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flawseer · 2 days

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In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

#wings of fire #dragon #wof #digital art #wof art #flawseer art #flawseer talk #flawseer reply #wof winter #long post #long winded

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sonotpattismith · 2 days

Note

YOURE WRITING IS LIT AMAZING OMG- I had an idea: Sukuna switching in and telling u yuji likes you (romanticly and sexually) and eventually switching back and the aftermath…. 🙏🙏🙏

Forgive Me for Whatever I Do (Yuji Itadori x Reader)

word count: 4.9k warnings: a teeny bit dark, angst, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: y'all, I think I kind of altered what the original vibe was meant to be for this request, but I am apparently physically incapable of not making a fic angsty, I'm SORRY. Also, this was a bit inspired by Remember You by Dominurmom, link if you wanna listen cause it makes me cry. I hope you all enjoy and please remember my requests are always open! 🥹🫶🏻

Friends. It was a good word-- a safe word. It was one you had found solace in hiding behind for years. How could you dare risk the beautiful ebb and flow you had found within the days of while you’d experienced with your best friend? No matter the pools of warmth that engulfed your chest with each glittery-eyed smile-- no matter how the both of you had always found your way back to each other whether rain or sunshine-- no matter how much you loved Yuji Itadori. Friends; it was a safe space.

There was a time when you wanted something more. It was so early on, before you were too scared to lose him yet. When you two had first met, you felt undeniably pulled toward the bright-eyed and charismatic boy. Both of your lives had been overwhelmingly and newly hectic, what with your being thrust into a life of curses and sacrifice. Similarly, Yuji was still coping with the abrupt weight of managing the demon he now shared a body with. It was never the right time.

So, your timid glances and blushing compliments soon turned into confiding conversations and fierce loyalty. You two fell into the gentle and safe rhythm of a blossoming friendship. Of course, deep down within the confines of your cowardly hearts, you were always drawn to one another. There was always a hope, never communicated, that maybe once your lives found a peaceful medium, you two would no longer need to hide behind the solace of friends.

This certainly wasn’t how you wanted it to happen.

Yuji had always made it appoint to keep you and Sukuna at opposite ends of his world, in all senses of the phrase. He barely spoke of him to you at all, in fact. It was actually something you argued often with him about, worried about the impacts of keeping that kind of burden locked away would have on him. In typical Itadori fashion though, he wouldn’t even entertain the notion of an argument with you. No, he’d just squint his honey-brown eyes, and flash that bashful smile to you, a half-assed excuse about why it wasn’t that big of a deal falling easily from his lips.

The truth was though, it was a big deal to him-- a massive one, in fact. After having already witnessed what that counterpart of his could do, the havok it could ensue on those important to him-- nothing scared him more than the prospect of you coming face to face with Sukuna. Yuji felt this fear so much so that he spared you the details. He didn’t want you to think of him in such a way, to know that any part of him was capable of such atrocities. Yes, he’d bear it all if it meant none of it touched you.

So, when he felt his own body deteriorating rapidly in tandem with the whaling blows of cursed energy courtesy of the special grade the two of you had been cornered by, the thought flickered in the back of his head. Heaving out a pained groan, Yuji’s gaze found yours, and he pushed it back down. But you screamed. You screamed, and he couldn’t help you-- he couldn’t move. You screamed, and he was trapped beneath the concrete pillar that had fallen so unceremoniously over his heaving chest. You screamed, and suddenly, it was his only option.

“Sukuna!”

The King of Curses was not one for favors, especially not for the brat that held him hostage in what was meant to be his vessel. He assessed the situation before him-- the one he’d been watching intently from the safety of his own shrine. Through his insolent vessel’s eyes, he could only see you. It was all the brat would look at, you were all he ever looked at. Whether it be the back of your head, hair swaying gently as you’d turn to smile at him, and Sukuna would always feel the boy’s heart clench fouly at the sight. On some occasions, you’d be looking right at him, your eyes with stars behind them, and the demon wanted nothing more than to rip them right from their sockets simply for the way his vessel would tremble under your gaze.

Pathetic.

Maybe if the brat had been looking toward something else for once, they wouldn’t have been in this predicament. But he was racing toward you at every chance he got, taking blows that were meant for you, countering attacks that you had antagonized. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so weak.

So, he laughed. In the back of Itadori’s frenzied mind, Sukuna cackled at him. The boy whispered a plea, tears stinging his eyes as he watched you stumble to your feet in a grave attempt to escape the repeated blows being landed on you.

“Anything, I’ll do anything, please!”

The demon liked the sound of that. Yuji could feel the control slipping away from him, his consciousness being sucked up by the all consuming darkness lurking within. For just a moment, he fought against it, staring up at you in an almost drunken haze.

“I’m sorry. Please,” He called out to you, voice hoarse and morphing into one you didn’t recognize. “Just look away.”

In mere seconds, the boy you loved was shifting before your eyes. His features were sharpening; sinister, black marks pooling onto his skin like ink. The second set of eyes below his own snapped open, and they were looking right at you. Maybe, Sukuna thought, if he saw it for himself he’d understand, without the barrier of this boy’s soul in the way. Still, as he stared into your fearful eyes, he felt nothing but indifference-- no-- disgust.

Jagged chunks of concrete rubble sliced through the air around you, knocking into your already weak body, some even slicing through the special grade in front of you. Blinking back the dust that invaded your sight, when your eyes opened again, the curse was desecrated; an explosion of grotesque, purple evidence of what it once was.

Sukuna didn’t care to save you. What enticed him more for the approximate two minutes he had left in control of this body, was breaking down the brat a little. In all fairness, when you stood there so helplessly, so vulnerable with eyes full of fear before him, how could he resist? His impossibly sharp teeth flashed under the moon’s light as he stepped toward you, torn shirt hanging loosely off his shoulder and chest.

You wanted to apologize to Yuji, to tell him that you tried to look away like he’d asked. It wasn’t a fair request though. No, not when your best friend, the boy you loved, was being held hostage. You feared if you looked away he might do something awful to him-- unaware of what lurked in the dark chasm of his thusfar imprisoned mind.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sukuna’s gravelly voice reached your ears. It didn’t hold that playfully boyish cadence you had come to love. In its place was one that mocked you, laughing boisterously in the face of your trembling fear and anticipation of what he’d do next. “In the flesh, you’re pretty underwhelming.”

You gulped down the bile that threatened to rise from your stomach. Still crumpled on the ground from the last hit you’d taken, you weren’t sure if you should attempt to stand; unsure if he’d find that acceptable. Sukuna tilted his head at your silence, taking two slow and calculated steps forward.

“Disgusting.” He spat suddenly, gripping you by your elbow to haul you up. You yelped in surprise, trying not to shed the tears that welled in your eyes at the sting of his nails against your skin. “This brat spends day in and day out allowing himself to be consumed. And for this?”

Your brows furrowed at his words, and you pulled against his grip.

“Give him back.” You gritted through your teeth, fear igniting your body in tremors.

Sukuna’s red eyes, all four of them, lit up sinsiterly, grin widening in a manner that appeared painful. You realized for that split second that he likely didn’t have much time at all to wreak havoc, and he was enjoying this. He wanted to hurt you-- to hurt Yuji, even with the limited scope of his abilities at the moment.

“How romantic.” He cooed mockingly. His hand came up to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look into the eyes of your best friend, but he wasn’t there. Your stray tear betrayed you, slipping down your mangled cheek. Leaning forward with gusto, he licked a debauched stripe up the path your traitorous tear had taken, cackling madly as the salt tainted his tongue. Pushing you back a bit, his voice was suddenly booming, cracking at your abused eardrums with fervor. “All day!”

You tried to keep your face neutral, to be unwilling to give up the shred of dignity you had left-- for Yuji.

“All day this brat pines and trembles and burns with the thought of you-- pathetic!”

For a moment, you felt your heart stop at his words. Surely he wasn’t implying that Yuji, even in the slightest sense, saw past more than just your friendship. You knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t him, but your lips were moving to a different rhythm than your mind was, and you were whispering to him in hushed bewilderment,

“What?”

“And you’re so stupidly oblivious, too? How revolting.” Despite his disgusted words, the baleful smile on his face grew that much wilder. It struck you then, how much you had disconnected yourself from the fact that the body before you, holding your body weight up with a deafening grip on your jaw, was Yuji. You didn’t see him. When you looked at that pink hair and felt the familiar curves of his hands, he wasn’t your best friend. “I suppose you’re not the only ignorant one. I can practically feel the way your weak little heart pounds everytime that brat looks at you.”

Your cheeks were burning at this point, and if he couldn’t see it in the dim moonlight, he could surely feel the heat under his mean fingers. Blinking away your tears, you willed your lip to stop trembling.

“He doesn’t know it, you know.” Sukuna chuckled, spurred on by your painful silence. “I spend all day having to listen to him whine about his unreciprocated, little love-sick infatuation.”

It was making your stomach churn, the way he was turning your feelings for one another, ones that you were only now becoming privy to, into something so revolting. The words falling from his lips were ones you prayed so long to hear. You had spent so many sleepless nights staring back at your best friend where he laid sprawled out on the other side of your bed, both of you too traumatized from the day’s monstrosities to sleep alone-- to leave each other. This isn’t how you wanted to find out though.

Amongst the desecration of your normal lives, you wanted to grasp onto the hope of innocence, of pure and untouched love and fondness. You hoped for bashful confessions and spontaneous kisses, ones that were purely Yuji’s intent. Sukuna was snatching the opportunity right from beneath you two, and he knew it.

You shook your head, or tried to with the grip that was forcing your gaze on him.

“My days are filled with his insolent whining, and I don’t find solace at night either.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think by the eager way he was spilling these thoughts out to you that he was happy to spend his fortitude in such a manner. You did know better though, and you knew what he enjoyed was the chance of domestic normalcy he was ripping away from the boy that held him hostage. “No, he touches himself at night.”

“Stop it.” You spat, unable to hold back the dam of your tears any longer. They spilled freely down your cheeks, and you swore you could see his red eyes roll into the back of his head. Your weak hands came up in a desperate attempt to shield your ears from the intimate secrets Yuji likely never intended for you to hear-- not like this anyway. The hand that held your jaw quickly fell, and he laced his fingers through yours mockingly, forcing you to listen.

“That brat thinks of you all night when he’s beating himself off like the degenerate he is. Sometimes he calls out your name too, when he--”

You couldn’t take it anymore, feeling as though you might throw up. Above all else, your heart ached for Yuji, and you wondered if he could hear what was going on, if he was clawing his way out. You wanted to apologize to him, tell him you never meant to find out this way. You wished you could forget.

“Yuji!”

Your cry made the demon smile, but it quickly faded with a knowing furrow of his brows. Eyes drooping lazily as he looked toward you, he shook his head. The marks on his face were slowly absorbing back into his skin. His upper lip curled in disgust.

“Pathetic.”

In an instant, he was falling to the floor limply, bringing you down with him. When you looked up in a frenzied haze at the head that fell onto your chest, you noted with relief that it was Yuji again. His eyes fluttered open deliriously, taking in his surroundings. Looking up, he was met by your grief-stricken expression, fresh tears clinging to your face. His freshly healed arms were pulling himself up clumsily, hovering over you in a way that made it obvious that fear was gripping at every nerve in his body.

