#we see each others humanity because y’all try to take it away from us so badly

[cherrysnax]

Zionist that attempt to appeal to black Americans must have absolutely no social awareness because wow. using us as a gotcha with no sense of irony is ridiculous

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#55: The Future Generations (1.06)

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

The CRM was so convinced that they were creating a better world for future generations but they failed to see how they’re actually destroying and traumatizing the youth and those that survive their horrible attacks. But fortunately, Rick and Michonne see right through them. 👌🏽 And what I see within these next scenes is the most gorgeous shot of Richonne of all time 🤩...

Beale and Rick continue their meeting and Beale reveals that, similar to Okafor, he also sacrificed people he cared about, his home, and the whole city of Pittsburg for the “greater good” of saving Philadelphia.

Then Beale says, “It’s not exactly tearing into a person with your canines, but it’s not nothing. isn’t that right?” Why do I have a feeling that of all the soldiers he’s asked that same question of what’s the worst thing you’ve done, Rick gave Beale the craziest answer he’s ever heard lol? 🤭

Rick replies, “No it’s not nothing, sir...My dad taught me, for better or worse…some things have to burn to bring things back.” And Beale agrees with that line of thinking, saying, “It was that. The sword that kills is the sword that brings life. I killed my past and a whole city so another could live.”

Whenever I hear Beale talk about the sword bringing life I always think Rick would agree with him it’s just Beale’s talking about the wrong sword.

Also, it’s interesting hearing Beale say he killed his past because the CRM nearly killed Rick’s past too by taking away the images of his loved ones from his mind. But fortunately, the sword-wielding woman who gives Rick life helped restore what the CRM tried to take from him. 😇

Beale tells Rick the first secret which is that the most likely outcome is they’re all gonna die. And then we see Michonne enter an auditorium where a projector shows a bunch of photos of little kids as a robotic-sounding soldier goes over the Child Evacuation Protocol of their horrific Operation N1W.

Then y’all, we’re hit with a stunning shot of Rick and Michonne in that candlelit bed scene, and the lighting and framing of it all is perfect. 🙌🏽

And of course, now that Michonne is no longer facing away from Rick they’re back up on each other as expected. 😊 Michonne looks up at Rick with her ring-clad hand on his face as she says, “So, we’re born this way.” And the eye contact. 🫠 My goodness, they invented chemistry. 💯

They cut to several more clips of Richonne kicking butt in TWD that just further hammers home that they’re cut from the same cloth. And then Rick smiles down at Michonne and says, “I guess so.”

I love that Rick and Michonne found someone who matches their crazy and their fighting spirit so much to where they can both just know 'we were born like this and that’s okay.' In fact, being a bit certifiably crazy is part of why they’re still here. 👌🏽 And they're crazy about each other which is part of what makes this story about 'crazy love' so golden.

Back in the echelon briefing, Rick learns that according to Beale humans only have 14 years left before extinction and that’s why the CRM does what it does.

Rick inquires about what they do and Beale says, “We’re trying to beat the odds, Grimes.” Then they cut to more TWD clips of Rick and Michonne, and I like how intercutting between Rick and Michonne clips really makes it feel like these two are one being. The baddest being. 😌

Michonne is appalled by what she is learning in the auditorium and Rick is appalled by what he’s learning in the briefing as Beale finally shares what the CRM is really up to. Beale says that they destroy other communities for resources, strategic superiority, and the CRM's favorite line “to ensure the city’s secrecy and security above all.”

I like the parallel clips they use of Rick looking up at a helicopter in TWD season 8 and in TOWL ep 1, as he learns that these helicopters he saw were likely heading out to cause some serious destruction. 

Michonne sits in the auditorium as it's revealed that the CRM intends to evacuate 10% of the children before the area is gassed and its population is liquidated. And you already know none of this is happening on Mama Michonne’s watch. She’s going to fight for these kids and her kids because clearly, this 'last light of the world' doesn’t care who they hurt.

gif cred: @nerd4music

And I know after having been gassed herself, Michonne is especially horrified that they intend to do it again to tons of innocent people.

Meanwhile, Beale tells Rick they have spies throughout the world to monitor and potentially sabotage others. Jadis must have been trying to win Spy of the Month, the way she stayed sabotaging Richonne and team family back in the day. 😒

Beale says the CRM was behind destroying Omaha and in 18 hours they’ll destroy Portland to become the supreme force on the continent.

And then we’re blessed with another great shot of Rick and Michonne in bed as Rick says they’ll tell the Civic Republic the truth about what the CRM does, like the bombing.

Rick says “if they won’t who will?” as Michonne intently says, “No one” and I admit I’m not the craziest about this dialogue but what it lacks in subtlety it more than makes up for with the stunning visual.

Because then Rick notes that they don’t leave people behind and Michonne affirms that this is what they do and y’all the visual of her sliding her ring-clad hand in his hair as they look at each other…Put it in the Louvre. 🤩🖼

This gorgeous visual right here is truly my favorite Richonne visual of all time. 👏🏽 These two are some serious stunners and this shot is a mesmerizing work of art. 😍🔥

gif cred: @lousolversons

Beale continues to give Rick the 411 on what they’re about to do and he’s so emotionally removed from the fact that he’s talking about wiping out a whole city of people. That alone lets you know his brand of crazy is a major problem and Rick can sense that too as he starts to reach for his knife.

Beale also says they’ll continue to take the resources of even more communities they find, which means eventually they’ll end up on ASZ's doorstep.

As Beale says, “Maybe we get to survive'' there are quick clips shown from several surviving members of the TWD cast. Michonne then radios Rick in the auditorium while she listens to the soldiers talk in a cold and disconnected manner about the trauma they’re bound to put these kids through.

In the final bedroom scene, Rick continues to go over he and Michonne’s plan and he lets her know to key the walkie if anything changes and then he’ll get back to her when he can. Hearing that is always sweet to me because even with the stuff he has to take care of with the plan, he wants her to be assured he’ll get to her if she needs him.

gif cred: @nat111love

Looking like a beautiful mermaid, Michonne says, “if I can be gotten back to.” 🧜🏾‍♀️ And then Rick’s walkie goes off in the briefing. 😬

Beale notices and Rick is quick on his feet saying it was just Thorne. Back in the auditorium, Danai does a great job communicating Michonne’s horror even through a mask as the CRM soldier continues their cold and emotionally detached speech even calling the stuffed animals “comfort items” to “furnish” the children with. 

As the projector lands on the final image of a young Black boy (which I like how Danai wanted that pic to be the final one to connect to Michonne’s kids RJ and Andre) we then get more TWD clips of the adorable Grimes kids. And I like how each clip feels like it embodies a different season - fall, winter, summer.

There’s Carl smiling on those train tracks. 😭 Judith smiling and hugging Michonne in the snow. 😭 And RJ’s adorable little smile at the beach. 😭 And then, having seen enough, Michonne makes her way out of the auditorium. 

I feel like here is a good time to note something regarding the CRM too. I know some felt like the handling of the CRM was rushed in TOWL and wanted it to be explored more in the show, but I think the CRM/Civic Repiblic was actually intended to be more of an arena for a far more personal story being told in The Ones Who Live.

This show was more about Rick and Michonne navigating a journey to overcome a lot of internal imprisonment, and the CRM was always explored in relation to that more contained and personal story of these two characters finding themselves and each other again.

At least in TOWL (I can’t really speak on any other spinoff show in the twdu since I don't watch them) we’re always seeing the CRM through the lens of how it impacts Rick and Michonne specifically. The CRM makes Rick lose himself, they make Michonne nearly lose her life when they gas her and her friends, they almost cause a major wedge in Richonne’s relationship and nearly keep them from going home together.

The CRM had done a lot of damage throughout the miniseries so it’s not like their impact isn’t felt, it's just not necessarily dived into on a grander scale outside of Rick and Michonne because this is Rick and Michonne’s story.

gif cred: @nat111love

This miniseries was always meant to give Richonne closure, not launch the next ten years of the twdu. So for me personally, I was more than fine with Richonne getting substantially more focus than the CRM stuff.

Also, one of the main things to acknowledge about the CRM is that it makes everyone lose themselves. All these soldiers become faceless cogs in the machine, devoid of caring about anything other than the mission.

We see this with Pearl becoming a convert and becoming so obsessively mission-minded. That’s what the CRM does to its soldiers - strips them of what makes them human, so they can just obediently go along with these heinous acts for the so-called greater good. So in a sense, the way the CRM felt faceless and distant might’ve been the point. That’s what you have to be to belong to this military.

And lifeless and distant is what the CRM nearly made Rick. However, what we saw in TOWL's actual core plot is that Rick did devastatingly lose himself but he found himself again when his other half reentered his life.

In fact, Rick is fully cognizant of the fact that his beloved wife and son are why he didn’t succumb to losing himself and being in the same emotionally numb state that Beale, Okafor, Jadis, and Pearl ended up in.

And in his final confrontation with Beale, Rick makes it known the ones who truly give him something to live for. 😌👌🏽

[arcane-vagabond]

So we should be sorry for scout when she is acting like she is superior and so different from other girls, asked Jake to change for her and also used him like he is nothing? But then oh this all must be so hard for her

Okay, so I was literally just talking about this with @goldenseresinretriever this morning.

Y’all seem to be forgetting that WE know more than SCOUT does. Scout doesn’t know any of the shit y’all get to see in the Drabbles? She doesn’t know the extent of Jake’s feelings towards her! HE THOUGHT SHE WAS A PROSTITUTE WHEN THEY FIRST MET. HE’S NEVER APOLOGIZED FOR HOW HE ACTED AFTER SHE WAS LITERALLY ALMOST RAPED IN THE SALOON!!!! WHAT?????

And I’m gonna need a detailed list of how Scout is acting like she’s different from other girls because that’s honestly such a wild take for me, I’m sorry.

We know Jake is a good person because we’ve read hundreds if not THOUSANDS of different versions of him. Let’s pretend like we know nothing about him. Would we still be feeling the same way? Or would we be sympathizing with Scout a little more?

Homegirl has been more than patient and accommodating imo given the circumstances. I’ve said it so many times, but you should try moving away to a different culture and from everything you’ve ever known. You should try making huge life changes and then suffering a huge traumatic event on top of it. You should try shifting your worldview in a short amount of time and see how that works out for you. Because that’s what it’s been! A short amount of time!! They haven’t even known each other a year yet!!

Im not saying feel sorry for her. I’m saying to set your expectations of her like she’s a human being. If you wanted a quick resolution, then maybe don’t read a series? Idk.

I might have to take a step back from this story for a while, I don’t know yet…

[creatively-cosmic]

Hi Starry, I’m back! :D

I’m glad you like the questions and that they aren’t annoying, because every bit of lore I read is like a taking a shot of dopamine lmao. And that picture of Fire getting a hug 🥹 brightened up my whole day. Trust me when I say that you guys reposting pictures and adding content to older ones isn’t obnoxious in the slightest. The art (at least for me) makes it easier to digest and form connections about the story in my head, plus y’alls art is great—who wouldn’t want to look at it? The lore/art in the last one was particularly interesting. (Like, young Red looks like such an polite, upstanding citizen and then you scroll down two pages and now it’s like “Tf you lookin crazy for”? Was that an implication that Steven had something to do with Red going missing/becoming Glitchy? And Leaf is funking DEAD?-)

Anyways, you know what that means! Question time: Leaf Edition!

The First (and most obvious) question: What happened to Leaf? Why is the homegirl dead? (Why was Leaf being dead, out of all the things I’ve seen so far, the one thing I wasn’t expecting?)

Second: What’s the relationship between Leaf, Fire and Blue? You said that Blue and Fire’s murder-suicide loop was spurred on by her death, so were they friends before she died? Did they see it?

And two smaller questions: How tall are the main four (Red, Blue, Fire, Leaf)? And do they have Pokémon Teams? If so, what are their teams looking like?

