#where was i even going with this! i dont know!

[strkly]

misunderstanding

s.m: you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x avengers!gn!reader

w.c: 2k

c.w: hurt/comfort, bob being avoidant (but he means well), two idiots in love, hea, reader implied to be an og avenger, no use of y/n, thunderbolts spoilers obv. not proofread and intentionally lower case.

a.n: as soon as i finished the thunderbolts i wrote this LOL. im already working on like three more for him

After you had all saved the city and had been established as the new avengers you and bob had been inseparable. you had chucked it up to you just seeming the friendliest out of all of them but the looks the rest of the team all exchanged with one another anytime the two of you were around told you they thought otherwise.

you watched movies with him, went to go get milkshakes together, helped him with the chores around the base, there wasn't really a second the two of you weren't together unless you were out on a mission or sleeping.

yet as a recent theres been a shift. hes been avoiding you. its so obvious to not only you but everyone else in the team, he was more than happy to chat with yelena ava alexei hell he’d even rather talk to walker than he’d rather talk to you. the only person also seemingly receiving the cold shoulder from bob was bucky who shrugged when you asked him if he had any clue what was going on.

whenever you would walk into the room and smile at him he stared at you wide eyed before rushing out the room mumbling to himself before you could say anything to him. you tried not to let your heart break show on your face as you watched him flee the room as you had entered. you had been so determined to get him to talk to you today after over a week of nothing from him but watching him run away from you killed any sort of motivation you once had.

the pout only grows on your face as you feel yelena pat your back in pity. “i dont know what i did wrong.” shes quiet for a moment before she speaks, “dont worry im sure he’ll get over this weird phase and you’ll get back to normal in no time.” you look down at your feet and sigh, maybe she was right. you knew he struggled with his mental health maybe he just needed space yet the idea of that being it just made you feel worse. he had always confided in you, told things he wouldnt even tell the therapist he started seeing. it made you feel trust worthy, like the two of you had a bond stronger than words could describe. you like him, you like him so much your heart feels like its about to burst out of your chest at the thought of him.

it was later that same night. you could see the light peering out from under his door. he was up, but when you knocked on his door you were only greeted with silence. “bob?” silence. you sigh before pressing your head up against the door. “i just wanted to say goodbye, were leaving for the mission, me and bucky.” you can hear some shuffling inside at your words, you almost let yourself hope he’s about to come to the door but after a few more beats he still doesn’t respond.

“i miss you bob.” the words spill out before you’re able to stop them, “im sorry, for whatever ive done im so sorry, i just want use to go back to the way we were. i miss you so much, i hope we can talk once i’m back. goodbye.” you force yourself away from the door as the tears begin to pour down your face you don't even bother to glance back at the door as you exit the hallway and down to the area where bucky is waiting for you. he doesn't comment on your tear stricken face, simply just placing hand on your shoulder and asking if your ready to go. with a quick nod you join him on the ship and your off. you silently thank him for it.

what you don’t know is bob is curled up in a ball in his bed, pressing his face tightly against the stuffed bear you had bought him as a gift as he tried to silence his own sobs. it was for the better, he told himself over and over again. you didn't need him, not when you had him, you were better off without him as much as it made his heart ache.

five days. it had been five days since you had left and bob felt like he was losing his mind. he didnt leave his room, laying and rotting in his bed hoping the universe would just swallow him up. it took yelena and walker finally coming into his room to force him out of bed much to his dismay. he couldnt stomach to eat anything, shaking his head and hanging it down like a child clinging his stuffed bear to his chest while they tried. he knew it was a pathetic display but he couldnt find it in himself to care.

the rest of the team stares at him in pity, unsure of what to say. they all knew what he was going through, the only one oblivious to it was you, as walker finally sighed and opened his mouth to speak they all froze at the sound of the doors slamming open. “can somebody call a doctor?” bucky called out and everyone turned to see him enter the room. you were held in buckys arms, all beaten up covered in blood. bobs head spins, he doesnt hear the sounds of everyone asking what happened he doesnt see ava running off to get medic all he sees if you and he faints.

the mission was supposed to be easy. it was easy, until the last guy standing ended up being a mutant neither of you were prepared for. you ended up taking the bigger hit and bucky quickly finished the job rushing to take you back to the tower. your injuries were not life threatening but you lost a lot of energy in the fight and had ended up knocked out for a couple days. when you regain consciousness the first thing you hear is his voice. bob. he’s talking with someone whos voice you an barely make out, based on the brass and tone you assume its bucky. you cant make out what he’s saying but you cant bring yourself to open your eyes just yet.

footsteps ensue with a couple final words exchanged before the gentle opening and closing of the door and suddenly you’re alone with him. you can hear the scrapping of a chair and suddenly his very warm body heat flows next to you, you can feel his hands playing with the blanket as he sniffs. “please wake up.” you still cant open your eyes, maybe you’re still too tired but a part of you thinks you simply want to hear what he’s going to say.

“im- im so stupid. im so so so so stupid. all ive been dreaming about is seeing you again,” you feel him place his head on your stomach and you try to keep your heart and breathing at a regular pace, “i wanna sit on the couch together and watch movies and drink milkshakes and talk about anything with you i miss you please i was so stupid please just wake up so i can hear your voice again.” your chest aches and you fight the frown growing on your face. you open your eyes, realizing his has his face turned away from you. when you go to speak he manages to beat you to it. “i was so jealous.”

his words have you almost gasping before quickly closing your eyes again realizing he was turning his head to look at you. your mind running a mile a minute, you had no clue what he was talking about but his words had you hopeful, you couldnt help but be eager for whatever he was about to say. “he’s so much cooler than me. i get why you must like him, i just,, i just wish i could be the one you like. the one you think is cool but i know im not worthy of that.” what? you almost find the word spilling out from your lips but you manage to stop yourself. “i just couldnt do it anymore, after i saw you guys in the kitchen, you were smiling at him, i couldnt make that ache in my chest go away like you taught me and whenever i saw you it just go worse so i ran away like a coward. im such a loser.”

it finally clicks. you remember.

it was late at night. you had stepped out of your room to get a glass of water. when you got to the kitchen bucky was also there drinking a glass of whiskey, the two of you chatted for a moment and when you opened up the dishwasher to get a glass you busted out laughing at the sight of his metal arm in the dishwasher. “what the hell is that doing in there?” “what how do you think i clean the damn thing?” ‘not in the dishwasher! you’re so stupid bucky.” he walks towards you and leans down to be face to face with you, “thats why you like me doll.” you grin and hit him on the chest, shaking your head. “shut up.”

you opened your eyes once more and realize he had pushed his face to be pressing against your stomach. slightly shaking as he sobbed lightly into the fabric. your heart ached, realizing how sad he must have been. how lonely he must have felt. he freezes when you put your hand on his hair lightly running your fingers through it. “i dont like bucky.” your words are course, its clear your throat is yearning for some sort of hydration but you dont care. his head flys up and he looks at you with his wide wet eyes. your name tumbles from his trembling lips but you still continue to speak. “ive known him for a long time, he’s called me that for forever, he was just joking around with me i dont like him i promise.” he continues to stare at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he clenches his jaw and looks down at the floor, mumbling to himself, “im so stupid.”

as much as it hurts you force yourself to sit up and touch his shoulder. he looks up at you, a much sadder expression having taken over his face. “i love you bob.” his breath hitches, “i love you so much it kills me.” you wait for him to say something back, anything in return but he simply stares. you wait for him, you’re so patience with him he just can’t help himself.

you yelp in surprise when he suddenly laches onto you and you fall back with him ontop of you. you ignore how much your body burns in pain as he shoves his head in your neck. “i love you i love you so much.” you feel so much relief your eyes burn with tears. you can hear him mumbling over and over again that he loves you and it feels unreal, like youre dreaming and youll wake up soon.

“bob look at me.” he reluctantly pulls away from you and stares at you with heart eyes, your hands gently cup his face before pressing your lips against his. he eagerly but sloppily returns it, clearly inexperienced but you cant even find yourself caring as you can feel him brightly smile against you all other thoughts float away from you.

hours later when bucky comes back to check on you a smile falls on his lips as he sees bob laying on top of you and the two of you asleep peacefully, both of you unknowingly smiling in your sleep. he shakes his head before walking away. he pulls out his phone and clicks a couple things before raising it to his ear as he walks down the hall. “you own me 50 sam i told you they would get together.”

[exitwound]

cant stop thinking about that part of that substack comment "...when you trust yourself to eat gorgeously...". And what it means to eat gorgeously, you know already, I dont have to explain it. You know exactly what it means. But when it happens, it happens on accident: sliced cherry tomatoes fried on the pan with the eggs, olive oil, salt, pepper on accident. The part that was gorgeous wasnt the part with the tomatoes, or even the feeling behind the reason you added the tomatoes, which was the feeling that maybe you should put in a little extra effort tonight even though youre making eggs and toast for dinner because its your lowest effort meal; one that often sickens you as easily as it feeds you. It was the part where you didnt for one second think it wasnt going to be good.

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Someone Precious II

Caleb x Non MC Reader

a/n: seeing all of you guys really like the first part defo made me feel all warm and giggly! so thank you for all of your lovely comments! also i am not well versed in the realm of medicine/hospitals and stuff so please bear with me as i write the scenes dealing with those, i most likely will briefly touch on those and not go into too much detail. also i finally got a desk and a monitor so now i can do all my writing in comfort rather than hunched over on my bed! Also this part doesn't really have much Caleb unless you include reader thinking about him. another side note, this part will be short but i will write more for the other parts, i just needed this one to be on its own focusing on the pregnancy a bit so that in the other parts i can focus on the relationships with MC, Caleb etc.

also i dont think i mentioned this in my previous part but ill make sure to add it to my masterlist description, the setting of this series will be taking place in a world where ever, evols and wanderers do not exist. some aspects of the characters and how they met have been tweaked to fit with the plot, so pls dont come at me if something isnt how you remember it in the game.

