#this is for my own benefit because I get lost with it too but I'm a total Joan of Arc fanboy so I have to understand the causes of the war

[bucksboobs]

Why did the 100 Years War happen? Well its simple! King Charles IV died without a son so the crown passed to his first cousin Phillip de Valois, but Charles's nephew by his sister Isabella, King Edward III of England, argued that by English succession law, he would get the crown not Phillip. While that was technically in England, it was the French crown, so French succession law was used and Edward had to use war to enforce that claim, thus sparking a century of sporadic wars based off Edward's claim to the French throne through English right.

This (forced) succession crisis is incredibly complicated for how dumb it is so you should be thanking me for simplifying it to "English Law said one guy and French Law said another and the English guy declared war about it."

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Counterintuitively, Jason trafficking drugs himself, and the way he treats drug dealers in general is actually one of the core reasons I do believe he has a real moral backbone.

In Lost Days we see him mention that he killed his small arms teacher because the smack he was dealing was poisoned. In Nightwing (2016) Annual #2 Jason is particularly violent towards their enemy because he cut his heroin with other substances, leading to his mother's first overdose. In Under the Red Hood, his most important rule is 'no selling to kids', and he is specifically employing people who do sell drugs to adults.

Playing a bit of Headcanon Jazz here - listening to the notes Jason doesn't play as much as the ones he does - It feels really notable to me that dealing drugs is not enough to get on Jason's shit list. On some level Jason thinks it's okay to deal drugs. Even more importantly: Jason doesn't at all imply that drug users are at fault - nor that they need to have the choice to use taken from them 'for their own good'. Heck, I can't remember any instance of him saying that doing drugs is a bad thing.

He has lived with and cared for someone struggling with an addiction that she died to, which would have made it really easy to take him in a 'no leniency, no tolerance, kill all drug dealers and burn all the crack so no one can smoke it' road. Yet that's the opposite of how he's operating.

And I'm putting all that together to get a Jason who firmly believes in harm reduction and that when it comes to drugs, people have a right to risk; they have a right to choose to use. I don't think it's too much further of a stretch to say that he thinks that those who do use should be supported by infrastructure ensuring that their drugs are uncut and properly dosed and that they should have safe places to use and well funded rehab options if they want to quit.

This whole thing is so important to me because it lies completely outside of his emotional conflict of 'I wasn't avenged'; it's proof that there was more to Jason's talk about running Gotham differently than simply killing people.

Factually, there are a huge number of criminal activities that could be used to improve the lives of vulnerable people.

I firmly believe that no government has the right to detain, imprison, deport, et.c. people fleeing violence and persecution in their country of origin. A criminal organization that genuinely had their best interest in mind who could provide access to new identities, jobs, housing, and paperwork for cheap could save and change hundreds of lives. Sex workers, especially survival sex workers who want to quit and move on to a new job, could benefit enormously from protection from the cops, and from landlords kicking them out, and the ability to get criminal charges purged from their records, and lots of other stuff. People who use street drugs need a lot of the same things, as do people who need access to medication but for whatever reason can't get prescriptions the legal way.

This is all stuff that is already a staple of organized crime - they just do it in ways that are insanely abusive and exploitative.

It makes sense that Jason would look at that and think he could make it work! Honestly I'd love to read a comic about him trying! He could be the pinnacle of Be Gay Do Crime! Sadly though, it's very unlikely we ever will, especially because his term as a drug lord was so incredibly short to begin with. Under the Red Hood, a tiny snippet of Robin (1993) and Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is really all we get, and none of those really got into the politics of his organization either.

Tho, there is a tiny snippet we possibly see in Seeing Red, my favorite Jason run ever, and I will take any excuse to talk about it so here we go lol!

This is a comic in which Batman gets some things wrong about Jason, and might be straight up lying to Green Arrow in places too, so I don't think we can take his word for it when he says Jason is driving up the trade. Especially not when Jason hasn't given a single flying fuck about collecting wealth for himself in basically any other appearance ever.

Is he using drugs as a trading good to some capacity? Yes, that's a minor plot point here, however, I think justice is very present in his reasoning. I think Jason is being selective with which shipments he's keeping - testing each and destroying the stuff that's extra dangerous, making sure that what's getting used is as safe as it can be. Plus, he might be reducing the supply so that drug trade can't expand, while considering complete elimination to be flatly undesirable, since it could force users to go cold turkey, something that can be dangerous, or at least very painful.

Now, obviously this is still headcanon territory, we never really see into Jason's head about this specific topic, but I do feel like it's a reasonable way to fill in that gap!

Anyways, this is why I've never felt like Jason's disagreements with Bruce's methods were purely about his own emotional desires. There's too much else surrounding that which he clearly also cares about.

[palskippah]

Hi!! Nimona Tangled AU my beloved 🗣️🗣️

Here's drawings of some of the stuff I can remember of the movie woo

Also under the cut are some random thoughts too c:

(Apologies on any mistakes! I tried checking in to make sure that everything was correctly written)

-Save me, PNG of a frying pan.

-By the way, I've only watched the movie (several times) in Spanish, never in English, so not only I am writing what I can actually remember of the dialogue, but also I'm translating it into English djfdk clarifying this in case it feels weird

-I think it was Ambrosius' voice actor who mentioned about the discarded idea of the queen being Ambrosius' mother, but anyways here she is his mother and Ambrosius was stolen from his crib and all that

>Invented Ambrosius a dad called King Something-Something and the guy definitely cried like Rapunzel's dad when him and his wife were getting ready to send floating the first lantern (I swear, that scene is my favorite in the whole movie, it's just so aaa hitting me right in the daddy issues, he was missing his daughter so much)

>Then Queen Valerin wipes the king's tears very tenderly while feeling very melancholic herself, but she doesn't cry because she had accepted long ago that their son was never coming back, but she knows that her husband is still hopeful about it, even if each year he gets disappointed.

-Instead of it being Queen Valerin who was sick, it was Ambrosius who was born as a sickly baby (stealing comic Nimona's lore a bit here sjdkf), and so in all the kingdom they went to look for a cure for his sickness because otherwise they were sure he wouldn't make it.

>Then they find the flower and they give it to him and from then on he becomes a very healthy, robust baby. Also he started quickly growing blond hair with the weeks and they were like ? okay, but he's healthy, so-!

>(It would've been cool to color Ambrosius' tip of his blonde hair brown like his haircolor is supposed to be but I forgor and I'm too lazy to fix it sjdfkjs)

>Anyways the Director thought that she had lost the power of the flower forever since they fed it to the prince, but then she's like :0 bc hey it seems that the powers transferred to the baby. And she's like, well, that works too, and tried to get his hair but it didn't work so she planned on kidnapping him instead.

>Maybe she kidnapped him like when he was a toddler or lil kid under four or very young so he wouldn't remember his parents or anything prince-related, that's why twenty years went by and yet Ambrosius is older than that.

-I'm yet to keep reading rosemary-frog's tangled au fic but the idea of Ballister being Lord Blackheart is really cool and then him probably admitting that his name is just Ballister pipipi when he and Ambrosius are about to drown in that lil cave.

>Maybe Nimona starts narrating the story with something like 'this is the story of how Lord Blackheart/my boss/the villain died' or something very dramatic.

>Maybe he's surname-less and the queen names or knights him Boldheart or something aaa

>Ambrosius starts calling him Ballister and then just Balli wiwiw

-The director sometimes losing her cool and blaming Ambrosius over it (in a, look what you made me do, kinda way) [LIKE THAT THING IN AMPHIBIA SJDKFSJF the king just kills Marcy and is like oh look what you made me do :( ]

>She definitely applies that when she stabs Ballister nearly to the end of the story sdfjs like, look what you caused, Ambrosius, if only you had listened to me.

-Her not naming herself his mother to keep some distance between herself and the queen's kid, so just going along with her director title, since she is still the director in the institute or something, and how is Ambrosius going to know what a director actually is, anyway.

>He tried to call him mom once and she was like (ew) no, it's director, I'm not your mother (maybe he's told his parents abandoned him or tried to use his magic for their own evil benefit, and that's why the director decided to save and protect him, taking him to the tower).

>Ambrosius hasn't known anyone beside her tho, so she allows the occasional hug or gentle treatment. He's very touch-starved.

>She feels nothing for him, he's just useful and at the second of him rebelling she tries to kill him or whatever happened in the tangled movie sjdfkds

>Actually I think Rapunzel's mom wanted to take her away for no one to find them? Maybe the director was just so desperate to not lose Ambrosius' magic that she'd leave everything behind just to get to keep it for herself idk.

>Also she definitely tells him out there are monsters and stuff bc why not, anything to keep Ambrosius fearful of the outside world and keep him in the tower.

-Nimona doesn't like Ambrosius for calling her a monster, then over finding out that he whacked her boss in the head with a frying pan several times, and then for gatekeeping the crown that they stole.

-Nimona starting the Goldie nickname, Ballister following along, and Ambrosius not finding it amusing. Maybe Ballister comments something about having a thing for blondes during the whole thing of him and Ambrosius clearly liking each other (and Ambrosius' like oh?? I am a blond! 😈).

>Later on, after the whole dying and reviving through Ambrosius' tears, Ballister says that he's crazy for brunettes actually and Ambrosius' like :D ??!! because Ballister is alive (and hey, he is a brunette! 😈)

>Btw they definitely flirt in-between their mission of going to see the lanterns, even if Ambrosius isn't all too sure about what he's doing bc he has never flirted with anyone before, he just knows that saying things to Ballister that make the man look almost coy makes his heart go faster, and also of course receiving the flirting from Ballister.

>What if he applies all the stuff he had read in his books or something sjdkfjs he had only ever flirted with the mirror and now he gets to apply it to the very attractive man that is leading him to watch the lanterns sjdfkjf

-Nimona breaks Ballister out of jail exactly like in the Nimona movie and hurts lots of guards and jumps out of the building as it explodes and stuff.

-Since Nimona is sort of using Maximus' place in the movie (and any animal, like Pascal and also that bunny that Rapunzel gets scared of), let's say that the overly competent guard/knight here will have to be Todd and his team sjdkf

>They're after Ballister and Nimona, but since Ambrosius' there too they also chase him (running away from the law as a family, amarite)

-When they're in the lil' cave about to drown, both Nimona and Ballister have to pull Ambrosius out of the water when he keeps trying to push the rocks away, in desperation because how is he going to die this way.

>Nimona's like, Goldie stop! It's useless. Because she tried pounding the rocks in the biggest forms she could use and had to resist turning into a much bigger form in fear of squashing both men. And her smallest forms did nothing because they were completely sealed in, yet she was aware that both men were about to die and she wouldn't. Then Ambrosius turns to Ballister who just gently shakes his head, because it is a lost cause.

>Both Nimona and Ballister see him crying in guilt and stuff and Ballister says his actual name when Ambrosius says, I'm sorry, Nimona, Lord Blackheart-. Ballister admits that he isn't a Lord nor Blackheart, and that he actually has no last name. He's just Ballister.

>I'm not sure what Nimona would admit, like the being lonely thing, the pushing people away, or something to do with their powers? (but I doubt that one), maybe she just watches the other two share their small moment of truths.

>Ambrosius reveals that his hair glows when he sings. And so he does when he realizes that they could use that, and once there's a very small crack revealed by the light where his hair is trying to get out, Nimona puts her whole into using that and she finally manages to push all the stuff away.

-Ballister is like, his hair glows?! and Nimona's like, yeah and I change forms, so what?! a bit offendedly and Ballister's like, oh right.

>(Nimona getting offended on Ambrosius' behalf over Ballister freaking out about his powers/magic, reminding her a bit of when they first met and Ballister freaked out too. But Ambrosius couldn't care less about the guy freaking out, he's way too happy about being alive)

>Then he heals his right hand where he had a cut and all that and the whole talk of stuff.

-Imagine that same night that they have to spend resting, that Nimona and Ballister easily fall into a sleeping position that works to brace them (especially Ballister) against the cold of the night, and Ambrosius just staring with like a smile because isn't it great that those two get to have each other and be so familiar between each other to just do that?

>Then he prepares to lay on his own side to sleep, but Nimona just rolls her eyes and roughly pulls him into their pile, leaving him wrapped on her arms too. And there's Ambrosius and Ballister back-to-back, and Ballister just says 'goodnight' to him and Ambrosius mutters the same back, feeling something like a lump in his throat as he accommodates his head on Nimona's arm like a pillow.

>And Ballister throws Nimona a knowing look, because despite her not liking the blond much, she still felt some clear sympathy for him, both over him admitting that he had never left the tower, and the fact that they were similar somewhat, both had pretty cool powers that confused people.

>And the fact that Ambrosius getting locked into a tower so no one could use his powers was a bit similar to Nimona's situation in a way (if we're going with the comic lore for her)

>(maybe it was Nimona who muttered the 'you've never left the tower' in realization after Ambrosius said almost shyly the 'that's why I've never been out and...' and then he sighed defeatedly and then said the next stuff all resigned, and all that)

-When the whole dancing bit happens in the Kingdom, Ambrosius tries to keep Ballister as close as he can but apparently the dance meant to change partner every once in a while. In the end he forgets about holding his hand and finds that holding anyone's hand while dancing and moving around to the music is just as thrilling.

>But then they end chest to chest anyways and smiling at eachother wiwiw (like the art in this post by unironicallyresurrected waaa)

-Maybe something and something and Ballister loses his arm when the director tried to kill him, some way. Ambrosius' tears only fixed the injury and blood lose but it was already almost completely detached from Ballister's body, so it just laid there jsdfk

>How did he manage to cut Ambrosius' hair I have no idea, don't ask me 😭 maybe Nimona made act of presence at some point, I have no idea where to put her here, I doubt she'd be down after a smack from the Director in the same way it happened to Pascal sdfkj

>(But anyways wouldn't it be cool if she jumped to defend Ambrosius? pipipi is like Eugene and Maximus teaming up but it's Ambrosius and Nimona sdjfks)

-When Ballister and Nimona take Ambrosius with the king and queen, they step back and watch the whole family reunion go by and they're like :) bc hey look at the guy, he's crying his eyes out and hugging like his life depends on it to the queen, but he's happy wouu 🗣️🗣️

>Anyways, the queen's hug is the warmest hug Ambrosius' had ever received (aside from Ballister's), and it's nothing like the Director's and he can't believe he has never been hugged like this in his life.

>Then Queen Valerin pulls Ballister into the hug and encourages Nimona to get in there too but she just shifts into a bigger animal and squeezes them all into a hug.

-Ambrosius gets a better haircut maybe, or maybe he keeps the bob cut I don't know 😭 dfjkj but his hair never grows longer bc the flower's power affected it or something like with Rapunzel.

-I think Ballister would be knighted or something, and then there's Nimona who's just doing her thing of being a little menace and being Ballister's sidekick, and Ambrosius is a good prince and is very happy of finally being outside and getting to know so many people yippiee

>And the director is dust in the air wouu

-Btw the last part in the movie is like this, because I think Ambrosius would say yes the second Ballister asked him to marry him unlike my pal Rapunzel, so- 🤨 also Nimona is the main narrator like in the Nimona movie sjdkf

Nimona (narrating): And so, after years and years of begging and begging and even going to his knees by his feet... Ambrosius: I finally said yes 😌 Ballister: Hey- Ambrosius: Fine, it was me who begged 🧍 Ballister (amused): And so they all lived... Nimona and Ambrosius: Happily ever after. [Happily ever after music and celebration]

>And then there's a drunk guy blowing a kiss to the audience or something 🧍

That's it, thanks if you read till here!