That’s all till next time! Have a good day/afternoon/night wherever you are!

TUMBLR FUCKING CRASHED HALFWAY THROUGH ANSWERING THIS ASK IM SO MAD FUCK. FUCKKK

We honestly can't thank you enough for all your questions, compliments, and just overall being a huge sweetheart. We're really happy you've been enjoying these, and whatever dopamine you get from seeing these, we probably get like. TENFOLD, just for seeing someone so interested, and giving us a chance to talk about this wild ride of a story. So really- thank you. This has been a delight!

This one is gonna be REALLY long (I have to rewrite fucking HALF OF IT now DAMMIT), as we want to talk on the stuff you crossed out, too.

(I'll put their heights and teams in a follow-up post btw, so watch for that.)

1. Red.

Young Red is an interesting point in time. See, he and Blue had a LOT in common- a lot more than you might think. Of course, Red was a good kid, genuinely- always so caring for his Pokemon, kind and passionate about them. He was polite to the people around him, and always soft spoken, when or if he spoke at all. The adults around Kanto and his hometown always adored him for how well mannered he seemed- a real role model, and stand up child. Just a bit shy.

In all truth though, Red moreso had a very strong mask. One that he only dropped, allowing himself to relax and act like himself around one person: his best friend, Blue.

Both of those boys were a lot more immature and competitive with each other- the main difference being Blue didn't hide it like Red did. They LOVED competing, always trying to one up each other in everything they did. When they were together, Red wasn't afraid to speak his mind, signing or whispering to his friend with a smug grin on his face. Around his friend, Red could really be himself, and they both loved it. Having so much fun, roughhousing and taking jabs and just being children around each other. A lot of people, when seeing this, would assume Blue- who was always rude and a bit more standoffish- was a bad influence, but really, the two couldn't be happier than they were with each other.

... When you spend God knows how long, trapped in a dimension with no human life, desperate and angry with unholy forces eating away at your mind, will, and sanity. Let's just say masking doesn't end up staying a necessary skill. A good portion of why Red being Like That now is honestly? Just because he just gave up on trying to make himself presentable.

He has bigger problems now than worrying about how people see him, anyways.

2. Steven.

I'll try to keep this short, as the Strangled Red elements of this story could warrant it's own post entirely.

To put it simply: Steven is, in part, directly responsible for Red's fate.

It wasn't HIS decision, mind you. He barely even thinks for himself anymore. But there were things that wanted Red, and Steven is very suggestible when it takes the right approach. So it lays itself out so simply.

Red trusted Steven, after all. Idolized him. Missed him. Would follow him anywhere. What better possible option could there be?

Of course Steven is the one to drown that boy on the coast of Cinnabar.

3. Leaf. (cw for animal death.)

Finally, the star of the show for this ask (as if this isn't long enough already). I can see why the information for her is more supriding as we haven't posted as much for her, which. We do feel bad about- our ability and motivation to make art for her was severely hindered by our struggle (I'm talking MONTHS) to make a design for her that we were happy with. Her story is WELL figured out, though, so we're glos we get to discuss! And now that her design is actually finalized, there should be more visual stuff for her coming.

So what happened?

Well! As is the entire premise of Missing Numbers, each major individual is based off of various Pokepastas. The easiest way to answer that is one of two of Leaf's sources:

Abandoned Loneliness.

But first, we have to go further back.

Fire was not the only Vessel made by the Almighty.

... He was the first, and the favorite. But he wasn't the only one. Leaf was the other.

Once Fire had come to Palette town, the next Game was set to begin any time now. But as the Almighty looked down on the world, He looked back at the others that had been built, and realized that the new Kanto was missing something. An alternative option. Though He was reluctant to change the structure of the world, it was, by all means, an improvement, and something the Players would expect after the past Generations.

She was less meticulously made than her brother. She kept her Heart and Mind about her, as there wasn't time, nor was it safe, to rid her of them like Fire. She would serve well enough as a Vessel regardless- and she did, as when the Game began, Leaf was chosen as the player's Avatar. (Not quite what the Almighty had expected, but the choice had been given for a reason, so it would be foolish to change anything now...)

Blissfully unaware of the nature of her existence, Leaf proceeded to go on a triumphant adventure through Kanto.

This is a good time, before we get back to the tragedy, to answer your second question!

Leaf, Blue, and Fire's dynamic changed throughout their journey through Kanto. At the beginning, let's just say things were... Tense.

Fire acted hollow, in the beginning, as he was meant to. Genuinely, it was fully expected that he'd be chosen as the players Avatar. So without it, he was left... Quiet and cold. It seemed he didn't care for anyone- not Blue, nor his sister.

Blue, meanwhile, was NOT in a good headspace. But at this point, after about two years passed since Red's dissapearance, he'd learned to hide those feelings. The people of Palette town, including his Rivals, knew him as this bitter, irritable person, resentful towards the world for incomprehensible reasons.

Leaf was the only "normal" one, basically. A cheerful, excited girl, whose heart bled for everyone she cared about and always tried to stand for the right thing. She didn't know where she came from... She had no memories of her life before "Red" and Hazel (Fire's mother) Yuuji found her, seemingly abandoned in the tall grass just outside of Palette Town, under the falling autumn leaves. Taken in as a part of their family, she grew attracted quickly, her loyalty and love and impulsive need to protect coming to be what she was known for.

With all this given, when the journey started. Leaf HATED Blue- he seemed to despise and bully her brother more than anyone. Blue didn't like Leaf much either, but wasn't as harsh towards her as he was Fire. Fire was as... Neutral as ever. But he silently followed the two once they went out, almost as if he wanted to watch over them. Ensure their safety.

As the journey continued, over time, away from the stuffiness of their hometown, the three started to grow closer. Maybe the fresh air was doing Blue good. Maybe Leaf was learning more about the world. Maybe Fire's deep brown eyes were growing warmer.

Somehow, a death was the tipping point for all of them to finally become friends. It's absurd, how grief was the thing driving them apart, but ultimately went to bring them together.

When Blue's Raticate died, he quickly fell back to his lowest point. Angry and hateful and heartbroken, lashing out, and ultimately running away. ... But it put everything in perspective. Through all her guilt (it was in a fight against her, after all, that the Raticate had been so severely injured), Leaf suddenly understood why Blue had been so horrible before: he was mourning. And he needed someone. It didn't make her forgive him, but it made her extend a hand.

And for once, knelt over the grave of a lost Pokemon, Blue accepted it. From that act of kindness, Blue genuinely began to get along with the others, and slowly, the trio came to be friends- all the way up to and after the Championship, where despite losing again, Blue felt closer to the others than ever.

... It seems in this world, good things don't last.

The events of Abandoned Loneliness happened several months after Leaf became champion. When revisiting Raticate's grave with Blue, Leaf came across a peculiar Pokemon- a horribly sickly little Eevee, too weak to even cry. Leaf had never been the kind to leave a Pokemon in need to fend for itself- kindly, she took the little stray into her care, determined to nurse it back to health.

The properties of Glitched or Corrupted Pokemon aren't something I need to dive into right now this is already ungodly long. What's important is that the Eevee was not a natural Pokemon. It should've been dead.

It always starts with a Pokemon that should've been dead.

Let's just say... Everything unraveled from there. Fully explaining what the events of Abandoned Loneliness translates to in Missing Numbers isn't something I have the energy to write at the moment (this is so long and I've been putting off finishing it cause I'm still mad all my initial writing got deleted >_<).

The important part comes down to Leaf's demise at the hands of this "curse." Bonded to that sickly little Eevee, when the world pushed her to put it out of its misery- voices of the damned screaming, unbearable, suffocating, demanding she DO IT DO IT DO IT, you can't bear to watch it suffer anymore, after all... The destiny bond it held her in dragged her down with it.

Nobody witnessed her death. She was alone and isolated at the foot of a mountain. She thought she could solve everything herself. Thought she could handle it all.

Her body was only found days later, curled up on the ground, rotting blood seeping from her eyes, with the body of the poor little Eevee in her arms. Trapped and suffocated by the hands that killed it. It was far too late. To maje it worse, her friends were the first to know of her death.

Fire was the one who found her body, after all.

Leaf's demise was a SEVERE breaking point, and unlike Fire, she didn't get a chance to be revived by God. Her modern presence in the world was not... Authorized, let's just say. Leaf had to claw and fight to keep hold of herself and climb back to existence in ways unprecedented, and believed to be impossible. But despite being a corrupted entity, her body was stable. And so, rather than Smite her as he would other Glitches, the Almighty decided to make good of an unintended situation: He could make use of her. A man on the inside is a powerful tool, after all.

So long as He kept her anger for her fate targeted towards the "true" threats.

I could keep going but I've babbled on way too much already for this post lol. I'm so sorry about the delay on this one- life REALLY got in the way. And Tumblr's buggy ass mobile app 💀

hopefully i can elaborate more without any crashing in the next round if there is one ashfshf

[starlitangels]

The King (Pin the Crown On) - Part 2

I can’t believe I never posted this. Oops. Cataclysm spoilers, I guess, even though it’s been A While. Sorry @zozo-01 I know I promised that I wasn’t going to leave you hanging on Part 1... my bad! 3.2k words (almost exactly!) (Part 1)

—

Vega leaned against the wall in the private, small room off from the main audience hall. Avior sat opposite Collins in one of the cushy armchairs. The room was designed as some sort of parlor or withdrawing room, apparently, and exuded comfort. Collins’ guard—a female vampire with an aura almost as strong as Collins’ own—copied Vega’s position on the other side of the door. Though her stance was significantly less intimidating.

“You honestly think I would try to turn your Freelancer?” Collins asked, a small smirk tugging the corners of his lips.

Avior scoffed. “Having the love of my life under your control? Someone to whom I am devoted, subjected to your whims? It wouldn’t surprise me if you’d considered it, and it wouldn’t surprise me if you tried it.”

“Smart. Paranoid, maybe. But smart.”

“I prefer the term cautious,” Avior replied nonchalantly.

Collins just snorted. “Would it be so bad? To have them immortal, by your side forever?”

“Not under your thumb.”

“Well, now, see, if I did manage to turn them before they could defend themselves, I can’t imagine I’d keep my head long enough to actually exert any control over them. Death of the maker frees the progeny from invocation.”

Avior scoffed. “That’s true. But the fact remains that you’re still a Mass-Maker with legions under your control. You’d have a numbers advantage.”

“Means nothin’ when either you or the big guy back there could turn me to dust with half a thought faster’n I could blink.” Collins bounced an eyebrow. “I know better’n to mess with daemons, King Avior. That’s why I wanted to discuss an alliance in the first place. Honestly, if that partner of yours hadn’t suggested it, I never woulda considered it. Thought y’all woulda… I dunno, gone to ground to hide from the humans and vamps. Maybe try to blend in.”

“With this many empowered humans, that would be impossible,” Avior said. “Our magical signatures give us away too easily.” He gestured to his horns. “Cloaking these—” He did so. “Doesn’t stop me from being obviously a daemon.” His horns reappeared as easily as they’d vanished. He didn’t notice the way Vega twitched when Avior’s horns disappeared.

“The gold eyes don’t help either, I reckon.”

“No. They don’t.” Avior glanced down at his fingernails, examining them idly. “So. You’d prefer an alliance over a truce? Work together, instead of politely ignore each other?”

Collins shrugged. “I always figure it helps more than hurts to have, eh, powerful friends. If you’ll pardon the phrase.”

“No, no. It makes sense.” Avior reached up and nudged the circlet to put it back in the middle of his forehead where it had drifted slightly. “It’s always better to have friends. And you and Vega already know each other.” Vega blithely pretended not to notice the look Avior shot at him.

“We do,” Collins agreed.

“So what are you hoping to get out of this alliance?”

