#which will inevitably go badly for them

[asthedeathoflight]

I have too many wips already but hmm... Rembrandt time loop au....

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[c0rpsedemon]

.

[sailoreuterpe]

My rural town FB has had several recent posts about people finding two cats and asking if they have owners. Eventually, the owners responded with passive-aggressive bitching that people kept "picking up" their cats and how the cats have a huge, lovely garage to live in, stove and snacks and everything!

Then keep the fucking cats in the fucking garage.

I can think of a really easy solution to this problem.

[harleybarbarahandler]

and if I said margot and cillian look hot together?

[ssahotchnerr]

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."

[jlheon]

𝓒𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 ୨୧ 𝐒𝐉𝐘

(𝓹airing) — sjy x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓷eighbors to lovers ; fluff & hs au (𝔀ordcout) three-thousand one-hundred 𝓹eng's note. america core oops 🦅 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year

꣑୧ 𝓶𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

01. new hair

it’s the first day of the new school year. you’re tired but less than what you’ve been in previous years.

this year, you can finally say goodbye to the early bus rides and even longer rides home.

your neighbor, sim jaeyun, has a car and parking and is willing to bring you to and from. you’ve never been so thankful for the blonde boy.

blonde? more like brunette boy now.

“you dyed your hair back?” you say as you walk up to the driver’s side of the car, he rolls down the window.

“yeah,” jake nodded. “what do you think?”

“it looks good…” you admire his new hair color and cut. “still a little dead though,” you reach through the window to touch his hair. his hair is still soft but there’s a hint of frailness from the rounds of bleach he’s been doing for nearly a year.

“maybe you could use that hair mask you always use on me?” he suggests.

“maybe.”

02. amusement park

this is the first and last time you will ever skip school. especially with sim jaeyun.

it’s his idea to ditch school and drive to the nearest amusement park, two hours away from your town.

“come on ____ie,” jake says as you buckle your seatbelt. “it’s SAT day for the juniors… we won’t be missing anything!”

“still! our parents are going to be called!” you argue.

“if they get mad at you, i’ll deal with them,” jake reassures you, putting a hand on your headrest while reversing out of your driveway. “the tickets are on me.”

“tickets?” you raise an eyebrow.

you and jake spend the whole day until sundown at the amusement park.

once you finally accept the fact you should be more laid back for senior year, you drag him from ride to ride. despite him being scared shitless of roller coasters he goes on them with you since he knows how badly you want to ride them.

the only condition is that he gets to hold your hand if he gets scared. which is inevitably the whole day, which he gets to use the excuse to hold your hand in queues.

he also holds your hand while walking around the park with the excuse of not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

as if there are a bunch of people on a random weekday. the only ‘crowd’ is just the families with children no older than five.

the only thing jake can confidently do is get you a giant plushie at one of the scam-like carnival game stands. which he carries around for the remainder of the day.

you hate to admit it but skipping was a good idea even though when you two return home both sets of your parents are waiting furiously on your front porch.

“it was my idea,” jake takes the blame as you peek out from behind him, holding his hand for comfort.

you both get grounded for a week and are forced to take the bus to and from school. that didn’t matter though because you both had fun that day.

03. sick day

one morning jake is surprised to see that when he pulls into your driveway that you aren’t waiting for him.

you’re so punctual and on time so it makes him worried. but he gives you the benefit of the doubt and sits in his car for ten minutes. maybe you're just running a little late.

when you don’t respond to his texts jake becomes more worried. he caves, gets out of his car, walks up your front steps, and rings the doorbell.

when you come to the door with messy hair and a pale face jake can already sense you’re sick and miserable.

“woah, are you okay?”

“sorry for not texting,” you sneeze. “i’m staying home today.”

“are your parents home?” jake asks, looking around your house behind you.

“no,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“let me in.”

“but school starts in twenty, you’ll be late,” you try to push him out the door, though he’s stronger than you.

“let me take care of you,” he wraps his arms around your waist and carries you upstairs towards your room.

jake spends the day in your room giving you medicine, soup, and under the covers next to you. making sure he’s with you as you rest incase you need anything. not letting you get up at all unless you really must.

your parents come home to you and jake cuddled up on the couch.

to no one's surprise, your parents call jake’s parents and inform them about their son's whereabouts for the day.

jake does not get grounded for skipping that time.