Divider creds @/cafekitsune

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is female and is AFAB, pregnancy,

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

series masterlist

taglist: @aneertawrites @eurydiceknowshesloved @angelichiaro @nommingonfood @ynovaes @animegamerfox @melonssoup @iamawkwardandshy @novthirty @rosevelt632 @sleepless-cloudy @justpassingdontworry @sleepykittyenergy @ijustwannabeyourmuse @iiyumii @eolivy @asakiyu

You sat there numb, your thoughts were a broken record.

'I'm pregnant.'

That's all your brain could handle at the moment. MC sat next to you in silence, rubbing a soothing hand on your back,

She knew that right now what you needed was comfort through gestures and not words, so she just waited patiently until you were ready to say something.

No matter what decision you made, she was ready to support you.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed, you still hadn't spoken up but you had moved to lie in your bed.

MC had gone out to get some lunch, which left you alone with your thougthts.

If there was one thing you had come to a conclusion for, it was that you were going to keep the baby.

Call it a motherly instinct, but you didn't have the heart to abandon an innocent soul.

It wasn't long before MC came back, calling you to come to the dining room. She had gotten your favourite takeaway hoping that it would cheer you up a little bit, and it did.

You smiled as you helped her set the table. As you guys were unpacking the food you decided to finally tell her what was going through your head.

"I'm going to keep the baby. I don't want to abandon an innocent soul and I've always wanted a child, it just didn't happen the way I would have hoped."

You said with a sad smile as you placed a hand on your stomach.

You had dreamed of having a family, more specifically with Caleb. In a way you got your wish, but it felt like fate was cruel for granting it the way they did.

You're still young, you don't even know if you'll even be a good mother. But there's one thing for sure, you have the best possible support system you could ever ask for.

MC's smile mirrored your own.

Dinner was spent in silence, it was comfortable. MC didn't push you for a conversation and you were grateful for that.

●・○・●・○・●・

It had been a week since the news, and now you were here standing in front of Akso Hospital.

You were feeling nervous, a part of you felt like you would be judged for the reason of your visit, but you knew that was just the anxiety talking.

Taking a deep breath you walked in, it was now or never.

The nurse at the reception desk was sweet, her tone and gaze held no judgement as she guided me to the examination room.

You got settled and just laid there staring at the ceiling, you tried to keep your thoughts positive and light, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Caleb.

What it would be like to have him here with you. Would he reassure you? Would he be as nervous as you are?

All these 'what ifs' that'll never become a reality. You could only hope that you could be enough for your child.

●・○・●・○・●・

Your appointment confirmed exactly what those pregnancy tests said, you were six weeks pregnant.

You knew Caleb was the father. He was your first, and honestly your last.

At this moment in time your heart didn't have the ability to love another. He was everything you wanted in a man.

Maybe I should re-evaluate what a man is.

You thought bitterly, but you chided yourself just as quickly as that thought came.

You didn't want to think of him that way or think negatively at all, not wanting those feelings to affect your health and bring any complications for your child.

"It's ok my baby, mommy and Aunty MC will make sure you never feel insecure about not having a father."

Your words were not only to comfort your child, but also to comfort yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

6 weeks later

You were back at Akso Hospital again, this time it was for a follow up appointment.

MC had taken time off work to come with you this time, saying how it's part of her aunty duties.

It was cute, and it never failed to put a smile on your face when she would talk excitedly about all the things she would do with her future niece or nephew.

You had assumed this check up would be the same as the first one, just a normal procedure to make sure that the baby and mum are doing ok.

Boy were you in for a treat.

As your doctor moved the wand around your growing belly you noticed something on the screen that you didn't see last time.

"Congratulations! It seems you'll be having twins."

MC let out the loudest squeal known to man at the news, you could practically feel her excitement radiating off of her.

You matched her energy with a smile on your face.

I guess my little family just grew by one.

You thought to yourself.

"Would you guys like to know the gender or do you want to keep it a surprise?"

Your doctor asked. You personally wanted to keep it as a surprise because you could already see the gears turning in MC's head.

You knew exactly what she was planning and in all honesty, you wanted to let her have her way.

She was your rock and sole supporter through all of this, you would feel bad if you didn't let her do what she wanted.

"I'd like for it to be kept a secret but by all means let her know, I can tell she's dying of curiosity."

You let out a soft laugh, your doctor cleaned up the gel and helped you up.

MC gave you a big hug before you made your way outside.

It didn't take long before MC came skipping out the room, her smile was so bright you thought you might go blind.

That night MC treated you to dinner and insane amount of sweets, which totally satiated the cravings you were having.

●・○・●・○・●・

6 months later

You were in your final trimester, it was a relatively easy going pregnancy, if you ignore the fact that you feel like a walking balloon.

Most of your days were spent in bed as the weight of your stomach made it hard to move around too much.

It was times like these that it made you think of Caleb. Even though you had promised yourself that you wouldn't, but at the end of the day you were still madly in love with a man who ghosted you after your first time.

Crazy isn't it? Your heart was a fool in love while your brain tried to be the rational one, but every now and then you would give in to the thoughts of what would have happened if he didn't run off.

Would he be here helping you through all of this? If he were to come back, how would you confront him?

You could only pray that he didn't show up in front of you any time soon, because the moment he did you would give him a beating of a lifetime.

Your due date was somewhat nearby but not close enough yet. You had your hospital bag packed and a baby carrier all ready to go right by the door. That way you and MC wouldn't be scrambling around last minute trying to find everything.

You were feeling nervous, you didn't know what the delivery would be like and you worried for your babies, wondering if you could make up for the lack of father figure they would have in their life.

You had taken a look at the time and had noticed it was quite late and MC had yet to come back from work. Just as you were about to give her a call, you heard the sound of the door being unlocked.

MC walked in holding a multitude of things, the most obvious one being balloons that read Boy or Girl?

"Surprise!"

MC exclaims, you don't know if it was just you or the hormones but you started bawling. The love that you felt was immense, no words could explain it.

You waddled over to MC to help her but she waved you off and told you to take a seat on the couch as she set things up.

You waddled back to the couch and settled in to the cushions as MC worked quick with her set up.

As soon as she was done she set up her phone so that it would capture the background and us.

"We're gonna do this trend I saw on social media, so just follow my lead."

MC gave a brief explanation and you nodded in understanding.

"Hi I'm your Aunt MC and I think you guys are gonna be two beautiful baby girls."

You giggled, you knew that she already knew the genders but thought it was cute that she wanted to at least pretend that she didn't know.

"Hi my babies, I'm your mommy and I think you guys will be beautiful boy and girl."

You always wanted a daughter and a son, but you also would be happy with either gender as long as they were healthy.

"Okay, now we're gonna do the gender reveal. Take this glass and close your eyes, on the count of three we'll push it into the cakes and see what the genders are."

MC pushed one cake towards you and placed the other one in front of her.

Following her instructions, you placed the glass over the cake and closed your eyes.

"One, two, three!"

You brought the glass down and prayed you actually got some cake in there and not just frosting.

"Ok open your eyes!"

You could hear the smile in her voice.

You opened your eyes and looked at your glass and then MC's, they were both blue.

You pulled MC into a hug, you don't know if it was the hormones or the situation but you started crying, they were happy tears.

You felt so happy that you had such an amazing friend by your side, you didn't even wanna think what life would've been like if she wasn't in it.

In the midst of all the emotions and excitement you didn't notice the seat under you getting wet until you started to feel like you may have peed your pants.

You pulled back from MC and said,

"I think my water just broke."

[kurittomat]

The twin colonies -lore!

Some lore I have managed to brainstorm about Ukko's and Naakkatar's home colonies. All of this can still change + I don't know how big part of the story any of this is yet.

Twin colonies:

-Two cat colonies who live on a small island in the middle of a river.

-They absolutely hate each other and have been in war since. Since forever.

-Or they were until a huge battle took place and killed such a big part of both colonies that they decided that it is time for peace.

-To achieve this they married Naakkatar and Ukko. Crown prince of one colony and kitten of a well liked family from another colony.

-Both colonies hate and fear "unnatural" stuff (aka creatures like She from Jumalanpelko) so good that Naakkatar and Ukko dont start doing anything weird like switching bodi-- oh fuck

-The colonies dont have names yet so lets call them The Kingdom and Swans

The Kingdom:

-Lead by king/queen. The role is inherited by the ruling cat's bio kitten (usually oldest but can also be the kitten who fits the role best)

-VERY strict pecking order. King/queen has all the power. (Swans make fun of this since usually cat colonies don't have such dictators as leaders)

-Polygamous (you can also just have one mate but it is rare), pretty fine with queer cats (as long as you are still having babies)

-Having kittens is an honour and cats are encouraged to have litters cause WE NEED SOME CATS TO BEAT UP THE SWANS

-Some cats in The Kingdom have blue eyes! These are mostly in the royal bloodline but have spread

The Swans

-No clear leader. Swans are lead by the most well liked families

-Monogamous. All cats are to get married before they turn one. Some families arrange the marriages, some don't. You don't HAVE TO marry but you will be side-eyed and everyone thinks you will steal their wife/husband and you won't get to make big decisions (The Kingdom makes fun of this since this isnt natural for cats. Swans go "well at least we arent little hoes")

-Marriages are always to have kittens (so they can have more dudes to beat up The Kingdom) so no no for queers

-They have last names! Usually when cats get married they take the last name of what ever family is more popular at the moment.

-Cheating/having mates outside/before marriage is A BIG NO NO, it isnt rare for cats to get killed for that (more often mollies since having kittens can't really be hidden, tom cats can just say "fake news didnt happen")

-Since (even tho it is super forbitten) it isnt rare that cats have kittens with cats from the other colony The Swans also have a few blue eyed cats (and they are side-eyed cause WHERE DID YA GET THOSE EYES HUH) and if you have a blue eyed kitten (even if it was something they inherited from their grandparents ect) you will have to do some explaining.