“Well…” Collins leaned back in his cushy armchair, lounging casually but thoughtfully. “Your kind can still feed on mine, right?”

“Yes,” Avior replied carefully. “Vampires are, technically, a race of empowered human. But even Old Bloods aren’t strong enough to trance us. And obviously vampires can’t feed on us because our blood is literally magic and it burns them up.”

Collins hummed. “Right,” he agreed. “Anyway. I have a veritable army of progeny at my disposal. Progeny your kind can feed on.” Collins’ metallic eyes flicked briefly to Vega before returning to Avior.

“In exchange for what?” Avior sounded skeptical.

“Assistance. I don’t need to inform you that vampires struggle with externalizin’ their magic. Our Cores weave our magic into every cell of our bodies. Untyin’ that to try to use it for something else takes a lotta work—that a lotta progeny just aren’t ready for. Pretty much all-a my progeny were unempowered before I turned them. They’re not like me. I used to be a Freelancer. I don’t struggle as much with externalizin’ my powers because I knew how to beforehand. And I worked as a healer so healin’ magic comes easiest of all. My progeny don’t have that luxury.”

“So… you want to be able to call on daemons for help with magical matters your progeny can’t handle; in exchange my daemons can feed on your progeny’s emotions.”

Collins smiled a wicked smile, his fangs half-extended. “Well now. Even smarter than the rumors say, ain’t ya? That’s exactly right.”

“I assure you, that leap in logic wasn’t much of a leap at all,” Avior said. “You gave me all the information I’d need to make an educated guess.”

Collins chuckled. “No wonder you’re the daemon king.”

Avior huffed what was almost a laugh. “My partner deserves a royal title far more than I do,” he said. “Without them, the Meridian would have fallen and your whole plane would have been wiped from existence.”

“But, nevertheless, here you are,” Collins remarked. “King of Daemons.”

Vega felt the wave of irritation roll off Avior.

Avior was a confident daemon. Always had been. He was intelligent and didn’t speak on any subject unless he believed himself to be adequately informed. He often came off as arrogant or aloof because of it, but Vega knew the truth. Avior was humble. Avior didn’t like being the center of attention. He had simple wants and desires. He’d become the leader of the daemons by default. As the director of the haven and a gifted strategist, he’d been the most trusted choice.

Collins’ words rubbed him the wrong way. Vega thought Avior deserved every word, even if Avior himself didn’t believe the same.

“That’s… certainly one way to put it,” Avior said. He took a deep breath. Vega felt Avior’s magic burn a little hotter. Doing what, Vega wasn’t entirely sure. Avior sighed out the breath he’d taken. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said.

—

Avior’s voice touched my mind. Put a protection ward on your skin. The kind vampires can’t penetrate.

I didn’t bother to question him. He didn’t order me around unless he had good reason. Oftentimes I ignored his orders, but this one seemed like he was scared. I shifted my position between Cam, Vindemiator, and Asher so the vampire guards lining the walls wouldn’t notice my hands moving to make the ward.

An invisible magical shield coated my skin. I wasn’t getting bitten by any vampires tonight. Do I dare ask why?

Collins and I made a deal. An alliance. I imagine he’s going to try to dance with you again.

I already told him I don’t know how.

I know. We’ll see what happens.

With that, Avior’s voice was gone.

I glanced at Cam and Vindemiator. Neither of them seemed to have heard Avior, so I figured he’d sent it to me privately rather than broadcasted telepathy like Vega used.

I knew they must have noticed the warmth of my aura showing I had magic in use, but neither of them commented on it. Nor did Asher. I shuffled my feet and looked around anxiously. The guards lining either side of the room didn’t seem interested in moving.

Or… maybe they couldn’t. I wondered how cruel Collins was. Had he invoked them all to not move a muscle unless directed otherwise? One of them had attacked and another had muttered under their breath so that couldn’t have been the case.

And our group just stood in the middle of the room, still half in the formation we’d entered in. Barely moving, not talking to one another either.

It was really boring.

I started to inspect the faces of each of the guards, looking for anyone familiar. I doubted I’d know any of them. Dahlia was a big place and my social circles were about ninety-percent daemons and shifters.

I was surprised to see a familiar face at the back of the room.

King-Imperial Damien. Standing rigid with a blank expression on his face. Staring straight ahead of him at the opposite wall. Never once looking in our direction.

Cam and Vindemiator both glanced at me. “What’s wrong?” Cam asked.

“Hmm?” I turned to look at them.

“You’re sad,” Vindemiator said, reaching up and adjusting my circlet so it was in the center of my forehead again. “Where’d that come from?”

“It’s more than sadness,” Cam put in to Vindemiator. “It’s resignation.” Cam met my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not something to be shared here,” I said.

“Understood,” Cam said with a nod.

After another few moments, footsteps clacked on the hard ground. Collins, his guard, Avior, and Vega were coming back into the room. I watched Vega step backward through a rift where he was at the back of the group, almost immediately appearing directly in front of me, facing away toward where the others were still approaching.

“We’ll have to do the high-toned and fancy to-do later,” Collins was saying to Avior as they walked. “I’d’ve liked to make a shindig outta this but sometimes you can’t even trust your own blood.” He glowered toward where there was a body without a head and the scattered dust from Vindemiator dissolving another vampire.

“Some other time,” Avior agreed. “For tonight, it’s probably better for us to take our leave.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

“You as well.��

Avior and Collins shook hands—both looking a bit like they were testing the other—and then Avior was reaching out for me. I took his hand and let him lead our group out of the throne room. I sensed his and Vega’s magic burning a little warmer, like they were preparing to haul wards into existence in a split second.

But we left the room, and then the Spire, without incident.

—

Avior looked up, gold eyes glittering in the starlight, as I stepped out onto the back porch of the old Keaton pack’s den. “You still have the circlet on,” he said, sounding surprised.

I smirked. “You like how it looks on me. Figured I’d let it stay for a bit.” I held a hand out for him. He took it and let me help him get to his feet. I pulled out my phone and started to play some soft music.

“What’re you…” he trailed off. I positioned his hand around my back and took his other one. He was taller than me so our clasped hands were held at my eye level.

I started to step to the music, holding him close to me.

He followed, but quickly assumed the role of leader. “You told Collins you never learned how,” he said.

“I lied,” I replied. “Of course I know how to dance.”

Avior chuckled. “You lied to a Mass-Maker’s face. And got away with it. Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”

I shrugged and rested my head on his chest. He was warm and the faint aroma of books clung to him. He sighed in contentment and rested his cheek on the top of my head. We were still dancing, but had gone from formal to casual. Mostly just swaying on the spot, listening to the gentle music and enjoying each other’s company.

“You gonna tell me about the deal you made with Collins?” I asked.

“Tomorrow. When you tell me why I felt you be sad while we were at the Spire for a moment. For now can we just… be?”

“Okay.”

We just swayed on the porch for a while, letting the song change a couple times before the autumn chill drove us back into the den.

Inside, we found Vindemiator quickly hiding something behind his back.

Or, rather, someone.

“What are you doing here?” Avior asked. No menace in the words—just curiosity. “I thought you went back to your cottage and your partner.”

“I did. I brought someone back with me.” Vindemiator stepped to the side to reveal a small demon with a pair of little curled horns, pink curly hair, freckles, and a pink sweater. He looked a little nervous. “Avior, this is Caelum. Caelum, this is Avior.”

“H-hi,” Caelum greeted with a tiny wave.

“Hello there,” Avior replied gently.

Vindemiator leaned closer to Caelum. “Avior’s the leader of the daemons I spent the last year living with. He protects us. Keeps us safe. He kept an eye on Delphinus while he was exiled here too. You can trust him.” Vindemiator nodded to me. “His partner’s human too. Like mine. One of the good humans. Can you feel how happy they both are, buddy?”

Caelum nodded, big eyes staring at me.

I smiled. “Hi,” I said. I offered him my name. He nodded.

Vindemiator met my eyes. “Coordinator, can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

“Of course,” I said.

Caelum turned a scared look toward the incubus, but Vindemiator gave him a comforting look. “Get to know Avior for a minute, okay? I won’t be long. He’ll keep you safe too.”

“O-okay.” Caelum nodded and glanced at Avior.

I followed Vindemiator out of the kitchen and to the front great room. “What’s up?”

A soundproof ward sprung into existence around us. “It’s Caelum. He’s an Empathy Daemon. My… my partner is usually happy enough for Caelum to… at least scrape by. But no one can be happy all the time and they’ve been struggling the last couple days. Caelum hasn’t been able to fully feed in a week. I was wondering if… if you and the shifters and the other humans here could… maybe scrounge up a little happiness for him to get fully fed on, so my partner won’t feel so pressured to try and get over what they’re going through right now.”

A smile formed on my face as a thought occurred to me. “I can do that,” I agreed. “Give me two minutes to rally the troops and grab something from upstairs.”

Vindemiator almost sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

I set a hand on his shoulder. “Of course.”

The ward dropped.

I ran upstairs and snatched something from my and Avior’s room before knocking on the door to Milo and his mate’s. “Greer! Up and at ‘em!”

The door opened to Milo’s mate. “What’s going on?” they asked.

I held up the object in my hand. “It’s play time.”

I heard Milo cackle from inside the room. “You got it,” he said. I heard the creaking of old mattress springs and he appeared in the doorway. “You grab Ash yet?”

“Just about to.”

“Dope,” Milo said.

“I feel like you guys shouldn’t find this as fun as you do,” Milo’s mate remarked.

I shrugged. “We’re bored and messing around is fun. Gotta do something.”

They rolled their eyes.

I grabbed Asher and my friend—who conveniently was in the same room as Asher while I pretended not to notice the glaringly obvious hickey where their neck met their shoulder—and took the group downstairs. I signalled for them to wait in the great room and slipped into the kitchen myself.

Avior and Caelum were seated at the kitchen counter, not saying much.

“Avior, love?” I asked.

He turned on his stool. “Yes, starlight?”

I held up the plastic tiara with its pink feathers and painted-on “gems” that weren’t even rhinestones.

He groaned. “Starlight—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence as I lunged closer to him to try and put it on his head. He dodged out from under me. I smiled wide and beckoned for Caelum to come with me. “Come play with us!” I exclaimed.

“What is it?”

“Pin the Crown On the King!” I replied.

Caelum cocked his head to the side but followed me into the great room. “Milo!” I called, throwing the tiara.

The great room dissolved into chaos and laughter as Avior tried to avoid getting the tiara on his head again.

One look at a giggling Caelum seemed to clue Avior into what I was doing, and his annoyance quickly turned into amused irritation. I could tell by the tiny smile touching his lips as he ducked out from under Milo sweeping an arm toward his head.

Vindemiator pulled Caelum aside for a brief moment. I saw him whisper something before letting the small pink daemon go. Caelum’s smile was broad as he rejoined the game. Milo gently tossed the tiara over to him. He managed to grab it out of the air as he ran behind Avior, who slowed just long enough for Caelum to almost get the tiara in his hair before quickly ducking away and rushing toward me.

“Caelum!” I called. The small daemon threw the tiara haphazardly my way. I latched onto it with Psychokinesis and brought it to me.

The game didn’t last as long as it had two days ago when we first played. Avior held out putting up with us being silly just long enough for Caelum to fully feed before he stopped and let Caelum put the tiara in his hair. Avior rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. I gave him a kiss. “You’re insufferable,” he whispered.

“Yeah but you love me.”

“I do. So much.” He glanced at everyone else. “Probably time to turn in for the night,” he announced. His hand closed around mine.

Vindemiator put a protective arm around Caelum and the two disappeared through a rift.

Milo and Asher made their way back upstairs, easy laughter and smiles between them while they chatted.

Until it was just me and Avior—still in the tiara—in the main great room.

Avior sat on one of the couches with a sigh, pulling me down with him by our joined hands. I felt an invisible ward weave into existence around us. It didn’t feel strong, but I guessed it was soundproof. “Time to talk?” I asked.

