrespect for Alfred.” > whining, “But babyyyyyy. He’s an outsider!”

- she adores Bruce’s kids and frequently whines about how they don’t believe she’s real. But at the same time, Bruce is her absolute beloved

- after Jason’s death, she’s the one who basically sends Tim Bruce’s way to stop his self destructive behavior. Tim had been taking pictures of Batman and Robin for a while, but Gotham had fogged over his mind just a little bit to prevent him from putting the pieces together about their identity. When she stops, it finally clicks for Tim and it’s what leads him to becoming Robin

- the kids all have their moment when they finally can see and speak to her. It happens at different times, but the important reason as to why they’re able to do so is due to their relationship to Bruce and the length of time they’ve been around him. It comes at the moment where they’ve reached optimal and absolute trust in Bruce

- Bruce does actually call her ‘mom’, but it happened once and she will never let him forget it

> Bruce getting worked up during a conversation w Gotham in front of Dick and Tim > “Dick….who is he talking to?” > “You don’t want to know.” > “My mom won’t stop badgering me- No. No. I didn’t say that. I didn’t call you that! You can’t prove anything!”

- Gotham comforts Bruce often when he feels like he’s not enough. His failures weigh heavy in his heart, but she’s always there to talk him through it

> “Why me? Why am I the one you picked? I’m not enough. I never will be.” > “You are and you always will be. Bruce, you do so much for this city. For me. For your family.” > “It’s not enough.” > “You are only mostly human, Bruce Wayne. You have done things no one else could ever hope to do. If any one else were in your position, they would not have nearly enough strength as you do.”

- several months later, after Bruce is just idly going over case files, he remembers the ‘mostly human’ part of what Gotham said to him. He’d glossed over it before in his depressive spiral, but now he’s like !?

> “Gotham….” > “Yes, my dear?” > “‘Mostly human’. Care to explain what that means?” > awkward laugh, “Uh…..” > “Gotham.” > “I didn’t do it on purpose! I had no control!” > “Gotham.”

- order of who sees Gotham:

Bruce (obviously)

Jason (first time)

Tim

Duke

Jason (second time)

Steph

Dick

Cass

Damian

- the last three take a while but mostly because they’re not Gotham natives. Dick’s a little bitter about it because he practically spent his entire life in Gotham

> “You’re a traitor.” > “WHAT DID I DO?” > disgust, “Blüdhaven.” > “Oh. Whoops.”

- While Gotham is Bruce’s #1 Supporter™️, she is at times critical of his behavior and decisions. Particularly about things that damage his relationship w loved ones and things that he chooses to do in order to hurt himself

- she finds ‘Brucie’ to be distasteful

> “I didn’t raise you to be a whore.” > “You didn’t raise me to begin with.” > “STOP DENYING ME PARENTAL RIGHTS!”

- Gotham is, obviously, restricted to only appear within Gotham City’s borders. She’s only able to break through that restriction a handful of times, w the first being when Jason dies. There are a few other instances and she’s popped up on the Watchtower and jumpscared Bruce by accident. The JL were very confused and incredibly amused

- She’s able to take on the form of anyone, but sticks to a unique appearance of a woman w long black hair and pale skin. Her eyes are white and she’s typically dressed in a suit

> young Bruce, in awe, “You kind of look like me if I were cooler.” > “You’re plenty cool, Bruce.” > adult Bruce, tired, “Why are you in a suit?” > “Because I look cool, Bruce. You said so yourself.” > “I was ten!”

- she once offered to take on the appearance of his mother and Bruce shot it down so fast. She never brought it up again

- when Clark found out about her, he believed Bruce immediately. He’s the only one Bruce ever told who believed him right off the bat

> “You…don’t think I’m insane?” > “I do.” > “Then why would you lie and say you believe me?” > “Because I do. You’re insane about a lot of things, Bruce. But you sounded too serious when you told me about this, so why would I ever think you’re lying?”

- Gotham begrudgingly likes Clark

> “You hate Alfred for being an outsider, but Clark is in your good graces?” > “He’s an alien. It’s different.” > “He’s also from Metropolis.” > “Shhhhhh, don’t remind me. I’m trying to be blissfully ignorant.”

[keikokasugawitch-blog]

I would kindly ask that @orione-n-stars fact check me on how frequently I use which name, but as someone else said, both Kaito and Shinichi are our POV characters and I personally get into the subconscious act of calling characters as the POV characters refer to them.

This is also why I tend to call Masumi by Sera, but I refer to her mother as Mary, as far as I can tell I mostly call Heiji by Hattori, I even call Furuya by Amuro or Bourbon, depending on the situation (and never allow me to talk about the weird disconnect of the whole Akai/Subaru thing that happens in my head, don't know where that one came from).