꣑୧ 𝓪𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

01. after school nap

after a long day of test after test, each teacher trying to get one in before winter break, you’re exhausted.

walking up to jake’s car with dark circles and messy braids. ready to go home and crash on your bed to start your week-long break.

the frigid weather has you shivering as you approach the vehicle. your nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“cold outside?” jake asks as you quickly shut the door and sink into the passenger’s seat. his car had been running for a couple of minutes now as he got let out early by his teacher.

“super,” you yawn, snuggling into your jacket.

the car is taken over by a comfortable silence. the only noises being the car engine and the wind outside. keeping his eyes on the road jake asks you a question.

“how were your tests?” he asks while turning the corner.

he gets no response, at the red light he glances over to see you sleeping soundly in the seat next to him.

when arriving at your house jake decides that you look too adorable and comfortable to wake you up just yet. he knows you’ve been studying hard the past week and barely sleeping. ten minutes is what he tells himself, he’ll wake you up in ten minutes.

ten minutes later jake has also fallen asleep.

you both nap in the heated car for god knows how long. then when a continuous taps on the window register in jake’s brain he opens his eyes to see it is already dark out. the digital clock reads three-quarters past five.

your mom is currently knocking on the driver’s side window.

“hi jaeyun,” she greets when he rolls down the window. “i think you two have been sleeping for too long.”

“yeah, i’m so sorry!” he apologizes. “i guess i fell asleep while i was waiting for her to wake up.”

“that’s alright,” your mother smiles at him. “just making sure you weren’t doing anything else in here!”

jake can’t help the heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment at the suggestion you two were doing something other than sleeping.

“how about you join us for dinner tonight!”

“i’d love to,” jake scratches the back of his neck. “i’ll bring her inside.” he looks over at your peaceful expression wondering how you didn’t wake up in the past couple of minutes.

02. passenger princess

“get out,” jake says when sunghoon climbs into the passenger’s seat of his car.

“what do you mean?” sunghoon replies, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “you said you’re taking me home!”

“i am!” the australian boy retorts. “but you have to sit in the back.”

“why!” the younger boy whines, crossing his arms childishly.

“because the front seat is for ____,” jake explains, unlocking the door so sunghoon can exit.

“not fair,” sunghoon groans. “last time i checked she didn’t call shotgun.”

“well, she always sits next to me-” he’s cut off by the back door opening and you setting your backpack on the middle seat. “hey, don’t sit there. sunghoon was just about to move.”

“oh! okay!” you get up, looking at sunghoon innocently.

“fuck you,” the black-haired boy says under his breath. “i’m supposed to be your passenger princess.”

“hi hoon!” you sweetly greet him, he suddenly doesn’t feel too betrayed anymore.

“hey,” he says as he goes to the back seat, switching places with you.

you all buckle into the car and as jake backs out of the parking lot you reach over the console to plug your phone into the charger.

jake never lets me do that without asking! sunghoon thinks to himself.

you start fiddling with the car plane on his screen. selecting yourself as aux and playing your shared playlist with jake.

sunghoon notices that his phone is no longer an option for bluetooth on jake’s car and feels even more offended.

jake hums along to the songs you queue as you sing along while reapplying your lip tint in the pull-down mirror.

jake said he hates this song! sunghoon thinks again, cringing at how down bad his friend is for you.

when the trio arrives at sunghoon’s house he quickly gets out and bids goodbye to you only as you wave through the window as he walks up the steps to his front door.

jake soon receives a text from his best friend.

penghoon 🐧 : that was disgusting GET UPP i am your PASSENGER PRINCESS NOT HER ☹️☹️☹️💔💔💔

03. corsage

the friday before prom on the way home school school, jake can’t shake off the sad pout on your face. he feels as if there’s a small rain cloud thundering above your head that’s making your lips droop.

“what’s the matter?” jake asks gently as he sees your sad state.

“i don’t have a date to prom anymore,” your frown becomes stronger.

“what?” he asks with wide eyes. “did you just find out? prom is tomorrow night?”

“i know,” you slouch into your seat. “her boyfriend surprised her by flying in last night and now i don’t get to have a corsage like everyone else! neither do i have a ride…”

“i’ll pick you up,” jake offers. “i don’t have a date either.”