Avior pulled the tiara off and rested his head on my shoulder. “I suppose,” he replied. “Why were you sad at the Spire?”

“One of the guards was former King-Imperial Damien,” I said. “I… I was sad because it was our actions that…” I took a deep breath, trying to parse my thoughts into words. “He wasn’t the best king but I don’t believe he deserved what happened to him.” I made a face. “That’s the best way I can put it.”

Avior hummed thoughtfully. “Your compassion does you credit, my starlight. No matter what anyone says.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder through my shirt. I leaned my head on top of his. “Collins and I made a deal. We can feed on his progeny freely and in return we help with matters of magic that his progeny can’t handle. Most of them were unempowered before they turned and don’t know much about using their own magic. I don’t imagine the Imperium trained them on a broad spectrum of powers.”

“Not as bad as I was worried about,” I admitted.

Avior actually smiled. “Good to hear.”

We sat in silence for a bit, just listening to cars passing by outside and the creaking of daemons and shifters moving around upstairs and downstairs.

“Wanna go to bed?” I asked.

Avior took a deep breath, like he’d been dozing off on my shoulder. “Yeah.”

We stood from the couch and he dropped the ward. Holding hands, we went upstairs.

[severed-ties-uf]

Chapter Eighteen: Beloved Prince

This chapter takes place the day after the last.

Asriel walks through Old Home, wearing his formal outfit, now standing in the spot where Chara was attacked. He looks around noticing the obvious wear on the surroundings from the battle, then attempts to pick up the scent of the monsters involved. Chara already told him what species' the monsters belonged to, now he just has to track down the specific ones.

“Hmm…” Asriel thinks to himself, “I should probably go with plan A, and ask around for answers.”

Asriel stands up, and continues walking through Old Home, he wanted to ask around this area first before going into the city. Eventually, he noticed a group of four, late-teen/early-adult monsters conversing in a neighboring room.

“Howdy!” He says, as he approaches the group.

The monsters immediately turn to face him, shocked. “Prince Asriel?” One of them asks. “Your Highness?” Asks another. The other two are too stunned to speak; but they all collectively bow regardless.

A female bird monster in the group takes a step towards Asriel, “How can I… we help you, your Highness?” She asks.

Asriel kneels down to level himself with the group of monsters. “I’m looking for some answers regarding a recent attack against Chara—i.e the human.” He begins. “It just happened yesterday, just a couple rooms away from us, so I’m curious if any of you know anything? Or anyone involved in the attack?” He asks.

The monsters go silent for a moment, taking looks at each other. Eventually a Whimsun speaks up, “uh… y-Your Highness?” It asks.

“Yes?” Asriel responds.

“I know one of the guys who attacked them. A Parsnik named Naga who lives not too far from, here. Apparently, the skeleton with the human fucked her up pretty bad and she barely escaped with her life.” The Whimsun explains.

The three other monsters in the group turned to face the Wimsun in shock. “It was Naga!?” The bird monster asks in shock.

The Whimsun nods.

“I see,” Asriel begins. “Thank you!” He exclaims. Asriel reaches into his pocket, pulling out a 50g coil, “here, as a thank you gift” he says, as he hands the coin to the Whimsun.

“Oh! T-t- Thank you, your highness! And- and- you’re welcome!” The Whimsun replies.

“No problem,” Asriel replies chuckling. “I’ll be going now, thanks again!”

The bird monster takes a step forward, “Wait, Your Highness.” She says.

“Yes?” Asriel asks.

“I can take you to Naga's home if you’d like. Save you the trouble of having to find it yourself.” She offers.

“Really? Thanks! I’ll take all the help I can get.” Asriel replies. “Lead the way!”

The bird monster begins to walk, with Asriel following.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Asriel asks.

“O- oh, my name is Linda” She shyly responds (trying to hide the blush on her face), “I’m an eighteen year old bird monster living here in Old Home. It’s an honor to speak to you, your Highness.”

“Ah, well, nice to meet you, Linda.” Asriel replies. “And it’s nice speaking to you as well, I don’t get many opportunities to talk with my people nowadays, so it’s always appreciated.” Asriel explains, smiling. “But even when I do, a lot of people are too shy to say anything, which is a shame, because I love talking to y’all.”

“You’re our beloved Prince, your Highness.“ Linda replies.

“I know. I just wish people realized that there’s nothing to be worried about. And that I won’t judge them.” Asriel says.

Eventually, they reach street level, walking over to a small group of houses, offset from the main city. As they walk past, they notice nearby monsters stopping and looking upon noticing their prince.

“Right this way, your Highness.” Linda says, eventually stopping upon reaching a specific house, “this is the house.”

“Thank you very much, Linda.” Asriel says, giving her a 50g coin as well.

“You’re welcome, your highness!” Linda replies, turning around and walking away, face red with blush.

Asriel walks up to the door, and knocks three times, waiting for a response. Eventually, a young Vegetoid—no older than nine—opens the door.

“My Prince?!” The Vegetoid asks in shock, “I… umm… what can I do for you?” He asks.

“Hey, I’m looking for a Parsnik named Naga, I’ve been told she lives here, is that true?” Asriel asks.

The Vegetoid starts stuttering, unable to form words. “I umm… she…”

Asriel kneels down to face the Vegetoid, eye to eye. “Don’t worry, young one. Just tell me the truth.” He says calmly.

“Yes. She does live here.” The Vegetoid responds.

“Good.” Asriel says, rubbing the monster's head, and standing up. “Can I speak to her?”

“She’s downstairs.” He says,

“Thank you.” Asriel respond.

Asriel begins to walk down the hallway, taking a left and walking down the basement stairs, “Miss Naga? I’d like to have a word with you.” Asriel announced.

No response.

Asriel kept walking, eventually he turned a corner, with a doorway leading to a larger room, he stops, sensing an ambush.

Walking into the room, he immediately—without even looking—catches a spear being thrusted at him from the right with one hand. Asriel turns his head to face the monster, it was a bipedal lizard monster, holding the spear with all of her might, trying to thrust it into him. “Really?” Asriel asks, sounding disappointed.

“Shit!” The lizard monster yells.

From around the corner jumps Naga, firing magic snakes at Asriel, who intentionally lets one hit him and incinerates the rest.

Asriel -1 hp (12,499/12,500 remaining)

“Really?!” Asriel asks, as he rips the spear out of the lizard monster’s hands, and knocks her out with the blunt end. Now turning to face Naga, spear still in hand.

Naga attempts to run, only backing herself into a corner. “Please, your Highness, I didn’t realize it was you, I’m innocent!”

Asriel corners her, stabbing the spear into the wall next to her. “Innocent, huh?” Then why’d you attack Chara yesterday?” He demands.

“I… how’d did you?” She asks,

“I’m the one asking questions here.” Asriel states coldly, “now talk, or I’ll make you talk.”

“We hate humans, like everyone down here. We saw our opportunity, and took it.” She says.

“Are you sure there’s not more to it than that? You laid a rather decent trap there, you sure you didn’t have prep time?” Asriel asks generating a fireball in his hand.

“Okay! Okay! You’re right!” She yells, “we were tipped off by someone. Someone told us they were going to be there, so we prepared a trap.”

“Who?!” Asriel demands.

“I don’t know! I actually don’t know! Please don’t hurt me!” Naga begs.

Asriel extinguishes the fireball. “Do you know who DOES know?”

“Yes, Luka, the Whimsalot the skeleton killed.” She responds. “He’s the only one who the person spoke to, and even Luka refused to describe him at all.”

“Damn. I guess I got to pay his family a visit.” Asriel says, backing off of Naga. “Who was the Astigmatism you worked with?”

“Layla. She lives two doors down.” Naga responds.

“Good.” Asriel says. “As for you: You’re under arrest for direct assault on Royal Property, same with your friend here, and Layla. Guards will be here to extract you soon. Goodbye.” Asriel says, turning around and walking away.

——————

Asriel approaches the house belonging to the family of Luka, the Whimsalot killed by Sans. He knocks on the door, a couple times.

Opening it, is another Whimsalot, a female one. “Your Highness? How can I help you?”

Asriel once again kneels down to face her. “I’m sorry if this is a terrible time, I know you’re all grieving, but can I talk to you about Luka, please?”

The Whimsalot looks down, bowing. “Yes, you may. What do you want to know?”

“Did he mention anything about getting tipped off by a stranger on the location of Chara yesterday?” Asriel asks.

“Yes, in fact he did.” She responds.

Asriel perks up, “Did he describe him at all?”

“If I remember correctly, he said he was tall, and wearing a black cloak, but he could make out skeletal features on him.” The Whimsalot says, “and that he vanished into thin air after informing him.”

Asriel freezes. Looking down, and taking a deep breath. He pauses for a couple seconds. “Thank you.” He says, placing 300g in the hands of the Whimsalot, “and, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you, your highness.” The Whimsalot responds, before closing the door.

Asriel talks to himself, “So now, Asgore AND Gaster are both definitely trying to kill off Chara through other people, fucking fantastic.” He says sarcastically.

——————

Sans and Chara mess around in the snow outside the door leading to Old Home.

Chara takes a step back admiring their creation. “Look! It’s a Snow Sans!”

Sans looks at the sculpture, it’s surprisingly accurate for something made out of snow. “Looks just like me”. He walks over and stands next to it. “Can ya tell the difference?”

“Nope!” Chara responds giggling, “it’s pretty cool, right?”

“Oh, chill with the snow puns, we all know that snowbody finds them that funny.” He responds laughing.

Chara walks up to him, kissing and embracing him. “Don’t be so cold, Sans, I snow you love them.” Chara exclaims.

“Icy what you did there.” Sans replies, nipping their cheek.

Suddenly, the Old Home door swings open, and out steps Asriel.

“Azzy!” Chara exclaims running over and hugging him.

“Hey, Chara. I missed you too.” He says, ruffling their hair.

“Hey, your Highness.” Sans says.

“Howdy.” Asriel replies. “What are you two doing out here?”

“Oh, we were just playing in the snow, and I wanted to sit here so I could see you when you came back!” Chara replies.

“Yeah, look at Chara's sculpture of me.” Sans says.

“Very impressive, Chara.” Asriel praises.

Chara giggles, “Thank you!!”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you guys to it, I'm going into town to hang out with Jackie, see y’all later.” Asriel says, as he begins walking away.

Sans gets a notification on his phone, a text from Asriel, saying. “Your dad is the one who informed the gang of your date location, do not trust him.” Sans pauses. Taking it in, filling up with rage.

“Sans?” Chara asks, worried.

“Oh, I’m alright.” He responds.

“You sure?” Chara further asks.

“… positive.”

Author's notes:

I had to throw in a bit of Sans and Chara at the end there, I just had to.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[triple-mayday]

Oh boy… listen up I’m about to go on a tirade cause I’m tired of this shit and I need to vent. Apologies for a very long post, I need to scream into the blue Tumblr void

Tech bros better keep their slimy hands off our fics. The fact that they perceive one of the most genuine expressions of creativity as a “market” is telling. Go fuck yourself, I’m not spending every night on AO3 for customer support simulator, I’m there to experience my favorite idiots through the lens of people who get it

These “static stories” send me to stratosphere convulsing and squealing each and every time without fail, I hoard them like a mad dragon with insatiable appetite for creative thought. I sit atop my mountain of books written with passion beyond the comprehension of dipshits who treat art as a product to be consumed instead of a miracle to be cherished. Fanfiction gave me what AI will never be able to replace. I have community, I have ardor, I have a skill for storytelling that I have been polishing since I was 12, I can build endless amount of worlds just because I feel like it, I have a safe space and a reliable outlet to explore my personal experiences, no matter how dark they are

Tech bros don’t understand that art is a form of communication. AI generated stuff is inherently empty, it’s inspired by nothing because it comes from nothing. It’s a generated answer to a few key words, a collection of genuine works chopped up and regurgitated to fit the prompt, not to tell a story. I don’t care how good AI can get. I’m not reading just to mindlessly consume

When I open a new fic in my favorite tag, when I read it and get the rush of satisfaction and contentment from the very feeling of oh you see it too, you get it right, your perspective and language and flow of story make me so happy I can’t wait to get more of what you create… that’s what really gets me going. When authors shape the narrative using their lives as a template I can see it with absolute clarity. Nothing can beat the relatability of a fellow human being. Do tech bros know that authors and readers interact? Tell each other about their inspirations? Trade stories? Dedicate works of art to each other? Make friends? Develop an incredibly difficult to master skill?

