#usually I want to at least talk to someone

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next?

[angelltheninth]

Vander and Silco Get Baby Fever After Seeing Felicia Have Kids

Pairing: Vander, Silco x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, creampie, size difference, breeding kink, mentioned future pregnancy, on the bar, desk sex

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I saw them in that flashback and haven't had time to get them out of my mind sense. They were all so hot, we lost so much!

Vander was usually careful when having sex, at least when it came to pulling out on time

Lately he's been actively pushing you against his cock to make sure his cum goes inside you, not out

Will put you in a headlock while he breeds you

If he notices you teasing him through the day he will wipe the bar down at the end of the night and fuck you on top of it, not even caring to carry you to the bedroom

Already has a list of names in his head

Uses his fingers to push his cum back into your pussy while holding you up with his other hand, those fingers dancing along your spine

Gets pussydrunk very easily when you say how much you want him to make you pregnant, how good of a dad you know he'll be

Could go all night if he thinks it would increase the chances of your pregnancy

Raises your ass when he fucks you from behind, his strong thighs smacking against your cheeks hard, the bed protesting under you both

Eats his cum from your pussy if it leaks out, at least then it won't fully go to waste

Silco never thought he'd want to become a dad but now it's all he can think about, all day, every day

Cockwarming was always one of his favorite things, one of the best ways to pass the time while he works but now there's an added bonus to it of him keeping your pussy nice and full

Bends you over the desk almost immediately after you enter his office and actually enjoys seeing his cum drip down your thighs

Has so much more cum to give you so it's no issue

Never masturbates, not until you get pregnant anyway, because he wants to make sure that as much of his seed ends up in your womb as possible

Knows that pregnancy will be hard, and raising the kid even harder, he is ready to be there every single step of the way, especially when all the hormones kick in

Folds you into a mating press, the slight curve of his cock hitting your sweet spot and making your pussy squeeze so hard you milk the cum right out of his balls

If he really gets into it it's debatable if he would stop fucking you if someone were to walk in

Every time he imagines how beautiful you'd look pregnant his cock stirs in his pants, it's a problem if he's at work during that time

When he's balls deep inside of you he gets very talkative and starts brainstorming names and things that you'll need to buy for the baby

[fierceawakening]

Yes! That’s… less of a clear answer than I feel comfortable with to join a movement or admire its leaders, but it’s something.

I always get the sense in conversations like this that people are much more comfortable than I am just being like “who cares about the edge cases?”

I care about them, both because I’ve *been* the victim of things committed by people too deep in their mental illness for anyone who tried to convince them to stop, and because if we truly believe everyone is a person (which I see as a key tenet of leftist values and part of why I choose them over right wing values in the first place) then we believe some things are too cruel even for people who do horrific things.

So I don’t see it as an issue we can avoid.

Also like I’ve mentioned I work at a homeless shelter. The reason a lot of academically inclined leftists can talk about crime like it’s rare is because they don’t spend time in environments where people who’ve committed crimes are common. I don’t think they’re wrong that most people are basically good, but I think they can be naive about what it takes to convince someone crimes are not a great idea. If someone has a patten of criming, it’s because that’s what they believe works for them. Getting them to stop is about changing their outlook and habits, which is far from impossible but a lot slower and more bumpy than many people who never did much criming want to think.

Also I think a lot of people really don’t have an accurate picture in their heads of serious mental illness. I think very often people have an idea that even very acutely ill people are fairly rational, and you can usually help them deal with their anxiety, give them meds, whatever, and they improve a lot. Again, I don’t think this is fundamentally incorrect; disease isn’t destiny. But having interacted with a lot of people whose illness is particularly intractable, I think that people often have… the same kind of image in their mind, where they don’t really understand how incremental incremental can be.

There are many people, including one client I’m very morose about, who improve a little when treated well, but a little isn’t enough. My moroseness? That client has been banned for fighting, unless she appeals the decision and wins. I don’t *like* the thought that she’s going to lose her place here and that’s likely to only make things worse… but I don’t have the fundamental confidence to say that kicking people out for violence is too cruel, we can make sure it’s fine. Making sure it’s fine is very clearly above my pay grade, and while there are people with more experience and better degrees than me I don’t have the impression they’re less confused.

All of which says to me that deciding we’re ready to stop imprisoning people who do bad things is at the very least premature (and to their credit a lot of abolitionists do agree that prisons will be phased out over time.) I think it’s unrealistic not just in a way that paints a rosy picture of humanity (as a whole? My picture of humanity is also fairly rosy!) but also in a way that fundamentally ill prepares us to really help perpetrators in ways that matter.

[kimmie2me]

HEYYY I LUV UR POSTS LIKE HELLO?!?! also im sure u know abt the bakugo hc with him with him having hearing aids and is it ok of u make like a fic with him signing nasty stuff to reader cuz he can and nobody around them fully learned sign language yet? PLS AND THANK U!!! 💕💕💕

first of all, THANK YOU!! ILYSM!! second, i am BACK!!!! exams went well, i guess. i didnt PASS or FAIL, but whatever.. third, I LOVE THIS IDEA HAHAHHA!!! here is, what I think, a great welcoming back gift to give u all ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ (ignore that Kaminari's text is blue..there's no yellow. ALSO, mina is NAWT taking pink. thats OUR color now.)

Of Silence and Secrets

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Reader

…..

Bakugou Katsuki hated his hearing aids.

Hated how they fit, hated how they felt, and most of all, hated what they represented. Weakness. A crack in the armor he’d spent his entire life forging. When the ringing in his ears started as a brat in middle school, he didn’t think much of it. Just the fallout from a quirk-boosted explosion, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Years passed. The ringing grew into dull hums, muffled voices, and missed sounds. A villain’s retreating taunt he couldn’t catch. The screech of a car he didn’t hear. Kirishima shouting his name three times before Bakugou finally turned around, snarling, “What the hell do you want!?” while Kirishima just looked… worried.

His hearing aids were a damn nuisance. At least, that’s what he told himself every single day.

They whined if someone got too close, buzzed when he adjusted them wrong, and gods forbid he so much as grazed them during a fight—one hard knock, and they’d go flying. He could hear again, sure, but better hearing came at a price: realizing just how insufferably loud the world actually was. Katsuki had spent months in denial, refusing to accept that his ears, like the rest of his high-octane life, couldn’t keep up with him.

The ringing had started in his late teens, growing louder until it followed him everywhere. He blamed it on the explosions, the debris, the constant yelling—but really, he knew. His mom did too, though she’d spared him the lecture until the day Kirishima cornered him in his agency office with a sheepish grin and her voice on speakerphone.

“Katsuki.” The way she said his name—sharp, biting, and so unlike her usual bark of “Oi, you brat!”—made his stomach drop. “What if somethin’ happens? What if you miss an evac order or—hell—a cry for help? Hah? What then?”

“… Tch.” He had scowled so hard it hurt. “Fine. I’ll get the damn things.”

The intervention was humiliating, but the worst part? She was right. He hated that more than anything.

That was the first night he slept with the hearing aids sitting on the nightstand. He’d finally picked them up after a year of constant badgering—from his mom, Kirishima, hell, even that damn Deku. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear better—it was the admission that killed him.

But now? Now the stupid things were glued to him. Mostly.

The tech was incredible, of course. Damn nerds at Hero Support had outdone themselves. The hearing aids didn’t just amplify sound; they filtered it, isolating voices during chaos and syncing with comm units. They were waterproof, explosion-proof—Bakugou-proof. Allegedly.

But they weren’t indestructible. He’d broken five pairs in six months. Kaminari had nicknamed him “Break-aid” after the third replacement. Bakugou threatened to shove them where the sun didn’t shine.

And yet… they worked. Too well.

He could hear the scratch of pens during hero conferences, the obnoxious tapping of Kaminari’s foot against the table, the quiet sigh of his own breath. The worst part? The incessant talking. It was everywhere. Fans, reporters, civilians—people who thought their every word needed an audience.

Thankfully, he’d discovered the mute button.

The first time he used it, Kaminari was midway through a rant about his latest gadget. Bakugou, in a rare moment of self-control, didn’t yell. He just flicked the switch, leaned back in his chair, and smirked as Kaminari kept babbling. No explosions, no shouting, just blissful silence.

But there were downsides.

Combat was a nightmare when they broke. Shouting “HUH!?” every five seconds wasn’t exactly strategic. That’s when he decided to learn sign language. Not because anyone suggested it—hell no. But because he’d be damned if he relied on a gadget to do his job.

The process was… frustrating. Hands clumsy, movements stiff. Kirishima tried to help, but his signs were barely legible. Kaminari? Useless. Sero was too busy laughing to be much better or resorted to typing in the Notes app on his phone when it was pretty serious. Deku? That nerd had picked it up in a week, naturally.

But you? You made it bearable.

“Like this,” you’d said, your fingers forming a perfect sign. “Thumb tucked in.”

Bakugou grumbled, but copied you.

“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it, ’Suki?”

Your patience annoyed him almost as much as it calmed him. And somehow, over weeks of practice, his stiff movements turned fluid. He’d never admit it, but he liked having this… language, this connection, with you.

And then he realized something else.

You understood him. Not just the signs, but him. The sharpness he couldn’t quite soften, the quiet gratitude he couldn’t voice. And better yet? No one else around him could understand a damn thing he was saying.

It started innocently enough—well, innocent by his standards.

“Bored out of my goddamn mind,” he’d signed at you during a hero conference.

You’d smirked and replied, “Same.”

But then, Bakugou being Bakugou, had an epiphany: he could sign anything.