“thank you,” you say with a slight frown still on your face, though inside your relieved to know jake is going alone.

the next morning jake rushes to find a place that has a corsage just perfect for you and for him to match with.

unfortunately, he doesn’t know your dress color so he brings as many different colored ties with him when he picks you up. picking a white corsage so it can match with any color.

when you answer the door jake feels all the air being knocked from his lungs. you’re breathtaking. literally. he starts coughing and you pull him into your house and pat his back.

“where’s your tie?” you ask when he finally starts breathing normally again.

“i have multiple in my car,” he says bashfully. “i wanted to make sure we matched.”

jake quickly leaves to retrieve the ties and corsage.

when you spot the clear box with the pretty white flower that matches the one on his blazer you’re quick to nearly tackle him.

“oh my god! you got me a corsage!” you squeal hugging is neck tightly.

“anything for my prom date,” pats your head, careful to not mess up the hairstyle he knows you spent a good hour on.

04. third-wheel

“are we waiting for someone?” you ask as jake scrolls on his phone after you two have been sitting in the car for a couple of minutes now.

“yeah,” jake’s eyes drift from his phone to the back exit of the school, finally seeing the tall black-haired boy making his way towards the car. “we’re bringing riki home.”

“hey guys!!” the younger boy grins as he slides into the backseat.

“hi ki!” you smile at him in the rearview mirror. “do you want to come with me and jae to the café downtown? or are you busy?”

“i’m not busy!” riki has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, knowing that jake had told him to not get in the way of your study date.

alas, you’re the one who invited him, so jake cannot protest.

“oh! haha great!” jake says as he grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles turn white. luckily for him, that’s the least of your concerns as you stare at the way his veins have become more prominent. “the more the merrier!”

the three of you sit in a booth in the café. thankfully jake had kicked riki out of your side of the booth while you were in the bathroom. now jake was by your side doing his own homework as you both shared a slice of strawberry shortcake.

riki on the other hand sits at the opposite side of the table with his straw conveniently next to his mouth as he plays games on his phone.

“riki, don’t you have any homework?” you ask him as you look over at the gaming underclassmen.

“i did it in study hall,” he clarifies, eyes still glued to his screen like a giant ipad kid.

“i find that hard to believe,” jake whispers in your ear.

“be nice,” you nudge him, to which he shrugs.

you both go back to doing your work for a while until jake sees that you have one bite's worth of cake left. he knows you’ll argue with him and insist he eats it. so instead he silently picks it up with his fork and turns to you.

“____,” he says as he brings the utensil to your lips, waiting for you to get the whole piece before retracting his hand, “good?” he asks.

you nod your head as you finish chewing the cake. jake notices that some icing got stuck on the corner of your lips and wordlessly brings his thumb to your face to clean you.

you both stare at each other. the way your eyes sparkle when jake makes eye contact with you is mesmerizing. he dares to almost lean in until riki clears his throat.

“um, my mom says i have to be home for dinner soon.”

“oh yeah,” jake says as he awkwardly backs away. “let’s get you home.”

05. driver switch

you’ve been sitting around in jake’s car for about an hour now. you didn’t know he had practice today and he had only gotten to tell you after the buses left.

instead, he had you walk to the soccer field so he could give you his keys so you could wait in the car for him.

his teammates looked at him suspiciously when you approached.

“since when did you have a girlfriend?” heeseung, the soccer captain asks.

“that’s ____,” riki, an underclassman, interrupts, “jake’s neighbor he’s secretly in love with.”

“shut up,” jake shoves his shoulder as you were still walking close by.

“is that why you wouldn’t set me up on a date with her?” sunghoon pops up behind jake, startling him.

“maybe,” jake mumbles, taking the ball and kicking it along.

once practice is over jake walks to the parking lot with sunghoon and jay. he spots you from afar sitting in his car while reading a book.

he says goodbye to his friends who are quick to tease him and walks over to the car. knocking on the window so you let him open it.

“hi! how was practice?”

“tiring,” jake sighs, placing his bag in the back seat.

“seems like it,” you comment, “i’ll drive us home!”

“nah, it’s fine.”

“please! i never get to drive because i don’t have my own car,” you whine, “you’re clearly tired anyways.”

“it’s my car,” jake argues.

“but i have the keys!” you pout.

“just this once,” jake says while you both switch seats.