The novelty of AI will eventually wear off, there’s only so much you can get out of a random sentence generator. Shit gets boring, and after getting some hahas from chatbots people will start craving some substance. AI won’t improve your writing and reading abilities. It won’t give you space to challenge yourself and make your own niche. If you want to see what fandoms are really about, what power AI can never have, look no further than the Danny Phantom fandom. People have been faithful to their community for 20 years. I’ve been in this fandom since I was 7. I’m in my 20s now. And all this time, people have been expanding the canon universe, creating and sharing new concepts, building a whole ass character from scratch, developing storylines, new AUs, and so much more. There was a non-stop flow of communication happening for literal decades. People host events, participate in challenges, gather for ambitious projects, and all of it is for fun

I’ve seen way too many attempts to automatically generate images and texts and present them as “art.” No, boo-boo, art is a product of a mind. Art is communication. Art is experience. Art is self-expression. People have this inherent desire to connect, and the act of creation is the most powerful unifying force in the world. Forget your crypto currencies, your market shares, your obsession with optimizing consumption. Sit the fuck down and re-learn how to enjoy things just for the hell of it. If you crave efficiency then teach AI to do work that is hard and miserable to people. Quit trying to take away one of the things that makes us happy (also stop stealing shit, we all know y’all just take works without permission to train your AI, leave people alone you nasty gargoyles. AI is just a tool, sure, but for now it’s being used in the most unethical ways with no proper regulations in place)

starting to suspect that tech bros actually just don’t know what reading is

[madalice31]

Thought dump:

I was yesterday years old when I found out there was a Twitter page called “End Wokeness”.

It literally made me laugh. Like no, no, no, we want the status quo. Please stay asleep. Don’t be conscious of the world around you. Don’t treat the people around you with equal respect despite their race or sex. Don’t be inclusive. Don’t be diverse. We like everything being white and straight. We like being on this pedestal. We don’t want things to change. Let’s go back to slavery when everything was great.

Lol. I’m sure they would love that. But once Neo woke up, wasn’t no going back. Even Agent Smith couldn’t really put Cypher back to sleep. Once you know, you know. And they are so upset that we see them clearly now.

I mean for real. Imagine we live in a world where a group of people literally don’t want you to be aware of what’s going on around you. So much so that being awake is now a bad thing? And people are gonna say, no that’s not what woke means. That’s exactly what woke means before they took it and tried to put a negative connotation to it. Trying to make you feel “embarrassed” for claiming to be woke. Like ahhhh you’re so stupid for being knowledgeable of the atrocities happening around you. 🥴

Ever wonder why they so pressed for you to stay asleep? Ever wonder why they so desperate to “end” wokeness? Because there is POWER in being woke. You think they would be trying so hard to make it a bad thing if it wasn’t? There is Power in the phrase Black Power. There is Power in the phrase Black Lives Matter. There is Power in being Woke. They don’t want us to have that power so they try their best to subvert it at any chance. At any cost! They will lie! They will cheat. They will do whatever to make you believe that you do not deserve a voice or even to be seen. Ever wonder why?

Imagine being in a world where a franchise like Star Wars would be considered “too diverse” lmao. That is the most hilarious thing I’ve heard. Literally a movie about a galaxy far far away with a mix of aliens that are all shades of the rainbow is��too diverse? And oh it’s not the aliens of different shades, shapes, and sizes that’s the problem, it’s the fact that humans who don’t look white are apart of the story. Like more than one!? How dare they?

Oh oh, I get it. It’s because it’s white people and aliens. That’s the only level of diversity y’all can accept. People who don’t even look human. That diversity, that “inclusiveness” makes sense to you. But let it be humans of different colors mingling and interacting with each other and oh my god the outrage. How dare a black or Asian person exist in space? Yeah we have black and Asian real life astronauts but so what? No way there’s diversity in Star Wars! It’s whites only! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Lmao. I don’t even get upset anymore because it just sounds like a 2 year old throwing a tantrum. That’s my toy! You can’t play with MY toy. But let us go get our own, a toy that we make better, and the first thing you want to do is take it or break it. 🙄

You know why bullies do what they do? Because they are jealous. Because they can’t stand the light they see in you. The quiet confidence. The self-assuredness. They’re desperate to take that from you because they don’t have it themselves. OR they think they’re the only ones that should have it. So they make themselves feel better by trying to tear you down.

Well. I got bullied once in high school my sophomore year. It never happened again.

Just so you know who you fucking with.

🤭

Black has been, is, and will always be Powerful, Multi-Talented, Trend Setting, Pop Culture Creating (Black Twitter anyone?) and Beautiful.

Stay mad. Stay pressed. End Wokeness?

You thought.

[trauma-aquarium]

Okay brace yourselves, folks, this is the story of how I discovered owls living in my stove exhaust thingy on the upper floor and how I saved them from death by the hands (claws) of crows, and they became my guardians.

It all started when I was in my backyard and by chance, saw an owl peeking at me from the exhaust outlet on the upper floor.

Sorry for the low quality I had to zoom a lot from my sorry excuse of a phone. 

Anyways, this is mommy owl and she had given birth to a lot of noisy kids which we could hear and smell (fowl smell) from the kitchen, and it was really hard to go to the upper floor without wanting to throw up. My father insisted we call someone and get the owls out and leave them in a yard or something.

What my father didn’t know was that me and my elder brother are softies when it comes to birds (he’s a softie for birds, i’m a softie for all animal-kind). So this man comes and after much struggle and a screeching mother (and a possible father), we manage to take out the owls.

And as you can see, they were very angry. These are the kids, mind you.

Anyways, me, the only one in the family with actual empathy for animals (and less empathy for humans bc why) and a brain that works when it comes to their care, I took these little owls to the balcony, quite close to the exhaust outlet you just saw, hoping their parents would come and maybe take them or whatever. Only then I realized that the parents themselves were smol, and couldn’t quite possibly take them anywhere. So here they are, in my balcony, defenseless, especially during the day.

And they were FIVE OWL BABIES. I was suddenly a single mother at the age of 20. 

Anyways, I pet them, they try to bite me and I’m okay with that, my softie brother also gets scared easily so he just watches me do my thing- that being making them feel comfortable and safe, providing food which they didn’t quite eat bc babies. 

But then I had to be on guard duty because of the damned crows who came in groups (freaking murder of crows) and tried to attack/literally murder or eat alive the poor babies. And I was having none of that.

In the hot month of May, I was on day duty scaring off crows and praying the mother would return at night. Oh, and she did. Probably cursed at me for wrecking her home (sorry but it was inevitable) and shouted at me to leave, and I did, fearing what tomorrow held.

But tomorrow was the same.

So the mother and the possible dad disappeared during the days, but the babies were active (somewhat) probably because of all the noise me and the crows made. I did my thing- petted them, gave them water, played with them if they felt like it. They gave me rashes but I was okay.

Days passed, and the owls were entering pre-teens (judging by how they started rebelling and fighting with each other) and finally came out of the little tub on their own. I felt so proud. Now they had the whole balcony all to themselves (and me, of course). And they were scared of me no more. I would help them in and out of the tub if they wanted. 

They would sleep near the stairs and I’d caress their heads and they’d give me a smile (no i didn’t imagine that). And the crows would come and they would get scared for a second and look like this:

Yellow eyes. So cute.

Anyways, the mother owl and I had an understanding now too. Where she previously used to scare me when sunset approached and screech at me, she would now simply come and sit at one of the wires in front of my house and watch me pet her children and say NOTHING. And then I would wave at her and go inside and she would come and feed her children. She wasn’t all that bad. And the possible father would guard or something- I could see them from downstairs if I walked in front of my house.

This whole ordeal lasted for two months before the kids were finally old enough to fly, and I may have cried happy tears. I thought it was over now- they would move away and we’d never see each other again. But then-

I saw this from my window, my room being downstairs (don’t mind the wires, it was to keep robbers out bc robbers suddenly decided our housing society was a good place to collect money from). So everyday sunset, I’d draw my curtains apart and they would come and sit right outside my window (look at how grown they are!) and we’d screech at each other which was our love language.

So whenever I went out for a walk, there would be 5 kids and sometimes, their mommy, my guardians now. They would walk with me (fly with me, actually.) They would jump from wire to wire and occasionally, when they didn’t feel shy, they would scoop really low, circle around me and go back.

Yes. I was their Disney Princess, and I fucking felt like it too.

I called them ‘my owl friends’. I’d go out at night, look around and say ‘my owl friends, where y’all at?’ and they would come, making weird owl noises, circle around me and walk with me.

It was truly magical, and though I’m a huge cat person, I wouldn’t mind living with owls (even though they’re extremely smelly sometimes and want to eat me sometimes bc meat).

Here’s a last cute picture of my owl besties

I love them so much. I moved houses (only like three streets away but the owls couldn’t have known... could they?) and had to leave them behind, but here’s where a plot twist happens.

I think they might have put in a good word about me in the owl community, because the owls- different ones- occasionally come by. And they only come to ME.

Like this one time I was in the front yard of my house and two owls paid a visit.

Or this one time I was walking in the park in front of my house and two owls circled around me, ignoring my mom and little brother, and sat on a tree, watching me the whole time.

Either I’m a Disney Princess or these owls are planning some weird shit. Whatever it is, I’m in for it.

[xxsabitoxx]

Head Canons for what happened after the manga ended

warnings: contains manga spoilers — fluff & angst

A/N: the Senjuro ask I got really sparked the inspiration for this lol. These are all just my own thoughts so I’m not sure if they’ll all be manga accurate. As far as I know we don’t have a whole ton of info from after the manga ended other than skipping far into the future lol

Tanjiro & Kanao were the first to get married, around time they are 17/18

I think they are also the first of the bunch to have a baby

These two are madly in love and you can’t change my mind. Like they are almost grossly affectionate with each other lol

It takes Zenitsu a whole six months to work up the courage to properly ask Nezuko out

It isn’t until Kanao and Tanjiro welcome their first child that Zenitsu proposes to Nezuko (so like 2-3 years after the manga’s end)

I think Kanao & Tanjiro would be expecting a second child around the time Zenitsu & Nezuko have their wedding

Aoi and Inosuke are the last of the bunch to get married — and Inosuke proposes in a very indirect way. But of course, Aoi still understands what he is implying

Aoi and Inosuke are actually welcoming their first child before Nezuko and Zenitsu

Nezuko and Zenitsu are the last to welcome a child! I think Nezuko actually wouldn’t be ready to have kids until she was about 19/20.

Because she lost so much time when she was a demon, she uses the first few years to try and make up for it when she’s human again

Zenitsu is perfectly fine with this, honestly he likes getting so much time having Nezuko to himself

He definitely uses Tanjiro and Inosuke’s kids as his “dad” practice tho for whenever Nezuko is ready lol

When Nezuko and Zenitsu decide it’s time to start their family, I think Aoi and Inosuke would be pregnant with their second

Tanjiro and Kanao decide two kids is enough for them for the time being, though I think a third may accidentally occur lol

Giyu gets married around 25

He spends so much time with Tengen and his wives tbh, he only looked for a partner because of Tengen’s suggestions

Giyu is actually completely swept off his feet, he gets the love story he deserves y’all

I think Giyu would feel old as hell at the fact that Tanjiro had two kids before he even has one.