[rotagnus]

who are you, and how can you accentuate that --- 🪲

. .... . .. .. . . .. . .. . .. .. .... . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .

as promised, i'm on spring break and said that i'd release more self-related readings (and after these, the eyecontactship reading), so here you are. this will focus on who you are as a person, and what habits you can develop in order to better yourself and grow.

pile 1.

you're already a very ambitious and determined person, so i'm hearing that if you want growth? baby, that all comes to you as you simply exist. you're good at manifesting things, some of you may like listening to subliminals if you're bored, or write things down when you want something. you guys are the type of person to have many different things you wanna be--different aesthetics, different personalities, different hobbies, etc. oftentimes, you get lost because you try to force yourself into a single box, taking these labels with you to the grave. my advice? stop. be free. do you think that a horse on a field labels itself a long-haired, draft palomino? that was very cheesy of me 😭 but you guys get the point. you don't always need to be aware of WHAT you are, you're meant to be aware of BEING. of simply existing. a lot of you rush through life and need to find the charm in simple things.

things you can do to accentuate who you are:

-travel!! i'm hearing that you guys are a free spirit and it would largely benefit you to walk, go on a day-trip, etc, preferably by yourself to get your thoughts sorted out. you're the kind of person who is able to think things through when there's some kind of movement.

-learn a new recipe/find a new favorite kind of food.

-dust up your house, vacuum! you're deeply rooted in your environment, so take care of it.

-develop your hobbies. instead of focusing on so many of them, choose one that you want to refine.

-stop trying to fit different kinds of niches. focus on attuning to your own specific vibe. you don't always have to be like everybody else ;)

-get some sunlight. i'm hearing that it'd be very beneficial for you guys, or warm lighting.

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pile 2.

whyy have my feminine energies been in their masculine energies for so longgg?!? goodness. you guys truly don't allow yourself to rest, you're always hustlin' and bustlin' and that's crazy to me. you're also deeply disconnected from your body, kind of similar to pile 3 (i had a feeling to do this pile last). you're truly always having an out of body experience, probably due to anxiety or a fear of feeling too much. you're very observant and you feel others' energies very easily, and you prefer to be by yourself with your music, or by yourself with another energy that doesn't drain you. a lot of you have been quiet recently, and focusing on working on yourself and the connections/hobbies/etc that matter to you. you're realizing your power and how amazing you are, and you're trying to bring your energy back to yourself because you WANT to be a better person, because you know there's good things coming but only after you do the work to open up to them (pile 3 may have similar messages, check it out!).

things you can do to prepare to open up:

-hype yourself up!! things will be working out for you romantically/relationship wise, take that as it resonates, and you gotta know you're a bad b and that you deserve this.

-listen to good music that brings you vibration higher. no aggressive music, but music that makes you feel good about yourself.

-stop focusing on people who don't want you to flourish. your person (a friend you've been wanting to make, a romantic partner, whatever/whoever you're thinking of) is gonna stick with you regardless. that other person? baby, they're in the dark. wish them well and move on.

-WOWW so yeah, for a lot of you, you need to step into your feminine energy. what i'm getting is spending time in nature, get a routine where you drink your favorite tea and converse with the universe, let yourself feel pretty, don't hide yourself.

-like pile 3, focus on your vulnerability. there's a specific connection from which you're trying to run away but also make it work--listen, this is worth it, so work on being open and vulnerable, open that solar plexus UP!!

-pay no mind to people who are from the past. you may feel anger, sadness, etc, but the truth is that this is a new slate. fresh and clean. so leave the past, acknowledge that there's good things in the present, and LEAVE!!!

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pile 3.

woww you guys have been on the grind recently! my intellectual diva. i think a lot of you have been nurturing your relationship with spirit recently, or whatever belief system that you have. this spring has brought you a well-needed and well-deserved rebirth, and you've been enjoying the luxuries of that, basking in your own soft beauty. a lot of you may have started to fix your insecurities, finding yourself, and you remind me of a newborn calf, kind of figuring out what to do with your legs. a main message i'm getting is to take it slow. you guys have a mindset of needing to break through walls, but guys...sometimes there are doors! you don't always have to endure pain and trauma to get good things in life. focus on taking it slow. this is a cycle that will keep continuing until you finallyyy decide to take it slow and not rush for answers regarding your specific situation--you know what i'm talking about.

things you can do to grow:

-some of you need to focus on self love, so i would highly suggest affirmations, and starting to treat yourself like the beautiful being you are. start to unwork those little patterns that tell you that you're not good enough. good things are coming for you, but you have to start to realize that you truly deserve them.

-spend some time with yourself. journal, is what i'm getting. think about who YOU are--what do you like, what are your pillars?

-harmony and happiness are coming as long as you take away fake friendships and connections that were draining you. there's a long line of people who truly want good for you, as long as you finally realized where you're WANTED and not needed.

-go into hermit mode for a bit. a lot of you have a deep fear of being alone which has led to fake friendships/relationships, as mentioned above; you must find peace in your own company before you can find it in others.

-treat yourself! take a hot bath, watch your favorite tv show, do some mirror work; i know i say this in a LAWTTT of my readings but it truly does work wonders. use some essential oils, shea butter, worship your own body. you're absolutely gorgeous--i'm getting a lot of you have self-esteem issues, and this is my message that you're breathtaking. really. so start acting like it, baby!

-learn to be vulnerable, my bleeding heart. your emotions and your desire for joy for everyone are your powers. don't be accessible, but be ready to develop deep relationships as soon as you work on what i've said. in order to connect, though, you must open your heart for the right people.

[artdcnaldson]

Been thinking about Patrick teaching Art how to masturbate

Patrick lowering himself down onto his stomach and between Art's legs on their pushed together beds, encouraging Art to continue despite his clear embarrassment.

Coaxing him into bringing his other hand down to his balls, only to end up doing it himself because the blonde's hands are shaking too much.

Once Art begins to get closer, so does Patrick. His hot breath fanning over Art's tip as he encourages him breathlessly.

Art shooting thick ropes of cum, half of which lands on his best friend's tongue, dribbling down his chin

And Art cums a lot and Patrick only wants to help. Sucking Art's tip into his warm mouth, licking his slit as he swallows him down

-🕊

I started shaking and vibrating reading this my god

Art jerking off as fast as he can the few random times Patrick leaves their hotel room while they’re at tournaments. He’s really, like, clinical with it— he just wants to cum as fast as possible. There’s no exploration, no teasing. He spits in his palm the same way Patrick showed him and fucks into his fist until he cums.

Patrick went out expecting a blowjob, and winds up getting stood up after the girl gets cold feet, so he trudges back to his room, already pent up and buzzing under his skin. It’s just his luck he walks into the room to see Art propped against the headboard of his bed, fist blurry from how fast it’s moving.

“Jesus Christ, dude, you’re gonna give yourself a friction burn.” Art yelps in surprise, throws a pillow over his lap to cover himself up, like the damage wasn’t already done ten times over. Patrick doesn’t give a shit. He relishes in making Art blush and squirm. He throws himself onto the bed, between Art’s thighs, and grins up at the blond. “You still jerk off the exact same way after six years?”

Art’s face wrinkles. “How else could I do it?”

So many ways. So, so many ways. But Patrick tries to be casual about it. “Dunno… you don’t touch anything else?” He tries not to act interested, like the answer won't plague his every waking moment the second it passes his lips.

"Dude, I don't finger myself. 'm not a girl," Art says, but the whiny affectation it comes out with doesn't help.

And fuck, that wasn't even what Patrick was thinking, but knowing that Art's mind went there... fuck, it does something to him. Patrick tries his best to push that thought deep, deep into the recesses of his mind and brings a smarmy little grin to his lips. It helps to hide his desperate interest.

"Yeah, but what about here-" he flicks Art's nipple and the blond squirms, which, incidentally, makes him buck up against the pillow. His cheeks burn hot and he tries and fails to make his glare look deadly.

"No." Art snaps. "I told you, I'm not a girl."

"I'm trying to help, you know. For old time's sake, you dickhead." He's trying to do more than just help. Patrick was the fucking king of hidden intentions. Of leading Art to do something for his own benefit. "It can feel better."

Art swallows, nose twitching slightly. It reminds Patrick of a bunny being led into a snare. He's not entrapping Art, of course. If Art just... told Patrick to fuck off, he'd go. Of course he would. He'd find some other hot tennis player to suck his dick.

"It can?" Art's pretty eyes are earnest, his pupils swallowing up all that pretty blue. Patrick smiles like the cat who got the cream and tugs the pillow away. When it lands at the headboard, he tries to ignore the large wet spot on the case. He's so hard in his shorts he thinks he'll pass out.

"Yeah," Patrick says. He grabs Art's wrist and moves his hand back between his thighs, past the twitching length of his dick. He moves his fingers over Art's and guides him to squeeze, so he's cupping his balls. The way precum dribbles from his tip isn't lost on Patrick. "Feels good."

Not a question, just... the first thing that he could think of. But Art nods regardless, his hand shaky as he gives a small squeeze. Patrick's eyes train on the expanse of his throat as Art's head falls back.

"God—" Art pants. "That's... yeah—"

Fuck yeah it is. Patrick swallows— all but licks his lips with big hearts in his eyes like a cartoon character. "Do it again. While you jerk off."

Art gulps and Patrick tracks the bob of his adam's apple. The blond exhales shakily and takes his cock into his trembling hand, his grip lax and hesitant. His other hand just barely teases over his sac, making his balls twitch and draw up. Fuck, Art’s so pretty— shaved smooth everywhere, flushed pink and needy, slick with pre.

Patrick wants Art’s cock stuffed down his throat so badly that he’s dizzy with it. “Let me, you’re not doin’ it right—“ Patrick says, and he replaces Art’s hand with his own. The blond whines and bucks up into his fist, legs kicking out.

“Patrick—“ He groans, but he doesn’t move Patrick’s hand, doesn’t squirm out of reach. “Fuck, Pat—“

Patrick swallows, moves closer. Art’s knuckles practically skim his jaw each time his hand reaches the head of his cock. His hips buck like he’s seeking the warmth of Patrick’s mouth. God, he wants that.

“See? Feels good, huh?” Patrick goads. He gives another firm squeeze and Art sobs pathetically, little ah, ah, ahs punched out from his lungs. Art nods, his curls plastered against his forehead. All of his words escape in breathy whines— yeah, feels good, so fucking good, Pat, god, please, please please please don’t stop, need it, do it again, fuck—

Patrick feels Art’s balls draw up, knows he’s going to come before Art even has a chance to warn him, not that he’s particularly verbose about it. All he manages is a mumbled, “Nnngghh— coming, coming—“ and he’s shooting warm, thick ropes of cum.

Art comes a lot. He’s always known the blond makes a mess, but Patrick never dreamed he’d be on the recieving end of a fucking facial from good Christian boy Art Donaldson himself. He feels Art’s cum paint his face, practically glazing him. It drips into his open mouth and he moans without thinking, his eyes fluttering shut as art comes and comes and comes.

When he’s finally spent, Art sobs weakly, collapsing back against the pillows. Patrick opens his eyes, licks the taste of Art’s spend from his lips, and looks at how fucking messy his cock is, dripping with pearly white. Patrick leans forward and licks, the same way he’s teasingly licked Art’s face, or his hand when they’re messing around. A long, messy lave of his tongue that makes Art’s toes curl into the duvet, muscles twitching until Patrick finally relents.

“Fuck,” Art says, breathless, exhausted, satisfied. “That’s… that was… I’m not gay.”

Right. He runs his hand through the cooling cum on his chin and smears it across Art’s face until his whines in protest and kicks Patrick off. “It’s not gay,” Patrick assures him, wiping his face with that same fucking pillow from earlier. One of them would have to sleep on it, but they could use the flip side. “I was just teaching you again. Don’t worry about it.”

Art nods, trying to convince himself through sheer delusion. That it wasn’t gay, that he didn’t like it, that he doesn’t have feelings for Patrick that can’t be explained away as being best friends.

Patrick taught him again, the way he did before. Only this time, he taught Art that when he wants to come hard, all he has to do is think about dark curls and blue eyes and a smarmy fucking grin.

[drdemonprince]

you know i kinda get it, what underlying issue it's a manifestation of, you go through life feeling like you lack something, and come across someone who *listens* to you. a balm to the weary soul.

i've gone through long bouts of deep isolation, so i'm not unfamiliar with how nice it is to talk to someone who pays attention. where they differ and go wrong tho, is thinking this is a Sign of some deep connection. nah dog, that's on you. it's just someone who's good at it, and if you keep in mind that they're a person first and foremost too, and put that same energy back in it, you can cultivate that relationship. but they don't realize that. or don't want to. because the one thing i've noticed is that it's so often men taking a women listening to them as A Sign, when it's just, a culturally enforced skill in women. (painting with broad strokes here, but generally benefiting from the work marginalized people had to).

so few people are practiced in the art of active listening, and it is honestly really sad. i mastered this stuff young because i read a lot of corny self help books as a teen to perfect my masking, and i honed it further by studying mid century manners and pretending to be trudy campbell on mad men, and it is one masking strategy i do not at all regret developing. listen well and an entire person blossoms up before you. where it gets sad is when you can find almost no one who listens as actively to you as you do them. a conversation where a person only goes off about whatever they feel compelled to discuss is more often than not a lonesome and irritating one to be a part of. i dont expect the guys on grindr to have gone to finishing school, i'm speaking more generally. but, if you want to leave a lasting impression and score easily on the apps (sometimes to the detriment of having a manageable inbox), learning how to really listen is a skill one can always improve! it can make a person rapidly fall in love with you. or entrust you with really juicy secrets.

what are the fundamentals of active listening, some might ask? here are some of the most valuable sub-skills

1. Non-verbal mirroring of the person's body language and facial expressions

2. Visible attentiveness. If not eye contact, which truly is optional, then nodding, careful thoughtful expressions, small vocal and facial responses to rising action and complicating details in the story they are telling, and so on.

3. Asking questions.

4. Drawing connections to details from earlier in the story, or information you already know about the person.

5. Showing genuine enthusiasm and interest in what is being told.

6. Projecting emotional warmth and involvement: becoming noticably more subdued if the story they are telling is sad (and remaining that way for a while), laughing and repeating punchlines to yourself if it is happy, and so on.

7. Providing a response when the story is done that shows you understand it and have insight into how the storyteller felt about it. Perhaps with more questions or an appropriate personal share.

I am not equally good at all of this, for instance my memory is terrible and I get lost in my own thoughts due to anxiety, but doing even 50% of this will have people telling you that they never get to have conversations like this and they feel really seen etc. and then theyll talk your ear off forever

[dolphin-diaries]

i apologise if this is too venty or oversharing. i've been reading your and talia's essays while in the middle of my own gender-crisis and while i recognise them as the most comprehensive and sensible framework i've seen to understand how the patriarchy works - and i regret how this might come off as a whiny "what about me" - when patriarchy forces us into these strict biodestinies, what's the point of transitioning or trying to express your gender outside the box? again i do not mean this as a gotcha or declaring that people shouldn't transition ever, but the closest thing i've got to describing myself is "dykegender" and i know declaring myself as one would be met with raised eyebrows and "humouring the crazy" at best and being violently regendered into broodmare at worst. it's already so hard to explain and declare myself and just be seen as a lesbian, and i'm struggling to see if there's any benefits to openly being a deviant woman-dyke-thing vs swallowing my (relatively minor) dysphoria

thank you for reading this. thank you for your writing. i hope i come off as sincere and with respect.

I'm glad you find our writing thought-provoking. And yeah, first of all, I want to say that I empathise with your feelings--I think a lot of queer people struggle with existing legibly, because queerness is made illegible by the patriarchy. So your "what's even the point??" question makes sense.

Because I don't know you, I'm going to have to make some assumptions and answer from multiple angles, sometimes over explaining myself, because I don't know what baseline you're coming from. I hope that's okay.

Firstly, transition can actually change the way people gender you, even in places where trans-ness is very invisible. But based on what you wrote, I'm going to assume you're dissatisfied with simply shifting your perceived sex from woman to man or vice versa. Secondly, if you have physical dysphoria, addressing that will help you even if no one else on the planet recognises that as anything of importance. It's still your body to live in 24/7, and you'll be happier if you like living in it.

When it comes to the function of patriarchy, you probably understand that Talia and I talk about the overarching emergent system. Its details differ by location and culture and subculture--the core large-scale tendencies stay largely the same, but their expression and severity changes. More to the point, not all people follow patriarchal prescripts all the time or at all. So, an environment that does not denigrate you because you call yourself dykegender, and that does not treat you or women like would-be broodmares, is possible--I can attest to that from personal experience. Even if people in such an environment don't understand what your specific gender means, trust me they are capable of not treating you like shit. You are not submitting yourself to the judgement of the entire world at all times, and you do not need to measure the worthiness of your actions by the worst treatment you get or might get.