06. the date

after your almost kiss at the café, jake musters up the courage to bring you on a real date. the near kiss did everything to confirm that the pining he had been doing for you since the beginning of high school was mutual.

waiting for him to pick you up was seriously nerve-wracking. you kept telling yourself that this wasn’t new at all, which is true, and that it was just jake.

but that was exactly the problem.

you haven’t seen jake since he confessed to you and asked you out on a real date.

that was three days ago, the last day of school when he dropped you home after getting celebratory ice cream.

you’ve been in jake’s car with him more than a hundred times but today was different. you weren’t just driving to school or around town, you were going on a date with him.

at that fancy place, you both discussed going to back when you were just friends. scrolling through the menu on the website for a hypothetical meal turned into reality now.

“you look beautiful,” jake says when you walk downstairs.

of course, he went inside to talk to your parents beforehand. jake was nothing but a gentleman. he reaches for your hand and twirls you around once your feet touch the floor. he admires your dress with lovesick eyes and you think you might as well be dreaming right now.

you bid goodbye to your parents and walk hand in hand down to his car. jake reached to open the passenger door for you and made sure you were inside before closing it.

you fiddle with your necklace as jake starts the car, which he catches onto the awkward atmosphere quickly.

“are you nervous?” jake glances over at you.

“kinda- a lot actually,” you chuckle awkwardly. “it’s just kinda weird being in your car for the first time after we told each other we liked each other.”

“i get it,” jake nods his head before reaching over the console to take your shaking hand into his. “it’s just me.”

“that’s the thing,” you say. “of course i’m nervous jae, i like you, and now you know.”

“i like you too though and i’m also nervous,” he squeezes your hand. “this shouldn’t be any different from when we hang out! just don’t overthink it.”

“okay,” you feel yourself getting flustered, interlacing your fingers with his as he starts driving.

“at least we already know what we want to order!” jake laughs, recalling your late-night menu scrolling two weeks ago before either of you knew about the reciprocated feelings. “one less thing to be worried about.”

you finally let out a genuine laugh.

that night when jake walks you back to your door he does what riki interrupted you from doing. kissing you softly under the dim light provided by your porch light.

when you both finally pull away to see jake cutely pouting at the fact your night together is coming to a close.

“what’s wrong, yun?” you giggle, resting your hands on his chest.

“i don’t want to go home yet,” he says with a pout on his face. bringing you closer so your head rests on his chest as he holds you.

“maybe you can come inside?” you look up at him with hopeful eyes.

at the end of the night, you end up in your boyfriend’s arms.

[lessi-lover]

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

warnings: mention of suicide, implied self harm, self hate, spanish federation.

this is the longest i've ever written and i'm so proud thank you all for sending ideas to help me keep this draft alive x

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?" it was an ignorant affair to believe, something only somebody with a slight sliver of saved up hope might trust. not you. not the broken shell of a person that can only believe you are the only thing keeping yourself together.

the glue to a cracked vase. in which the vase was you and you were slowly breaking under pressure that had been following you for years. if you hadn't hit rock bottom a couple months ago, you were certainly scraping the edge with your bare teeth now.

you had been one of their strongest forwards available to select from. a top forward in your league, it would be silly for them not to call you up with the titles next to your name at such a young age. it was inevitable that you would be called up for the world cup squad selection and there was nothing you could have done about it even if you tried.

you were just so helpless weren't you?

there was nobody to tell that you didn't want to travel to australia to play for a team that had ripped you inside out before you were even first national tournament debut, nobody that would understand how badly you wanted to represent your country and how willing you were to put your body on the line for it even for a single minute in spanish colours.

is that why you stayed quiet?

you stared towards yourself in the mirror, wondering if maybe your eyes had ever truly been as light as they used to tell you. that the light in your eyes you had been promised was always there had just seemingly disappeared. the eyes that they still talk about that seem so foreign to you now as you look back at yourself through shattered glass. wondering if maybe it was all just a lie.

maybe it was all just a lie.

a black and white faceless lie that everything you would go through for a ruthless tournament was for the better of you. or worse. a binary promise that everything would be okay, that all the suffering would end in good for you. or not.

but you look back through the same eyes that you were meant to be able to trust, the eyes that let everything just happen without looking back, and you still don't understand how you could be so easily deceived, taken apart from top to bottom like a neglected toy.

a useless, discardable toy. was it all a lie?

maybe the people who were meant to protect you and care for you were actually abusing you to wits' ends. maybe it wasn't that you needed the further training they made you endure after your previous training, but that you were so young and fresh and all too easy to manipulate.

maybe it was those you trusted and who sent you away with the assurance that you would be the next spanish legacy that isolated you from the world and treated you as a vessel to secure gold for spain.