Though around this time I think Kanao would be pregnant with their second. I’m writing these a little out of order

Sanemi spends a majority of his twenties traveling

He’s around 27 when he meets someone who steals his heart

I think he’s still carrying a lot of survivors guilt with him — Which makes it hard for him to allow himself to be happy

Luckily his partner is more than willing to help him cope and work through his problems

By the time Sanemi gets married, he’s around 29/30, pretty late compared to everyone else lmao

Let’s not forget Tengen >;)

Makio is the first of the wives to get pregnant, Suma is next and Hina is last

I don’t think they really cared who got pregnant first

They kinda just tried all at the same time and whoever it was, it was lol

I think Makio was pregnant around the same time Kanao was

Their kids actually share relatively close birthdays

Now for our baby, Senjuro ;—;

I think he is very much included in Tanjiro’s life, to the point Tanjiro & Nezuko see him as a little brother

While Senjuro tries to be like his big bro, I think he starts to adapt to a lot of Tanjiro’s habits

Senjuro sees Kyojuro in Tanjiro — so much so that sometimes it even moves him to tears

Senjuro will spend the rest of his life mourning his big brother — he’ll learn to cope and heal but that pain never really goes away

The same goes for Tanjiro honestly, Tanjiro can’t even begin to imagine the pain Senjuro must feel

I think all of them really start to begin their grieving process within 6 months of the battle ending

They were all always nonstop moving, always busy, they always had a goal to work towards. So once the demons are eradicated and they can live normal lives. It all kinda just hits them.

Just to lighten things up before we finish — I think once a month they all get together to have a big “family” dinner to catch up

Even while Sanemi is traveling he does his best to make it back in time for the dinner

If he can’t, he’ll send letters to Giyu or Tanjiro to update them

Which I’d like to add, Sanemi decided to spend a lot of time teaching himself how to write

I really like to think that everyone who survived keeps in touch for the rest of their lives :’)

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

“They were expecting to find Miguel Diaz. What they weren’t expecting to find was love.”

Imagining of Season 5 in which Demetri and Eli go on a totally straight and totally heterosexual Dudebro road trip to Mexico to find their best friend. Unfortunately, when you’re trapped in a car with someone for hours on end, you might have to start confronting some feelings you wish weren’t there.

Well, everyone, I caved. I fucking caved. I said so many times that I wasn’t going to write CK fanfiction because GODDAMN if I don’t have too many WIPs in other fandoms, but like. The desire to write a homoerotic road trip fic was just too damn much.

I’ve never tried formally writing these two before, so I have no idea if it’s any good, but GOD did I try lol. Not much plot here, mostly just Vibes, gay tension, and missing and worrying about Best Boy Miguel!!! Also written partly out of spite because I’m just constantly seeing Miguel/Demetri friendship erasure in the fandom and it’s gotten me HEATED, so now I’m writing about Demetri going off to find Miguel in Mexico and internally monologuing about how worried he is and y’all just gonna have to deal with it. Fun fact: Miguel and Demetri love each other, and I will not hear otherwise under any circumstances :D

Also I can’t believe I’ve been in this fandom over a year and it took fucking writing this fic to realize Demetri has an extremely bad case of generalized anxiety disorder D: Like he worries about every all the time and honestly? Same

Uhhhhh CW for mentions of human trafficking, even if it’s done in jest (they’re teenage boys after all, this is the kinda thing teenage boys joke about lol) and some zesty...physical references, but the sauciest thing they do is make out because I’m asexual and do not wish to write smut XD

Fic is under the cut!!! Be warned, it is a 4k word longboi!!!

EDIT: There is now a sequel here as well!!!

***

“I cannot even begin to tell you how unsafe this is.”

“Uh huh. Go on.”

“I’m serious, Eli! We’re parked out in the middle of nowhere in a desert that never ends and the only signs of civilization are those cars going by on the highway at like 90 miles an hour. This is how people get kidnapped. And used for…I don’t know, human trafficking or something.”

Eli rolls over from where he lies next to Demetri on the car roof, scowling at him. “You think the traffickers are going to want you?”

Demetri scoffs, offended at the implication. “I’ll have you know I am a catch! The hottest girl in school thought so for a while.”

Eli breaks into a smirk. “Didn’t Yasmine like…use you as a beard, dude?”

“That’s not—she’s not—she didn’t—look, it doesn’t count if she didn’t know she was lesbian until after we got together!” Demetri splutters, gesturing vaguely as he attempts to arrive at a point.

“Wouldn’t that make it even worse?”

“Still speaks volumes to my suave disposition that she had no issue appearing to be dating me.”

“I’ll never understand it.” Eli turns away, gaze flicking back up to the stars.

“As I was saying.” Demetri stubbornly goes on. Someone has to knock some sense into Eli Moskowitz—access that logical coding brain he knows is in there somewhere. “Just because we’re a little ways off the main road doesn’t mean someone isn’t going to see us parked out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. They could still come out here, break into the car, and do—well, whatever they want! It’s not like anyone would hear us yelling for help. We should have gotten a motel room.”

Eli snorts. “What, are we throwing hundred dollar bills around like we’re Terry Fucking Silver? It was hard enough mooching enough gas money off my mom. Besides, we know karate. If anyone comes after us, we could take them.”

Demetri rolls his eyes. “Right, my bad. I forgot I’m under the protection of the latest AVT champ.”

“Damn right.”

“I’m holding you to that, by the way. If we get kidnapped, and you can’t fend them off, I’m going to be really mad.”

“Completely understandable.”

A lull passes over the boys. For several moments, there’s no sound but desert wind, the hum of crickets and cicadas, and the sound of distant traffic. They had pulled off onto some dirt service road and driven for a while before they arrived and parked at what Eli decided was “the perfect sleeping spot.”

“I can’t believe you’re not tired,” Eli pipes up. “You’ve been driving like…all day.”

Demetri shrugs, car roof cool against his neck and shoulders. The sweltering daytime heat has long since faded from the metal.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know when I’d get the chance to stargaze again. It’s kind of hard with all the light pollution. I remember we used to try on your trampoline, and whenever we’d get excited about a particularly bright one, it would turn out to be LAX’s newest outgoing flight.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot more going on out here. Might as well enjoy it.”

Demetri scans over the flickering shape of the Milky Way before stealing a glance over at Eli. He can’t help but smile.

His friend’s eyes are filled with a kind of shameless awe and wonder he hasn’t seen in years. Eli has always been drawn to the sky—day, night, or otherwise. Sometimes in elementary school, when they were all out of game ideas, they would spend recess cloud-watching. Eli would get so wrapped up in it that sometimes when the lunch bell rang, Demetri would have to poke him several times to get his attention. How appropriate that his eventual karate nickname would be bird-related.

He’s beautiful when he’s like this. And right now, it’s particularly aggravating.

Unfortunately, Demetri’s admiration has not gone unnoticed. Eli turns and gives him a disparaging look.

“Dude, why are you staring at me?”

Demetri snorts, trying to sound as scornful as possible. “I was not! Don’t flatter yourself. I just haven’t seen you this relaxed in a while.”

Eli shrugs. “I guess so. Kind of peaceful out here. Nice to get away from all the city noise. Too bad Sensei LaRusso isn’t around to make us do katas or some shit.”

Demetri snickers. “Yeah, I’d like to see him try and meditate in downtown Guadalajara. Or wherever the hell he and Sensei Lawrence are now.”

“You think they made it to Guadalajara already?” Eli whistles. “That is generous, Demetri.”

“Is it really that far?”

“A good 900 miles from here. I would know—my eyes still hurt from staring at the map app all damn day.”

Demetri considers for a moment before nodding.

“You’re right. Sensei Lawrence probably broke the GPS. Somehow.”

“Either that, or he and Sensei LaRusso spent more time arguing over what route to take than actually driving.”

The boys break out laughing, the noise of it heavy in the quiet desert night. Hours of tense driving drain out of Demetri’s body all at once, and suddenly he feels so carefree he could be 7 again.

It isn’t all that different from how they used to be. Laughing at the stupidest shit, making fun of everyone whose life was just as much a mess as theirs, being wrapped up in their own little world. All a constant that had always given Demetri some semblance of security…before junior year, anyways.

Now, he can finally have that security back. Eli isn’t going anywhere, especially not in the middle of the Sonoran desert. What would he do, tie a little bindle to a stick and run off to live in a cactus?

As the laughter dies down, Demetri turns his head back to the stars. It’s not hard to see how Eli could get entranced by them. They’re stunning—silver on black, with the white puffs and clouds of the Milky Way blotched out above distant mountains.

A blinking red light and a distant hum indicates air travelers passing through the area. Demetri chuckles, something distant resurfacing.

“Remember when we were like…9, and we came up with that big, elaborate plan about what we would do if aliens invaded?”

“Sure,” Eli says. “You wanted to fight them off with swords. I didn’t have the heart to tell you that would be stupid.”

“Ah, yes.” Demetri hums thoughtfully. “That was during my Lord of the Rings phase. In my defense, I thought it would look really cool to fence with an alien. I still maintain it would be…well, interesting.”

Eli snickers. “Dude. They’d just blast you in half with a laser gun. It wouldn’t even be a fight.”

Demetri can only scoff. “Who says they have laser guns? Maybe they’re not that technologically advanced!”

“But they can pilot spaceships multiple light years to other planets?! Bullshit. You just wanted to be Aragorn.”

“Who doesn’t want to be Aragorn?!”

“Uh, Gandalf is way cooler, man.”

Demetri snorts again. “Oh, so now we’re going to defeat extraterrestrial invaders with ancient wizardry? Which we’ll acquire where?”

“Still more likely than you learning how to wield a sword properly.”

“How dare you! I used to watch so many YouTube tutorials! Anyways, it’s ambitious to claim you’re Gandalf, Eli. I think you’re more of a Gollum, personally. You know, with the corruption arc and the conniving and scheming and all.”

“Oh, you take that back!”

Eli pounces on him, shoving him hard to the side. Demetri bursts out laughing, sides aching as he slides toward the edge of the car roof.

He starts to slip. He barely has a moment to panic before strong hands are grabbing his arm.

There’s an awkward moment as their eyes meet, Eli’s fingers still fastened around Demetri’s wrist. Demetri slowly lets out his breath, heart starting to pound.

Always best to diffuse the situation, Demetri figures.

He takes his free hand and presses the back of it against his forehead. “Oh, my hero! My brave, brave Eli ‘Hawk’ Moskowitz! You saved me!”

He expects Eli to make a snide comment, but his eyes instead flick around the way they always do when he’s nervous. When he’s caught off-guard.

“It was instinct,” he mutters. “I…should’ve let you faceplant in the dirt, actually. That would’ve been funny.”

The beginnings of a smirk returns, and the moment is lost.

“But you didn’t.” Demetri smiles shrewdly. For Eli, actions have always spoken a little louder than words.

Eli groans. “I’m going to shove you off for real if you don’t wipe that shit-eating look off your face, man.”

“Doubt it.”

Demetri rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing as Eli pulls him the rest of the way up. When they lay down on the roof again, they’re a little closer than before.

“You know…” Demetri chuckles softly. “I’m actually kind of glad Sensei Lawrence and Mr. L didn’t let us tag along.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Eli turns to face him, smirk widening. “You think they would’ve taken a wrong turn and gotten us all lost in Chihuahua?”

Demetri shrugs. “I wouldn’t put it past them. Even Sam couldn’t save them from their own ineptitude.”

“Still can’t believe she persuaded them to let her come,” Eli mumbles.

“Samantha LaRusso is a firecracker. Also probably one of the most stubborn people I know. You’re very lucky I persuaded her to take you off her shitlist.”