In other words, finding friends and community with people that do see you is possible--they exist, you're reading essays by some of them. I will not deny that there will still be people that meet you with confusion and hostility, but to say that their existence makes the entirety of your being a lost cause is a bit fatalistic. I feel like the good times we have in our queer communities, big and small, are not less worthwhile or fulfilling because of the suppression we face outside.

Lastly, I'm going to give you advice that you might scoff at, but hear me out. The thing with writings about social constructs of patriarchy and disability and so on is that they're not good at inspiring contentment and affirmative happy fun times. That isn't their purpose. But human beings need some amount of affirmative happy fun times, especially in crisis. That leads to some human beings sticking their heads in the sand and never emerging to face reality again, but you seem to have the exact opposite tendency.

So I will recommend that you seek out lesbian genderfucky fiction in whatever way you prefer to consume fiction. Talia and I both write that occasionally, but this isn't a plug and I don't know what you like. Regardless, the psyche is a muscle that needs rest, and escapist and cathartic fiction is a form of rest in which your mind gets to try on different realities and experience them in a safe environment. And, in seeking out people that create fiction resembling the kind of worlds you'd like to live in, you can also connect with people that also enjoy that fiction--meaning, they're probably like you, and will understand you. This isn't per se about fandom, but rather shared dreams and aspirations and communities. Even when you're isolated in a terrible situation IRL, that can give you solace for the moment and eventually strength to try and change your circumstance--and friends who can help you do that, including materially.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt.11

AN: The WEEK I have had omg. I was in the hospital then my partner was in the hospital and now I'm exhausted and the mental illness is coming back an bro I just wanna write about my funky lil guys.,

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine -> Part Nine 1/2 -> Part Ten

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, canonical references to harmful treatment of the other toons, mentions of smoking but no actual smoking, approximately two dirty jokes (Who makes them may surprise you)

☁ The air is cool tonight. It chills his cheek as he leans on the balcony, the once chilled stone of the railing warm under his arms as a reminder of how long he's been out there.

☁ He wants to go back. He can hear your soft breaths and Cosmo's grumbles as he rolls back and forth a few times, but something in his gut curdles at the thought, crawling up his stomach and threatening to choke him.

☁ How can he go back to the group, to you, knowing what he knows now. It runs rampant in his brain he's sure he's almost dislodged his leaves by the number of times he's pulled at them.

☁ Him and Astro have since made it a habit of going through the old records of Gardenview, as it's both nostalgic and bittersweet, reading through the memories of things previously lost to him. Seeing the video of him and Cosmo baking, or the screenplays written for adventures between the four of you, or even just the letters the Toon Handlers had written concerning them all make his chest ache. Just the thought the four of you had previously been close before all of this is both a solemn thought and a warm comfort.

☁ He wonders what could've been prior to the breakout. What could've come from...well, all of it, really. There's a sinking feeling that nags in the back of his head at the thought, knowing if things had continued the way they were, there was a good chance he never would've gotten the chance to be with you and Cosmo.

☁ Him and Astro had the benefit of consistently being in each other's company, but since going through the old records, he's come to the disheartening realization that it was because of the breakout he was gifted with the opportunity to get to know the other commons, you especially. He knew Cosmo previously, even if his Handler attempted to minimize the contact between the two, but he truly didn't know you beyond the cute delivery toon and the minimal scripts that had you and him interacting for no more than a few minutes.

☁ While the ichor breakout was an awful thing, and he would never wish it to happen again, a part of him is grateful. It granted him a freedom he didn't know he was starving for.

☁ That being said, freedom doesn't come without it's cons. He's gotten on Rodger's case before for investigating areas he has no right to do, but those are mostly far more personal matters rather the general history behind Gardenview. Unfortunately for him and Astro, this lack of restriction has led to a few startling discoveries over the treatment of the toons that weren't mains.

☁ Recently, the Christmas toons had started making their own appearances on floors, so in the pursuit of getting Dandy research, you had also made it a personal mission to get them back too. So far, you had successfully gotten Ginger and Coal back, with Rudie evading you at every turn and the Bobette research slow going. They, Ginger and Coal, were stand-offish to begin with and while he didn't understand it, he gave them their space and left them to Cosmo and Pebble.

☁ After reading what happened to them after the Christmas season, however, he understood and worked with Astro to get Ginger's room an assortment of nightlights as to minimize the reminder of the old closets they used to remain locked in. Additionally, Shrimpo and Finn had been able to carve out a sizable doggy door in the wall beside the door for Coal to come and go as she pleased. Rudie's future room and Bobette's as well were both being fitted with similar things as well and- to his chagrin, as he looks back to check on you all- your room will need one too as he watched Coal's tail thump quietly, Pebble by her side and Blu on top of her.

☁ He blames Blu in all honesty. The lovable little shit had a way of making everyone love her, despite the circumstances of her appearance.

☁ Which was another thing entirely and the source of his current bout of restlessness. He groans lowly, rolling his shoulders back. His fingers itch for a smoke, but he promised himself he'd quite. It started when he was younger as a rebellious act against Sam, taking one from their packs and hacking at it until he got the hang over it. His own way of previously taking back his freedom. However, with it now freely granted, it wasn't needed and he, for the most part, quit it easily. It was mostly just a stress response at this point.

☁ He'd consider himself stressed at this point though. The most recent set of files had been...off. They'd been reluctant to open the file, as it was sealed with wax and stamped with all sorts of red warnings- very unlike the other files they'd gone through previously. They'd opened it anyway, reading through various employment records for an individual neither he nor Astro have heard of before.

☁ It was going on and on about an individual named Ciara, her start date of employment, her pay rate, her credentials and especially her role in Gardenview. It was written in black, bolded lettering, all caps to ensure there was no confusion. He can see it now, every time he blinks, flashing behind his eyelids as a reminder. "Ciara [Redacted]: TOON HANDLER"

☁ The only problem is he couldn't even begin to remember any other main besides the five of them, Dandy and Bobette. A part of him thought she was Bobette's Handler, but the employment date didn't line up with the holiday season. Astro had tried to hypothesis that she could've been a temporary replacement for one of the other handlers, but Sprout has a feeling he knows better. In fact, he's sure the room behind him, where the rest of you are fast asleep, was hers. It was the only one without a placard.

☁ He never doubted you ever. He knew this intricately, believed it to this day. No, his theory was that you didn't even know about it really, but too many things lined up for him to ignore it. It was little things that only meant something in hindsight.

☁ Things he never would've spotted previously coming back as he thinks all the way back to when he was first recovered. He remembers watching you outrun Twisted Pebble, managing to keep up in a way he knew the other common toons couldn't do when they were distracting. You had gotten hit during the retrieval run, but kept in front of him for the majority of time they needed to finish machines. Hell, he doesn't know how many times you've nearly sent him into cardiac arrest just by how...easily you're able to distract. It just comes naturally to you.

☁ Pebble, also, was right away practically attached to you at the shins, following you everywhere you went with a happy little tail wag. That originally is why Sprout figured Dandy hated you, but the further he thought about it, the more he thought there was a different reason. One he just didn't know yet.

☁ The biggest indicator literally slaps him in the face every morning. Blu's appearance, while was instigated by Dandy's interference, was still something he couldn't understand. Normal, common toons very rarely could interact with the magic within the tapes. There's only one he knows of, and that's Teagan. And even then, it's limited to influencing her own person. She cannot extend that magic to anything beyond herself. That is something exclusive to mains.

☁ They all use it to a degree, just not in the same way he does. The magic is everywhere, contrary to what most of the commons think, it's just strongest in the tapes, which is what he uses for his own ability. But the others call on it in different ways too. Vee uses the general area of tapes and where the magic is strongest to get a general sight on twisteds in the area. Shelly weaves it through into the machines to make them fill faster. Astro himself uses just a bit to rejuvenate someone's stamina. Hell, even Pebble uses the magic in the tapes to make himself appear like a larger target to twisteds after he barks. It's why they can't do it all the time, they need to let the energy stabilize. Recharge.

☁ Which is why he can't get over you doing it at all. Even with Dandy's interference, you shouldn't have been able to interfere with the magic unless you were....made with that ability.

☁ His eyes widen as he whips his head to look back into the room. Astro's not there, but Sprout can vaguely remember him telling him that he was going for a short walk. You and Cosmo are wrapped around each other, burrowing into the other in a heaping mass of legs, arms and tails.

☁ His eyes immediately dart to one of your hands. It's curled around Cosmo's shirt, flexing slightly before your fingers stretch out as you gently shift, the rest of your arm stretching out as well. There, in all their glory, are your paw pads. He moved off it too fast last time, but now it's all he can focus on. For all the times he's held your hand, felt you cup his cheeks, watched you do anything with your hands, not once did they stick out to him because they were something you aways had.

☁ Something you always had.

☁ Your hand curls back around Cosmo as he burrows into your neck, mindlessly hiking your leg further up where it's hooked around his side.

☁It wasn't momentary. It was all right there, in front of him, in front of them, and they'd all been blind to it. Even your twisted had shoved itself in his face, steps heavy and purposeful and audible. Your twisted even had an ability. While it wasn't a debuff like Shelly's or Astro's, or even incredibly fast (to a degree) like Pebbles, it was like his twisted. It could influence the environment. It charged and took away cover, took away any form of safety those who ran into it had.

☁ Falling against the railing, Sprout's eyes are stuck on you. If you were a main, what happened? Why were you practically wiped from the records, meant to remain a forgotten background character? Did it have to do with Dandy's distaste towards you? Did you have a passive ability that they just weren't aware of? Did you have any idea whatsoever?

☁ The door to the bedroom slowly opens, Astro slipping in before closing it just as silently as it was opened. He looks to the bed, nodding his head with every mental count he does before pausing. One of his hands physically points at both you and Cosmo, coming up empty for the third. Sprout smiles despite the current thoughts he's having, gently knocking on the balcony loud enough for the celestial to hear.

☁ He looks over at the noise, visibly relaxing before moving to join. He deters to the bed for a moment, bringing the blanket further up yours and Cosmo's shoulders before walking out to the balcony. Two of his hands reach for Sprout's cheeks, thumb running over the seeds. "You're cheeks are chilled. How long have you been out here?"

☁ Long enough." Sprout mutters, laying his forehead on Astro's. "I've been thinking."

☁ "About Ciara?" Astro questions, and feels Sprout nod. "I-...I think I know who's handler she was."

☁ Astro remains silent, but he knows the other is still listening. Lifting his head, he looks back into the room, watching over you and Cosmo once more. Cosmo's rolled onto his back, mouth open as his breaths turn into damn near snores. You're on his chest, drooling onto his shirt. Both of you look content and peaceful, Astro surely ensuring your dreams are just so as well.

☁ There's silence between them before Astro is humming softly, his tail giving a gentle sway. "I thought so too, honestly." He sighs. "Too many things add up for it to be otherwise, I'm afraid."

☁ "...Do we tell them?" They have no method of confirming this short of turning this entire place inside out, which they have neither the time, patience or energy to do so. But it makes that earlier feeling rot in his stomach further and the idea of not telling you makes him nearly lose his supper.

☁ "I think we can bring the possibility and our concerns up to them." Astro hums, ever so calm. He always is, levelheaded and soft, consistent with his needs and open with what he expects from them and himself. While they all try to remain open with communication there are times where Sprout is so lost in the need to care and protect you three he forgets to express his worries out loud, or Cosmo is so wrapped up in his own anxieties that he refuses to try and push them onto the rest of you; even you've been known to break down in your own frustrations every now and again, simmering in your own little nest of pouty huffs and scoffs under your breath. But never Astro. The celestial has always been straight with them, even if he's grinding his teeth or wringing his hands as he does.

☁ And there is nothing Sprout appreciates more, especially in instances like this where he himself can barely think straight, but is quickly reoriented by the other. "Do you remember?"

☁ Astro falls silent as he comes up with a response. Sprout knows he doesn't need to expand on the question, but enjoys watching the other's thought process anyway. "I...can't say that I don't." Astro says carefully. "I have memories of running scenes with them, but I can't pinpoint if I knew they were a main or not. Just that they were...there. They always were." His lips spread into a small content smile as he looked over to where you and Cosmo where still sleeping soundly.

☁ Upon further glance though, it didn't appear as sound as it once was as you were now the victim of Cosmo's grappling, huffing as he rolled to lay on top of you. Sprout knows from first hand experience that if you aren't prepared for Cosmo's dead weight, it's like a punch to the gut. He only semi-pities you.

☁ "C'mon, you need some sleep." Astro huffs, moving to shove Sprout forward into the bedroom. "And we need to possible save Y/N."

☁ Sprout gives a chuckle at this before conceding, crawling into one side of the bed as Astro crawls into the other, the latter taking on Cosmo, who immediately wraps himself around the celestial while Sprout is allowed to wrap himself around you.

☁ The feeling in his gut is somewhat satiated, more so when you eagerly burrow into his chest with a content little purr. It makes his chest ache in a way he's not too sure is positive or negative just yet, and instead chooses to hold onto you anyway. His hand blindly grabs for Astro's and squeezes it the second he cans. He hopes the presence is enough to sooth his dreams for the night.

☁ Morning comes faster than you expect, but you pay it no mind as your attention is kept rapt and forward. Your brows are furrowed as you play with your fingers, tilting your head when no immediate change happens. "Do you think he's dead?"

☁ "Don't you manifest that." Cosmo hisses from where he's trying to pull away from Astro. His butt waggles in the air, which does in fact catch your attention and makes you smirk as you watch it, as he uses his legs to try and pull back, but Astro's grip is ironclad; you would know.

☁ "It doesn't make sense." You huff, having half a mind to take a picture so it'll last as long as you need it too. Cosmo's tail unfurls for a second to give a harsh little whip before he groans. "You could help!"

☁ You ignore him, instead returning your attention to what caught it in the first place. "He's always awake first though."

☁ Cosmo gives one final pull, practically cheering as he tumbles free only to tumble right off the bed. Once more, you could've helped and caught him, as you're sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, but you only grin at him from his place on the floor. He shakes his head before shooting you a glare, using the bed to help himself up. "Thanks, my loving, and oh so caring partner who is supposed to love and help me in sickness and in health-"

☁ You shush him and his sarcastic tirade, forcing his chin to look at the duo on the bed. Astro immediately turns to lock onto Sprout, but the flicker in his tail tells you he's slowly waking up and probably listening to your bickering.

☁ "He's still asleep." You repeat, as if this is some big thing. Cosmo rolls his eyes with a scoff. "Astro is always-"

☁ "Not Astro."

☁ Cosmo looks over and as if it dawns on him for the first time, his eyes widen at the sight of Sprout. His leaves are messy with bed-head, but he's still sound asleep, shoulders rising steadily with every cute little breath.

☁ Cosmo's jaw drops and suddenly he's right next to you, watching Sprout as if he were another exhibit in the museum. "Is he dead?"

☁ "Oh, so when you do it, it's funny, but when I do it-"

☁ "It's still just as loud no matter which of you ding dongs do it." Astro huffs, startling you both. Cosmo slips back down to the floor with a thud and you nearly follow him, if not for Astro's tail whipping out to catch your hand. The celestial blinks awake, eyes darting to the two of you. "Are you both done?"

☁ "Sprout's still asleep!" You exclaim, as if this explains everything. Astro raises a brow, looking at the berry asleep on his chest, raising a brow as if to ask 'so?'.

☁ "He's never asleep this long!" You explain, gesturing wildly. "That's not our Sprout!"

☁ "I promise he's our Sprout." Astro easily reassures you both, watching Cosmo crawl back onto the bed, sitting far enough on the bed he wouldn't go tumbling for a third time.