The first time he tried it, you were sitting across from him at a formal hero banquet. The room was filled with pro heroes, reporters, and politicians. Everyone was dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and pretending the world wasn’t on fire outside.

Bakugou caught your eye and, with the most deadpan expression, signed: Wanna fuck?

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly knocked your glass over. You choked, coughing into your hand, and when someone asked if you were okay, you waved them off, avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, sipping his water like he hadn’t just propositioned you in a room full of Japan’s elite.

…..

It got worse.

During a meeting with the Hero Public Safety Commission, while a bureaucrat droned on about policy changes, Bakugou’s hands moved under the table. He made sure you were looking before signing: I’d rather have you ride me than sit here with these extras.

You froze mid-note, the pen slipping from your fingers. Your face burned as you ducked your head, pretending to scribble something in your notebook. Across the room, Kirishima noticed your sudden movement.

“Hey, you good?” he whispered.

“Fine!” you squeaked, glaring at Bakugou.

He tilted his head, feigning confusion, then casually leaned back in his chair. He looked so smug you wanted to scream.

At a press conference, surrounded by the press corps, TV cameras, and the elite of the hero world, Bakugou stood stiffly at the podium, bored out of his skull. Beside him, you shuffled the note cards you’d prepared, doing your best to stay focused on Midoriya’s answer to a question about villain reform strategies.

Bakugou glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking at how focused you looked. That only made the idea pop into his head faster. He adjusted his stance, one hand casually coming up to rub his neck as the other signed with precision:

I’d fuck you so hard over this podium, the microphones would short out.

Your brain stalled like a computer blue-screening. The cards slipped from your hands, scattering onto the stage floor. You froze in horror as a sea of reporters looked up from their notebooks.

Midoriya, ever the anxious public speaker, stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah! Just... clumsy!” you stammered, dropping to your knees to collect the cards. You didn’t dare look at Bakugou, whose hand came up to his mouth as though stifling a yawn—but you knew he was hiding a smirk.

To make things worse, while you scrambled on the floor, he signed again, deliberately slower so you couldn’t miss it:

Would’ve pulled your hair too, just to hear you scream.

Your face burned so hot you were sure you’d melt through the stage.

It didn’t stop there.

At the next agency-wide meeting, Bakugou sat across from you in the conference room, arms crossed as a pro-hero you couldn't bother to listen to went on and on about new combat protocols. The room was packed with pro heroes, all seated shoulder-to-shoulder.

Bakugou, who’d already tuned out after the first ten minutes, caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Before you could react, his hands moved subtly under the table:

I’d eat you out on this table, right in front of everyone, and make sure you couldn’t stay quiet.

The coffee cup in your hand slipped, splashing onto your notes. You cursed under your breath, grabbing napkins to clean the mess.

Kirishima, sitting beside you, leaned over. “Whoa, you okay? You’ve been jumpy lately.”

You forced a smile, not daring to look at Bakugou, whose expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

It became a game to him.

While Kirishima nodded and went back to his notes, Bakugou adjusted in his chair and signed again:

Bet you’d cry if I used my mouth the way I’m thinking. Probably beg me to stop—but you wouldn’t really mean it.

You slammed your pen down so hard it startled Kaminari, who glanced over with a confused look.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, refusing to look up.

Across the table, Bakugou leaned back, feigning boredom, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

It escalated during a casual outing with the crew.

Everyone had gathered at a bustling ramen joint after a long patrol, crowding into a booth that was way too small for so many people. Bakugou sat to your right, thigh pressed against yours under the table. As the conversation flowed around him, he picked up a pair of chopsticks and casually started eating.

Then, as Mina told a story about her latest villain takedown, he turned his head slightly toward you and signed with one hand:

The things I’d do to you under this table would make you scream so loud they’d kick us out.

You froze, chopsticks hovering mid-air. He didn’t even blink, slurping his noodles like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal nuke into your lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, noticing your deer-in-headlights expression.

“Uh… spicy broth,” you choked out, grabbing your water and gulping it down.

Bakugou, still chewing, glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and added another one for good measure:

Bet I could make you cum without anyone noticing. Wanna test that theory?

You almost choked on your drink, coughing so hard Kirishima patted your back in concern.

At a charity event, he raised the bar again.

The ballroom was filled with reporters, politicians, and wealthy donors, all eager to mingle with Japan’s most famous heroes. Bakugou hated these events with a burning passion, but at least you were there to make it tolerable.

You stood beside him, chatting politely with a group of businessmen, when you felt his gaze on you. Slowly, you turned your head, already dreading what was coming.

He didn’t disappoint. With the straightest face you’d ever seen, he signed:

You’d look so much better on your knees, with my cock down your throat, than in that dress.

Your hand shot out, nearly spilling your champagne as you fumbled to keep your composure. The Pro Hero you were speaking to paused mid-sentence, giving you a concerned look.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stuttered, setting the glass down before you could break it.

Bakugou tilted his head innocently, signing again:

Bet you’d love it if I bent you over that balcony upstairs. Bet you’d be dripping by the time I was done.

Your jaw dropped, and you 'accidentally' kicked his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch.

It wasn’t just formal settings, either. Bakugou would strike anywhere.

During a team training session, you were sparring with Kaminari while Bakugou watched from the sidelines. When you finally landed a clean hit, knocking Kaminari flat on his ass, Bakugou clapped slowly, catching your attention.

Wanna know what else you could knock flat? Me. On my back. With you riding me till I forget my own goddamn name.

Your sparring stance faltered, and Kaminari took the opportunity to trip you.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, offering a hand to help you up.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, shooting a glare at Bakugou, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

The worst of all came during a live broadcast.

The Hero Public Safety Commission had organized a televised Q&A with Japan’s top heroes. You sat between Bakugou and Midoriya, fielding questions from both the moderator and the live audience. Bakugou had been unusually quiet for most of the event, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

But then, while the moderator addressed Midoriya, Bakugou caught your attention.

His hands moved lazily, almost imperceptibly, as he signed:

After this, I’m gonna pin you to the wall in the dressing room and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here straight.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked away, heart hammering in your chest.

“And what about you?” the moderator asked, pulling your attention back to the present.

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” you stammered, cheeks flaming.

Beside you, Bakugou leaned back in his chair, smirking as the moderator repeated the question. His hands shifted again, just enough for you to catch his next message:

If you blush any harder, they’re gonna think you’re into this.

You resisted the urge to scream.

Because, for Bakugou, nothing was funnier than watching you squirm. And knowing you were the only one who could decode his filthy little secrets? That was just the icing on the cake.

…..

Over time, the signing became a secret game. A language only the two of you shared, even if it was insanely one sided. In battle, it was strategic—efficient, silent communication when words couldn’t cut through the noise. Off the field? It was something else entirely.

After a particularly grueling patrol, Bakugou flopped onto the couch beside you, tugging his hearing aids out and tossing them onto the table.

“Another shitty day,” he muttered.

You hummed in agreement, leaning against him.

Without thinking, he signed: You’re the only thing that doesn’t piss me off.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothin’, Cupcake. Just watch the TV..”

And for once, you didn’t press.

Because sometimes, silence said enough.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

We moved on from Buck being the one to meet Kim at the station too fast. Way too fast.

Because hey, what would you do if the dead wife or a doppelgänger dead wife of your best friend-partner-almost love of your life showed up at your place of work with brownies? Would you ignore the date you scheduled in favor of driving over to your best friend’s place to knock urgently on his back door because you’re so afraid that something is happening to him. And you know that something is happening because the doppelgänger of his dead wife just showed up to the firehouse with brownies like it was just another Monday. You think you might have to push him to talk, but it feels more like your best friend was just waiting for someone to see him, and he is just as dumbfounded as you, and maybe even as scared for himself as you are for him. So you tell him that he needs to break it off with the doppelgänger of his dead wife, but you know that it’s more complicated than that, your best friend’s feelings, even though you trust him to do the right thing and end it with her. But you’re still not through the shock of seeing the doppelgänger of your best friend’s dead wife standing in the fire station, heart beating, lungs expanding, and so you think that maybe your best friend is still in shock too, and you don’t want to push too hard at his grief-wound. So you leave it for now, and you don’t come back to it until it blows up in your face, and your best friend’s face, and his son’s face too.

So yeah, I’d say that Buck probably has a lot of regrets too about the Kim situation. He’s a fixer, no matter how hard he tries, and they lost the kid both of them love more than anything over the situation. You can’t tell me that Buck hasn’t been screaming crying throwing up about it since May. Fuck that.

It doesn’t matter that we don’t get characters’ inner thoughts (usually) on this show. Buck met Kim, and he talked about it with Eddie twice. That’s crazy. That’s certifiably insane. It’s been six months. The midseason finale is tomorrow. There is no excuse for Eddie and Christopher still not speaking. This is no excuse for Buck and Eddie still never discussing Kim or at least Chris leaving. These characters are not meant to be this horrifically repressed. It is strange. It is out of character. Kim showed up for about four episodes and disappeared into the ether. I want to know what the hell is going on with this storyline.

[gluion]

pretty please — jacob bae

pairing — jacob bae x fem!reader genre — strangers to lovers, suggestive (minors dni) wc — 1.5k insipired by — bed chem by sabrina carpenter // pretty please by dua lipa misc/warnings — alcohol consumption, sexual tension, pet names (good girl), reader wears makeup, grinding in a public place... ehem..., dirty talk, making out, hickeys note — badcob... save me, badcob... gluion deobi writer renaissance for badcob and we have to thank @kimsohn for requesting :p thank u for letting me remember why i love writing for tbz, esp jacob <3

synopsis — you make every possible excuse in the book to explain your tinder match’s tardiness. yet, you find yourself meeting a man who screams of innocence—until you find yourself at his mercy.

you think someone’s watching you.

at first, it came in the form of an itch you can’t reach until it morphed into a chill running down your spine. one look back, no one behind you. another look back, only a couple who wanted to grab a drink from the bartender.

you’d like to think it could be someone you were in the same organization with, maybe even someone you shared a class with, but you were far from the clubs that your university would infiltrate. you were somewhere entirely new, filled with employed folks, for a tinder match.

a first date in a bar isn’t one you would agree to, really, but you couldn’t deny the man with the cat eyes. after all, you still couldn’t believe he matched with you. the last thing you wanted is to shut the connection down.

but it’s been a good two hours since the agreed meet-up time, at least four glasses of margaritas in your system, and there was no sight of him. 

you should wait. what if he was dealing with some motorcycle issues? did his cat need to be brought to the clinic for an emergency? every excuse possible and you’ll accept it. 

a chill runs down your spine.

your eyes dart everywhere, hoping to spot your tinder match you’ve been waiting for—until they meet wide, brown ones.

across the bar stands a man dressed in a grey tank top with a black jacket over. surrounded by a group of boys who break into laughter, he pays no attention to their conversation. it’s only when he takes a sip from his drink that brings you to look away.

your skin grows hot; the only solution you have is to drink some more. 

you’ve downed your fifth glass of margarita for the night, and you still need more.

“bartender, give me one more.” at his nod, you’re ready to pull out a couple of bills, until a waft of lavender enters your nose. a glass is set down beside you.

“i’ll pay.”

you look up to see the same man from across the bar. up close, you can trace his features; soft jawline, soft skin, soft lips. he takes a seat beside you before asking, “care if i stay with you?”

it’s not that you find him unattractive. he just doesn’t fall under your usual types; those who had a sharp gaze with the goal of ruining you seemed to be the ones you gravitated towards.

everything about him screams an innocent man—and your tinder date is far from that.

“uh,” you clear your throat, “i have a date.”

his eyebrows scrunch together. “really? where are they? because i’ve seen you with no one the whole night.”

“well, he’s late, i think,” you whisper the last phrase.

you expect the stranger to laugh at you. it wouldn’t be the first time a man bothered you at a club. yet, he smiles. “then, can i keep you company? maybe wait for him with you?”

although you would grow annoyed at this type of persistence, you find yourself enjoying his presence. “don’t you think he’d see you and think that i ditched him?”

your order for another martini is placed in front of you.

“if he were a real man, he’d come up and let me know,” he says as he slides a couple of bills to the bartender. “besides, a real man wouldn’t leave you waiting.”

you muster out a bitter laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “okay, and what does that make you?”

his eyes flicker to the lipstick stain. “why don’t you find out yourself?”

seconds go by.

“well, do you have a name?”

he smiles. “jacob.”

“y/n.”

jacob hums as he leans on the bar. “so, who is this date?”

“just someone i matched with on tinder.”

“first date?” at your hum, jacob chuckles in disbelief. “you decided on the place?”

you roll your eyes. “have some faith in me.”

jacob shakes his head. “well, y/n, i don’t know enough about you.” he swishes the contents in his cup. before the rim can meet his lips, he says, “but that can change tonight.”

you’re not sure if the alcohol is taking a toll on you or the packed crowd raising the temperatures; your skin grows hot and jacob might be to blame. 

“so, i’m guessing he’s the one that chose the place.”

you nod at his assumption. as he grips his glass, arms resting on the bartop, your eyes trace the details; well-defined forearms and slender fingers.

despite talking about your tinder match, your mind drifts away from him. instead, it’s filled with images of the stranger beside you; arms strong enough to hold you up against the wall, hands that could leave bruises all over your hips, fingers that know how to ruin you until you’re on the verge of tears. you’re entranced by the sight of his fingers drumming against the table. every tap causes the pool in between your legs to grow.

his biceps tense up, and your breath hitches.  

“i would’ve never imagined a club for a first date.” when you meet his gaze, you spot a smirk plastered on his face, like he caught you in the act.

maybe jacob isn’t like the image you made him up to be.

“trust me, i wouldn’t have also.” your finger traces the rim of your glass, collecting some salt. 

he nods along with the beat of the music. “then what made you say yes?”

a beat passes.

“i’ve got needs,” you admit before popping your salt-covered digit into your mouth.  

he tongues the inside of his cheek, and you wonder how well he could eat you out; all the highs you could achieve all thanks to the licks against your clit. “really?” as he leans forward, your senses grow hazy over the scent of lavender, over the alcohol consumed, over the intoxicating presence of jacob. he stares right at you before taking a glance at your lips. “i wonder if he can really fulfill those needs.”

a bit of corruption swirls in jacob.

once you pop out your finger, you down the rest of your cocktail, staring right back at jacob who follows you. with drinks finished, you get off your seat and grab hold of his arm.

you drag him through the dance floor until your back hits a wall. you and jacob were not far from the sweaty crowd, still surrounded by those who are far too drunk to care about you two. yet, your hands reach out to his hoodie, and his hands plant against the wall.

a mix of red and orange strobes cast over your figures. even under the lack of white light, you take in jacob’s features. most of it still speak of gentleness, but his eyes scream otherwise—the type of look that makes you want to submit to his mercy.

“thought you were going to take me dancing,” jacob remarks. his hands trail down your face until it rests on the side of your neck. “maybe make your date jealous if he saw me with you.”

“you think you could do that, huh? think you could make the guy i was going to hook up with jealous of you?”

it’s a genuine question for the stranger you can’t stop thinking about. is jacob the definition of innocence?

he smirks before leaning closer. his breath grazes against your lips. “i think he should be jealous.”

your lips crash against his, hands bringing his body close to yours. his palms find their spot on your waist, reaching under your shirt and relishing in your warmth. your noses bump against each other in desperation.

the alcohol tells you that you need him closer, so your hands tug on his clothes. once his hips are flushed against yours, you grind on his cock, feeling it grow harder with every rock. the pool in between your legs grows; a wet patch on your panties. his hands find their spot on your ass, guiding every roll of your hips against his dick.

your senses are floating from the lack of oxygen. as you pull away from the kiss, you and jacob try to catch your breaths. but both your hips don’t stop from its ministrations. all you needed is any pressure on your clit.

“need you. now.”

he chuckles before letting his lips trail down your neck. he sucks on your skin, tongue darting out to leave marks all over you. your eyes shut close as you grow dizzy.

“want me to take you right here? surrounded by people?” as you let out a moan of desperation, jacob’s fingers dig into your skin. “what about your date?”

“i don’t care about him. i haven’t since you came.”

he lets out a hum in contentment of your revelation. “such a good girl for me.”

the pet name causes you to whine. as your grinding starts to go at an inconsistent rhythm, jacob doesn’t guide your hips anymore. your eyes open, hands gripping against his clothes.

“not here.” before you can beg him otherwise, he says, “can’t have others looking at you. you’re mine for the night.”

jacob is far from an innocent man—that’s all you need.

networks tag list: @kflixnet @k-labels @deoboyznet @kstrucknet

tbz permanent tag list: @winterchimez @mosviqu @stealanity (the only ones i was sure of who weren't minors)

[rebouks]

Do you have any recommendations for starting a story? Yours is so good and it really inspires me to try and make one of my own but idk where to start

Hmmm a tough question! I think we all just kinda start and learn as we go? It's the best way tbh.. if you look back at the beginning of most simblr stories they've usually come a long way! Here's a couple tips that I think might be handy tho...

Maybe we could start a thread and everyone could reblog this with their own tips?! 🤩

Decide if you want to build your own lots/sets or not. If you do you'll probs wanna start off with the main places you'll use that're full of personality, like a main characters house or place of work etc. you can always download some neat lots and edit them to your liking if you're not a builder, or maybe even download a whole save file!

Start a character page (or make an intro post for em if you can't be arsed with the technicalities) - not essential but useful for you and the readers to keep track of who's who and maybe state a few facts about them etc.

Start collecting some poses and ideally rename them so they're easy to find! I personally like to add smth like [PETS] or [KISSING] etc to mine (in s4s) in conjunction with twistedmexi's pose finder to make things easier to grab.

If you use reshade/gshade, taking the time to find or create a nice preset will save you a bunch of time editing.

For the love of god if you're gonna make a bunch of extras, try and dress them in maxis clothes/hair.. I'm so SICK of having to redress everyone every time I clear out a bunch of cc skjdksj 🙈 you can always give em an extra, fancy cc outfit for specific scenes on the day but yeah, do yourself a solid where possible to save time/pain in the future. Same goes for lots you don't use often, try and limit the cc you use!

Figure out if you're a planner or not! If you can't manage without a plan it's okay to take some time before starting to figure everything out and get a detailed outline going. If you're more of a pantser (like me!) you can always just get going with a rough idea in mind and see what happens!

If you're gonna go with the flow I'd still recommend creating at least a rough outline, you don't have to stick to it like glue but it'll probs help you stay on track and I wish I'd have done this in the beginning, esp if you're gonna have a plot heavy story.

Characters > plot.. (imo!) like.. you could have a super interesting plot in mind but if no one really knows or cares about your characters it's gonna have a limited impact/amount of interest. They don't even have to be likable lmao

Give your characters some flaws! It's fun and it makes them more relatable.

Start with a small cast - not a complete must but it'll be probably be easier for people to get to know your pixels if they're aren't a million of them right off the bat. You can always add more later.

Try not to shoehorn your characters into situations they wouldn't end up in just to further the plot.. a hard one to explain and mostly based on intuition but if a scene feels boring, out of place or forced, it probably is! aka.. be willing to kill your darlings. Maybe you've already established that your character is poor or smth but have this fun idea of a road trip montage or whatever.. like you can't just give them a car and the money to drive a million miles just cos you HAVE to see that scene y'know? Maybe they're gonna have to hitch hike, get the bus, or take out a loan? Probs a bad example but hopefully you get the idea! It can sometimes be more fun to force your characters into a different situation than you imagined anyway, like maybe they meet someone really neat on the bus and they join the trip, or maybe whoever they borrowed money from gets all pissy when they can't pay em back quick enough etc etc.

Let your characters guide you - sometimes characters talk to us! You could've had a whole storyline planned for them, or a romance of whatever, but when it comes down to it, it just doesn't feel right and that's okay! Let them lead you in a different direction now n' then.

Write for you! (ugh becca stfu with this shit) I know, I know but really.. if you're not having fun, what's the point? Don't write what you think other people want and learn to be okay with cutting ideas/scenes/characters/whatever! that you aren't excited about anymore. It should never feel like a chore to create, and if it starts to feel that way, take a break or change it up!

I feel like this is super rambly and I've missed a million obvious things but my brain is mashed potato rn lmao.. pls feel free to add your own tips in a reblog or a comment - everyone has a different take on things! I think it's really important just to start and see what feels natural tho 🤸‍♀️🧡

[trixy812]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ You have all my support ɞ˚‧｡⋆ pt 3.5

{Nanami Kento x reader}

ִֶָ࣪☾. Content: kento nanami x reader (boyfriend x girlfriend), fluff, funny, nanami jealous, gojo being chaotic

ִֶָ࣪☾. Summary: Reader meets Gojo!

ִֶָ࣪☾. AN: I wrote this like an Omake! I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you write comments! :D if not, i am really really happy with likes & reblogs <3 xoxo

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3

Reader meets Gojo

Two days before graduation, Nanami received a last-minute notice: he had to deliver some documents and mission reports to Jujutsu High. He didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t refuse. Knowing it was going to be tedious, he agreed to your suggestion to accompany him. "It might be our first and last visit together before you graduate from there," you had said, and he couldn’t say no to that.

You observed everything with curiosity. While you didn’t have much interest in this world, it was fascinating to be there. Plus, you knew there was a chance you might encounter the most famous figure of this world: Satoru Gojo.

"Maybe we’ll run into Gojo Satoru, huh?" you said casually, though your heart raced just thinking about it.

Nanami, walking beside you with his typical straight posture and serious demeanor, scoffed.

"You’re not missing much."

That killed your excitement, but only for a moment. You decided to let it go; after all, you knew Nanami couldn’t stand the famous Strongest Sorcerer. Just as you were turning a corner, as if someone had heard your thoughts, there he was: Satoru Gojo.

"Nanamin! I see you’ve got good company."

Gojo appeared out of nowhere, with his carefree smile, dark sunglasses, and that energy that seemed to fill the entire hallway. He walked toward you as if he were on a runway.

Nanami immediately tensed, his jaw clenching audibly.

"Gojo," he said in his usual monotone, but you…

You froze. Your eyes lit up, and before you could stop yourself, you took a step forward, clasping your hands together as if standing before a global celebrity (which, in a way, you were your parents had taught you so).

"You’re Satoru Gojo?! Oh my God, I can’t believe it!" you exclaimed, bringing your hands to your mouth.

Gojo smiled, clearly delighted by your reaction.

"That’s me. In the flesh. Autographs later? Photos? I’m quite busy, but I can make an exception for such an enthusiastic fan."

Nanami closed his eyes for a moment, clearly holding back a sarcastic comment.

"It’s an honor to meet you," you continued, almost tripping over your words in your excitement. "It’s incredible to meet a sorcerer of your caliber."

Nanami turned his head toward you, clearly surprised. He didn’t know if you were joking or actually serious.

"My reputation precedes me? Of course it does," Gojo replied, tilting his head slightly toward you. "What do you think, Nanami? She seems to have good taste."

"Don’t start," muttered Nanami, clenching his fists.

But you were too caught up in the excitement to notice Nanami’s tension.

"I never thought I’d have the chance to talk to someone like you. You’re amazing! Your abilities are legendary," you said quickly, your eyes sparkling with admiration.

Gojo placed a hand on his chest, feigning modesty. "Ah, please, you’re making me blush. Although… it’s the least I’d expect from someone with such a keen eye."

Nanami shot you a look of utter bewilderment.

"Oh, is this the girl you told me about?" Gojo asked mischievously, turning to Nanami.

"Wait… you knew about me?!" you exclaimed, clearly thrilled.

"Of course. Nanamin here doesn’t stop talking about you," Gojo lied shamelessly, ignoring Nanami’s glare. The only thing Nanami had told Gojo was—The girl who uses reversed cursed energy in the hospital, the one I was we were once sent to investigate. I bought flowers with your loan. I gave her the flowers. We're dating now. —leaving him completely disappointed by the lack of details and the simplicity of the anecdote.

"And now that I see you, I understand why. Although," Gojo added, leaning slightly closer to you with a playful smile, "I wonder how you ended up with someone so serious. Wouldn’t you prefer someone more… exciting? Like me, for instance."

Nanami stepped forward, his shoulders tense. "Gojo…"

But you, still mesmerized by the celebrity in front of you, barely processed his words.

"Huh? Well… maybe…" you replied absentmindedly, making Nanami practically scoff.

Gojo, seizing the moment, stepped even closer to you. "See? She’s a smart girl. Come on, leave boring Nanamin and come with me."

Nanami didn’t wait another second. He pulled his weapon out of his bag and placed it between you and Gojo, creating a clear space.

"Keep your distance," he said in a low, threatening tone, though not entirely serious.

"Ooh, how territorial!" Gojo teased, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Nanami. I was just testing your patience."

You finally snapped out of it, covering your face as you laughed nervously. "Sorry! I got carried away. It’s just… It’s Satoru Gojo!"

Still irritated, Nanami put an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "Yes, it’s Satoru Gojo. Can we go now?"

Before you could escape, Gojo raised a hand as if he’d forgotten something.

"Oh, by the way, T/N. Such a shame about the fine your parents got. What an unfair way to treat a healer family."

You blinked, confused. "Fine? What fine?"

Gojo raised his eyebrows behind his sunglasses. "You know, for you using reverse cursed energy without registration. 10% of what your parents earn from each mission… such barbarity! Truly unfair, if you ask me."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You turned slowly to Nanami.

"Did you know about this?" you asked quietly.

"I thought you already knew."

"What?! I didn’t know anything!" you exclaimed, holding your head in your hands.

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d just caused. "Well, I think I’ve gotten someone into trouble. Lovely meeting you, T/N. Nanami, take care of her. She’s a real treasure, though I think she might want to reconsider her options."

And with that, Gojo disappeared, leaving you with a mountain of questions and Nanami visibly irritated.

As you walked back to the transport, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fine.

"This doesn't make any sense. Why didn’t they tell me?" you muttered, thinking about your parents.

Nanami, still processing the incident, sighed. "You should talk to them. Maybe they had their reasons for not telling you."

Then you turned to him with a mischievous smile. "Although… it was interesting to see how you acted with Gojo. Were you jealous?"

Nanami frowned, looking away. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"Oh, sure, because pulling out your weapon was completely casual," you teased, laughing.

Though he didn’t respond, the faint blush on his cheeks was enough for you to know the truth. You laughed to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel like the entire experience had been unforgettable, especially seeing how Nanami had shown, without words, just how much you meant to him.

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3

Reader meets Gojo

[megamindsupremacy]

More headcanons:

-During the Teen Titans era, Mabel and Dipper keep trying to involve themselves in TT missions which absolutely nobody is happy about. Mostly because, despite having a high tolerance for Bullshit And General Weirdery, neither of them are trained fighters nor do they have superpowers so they're in way more danger than they can defend themselves against. This does not stop Mabel, who has dreams of being a superhero, or Dipper, who has to follow Mabel on missions to keep her from getting smushed by Galactus or whatever.

-I've decided Mabel becomes a congresswoman at 18, serves a brief stint as Fiddleford's vice president during his second term (canon fiddleford 45th president btw), then keeps getting herself reelected as a senator until she decides she's done with politics yes i know this isnt how the american government system works but this is my au and i do what i want

-All other Supermen are very weirded out by Clark Pines, because usually when Clark is raised by someone other than the Kents it turns into an Evil Superman Universe, but this guy is just really normal. And also really weird, but not in an evil way.

-This universe has Battison-Batman, simply because I would love to see how Clark Pines and Battison interact

-Everyone on the Justice League who has met them has fallen for Stan and Ford's "switch clothes and talk different" trick at least twice.

-Clark refers to the Pines part of his family as "on my dad's side" and the Kryptonian part of his family as "on my mom's side", because the Kryptonian AI who helped Stan raise him used she/her pronouns. Once more Kryptoninans start showing up, none of them know how to feel about this

-Kara gets adopted by Soos and Melody when her ship lands on Earth, so she also gets to grow up in Gravity Falls!