“You did?” Eli sounds surprised. “How did that go?”

He shrugs. “Well, she nearly punched me a couple times. But I guess when both your boyfriend and your best dojo buddy vouch for a guy, it helps soften the grudge a bit.”

“I was surprised she went after him, to be honest. I guess I was wrong about her. She’s more loyal than I thought.”

Demetri rolls his eyes. Like Eli has any room to make judgments about romantic loyalty, considering Miguel told Demetri that Eli planned on having “an entire rotation of girls” after he broke up with Moon.

“Well, anyways,” Demetri says. “Not that I’d want to get mixed up in our Senseis’ complete lack of competence, but I mostly just like having you all to myself.”

He reaches out and pokes Eli in the chest, earning a glare.

“That so?” Eli’s glower fades, his tone teasing. “So what are you gonna do when we find El Serpiente and you have to share me again?”

Demetri gasps in mock horror. “Excuse me, bold of you to assume I’m not the one graciously lending out my best friend Miguel Diaz to you. If it weren’t for my impeccable sense of humor, he never would have even sat at our table.”

Eli chuckles. “I remember you looked so frantic when you waved him over. Like ‘oh god, when will anyone else ever want to be our friend?’ If only you knew it would be the greatest mistake of your life.”

Demetri snorts. “Hardly. I’d been waiting for ages to see Kyler get his ass handed to him. Besides, finding another person who actually gives a crap about you after, like, 10 years of most everyone hating you is well worth a karate war or two. Even, yes, if it means I don’t get Eli Moskowitz all to myself on occasion. Honestly…” He laughs, feeling suddenly hollow. “Neither of us deserve that kid.”

“Yeah.”

Eli’s smile begins to slip. Demetri knows the feeling.

It’s the same feeling he got when he went to Miyagi-Do practice and saw Amanda LaRusso hugging a sobbing Carmen Diaz. It’s the same feeling he got when he ran up to Miguel after watching him win the All-Valley, only to be almost immediately brushed aside.

The fear of losing Eli had always been loud and vicious and ruthless. It tore at him in the night and left his body trembling until morning. It sent him running to the bathroom, dry-heaving until his stomach ached. It sunk its claws into him and rooted them there. Punched them down harder when he saw Eli in the hallways with rage and hatred and cruelty in his eyes. It was a constant agony that followed him wherever he went

The fear of losing Miguel was different. Quieter. Like a parasite slowly eating its way through his insides, a small but ever-present ache in his gut. The tiny but profoundly persistent feeling that something was very, very wrong. Brief trembles and a few quick breaths and momentary bouts of nausea that seemed to be the opening act for something much worse. His mind dancing through a thousand “what ifs” and eventually drifting to the worst ones, whirring louder than an overheated laptop as it churned out hypothetical disaster after hypothetical disaster. An eternal gnawing, chipping away at him like he was a gemstone being cut for a ring. It was the storm on the horizon—thunder that made him uneasy, but didn’t scare him. Not yet.

If the fear of losing Eli had been a jump scare, or the gory, lethal slice of a killer’s axe, then the fear of losing Miguel was the slow buildup to a horrifying reveal, accompanied by a disquieting soundtrack. The constant anxiety that every corner had a monster behind it.

And right now, it’s carving a tunnel through him that’s only getting wider and wider. Demetri wonders how long it will be before he’s completely emptied out.

“I don’t think I deserve either of you,” Eli says. “Miguel always tried to be there for me. You never gave up on me. And I just…” He trails off.

Demetri snorts. “Well, only one of us was able to stomach having their back repeatedly stabbed with needles for 10+ hours. Or had the absolute balls of steel to dye their hair bright purple.”

Eli chuckles. “That’s true.”

The pit in Demetri’s stomach doesn’t take long to return.

“I’m worried about him,” he admits. “From what I picked up from Mr. L, his dad’s not a good guy. I can’t stop thinking about something happening to him out there. And especially after…”

Demetri trails off.

He knows Eli knows what he means. The fall that shattered Miguel’s back shattered both of their lives, too.

The shorter boy frowns. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Demetri forces a smile, trying to contain the unease leaking through his veins again. “Come on, Eli. If anyone can handle himself out there, it’s Miguel.”

“Are we going to find him?”

Demetri senses him slipping back into the old Eli, timid and soft-spoken and waiting on his loud-mouthed other half to call the shots. It’s a tell-tale sign, he’s learned over the past few months, that his friend is stressed. Or scared.

Often both.

Demetri reaches out, giving Eli’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yes. I promise.”

Demetri Alexopoulos is not usually one to reassure. He’s always turned his nose up at idealism, dismissing anything that could turn out to be false hope. It’s hardly worth indulging in when there’s a high probability you’ll be let down.

But now…

For both his and Eli’s sakes, he needs Miguel to be all right. He needs Miguel to be safe.

Fucking hell, he needs it so badly it hurts.

He isn’t sure if it will ever be quite as bad as worrying about Eli in Cobra Kai, and whatever fucked up training and battle-conditioning and mind-twisting they did to people in there. Still, worrying about Miguel is the kind of soft torment that could kill Demetri slowly if he let it.

“I miss him,” Eli says.

“Me, too.”

“I’m scared for him, Demetri. I’m scared for him and it’s eating me up.”

Eli’s voice shakes as he says it. His eyes are slowly growing wide with terror, tears brimming in the corners.

It reminds Demetri of the olden days, for better or for worse. When he had to be the strong one. And seeing the past cycle back around unexpectedly shakes him to his core.

For all his complaints about ‘Hawk,’ the persona had given Eli a brazen, fearless streak that filled him with the fire to charge into battle. Protect his friends, crush his enemies. Now, it seemed he’d lost hold of the belief he could do either.

“Eli.” Demetri lets his voice soften as he gives his friend’s shoulder another squeeze. “You won the fucking All-Valley Karate Tournament. I made it to the semi-finals. If we find out anyone’s been messing with Miguel, we can—and will—destroy them. No mercy.”

Eli smiles weakly. It’s small, but it’s something. “Never knew you had such a Cobra side to you.”

“Well, don’t get too excited. It only comes out on special occasions.”

Eli sighs, popping his jaw a little. “It would be easier if we knew what we were up against. Like is this guy a drug lord? Some kind of mafia boss? Does he have like…a Mexican karate gang?”

Demetri chuckles. “I know,” he huffs. “Doesn’t help that I’m pretty sure Mr. El Serpiente has not answered a single text since leaving LA. The least he could do is send a courtesy ‘I’m still alive’ text.”

“Probably worried you’ll track his phone.”

“I mean yes. I would. It’s just practical. But that’s beside the point.”

Eli laughs briefly before his face slips back into a frown. He lets out a small sigh.

“It’s just a lot,” Eli says. “To deal with. Um…emotionally, I guess. That might be weird to say. But I had to tell someone.”

“Perfectly understandable. If it helps at all, this whole thing’s been hard on me, too. I’m honestly surprised I’m holding it together as much as I am.”

Demetri realizes his hand has never left Eli’s shoulder. Almost automatically, he squeezes it again.

Eli needs it tonight.

“I’m going to give Miguel the biggest lecture of his life when we find him,” Demetri mumbles. “Who does he think he is, continuously scaring the living crap out of us like this?!”

Eli gives him a courtesy chuckle, but his smile quickly fades again. A sort of heavy melancholy settles over them, like El Segundo fog under cloudy skies.

“Do you think we’d feel better if we kissed?”

Eli speaks, and the fog abruptly clears to make way for a lightning bolt of pure confusion. Demetri blinks several times, stunned into uncharacteristic silence.

“Wh—Eli, what—uh…”

He’s stuttering, completely lost for halfway articulate words. Eli lets out a frustrated sigh, like he’s explaining some complicated math concept to him for the 15th time.

“I’m just saying. You’re sad about Miguel. I’m sad about Miguel. Maybe if we got each other a little hot and bothered, we could take our minds off it.”

“You…want us to kiss?” Demetri has to actively hold back the enormous grin threatening to explode through his cheeks. “As a distraction?”

“Yeah, y’know.” He can tell Eli is trying to sound nonchalant, but his eyes are glancing anywhere but Demetri’s. “Just forget about our friend for a few minutes and indulge in some primal urges and shit. Get off for a bit. At least something can make us feel good.”

“And you’re confident enough that we’ll both be into it to the point it’ll significantly lift our spirits?”

Demetri feels panic begin to crawl through him. Panic, because he suddenly has to act nonchalant. Relaxed. Like this isn’t everything he’s ever wanted.

He’s had hope a few times, over the years. The sensitive streak. The colored hair. The over-the-top theatrics. The girl Eli was most drawn to turning out not to be straight herself.

But Eli pined over Moon and talked about picking up chicks and loved a good brawl and could yell louder than anyone and got manly tattoos of birds of prey and omens of death. None of these things seemed anything but heterosexual.

Demetri always tried to push it down. The sadness, the longing, the desperation to know what the other boy’s lean form felt like cradled in his. These past few months, Demetri had been so relieved to have Eli’s friendship back that he’d forgotten to yearn for more. He thought maybe the feelings would finally die—he could take a step back and appreciate his relationship with his best friend for what it was.

No such luck.

“Hey, I mean.” Eli scoots closer, and Demetri’s trembling so badly that he wonders if he’s going to fall off the car again. “If it helps at all, you can pretend I’m Yas.”

Demetri makes a face, whatever spell Eli was sending his way abruptly broken. “Eli, ew! What kind of pervert do you think I am that my fantasies involve kissing women who aren’t even attracted to men?”

“A pretty standard pervert, actually.” Eli smirks, and Demetri can only shake his head.

He takes a breath, hoping it doesn’t bleed through how anxious he is.

“So, uh…getting off with another guy is sufficiently badass enough for you?”

Demetri has to make sure this isn’t a joke. That Eli isn’t fucking with him. He doesn’t think he could handle it if he was.

Eli’s smirk only widens. “Is it really gay if we’re out in the middle nowhere, and no one ever sees?”

Demetri shrugs. “Yeah, all right. I’m surprised you’re down for it is all.”

“A man’s got needs. And your mouth works just as well as a chick’s. Now should I start or do you—”

Eli doesn’t finish. Demetri clutches his other shoulder and pulls him forward, slotting their lips together.

Demetri is not at all prepared for how hungry Eli is. He feels a sturdy hand work its way into his hair, yanking him closer. Eli’s other arm wraps around his waist, holding him in place more stubbornly than a roller coaster safety bar.

He slides his arms around Eli’s neck, and the other boy uses it as an excuse to push them together even further. It’s as though if he’s not touching every inch of Demetri’s body, he’ll dissolve away.

Demetri doesn’t mind. He just hopes Eli doesn’t feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. That would be embarrassing.

Demetri remembers Moon telling him about her guilt after kissing Eli at the tournament. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, an impulse driven by sudden pity and jumping on whatever she believed would help him feel better. It did its job well enough. Like a video game power-up, it gave Eli the extra boost he needed to smash his way to a victory. Maybe if pretty girls wanted to kiss him in front of an audience, Eli was still the shit.

Moon told Demetri later that she never felt hollower. It was all for show—a simple gesture done out of love for a friend, but nothing with any real feeling or desire behind it.

This didn’t feel like a pity kiss. This didn’t feel like a “just trying to make each other feel good so we get the extra serotonin” kiss. There’s no one to show off to, no tournament they need to hype each other up to win. And Eli is clutching him too tightly and pressing against him too fiercely for this to be about nothing more than momentary pleasures.

Eli is almost kissing him like he’s been desperately longing for this, too. Almost.

Then again, Demetri knows better than to cling to false hope.

At some point they roll over, Demetri sprawled over the top of Eli like the world’s boniest blanket. They keep going, and Demetri is relatively sure he’s ascended into paradise. The dopamine soaring through him is better than the rush he gets winning a karate match. Or beating a particularly hard level of Crucible Control. Or staying up all night bingeing a new season of Doctor Who.