☁ Sprout nose scrunches and he shifts and the three of you tense at the action. It's quiet enough you could hear a pin drop before Sprout is settling once more and you let out a sigh of relief

☁ "Not dead." You breath at last. "That's good, I was not looking forward to learning Ichor necromancy to bring him back if only to kill him myself."

☁ "I feel like this is a rare occasion. Like...Christmas." Cosmo adds, watching Sprout as well. "Or my birthday. Or maybe his birthday. Though, for future reference, if it was my birthday I would expect more. Maybe an early birthday gift." The diva shrugs, even if you shoot him a glare.

☁ "I have an inappropriate name to call you." You jokingly shove him before your perking up. "Hey! You know what this means?"

☁ "I don't think I want too." Astro huffs, furrowing the space between his brows.

☁ "Nothing bad!" You quickly reassure. "Or dirty." You add, shooting a look at Cosmo, who sticks his tongue out. "Kitchen's open." Is what you say at last, a devious grin spreading over your features.

☁ "Sprout'll kill you." Astro pipes in.

☁ "Uh, not if you take one for the team." You shoot back. "I'm not saying Gigi was in charge of inventory this time, but I am saying my record is 40 pudding cups and the chance at fifty bucks."

☁ "Fifty whole dollars. Wow- that's- Just woowww." Astro rolls his eyes sarcastically. "How did you know I've always wanted a sugar daddy?"

☁ Cosmo snickers even if you lean into the part, crossing your arms and puffing out your chest. "I'll get you the finest pops that I find on the ground, baby, don't you worry."

☁ This time Astro snickers, as if despite himself. "You're impossible."

☁ "Not yet, I'm not." You grin, moving to slide off the bed, but Pebble is right there, glaring up at you as if daring you to do so.

☁ Your jaw drops at this, once more foiled by this silly little creature who seems to have the ultimate vendetta against your kitchen escapades. Cosmo peers over your shoulder to see what make you pause before letting out a burst of giggles, only to clap a hand over his mouth before they have the chance to truly escape.

☁ "Remind me to give him a treat later." Your attention turns back to where Sprout is comfortable laying against Astro, letting the celestial play with his leaves, even if his eyes are locked on you. You have the audacity to give him a sheepish grin.

☁ "Heyyyy, youuu-" You begin, knowing you've been caught before you could even really truly leave.

☁ Sprout levels a look at you. "Well, now I know what you've been trying to do lately." He huffs before sitting up at last, rubbing his eyes before leaning back to press a kiss to Astro's lips. Cosmo eagerly crawls forward to be next, tail wagging behind him, and though you pout at being last, you accept your own good morning kiss.

☁ "Good, now Sprout's awake and we know he's not dead, about that early Birthday present-" Cosmo leans over, only for you to shove him by his face.

☁ "Actually," Sprout cuts in, looking back at Astro who nods. "We were hoping we could...talk?"

☁ You and Cosmo both settle, immediately sensing the shift and responding accordingly. You both sit side by side, watching Sprout with your full attention.

☁ He takes a breath, sitting forward as he plays with his fingers. "...What do you know of someone named Ciara?"

[talesofesther]

make it taste like love

Loki x Reader

Summary: You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen.

A/N: A spur-of-the-moment idea that I simply couldn't ignore. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and yes I'm working on part two of my series with Loki as well. <3

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

The battle had left its mark on everyone, both physically and mentally. All the lives that were lost wouldn't be brought back. But everyone took solace in the fact that Thanos and his army were no longer a threat. And now, it was a time for rebuilding.

Wakanda's grassland was a battlefield. Bodies of both friend and foe lay scattered on the ground. The mourning loomed heavy in the air, you could feel it weighing down on your chest, your throat, and lungs. It was suffocating, prickling into your skin like needles. Yet you still walked, your boots crushing the grass underneath while you avoided stepping on stretched arms and legs, you needed to make sure no one else remained left behind.

A few feet away, the mad titan who once threatened the entire universe lay lifeless on the ground, his head disconnected from his body. For him, you felt no pity.

King T'Challa was both happy and sad to see you and the others leave. Happy, because it meant the end of a war; sad, because of having to say farewell to dear friends. But you, Steve, Natasha, and Banner were needed back in town, back at the Avengers compound; to welcome Tony back on earth, and because Thanos' attack had reverberated in many other places. It seemed like the Avengers were back in the game.

─── ·❆· ───

This morning was a gloomy one. Grey skies peeked behind your curtains in the early hours of the day, maybe it would rain soon. It's been two weeks since the battle, and you were glad to see that most people were recovering; each in their own way, but recovering nonetheless.

You were already up when the clock hit 7:30 AM, holding a warm cup of coffee between your hands, and staring out into the compound's driveway and past the treeline through the big windows of the kitchen. Today would be the day that Thor came back, he'd been helping with the settling of his people in New Asgard until now, but you've heard about him not wanting to be king anymore. You were happy for him, you never did think that a ruler's life suited him anyway—and you missed your friend.

"He gets one chance, Rogers. One chance and that's it." Tony's voice suddenly caught your attention as he stepped into the kitchen, you turned your back to the window so you could watch as your resident Iron Man poured himself a cup of coffee without looking at his mug. Steve was right beside him, his hands on his hips as he sighed quietly, already all too used to Tony's moods.

"Yes, one chance, he proved himself enough by helping us fight against Thanos, I suppose we owe him the benefit of the doubt," Steve agreed, still holding his voice calm.

With a smirk on your lips, you approached your teammates. "What's going on, guys?" You leaned on the kitchen island, taking a sip of your coffee.

Tony ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression less than pleased as he took a sip of his own coffee before saying; "point break is bringing his beloved brother to our home." He shrugged, and said in a quieter tone, "Says he changed or something."

"Loki will be staying with us?" You raised an eyebrow. The attack on New York happened before you joined the team, but you were familiar enough with it to be wary of Thor's brother, even if Thor did speak more nicely of him recently. Still, you had never actually met Loki to form your own opinion.

"That's… to be decided," Tony grumbled, shooting a glance toward Steve. "But yes, pretty much. And, by the way, Strange wasn't happy about having reindeer games back in the city either."

"Wow, you guys finally agree on something," you snickered.

Tony mouthed a 'don't' to you, before Steve said; "Strange knows we'll handle it if anything happens, but Thor vouches for him, so…"

You gave Steve a soft smile, and as much as you understood Tony's wariness, you agreed with the Captain. Loki didn't have the best of pasts with the City, but his help in the recent battle was one of many game-changers. He deserved a second chance.

Strangely enough, you found yourself excited to meet the God of Mischief. It was in your nature to analyze people, watch them from afar, and learn about the things they'd rather not say out loud. And someone like Loki, who had both once tried to take over your planet and now helped in saving it, was bound to raise some curiosity.

No more than an hour passed before you heard Thor's strong voice all the way from the living room. A small smile instantly came to your lips as you discarded your book, got up from the couch, and put on your slippers, rushing to the main doors to greet him.

Before you could turn the last corner, however, you came to an abrupt halt. Your breath got caught up in your throat and you had to lean back on the wall for support. Clutching the fabric of your shirt right above your heart, you were glad that this particular hallway was currently empty.

You could hear Thor's voice just around the corner, Tony was there too, but their words were faint and far away. Your vision was suddenly a little blurry, and underneath your palm you could feel your heart beating frantically.

See, this was nothing that hadn't happened before, after all, you are an empath. But a feeling this heavy rarely comes unannounced, unwanted. It briefly reminded you of when you first discovered your power, when you had no control and could pick up on pain, anger, joy, and pleasure that were not your own even if you didn't want to. Yet now, after years of living with it, you had learned to dose your perception of the feelings around you; now, when you weren't willingly focusing, other people's emotions felt more like a gentle whisper, a gush of chilly wind on your skin—something you were able to ignore if you wanted to.

But this overwhelming sadness; this emptiness, and loss, and pain; it came to you with such force that you were not able to block out. Seconds felt like hours, until the surprise of the new feeling passed and you took back control. Whispers of it remained, lurking in your stomach and in the back of your throat, but with a bit of extra focus, you were able to handle it.

And once your mind was finally clear again, it hit you. Who did you catch these feelings from?

You took a step around the corner cautiously, hands buried in your pockets as your eyes roamed your surroundings. There was no one around besides Tony, Thor, and Loki.

You knew it right away. You were familiar with the emotions radiating from Tony and Thor; but him, the raven-haired trickster, he was new, and if you didn't feel empathy for him before, you did now.

Loki held himself immaculately, a straight posture and a serene expression on his face. You had no idea how he did it, how he was able to hold all of those feelings in and still look so well put together; because one glance into his soul and you already felt like crying.

There was a light drizzle falling outside, maybe that's why Loki's black blazer seemed to be shining under the bright lights of the entrance hall. His eyes—bright and ocean-green—were settled on you; the realization got you feeling hyperaware of each movement you made. Even his gaze was heavy.

Thor's booming voice calling your name captured your attention then, he had a big smile on his face and before you knew it he already had your feet off the floor as he held you in a hug.

You laughed against his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight and telling him all about how much you missed him. Still, when you let go, your eyes found Loki's again, he hadn't stopped looking at you once.

─── ·❆· ───

The opinions about Loki's presence in the compound were mixed, but most of your teammates seemed fine with it; truth be told, no one paid much attention to him. As you'd expected, Loki's room was on your floor, because that's where Thor stayed too; as well as Tony, Natasha, and Yelena.

It's been a few days since his arrival, yet you haven't had the opportunity to properly speak with him, alone. But you've been feeling him a lot. Whether it was you subconsciously focusing on him more, or something else, it seemed like your body was more in tune and connected with his than you've ever been with anyone else. You picked up on a few of his emotions even if you weren't actively trying to; you felt his bouts of uneasiness when someone would stare at him for too long, you felt his gentle serenity whenever he'd sit near the windows to read a book, you felt his sparks of joy when people greeted him with a good morning or asked if he'd want coffee; but most of all, you still felt that lingering sadness that followed him everywhere he went, a weight he seemed to be all too used to having around.

In some ways, you felt as if you were invading his privacy, and that bothered you. During the day you tried to keep your mind as busy as you could to keep yourself from feeling him; in the late hours of the night though, when you were trying to sleep, there wasn't much you could do.

You have been tossing and turning in bed for probably about two hours now, drifting in and out of sleep. The crescent moon just outside your window seemed to be taunting you, amused with your misfortune. You scoffed as you glared at the natural satellite—great, now you were arguing with the cosmos.

Loki was having a nightmare. You could tell by the rapid beating of his heart and the cold sweat running down his forehead—your abilities went way beyond simply feeling other people's emotions, but sometimes you wished they wouldn't. It's not the first time that you've felt Loki's restless sleep in the short time he's been here. Your heart ached for him; it got you wanting to alleviate his pain.

But you couldn't do that, so you got up from your bed, put on your fluffy slippers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. The air outside was chilly, biting at your warm skin and making you shiver. At this hour of the night, the compound was completely dark and quiet, a big contrast to how it was when the sun was up. You asked Friday to turn on one of the lights in the kitchen, giving the space a dim-lit look as the single light bled into the adjacent living room.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, humming the lyrics of the song stuck in your head as you reached for the upper cabinet to grab a mug so you could make yourself some tea. When you turned around again though, a gasp escaped your mouth and you nearly dropped the mug you were holding. You cursed quietly under your breath, placing a hand over your heart; if you weren't fully awake before, you sure were now. "You scared me," you muttered, trying a small smile.

The reason for your lack of sleep stood before you, with dark green slippers that matched his button-up pajama shirt, and his hair the messier you've ever seen it be. "Sorry, it was not my intention," Loki smirked back at you.

It hit you that this was finally the first time you were alone with him, and you'd been caught off guard. You tapped your mug, opening your lips but no words came out. Loki's eyes remained on you, unwavering, yet his gaze was so… soft, gentle even; his eyebrows weren't creased and he patiently waited for you with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. He didn't look like the god you usually saw roaming the halls during the day.

"It's alright. I was just making tea," you said finally, gesturing to your mug, "would you like me to make one for you too?"

Loki's surprise at your offer was so great that you felt it in your bones. What was he expecting you to do?

His lips parted only slightly and he straightened his posture before saying; "I would- yes, I would like that."

You couldn't help the full smile that came to your lips and crinkled the side of your eyes, "great, sit down, it'll be ready in just a moment."

The warm mug between your hands warmed up your skin. It felt nice, sitting like this with Loki; in a quiet kitchen with only you and him, and just the lonely light to your left softly highlighting his features in front of you. It was a peaceful silence, and you couldn't help but check if he felt it too.

The rhythm of his heart was calm, his soul felt light and at ease; not completely, but the most you've ever felt from him.

"Why are you here?" His sultry voice snapped you back to reality.

"Uh- I'm sorry?" You frowned.

"Why are you here, if I may ask?" Loki tilted his head amusedly, his fingers tracing the brim of his mug. "Thor mentioned you had… abilities, but he never specified what they are."

Now it was your turn to be surprised by his curiosity for you. "Well, to put it simply, I'm an empath," you told him.

Loki blinked, once, twice, at your response. He looked at you for a moment before inquiring further; "and to put it completely?"

You smirked then, folding your arms over the table. "I can feel people's emotions, if I want to; their anger, happiness, hesitation, fear. But I can also feel their heartbeats, the blood cursing through their bodies. I can tell when they're lying or telling the truth, if they're tired or hurt. And sometimes, I can influence those emotions," you paused, hesitating for a beat, "bring fear, or… take away pain."

Loki grew tense after learning of what you could do. To be fair, most people did at first, you were used to it. Be he felt different, his heartbeat sped up and stayed that way. He'd put his guard up, and it brought a pang of hurt to your chest.

"Are you always feeling everything then?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Gods, no," you breathed, "at first I did, and it was awful. But with time, I learned to control it." You tried smiling at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on his mug.

You bit your lower lip in nervousness. Looking past Loki and out the window, you could see the first signs of the sunrise peeking over the horizon, dark skies turning a soft lilac and blue; you'd been here longer than you realized.

When Loki glanced up at you again, his bright eyes still held sparks of that same softness from earlier. He pursed his lips in a smile; "thank you for the tea." And with that, he got up and left, leaving you in the company of the first birds who always sang in the mornings.

─── ·❆· ───

You made Loki nervous. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, it was the kind that sped up his heart and made his cold hands feel clammy.

Out of everyone in the compound, you were the kindest. You'd always shoot him a smile whenever you'd pass by each other in the hallways; you'd always save a seat for him at the table; you always respected his silence whenever you came into the library and caught him reading his book, saying a quiet hello and nothing more, just sitting on one of the armchairs with your own book and allowing him to enjoy his moment, and more recently, your presence too.

When he'd finally learned of your abilities, he got apprehensive, worried even; that you'd pick up on whatever it was that he felt when he was near you, and it would drive you away.

So far, it hasn't happened yet.

The sun was out today, and with it, so was everyone else. In the spacious backyard of the compound, Steve was in charge of the barbecue, and Tony was in charge of the drinks. Natasha had sunglasses covering her eyes while she and Clint bickered over a game of cards; Yelena was sitting beside her sister at the lunch table, however, she seemed to be on Clint's side of the argument. Thor and Banner were laughing together as they made fun of Steve's cooking skills, who tried to defend himself by saying he wasn't actually done yet. Tony looked like he was trying to convince Bucky to drink a dubious-looking beverage, the latter didn't seem too keen on it.

And Loki watched them from afar, from the living room window of his floor. Thor had asked that he join them downstairs, saying something about how he should start trying to fit in and mingle, instead of just existing in the others' presence. Making friends wasn't Loki's forte; as much as he'd fight not to admit it, he was still working up the courage.

With a long sigh, Loki turned around and made his way to the place where he'd been spending most of his free time.

The compound's library was quite huge. One of the few rooms in the whole facility that had warm colors painting the walls and lacked the modern look; tall wooden shelves held thousands of books, a soft beige carpet covered the floor, and there were armchairs and sofas scattered in corners and in-between shelves creating comfortable, isolated nooks for reading. Loki's favorite spot was a worn armchair that stood near one of the big windows, it was surrounded by books that most people didn't read anymore, and the window itself overlooked the treeline in which the sun hid behind at the end of every day; sometimes as he sat there to read, it reminded him of his room back in Asgard.

Loki walked brushing his fingers over the spine of the old books, watching as dust particles danced in the sunlight. But as he rounded the shelf that led to his spot, he abruptly stopped in his tracks, feet glued to the carpet.

You sat cross-legged on the worn armchair, with a thick book lying in your lap that held all of your attention; the sun was shining right behind you, creating a halo above your head and bathing the strands of your hair in golden. You looked like something out of his favorite tale, more enchanting than all of the Midgard poetry books he's ever read.

It seemed like you two were making a habit of bumping into each other unexpectedly.

Loki gulped, squaring his shoulders. A beat passed, and then two, until you finally noticed him from the corner of your eyes. You looked up at him with your eyebrows softly raised in surprise, a gentle smile lifted the sides of your mouth; "Loki, hi."

"Hello," Loki greeted you slowly, his eyes shifting from the book in your lap to your eyes, "shouldn't you be out with the others, enjoying the sun?"

"Should I?" You narrowed your eyes, lazily closing your book and getting up from the armchair. "Shouldn't you?" You asked then, smirking as you raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him.

Loki's heart stumbled inside his chest, he breathed out a laugh. "I'm not big on hangouts."

You hummed, burying your hands in the pockets of your jeans. "Why is that?"

For a moment, Loki dwelled on whether to be honest or come up with an easy lie. But you were looking up at him with such delicacy, such attention, not a trace of hatred or judgment in your warm eyes. It almost looked as if you cared... about him.

Loki breathed in sharply through his nose, the words rolled off his tongue on their own; "I doubt many of your friends would enjoy my presence there."

You blinked up at him, lips parting before you told him quietly; "I would."

There was a distant burning behind Loki's eyes, his mouth felt dry. No one had ever rendered him completely speechless before, yet now, you had done just that. With his silence, you avoided his eyes and ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that he couldn't help but follow.

"And..." You continued, voice sweet as honey, traveling between the bookshelves in the secluded library, "We'll never know if we don't try, right?"

The way you referred to you and him as 'we' got a foreign feeling blossoming inside Loki's chest, all warm and tingly. When you offered him your hand, so you could guide him downstairs to meet the others, he took it.

─── ·❆· ───

After a full week of taking care of the whole city, Saturday nights were a time for having fun and relaxing; aka movie nights with the team. Everyone sat together in the main living room of the compound, Tony had labeled it 'mandatory bonding day'. The room itself was pretty spacious, dimly lit, with two big comfortable couches and a TV that almost covered the whole wall, and a small kitchen right beside it for easy snacks and drinks.

"Right, I'm thinking... Terminator." Tony suggested as he came from the kitchen with an extra large bowl of popcorn in his arms.

"We saw that one already," Steve complained as he fumbled with the remote.

"There are multiple ones," Tony said, smugly, as he plopped himself on the couch and threw popcorn in his mouth.

Thor, who sat beside you, suddenly perked up with a giddy smile on his face; "oh I've always enjoyed that one who has the girl with the long, magic hair." The god gestured to his own hair.

Tony gaped at him, his fingers holding the popcorn were frozen midair. "Tangled?" He exclaimed then, eyebrows raised, "You wanna watch Tangled? in my house?"

You fought to hide a smile. "Technically it's our house," you quipped, after all, you were to blame for Thor's love for the Disney movie.

"Why don't we just watch both? The night is still young," Yelena finally suggested from her spot by the corner of the couch.

As they continued bickering, your eyes finally caught sight of the one you'd been waiting for.

Loki walked into the living room quietly, his socked feet barely making any noise on the expensive flooring. His gaze found yours before he saw anything else in the room, and a gentle, shy smile appeared on his lips.

You'd grown very close, very fast. Loki had started seeking your presence more and more each passing day; during the mornings he'd wait for you with an extra cup of coffee in hand, during the missions it was already routine that you two were a pair, and during the night you never parted ways without him planting a kiss on your forehead first.

Never in your life had you met someone quite like him, who carried such a bruised heart and still managed to be so loving. It made you wonder if anyone had ever bothered to see how beautiful his soul was, for you had fallen in love with it before you even touched his skin.

You gently patted the vacant seat on your left side, lifting the thin blanket covering your legs so Loki could sit down, and once he did you draped part of it over his legs as well.

"What's today's punishment?" Loki smirked, making himself comfortable beside you. His shoulder flush with yours.

"Stop it, movie nights are nice. I know you secretly enjoy them too," you chuckled, bumping his knee with yours. His proximity raised goosebumps all over your skin, and if you weren't so focused on your own feelings, you would've felt how much Loki's heart was racing as well.

"I only come to these because you do too," Loki mumbled, his eyes focused on the TV and a frown appearing on his eyebrows as the first scenes from Tangled played on the screen.

Your breath caught on your throat. He had said it so casually, so easily. You wondered if he had even realized the weight of his own words. "Right," you whispered, a little breathless.

It didn't take long for the only light in the room to be the one coming from the TV. When Tangled hit the 45-minute mark, Tony was already snoring and Thor had finished two bowls of popcorn. You, however, were wide awake and fully aware of Loki's arm resting on the back of the couch. What a cliche move, you thought to yourself, your cheeks burning hot and biting back a smile.

Loki's face as he watched the movie was nothing short of comical, one would think he was watching a period drama; his lips hovering ever so slightly before he'd scoff at a musical scene, his eyes softening as the romance between Rapunzel and Flynn blossomed, the way he mindlessly played with the ends of your hair. You watched him more than you watched the movie, and you didn't miss the way he froze and gulped when you finally rested your head on his shoulder.

─── ·❆· ───

The day had started out fine; a cold yet sunny morning, your fingers brushing Loki's when he handed you your cup of coffee, no eminent trouble in the city, everything was normal and fine; until it took a turn for the worse.

You didn't hear the fight, you didn't know exactly what caused it, but you felt it immediately. Anger, hurt, and pain were suddenly heavy in the air even through the closed door of your bedroom. As soon as a shiver ran up and down your spine you got up and all but ran outside to chase the somber feeling.

The elevator doors of your floor weren't even fully open yet when Loki busted his way through them, Thor hot on his heels.

"I knew it was a mistake coming here," Loki snapped, his steps fast as he put as much distance between himself and Thor as he could, nearly running straight into you in the process.

"You know what, brother," Thor began, he had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the living room, "Maybe it really was a mistake to bring you here, you don't care about anyone but yourself, it's almost as if you enjoy hurting people, you can't help it. It'll always be like this, that's why you're better off on your own." Thor wasn't shouting, but his words rang loudly in the room; his chest heaving when he stopped speaking.

You had held your breath the entire time, gripping the back of a kitchen stool until your knuckles turned white. Thor was angry, you could feel it even without being near him, but he didn't mean what he had said, not entirely. Thor's emotions were a passing wind on your skin though, for who you really felt, stood just a few feet behind you.

Loki had his back turned to his brother when he spoke, and he didn't turn around after. Even without looking at him, you could feel the way he trembled, unsteady hands closed into tight fists to mask his hurt; he gulped back a sob, and kept on walking to his bedroom without a word.

You could choke with the amount of pain radiating off of Loki; heavy, sickening, all-encompassing pain that you felt so vividly in your skin and bones. You only shot Thor an angry glance and muttered; "Damnit Thor," before turning around hastily. You thought you heard Thor calling after you, but you decided to ignore him, your priorities already set.

You ran after Loki, catching up just before his door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, you walked into his bedroom and softly closed the door behind you with a click.

You'd never actually been in Loki's room before, so you took a single moment to glance around. The room itself was a little bare, with only the necessities such as a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a small bookshelf, and the door that led to his bathroom. You made a mental note to gift him something to liven up his space; maybe a plant.

Loki had his back turned to you still, both his hands resting on his waist as his head hung low. But you knew he knew it was you there with him, by the simple fact that he was allowing you to stay.

The silence was a heavy one, packed with the electricity of two souls tightly holding onto each other. Loki was trying so hard to keep all his pain in control, his shoulders shaking with each breath he took; but you could feel it as if it was your own.

"Loki," you said his name in nothing but breath, testing the waters. You took half a step toward him as you fidgeted with your hands.

He didn't answer. You weren't expecting him to.

You pursed your lips before saying; "he didn't mean it," your voice was choked and took effort to come out, the back of your eyes already burning, "what Thor said. He- he didn't mean it."

A few beats passed, and then; "doesn't matter if he did." Loki's words cracked in the middle, it was the most broken you'd ever heard him sound. "He's right."

"He's not," you told him in the same heartbeat, not a tint of hesitation in your tone.

Loki turned around, his gaze finally finding yours and there were tears pooling at the bottom lid of his bright eyes. "Yes, he is," he took a single big step toward you, nearly closing the distance between you and him. Loki's lips trembled as he struggled to keep talking; "and why is it that you care? What's in it for you?"

He was hurt, and he was frustrated, and he was angry; you knew that. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his question. What could he even mean by that? Did he really believe that all this time that you'd been dancing around each other's feelings, it wasn't real?

"Loki, I-" you stuttered, not knowing how to say it without baring your heart in the process. Your hesitation got Loki avoiding his eyes from yours, and you forced yourself to go on. "There's nothing 'in it for me' I just... care about you."

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Loki softly shook his head, scoffing. His tears were a blink away from spilling, he felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around his throat, and his heart threatened to jump from his chest and straight into your hands.

It scared him. How easily you could make his walls crumble like paper in the rain. He flinched slightly when he felt the ghost of your touch on his cheek, blinking multiple times when your thumb brushed away a single tear rolling down his cheek. You touched him as if he were porcelain, and yet it still broke him.

"Is it that hard to believe that you're important to me?" You asked then, voice nothing but a whisper in the short space separating your bodies. With your hand still holding his cheek, you forced his eyes back on yours. "You have a good heart, Loki. I just wish you could see it the way I do. I wish everyone could see it."

The crooked smile he gave you nearly made your own tears fall. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know what I've done," he told you quietly, more than anything, he sounded utterly defeated.

"But I do know," your free hand found one of his then, and you tangled your fingers together loosely, "I might not have been with the Avengers when you attacked New York, but I was still in New York. And I still mean it, you could tell me every single bad thing you've ever done and I'd still tell you how good you are, because I see it. Every single day, Loki. I feel you every single day, and I can feel all this-" Your words caught in your throat and you tasted your tears on your lips. "-All this pain that you carry around and you still choose to be good."

Too many emotions swam behind his eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. But tears were running freely down Loki's cheeks now, pooling against your hand resting on his cheek.

"What did you-" he tried, gasping for air as if he was underwater. This was foreign territory. You had a place in his heart no one else could ever have, he realized, and his heart was beating faster than his mind knew what to do with. "You've been prying into my emotions without me knowing?" He sounded more desperate than annoyed.

"I didn't want to," You explained quickly, "I- I never meant to, but for some reason, I can't block you out." Shrugging weakly, you slowly dropped the hand resting on his cheek, missing the way he glanced down in search of your warmth. "I tried. I really tried."

There was a vulnerability in Loki's eyes you'd never seen before. He looked at you as if he'd just realized what love is. You wondered if you mimicked the same gaze—you sure felt it.

Loki shuffled in his stance. His hand, still holding onto yours, tightened its grip. "I'm-" He avoided your eyes, looking somewhere past your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to feel all that."

You softened at his words, shaking your head and taking another step forward until your sneakers bumped his shoes. "Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

Loki gulped back a sob after you spoke, and that was the last straw for you to let go of his hand and pull his body to yours in an embrace.

He melted into you.

Loki's fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and he buried his head against your shoulder—you soon felt it becoming damp, yet you only hugged him tighter. With the desperation he was holding you with, you wondered when was the last time someone had held him.

The soft sobs escaping him were muffled against you. And you couldn't help but stroke his back, the tips of your fingers burying into his very soul. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone." You spoke near his ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on his skin. "You never deserved it," you promised.

You weren't sure how much time passed, you stayed there for as long as Loki needed you to. When he eventually pulled away, he didn't go far, his hands kept holding your body close to him as if he was afraid you'd leave if he let go.

His bright eyes didn't hold a storm anymore, they were more like a calm sea. A soft frown etched itself into his eyebrows, "did you… take away my pain?"

You chuckled quietly, "No, I can't take away people's emotions." You lifted a hand until your fingertips could brush the skin on his forehead, "But I can make them lighter." You traced an invisible line over his eyebrow and until you reached his cheekbone, "Make the weight just a little bit easier to carry."

Loki leaned into your touch, almost closing his eyes. His hands that rested on your back traced your spine and pulled you closer. "Darling, you've been making it easier ever since the first day I met you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[blossom-shy]

Scaramouche x reader

scaramouche/wanderer and reader is in engage marriage

scaramouche is cold towards the reader, And reader love him but he doesn't and they are argument now and then it went bad and then she have Hanahaki disease she doesn't told no one but it alright to late reader with angst

# Wilting Petals

*From Scaramouche's Perspective*

I never asked for this arrangement.

You sit at the vanity mirror, humming some irritatingly cheerful tune while you braid flowers into your hair. Everything about her grates against my nerves. The way she smiles at nothing. The way she tries to fill every silence with meaningless chatter. The way she looks at me like I'm something precious instead of the weapon I was forged to be.

"Good morning, Scara!" Her voice is bright as sunshine, and I want to snuff it out.

"Don't call me that." The words come out harsher than intended, but I don't soften them. Better she learns now what this is. "And whatever trivial activity you've planned, cancel it. I have business to attend to."

I see the hurt flicker across her face before she hides it behind that insufferable smile. Good. Pain is honest, at least.

"Of course! Maybe this evening then? We could bake those cupcakes you used to—"

"I never liked your baking." The lie tastes bitter, but necessary. I remember the first batch she made—how the sweetness had caught me off guard, how for one dangerous moment I'd felt something crack in the ice around my chest. "Stop pretending this arrangement is anything more than what it is."

I leave before she can respond, before I can see the way her shoulders slump when she thinks no one is watching.

---

**Three Months In**

She's getting thinner.

I notice because I notice everything—it's how I've survived this long. She's always been delicate, like spun sugar, and now she looks like she might break if someone breathes on her wrong.

"You look pale," I observe without inflection. It's a fact, nothing more. "Don't get sick. It would be inconvenient."

She laughs, but it sounds wrong. Strained. "Just tired! I've been working on a new recipe for—"

The coughing fit that seizes her is violent, desperate. She presses a handkerchief to her mouth, and when she pulls it away, I catch a glimpse of something that makes my chest tighten inexplicably.

Was that... blood?

"How annoying," I mutter, forcing indifference into my voice. "Go rest or whatever. Your noise is distracting."

She nods and flees, but not before I see her shoulders shaking. I tell myself I don't care. I tell myself the strange ache in my chest is just indigestion from her terrible cooking.

I'm very good at lying to myself.

---

**One Month Later**

"Why do you stay?"

The question hangs in the air between us like a blade. I freeze in the doorway, my back to her, and for a moment I almost—almost—tell her the truth. That somewhere between her terrible jokes and her soft humming and the way she leaves little notes in my books, something in me started to thaw. That I stay not for politics or convenience, but because the house feels empty when she's not in it.

Instead, I give her the lie she expects.

"The arrangement benefits me. Your family's connections. The political advantages. Surely even someone as naive as you can understand that."

"But what about—" Her voice cracks like glass. "What about love?"

Love. The word hits me like a physical blow, and I turn to face her with all the cruelty I can muster. Because if she loves me—if she actually loves me—then I'm already too late. I'm already lost.

"Love?" I laugh, and the sound is ugly even to my own ears. "How pathetic. Did you actually believe this was some fairy tale romance? That I would ever care for someone so... ordinary?"

The word 'ordinary' tastes like poison. She's anything but ordinary—she's sunshine and strawberries and everything soft in a world that tried to carve the softness out of me. But I can't take it back. Won't take it back.

She whispers "I see" like an epitaph, and I leave before I can do something foolish like apologize.

---

**Two Months Later**

The girl in the mirror is disappearing.

I catch glimpses of her sometimes—a flash of pink hair around a corner, the sound of muffled coughing through thin walls. She's stopped trying to talk to me, stopped leaving those ridiculous love notes, stopped humming while she works.

I should be pleased. This is what I wanted, isn't it? Peace. Quiet. No more of her relentless optimism chipping away at my defenses.

So why does the silence feel like suffocation?

I find myself walking past your room at night, listening for signs of life. The coughing has gotten worse—harsh, wet sounds that make something twist in my chest. Sometimes I think I hear her crying, and my hand hovers over the doorknob before I force myself to walk away.

She doesn't need my comfort. She never did.

(The lie is getting harder to maintain.)

---

**The Final Week**

You're in the garden again.

I watch from the window as you sit among the flowers, writing in that leather notebook you carry everywhere. Your hair catches the sunlight, but you look translucent, like you're already half-gone.

Something compels me to go to her—some desperate, clawing need I can't name.

"What are you writing?" The question comes out rougher than intended.

She startles, quickly closing the notebook. "Nothing important."

The lie sits heavy between us. Everything about her has always been important, even when I pretended otherwise.

For the first time in months, I really look at her. The sharp angles of her cheekbones. The way her clothes hang loose on her frame. The dark circles under eyes that used to sparkle with mischief.

"You've lost weight."

"I've been trying a new diet!" The cheer in her voice is so forced it makes my teeth ache. She starts to cough again, pressing her hand to her mouth, and this time I see it clearly—the flash of purple, the speck of red.

Petals. Blood.

My mind, sharp as it is, puts the pieces together in an instant. The weight loss. The coughing. The way she looks at me like she's memorizing my face.

Hanahaki disease.

She's dying. Of love. For me.

The realization hits me like lightning, but she's already covering it up, already smiling that broken smile.

"Don't do anything drastic," I hear myself say, the words feeling like glass in my throat. "The wedding is next month, and you need to look presentable."

The wedding. Our wedding. The one she won't live to see.

I walk away because staying would mean admitting the truth—that I've killed the only person who ever loved me by being too much of a coward to love her back.

---

**The Last Day**

The house is too quiet.

I know before I enter, before I see the letter on my desk surrounded by violet petals, before I read words that feel like they're carving themselves into my bones.

*By the time you read this, I'll be gone.*

My hands shake as I read her final confession, her forgiveness for sins I can never forgive myself for. She loved me. Despite everything—despite my cruelty, my coldness, my desperate attempts to push her away—she loved me.

And I loved her too.

The truth sits in my chest like a knife. I loved her morning songs and her terrible jokes. I loved the way she left flowers on my desk and notes in my books. I loved her stubborn optimism and the way she saw something worth saving in me.

I loved her, and I killed her with my silence.

The cupcakes wait in the kitchen like an accusation. Vanilla with strawberry frosting—my favorite, though I never told her. Each bite tastes like regret, like all the words I should have said but didn't.

In the garden, violet flowers bloom more beautiful than ever, and I finally understand what I've done. She chose to love me knowing it would kill her. She chose me even when I gave her nothing in return.

I fall to my knees among the flowers—her flowers—and scream until my voice breaks.

But screaming won't bring her back. Nothing will.

The flowers remember what I was too proud to say: that Blossom was never ordinary. She was extraordinary, and she was mine, and I threw her away like she meant nothing.

Now all I have left are her letters, her recipes, and the knowledge that I am exactly the monster I always believed myself to be.

The violet flowers bloom on, beautiful and terrible, a garden grown from love and watered with tears I learned to shed too late.

IM CRYING YOU GUYS ARE 😭

but...I love angst y'all I hope you guys like it I did this story a long time ago

[deanwinchestergf]

and why would an angel rescue me from hell? good things do happen dean. not in my experience. i'm not here to perch on your shoulder. i was getting too close to the humans in my charge. you. to everything there is a season. you made an exception for me. you're different. for what's worth, i would give anything not to have you do this. i learned my lesson while i was away, dean. i serve heaven, i don't serve men and i certainly don't serve you. but you guys aren't supposed to be there, you're not in this story. yeah, well, we're making it up as we go. i'm hunted, i rebelled and i did it all, all of it, for you. so what i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together? i need your help because you're the only one who'll help me. that's a pretty nice timing, cas. we had an appointment. what happened to you cas? you used to be human, or at least like one. but cas, you'll call right? if you get into real trouble? this is cas, guys. he has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times, don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least? it sounds so simple when you say it like that, where were you when i needed to hear it? i was there, where were you? i'm doing this for you, dean. i'm doing this because of you. but we were family once, i would've died for you, i almost did a few times. i've lost lisa, i've lost ben and now i've lost sam. don't make me lose you too. cas, you child, why didn't you listen to me. you used to fight together, bestest of friends, actually. if you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. the very touch of you corrupts. when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost. i'd rather have you, cursed or not. well, i'll go with you. i prayed to you cas, every night. cas, we're getting out of here, we're going home. i mean you kept saying you didn't think it would work, did you not trust me? cas, it's me. we need you, i need you. i won't hurt dean. cause you didn't trust me? you didn't trust me. please, man, i need you here. nobody wants him here more than i do. you gave us an order, castiel, and we gave you our trust. don't lose it over one man. you really believe we three will be enough? we always have been. his true weakness is revealed. you draped yourself with the flag of heaven but ultimately, it was all about saving one human. i'm glad you're here, man. how are you, dean? and then you'll kill the angel, castiel. now that one, that i suspect would hurt something awful. and when you turn, everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. everyone except me. i'm not gonna send lucifer into battle inside cas, what if he doesn't make it? it's not an it, sam. it's cas. but you're always there, you know? i could go with you. you mean too much to me, to everything. i'm gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way i cured my own. it's a gift, you keep those. you mean we? yes, dumbass, we. we lost everything and now you're gonna bring him back. we got cas back, that's a pretty damn big win. just don't get dead again. it's good to hear your voice. so this is goodbye? but i swear if he did something to her, if she's- then you're dead to me. either get on board or walk away. i don't know what's god and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy. dean, you asked what about all of this is real. we are. you used trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt, now you can barely look at me. i think it's time for me to move on. you didn't deserve that. since when do we get what we deserve? maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. i left but you didn't stop me. i should've stopped you. you're my best friend but i just let you go. and i forgive you, of course i forgive you. i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm sorry it took me til now to say it. you did it cas. okay, cas, i need to say something. you don't have to say it, i heard your prayer. well, here's to being right. you know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? they did what they were told, but not you.

[starryeyed-apple]

a fresh start (back to the beginning)

part i of small town au xavier series

synopsis: you thought that once you left your hometown, you were done with it forever. but fate has a funny way of working itself out, and your world falling apart drives you to return. and in the back of your mind, you can't help but remember him...

★pairing: xavier x fem!reader ★wc: 2.4k ★content: fluff and some angst, humor. small town dynamics, returning to hometown, childhood crushes. reader's grandpa had a health emergency as part of the plot (he's okay). reader is a medical coder, and still has heart problems. brief zayne mention (back in the city). mainly exposition in this chapter. ★a/n: YIPPEE YIPPEEEE im so excited to be starting this one. please be patient with me as this is the first series I've done in a while, and it may take time to get updates out because I want to take my time and have fun with this <3 ★masterlist ★read on ao3

Maybe you should've known, that despite everything in you trying to stay away, you'd always come back again.

There's a rush of relief when you see the deer on the town's welcome sign once you turn off the freeway, mixed with a sinking feeling of dread. A sensation that you've never been able to shake. A deep seated disappointment that yes, every road you'd taken away from here had eventually led you straight back.

You'd tried. You really did.

And you'd done pretty well for yourself, for a while. You'd landed a career that actually suited your education, one with benefits and a retirement plan on top of that. Also, it didn't make you want to peel your skin off 24/7, so that was a bonus.

You had a nice little townhouse all to yourself, with low enough rent, and good restaurants near your neighborhood.

A tight-knit group of sweet friends pulled you along with them when they went out on the weekends. And your boy—

You pause in your reminiscing, glancing down towards your hand on the steering wheel when you turn the car off the main street.

Yeah, no. Not thinking about that.

But it all boiled down to that phone call that nearly stopped your heart, already too faint for its own good all on its own.

The stop sign right before you turn onto your street is still a little crooked, a monument to the storm that had ravaged through the town back in '02. You'd only been a kid, and remembered how the water on the street came up to your knees before Gramps had swept you back inside.

Gramps, you think with an ache in your heart, hands tightening on the steering wheel before you force your grip to loosen.

His old beat-up truck is still in the driveway when you pull in next to it, and you have to remind yourself that that's all the scare was—fear, unrealized.

He was still inside, still okay. Maybe a little worse for wear, but alive.

Still, you wouldn't believe it until you saw it.

And so you're rushing out of the car when you've barely turned the ignition off. The keys dangle in your shaky hands when you take the steps up to the front door two at a time, an unbidden sob escaping your throat when the door's already opening.

Your grandpa just smiles, waving you closer from the wheelchair that his longtime neighbor pushes out—the very neighbor who'd found him passed out in the driver's seat of his truck when they came home after work.

"Oh, my girl," he sighs when you collapse into the hug he's waiting for, crying into his shoulder.

His wrinkled hand comes to pat the top of your head, and you finally feel at ease for the first time in the last 48 hours, since you'd gotten the call he was in the hospital. It was just a mini-stroke, they'd reassured, and you wanted to laugh bitterly if the sound wasn't stuck in your throat. Just.

"I'm okay. It's all okay now."

He wipes your tears and laughs, deep and joyous, when you pout at him.

"You scared me." You try not to sound like a whiny child, but the sound escapes you anyway, afraid you'd lost the only family you'd ever had in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry, girlie." He pats your head again, smiling, and it brings the first smile in the past two days onto your face. Relief finally floods your chest, and you deflate with it. "Come on, let's get you inside. Have you eaten? You look more like death than I do."

You laugh at the familiar dark humor as you grab onto his wheelchair handles to push him inside. Shooting a grateful glance towards Bethany, your neighbor, you mouth a sincere thank you. She just smiles.

"Anytime, sweetie," she hums, tucking your hair behind your ear, and the familiarity soothes that ache that still sits in your chest.

That persistent, gnawing feeling that now that you're back, you're not getting out again.

Still, there's comfort when she offers a warm greeting to your return, "Welcome home."

With a quiet groan, you squint at your laptop screen, all the letters making up the medical jargon jumbling together. You reread the sentence about which vein had been surgically connected to which artery for the fifth time, glance towards the codes, and lean back in your chair.

It had only been a week back home, and you were already going crazy. You could still do all your work remotely, thank god—but that just meant you were stuck with the same work and same old views all day, now. It was hard not to start feeling stir-crazy already, missing the life you had built for yourself.

Even if it had already started falling apart before you got the call.

Rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes, you sigh, blinking rapidly at the lights that swim in your vision when you pull them back.

"Too many veins. Too many fucking arteries," you grumble, reaching for another sip of your latte, only to discover you were on its last dregs again. "Aarya—"

"No way," the barista calls from the counter, leveling you with a glare that rivals your own. "That's the second one you've had today, missy. I'm not making you another one, I know how your heart acts up when you've had too much."

You groan and huff, head dropping onto your arms on the corner of the table where you'd set up your work.

"It's not my fault." You switch tactics to whining instead, smirking into your arms when you sneak a glance to see your old high school friend wincing at the sound. If it grated on her nerves enough, she'd give in. She always had. "This is the fifth cardiovascular surgery in a row."

"That's too bad," Aarya sings, shooting you a smirk when you lift your head to glare at her. "Hey, you wanted to move to the city to work for a big hospital, now you have to deal with the consequences."

You stick your tongue out at her, and she returns it with a rude gesture that makes you bark out a laugh. It eases that tension at the base of your neck, and you sigh, rolling out the remaining tightness.

Glancing out the window you're seated next to, you squint at the small stage set up at the civic center right across the street from your favorite coffee shop.

"What's going on over there?" you ask, glancing over the small crowd that had gathered around whoever was giving a speech on stage.

Aarya leaves the counter to walk up behind you, leaning down to get a better look.

"Oh, that." She rolls her eyes, disinterested. "It's re-election time."

You look at the speaker for a few more seconds. Their platinum blond hair is graying, eyes too blue even from a distance, and then realization hits you.

"Is Mayor Shen still the mayor?"

"Yup," with a pop of the p, she shoots you a knowing smirk. "Some things never change, do they?"

"Is that even legal?" you ask, trying to remember if there was ever a time when the richest man in town hadn't also ran it. "Can you be mayor of a town for that long?"

"Who knows?" Aarya throws up her hands with a shrug, readjusting her septum piercing before sitting across from you. "Small towns and all that. People like things to stay the same."

"I guess so," you mutter, chin propped on your hand as you look back at your friend. "Does anybody even run against him?"

"Yeah, sometimes. I think somebody else is campaigning this year, but I can't remember who." She smirks, a familiar look in all its cynical charm. "They'll lose anyway."

You sigh, shaking your head as you look back at your laptop screen. With a groan, you slam it shut, earning an arch of Aarya's pierced eyebrow.

"Dr. Li will forgive me for taking a break," you tell her with a bright smile, and she huffs out a laugh.

"Dr. Li sounds like a merciful boss."

"Sometimes," you allow with a shrug. Zayne could be sweet if the mood struck him, especially if you were catering to his sweet tooth.

The surgeon was far too serious for his own good, but you had grown fond of him in the time you worked for the cardiovascular department in Linkon City's top hospital. His medical reports were way more organized than most other doctors you've coded for, and he was patient whenever you needed to ask for clarification.

"He's not really my boss, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." You nod, staring longingly at what had once been a full cup of coffee, as if willing it to refill on its own. "Hospital administration pays me."

Your phone chimes with a medication reminder, and you pass on the message in a quick text to your grandpa. Waiting, you see the read notification light up with the time, and frown when there's no further response.

With a sigh, you push yourself up from your seat, tucking your laptop back into your tote bag.

"Gotta go check on the old man," you explain at Aarya's questioning look. Fondness coats your voice at the nickname for him, emphasizing your hushed worry, and she softens.

"How's he doing?" she asks, her voice notably quieter, kinder than her usual harsh-edged monotone that you love so dearly.

"He's good," you brush off, because he was. Because he had to be.

You couldn't entertain any notion that he wasn't, even if he was remaining tight-lipped on everything the doctors had to say in his brief hospital visit. Stubborn as always, just like he'd raised you to be.

"Yeah, he's good."

"Good." Aarya is nodding, her mouth opening to say something else, but you're already spinning around towards the door, your practically empty drink in hand in preparation to throw away.

You stumble back in surprise when you collide right into somebody else as they walk into the café.

The jingle of the bell distantly rings in your mind while you sway dangerously, steadied by the gentle strength in the hands that quickly come around your shoulders.

"Woah," you hear a soft voice mumble.

It's faintly familiar in its melodic lilt, and your widening eyes shoot up towards its owner.

Deep blue eyes peer back at you, slowly widening a fraction as they take you in.

"Xavier," you breathe, and clear your throat. "Uh. Hi."

Xavier Shen blinks a few times.

Long, slow blinks, his head tilting to the side as he continues to take you in. It makes the bangs of his fluffy, silvery blond hair fall across his gaze, and he doesn't even bother to push it back.

"Oh," he finally says after a long moment that feels more and more like eternity. "It's you."

You try not to wince at the utterly lackluster reaction. Or retreat into your shell because of how long it took him to even recognize you.

"Yup." You attempt a laugh, grimacing internally when it comes out strained. "It's me…hi."

Trying to wave awkwardly, it gets even more awkward when you remember your cup is still in your hand.

The awkwardness intensifies when you realize even though it wasn't completely empty before, it's definitely empty now.

"Oh, shit," you hiss, eyes narrowing in on the very noticeable little coffee stain over the pocket of the completely white, pure as fucking snow hoodie that Xavier was wearing.

Your face heats up when he looks down and slowly blinks again.