but you were to blind and powerless to seek help.

you had been the silent one. the one too shattered to even bear the trial that came with the aftermath of the events following your world cup win. you knew the federation would come after you. you were the one who wanted so badly to sign the document that your teammates had but you couldn't bring yourself to look at the people who had broken you from the inside out for even just a second to speak your mind.

you were just a shell of a once strong force now weren't you?

you knew they would try and rip away each and every title you had ever worked for and your playing rights along with it. you were a world cup, champions league, copa de la reina, nations league and liga f winner. but maybe you were just a vulnerable, small cog in a relentless system that wouldn't stop until you broke down and they would throw you away like the others.

the fear of losing everything you had worked for since you were a small child paralyzed you for months. the mere thought of speaking out, of seeking help, seemed as impossible as how you got into the situation in the first place.

the federation had an iron grip on your life, they could control you whether you were defenseless to it or not and any caught wind of saying something felt like signing your own demise.

it would end you surely? don't you think that maybe speaking out for help would become the end of your career? one that had barely started as you were only freshly twenty years old? staying quiet was the better option. you had thought you could escape unscathed, but your reality was far from it.

nobody had your best interest and those who did didn't make it clear enough until you finally broke down from the denied pressure. it felt like a void sometimes. as if you were screaming and nobody could hear you, or maybe nobody cared?

no they care. didn't they?

did they care when you were forced out of bed early in the morning to complete extra practice before the day even started? did they care when you were just a young teenager illegally moving up into the senior divisions of international football to cover for seniors who had denied their call up's and was made to exhaust your body more than you ever should? did they care when the private meetings you were obligated to attend turned into time to yell at you, to break you down as if you hadn't given your entire life to the federation.

but then again, if not football what else did you have to live for?

you asked yourself these questions over and over again. each time just hoping that the harsh reminder of your situation would lessen. it never did. it never would. it would be stuck with you no matter how hard you tried to block it out, no matter how hard you tried to ignore who and what made you shrink a million times over.

the fear, the abuse, the meal plans, the body exhaustion, the denied freedom, the stolen happiness, a cruel reminder of the bottomless hole you had found yourself falling deeper and deeper and there was nothing you could do to get out.

you were truly and utterly stuck.

~

the office is cold, its white walls a stark contrast to the warmth in the hallway you had been waiting in for the past half hour. the thick carpet muffles your footsteps as you walk toward the large desk in the center of the room, the air you're walking into a harsh wind of tension that couldn't be cut with a blade if you tried.

you swallow hard, your throat dry despite the countless bottles of water you’ve consumed throughout the day. but your hydration doesn't matter now, whatever it said to you in the next twenty minutes does.

the glare of the desk lamp catches your eye, reflecting the same harsh light that seems to spotlight you everywhere, waiting for you to make your next mistake. you glance at the stern faces of the officials seated behind the desk, their expressions unreadable as they read through what looks like your performance reports.

“please, take a seat,” the head of the federation says, his voice clipped as he places his hand predatorily on your lower back and guides you to sit down. you lower yourself into the chair, the thin material of your club shorts rubbing uncomfortably against the velvet furniture.

the head official adjusts his collar, peering over them at you with a sharp look almost as though you had done something to personally offend him. but those aren't anything close to his next words.

“you’ve been doing exceptionally well, tesoro.” he begins, but his tone is far from genuine and you feel that something else is coming. “your performance has been impressive, especially considering your age and the closeness of the tournament.”

you nod, though his praise feels hollow, almost as if you're falling into a set trap made just for you. your heart races and you grip your hands on the chair. you want to speak up, to voice your concerns about the overwhelming training schedules and the strain it’s putting on your body, but the words get lost in your throat.

“we’ve decided to integrate you into the senior squad for the upcoming world cup. it’s a great opportunity, but it also means you’ll need to do far more than what you're currently putting in.”

your chest tightens. you’ve been waiting for this for a long time, but when he finally tells you it feels overwhelming and you don't understand why a moment you have been prepping for years of your life makes you feel uneasy. you push it off as nerves.

the world cup is a chance to showcase your skills on a global stage, this is your moment, don't stare it in the face and back down.

another official at the side of the room glances at you with a fleeting look of concern before turning back to his notes. he seems to recognize the strain you’re currently feeling, but his words are lost just like yours as the head continues to talk to you.