Also, calling Hakuba by his first name is weirdly familiar, I don't know how to explain it. It's the Bruce Wayne effect for me, whenever I call him Bruce I go "wait we aren't close like that why am I being so casual about him?"

I've been feeling super curious about this, so genuinely asking: those of you who refer to Saguru almost exclusively as 'Hakuba,' why do you do it? Especially if you refer to his peers / fellow detectives (i.e. Kaito, Shinichi, Heiji) by their first names?

[annalacerda17]

I've been thinking about the fandom's attitude toward trauma, and I find it deeply problematic. I'm going to ramble a bit about it.

Here's the thing, either people completely dismiss the element of trauma in the story, or they turn it into a free-pass that can excuse any future shitty behavior from the character.

Specifically, when it comes to Wei Wuxian, I see that his childhood trauma from losing his parents and being left to beg on the streets, and from being made a scapegoat by Yu Ziyuan - who was extremely abusive towards him, both physically and emotionally - to the war, the trauma of being thrown into the burial mounds, and everything that happened from the moment he created the ghost path of cultivation until the first siege of the burial mounds and his death, can all be minimized or all together dismissed by certain parts of the fandom when analyzing his actions in the first life. That's part of why I hate takes that portray Wei Wuxian as oblivious to Lan Wangji's feelings or too emotionally unintelligent to understand the romance, when, actually, there was a ton of shit going on in his life and he absolutely had no energy left to think about romance, of all things. The trauma also becomes progressively more relevant when we look at Wei Wuxian's actions towards the end of his first life - because traumatic experiences kept piling up - and when we get to the battle of Nightless City and later the first siege of the Burial Mounds, it's basically impossible to separate Wei Wuxian's actions and reactions from the trauma he'd endured up until that point.

On the other hand, the certain parts of the fandom really emphasize Jiang Cheng's trauma way beyond the point where it would be relevant to do so.

Yes, Jiang Cheng had an awful childhood because his mother was abusive towards everyone around her. And I can excuse his poor temper when he was a child based on that.

And it's true that losing his parents and sect was traumatic. However, the problem is that in Jiang Cheng's case, his trauma has frequently been used to justify and, in fact, to excuse, all the atrocities he went on to commit in his adult life.

Wei Wuxian, despite his trauma, never became the abuser. In every instance where he used violence, it was either during the war, or he was provoked first. He never took the initiative to be violent or to hurt others otherwise.

Jiang Cheng was completely different. He lashed out because of jealousy and a desire to satisfy his own ego, he betrayed Wei Wuxian and the Wen Siblings, knowing that he owed them his life. And yet, his stans will insist that his past trauma is enough to excuse this behavior. I'm not going to go into how Jiang Cheng's actions were entirely voluntary in this post. Suffice to say that the book makes it quite clear that he turned against Wei Wuxian not because Wei Wuxian's prominence hurt his ego, and the other sect leaders exploited that. But the Jiang sect wouldn't have been in danger had Jiang Cheng chosen not to turn against Wei Wuxian.

I suppose my point is that at some point, trauma can no longer excuse bad behavior. And in this case, when a sane adult chooses to commit genocide, that choice cannot be excused by anything, not even by a traumatic past. When his stans say that he was a victim, they forget about his victims. Sometimes, a victim goes on to become the perpetrator.

In the novel, several characters have extremely traumatic pasts. Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao. Most characters, really.

MXTX draws very clear parallels between Wei Wuxian and several of those characters. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao both have a lower background in a world that bases a person's value on their birth. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both lived with Yu Ziyuan for several years, they both watched Lotus Pier fall, they both lost Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang both came from a lower social background, they were both street kids at one point, they were both victims of societal injustice.

And yet, Wei Wuxian chose to break the cycle of abuse. No matter how much abuse he endured, how traumatic his past, he didn't go on to become the next monster, the next abuser. On the contrary, he actively chose to be kind and just and nurturing. He was only ever violent when he was forced to be so - when he had to defend himself or others. Even in Nightless City, after he'd just lost Wen Ning and Wen Qing, he wasn't the first to attack.

On the other hand, Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang, and many others chose to continue the cycle of violence and abuse. And at some point, the trauma in their pasts can no longer excuse their later choices. Those three characters, for instance - I know there are others but I'm not going to list every single MDZS character with a traumatic past who went on to become shitty people themselves, otherwise I'd be here all day - ruined many lives themselves, often those of people who were completely unrelated to their own traumatic pasts.

And if their actions are excused because of trauma, then what about their victims? What about the Wen remnants, who were old, disabled people, and a toddler, all innocent of Wen Rouhan's crimes? What about the people Jiang Cheng captured and murdered under the suspicion of the being demonic cultivators, on the off chance of them being Wei Wuxian? And the book doesn't even confirm that those people were actually demonic cultivators, they were taken because they were suspected of being such. And nowhere in the book does it say that any of those people did anything wrong at all. And what about Qin Su and her child? What about the entire clan Jin Guangyao framed for murdering his son and exterminated under such an excuse? What about the people of Yi city? What about Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan and a-Qing? What about the nameless, innocent victims who didn't get justice?

A traumatic past can never excuse the trail of victims they left behind.

[imsogonesposts]

My Hero

|| ao3 || Finnick Odair masterlist || an: this kinda hurt to write ngl 😭 || requests are open !! ||

summary: Finnick Odair was known for playing hero. That’s why he was always saving you, both metaphorically, and physically. (5 times Finnick saves you, and one time you can’t save him) (wc: 4080)

warning: nightmares, canon typical violence, mention of blood, no happy ending, i think thats all

1.

You tried to calm your rapidly beating heart and your too-loud breaths as you woke up. You had had a nightmare, reliving the events of your Hunger Games from years ago. Except, somehow the memories were worse. Distorted to make what truly happened on those never-ending days into something more violent, more gory. 

You tried to ease yourself, not wanting to wake up the boy next to you, but the thing about Finnick Odair, was that he always seemed to know when something was wrong with you- even when he was asleep, it seemed. 

He turned in bed as you covered your mouth, attempting to stifle your heavy breathing. He wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly rubbing your side as he quietly, asked “you okay?” 

You stayed silent, trying to pretend you were asleep, but even half asleep, Finnick could tell that something was wrong. 

He softly whispered your name before repeating his earlier question, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you quietly replied as he sat up, using his arm to support his weight as he looked over you. 

He softly repeated your name again as you turned over to look at him. You imagined your eyes were stained red from crying, your hair was probably a mess too, but Finnick didn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, what happened?” He asked a finger lightly tracing your arm. It was a comforting gesture, and right now, it was one of the only things helping to ground you. 

You’re not back in the arena, you’re home, in bed, with Finnick. The dream wasn’t real, this is.

“Bad dream,” you whisper as he frowns. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks as you shrug. 

“I was back in the arena,” you quietly reply. “But everything seemed worse. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Finnick instantly shakes his head no. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind. You know that,” he whispers, moving his hand from your arm to lightly cup your face, thumb lightly rubbing your cheek. “I never mind, I just like taking care of you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asks as you shrug. 

“Hold me?” You quietly ask as he nods. 

Finnick lowered himself to the bed as he pulled you atop him, your head on his chest, right over his beating heart. It was a calming sound, it always was, and his hand tracing up and down your back only added to the comfort he was trying to bring you. 

“I’d hold you forever if you wanted me to,” Finnick whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he continues to trace your spine with one hand, the other moving to play with your hair. 

2.

The TV was playing in the living room, but neither you nor Finnick were paying any attention to it. You were reading as Finnick laid in your lap, asleep, as Caesar Flickerman showed the citizens of the Capitol Katniss Everdeen’s wedding dress options. You prayed that when you and Finnick eventually got married, your wedding wouldn’t be nearly as publicized as the “star-crossed lovers of District 12’s” were. It would be nice to have something for yourselves for once. 

“That’s right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games and that means it’s time for our third Quarter Quell,” Caesar suddenly announced, pulling your attention away from your book, and onto the screen. Neither you nor Finnick were old enough to have witnessed a Quarter Quell before, but you had heard stories. Namely, what notto do- the stories of Haymitch Abernathy’s games and the consequences of his win had been told frequently as a cautionary tale, warning to not do anything too extreme to win your games, so long as you wanted your loved ones to live to see another day.

You watched as President Snow made his way across the stage, a boy dressed in white closely following behind him.

You knew that a Quarter Quell most likely meant more work for you and Finnick as victors, you knew that you wouldn’thave liked whatever cruel Quarter Quell idea the original game makers had come up with seventy-five years ago, but nothing could have prepared you for the words that left the president’s mouth. 

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

You felt your blood turn cold as you looked at the sleeping figure atop you. Chances were, you and Finnick would be going into the arena again. Chances were, you would be going in together. And chances were, they wouldn’t let two tributes out of the arena again. 

“Finnick,” you whisper, lightly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. He smiled as he opened his eyes to be met with your face. You hated how quickly his smile dropped when he saw the look of concern etched across your own face. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up as he turns his body to face yours, his hands almost automatically reaching for yours. 

“They announced what would be happening for the next Quarter Quell,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze as you focused on the chipping paint on the wall beside the couch. Finnick had kept putting off repainting it, and now, who knew if you would ever get to see it fixed. 

He squeezed your hands as he noticed your refusal to meet his gaze. “That bad?” He jokes, panic instantly filling his body as he watched your eyes begin to water. “Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he whispered, gently taking your face in between in hands as he began wiping the tears of your face with his thumbs. “We’ll get through whatever it is, I promise.”

He was so sweet you could cry even more. You really didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but you had to tell him at some point. 

“Finnick,” you start.

“Yeah?”

“For the Quarter Quell,” you sniffle, “they’re gonna put two past victors back into the game.” You pause as you watch him think over your words. “They could send us back in,” you whisper, watching as his eyes narrow and shoulders gotense.

“What?” He questions as you nod. 

“I don’t want to go back,” you whisper. “I don’t want you to go back.”

He didn’t want that either. He didn’t want either of you to ever have to step through that arena again, he wouldn’t wish such a cruel fate to his worst enemy.

“I’ll figure something out,” Finnick whispers, pulling you into a hug as you cry into his shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers, rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure how true his words were, but as of right now, his main priority was calming you down and holding you, letting you cry it all out into his embrace. 

3.

The first thing you hear after sleeping in the arms of the man you love, is Katniss’s voice yelling “Run!” You could feel Finnick instantly tensing up, sitting up as if ready to fight an enemy, only to be met with a wall of fog. 

While it was obvious that neither you nor Finnick knew why you had to run from something as harmless as fog, Finnick still began pulling you up, pushing you ahead of him as the two of you ran away from the fog with Katniss and Peeta in tow. 

“What is it?” You heard Peeta ask. 

“Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas,” Katniss replied as you all continued running. 

You could feel the fog slowly catching up to you all as you began to feel a burning sensation in your body. It was on your arms, your legs, too many places for comfort. All the while, Finnick was yelling at the three of you to “keep moving.”

You had wanted to listen to him, you truly did, but slowly it began to feel as if the burning was doing much worse than causing some pain. It was targeting your nerves, making it close to impossible to run without stumbling and twitching.You had wanted to stop for a break, but Finnick had pushed you forward as he ran back towards Katniss and Peeta to help them, as Peeta could barely move due to his earlier injuries. 

You could barely feel anything but pain and worry as you fell down a hill, a few feet away from a body of water. Pain from the fog, and worry that Finnick might not have made it out of the fog, that he might have fallen there, and that you may have lost him forever. 

You wanted to thank every star in the night sky when you, weakly, lifted your head up to see Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta roll down the hill. All injured, but all alive. 

“Sweetheart?” Finnick, weakly, called out, lifting his head as much as he could to look for you. 

“I’m okay,” you replied. 

He let out a slight nod before laying his head down again, mumbling out a small “good.” 

You kept your gaze on him, watching as Katniss and Peeta carried him to the water. You would have been worried by the sounds of anguish coming from him if it weren’t obvious that the water helped with the poisonous gas, otherwise Katniss and Peeta wouldn’t be able to move as much as they were. 

“Hi, baby,” you hear after a few minutes, looking up to be met with Finnick’s warm smile. “I’m gonna take you to water and help fix you up, alright?” 

You weakly nod as he picks you up, carrying you to the water as he gently placed you in the water, waiting as you returned to your normal look. 

“Better?” He asked as you nodded. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, eyes going over his body looking for any signs of injury. “You definitely got the worst of it.”

Finnick shrugged with a smile as he tilted your chin to look up at him. “I’m okay because you’re okay,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

4.

You had been talking with Johanna when you had noticed Katniss running through the forest like a woman gone mad yelling one word, one name, over and over again. “Prim.” 

You ran after her, finally catching up to her as you watched her shoot a bird down, her shoulders still slightly tense. 

“Katniss?” You whisper, so as to not startle the girl. “Are you alright?” 

She nods at you, taking the arrow out of the bird as she wipes it clean. “I’m okay,” she replied. “I thought I heard my sister, but-“ 

A loud scream cuts her off. A scream that sounds like a voice you know all too well. 

“Finnick?” You yell, running into the forest, Katniss quickly following behind you. Finnick had been talking with Wirus, Beetee, and Peeta when you left. Had he gone chasing after you and ended up in danger? Did another past victor find him? One that wasn’t in the alliance?  Was he okay?

The screaming seemed to grow louder as you kept yelling out for him, and yet you couldn’t find him. It wasn’t until a bird fell on your feet that the screaming stopped. 

Oh, it wasn’t really him. And thank god for that. 

“It’s a jabber jay,” Katniss explains, “Finnick’s probably still okay, the Capitol’s just playing a trick on us. It’s not real.”

You pick up the bird with a shaky hand as you nod. Her reasoning made sense, it all made sense, you just had to calm yourself. 

Finnick was okay. He was okay, and you would both escape the arena together. Safe and sound. 

You nodded once more as another scream filled the forest. A deeper voice calling out for Katniss’s help. 

“Katniss, we have to go,” you tell her, pulling on her arm as you try to drag her away from the screaming jabber jays that began following the two of you. And with that, Finnick screaming for your help again. 

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. 

As you half drag, Katniss away from the birds, you finally catch sight of Johanna, Finnick, and Peeta waving at the two of you. Thank god he was okay. Finnick was shaking his head “no,” making an X symbol with his hands, Peeta and Johanna yelling at the two of you, though no words leaving their mouths. Strange, yes, but right now you just wanted to be held in Finnick’s arms as he assured you he was okay.

Katniss and you ran closer to them until you both suddenly ran into a wall, so transparent you couldn’t even see it. You both landed on the floor, looking up to see Finnick’s hand placed on the clear wall, mouthing the question “Are you okay?” You nodded “yes” even though your body ached from the impact of the wall. Johanna began hitting the wall with her ax, but it was obvious her attempts did little to damage it. You were stuck. At least until the hour was up. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, suddenly remembering the girl you were supposed to protect. Katniss nodded as she sat up, moving to closer face Peeta. 

You give Finnick a knowing smile, silently telling him, “see? I told you they were real.”

He only rolled his eyes in response, the hint of a smile tugging on his face before he winked at you. You swore you could get lost in his eyes.

That was, until, the jabber jays found Katniss and you. Slowly, one by one, they began sitting on nearby branches and rocks, before opening their mouths, screams pilling out. Some yelling for Katniss, some for you. You heard the voices of all that you loved: Finnick, your parents, your friends back home. 

You watch Katniss attempt to shoot the birds down, but you knew it was pointless. The game makers probably had anendless amount of jabber jays at their disposal. You wished you could help, but every second the voices seemed to onlygrow louder and louder. You covered your ears, closing your eyes, in hopes of blocking them out, yet that barely did anything. 

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.

Finally, the hour passed, and Finnick kneeled beside you, rubbing your back to let you know he was there. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispers as you uncover your ears, finally opening your eyes to be met with his comforting green ones. 

“You’re okay?” You quietly ask. 

He nods. “I’m okay,” he tells you, hand still rubbing your back. “Are you okay?” He knows you’re probably not okay, he can see it in the way breathing, in the fear in your eyes, in the slight shaking of your body, but he wants to take things slow, he wants to help calm you down. 

You shrug at his question. “There were jabber jays,” you told him. “They sounded like you screaming, I thought something happened to you.”

He can feel part of his heartbreak at that as he slowly pulls you into a hug. “Oh, baby,” he whispers, kissing the top ofyour head. “I’m okay, I’m right here,” he begins rubbing your back again as you move your face into the crook of his neck. 

“I heard my parent too, Finnick,” you mumble against his neck. “And my friends back home…it was horrible.”

Finnick wished nothing more than the ability to take the pain away from you. To have been in your place instead so you wouldn’t have to go through such a thing. Or better yet, kill President Snow for ever helping with these games and foreverything he has ever put the two of you through. 

“They’re safe back home, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing the side of your head. “They always interview the family, I promise you your family is safe at home right now, okay?” 

You nod against him, letting his warm embrace calm you. 

5.

“Good morning,” you say, lightly shaking Finnick away from his nap. 

He only groans in response, mumbling something that sounded like “let me sleep.” 

You brush hair off his forehead with a laugh before whispering, “I’m sorry, but I need your help with something.” 

This time, he peeks an eye open, finally meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?” He asks through a yawn, one of his hands moving to rub up and down your arm. 

You nod in response before replying, “there’s a spider in the corner of our room, can you get it out?”

Finnick can’t help but laugh, sitting up and taking in the small room you and Finnick have grown to call your own in District 13. It wasn’t much, you only had a nightstand, a bed barely big enough to fit the both of you, and a small shaky desk, but it was enough. You were safe with him, you were both out of the arena, away from President Snow, you were both married now, and that was more than enough for him. 

“You mean to tell me you won your Hunger Games, and you can’t manage to kill a spider?” Finnick asks with a laugh, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before pulling you in to press a kiss to the side of your head. 

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, leaning into his touch as he laughs again. 

“You’re right,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the side of your head before getting off the bed, “it’s hilarious.”

“It’s near the desk,” you inform him as he nods, ripping a blank page out of the notebook that sat on the desk, picking up a discarded cup, placing the cup over the spider, and sliding the paper under the cup. 

“Can you get the door, sweetheart?” He requests as you get up with a nod. 

He kisses your cheek as you hold the door open for him. “It feels like you’re always saving me,” you joke as he laughs with a nod. 

“I happen to like saving you,” he easily replies. “I can be your knight in shining armor,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and walking out of the room to discard of the spider. “And it makes me feel useful,” he calls out before you close the door with a laugh.

+1

It was a strange thing. One moment, you were holding hands with Finnick, him making jokes to ease your ever-growing nerves, you laughing along as if his attempts were working. Finnick wasn’t stupid, though, he knew his attempts to calm you weren’t working, but no matter how much he tried to convince you, you insisted that you had a strange feeling in your stomach. A bad feeling that something wasn’t going to work out right today.  

One moment, he was swinging your joint hands back and forth, the next the two of you and the rebels were running from the mutts chasing you all. The mutts who stood tall like humans, chasing you with their almost reptilian-like tails, their hollow dark eyes, and their razor-sharp teeth. You could still feel Finnick’s hand in yours as you ran to the main sewer.

If you were a more selfish person, a smarter person, you would have found a way to stay back at District 13, and with that, find a way to convince Finnick to stay with you. Say something like you wanted to have as close to a honeymoon with him as you could back in District 13. Back in your almost too-small-to-move room, back in your slightly worn-out bed. Back home, safe. Without having to see so many people who were part of the rebel group die such a cruel death. Nothing about this was fair. Not one bit. 

You would close your eyes, will all of this away to be just another bad dream as you wake up safe in Finnick’s warm arms again, but every time you close your eyes, you were reminded of those who lost their lives due to the rebellion. The rebellion that you wished more than anything would just end already. Boggs, Jackson, Leeg One.

You feel something, someone, push you towards a ladder as the smell of blood, and roses, and death fills your nostrils. 

“Climb,” you hear Finnick instruct as you nod your head. 

“Finnick-“

“Climb,” he repeated, his tone more stern. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise,” he says, pressing a quick, haste kiss to your lips as he pushes you towards the ladder again. “I’ll be there soon, baby,” he tells you, turning around to fight off more of the mutts with the trident Beetee had recently crafted for him. You barely register your hands pulling you up the ladder, nor the bottom of your shoes pressing against the ladder as you make your way up. 

One second, Finnick’s lips are on yours, the next, you're atop a platform, watching the rest of the rebels climb their way up, save for one. 

“Where’s Finnick?” You ask before you hear the sound of screaming. The sound of his screaming.

It was like you were in the area again, back with the jabber jays taunting you and Katniss with the screams of those that you loved. Only this time, it wasn’t a distorted audio. This time it was real.

“Finnick!” You yell, making your way back to the ladder. You had to help him, you had to save him. He’s done the same for you countless times. You had to help him, you had to-.

A pair of strong arms pull you back, holding you tight so you wouldn't be able to escape. You thrashed against the person, Finnick’s screams of pain only further motivating your escape as the person, Gale, tells you, “No, he’s not coming back up.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Right now, your heart was overpowering any rational thought as you tried to escape from Gale’s hold. You had to try, you couldn’t let Finnick die. Not like this. Not with so much pain. Not in the water. It may not be the ocean water that he loved so much, but it was water nonetheless. He can’t die, he couldn’t, but especially not in the place he had always considered to be like a second home to him. In the place that would help calm all his racing thoughts, the water which he had practically grown up in. It wasn’t fair, nothing about any of this was. It wasn’t fair that either of you had to enter the Hunger Games at such a young age, that either of you had to go through those horrid games again years later. It wasn’t fair what the Capitol put Finnick through, it wasn’t fair that now he was so far out of reach.

You watch Katniss take out the Holo from her belt, whispering the word “nightlock” three times before releasing it to the sewer. To the mutts. To Finnick. 

“Katniss no,” you choke out through a sob, but the explosion had already happened before you could finish your plea. That’s when Gale finally releases you, letting you sink to your knees, as your sobs overtake you. 

“We can’t stay here,” Katniss suddenly says. You feel Cressida come to your side, rubbing a hand up and down your back to soothe you. The same way Finnick used to. 

That’s when it hits you: you’d never get to feel his touch again. Never wake up in his arms, hear his voice, have him next to you as you both drift off to sleep, you'd never get to tell him you loved him again. You didn’t even get to say it againbefore climbing up the ladder. 

You barely register Katniss and Peeta’s argument as Cressida helps you up, leading you to god knows where. You were only half there mentally, though you doubted anyone could truly blame you. 

Finnick was gone. The weird feeling you had in your stomach was right, and in the most cruelest way possible too. 

“I didn’t even get to say bye,” you croak out through a sob as Cressida continues rubbing her hand up and down your back. Though, it would never bring the same comfort that Finnick’s actions used to. 

[jonathankai]

Mu Qing (mumbles): I wish I was in your bed. Feng Xin: What did you say??? Mu Qing (louder): I said, I wish you were dead!

Now the same joke and a short tale about what happens next:

Some things change, some things stay the same. Although the Heavenly Capital was rebuilt from scratch, just like the old Capital, it frequently suffered from general Xuanzhen and general Nang Yang’s fights.

Somewhere amid the chaos, after one of the usual quarrels, Mu Qing mumbled under his breath: “I wish I was in your bed”, and Feng Xin, who was about to leave, turned on his heels to ask: “What did you just say?”. Mu Qing said louder: “I said, I wish you were dead!”, so Feng Xin told him to fuck off and they fought some more.

But after that Feng Xin was never the same again. He heard that, he definitely did. Or did he???