So yeah wouldnt want to live in either one of these

[cheesewhip3]

ok,, rant on my hatred of remmick/reader fics (specifically very obvious white fem reader) and remmick/sammy fics. theres a lot of ramble and is it a good rant? no not really. and theres mild spoilers

stop fucking making remmick/reader fics in a BLACK CENTRED MOVIE OH MY GOD AND I DONT WANNA HEAR SHIT LIKE "oh hes irish he was colonised too!!! we need to take that into consideration!!" IM IRISH AND I KNOW WHEN TO SHUT THE FUCK UP WHEN A FORM OF MEDIA IS ABOUT A MARGINALISED COMMUNITY!!!!! you guys really saw a movie about BLACK PEOPLES CULTURE AND MUSIC AND TOOK THE WHITE GUY AND MADE 90% OF FICS IVE SEEN ON AO3 ABOUT HIM. dont tell me shit about "dont like dont read" im well aware of fandom etiquette and all that but seriously there are PLENTY of male main characters in Sinners, fucks sake we got Michael B Jordan TWICE and you pick the irish guy. you pick THE WHITE MAN IN A MOVIE ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE. like surely you can write your reader/canon fics and not make it about Remmick?? wheres the Annie/Smoke fics?? or the Stack/Mary fics?? AND DONT LET ME SEE FUCKING REMMICK/SAMMY I WILL HAVE AN ANEURYSM!!!!!!!! ive fucking done basic maths, and i know irish history and Remmick is around 1200-1300 years old making him have been born around the 7-8th century. christianity was brought to ireland around the 5th century, he was catholic yes and yes he was colonised (1169-1921 ish) but that doesnt mean you can all go "but but hes like the Black people too!!!! 🥺🥺" NO!!! NOT HE IS NOT!! yes he is irish and would have been subjected to discrimination but NOTHING like compared to black people AND he can use the fact hes white like how he did with bert and joan. THERE IS NO EXCUSE TO NOT WRITE FICS THAT ARENT ABOUT THAT BASTARD WHITE MAN PLEASE. if i see any sammy/remmick fics i WILL be making that sneaking white devil deader then he already is. if you went and watched sinners and then went home IGNORED THE ENTIRE POINT OF THE MOVIE and wrote remmick fanfic with a very obviously WHITE character 😭😭😭😭 bro i might have the worst media literacy skills of all time but even i can fucking get the BLATANTLY OBVIOUS THEMES OF RACISM, WHITE PRIVILEGE AND POWER AND HOW HE USES VAMPIRISM AS A WAY TO COLONISE ALREADY COLONISED PEOPLE then there must be no fucking hope left for the people who write the damn remmick fanfics. was that too mean? probably. i just HATE the remmick fanfic in a movie about and for black people. WRITE FANFIC WITH THE PROTAGONISTS PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU ALL!!!!

[friccafracc]

i dont even smoke but sometimes i just have those days where im like "fuck i could really go for a cigarette rn" and i have to kill that thought immediately. not because i know smoking is bad for me but because my darling beloved boyfriend has asthma and i would rather die than do that to him

[velarisdusk]

The Force That Binds

Azriel x Reader

Day 3: Fate / Choice @sjmxreaderweek summary: Under the glow of Starfall, fate calls—but you don't answer. Azriel reaches for it, the bond thrumming between you, waiting. But the night is long, and you don't reach back. word count: 4.9k content: [ explicit language, alcohol (drinking, intoxication), verbal conflict, physical conflict (grabbing, restraint, mentions of bruising), emotional distress, toxic relationship dynamics ] author's note: this doesnt have anything to do with the main point of this fic but like,, man i'd LOVE to go clubbing with the IC they'd be so fun bruh especially drunk like come on (oh also i know they dont have speakers and subwoofers in prythian but suspend your disbelief for a bit pls thank u)

The night hums with life, thick with the scent of spiced wine and citrus, undercut by the faint acrid bite of burning cedar. Laughter spills through the streets, and the sky glows with distant light, only hours away from the celestial dance of spirits streaking across the heavens. Feyre’s laughter is bright as she spins beneath the starlight, the fabric of her dress catching the glow, shimmering like mist scattered in the wind.

It’s the kind of night that’s meant for forgetting. And maybe, just maybe, for a little while, you can forget, too. 

But the air around you isn’t only filled with laughter. There’s an unmistakable weight pressing at the edges of your awareness, thick and inescapable. A presence that lingers, that clings to your skin like an unseen touch. 

Azriel. 

His shadows shift with restless energy, moving with a mind of their own, as if mirroring the tension coiled within him. Even when your back is turned, even when you’re wrapped up in conversation with Feyre or Mor, you can feel the weight of his stare—unwavering, unrelenting.

The bond hums between you, a quiet, insistent thing. A tether neither of you asked for. It’s been like this for months, this fragile, volatile limbo between what you are and what you refuse to acknowledge. And you hate it. Hate the way it’s changed everything. Hate the way it’s changed him.

Azriel was your friend. Once. The one who would stand beside you in silence when words weren’t needed, the one who knew you better than you knew yourself. There were no expectations, no need to define what you had. He was your constant, your anchor in all the ways that mattered.

But now?

Now, he’s your mate.

And you never wanted a mate. Never wanted to be bound to anyone, least of all him—someone who deserves more than what you’re willing to give. You’ve tried to push it down, bury it, ignore the way it pulls at you in quiet moments, but it’s always there. A whisper in the back of your mind. A weight in your chest. A force neither of you knows how to handle.

Feyre’s fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you into the crowd, into the music thrumming through the courtyard. “Come on,” she urges, her smile wide, breathless from laughter. “You’ve been in your head all night.”

The music vibrates beneath your skin, the press of bodies around you a blur of movement and heat. Mor twirls, golden hair catching in the glow of the lanterns strung high above, her eyes flashing with mischief as she winks at you.

You lift your drink to your lips, the golden burn curling through your veins, smoothing the jagged edges of your thoughts. You let it anchor you here, in this moment, where nothing exists beyond the steady pulse of the music and the warmth of your friends at your side.

For a little while, you let yourself believe it’s enough.

You dance. You laugh. You feel the weight of the night wrap around you like silk, thick with starlight and the taste of freedom. But even as you move, even as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you feel his gaze like a phantom touch against your spine.

Watching. Waiting.

You exhale, tilting your head back, willing the weight of him away.

Mor slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “You’re thinking too much again,” she teases, voice loud over the music.

Feyre laughs, nudging you playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re getting all broody on us. That’s Az’s job.”

It’s meant as a joke—harmless, lighthearted—but something in your chest tightens anyway. You force a smirk, shaking your head. “Please,” you scoff, taking another sip of your drink. “I’d sooner let Cassian style my hair.”

Laughter rings out around you, bright and easy. Mor says something that gets lost in the music, but you catch the tail end of it before she walks away—something about finding someone to take home tonight.

And then—

“Did I hear my name?”

Cassian’s voice, warm and amused, cuts through the haze. He steps into the circle, the starlight catching on the sharp planes of his face. His shirt is undone at the collar, his hair mussed like he’s already spent hours reveling in the night’s festivities. He looks every bit the warrior at ease—grinning, easygoing, utterly in his element.

He arches a brow, smirking as he rakes a hand through his hair. “For the record, I’d do a fantastic job with your hair.”

Feyre snorts. “You’d have her looking like she flew through a storm.”

Cassian gasps, appalled. “I’ll have you know, my braiding skills are unmatched.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Feyre muses, tilting her head. “You did do a great job on that doll’s hair for Nyx.”

You blink. “Wait. You braid Nyx’s dolls’ hair?”

Cassian glares at Feyre like she’s betrayed him. “That was classified information.”

Laughter spills from your lips before you can stop it, warmth spreading through your chest, untangling something tight within you.

Cassian lifts his drink, swirling the deep amber liquid. “Wanna try?”

You nod and eagerly take the straw between your lips, pulling a slow sip. The smoky burn lingers on your tongue, and you hum in approval. But the moment it settles in your stomach, something shifts.

Not around you—within you.

A sharp tug in your chest. Low, insistent. A flare of heat threading through your veins.

Not yours.

You don’t have to look to know. You can feel it through the bond—the taut pull of something dark and possessive tightening like a vice.

But you don’t react. Don’t let it show.

Instead, you grin at Cassian, nudging him with your elbow. “Okay, that’s really good. You have to take me to the bar and order me one.”

Cassian throws an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the glowing bar across the courtyard. “Let’s get you properly set up, then.”

You glance toward Feyre, to ask if she’s coming along, only to find herself wrapped in Rhys’ arms, moving in a way you’ve never seen her dance before. He stands behind her, hands splayed low on her hips, guiding her in slow, teasing movements that match the rhythm of the music. Feyre’s head tilts back against his shoulder, her parted lips curving in a breathless laugh—one Rhys claims in an instant, pressing his mouth to hers over her shoulder. It isn’t sweet. It isn’t chaste. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world shrink to a single point, one that burns low and deep. 

You smirk, shaking your head as you turn back to Cassian. “Never mind. I don’t think she’ll be joining us.”

Cassian follows your gaze and groans, exasperated. “Every damn year.” He gestures vaguely at the display. “Like clockwork. I swear they do this just to remind the rest of us that we’re single.”

You snort, letting him lead you through the crowd, where the air is thick with heat, laughter, and the heady haze of alcohol. The energy is electric, a pulse thrumming beneath the revelry. You should be caught up in it, thinking only of the next drink, the next joke, the next dance.

But that pull—that dark, furious thing—only tightens.

At the bar, Cassian leans an elbow against the counter, signaling the bartender with an easy flick of his fingers and ordering before turning to you. “I’m surprised Mor hasn’t dragged you onto the dancefloor yet,” he muses, swirling his drink. “Must be waiting for the right moment.”

You huff a laugh, pressing your back against the bar’s edge. “Oh, she’ll get her turn. I just needed reinforcements first.”