Sad that this is going to be the peak of his life, though. Only 17 years old, and he’s already had what is undoubtedly the best experience he ever will. It’s all downhill from here.

Demetri finally pulls away, panting and gasping for breath. Eli smiles up at him, and Demetri realizes he doesn’t need the desert sun to feel like he’s melting.

It’s faint, but there’s starlight in Eli’s eyes. A tiny piece of the endless cosmos above.

Demetri wants to cry.

“You’re pretty good.”

Eli’s smile widens as he says it—a beautiful, genuine smile, nothing like the smirks and the leers that he used to wear so well.

“So are you.” Demetri laughs softly. “I’ll give it to you, Eli. This was a good idea.”

“Yeah, obviously. Like I didn’t catch you sneaking glances to check me out the whole car ride.”

“Like you didn’t do the same with me.”

He can’t help himself. He leans down and kisses Eli again.

Apparently, it takes quite a while to get it fully out of their systems. When they’ve finally tired themselves out, Demetri pulls back and lays his head on Eli’s chest.

He feels well-muscled arms, once thinner than twigs, wrap around his torso.

His eyes slide shut, and he focuses only on the sound of the crickets, the feel of Eli’s breaths rising and falling below him. The warmth of Eli against him. The breeze drifting across his arm. The dusty smell on the wind, drizzled with the faint aroma of prickly pear. The twittering of nightjars. Cars catapulting by on the distant Carretera Hermosillo-Nogales. The occasional soft hoot of an owl.

He’s slipping into a lull when a coyote howls eerily in the distance. He lifts his head, turning to look at Eli.

“We should probably head to bed,” he says blearily. “We have to make it all the way to Mazatlán tomorrow.”

Eli groans. “Okay, okay. Get off me.”

Demetri obliges, and Eli sits up and crawls to the edge of the car roof. He tenses his legs and leaps off, disappearing from sight and landing on the dirt with a heavy thump.

When Demetri follows, he finds Eli standing below with his arms spread wide and another shit-eating grin on his face. “I’ll catch you, babe.”

Demetri rolls his eyes more dramatically than he has all night. “Right, let me just throw myself off my princess tower.”

He hurls himself off the car roof. Eli catches him, but not well.

They both land in a shrieking mass in the dirt. Before long, they’re laughing again.

Demetri stands up, offering a hand to his friend. Eli takes it, and Demetri tugs him to his feet.

Eli doesn’t pull his hand away as Demetri leads them back to the car.

Demetri wants it to mean something, his fingers locked around Eli’s. It probably doesn’t. But maybe it does.

He’ll have to hold on to that maybe.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[yesimwriting]

Solace (part 2)

SOLACE (part 2)

A part two but kinda works as a stand alone!!

A/n y’all seemed to like the first one so I thought I’d make a part two :)) This was NOT meant to be a series but now I kind of have an idea to make this a mini series where each part is kind of a blurb that connects to the last part and I think I might do that. 

Pairing: General Kirigan/the Darkling x Heartrender! reader

Summary: The day after you go visit General Kirigan at night is also the day he decides he can become more honest about his intentions for you. The softness of it all is starting to get to you but you have a good friend to remind you that it’s okay to feel happy. 

-- 

The sunlight peers into the room shyly. It stirs me awake into a soft bliss. Warmth. When was the last time I woke up feeling so warm? So rested? I squint my eyes open, still calm. But when my vision finally adjusts, I feel like ice all over again. This is not where I’m supposed to be. 

Memories of sneaking here in the darkness of night, speaking to Kirigan so freely, and then letting him convince me to stay. He had seemed to want me here then, in the night when loneliness finds easy prey in even the most hardened individuals...but now, in the morning sunlight--he’ll regret it. We made it clear I’d stay only that night--and that night is now gone. Maybe he expects me to be gone before he rises. I know that’s what most men expect after taking company for the night, but we didn’t exactly partake in activities like that. I think what we did is worse. 

Relations like that are about desire, falling asleep with someone else borders on intimacy. One misstep and who knows what I’ll invoke? I shift my gaze upwards, careful to not move in hopes of not disturbing the arms he’s draped across my back, holding me to him. Kirigan seems different in sleep, softer. His features are still sharp, but there’s something gentle about seeing him vulnerable. Something about the way his lashes brush against his cheeks and his lips stay parted just slightly. This moment can never repeat itself. It can never happen again, so I’ll have to hold onto this. 

Cautiously, I prepare to slip out of his grasp even though it feels like its the only thing tethering me to this world. I touch his first hand, moving it off of me slowly. I wait a second, and when he remains unstirring I move his other hand. 

“What are you so eager for, little wolf?” The raspy, tired quality of his voice leaves my stomach fluttering. His words jar me so much I find myself frozen. 

He reaches lazily, placing an arm on the center of my back, trying to ease me back into place. “It’s morning now.” 

His thumb brushes up and down my back in a way meant to lull me. “I’m the Shadow Summoner, the night lasts as long as I want it to.” He lets out an easy breath, “And I’m prolonging it.” 

Ignoring the warmth the implications of his words bring, I decide to focus on how dramatic he is. “Dramatic even so early in the morning.” 

Kirigan’s eyes flutter open, the slightest smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Watch yourself, little wolf.” There is no malice in his voice, only something hinting at teasing too humane for me to trust. 

I roll my eyes, letting his fingers brush wherever he wants them to--up and down my back, down the arms I am too aware of. The desire to touch him easily, casually, just to prove that I have that privilege. I stretch, pushing down thoughts of rejection as I place a hand on his chest. He pauses, one hand frozen in place on my back. Slowly, he moves his hand away from me. I tense, preparing to retract my hand. He catches my hand before I can pull it away, moving it towards him easily until my hand is against his cheek. 

“Y/n.” He’s called me my name so few times, and the restraint in his voice leaves me unnerved. “Will you wear a black kefta today?” 

His color. Perhaps he meant the promise of solace more literally than I thought. Anyone who sees me will think I’ve been claimed by him in one way or another. Perhaps I have been. The thought stirs my chest, moving me in a way I can’t distinguish as a positive or negative. I feel myself being ensnared in a lovely trap, but when I look at him, at the honesty burning in his gaze, it’s almost as if he’s asking me to claim him. 

“Yes.” Again the word leaves me as if willed by some outside force. 

Kirigan’s intensity dwindles slightly. His hand drops from over mine, but I keep mine on his cheek, running my thumb across his skin. “You’ll do good for me today, little wolf.” His words leave no room for argument. I think speaking like that is a talent of his. “You always do so good for me.” The admiration in his words melt something in me, my entire body warmed in a way I don’t understand. Kirigan brushes his knuckles across my cheek again. 

I’ve been silent for too long, each second I waste inflating his ego. “You’re suspiciously nice in the mornings.” 

“You’re only skeptical because you never let anyone take care of you.” His words are chiding and the implication of them leaves my face warm. “So much promise,” he muses, hand trailing down my jawline, “So much power,” his fingers skim down my neck and across my collarbone. “I wonder what someone like you could do with an amplifier.”

An amplifier. I’ve seen them in use, and knowing what I could do with something that strengthens my already abrasive abilities. I could be a monster so easily. Kirigan must see some of my concern because he’s quick to sit up a little more in order to close the distance between us the way he did last night. He brushes his lips against my collarbone in a way that leaves me distracted by wanting. A wanting for what, I’m not sure. I ease into his touch. 

“Today everyone will know what you are.” His voice is gentle against the base of my neck. “And they will know that we are meant to be equals.” 

I feel the need to panic rise in my chest, but it’s dulled by the warmth his lips leave against my skin. “I’m only a Heartrender, I can’t be your equal.” 

“You are,” he whispers, so assured, “With a heart as good as yours you may even be more.”

His words are too weighted for so early in the morning, but there is always tension with him. Shadows are meant to be weightless but I think they’re like anything else--carry enough of them and eventually you’ll break. 

When he straightens I move to follow him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “You’re good, too.” There has to be goodness in him. No one capable of such warmth and gentleness can be made up entirely of wicked things. 

“You claimed I was a villain.” 

Did my words really impact him so? “My opinion isn’t law.” 

Something strange flickers across his features. “It might as well be.” 

I swallow back a bundle of nerves. “Sometimes I’m wrong.” 

The words crack something vulnerable in me. A part of me thinks he can feel the part of me that’s breaking in hopes of offering him something. 

“You really are my solace.” I don’t know how to reciprocate such a gilded sentiment. 

I rest my head against his shoulder, taking his hand. “I’m glad to be that.” 

He squeezes my hand. “We should go get ready before people start to notice our absence.” 

I consider reminding him what he told me last night, but he has a point. There’s a difference between a rumor of me pacing in the night and both of us showing up late at the same time. Still though, a part of me is already grieving this version of Kirigan. Outside of this room his coldness will return. ‘Just for tonight’. We had agreed on that. But when the night ended, and the morning sun colored us both sane again, he had asked me to wear his color. 

“I’ll go get dressed,” I stay still. 

Kirigan runs his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll have a black kefta sent to you.”

That has to mean something. Wait--do I want it to mean something? I pull my hand away from his stiffly, standing because I know the longer I’ll wait the worse it will be. “I’ll see you during training.” 

“My door will be unlocked after.” 

At that, my chest swells. He’s offered me an opening. “Good to know.” 

His eyes narrow slightly at my coyness. “Find me after?” 

“Only because you’re nicer in here.” He wants me to come back. 

--

The black kefta does not feel like my own. The color is too alluring, too dark and enthralling. It is not meant for someone like me. It feels borrowed, but I’m not entirely uncomfortable. It’s almost like he’s still with me, keeping me from being alone. 

When I walk down the halls, I feel the stares of the others sticking to me like tar. They barely tolerated me before--the grisha plucked from the slums after a fateful night in which Kirigan saw the extent of my abilities. 

“New clothes, l/n?” 

Julian’s words coax an easy smile from me. Always so open, so accepting. Even now he doesn’t pester me about the black kefta. “I barely noticed.” 

My lack of real response earns me a playful glare. “Is that the only explanation I get? Moving up the ranks without me?” 

I roll my eyes. He’s joking, but he’s drawing more eyes to me. “I’m not leaving you, Julian.” He’s been too good a friend for me to leave. “Nothing’s changed except the color of my clothing.” 

“Good.” Julian’s lips twitch upwards, offering me the kind of smile that’s earned him many trysts with many women. “I’d miss you too much.” 

And while I doubt that my disappearance would do anything else than up his popularity, I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh I’m sure you’d find a way to find company.” 

He half laughs, “What are you implying of my virtue?”

Laughing, I roll my eyes as we continue to walk down the halls. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

Julian reaches for me, touching my forearm. I stall. “In all seriousness, y/n, I really appreciate your friendship.” 

Aw. Never did I think I’d have so many people to appreciate here. I think of Kirigan, of the vulnerability in his words and the new facet of him I saw last night that I somehow always knew he had in him. He may be a villain, or just one in the making, but he is more than a dark shadow. I find myself releasing I appreciate Kirigan too. It’s different than the way I care about Julian, more fragile, but it’s still a relationship I’ve created here. 

I look down at the space where his hand touches my forearm. “I really appreciate your friendship, too. You’ve gotten me through a lot.”

“You need to give yourself some credit.” He releases my arm, turning to continue to walk forward. 

I turn as well, “You should too.”

 I look forward, and there, in the near distance is Kirigan. He’s staring at me, eyes lacking everything he had earlier. I offer him a small smile. He does not return it, his drops slowly to the ground. Weird. I guess he’s just turning on his indifference for a day of training. He asked me to wear his color, he asked me to come back. 

Does he regret it? Maybe it was a premature request for me to wear his color so publicly. His gaze finds mine again, and with a tilt of his head he gestures for me to follow him.

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper