#this is such a mess actually. but i feel like things are encapsulated

[sugarsnappeases]

kara moodboard 🦀

go to pinterest and make yourself a moodboard, whatever that means to you.

ty @quillkiller @stillagoodwitch @carniferous @star4daisy @orbitfalls @dieonysian for the tags!!! loved ur moodboards sorry this took me a second i was practicing self-abnegation in order to get my essay done and then having a crisis about my aesthetic. but now. i present the least cohesive moodboard you’ve ever seen:

open tag bc i feel like everyone’s already done it <33

[femmefaggot]

genuinely very very happy about maya still Do Not get me wrong. I simply wish... the world was better and less cruel. and that I was not complicit in that cruelty. and that honorspren in shadesmar werent such hypocrites.

[formulawolff]

fanboy behavior - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: an older man having an insanely large crush on a woman thirty years his junior, ONE-SIDED PINING (LOTS OF IT OKAY), allusions to smut/sexual fantasies, toto is a mess, mentions of divorce, common fic tropes, yadayadayada

a/n: this is sort of a prequel to alkaline! this is set one year before the events of the 2024 bahrain grand prix. toto is super down bad in this already, so expect lots of pining and him being a flustered mess hehe! i figured this would provide some context/background for the first chapter of alkaline <3 (ALSO PLS LISTEN TO ALKALINE BY SLEEP TOKEN!!! IT REALLY ENCAPSULATES TOTO'S YEARNING!!)

his mind is other places.

he should be invested in the current conversation with his engineers and drivers, discussing the current status of the car and the potential modifications that needed to be made before sunday.

but he's not, his foot tapping against the concrete floor absentmindedly, body on autopilot.

it's almost as if his brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to compute any sort of coherent thought in correlation with the task at hand. yet, if he tries, it just sputters, trailing off, veering towards something else.

well, someone else.

he's thinking about a driver, merely a few paddocks down.

a williams racing driver, actually.

the american girl. barely twenty-one, a rookie in the second williams seat, preparing to compete in her first formula one race in approximately twenty-four hours.

her eyes were like starlight, bursting with a torrent of emotions and complexity, pulling you into their depths, begging for you to get lost within them. her hair was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her features no matter its state.

and her physique?

fuck, the team principal felt like a teenage boy very time he stole a glance, his slacks feeling a little tighter than usual.

with a smile that lit up every room she was in, a radiant aura brimming with kindness and humility, as well as a fiery determination to compete, she was comparable to the sun.

the woman who was starting to become routinely embedded in his daily pondering.

ever since that fateful day in december, when his eyes first drank in that photo of her, hand interlocked with james in front of that williams car, she was the last thing on his mind before he dozed off. and well, the first thing his mind wandered to in the mornings.

she even made an appearance in his dreams, the sound of her voice almost haunting him, so tantalizingly sweet and angelic.

fuck, he was a goner.

this was the third month now where she consumed every crevice of his brain. a continuous loop of all of the sins he wanted to confess, the ways in which he wanted to touch her, and the burning desire to take her under his wing, teaching her all of the ins and outs of racing.

was he obsessed with her? surely not.

not that he memorized every single one of her f2 stats or anything. not that he spent a majority of his free time lately invested in interview clips with her, jotting down all of her favorite things. not that he doodled her during meetings or anything.

not that at least twelve times a day he fantasized about her in a mercedes suit, his fingers carefully tugging down the zipper.

this was normal behavior after a recent divorce. completely normal behavior, actually.

the team principal clears his throat, "i need to step away for a moment. i can barely think straight right now. please, continue. i will rejoin the conversation once i get my shit together."

he can't help but notice the way his drivers exchange a concerned glance, lewis coughing slightly.

"um, all right. toto, is everything okay?"

not quite.

he was going absolutely insane, his mind already reeling at the anticipation of potentially catching a glimpse of her. he wasn't even sure if he would or not, but that possibility sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

those endless possibilities are what kept him up at night. what sent the blood rushing in the mornings, the stiffness in his boxers nearly pulling him out of his slumber. what had him pacing some days in his office, desperate beyond belief for some sort of way to break this spell.

as he strolls out of the garage, a warm breeze rolls through the track, strands of hair blowing all over. he curses slightly, running a quick hand through the tousled mess.

just to his left, a flurry of voice catches his attention, his head swiveling, searching for the source.

besides james is the object of his every desire, the apple of his eye.

as the sun dips below the horizon, he can barely make out her expression. she appears frustrated, her brows furrowed together, a deep frown etched across her lips.

"i just don't fucking understand why that dickhead felt the need to ask me if i was on my period!" she groans, shaking her head, "what the fuck was i supposed to do? let that slide?"

there's a sternness plastered across james' face, yet his voice is soft, laced with sympathy, "i know, but you have to realize that you're going to be asked questions like that because there are misogynists within the sport. no matter how much you prove to us that you deserve this seat, there are going to be pricks out there. we can do a little bit more media training, if you'd like. or, i can hire a publicist for you."

"a publicist? are you fucking kidding me?" her eyes widen, her tone growing more and more frustrated, "i'm not fifteen. i can speak for myself, james."

"it was just a suggestion," he shrugs, sticking out his hands, "look, i know you had a rough day, but let's focus on tomorrow. all right? you're tenth on the grid. that's monumental for your first race. you could win us points."

"we'll see," she scoffs, the toe of her shoe scuffing against the pavement, "i'm sorry for getting upset with you. i'm just really nervous. and well, scared."

scared of what? you have nothing to fear, sweet girl. you're one of the best drivers i have seen step foot on the grid.

toto narrows his eyes, lingering for just a moment longer.

"i just don't know if i deserve this seat," he can sense the falter in her voice, how it shakes, "i don't even know if i deserve a spot in formula one. i mean, look at me! i'm this upset over a dumb question. and i'm just scared everything is going to go to my head tomorrow and i'm going to overthink it."

james wraps his arms around the driver, pulling her in for a tight embrace as a sob wracks her body, "hey, when you're in doubt, you have alex and i. we will always be there for you. i know you're nervous, but you have to realize how special and talented you are to be in this position. you've deserved everything that has come your way, and you will continue to deserve this. i promise."

his biceps flex as he folds his arms against his chest, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to just walk over there and casually sweep her off her feet, squeezing her against his chest as he murmurs in her ear how fucking special she was.

james, she wasn't just special and talented.

she was a fucking star. a star that deserved to shine and hold every ounce of that spotlight.

just like the sun, she deserved to cast her rays of light all over the world.

the world deserved to know who she was. where she came from. how she got here. why she was a worthy competitor and excellent driver.

and by god, toto wolff was hellbent on making that happen.

one way or another.

he just had to be patient. play the long game.

every move from here was to be carefully calculated.

as toto harbored a plan. one that had been brewing the second that speculations swirled around the world of formula one that the first female american driver would be signing to a team.

he was going to have her by his side at mercedes.

fuck, he had been yearning for her this long already.

how much harm would a few more months do? a year?

he could wait a year. he was a patient man.

well, he could wait that long.

as long as that hunger gnawing away at him didn't kill him first.

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟳 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“This isn’t what I meant when I said that we needed to talk.” You roll your eyes at Cole’s griping, though the fact that he hadn’t removed the earbud out of his ears tells you more than you need to know. 

“Just shush for a moment and let me relax a little, okay?”

He lets you be, leaning back and letting his head relax on the brick wall behind him. After he’d suddenly dropped the whole bomb of needing to talk and all, he’d summoned Rocky and (dragged) brought you to the nearby rooftop.

Instead of actually talking about your feelings and thoughts, however, you’d pulled out your phone and earbuds, shoving one into his ear when he sat next to you and shushing him with a glare. 

As the music plays, your racing heart starts to calm. Staring up at the sky, you watch the clear blue slowly fade into hues of pink and yellow, the colourful rays dancing together as if they were in an otherworldly waltz of their own. 

“I’m still sorry, by the way.” You turn your head to see his closed eyes and tilted head back, exposing his Adam's apple. He speaks slowly, as if carefully choosing the right words in his mind to mould a cautious sentence. “The day we first met, Lloyd and I had just been mobbed earlier by a group of fans again, and I just wanted some quiet time to myself.”

Black irises meet yours, a shared stare filled with silent apology. “It’s fine,” you allow a slow smile onto your face. “I’d have reacted much worse if I were you. I’m sorry about hitting you though.”

He laughs, glancing down at his abdomen. “What, this old thing? Barely felt it. Maybe I’ve gotten used to your punches.” He chuckles when you shove him once more with a playful scowl, the air between you both settling into a much more relaxed mood. 

He hesitates, allowing the song to play for a few more bars before deciding to broach the long-awaited topic. “So what’s got you so riled up about soulmates anyway? I mean, you made your dislike pretty clear, but I thought most people look forward to meeting theirs.”

“That’s exactly what makes it annoying.” An exasperated sigh falls from your lips, running a hand through your hair. “Just because I have a soulmate doesn’t mean I have to automatically like them, do I?” 

He winces. “I didn’t think I was that bad…” He mumbles, looking down at his shoes and kicking away a small pebble. 

“No, it’s not- I just…” A groan leaves you, eyes fixed back onto a passing cloud as you try to sort out the mess of thoughts all clumped together in your head. “It’s complicated, okay? It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Right,” he nods. “Can’t argue there.” He hides a weak grin when you shove him with an annoyed laugh, copying your posture and looking up at the clouds. “So why? Why all this?” He gestures aimlessly. 

The answer’s hard to pinpoint, unable to conjure the right words to encapsulate the surge of emotion in your heart as it swells. The silence between you grows heavier with each passing second.

He notices your quiet struggle, and for a moment, the air between you both feels fragile. Breaking the silence, he speaks, his voice softer than usual. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a soulmate,” he admits, the rawness in his tone catching you off guard.

His gaze grows distant, barely focusing on the clouds in the sky. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one that mirrors your own uncertainty.

“After my mom died, I saw what losing her did to my dad. He was... broken. I never wanted to go through that kind of pain.” He pauses for a moment, gathering the courage to continue. “When I became a ninja, I thought I was untouchable. I had a purpose. I didn’t need anyone, least of all a soulmate.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and it hits you—his resistance, his fear, the walls he’s built. He takes another breath, a tremble in his words as he speaks. “I thought I didn’t need anyone then, and I’m still not sure I do now.”

His admission stirs something inside you, the unease morphing into something more complicated. You want to say something, anything, but the words seem stuck behind the unspoken tension that lingers between you both.

“Looks like we both don’t need soulmates then.”

Wow, I need to stop talking. Forever.

A flicker of surprise registers in his gaze as he processes your words. Shaking his head with a nervous laugh, a moment of silence passes between you both. Guilt starts to eat away at the edges of your conscience, mentally berating yourself for your response. 

He stands up, his fingers brushing against the earbud before handing it back, hesitation flickering in his movement. You stare at his outstretched hand, taking a deep breath as the words rip themselves out of your throat, an unspoken secret you’ve never shared with anyone.

“My mom and dad got divorced when I was 15.” The instant relief you feel is startling, like a weight that had been dragging you under finally loosened its grip. For so long, it had gnawed at you, a parasitic leech feeding on your spirit.

Well, until now. 

The sensation of a freshly opened wound is unnerving, raw and exposed to your soulmate who stands in front of you. He’s completely silent, which only adds to the growing nervousness that begins to spill over the jug holding everything inside. 

Coughing, you snatch the earbud from his hand and roll up the wires in a hurry. Standing up, you refuse to meet his eyes. “So, where’s Rocky? I’m pretty tired, so I kinda have to get home now.”

Another moment passes before Rocky materialises behind you both. I guess he’s finished recharging his dragon, you think to yourself as it bends down, sensing you didn’t really want to talk with his owner for the time being.

The ride back home is quiet, though your arms had found themselves wrapped around his waist once more from fear of falling off. You’d allowed yourself a brief moment of resting your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, breathing in his cologne that calms your racing heart. 

As the seconds pass, you can sense your raw wound slowly patching itself up, like a hastily plastered band-aid. It shouldn’t still ache like this, not after all these years. Yet, even now, the mere mention of your mom has a way of pulling at the fragile seams, threatening to tear them open all over again.

It’s like what your mom always said when you were younger. You’d always been an active and mischievous kid who constantly found herself in accidents. Every time you came running to her, she'd kneel down, her hands gentle but firm, tending to the wound. “Remember,” she’d say, “if you acknowledge it, you give it power. So ignore it, and it’ll go away.”

Back then, it worked. Chanting those words under your breath as she cleaned your wounds felt like a secret spell, something to cling to. But now? Now that you’re older, wiser, and have seen more than just playground accidents? It feels hollow. Because no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the pain still lingers.

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re older now and more mature, but the phrase still stood strong. If you didn’t acknowledge the wound, then it wouldn’t hurt. If you didn’t acknowledge the fights behind closed doors, they didn’t happen. If you didn’t acknowledge the divorce, it wasn’t real.

But it is.

The thought makes you inhale shakily, choosing to press your forehead against his back, wanting nothing more than to burrow further into a deeper, darker hole within yourself. His back tenses slightly before relaxing, and you can sense his concerned gaze as he glances down at you before turning back to face the front.

He lets you remain there for the rest of the ride home, pretending not to notice your shaky breaths and occasional tightening of your arms around his waist. Opening your eyes, you spot the comic book store below, and it dawns on you that he’d taken the longer route back to your home. 

Suddenly, breathing gets a little easier. 

When Rocky finally lands, you’re back in your usual upright position. He lets you dismount first, then dematerializes his dragon, having learnt from the previous experience. You both head toward the building, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, and an odd sense of ease settling between you.

As you pause in front of the lift, you press the button, the soft glow of the floor numbers flickering in the reflection of the glass doors. "Thanks for today," you murmur, your voice quieter than intended but sincere. You catch his gaze in the reflection, his eyes meeting yours. The corners of his lips curve into a small, relieved smile.

“Maybe the next time we meet, it’ll be less awkward.” He jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Next time.” His words don’t go unappreciated, the warmth in your own voice surprising you. The lift arrives with a soft ding, and as you step inside, something makes you hesitate. You keep the doors from closing, holding the button down.

He’s already started to turn away, ready to head back. “Friends?” The word slips out, catching slightly in your throat. Extending the olive branch feels strange, but somehow necessary.

His body stiffens for a beat, caught off guard by the offer. Slowly, he turns back toward you, his expression shifting into a wide, genuine grin. “Friends,” he repeats, the relief in his voice matching your own.

As the doors close between you, you both share a nod of understanding, your expression mirroring his. The shared gaze filled with a sense of warmth and genuine trust doesn’t break, until the lift finally disappears from his view. 

— — — — — 

As the saying goes, when life gives you lemons, you strangle the bitch for doing so. 

When it comes to Duolingo streaks at least. 

“Español? More like espafar,” you mutter, pressing the home button rapidly when the screen shows your broken streak. You’d been 7 days strong into the Spanish course but forgot all about it until now.

The lift doors open, and Holly steps in with a grin. “Buenos dias!”

“Don’t even,” you groan, showing her the screen of the animated green bird shaking its head in disappointment. She raises her brows. “I just keep forgetting everything except for like, the simple phrases. Why is it even teaching me how to say ‘the bottle is big?’” 

“Good point. I don’t think the topic of bottle sizes comes up in conversation often.” She agrees, stepping out of the lift when the doors open on the ground floor. 

“We still gotta find a company to research,” you grumble, wincing as the bright sun decides to aim its rays directly at you. Alan - another of your professors who insisted you remove the Dr. from his name had assigned your class another project on top of the already existing ones from other classes. 

“I’m basing mine off Papa’s Pizzeria,” she shrugs, narrowly avoiding a kid on his bicycle, the ringing of bells sounding through the bustling streets as they deliver newspapers from door to door. “His business model is crazy. He’s got like, what, four successful franchises?”

You sigh, the reminder of the cake you’d placed an order for just a single week away from being collected. The only reason why you’d even placed the order so early is because you knew you’d forget if you didn’t. Plus, if not for Cole’s presence, the earliest slot would’ve been months away.

“I haven’t decided mine yet,” you say, swinging your arms up in the air as you yawn, the effects of your morning americano already wearing off. Blinking sleepily, the bright lights of a building looming in the distance catch your eye. 

Huh. You squint a little, reading the words off the top. Borg Industries.

“Is that a big company around here?” Holly blinks, glancing from you to the big neon signboard in the sky. 

“You’re joking.”

The shrug you offer in return draws a snort of disbelief. “Borg Industries? The most innovative, cutting-edge tech alive? They make everything! Over two-thirds of the city uses Borg Industries products. What I would kill to sneak a look in their lab.” 

“Someone’s a fan,” you say sarcastically, flinching when she practically jolts upright. 

“Oh no, I’m not just a fan, I’m a fanatic.”

She halts in her tracks. “Actually, why don’t you do your project on it?”

You hum thoughtfully, mulling over the suggestion. “Sure,” you reply with a shrug. “Why not?”

“You can ask me anything,” she all but jumps in front of you with an excited smile. “I’ve been studying their stuff since I was a kid! My mom used to work for them, but she left because she got pregnant with my brother.”

“If I have any questions, you’ll be the first person I call. Or text. Most likely text.” The assurance makes her laugh, continuing the walk to the university. 

Luckily, today just has a few morning classes so you’re able to finish by 2pm. The iced latte you’d gotten on the way had been your primary source of fuel throughout the lectures and project discussions, chugging down the last of it as soon as class concluded. 

“That’s weird, what’s he doing here?” Glancing over at Holly, you follow her squinted gaze to a tall boy leaning against the wall next to the campus entrance. “What the fuck- Leo??”

You glance over, curiosity piqued. He looks up just as you approach, greeting Holly with a playful grin. “Hey, sis! You forgot your—” He pauses mid-sentence, his gaze landing on you. For a moment, you feel a chill, as if he’s sizing you up, but then he shakes it off, the charming smile returning.

He pushes himself off the wall, walking over to your friend with an air of effortless confidence. “Here you go,” he says, handing her a small package with a flourish, his demeanour playful and light.

“Thanks! You didn’t have to come all the way here,” she replies, genuinely grateful.

He shrugs, a cheeky glint in his eye. “Couldn’t let you go without your snacks, now could I?” He turns to you, his expression warm but with a hint of mischief. “And you must be the infamous friend I’ve heard so much about. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Infamous?” You question, fist-bumping him. “Not the wildest description I’ve ever gotten. I’m satisfied with that.” 

He pauses, turning to glance at his sister with a sceptical eye. “How’d you get someone as cool as her to be your friend? What’d you do, blackmail them?”

You grin. 

This is insanely validating. I like him.

“I did not,” Holly huffs, her cheeks flushing as she pushes her brother away with an embarrassed smile. “I gotta go for my elective now, have a safe trip home!” You wave her off with an amused smile, watching Leo protest vehemently to his sister. 

Upon reaching home, you quickly take a shower and change into a more relaxed fit. If you were gonna get beat up during a spar, you’d at least do it wearing lighter clothing.

A knock on your door draws your attention. Opening it reveals Emily holding a cup filled with a liquid so hot you can see the steam coming off the surface in wisps. “I made some tea for you.” Her voice is hesitant. 

Not again, you sigh internally. Every now and then she’d approach you with something like cookies or cake as a peace offering. You’ve always rolled your eyes and shut the door in her face.

However, you hesitate. Would it truly be so bad to accept it…? 

“It’s yuzu tea,” she interjects quickly, seizing the moment your silence creates. “I saw your friend’s mother today and gave her a whole tumbler. I was also hoping you could join us at the restaurant downtown for your dad’s birthday. I know you usually celebrate just the two of you, but… maybe this time we could celebrate together?”

Your heart sinks, frustration rising beneath the surface. Of course she’d ask for something in return. Stop pretending to be my mom. I never asked you to.

A part of you stops the harsh words from spilling past your lips, pressing them together. You know you’re being completely unfair to her, the recently opened wound beginning to throb. 

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

She blinks owlishly at your calm reaction, her hands remaining in the same position even after you remove the cup from her hands and drink from it. “Thanks,” you manage to say, angling yourself to squeeze past her figure in the hallway and walking to the door. 

Cole’s confession flashes through your mind as you glance at your dad who’s adjusting his tie in the mirror, steps slowing to a halt as you watch him hum in the bathroom.

“Hey munchkin, looking forward to your lesson today?” He spots you from the corner of his eyes, turning to you with a bright smile. 

You nod, adjusting your collar. “Yeah, thanks for signing me up for them.” 

His hands freeze, brows furrowed in pure confusion. Hiding a chuckle, you continue to the door, putting on your shoes and leaving quickly before they start asking questions. 

The phone rings in your pocket when you’re on the bus. Picking it up, you press it close to your ear as you alight, tapping the transit card on your way off. “Hello?”

“Class is cancelled today, Master Wu had to rush off to an appointment.”

“Oh.” You pull the phone away for a moment to see Cole’s name on the screen. “Why’re you the one calling me though?”

“We bumped into each other, but he forgot to let you know. He did tell me that dinner would be on us next time you come over after lessons though. Not like he’s paying me to cook anyway,” he grumbles at the last bit.

You hum in acknowledgement. “To be honest, I’m kinda…on the way already.” You admit.

“How near are you?”

You hesitate, your steps slowing to a halt. “Like…Right below the huge-ass mountain near? It’s chill though, I can just take the bus home.”

“No,” he pauses. “Just come on up. The rest of us are having Game Night, and we could use one more player.”

“Well…” You hum, glancing at the stairs. “If you say please, maybe I’ll consider it-”

“Please.”

Oh. Well, that was fast.

“You’re no fun, you know that, right?”

“You’re the one going up the stairs, aren’t you?” 

You pause, glancing down at the number of steps you’ve already walked. “Damn you, Brookstone.” His sharp laugh cuts off when you press the red button to hang up, continuing the climb with a roll of your eyes.

Reaching the doors of the monastery takes a significantly shorter amount of time than you’d expect, but it’s more likely due to the increased levels of physical activity through the amount of walking you do every day and Master Wu’s classes.

The couch potato in you is still not sure if you should be grateful for it or not.

Cole’s the one who greets you at the doors, leaning against them nonchalantly while waiting for you to reach. “About time.” He narrowly misses the punch you throw his way. 

“You couldn’t have asked Rocky to pick me up?”

“How could I? He’s resting right now.” You roll your eyes. “So how’s the project going?” He asks, referring to the one you'd been talking about over text a couple nights ago. 

“If you want, I could ask Papa to let you interview him,” Cole grins, taking the bag from you as you bend down to take off your shoes before stepping onto the varnished wooden floors. 

“It’s fine, I've changed companies. Ever heard of Borg Industries?” 

He tilts his head in thought. “I’ve heard about them, yeah. You're gonna do your project on them now?”

Your stomach growls, interrupting your sentence. The room you’re about to pass catches your eye, Cole raising a brow at your grin. Entering the kitchen to grab a snack from the private stash he’d shown you just last week, you eye the various bags of chips on the countertop. 

“You just got back from patrol?” At his nod, you veer toward the fridge and open it, grabbing a packet of frozen dumplings you’d seen him get during a random midnight grocery run at the convenience store nearby.

It’d been the first time you saw each other ever since ‘the talk’, but strangely enough, both of you immediately fell into lighthearted conversation when he asked about your classes.

He grabs the plate from a cupboard above. Spotting his fingers grasping at the edges of the plastic, you can sense the frustration brimming with every movement. Hiding a smile, you nonchalantly walk over and pull it away, examining it with the air of a professional before opening it with a simple tear.

“Call me mistaken but aren't you supposed to have, like, super strength?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head as you dump the soon-to-be delicious snack on the plate. He takes the now-filled plate from your outstretched hand, placing it into the microwave and turning it on.

“Now I just have to do research on Cyrus Borg. You wouldn’t happen to know his assistant or something, would you? That superstar ninjadom power would really come in handy right now, soulmate.” The conversation resumes as easily as it’d stopped, accepting the cup of tea he hands you and take a small sip. 

He takes a sip out of his own cup, shrugging. “I might know one of his assistants.” 

A solid thump echoes through the kitchen as you set down your cup, your gaze turning serious. “You better not be playing with me, Brookstone. I can and will drain you dry during Monopoly.”

“I’m just saying,” he points out, “that favours are a give and take. So, I’ll do you this favour and you do me another.”

“And what exactly is this favour?” Crossing your arms, you eye him with suspicion. 

“It’s no big deal. Just be Kai’s partner for Game Night.”

You blink, regarding him with scepticism. “That’s it? Just be his partner?” He nods, taking another sip. “Sure,” a slow grin spreads across your face. “I’ll do it. Then, you introduce me to this assistant and put in a good word.”

“Sure thing, soulmate.”

You watch him turn to take out the dishes from the dishwasher below the countertop, smiling softly. It’s almost insane how quickly everything had blown over. If not for him initiating the talk, you’re a hundred percent sure you would’ve continued to run away again and again until you’d been cornered.

In a way, you’re grateful for him. The whole romantic part of it would be sorted out by your future selves but for now? Being friends isn’t so bad. He sets the plate down, picks up a pair of chopsticks you’d set aside for use earlier and grabs a dumpling. 

You’re too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice he’d placed it closer to you, having poked a small hole to let the hot steam escape. “Gonna eat?” He asks through a mouthful, gesturing to the plate.

You pick up your chopsticks and pick up the dumpling closest to you, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite, and chewing slowly. Glancing up, you notice him looking away hurriedly. “What?” You ask with a blank stare. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, it’s over here.” He gestures to his left cheek and you use your knuckle to rub against the spot. “You missed it,” he huffs in amusement, leaning forward. Automatically closing your eyes as he draws near, you wait patiently. 

“Is it off yet?” His touch is almost feather-like, barely sensing it against your skin before you hear him sit back down in his seat. Hearing what you assume to be a sound of agreement, you open your eyes, only for them to widen at his red cheeks and teary eyes.

He uses his chopsticks to gesture at the hot dumplings as he chugs down a bottle of water, exhaling shakily when he finishes. “Hot.” Is all he can muster, roughly wiping away the tears while you dissolve into a fit of laughter.

After your initial laughter subsides, you let out a chuckle every now and then, continuing to eat. “Didn’t know you were here!” Looking up, you greet Jay with a casual wave as he saunters into the kitchen with a smug air about him.

“Heard you’re playing tonight. Prepare to get wrecked!”

“Please,” you scoff playfully, shoving off the arm he’d slung around your shoulders. “All the energy for my cancelled class is gonna go towards killing you guys off in Charades.”

“Don’t count your roosters before they hatch,” he shrugs in response, using Cole’s chopsticks to steal a dumpling. “Whose team are you on, anyway? Cole’s?”

“Kai’s.”

His arm freezes, and you can practically hear every muscle in his neck creak as he looks at Cole in silence. “...Kai?” He glances back down at you, his gaze filled with sorrow. “What did this despicable man do to make you agree?”

His arms are flung around your shoulders once more, but this time it’s in pity. “Wha- What did you make me agree to??” You demand, swivelling back toward Cole who simply smiles innocently as Jay pats your back.

Scowling at him, you bite down harshly on another dumpling, eyeing him in disbelief. Surely it wouldn’t be that bad, right? You don’t know what’ll happen or why Jay’s behaving this way, but surely it’s not terrible…

Right?

— — — — — 

“How the fuck are we getting negative points???” 

You can’t help the scoff of pure, utter bewilderment as you stare at the board in front of you. Turning to glare at Kai, he crosses his arms defensively. “Don’t blame me, you’re the one who couldn’t guess seagull.”

“In what universe was that a sea-” Cutting yourself off, you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to calm down. “A seagull has two wings and a beak. Not an amalgamation of parts from Willy Wonka’s Factory.”

“That’s what I drew! Two wings and a beak and a body!” He splutters, the offended expression on his face instantly making you lose whatever remaining hope you have for the night ahead.

A snicker from the left draws your attention, turning to see Cole, Jay, and Nya instantly masking their expressions. They raise their brows in sync as if it were your idea to team up with Kai in the first place.

Your fingers curl into a fist, wanting nothing more than to march over to your stupid, dumb soulmate, and grab his collar, shaking him till he admits he’s wronged you. Unfortunately, reality sinks in when he stands up for his turn.

You watch as Jay and Nya cheer when Lloyd gets the charades right, Kai sulking next to you. “Fuck it,” you declare, grabbing his arm and pulling him to sit back upright. “We’re gonna beat these losers.”

“Those are some fightin’ words,” Nya pipes up, Jay giving her arm a squeeze in encouragement. 

“Yeah, I don’t know about you but based on facts…” Lloyd trails off, pointing at the whiteboard as Cole uses a red marker to write down yet another point under their names, “we’re in the lead. And you know the rules-”

“I actually do not-”

“Losers treat the next group dinner.” Cole cuts you off, finishing Lloyd’s sentence as he grins maniacally at you. 

Blinking, you can feel the last bits of your dignity slipping away from under you. Your partner and you exchange glances, fist-bumping each other. “Well, looks like you’ll have to get more sponsorships because we’ll be enjoying the entire restaurant menu on you guys.” 

“Sure,” Jay snorts, waving dismissively. “On us. As if you’ll be able to beat Nya and me at Jenga.”

— — — — — 

“You cheated.”

You shrug with an air of innocence. “Poor Jay…Sad, sad little Jay who couldn’t keep the tower from collapsing in on itself…Playing Jenga with a degree in Engineering and still losing…” Kai sighs sadly with a shake of his head, bending down to pick up the scattered pieces.

“Ugh-” Jay splutters, throwing his hands up in the air. “You cheated somehow, and I’m going to prove it. Zane!”

“From my calculations, it seems that she really did beat you, Jay. She tricked you by-” You cut him off with a loud hush, shaking your head urgently even as he mumbles out a response from below your hands covering his mouth. 

“A magician never reveals their secrets.” You glare at Cole when he gently removes your hands from Zane’s face, the latter now able to speak properly. “What do you want, Brookstone?”

“Just for you to let Jay marinate in his loss.” He chuckles, helping you stand back up. He ignores his friend’s cry of outrage, taking the Jenga bricks from your hand. Kai stands up too, dumping whatever he has into Cole’s hands before sauntering off to the coffee table with a victorious grin.

“Everyone,” Pixel gasps, standing upright from her initial place on the couch. The room falls silent, tension cutting through the air as all eyes turn to her. “I tracked down the villain’s hideout. We need to go now.”

The playful banter evaporates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline and urgency. Cole’s expression shifts from playful to serious in an instant, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice steady but laced with concern.

Pixel nods, her excitement palpable. “I’ve got the location and everything. This could be our chance to finally confront them.”

“You wanna come along?” Surprised by his sudden invitation, you grin. 

“If you insist.” 

“I didn’t but, okay-” He lets out a slight cry when you hit his arm with a scowl. You take a surprised step back when Pixal lifts up the dartboard attached to the wall, pressing a button that reveals a hidden lift. 

“Wait, you’re letting a civilian tag along?” Lloyd asks, placing an arm in front of you before you enter it. 

“It’ll be fine, she’s been taking lessons from Master Wu. Besides, it’d be great to have experience!” Kai points out. 

You nod along. “Yeah, what he said. Besides, I’m not just a civilian. I can hold my own,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “I want to help.”

Cole steps closer, his tone firm yet encouraging. “She’s right, Kai. We need all the hands we can get. Besides, she knows what’s at stake here.”

Lloyd sighs, his arm lowering reluctantly. “Fine. But if anything goes sideways, you’re getting out of there.”

Pixal beams at you, the lift doors sliding open with a soft hum. “See? It’s gonna be fine! Just think of it as a field trip.”

As you step into the lift, you feel a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in your stomach. The doors close, and the lift descends quickly, the sound of machinery humming around you.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the rising tension. “And out of curiosity, am I considered an honorary ninja after this?”

Cole cringes, shaking his head at your bad attempt at lightening the mood. “Maybe after you defeat the Overlord single-handedly or have an attack that’s targeted at you.”

“Or have an arch-nemesis out to get you,” Lloyd (unhelpfully) chimes in.

“Let’s move!” Zane calls out, adjusting his gear as he steps into the lift behind you. “We can’t let this opportunity slip away.”

Jay grins widely. “Yeah! Let’s catch those bad guys!” His eagerness is infectious, and you can’t help but smile through the sudden nervousness making itself known in the depths of your stomach.

Pixal quickly outlines the plan. “We’ll split into two groups. Lloyd and Cole will take the east side while Kai and Zane cover the west. Jay and Nya, you’ll cover the entrance to make sure they can’t run. If you find anything suspicious, signal each other.”

“Got it!” Jay replies, cracking his knuckles. “I’m ready to show those crooks who they’re dealing with!”

The journey over is quick, all of them using their own vehicles while Cole lets you ride Rocky with him once more. The briny smell of the seawater hits your nose before the docks come into view, grimacing at the scent. 

“Smells like piss.” Cole hums in agreement at your comment, diving down and landing. Once you disembark, Rocky dematerializes. The remaining vehicles come to a stop next to you. 

“Stay sharp,” Kai reminds everyone, his expression serious. “If we see anything out of the ordinary, we regroup immediately.” You take the earpiece he hands to you, taking a step back when a screen materialises in front of your eyes. 

“Hello. Do not be alarmed, this is merely a scanner to help detect and zoom in on anything we might find.” Pixal’s voice makes itself known in your ear, glancing around to see the rest already prepared to get in position.

“Let’s move out!” Cole whispers, nodding toward the entrance of the warehouse. You follow closely behind, your heart racing with each step. In fact, you’re not entirely sure you’re breathing at all. 

As you approach the massive doors, you can see the dim light filtering through the cracks, casting ominous shadows on the ground. Cole raises his hand to signal for a moment of pause. 

“On three,” he murmurs, his voice steady. “One… two… three!”

With a collective effort, you all push open the heavy doors, the sound of creaking metal echoing in the silence. As the doors swing wide, you expect to be greeted by the sight of henchmen or the stolen goods you’ve been hunting for. Instead, you’re met with…nothing.

The warehouse is empty.

“Shit,” you breathe, stepping further inside, eyes scanning the vast, open space. Shadows dance along the walls, but there are no signs of life. No stolen items, no villains, nothing but an unsettling quiet.

“Where are they?” Kai asks, his voice filled with disbelief. “They should’ve been here!”

Cole’s brow furrows as he surveys the area. “They couldn’t have just vanished. There must be something…”

Pixel, still communicating through your earpiece, adjusts her scanner. “I’m not picking up any heat signatures or movement inside. It’s as if they cleared out completely.”

Cole shakes his head, his determination unwavering. “No, this doesn’t feel right. They wouldn’t just abandon their hideout without a reason.”

A dim light flickers in the corner, catching your attention and drawing you away from the chaos around you as everyone starts to argue. As you step through the plastic shroud that covers the entrance to a separate area, an unsettling chill washes over you. The room is filled with silence, broken only by the faint rustling of your footsteps.

A massive map of Ninjago looms on the wall, its edges frayed and yellowed from the lack of sunlight. Red circles and ominous question marks encircle specific regions, each marked with frantic scrawls of black and red ink. The museum is crossed out, a bold slash that feels more like a threat than a mere ‘X marks the spot’.

“Guys?” you call out, your voice wavering as an unsettling feeling creeps into your gut. As the scanner detects something hidden behind the corner of the map, you feel your pulse quicken. You lean in closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot the edge of a photo peeking out.

“What’d you find?” Cole's voice breaks the stillness as he enters the room, pulling the plastic aside with a flicker of curiosity. He steps in, but his expectation for a casual discovery fades when he sees your face contorted in confusion and dread.

With trembling hands, you reach out and gingerly pull the photo free, a sense of foreboding washing over you. As you hold it up, the dim light reveals a bird’s eye view of you at a café, oblivious to the world around you, immersed in your work. The image is haunting, a snapshot of a moment that feels both ordinary and deeply unsettling.

The café looks familiar, but something about the angle of the shot feels invasive as if someone was watching you from afar, hidden in the shadows. You notice the way your focus is entirely on your laptop, unaware of the eyes that might have been tracking your every move.

“Is that…?” Cole starts, his voice trailing off as he takes a step closer, peering at the photo with wide eyes. The room feels colder now, the air thickening with the weight of unspoken fear.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, the realisation dawning on you like a dark cloud. This wasn’t just a coincidence; someone had been watching you. “They know me? They’ve been watching me?”

Something clatters to the ground as the plastic shroud is pulling away once more, each ninja entering one by one. “What’s wrong?” Nya asks, noticing the sudden change in your demeanour. 

Everyone falls silent when you hold up the photo with a blank expression for them to see. They have similar reactions, looking at you with grave eyes before Jay breaks the silence. 

“Guess you’re an honorary ninja now.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

“Is what I’m seeing real, or am I just dreaming?” Jay slaps his wrist, hissing in pain when it stings. “Nope. Real, definitely real.”

“Shh!” Nya hushes him, excitement bubbling over as she grips the edges of the doorway. Her eyes widen as Cole pokes a hole in the dumpling, lifting it with a flourish before placing it down near you. “I bet she’s his soulmate. She has to be!”

“No shit,” Jay mutters sarcastically, but his tone shifts when he notices Nya’s raised brow. “But isn’t he all ‘Oooh, I’m big and buff and strong, I don’t need a soulmate because I’m sooo independent’?” He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

Nya presses a hand over her mouth, desperately stifling a laugh at his poor imitation. “Look at them! They’re so sweet,” she sighs, fanning her flushed face.

“Yeah, they remind me of us,” Jay murmurs dreamily, only to blink when Nya glares at him. “What?”

“Don’t you remember how our first date went?” The reminder makes him stiffen, a sheepish laugh escaping him. He squeezes her arm, his eyes pleading for her to drop it.

“Oh!” His wish is granted as Nya’s attention shifts back to the scene unfolding before them. They both watch as Cole leans over the table, fingers hovering hesitantly above your cheek.

“Is it off yet?” you ask, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. Cole’s face flashes with panic as he quickly brushes off whatever it is before sitting back down, fanning his flushed cheeks.

In that split second when you open your eyes, Cole grabs an unpoked dumpling and pops it into his mouth whole before letting out a pained grunt.

“What is he doing??” Nya practically whisper-shouts, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“Well,” Jay allows himself a moment of smug satisfaction as he watches Cole immediately regret his life choices, chugging down the entire jug of water, “at least now you know who’s more lame.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Taglist: @candyquokka @mossy-mika @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viennasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc <-(So sorry i genuinely forgot to tag you!!!! forgive me pls 🙏🏻🙏🏻)

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 - Need | Chapter 6

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment your request on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 6.7k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

It had been a few weeks since you and Sukuna had talked. You had continued attending various meetings and hearings alongside him to snoop in people’s minds. Word had already spread of your presence. A woman with a shirt adorned with gold buttons sat beside the king and gave him notes. Notes that led to death. When people came in with their heads down, you could feel their gaze linger when they realized you were there. The way they grew tenser, their thoughts becoming a dark jumble. It was fun really, the amount of fear you and Sukuna put into people when together.

When it came to you two, he kept to his word of taking things slow. He often showed up at your door to take you to his chambers to share dinner. You hadn’t had sex but you had been teasing each other. Your ass “accidentally” grinding into him at night or you “not noticing” your boob had slipped out of your nightgown during the night. Him whispering your name into your ear in the morning, voice gruff, and arms wrapped around you. Or the way his tongue danced along your neck before he would bite you, one hand pulling in your hair, two on your hips, and the other resting beside your breast. His scent would completely encapsulate you, his touch would make your body forget how to breathe. You both pushed but neither had broken. It almost felt like a competition now, a stupid one that you weren’t sure was possible to actually win. That’s why you were sitting in a meeting with the King, thighs clenched together and thoughts a mess. Messy thoughts telling you to use cursed energy to tease him, touch along his body. Caress all the places you couldn’t. If Uruame wasn’t there you really might’ve. Instead, you sat frustrated and waited for the meeting to end.

When everyone was finally dismissed from the room, you let out a groan. Sukuna turned his head to look at you, his smile growing evermore. “You may look up now, since you’ve been such a good girl for me”, he said. Gods you hated it when he first called you that, made you feel like an animal. Now that asshole had made you subconsciously like it. You looked up at him, eyes carved by features of anger, but irises soaking with whispers of lust. You wanted to tell him to break, to touch you, but if you did then you would be the one to break. So instead you moved yourself into his lap, legs straddling him, breasts pressed against his chest, arms around his neck, and head resting above his heart. You thought about when he fucked you like this, his extra mouth moving between your clit and nipples as his cocks hammered in and out of you.

“Who gave you permission to crawl on your King like this?” His voice was teasing, he knew how much you wanted him right then. He wanted it too. He had already been caught on multiple occasions with his pants forming a tent. Just yesterday he was in a hearing without you and ended up growing hard during it. The peasant talked about how he was starving and blah blah blah. All he could think about was being inside you again, hearing you call out for him as he fucked you until he was satisfied. He thought this little game you two were playing was stupid, but he also refused to lose. He wouldn’t let you know he wanted you as much as he did. His hands let themselves free to explore your body, purposely getting close but not on the spots you wanted him. He chuckled as your body responded to his touch, arching into it in a plea for more. A chuckle that made you immediately get out of his lap.

“Asshole”, you said while straightening your clothes out.

“Asshole? And here I was calling you a good girl and letting you sit in my lap. If you want me to touch you further, all you have to do is ask. I won’t even make you beg.” He remained seated on his place on the floor but pulled you closer as he spoke. His face was just a few inches from your ever-clenching cunt. As you looked down at him you thought back to when you told him you wanted to ride his face and drown him in your cum. His face would look so shiny and pretty. You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes rolling closed as you massaged his scalp, before leaning down next to his ear.

“That’s where we differ then, Sukuna, I will make you beg to touch me. To stick your fingers inside me, to let your tongue taste the effect you have on me, to put your cocks back in their warm cozy homes, to feel them suck you in and drench you in my cum.” You punctuated your last whispered sentence by biting his ear. A small puncture wound opened up and blood began rushing to escape. You pulled away as the first drop beaded and prepared to descend. You gathered it on your index finger before sliding it into your mouth. Blood trailed on your bottom lip as it slid in and your cheeks hollowed as you pulled it back out. A loud pop resonating in the air. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and let your eyes roll back as you sucked the remaining blood away. A small moan reverberated through your chest, muted by your closed lips, but loud enough to be effective. The very obvious bulge in his pants twitched from the show you were putting on. His hands gripped tighter on your body, his eyes dark and drooping with need. You pulled from his grip and told him good luck with the rest of his schedule. He watched as you walked out the door, wanting to rebuttal or tease you back, but his voice was overshadowed by the war raging between his ego and hormones.

You walked along the palace halls feeling a little better. You were still extremely horny, but you felt a bit better after making sure he was equally miserable. You could already see the sun setting through the windows, the back-to-back meetings you sat through these days had messed with your sense of time. You stretched your arms over your head and attempted to yawn away your body's growing ache. The cushion you sat on in your meetings was an absolute poor excuse for a seat. You wondered how Sukuna sat on his for hours day after day without any signs of pain. Maybe he had a better one, you’d have to check next time. If it was, you would have to steal his until he got you a new one. You turned the hall to your room and were greeted by fewer servants than usual. Two of your male servants were missing from the ensemble and the remaining women looked down in fear.

“Where are Itto and Hiro”, you asked as you stopped in front of them.

Their figures all seemed to stutter at the question, bodies tense and breathes withheld. “T-they have been moved to different jobs ma’am”, Aoi said.

You blinked a few times at Aoi in disbelief. If you had to guess, Sukuna was killing of any possible threats to his courting you. Which part of you found hot, but the other part was pissed that you just lost two perfectly good servants for nothing. You gave a stiff nod to the remaining servants and entered your room. Orange light whispered across your floor as a notice of the sun lowering in the sky. You pulled out a bottle of sake Sukuna had gifted you and poured yourself a drink. Being with Sukuna was fun and of course came with endless perks, but also felt a little suffocating. With him killing your servants, you began to wonder if you were going to be segregated from men altogether. He had promised to try not to be possessive, but here he was doing the exact opposite. You sighed before taking your glass to a seating area in front of one of your windows. You looked out across the palace, the intricate architecture, neatly kept foliage, hurried servants, and river that outlined one side. It was grand. Most people would kill to be where you were, to have the King “properly” courting you. The way he had started to dote on you by giving you his time. The way he actually listened to you and was actively trying to respect your boundaries. The big scary monster he was known to be taking off a mask that not even he knew he wore when he was around you. However, most people that challenged him were slaughtered on the spot, never giving him the chance to truly learn how to interact with another.

There was a lot in common between you two, but he was definitely more bloodthirsty. Not that you had never killed over an insignificant reason, but you did it a lot less than him. You wondered if you would grow to be more cruel as you aged. From what you had heard, Sukuna was at least over 100, which would make him roughly 3 times your age. In the 27 years you had been on earth, you had been through a lot and there were definitely times you thought about annihilating every being that infected the surface. When you met Ieiri, that was exactly your plan actually, but she changed it. She made you realize there are some people that actually deserved to live. Then you meant Kento and it solidified your thinking. They became two unexpected lessons given to you. You would never hurt them, in fact, you would show the depths of hell to anyone who dared lay a finger on them. Like the guy who tried to force himself on Ieiri or the drunk patron who attempted to break a bottle over Kento’s head. Two lowly parasites that believed they had a right to harm those under your protection. Two vile infections that still lay in your realm being tortured and healed without stopping.

You took a drink as you thought of Sukuna’s threat to them. The night of the incident, you had sent a very eager Miro to inform Ieiri to keep her guard up and not to slack on training her energy with Kento. You had also sent various curses to help protect and prepare them for an event that might never come to pass. But should it, you would be ready. You ran your fingers across the smooth clay container. Anxiety and anger swirl inside like the liquid in your glass. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. Sukuna would probably come for dinner and there was no use getting into a fight over an issue that had already been as resolved as it would get. It would only make things tense between you two again and there was obviously no benefit to that. You opened your eyes and leaned back into your chair, the plushness of the cushions enveloping your body in the warmth of comfort. You rested your drink in your lap as your lids fell with the sun. You knew you should stave off the urge to curl up and instead get ready to meet with Sukuna, but something about falling asleep when you weren’t supposed to made it all the more inviting.

Your eyes open but are greeted with the abyss. You go to touch them but a loud rattle of a chain echoes throughout the space. The smell of musty pine overwhelms your senses and panic sets in as you realize where you are. Underneath you sprawls a plush bed covered in various body fluids. You have no idea how long he has kept you in his private room this time. How long doesn’t matter here. Nothing matters here. Even if you died it wouldn’t matter. No one would ever know, ever cry. Just another human discarded by their fellow people. You hear footsteps awakening creaks in the stairs— his footsteps. “Oh Angel” “My Little Dove” he calls out. Pet names given for your appearance. An appearance you’ve never even seen. Apparently, one that screams pure, one that makes others want to defile you. The handle jiggles on the door and you feel the air change as it opens. You want to start crying and were internally screaming and wishing you could run. But if you cried or screamed it would simply enhance his pleasure. He liked the sounds you made for him. If you got out and ran it would be pointless. You had no idea where you were, nor could you see, and you had nowhere to go anyway. He would just find you and laugh as he punished you. Mock as you reached out blindly to try and shield yourself from his attack. You could feel the dip in the bed as he got on and began his nightly onslaught. You drifted off into your mind, disassociating from your physical being. You walked into the darkness within yourself, but this time you saw light far away. Your eyes widened and your pace quickened as you charted towards it. As you grew closer you saw colors, colors outlining shapes you didn’t recognize. Each with different layers. It was beautiful. But in the middle stood a girl. Her hair was dark and crawling in the air. Her eyes were a deep black that mimicked endless voids. Her jaw drooped to the point it pulled her cheeks taut. Her head tilted toward the side as she noticed you. She beckoned you closer, not with any motion, but with a feeling deep inside you. You slowly approached her and she gestured towards the lights around you. You looked around at it all and realized these shapes were people. You began to feel the colors, the feelings embedded in them. For the first time, you felt like you could actually see. You looked back towards the girl and noticed she was already staring at you. Her mouth didn’t move but you heard, “Let me in”, from a raspy voice of a woman who seemed much older than the one before you. Apprehension crossed your thoughts, but what was the point of being scared? What was the point in fearing the unknown when the known wasn’t worth being in? So you said yes. The world around you started spinning, your hair whipping in your face as hers erratically lashed the air. Her face glitched between a hanging mouth and a smile dripping with black goo. Fear crept in you before you were pulled back to reality. Before you, the man assaulting you was in view. You could see the outline of his form and the emotions that made up his psyche. You could see his hands reach out to touch you. You were no longer in the dark, but seeing didn’t resolve the fear and pain you felt currently.

Sukuna walked up to your door, eyes dismissing the servants, as he reached out his hand and knocked against the wood. He listened closely but there was no answer. He shifted on his feet, eyebrows knitting his features into a confused look that was losing patience. He knocked again and called out your name, but again there was no answer. A frustrated breath slipped through his lips as he decided to just open the door. He called out for you again as he entered the room, but quickly silenced himself as he spotted you curled up by the window. You sat in your chair, legs outstretched, hands meeting in your lap to hold a glass, hair falling in erratic waves left from being up the whole day. Your lips lay slightly parted as calm breaths filtered in and out. All of Sukuna’s previous frustrations melted away as he watched you. This was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you, and he was shocked that he didn’t see it as an opportunity to attack you. Instead, he found himself wanting to be at your side and guarding you so that you could sleep in peace. He slowly approached you and knelt down. He could see the slight wear under your eyes that had appeared after your coming here. He wondered how tired you felt and how differently you lived prior to the palace. He knew bits and pieces from when he had Uruame stalk you, but not enough. He wanted to see what happened throughout your day when you were fully unrestricted. What made you laugh, what made you cry? What trouble did you get into and what were the kind of people that you spared? He knew you could be just as evil as him, but he also knew you could be more benevolent than he saw the need to be. A few days ago he watched from afar as you healed a cat and then proceeded to bring it food and water the following days. But he also watched a servant’s legs snap the wrong way when they tried to run the cat off. Such an unpredictable anomaly that had walked into his palace and turned everything upside down for him. He reached to move a stray group of hair out of your face but was abruptly stopped by your hand. It pulled his wrist while your other reached up for his throat, holding him close with a death grip. He looked into your eyes and noticed they were vacant of the color he was used to, instead they were blacked out completely. Just like when you threatened to kill him.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you”, he said as he looked into the voids. Your grip loosened as you blinked. The black receded until all that was left were the same tired eyes he was used to seeing, slowly lighting up in realization.

“Oh shit sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to”, you scrambled to say as you let him go. You had never done well when people unexpectedly touched you while you slept. Especially when you were having flashbacks.

Sukuna watched you as you let him go and your face flushed with embarrassment. You weren’t usually a jumpy person or one to easily spook, but there seemed to be an exception when you were sleeping. He didn’t know much about your past, not even Uruame could find anything out, but you had mentioned being owned previously. Not that he knew how anyone could overpower you, but there were few stories where people enjoyed being owned. He was sure it tied into that somehow, but he wouldn't press the matter.

“No, it's my bad. You know what they say about poking a sleeping bear”, he said with a smile as he rubbed his wrist. Had he been a human or even a lower-grade sorcerer, he was sure it would be cracked if not fully broken from the force you applied.

You smiled back at his joke before your eyes widened in surprise. You felt wet fabric cling to your leg and realized you must have spilled your drink in all the commotion. “Awh, dammnit”, you said as you got up and observed the wet spot going from your upper to mid-thigh and a little on the floor.

Sukuna also noticed the mess and got up with you. “Here I’ll clean it since I’m the one who scared you”, he said as he went to grab a towel.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault for freaking out anyway”, you said as you followed him to get a towel. You tried to reach to grab it before him but he instead grabbed your hand and used another to grab the towel.

“Let me do it”, he said as he looked down at you. You wanted to rebuttal but nodded instead. There was a certain softness in his eyes almost akin to pity. You didn’t exactly appreciate pity nor did you understand why his eyes were so full of it so you just looked down. He led you over to the bed and put one towel beneath you before leaving your side to clean the spot on the floor. You watched as he knelt down and sopped up the little bit of liquid. It felt weird seeing him clean. The fearsome King knelt down on the ground cleaning up a mess you made. Once he got it, he walked back over to you and felt the wet spot on your pants.

“You probably want to take these off. They’re too wet for the towel to dry”, he said while his hands moved to the small tie on the side of your pants. He pulled the string and started pulling them off your hips, telling you to lift up to let them pass under you. You did as he said and were left with your bodice and underwear. He sat between your legs and wiped the towel across your skin. His hand grabs your leg and moves it up to get your upper thigh. You could feel your clit start throbbing as he neared it. You looked down at him, the care he applied when cleaning you. The way his eyes gave off no motive other than rectifying his mess. You reached down and cupped his face, gently nudging it up to look at you as your hand moved under his jaw. You garnered the attention of all four of his eyes as your thumb caressed his face.

“What is it”, he asked as he looked up at you. He had never seen you look at him the way you were. Lust swirling in your eyes but an unfamiliar emotion dancing with it. It was akin to need but not in the same carnal league as the lust. It was deeper, he could feel it radiating from you. Like it was welcoming him in.

“It is still sticky. I think it needs to be cleaned up differently,” you said as your thumb slid across his cheek to his lips. You wanted him, but you needed him to take it at your pace this time. You wanted to stay in control in order to fight the feeling your nightmare left behind to eat away at you.

His eyebrow quirked up as he caught your meaning. He tossed the towel to the side before rubbing his thumb along your thigh. “I think you’re right, it is still pretty sticky here darling”, he said while grabbing your hand and kissing it before leaning down to your thigh. He had never felt the need to care for someone, to show them love, but right now that feeling swelled in him until he couldn’t help but let it flow out. He didn’t know if it was because he was feeling your feelings or if it simply stemmed from him, and he didn’t really care. He looked up at you before licking a long stripe up your thigh. The face you made for him and the way your breath hitched had him wanting to stop time. To stay in the moment that you looked at him as if he was the only one in the world, the only man for you. He wanted everyone to know that these moments with you belonged to him, that you belonged to him. He didn’t care if some people saw it as a weakness. Anyone that dared state is as one would be thoroughly re-educated by you and him together.

You looked down and watched as he lapped at your skin. Your skin sank into his mouth as he sucked on certain spots, dark little marks blooming in his wake. You couldn’t help a moan that fell out when he bit one spot, his tongue quickly cleaning up the blood that greeted him. “You seem to be making more messes rather than cleaning”, you said as your fingers threaded themselves through his hair, pulling it tightly earning a low groan from him.

His lids lowered as his gaze kept yours. “My deepest apologies. I suppose I will have to take more time focusing on every inch of your skin. Assuring there is absolutely no mess left behind”, he said in between strokes of his tongue. The mouth on his hand joined to suck the sensitive skin right before where your thighs met your pelvis. His thumb and forefinger held the seam where they did.

“Naughty King. You’re making an even bigger mess with what you’re doing”, you said as you scratched his scalp tenderly.

“Hmm is that so? Where is said mess baby girl? I’ll make sure to clean it too”, he said as he kissed over the bruised areas and massaged his thumb right beside your pubic bone.

“You seem to have gotten my underwear wet, Kuna. Too wet to be dried. I think they need to come off and the area beneath needs to be cleaned.”

He looked up at you and smirked. “Is this your way of admitting defeat by asking me to touch you?”

You raised your eyebrows in faux shock and exclaimed, “Oh no, of course not. This is simply you sticking to your word and cleaning up the messes you’ve made. Are you saying you’re the kinda King that goes back on his word?”

“Ohoho careful there brat”, he said as he ripped your underwear off. He pulled you close and sank his lips down to around your clit. He sucked in sharply without warning as his tongue started swirling rapidly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and arched your back to increase the suction being applied. “You should know better than to question me as a King. I think I am being more than generous right now, no?”

“I think you’re focusing on one spot for too long. Such lack of diligence when it comes to cleanliness”, you retorted while pulling his mouth off of you. “Put your tongue out flat.”

His tongue darted out to gather the mess you had left on his lips, “Such a bossy little brat tonight”. He laid out his tongue as you instructed before surprising you by stealing a lick across your spread labia. The sensation only lasted a minute before you were using his shoulders to lift yourself with your legs, one hand balancing you on the bed and the other in his hair as you pushed your cunt against his tongue. You let out a slow moan as you started by slowly sliding yourself up and down across his tongue. He groaned as he watched you use his to pleasure yourself, something the King wasn’t used to happening. But the way you sucked on your bottom lip as your hooded eyes watched where you two connected had him more than happy to be used by you. He watched the way your stomach muscles flexed as you moved on him, felt how you twitched against his tongue and smelled the arousal that began to pool on his chin. You were so breathtaking like this. He felt the emotions you had wrapped him in begin to change as the uneasiness you originally felt faded away. Sukuna had given you control of the situation and didn’t fight you on it. He didn’t make you cower before him or wantonly obey him. He wasn’t perfect, but fuck it was so attractive that you could see him trying to change for you. The emotionless monster showing you sides that didn’t exist before you came into his life.

Your grip tightened on his hair as your pace started to quicken. The sensation of his soft yet textured tongue constantly touching every part of your folds and rubbing your clit bare and through the hood was driving you insane. Your vision felt like it was spinning, you were starting to have a hard time focusing as the tension inside your abdomen grew. You were close and you both knew it. When your thighs started to shake and your rhythm started to falter, Sukuna’s hands found their way to your thighs and waist as he helped stabilize and guide you through your orgasm. Small cries left your lips as the pleasure took you over, Sukuna’s tongue working to milk every last drop of his orgasm. When your vision returned to normal Sukuna was still lapping up your cum. Tongue dipping into you to pull it all out and venturing to your other hole on occasion. You tried to pull away as overstimulation seeped into your muscles, but he kept you in place. “Hold still baby, I need to show you how serious I am about keeping my word”, he said in between licks.

You whined a little in protest but he just smirked at you. His fingers rubbed where they held you in an offering of comfort as he continued to absolutely devour you. He alternated between greeting every crevice of your labia and clit with his tongue, to swirling his tongue around your ass and pointing his tongue inside. The sounds in your ears started to blend into a high-pitched ringing tone as your cheeks grew red with warmth. Your legs were visibly shaking on his shoulders and your hips bucked without order from your mind. Your orgasm began to creep up on you again, but you halted it by pulling Sukuna onto the bed and flipping him under you. His features contorted in confusion as he looked up at you, face glistening as your juices dripped down his chin.

“Fuck, Kitten. I thought I was the one cleaning you. Why did you make me switch? Don’t tell me you grew too hungry for the taste of my cocks that you couldn’t wait”, he said as he looked down at you. He had propped himself up on his elbows and stuffed your pillows behind your back so he could watch you. His hair stuck up all kinds of ways from where you played with it, his lids were heavy with lust, and his ever-darkening eyes peered through them to watch you.

“I just thought it was unfair to make you do all the work. You are my King, after all, it is only fitting I assist you however I can. And your poor pants looked like they were about to tear from all the strain”, you said as you rubbed him through the fabric. You could hear his breathing pattern become interrupted as your fingers traced the shapes. Your nail lightly raked over the bottom one, following the engorged muscle that protruded from the bottom side. A growl reverberated throughout his chest, followed by slightly profane praises for your work. You looked up at him as you slid your body along his crotch until your mouth found the string holding his pants up. You reached your tongue out for it, the tips grazing the lower part of his abs making them suck in. You felt him twitch against your chest as you gripped the hindrance with your teeth and pulled it undone. He watched in lust-clouded awe as you began you pull his pants back. Your mouth kissing, sucking, and licking at the newly found skin. Once you pulled back to the point his cocks were almost revealed you told him to lift his hips so you could get the rest of the way down. “Oh? I thought you said you were going to assist your King yet here you are barking orders to me”, he said while smirking.

You raised your eyebrows and tongued the inside of your cheek before letting out a small chuckle and ripping his pants off. His lips almost managed to form words, but yours found your way to his cocks before they could come to fruition. Tatters of his pants flew across the room as you laid yourself between his legs and started licking his bottom cock. Your tongue traced the outline of it over and over while your lips sucked on the tip. Heavy sighs and low groans reverberated through him as you continued your work. You turned your head and pulled in the underside of his cock and started moving your head up and down. Spit fell from the corners of your mouth as you looked up at him. (E/C) irises swirling with lust and untold plans as your lips peeked from both sides of his cock. After a few pumps like this, you pushed your mouth down onto his tip and filled your throat up. His cock completely cut off your air supply as you sank down deeper onto him. You used your hand to stroke the parts of the base you couldn’t fit and watched as he started to play with his other cock. He pushed it down slightly so that your face ran along it as you pleasured the other. You pulled away from him and used your energy to pull his hands above his head and pin them there.

You moved yourself up to eye level with him, cocks brushing against your dripping entrance and boobs draping against his chest. You licked along his jaw and neck, cleaning yourself off of him before moving back over his face. You playfully kitten-licked his lips before saying, “Keep your hands here or I stop what I am doing, okay?”

His head pushed up as he quickly took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting and pulling it back before releasing it to pop back to its original position. “Such a brave brat ordering me around like this. Does fear never visit you”, he asked while meeting your gaze. His eyes feral from the predicament of being tied to your bed while you so eagerly pleased him.

You dipped your head to his ear, kissing where it met his neck before pressing your lips to his earlobe. “Fear knows better than to show its face to a predator, don’t you know we feed off of that”, you asked before slowly pushing your body back down to where it was. A hearty laugh rocked his chest at your question. The fire in his eyes seemed to be stoked by what you said, their colors seemed to burn with fervor as they closely watched all of your movements. You lowered yourself back to your original position between his legs. Your hand slid his lower cock between the valley of your breasts as you began sucking on the top one. Hand pumping him up and down once it was covered in enough spit to allow your hand to freely roam.

His toned abs flexed when his tip fell victim to the suction in your mouth and he sucked the remainder of your cum off his lips as he watched his other cock fall between your tits. It slid so nicely, the spit it was once coated in now creating a shiny layer on your breasts. He watched as they jiggled as they crashed against his pelvis with each bob of your head and felt the way the friction made you moan against his cocks. The feeling of it shooting from your throat down the one inside your mouth, and the feeling of the vibrations coming from your chest spreading to the other one had him pushing his hips further into you. He watched as tears swelled in the corners of your eyes as you gagged around him, fresh spit slipping past your lips and pooling at the base of his cock. He waited for the repercussions of his actions but was never meant with any, so he continued pistoning his hips into your throat. Sounds of skin slapping skin and choked gags filled the room as he fucked your throat and tits. It was so fucking erotic. Never had he had someone take him like you did, never had he allowed someone to take control like he did with you. And fuck he was starting to think about how much he was missing it. This was almost as sexy as when you ate his finger. He thought back to that day, the way you both were covered in blood, the violence you endured from each other in search of your own releases. Those thoughts mixed with the present situation had his cock twitching in a pretense of his release.

You watched through blurry eyes as his features started to pull together, his eyes narrowed, his lips parted, his body restless. You opened your mouth fully to allow him full access to your throat as he chased his orgasm. As his rhythm began to falter, you picked it up and guided him into nirvana. He groaned your name as he buried himself fully in your throat and started cumming. It poured down your throat as the other one shot it all across your face and chest. You kept swallowing as it kept flowing into you, it started to feel like it would never end. After the last rope shot down your mouth you pulled off of his cock. You looked like a filthy whore as you stared at him through lashes covered in cum. Milky white stains covered your face, ropes slid off of your face to your already cum covered chest, some falling right back onto his cock. He watched as your fingers began to scrape it into your mouth, your peeking out to lick it off of your fingers. You dropped your mouth to let him see how it gathered on your tongue before swallowing it and coming back out clean.

“Fuck, why do you have to be so sexy baby”, he asked as he sat up, your magic dissipating from around his wrists allowing him to touch you.

“I want you inside me, Kuna. I’ve been wanting it. Been thinking about how full you made me feel last time. It’s been so long, I want you inside me again”, you started to whine as you crawled up onto his lap. Two of his hands found their places on his hips, while the other two cradled your head. He was all for fucking you senseless until you coudln’t bare to not have his cocks inside you, but he also knew you hadn’t eaten since early in the morning. And since some stupid part of him remembered and cared about that he told you no.

“Not right now, pretty girl. I came here to eat with you and what we have eaten so far, isn’t quite what your body needs,” he said while standing up with your legs still around him. You started to protest but he simply quietened you with a kiss. He walked into your bathroom to find the tub empty, as if forgetting it wasn’t like his. He looked down at you, “I am going to take us to my bath, okay? I promise it won’t be like last time. I just want to get you cleaned up before we eat.” You were genuinely caught off guard by how sweet he was being tonight. It almost made you feel like you were talking to an imposter.

“Why are you being so sweet to me?”

He looked as caught off guard as you when you asked that. He blinked at you a few times before looking away. “Honestly, I don’t know. Never have a felt the need to care for something like I do for you. Never have I felt guilty about hurting someone like I do when I think about how I killed you. I don’t understand it, but I also don’t hate it. You have at least proved yourself to be worth caring about, so…”, he trailed off. You reached up and caressed his face before kissing him. Maybe he really wouldn’t be a bad partner, maybe.

Taglist: @missroro @roxytheimmortal

[m1ssunderstanding]

Notes on Nowhere Boy

Finally posting the long version of the close-watch I did for @sleeper9's Fete zine. The bad thing about me is I hate spending money and love pirating shitty quality versions of movies. The good thing about the Beatles fandom is we're used to dealing with grainy pics. Anyways, here goes!

The opening ten seconds really do set the tone for the film, and here's why. It's the opening of A Hard Day’s Night where the boys are running from a hoard of screaming fans and George biffs it. John sees him go down, laughs, and keeps running. Only here, it's just John. George’s fall has been erased, making John into a cocky, if slightly insane, little lone hero. 

Mimi: do I ignore you? No. So please don't ignore me. Me: ummm, yeah you do ignore him, Mimi. Enough to leave deep psychological scars. But it's fine. Moving on.

Ugh, Uncle George is so sweet! I wonder how much of John's sweetness he learned from him. I wish we knew more about him.

Actually that was Jim that set up a cord running into Paul's room from the radio downstairs. But it fits Uncle George's character, so it works. 

Why did they make Mendips look a lot more working class than it actually was? No fancy iron fence, no pretty hexagonal outcropping, no stained glass veranda? 

Aaron Taylor Johnson is nailing it though. The laugh sounds very John, and this posture? Perfect. 

Okay but if that doesn't heartbreakingly encapsulate John and Mimi I don't know what does. Uncle George has just died. John goes to Mimi, wraps her from behind in a tight embrace and lets out a sob. Her response is to push him away. “Please, let's not be silly. If you want to do that, go to your room.” Alright, it's making me feel things, it's winning me over. 

John making his cousin Stan go and ask Mimi where Julia is is also extremely accurate. Always had someone to do the dirty work for them, all of them. 

Mimi's concern as John's going to visit his mother in the “bad” part of town is very good to have in too. “And you will be careful, hmm? Careful who you talk to.” And John's response, “it's only Blackpool, Mimi.” It's true. It could've been Speke, or the Dingle. Which Quarryman did I read saying Mimi didn't like John even leaving Woolton?

John's hurt little face when he finds out his mum, all this time, has been less than a bus ride away is a very clever way to show us his painful confusion about the whole situation. 

Trying to remind myself that this is a very anti-Julia pro-Mimi movie that will try to make me think she's crazy. But it sure is doing a hell of a good job. She hasn't seen him in years and suddenly she's hand feeding him desserts, kissing him every chance she's got, flirting all over the place. “Do you know what it means? Rock and Roll? Sex.” “Don't tell Mimi, alright? This is our little secret. Promise me.” And to a poor affection-starved boy, that's going to feel good. That's going to put thoughts in his head like “this is how it should be”. I mean I know she was wild and fun and sexy and irresponsible. And I know John did have weird thoughts about her. But I hope she wasn't actually this crazy. 

But the weird Freudian thing aside, he's got to be so terribly confused hearing the woman who effectively abandoned him declaring her love for him. Between Mimi and Julia, John would've had such a messed up idea of what that word meant. 

The Daily Howl, my absolute beloved!!

Nowhere Boy John watching Elvis: damn I've gotta get the girls screaming for me like that! Actual John watching Elvis: he's so beautiful! He's perfect! I'm in love!

Also I do not think sixteen year old John was that good at fingering. Just saying. 

This part always drops my heart cold into my stomach. Poor John. Poor poor baby. You can hear his little boy voice calling, “mum? It's me.” And she mutters, very annoyed, “go away.” Again. I have to remind myself that this is a purposely negative portrait of Julia. But then. It is true that she was a mostly absent and wholly undependable figure in John's life. 

Sometimes dialogue is absolutely perfect. Like this – “Aw, why couldn't God make me Elvis Presley?” “Cause he was saving you for John Lennon.” “Aw I'll get you back for that, God!” And this – “you haven't told Mimi, have you?” “No point going through her bullocks if I don't have to.” “Why? She has to go through yours.” “Yeah well I never asked her to, did I?”

Ugh this whole movie just hurts so bad! How he looks to Julia as Mimi is ordering him out of her house, just begging her to claim him this time. And she doesn't until he makes a stand for himself. And then, later. “How long can I stay?” Is met with nothing. Not even a fake “long as you want, love.” It really plays into the title of the film. This boy's got nowhere to call home. And then, the final straw. Look at his face as he hears Julia agree that he does in fact need to go back to Mimi's. If I did that kind of thing, I'd actually be crying right now. Fuck, why was I knit-picking, this movie is working so well. 

 As he's announcing he's leaving Julia's, John wants her to tell him to stay. To at least pretend it's not what she wants. And she doesn't even look at him. Imagine if they did something like this in the John biopic mirrored with a scene with Paul in the breakup?

He's just so adorable looking at that guitar like he can't believe it's real.

John's gathered the og Quarrymen in the bathroom and Pete goes “I take it we're not here for a communal crap.” Idk Pete, wouldn't put it past him. It's not far off what you all do already.

It's making the Quarrymen look kinda cool here, and I really want them all to be shit except John, just because that's what I get from Paul's description. Not that he's biased or anything. He could've been watching John play with Elton John and David Bowie and he'd still say everyone faded into the background. 

Also Mimi would Not have been there. Not on her life. 

Okay now we're sort of seeing them from Paul's perspective. Bunch of losers surrounding this inimitable shining star. 

Accurate that the first thing John says to Paul is about jerking off. 

The dynamic in general is just so well-done in this first scene. John instantly testing Paul. How much shit will he put up with? And Paul instantly having none of it, showing off, and winning John over. 

All the other Quarrymen just know it's time to dust off the ole resume. 

But! Paul's fete “audition” is so toned down for this film. Although of course, accounts vary. He did 20 flight rock, yeah. But he also did it on someone's borrowed right hand guitar turned upside down. And he did little Richard and played the piano, and tuned John's guitar for him. In one telling of it, John says he asked him to be in the group right there on the spot. So. Yeah. 

But either way, watching John watch Paul is just gorgeously gay. It's giving extreme “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” It's actually illegal not to queerbate using Lennon/McCartney and I'm glad all moviemakers seem to understand the law.

Cut to “John, your little friend's here!” Can you imagine if they'd showed the “chalk and cheese” whirling dervish moment? Or Mimi making Paul use the back door? Those might change some thoughts and feelings in this movie. 

And then we get the reciprocated “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” Moment as Paul's too busy checking out John’s buddy Holly Look to remember where he is, let alone what cord they're on. And it's so sweet because Paul's the first person who gives John the idea that his real self is actually cooler than his tough-guy act. 

The little matching feet tapping?? Eee it's so cute! 

But why miss the opportunity for them to sing in harmony here?

Sometimes the dialogue is extremely inaccurate. “So mummy’s cool about baby Paul wanting to be Elvis?” “Oh she would've loved it.” Like hell she would've. She would've been as disapproving as Mimi. Then again, maybe it is accurate for Paul to be lying about that.

“Well she – she sort of – died. You know, em. If we're gonna do this we should write our own stuff.” Okay yep there he is. That's Paul. 

Also love how John gets his first calluses after Paul the bossy taskmaster comes into his life. (You know. And the reason to push himself and a person who cares enough to take the time to show him things and it makes John all dreamy staring at the stars that night etc) Anyway. It's perfect. 

And the first gig we see after Paul joins is in a venue on a real stage with a much bigger audience, and the matching suits of course. 

Mimi selling John's guitar because of a bad report card is like the lighter, kinder translation of what happened in reality when she had his dog put down while he was staying at Julia's. 

So they kinda make up for not letting Paul sing etc by having him nail the guitar instead of screw up at this gig like he did irl. 

And he's stealing Julia's attention, which is clearly Not okay with John. Reminds me of that quote of Paul's about how they were both in love with John's mum. 

George is appropriately infantile. Good. Cutie. 

The Quarrymen playing “That's Alright, Mama” as John's making up with Julia since she bought his guitar back for him. Okay. Very clever. 

Paul does Not like John disrespecting his mother after the show for obvious reasons. (“I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.”) But clearly he doesn't have the full picture here. I wonder at what point irl Paul got a full run-down from John on his messed-up family life. Or did he just have to pull it together piece by piece over the years?

And of course he jumps to light Julia's cigarette. Boy was patting his pocket for a lighter like it was the race of his life. Mister steal your mum.

Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, Paul McCartney’s number two complaint about this movie: John was Not taller than him. How dare they? Slander.  

That's one hell of a jacket.

At the party, John's of course pissed to find Paul serenading Julia in the kitchen. But Paul just wants a mommy so bad, John. Why can't you just let him have yours since you clearly don't want her? Right, because you really, really do. More than anyone can understand. But when you showed her that – how bad you wanted her to be your mum, not just a friend – she hurt you. Forced you to go through your abandonment all over again. So now you can't show that anymore. 

The washboard over Pete's head is almost exactly accurate, isn't it? John does not handle people leaving him well. 

Ugh his little voice cracking on the word “mum.” John Lennon is a poor poor baby and I will die on that hill.

I wonder how John did find out about Victoria and the real story of why he was with Mimi. No matter how, though, that's certainly a lot of mess for a young man to be carrying around with him all the time in his head. 

“When your father came back from the merchant Navy, he wanted to try and save the marriage, but your mother would have none of it.” I do feel like we're going with Alf’s version of events here, the one he sold John in order to get into his good graces after he was famous. Which is, again, not fair to Julia. I wonder how little Julia feels about this movie. 

In fact, I think this part –  “who do you wanna be with, John? Do you wanna be with me or do you wanna be with your mum?” – has been categorically disproven. But it certainly does make for some high drama. And John himself did believe his father's story, so there has to be at least some emotional truth there. 

Nowhere Boy John: There's no point in hating someone you love. I mean really love. IRL John: How do you sleep, you cunt?!

There he is. Art School John. Though he fell in love with every iteration of John, I think this one never left his head because he was one of the earliest Johns, and he was a John Paul had to fight for, you know, with all the Stu business and dead mother anger.

He really does an excellent job of playing John, though, when he's written right. “Woman took her kit off and we painted her breasts. Not actually physically. I got my eye on you two.” Ridiculous. Charming. Off- putting. Adorable. 

Ignoring the fact that I prefer to think of “Hello, Little Girl” as being about Paul (“you never seem to see me standing there”) and they're making it about Julia, this is a lovely scene. With John somewhat unsure still of his songwriting abilities and Paul looking up at him from the floor full of admiration. 

Oh he's gonna murder someone. To be fair, I think playing Julia's banjo at her funeral is exactly the type of insensitive thing Paul would do, because he just thinks and feels in music and it makes Sense to him even though of course it's going to piss John off. 

Hilarious, and probably accurate tbh, that Paul's pissed John off so he gives Pete a bloody nose.

But here we go, the number one complaint about this movie from Paul, which I think is actually valid. John never hit him and that was important to both of them and it's disrespectful to portray it and play into the myth of their rocky, angry relationship. 

But maybe in 2009 that's what it took for them to be able to show John Lennon and Paul McCartney in a genuine, loving embrace, crying into each other's necks about mothers. It has to be preceded by John punching Paul in the mouth. 

If I was John's writing partner, my biggest beef with this movie would actually be the scene where they're recording ISOATD and making it look like John wrote it and played the guitar solo. But Paul's never even mentioned it. Which I guess really shows he cares far more about the legacy of his relationship with John than his career legacy. Which. If you mean more to Paul McCartney than his fucking music? Well then you must be just about important enough to have your own movie. 

This is really the Vote for Mimi Smith campaign, isn't it? Putting across the screen the fact that John called Mimi every week until he died as “Mother” plays in the background is brutal. Ouch. But it's true. “It's Mimi time.”

[thepenultimateword]

Secret Santa 2023

For this year’s secret Santa I got @watercolorfreckles (I know you got mine too, but I promise I used a randomizer!) I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been traveling and just writing every chance I can get. I got a little overambitious and wrote several scenes instead of just one, so hopefully it doesn’t feel choppy and you like it!

"Hero's shy medic is the unsung and unappreciated glue that keeps the team together, magically repairing their every injury with her power to heal. What happens when Villain finds out how the hero's broken bones are always so quickly mending, and kidnaps the medic to utilize himself?"

Henchman was waiting in baggage claim when Villain arrived. His violet-dyed hair, thick mess of scars, and tall stature made him stand out against the crowd, but he still waved his whole arm over his head as Villain came through the doors.

Villain's glove creaked feelingless against his suitcase handle. This was getting tiresome. Probably for Henchman too. It was ridiculous that he insisted on picking him up from the airport every trip instead of looking for a new employer.

"Any luck?" Henchman said, seamlessly transferring Villain's bag into his own hand.

Villain's insides twisted. Maybe he should fire Henchman. That would force the underling to think about himself. Though Villain couldn't deny his reluctance to lose such loyalty. He wasn't sure he actually had the strength to enforce his own abandonment.

"Nah." He rubbed his numb hands together and forced a lighthearted tone. "Just another waste of money. I spent three weeks meditating away the damage, only for the so-called "power guru" to say I don't want to be healed. Apparently, if I did, I would have been able to banish the "bile" from my body."

Henchman gave the suitcase wheels a little bang against the ground. "Morons and scam artists.”

"Yes, well, it was a 50/50 shot in the first place. How's my bird?"

Henchman grimaced. "Still eating very little. She has stopped beating against her cage, but now she's very lethargic and despondent."

"You've tried cheering her up? Good food, nice things?"

"Yes, but she's not very chatty. Maybe we should have waited to get her until after your trip. This would have gone better with...some stability."

The automatic door swooshed open, and they stepped out into the chill winter air. Villain blew out a long cloudy breath and watched it disappear into the dreary, gray city landscape. Everything was so temporary. Here one moment, gone the next.

"The opportunity was too good," he said. "Besides, we couldn't leave her with our friend."

Hero had enough of an advantage without also having a decent healer on his side. No matter how many hits Villain divvied out, the heroic team always got back up unscathed. Perhaps without their golden goose, Villain could actually turn the tide. And maybe... Villain didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe she could do something more too. He knew that Henchman knew that was the main reason he’d stolen her away in the first place. By this point he was just pretending to himself that there was a bigger purpose behind it all.

The crosswalk sign beeped its permission to cross the street, and Villain scanned the lot for Henchman's car, spotting its orangey paint job near the front.

"I am concerned she's been doing poorly this whole time. Why don't we stop by her enclosure first."

Henchman nodded and very kindly played along with the act that this was truly concern over an asset and not another cowardly excuse for himself. “I don’t think she’ll be very pleased to see you.”

She’s not going to help you.

“That’s alright.” Villain slid into the passenger seat. As Henchman loaded his suitcase into the trunk, he muttered under his breath, “I don’t have much left to lose.”

***

Villain called her Birdie.

Of course he knew her real title as Hero’s medic, but the nickname just encapsulated her so well.

So small. So skittish. Always flitting around the outskirts of a fight, the great folds of her medic’s cloak flapping at her sides like wings as she lighted briefly at each fallen party. The color was supposed to mark her as a noncombatant, take any targets of her back, but she had the instincts to remain wary always. Most villains didn’t follow the rules, and the gray was as likely to get her killed as not.

So why continue to wear it? Villain wondered, watching her through the one way glass of her cell's wall mirror. It was really more of a mini apartment than a cell--sitting room, bedroom, bathroom. The sitting room was the only room Villain could view into, but he doubted whether Medic knew that. Perhaps it was riskier to give a hostage so much blind space, but anyone worth keeping around couldn't be kept like any regular prisoner. Though, from the looks of it, Medic wasn't exactly grateful for the thoughtful accommodations.

She sat with her face buried in her knees, grey cloak nearly swallowing her little curled up body whole. He'd asked Henchman to prepare daily clothes changes, and the peeking green edge of sleeve implied she'd been taking them, but the cloak remained the same.

Villain moved around to the front of the cell and drew back the bolt on the otherwise regular door, taking a breath before swinging it open with a flourish. “Hello, Birdie.”

The woman leaped a little, head shooting up and fixing him in the inky black pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry for the delay." He locked the door behind him as casually as he could manage. "I’ve been out of town. But now we can finally chat."

Medic blinked then turned her chin into her shoulder.

Villain plopped down on the couch a couple feet away from her place on the rug. "Apparently you haven't been eating properly. Is the food not up to standard? Can I get you something else? Any favorite meals or treats?"

Medic didn't turn or respond.

"Hmm...what do birdies like. Worms?"

The healer's lip curled a little but still nothing.

"How about chocolate? Steak? Fruit tarts?"

Medic only tucked her chin tighter.

"Alright, I get it. The nice treatment doesn't work on you. Unfortunately, I don't have a mean treatment. Not for you at least. I can't asks favors from someone by relying on fear."

That got her attention. She still didn't unfold, but her eyes watched him sideways. Wary but curious. What could a villain need from a healer. He must have his own, so why her? She didn't need to speak for her thoughts to clutter the air.

"No, I can't just tell you," Villain said with a loud sigh. "You might go tell that precious hero team. I know you're quiet, but I don't believe for a second you're that quiet."

Medic swiveled her shoulders ever so slightly. "How...?"

Her voice was not so birdlike. Short yes, but like a rasped breath than a chirp. Still...

Villain grinned. "The very best of ways: by pretending I knew what you were thinking. Throw out a guess and you'll be right 80% percent of the time. That's also a guess by the way, I haven't actually researched the subject."

Medic retreated back into her cloak.

Darn.

Either he was totally unhumorous, or Medic was just that hard to entertain. Then again, she'd seemed interested by the prospect of a supernatural ability. She'd only clammed up again once she got the simple explanation for her question. She should've already known his Gift from the fights she'd witnessed, though he had held bad considerably this last year.

"You're not like other medics," he said, redirecting the conversation. "You have a Gift, don't you? And don't deny it, I've seen the recovery your patients. Scarless, rapid, perfect. One fight I saw a hero putting full weight on what, minutes previously, had been broken femur."

"And that's why you want me?" Medic squeezed her hands together, nails digging into the back of her knuckles like each word spoken aloud pained her. "Because I'm better than your medics? You want me to turncoat?"

"Not entirely. I took you because your good, yes. So good you've kept that ragtag trash hero team up and running way longer than it should have ever been allowed to go. Hero needs to be stopped."

Nothing.

"I'm going to the statue unveiling tonight." He watched her face closely. "I'm going to break it. And while I'm at it, break him."

"He's not that fragile," Medic said, her voice hushing a little further, and her brow furrowing.

"Ah, you know because you've tried?"

"I know because I' m his medic and I know how much treatment each fight requires." It came out quite a bit snappier than Villain expected and Medic must have realized it too because she set her jaw and looked away again. "I can't help you."

Villain pushed himself back to his feet. The declaration was firm, but hardly the denial of a truly devoted team member. Or maybe he was just reading to hard into things. Medic was shy. Maybe she wanted to make herself clear in as few words as possible. But if there was a chance only her fear was holding her back...

"I'll let you know how it goes," Villain said. With that, he made his way back outside the cell, bolting the door behind him with fumbling fingers. He flexed his hands a couple times, as if to warm them back to full function, but they felt as clumsy and disconnected as always. He shoved them gloved into his coat pockets.

Don't think about that. You have a hero to fight.

***

Villain couldn't feel his shoulders. He'd definitely overdone it. He'd overestimated his ability to fight with his arms as damaged as they were and he had relied too much on the power he'd been so careful to conserve.

He stumbled hard against Medic's door, sliding weakly to his knees. He didn't know why he came here. Henchman was probably having a fit searching for him after he'd bolted. Most of those heroes laid in shattered pieces at the scene. Or at least, parts of them did. Villain had found long ago that his Gift--the power to turn whatever he willed to stone--could be used strategically. The loss of limbs was usually enough to make a hero retire, no need to end a whole life. He wouldn't have minded ending Hero, but once again, the leader was the only one who escaped unscathed. Too this day Villain had only ever managed to take a pinky. It was a wonder no one found that suspicious.

Villain slammed his fist against the cell door, or more like tapped. He stifled a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Not yet. Not without bringing down Hero’s deceit.

Villain strained to reach the bolt, fumbling it twice before finally jostling it outward. He practically collapsed onto Medic’s rug.

Dark spots clouded his vision but suddenly cool hands were running trails down his face.

“Villain?”

Medic?

No wait, the door…he needed to close…why was she still here?

“Uuughh…” Villain rolled into her knees. “It did not go well.”

“What did he do?”

“Besides use every other person as a shield?”

“I mean to your face.”

Villain squinted up into Medic’s dark eyes, so deep and concerned and…and infinite.

“My face,” he mumbled.

“Are these bruises?” Her fingers trailed a second time down his cheek. “It looks painful.”

“It’s in my face?” Villain barely restrained a wail.

“Villain,” Medic said firmly, her quiet rasp getting almost loud. “What happened? Do you need healing?”

Villain’s throat felt thick and swollen, too sticky to get out words. Of course he needed healing. But if she couldn’t help him…he didn’t know if he could take another failure. He didn’t know if his body could take it.

He extended his hand. When Medic only stared, he nodded at the black, fitted glove.

Medic’s thumb worked under the edge. Villain felt nothing but he imagined her fingers felt just as gentle as they had on his cheek.

She gasped.

Villain glanced at the bare skin for only a moment. The once caramel colored palm now a deep ebony. Like something rotten. Like something dead.

“Villain?”

Villain cleared his throat, fighting the words upward. “All powers have a price.” He forced himself to look at blighted appendage. “Mine’s is killing me.”

Medic turned his hand over in her own. “How long?”

“Always. It used to just be a little. Nails. Hair. Parts I could cut off. Then it hit skin…and it won’t stop. I can’t feel; I can hardly move. And no one…” He choked. “I’m going to die. All from trying too hard to rid the world of Hero, and I couldn’t even finish him tonight.”

Medic rested her fingers on the cuff of Villain’s sleeve, eyes meeting Villain's with some unspoken request for permission.

Villain nodded.

Medic's nimble fingers gently picked at the button, freeing the fabric and rolling it up to his elbow. Villain’s eyes widened along with hers. What had once had been dark veins was now as pitch black his hands. From the nothingness in his shoulders it was probably no different above the elbow.

Medic felt gently at the half-petrifaction. Most people, even his most loyal were afraid of the blight. Henchman was unfazed, but the previous medic had quit rather than admit they didn't want anywhere near Villain. And yet Medic touched him willingly.

“You can’t fix it, can you?” Villain said, practically plead. He didn’t care anymore. Even with the doubt in his gut and in his voice. He just needed help.

“I…I might…” Medic said.

“But Hero wouldn’t like it.”

Medic ducked her head. “It’s not that. Well, no…you’re right, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to know. And there are no specific rules that say I can’t heal a villain, it’s just…”

Villain blinked groggily up at her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Like you said, all powers have a price.”

“And this one is too much,” Villain said.

“Yes, well, no. I don’t know.” She glanced toward the open door. “Maybe there’s a better healer…”

Villain closed his eyes, practically sinking with resignation. “No. Already tried. I don’t think I have the energy to search anymore.” He clasped numb fingers around his numb arm. “Or the time.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“It’s alright, Birdie. Fly away.”

It didn’t matter who she told now.

Medic pushed him carefully off her lap, clothes rustling as she rose. Two steps sounded toward the door way and then stopped.

“I’m not supposed to…but I’ll do it.”

Villains eyes shot open. “You will?”

Medic sucked in her lips but nodded. “Just…don’t tell.”

She knelt beside him, long gray cloak fanning out around her. The second glove peeled off easier than the first, and she held both hands in hers.

He’d always wondered what it felt it like to experience one of her gifted healings.

It was warm. Like drinking something hot. It spread from head to toe, and the numbness leeched out little by little. The skin lightened from black to charcoal from charcoal to heather grey from grey to brown.

Medic’s hands turned soft in his grip. He squeezed them lightly, his mouth parting in disbelief at the feeling of pressure of warmth of regular mobility. When he sat up, it came easy. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“You did it! You actually did it! Medic, you are—“

He stopped at the sight of her slumping figure. Sweat rolled down her temples, her face was flushed, and her teeth were grit as if in agony.

“Birdie?”

Medic only shivered.

“Birdie. Birdie, are you alright?”

Villain reached out, but she lurched back, stumbling toward the back corner. Veiny blackness spread from her fingertips, trailing up the creases in her skin. Her shoulders trembled. A small vein popped out of from her forehead. And she glared at the blight. Not like someone afraid of it, but like someone who’d like to peel it off and throw it away. Or burn it.

“No!” she cried and slammed both palms against the wall mirror with a feral cry. Immediately the glass crackled and, like a rolling wave, turned to cold, hard stone.

The black faded from dark ebony to a tan spot only

A few shades darker than her skin. She still glared.

Villain gaped. “You… That’s what I do. How did you do what I do? Did I…? Did you…?”

Medic’s eyes darted toward the door.

Villain jumped in front of it first. “Hey hey hey! I’m not going to tell!”

Another guess but apparently the right one because Medic’s shouldered untensed a fraction.

“I’m not going to tell,” Villain repeated. “I just… How?”

Medic wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her eyes had taken on a glazed shine suspiciously alike to unshed tears.

“It’s not exactly healing,” she murmured. “More like stealing. Taking injuries and making them mine.”

“The price.”

She nodded. “But this sort of injury…made from a Gift, it doesn’t work the same. It’s more like a build up of power concentrated in one place. And now that it’s mine…I can do what I like with it.”

Villain cocked his head. “And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t work for Hero,” Medic said. “I’m on the team because he’s supposed to watch me. Stop me from doing things like this.”

“Becoming too powerful?”

“Becoming a villain.”

Villain might have laughed if she didn’t actually look so scared. He took her hands carefully, savoring the sensation of skin on skin warmth once again. He fixed her with a hard stare that she seemed uncertain to hold or shy away from. He smiled, the first real one in a long time.

“What’s wrong with villains?”

Medic swallowed, looking away but not pulling back her hands. Her voice came out very quiet. “I guess…not everything.”

[cressidagrey]

Indelible Scars - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Warnings:

People being idiots, Rhys bashing, broken bones, discussion of medical decisions

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

She had hoped that the antidote would be enough to get the fever to lower at least a little bit, to let him come awake in some sense…but even as she poured the third dose of it down her mate’s throat, Galena could feel his skin underneath her fingertips burn with fever. 

Still not anywhere close to his normal range.

He rested easier and by now, his magic easily let itself be cradled by hers, though she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just pure exhaustion from him…or maybe it was that his shadows kept watch over them all. 

Nesta had disappeared because at least one of them should have had more than catnaps during that night. The General fell asleep against that overstuffed armchair, mouth open, lightly snoring, and she badgered the shadows into covering him with a blanket. 

She was sure that he would immediately wake up if she approached if only because she had no chance to be silent with a constant limp and the help of her cane. But the shadows could do it. 

Galena was also treated to the view of Cassian nearly falling off said overstuffed armchair when another cough of Azriel’s woke him up from his sleep. 

The Lord of Bloodshed seemed to be nothing more than just a male at all. 

Galena kept busy checking the levels of Azriel’s blood, which slowly turned into something that was no longer a fucking mess, but still not good. 

She was going to have to put him on so many potions to even get him anywhere close to where he should be. Broadband vitamins especially. 

Still, the fever stayed. 

As Nesta came to check on them the next morning, she took the third vial of blood that day and tested it once again. 

The compounds were gone. 

But that wasn’t the only surprise she found. 

The curse that left her mouth would have made Aunt Madja wash out her mouth with soap, she was certain of that. 

“What?” Cassian demanded immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“He has faebane in his system,” Galena hissed. Faebane. Granted just minute traces but enough to keep his fever going, enough that the infection in his lungs had something to latch onto…enough to weaken him…“I didn’t recognise it at first because it’s just traces.“

“Somebody poisoned him?” Nesta snapped. “When?” 

Galena shook her head. “I don’t know, it’s… It’s weak…It’s…”

Something… niggled at the edges of her brain, the shadows swirled worried, having rushed over to her at her outburst. 

Master wasn’t poisoned. We would have sensed that… They assured her. 

But if he wasn’t poisoned…Where did the faebane come from…

She pulled back the duvet that was tucked around him, a comment from Cassian suddenly tugging at her mind. The one thing was that he got some bruises on his chest, but that was it.

Bruises…

They were still there. They should have healed by now, especially if he had used some of the Bruise Balm she made. They should have…

“He got them around two, three weeks ago,” Cassian explained as she stared at them, willing them to tell her what was going on…

She reached out to touch, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing…

She wasn’t even sure what she was searching for…maybe to assure herself that he was alive, that…her fingertips weren’t particularly sensitive on a good day, so it wasn’t like she was probably going to actually feel if there was…

And then her fingers tripped over a scar right between two ribs…

“Ash Bolt to his chest,” Cassian answered quietly. “But that was years ago.” 

“Madja removed it?” she asked carefully and he nodded, realisation dawning on his face. 

“You think it was dipped in faebane?” he asked curiously. 

“I think it was filled with that…and think my Aunt didn’t remove all of it,” she admitted quietly. “Just a shard…it healed, probably encapsulated…and then he got hit in the chest, fractured the shard…faebane got into his system once again…”

She couldn’t prove it. It was a theory. But it was the only one that made sense to her. 

“What do we do now?” Cassian asked her, crossing his arms. 

“Do you want to hear what I would do or what Madja would suggest?” Galena asked with a sigh. 

It would be two drastically different things. 

“You would do two different things?” Nesta asked, curious. 

“We take very different approaches,” Galena admitted. “Mine tend to be more aggressive…more on the experimental sides. Hers would be…traditional and proven.” 

One wasn’t better than the other, in Galena’s opinion. But still…

She looked at her mate, at his still form in that bed…and Galena knew what she wanted to do. She knew that she wouldn’t have a fucking night of peace until she was sure that he didn’t have a nightmare attached to a countdown in his chest when she didn’t know when that clock would run out. 

“You would open him up and take it out,” Cassian said quietly. She just nodded.

“I would prove my hypothesis,” she agreed. “The shadows are sure that he wasn’t poisoned and the only way for him to get faebane into his system would be if it has already been present before. So yes. I would reopen the scar…flush it out.”

“And Madja?”

“Madja would give him an antidote, leave it be, fill him to his gills with potions and wait until he wakes up and can make that decision himself,” she said evenly. “One option isn’t particularly better than the other. Both have arguments for and against it,” she said quietly. “Who’s his next of kin?” she asked because that was a decision that they couldn’t make without consulting them. 

“Doesn’t really work that way for him,” Cassian said with a sigh. ”He has two half brothers but I would rather drive my sword through them than consult them on any detail of his medical care.”

Right. 

“So…You?” Galena suggested. He stared at her. 

“I can’t make that decision alone,” Cassian said, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“So you and… and somebody else?” she suggested. 

“Rhys. Mor. Amren,”  he said with a decisive nod. 

“Then I think you should get them in here,” Galena said carefully. “Madja and Zoreen said they would be back this morning. You’ll get to hear all about how my idea is a horrible idea soon enough.” She wasn’t bitter when she said that. 

It was just…her Aunt and Galena had vastly different approaches and her aunt believed that she needed to fogto the Personal Cost because she preferred to stay in the stillroom than be stared at by random people in the street. 

Or something like that. 

It took less than an hour until Cassian had somehow pulled together who he wanted to have, as Madja and Zoreen arrived…her aunt checking over her work like she still tended to do to this day. 

Some things would never change. 

“Good job, little mouse,” her aunt that softly, a hand placed on her shoulder. The childhood nickname made something in her tighten. “So what is the problem?” 

She opened her mouth in response, but by then Cassian spilt into the room, followed by a…very bruised-looking High Lord, who was moving rather gingerly…a bright blonde beauty that she knew to be The Morrigan…and a small, dark-haired female with startling grey eyes. Which meant that that must be Amren.

“She’ll explain it better than I can,” Cassian said at that moment, waving to her. She steeled herself for the glances she knew she was going to get, staring at the wall somewhere beyond the three newcomers because she really wasn’t…she couldn’t deal with that right now.

Not running on a few hours of sleep and the worry churning in her gut. 

“Would you like some Pain Relief Potion, High Lord?” Her aunt asked, sounding somewhere between amused and exasperated. He opened his mouth to respond but The Morrigan was quicker.

“No. I want him to learn his lesson,” The Morrigan hissed between her teeth. 

“Every time I heal the bruises, she just gives me more,” the High Lord gave back drily. 

“Mor,” Cassian said with a sigh. “Give him some Pain Relief Potion, please,” he said with a wave of his hand. “And maybe fix the nose I broke as well when you are already at it…” he mumbled under his breath. 

“What's wrong with Az?” The Morrigan demanded at that moment, immediately coming to his bedside. 

She was beautiful. Even more beautiful than Galena had ever imagined her to be, with flowing blonde hair and warm brown eyes…Beauty a war would be fought over. 

And clearly…clearly she doted on Azriel. 

“He has faebane in his blood,” Galena answered quietly, resulting in a gasp coming from her. 

“Faebane?” The High Lord repeated, sounding incredulous. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “The shadows have assured us that he wasn’t poisoned recently. Which leads me to the conclusion that the faebane has already been in his system for longer.” 

“Explain, Galena,” her aunt demanded. “What’s your thought process?”

“Two weeks ago, he was injured. There are still bruises on his chest,” she explained. “They should be healed by now. They are not. Naturally quick healing slowed down by the faebane. A few years ago he got an ash bolt to his chest…” she trailed off leadingly. 

“Yes. I removed it. He was fine,” her aunt agreed. 

“Did you remove the whole thing in one piece?” Galena asked pointedly.

Her aunt met her gaze, shook her head, eyebrows furrowing. “No, it shattered when I removed it. You know ashwood. It’s notorious for splintering apart if it gets wet,” she explained. “I…there was faebane on that…” she said thoughtfully. 

“I think you missed a splinter.”

Her aunt blinked at that. 

“I cleaned out the wound. Twice,“ she pointed out with a huff. 

“I think there is a splinter inside him,” Galena repeated. “You plied him with potions, sewed him up… I think it was fine, it healed. He got punched with enough force on the chest…the splinter broke apart…probably cut something inside him. The faebane that was on it went back into his system…That made it easy for the infections in his lungs to take root.” 

“Her reasoning is sound,” Zoreen agreed. “There is no way he got it from somewhere else?”

“It’s trace amounts,” Galena said. “If somebody tried to poison him, they would use more…”

“What do you want to do?” Zoreen asked, looking at her leadingly. 

She took a deep breath. She knew her aunt wouldn’t like this. “I want to open him up and remove the splinter,” she said carefully.

Her aunt wasn’t the only person who didn’t like that scenario. A gasp came from The Morrigan, Cassian looked like he had swallowed poison, the High Lord was staring at Azriel…Amren was staring at her. 

“Galena,” her aunt said sharply. “We are talking about a living and breathing person and not about one of your books. We are not talking about you mixing some mirthroot and lavender in the stillroom and seeing what happens. We are talking about a living being.  Best case scenario, you find nothing. You want to cut into his torso, carve him up for the off chance that you are right!” 

It cut that the person that knew her best, thought that she just wanted to do this for research. That she hadn’t thought this through. And she had thought this through. Of course, she had. She would never risk someone’s life until she had no choice, unless she was sure of what she was doing… 

“I want to take a calculated risk, to remove something from his body that has the potential of being enormously harmful,” she said carefully. 

Still, she could feel that not everybody was agreeing with her. Rather the opposite to be completely honest. 

“What would you do, Madja?” The High Lord asked. 

“Give him the antidote for faebane over a longer period. A few weeks,” Madja said immediately. 

“It would make him miserable. Probably unconscious and unresponsive,” Zoreen cut in. 

“It would be safer,” Madja disagreed. 

“And you want to leave a potential splinter of ashwood in his chest?” Galena asked quietly. Just leave it there? 

“As long as it doesn’t give him any more problems, yes .  We don’t even know if there is actually ashwood anywhere inside him!”

They didn’t know. They just had a theory, a hypothesis, but no actual proof. 

“I can’t make that decision alone…” Cassian said quietly. “So what do you say?”  

“What do you want to do, Cassian?” The High Lord asked him. 

“Remove it,” Cassian said immediately. 

One in her corner. One. 

“It’s a risk. Can his body stand that, even weakened like it is?” The Morrigan asked, big brown eyes still worriedly staring at Azriel. “What if… 

“The risk is high that his heart is just going to stop,” Madja agreed. Galena didn’t.  

“He’s in his prime and his body is at a peak of physical fitness. Even weakened from the infection, he still is strong ,” she disagreed. “He fought me tooth and nail at first to get his magic to calm down,” she muttered under her breath. 

“If we don’t do it, we could just weaken him more,” The High Lord pointed out reasonably. “Amren?” 

“You are all forgetting one thing,” the slight female said, her voice bone dry.

“What?” Cassian demanded. 

“That none of you have any right to make that decision for him when his mate is right there.”

No. No. No, no, no, no, no…

She was waiting for an explosion. She stared everywhere but at the male still lying unconscious in the bed. At everything but the High Lord, even when she could feel the tremors running through her, could feel the shadows that had settled into Azriel’s shadows come to her side, curl themselves around her hands…ready to defend her from…something. 

Curling themselves around her hands and holding on. 

“Amren, what…” The High Lord started, but Amren was just staring at her. Galena finally met her gaze, feeling how her body seemingly started shaking as she could feel every eye in that room on her.  

“I can smell it on you, girl,” Amren said pointedly. “It’s all over you. I am surprised that Rhysand hadn’t yet picked it out of your head, but maybe you just have very strong mental shields. I just have one question: Any specific reason why you haven’t said a thing about it?”

She swallowed. No words wanted to come out of her throat. 

And then there was Aunt Madja. 

“Galena,” she said, her name…sounding scandalised. 

“It snapped the moment I first saw him,” her voice was broken, and it felt like her throat was closing around shattered glass as she forced out these words. 

“You…” Cassian whispered and she closed her eyes because she couldn’t look at him. Because she couldn’t…she couldn’t look at anybody. 

Her chest felt like it was caving in. 

She didn’t…She hadn’t planned on anybody finding out. She had been planning on saving Azriel and then disappearing back into her Stillroom, and never coming out again. 

That’s what she had wanted. That’s what she had…that’s what she had planned on. She hadn’t wanted to ever tell him. Tell anybody. She had never wanted anybody to find out. It was her secret. She had been ready to take it to the grave with her. 

“Why didn’t you say something ?” The General asked her, and she wasn’t even sure how she forced out the next words. 

“Because I wasn’t going to let it snap for him.” She wasn’t. 

He should have been able to live his life without… without even being bothered by the knowledge of what she was to him. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t after to hi. He had a whole life and friends and family and she…she just…she was nothing but deadweight to him. Nothing but something he would feel obligated to…nothing but…

“Why?” The General demanded, sounding…furious and utterly…despaired and…

“Cassian,” The High Lord warned but Galena didn’t even hear that when her head snapped up. 

“Why?” she echoed. “Look at him,” she said with a wave to Azriel. “And then look at me! Why should a male like him want me ?” she spat out, and suddenly it all welled up inside her. Like a wave crashing against the shore and it burst out of her mouth, without her being able to stop anything.

“Galena…” her aunt said but she didn’t care. 

“I can’t even walk over the market without people staring, without them making their smart little quips that they think I can’t hear. But I can,” she spat. “And I can stand it from everybody around me, how they stare at me, with disgust and pity and shame for something that I had nothing to do with. I was a child  when I got these scars. And I hate people for it, but I can’t do anything against so I do nothing . I live through it. I let them stare at me and talk behind my back and I buy the freaking tomatoes because that’s what you want from me, Aunt Madja, and I hate every fucking second of it!”

Madja stared at her wide-eyed.  

“They just need to get used to you, Little Mouse.” 

The words that had haunted her since her childhood. They just need to get used to you. Said every day before she went to school when she sat through hours of the younglings her age staring at her like she was some kind of exotic animal. 

Said every time she was expected to go to that market…and the people still stared, even when now she was grown up and had a job and was good at her job…whatever she did…it was never enough to make the people stop staring at her. 

Never enough. 

“They had over one and a half centuries to get used to me,” she whispered, staring at her aunt. “They haven’t gotten used to me, they won’t get used to me and I am so…I am so tired of it,” she admitted, tears leaking out of her eyes, but she didn’t care. “But even if they do stare…I don’t know them…not many of them. So what does it matter, right? I go back to the Stillroom and I bury myself in my work and I am good at my job! Fuck it, I am brilliant! I am! And I don’t forget the personal cost, even when you think I do! I think about it every damn day!”

Her chest heaved as the words poured out of her, decades of pent-up unfairness streaming out of her.  

“And still…every time I look in the mirror…I hate the person who stares back. I hate the scars. And if I could rip off every inch of my skin, I would.  I hate that they remind me…that they remind me of the male that tried to kill me and that my mother still chose over me. I hate…I hate them! They are ugly and they make my heart hurt!”

“Galena… They don’t matter,” Madja told her, brown eyes filled with tears. “They don’t matter, Little Mouse. You are…”

“They matter to me!” She snapped, desperation bleeding into her voice . “ You don’t see them every time you look into a mirror! You don’t understand! They don’t hurt you, every day! They don’t make people look at you like you aren’t even a Fae! Like you are something different, a monster ! People see them and they don’t see me! And that’s…I can survive it. I don’t like it but I can survive that.” 

Her voice broke at the last word. She could survive that. If it was somebody that she didn’t know…it still hurt but…she could survive that. But she couldn’t...  

“But him? My mate ? The one person that’s supposed to love me? He’ll stare at me with disgust and pity and I can’t…I can’t…I can’t stand that . I don’t ever want him to look at me. To see me. Because I won’t survive if he stares at me like they do. I don’t want to survive if he does!”

It burst out of her, the words spilling over even as the sobs built in her chest, as she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the floor and curl herself into a ball and never, never see anybody, be anybody ever again. 

She wanted…she wanted…she…

“Galena,” her aunt said softly, a hand landing on her shoulder, but she flinched, her bad leg spasm, and she nearly hit the floor, if the shadows hadn’t rightened her at the last possible moment, before anybody could do anything about it, before…

“Let me,” said a rough voice that she had heard so often over the last days, as broad hands lifted her, and settled her on the chair she had spent so much time on. 

“Listen to me,” Cassian said as he kneeled before her, as he peeled her hands from her face, ignoring the scars that marred them, holding them in a pair of calloused hands, even as she shook like a leaf. 

“He deserves better than me,” Galena whispered. He did. So much better. And she couldn’t even give him the fault if he did stare at her like she was a monster, because…

“Look at me,” Cassian said fiercely and waited until her eyes lifted and she looked at him. “Azriel isn’t awake, so I am going tell you what I know he would tell you if he could ,” he told her pointedly. “He. Won’t. Care.” He punctuated every word. “I swear to you. He will not care,” Cassian repeated, wiping away her tears. “He has waited centuries for you. And you really think that a couple of scars are going to make him turn you down?” he told her sharply and she swallowed. 

“You don’t know that,” she croaked out. 

She couldn’t…She squashed the warm hope that was growing in her chest. 

Cassian just snorted. 

“I have known my brother for 5 centuries. I know him, Galena. I swear to you, he will not care,” he repeated again. But when he saw the look on her face, he sighed. “Care to weigh in, shadows? Make yourself useful for once?” he asked, the shadows that still swirled around her. 

Your scars match Master’s scars. Master’s scars match yours. He hates them as well.  They told her, gently rubbing through her hair, gently ghosting against her face, against her tears... You should tell us who hurt you. We’ll take care of them. They promised her vengeance. 

“He’s dead,” The High Lord said calmly. 

Her breath caught in her throat at these simple words, at the pitch black darkness in these words. 

If shadows could harrumph they would have done it, she was quite sure. 

Did he suffer? The shadows demanded. 

“It wasn’t enough for what he did to her…but it was something. All the justice I could give her,” The High Lord of the Night Court said calmly, one hand settling on her shoulder.  

“Cassian is right. Azriel won’t care. And don’t tell him I said it, but he was always the hopeless romantic of us three,” there was humour flecking his voice in that simple sentence. Acceptance. “He’ll be so glad that you are finally there.”

It was The Morrigan that broke the silence. “I think you probably have more of a right than any of us to decide what we should do. So what are we going to do now?” 

She swallowed.  

“He’s your mate. It’s your choice,” Cassian agreed quietly. “He would want you to make that choice.”

She closed her eyes, tears still falling over her face. 

So what was…what choice…what choice should she make? 

“We’ll get it out.” She followed her instincts even if it was dangerous. Even when it was an hypothesis she needed to prove…even when…She needed to know for sure.” I don’t forget the personal cost. I know what risk I am taking. It’s a calculated risk,” she said, her voice shaky. 

“Galena,” her aunt said carefully, a weathered old hand wiping away her tears. 

“Do you really think I would risk him if I wasn’t sure?” she asked her aunt, staring at her. “Do you think I would have risked Cosima and Orion if I wasn’t sure? If I wasn’t certain that it would work? I may look like one, but I am not a monster.”

“I know that,” Madja whispered. “Oh, little mouse, I know that.”

[irishmammonagenda]

Hii!! 🧚‍♀️It's Wee Emo anon 🍾

Really liked your last work, so here i am again

Can i request brothers reaction on MC who cry over small things?

Like they see little kitten on the street and - WHOOP! - they're bubbling sobbing mess

I'm kinda can't cry (sounds dramatic lol) and wanna MC to feel it instead of me 😬

Love your works, keep going bestie💐🏃‍♂️

HI WEE EMO <3 please ignore the fact you sent me this on april 27th and its now june i had gcses to prepare for 😔✊

anyway, who let you into my house 😧🤨

no seriously i've cried at multiple south park episodes. south park. sometimes i wanna cry when i see my dog i cannot be trusted i tear up so easily especially when im writing🙁

for not being able to cry that is not very good for you fr:

i used to not be able to cry + still only really tear up, some tears drip down and let out like 2 sobbing sounds before im good again, i dont even have to try and stop crying, two sobs and im done, but my biggest tip is, get tired like really sleepy to the point where your eyes water bc of tiredness then watch something really sad.

i ha to literally train myself to be able to cry again bro dw, i wish i could have a big long cry but like 3 mins of crying is better than none, trust me wee emo you'll feel better

#dontbottleupyouremotions

ANYWAY:

this was very hard to imagine their reactions to idk why, but i tried so 😔✊

grma wee emo for requesting <3 and grma everyone else for reading <3

Obey Me Brothers With a Sensitive MC <3

It was safe to say you were sensitive, back when Melanie Martinez's music was a lot better, you really could say that the song 'Crybaby' pretty much encapsulated your entire being, it still did, but you liked to think you were more mature in your music taste now. (You weren't)

Being suddenly catapulted into the Devildom did a number on your emotions, and you found yourself quite numb. But as you adjusted, and bonded with the others, you found that you were back to your usual self, which was a crybaby.

So then how do the brothers react?

LUCIFER

Great. Two Mammons.

At least Mammon No.2 (you) isnt a tsundere about it.

Lucifer does not like seeing you cry. Even if its because something is cute, (although he does find it quite adorable, not that he'd admit it)

This demon is of the opinion that tears should never disgrace your beautiful eyes.

He will invite you to listen to his records with him and purposely put on sad ones or really sweet ones so you grip onto him while you tear up,

He is a demon, after all. ;)

MAMMON

Finally. Someone who cries more than him!

It actually makes him feel safer around you, like you wont bully him for being more sensitive than his brothers.

Actually ends up dropping a lot of his tsundere act around you.

You watch movies together, but always have to check the Devildom version of 'doesthedogdie.com'

Idk, I feel like Mammon would give you a bit of bother for it at first but then slowly start to like, open up more, because he really does see himself in you like that.

LEVIATHAN

He blanks.

One day you start crying because of how cute the anime you both were watching was, Levi thought you were geniunely upset, so he tried to cheer you up.

You end up thinking that its really sweet and start crying harder.

Leviathan PANICKS.

Even now, he still gets really nervous when you start crying, and has popped into his demon form more times than he can count when you grab onto him and sniffle.

Please he's already so awkward he can't handle how cute you are.

You might make him start crying as well :(

SATAN

Satan 100% gets so angry he starts crying so he can kind of understand it.

He's just glad you cry over positive things :)

His favourite moment was definetly when you teared up over a small kitten. (He took several photos and also took the kitten home)

Like Lucifer he 100% invites you to read with him and picks the fluffiest most adorable romance he can find, or the saddest most heartbreaking romance he can find.

He likes when you cling onto him and look up at him with those big teary eyes.

He's a demon. What did you expect, ;)

ASMODEUS

He thinks you're adorable.

Any emotion on your face is adorable to him actually. <3

If you wear makeup he makes sure to get you waterproof mascara and other eye makeup so your beautiful tears dont ruin your beautiful makeup <3

If any of you remember that crying girl makeup trend? Yeah he deffo starts that up in the Devildom (a) to make you feel less embarrassed about it and (b) because he thinks youre so beautiful when you express yourself.

BEELZEBUB

He doesn't cry a lot, it's not exactly something that comes naturally to him at all.

Its not that he CANT cry or that he holds his tears back, its just that he doesn't normally process or reaction to things with tears.

Only in serious serious situations will he cry.

So when he sees you crying over one of those little onigiri things that are literally adorable, he thinks that you've somehow hurt yourself. (i nabbed this off of pinterest)

Beel panics, and mentally goes over the ingredients in his head, did he order something with an ingredient that was dangerous to humans?

He calms down when he realises that you're crying because it looks cute.

He feels you with that.

Makes an effort to take you to more places with food items displayed in cute ways.

Though you do have to look away while Beel cuts them up for you, otherwise you wouldnt be able to eat it.

BELPHEGOR

He laughs at you.

Point blank.

Originally when he's in the attic he uses your sensitivity as a way to manipulate you.

But post lesson 16, he really starts to appreciate it more.

This bastard will use his powers as the youngest sibling against you, he'll dress up in cute onesies and give you puppy eyes, all to coax you into taking naps with him.

Which you do.

I have no idea how half of these fuckheads would react tbh

[teenytinyjimin]

golden (k. taehyung)

and i can see it all (in my mind)

all of you, all of me (intertwined)

i once believed love would be (black and white)

but it’s golden (golden)

summary: in which she can’t sleep, but that’s okay, because she could stay wide awake in bed forever if it meant that forever was spent with him

pairing: taehyung x reader

tags: fluff, sleepy!tae, affectionate!tae, relatively domestic but still idol!tae, somehow famous!oc

warnings: none! besides a lot of adorable sleepy fluff

authors note: i wrote this months ago on ao3 but decided to take it, rewrite it a little, and post it on here. hope you enjoy<3

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Tick. Tick. Tick.

She stared at the ceiling, the sound of the wall clock echoing throughout the bedroom. Typically she would be fast asleep at this time, considering the fact that any downtime she can get these days is time she takes advantage of for sleep. However, her life was so hectic and so scattered that her sleep schedule was quite inconsistent and messed-up. Sometimes she wouldn't be asleep until three a.m., and other times she was getting up at that time. Taehyung was a lot more used to it at this point – ten years of this kind of lifestyle really changes a person. She, on the other hand, hated it, and found herself awake at times she truly shouldn't be. This was one of those times.

Getting bored of the design of the ceiling, her head turned slightly as she sought after a better sight to look at. The sight of her lover next to her in bed, to be exact. He was fast asleep and probably would be for several more hours if she didn't wake him up. However, something within her was urging her to gently nudge him awake. Perhaps it was her very own selfishness that wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and spend quality time with him. Or maybe she just didn't want to be alone in her conscious boredom.

Turning from her back to her side, she rested her head on her arm as she gazed at him. The part of his face encapsulated by the golden morning light was glowing – his features were so soft, so beautiful. His little freckles were, at this time of day, hardly noticeable, but as someone who had spent years admiring them, she could still see each and every one. Her eyes traced his face softly as they landed upon the freckle lining the edge of his lips, her mind racing with thoughts of kissing it over and over and over. They then trailed back up to the one on the tip of his nose – again, one she could kiss an infinite amount of times. Then there was the one on his cheek, the one she did in fact kiss over and over.

She had to stop. The more she thought about kissing him, the more she actually wanted to. Oh, she wanted nothing more than to drown him in her love.

"Tae."

"Mmm."

He wasn't as asleep as she previously thought. Her voice was soft, almost inaudible, yet he seemed to have heard it as if she were yelling at him. But that was the thing – his ears were always alert, always listening for her sweet voice. Because in his mind, the only sound that mattered was the sound that came from her.

"Can't sleep." She whispered in response, tracing his face with the tip of her fingernail. He once again made another noise, turning his head so that it was buried further into his pillow. He didn't want to wake up. She knew he didn't.

"Taehyung." She said his name again, this time in full. She felt increasingly more needy. She wanted nothing more than all of him, all of his attention, all of his love.

"Mmm." He once again repeated, this time less audible. She ruffled his hair gently, letting his soft locks consume her hand. His left eye, which wasn't yet buried into the pillow, opened. She could swear she could feel her heart skip a beat as he looked at her. He was so good at making her feel like she was falling in love all over again without even trying.

"Good morning my love," she whispered oh-so-softly, giving him the gentlest of smiles. He didn't move for a moment, still staring at her, before suddenly reaching over and grabbing her. With a small squeal, she giggled as he pulled her close to him and buried his face into the crook of her neck. "Good morning, darling." His morning voice would be the death of her. He placed the softest of kisses upon the closest bit of skin his lips could find. And then another. And another. Kiss after kiss after kiss until she couldn't take it anymore and started giggling once again.

“Stoooopppp!" She whined, struggling to push him away from her. She didn't want him to stop. Finally, after a minute of struggle, her eyes met his as she noticed the small smirk on his face. God, he was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. Everything about him was perfect.

"Is there something you need?" He hummed, now propped up on his elbow. His other arm was snaked around her waist, his hand tracing shapes onto her back. She gazed at him with lidded eyes, pure bliss coursing through her veins. As she admired every last part of him, she almost completely forgot about the point of waking him up in the first place. At this moment in time, none of that mattered anymore. She just wanted to go back to sleep with him. Her brain melting with thoughts of love and adoration, she buried her face into his chest, taking in his scent.

"No," She murmured. "Nothing at all."

She barely felt the final kiss he placed on the top of her head as she quickly drifted off to sleep once again.

[polling-sonic-fans]

I gotta be completely honest with you, I'm a little frustrated with the people who interact with this blog. I don't want to be rude, especially not to you the mod, but seeing how popular the added "unsure" and "haven't heard of this" options can be for some polls, I feel like it takes from the poll entirely. For example, the recent one about Sonic Omens. I think that anyone who doesn't have a leg in the race just shouldn't vote, and the poll isn't for them. I feel like including options for people who can't even answer the question sort of messes with the data. I only mean this as constructive criticism, not to cause harm or hate, and I hope to hear your side of it, as well as submitters who make the polls. What do you think?

This, too, is data I must learn. My thoughts are under the cut, thank you for your feedback.

Joking aside, I understand the point, but I moderately disagree.

For the past month or so this blog has been running completely on user submissions. I only edit options to add something I think is missing and will result in unnecessary distress (see: the lack of chill on the first Sonic Voice Actor Poll. Lest we forget.). I do not currently remove options; I presume people meant what they said unless they tell me otherwise.

I do understand that some polls may have a lot of people choosing the opt out option, and that could pose specific problems. I don't think I agree with your example for this: I for one had never heard of that project, so would have voted the opt out option. And while I could and possibly would just ignore that poll, there's a chance someone might just pick or guess any answer if their response is not encapsulated in the options. People are nosy. They want to know the results even if they don't know anything about the topic.

Also, you can always calculate the proportion of the votes that went to each without the cop-out option with some simple percentage calculations. So the data isn't invalidated, the sample is just smaller. That is also data: it tells you many people aren't aware of or engaged with that topic. I think that is interesting too.

Where I could see your point is on more general but difficult things. If I listed a poll like 'Who's better: Shadow or Sonic?' I expect many people would want to click the cop-out option because they really like both, and there I would lose data. Because if they were really pushed, they could probably manage an opinion, but it would be easier (and give the gratification of button pressing) if they can not think about it and choose a 'I refuse!' button.

However, even in such cases I still think it's important that I do not edit people's polls to remove catch-all options if they have listed them. For all I know, the submitter was actually interested in capturing data on how many people would refuse to answer, and would be dissappointed to have that option removed.

My final note is I have found myself feeling quite protective of my submitters, especially those I suspect are regulars. This is not a massive blog being overwhelmed with asks. I would have given up already without them, I used nearly all of my ideas to get to past the first 100 polls. So if the polls are mislisted, contain errors, or you have grievances with them: raise those with me, that's my job. Give the submitters the kudos for providing the entertainment. I am not the last person you should be rude to but the first.

I don't want to ask voters to do anything except vote honestly, even if the answer is they don't know, and share questions they like. If they could continue to refrain from starting barfights on my posts that would also be swell. But I guess enthusiasm is appreciated.

Those who've read my essay here, please do leave your thoughts on the subject in the replies - I will be reading with interest and will let it impact my own polls, if not alter the submissions. Genuinely, thank you for the ask and your interest in the data we're making here, I am pleased that you are invested and like me want good data!

[quietwingsinthesky]

unpopular opinion: 10 and 12 have essentially the same flaws and hell bent was pretty much 12's time lord victorious era (i love both 10 and 12 ftr)

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

YEAH!!! YEAH YOU GET IT!!!! actually i think this is why i have the nuwho doctors mentally sorted into two categories. one side is the “oh god oh fuck why did i survive that” category (nine, thirteen, fifteen) and the other is the time lord victorious arc and consequences category (ten, eleven, twelve). they’re more loose thematic similarities for the former but for the latter its like. Yeah, this is the point of them. ten kicks it off and then tries at the very end Not to go time lord victorious. eleven is literally All about how he got so big for his britches that the whole fucking universe is scared of him and this is a Bad thing. and twelve is, finally, dealing with all of that but not in like a “healing from his issues” way, in a “trying to moralize his way out of a hole” way where he is replicating the exact same mistakes he’s always made, making the same assumptions that override people’s autonomy and throw the universe out of wack because he feels it is what he should be allowed to do as the doctor.

and i love that about them! what a mess those three are in that semi-arc of trying to figure out. well. Is it a god complex if the power you have over the universe does sort of make you a god? And how does one be a moral god, if there’s any way to do so? and the constant underlying truth that undoes all three of them that they are NOT gods. they’re a man in a box, with all the flaws and biases and attachments and issues of that. it’s fun!!!

and hellbent is such a perfect encapsulation of all of that because its in direct parallel to clara’s “i am owed better” moment in dark water. this is the doctor, punching diamond to dust because HE IS OWED BETTER. he is owed clara’s life, though she chose every step to face that death. and that’s what makes giving up the memory of her more painful than say, letting her die again. because in that moment, her second chance at life becomes not for him to hold onto her, but for her to have for herself. ough.

[unpopular opinion rating]

[tangledbea]

As heartwarming as the epilogue is, It does encapsulate a problem I have with the show: it’s that it has these big payoffs that are usually satisfactory in the moment, but had very little build up

Rapunzel becoming a good queen?: On paper that is extremely fitting. But here’s the thing: other than other characters mentioning that she was gonna become queen, we never actually got to see Rapunzel realizing just how big of a responsibility that is, and the process of her learning what it means to be a good ruler. There’s bits and pieces of it (Great Tree, the painting episode, etc) but it never really sticks

Eugene becoming captain of the guards?: Where did that even come from?! Honestly, it felt like the writers didn’t really know what to do with him. The closest we got to an arc for him was the Dark Kingdom, but that gets kinda forgotten about, and doesn’t affect his character all that much.

Cassandra going off to find a path that’ll make her truly happy?: Again, conceptually fitting, but it wasn’t properly fleshed out or set up because for 99% of the season Cass whined about Gothel and like 5 other things that barely related

Varian reconciling with and feeling validated his dad?: Well Qurin wrote this letter back in “Queen for a Day”, shortly before getting trapped in the amber, and it was stated to have been something very important. But come season 3 it turns out the letter just says “I proud of U :)” , and all the baggage is instantly resolved, Varian is a okay now, yipeeeeee-. Like nice sentiment but we were promised more.

To be fair, I'm not at all positive that Rapunzel is supposed to be the queen at the end of the series. Her accepting the crown means she's officially ready to officially have the responsibility she's been carrying out for the entire season.

But when you look at the finale scene, Frederic and Arianna are still wearing their crowns.

But when you see them being casual (not "on the clock" as it were) they don't wear them. So, I don't think Rapunzel is meant to be queen in the epilogue, just officially ready to take on all responsibilities of Crown Princess.

I was never too fond of Eugene becoming Captain. It's sort of... the "natural" conclusion of "Fitzherbert P.I.," where he's shown not being a fit for the guard. Over the course of the series, he becomes more responsible, more reliable, and moreover, he's Rapunzel's #1 defender. I still don't like him as Captain, though, and I personally headcanon that he only keeps it up for a couple years, tops, before turning the guard over to Maximus. After all, the movie's epilogue implies that Max is the one who keeps the kingdom crime-free, and that Eugene has nothing to do with it.

Cassandra actually spent most of the series dissatisfied with her lot in life, and "Beginnings" even shows that she's not happy in Corona and would rather be somewhere else. Besides, I headcanon that she was soft-banished for taking Corona over. That's why she wasn't expected to help clean up the mess she made; because Rapunzel very lovingly told her she had to go and wasn't welcome there anymore.

As for Varian, his plot resolved at the beginning of S2. I know a lot of people really would have liked to see more with him and Quirin, but that wasn't a loose end for me. What little we saw of them showed that they were getting along better and making an effort to be a part of each other's lives. But while Varian achieved main character status, in actually, he's physically in 15 of 60 episodes (including the pilot), and two of those episodes ("Not In the Mood" and "King and Queen of Hearts") he's barely in them, so it's more like 13 episodes, which is less than 22% (21.66666666 etc%) of the series. Then he has his imaginary cameo in "Happiness Is..." So as much as people love him, he's not actually a major part of the overall series plot, in general, and his presence in S3 is more about how he now gets along with the gang than his dad. That's not really a flaw of the series, IMO.

[antianakin]

Ok but in thinking about it very hard, while Anakin is an interesting and complex character etc etc, why would anyone chose to Stan him as the "Ultimate Jedi" when Obi-Wan "Elegance and Sarcasm Incarnate Who Will Kick Your Butt in A Duel While Politely Insulting You" Kenobi and Luke "Ray of Sunshine Who Drinks Hot Chocolate For Fun and Is Ridiculously Force Lucky" Skywalker are right there? Not to mention the myriad of other Jedi who are all interesting in their own right!?

(Also I know the hot chocolate Luke thing is technically legends but it's real to me, darn it!)

Because people hate the Jedi. Literally, though, people HATE the Jedi and view them as the antagonists of the entire story, the thing that had to be defeated in order for the happy ending to even happen, the thing that destroyed Anakin in the first place. And Anakin, as the poor victim of their abuse who has to rise above them to save his own son in the end, perfectly encapsulates all of their views about the Jedi and their interpretation of the story. The "Ultimate Jedi" to them isn't the character who actually best embodies the Jedi philosophies we hear about in the Prequels, it's the more POWERFUL Jedi, and that is generally considered to be Anakin (you can make arguments for some of the others like Yoda or Mace, but they explicitly state that Anakin's midichlorian count is supposed to be higher than anyone else in history so).

Anakin is also the main protagonist of the Prequel trilogy which allows for a lot of protagonist bias, and became the primary villain of the Original Trilogy, one of the characters a lot of people really were into because he was cool and scary. Anakin is a memorable villain as Darth Vader and then is a tragic protagonist as Anakin Skywalker. Those two things combined make for a potent attraction to the character.

Luke is certainly a more complex character than most people realize, but he is often interpreted as a "sunshine boy" kind of character who always does the right thing and barely has any flaws and is always kind and happy blah blah blah. Obi-Wan sometimes has a similar perception by fans of just being TOO perfect. And so Anakin, by contrast, FEELS more nuanced and complex as a character with all of his flaws on very obvious display for fans to connect to and sympathize with. It makes Anakin feel more human and relatable than Luke or Obi-Wan or the other Jedi. (This is ironically kind-of why people seemed to hate the Kenobi show so much, Obi-Wan was suddenly the main character and got shown with a lot more of those obvious flaws and that's NOT how people interpreted him and so they just RAGED against the show for writing Obi-Wan "wrong" and "ruining him" etc. So even when characters like Obi-Wan GET more of that complexity and relatability, they're condemned for it in ways Anakin is not because that's not the way fans have interpreted them.)

So, yeah, fans just hate the Jedi because they've chosen to interpret them as the villains of the story and relate a lot more to Anakin as the emotional mess of a protagonist whose tragic story causes him to become a very memorable villain that gets "redeemed" at the end. I get the attraction, I just don't share it.

[istoleyoursk1n]

How would they (Origin + Halsin) react to a Tav that's taller than them? If it's even possible to be taller than Halsin lmao

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How would they react to a Tav that's taller than them?

( Added the possibility of your Tav/Durge carrying them so I have more to work with. All for more content tho lmao )

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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Why not ask our walking street lamp if they can see anything from here? Gods, with all that height they ought to do something useful with it.”

Irritated.

He’s already shorter compared to the others in their camp, what more when he's standing next to you?

If anything he's frustrated that he has to break his neck every time he needs to speak with you.

Demands that you Crouch/get on his level instead if you both need to talk. He’d rather you get all the neck aches than him.

He only gets mildly defensive when he senses you looming over him but he eventually becomes accustomed to it, and soon enough, he learns to like it.

Having someone tall enough to reach things for him without having to exert so much effort is a lovely little advantage for him.

And if you have the ability to ever so easily lift him up? He’d love it even more. Now he doesn't have to walk! Plus being in your arms is something he finds oddly comforting. He wouldn't admit it out loud just yet but being encapsulated by your warmth does something to his undead heart.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Nothing wrong with having a particularly height-boosted companion tag along in our exciting misadventures! Though I do hope we manage to find some armor to fit you.”

Surprised but he didn't find it all too bad. People come in all shapes and sizes after all.

He doesn't exactly treat you any differently because of your height, he’ll make the usual playful remark here and there about it but nothing more.

A small chuckle would come out of him every time your height causes you to bend your head to fit through doorways or if you accidentally hit something but he’d be there to make sure you weren't too hurt.

Similar to Astarion, he's grateful for your height advantages since you can grab things for him or even run longer distances.

Would be a laughing mess if you do manage to pick him up, he's never actually been picked up from the ground so easily that it startles him in the best way possible.

Would playfully call you his knight in shining armor just until you put him down.

: ̗̀➛GALE

“I’m not quite sure if this is the result of some sort of magic elixir or if you were given the extra growth spurs by chance.”

‘Well alright then-’

It's not as if he hasn't seen people taller than him, sure the neck pains are going to be bothersome but it's not something he wants you to feel bad for.

Depending on the species you are, he’d question how you’d somehow come to be so tall.

Nothing but harmless questions honestly, he’d probably ask a story in regards to your height at some point but he wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

Besides, if he wished to be tall too he could have used a spell on himself but he doesn't need to.

Your imposing height can be used to intimidate enemies so there's that. Regardless, he sees your height as something that has its own perks.

Baffled when you manage to lift him up. He spends at least five seconds struggling because he doesn't quite understand what just happened and he doesn't know what he should be holding onto. Somehow his hand ends up on your face at some point.

Relaxes soon enough and happily stays in your arms for however long you wish to keep him there. Now he won't stop talking your ear off and praising you as per usual.

: ̗̀➛KARLACH

“And just when I thought I was tall, in came you! I mean just look at you! I bet you can see damn well anything from up there!“

WHOA. <—Her inner reaction

She's the one of the tallest in your little group so of course she's surprised to see someone who towers over her.

She can't get over the fact that she has to look up at you every time you both speak to one another.

With your permission, she refers to you both as ‘ Tall buddies ‘

I mean hey! The taller you are the more huggable you must be right? At least that's what she thinks.

Surprised if you do manage to lift her off the ground, practically squealing and laughing out loud from the mere fact that someone had managed to lift her even an inch off the ground.

She'd have the time of her life in all honesty.

If your body could manage it, she’d be so on board with going on a piggyback ride. She hasn't had one since she was a mere little tiefling! You haven't seen her laugh so loudly in such a long time, it's wonderful.

: ̗̀➛SHADOWHEART

“And your height proves what sort of concern for me? Unless you're bumping into doorways I doubt we’d have any trouble.”

She isn't bothered by it in the slightest, she hardly even cares about the fact that you're taller than her.

While it is sort of tiresome to constantly frame her neck so that she's constantly looking up at you, it's not something she ever complains about.

She won't make a single comment on it unless you’re visibly struggling to get through door frames and or average-sized spaces (if you are then how tall must you be lmao)

It’s more of her asking a single question as to how you manage with your height and if there is anything that could be done. Other than that, she’d move along.

A bit tense if you ever do decide to use your height advantage to pick her up.

She doesn't know what to do nor if this is something she’s comfortable with but she slowly eases into it, even holding you properly with a warm smile carefully forming across her face.

She takes this time to look around, noticing how much she can see from being lifted up by a taller person. She’d thank you for such a lovely little experience after you put her down.

: ̗̀➛LAE’ZEL

“Tsk’va, must we really bring this istik with us? Any charith could spot them from a mile away.”

She doesn't really care either unless your height proves to be some sort of perk in the coming battles.

And hey, if you can somehow intimidate your foes with your height advantage, she’d be impressed. Good for you.

Though at first, she does get out some harsh jabs about your height proving to be a disadvantage when stealthing. However, she’d slowly warm up to you and cease to make such comments.

Would probably punch you if you ever tried picking her up without warning her beforehand (0/10 do not recommend)

Like others mentioned before her, she hasn't been picked up before. She tenses the moment you lift her and it takes a while for her to relax.

She’d probably have to be softly talked out of her tension in order to properly relax in your grip and take a moment to look around.

The moment she does, she finally lets down her guard, taking a moment to look around now that she has a better view from above.

As soft as this little moment is, she now sees this as a way for to get a better advantage whenever she's using a bow. She can see her foes from afar from this height. Now you two can work even closer in combat!

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“Hm. It has been quite some time since I've encountered someone as towering as you. Not that I mind. Simply one of nature’s many gifts. I find that it only adds to your charm.”

What?

I mean have you seen this man? He’s towered over everyone the majority of his life, he's only met a select few that were actually taller than him.

It was a pleasant surprise for him when you first met. He isn't quite used to having to crane his neck upwards. It aches the first few times but he eventually gets used to it.

Similar to Karlach, your height is something that constantly comes to his mind. It simply baffles him but he doesn't comment too much about it after the first time he brought it up.

He finds it kind of amusing if anything.

Watch this man’s life flash before his eyes the moment you manage to lift him up. Who has managed to lift him up before? Apparently you now.

He stays silent, shocked, and confused for about five or more seconds till he finally lets out a chuckle.

He can't believe it! He's being carried! He can’t stop himself from grinning from utter disbelief.

He’s even more enamored by you now, utterly delighted by this otherworldly experience.

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[prongsfish]

we need more bartylus thoughts 🙏

YEAHHHHHH BARTYLUSSS!!!!

i am a full supporter of the “i want non-angsty bartylus!” movement because i agree but i also am personally mostly invested in doomed ships. like the fact that i even believe they ever recognised their feelings for each other is more than most of my ships HAHA so you’ll all have to excuse me if i usually write them tragically.

my bartylus is encapsulated by a midwest emo song. not like a specific one, just the general vibes of a midwest emo song. that’s what they are to me.

though! i do have some happy-ish bartylus thoughts. i like the idea that barty is fluent in french through coming from a family in politics, it seems like the kind of thing he’d be taught, and i imagine that they often speak in french to each other when they want less people to be able to understand them. like if regulus is particularly upset or stressed, he goes to barty and they speak in french because it just feels safer (and vice versa!!). i feel like they’d both be vulnerable with each other in a way they never could be with anybody else, they’re both struggle a lot with emotions but they’re each others’ safe spaces in that way. they just get each other, they really value solidarity.

a lot of people are scared of them, because they’re both very intimidating people. a lot of people also question how they’re even compatible, but in truth, the way they present to the general public is quite different to how they truly are in private, so a lot of people take them at face value as just “scary loud guy” and “scary quiet guy”. they could care less what people think about them and just keep to themselves, it doesn’t matter either way to them.

i think they were always very close, ever since they met, and some of their other friends would feel kind of left out. like, “why are they so inseparable and i’m just on the outside? what makes it different between them?” but then eventually barty and regulus get together and everyone’s like “ohhhhhhhhhhh. right” HAHA it’s not like they weren’t super close with evan, pandora, and dorcas- more just that barty and reg were always just one degree MORE. that whole group is super codependent and tightly knit, any normal person would think they were all insanely obsessed with each other, but even from their inner perspectives bartylus were extra close.

they’re also very much creatures of habit in my mind. barty is a bit more of a wild card, but there’s still a method to his madness, and there are clear patterns in his behaviour. regulus is full routine. he hates everything he can’t control, and when he CAN control something, he CONTROLSSSS it. barty finds it cute and makes fun of him, sometimes he’ll joke about messing things up for him but he’d never genuinely do that to him because he knows regulus would actually just break down. if you want you can take that as then being autistic, i don’t really write characters as explicitly neurodivergent but it often filters through just because i project my own thought processes onto characters LMAOO

that’s all i’ve got for now i think… i love them so much though thank you for the excuse to ramble about them. they’re constantly on my mind i tell you