Cassian grins as the bartender slides a drink toward you. “One for the troublemaker,” he says, lifting his own glass in a mock toast.

You take a sip but hesitate as a better idea takes hold.

Glancing at the bartender, you nod toward the rows of bottles behind her. “Four shots, please. Dealer’s choice.”

Her brows rise. “You sure?”

Cassian chuckles, giving you a pointed look. “You sure?”

You scowl at both of them. “Absolutely.”

The bartender just shrugs and starts pouring. Four shots—each different, each unknown. One a deep amber, another crystal clear, the third an ominous shade of red, the last dark as ink. You slide two toward Cassian and keep the safer-looking ones for yourself. 

He eyes the red one warily. “That looks like something that should be in a cauldron, not a glass.”

You smirk. “Only one way to find out.”

He shakes his head, laughing. “Well, at least Mor and I still have a reliable drinking partner.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers to that.”

You each tap your glass to the bar and knock the first shot back. It burns, coiling deep in your stomach before unfurling through your veins. Cassian curses as he slams his own back, shaking his head like a dog ridding itself of water. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “That one had a bite.”

You barely pause before reaching for your second. This one is smoother—almost sweet. You hardly have time to process it before Cassian downs his own, grunting at the taste. 

You reach for your mixed drink to chase it down, but before you can take a sip, Cassian’s hand closes around your wrist.

“Whoa,” he laughs. “Take a second. Can’t have you dying on me yet.”

You scowl, but he only grins, nudging your shoulder as the warmth spreads through your limbs like honey. 

And gods, you feel good.

Weightless. Buzzing with something electric and bright. The music shifts, fast and reckless, and suddenly—

“I gotta go,” you announce, setting your drink down with an unceremonious thunk. 

Cassian raises a brow. “Uh, go where?”

You don’t answer, already turning away. “You can have my drink!” 

It takes only seconds to find Mor and Feyre, arms raised, their laughter lost in the pounding bass. You launch yourself into the fray, draping yourself over Mor’s back and squeezing her shoulders. 

She shrieks, spinning to face you. “There you are!”

“There I am!” you echo, throwing your hands up like you’ve just made a grand entrance. 

Mor cheers, lifting her drink, while Feyre yanks you in and presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek. 

The beat surges, and you move together, limbs loose, movements wild. Mor twirls you beneath her arm, and you take the opportunity to swat at her ass, grinning when she gasps in mock outrage. Feyre cackles, spinning around you both, her golden hair whipping in the night air.

Somewhere in the blur of laughter and bodies, Rhys appears, smirking as he steps into your space, catching your hands and pulling you into the rhythm. It’s effortless—playful, nothing but a game between friends, yet tinged with the same untamed energy coursing through the revelers. His grin is infectious as he twirls you like it’s some grand, gilded affair.

Behind him, Feyre and Cassian spin like fools, bumping into people, laughing like nothing exists beyond this moment.

And gods, you are so fucking drunk.

The world blurs, bright and dizzy, your body weightless, your limbs slow to follow your mind’s commands. The music isn’t just something you hear—it pulses through you, surging like it’s in your blood.

The ground tilts slightly as you throw your hands up, spinning beneath the lights. When you stumble, Mor is there, steadying you.

And then, somehow, you’re in Cassian’s arms. 

Feyre twirls away, laughter ringing like a bell as she falls into her mate’s waiting hands. Rhys pulls her close, hands sweeping over her waist, guiding her in an intimate, languid sway. 

Cassian’s hold on you is far steadier, his wide palms bracing you against him as you slump into his chest. 

“Woah,” he chuckles, adjusting his grip. “I think you might be done, sweetheart.”

You laugh, the sound loose and uninhibited, tipping your head back to grin up at him. “No way. I can totally keep going.”

“Sure you can,” he drawls, guiding your movements with steady hands, keeping the momentum alive between you—more importantly keeping you upright. And you let yourself sink into the moment, losing track of time, losing yourself in the reckless abandon thrumming through your veins. 

You are free.

You are untouchable.

And you don’t give a single damn about anything else.

Not the spirits that will streak across the sky at any moment.

Not the jealous, burning gaze you can feel searing into you from across the courtyard.

A warm hand slides around your waist, and suddenly, you’re moving. 

Cassian is leading you out of the sea of bodies, his grip firm but careful as he steers you toward the courtyard’s edge, where the night air is cooler. 

“Come on,” he says, steadying you. “Let’s get you some water before you end up passed out in some stranger’s lap.”

You roll your eyes but let him guide you, inhaling deeply as the cool air rushes over your skin. “I wasn’t that bad,” you argue, still grinning. 

Cassian snorts. “You were a second away from needing me to carry you.”

The air shifts. Thickens. 

It’s not a shadow that moves first—it’s silence. A weighted, oppressive thing slipping into the space between you and Cassian like a tide creeping in unnoticed. 

Then, a familiar presence steps into your periphery. 

Azriel. 

He doesn’t speak at first. Doesn’t rip you away. Doesn’t bare his teeth in anger. He simply stands there, dark and unmoving, his expression unreadable. 

And yet, there’s something in the way he looks at Cassian—at the arm still braced around your waist—that makes the moment stretch too long, too tense. 

Cassian notices it, too. His body tenses, just slightly, though his face remains neutral. He doesn’t let go. Not yet. 

Azriel’s gaze flickers to you, then back to Cassian. And when he finally speaks, his voice is calm. Deceptively so.

“I’ve got her.”

A simple statement. No heat, no open challenge. Yet it lands with weight. 

Cassian’s hand lingers at your waist for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his eyes locking with Azriel’s. There’s no mistaking the silent exchange between them, an unspoken language of veterans. It’s brief, but it speaks volumes. 

Then, with a small sigh, Cassian lets go, his hand sliding away and bracing you by the arm. But as soon as he steps back, Azriel’s hand is there, firm but not harsh—just…certain. Like he’d always known he would be the one to hold you up.

Cassian’s jaw tightens, his eyes softening only slightly with concern. “You good?” he murmurs, looking down at you with a mix of protective affection and something unreadable.

You blink, the fog of alcohol clouding your senses. “I—yeah, I’m fine,” you reply. It’s Azriel. He wouldn’t hurt you.

Cassian doesn’t look entirely convinced, but his lips curl into a tight, reassuring smile before he shifts his gaze to Azriel. A silent assessment takes place—measuring, weighing, understanding. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turns, walking back into the crowd. 

For a long moment, it’s just the hum of music in the distance, the cool air against your skin, and the press of Azriel’s hand, still firmly around your waist. The sound of laughter fades as he leads you away from the revelry, his pace unhurried, but purposeful. No words. Just his presence, a steady force pulling you in the direction he chooses. 

There’s no urgency in his movements—no dragging or forcing. He isn’t trying to control you. Azriel’s simply walking, taking you with him. 

Whatever is simmering beneath that unreadable gaze of his, it’s not meant for anyone but you. 

Azriel’s grip is unyielding as he walks you away from the lights, the laughter, the chaos of the celebration. The street grows quieter with each step, empty save for the occasional flicker of lanterns overhead. The cobblestones beneath your feet are silent, untouched by the madness of the party. 

You stumble slightly, your world tilting in a way that has nothing to do with the ground beneath you. Azriel steadies you, the small action somehow grounding in its quiet steadiness. You want to say something—maybe apologize, maybe thank him—but the moment is too heavy, and the words never come. 

That is, until you hear the sharp inhale through his nose. 

“You think I don’t see it?” His words hang in the air, sharp with a simmering tension you can feel winding tighter by the second. The frustration—no, the fury—carries through the bond, evident in every syllable. You’ve felt it all night, a tension brewing, waiting to explode. 

You blink, fighting to focus. “What?” you ask, your thoughts still muddled by the alcohol fogging your mind. 

Azriel stops walking, the sudden stillness of the moment sending a jolt through you. His hand tightens ever so slightly at your waist before he releases you, stepping back. His wings flicker in the air behind him, a brief, irritated flare before they tuck back in.

“All night,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You’ve been avoiding me. Running to Cassian. To Rhys. To Feyre. To Mor.” He clenches his jaw, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Anyone but me.”

You stare at him, disbelief flashing through you. The accusation is absurd—entirely misplaced. Before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles up from deep in your chest, not out of humor, but out of sheer confusion. “Azriel,” you start slowly, shaking your head as you try to make sense of it, “they’re my family just as much as they are yours.”

His eyes darken, anger flickering beneath something pleading. “And what am I?” His voice is dangerous now—low, thick with the weight of his question. 

You falter, something in your chest tightening at the way he says it, at the way it makes everything inside you recoil. But you’re drunk, and you’re tired, and this is not the fight you’re willing to pick right now. 

So you roll your eyes, dismissing the entire conversation with a flick of your hand as you step back. “You’re being ridiculous—”

Before you can move further, he’s in front of you, close—too close. The shadows at his feet flare, as if they, too, feel the surge of his frustration. “Am I?” The words are quiet, lethal, his gaze burning into yours. “Because it sure as hell looked like you’d rather be with anyone but me tonight.”

Your frustration flares up, finally breaking through the haze of alcohol. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Azriel,” you snap, the words coming out sharper than you expect. “I wasn’t with Cassian to avoid you. I was having fun.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a step closer. “You were draped over him.”

“I’m fucking drunk,” you retort, barely able to keep your balance. “And he was making sure I didn’t fall on my ass. And even if I wanted to drape myself over him, why do you care?”

That muscle in his jaw tightens, but this time, there’s a flicker of something dangerous deep within his eyes. He looks at you like he doesn’t know whether he wants to argue or shake you, whether he wants to step closer or disappear altogether. 

“I care,” he grits out, “because you’re mine.”

The words land like a blow to the chest, hard and raw. Suddenly, you don’t feel so drunk anymore. The fog of alcohol clears, and the weight of his words presses down on you—crushing. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes. 