“your development is crucial to our success,” the head official says, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “we expect you to handle this responsibility with the utmost professionalism. this is an opportunity for you to prove yourself and secure your place on the national team.”

"and who knows, i have spots emptied by débiles that need filling. this is your shot don't blow it. tesoro." there is something about the way he talks to you and speaks about you over your head that makes you shiver right down to your core.

you nod again, feeling the weight of their words drop into the palm of your hand and the room seems to close in on you as they continue discussing your role to each other and the intense training you will need to undergo in the upcoming months.

the meeting ends with a firm handshake and a curt nod from yourself and as you leave the office, the clear expectations settle heavily on your shoulders, the fear of failing and the pressure to succeed feeling almost insurmountable. yourself unaware of the danger you have just put yourself in.

~

you're not even sure when it all started. you can't pinpoint when the abuse started, if you could even call it that, or if it was there the whole time and you normalised it for yourself because that was the better option instead of speaking out in your mind.

it was enough of the lack of players available that caused them to attempt to burn you out as much as they could. it was enough for the federation to take one look at you and decide that the weight of the world relied on your shoulder whether you liked it or not.

that was your purpose. it was your job to lead the team to victory without a second mistake. without a setback, through injury, responsible for the good and the bad, amidst an internal battle with yourself that was dragging you down, and most importantly with a smile on your face even if you were shattered from the inside.

a smile on your face. nobody would notice would they?

~

“siéntate, tesoro,” he commands, his tone carrying an edge of impatience and you feel yourself move quickly into his office at his voice. you sink into the chair, its firm surface a harsh contrast to how had felt in the chair only mere months ago.

“you’re here because you’ve been selected for the world cup squad,” he begins, his voice cold and he digs his hand into the desk as he leans close to you. “but let’s be clear, tesoro. being selected was only the first challenge. we expect more from you.”

you nod, but the weight of his words feel heavy and you can't help but notice that the official who had given you the sorry look was missing from his spot behind the desk.

“we’ve noticed that you’re not quite fitting the ideal player we had in mind,” he continues, and you shake off any thoughts of the past official when your eyes meet his. “you’re not fast enough, not agile enough. you’re not meeting the physical standards we expect from you.”

his words sting, each critique like a hard blow to your self-esteem that wasn't really there in the first place. “your performance has been adequate,” he says, “but adequate isn’t enough. we need you to be exceptional and above all competition. and right now, you’re neither of those.”

he leans forward, his breath fanning over you as you look down at the floor in fear. “your weight is one concern of our team, but it’s not just about being heavier or lighter. it’s about how you present yourself. we need you to be leaner, faster and even more dynamic. you’re not the perfect image we want for the team right now.”

the room seems to close in around you as he continues. “we’ve seen some players who didn’t meet our expectations and they were dropped. you need to understand that if you don’t shape up, you will be next to not enter through doors again. comprendido?"

he gestures to a pile of strawn documents on his desk and you look up from the concrete fall at the harsh snap of his fingers in your face.

“we have reports here, tesoro, that detail everything we need from you. and it’s not just about physical performance. it’s about how you look, how you’re perceived by the public. you need to be more endearing, more marketable. if you can’t fulfill that role, then we'll find another.”

his gaze is relentless and he talks to you like you're a faceless object that he can discard at his will, throw away when he feels you're not complying with his demands. he can take you off this squad the moment you defend yourself.

“you’re not here just to play; you’re here to be the face of the team. the face of spain. and right now, you’re not cutting it for us. we need you to be a star, not just another player in this tournament. and if you’re not willing to meet those expectations, then you’re in the wrong place i'm afraid.”

“now, we’re going to do something,” he continued, his voice carrying a coldness that made your stomach curl inwards as you sat fearfully in your chair. “i need you to repeat after me. ‘i am not good enough. i need to be better."

you hesitate, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak as you blinked harshly to try and to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say quietly, looking down shamefully at the floor like a small child being scolded by their parent.

“louder.” he demands, his voice cutting through the room like a whip and you try not to flinch at the volume of his words. “i need to hear you say it with conviction. you are lying through your teeth pequeña. don't lie to me, i hate liars."

“again,” he insists. “and this time, say it as if you truly believe it. i am not good enough. i need to be better." you force yourself to repeat the phrase, the words make you feel as if you're stripping away everything you ever built yourself to believe. every title, every trophy, every medal, every goal. erased.