"I'm so, so sorry," you begin to ramble, hovering around him in a panic. He just stares at the stain, then back up at you. "I—I can pay for you to get it cleaned, or get you a new—"

"It's fine," he interrupts you, not even trying to cover up the yawn that stretches across his face.

He rubs at his eyes, and with the tiniest tilt of his head that can hardly even be called a nod—honestly, it easily could've just been him looking at the menu behind you—he moves past you.

You're left blinking rapidly, empty cup still in hand, staring at the door you had been about to exit through.

You hear him ordering a drink from Aarya behind you, in that same soft-spoken tone he'd always had, and you try not to feel like you've just been left in the dust. A toy never even taken out of its box.

Some things never change, do they? You can practically hear Aarya's voice as you feel the weight of her gaze on your back when you leave, in a daze all the way back to your parked car.

Well.

That…wasn't exactly how you'd imagined it.

But in hindsight, it was Xavier Shen.

Effortlessly cool, top student Xavier Shen, having not a single care in the world as he aced every single test while hardly lifting a finger to study. Sleeping in the back of the classroom and finishing an exam in ten minutes when it was passed back to him.

Xavier Shen, who led the school's fencing team all the way to the national level of competition, and came home with the only first place trophy to grace its barren display cases. And another trophy every year after that, his name shining proudly on the top of the team's list on the shiny plaque.

Xavier Shen, only son of the rich and successful mayor, unsmiling but present in every newspaper photo of a town charity event.

Xavier, who disappeared from school for days or weeks a time, and came back paler, more tired than before.

Xavier, valedictorian and refusing to make a speech. Xavier, never bothering to show up at a school dance, absent even when he won the title of prom king.

Except for…

You clear your throat, shaking your head as you sink further into the driver's seat. Your face is hot when you bury it in your hands, banging your forehead against your steering wheel.

Popular without trying, without even caring, aloof and beautiful Xavier Shen.

Who met your eyes every time you would sneak a glance back at him. Who never said anything when you passed him in the halls, even with the way your eyes were glued to his every move.

Xavier, your biggest childhood crush, who hardly knew you ever even existed.

So maybe it should've been all you expected after all.

[as-if-and-only-if]

the thing that I've got to say is that it really is ethically straightforward that you should vote Harris.

it's not even a trolley problem, it's a trolley triviality. I don't want to use the meme because it seems disrespectful to use those specific images of MS paint people when these are real lives we're talking about.

The analogy itself is serious, though. it looks like this:

the track diverges at the lever; many people are on lower track, while no one is on the upper track. then: the tracks re-converge and continue, and there are people on the track after that convergence.

The point is that the lever—the vote—can be used to prevent those lives on the lower track from being lost, but cannot save the lives lost after the re-convergence.

it differs from the classic trolley problem in an extremely important way: there isn't anyone on the upper track. as such, it's not a question of "who do we save?"—it's only a question of "do we save the people we can?"

(I need to emphasize, because many on this site have long shed the shackles of reading comprehension, that this does not mean that no one dies as a consequence of U.S. or presidential policy choices in a vacuum. It means that your vote cannot prevent that, but your vote can prevent strictly more people from dying, with no trolley-problem type tradeoff of "who do we choose to die".)

~~~~~

you might think that this is abstracting away too much of the real situation—but it turns out it's ironclad.

to see that it is, and reconcile it with reality, we have to ask: what is not modeled by this analogy? where might it fail?

this amounts to asking the question: is there a benefit to killing the people on the lower track that makes doing so "worth it"?

that is: what justification might you have for saying "yes, we actually need to let those lives on the lower track, the ones we could save with the lever, be lost"?

and the answer—as you might have guessed—is that there is no such justification. no peculiar fact about voting means that you should let those people die.

~~~~~

so why do some people—very passionately—insist that not voting is right? I'll survey a few of the most common attempted justifications I've seen, such as:

"I'm not going to vote for less genocide." This is obviously equivalent to "I am totally fine with more genocide!", a truly horrific stance, and yet I have seen it nearly verbatim from so-called "leftists" a few times. My guess is that this usually stems from a kind of perceived moral contamination: a feeling that a "vote for" a candidate is a moral alignment. This is artificial; not real; not consequential. A vote only makes you responsible for the difference between the two tracks while they diverge. Touching the lever doesn't make you responsible for the track. Choosing between these two outcomes is all voting can do—and because voting for most is easy, and doesn't stop you from doing anything else, there are no trade-offs. No "I'm not at the lever, because I had to work on another way." (If your vote is suppressed, that's another story—but this doesn't imply a general anti-voting stance.)

Ironically, some who aren't voting feel they are "keeping their hands clean", when they are in fact actively increasing the chance of more death and suffering. This is kind of the definition of getting your hands "dirty"; it just doesn't feel like it because they're not touching a voting machine, which is kind of just magical thinking. it's not a point not made frequently enough, I think: what some think of as "doing the right thing" here is very much doing the wrong thing, with respect to their own underlying values of right and wrong, and with respect to what they say they care about. those who claim to have the moral high ground by not voting do not actually have it at all.

On that note, some people (fewer, though) seem to think that touching the lever does make you responsible for the track in a real outcome-based way. That somehow, voting lends "legitimacy" to the track, and that by not voting, we are maybe creating a future with no people on tracks. This is just not true; a dangerous fantasy that asks you to sit back and wait for a utopia that's not coming. There are enough voters in this upcoming election that that institution is not going anywhere anytime soon; you'd need a coordinated movement of not voting plus plans for what to do after the state has lost legitimacy, and that is just...obviously not here. To think otherwise is to live in that fantasy, and so to abandon ethical thinking at all, as ethics comes first from a confrontation with reality. you cannot act ethically without acting practically. However: the margins are thin enough that a few people deciding to vote (who wouldn't otherwise) could actually change the outcome. You can actually save the people on the lower track.

Some people think that the tracks never separate at all, or that the same people are on each, or that one way or another, Harris and Trump are "the same". If you think this, please look beyond tumblr "leftists" for facts here. You've been bombarded with all and only all the bad stuff about Harris (not arguing with most of that—though there are misconceptions, e.g. that Biden/Harris provided no protections for trans people); but you haven't seen how much worse Trump is on every single one of those cases, issue for issue, including Gaza. If you think Gaza can't get any worse, you've essentially written everyone still alive there off for dead. Likewise for any group who would suffer more under Trump. Needless to say—don't do that. The comparison—the difference between the diverging tracks—is all that ethically matters when deciding whether to flip the lever or leave it alone.

Some people think voting is primarily "speech", a means to communicate (or worse, merely express), and probably do not realize that this means they think the outcome of "sending a message" (which would do nearly nothing in real terms) is worth killing the people on the lower track.

Similarly, some people think that it's meaningful to "punish" Harris or the dems. (Truly, putting punishment over the cost in lives and suffering is the most horribly american thing to do here.) Some people just want the feeling of punishment, of blame; some people try to excuse their actions in advance ("well, if the dems lose, it will be their fault"), conveniently omitting their own agency in voting, and thus excusing them from the practice of acting ethically at all. Some people think that punishing the dems will actually push them left in the future, to which I say: you don't have a good reason to think this at all, based on history. Parties go where the winning is. And if you do still have a hunch to the contrary, I am sure you don't have a good reason to be reasonably certain of it. This means that you are paying for a gamble, a mere chance, one unsupported by fact, with the lives on the lower track. You can find another way.

~~~~~

Let's be concrete for a moment.

Since this is about difference, let me gesture to a few obvious differences between Trump and Harris: LGBTQ+ rights, Gaza, climate change, mass deportation of illegal immigrants, education, voting rights (and, yes, democracy), the economy, housing, the long-term future success of leftist movements and activism (much more difficult under Trump, who, no joke, has said neatly verbatim he wants to use the national guard and military to handle the leftist "enemy from within", and who can now do so thanks to the supreme court's ruling on presidential powers), everything Lina Khan and Deb Haaland are doing, etc.

And before you respond with something bad the dems or Harris are doing with respect to one of these—I know. Now compare it to Trump on the same issue. That is the only thing relevant to acting ethically in this brutal, tightly-constrained situation.

For example: Harris doesn't want to ban fracking or reduce oil consumption (bad), but wants to fund renewables, stay in the Paris agreement, strengthen climate initiatives in general.

Trump wants to completely gut funding for renewable energy, withdraw from the Paris accords, dramatically increase oil consumption, commercialize NOAA, weaken the EPA, and so on.

We don't get neither. A vote for none is a vote for "worse is fine by me". We are handed the terrible task of making one of these work, and any person actually, practically concerned with that would choose to try to make the Harris version work then spend precious resources fighting the overwhelming tide of the Trump version.

Only someone who does not actually care about these issues is okay with letting Trump in.

Unless you are capable only of black-and-white thinking, unless you can write off the lives in the difference and convince yourself this is ethical, you can see that letting Trump in only lets more lives be lost, and does not reduce anyone's suffering. No trolley "problem". No trade-off.

Voting Harris is not moral alignment. It's not unconditional support. It is maybe the most conditional action you can take: there are only two real outcomes. One not only has more people, as in a trolley problem, but also results in the death and suffering that would result otherwise.

~~~~~

So there it is, spelled out in the most painstaking detail I'm willing to give to a tumblr post: a few of the failure modes of reasoning that lead to not voting. Often simplicity is too simple, a meaningful departure from reality, but in this case the opposite is true: the simple argument

There are two possible outcomes: one of them eases no one's suffering and creates a great deal more. Therefore choose the other, instead of allowing the worse one to come to pass.

—stands up ethically in this case to every sublimation of righteous anger into misguided action.

And I am not using "righteous" sarcastically: it is right to denounce the Biden/Harris admin on Gaza, it is right to denounce the dems on not doing enough for climate change, etc. But that is not the question being asked by your vote. Do not give the right answer to the wrong question.

The question is only: Harris or Trump? Which outcome should happen, now, in the real world, when it's one of exactly two, when "neither" really, truly isn't an option?

If you do not vote, what will your answer be to the people on the lower track? I am sorry; I dreamt nobly, of no track, no lashings at all. No, I was not kept from the lever. It did not even compromise my dream to push it. Still, I just couldn't bear to touch it; still, you had to die, to save me this discomfort.

acting ethically does not always feel righteous. it is not always a release valve for righteous anger. it does not always feel like progress; sometimes it is only the prevention of catastrophe. it is still ethical. it is still necessary. vote Harris. vote to save the people you can.

[distort-opia]

I’m begging, pleading if you will for some longer batjokes fic recommendations that are less mainstream (as I’ve read most of the popular ones) because I just finished your timeloop fic and OH MY GOD IT WAS SO GOOD IM GONNA CRY WOWOW YOU CAN WRITE THEM SO WELL.

so now I guess I thought who better to find more fics from that my fav batjokes fic writer!

First of all, thank you for the kind words! I'm really glad you enjoyed REMS, and I'm flattered you think of me as your favorite writer. I hope I can recommend some multi-chaptered, longer fics you don't already know of... but bear in mind, I haven't been able to keep up with recent fanfic a lot-- real life and a PhD are kicking my ass.

Maybe you already know of the #48 verse, The Eternal Batman Universe, City Goblins, matchjokes, Two sided blade soul mate theory, Enemies With Benefits and the jaxverse series? I assume fics over 1k kudos might be considered mainstream... So I tried to go for stories with a lower number of kudos that are relatively recent, or older fics that might not be well known by newer fans. Either way, they're a mix of Universes, with a bias for comicverse because that's my jam. Some of these I haven't managed to read fully, but I am reccing either because I liked what I did read or I heard very good things from friends.

Needless to say, check the tags carefully before reading! I am only including some short summaries and word counts. Do leave the authors some love if you like the story, and check out their other stuff. The list got pretty long, so I'm putting the recs (in no particular order) under the cut.

Ghosts of a Future Lost by messageredacted (15k+, complete)

Wayne Manor has been rebuilt, but things just aren’t the same as they used to be. Something is stirring old memories, and not just Bruce’s…

Strange Comradery in Arkham by Vampowerment (series, 45k+ words)

Bruce Wayne checks himself into Arkham because he considers himself a danger to himself and others, but only Joker seems to understand why.

Blood of the Covenant by batjokesinlove (28k+ words, WIP)

When Bruce is attacked by a horrifying monster, he finds himself turned into a creature of the night with a thirst for human blood. Although he retains his humanity, he wrestles with his need for blood and his desire to maintain his code. That is until an unlikely person offers up himself up to Batman as his own personal blood bank.

Inside the Music Box by MargueritePoretesDefenseAttorney (series, 116k+ words)

A dark comedy where the Batkids are very suspicious of Bruce's new boyfriend, a strange man who looks oddly familiar . . .

Bygone Boy by Masterofceremonies (25k+ words, WIP)

Bruce is millionaire in the public eye. His husband, Jack, is a widely known, largely mysterious artist, famous for his borderline illegal exhibitions. Their marriage has been a happy one. Mostly. Until Jack goes missing, and Bruce becomes suspect #1.

Induced Labor by fractualized (29k+ words, WIP)

After a fight in an illegal magic shop results in Bruce impregnating Joker, at least things can't get any more bizarre— except of course they can.

A Rule for A Rule by Severus_divides_into_H (34k+ words, WIP)

When Bruce walks into his new elementary school classroom, the first thing he sees is green. Green hair, green eyes, green sweater with a clown on it, green pants that look way too big. A decade later, he looks at the Joker, and all he sees is a person he once loved.

This Strange Effect by battybrownboo (19k+ words, WIP)

Batman and the Justice League are forced to harbor Joker when he accidentally gets beamed up to the Watchtower. But a clown in space will be the least of their problems.

Life is so much better when you're dead by toluenesister (167k+ words, complete)

During the two years following the Joker's escape from Arkham, Gotham gradually becomes rid of its criminal element in a particularly ghastly way. The appearances of Batman and the Joker become more and more scarce as well to the point of vanishing from the public eye, leaving the city's crime rate at an all time low. At the same time, Carmine's daughter, Sofia Falcone, decides to rebuild her father's organization, but in the course of gathering resources she accidentally finds out what both Batman and the Joker have been preoccupied with while they were away from the streets.

Dissolve & Absolve by toluenesister (63k+ words, complete)

One day the Joker decides to lay his mark on what is his, but he doesn't anticipate the magnitude of what is about to unravel.

through a glass, darkly by itallstartedwithdefenestration (series, 156k+ words)

Three months after Batman effectively disappears from society, Bruce Wayne goes to work for the Joker.

Blank Canvas by Vampowerment (21k+ words, WIP)

When Eric Border, an orderly at Arkham and an ally to Batman, tries to build a life outside of his work, he somehow keeps running into Gotham's darling, Bruce Wayne.

Hope We Can Again by blackbatsx (22k+ words, WIP)

Their original counterparts are long gone but what do you do when the universe (or multiverse for that matter) presents you with another opportunity to try again?

a world with love by railroadman, slaapkat (48k+ words, series)

A canon-divergent universe where Bruce and Joker really do love each other.

In the claws of the Owl by orphan_account (27k+ words, complete)

The Owlman, the Great bird of Sorrows, White King of Gotham, is barely human any more. There is something terrifying about the secret tyrant of Gotham who is watching all the time. The Red Hood wishes he didn't love him. The Owl had tried to drown him in chemicals, murdered his family, broken him again and again with torture, but this time Owlman has something worse in mind for his favorite pet enemy.

Kintsugi Elseworld by a_stands_for (20k+ words, complete)

A suspiciously insistent Zatanna reads Bruce's fortune, which somehow leads to an adventure in a parallel universe--one where the Joker wears a mask and cape and fights at Batman's side.

The Heart by slire (20k+ words, complete)

The Joker, sick and heartbroken, plans to recreate himself. Another scheme is in motion; one that'll shake his darling to the core and break the Bat like no one else can.

I'll Tell You No Lies by TheMidnightOwl (29k+ words, complete)

Earth-22. One mistake was all it took. In the months that pass after Bruce accidentally kills a hired gun, he must reevaluate his life, his methods, and his mission. He remembers everything the Joker has ever said to him, every taunt he ever made, every similarity they share, and this time he's listening. This time he gets the joke.