“What— what did he do? Are you okay?”

It was Sukuna’s very intention, the manner in which you had no choice but to see Yuji so differently now. As he hovered over you, unintentionally entrapping you under his tensing arms and bare chest, you couldn’t help but blush as the curse’s words rang in your mind. The thought of the boy you’d dreamt about for so long thinking of you in such a way, touching himself to the thought of you, longing for you-- and he was right there within your reach.

“You… you don’t remember?” You whispered, trying to calm your racing heart.

Yuji quickly shook his head, his comforting brown eyes tracing down your body as if to assess the damages. When his hands molded around your waist to pull your shirt up, the one that was slowly flooding through with blood from the gash on your side, you gasped and flinched away. He gulped back his nausea at the racing thoughts of what Sukuna could have done to you to warrant such a response. His hands reeled back to his sides, and he sat back on his knees.

“I got pretty messed up back there… I think I was still healing.” he explained slowly, wanting so badly to help you, but unsure of how you viewed him now-- how scared you were of him. What he didn’t know was that you weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you wanted to pull him in, hold him close, tell him that you’ve loved him all this time as well. It should have been an idyllic occasion. In the back of your mind though, you knew if Yuji hadn’t confessed to you himself already then there was likely a reason, and you shouldn’t force the decision onto him just because the curse residing in him ripped away the layers of protection that shrouded those feelings. “Please, I’m sorry. What did he do to you?”

He didn’t remember, and maybe it was better that way. At least one of you could be spared the humiliation. It took some time, but you had convinced Yuji that you were simply shaken up from the fight, though you felt he still wasn’t entirely convinced. His movements were painfully careful as he carried you to safety. It was so clear in the way he touched you with such delicacy, that he feared scaring you more than he thought he already had.

You stared up at the ceiling that night, tears clouding your vision as you toyed with the edge of the gauze that wrapped your abdomen. In all the time you two had known each other, you couldn’t wrap your head around why he was so scared of opening up to you about the monster he shared a body with. Countless nights you’d spent after missions, as he stared unblinkingly at a wall, begging him to confide in you. In just under five minutes with the thing though, you understood the cruelty he was trying to protect you from.

There was a soft knock on your door, and you lifted your head up as it slid open. Yuji stood tentatively at the entrance, looking like the absolute picture of health compared to your mangled self. He was scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, a little quirk you’d grown to love, much like everything else about him. Flashing you his attempt at a bashful smile, he tilted his head at you.

“Thought you could use some company.” He offered. It was somewhat of a routine of yours to meet together after a particularly grueling mission. The two of you would lay in bed, facing each other with moronic smiles on your lips as you talked about everything-- everything but the horrors you’d witnessed. It was the only way you could find yourself calm enough to fall asleep. If you two talked each other’s ears off about the comparable strength of two manga characters, or argued halfheartedly over what was the superior horror movie in your already trash-fire line up, if you distracted one another line by line-- the two of you would forget about what you saw. Just long enough to allow your eyes to forcefully drift in exhaustion.

Now though, as he stared undecisively at you, you could tell he wasn’t sure if he would still be allowed such privileges. Despite being lost in the labyrinth of your own mind over the night’s events-- over him-- you smiled softly for his sake and patted the spot beside you. Your breath hitched as he eagerly closed the door behind him and climbed into bed beside you. His sigh of relief fanned over the side of your face despite his attempt at concealing it. You felt his eyes on you, his body already on its side and facing you, awaiting for you to do the same.

“Oh, your side.” Yuji sighed in ackowledgement, and you simply nodded in agreement, not wanting to reveal that you simply couldn’t look him in the eyes without bursting on the spot. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he reached out to softly graze his hand over the wounded area. The boy saw the way your breath hitched and your expression shifted, slowly retracting his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever happened back there. Please, look at me.”

A little piece of your heart broke off at the pained desperation in his tone. Blinking back the tears that threatened to form, you turned your head to the side to look in his wide, distraught eyes. Softening your gaze, you struggled against your pain as you forced yourself on your side to face him.

“No, Yuji, it’s okay--”

“No it’s not!” In an instant, he was sitting up, looking down at you as his chest heaved with purposeful breaths. “He’s taken everything from me, and I…”

His shoulders slumped, and a rosy tint rushed to his cheeks.

“I won’t let him take you too-- I can’t. So, please, just tell me what I have to do to make you not scared of me anymore, and I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do anything.”

Unable to take it anymore, you moved to sit up with a grunt. Yuji’s hands quickly shot out to help you until you were facing him. He looked back at you with such conviction, such longing in his gaze, and, with hindsight bias, you wondered how you never saw it sooner.

“You’re my best friend, Yuji… I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes?”

You pursed your lips, tentatively taking his hands into yours to hold them between you two. His breath hitched ever so slightly at the connection. Scraping your thumb over his knuckle absentmindedly in a manner that was scrambling his brain like eggs, you thought carefully on your next words.

“You don’t think anything could ruin our friendship… right?” You asked timidly, eyes meeting his through your lashes. His brows furrowed at your question, and he found himself leaning forward to gaze into you sincerely, shaking his head quickly.

“Nothing. Don’t you think we’ve been through too much together already? You’re kinda stuck with me.”

The hesitantly joking tone in his voice made you smile softly. Yuji had a way of easing your anxiety that way, as if there was a little door in your mind that only he had the key to open up and gaze into whenever he pleased. It gave you more confidence to continue your pursuit..

“And there aren’t any secrets between us? Nothing you’ve… not told me?”

Gulping thickly, he felt his face pale. There was something he was keeping from you, something he had come to terms with being content with if it meant he’d never put your relationship in jeopardy. An attempted smile broke into his face, but the corners of his lips were twitching anxiously. You could have melted at the sight.

“Uh… no. You know I tell you everything.” The lie stumbled from his lips unconvincingly. Your lips set into a firm line as you shot him a knowing yet playful look. Suddenly, his eyes were darting everywhere but you. They were at your hands, on your nose, on the ceiling, anywhere that would allow him to gather his thoughts. “Is this about the dent in your bathroom wall? Cause I promise I have a good explaination, a-and I was going to tell you, but you were already upset about the--”

“I love you.” It fell from your lips, permanent, unable to be drawn back in. In truth, the both of you could have died that night. Yuji was practically pinned under a building, and you had been face to face with the king of curses. The sentiment of either of you dying without having heard the depths of your feelings for one another was not lost on you. The lifestyles you led were perilous, self-sacrificing, and morbid. You already lived in fear that your next mission would be your last, and, as you were blanketed by the comfort brought upon by the proximity of the boy you loved so dearly, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel this type of fear too. Not for Yuji.

“Take it back.”

Okay, maybe his blunt order hurt more than the boulder that flew into your side earlier, but you still stood by what you said. A small, breathless gasp fell from your lips as you stared at his solemn expression.

“Oh,” you muttered out meekly, and, despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I wanted to say it to you first.” He reiterated, his lips pulled to the side in frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he regarded you. “I spent years thinking of what I wanted to say to you. Take it back.”

Relief flooded your system like a drug, flowing through your veins and relaxing your constricting muscles. In its place came a bashful flush at his words. Smiling softly in disbelief, you shook your head a bit.

“Okay,” you drew out slowly, watching him square his muscles back as if preparing for his line. “I take it back.”

Despite his previous determination and insistence that he had something profound to say, all he could do was lean forward to press his lips against yours clumsily. He couldn’t help himself, not with the way your twinkling eyes stared up at him expectantly, glimmering with an excitement he felt he was alone with for years. A muffled huff of surprise from you was swallowed right up by his eager lips as he lunged forward to deepen the connection he’d just forged.

“‘M sorry,” Yuji mumbled against your mouth, reaching up to grip at the side of your face as if you’d ever run from him. “Know I talked all that shit, but I forgot what I was gonna say. I love you. I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He didn’t allow you any room for a response because his desperate push against your lips had you leaning back to accommodate the sudden weight, and you fell back against your pillow. The boy eagerly chased you, crawling over your panting form to pour out all the soliloquies he longed to spill out to you with some semblance of eloquence, he wanted it all conveyed to you through his frenzied devouring of you.

Your mind was reeling with his sudden urgency, and you quickly came to the realization that the both of you had been living with this fear of passing one another up. Your hand snaked up to run along his chest, daring to explore up his neck and into the tufts of his pink hair. A soft moan of your name had you blushing profusely, suddenly remembering what Sukuna had told you about the extent of Yuji’s desires for you. You wondered if this was what he sounded like when he called out to you at night with his hands wrapped around himself. Squinting your eyes, you willed your imagination to take a quick u-turn, remembering that that wasn’t information Yuji had given up willingly.

“Say it back.” Yuji suddenly demanded, finally tearing away from his assault on your lips to stare down at you determinedly. “Say it again.”

Your free hand came up to cup his cheek. There was so much fear and guilt and sadness pent up in your chest at the prospect of what Sukuna had taken from him that night. It had never been like you to lie to him or keep things from him. As your thumb ran across his bottom lip lovingly, and he looked so accomplished, so content with how this night had somehow progressed in his favor, you realized that the curse hadn’t taken anything from him. Not when you were there to make sure that kind of hatred never touched him.

“I love you too, Yuji.”

His wide, boyish grin lit up the dim room. Swinging back down with fervor, the two of you laughed against each other as your teeth clashed messily. Humming contentedly, his wandering hands traveled down your side and snuck up your shirt. God, he’d dreamed of this for so long, and you were right there- underneath of him and pliable to his every touch. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, he could feel it in the way his boxers tightened uncomfortably against him, but he feared he may wake up at any second back in his dorm room alone, like he had so many times following his messianic dreams about what it may be like to have you.

As his fingers creeped up, you flinched against his fervent grasp that lit your wounded side ablaze. Yuji was suddenly reminded of the night’s events, and he cursed quietly before reluctantly pulling away from you. Looking down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, an unbrittled exhilaration swirled in his chest. There would be so many more nights with you, he would make sure of it. He leaned forward to press a last, longing and solemn kiss against your forehead-- a promise that you two would come back to this.

Carefully, he pulled his grasp away from your wounded side and settled down beside you. Unlike those countless nights the two of you shared a bed, Yuji laid snuggly against you, locking your knees under his strong legs. With his head propped up on his elbow, he beamed down at you, lovestruck as he affectionately tugged your shirt back down. As his fingers lingered against the protruding gauze, his expression creased a bit.

“You… you never told me what Sukuna did.”

Although he hated that he felt the need to ruin the moment with such dark thoughts, no amount of lust could have driven that fear from the back of his mind. Your smile faltered marginally at his words. Thinking of how excited he was to confess to you, and how ardently he fell into this new role so comfortably with you, exploring you with an innocence that was a stark contrast to the dark world you two traversed, you shook your head. Leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek, you looked right at the slits under his eyes, as if daring the curse to acknowledge you.

“He didn’t do a damn thing.”

masterlist.