Before you can gather your thoughts, Azriel is closing the distance between you, his presence looming. “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is quieter now, but it burns with the intensity of something long buried. “You’ve been avoiding me all night, and for what? Because you don’t want to acknowledge that we’re meant to be together? Because you think this—” He gestures forcefully between the two of you, fingers twitching before curling into fists, “—this bond means nothing?”

You flinch, the sharp sting of his words cutting through you. But even in your intoxicated state, a part of you knows better. You weren’t avoiding him. But now, everything about his anger—the way it wraps around you, suffocates you—makes you want to shout back. So you do. You force the words through your lips, your voice shaking with a mix of confusion and indignation.

“Azriel, I don’t want to be fucking owned,” you say, your voice shaking with confusion and indignation. But your words are firm. “I’m not some possession to be paraded around just because we share a bond.”

Azriel’s eyes darken, and the shadows at his feet stir—then rise, twisting around him, around you, curling over his shoulders and slipping past your skin like a phantom touch. They coil in the air between you, restless, untamed, a mirror of the storm in his voice. “I would treat you well,” he says, voice rough with conviction. “We were family before the bond snapped into place. Just imagine what we could be now.” 

Your heart aches at his words, at the rawness in his eyes, but something else rises in your chest—a knot of confusion and frustration too tangled to sort through. 

“I’m not afraid,” you say, though even to your own ears, it sounds thin and uncertain. 

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze remains fixed on you, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stand in the quiet, the only sound between you the distant hum of music, the breeze stirring the air.

When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, but no less intense. “You’re afraid of what it means, what this bond means… what we mean.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “And that’s fine. But don’t think for a second that it doesn’t gut me.”

A slow breath shudders through you. “I know it hurts.” The admission barely carries past your lips. “I’m sorry, Azriel. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t—” A breath. Then, quieter—“I don’t see you the way you see me.”

His body goes rigid. The flickering shadows at his feet recoil, the lash out, mirroring the sudden storm in his expression. “You don’t see me the way I see you?” His voice is taut, fraying at the edges. “You think I wanted this? That I asked for it?” His wings shift, the tension coiling through him visible in every sharp line of his stance. “But you—you’re the one who can’t even acknowledge what we are. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

He steps forward, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re being selfish,” he spits, the words sharp like daggers. “Ungrateful.” The word lands heavily between you. “This bond—this mating—it was decided long before either of us had a say. It’s the Mother’s will. And you think you can just ignore it? You think you can treat me like this and I’ll just stand by?”

The air tightens as he takes another step, crowding the space you have left. His scent—leather, cold steel, and the sting of smoke—clings to the air, sharper now with the unmistakable bite of alcohol. The realization slithers through you too late. 

“I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you,” he murmurs, his tone turning something bitter. “The one who’s meant to be at your side, to be with you. And you—” His gaze hardens. “You’ve been treating it like some kind of fucking joke.”

Your breath comes unsteadily. “Azriel—”

He doesn’t let you finish. “You think I’ll just let you walk away from this?” His voice is quiet, lethal in its certainty. 

Your instinct flares—too much, too fast. You take a step back. 

His hand closes around your wrist before you can move any further. Not gentle. Not cruel, either. Just—unrelenting.  

“You’re not going to walk away,” he says, as if speaking it aloud will make it true. His fingers tighten when you try to pull free, his grip firm as iron. “Not when we both know what this is. What we could have.”

Your pulse jumps. “Az, stop.”

He doesn’t. “I care about you,” he says instead, his voice fraying. “I always have. And you—” He exhales sharply, his free hand catching your arm now, holding you in place. “You don’t get to pretend this doesn’t exist.”

Before you can react, you’re being yanked forward—too fast, too rough. His strength is undeniable, unrelenting, as he pulls you up against him with such force that the breath punches from your lungs. His shadows stir, restless and volatile. The sudden impact sends your already unsteady world reeling, your hands shoving at his chest again, but he doesn’t let up. One of his hands leaves your arm only to grab your jaw, his fingers pressing into your skin, forcing you to look up at him. His grip isn’t just firm—it’s bruising.

“You don’t get to stand there and pretend this means nothing,” he grits out, voice shaking with something too tangled to name—anger, desperation, something else. “Not after everything.” His fingers tighten, his thumb barely skimming your throat. “You think you can just ignore it? Ignore me?”

Your pulse thrums wildly beneath his touch, fear threading through your veins. “Azriel, stop,” you breathe, trying to jerk your head away, but he doesn’t let go.

“You have no fucking idea what this feels like,” he snarls. “To have something that’s supposed to be yours, something that the Mother herself decided—and to have it ripped away because you refuse to open your goddamn eyes.”

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw makes it hard to breathe, panic clawing up your throat as his body cages you in, his wings stretching wide, his presence all-consuming. This isn’t Azriel. Not the one you know.

With all the strength you can muster, you shove at him again, twisting in his hold. “You don’t own me, Azriel!” The words rip from your throat, sharp and furious. And for the first time, a crack forms in his expression, raw and wounded. His grip falters just slightly, and you take the chance—ripping your face from his grasp, twisting against the hold he still has on your arm as you pant through the fear gripping your chest. “You’re hurting me,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “Do you even realize that? Do you even care?”

Azriel stills. The shadows recoil. 

It takes a second—one breath, then another—before his fingers loosen the slightest bit, before the haze in his expression clears enough for recognition to settle in. The realization of what he’s done, of the line he’s already crossed.

And then—

“Azriel. Let her go.”

Rhysand’s voice cuts through the night, even and quiet, but sharp as a blade.

Azriel doesn’t turn. His free hand flexes at his side, his breath unsteady. 

Another voice follows—low, warning. “Az.” Cassian.

You see the moment it truly hits him. The realization. The horror. His grip loosens, his hands falling away from you completely, as if burned. His breath comes fast and uneven, his shadows trembling at his feet.

You stagger back the moment you can. Your arms sting where his fingers had pressed, but you resist the urge to cradle them, to rub away the lingering sting. Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you recoil. You hold his gaze instead—and Azriel stares at you like he doesn’t recognize himself. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his shadows still writhing at his feet like they don’t know what to do without his command. His lips part, but no words come. 

You take another step back. Then another. 

“I can’t do this,” you whisper. The words are quiet, but they cut through the space between you like a final severing. “If rejecting the bond wasn’t enough, why would I ever choose to be with someone who thinks they own me? Someone who—who does this?”

Azriel flinches, the words striking deeper than any physical blow. “I don’t—”

“You don’t get to justify it.” 

The silence that follows is suffocating.

You turn away. 

Azriel moves. 

It happens in an instant—his wings flaring, his body surging forward, a last desperate attempt to reach you.

But Cassian is there first. He shoves a firm hand against Azriel’s chest, halting him mid-step. The force of it is enough to make him stagger, his teeth bared, his breath coming hard and fast. 

Rhys steps in beside them, fury carved into every sharp line of his face. But the authority in his voice is clear. “Enough.”

Something in Azriel’s posture locks. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his shadows writhing, twisting around his feet, but he doesn’t fight. Doesn’t move. 

Rhys doesn’t look at him when he speaks again. His attention is on you. “Go find Feyre.”

He’s already reaching for her through the bond. You can tell. 

You don’t hesitate. You don’t look back. 

Each step away feels heavier than the last, the adrenaline fading, leaving only the bruising weight of everything that has just unraveled between you. Your pulse is still too fast, your skin still stinging where he touched you, but you keep moving. 

And then—

You see her.

Feyre stands near the edge of the festivities, scanning the crowd. The moment her eyes find yours, something shifts in her expression. Concern, then something worse.

Pity. 

Your throat tightens, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once.

The last thing you see before the world blurs is Feyre moving toward you, reaching out.

And then, finally—

You let yourself fall.

[arottenlust]

cuz im pretty when i cry (the inspiration)

everything started with that edit. i don’t know what it was, but something about it was hard to look away from. ive rewatched it like a hundred times at this point. the song and the smile on his face inspired the first iteration of this story.

spoilers for the series below (kind of? It kinda fucks w the immersion i think. Idk its spoilerish to me)

one where youre desperate for any crumb of his affection, desperate to have your affections returned, and sukuna is willing and happy to enable your sickness. it grew from there to it instead being a misunderstanding of sorts- sukuna is showing his love and dedication the only way he knows how, with action instead of words. you, used to the very hot and cold and emotionally abusive environment you grew up in, don’t know how to pick up on this. it leads to you slowly falling apart more and more, miserably obsessed with keeping your place beside him, lashing out at any perceived obstacles, despite the fact that sukuna never planned to leave, would never want to. And, blinded by your seemingly easygoing nature and the fact that he quite enjoys your increasingly psychotic behavior, knowing that it stems from your love for him, sukuna doesn’t notice anything is amiss until the cracks begin to splinter and break you apart.

I didn’t plan to make you yandere esque, but it seems that the more twisted parts of me leaked into the story. Oops?

im not sure about including smut. I think i might but im still on the fence about that one…. I probably will tho

it has a happy ending. I didn’t want to give it one, I wanted it to just be a sad, horrifically desperate, story, but this route seemed a little more interesting to write. I think I’ll probably write a different version in the future, one where sukuna really doesn’t care.

the relationship is unhealthy in the sense that a well adjusted person wouldn’t frame their entire life around another person the way you do in this story. i.e youre a yandere. in your head, sukuna could keep you locked up and treat you like his dog-servant-thing, and you’d be happy because you’d be the sole object of his attention. (While u may be unaware) He feels the same in reverse, and he wouldn’t do that anyways, because he’s obsessed and he values you more than you value yourself. That’s why it’s unhealthy. And also because you tweak out if he talks to other people at all with anything on his face other than complete and utter indifference…. but hey! You’re working on it. Basically, It’s written um, romantically? Not super heart breaking and depressing. just putting that out there because I get really unbearable hurt when i read unhealthy -> very sad fics instead of unhealthy -> very in love and reciprocated fics

dykwim?

ugh. I’ll need to write a prequel or something. I want you all to see the way you go from normal and unattached to fighting the urge to stick cameras in his room and huff his underwear. You’re so weird. Stop fantasizing about killing the people he talks to, they dont even exist!

i originally planned to make it as gender neutral as i could but a lot of the scenarios don’t make sense if youre not fem, so that’s that. if that changes throughout the course of writing out the series, i shall let you all know.

also. should i make a playlist?