-Clark isn't Weird about Kon because he knows his dad would kick his ass if he tried to kick the kid out with no support system or plan besides "be superhero??", so Kon officially becomes Clark's cousin #4 and he has a room in Clark's apartment, although he splits his time between Clark's place, the Mystery Shack, the Stan-o-War, and wherever Young Justice happens to be at that point in time

-Clark doesn't say "The S stands for Hope", he says "what's an S?" and then pretends to be completely ignorant of the latin alphabet and all subsequent explanations of what an S is

Clark Pines AU random headcanons

-sometimes Stan and Ford pull the "switch clothes and talk differently to see if anyone can tell the difference" trick to mess with the twins, and they fall for it a solid 35% of the time, but Clark never falls for it because he can hear their hearts and Ford's heart is FUCKED UP due to the gazillion volts of electricity he got during weirdmageddon

-Clark almost didn't go to college to stay and work at the Shack and maybe convince his dad to finally let him help with the portal, but Stan recognized Clark was smart af and didn't want Clark to be held back for his sake. And then Stan had twenty crises in a row when it came time for Clark to actually Go To College

-Clark has to wear (reading) glasses but he doesn't like the feel of them so he usually just carries them around and wears them as infrequently as possible. And then his entire secret identity becomes "put on glasses" so he has to wear them all the time and he's REALLY MAD about it

-Clark was originally going to college for some sort of mechanics/engineering degree, but once he left Gravity Falls, he realized just how weird his hometown is. Like, he was theoretically aware, but the guy lived there his whole life. He left a few times to visit the twins and their parents or for miscellaneous other reasons but he never really lived outside of Gravity Falls for any amount of time. So it kinda hits him how different The Real World (for lack of a better term) is, and he decides to switch to communications/journalism major instead. Also, he was not very good at engineering.

-The Mystery Twins are approximately the same age as Robin!Dick so they become pretty good friends over the years. Mabel has a gigantic insane crush on Dick and Dick has a tiny baby crush on Dipper and everybody is oblivious about everything except for Bruce and Clark, who have to silently suffer together about the situation until everyone gets over it.

-Dipper gets really into magic and spells and stuff as he gets older so he becomes Clark's go-to "there's weird shit happening and it's not the genre I usually deal with" person. It isn't his life's work like with Constantine or Zatanna, so he isn't a JLDark member or anything, but he definitely Knows Some Shit.

-I'm cooking something along the lines of "Mabel becomes the youngest congresswoman ever at age 18" simply because I think it would be funny and because nobody ever acknowledges how that one frozen president technically made Mabel a congresswoman in that one episode.

-You know how Jon Kent is named that after Clark's Canon Dad Jonathan Kent? Clark tries to name his kid "Stan" after his dad and uncle and both Stanley and Stanford are like don't you FUCKING dare, we have enough Stans in this family, please give your son a better name dear god

-When the Young Justice team (yj98, NOT yjtv) forms, there's a running bit where they keep fucking running into either Mabel or Dipper on every other mission, except none of them know they're Superman's cousins so they think these two weirdos are trying to do Evil Stuff when in fact they're just living their lives, and these lives happen to be absolutely insane enough to keep crossing over with teenage superhero shenanigans.

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Head canon that all the bats are actually pretty decent cooks but only under very specific circumstances.

Bruce: if Alfred is anywhere near, he'll burn water. He can however cook for 15+ people, if he tries for any less he ends up overusing salt/sugar/spices and the food ends up inedible. Whenever Alfred has the day off, he secretly cooks for his kids while pretending he's just reheating Alfred's dishes. Curiously, they all usually find excuses to show up at the manor when Alfred isn't there, even Jason.

Dick: will not cook for himself even if he has to eat raw pasta. However, if one of his siblings is coming over or they ask for a snack he can make mostly healthy food with the most random ingredients that no one else would have put together. It's usually pretty good.

Jason: can't cook with people in his kitchen. He needs space. The exception is Alfred. Tim has taken to hiding in random places in the kitchen to see how long he can stay without Jason kicking him out. His best spot is top of the fridge, almost beaten by the time he hid inside a floating cabinet and it ended up caving to his weight and dropping him on top of the sauce Jason was making (luckily not yet on the stove).

Tim: only cooks when the recipe has precise measurements of each ingredient (mg/ml instead of cups/tbsp). Proceeds to completely ignore his recipe and ends up with a completely different thing, usually opposite of what he was making, still tastes like he had used the recipe for the final thing.

Cass: cooks based on vibes only so most of the time she's the only one who can eat her concoction, mostly using ingredients that require her to dance and contort around the kitchen at the beat of whatever music she's listening to or just whatever. That being said, her food improves drastically if someone's in the kitchen with her, out of her way but watching, cause then she bases her measurements and ingredients in body language and her proportions end up being incredibly accurate.

Steph: can make anything that requires batter and make it be the best thing you've ever tasted. So waffles, crepes, pancakes, some cookies, cake, etc. Anything other than that will end up on fire. Funnily enough, she can also make incredible fillings that have an uncanny resemblance to some of her previous ashen attempts.

Duke: can cook in the dark without making a mess. He's also a pretty decent cook in general but he somehow leaves piles of dirty pans/dishes whenever he's seen cooking, no matter how simple his dish is.

Damian: can only cook with the recipe or someone (Dick specifically but sometimes Alfred) guiding him. His favorite food is the one traditional from the league, specifically the recipes Talia gave him when he went to Gotham. He wants them to be exactly as his mother intended so he won't deviate from the recipe in the slightest. It's special to him. Just as it's special to cook with Richard and getting to learn his favorite foods from before Bruce took him in. He might or might not either write the recipe after each time he cooks with Richard and ask clarifying questions like "what do you mean measure with your heart? How many tablespoons is that? No, I didn't see, you covered my eyes and told me to 'trust the process'"

Bonus: Alfred has the skill of spoiling the food of people he deeply dislikes while making the rest of it completely perfect for everyone else. Even if it's all cooking in the same pot. He's gotten so good at it he doesn't even do it consciously anymore and forgets he's doing it. It still gets the point across though. Interestingly enough, each of the bats partners have gotten shitty food from Alfred at least once (either shovel talk style or because they did something mean to their respective bat or wtv), they can't even say anything cause all the bats will just look at them like they're being crazy because Alfred could never while Alfred smirks at them from the opposite side of the room.

[fashionteahouse]

Love you !!!! A Paul x reader when Paul imprinted on older lady who is also his neighbor. How does he get her attention

<33 u more ! hope you enjoy :)

door - paul x reader

Sitting on the window sill, things didn’t go unnoticed. At least for him. He sat as he watched the moving truck that was in front of the house that he knew was empty for some time.

He watched the figure talk on a phone as movers brought items and boxes into the place the woman could call home.

He watched as you looked around your new neighborhood. Your eyes lock with his for a moment before you turn to follow the movers into your new home.

The following day, the morning was a slight drizzle. Paul slowly walked out of his home to get ready for patrol.

The clack of high heels hitting the concrete made his eyes snap up as he watched the woman, dressed in sophistication, walk toward her car. Your leg muscles stuck out as each step was taken.

The unlocking noise is followed as you then hurried into your car, not wanting to get droplet of water on yourself.

Paul thought it was a nice car. He did his rounds of patrolling. However, he kept you in mind when he pulled his shorts on.

He definitely knew you were someone who had their stuff together. The childish games that he had to deal with from girls were uninteresting to him.

Pushing the door open to Emily’s, she pulls out a fresh hot baked treats out of the oven. An idea pops into Paul’s smart brain.

“Emily, you mind if I borrow your glass dish?” he asks after he cleaned the entire kitchen for her. Crumbs were everywhere as the other guys munched on what Emily baked.

He raised a small glass dish.

“Sure. But, what are you using it for?” she asks as she knew Paul didn’t do alot of cooking, he mostly came over to eat.

“I want to give someone something.” he says as he eyed the leftover treats.

Emily forms a crinkle in her eye as she helped him fill it up.

“It’s for my neighbor.” Paul stated as he had the filled glass dish in his hand as he had the other hand on her front door.

“I see.” Emily says with a small smile and then goes on to say, “I better see that dish again.”

Paul smiles gratefully but says, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back.”

Paul sat in his usual spot on the window sill as he saw your car slowly park into your driveway.

Getting out, you looked tired and had a long exhausting day. Finally glad to be home, you made your way inside.

Paul then took it as his chance to knock on your door. You groan from your spot on the couch. You finally got comfortable.

Opening the door, expecting it to be a salesperson, you froze as you saw a handsome young face staring back you. Your eyes then zeroed in on the glass dish that was in his large hand.

“I live across the street.” He says and you smile as you seen him before.

“Oh that’s right. How are you doing?” you ask politely.

“I’m good. I’m Paul.” he says and you introduce yourself back and suddenly your cradling the dish that he brought to you. You eye at it as it looks delicious.

“You made these?” you ask impressed.

A hand goes behind his neck as he scratched a bit, “A friend of mine did. I’m not a pro at baking just yet.” he admits and you laugh, “I love baking. It’s not hard once you get the hand of it. Thank you.” you say.

“So, you gonna teach me?” he asks and you look down at the dish and back up to him as a hot blush burns across your face.

“Um..Sure.” you say nervously.

“Just knock on my door when you need to get me.” he says.

You watched him the entire way. You watch the muscles on his body stick out as he moves his body towards his home, right across the street from yours. You watch the smirk form on his face as he sees that you’re still standing there watching him close his front door behind him.

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

i have a really difficult time feeling confident in my grasp of certain practical skills that are necessary to, like, survive as an human being in this world & i really cannot tell if a) other people are as uncertain as i am when performing these tasks and it’s something they’re better at breezily pushing through in a way i’m not able to do even if the task feels high-stakes and insurmountable or b) they’re not as uncertain about it because it comes more naturally to them and doesn’t require a detailed script like the kind i prefer and therefore seems less high-stakes and insurmountable. like either way i can tell there’s something wrong with the way i move through the world but i can’t tell what that thing is. for example, whenever i’m cooking an elaborate new meal or driving a longer distance than i’m used to with someone else, i tend to defer to the other person who’s there with me and ask them about each step i’m meant to take in a way that usually culminates in me pissing people off because they don’t conceptualize tasks in this detailed step-by-step manner i need to make sense of things or because they think i’m feigning incompetence or anxiety and deliberately asking them these things to get out of doing it. in reality i know i can’t fuck up a meal (i will waste ingredients and therefore money) or fuck up driving (my life is at risk as well as the lives of those around me) so i really want to make sure i get it right because the consequences scare me, but usually no one else is receptive to this notion and they get very exasperated or even angry, which makes me extremely frazzled and more prone to fucking up, which pisses them off further. this really makes me sound like that tweet that’s like ‘omg you people can’t do anything’ which is kind of really embarrassing. by no means am i a new hand to any of the (non-comprehensive) examples i’m talking about here tbh so it’s sad that i still struggle with such basic skills despite all the practice i’ve had—in addition to practical tasks i’m newer to, like the ones i now regularly perform within my work environment. i guess i probably need to try and do these things on my own more often so that at least the element of someone else hovering over me and yelling at me for being useless is removed, but i do not have my own space in which to move about as i please and i know that this frantic and pervasive sense of fear and consequences looming over me and this need to have some kind of step-by-step to refer back to when i’m at a loss for how to proceed will remain with me for a long time or maybe even forever. i feel so stupid and i really wish i could just be a normal person like everyone else

[giddythekitty]

A little speculation of mine regarding shifting

Disclaimer: Everything I say in this post is only what I think might be blocking some of us in shifting to not-parallels. Take it as you wish but don’t come for me because I warned you.

So, shifting.

We already know social media is an issue, lots of people talked about it before. But I kinda want to dive a little deeper.

Because yeah, social media(including Tumblr) does affect you, but why?(and also a few secondary causes)

Burnout

Usually(me personally) I spend a lot of time doomscrolling on Tiktok or here on Tumblr and looking at things about my s/o or my cc or a friend there or the likes. While it’s not exactly a bad thing to look for ‘motivation’ per se, it kills some intention to shift to that reality because you have a small substitute for it here.

2. AI chatbots

Remember, your subconscious can’t tell the difference between what you see and what you tell it you see. Same goes for conversations or movies or books. Maybe even dreams. It doesn’t differentiate between a real conversation and one with a chatbot, so again, some of that intention is killed.

3. Daydreaming/‘roleplaying’

Am I saying either of those are bad things? No. Am I saying they are absolutely terrible for you if you want to shift? No again. What I’m saying is if you do it too much it might also affect your intention and/or motivation to shift. If you need an example, I’ll give one. I like to listen to music a lot, because it’s a coping mechanism and an escape from ‘the real world’. Usually many of these songs are accompanied by scenes I make up in my head and most of the ones I personally have are related to who I am in one DR but talking to some characters from a different place. Like a crossover of the sorts. There is not a single day where I haven’t listened to at least one song.

4. Looking at other shifters for help

So many shifters have said it before and by god am I tired of saying it too, but shifting is a path of self discovery. Like a puzzle. You’re given the pieces and the final image, but you’re the one who has to put them together, not someone else for you. You already have all you need, wasting time looking for answers to questions like ‘why am I not shifting’ or ‘what else do I have to do to shift’ can become hurtful. Sure, advice from time to time is helpful, but constantly doing it won’t get you anywhere.

Your mom didn’t spoon feed you your entire life, did she? She showed you how to do it yourself when you were old enough to learn, and you had to practice on your own and build up strength in your little toddler hands how to hold a spoon properly so you can eat.

So what do all these have in common and to do with shifting?

Simple: Intention and Motivation. Your will to get there.

Now I’m not saying to stop them all together, but I am saying that they should be cut off— rationed if you will— significantly if it means those of us with said issue want to get rid of it.

Again, it kills the intention to shift. Your conscious can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake, so it always thinks seeing an edit of your favorite person is really similar to seeing them IRL. From my point of view(mine personally), intention isn’t always there.

Let’s give another example and pretend intention is sugar. Sweetness in general. If you have it sometimes, you’re fine. Maybe you want more, but it’s okay. If you take it in big quantities though, it can become an addiction and lead to diabetes or an insulinic shock.

Now pretend all those things I counted out above as the sugar. You take too much and you might end up hurting yourself at some point or just staying at the same level. Spending all day doomscrolling, looking at other peoole for help, chatting with ais and so on, all while having the ‘it’ll help me shift tonight’ mindset won’t get you too far because you’re just exhausting yourself.

And no one’s saying the change has to be instant. You can’t stop an addiction immediately because it’ll just hurt you more, but you can slowly lessen the dose until it’s minimal or nonexistent. At the end of the day you’re only helping yourself, and what’s a thousand years to an eternity of bliss?

I know this is long, but I feel it needs to be put out there. This feels like important information/advice/take it as you will, and let me know if you have questions and I’ll make sure to answer/clarify them.

Happy shifting and take a break if you need to.

[oswhys]

So, when I played Lucanis’s questline for the first time, I genuinely thought that Illario was going to turn out to also be possessed. I like to try to come up with theories if there's some kind of mystery involved. Obviously, Illario is suspicious from the get-go but if you want to give him the benefit of the doubt you can, after all, grief really does make people act strangely, but not usually immediately after the death. But when he shows up after the defeat of Zara and kills her just as she says “Amatus” upon seeing him there's no doubt he was in cahoots with her. But then something interesting happens, he uses blood magic, some enchanted pin. He still keeps up the act of innocence though. We get further confirmation during the questioning of Zara’s corpse that the two were extremely close, at least from her perspective. But then we get a strange little tidbit from the memories of Lucanis later in his quest line when you're with spite. Lucanis has a memory or maybe it's some warped memory of Zara talking about the cultivation of an Envy demon. 

Zara’s project was to cultivate and bind different types of demons more easily through new techniques. Zara was talented enough to be able to put a demon inside of a non-mage subject, something that shouldn't be possible in the first place, or at least unheard of. She also wanted to cultivate certain types of demons, ones that are more rare and possibly harder to bind. We see the results of most of her test subjects, either walking corpses or bound demons. Let's say she agrees to take Lucanis to be a test subject, thinking the whole thing would just kill him and the terms of her deal with Illario would be met. Let's say shes surprised Lucanis is even able to merge with spite, let alone survive well afterward. Now let's say this gets her thinking, can she replicate this? Can she put demons and spirits into non-mages? Was this a freak accident?

I know I’m speculating a lot here but hang with me. Now I don't know if her scheme is to take advantage of Illarios jealousy and use it to create an envy demon, something rare and hard to bind, but it would naturally be attracted to that much envy in a person. Or maybe it's presented as an opportunity later down the line, that Illario could become an abomination and gain as much power as one, being able to tap into magic even if not in full control would still give him an edge. I don't know, I just think there was a bit more to the story that we don't know about, aside from what we’ve seen in some of the concept art. Which shows something akin to Illario being manipulated by either Zara or some kind of desire demon or??? Just someone in a pool of blood, with horns? But pieces of these ideas got left behind in the game. Fragments of something larger and it drives me up the wall. 

There's an obvious romantic connection between Illario and Zara that is never elaborated upon in conversation, It is a deeply interesting tidbit of information and nothing is done with it. Then there's Zara’s line in Lucanis’ memories of her saying that the conditions of cultivating an envy demon must be perfect (the line that sent me through this spiral). And then there is Lucanis’ log book. His 5th one if you don't save Treviso shares a reading list of books and he writes some notes with his thoughts about each. He says that Spite “trusts nothing to do with envy demons” which to be fair to spite, is reasonable they're… creepy, and envy as an emotion is a huge liar sometimes. 

There's just something there. Obviously, the story got cut up and changed with time but there was a time when I started to think that the reason Illario is so suspicious is that he's a red herring, or he's a patsy, or not in control of himself or being manipulated or SOMETHING. But no he's just… kinda stupid. He locked up his grandmother and kept her alive? IS HE STUPID?

Anyway, I just like the idea of some grander conspiracy or grander narrative and that maybe Illario wasn't all to blame for everything or that he was, and he was actually even more villainous. Being controlled by his own jealousy to the point of madness blah blah blah you see why I’m thinking about this so much now yeah?

[keelt9]

BIGNONIA

Masterlist

That’s why I always like to have a plan B ready to be executed, most of the time. 

“Y/N.” I still heard my name in the distance. “Y/N!” All I had to do was speak, I know that. “SISTER!”

But I ran away.

“WHAT?” Collin raises his hands like he surrenders. 

“Jesus! I've been calling you for 3 minutes. Breakfast is ready.” He closed the door of my room, not before sticking his tongue out. 

I bluff, closing my eyes and scratching my forehead, looking at the calendar next to my bed; a week already.

In the kitchen mom is serving juice as dad is taking his coat, the cold wind of the morning is increasing. 

“Y/N, darling, do you mind…” I nod, Collin and I are in charge of the purchase for the game of this night.

“I got it.” She smiles, kissing my cheek, as Collin lifts his cheek for a kiss, but mom just smiles at him, patting his hand, laughing as she keeps walking.

“I hope when I come back on my first holiday I receive at least one kiss.” He screams giggling, taking the plates to the dining room. “You left two months, not a year.”

He left the plates and went to hug me tight, shaking me side to side. “But we missed you like hell.”

I giggle as I see the drops of jam now on the floor. “Ok, ok, you’re messing up my pancakes, move.”

Collin laughs as he kisses my cheek too. “You better text me like always, I’m a big guy now, but you're kind of special.”

My days passed like usual, just like I've been working all those years; from a distance, keeping updated Lilian, but in a few days we made so many changes.

Gael was in charge of the florist’s for a couple of days until Lilian contacted the woman she already had been talking to before I offered to go, and she agreed right away after all it only will be three weeks, until she goes back.

“Grandpa likes these ones, right?” I point the glass donut through the cristal.

“Yeah. I'll take two of them.” He pointed to the chocolate one. “Do you ever tell me?”

I lift my eyes from the counter. “Tell you what?”

Collin saved his phone in his pockets. “One week ago you were happily in the middle of a big game, then on Wednesday night, you arrived home with your bags.”

He remembered something before I spoke. ‘Ah! And with a squidward pumpkin in your hand, that is still in your room!”

The girl who is attend us gave me a box of donuts, I sigh and softly kicked him with my feet. 

“I arrived a couple of weeks earlier, GOD! Why must there be a reason behind that?” Collin takes the boxes of my hands, bluffing.

“Ok, you have that but, Y/N, you are terrified of seeing your phone.” He points to my back pocket. “It's been 10 minutes with the lighter on.”

I turn it off, just barely seeing in case I missed texts or calls from mom or Lilian.

“I'm not terrified, it's a detox.” Inside of the car Collin opens his eyes.

“Someone did something to you?! I'll ki…”I chuckled, grabbing his hand and calming down.

“NO! Collin your imagination, it's working too much.” I engine the car, if I want him to be calm I must give him something. “I need to be at home, and keep work kind of far away.”

Collin rolls his eyes. “Hey, take charge of something you didn’t even dream of and you'll be drained.”

“Are you sure?” I nod, stopping in the red light.

“I'm fine, give me a couple of days and I'll be me, one more time.”

After all, I didn't lie to him, just keep the truth short and concrete.

When we arrived home, dad and mom were laughing as they got inside of the house with dirtier clothes and bags of charcoal.

“You're fast.” Dad said getting inside.

Mom stops for a second at the door. “Honey, you have a package.” Collin points to himself. “No, my other honey.” 

I cleared my throat, winking at him, as he got inside with things we bought.

“It's in your room!” She screams as I get inside walking upstairs.

On my bed there is a small box; Lilian already told me she planned to send a small present, it could be useful for Collin in college.

“Where are the beers?” Collin asks on the frame door as I open the box without putting so much attention. We forgot the beer.

He reads my face like a book and giggles. “Let's go.” I put aside the package but he shakes his head 

“Don't worry I'll go with dad.” He said before going downstairs.

Where is the little kid who refuses to leave my room if there is a package on my bed? 

I look inside the box where there are a lot of yellow papers that cover another small box, inside of that a crystal ball, like the christmas one, just this one has a small bignonia inside of it.

A nice detail of Lilian.

I called her right away. “Hey, it’s beautiful, thank you so much, he will love it.”

“What?” I heard her excuse herself before the noise disappeared. 

“The crystal ball.” I giggle, repeating one more time.

“I don’t send anything.” I narrow my eyes, and see the andress on the box, yeah, the address is from the floristi’s. 

I tilt my head smiling. “Come on Lilian, the address is from the florist’s.”

Lilian stayed in silence for a couple of seconds. “Oh, it must be Gael, he asked me your address a couple days ago, he said a package arrived for you in the florist’s so he would send it to you.”

“Ok, am, I’ll call you back thanks.” I hang out quickly, but if my suspicions are correct that kid will be in trouble.

I move side to side from my bedroom waiting for Gael to pick up but it’s the second time he didn’t.

I sit on bed one more time watching the crystal ball and my phone at the same time, that brings me flashbacks of that day, one more time.

After Joe whispers, all fade away in a blink, I technically take my eyes off him and all the people surrounding me are already gone.

He tried to talk to me, but I feel so overwhelmed and observed that I panicked, I raise my hands every time he tried to approaches to me or speaks to me; when I recover the enough energy to make a movement I turn around as he keeps calling me, it only make it worse because as I tried to leave the stadium with a nothing more than Joe Burrow calling my name a lot of eyes were on us. 

Thankfully as we stepped outside of the stadium people who were there or passing by when they saw him, ran to him asking for a photo or autograph.

Inside of the cab, I realized that I didn’t know where I was supposed to go.

I found myself in front of Mr. McNeill house, in panic and a constant buzz of phone due to Joe calls and text, after acting in the worst way I could do it.

After a long talk and an endless cup of tea, Mr. McNeill words were enough for me to definitely run away.

<I told you my little girl, sometimes comes into our door.>

I called Lilian the next morning trying to explain something I didn't fully understand but as I told her I realized about my own feelings. 

I fell in love without doubt. The talks on the florist’s, the nights when even he looked tired he waited for me to close, the encouraging words and support when I was about to give up, the laughs, the details, it’s him being him.

I took the first flight to Carolina where Lilina was waiting for me, we explained to Gael something urgent came up and the instructions he must follow.

Like we expected, he called Lilian that Monday morning, Joe was at the florist’s and he said he needed to talk to me. Lilian took charge of that.

Just as Colline said, I arrived at my house on Wednesday night, defeated and embarrassed about my behavior. 

“Darling?” I didn’t even notice my mom. It's at the door looking at me with suspicious eyes. “Do you mind giving me a hand?” 

Shit, I shake my head trying to get rid of these toughs, as I stand at the door, mom stops me and caresses my hair.

“Everything is alright?” If I speak, she will know something is in my mind, I just assent. “Is that what are you waiting for?”

She sees the box over my bed. 

“Yeah, it could be.” Both of us smile going downstairs where in a couple of minutes my grandparents will come.

Gael answered me until Monday night, he said in his defense, <The poor boy looks so frustrated and overwhelmed.> How he can not do a few favors, besides Joe paid everything, he called it, a spare to a five star customer.

“Will you use your boxes?” Collin asked, looking at his phone with his test in his hands, he’s a genius in chemistry, and his A+ in his exam on his lap is just a small way of teasing me about how bad I was in that grade.

I just picked up Collin from school. “What boxes?” He's helping in a collection for Thanksgiving, I must say, he’s helping the girl he likes in her collection.

Collin bluffs. “Come on Y/N! You have a pile of small boxes in your room. It's a recycling collection, help you little brother a little bit.”

That’s the favors Gael refers to, every two days a same little box came from the florist’s, by the third box I refused to open it, in all of them a small crystal ball with that bignonia of different color.

“I thought mom gave you like 20 empty jars, two days ago.” I parked in front of our house.

I went back to my routine from work at home and helped mom with her small business of candles. 

“She did, and I already took them, but… it’s all for a good cause.” I laughed seeing my brother so nervous. 

I stop outside of the car, seeing him to the other side. “Why is it so hard to invite her on a date?” 

He fakes a big laugh. “You think I don’t think about it?”

“Well…” He lends his head on the top of the car.

“I tried, believe me, but it’s like when I see her all fade away. I can play cool, yes, but I’m literally fighting for not melting on the ground.” His words leave me thinking more than I would like. 

“I’ll empty it for you, can I give it to you tomorrow night?” Collin faces lights on and nods. 

That night after all were in their rooms, I put my 9 boxes on my bed. I take my time to open them one by one, like I suspect, each one has bignonia of different color all in a small crystal ball. 

“It will last at least two years, they are under a special process that makes them last.” That’s what Lilian told me, when I asked her how I was supposed to take care of them.

I grab one putting over my forehead, unintentionally shaking trying to put my thoughts in order, as I open my eyes, a soft light comes inside of it, I shake it one more time and turn it off.

He remembered, being alone in the dark makes me feel quite uneasy. 

“I’m crazy.” I whisper, opening my phone and his chat, which was archive.

And endless photographs of the most random things, like his morning milkshake disaster until a photo of the score of the game of last game, they won.

>I’m sorry, let’s talk about this face to face, ok? I’ll be in Cincinnati in a couple of weeks.

That’s all I could send that night, observing the crystal balls on my bed and the soft warm light that comes from them.

“She’s cute right?” Collin said with his eyes stuck to the window, a blonde girl who’s taking note of all the things they’re collecting is waving her hand to my brother.

I gave him the empty boxes the next morning and offered to take him to deliver it, and without saying give him a little push.

Or at least that’s what I tried because the girl took a step ahead, inviting him for a coffee. 

I didn’t even know since a month ago, he’s the main contributor of this collection.

I smile at the girl and my brother, what a scene. “Where do you collect that much?” 

Collin's face turns red. “Mom, dad, you, grandma and my friends.”

I laughed when the engine started; we must be home by dinner, with a happy Collin in the passenger seat.

“All I’m saying is he could find another way, that was so predictable.” It’s the third time Collin complained about the missing touchdown of the 49ers in the third quarter. 

“Collin, Purdy had like 5 big guys over him, how could he do that?”

As we enter the house, my dad finds us in the hallway with a smile that practically covers all his face. 

“You’re in trouble!” He grabs Collin by the shoulders as he points to the backyard.

I look at Collin who raised his shoulders. “Go!” Dad pushed me. 

I barely reached to avoid a crash with my mom who has a red face. 

“Do you kn…” She shook her head and pushed me to the backyard, didn’t even let me finish my question.

“You’re crazy people.” I shout as I practically sway in the door of the backyard. “There’s nothing here.” 

But I swallow my words when I see in our small “living room”, stand rubbing his hand on his tights to the guy I have treated awfully, Joe Burrow.

He only whispers, hi and it was enough for me to take a step back, one more time.

“Sorry, sorry, it's not you, believe me, it's not you.” I cover my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, I don't tell you anything, it's just… I thought in a thousand ways to tell you but… I simply couldn't do it.” I feel my heart squeeze and remember Collin's words.

“No please, no.” I look him into the eyes. “It's not you. I got through a lot of things in a couple of months that I never paid attention to my feelings, don't take me wrong, I'm so happy for Lilian but I was overwhelmed and well, an abrupt confession no confession took me out of balance.”

Joe closes his eyes and presses his lips together like he's preparing for the worst.

“So, all these weeks after treating you in the worst way I treat someone who's only nice with me, I take my time to realize my own feelings.”

By the time Joe opened his eyes I'm standing in front of him, making him blink.

“I like you too. I already told you, I'm not good with this but give time and who knows I could be pr…”

Joe kiss me.

He leaned on giving me a kiss that left me blank. A calming kiss.

Joe smirks and his rich boy laughs are slowly becoming my favorite sound.

“Whoa.” I nod slowly, pressing my hand against my lips.

I turn around, the living room is empty and knowing mom as I do, she probably has locked down Collin and dad in their room.

“I'm sorry, but I have to use my last 3 seconds of bravery.” Joe chuckled as he put his hands on his waist. “Y/N, I like you very much. Could you go on a date with me?” He gives me a towel. “I'd like to take things slowly but with you all can happen in a blink.”

I grab the towel and cover my face. “Is this one of the last time?” 

Joe nods. “You have to see it to understand.” I see a classic towel from a game, the logo of the NFL and the team. “To the other side.”

I turn it around and I see it, a small red heart. “I planned to speak with you and give you this but the guys understood I already talked with you; the talks in the locker room could be kind of messy.”

“Thank you, I feel worse now.” I joke, scrunching my nose, covering my face with the towel. 

“I mean, yeah, it would be nice if you wait but this is so much better.” I roll my eyes before seeing him one more time. “I was able to add some extra details.”

I choke my head. “Do you like flowers?” I giggle as I nod.

“Suits you one more time.” A bignonia represents tenacity and perseverance, things that scream Joe Burrow.

Lilian on multiple occasions told me about the feelings she had being with Jason, always resume in… <We create our own world just being next to each other.> I don’t know if this is what she means but right now it feels like that. 

With Joe eyes on me, I feel I could lose in the moment.

“My mom went crazy when she saw you right?” Joe giggles and bites his lips.

“A little bit.” He makes a funny gesture with his eyes, a sign that my mom probably freaks out.

“So, it’s my bye week, I'm hoping to relax and spend time with my girl.” 

I grip the towel tighter. “Your what? I’m sorry but I haven’t said yes.” 

Joe kissed me one more time. “Jesus and your three seconds of bravery.” It’s amusing.

One more kiss. “Ok, ok, ok.” And one more. “I’ll go!”

His idea of a date turns out in 4 days of dates; every time he comes to my house I bet Collin screamed deep inside as me the first time I met him.

Mom and dad act more comfortable by day two, at the end of the week they look more calm and cool around him.

And Sunday after watching the game where the 49ers will bring back the win against the Cardinals, my family is relaxed around him.

“Thanks for receiving me these days Mrs and Mr. Ivory.” Joe said to my mom. “I had wonderful days.”

“Please Joe, feel free to come anytime you want.” Mom smiled at him.

“Like he isn't in the middle of season.” Collin claimed, winning a small pinch of my mom. 

“Bring the container of the table Collin.” Dad giggles pushing him softly to the kitchen. 

“Thanks for coming Joe. I guess we'll see you next week; from far away, but see you.” Dad looks so excited.

I tilt my head. “What?”

“It's Thanksgiving. Joe…well, Bengals will come to play.” Collin said, giving the container to my mom. “Duh!”

“Right! I forgot.” Collin was about to keep mocking me but mom caught that tricky eye, taking a step ahead of him.

She gives the container to Joe. “I don’t know if you can eat more of this but I notice you like them very much.”

The container has her mini tarts, Joe ate a lot of them last night. “Have a good flight Joe.” Dad added shaking his hand too.

“Thanks Joe for the talk, it’s really helpful.” Collin has something to say for the way he sees me. “I bet that my sis…” 

Mom pulls Collin inside of the house with an apologetic smile rolling her eyes. “Take care Joe.”

I shake my head giggling. “I guess that means, I won’t have any chance to see you, right?” He said looking down the hill, my house is set in a classic hill with a lot of curves on the way.

“On the other hand, you probably will see me.” Joe opened his eyes. “Dad bought tickets for that game, a way of recreating old moments. He used to take Collin and me to Thanksgiving games, until we became older enough that our schedules didn't fit.”

“At least I see you there.” Joe clicks his tongue. “On the opposite team.”

I laughed, seeing his tricky eyes. “It’s a familiar lineage, sorry.”

“I know, I know.” He rolls his eyes, that gives me an idea.

I walk searching one of the small benches on the porch. “Wait a second.” I go up on it. 

“Do you mind giving me a hand? I feel like I'm going to fall.” I extend my hands.

Joe walked until I was standing with narrow eyes. “You’re strong, right?” He nodded with a curious smile on his face as I laid my hands on his shoulder. 

Even standing here, I’m 2 or 3 cm shorter than him.

I’m crazy, that’s what I am.

“Extend your arms.” This time he tilted his head with the same curious eyes. “Just do it.” 

Joe extends his arms, at that moment I jump right to his arms taking him by surprise but with a quick reaction he holds me as my legs surrender his torso grabbing me by my thighs.

“Unexpected.” Joe smiles as I feel my face heat. 

“It's a big hug for the trip and for the one I won’t give you next week.” I untangle my legs to get down but he easily puts it on around his torso, one more time. 

“Are you that sure that I won’t get a hug, huh?” Joe giggles. 

“You can put me down, it was a small thing I wanted to do.” But he didn't move, instead he kissed me, longer than usual.

“Yeah, this way you’ll probably need to lean down a little bit from the stands?” I look at him with open eyes. “What? Is a small thing I want to corroborate; the way I’ll kiss you after winning that game.”

I mumble a few words as he smiles at me. “Now you’re confident?”

Joe threw his head backwards laughing so hard. “I’ll be so damn near to perfection.”

“I hear a bet?” I said, faking an offended expression. 

“Let's bet.” Joe smirks. 

“You can put me down.” I untangle my legs but he refused to let me go. 

“It works for my curls, keep talking.” I laugh, putting my hands on his shoulders 

I look into his eyes. “Ok, let’s do it.”

[bidoofenergy]

don't leave me hanging alone again

also on AO3

After the end of the session—after secrets are revealed and the rewards are reaped—everyone just hangs out. It's the no-man's-land of time, a few hours without fighting—and also without peace. You don't build new alliances or lay new traps. You use the time to breathe, to talk, to try to laugh. If you do it right, you won't hate your friends when you leave.

That's what you like to do at least. Jimmy likes to use this time to apologize. Back when you were soulmates—2 games and a Hermitcraft world ago—this was endearing to you.

Now, you wait for it.

You and Skizz catch up with Impulse, laughing about the game of tag, commiserating over your failures. Your conversation is light—it's Impulse and Skizz. You three have been friends for so long you can't be anything but. This is bearable. Manageable.

Several minutes into your conversation, Bdubs sidles up next to Impulse, fitting himself so perfectly into Impulse’s side it’s like the space had been left for him all along. The two of them aren't together this time around, but their history folds wrinkles into their every interaction.

For now, Bdubs is here to gloat.

Skizz watches them carefully, the way they bend towards each other without even meaning to. He's trying to understand them, trying to understand ex-soulmates—has been trying to understand for the last two games. Skizz missed just one of Grian's invitations and returned to a tangled web of feelings that have only gotten more and more knotted every time the games started back up again.

The longer this goes on, the more it’ll be clear to Skizz just how messed up you are over Jimmy—messed up in a way the others aren’t over their own ex-soulmates. Even if Skizz hasn’t already heard it directly from Impulse—and he definitely has, you know your friends—he’s figuring it out now. You can hear him and BigB whisper to each other, usually when you're on the other side of their island futzing with the stupid chicken machine.

How do you explain it to someone who wasn't there? How do you explain the way blood, injuries, every fraction of a heart lost all meant something bigger than yourself? That that was the game?

You didn't like being responsible for someone else's loss. You don't miss it. You don't want it back. But you would carve another 19 hearts out of your chest just to feel Jimmy's pain again.

How do you explain that to someone who wasn't there? You don't. You can't.

You won't try. You listen to Bdubs brag instead, laughing when Impulse gets under his skin— gentle. Oh so familiar with what makes him tick.

You won't try. You’ll let Skizz stay disbelieving, shooting you looks with one eyebrow raised, whispering with BigB when they think you're busy, listening to Impulse tell stories they think you don't know about.

You won't try. Bdubs is interrupted by Jimmy finally bounding over with a cheerful “Hello!”

“I heard you blew our boy up!” Impulse gestures at you—did Bdubs tell him? Do you even care?

Jimmy grins, canine sharp, and you both laugh like nothing hurts.

“We should take your name out of the drawing for that.” Skizz says and his easy-going smile is just a little too wide.

Jimmy turns to you and before his face can even fall, you say, “Don't worry about it.”

He smiles at you, not even relieved he was so certain in you. And it's just like before, standing right up against the thing that will hurt you, just because he's there smiling on the other side of it, just because you miss your heart beating with his. And isn't that exactly what will get you killed?