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violettwrites · 2 days

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hey bae! i’m lowkey so obsessed with your young trailerpark!daryl as well and i wanted to put in a request for like daryl and reader spending their first night together(if yk what i mean) and merle waking up the next day and teasing them once he notices that reader is still there from the previous night. Don’t care for smut at all, just for the teasing tbh😭 Anyways no pressure and have a nice day🫶🏽

teasings 🏹 young trailerpark!daryl dixon

a/n: nonnie thank u so so so much for this request. as soon as i saw u had sent it in i HAD to write this. if you enjoyed this, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and or comment ! here is my masterlist, and my ask box is open for requests !

this can be a stand alone oneshot, or possibly a part two to this tp!daryl piece

summary: 1988. merle catches daryl & reader in bed together one morning, teasing them relentlessly.

pairing: tp!daryl x tp!reader

warnings: brief smut — 18+, merle being annoying

word count: 765

— — —

the early morning sun was just starting to peek through the cracks in the thin curtains of daryl’s small bedroom, casting soft streaks of light across the room. you stirred under the covers, blinking away sleep as you tried to gather your bearings. you could feel the warmth of daryl beside you, his steady breathing mixing with the sounds of birds outside. for a second, you smiled, remembering the events from last night.

”fuck— daryl!” you gasped, fingernails digging into his biceps as he thrusted into you, grunting with each movement of his hips. he had your thighs practically pressed to your chest, the sound of skin slapping together echoing his small bedroom.

“wha’s that, pretty girl?” he murmured as he looked down at you, blue eyes dark with lust as he quickened the movements of his hips, causing you to whine at both the compliment, and the feeling of his cock inside you. you to squeezed your eyes shut, only for him to grab your cheeks with his hand, shaking your head a little. “look a’ me.”

after all those years of growing up together, though all the ups and downs, things had finally fallen into place between you and him.

before you could fully wake up, you heard the door to the trailer barge open, heavy footsteps making their way towards the bedroom, where daryl’s door swung wide open.

“well, well, well, what do we got here?” merle’s voice rang out, loud and obnoxious as ever. “looks like little brother finally got hisself some!”

daryl tensed beside you, a groan coming from his throat as he was rudely awoken by merle, though it was nothing new for him. “shut up, merle,” he grumbled, face scrunched in frustration as he rubbed at his eyes. his voice was hoarse, clearly not in the mood to deal with his brother’s teasing. but merle wasn’t one to let things go.

you sat up, pulling the blanket to cover yourself, giving merle a look that could kill. “get lost, merle. nobody has time for your crap this early in the morning,” you snapped, throwing him a warning glare. merle, of course, didn’t take it seriously.

“aww, c’mon now, sugar. just sayin’ daryl ain’t usually this lucky! gotta give ‘im props,” he said with a shit eating grin, clearly enjoying every second of daryl’s embarassment.

you rolled your eyes, already used to merle’s nonsense. “you really wanna get your ass handed to you before breakfast? ‘cause you’re headed in the right direction.”

merle cackled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “woah now, girlie, don’t get feisty on me. i’m just proud of daryl here. took him long enough to figure it out.”

daryl groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, trying to hide from the world— or maybe just his older brother. “i swear, merle, if ya don’t leave right now, ‘m gonna knock ya on yer ass.”

merle have one more obnoxious ha!, finally stepping back out of the room. “alright, alright. i’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. just remember, y’all need to lock the damn door next time. don’t nobody wanna see this.” he smirked and pulled the door shut, making his way out of the trailer.

you sat there for a second in silence before looking over at daryl, who was still covering his face. “i’m gonna kill him one day,” he muttered.

you chuckled, leaning over to poke his side. “i’ll help ya,” you giggled, your voice still a little groggy but playful. “but he is right about one thing.” you hated to admit it.

daryl finally pulled his arm away and raised an eyebrow at you, his hair a wild mess. “what?”

you smirked, brushing a hand over his chest. “took you long enough.”

his cheeks flushed slightly, something that made your heart skip every time. even though daryl dixon was tough as nails, around you, he had always been softer. “i didn’t—“ he started to protest, but you leaned in closer, cutting him off with a kiss. it was soft and lingering, enough to make him forget whatever he was going to say.

pulling back, you gave him a teasing grin. “don’t worry. it was worth the wait.” your hand gave him a soft pat on the chest.

daryl huffed, a small smile creeping into his face. “yeah, well, next time we make sure merle ain’t around, aight?”

you laughed softly. "deal."

outside, you could hear merle hollering something to the neighbours, but you didn’t care. in this moment, it was just you and daryl, finally where you both wanted to be.

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gods-perfect-idiots · 12 hours

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Okay bear with me folks, I have some ~thoughts~ about the Vanessa/Wade relationship (or frankly lack thereof) in Deadpool & Wolverine. I should start by saying that I am analyzing this with the (likely erroneous) assumption that everything on screen is 100% intentional and mindfully written to deepen the characters and inform their arcs. For the record, I don't necessarily believe that's true - there is certainly room for mistakes, lazy writing, confusing plot elements, or in this case, sidelining a potentially strong and important character for nebulous reasons (I'm guessing scheduling conflicts + run time concerns + actor's strike complications but idk for sure). (Also thanks to @gossippool and @kendyroy for encouraging me to post my thoughts instead of just rambling in the tags in the first place, y'all are the realest)

Long rambly post below the cut fyi

Now, granted, it has been a while since I watched the original Deadpool so I am not as well-versed in their early relationship as I am in the handful of scenes Morena Baccarin has in dp3, but I do think it is pretty canon that Wade generally struggles to express his deeper worries and feelings (without filtering it heavily through crude humor, sex, and pop culture references of course), especially after the events of dp1 and the physical and mental damage he sustains, and Vanessa is frankly no exception despite how much he cares for her. The entire first movie hinges on the fact that he doesn't really believe she could love him in his post-Francis mangled state, which is pretty contrived imo given that the film has established already how bonded they are, and she doesn't strike me as being written to be so shallow as to reject him based on a physical deformity. I mean iirc she wanted to stick around through chemo despite him being literally riddled with inoperable cancer, so she clearly is in it for the long haul (at least in dp1), messiness and all.

Now, in dp2, obviously she is shot and killed early in the film, and Wade spends much of the rest of the film wallowing in his very profound grief, trauma, and guilt over losing her due directly to his violent lifestyle. He goes to prison, he basically gives up on life and seems very resigned to dying once he has the power suppressant collar on, even excited to do so so he can be reunited with her. She is mostly sidelined as a Fuzzy Dead Wife trope basically, but the important thing here is that he spends weeks if not months in the throes of despair over losing the love of his life just as they were trying to start a family, and trying to reach across the boundaries of death to be with her.

Now, my first couple times watching dp3 I was frustrated by the trite narrative presented in the interview scene towards the beginning - specifically Wade's whole "my girl is getting tired of my shtick and I need to show her I matter". It felt contrived and disingenuous, and I just brushed it off as iffy writing, a means to an end, but the more I reflect upon it the more I think it is based in an emotional reality that is just handled with a very light touch by the film in favor of fanservice and Poolverine content (NOT that I'm complaining in the slightest - I think this movie is a masterpiece in many ways, albeit a flawed one but that's beside the point here), which for the record I am not against because I think it lends it an air of realism. This is Wade's story after all, Vanessa is a part of it but it is ultimately about him and his journey.

Basically, I think the combination of what happened to him in dp1 (the brain damage, the trauma, the awareness of the fourth wall, etc) followed by the events of dp2 (Vanessa's death, his grief and the associated guilt and trauma of being the direct cause of her death) led to an unbridgeable emotional gap between the two of them that ultimately leads to their breakup.

It's important to note that I don't think Vanessa has any recollection of her own death, given that Wade goes back and saves her before she can take the bullet, and so of course she can never fully fathom what Wade went through grieving her and their life together and their potential family, for however long he spent between her death and bringing her back with Cable's device. She can try (and she clearly does in the one scene I'll talk about next) but I fear she accepts, maybe even in that scene, that she can never succeed. He is beyond her reach by this point, and vice versa, his experiences having fundamentally changed him.

The one scene we really see from their relationship between dp2 and dp3 is the one where Cassandra mind-gropes Wade in the Void and we see Vanessa struggling to reach Wade across this aforementioned gap - she wants him to open up, she wants him to share what he's going through, she wants him to be the person she initially fell in love with (not even selfishly - to her nothing has changed really, because to her no time has passed). But not only does he not understand what she's really asking for but he responds in such a way that makes me think he has unprocessed issues that are only tangentially related to what she's saying - ie the stuff about mattering, about asking her if she even wants to be with him, etc. And he's not the Wade Wilson she met back in dp1 anymore. He watched her die and grieved her and brought her back, believing it would make everything go back to normal and they could resume their life together as if nothing had changed, but he has been fundamentally changed in a way that she can't grasp, even if he WAS good at externally processing his trauma openly without the artifice of wry jokes. She didn't "come back wrong" - instead, she came back exactly the same as before, but HE'S different now. Not wrong, per se. But changed.

It's an interesting scene because it's obviously a memory, and a crucial one at that, but you can see how Wade is misunderstanding what she's saying, viewing it through the prism of his own lack of self-worth and his own hopelessness - he takes away that she thinks he doesn't matter (even though like he says she didn't actually say that, but I don't think Cassandra invented that wholecloth - I think she pulled it out of his psyche because that's what he believes deep down, hence why his fixation on mattering even though she never said those words exactly), he takes away that she doesn't want to be with him, that she thinks he's nothing. Which would be frustrating as an audience member to witness as a pretty simple misunderstanding which could potentially be solved with one conversation, but it feels believable to me that these two people who have shared a great love would be fundamentally separated by unimaginable, cosmic trauma, and the on conversation they would need to have to rectify the misunderstanding is one that is impossible for Wade to verbalize and equally impossible for Vanessa to conceive of. It was one thing when they had shared trauma like violence and SA in dp1, but what Wade has gone through in dp1 and dp2, humor aside, is unfathomably traumatic, brain-breakingly so even, and that's not even factoring in the possible mental illnesses he now struggles with (I've seen folks suggest schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc. but I won't get into armchair diagnosing a fictional character here - suffice it to say he is canonically unwell as a result of what has happened to him, and yes it manifests as quirky fourth wall breaks and cheeky one-liners, but within the universe of the movies he is undeniably profoundly mentally ill, and that includes this humorous alter ego he created to cope with his trauma).

I think off-screen Vanessa probably really tried to reach him, maybe for years (the six year gap implies to me that they didn't break up immediately, that they tried for a while to stay together), trying to get her Wade back, but that Wade is gone. He struggled to express that to her until eventually he started to feel rejected because he couldn't express his trauma or how much he has changed, because even he can't fully conceive of the gulf that has formed between them. The truth is, he WANTS to be that Wade again, for her and for himself, but that Wade died when she died. Or maybe he had already started dying when Francis got a hold of him in dp1.

Anyway, all this is to say, I think Morena Baccarin WAS criminally underutilized in dp2 and dp3, but I think there is a strong argument to be made for the believability of their breakup regardless. I think even relationships built on enormous love can crumble due to trauma, and what Wade suffers over these movies is mind-bogglingly enormous trauma. It's especially heartbreaking that he blames himself for their relationship ending, talks like she just got tired of him, thought he didn't matter, whatever. But it is a credit to him that he never seems to feel anger towards her about it. He doesn't seem to feel entitled to her, though he longs for her and what they had and what she represented (hope, love, a future, a family), but ultimately she becomes more of a symbol of what he lost when he gained his powers, because let's be super fr right now - even if they had succeeded in having a baby, not only would they have lived in fear of her or the kid getting killed, but ultimately Wade would likely outlive both of them even if they managed to die natural deaths. The moment he gained his powers he was already destined to lose her, which is heartbreaking because she was the only reason he opted for the treatment in the first place - so he could stay with her.

I think a big part of Deadpool & Wolverine is watching Wade continue to process his own motivations (vis-a-vis Vanessa but also his other friends) and how he does eventually let go of the idea of "mattering" in favor of just saving the people he cares about (*cough* and being saved right back *cough* by Wolvie, as the final line and shot implies). And in the process he finds someone new who cares about him, who thinks he matters, who tries to sacrifice himself for him and his friends after mere days of knowing him, who comes home with him at the end of the story, who breaks his own centuries-old patterns, who has also experienced unimaginable grief and trauma, who has struggled with wanting to die and being unable to, who not only matches his crazy but matches his FREAK and also not only won't die on him but CAN'T die on him - and more importantly cannot be randomly killed by a stray bullet.

Idk if any of this makes much sense but I do think if you read between the lines and consider the potency of trauma and grief, guilt and emotional damage at play here, Vanessa and Wade's off-screen breakup is actually pretty realistic, and really heart-breaking to boot.

You can tell she still cares about him in so many ways - she shows up for his birthday party, she shows up to his welcome home party at the end, she finds excuses for physical contact multiple times, her eyes get soft when she looks at him, but there is a distance there that Morena Baccarin does an incredible job of portraying. She cares about him deeply, she has mourned the loss of their potential life together, she has let him go and accepted that the Wade she fell in love with is gone, but she wants him in her life even though she's moving on because she realizes he's gone somewhere she can't follow (literally and figuratively). And she wants him to be happy which is why I fully believe she would immediately clock the Poolverine of it all and not-so-subtly encourage them to make it official.

Anyway. Poolverine forever. Nothing against Vanessa at all - I think she delivers a nuanced and beautiful performance, I think their relationship is sweet and heart-wrenching in large part due to her acting chops, especially given how little she is given to work with - but I think their relationship was sadly doomed from almost the very start, because Wade becomes this traumatized superhuman and Vanessa would always be at risk in his orbit, but also would always on the outside of his multiverse superhero experiences. I think it's weirdly beautiful, even if I am filling in a lot of gaps and giving the writers maybe undue credit.

Anyway... thoughts? Please DM me or write in the tags, I am feral about this movie and just want to talk about it with anyone haha. If you have further insight into these characters too I'd love to hear it - I am by no means an expert in these movies or characters!

#wade wilson #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadclaws #wolverine #deadpool #deadpool 3 #deadpool x wolverine #vanessa x wade #rambly meta thoughts #anyway thanks for reading if you made it through #I def didnt edit this much just sorta wrote it out #I have more to say but it will have to wait I think #deadpool meta

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beenbaanbuun · 3 days

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ateez as muppets

i have work in the morning but muppets are more important than sleep

fun fact about me! the muppets was the only film i watched for a period of about 2 months. i would watch it at least once a day, sometimes twice, and i had the soundtrack downloaded so i could even get my muppets fix on the move… anyway🧍🏻‍♀️

kim hongjoong - beaker

hear me out!!!!! despite being a little orange tube who makes zero sense when he talks in ‘meeps’, he is smart (not really)! he’s a scientist!! he is dr bunsen’s right hand man!!!!

he also just carries the aura of hongjoong about him with that dainty frame and red hair. hongjoong and beaker are twins, i’m sorry

park seonghwa - kermit the frog

i can tell i’m losing you here and honestly, i’m losing myself but let me explain!! kermit is caring. of all his personality traits that one sticks out to me the most

this muppet would give it everything he has for the other muppets and that’s a trait i see a lot in seonghwa. he loves his team, and kermit loves the muppets

jeong yunho - fozzie bear

what can i say other than the guy is just silly? he lives his life on where the next pun is coming from and he’s willing to put in the work to find reasons to make a joke

he also just kind of looks like yunho? look at this fuzzy little fuck and tell me you don’t see yunho buried behind those beady eyes. i need it for halloween, yunho PLEASE

kang yeosang - miss piggy

it was between miss piggy and rizzo rat but i thought about it for a few more seconds and realised that miss piggy is literally just yeosang… like come on

the beauty, the sass, the elegance, the love she shares for her fellow muppets despite not always being able to show it. tell me that’s not yeosang, i fucking dare you

choi san - rowlf the dog

i love rowlf. he’s so chill and yet he’s a man of many talents! sure, he’s a dog first and foremost but did you also know he’s an actor? a pianist?? a veterinarian??? just like san, this dog can do it all

i also just kind of want to hug him in the same way i want to hug san. i just know in my heart of hearts that it’s such a warm, gentle hug

song mingi - animal

i was struggling for mingi until i remembered that oh yeah! animal exists and just like mingi that muppet is just an unstoppable ball of energy who thinks he’s so cool

mingi gives me drummer energy which is why i have written him as one multiple times. animal is also a drummer, and a pretty sick one at that!

jung wooyoung - rizzo rat

the main reason i picked rizzo for wooyoung is bc he’s a chatterbox. it’s not necessarily the most helpful or intelligent of things but it is being said whether you like it or not

rizzo is mischievous and fun and he makes me giggle and if that isn’t wooyoung?? he also has a lot of love to give! watch a muppets christmas carol and you’ll see what i mean 🙂‍↕️

choi jongho - gonzo

gonzo just feels so jongho to me. from his exasperation with the other muppets to his daring nature (bro fires himself out of cannons…) he’s just so jongho!!!!

gonzo has that divorced dad of 3 drip that i know jongho would look stellar in. you’re telling me jongho wouldn’t rock a floral shirt?? some suspenders??? he’s a dilf! of course he would…

#ateez as #atzas #ateez #the muppets #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho

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trippinsorrows · 1 day

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without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this.

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child.

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.”

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel.

Time flies when life is good.

“Did you get Callie’s list?”

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!”

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at.

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.”

“I like baby Moana.”

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.”

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.”

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement.

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve.

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned.

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach.

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this.

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny.

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you.

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?”

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on.

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point.

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm.

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room.

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’.

Talk about fucking alliteration.

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children.

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though.

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face.

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine.

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding.

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along.

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud.

She lived long enough.

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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slamminslamminmcgill · 1 day

Note

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

#anon #ask #🦐#deadpool x reader #deadpool smut #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool x ftm reader #deadpool x reader x wolverine #deadpool x you #deadpool x trans reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine x trans reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x ftm reader #poly deadclaws #poly poolverine

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murdocksdaughter · 3 days

Text

the long run

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: jacaerys is sinking under the pressure of the war

word count: 627

warnings: hurt/comfort

a/n: this short fic based off this post

Jacaerys knew this was all so useless. In the back of his mind he knew what his mother wanted to achieve was not plausible. To win back the throne with little violence, minimal blood shed. That was like pushing a cart uphill with rock chained to your foot. He spent many nights starting out his window sinking deeper in this endless void of dread. The slip of his belief of his mother tightened the pit in his stomach so tight he would throw up.

You knew this dread if left unchecked would consume Jacaerys whole. He was one to fall head first and drown in his thoughts. You had to drag him from those shores many times. Too many times. Wrought with worry was his burden to bear and your’s was to tame it. You had become a lighthouse for him. But the clouds surrounding him became thick.

The two of you sat, nearly back to back but your hands were in a tight grasp. Jacaerys was again in throws concern by his mother’s decision. His eyes burned with tears and his chest ached. He squeezed your hand as he took deep long breaths. You look to Jacaerys squeezing his hand back. Then pressed your forehead on his shoulder. It was a small gesture to tell him you’re here. He smiles at the feeling, it was small and reflected more of a grimace but it was a smile.

You could feel the clouds surrounding him thin out. You pressed a kiss on his shoulder, “Would you like me to get you some food? You need to eat something.” You whisper against his clothes. Jacaerys shrugs the sense of disinterest radiating off of him. You frown at him.

“A little bread? Some tea?” You urge.

You were met with a wall of silence. As frustrating as he was acting, you couldn’t force him. You continued to rest against his shoulder. Your fingers running along his palm, a reflection of a language only spoken between you two. “Will any of this matter?” Jacaerys mutters out.

“What?” You sat up leaning forward to see his face.

“This fight. If my mother wins back her throne will this matter?” He stands up with a deep breath. “If Westeros tears itself apart by the seams by this blood feud, will it matter if she sits the throne? And with the…the dragonseeds…” You furrow your brows at his question but follow his actions.

You put your hand on his bicep, you understood him now. This anxiety was not just of the safety of his mother and the security of his mother’s claim. It was his standing, his claim that has him tied in knots. You move in front of him to grab his face. Tears now glassing over his eyes.

“What am I after this?” he whispers. You shake your head and pull his face down to meet yours, forehead pressing against each other. “Another war will break out with me on the throne, I know it.”

“You’re wrong. You are her heir. The Heir. They will accept you because they have to, my love.” Your words brush his cheeks. Jacaerys’ head falls to your shoulder. “But if they don’t, what does my mother get twenty…thirty years of peace?”

You just hold him in your embrace. You didn’t have all the answers for him. You stood there for a few minutes. Jacaerys drew small circles on your side, a smile drew on your lips. Your light was finally shining through.

“Do you think there are any lemon cakes left?” He whispers. You let out a giggle, pulling away.

“I’ll go check and I’ll have tea brought up as well.” You kiss his cheek. “It will all be okay in the long run.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagines

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aethon-recs · 11 hours

Text

This Week in Tomarrymort (12 – 19 September 2024)

Hi everyone, so sorry this is a couple of days late this week! Will be back on the normally scheduled time next week!

As with last week, please feel free to add a little overview/summary about your update to the notes! I so enjoyed reading all the notes last week 🤍

(And in case you missed, a recap of the extra notes from last week!)

Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (E, 37k, WIP) [source] "Harry comes in swinging from a bleak version of sixth and seventh years, fully intending to kill Tom. Unfortunately it seems the only people Tom and Harry are incapable of killing is the other. Harry's on attempt 4 and counting and this time he gives up on spells and decides to punch Tom Riddle's nose off. Tom's still utterly enamoured with him." friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 11k, WIP) [source] "When after four long years Harry and Tom meet again, the world turns upside down. Or maybe it was upside down all along, and it’s now flipping back over." These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain (M, 23k, WIP) [source] "Things have gone from bad to worse, and Harry is finally about ready to take matters into his own hands…even if it means defying the normal laws of Magic and actually doing something for himself for once. (Guess which one will be harder for him 😂) In this update, Harry and Voldemort unexpectedly come face to face for the first time since the Dark Lord's death…which leads to a disturbing realization for Harry." Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 13k, WIP) [source] "A Harry-corrupts-Tom AU: Tom expects to feel victorious at his greatest enemy's confession. Instead, he develops a crush on him." the crushing weight of cancelling your fav by @cindle-writes (M, 4k, complete) [source] "Tom Riddle has made millions and built a cult following around his politics-themed online stream, much to his boyfriend Harry’s bemusement. However, bemusement quickly turns into concern when Harry meets one of Tom’s biggest, most fervent fanboys, Regulus Black."

Now onto the updates from this week!

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapter 22 (Completed) of A Shot in the Dark by Ragdolly

One Shot | The Dinner by moontear for @moontearpensfic

One Shot | There's Something About (The Way You Are) by Ragdolly

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 1 of bad moon rising by sansaerys

Chapter 11 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

Chapter 2 of a pound of flesh by @ictyn

Chapter 8 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 34 of Part One - The Solitude of Suffering by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 18 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapter 14 of Double-Aspect Paradox by TimaeusKosmou

Chapter 6 of God is a Wizard by @onehitpleb

Chapters 121 through 123 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 17 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 1 of The Cosmos In Your Eyes by @v33r00

Chapter 7 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 6 of These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain

Chapter 21 of Time Stumbler by Wintumn

Chapter 4 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 1 through 3 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapter 16 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 5 of midnight train by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 43 of Of Monsters, Of Men by @ca-xan-dra

Chapter 2 of the body is a blade by @lovely-lotus

Chapter 2 of Dream a little dream (of me) by @cenedrariva

Chapter 12 of Just Business by @holaolla1

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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warlocksoup · 1 day

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into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter one: emails

word count: 2.1k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

I know about him.

Teeth gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she stares down at her laptop screen. At the same email she’s been staring at for the last three days, ever since she first got the notification for it on her subway ride home. From [email protected]: I know about him. To anyone else, it might not bear the same weight. To her, it’s suffocating.

She’s done everything she can to try and trace it. Everything she can, of course, being Googling the address and enlisting the help of Yachi from the IT department at the Bugle. The outcome of the former being: Your search - [email protected] did not match any documents, and the outcome of the latter being Yachi’s entire laptop getting infected with malware.

So, not great.

She shifts on the stiff stuffing of her couch, legs crossed under her and the heat from the bottom of her laptop on the bare skin of her thighs. I know about him. She hopes it’s a bluff. Realistically, she knows it’s not. But she’s still in the denial stage.

The screen goes dark, and she wiggles her mousepad to brighten it up once more, just so she can stare longer. She can’t tell him. Not yet. Ideally, not ever. But definitely not yet.

“What are you doing?”

She jolts, automatically slamming her laptop shut as she does so and jumping to face the source of the intrusion.

Spider-Man’s in her living room.

Which is fair. It’s his living room too, even if she does pay the lion’s share of the rent.

“Porn,” is her immediate response and the only thing she can think of to justify her reaction, even if it makes her cheeks burn. “Watching porn,” she doubles down, because she has to.

He reaches behind his head and grabs the end of his mask that sits at the back of his neck, pulling it off in one swift movement. Nishinoya looks at her with his hair flattened against his forehead, blond streak brushing against his brow, and a blossoming, deep purple purse spread across his cheek. “In the living room? Well, I guess I am home early, so can’t complain there.”

She pushes her the laptop off to the couch, and stalks towards him, eyes now fixed on the bruise that stains his features. “And what the fuck happened to you?”

Noya grins at her, bright and unfazed. Almost proud, like his injuries are a badge of honor. “Just ran into my good friend Alexei Sytsevich. He was super stoked to see me.”

Her hand shoots out and takes hold of his jaw, lightly squishing the soft flesh of his cheek together as she tilts his head to the side, trying to get a better look at the damage. Noya just stands there and lets her. “Thought that guy was in jail.”

“Broke out,” Noya says, words barely making it out between his smooshed-up lips. She releases him, and steps back. “He loves breaking out of jail. It’s like his favorite thing to do.”

Noya steps back, and retreats into his bedroom, closing the door with his foot as he does so. Still, she can hear his voice coming through their thin, plaster walls. “I don’t even know what that guy’s end game is anymore. I’m pretty sure he just wants me dead. It’s always like, ‘this is your end, Spider!’ when before he was a lot more focused on his personal goals, so.”

She sighs and collapses back onto the couch again. Freak emails from freak strangers with untraceable email addresses and Sytsevich breaking out of jail for the thousandth-fucking-time to wreck his havoc on Noya’s face. Her hair is going to start turning gray. “You’d think they would’ve built a cell to hold him, by now,” she calls, and Noya is swinging open his bedroom door to saunter back out into living room, suit abandoned in favor of old gym shorts and a vintage looking Godilla t-shirt. “What do you think costs more taxpayer dollars, building a better cell, or paying all those cops to get him back in again?”

Noya rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m the one they call, and they don’t pay me, so.”

That she knows all too well. It’s hard, being a single-income home. Since Noya’s full time job is both incredibly demanding and also unpaid, rent and utilities and groceries mostly fall on her shoulders. Which, it’s not like she can complain or hold it against him. In exchange, he’s the one and only Spider-Man, and she could do worse for roommates.

And he helps when he can, selling candid photos of Spider-Man to the Bugle so they can use them to accompany their hit pieces on him (Noya, of course, finds it incredibly ironic every time they write out a check to him, gleefully paying him for photos of himself).

Noya flicks on the kitchen light, and as he’s lingering in the kitchen, popping open the fridge door with his hip to stare blankly at its contents, she grabs at her laptop once more, opening it back up so she can stare at the email once more. “Do you wanna get a pizza tonight? Some guy gave me a twenty for saving his car from the Rhino’s path.”

“Twenty?” she echoes back, fingers hovering over the reply button. Should she reply? What would she even say? Her Internet safety training at work taught her to never reply to spam emails, just to report it to the system administrator. But looping in the Bugle on an email like this is the last thing she wants. “Seems kinda cheap for saving his entire car.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Noya calls back, closing the fridge. He flicks his wrist in the direction of the living room, and string of white web following it. It attaches itself to the side of a crinkled up, plastic water bottle she was drinking, and before she can blink, the water bottle finds itself in Noya’s hand.

“Dick,” she says, without looking up from her computer. “I was drinking that.”

“Can you look at your porn later? Do you want the pizza or not?”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Between them is a half-eaten box of pepperoni pizza, propped open on the fire escape. Noya chews loudly on a slice, his eyes on the city skyline, and hers on him. She watches the bruise on his cheek, and how it moves and shifts with each bite he takes. She reaches out and grazes her thumb against it. He swats her hand away. “Stop it, stop worrying.”

She frowns and slides her hand between her pressed-together knees, like she’s trying to hold it still. “Who the fuck said I’m worried?”

“You’re always worried,” he replies, dusting off the end of his pizza nad leaning up against the closed window behind him. “Every time I come home with so much as a papercut, you’re staring at me like there’s a bullet hole in my chest.”

Her eyes drops, and she looks at the greased-stained cardboard between them. “Well, you have come home with bullet holes before, so.”

He sleeps them off. He wraps up the wound in that fucking webbing of his and he just sleeps it off like it’s a headache or scratch or something most people wouldn’t even go to the doctor for. And then she’ll find dried, rusted bits of that webbing, littered around the house.

“Yeah, and I turned out fine,” he assures her, voice a bit softer now. She looks at him, brown eyes shining and slight grin unwavering. “A bruise isn’t gonna kill me. I don’t want you to waste your energy freaking out over me. You have better things to be freaking out over. I know how horrible your boss is.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t really give a shit about him, to be honest.”

Her fingers fidget, and Noya reaches over, covering both of her hands with his. She looks up at him. “I’ll always take care of us both. Okay? Nothing can happen to me while I’m out there, because I know I gotta come back home and make sure you’re good. That’s my number one priority, and I’m not gonna break that promise. Alright?”

She nods her head. “Yeah, alright. I trust you.”

His grin brightens, and he leans forward to throw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “See, that’s my girl. Complete and total faith in me. I love to see it.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles, but rests her head against his shoulder. It feels nice, in his arms. “I’m really the one who takes care of you, y’know. By like, paying the bills.”

“Oh, that reminds me. Can I borrow ten bucks? I bet Tanaka-“

He stops and straightens out. She peers up at him, at watches as his focus narrows in on something in the distance. By the time she catches up, and she can hear the sirens start to go off in the distance, Nishinoya is gone, leaving a slight breeze against the strands of her hair.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On her desk are two rejections.

The first is on Spider-Man, a feature piece that details his symbolic value to the people of New York; how valuable his presence in the community is and just what he represents to the average New Yorker. It theorizes that identity of Spider-Man isn’t what matters, but the meaning of the mask itself. And it has a big, yellow sticky note on it with the word ‘WRONG!’ written out angrily in thick, black marker.

She sighs. She knew that one wasn’t gonna make it past Jameson. Hardly any of her Spider-Man pieces do. Noya told her to just start writing smear pieces on him, just to get more articles published. But she’s not willing to sacrifice her journalistic integrity to write a bunch of bullshit about how her best friend is ‘getting in the way of the NYPD.’

The second is on the recently passed Norman Osborn. Most obituaries have been fluffy love letters to the capitalist, and maybe Jameson was expecting more of that, rather than a scathing dissection of his life, including, but not limited to, his involvement in developing and selling weapons of war. The sticky note on this one reads, ‘what is this commie crap?’ which, in all honesty, she should’ve been expecting.

She sighs and falls back into her chair. She needs a new, better job. At a place that will publish her articles without twisting her words into nonsense propaganda. A place that will pay her properly, and not like it’s nineteen-eighty-five.

There’s only one silver lining to her job, and that’s the blonde-haired girl depositing a hot latte and everything bagel on her desk. “Rejected again?” Yachi asks, pulling up a chair from the empty desk beside her.

“Ugh, apparently billionaire, tax-evading war criminal Norman Osborn was a friend to the masses that needs to be celebrated, and the guy that says innocent lives every day for free is public enemy number one,” she rants at once, snatching that coffee up and immediately gulping it down, ignoring how it burns her tongue on the way down.

“Yeah,” Yachi agrees. “You didn’t know that?”

She rolls her eyes, wiggling her mouse to wake up her computer. “Shut up.”

Yachi leans back in her chair, and gestures towards the computer screen. “Any more emails from that anonymous guy?”

“No, and thank god for that.”

“It’s so weird,” Yachi notes. “’I know about him,’ is weird, but they’re not threatening you for like, money or information or like any other average email scam. And from what I could see that guy really did not want to be tracked down, and spent a lot of time making sure you couldn’t. And for what? To say something weird.”

Yachi doesn’t know the weight of it. Doesn’t even begin to understand the threat, the implication. Yachi doesn’t even know how the ‘him’ is supposed to be. So she really doesn’t get how disconcerting those facts are. She contemplates, for a moment, slamming her head into the keyboard in front of her.

“Whatever,” she decides ultimately. “I’m just going to ignore it and hopefully absolutely nothing will come of it. It’s how I deal with most of my problems.”

“Oh, what a coincidence, me too,” Yachi laughs, and then stands. “I gotta go. Jameson accidentally downloaded malware onto his computer trying to claim a Target gift card. Have fun rewriting your articles.”

“See you for lunch?” she calls after Yachi’s retreating form.

“Yep!” Yachi confirms with a wave of her hand, disappearing down the line of small, cramped cubicles.

With one, deep, calming breath, she returns her attention to the desktop in front of her. She stretches her neck to the left, and then to the right, and prepares for another day of endless bullshit.

Ding!

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE.

taglist: @wyrcan @causenessus @seroh @19calicos @w4nyoung @soulfullystarry @chocolains @jaynawayna @baylz @vuntysharck @mollyrolls @boooolame @staileykout @angee444 @kameyyy @choerry-picking @giocriedpower @sunakeiji @sleepzyy @lunasfics @thecoolestlia @yoshit-he-dinosaur @bectoshi @thatonecroc @karasyuu @iatethemochi @itsdragonius @syverse @savemebrazilhinata @localgaytrainwreck @snail-squasher @atzixo @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @dailyakira @kasumiixs @s1ckntw1st3d @noble-17 @atsumuenthusiast @jino0ix @boobilater @keeboismine @scxrcherr @acowboykisser @impatienscush @loverlunaire @oneiratxxia10 @kattiscrying @dazqa @termite-joe @quikhs @cupidsblonde @izukuwus @greninjafan5000 @mplesyrup

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/lost-in-fandoms/762168056269144064/thinking-about-streamer-max-who-lowkey-does?source=share

Omg. Omg!!!! Streamer Max my beloved! What does Daniel do when he stumbles onto Max's stream? I'm just imagining him clicking on a random link or something and suddenly bam he's got a face full of this pretty streamer with slutty short shorts!

(Anyway love your work and hope you have a great day!! 🥰)

You are so sweet I hope you have a great day too!!

Some slutty streamer Max to try and have something good to end the day with

Daniel sighs, rolling over towards the bedside table and grabbing his phone, checking the time for what feels like the twentieth time that night already.

4:42 am.

Just twenty minutes after the last time he checked.

He sighs again, sitting up slightly to drink some water, resigned to the fact that he'll probably won't get any sleep tonight either. If he's lucky, he'll get a couple hours when the sun is rising and then sneak a nap in somewhere during the afternoon.

He knows that jet lag is not helping, having landed in Perth from Los Angeles just two days ago, but he's been dealing with this insomnia for way too long to lie to himself any further. Sleep simply isn't coming.

He's tried most things already tonight, from the relaxing herbal tea his mom had recommended, to the white noise machine, to the podcasts, to the meditation. Nothing has worked.

He grabs his phone again, going through some of his messages and emails before clicking on the twitch app.

It's something new he's been trying the past couple of weeks, doesn't even remember who recommended it to him, and so far it hasn't worked, but at this point into the night he's willing to do anything. Whoever it was who first told him about it had been speaking about ASMR streams and music channels, but Daniel has been mostly browsing around, not really finding anything that catches his eye.

Tonight, he moves past the few streams he has followed already, scrolling through the live channels without looking for anything in particular, until something catches his eyes.

At first glance the stream doesn't look like anything special, even if the game itself looks cute, just a guy in a dimly lit room in a corner of the screen, mouth moving to say words Daniel can't hear yet, but.

The guy is sitting on a gaming chair, leaning back slightly in a way that Daniel doubts is fully comfortable, legs splayed, his short shorts bunched up to leave milky skin on display. He's using both hands to play, but just as Daniel is watching, slightly transfixed, he laughs, probably at something in chat, and brings one hand away to lightly scratch at his neck and then down to his leg, pulling it more to the side, fingers grazing on his crotch.

Daniel swallows.

He taps on the screen, opening the stream without really thinking about it, finally letting the guy's voice play through the speakers.

"...just for 40 more minutes. No, you cannot bribe me for one hour, Kiks, not even if you use the cute emote. I have work."

He has an accent, a lisp that comes out when he says Kiks, bright blue eyes and a lovely smile. And a hand that is still on his dick.

Daniel's eyes fall on the name of the stream, Farming some slimes, which tells him nothing, and the name of the game, Slime Rancher 2, which tells him that at least he's not in some sort of secret porn category, before going back to the camera square.

The guy is now playing again, hands just barely in view from where they're wrapped around the controller, and Daniel takes a breath, trying to gather his bearings after feeling like he's just been hit over the head with an hammer.

The chat is scrolling by slowly, his 236 viewers obviously not all interested in talking, so Daniel has no problem catching the last few messages. It's mostly people complaining about the guy leaving early, the person he was talking to earlier, KicksforKiks24, offering to gift some subs if he stays longer, and Daniel wonders if he is the only one noticing the absolutely sinful thighs on display here.

Nightnectior: What if I ask really nicely Max?

The new message pops up in chat, and Daniel watches as the streamer, Max apparently, laughs again, shaking his head.

"No, Night, I told you, I have things to do early in the morning."

Okay, maybe Daniel is the weird one here. Maybe he is the only one thinking about Max's legs and reading his posture wrong. Maybe he is the only perv in this chat, and everyone else is absolutely normal.

Severson: would love to see you do /things/ in the morning

Daniel chokes on his spit.

He's expecting Max to ignore it, or to delete the message, or to have any kind of reasonable reaction, but Max.

Max grins.

He blinks slowly, shifting on the chair almost casually, bringing one foot up to rest on the seat, shorts bunching up so much Daniel can see a hint of pubes, the outline of his balls and dick now fully visible, and then sliding a hand down his thigh to rest on his lower belly, fingers grazing his crotch again.

"Would you?" he asks, voice low.

Daniel has forgotten what Max's asking about. He's forgotten about anything that isn't the desire of sinking his teeth in the meat of his thigh, to have them wrapped around his head, and the knowledge that his dick is half hard already.

"I don't think that's how it works," Max says, in response to a message Daniel doesn't even care to look at right now. He's barely aware of the chat going faster now, more messages popping up in a rapid succession.

"Oh look at all of you, coming out to play."

Max's hand slides lower, now fully on his dick, as he giggles, a sliver of his stomach exposed too. Daniel's heart is beating in his ears. He doesn't know what's happening.

There's a new sound on the stream, something that startles Daniel out of his daze enough to realise someone has just donated €50 just to call Max a pretty boy.

Daniel wonders how hard it is to figure out how donations work. How much he can donate without his bank blocking his account. How much it would take for Max to do something.

He swallows, feeling slightly insane.

Max's fingers squeeze once.

Daniel's breath stutters in his chest, his hands twitching, wanting to touch himself too but so transfixed he doesn't dare moving.

And then Max shifts, grabbing the controller again and sitting up a bit, shirt falling back into place. Even if the outline of his dick is still clearly visible, something in the spell breaks, letting Daniel breathe again.

He can still feel his heart rabbiting in his chest, his mouth dry. His dick is hard under the sheets.

With a trembling finger, Daniel presses follow.

#maxiel #my writing #gave up on my previous attempt but your ask gave me the brainpower to try again #tried my best but it is indeed 4:30 am #so if there are typos please ignore them #thank you for being so kind!#yes i am aware this skirts twitch tos limits do i look like I care???

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meo-eiru · 2 days

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Hihihiii :3 Hope you're having a great day author!

This is my first direct interaction in this website generally speaking, so what better way to start than rambling my head off about the twink slutty baby? YES. Lavi. That cute whore that's been on my mine for a good while now...I want to kiss him, want him to cuddle me so bad grrrr I want to rim his pretty ass and use it as my only life source for the rest of my mortal existence. I want to follow every single one of his instructions on how to please him while he guides me with that shit eating smug grin '>:3'. I totally see him as a power bottom, riding my strap effortlessly while he pins me down telling me how much of a pathetic virgin I am and how fortunate I am to even be touching him, how lucky I am that he's willing to teach me how to make him feel good, how he'd laugh once I'm exhausted and he keeps nonchalantly bouncing still with his endless incubi stamina...MMMM...But also, I want to hit his ribs each time he throws an annoying tauntrum, or make him whimper each time he breaks something expensive, I want to sneak into his phone and watch just all the dozens of porn he has in his gallery along with his search history, I need to make him cry so hard until we're both doubting who's the real pervert here...I NEED to peg him. I NEED to spank his cute jiggling ass until it's red and sore. I need to make him deepthroath my strap and perhaps give me head. I NEED to grope his cute small chest and nurse on his rosy nipples while he tries to make a teasing remark only to be interrupted by his own lewd moans. I NEED to watch how all that lube and cum slowly leaks out of his puffy hole with profane sounds while spreading his supple asscheeks further apart as he whines and mewls begging for more. I NEED to cuddle him from behind while I finger his thight whorish asshole, I NEEEED to give him some genuine, gentle love-making while kissing his pretty face and cooing sweet nothings into his ears while he grabs onto my neck thightly saying shamelessly how good it feels.

I want to give him goodnight kisses on the forehead, cheeks, nose, eyes, tummy and finally his soft lips. I want to feel him clinging onto me with his limbs (and tail of course) while we sleep, even better if he craddles my head on his chest. I might even forgive his murders if he promises to be a good boy with a pretty pout even though he'd probably be crossing his fingers behind his back. I want to do each other's hair and nails. I want him to listen to the music I listen to (Rabbit Hole by DECO27 would be SO him). I want to see his deadpaned and disdainful face when I tell him all my bad jokes. I want to go out with him at those aesthetic cafés and buy him everything he wants even if I won't be able to buy anything else for a while. I want us to get matching couple cheesy things. I want us to do lovey dovey stuff together and maybe a kiss that doesn't end up looking out of a hentai. A wholesome one. I want him to live on my lap. I want him to try make him wear decente clothes from time to time. I want to see his reaction once my mortal life comes to an end. (If he cries and gets depressed he'll look so pretty but if he laughs he'll also look so pretty). I want to show him off to my friends even if I know he's probably the type that types 'uwu', ':3' or 'nya~' either satirically or not. I would bear the cringe for him. I want to send him memes and reels and, overall, just hear his laugh because I'm sure it would be gorgeous just like him. <3

He literally lives rent free in my mind this is a call for help. I crave for more Lavi content.

I'm not horny. You are.

Anyway, thanks for the constant posting! I love how you write your characters and draw/paint! You're one of my favorite artists. Eat well and have a good day/night. :)

Oh my dear GOD this was a ROLLER COASTER

I don't even know where to start. Alright so first of all, this is so deliciously written omg??? You made me put Lavi on a plate and eat him I bet he'd taste like cake. The contrast between the wholesome parts and the extremely unholy parts were crazy I felt like I was in a car that randomly speeds up and down

Rabbit hole is indeed very Lavi, the animation fits him so well as well. If I knew how to make them I'd definitely draw a Lavi version. And yes he's definitely the type who'd type "uwu" and ">:3" unironically

THE DRAWINGS ARE SO CUTE AS WELL!! HE LOOKS SO ADORABLE LOOK AT HIS CUTE LITTLE FACE AND CUTE BUTT

#asks #lavi #yandere incubus #fanart

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lw77 · 2 days

Text

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 1. - Angel

Max wants more than just a sub.