[grilledcheesedestroyer]

ELTINGVILLE CLUB WRITER?? I'm so glad you guys aren't extinct 🙏 could I get hcs for bill and jerry on how they'd react to getting a bracelet from reader? ^^

Bill dickey and Jerry stokes reacting to getting a bracelet from you(hcs)

Warnings: use of the f slur (I can say it guys dw), bill..just bill

A/n: wooo first request! We aren't extinct trust me guys 🫡 I had like,,no idea what to put as the title for this but its whatever! I wrote this at 4 am and it's not entirely looked over so if there are some mistakes please ignore them,,

Bill dickey:

-The second you hold it out for him to take he just stares at it before scoffing and going on a rant about how he couldn't be caught wearing a bracelet, how it's not manly, how it looks like shit..ect

"That's pansy shit! I dont wear jewelery especially not jewelery that's made by you. It looks like a 5 year old made that!"

-He'll snatch it out of your hand and critique everything about it but won't give it back when you tell him he just doesnt have to wear it

-He acts like he hates it (he actually doesn't)

-Goes home with it shoved in his pocket and leave it there until the next day when he remembers it's in there

-He wouldn't wear it..in public that is

-So what if sometimes he slips it on when he's just around the house! That doesn't mean he likes it! He's just..well.. there's no defending him c'mon

-If you ask about it, suddenly he's the worlds best gaslighter (ha)

"What the fuck are you talking about? Even if you DID give me a bracelet what makes you think I'd wear that faggy shit..now stop asking!"

-When he's not wearing it, it sits in his side table next to his bed

-If you ever see it when you come over he makes up some lame excuse about just tossing it in there and not caring about it then throwing it in the trashcan infront of you

-Once you leave he digs around for it, complaining the whole time

"-SHITshitshit! Where the hell is this dumb thing!this is the stupidest thing ever!"

-He'll never tell you that he went back for it though

-Does change the hiding spot for it just in case

Jerry stokes:

-Unlike bill, jerry is happy to see you hand him a bracelet!

-Once he takes it from you he immediately puts it on and thanks you

"Bidi bidi bidi thank you! This is really cool..you made it yourself?"

-If he walks home alone, he'll admire it and fidget with it absentmindedly

-but If he's walking with the guys he keep it tucked in his pocket praying to whoever that it doesn't fall out

-Wears it pretty much everyday besides when he sees the guys

-As much as he loves the bracelet, he knows the guys will flame him for it so he doesn't risk it.

-When he's not wearing it though, he leaves it on his desk where it's safe (and where he knows he'll remember it!)

-If he can he does try to make you something in return!

-I hc that even though jerry can be..questionable at times he likes to give stuff to people

-In all he cherishes the bracelet and thinks its awesome!

[hotchology]

hi! need some hotch fic recs, would love to know if you have any writers you’d recommend :)

hi omg!!! i have my sideblog @hotchologydotlib (and backup sideblog from when that one was shadowbanned @hotchologydotfic) with their own hotch fic tags!! main here and back up here <3 i havent read much lately ive been in a weird mood (depression)

as for specific writers!!! (please tell me if you dont want to be tagged here and ill remove you!!) undercut bc its gonna get long im sorry!!!

phi @ssa-dado writes awesome stuff. im partial to fleabag!reader but genuinely everything shes written (symposium is also so freaking good) will hit the spot if ur anything like me i Promise

ali @softtdaisy also HELLOOO highly reccomend. youll be able to tell from my tags on my fic sideblogs that im not very good at all with saying how i feel about thigns beyond HELLOOO and YUMMM or OWOWOWOWOW but genuinely. yeah. here

ki @kiwriteswords i read before even (re)joining this site actually!! i have the Discord DM Proof because i was like omg ssaki... (lesserafim voice) WHERE THE HECK IS SAKI!! but no for real genuinely lovely stuff.

@winterscaptain is another one i read before rejoining as well. from this point on i migiht be sayng that a lot but. my phone was breaking my screen was disconnecting from the rest of the phone internally liike strobing in my face and i was pushing thru. it was a year ago now. but iw as GUSHINGGG in dms wth jojo. im goiing thru each message now i was genuinely having the time of my life reading ajf on ao3. im not caught up (still im sorry) but please READ!!

i feel like @luveline is a given but also very much tumblr user luveline. what can i say that hasnt already been said. just awesome stuff. partial to sick of maybe and if things go bad!! also unexpected daughter au but i dont think you were asking for things like that i just have issues that are scratched wonderfully by these ones.

lari @hotchfiles yet another ive read before joining and HELLOOO i rmr reading smells like roses and being like yes... YESS..... (im a fiend for angst) if ur in the headspace for it i highly recommend. i also love love LOVEDDD IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI. masterful.

mick @solardrop i rmr reading beanstalk b4 i joined and again being like OH MY GOD YUMM. all of her work please check her out!!

denise @aureatelys adore you and soft as the rain, pretty as a vine are so wonderful. realising now im very grateful to have so many talented and skilled mutuals. i love u guys. all fics! check out nodding emoji

@atlabeth dance until we're bones i think is permanantly burned into my brain. just awesome stuff i love pretty much everything sadie puts out please check it out! (i know u asked for hotch fic recs but the prodigal daughter is so good. please. Please.)

@whosscruffylooking the purest things geniunely has me hooked im having a very good time there.

@honeypiehotchner LOVEEE. been loving the gambit (ive fallen behind a bit due to the Weird Mood but ive been loving it nonetheless) and i LOVEEE autistic!reader so much. please check out. please.

these arent all mutuals but!! if i missed out one of my lovely mutuals know i didnt mean to im just scatterbrained and forget things. i <3 u fic writers

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

man i just dont get when people in the dragon age fandom critique people for liking major characters who the game told us were important. like. of course i do. the franchise asked me to be invested in them, and because i like to play games with my whole heart, i went "ok you got it 🫡" and found the ways those characters were most interesting to me so i could be properly shocked or agonized or triumphant for whatever the series did with them next. you know? because i am here to invest myself in the story they promise to tell.

like DAO does it with Morrigan. you spend a whole game with her, she's one of the first companions who joins you, you build a relationship/learn her backstory over time, you find out more about her complicated family situation (and Flemmeth then turns up anyway in the SECOND game saying cryptic things and preparing you for even more future payoff), and then there's an entire expansion to the game where you go after her and ask for an explanation. in many versions she's got some mysterious ancient power as well with the Old God baby. the game said "this character is important and going to be relevant later" and so i went YAY!! and ate it all up. And so the shock of seeing Flemmeth again and even more grand/mysterious in DA2, and then meeting her again in DAI where she had SO much depth to her character and history based on my past choices (with or without Kieran)--the payoff was great. I was rewarded for my emotional investment (even if i disagreed with some of the things she said/does!). Getting to hear her confront Flemmeth and stand up for herself without needing the player character to stand between them as a shield this time was incredible. the growth! the satisfaction! beautiful. and so basically I see no one going "people who enjoy Morrigan are soooo annoying" or "i'm so tired of all this emphasis on Morrigan as a character!" or "why did the game have to focus so much on Morrigan and her trajectory" because like. she's one of the major NPCs. it's a throughline. just like the games told us it would be.

but then if you do the same thing in DAI. and say "okay game! I will listen to you and invest my heart in who you tell me to this time also", when the game points you at Solas. then ohhhh boy get ready for the fun new names and insults people in the fandom are coming up with to hurl at you now, after you waited 10 years for the story payoff you were promised

[nayiana0]

Quiet Until You

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

⋮ ⌗ ┆analysis : you had everything under control—your grades, your goals, your walls. but when Choi San, the school’s troublemaker, gets assigned the seat beside you .. control is the first thing to go. he talks too much. smirks too often. And somehow, when detention throws you two into each other’s orbit for real, the tension gets harder to ignore—and so do the feelings. she was quiet. until him.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ genre : slow burn, fluff/angst, romance, enemies to lovers.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ warnings : mild language, classroom arguments, light academic stress

⋮ ⌗ ┆ wc : 2.7k

⋆˚  a/n: hayee! so this fic is kind of an experiment — i’m playing around with some dynamics I love (enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, tensionnnn) and seeing where it takes me. right now it’s got a softer, emotional vibe with some build-up and banter, but fair warning: it might shift into a more mature/smutty direction as the story progresses 👀.. if that happens, i’ll give proper warnings and tags so you know what to expect. for now, enjoy the tension! ══════════════════════ ✧. ┊⋆ ★

October 4th

You watched Choi San walk into homeroom 10 minutes late with a smirk and bruise on his cheek, the entire classroom buzzed with a quiet kind of electricity. Mrs. Langford didnt even blink anymore— she just sighed, tapped the seating chart with her pen and said, “Take the open seat. Right next to y/n.”

Your spine stiffened.

Nope, No. Absolutely not

Sans boots stomped against the floor, careless and slow, like he was daring anyone to call him out. He shot a glance at you and dropped into the seat beside you, the legs of the chair screeching, just enough to make you wince.

He smelled like smoke and mint gum.

“Hey, y/n” he said, leaning over. “You’re the one who makes the rest of us look bad with your color-coded notes and 4.0 average."

You didn’t want to respond. You didn't want to associate yourself with a man who goes around acting like the rules were written just to be broken– who smiles after detention like it's a badge of honor, The same guy who plays with girls like it’s a game, flaunting a new girlfriend every week like he’s collecting trophies.

You opened your notebook and focused on underlining the date like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Okay, silent treatment. Got it”. He kicked his feet up under the desk. “You’ll crack eventually”

“Is this how you flirt with every girl you sit next to?” You said.

For a second, his smirk faltered—just enough to know you’d hit a nerve.

“Wow,” he said under his breath, leaning back. “You have a nasty attitude, dont you?”

Before you could fire back, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

“Choi San, feet off the desk,” Mrs Langford snapped from the front of the room without even looking up from her attendance sheet.

“And y/n, unless you’d like to be moved too, I suggest you save the witty banter for after class.”

You both stiffened, avoiding each other’s eyes now. His boots hit the floor with a muted thud, and you buried yourself in your notebook like it could shield you from the rising heat in your face.

But from the corner of your vision, you caught the way he was still looking at you—less amused now, and more intrigued.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Hours later…

It was a few hours after class. You were sitting at the cafe table near the windows, enjoying a cup of lukewarm coffee and buried in a pile of homework. Everything was going smoothly until you heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

You looked up. Of course it was San, strolling in like he owned the place, eyes locked on you. He slid into the chair across from you, uninvited without even asking.

“You’re really serious about this studying thing, huh?” His voice was too casual, as if he didnt care if he was invading your personal space.

You sigh, trying to ignore him as you return to your work. “What do you want, San?”

“I want an answer” he grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I know you know the solution to this one, and I’ve tried everything to get it out of you during class but well..” He shrugged. “I guess i’ll have to ask the expert”

He didnt even wait for your reply, just slid a piece of paper with an algebraic expression towards you, you glance at it, barely recognizing the mess of numbers. You were so focused on ignoring him that you didn’t even register his eyes on you, staring, waiting for an reaction.

“I dont know why your bothering me,” you muttered, avoiding his seductive gaze. “I’m not your personal tutor.”

“That's the thing, y/n” his voice dropped low, almost too quiet. “You are the tutor, whether you like it or not.”

You met his intense stare, and for a second, you felt something shift. He wasn’t being annoying or cocky anymore — he was playing a different game now. You can see it in the way he was leaning towards you, how he was making you the focus of his entire attention.

“You dont get it, do you?” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “I need your help. And I will get it. So the question is, how long are you going to keep pretending that you’re not going to help me?”

You gritted your teeth, trying to stay composed. You didn’t want to help him, didn’t want to be dragged into his world any more than you already had been. But there was something in his eyes—something darker than the usual cocky charm.

You were so focused on trying not to react that you didn’t notice the way his hand moved closer to yours on the table until his fingers brushed against yours, barely grazing the skin.

You froze. Your heart stuttered, and before you could respond, he leaned back, looking smug like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the answer?”

Your breath caught. For a split second, everything around you felt like it slowed down, the hum of the café and the chattering voices fading into the background. You looked at him, at the way his eyes were still locked on yours, and despite the annoyance, the tension was undeniable

“Fine,” you muttered, trying to break the spell. “But don’t think I’m doing this because you’ve won. I’m only helping because you’re too stubborn to ask anyone else.”

He grinned, his usual cocky self returning. “Great! I knew you’d break eventually.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

October 5th

It was the next day in class. You were trying to focus—trying to actually get through one class without being distracted, but of course, that was when Choi San decided to make his entrance.

It was History class, a subject you actually enjoyed, which made it all the more frustrating when you looked across the room to see San, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place.

The teacher, Mr. Scott, was talking about the French Revolution, but San was more interested in chatting with his friends, tossing paper airplanes, and making obnoxious comments under his breath. You could feel the eyes of the other students shifting to you, expecting you to do something about it since you were the "good student."

But you weren’t about to let San get to you. You weren’t. Not today.

Mr. Scott tried to continue the lesson, but San had other plans. He tossed a crumpled paper ball in your direction. You ignored it—well, tried to. But then it hit your notebook, and you couldn’t help but shoot him an annoyed glare.

"Really?" you muttered under your breath, you swear it was a whisper, but San heard it.

He leaned forward with that devilish grin of his, eyes sparkling with mischief. "What’s the matter, y/n? You too busy reading to notice that I’m trying to be friendly?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, not amused. "You’re not being friendly, San. You’re being an idiot."

He feigned shock, clutching his chest dramatically. "Ouch. That hurt!! You broke my heart, princess."

Before you could retort, Mr. Scott turned his attention to you both.

"Y/n, San, if I hear one more word from either of you, you’re both spending the rest of the day in detention.”

You bit back a groan. Great. Just what you needed. San gave you a knowing smirk, like he was enjoying the fact that you were the one to get called out for his antics.

"See? You’re the one who got us into trouble," he whispered across the aisle, eyes glinting with challenge.

You shot him a glare. "I’m not the one throwing fucking paper at people!"

The words came out louder than you expected, and the class went deathly silent.. The air bursted into whispers and stifled giggles.

Before you could apologize or maybe explain, he leaned back in his chair with a dramatic flair, crossing his arms over his chest like this was a show and you were the star.

Someone in the back of the room snickered, which only made the situation worse. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your hands clenched into fists, desperate to stay in control.

"My bad, princess," San said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness, "Didn’t realize my paper caused such a scene."

But San wasn’t done. “Don’t worry though,” he added, eyes sparkling with mischief, “I’ll make sure to throw the next one a little quieter so you don’t have a full-blown meltdown.”

"You don’t get to make everyone’s life miserable just because you don’t care," you snapped, barely keeping your voice in check.

San raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Ooh, are you actually mad now, y/n ? I didn’t know you could feel anything other than perfection."

“Shut up, San!” The words came out before you could stop them, your voice sharp and full of frustration. Your patience had reached its limit.

San, though, was unfazed. If anything, the reaction seemed to amuse him even more. He leaned toward you with that arrogant grin of his. “See? I knew you had it in you.” he said with a low voice.

Before you could respond, Mr. Scott, the teacher, slammed his hands on his desk, his voice booming across the room.

“Enough!” His face was red, eyes wild with the kind of frustration only a teacher who had had too much of his class could understand. “Both of you—out! Now!”

The classroom went deathly silent, the tension palpable in the air as you and San walked toward the door, you could hear the murmurs behind you, the gossip already spreading.

“Guess y/n can’t keep it together either...” someone whispered.

“I thought she was the perfect one.”

You were a bit scared. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been in trouble before—your fair share of disapproving looks from teachers, maybe a warning here or there—but this was different. You were going to detention.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

By the time you reached the detention room, you were already annoyed beyond belief. You sat at one of the desks furthest away from San, hoping to just survive this next hour without saying a word to him.

You were doing your best to ignore him, focusing on your homework with laser precision. You couldn’t afford to mess up—this was the one time in your life you actually needed to be perfect. No room for mistakes.

But there was no way to block out San completely, not with the way he kept throwing glances your way, or the way he would stretch out his legs, his boots occasionally knocking into your chair.

You slammed your pen down on the desk, a sharp noise that made San look up, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"What is it, y/n?" he asked, his voice casual, but you could see the hint of curiosity behind it.

You didn’t want to answer. You didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to let him in. But the words came out anyway.

"Why do you do this?" You didn’t know exactly what you were referring to at first—his constant teasing, his way of undermining you—but as the words left your mouth, you realized it was more than that. "Why do you act like you don’t care? Like you’ve got it all figured out?"

San didn’t respond right away. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. For a moment, you thought he might just shrug it off—like he always did. But then something in his expression shifted.

"Tell me something, y/n," he said, leaning forward, his voice just low enough for you to hear. "How do you get through the day pretending you’re not dying for a little chaos?"

You snapped your head toward him, your heart rate picking up. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He smirked, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and mischief. "Oh, come on. I’ve seen it. You like the rules, sure. You like being the good little student. But deep down?" He leaned in closer, and you could feel the space between you shrink, the tension palpable. "You’re just waiting for someone to come along and make you feel something other than perfect."

You swallowed, suddenly aware of just how close he was. Your pulse quickened, but you tried to keep your voice steady. "Stop talking like you know me."

San’s gaze flickered to the window, his expression hardening slightly. "You think being perfect is all it’s cracked up to be? People look at you, y/n, and they expect you to have everything together. But it’s not like that. It’s... it’s a mask." He swallowed, almost like the words were difficult to get out. "I wear the mask, you wear the mask. We both do it, and if we didn’t, we’d have to face everything that’s underneath it."

Before you could say something back, Mrs. Langford walked in, effectively cutting the moment short. She gave the two of you a stern look but didn’t say anything, taking her place at the front of the room.

"You two," she said, looking between you and Eli with a knowing glance. "No talking. Do your work. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you."

San, of course, didn’t take Mrs. Langford’s warning seriously. He picked up a pencil and started doodling on a scrap of paper, leaning back in his chair, eyes still on you. His gaze never left yours, and you could practically feel the challenge hanging in the air between you.

"You really think I’m a bad influence, don’t you?" he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

You couldn’t help but glance up at him. "I think you’re a waste of space."

His smirk didn’t falter. "And you think you’re better than me, huh?"

You scoffed, pushing your chair back slightly. "I’m nothing like you, San. I don’t choose to mess everything up."

"What’s it like," he continued, his voice quieter now, more sincere, "pretending you’re perfect all the time? Like you’ve got everything figured out?"

Whats with him and this “perfect” thing, you thought. He spoke like he had something out for you.. Yes you aspired to be perfect and on top.. But what he was saying kind of hit home.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "I’m not perfect."

San raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Maybe not. But you sure as hell try to be. It’s gotta be exhausting."

"What’s it to you?" you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

San studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "I guess it’s just... interesting."

You looked at him.

Not with anger. Not with frustration. Just… looked.

And for a second, all the noise in your head went quiet.

You hated it, how your chest ached at the thought of him walking away. You hated that deep down, you didn’t really hate him at all. Despite everything—his cocky attitude, the trouble, the mess—he was the only person who saw through your perfectionist shell. The only one who didn’t ask you to be anything other than what you were.

And now, sitting here in the thick silence of detention, you just wanted to go over there and embrace him. Tell him to shut up for once, maybe, but also… not let go.

The tension in the air was so heavy it wrapped around your lungs. It clung to your skin. You could taste it.

San wasn’t looking at you, not right now, but you knew he felt it too. That magnetic pull. That something neither of you had words for yet.

The bell rang a few moments later, sharp and sudden, slicing through the moment.

You both stood up, slow, hesitant. No words, just movement. You grabbed your bag. So did he.

But before you reached the door, his voice cut through the quiet, low and rough around the edges.

“Hey.”

You turned, eyes meeting his.

He shrugged one shoulder, looking everywhere but at you. “Same time tomorrow?”

You didn’t smile, but your heart skipped anyway.

“Unfortunately.”

And then, for just a second, his lips tugged into something almost genuine.

Neither of you said anything else.

But everything had already been said.

Masterpost

[reminiscentreader]

*internal sigh* rant post on lyra hate (again) i guess

first of all i have NO idea what shes done to accumulate all this hate except for ruin a bunch of random peoples parasocial relationships with grayson, these guys are seriously getting worse that the Aaron Warner stans, AND WE DO NOT EXCEPT THAT KIND OF HATE HERE 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ i think the only way im going to be able to do this is address all the arguments for hating lyra individually. (also i want to say i have no problem with people having there own opinions but when it gets THIS far i feel like i have a duty to say something as a lyra stan)

first i want to talk about her being self absorbed/whiny brat, THIS THING MAKES NO SENSE TO ME, the only people in the series she wwas rude to were people who were rude first. if anything we should have taken that she was kind away from her character, Literally like the first person she meets is odette, WHO SHE TREATS WITH KINDNESS, and then she has a run in with gigi, WHO SHE TREATS WITH KIDNESS, and then she has the avery situation WHERE SHE LITERALLY BECOMES THE #1 AVERY GRAMBS GLAZER, THIS GIRL WAS IN AWE OF HER 😭🙏🙏 and then she dances with xander WHO SHE TREATS WITH KINDNESS, this whole “lyras such a bitch” makes no sense at ALL, especially those people who say “grayson deserved someone like gigi, 🥺🥺.” A- I DONT KNOW IF YOU NOTICED BUT GRAYSON DOES HAVE GIGI, HIS SISTER WHO HE LOVES VERY MUCH. ITS ALMOST AS IF THERE WAS A WHOLE BOOK ABOUT GRAYSON AND GIGI AND B- LYRA WAS GIGI what these people dont understand is that lyra was a COMPLETELY different person back then, she says something about her being the happiest teenage girl. (also people who sooo desperately want grayson to end up with someone “just like gigi” are weirdddd)

next (AND THIS ONE PISSES ME OFF SOOOO MUCH 😓😓😓) “lyra is just an avery copy” GENUINELY STFU, the only thing similar about them is that they were introduced taking a test 😐😐😐, THE GIRLS DONT EVEN LOOK ALIKE?? the way they make desicions and just function in general is so different avery is a very logical person but lyra tends to be more emotional, if you want to compare jlb mfc compare cassie and avery and them sawyer and lyra. Averys main trait is her smartness and intelligence, whereas lyras is her braveness and caringness?? (i have no idea what the plural for caring is) im also gonna branch “grayson could never love anyone as much as avery blah blah 😒.” into this one and let me make this sooo clear. GRAYSON IS NOT ROMANTICALLY IN LOVE WITH AVERY ANYMORE. in fact in the brothers hawthorne, there is a whole chapter where he comes to this realisation. In case any of you missed it heres a direct quote “suddenly since the first time he’d met avery grambs, there was nothing tense or painful about standing this close to her, shed told him once they were family, maybe a part of him had been running from that to.”

anway sorry for the rant guys 🙏🙏

[marvelouslymarly]

What resonated so deeply with me about Bob - and Thunderbolts* in general - is just how quickly you can go from feeling like you're at your best to feeling your absolute lowest.

Like yes, you might feel the sadness scratching at the edges, trying to find a way in... you might see the signs of the depression (or whatever it is you're struggling with, personally) getting worse again. You might even have learnt some mechanism to deal with that - is it in therapy or by finding your own coping mechanisms...

But sometimes, it really is just like someone using a killswitch on you, and you collapse, the high you felt before gone. It doesn't have to be a major event, it can be a tiny inconvenience in a series of minor inconveniences adding up but sometimes it can be even just one teeny tine thing, like a stone in your shoe that you cannot get out no matter how often take off your shoe and shake and shake and shake...

Sometimes, it's like being struck by lightning, and suddenly, all you are left with is the darkest parts of you. The voice in your head telling you how you're a hopeless, worthless piece of shit that only makes everything worse, that you're only taking up space and everyone else is better off without you. All you can think about are the insecurities, the trauma that you've lived through, and its all-consuming, slowly squeezing the life out of the other, good parts of you.

And yes, maybe sometimes it does take more than a hug and a few kind words of reassurance from a handful of strangers you've just met, but other times, it's exactly this that can get you out.

Someone caring about you without there being a year-long committed relationship or them being your family or whatever. Sometimes, what will get you out is a stranger being kind to you bc honestly, they don't have to be - there's no obligation for them to help, they don't know you, they don't know who you are, where you come from, what you've been struggling with. But they care in that instance and show you, "hey, I don't know you and all that you are, but I do know that you are worth being saved. To feel loved and welcomed and cherished."

Sometimes, the support that a random person shows you can mean so much more than what that random person might have expected when they decided to help. It can literally be the deciding factor in whether or not you give in to that voice and fall into the darkness to be consumed by it completely... bc sometimes, it doesn't matter how badly you want to fight the darkness, but especially if fighting it the way you have learnt to isn't what's gonna get you out.

This is what I think the film did an amazing job in portraying. Of course, there are things that could be seen as stereotypical... as being glossed-over for means of it being a Hollywood-plot... But fundamentally, this message is one that, maybe especially right now more so than ever, is so important to be shown in a manner that even people who might not have struggled with grief or depression or trauma in general the way Bob and Yelena and the other Thunderbolts might have can understand!

Be kind! Not only to yourself but also to those around you. Even the strangers. Maybe especially the strangers. You dont know what they're going through, and you don't know what might save them from giving in to their darkest demons!

[kurishiri]

Hii thank you so much for all the translations you’ve done!

I wanted to ask how would you describe Darius personally? I’m so interested in him as a character but the lack of information makes it hard to figure out anything about him ;; I don’t think we have any hints about his past so far? Unless I’m mistaken

helloow anon! ty for reading my tls too 🤍 i'll try to describe darius in the way i can- but theres overall not much known at all ab him yet either in the game so also take my words with grain of salt hehr

about darius and his possible past (its an attempt guys) ↓

hmm on the surface or at first glance, he kind of has a childish air to him to me. and i think hes naturally tht way .. as in i dont think he acts ths way in an attempt to actively hide smth else ab him, but also i think it serves to sort of underplay(?) just how scheming or wily he can actually be. he could also say the most “wtf” things with a smile on his face or with a calm voice ,, if you read the 2nd anniversary collection story (darius’ line to ring; iykyk) and darius’ story bonus with his “joke” to kate, you could probably feel ths.

i think theres also smth ,, sort of emotionally removed abt darius. he sort of views himself as an angel and whtnot and sees those who r cursed as superior to those who r not. i think there is ths sort of clash between his “inhumane” side where he shows an amicable smile but it doesnt reach his eyes and he struggles to empathize with others, and his also deeply human side.

after all, for all his hate toward “humans” like kate, he seems to show a rather strong attachment to her as well. all tht to say: he feels emotions like anyone else, and he feels them strongly (probably influenced in part by kate) — bc whether he likes it or not, he, too, is a human who happens to be cursed — and he does feel emotions such as jealousy, hurt, frustration .. but he doesnt know wht those emotions would be called. he cant put a label to his own emotions bc hes somehow convinced himself? tht such emotions r like beyond him and all tht jazz.

really, darius to me is sort of a case of a lot of “hes ths, but also tht” and all. a walking contradiction, in part due to his own philosophies and maybe trauma?

vros got negative emotional intelligence lmao

implications of his past

there r some subtle hints ab his past, actually! none of thm r super out there so its hard to catch and does require some like inference and theorizing, but i think we have like a couple parts we can sort of go off of here :>

for example, food. the favorite subject of his stories lmao its implied he may have dealt with attempts at poisoning him with food before or some other food-related trauma in the past. he is a noble, so it probably makes some sense if ths is a case, though it would leave the question of why him?

for one, he has mentioned he hates potatoes bc he ate so much of thm in the past tht he is like tired of thm and cant stand even the sight of thm. i forget which story he mentions the first part (it mightve been the wicked romance story event one), but he mentions the latter part in his 2nd anniversary story — the one you get by sending 400 times to him haha.

there r also moments (will vs darius story event and his dining bond story for example, among others) where he will find a way to like .. not have to be the one eating first. for example whn will gets him food, darius sort of indirectly makes sure tht will eats first before he eats himself. or it could be the same with kate. hes pretty subtle abt ths though — like he will never phrase it in a way tht makes it seem like food could be a potential weakness for him, but i think its sort of like a thing in his stories sometimes.

in the bond story where he shares a “secret” with you, its likely he was talking ab a moment in his past — specifically the part where he may have met nica and ring — though he phrased ths like a story to kate. but i think the fact they did ths in ths specific bond story, titled secret talk, gives it more possibility tht ths “story” is a real anecdote, yk?

and in tht same story, he tells another short anecdote abt nica and ring, saying how they really r a family. theres also the fact he is trying to create a family himself too ,, it kinda makes me think he may have had some familial issues? plus, there is his level 23 bond story where he basically says tht he liked how kate didnt try to leave him whn he is lonely or alone, smth like tht. perhaps he had some form of abandonment issue in the past?

well ,, these r all theories in the end! but maybe its smth to go off of hehr

[decayingdogt33th]

how it feels when i gotta go to the dentist cuz i purge, dont floss, drink espresso and diet soda like it’s water and don’t even know where my retainer is