#this took so. fucking long. and i really did try to condense it i did but my love cannot be contained

[old-skyguy]

Been seeing a lotta character wheels around and decided to give it a shot because they're really fun!

An assortment of favs of mine whether it's based on story, personality, or both. Or just because I like them.

(Note: there's a very high concentration of Ace Attorney and FMA characters in here. Just so you know. Full list of results under cut.)

Maya Fey (AA)

Mia Fey (AA)

Dick Gumshoe (AA)

Franziska Von Karma (AA)

Miles Edgeworth (AA)

Apollo Justice (AA)

Klavier Gavin (AA)

Godot (AA)

Iris (AA)

Adrian Andrews (AA)

April May (AA)

Pearl Fey (AA)

Hypnos (HadesGame)

Ema Skye (AA)

Viola Cadaverini (AA)

Hermes (HadesGame)

Dionysus (HadesGame)

Dusa (HadesGame)

Charon (HadesGame)

Literally any character from Dandadan

Maka (SE)

Death the Kid (SE)

Soul Evans (SE)

Stein (SE)

Marie (SE)

Yukito (Cardcaptor Sakura)

Xiaolang (CCS)

Sakura (CCS)

Edward Elric (FMA/B)

Alphonse Elric (FMA/B)

Pride (FMAB)

Envy (FMAB)

Winrey (FMA/B)

Mustang (FMA/B)

Hawkeye (FMA/B)

Louis Armstrong (FMA/B)

Olivier Armstrong (FMA/B)

Scar (FMA/B)

Izumi (FMA/B)

Greed and/or Ling (arguably my favs of FMAB I could not get enough of their plotline)

Simon Fairchild (TMA and if you get this one we are literally the same person he is my fav of all time)

Jon Sims (TMA)

Martin Blackwood (TMA)

Tim Stoker (TMA)

Melanie King (TMA)

Michael Shelley/Distortion (TMA)

Helen Richardson (TMA)

Gerry (TMA)

Gertrude Robinson (TMA)

Agnes Montague (TMA)

Alice Dyer (TMAGP)

Klaus Baudelaire (ASOUE)

Commander Peepers (Wander Over Yonder)

Dr. Frank N. (Rocky Horror)

Frankenstein's Monster (The Modern Prometheus)

Hamlet (Hamlet)

Ophelia (Hamlet)

Basil (Picture of Dorian Gray)

Dorian Gray (Picture of Dorian Gray)

Constance Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Eleanor Vance (Haunting of Hill House (RAHHH))

Napstablook (Undertale)

Mettaton (Undertale)

Sans (Undertale)

Papyrus (Undertale)

Muffet (Undertale)

Judge (Off)

Batter (Off)

Anzu Hoshiro ("Romantic Killer" hehe more like AROM-")

Wallace Wells (Any iteration of SPVTW)

Knives Chau (anime specific version of SPVTW)

Kim Pines (SPVTW)

Roxy Richter (Anime/Comic of SPVTW, your choice)

Paprika (Paprika)

Haruko (FLCL)

Missile (Ghost Trick PD)

Detective Cabanela (Ghost Trick PD)

Sissel (Ghost Trick PD)

Yomiel (Ghost Trick PD)

Sophie (Howl's Moving Castle (mostly the book iteration))

Calcifer (Howl's Moving Castle Movie)

Marco (Porco Rosso)

Haku (Spirited Away)

Patty (Dinner in America)

Simon (Dinner in America)

John Doe (Malevolent)

Arthur Lester (Malevolent)

Oscar (Malevolent)

Daniel Saltzman (Malevolent)

Carlos (WTNV)

Cecil (WTNV)

Tamika Flynn (WTNV)

Ron Stampler (Dungeons And Daddies)

Glenn Close (Dungeons and Daddies)

Trudy Trout (Dungeons and Daddies)

Kelsey Grammar (Dungeons and Daddies)

Shane (SDV)

Harvey (SDV)

Winnie Bosko (Cold Front)

Augustine Orlov (Cold Front)

Satori (DDLC)

Yuri (DDLC)

Charlotte (Making Friends)

Gas (Invader Zim)

Dib (Invader Zim)

Zim (Invader Zim)

BEN (creepypasta, actual story not canon)

Carrie (Carrie)

Ash (SF)

Sal (SF)

Larry (SF)

Paul Morelli (Greylock)

Saul Goodman (Better Call Saul/BB)

Kim Wexler (Better Call Saul)

Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad/El Camino)

Gustavo Fring (BB/Better Call Saul)

Bob Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Marshmallow (Bob's Burgers)

Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Louise Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Gene Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Tina Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Calvin Fischoeder (Bob's Burgers)

Princess Peach.

Rosaline (Romeo and Juliet, babe dodged a fucking TRAIN.)

Father Pruitt (Midnight Mass)

Nadja (WWDITS)

Lazlo (WWDITS)

Soul of Nadia's Human Form Contained Inside a Doll (WWDITS)

Regan (Inside Job)

Brent (Inside Job)

Swansea (Mouthwashing)

Daisuke (Mouthwashing)

Dr. Halloway (Cube 1997)

David Worth (Cube 1997)

Amélie (Amélie)

Alan (Smiling Friends)

Jessica Rabbit (Who Framed Roger Rabbit)

Elle Woods (Legally Blonde)

Wendy Corduroy (Gravity Falls)

Dipper (Gravity Falls)

Mabel (Gravity Falls)

Pacifica (Gravity Falls)

Stanley Pines (Gravity Falls)

Flatwoods Monster (Urban Legend)

Molly Solverson (Fargo)

Lorne Malvo (Fargo)

Floyd (Sunset Overdrive)

Alucard (Hellsing)

Frank (Little Miss Sunshine)

Old Dolio (Kajillionaire)

Marvin (Hitchhikers Guide)

Benson (The Passenger)

Yuki (Gothic and Lolita Psycho)

Elle (Gothic and Lolita Psycho)

Eithan Aurelius (Cradles)

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[makethatelevenrings]

"back off" with Jaason?

TW: patronizing man

Scary dog privileges. That’s what Artemis called it once when she saw him in action.

Even if you were simply stopping by the corner store for some more bananas and yogurt, he was there. Anytime the sun set on Gotham and the criminals began to crawl out of the shadows, you couldn’t go anywhere without your guard dog.

At first it rubbed you the wrong way. Did he not trust you?

But then you learned quickly that it wasn’t you he didn’t trust. It was the leering monsters of Gotham who preyed on young women like you. You found solace in his presence, even if he insisted on following you the ten feet it took you from your work to your front door.

But this was the first time that Jason Todd had to go into scary dog mode during the day.

He had left the table the two of you were occupying so he could go help a woman outside who appeared to be struggling to juggle her grocery bags and her cane. You loved your kindhearted man and savored the sight of the way the corner of his eyes crinkled with his laughter. He took her bags in one of his big, strong hands and offered her his arm which she gladly took. Jason glanced at you through the window and jerked his head towards the left before holding up four fingers. 

He wouldn’t be gone long so you could hold down the fort for a bit.

The humid Gotham air caused condensation to gather on the surface of your travel mug and you absentmindedly drew your finger through the droplets as you thumbed through some paperwork that Bruce asked you to take a look at. For Wayne Enterprises, that is. Not the night job.

The Bowery wasn’t just Jason’s territory. You pulled the marionette strings for the daytime practices. As he cleaned up the mob, you focused on filling in the power vacuums left behind by various murders and arrests. Job training programs, continuing education, supporting schools, that was your thing. So when Bruce approached Jason about building a new library in the Bowery, your boyfriend directed his father to you.

You were so engrossed in the details of the building plan that you didn’t look up when the chair across from you pulled away. You assumed it was Jason, of course.

“Did you know your dad wants the entire first floor to be for children and teens while also supplying a social worker program on the second floor for the unhoused?” you mused. When your question went unanswered, you raised your head to find a man who was decidedly not your boyfriend leering at you.

“Can I help you?” you sighed.

“Hi. I’m Mark. I was working over in the corner and noticed that you were really focused. Can I ask what you’re working on?”

“No, but you can fuck off,” you said as politely as your sharp words would allow. “If you saw me sitting here, then you saw my boyfriend seated here too.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I was just looking to make polite conversation but you’re over here jumping to conclusions. Can’t a guy just come say hello?”

You clasped your hands in front of you on the table and leaned forward. “Alright, Mark. What were your intentions when you came over here? Especially since you waited until my boyfriend was gone. That doesn’t seem to be polite conversation but predatory behavior.”

You flashed him a fake smile and batted your lashes. His lips screwed up tightly and he scoffed. “All of you females are the same. I mean, you really thought that I would want to hit on you? How arrogant can you be? Here’s a tip: learn to respect men an-”

He was cut off by a hand curling around the collar of his shirt. Jason yanked Mark up and out of the chair and pulled him in close, his lips peeling back in a sneer.

“Here’s a tip: you see any girl, but especially my girl, and you learn to back off before I break your arm off and shove it down your fucking throat,” Jason growled. You blinked up at the two men and then grinned, leaning your head on your hand and watching as your guard dog went into attack mode.

“Hey man, I was just trying to be friendly,” Mark gasped out. There was no way he could take on the over six foot tall tank that was Jason Todd. Your boyfriend’s jaw clenched and a vein throbbed under his skin, which you really shouldn’t find so hot. 

“Yeah? I wasn’t. You should be glad I’m feeling charitable today. Now, you’re gonna pack your shit up and get out of my fucking sight.”

He let go of the weasel and stepped back so his thigh brushed against your shoulder. Jason crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating his already massive form with the bulge of his biceps. Mark raised his hands as he scooched around the mountainous man and darted back to his table.

“Sorry, Mallory,” Jason called to the owner of your favorite cafe. She merely waved him off and shot you a wink. You leaned your head against Jason and raised your hand to settle on his waist but he didn’t relax until Mark was out of the store, the bell ringing behind him as the door slammed shut on his ass.

“He didn’t touch you, right?” Jason asked. His voice still held that sharp edge to it but it softened when he turned to face you. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you smiled at his touch.

“No, baby. I wouldn’t let him touch me even if he tried.”

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he rounded the table and settled back in his seat. One of his hands remained clasped over yours as he gazed at you from across the table.

“Guess what your dad wants to do on the first floor?” you asked as you waved the building plans in front of his face.

“Tell me,” he hummed. Jason Todd might be your guard dog, but you never saw his fangs directed at you. Despite his size and stature, he was just a little puppy when it came to you.

[angel1010xx]

ａ ｋｉｓｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒａｉｎ

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairings: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader, Sanji x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Luffy. Luffy, you’re joking,”

You laid your head in your hands, absolutely exasperated. It had already been a long day for you—the crew finally reached an island, yes, but it was just so dense with exuberant foliage, tree roots lifted so high from the ground that they could trip a giant, with low visibility due to the canopy up above formed from condensed trees. Everyone had split up into groups to go hunt and find food, and you were designated to be your carefree captain’s companion. Seriously, it was too much for you.

He had run rampant all day, and you were oh-so tired from chasing after him. Luffy was determined to tackle the biggest and baddest creature in the rainforest. Honestly, he was fueled by his desire for meat. Aaaaaaaall the meat that he could eat. You and your captain found one. There was just one problem. 

The beast was way, way too fucking huge to drag back through the crowded thickets back to the ship. At least, there was no way to do it and keep your sanity intact. You gazed on as Luffy leapt through the air, waving his fist in victory. Yes, his smile was adorable. No, the puppy dog effect was not going to work on you. 

“Captain, there’s no way that you and I can bring this… thing back in one piece,” you sighed. Was there really any point in trying to reason with him? “I’m a swordsman, ‘Cap. I can cut this thing up, and we can haul part of it, or rendezvous with one of the other groups and carry pieces…”

Luffy seemed to contemplate what you told him, putting his fingers to his chin and rubbing it. He flicked his eyes upward, pausing his jubilance for just a moment. He turned back towards you. “Nah, we can drag it!” 

The conversation was interrupted by a droplet of water that hit his forehead. And then another. And then a droplet hit you. The pace escalated to a downpour before either of you two could blink. A surge of rage bubbled in the pit of your stomach. You were not just tired now, but tired, soaked, and freezing. 

“Please, Captain,” you pleaded. “It’s going to be too much to drag this thing through all of this.” Luffy moved to lay his eyes on you, noticing how your body began to shiver. “You’re cold!” He emoted. He bounded over to you, and morphed to wrap his rubber arms around you like a snake would wrap around a branch. “Y’know, you’re ‘posed to get real close, for body warmth and stuff like that, when it’s cold.” 

Even though you were used to your Captain hugging you, as it was not out of the ordinary for him to hug any of the crew, a blush still started tinting your face. His signature shit-faced grin was close to yours, unmoving, and that was a lot for you to handle emotionally in that moment. Sure, Luffy was clueless. He was as dense as the forest you two were unfortunately in. But he was so caring, so loyal, and so handsome when he was this close.

The rubber man held your gaze for a few short moments. “I think we can take just part of this back,” Luffy said. “’M hungry. I wanna eat now.” You sighed in relief. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll get started on that.” 

You paused for a moment, with water dripping down your face, waiting for Luffy to unwrap himself. He did not. Instead, he kept staring you down with an intensity that was unnerving you slightly. You could spot the cogs moving around in his head, and he had a reputation for never using his head. 

And then he kissed you. 

It was just a quick peck, and you would have missed it if you blinked. His arms unraveled, and he took a step back and settled into a pose of triumph, with his hands on his hips and a smile bigger than the sky on his face. He giggled gleefully.

“Wh—whuh, what was that?!” You jittered from the shellshock, the adrenaline making you feel an immediate, overwhelming flush. Luffy just shrugged. “I felt like it. I like you.” 

When you had received the news that Sanji was to be married off to someone else, it broke you.

Nami, bless her heart, had held you for multiple nights while you cried yourself to sleep. Sanji was a flirt, but Nami knew the feelings that you had for him. You just did not want to confess those feelings, for fear of complicating the dynamics amongst the crew. You loved Sanji, but Sanji loved women, and how would the crew deal with the tension if you two ever broke it off?

Your emotions really came to a head when you got stuck in the mirror dimension with Chopper and Carrot. You were overcome with excitement when you finally had found Sanji through the mirrors, even if you could only see the back of him. You leaned forward, eager, but paused as soon as your head and shoulders made it through the portal. He was talking to a woman. Even worse, he was talking to the woman he was to be married off to the very next day. “I won’t let our marriage be hell to you too!” The stranger sobbed out. 

It felt like you had been frozen in time. There was no desire in you to hear this exchange, but you eavesdropped all the same. His fiancée rambled on, passionate and powerful. The power in her cries made you feel weak. Sanji took a step forward, bringing the woman into an embrace. “Let’s get married tomorrow.” He spoke reverently. 

Your heart shriveled up and dropped down to the depths of hell below. 

With all eagerness now dissipated, you slunk backwards from the portal and stood still in the mirror realm. This was really what he wanted. How were you going to be able to croak the words out to your captain?

*-------*-------*-------*-------*

“Give it up, Captain! Sanji is not coming back!” You wailed and fussed, desperately trying to get Luffy to comprehend what you knew. He simply sniffled in response. You two were drenched from the pouring rain, surrounded by bodies, and Luffy was leaning against a plateau with his strength sapped. He needed to eat—but Sanji was not coming, you tried to explain. He did not want to be a part of the Straw Hat pirates anymore. 

“He’s coming,” Luffy wheezed out. “I won’t eat any other food except from my cook.” The gurgling of your captain’s stomach and his stubbornness were pushing your emotions even further off the ledge. 

You hung your head and closed your eyes. Everything just felt hopeless. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made you perk up. You tensed, hand reaching for the sword at your side, as you anticipated another one of Big Mom’s pirates to come after Luffy. Turning around, you narrowed your eyes just to see…

…Sanji, holding a picnic basket. 

“I didn’t tell you to wait…” he mused. “If you can eat this, then eat.” Sanji walked past you to hand Luffy the basket, earning him a weak chuckle from the famed Straw Hat. He wasted no time to dig in, shouting proclamations of praise on the taste. 

The two men began to deliberate. Once again, you just listened quietly, your shriveled up heart beginning to throb again when Sanji explained that he indeed could not escape the wedding. He and the other Vinsmoke family members were to be slaughtered like pigs. 

“For these three reasons, I cannot return with the rest of you! Just get out of here—” Sanji was interrupted when your palm collided with his face, making a crisp thwack. Now brimming with anger, you came chest-to-chest with the soon-to-be groom and stared him down. “Arrogant bastard, tell me what you really want!” 

Sanji returned the gaze, and tears started to prick the corners of his eyes. His brows began to relax, and he was soon letting the floodgates loose. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms loosely around your legs. “I want to go back to the Sunny…!” 

You knelt to the ground as well, wrapping your arms around the chef’s larger frame. “That’s where you belong, you stupid, stupid idiot,” you whispered, moving to cup the black-leg fighter’s face in your hands. He was sopping, he was sobbing, but he was stunning. “We love you. I love you.” 

Finally, you closed the gap and kissed him. Despite the rain, Sanji was still warm. 

Luffy giggled from behind the two of you. “Let’s crash this wedding!”

[writtenbymoonflower]

omg i have a request !!! i don't think our bb james is much of a fighter, but imagine if someone just say something about reader that just hits a nerve, and poor bb literally gives himself a panic attack, to a point where reader is just pushing him away and trying to get him to breathe with her :((( just reassuring him and giving him all the love in the world !!! ofc u don't have to if u don't wanna ily !!!

i love this! thank you so much hunny! James Potter x fem!reader

cw: mentions of drinking, pressuring someone to drink, ‘b word’ used as a derogatory term, swearing

735 words

Despite the bitter chill in the air, you felt clammy and cramped. The campfire radiating warmth into your face was pleasant, but the overcrowding of bodies sitting next to you wasn’t as much. You leaned onto James’ chest, snuggling closer when he put a long arm around your shivering shoulders. The night was winding down from Sirius’ party, only a few people remained, all sharing the leftover drinks around the fire. The small amount of alcohol you had drank that night was sitting in your stomach like a brick and you couldn’t wait to get home and sleep it off. Your eyes were just drifting closed when they snapped wide open, a cold bottle pressed against painfully your bare shoulder. 

You looked up to see the person next to you trying to hand off a beer bottle to you. He was looking at you nicely enough, but you still declined. 

“I’m okay, thank you though.” You gave him a polite smile before turning back to James, who you could tell was reigning in his overprotectiveness. 

“C’mon, girly. One won’t hurt.” He pressed the bottle closer. “You’re not even buzzed, I can tell.” 

You stayed friendly but your tone was firmer. “I promise I’m fine. I’m sure someone else wants another though.” You cut your eyes to Remus and Sirius and their pile of empty beer and cider bottles next to them, laying scattered like an army fallen. 

“You sure?” The man sing-songed, pressing the cold bottle to your neck, wet with condensation. You flinched away. 

“Mate, pack it in. She said she didn’t want any.” James pulled you closer protectively. He wasn’t necessarily harsh, but the lack of joviality in his tone was chilling for those who know him well. The man took on a defensive nature, but was still attempting to appease James. 

“I’m doing this for you man.” He waggled his brows at James knowingly. “I’m sure she’s loads more fun loosened up.” You felt James stiffen but he didn’t have a chance to respond before the man looked at you, half joking, half irritation. “C’mon stop being such a frigid bitch and have a drink.” 

James shot up, swiftly moving so that he was between you and the man. “What the fuck did you just say?” The guy was floundering, backpedaling fast. 

“I’m just playing! Didn’t think you would be upset, shit.” He scooted away from your seething boyfriend. 

“You didn’t think I would be upset that you called my girlfriend a- that word? Are you really that fucking thick?” James snapped. He got closer to the guy's face before you tugged his hand. 

“James, calm down, it’s okay.” You stood up to gently tug him away. 

“Yeah, man. Listen to your bird-” He started, but then James snapped his head back, eyes ablaze. 

“McLaggen, mate, just leave.” Sirius said, harshly. 

“What? Sirius, c’mon. It’s a jo-” He stood up. Remus marched over, helping him to get his stuff. 

“Well it wasn’t fucking funny. You don’t say that shit here.” Remus said coldly. Their chatter moved away as he marched the offending man away from the fire. James looked like he was going to yell something after him, but he stopped. 

“It’s okay, Jamie.” You soothed, pulling him away as well. 

“It’s not.” He reiterated. “I can’t belie- I’m so sorry angel. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He hugged you tight. 

“I’m okay, he didn’t. You don’t need to be sorry. It was just a stupid guy, not nearly the worst I’ve encountered.” You laughed.

“That does not make it better.” He huffed like an angry puppy. “I can’t believe some people think that’s an okay thing to call a girl. My mam would’ve had my head if I ever said that.” 

“Not everyone is as amazing as you, honey. And a lot of people are worse than that guy.” You rubbed a hand up and down his tense arm. 

He at you wide-eyed. “Okay, well firstly, someone isn't 'amazing' for not being an asshole, that's just not being horrendous. And secondly.” He was half concern half immense confusion. “Who all has been like that to you? How many lads have been like him? I want names and dates, lovely.” 

“James,” You lovingly scoffed. “I love you. I love how protective you are of me, but I really am okay. Some people are just dickheads, it’s part of life.” 

He grunted, pulling you back into his arms. “Just because it's a part of life doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He kissed the top of your head firmly. “I love you too.” 

“Do you want to go back?” You asked softly, rubbing the thick curls at the base of his neck.

“Can we stay like this for a bit longer? I just- need to hold onto you.” His biceps strained around you from how tightly you were being held.

You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. “Okay.”

[gale-dekarios]

Favorite thing about Gale Dekarios?

it's embarrassing how long i spent sitting with this trying to think about my all time favourite thing about gale, because there's so much. i like that he's a dork, and sickeningly sincere, and i like that he's a cook, that he loves his not-a-cat, and that all he'd need to complete the ultimate wizard stereotype is a pointy hat and long grey beard.

but when it all boils down to it, i love that he's willing to try, after all of it. he, out of all the companions, probably fucked up the most. and i dont necessarily mean hes in the most fucked up position, i dont think you can really compare what the companions are going through as individuals like that, what i mean is that to go from the lover of mystra, an archmage, quite possibly one of the most powerful people in the sword coast if not the whole of toril, to a dude you have to pull out of a malfunctioning portal, an embarrassing footnote in a goddess's history, about to die, from the orb, or ceremorphosis, or just generally being out in the wilderness as a level one wizard likely for the first time in his life ever, well, it's a lot isn't it?

the only person who could come close to understanding that level of a drop is perhaps wyll, but then again, wyll didn't so much as fall as he took a leap that he knew would end poorly for him, not to mention that wyll was seventeen. not that he'd likely make another choice now that he's older bc he's wyll, but gale, at least from his perspective, can't hide behind the greater good, or youth, from what he did.

gale's at rock bottom, and he doesn't have karlach's cheer to make up for the fact that he's dying, tadpole or no.

there's no way i would be able to keep going after all of that. id find a large field in the middle of nowhere and wait until the end comes for me. but gale doesn't. he keeps going, even though he's pretty sure he's going to die and it's all futile anyway, he keeps going. and he makes connections, despite the fact it could all be snuffed out in an instant. he goes through what's possibly the world's most messiest break up, one that quite literally is going to kill him, and yet when he's told he can redeem himself, to make the embarrassing footnote into a noble one, all it takes is you asking him to live for him to throw all of that aside, his entire past, everything he ever worked for, for the idea of a future that might not ever come. and he doesn't even need to be in love with you for him to agree to that.

he wants to live anyway. no matter how much more difficult is. no matter how unsure he is that he's actually got anything to go back to. he has a tara, and wine, and food, and books, and quite possibly the weirdest band of people he's ever met, and he decides THAT'S enough. sure, the ideas of something greater never fully leave the edge of his psyche, but again, if you ask him to, if you show him life's worth living, he'll then give up actual godhood just so he can keep tara curled in his lap, the taste of good food and wine in his mouth, the feeling of paper under his fingertips, and a room full of love and laughter, in whatever capacity that may be.

it's hard to condense all of that into one word, into one attribute, so i guess what i'm trying to say is that my favourite thing about gale is that he's alive.

[featherandferns]

day 3/24 - obx christmas countdown

'So we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend' - Taylor Swift, 'Tis the Damn Season | jj maybank x fem!ex!reader | angst

He looks the same as before. Even with his back to you, sat at the bar, head hung as he seemingly analyses his drink. Elvis’s Blue Christmas croons through the bar’s crackling radio. It’s busy tonight, as to be expected so close to Christmas. Groups of old friends reuniting, sharing stories over pints, and coworkers spending their last few hours tipsy before clocking off for the season. Couples sharing a cocktail by the window, people-watching out through condensation kissed glass. But you hardly pay them any mind. You’re watching JJ. 

Tugging your Stanford University sweater tighter around you despite the warmth, you take a deep breath and bolster your confidence. 

“Hey stranger.”

JJ’s head whips around and he lays eyes on you. His jawline is the same as you remember it, having traced it countless times before, in person and in memory. The familiar blonde hair is long at the front and shorter at the back, enticingly messy as always. It was always his eyes that got you though. Icy blue like crystals from the ocean. 

“Hey,” he breathes. His lips twitch at the corners, hinting of a smile. You smile too. 

Nodding to the barstool beside him, you ask, “can I sit?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure.”

He moves his jacket and you take a perch. It’s quiet between you as you flag down the bartender and order a pint. You take a sip of the sticky beer. 

“So…how’ve you been?” he awkwardly asks. 

“Good,” you say, nodding, swallowing. You return to the glass to the bartop. “University’s going good.”

“You’re repping the merch, I see,” he says, nodding at your sweater. 

Laughing, somewhat embarrassed, you nod. “Yeah, well. It’s good quality out there, y’know?”

“No, I really wouldn’t,” JJ mumbles. His eyes fall back onto his glass and you watch his hands as they draw figures on the condensation. The rings on nearly every digit. The ring you bought him for his eighteenth birthday. Your throat goes dry. Like magnets, the ache inside of you pulls you towards JJ’s. The ache you put there when you accepted Stanford’s scholarship and packed your bags. 

You want to apologise and defend yourself. You want to skip the small talk and pick-up as if you never left; laughing and joking, teasing flirtatiously over drinks. But instead you drink in silence and eavesdrop into other bar-goers conversations. 

“I’m glad that it’s going good, though.”

You blink and look at JJ. He’s looking at you too. Fuck, those eyes. He’s smiling again, warmly. “I’m happy you’re enjoying university.”

“Yeah, no, yeah, it’s…It’s good,” you repeat. He quirks a brow. JJ had always been good at reading between your lines. Sighing, you shrug and smile meekly. “It isn’t home, y’know? The people out there are different too.”

“What’d you miss about home?” JJ wonders. “The food.”

“Well, duh,” you deadpan, and the two of you laugh. You feel your shoulders ease with the frosting around your heart. “I miss hushpuppies so much, holy crap.”

“They are the shit.”

“They really are,” you grin. It feels nice talking to someone familiar. You can feel your southern accent seeping through like it never did at school. People found it harder to understand you; took it upon themselves to make jokes that were only half-funny. 

“Anything else?” JJ encourages. 

Sighing, you rest your arms on the tabletop and study the liquor bottles ahead of you. “I don’t know. I guess I miss The Wreck, and the Chateau. Although, that’s not even there anymore so…I miss your truck, too. Even though it’s a piece of crap.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about my babygirl like that,” JJ warns jokingly, threatening a finger in your face. You bat it away with a laugh and take another sip of your beer. Call it liquid confidence. 

“I missed you, too.”

JJ lets that hang in the air a while. You try to make out his expression through your peripheral vision and drink through the pause. Quietly, almost in a murmur, he admits, “yeah. I missed you too.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. Things haven’t been the same since you left,” JJ sighs. Your eyes clench shut. You wonder what’s happened to him since you went. You avoid social media like the plague, petrified to open the app and be blindsided by a photo of him and some nameless girl from the island, smiling on his boat, lounging on the beach, riding in his truck. In your place. Did he go back to his old ways; how he was before he met you? A new girl, every night, different name, different face? Or did he stick to relationships now? Was there some blue-eyed Betty waiting for him at the house? You’re not guilty for not asking. 

“So…How long you in town?”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze. “Just the weekend.”

He scoffs and nods, and takes a long sip of his drink. You study him; watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs; the way his jaw tenses and loosens; the way his eyelashes brush at his cheeks. 

“I’m staying at my parent’s house,” you hear yourself say. As if possessed, your foot strays from it’s safety of the stool and brushes against his ankle. His eyes flash to yours. You lower a hand onto the bar, in the space between the two of you, just near enough to yourself for the possible sting of rejection to be lessened.

JJ studies you for a while. And then, his hand frees itself from his glass, and finds yours. His fingertips are damp and the rings are cold. 

“You kept the ring I gave you.”

“I kept everything you gave me,” JJ says. Those words knock the wind out of you. 

“Me too,” you mouth. You flip your hand so the palm is facing up and he intertwines his fingers with yours. He holds on, tight. 

It’s selfish, you know it is, to ask something of him knowing that you can’t stay. Kildare was a deadend. Nobody here got out, not really. Stanford was the future. It was freedom and possibility, and your ticket out to a better life. But would a life truly be better if JJ wasn’t in it? You didn’t need to answer those sorts of questions tonight. Instead, you just wanted to be around the only person who can tell which smiles you’re faking. 

“We could call it even,” you murmur. “You could call me babe for the weekend.”

JJ chuckles humourlessly at that. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath fans onto your lips and you feel yourself take a deep inhale. It’s dizzying, having him near again after so many miles apart. Memories cloud your mind like a blizzard, of sweaty bodies and pulsing pleasure and wet, frantic kisses. Of long nights talking and life contemplating over joints and rendezvous on boats.

“Tis the damn season,” he mumbles. When JJ’s lips press against yours - the taste of beer slipping away into the taste of each other - you know the only breaking your hearts all over again.

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 12.9k

The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.

You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.

As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.

With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.

You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction. 

You must have slept really well, then.

You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.

Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.

Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?

Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.

And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth. 

No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.

So fucking unfair.

Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.

You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.

“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”

You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”

Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.

Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.

But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts. 

“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it. 

The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.

“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”

You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.

Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.

You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”

“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.

You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.

To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma. 

“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.

“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.

He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”

“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.

“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”

That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

“Geto Suguru,” he responded.

Geto Suguru, huh?

Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.

You were so fucked, weren’t you? 

The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.

“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”

“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning some shit.”

Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”

He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”

You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but you looked it.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.

You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”

“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”

You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.

A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”

“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”

“Why?”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”

Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”

“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”

It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.

You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?

“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”

“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”

You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”

“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”

You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”

“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”

“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”

He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.” 

You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”

“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”

Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”

Oh.

That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.

“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”

“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”

His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”

You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”

“And if they cover your mouth?”

“I bite,” you grinned toothily.

He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”

“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”

His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.

It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before? 

You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.

Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.

They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.

You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.

The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.

You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.

You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.

Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.

Nobody ever answered.

That’s alright. For now, you were okay. 

Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.

Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.

You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case. 

If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.

“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”

It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?

Ugh.

Satoru was right, you thought too much.

As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.

Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?

The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them. 

Usually, you were picky about flowers. 

Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.

These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable. 

Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.

There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.

The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.

She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.

Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.

Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?

Probably Geto.

If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.

Seriously, why?

You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.

“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”

The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”

“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”

Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”

“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”

“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”

You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”

“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.

“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”

Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly. 

Well, that’s not worrisome at all.

What the hell did he do to her?

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.

She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”

Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”

Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”

“Oh–”

“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.

“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”

She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.

“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”

Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.

“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”

Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?

You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.

She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”

Man, people loved asking that, huh?

It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.

“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”

“Oh? How did you make money?”

“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?” 

You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”

You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”

“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”

Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”

Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”

Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.

“How long ago was it built?”

“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”

This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”

The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”

Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”

Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.

“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”

She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.

“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”

Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.

You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.

What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all? 

“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”

“Were they kinda like demons?”

“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”

“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”

She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”

Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’

You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.

“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.

Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”

It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.

Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.

“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”

“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”

“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”

“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”

“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.

While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.

Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.

You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.

It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.

You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.

It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.

The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.

Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?

You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back? 

You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy. 

You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.

Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?

Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins. 

Get a ladder.

The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening. 

“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.

You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.

It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.

You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.

“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”

You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.

Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.

It managed to punch you in the gut regardless. 

New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…

Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?

Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?

Check insulation.

Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?

Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?

Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You���d toss it when you got the chance to.

M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.

Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.

Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

Windows stuck.

Remove spider webs.

There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.

Toss out trash.

The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it.  Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.

The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.

Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.

You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.

Which was a big, fat no.

Plumbing. Faucets.

Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.

You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.

Electricity.

Check for asbestos, lead in paint.

You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.

Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.

To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment. 

You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.

Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.

You were swiftly running out of options.

Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?

Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.

You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.

Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!

…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.

No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.

The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.

You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”

The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?

Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.

Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.

You carefully weighed your choices.

Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.

Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.

Call the prick.

…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.

Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”

He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.

“You greet every girl like that?”

“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”

Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”

“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?” 

Smug dick.

“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.

He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”

You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”

This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”

“Then don’t.” 

“And, what, do everything by myself?”

You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”

“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”

“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”

Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”

“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”

There it is.

Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”

“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”

Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”

"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”

Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?

“What, do you want it to be more?”

“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Sweets.”

Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?

“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.

“We have a deal, then?”

You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”

“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”

“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”

He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.

Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.

It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.

How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.

Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?

“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”

You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’

Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.

“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”

A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.

Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.

Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?

You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance. 

Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?

Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.

“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”

Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

‘This one’ was breathtaking.

His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.

And, speaking of, those eyes. 

Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.

They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.

He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past. 

Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter. 

Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.

And you?

You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.

Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and left you aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.

The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot. 

You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?

With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.

As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.

Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”

Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”

Oh, heavens, that voice.

Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.

Not now, slut. Focus.

It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.

“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.

Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”

“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.

His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.

“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”

“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.

His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–

“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.

You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”

If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”

Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment? 

“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.” 

“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.

Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”

“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.

“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.

You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”

He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”

“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”

You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”

His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”

“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”

“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”

Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”

You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”

His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”

Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”

“Good question,” you said.

There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”

“What?”

“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow. 

“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”

Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”

You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”

“Can I see her list?”

“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.

A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”

Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”

“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.

“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”

Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”

“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.

“Why’d they leave?”

He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”

“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”

“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”

You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”

“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”

He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!” 

“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.

Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”

“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.

You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.

You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.

Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.

Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off when Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.

“You lived,” you congratulated him.

“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.

“Is he still alive?”

“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.

Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”

“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.

He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”

Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”

“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”

You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”

“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”

Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”

The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”

“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.

“Nope.”

“You monster,” you hissed.

His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”

You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.

“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”

He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”

Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.

Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” You barked back.

“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.

Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.

You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”

“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.

“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”

You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work. 

It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.

But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?

Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all. Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 24

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

Link to Jazz's armor design and ramble about ideas >>HERE<<

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

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Bruce sighed. Danny choked.

“You— You guys had bets going on?”

Dick stopped his celebratory dance to have the decency to look ashamed. “I mean… Maybe?”

Danny’s smirk replaced his worried face, and the mischievous little brother was back; wearing a heavy and clearly magical armor from another dimension, but still the same person.

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much was the bet?”

“There were a few,” Dick explained, ignoring Bruce’s tired sigh in the background, “But Stephanie thought Jazz was the King. She bet twenty bucks.”

Danny scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m offended. I’m worth more than twenty.”

Jazz joined Bruce in the tired sigh department. She even placed her hand on her forehead.

“Wait,” Duke perked up, glancing at Jazz trying so hard to keep it together next to a smirking Jason, “if he’s the Ghost King…”

Jason was the first to catch on. “It means Jazz is—”

“The Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, yeah!” Danny chuckled and pointed a finger at his sister.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Uh-huh!” He answered, the tip of his finger lighting in more green fire.

“Danny, I swear—!”

She couldn’t finish. Danny shot the fire at her, and immediately the flames spread across her body, revealing armor the same way it did for Danny. On her chest, her comfortable long sleeved blouse was replaced by a crimson red chest piece and dark metallic shoulder armor pieces. Her hands and forearms were covered by more red metal, dented and dull with use, up to her elbows.

On her legs, a pleated skirt made of the same dark gray armor reflected the sunlight when she quickly readjusted her legs to stand up, crimson red boots appearing down her legs from her mid thighs.

As the fire retreated over her face, Jazz was already baring her teeth at her brother.

“Danny!” She growled. “That was unnecessary!”

He chuckled again. “If I have to stand here wearing a stupid outfit then so do you.” He approached her and patted her on the back so hard she grunted and stumbled forwards. “What was the thing? ‘A true warrior shows their armor with pride’?”

She rolled her eyes and moved one hand to pull back some strands of hair that had gotten on her face. Jason followed the movement to the bright red headpiece framing her eyes, and extending into points on the sides of her head. They burned with green flames like Danny’s crown did, as if their transformation were condensed in the pieces of metal.

He also noticed the exposed skin of her arms, how his assessment of her turned out to be true, watching the muscles flex with the small movement — and the scary amount of scars she apparently hid under her clothes. He didn’t miss a big burn scar peeking from under one shoulder piece.

“Man, I wish Steph was here,” Dick took everyone’s attention away from the siblings, “because I was also right on the princess thing.”

“So… This is really nothing to you? Like, it does nothing?” Danny’s wide smile was more amused than it should be. “We are literally interdimensional royalty, here, standing in your fancy mansion,” he did a gesture encompassing the whole room, his sister, and himself, “and nothing?”

Jazz sighed again, the flames on the tips of her headpiece burning a little bit brighter. If one squinted, the vague shape of a circle was starting to form with the fire. Her crown?

“Danny,” Jazz made a gesture towards the not at all surprised Waynes sitting in front of them, “there is something you should know about them.”

“Aha?” He glanced at her, but kept his eyes on the others.

“The Waynes are also heroes. They are—”

“No fucking way.”

“Yep.”

“Jazz,” Danny crossed his arms again, but he was smiling, “you had one job. What was it?”

“To not be noticed by Batman.” She looked away, ashamed.

“And what happened?”

“It was— I was careless. I’m sorry, okay?” She closed her eyes and pinched her nose. “Can we drop it? Please?”

Danny was not going to drop it, but Jason got his attention and made a signal to cut it out. Fortunately, the young King made the decision to listen. The little frown told them it was only temporary.

“Okay.” Nobody missed Jazz’s shoulders immediately relax at the word. “So you guys are the bats and birds, and have known about us for a while—”

“Suspected.” Bruce spoke for the first time since reveals started happening. He cleared his throat. “Jasmine, she— She explained some things, but warned that there were things she couldn’t say due to safety reasons and needed to wait for you.”

Danny raised his eyebrows, looking back between Bruce and his sister. Did he know that there was more story behind those words? No doubt he would ask her more details about how they found out — that’s what he would do — so he wasn’t sure the siblings were going to be this amused and relaxed in their— in his presence anymore.

As much as it pained him, maybe this would be the last time they could get answers.

“She talked about the GIW,” Danny tensed, Jazz pursed her lips, “and warned us about Vlad Masters.”

Like the flip of a switch, any amusement left Danny and he donned a persona they haven’t seen yet: the King. It was subtle, but they were so used to reading body language that they could see the shift happen as clear as day.

“Is that so?” The flames of his crown flared for a second. He glanced at Jazz. “When you said the situation had changed…?”

“The GIW and potentially Vlad are… they know I’m here.” She winced. “They will, when they get here. And Jason—”

“I’ve noticed.”

All eyes went to the mentioned. Danny’s new attitude made his piercing green eyes drill holes on Jason’s skin. If he felt poked and prodded when Jazz watched him, it was nothing next to how he literally felt Danny’s consciousness somehow touch his.

He jumped. “What the fuck was that?”

“Interesting.”

“Don’t ‘interesting’ me! What—”

“Darling,” Jazz sat back down next to him, “it’s okay.”

She took his hand, which helped a lot, but still he glared at Danny as the presence came back. At least now that he expected it he didn’t feel so violated.

“What an interesting case.” He tilted his head. “You sure know how to find them, Jazzy.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What do you mean?” Jason tried to keep the conversation on track. “What’s interesting?”

Danny licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to another. The armor barely made a sound, even if it was expected from such heavy metal.

“You died.” It wasn’t a question. “And your resurrection was painful. What has been done to you was incomplete, tainted, and has left your ghost development stunted.”

That explained absolutely nothing.

“I gave him one of my vials.” Jazz interrupted before he could complain.

That didn’t please her sibling. “Jazz—”

“I know.” The hand that held Jason’s twitched for a second. “But it was an emergency. Would that affect him?”

Danny pondered the question, one hand on his chin. “Maybe. I don’t know. We should check with the yetis.”

“Thought so.” She glanced at her boyfriend. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. I told you if there’s no blood, there’s no need to say sorry.”

“As cute as this is, we need to focus on the important part here.” Danny got his sister’s attention. “Situation has changed.”

“Yes.” Jazz took a deep breath. “GIW is coming, Vlad may be as well, and I can’t just—” she rubbed her face, “We need to re-negotiate, re-strategize and move up The Plan.”

“The Plan?” Bruce leaned in, catching on the capital letters.

Danny looked at Jazz. Jazz looked at Jason before looking back at her brother.

“We… Okay. Okay.” She breathed in, breathed out. “We are at war. In the Infinite Realms.” She ignored Danny sitting down beside her and the fire when his armor was gone. “Danny is the King, yes, but he is not the only one who has a claim.”

“Vlad.”

Danny clicked his tongue at the name, but patted Jazz’s shoulder and now her armor disappeared in green flames. “He has been after power ever since he came back to life from his accident.”

“We’ve been fighting Vlad and his supporters, as well as trying to fix the mess left behind by the previous King, ever since Danny took the throne.”

“And this was…?”

The siblings shared a look before Danny answered Bruce: “A week after I graduated.”

He was just a kid.

That being said, Robins started fighting crime way younger than eighteen, Bruce considered. Not the same as becoming the ruler of a whole dimension, though.

“Something you guys need to understand about the previous king, Pariah Dark, is that he was such a tyrant he had to be put into the sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. Everything has been a mess for millenia.”

Bruce pondered Danny’s words. An interdimensional tyrant they knew nothing about, a war they wouldn’t have learned about if it wasn’t for Jason’s neighbor. He got dizzy for a second.

“But that’s not all.” Bruce nodded along when the siblings did, clearly relieved he was catching on. “The GIW.”

“We have been trying our best. Those documents you found with our parents’ signature,” Danny’s head snapped towards Jazz so fast they confirmed he was not human, or he would have had some real damage, “they were the things we couldn’t stop in time. The research we couldn’t erase in time.” She continued, ignoring Danny’s wild eyes.

Bruce swallowed, trying to get rid of the knot in his throat.

“I have nothing to do with these!”

“Darling, listen to me. Jason, this is not true.”

“This is taken out of context.”

Her voice trembled as she tried to defend herself. How could she even sway him? He now understood there was so much at stake than mad scientists on the rise, but she couldn’t say the whole truth, and by principle he considered a half truth as a lie. Nothing she could have said could have convinced him she wasn’t a criminal he needed to stop.

He was ashamed now. How in his mind it made sense. How he was blinded by Jason’s hypothetical gratitude once he presented the report of Jasmine’s arrest. Maybe he could show him he still cared for him, that he still wished him the best even if it wasn’t with him.

It felt so stupid now. Meaningless. He glanced at his son, relaxed, one of his hands subtly on Jazz’s and tracing circles with his thumb without thinking. Jason, who never seeked physical contact, who didn’t like to be hugged even as a kid.

He would never have that, it would never be that easy for both of them to be comfortable together. He made sure of that.

“I— I understand.” He managed to say. He ignored Duke and Cass’ looks at his choked voice.

“That’s when The Plan comes in.” Danny leaned in. “We need help. With Vlad and the war and how much time it consumes running the show, we decided he had to suck it up and call the Justice League.”

Duke nodded. “Jazz mentioned that Amity Park folks don’t like the League?”

“Oh we hate them. With passion.” He leaned back with a grin stretching from ear to ear, apparently enjoying when Bruce tensed. “They abandoned us when we most needed it. They left a dead teenager in charge of protecting the city.” The grin grew bigger with each accusation. Jazz slapped him on the leg. “But we decided it was worth a shot to confront them and demand that help we were owed.”

Jazz sighed. “What Danny meant to say is, after I was done with my internship at Arkham the next steps were confronting the Justice League and negotiating help with taking down the Guys in White.”

“The Plan.”

She nodded at Duke. “We didn’t know what we would encounter but the situation keeps escalating and our parents… Maddie and Jack have to be stopped.”

Danny looked away, suddenly uncomfortable at the mention of his parents. Were they this bad? How much did Barbara’s research cover? How much were they missing?

“We thought— If it’s okay with you, Bruce — that those negotiations—”

“Of course.” He interrupted her. He straightened his back. “Of course we’ll help. I’m… I’m sorry we weren’t there before.”

Jazz nodded, satisfied. Bruce took it as he said the right thing and he was one step closer to properly apologizing.

“Just like that?” Danny didn’t seem that convinced.

“Yes. I’ll need to write a report and bring it up in an emergency meeting that can be as soon as…” he tried to remember everyone’s schedules, “next Tuesday? Could be earlier but I think the Lanterns were away on some Lantern business and this sounds like something they need to know. And they should be back on Tuesday morning.”

The siblings looked at each other and had another silent conversation with just face gestures and rapid fire microexpressions. After a moment Danny sighed and relaxed, letting his body flop back to the backrest of the couch.

“We’d be very grateful, Bruce. Thank you.” Her smile was genuine.

Bruce glanced at Jason, who was looking at Jazz. As if he knew he was being watched, he turned to look at him. He also was smiling a small smirk as he subtly nodded in approval.

“What a shame,” Danny’s tone was playful, “we had planned for the possibility of fighting the League.”

“Danny.” His sister slapped his shoulder.

“Who would have fought B?”

“Dickward.” Jason gave his brother a warning look.

Both ignored the warning and smiled at each other. “Valerie.” He seemed amused that the other bit the bait and asked. “She’s the best at adapting mid combat, has a hoverboard and a bunch of gadgets that neither of you can ever hack or disable.”

“Why?”

“Is ghost technology. Nothing in it, either the material or the code, is even close to anything you have encountered before. Batman thrives when having enough time to prepare, but believe me we wouldn’t give him enough time to figure out how anything works.”

“We have had access to alien tech before.” Bruce was curious now.

Danny was shaking his head. “Our weapons and technology may look like yours but in essence it isn’t. Since we are friends now I wouldn’t mind lending a few things to study. You know, as a token of my faith.”

Bruce glanced at Jazz. She nodded in confirmation. “Would be honored to.” He finally said.

Did he have to offer pleasantries? Danny was the ruler of a dimension, nonchalant about that fact as he was. Bruce chose not to since they weren’t in their armors anymore.

“And Jazz?” Jason asked Danny.

The mentioned hid her face behind her hands. Danny leaned in to look at Jason from Jazz’s other side. “Green Arrow. And of course, Wonder Woman.”

“I noticed the Amazonian armor.”

“I’m right here.” Jazz growled.

“She’s been trained by Pandora, back at the Greek side of the Realms. All the dead Amazons are over there and some were thrilled to participate in her training; so you could say she’s the closest of us all to her battle style. Also Jazz is the expert for close quarters combat and a wide variety of weapons.” Danny was obviously proud of his sister. And maybe loved embarrassing her too much. “Except guns.”

Dick’s eyebrows went to his hairline. Bruce hid his shock as best as he could, and tried hard not to look at Jason.

“Danny.” Jazz said through gritted teeth. “Stop.”

“What? It's the truth! You are the only one of us that doesn’t fight with ectoguns, but you make up for it really well.” He slapped her back so hard a bone should have cracked.

Jason cleared his throat. “No guns? For any particular reason?”

Duke choked. Would Jazz find Jason’s weapon of choice repulsive? It couldn’t be — she knew about Red Hood, she knew what he had done, how he had done it.

Danny’s smile was as bright as the Sun. “Because she sucks! I’ve never seen such a bad aim.”

“I’ve been getting better!” She groaned, her face crimson red. “I’ve practiced!”

“Oh yeah? I still have scars from the last time you ‘practiced’!” He lifted his shirt, showing his lower back and a very clear healed burn scar in there. “You definitely have dad’s aim!”

“Yeah? And you suck at sword fighting!” Danny flinched. “Do you think I don’t know how many training sessions you’ve missed?”

“Is not that bad…”

“Yes it is, Danny,” she crossed her arms, “since you rely so badly on your powers. What happens if you cannot use them?”

“That will never happen.” He crossed his arms too. “Most powerful being of the Realms here.” Danny shrugged, showing off his perfect rows of pointy white teeth, even in human form.

Jazz snorted and moved as fast as lightning, one hand going for her brother’s stomach to punch him square in the gut. She didn’t hit flesh, because at the last minute Danny’s chest went intangible and her whole arm went through like he was air.

“Ha!” He looked back up to laugh at her — finding her other hand waiting for him.

Jazz flicked his forehead so hard the others flinched at the noise it made, and Danny was sent back to the armrest of the sofa.

“Hey!” He rubbed his forehead. “That wasn’t fair!”

“This is what happens when you don’t pay attention, Danny!” She hissed, gesturing with her hands. “And when you rely way too much on your powers!”

“But—”

“But nothing! I bet since I’ve been gone you’ve skipped every damn sword fighting class. Ancients, I bet I could beat your ass even as rusty as I am now!”

Danny opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He knew she was right.

The others watched amused as the young man rubbed his forehead again and glared at his sister.

“Not my fault you are a freak.”

“What did you just say?” Jazz tensed, her body ready to pounce.

Bruce cleared his throat, and like magic, the siblings jumped away from each other and sat straighter. Jazz nervously chuckled and fixed her hair again. Bruce smiled. King, princess and all, they were still around his childrens’ age.

Said children giggled, amused by the familiarity of their chaotic dynamic.

“So,” Dick redirected the conversation, “what’s next?”

Jazz tilted her head, thinking. “With my identity revealed, we need to renegotiate with Lady Gotham.”

Danny clicked his tongue. “She’s not going to like it.”

“Well, she will have to if she wants her people protected.”

“Jazz talked about this Spirit,” Bruce nodded. “So there was an agreement?”

“Yeah,” she answered, “as I said, we were not supposed to get closer to Batman or any of the vigilantes, and she wouldn’t be opposed to the Princess stomping on her haunt.” Her cheeks tinted a slight pink as she glanced at Jason. “Obviously that’s void now, and if I’m going to protect this city I need to be able to use my abilities, so we have to chat with her before strategizing.”

“When do you think you are talking to her?”

“Why? Wanna come?”

Bruce’s silence told her that yes, he very much wanted to. She made a weird face, between amused and concerned. “Is it not allowed?” He asked.

Jazz glanced at Danny, who shrugged and was very unhelpful. “I mean… It’s her beloved Knight. Maybe she won’t try to obliterate us on sight if we use him as a human shield.”

“Hey!”

“Actually, it’s not a bad idea.” Bruce conceded. Apologizing for what he had done could also mean mediating when they talked with the sentient city.

He was also curious.

Hm.

“Okay then we could do it sometime tomorrow? Before I have to go back to the Realms.” Danny stretched his back and yawned.

“Are you leaving so soon?”

Danny stopped mid yawn at his sister’s tone of voice. “Why? Did you miss me?”

She didn’t answer, but Jason’s amused nod where she couldn’t see it made Danny chuckle. Jazz would talk your ear out about reaching out and being in touch with your emotional needs; but she also had a hard time admitting that sometimes she also needed her little brother as well.

“You could stay the week? I have work, but apart from that…”

“And we also have to prepare the report with Batman.” He answered, nodding.

“Bruce is fine.”

Jazz nodded at the older man and smiled back at her brother. “What do you think?”

He made a show like he was pondering staying or not, humming and crossing arms, and making a big sigh like a heavy weight was on his chest.

“I guess I can make the time in my busy kingly schedule.” Danny’s smile showed his true age — not a front, not trying to appear mischievous, not wanting to be strong for appearance’s sake.

Just a little brother and his older sister.

---

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[libby-for-life]

Lilith coming back to hell, to see Lucifer moved on and it's with Adam

Tender Sex; Lucifer reassuring Adam that he won't leave him to go back to Lilith(also queen of hell adam)

Oof. For this to work, I would need it to be with Sinner!Adam under contract with Lucifer. Hope that's okay.

Adam watched everything in a blur. She walked into the hotel with grace and fire. She looked just as beautiful as ever. Her long blonde hair, purple eyes, and elegant smile completed her look.

Lilith, the first woman, the first queen of Hell, had returned. And she was in the Hazbin Hotel. Adam felt numb as Charlie hugged her mother hard and how Lucifer asked how she was.

Adam rubbed the ring on his finger. He shouldn't be this fucking worried. He was Adam for God's sake! Not only that but the Queen of Hell. A year he had been proposed to by his partner Lucifer. He almost said no. With two failed marriages, it was hard to not think of the cons of what could happen.

But Lucifer looked so fucking earnest that he couldn't help but say yes. Fast forward to the present. Adam had thought that he had gotten over his insecurities of being abandoned after being with someone as attentive and loving as Lucifer. 'Obviously not.' Adam thought as he saw Lilith place a manicured hand on Lucifer's shoulder.

He tried to fight the urge to yell at the bitch for touching his partner. Adam did perk up when Lucifer beckoned him over.

"Lilith." He managed to say out as he stood next to Lucifer. He brought an arm around his partner and pulled him closer. Adam watched as Lilith's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she looked at him.

Could she see it now? Did she see everything she left for a place in Heaven? A petty place in Adam's heart hoped she was jealous about the whole situation.

"Adam." She said in her usual cool and condensing voice. It took everything in Adam not to snap at her. He guessed those anger management lessons Charlie had been forcing him into had actually been helping. Not that he would ever admit it.

"I could really go for a drink," Lilith said as she walked over to a free couch. Adam could already tell this was going to be a long night.

Adam clutched the sides of the bathroom sink. His mind was spiraling with everything that had just been said not just an hour ago.

'Do you really think you're the Queen of Hell?'

'You know he's only fucking you because you're easy, right?'

'He only gave you the title Queen because it feeds into your delusions. You're a toy. Something to be used and thrown away. He'll grow bored eventually. I did.'

'A Queen certainly doesn't look like you. My, you've really let yourself go.'

Adam felt like he was going to throw up. He knew Lilith would try to get into his head but he didn't think it would be so soon. He bit his lip so hard he felt blood drip down his chin.

All of the insecurities that he'd been battling for years came bubbling to the surface. What did Lucifer even see in something like him? A Queen didn't look like a pig. A Queen wasn't so ugly. Is this what Lucifer saw in him? A toy? A novelty only to be discarded when something better comes along?

A knock on the door and a familiar voice called out to him.

"Adam? Sweetheart, is everything okay?"

Damn it all to Hell! That was Lucifer!

"Um, I'm good!" He said and Adam winced when he heard how wobbly his voice sounded. Apparently, so did the King of Hell because he portaled into the bathroom causing Adam to yelp.

"What the fuck, Lucifer?! I said I was fine!" Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Clearly not. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Adam refused to look at him. "I'm good. I'll be in bed in a moment."

"Adam, pet, I don't like when you lie to me. Tell me the truth." Adam felt himself lose control and everything came tumbling out about Lilith.

He was prepared for the backlash. That Lucifer was going to defend his ex-wife and that he better behave for her instead of causing fights and lying about it.

Instead, he felt strong hands cup his cheeks and this caused Adam to look at his partner. Lucifer had a kind but sad look on his face. "Oh, Adam. Why didn't you come to me sooner?" He took a hand away from his face and grabbed a fistful of brown hair. He yanked causing a moan to bubble up.

"Now, I need you to know that I would never go back to my ex. She's my ex for a reason. And I will be talking with her about everything." His eyes flashed red for a moment before it turned back to normal.

"Hm. I see you're still doubting me. Well, that just won't do." Lucifer said before scooping him up bridal-style. Adam let a squeak, a manly one, and struggled for a moment.

Adam shook his head, tears threatening to fall. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to cry.

"Hush, now my pet. Daddy's got you."

Adam was soon lying in their large bed. Lucifer was straddling his waist with a gentle smile. "I love every inch of you." He began and Adam shivered as he trailed his fingers down his shirt. "You're beautiful, Adam. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

A hand slipped under his shirt and caressed a love handle. "This is mine. Don't you trust Daddy's judgment?" Another hand slipped inside Adam's shirt and gently squeezed his chest. The sinner was now squirming under Lucifer, his face felt warm and Adam knew he was blushing.

"This is also mine." A finger pinched his right nipple. "Mine because I would never give you up. Mine because I would fight Heaven and Hell for you." A cruel twist had Adam moaning and panting. Lucifer's hands left his body and Adam felt them take his shirt off. "Isn't that a pretty sight?"

Adam tried to cover his body, but Lucifer just pinned his wrists with one hand. "Don't hide yourself from Daddy, pet." The sheep demon nodded hurriedly. Using his free hand, he dragged his hand down to the waistband of his pants and tugged gently.

"Can I take this off?" Adam nodded with a whimper.

Lucifer gently removed his clothes and smiled at his naked partner. He really was beautiful, soft in all the best ways.

He fondled his pet's balls and watched as Adam fell apart. He was so sensitive. It didn't take long for Lucifer to start preparing him with lube. Adam moaned high and needy even though the King of Hell knew his pet would never admit it.

He had three fingers in, stretching and rubbing Adam in all of his special places. "Daddy! I'm going to cum!" Adam wailed and Lucifer took out his fingers quickly. His pet whimpered and begged for more but he was firm.

"You gotta let Daddy in first, pet." And then he slowly entered into his hole. Adam was still tight after all these years. Lucifer was gentle as he slowly thrusted in. He would make this loving and gentle for his pet. Then he wouldn't have any more doubts about Lucifer's love. He gave praise and encouragement as he made love to Adam.

He could feel himself getting ready to climax and Adam moaned higher and needier to indicate he was close as well.

"Cum for Daddy, pet. My good pet." They both climaxed at the same time, breathing heavily. They both snuggled into each other's embrace. As soon as Adam was asleep, Lucifer felt their earlier conversation repeat in his head.

Why would Lilith do that? What was her goal in upsetting Adam this badly? He knew they had bad blood, but this was on another level. Lucifer felt his eyes turn red again. She wouldn't be doing that again. He would make sure of that. There was a new ruler of Hell and it wasn't Lilith.

Hopefully, that was good!

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[fishsticksloser]

Hi :> Can i request the rise turtles confessing to the reader? Like in the middle of their confession they just begin to babble a lot, but Then the reader just gives them a short kiss on the lips and say “you talk to much <3” and just casually walks away

Love Confessions

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: aged up, mutual pinning, confession, awkwardness, eventual fluff, not written as headcanons, swearing

A/N: I am projecting so hard rn... These are long, so I put it behind a Read More to condense. :)

Donnie

You and Donnie got along really well. You'd developed quite the crush on him and he you although he wouldn't tell you that. He took you out all the time, to find mystic stuff or just search for good scrap metal he could use. Sure, most people wouldn't think anything of it, but it was a lot of fun.

"This isn't easy for me. I've never... Not like this. But... You matter to me. A lot." Donnie says as you sift through a pile of scrap.

"You matter a lot to me too, Donnie." You smile, passing him a fairly good sized piece.

"My brothers get so annoyed because of how much I talk about you." That caught your attention. You stop what you're doing, turning to him. "Stop smiling at me like that... You're going to make me fuck up..."

"Fuck up what?" You ask.

"I'm 100% sure you're all I think about. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Donnie starts rambling, more reasons he 'appreciates' you. He keeps his eyes off you, nervous about what he's saying could possibly mean. "Look, I’m not sure if I’m liking this development. Now… Now it feels like I can’t go a day without thinking about you, and about how you’re doing, and if you’re doing well, and if you’re happy, and I just want to see you and talk to you and I miss you when you’re not there and— and—"

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His rambling stops, hand cupping the side of your face.

"You talk way to much." You laugh, pulling away from him.

"Wait... Don't." He mumbles, dragging you back to him. "Not yet."

Leo

Leo walked you back to your house after you went out to dinner. It felt like a date. Was it? Did Leo just feel too embarrassed to tell you? You 2 had known each other for quite a while, you definitely had a crush on him. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

"I had a really nice time, Leo." You smile as you get to your front door.

"Uh... Me too." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Is everything okay?" You tilt your head slightly, watching his reactions. You smile, you've never seen him this nervous.

"I just thought… Never mind. It's dumb." Leo laughs nervously.

"Come on, Leon. You can tell me anything."

"How on earth do you expect me not to fall in love with you when you look and smile at me like that?" Leo groans, dragging his hands down his face. "I’m done pretending that you’re just a friend to me when I see you so much more than that!"

He continued to ramble. You're eyes were so pretty, you laughed at all his jokes, etc. It continued, almost seeming like it would never end. So you stood on your toes, pressing your lips to his softly. He caught your waist, gently holding you close.

"If you wanted to kiss me so bad, why didn't you do it then?" You laugh.

Mikey

Mikey was your best friend, only that... Until it wasn't. You confided in Donnie your massive crush on Mikey. Donnie kept trying to get you to confess, but you were nervous. Eventually Donnie got Leo to try and convince you too. It got to the point where they left, dragging Raph with them, leaving you completely alone with Mikey.

So now you sat in Mikey's room, painting, doodling, just having fun.

"All this time I think I was bound to fall in love with you. It was only a matter of when and where." He sighs, putting down his brush.

"What?" You ask.

"I keep daydreaming about you, and it’s so distracting and annoying and I can’t stop, and it’s all because I’m in love with you and—" You quickly stop him, kissing him softly.

"Then don’t. Don’t stop daydreaming about me, don’t stop being distracted and annoyed by me. Don’t stop thinking about me. Don’t stop… Don’t stop being in love with me." You breathe. Mikey grins, kissing you again.

Raph

Raph was always so nice to you, he comforted you when you were having a bad day, he knew all the ways to make you smile. He was so genuine... You were falling so hard for this giant.

"I asked myself if I’d give you the world if I could, and yes. Yes I would. With no hesitation, I’d give you the world, if you so much as asked." He laughed. You 2 had been playing games together, but took a break to grab snacks. "So yeah, I’m pretty much fucked."

This was the first time he's ever sworn in front of you. You stared at him, open mouthed.

"I mean, I haven’t been in love with someone before but I’m pretty sure this is what being in love feels like, right?" He chuckles, looking at you. "I just really enjoy spending time with you and you really have become someone very special to me and-"

You kiss him. It was a little hard due to his height, but he was quick to help out, setting you on the counter.

"I want compensation for the mere fact that I fell way too hard for you." You laugh. He snorts at your comment. "Some bones were definitely broken on the way down."

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

16th & 17th September 2024, Monday & Tuesday

day 22+23/50 productivity challenge - condensing 2 days into one because: ALL NIGHTER :) *sigh*

💤: 7 hrs - unintentionally k

🕒 1 p.m. - woke up

planned my day to literally focus on nothing but completing this fucking syllabus and revising english. also i don't have school on monday for some holiday (i forgot why)

some english revision (ngl it was barely anything)

studied + made notes biology ch: cell: the unit of life (completed)

took bath

studied + made notes biology ch: cell cycle and cell division (so much to memorise 😭 tell me how i actually like biology again?? like enough to wanna pursue it in the future???)

studied + made notes biology ch: structural organisation in animals (not fully) (why is animal anatomy kinda fun to learn about??)

🕒 7 a.m. - let's consider this the official start of the next day.. surprisingly i wasn't very sleepy at all the entire night even though i didn't drink any caffeine beforehand!! i'll prolly end up getting really low later but i just have to push though today to achieve the long awaited reward: SLEEP!! remind me not to do this ever again

🚰: 4 glasses - don't even say anything

took bath

morning skincare

🕒 8 a.m. - left for school - tuesday

didn't do well on my biology practical exam. i mean i did the experiments, spotting & writing part more or less ok. i'll prolly score most of the marks there but the viva voce part i tanked. she asked basic stuff which i knew very well but because i wasn't prepared at all i was nervous and spluttered my way through the minutes. i can't make the same mistake with my next practical exams!

🕒 1-6 p.m. - got back home and fell asleep...

re-planned the next few days

extended duolingo streak

practiced playing keyboard (who knew 2 off days would make me this rusty wow but it's ok i was forced to make my own associations and practice chord progressions) (yes i am VERY much a beginnerTM)

folded laundry (no one is surprised atp)

succumbed to doomscrolling & cried a shit ton for no reason guys pls don't be like me

ate dinner and realized that this is technically the only meal i had today and that's become a habit of mine

completed chemistry lab record

night skincare

studied + made notes biology ch: structural organisation in animals (not fully)

🕒 2:30 a.m. - ecstatically went to bed

🚰: 4 glasses - trying to consciously drink more, it'll be a slow journey that's for sure

🎧: someone to you - banners

[yikesharringrove]

He didn’t mean to hightail it straight to the nearest bar. He didn’t even know what a dive bar a was doing out in the fucking backwoods of Indiana, anyway.

Billy’d just gotten in a big fuckin’ fight with his old man, shimmied out the window of their new house, and started walking.

And he happened across a bar.

He didn’t have his wallet on him, rookie move, but he figured his black eye and three-day-old moving stubble might help him out a bit here.

The bouncer gave him an odd look, glaring him down as he approached, but let him pass without asking for identification.

There were motorcycles parked in the gravel lot, along with some sensible looking Mom Cars.

It was dim inside, and the floor was kinda sticky, but they were playing Patti Smith on a shitty jukebox, so he decided to stay.

He took a seat at the bar.

The bartender gave him the same funny look the bouncer did. She was one hell of a woman, her leather jacket had a pair of handcuffs sewn onto the front, she had her nose, lips, and eyebrows pierced. Her hair was greying and cropped into a very similar crew cut to Neil’s.

“What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey, please. And maybe a beer, Darling.” He winked.

She laughed.

“Honey, you know where you are, right? This is a fuckin’ dyke bar, and you’re no older than sixteen. You’ll have a pop and you’ll be grateful for it.” She had a slight southern drawl to her voice. Texas. Like his mom.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, quit it with that shit.” She scooped ice into a glass, and poured him a cola from the well. “Why you here? It got somethin’ to do with that shiner?”

He took a long drink of the soda.

He didn’t know if it was her voice, or the fact that for the first time in a long time, he was with his own people.

“Yeah.”

“Someone at home?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause you’re a homo?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled at him, although this one wasn’t the sad one he’d been expecting. It was understanding.

“We’ll, Baby. You come here if you ever need a safe place to roost, okay? We all know when one of our own needs saving. You come here, and you ask for Susan, and we’ll get your mind off that bruise.”

He took another long drink of his soda, but this time, to try and swallow down the stupid sob that was trying to force its way out.

“Thank you. I’m, I didn’t realize what kind of bar this is. I didn’t really know that people like us were out here. My dad, he, uh, moved us here. From California. He caught me with a boy.” He averted his gaze from Susan’s face, making patterns in the condensation on the side of his glass. Patti Smith turned over to The Runaways. Some women were dancing by the jukebox now. “He told me we were coming here so I couldn’t do any of that fairy shit.” He furrowed his brow on the last line, puffing up his chest in an imitation of his father.

“Just because people hate us more here, doesn’t mean we don’t exist. Queers live everywhere, whether people like your daddy like it or not. He can’t stop us from living any better than he can stop the sun from rising.”

Susan scooped some ice into a clean bar towel, securing it closed with the yellow crunchy around her wrist. She slid it across the bar to Billy, and he put it on his eye gratefully.

“Don’t lose that scrunchy. That’s my wife’s favorite one, and she won’t speak to me for a month if I give it to some kid.”

“Yeah? Your old lady a hardass?” Billy grinned.

There was something, so fucking good, about talking to Susan. Talking to an actual fucking grown up. Someone with a life, and a partner. A queer, like him, who actually found love. And, by the dreamy grin on her face, had found happiness.

“Hollie would yell herself hoarse is she heard you call her old. She don’t look a day over thirty-five, she’ll tell you. We’ve been together for over twenty years. That’s why she’s my wife. We can’t get married yet, but she’s not my fucking girlfriend. We’re not silly high schoolers goin’ to the prom, and shit. No offense.”

“Nah, I may be a silly high schooler, but I’d rather be dead than go to any prom. Especially with a girl. No offense.”

“Hey, you’re in my bar, and we don’t allow bad talk about women. Unless you ex-girl fucked you over. Then we talk a whole lotta shit.” She refilled Billy’s soda. “But you could always go with a friend.”

“I’ve lived in this town for four days, I don’t have any friends, let alone a beard. Maybe if I did, my dad wouldn’t’ve popped me tonight.”

Susan’s smile faltered a little bit.

“Sweetie, I don’t like to interfere. And I know that most of the time, getting CPS involved makes it worse. But Baby, are you safe? I know he hits you, but do you think he’d-” she trailed off. “I’ve just seen some shit, you know? Boys like you with fathers like yours. Boys that didn’t survive.”

“Everything my dad does, is because he’s scared of how people see him. He’s terrified that people won’t think he’s a great father or a respectable citizen. I don’t think he’d get that low.”

But, in truth, Billy didn’t know.

He’s been getting hits from his dad since he was a kid. And there are times when Billy had thought well, this is it.

But Susan was right. CPS never did anything but piss off his dad.

Susan looked thoughtful.

She grabbed a napkin, and pulled a pen out of her leather jacket.

“I’m giving you the number here. You call if you need anything. We take care of our own, okay?” He nodded in response. “Finish your pop, and get back on home. I’m sure you have a curfew to mind.”

Billy winced, looking up at Susan, feeling like such shit after her kindness.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Yeah, you don’t have shoes on either, Dumbass.” She winked at him again. “Holl!” She shouted towards the group of women dancing by the jukebox. “This little birdie needs a ride!”

A short woman came drifting over. Her hair was dark black, and swept clear below her ass. She could’ve sat on it and not noticed.

The scrunchy made sense.

She was short, much shorter than Susan, but she beamed up at her, turning to smile just as warmly at Billy.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Billy.”

It was kind of nice, being called terms of endearment by these two women. He liked that they weren’t trying to pull one over on him. He felt safe.

Susan slid a set of keys to Hollie.

“Take Billy home, please. We don’t need him walking around outside.”

Hollie ushered Billy out of his seat, climbing in the stool herself to lean over the bar. She and Susan kissed over the bar, and that funny hopeful feeling washed over Billy again.

“You’re welcome here whenever you want, Baby. You’re not the first little gay boy we’ve had in here, and you won’t be the last. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Thank you, seriously, I-thank you.”

Susan beamed at him, sliding Hollie’s yellow scrunchy back in her wrist.

[oncethrown]

Steganography Cut Three

I am working on chapter 45, I just had an insanely busy spring at work and in life and a little writers block. This is sort of "get the juices flowing" prompt for me.

***

"Hey, babe," Oliver sighed when Percy walked in, looking up from the papers he seemed to have strewn all over their small corner table. 

"Hey," Percy responded. He hung his bag, crossed the flat and leaned down to kiss Oliver in greeting. "What's all this?"

"I askedPenny if she would take a look at my Tornados contract," Oliver waved a hand over the papers in front of him, which Percy could now see were covered in red ink. "And she… was extremely thorough. She wants me to go over these and meet her for coffee this weekend. How was your day?"

Percy picked some imaginary lint off of Oliver's shirt. "I lost my temper with the Memorial Committee."

Oliver touched the back of his hand. "You didn't make someone cry again, did you?"

"No. No one's brought up Dumbledore's Army again since what happened with Michael Corner," Percy said. "I'm gonna have a glass of wine, you want one?"

"No, thanks," Oliver tapped the rim of the mug in front of him. "I'm trying to get through at least half of this tonight"

Percy scritched his fingers against the nape of Oliver's neck softy before going to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of riesling. He stared down into it for a moment, then took a fortifying sip. 

"Oliver?" he called. 

"What's wrong?" Oliver replied immediately. 

"What do you mean 'what's wrong'?" Percy asked, going to stand in the kitchen doorway. 

"That's your "Oliver, I asked you to do the dishes and you didn't do it" tone of voice."

"I have an "Oliver I asked you to do the dishes and you didn't do it" voice?"

In response, Oliver shrugged, grabbed his wand off the table and waved it toward the sink, where the dishes began to do themselves. 

"It's not about dishes." Percy leaned against the doorframe. "My mother wants me to go to the Burrow this weekend to celebrate my birthday with my family." Percy gripped his wineglass with both hands. "And I would like you to come with me."

Oliver looked up from his paper work and leaned back in his chair. "Oh."

Percy shrugged, dropped one hand to his side and took another sip of wine. "Just a Friday night. Dinner. Cake. Wine. Bill and Fleur will be there, Charlie's even coming in from Romania. Ginny is bringing Harry. Ron's bringing Hermione."

"And you want to bring me," Oliver said. "As… your best mate?"

"I don't know," Percy said. He went back to the table and dropped into the chair opposite Oliver. He set his wine glass in the window sill where the condensation couldn't smudge Penny's careful notes. "Last year was such a… " he made a strangled noise, trying to indicate the chaos of a somber birthday party just weeks out from a huge battle that had killed one of his brothers and the bizarre unfamiliarity caused by years of estrangement. 

Oliver nodded. "Right. I know."

"I just… I really want you there. It's been great when you've come to dinners with me, and I was just so fucking relieved when my mother invited you to Christmas and I… everyone else gets to bring their partner, and it's my fucking birthday and I want you there. I'm not saying we need to come out to them, and I'll be exactly as careful as you ask me to be-"

"Percy… we're never that careful, and they all seem pretty oblivious," Oliver said. 

"Is that "yes, I'll come to your awkward adult birthday party?" Percy asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. He didn't want to guilt Oliver into coming with him. 

Oliver smiled at him. "I would love to come to your awkward adult birthday party." He cleared his throat and picked up his mug. "But I think we might need to discuss our long term plan here."

"You know I'd never ask you to come out to my family," Percy said immediately. Oliver was a celebrity, Oliver was an athlete, and Oliver's war record was a little more complicated than Percy's own. 

"I know." Oliver knocked back a gulp of tea. "But what do you think we happen if we did?"

Percy stared at him for a moment before his instinct to answer a question kicked in. "I… I mean…After the bed expansion charm thing at Christmas… I feel like Dad at least is pretending not to know. Mum has asked me about Penny a few times. But they… You know how it is in the wizarding world. People don't have the context to understand. Do they… How alien would it be to them to be like "I'm bringing Oliver becausehe's my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend like that, four almost five years. Yes, I really am planning for it to be him and only him. Forever."

"Him and Roger Davies sometimes, on special occasions," Oliver smirked at him. 

Percy went red so fast at the thought of explaining the concept of an occasional recreation gay threesome to his mother he was sure he could feel his blood vessels stretching. 

He cleared his throat. "Mum was asking George and I about girls the last time we were over for dinner, and I don't know. I don't like pretending I'm single. I don't think I'm very convincing at pretending I'm straight. Hermione has to suspect. Fleur… might be able to find out for sure. She must know what it means if a guy is immune to the Veela whammy."

Oliver blanched for a second. "I never thought of that. Do you think she's ever tried it on us and we didn't notice?"

Percy shrugged. "I… I've lost contact with my family over way less important things than this. If they want to cut me off over being with you." He shrugged again, fighting to find the words he needed. "That's what's going to happen sooner or later anyway. It's more important to make sure that it doesn't affect your career. So… I guess it's up to you."

"Okay," Oliver said. He looked back down at his contract, then shuffled all the paperwork into a pile. "Fuck it. I'm gonna pour myself a glass too, let's… sort of game this out."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, You're right. We'll have to talk about eventually, let's talk about it now." Oliver appeared with his glass of wine. "Also, Davies is going to be in London for work in a couple months, and maybe he'd want to help celebrate."

[alloftheimaginesblog]

spoilers for TUA s4 (spoiler: it's not good)

i've loved the umbrella academy for a long time. my chemical romance is my favourite band, gerard way who's the lead singer created the umbrella academy so u bet ur ass i had the graphic novels when i was young. i love that man so course i had them. i enjoyed them but really loved the tv show

season one - excellent season two - pretty great, some minor faults but overall i really enjoyed s2 season three - had some strong moments, was overall 'good' season four - ???? what the fuck man

s4 did the trope that i despise. the same trope that xmen days of future past did and kind of deadpool v wolverine. the whole 'we're changing the timeline so none of this actually happened!' bullshit. i hate that shit man sucks

s4 destroyed characters - diego deserved better and he was written as a joke. diego and lila deserved so much better.

lila/five - wtf man, that shits as uncomfortable and left field as allison/luther

ben's whole arc was pointless. he died a monster. never got any closure. jennifer was 2d and pointless.

gene and jean were pretty shit - the premise was good but i truly think because of the condensed season (6 eps compared to 10) it was rushed and just... shit

i don't mind the ending that they all died right, i always kind of assumed that's how theywould die - theyd sacrifice themselves or something - but to erase the timeline and the handler gets a happy ending?? nah man, make it make sense

and luther - where is sloan? where's his wife? why did everyone just forget about her? also why when he got his powers back was he half monkey again when that was human experimentation?? confusion

allison - why did ray leave? why only one mention and then never spoken about again? her arc felt pretty pointless

klaus/viktor - i felt his arc and viktor's was probably the best out the lot but still not great

reggie - meh

five - HATED it. the boy who spent DECADES trying to get back to his family suddenly delays going home for 5 MONTHS??? all because lila? nah.

overall, i just didn't like it. it's like game of thrones and how i met your mother - final seasons that absolutely destroyed everything the previous seasons built up. just not good. it lacked fun, spunk and just lacked everything. ben dies a fucking monster, diego dies hating five (and vice versa), ben never gets to say goodbye, klaus never knows how ben truly died (don't get me started on that bs cause wouldn't ben's ghost have mentioned that to klaus during the early seasons????)

shit and i am so sad about it

(i do not blame gerard way, he's perfect, i'm just sad about the direction the show took)