“i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say louder, the humiliation of his cruel exercise making your stomach lurch and you struggled to keep yourself together.

“very good,” the official says, his tone carrying a note of being pleased and you hated that you loved the feeling of his approval. “you should understand that just because you’re going to australia doesn’t mean you get to enjoy it. you’re there for work, not to have fun.”

his manipulation is chilling to the bone, designed to strip away any sense of accomplishment you had ever felt. “you’re not meant to enjoy australia, it’s not a vacation. you’re there to prove yourself, not to sightsee. you need to focus solely on the tournament, on meeting the expectations we’ve set for you. or we won't hesitate to send you home.”

“this is a serious commitment. if you let yourself get distracted, you’re failing in your duty. you’re expected to perform at your peak, and that means putting aside any thoughts of leisure or enjoyment. this isn’t about you enjoying yourself; it’s about you meeting the standards we've set for you.”

“if you allow yourself to get comfortable or take things lightly,” he warns, “you’re showing weakness. and weakness is unacceptable. you need to stay sharp, stay focused, and remember why you’re here.”

his manipulation is subtle yet even then you could tell that he knew you wouldn't fight back, he had designed it to make you feel guilty for even considering enjoying the tournament.

“this is a test of your worth,” he says. “if you can’t handle the pressure and keep your focus, you’re not fit for the team. we need you performing to the highest standards that we expect from everybody else. including you. if you can’t handle the pressure, then you’re not worthy of the position. we expect you to rise to the challenge without complaint.”

~

you were far too gone to allow somebody else to take your spot. guilty and far too gone to let yourself slip through the cracks you had been told others had fallen through. somebody wouldn't be able to deal with the kind of pain you had been trained to believe as normal.

somebody else definitely wasn't as strong as the fake front you had built up to deal with it all, or at least that's what you told yourself, it made you feel better even if you didn't believe it.

you felt like nothing.

was it the pressure? was it the memories? was it the unhealable bruises that littered you from head to toe? or was it the feeling that you gave your whole existence to people who threw you away like you were just dirt on the bottom of a shoe?

you were numb.

you couldn't even remember the last time you had felt truly happy, truly yourself. the facade of a charming female footballer you put on for the world was crumbling and you were scared that people would finally see the pain that lied underneath.

the mirror showed a person trapped between who they once were and the brokenness of who they had become, drowning in a sea of your own helplessness.

you wondered if there was any way back to the person you used to be, or if that person was gone forever, if she had fallen through but ignored by who you had been built to be. this is what rock bottom feels like. rock bottom is not knowing who you are anymore, not recognising any of the memories of the person you were before.

it's the lostness of knowing that you can't find yourself again, seeing your old self in the distance but not knowing how to reach it with the strength you so clearly do not have.

it's the painful acknowledgement that the once vibrant and full of life person who was here before has been replaced by a shadow and you're struggling to fight the dark.

had the darkness swallowed you yet?

your phone rings loudly in your ear. it's more harsh this time than the previous sounds that had escaped the device. you know who's calling you because there wasn't exactly anybody in your life that would reach out to you so religiously and determindly.

you bit down on your lip. a similar memory of you lying on the floor answering the man who had made you the emotionless person that couldn't bear to even think about the game you used to live for.

you miss the person you were. that man gutted her from the inside.

the sound pierces into the thick silence of the room, demanding you to answer as it broke through the barrier of quiet you had built up. the screen of your phone lights up and you let your eyes flicker down towards it, your phone displaying the name of the person you dreaded to see you how you are now.

a feeling you couldn't quite place as dread or relief washed over you as your phone vibrated against the cold floor. dark purple bruises forming on your legs and arms from the time you had spent laying on the bathroom floor.

you slowly reach for your phone, drops of blood dripping off your skin and onto the glass as tears make their way down your face from the dark circles that countless nights of lost sleep had created for you.

your fingers tremble as you swipe to answer the call as if they are carrying the burden you've been feeling for months, and the screen lights up with the caller's name again. you can't turn back now, you've answered the one person you would hate to see you like this.

you contemplate hanging up the phone, staying silent on your end of the call as if magically the situation would disappear and you could leave like you so badly wanted to.

you sound nothing like the person you were a year ago.

"hola amorcito. are you there?" the voice on the other end of the line breaks through your thoughts, the term of endearment so familiar yet painful almost making you burst into another set of tears but you stay strong for her because that's what he would have wanted.