Who knew helping his dad at the shop would become his own personal brand of torture. He knew his dad had regulars, but he thought they’d be – old men regulars not whatever these chippendale escapees were.

Apparently they’re contractors, who look like every middle-aged woman’s fantasy. Including Logan’s.

And like clock-work, the group of men enter, a few heading to the drinks and some to his mom’s home-made subs. He hears Danny’s loud laugh, followed by Charles snickering as they tease their other colleague, George, Logan’s mind helpfully supplies, as he shows them something on his phone.

Logan wonders where the other one is, Max, all ruddy cheeks, bright blue eyes and big arms, who’s sadly amiss as he looks towards the floor.

It’s embarrassing really, how at twenty-one Logan is like a school boy with a crush. If he ever confessed all the things he’s thought, fantasised about or, God, he inwardly groans, dreamt since seeing that man, it would have his Priest drowning him in holy water.

A tap at the counter knocks Logan out of his thoughts, as he sees Danny in front of him ready to cash out. Like he knew what was going through Logan’s head, Danny’s smile stretched wider, “What’s wrong Logie boy, you disappointed it's just us today?”

Logan squeaks as he’s caught out, face aflame, “No idea what you’re talking about, um– will that be all?” gesturing to the stack of subs and drinks Danny’s placed on the counter.

“I think you doooo Logie boy.” Danny croons winking, as Logan speeds up his scanning before Danny can say anything else. It doesn’t stop the man from resting his forearms on the counter and wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re awful, I’m telling my mom not to make any more of her salami subs.” Logan whines, trying to threaten Danny’s favourite sub away in hopes of ending his teasing.

Danny smiles cheekily in response, “Your mother loves me, she would never do that” as he taps his credit card on the reader.

Putting the items in plastic bags, “Maybe I’ll just throw them all away then.” Logan says petulantly. Taking the bags from Logan, “Oh come on Logie boy, that would just be wasteful. Now don’t you worry, he’ll be back next week!” Danny shouts with one last wink as he heads out.

It’s loud enough that Charles and George, who were still hanging by the front, look up and laugh as if they know exactly who Danny is referring to. It makes Logan let out an embarrassed “Danny” as he hears the group’s laughter continue out the store.

_______________________

Logan is snug in their usual booth, waiting for Alex and Oscar to return with their first round. They’re celebrating Alex’s new job tonight.

“Alright, two pitchers of beer for us and a Sommersby cooler for the princess!” Oscar announces loudly as he sets down their drinks. Logan snatches the cooler and pulls it closer.

“Oh, come on, Logie bear. You know we’re just teasing you,” Alex says, only making Logan scowl more.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you this week? Did your mom accidentally sew up your fuck-me jeans again or something?” Oscar asks, furrowing his brows in genuine curiousity.

Logan groans and sinks further into his seat. “No, worse.”

“Did she try to set you up with one of her awkward co-op students again?” Alex asks.

Sitting up, Logan protests, “Okay, that was one time! Checo was sweet—he just had really sweaty hands.” Realizing how pitiful that sounds once he says it, he rests his head against the booth's cushion.

Alex and Oscar sit in silence, giving him space to finally share what’s bothering him.

“You know those hot regulars my dad has? The Chippendale escapee contractors? Danny Ricc—you know him, Alex.” Leaning in, Logan hisses, “Well, they definitely know I’m into their friend or colleague, whatever he is.”

“Yeah well, Logan, you’re not exactly subtle. It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a crush on that guy,” Oscar replies, in an all too annoyingly factual tone, Logan decides.

“And your pupils get huge dude when you like someone. There’s no hiding your attraction buddy,” Alex adds, raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh my god, how am I going to face him now that I know his friends know? Meaning, he knows too. So mortifying,” Logan says, fully aware he’s whining when they’re supposed to be celebrating Alex. “Sorry, I’ll snap out of it… or I’ll move out of town.” He says the last part a little too seriously for his friends.

“Anyway, that’s my week. Now—Alex, come on, tell us about the job! The floor is yours.” Logan gestures with a flourish.

Alex and Oscar share a look. “I got hired to consult as an architect.”

Logan perks up and excitedly congratulates Alex, asking where. “At Danny Ric’s company—your favorite!”

“Oh my god, you’re going to be a part of the Chippendale escapees?” Logan squeals, both hands slammed on the table as he leans over in excitement.

Oscar, observing the scene then asks, “Time for a cheers then?”

“To Alex joining the Chippendale escapees!” they cheer, clinking their beers and can together.

“Oh my god, you’re going to work with Max. Alex, you love me, right? You’ll tell me if he ever talks about me, or if he says I’m cute?” Logan continues, getting even more embarrassing. Oblivious to the widening eyes of Alex and Oscar as they glance behind him.

“…Oh my god, he came in muscle tee a few weeks ago and I just wanted to bite his biceps because they looked so big and they are so big—”

“Ow! What the hell, Oscar? We use our words now.” Logan admonishes, bending in his seat to rub where he got kicked. But he freezes as he hears a familiar laugh. Looking up, he sees Danny standing by their table, amused, and oh god, Max, arms crossed and wearing an equally amused expression.

Now looking no better than his best friends, Logan’s eyes are wide, his face is scarlet, and his mouth hangs open in shock as he realizes they must have heard everything—or at least enough. Maybe he can learn to love Checo’s moist, moist, hands because Mexico is definitely far enough.

“Hey, boys, didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. Just came over to congratulate our dear little Alex on joining the company! Our youngest yet!” Danny sings, wiping a tear for dramatic effect.

Meanwhile, Logan, snapping out of his deer-in-headlights look, is now studiously examining the table varnish, hoping the two men forget his earlier soliloquy over the other's (big) arms.

Good-naturedly, Alex invites Danny and Max to join them in the booth, leaving Logan pressed arm to leg against Max, his best friend completely uncaring of Logan’s gay panic.

Logan starts drinking from his can, hoping to avoid any conversation. But before long, Danny, Alex, and Oscar finish the two pitchers and decide they need to get the next round. Logan’s eyes widen as he mentally pleads, *Don’t leave me alone.* But both Oscar and Alex blissfully ignore him.

Staring at his drink as if it's the most interesting thing, Logan catches a glimpse of Max turning his way.

“Heard you missed me at the store.”

Logan looks at him, feeling his cheeks flush. As Alex pointed out earlier, his attraction to Max is probably written all over his face.

“I—um, no, just wondering where you all were,” he stutters, wetting his lips. “Not just you.” He leans back against the wall as Max essentially cages him in the booth, one arm resting on the back and the other bent on the table. Max’s body warmth and sandalwood cologne envelop Logan, blanketing his senses. Max’s gaze drops to Logan’s lips, a small smirk playing on his face, "Really?" he prompts, "Ye-yeah" Logan breathes out, Max's eyes flick up to Logan's at his answer and his lips break into a smile as he replies simply “Okay, if you say so.” And, all too soon, he leans back, creating some space as the sounds of the bar filter in again, grounding Logan, feeling like he must be in heaven with Max so close.

Clearing his throat as Danny and the others join the table, Logan sits up, gratefully accepting a new can from Oscar, who gives him a knowing look while subtly elbowing Alex. Now both friends are watching him with knowing smiles, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

Logan glares back but falters when he feels a big hand settle just above his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. He realises he’s being asked a question. “Oh—I'm sorry, what?” he asks, confused, snapping his gaze to Max.

It’s Danny, looking past Max with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He repeats his earlier question, fully aware of why Logan is distracted. “I asked if you’re excited to see your best friend every day now. Since your mom’s subs are legendary. And essential to a good work day”

Logan’s disbelief drips from his tone as he asks, “Even if all we have is the veggie one, Danny?” He raises his eyebrows for added effect.

Danny crosses his hand over his heart dramatically. “Even the veggie one, Logie boy! Although some of us come for the service too.” He finishes with a sidelong glance at Max.

Max, whose relaxed against the booth with his body still angled toward Logan and a comfortable hand resting on Logan’s thigh from when he squeezed it earlier to get his attention. At Danny’s insinuation, Max looks down at Logan, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gives Logan’s thigh another gentle squeeze, this time higher up, and shrugs.

The warmth from Max's touch sends a flutter through Logan's stomach, mingling with a simmering feeling in his chest that he can’t quite identify.

Thankfully, Logan is saved from responding as Oscar pulls Danny’s attention away, asking what project they’ll be starting on.

In the most teasing tone he can muster despite his fluster, he whispers, “So, service?” Looking up at Max from beneath his eyelashes.

Max leans in closer, his voice low. “You’re not the only one who's been looking, Angel.”

Logan’s face heats up further. The nickname doesn’t help his battle against arousal or the realisation that he was not subtle at all.

He blinks as he responds with a soft “uh-huh,” nodding his head, his mind feeling like cotton from their proximity and Max’s admission of mutual attraction.

Max’s gaze drifts to Logan’s lips just as Logan nervously bites his bottom lip. He’s on the verge of saying something—or maybe hoping for something more—when a cough interrupts them, making both of them look up at a smirking Danny.

“While the image of you two is a relief, we have to head back. Poker night! We just had to stop to congratulate you, Alex, on joining us.”

Logan, embarrassed by Danny’s comment, groans into his hands, while Alex thanks Danny brightly. Glancing at Danny, as he waits for Max, he leans into Logan’s ear, whispering, “See you tomorrow, Angel,” and with one last squeeze to Logan's thigh he’s out of the booth and heading for the door behind Danny. Leaving Logan bright red, his arousal flashing like a stop sign, and his two best friends laughing at his expression.

Unhelpfully, Alex says, “Guess this means you don’t have to skip town anymore.” To which Oscar shouts, “Hear! Hear!” Logan can’t help but giggle, his embarrassment fading as he nods in agreement.

Chapter 2 - Hunter?

Chapter 3 - Sunburn

Author's note: So I listened to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae and I just kept seeing buff/fit Max (white t-shirt, gold cross in blue jeans) and Logan vm baby boy/angel and big blown out eyes and parted lips when Max comes into his dad's store with his co-workers/friends. (i was going for a lil age diff but mostly size difference)

also i was gonna make it hotter but its like jesus had a hand on my shoulder as i got to it. maybe next chapter

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hiraethwa · 2 days

Text

one summer day

16 chasm. where the distance becomes too much to bear

<< 15 wake-up call. | >> 17 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 2.6k warnings: ushi mom being a bitch <3, heartbreak, denial, running away

“i don’t know what to say to you except that it tore my heart out of my body saying goodbye to you”

you deal with the gaping hole in your chest the only way you know how to—avoiding the source of your heartbreak.

wakatoshi finds his bentos packed on the dining table each morning without fail, with you nowhere in sight; his dinner waiting for him under the mesh food cover by the time he comes home, missing his usual dinner companion. the sweet daifukus he bought from your favorite shop for you as some sort of shitty makeup bribe sits untouched on the table.

two weeks fly by as you both settle into your new unspoken routine. he understands the distance between you, tries his damned hardest to respect the space you needed. it takes all of his willpower not to knock on your door and beg for your forgiveness.

so when he sees you for the first time since he broke your heart, it takes him by surprise.

you must have gotten lost in your thoughts as you absentmindedly finish arranging the food in the bento, delicate fingers expertly pulling the ends of the furoshiki into a simple knot.

your name slips out in a shaky whisper, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic hint of nervousness. like a loyal believer seeing his faith for the first time.

you freeze like a deer in headlights. he curses himself.

“you don’t have to say anything to me.” for the first time, he rushes to fill the silence with words, hoping he didn’t scare you away. “i just wasn’t sure—” if you are real

wakatoshi watches as your shoulders start to rise and fall, as if overwhelmed with emotion. he shakes his head at himself, backtracking towards his own room to give you space.

“i’ll be away next week for a family gathering,” he says softly, hoping you would say something, anything. he wishes you would scream and yell at him instead. anything would be a lot better than the silence that emanates from your end.

but you don’t say a word as your fingers shakily smooth over the worn furoshiki, so he closes his door gently behind him, sliding to his knees.

the stupid falcon plushie from tanabata used to sit on your bed. then in the open suitcase. now it sits in the corner of your room when you impulsively decided to not bring it to paris.

you spent two whole weeks avoiding him successfully through careful planning. the pain that came in fresh waves threatening to pull you under slowly became bearable day by day until you could breathe without it seizing your lungs.

so you thought that perhaps, you could pretend that it never happened. unfortunately, that was delusional of you.

the moment you heard his voice, everything came rushing back. every moment, every word from him that drove the dagger deeper into the organ keeping you alive and twisted it flooded your mind. and helplessly, you were dragged under the waves of pain welcoming you to your own version of hell.

you could only freeze, seized by your overwhelming emotions. feeling like you were thrust into the treacherous sea, yanked downwards and downwards into the unknown darkness.

so sadly that was not an option.

secretly you were relieved to learn that he is leaving for a week, a whole week where you didn’t have to tiptoe around the apartment, afraid of running into him.

you were tired of packing your life into a suitcase, which you expected to be a straightforward task, seeing as you only brought a few boxes with you to tokyo. but there were many choices to be made—between one winter coat and another—do you really need so many t-shirts—and they are all sending your frayed nerves into overdrive.

you opt for taking a lap around the nearby park, and surprisingly, you run into someone you recognize the moment you stepped out of the apartment complex. a familiar face from miyagi.

“is wakatoshi home?” she asks after exchanging polite pleasantries.

“not yet, do you want to wait for him?”

“that’s alright. care to join me for some coffee or tea?”

you accept the invitation, curiosity winning over your better judgment.

the tea room she chooses is surprisingly quiet in the middle of the work week. you would have thought it would be more populated considering the upscale society that it caters to.

you were “how are you doing?”

you look up from the menu, puzzled at her question.

“men can be so careless, i know that from my own experience.” oh, so that’s where she’s going. you wonder how much she knows—how much ushijima told his mom.

“i’m fine. thank you for your concern, ushijima-san.” you wince a little at the reminder their shared name brings you.

“good. i’m glad to hear that.�� she sets her copy of the menu down on the pristine marbled table surface, gracefully waving over an attendant who takes your orders and repeats them back to you verbatim.

her full attention returns to you, eyeing you with intensity. you aren’t sure if you made the right decision to not reject an elder’s offer.

“are you coming to miyagi next week as well? wakatoshi never told me how many of his friends are coming to his yuino.” you blink at the word.

yuino. the traditional engagement ceremony.

the yawning pain in your chest stutters in confusion, but she blazes ahead, blissfully unaware—or uncaring, you realize much later—of the devastation that must be showing on your features. “it must be hard for you, knowing that wakatoshi is going to be engaged to someone else in a week.”

she gives you a look of sympathy. “i didn’t mean for you to be caught in the crossfire, y/n. it must be hard for you, i saw the way you looked at my son.”

you blink again. it takes everything you have left to remember to breathe.

you don’t recall anything else after that. your mind taken hostage by your memories of the past winter, of him and his mother and her. was that his future fiancee?

of course she is. she is everything you are not, so much more than you have to offer him.

you look down at your empty teacup, licking your lips. your tongue feels numb, as if you’ve burnt yourself drinking the tea. like icarus flying too close to the sun.

looking at her retreating figure stepping into a car, you can’t help but wonder if she was here for you.

you wonder if he ever planned to tell you that he is promised to another.

it is an answer you will never know since you don’t give him any chances to in the four days leading up to the time he leaves for miyagi.

the confirmation email from your college sits opened in your inbox, along with your one-way flight ticket to paris when semi comes barging into the apartment with kai, having unlocked the front door with the hidden spare key.

“eita,” you blink up at him, the haze clouding your mind clearing for the first time in days. the ghost living in the shell of your body remembering it is alive.

“you better have an explanation for ignoring all my calls and texts for the past week.”

you cock your head to the side in confusion. the muddied feeling of hopelessness and yearning like no other in your chest swirling with every movement. the longing, missing, grieving of someone who is very much alive but no longer the same.

everything has changed.

oh, why does it feel like the world is ending? it must be the reason your self-preservation instincts have kicked in, blocking everything out.

“did i miss our plans for dinner?”

you try to rack your brain for the source of the suffocating emotions filling the immense void in your chest, only to be met with resistance. a gentle push keeping you away from the answers you seek.

“that was two days ago. why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts? did you know how worried i was? even ushijima couldn’t reach you.” semi stands above where you sit on the floor with stacks of clothes and sentimental items tucked away in the suitcases splayed open on either side of you.

ushijima. the familiar name sparks a staggering pain to life in your chest, spreading like wildfire, blazing with a light so bright, it rivals the sun itself.

your hands tighten around yourself subconsciously at the name.

he used to be your sun.

“what’s wrong?” semi kneels next to you, gently touching your shoulder. he exchanges a concerned look with kai at the faraway look in your eyes.

“i don’t know, eita,” you lean into his touch, the first physical touch you felt in weeks. a reminder that you are not alone. you had forgotten. you breathe the truth as you know it—“i’m not quite sure anything is right anymore.”

“can i lean against you? just for a few minutes?” the despair in your eyes sends semi clambering to sit next to you, to provide any comfort he could to his friend.

you take a few moments to gather your scattered thoughts, but they disperse like clouds when you reach out for them. you answer his earlier question as truthfully as you could, “i don’t know. i don’t know how to carry on, eita. how do i live with this pain that feels like my heart was ripped out of my chest?”

“what did he do?” you know who semi is referring to. after all, there is only space for him in your heart, was only ever space for him.

“it doesn’t matter, does it? i still have to continue living.”

“right, but—”

“i don’t want to talk about him,” mentioning him feels like poison on your tongue. you scramble to find a handhold at the anger that rises in you in response. the indignation that he actually did lead you on, taking what you offered to him with love, all while knowing that he was promised to someone else. he chose her.

neither semi nor kai feels any less cautious of your condition, the cloudiness in your eyes clearing to show a reckless sharpness that tries to redirect the pain you are feeling elsewhere.

semi holds his hands up in surrender. “okay. that’s fine. do you want to grab supper with us? get out of the apartment for a bit?”

“yeah, sure.” you glance at the open suitcases. “i think i’m all packed up and ready to go anyway.”

“i thought you’re not leaving for another week.”

you wave him off. “my plans changed. my flight is leaving tomorrow.”

“and you didn’t think to tell me?” semi sounds hurt by your dismissal.

“i—” you frown at yourself. you hadn’t thought of that. too deep in your own pain, you forgot about the people who actually cared about you. “i’m sorry. i was too wrapped up in my own pain, i forgot—”

“i’m sorry.” you withdraw from him, physically and emotionally. the sorrow in your bones inviting you back to their familiar embrace in the cold darkness, in a world accustomed to the absence of the warm sun.

“y/n” kai’s voice brings you back to reality, as she tugs you to your feet. she gives semi a look to drop the matter, especially since it only seems to send you back to that space that snuffs the light out of your eyes. “come on, let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

you give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, allowing them to accompany you for food one last time before you go.

“when is your flight tomorrow?” semi asks you as they drop you off from your last supper with the happy couple.

you toy with the charm on your bag, rubbing the metal absentmindedly. “why? are you going to tell him?”

“is he not supposed to know?”

you shrug. “i don’t think he would care.”

“you know that’s not true—”

“don’t, semi. don’t tell me that. you don’t know that. i don’t know that. we both thought he felt the same way towards me as i do for him, and it sure doesn’t feel that way right now.”

you widen your eyes in surprise as the words escape your mind.

“do you want to talk about it?” kai asks you softly, as semi stares back at you in disbelief, mind running through the possible scenarios of what exactly happened between the two of you in the few weeks since his birthday. his birthday.

he swears under his breath. something must have happened between then and now.

“no. just don’t tell him, okay? promise me, semi.”

he really, really wants to strangle someone, but he begrudgingly gives you his word to not say anything to his former captain. you didn’t say anything about a certain red-haired boy, however.

you relent. “my flight is at 4pm.” you had already told them why you had to move up your plans—a last-minute withdrawal that resulted in an invitation being extended to you for a pre-semester bootcamp that you were waitlisted for.

“was whatever happened between you two so bad that you’re not bothering to tell him that you’re leaving? despite what you had?” kai gives him a warning look to shut the fuck up.

“why don’t you ask him yourself? i mean it, semi. go ahead, ask him, and while you are at it, ask him if he planned on telling you why he is really in miyagi right now.”

“what do you mean?” you wonder if the promised violence in his voice is meant for you or him.

“it isn’t my place to say. but believe me when i say this, semi.” you turn to look at him in the eyes solemnly. “i am truly sorry for dropping all this on you on the last second. i was too self-absorbed to remember anything but the pain i was drowning in. you are my best friend, but i won’t make you choose between us.”

“the truth is despite everything that happened, i still love—” gods, his name is stuck in your throat. “him, but i can’t see a world where we can still be friends because of that. you know there isn’t a world where we are just friends.”

“could you let me be selfish just this once, for the sake of my sanity? when i get to paris, you will be the only one i stay in contact with.” i don’t know how to say goodbye to him.

“just so you know, i am not happy with whatever the fuck this situation is, but i will respect your wishes.”

you smile ruefully at your first friend in high school, pulling him in for a goodbye hug. “thank you, semi eita.”

kai goes next, your arms engulfing her shorter figure. “thank you for taking care of him, kai. i’m counting on you to steer him clear of bad decisions while i’m gone.” you wink at her, a poor attempt at lifting the mood.

“i don’t know when i will be back, but you two should definitely visit me in paris sometime. stay happy for me, will you?” you say your goodbyes again for the last time in a long time.

when you lay in bed that night, your bags all packed and rolled out to the hallway, you realize you forgot to remove the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars you pasted over the ceiling to remind you that you are no longer in miyagi.

you had survived miyagi, but at what cost?

a/n: in my head, y/n is in disbelief and feels betrayed, yet it still makes sense why toshi would pick someone else over her </3 peak heartbreak

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