Acts of Agression by vojavodun (series, 30k+ words)

Batman confronts the Joker in a skyscraper and the night's events get physical.

Bring Down The House by ArgentNoelle (53k+ words, complete)

The Joker is the greatest performance of Jack’s life.

Madness, Domesticated by thatsnotfunny (56k+, WIP)

Bruce Wayne offers to rehabilitate Joker at the manor for the holidays. But which of them needed socialization the most?

Love isn't brains, it's blood by cutting_capers (27k+ words, complete)

He was speaking before even choosing to. “But, so many lives. If you care about Gotham, how can you end so many lives?” Bruce shook his head but was then startled out of his own daze by the raised voice of Joker across from him. “I don’t care about their lives. I care about yours!” Joker stabbed a finger in his direction, his other hand balled in a fist and his entire body rigid. After just a few moments, though, the tension broke, a high pitch of laughter bubbling out of Joker. His eyes drifted about. “They do say I’m crazy. I must be.”

Arkham by AnonGrimm (74k+ words, complete)

The Joker has landed in Arkham again with a long sentence ahead of him in solitary. While plotting his next escape, he gets a visit from the Batman. Two-Face has been wreaking havoc and Batman wants Joker to divulge clues in how to stop him or cure his madness. Joker pretends to listen as a new game begins to bloom in his fractured mind. Can he crack that cold strength and find a weakness, find a way to warp the Bat?

The Bliss of Ignorance by Crashingthisbane (Sitarsitar) (34k+ words, complete)

After getting a concussion, Bruce loses his memory. Joker crafts a new past for him. He tells Bruce that the two of them are crime-fighting partners, weaving a tangled web of half-truths and plain lies. Complex feelings ensue, for both Joker and Bruce.

Yes And by limeta (41k+ words, complete)

The Joker "yes ands" his way into having a mental breakdown. Kidnapping Tim Drake and a bunch of Rogues isn't helping. Especially because he isn't the Joker, of course, but Bruce Wayne's newest secretary. Cut him some slack, he's just trying to run some errands!

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 20 ... WITH BENEFITS??

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, y/n has daddy issues for the sake of the plot

NOTES | I have no idea why this update took me so long to post I'm so sorry 😭 I don't like making chapters like this too sad (don't worry there's still gonna be some angsty chapters) but I don't want the written stuff on its own bcs that feels too espresso depresso or wtv the phrase is so this is a bit of a longer chap than usual.. anyways if ever you feel bad for y/n, don't worry you're gonna feel worse

19:21, dinner the night before

Y/n shuffles in her seat.

Jaemin greets her with a smile, and though she offers one back, that sinking feeling in her stomach doesn't seem to settle.

Suddenly now that she finds herself face to face with her once best friend, no menus in hand since they'd already given their orders, no way to avoid conversation for just a couple seconds longer, Y/n finds herself at a loss for words.

What was anyone supposed to say in this situation?

Sure a thank you would be ideal, considering Jaemin had somehow managed the impossible, but the words escaped her. Like they rested at the tip of her tongue but she lacked the drive to speak them.

It's not that y/n wasn't grateful, no, she wouldn't be here if she wasn't, in fact she didn't know what it was, what confused her so deeply that she sat there silently. Her thumbs twiddling against one another, as she stared down at the table in front of her.

There was a nagging whisper in her mind, one that cast shadows over her once clear thoughts, leaving her in that haze of uncertainty that she recognised all too well. Recently it was all she could feel around the captain.

Something about this situation in particular makes her palms sweaty and the hairs stand on her neck, every glance at Jaemin feeling like a shadow of what had once been, a reminder of how it had all been lost.

Even just sitting opposite Jaemin isn't simple.

Not at all.

It's like sitting across from a mirror that once reflected shared laughter and secrets, now distorted by fractures of lost trust and unspoken words. She supposed that was the thing about mirrors and shattering. No matter how hard you tried to glue the pieces back together, it would never quite be the same.

Perhaps that's why y/n is lousy in her attempts, grateful to Jaemin but unbothered to express it. The thought that no matter how desperately she hoped, this couldn't be restored. That there was no point in pouring energy into a friendship that would never be resolved.

"So" it's undoubtedly jaemin who breaks the silence, a soft tone to his voice, not quite as gentle as the other night but still warm "are you feeling better? like really okay?"

For a moment she wonders whether she'll break at the sound of his voice like she always had. Would she go back to that point in life where it was so easy to lie, so easy to say she was okay, so easy to pretend, in front of everyone else but never in front of him.

"I'm fine, honestly." She lies.

There's a shy sheepish smile that creeps across her lips and slightly accents her words

Jaemin hasn't seen much of her positivity be directed his way, and seeing this ignites the little hope in him that they could move on from this, from everything.

"You didn't have to work on it without me you know, it was just as much my project as it was yours and you putting in all the effort isn't fair on you."

"You did most of the preliminary stuff anyways, and I really didn't want to ask you because of the other night" Jaemin finally admits, though not willingly, his words extracted more so by her sharp stare and the cold atmosphere.

"Right..." Her attempts at changing the subject, clearly in vain— he really needed to stop asking about the other night. Y/n wasn't sure how much h longer she could hold back the tears, the looming feeling of inadequacy as a guardian still strong. She should have been more careful.

She knows its her turn to speak, opening her mouth to do so.

But again, y/n struggles.

The words play hide and seek in her mind, leaving her to grasp at empty. The atmosphere grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Her mind races, a jumble of what to say, thoughts of how easy conversation once was, how effortless it had been, all such a stark contrast to now.

Jaemin watches, a mix of intrigue and concern in his eyes as she contemplates in front of him, quiet but with an expression that spoke volumes.

The silence between them seems to bite louder than any conversation they once held, each dish in front, a reminder of the bitter aftertaste of a friendship turned cold.

"It's just Minjun and I" she breathes out, voice shaky, and Jaemin realises that those nervous cues in her slumped posture and shaking hands had never changed "It's just been the two of us for a while" she whispered. "That's why I was so scared"

Jaemin's hand hovers uncertainly beneath the table, unsure if the gesture would be welcomed or misunderstood, caught in the delicate balance of care and concern.

Admittedly, Jaemin catches himself slightly intrigued, still confused what could have lead to her practically perfectly family turning into this.

But he knows better than to let his curiosity get the best of him.

He wants to stop her, tell her that whatever it is that causes her brows to knit together and her pretty eyes to gloss over isn't something she needs to force herself to talk about, but he doesn't know how.

For a moment he's kicking himself under the table— how had he ever let go of the person who meant so much to him?

Even now, knowing everything she had done, he couldnt help but question why hadn't he tried to get past it then?

At the sight of her downcast features suddenly everything that he once despised her for seemed so trivial.

Jaemin sees himself, a younger, less mature version that stands on the court, hair matted to his forehead from the rain, a ball long forgotten somewhere behind him, cold, betrayed, and so painfully alone. Those burning tear stained cheeks, the harsh whistles of wind, the bitter feeling of failure still clinging to his skin, he remembers it all.

But every feeling he recalls so well, so vividly, is so easily dismissed when her eyes shine with a painful tint, red from the piercing tears that she holds in them.

"My dad" she cuts him off, gaze now avoidant as he grabbed her cold hands in his, "he walked out on us not long after ...whatever hapenned between you and me. He never came back, didn't answer a single call, not even a text, no form of communication except the papers he sent in the mail so I could become Junnie's legal guardian."

I missed you, she wanted to say. I needed you she'd liked to add.

"That's why it's just the two of us now" she said instead, trying to find more words to stop the tears from flowing, like her words were the only thing that could hold them back.

Back then, Y/n remembers vividly the feeling of wanting to fall, to sink, to drown but still somehow keeping her head above the surface to hold on and stay strong for her younger brother. She wondered if Jaemin had been there, would it have been easier? Would she have let herself fall, would she have someone to give her a hand, to pick her back up again and hold her hand through it all? Would things have ended differently?

"I'm sorry" his words weren't new, they weren't special, they were the same as what everybody else would say but the fact that they came from him, Na Jaemin who now stood by her side with his arms wrapped around her, was enough to dissolve the feeling of emptiness.

08:25 present time

Y/n looks over at Minjun, still deep in slumber, smiling before she steps out of the room.

There's way too many toys sprawled out across the living room floor, a blanket she finds herself folding as she subconsciously begins to clean up. Her eyes land on the kitchen counter, wondering what to make for breakfast. She was never particularly good at cooking, but she'd been learning for her brothers sake.

When she gets to the black jacket resting over the couch, it hits her. She catches sight of her puffy eyes in the mirror, and a hand runs through her hair hurriedly.

"Why the fuck did I tell him all of that" she let's out a frustrated sigh, running her hands across her face, "I'm supposed to hate him" she reminds herself, though her tone isn't convincing in the slightest.

"You don't hate him though" Heeseung's voice comes out muffled, the toothbrush between his lips making it difficult to understand his words.

He had been the one to stay over last night, her friends still taking turns to accompany Minjun and her every night since he'd walked out of the apartment, a gesture that made her heart swell. Although up until now she was pretty certain he was still asleep. Clearly not.

"I can't hate him" she sighs, falling back into the couch "is it bad I want to be friends with him again?" she asks, even though Heeseung had retreated to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

Regardless he pokes his head out into the hallway, a sly smirk across his lips "with benefits?"

Y/n rolls her eyes.

He emerges again not long after, smiling from ear to ear "no y/n it's not bad if you want to be friends again" he takes a seat beside her "you can only fight your feelings for so long, let yourself be vulnerable, take the risk and try again" he says, hands resting on both his knees.

"and if you're feeling really risky, you can always—"

"shut up Heeseung" she smiles, lightly pushing against his arm "I guess it is worth a shot though"

"he's right next door anyways so sneaking around won't be hard at all"

"I meant being friends. Just friends." she stands up, walking over to the kitchen "you down for pancakes?"

He nods.

"You know it could be good though, he's hot, you're hot, there's enough tension to make things interesting and it ticks your not ready for a relationship box pretty well too"

Despite the pointed look the captain offers him, Heeseung doesn't let up, and secretly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

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[ginevrapng]

𝐈'𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

pairing: fwb!james x reader

word count: 1.5k words

warnings and contents: for my friends with benefits james there is no smut asdfghjkl, hurt, jealousy, FLUFF

you're sitting in the great hall eating breakfast and you spot james across the hall with all the other gryffindors. you're unable to stop your lip quirk upwards as you hear his boisterous laugh, which you guess is due to some joke or prank he's retelling.

your small smile drops as you see lily evans walk up the marauders. you've never had a problem with her, she is a popular gryffindor that is friendly and works well to get top marks but the way she's walking up to the marauders, looking at james determined and with a mission, fills you with slight dread. if you were completely honest you felt she spent more time with james then necessary, especially considering how they've got their own friends and how many times she turned him down in the past.

the hall is already pretty quiet due to everyone already have eaten and a lot of people stop their conversations or lower their voices as they see lily go up to james. everyone in every house knows that's irregular. for the previous years of hogwarts james followed lily everywhere like a lost puppy always asking her out and coming up to her but he had stopped. no one knew why. it was because of you.

because the hall became so silent you heard what evans asked james and you wished the hall was louder, you wished you didn't hear, you wish you were somewhere else, anywhere else, you started to become sick as she asked james if he's free this weekend to go to hogsmeade. "i don't know, i think remus has to study but i know sirius and peter are free too. are all the other girls going?" at that moment it's hard to tell if he's actually oblivious or if he knows exactly what she's asking him but he's choosing not to answer. he has a smile on his face but even from a distance it looks a bit forced to you.

if you were anyone else you would lean to the fact he's being oblivious but you're not anyone, people always underestimate james and you have a feeling james knows exactly what she's actually asking but for some reason he's pretending that he has no clue what she means but you don't know why he'd do that. james is kind and wouldn't want to embarrass someone so publicly but at the same time you're unsure of why he'd be so sure of turning her down but the fact that he is does makes you incredibly happy, you won't tell him that though.

"oh, i don't actually know what the girls are doing. i meant just us two. like on a date?" lily asks him, not wavering at all even with what james has previously said.

james sighs under his breath. "i've got things to do, you should go with someone else."

"what about another weekend?" lily asks, hopeful and you don't blame her for that, anyone would be hopeful asking out someone who in the past asked them out every other day.

"lily, i'm sorry if i'm hurting your feelings but i don't want to go on a date with you," he tells her and you can see that he's trying to be as nice as he can be in a situation like this. no one caught on to the fact that james said that he's only sorry that he's hurt her feelings, he's not sorry for not wanting to date her though, like it's not even an option on my mind, he's not entertaining the thought about going on a date with her, you don't catch on, lily doesn't, the marauders don't, no one does.

everyone is stunned, they thought for sure he'd say yes, he has been pining after her for so long and most people just thought he started playing hard to get, giving her some distance until she recognises how much she misses him but that wasn't true at all. lily never crosses his mind anymore, why would she? he has you. you're all he thinks about. yeah at one point he fancied lily but he loves you.

after a couple beats lily replies with an, "oh, alright then. i guess i'll see you in the common room." this time it's lily that forces a smile. james doesn't respond. she has just been rejected and it's making her feel dejected, not only does james not want to go on a date with her but he doesn't want to hang out with her either. the whole time she thought this was some ploy from james to get her attention but she realised she was wrong. he has no interest in her at all.

as soon as lily's out of earshot and going out of the great hall you hear the loud voices of james' friends. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT PRONGS? DON'T YOU WANT LILY ANYMORE?"

"that was mean james, you didn't have to reject her in front of everyone."

"YOU DON'T WANT EVANS? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME. CAN I GO FOR HER?"

"i've got to say i'm surprised to prongs, i never thought you'd shut lily down like that. she really does like you and if this is some trick to get her to like you more, don't do it. she talks about you a lot."

james interrupts his friends knowing this could go on all morning and knowing that you're definitely hearing all this, worried you might be getting the wrong idea. "you can go for her pads, it's none of my business." they all look even more shocked as they hear this but he carries on, "i have no interest in lily whatsoever, yes i used to but i moved on from that. i didn't try to be mean peter but she wasn't taking a hint, i kept trying to tell her no and to let her down gently and moony honestly you shouldn't be surprised if anything it's more surprising that this hasn't happened sooner, me and lily have absolutely nothing in common and we can barely hold a conversation together that last more than ten minutes."

they're all rendered speechless at james as they realise he is 100 percent serious about this. no matter if lily chases james just like he chased her his answer will always be the same, no.

in james' eyes lily doesn't hold a candle to you.

he flicks his eye to where you're sitting and you briefly make eye contact. james was feeling in a bit of a negative mood after what happened but that immediately changed when he glances at you to see that you're already looking at him. you see a stupid grin appear on his face, uncontrolled and automatic, you quickly look down knowing that you've been caught watching him. as you're looking down you smile at the whole situation. james told lily no, and he said it so certain like nothing could change his mind. that absolutely stopped the sicky feeling you had. no one would notice you smiling as you're looking away from everyone but james knew that's what you'd be doing.

james wants to grab your face and lift it up so you're looking at each other again, he already misses your face and the colours of your eyes and it's only been a second since you've looked away from him. he wants to see your bashful smile as you try to look away from him again but he'll just place hundreds of kisses all over your face instead. he wants to desperately tell you that lily doesn't mean anything to him, you have gotten jealous on occasion due to lily even if you deny it, hopefully this might help. he wants to tell you that there's nothing to be jealous about. although you both know that he'll likely tease you about how you was "staring" at him the whole time when he turned down lily.

"what the fuck are you grinning about james?" remus asks, he seems the most annoyed with james about how he handled the situation, remus and lily are study buddies so they are actually good friends and he's known for awhile how lily has felt about james he's just always thought james still feels the same way, he thought it was mutual.

james snaps out off his thoughts of you, not wanting the marauders to question him about you. "nothing important," james replies, not looking back at you.

he hopes that he'll have the chance to talk to you today, even if it's for five minutes. maybe you'll talk about your plans for the weekend and you can try and find time to get together, maybe you'll tease him and say lily invited you to hogsmeade while you were at dinner.