Why would Mu Qing say something like this? And if he didn’t, the fact that Feng Xin heard such.. extravagant thing must say something about Feng Xin himself. Why would Feng Xin hear something like this?

Days flew by, Feng Xin was caught in a stupor. The thought about Mu Qing actually saying that phrase brought unexpected and unexplainable joy in his heart, while the thought about mishearing filled him with equally unexplainable dread. Deputies had to regularly shake their general to bring him back to his senses and even high priests were alarmed when their god replied to prayers in nonsensical manner.

Feng Xin has been oddly quiet lately, and Mu Qing embraced the change. Having to deal with Feng Xin all the time brought him enough heartache, so while the other god stayed away and kept his mouth shut, Mu Qing relished in peace.

Expect one night Feng Xin barged into his palace, tearing the front gate down (all deputies and servants present in palace rushed to surround him in the yard, sure it was a one-man ambush). When Mu Qing came to the front yard to kick Feng Xin out personally, he was a little unnerved to see that Feng Xin looked half-mad. Mu Qing felt his hackles rise. Whatever was about to happen now, it surely would be messy.

Feng Xin saw the cause of his suffering and burst out:

“DID YOU SAY IT OR DID I MISHEAR YOU???”

“Did I say what?”

“THAT YOU WANT TO BE IN MY BED???”

Deafening silence fell upon yard, and then stomping of many legs as all deputies and servants scattered in different directions like cockroaches. Every one of them knew well enough that if they’ve learnt any… sensitive information not meant for them, their general would more likely see them dead rather than let that information leak.

Stone-faced, Mu Qing spitted out:

“I have said no such thing”.

Whatever reaction he expected, it definitely was not what happened next. Feng Xin fell to his knees, turned his face and hands up to the sky and let out a howl of a wounded beast. And right after that – he fainted. Mu Qing grabbed him by the collar and dragged inside before neighbors would start coming to his crashed gates with questions.

In the inner chambers Mu Qing shook motionless Feng Xin and slapped him multiple times before he finally slowly opened his eyes.

Feng Xin was staring blindly at the ceiling with solemn expression on his face. He said:

“I’ve come to conclusion. If you said no such thing and still I heard it, it must mean that I have feelings for you. This is terrible”.

Surely thing, this made Mu Qing bristle.

“Why is having feelings for me terrible?!”

“Because you hate me”.

Mu Qing bristled even more.

“I don’t hate you! We’re friends! We’ve already established this!”

Feng Xin came to life a little bit, scrunching his nose and waving his hand ambiguously.

“You don’t HATE hate me, but you can’t stand the sight of me. You won’t even like me back”.

With that Feng Xin sighed and stood up slowly, still not looking at Mu Qing.

“Forget it. I won’t disturb you anymore. I would apologize for the gate, but you know what? It wasn’t completely undeserved”.

With that he dragged himself toward exit.

It was this moment when the last brain cell in Mu Qing’s head started to kick and scream. He hurried to say:

“Do you think I remember everything I say, especially to you? I might have said it”.

Just like some time ago, Feng Xin turned around:

“What do you mean you MIGHT have said it? Did you or did you not?!”

“I’m telling you, I don’t remember!”

“Okay, okay, doesn’t matter. You said it or you didn’t. It’s in the past. Answer me now. Do you—“

Feng Xin’s words were cut short as he snapped his mouth shut. Made another ambiguous gesture with his hand. Blushed.

A thought flashed through Mu Qing's mind: “Whatever you are going to say, I will to kill you”.

But Feng Xin squared his shoulders – a confident stance of a martial god – and said:

“Mu Qing, I like you. More than a friend. Do you like me?”

Mu Qing let out a relieved sigh. Somehow, this sounded better than quoting a thing he said in spur of the moment. He opened his mouth to answer and discovered something unpleasant – words were stuck in his throat. It was a simple question and actually the answer was quite simple too, but Mu Qing found himself unable to speak. Whatever force came over him, it left him frowning with his mouth slightly agape, no doubt looking like an idiot.

Luckily, Feng Xin couldn't bear the silence and snapped:

“Man up, you coward! Do you like me? Yes or no!”

“Who are you calling a coward, you dipshit! Yes, I like you! For whatever bizarre reason, it’s beyond my comprehension! I was silent because I’ve been trying to understand—Why are you laughing?!”

If Mu Qing was stunned before, now he was burning with embarrassment. He closed the distance to kick Feng Xin.

“Shut up! Shut up and get out of my palace!”

Suddenly, Feng Xin lashed out and grabbed him. Mu Qing tensed, preparing to break out of opponent’s grip. However it was not a grip...

It was a hug. A big good warm hug. Once Mu Qing realized what was going on, his hands flew to Feng Xin’s back on their own accord.

“If I “get lost” now, can I see you in the morning for a strategic meeting?”

“Strategic meeting?”

“Yeah. I think we need to discuss what we’re going to do now. What’s the plan”.

Agreeing with Feng Xin wasn’t something Mu Qing was prone to do, but it was surprisingly easy in the moment.

“Alright, sounds good. But why in the morning?”

Feng Xin’s body sank, leaning all of its’ weight on Mu Qing.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted”.

Mu Qing huffed and patted him on the back.

He escorted the unexpected guest to the front yard to see him out. Feng Xin glanced at the wreckage he’s done and decided that apology was necessary after all:

“Mu Qing, sorry for the gates”.

The other god waved him off dismissively.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Was worth it in the end”.

Feng Xin gave him a stupid and mischievous smile – one Mu Qing hasn’t seen in 800 years plus some – and left general Xuanzhen’s palace.

Some things stay the same, some things change. With the dawn, the friendship remained the same, but something new has also arisen.

[ddaengju]

.

[theflopwonder]

yeah dude tracing dc by publication history is the fastest way to induce a migraine and for some reason BatBooks in particular are just notoriously bad at following or obeying things going on in other books featuring said characters even tho all it would take is a one off sentence to explain it, and ESPECIALLY in Tim’s case. This is why everyone thinks he was dating Cassie and Zoe at the same time. I know it’s meant to be a half baked joke but still, he wasn’t cheating, the editorials just REFUSED to talk to each other 😭😭

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[musical-chick-13]

If Josh Chan has 1 million defenders, I am one of them. If Josh Chan has 10 defenders, I am one of them. If he has only one defender, that person is me, and if he has zero defenders, than I am no longer on this earth. If the world wants me to fight Josh Chan, then I choose to fight the world.

[cakemoney]

finding out that kaito and shinichi have been revealed to be cousins is like finding out there was a huge earthquake in the country you used to live in

[macroglossus]

come on dude

[4giorno]

googles "will i be arrested if i play the exact same bg3 character for the third time in under 2 months"

[teamseaslug]

People love to talk about older couples propositioning them for a threesome and idk what it is but of all of the flirtatious attention I've received in social environments I've never had that one happen

[sai-int]

fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS. [ pt 2 ]

--

it's quite simple.

simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.

and you're just so good at taking it—whatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know how—until you go blue in the face—and simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdump—you name it, he's probably said it.

it's perfect, until it's not.

he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.

simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.

his mask would come fully off—not just above his lips—and you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.

It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.

after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.

you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.

so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.

then even you began to notice the shift.

simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.

then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.

it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.

now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.

hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.

"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.

and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."

you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.

"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude but—"

this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.

"'m in love with ya."

one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"simon, i don't think you understand—"

"—i do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."

this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know better—and if the lighting wasn't so dim—you'd think he was tearing up.

you didn't know how to break it to him.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

[ozzgin]

I'm playing Crime Scene Cleaner and all that floor scrubbing got me thinking... Content: gender neutral reader, morally grey reader, organized crime, violence, murder

Yandere!Crime Boss who needs someone to clean up his frequent messes, and you happen to be in desperate need of money. He will reward your hard work handsomely; all he demands in return is loyalty. You quickly learn what it means to stray from his orders, carrying body after body, and mopping never-ending pools of blood.

Well now, you're not half bad, are you? He didn't think you had it in you. A regular, law-fearing citizen, now disposing of leftover bullets and hiding condemning evidence from the cops.

"What am I supposed to do with all these drugs and stacks of bills?" you ask over the burner phone, staring at the lavish table you'd stumbled upon during your latest cleaning service.

"Consider it your tip", he responds with a chuckle, somewhat taken aback by your honesty.

What a ridiculous twist. He finds himself trusting you more than his own men. You always do your job flawlessly, no questions asked, and for whatever reason you never fail to provide a full report of your findings. He couldn't care less if you left with a suitcase full of cash. He doesn't need the leftover scraps from some dealer who tried to turn on him. Bold of you to assume he even noticed anything of value in the first place. He merely drove over, pulled the trigger, and returned to his usual business.

"Did you bring enough body bags-" he begins, but his voice is cut short.

This must be the first time he's actually seen you in person. You're no longer a string of sentences over the phone. He certainly didn’t expect you to be this cute.

"Uh huh, it's all here", you state casually, holding a bucket of water. You gaze at the gory scene and whistle. "It's going to be a long night", you add.

"Do you have anything to do afterwards?", he asks with an unfamiliar hesitancy, swiftly recovering himself. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Finish here, and I'll pick you up once you're done."

"What? Am I in trouble?" you ask, eyes widening in fear.

"Dumbass! I'm inviting you out. It's my treat", he huffs with indignation.

What an absurd implication. Why would he have any reason to threaten you? Surely you must know by now that as long as you behave, you've nothing to worry about.

You won't regret your obedience. He'll make sure of it.

[Part 2] | [More yandere stories]