"ale?" you reply, your voice steady but still shaking as you lift your phone to your ear to hear better. "i'm here." there's a soft sigh on alexia's side of the phone and you can almost picture her sitting with her girlfriend on the couch, the older woman had tried to call you throughout the week but you hadn't answered and she'd been waiting for you to call her back.

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?"

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

TW: mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time writing here, i'm still new.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I ask for the batboys reaction to their BFF that they have a crush on saying “EWW, gross, he’s like my brother”, in response to someone saying that they’d make a cute couple?

Welp confession is off the table if that’s how you see them ngl.

Dick tries to take it in stride but is hiding the fact that he’s having to come to terms that his best friend and his crush only sees him as a brother figure. Yikes. That’s worse than being friend zoned, you might as well have stabbed him and it would’ve hurt a lot less than being considered a brother.

Dick will act like he isn’t affected but if you were to squint you can see that his smile wasn’t genuine and his eyes didn’t twinkle like they normally did, but even if you were to call him out on it he’ll only laugh and discard your concerns with a vague answer.

He hated hiding this from you but he knew there was no way he could ever confess, no way in fucking he’ll could he confess when you’ve made your stance clear as day, even if he wishes it was a bad joke or a dream that he’ll inevitably wake up from. He’ll think that he’s accepted his fate but every time he looks at you smiling or leaning against his side, he’ll be reminded that he was just lying to himself, much like he’s been lying to you about feeling absolutely nothing romantic towards you.

He’ll live his life living a lie if it means that you’ll never know how he truly feels, even if it hurts or until he finds someone else to love, knowing deep down he’ll never love another as deeply as he did you.

Jason felt as though he had died. Again.

He’s unsettlingly silent after the whole thing and would answer you in short or dry responses so often they you just decided that talking wasn’t what he wanted to do right now. He was processing the fact that there will most likely not be a reality where you two end up together if this is how you saw him in each one.

He will most probably put some distance between the two of you as a result of this, so don’t be surprised when you hear nothing from Jason for weeks on end. He’s just trying to figure out what to do now because he was planning to confess, but you saying he’s nothing more to you than a brother kinda made that plan backfire in his face.

Jason knows that feelings aren’t easily discarded as much as he would love them to be but he couldn’t force you to feel the same as him and so he’ll have to accept that you were still in his life, even if it’s not going to be his partner. After all he just wanted you to be happy even if that happiness may not lie with him.

Tim quickly throws away any and all plans of confessing to you early quick because if you only see him as a brother figure, then he’ll see that confessing will only make things weirder between the two of you.

He’s trying to think how your friendship can continue when there was a one sided infatuation on his end because as far as he was aware they tended to end badly and extremely messy. He didn’t want that to become of you two and thus he’ll probably chuckle awkwardly along with you, waving off the ladies suspicions of you two ever being a couple, even though it hurt his heart to do so.

It’ll be obvious that he’s hiding something from you but you weren’t going to say anything until he did, which mean even more pain shooting through poor Tim as he tries his hardest to act as though he’s not got a crush on you. However this tends to make him come across as stiff, awkward and a bit cold at times, and or he’ll bury himself into his vigilante work to the point where he doesn’t allow himself free time with you anymore.

That was the last time he’ll ever trust a stupid romance movie where the friends get together ever again.

Damian kinda saw this coming from the moment your whole body poetically recoiled at the thought of being with him romantically.

So needless to say that while expected that kind of response from you, it still hurt him nonetheless to know that his affections were reciprocated even in the slightest. Damian didn’t think he would ever allow his feelings to become out of his control but here he was, crushing on someone who’ll never see him in the same light assumably.

He hates it and despises it greatly but realises there’s nothing much he could do but accept your words as truth and not cross any boundaries. So don’t be surprised that Damian gets cold with you, well more cold than usual, he’s just nursing a broken heart and being in the presence of the person who had inadvertently broke it wasn’t his ideal day out.

[stardustizuku]

Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Moth To A Flame

Summary - Azriel has a new friend in the form of a diary to talk to, and you are completely enchanted to find out exactly what they talk about.

Warnings - F L U F F F F F F F F F F, pining, wholesome all round

Word Count - 4.1k

Based on this ask

Winter Solstice was a magical time of year, one that had become even more meaningful with the additions of your ever-expanding family.

Before Feyre, it had just been you decorating the house and instructing Cassian to help you, scolding him when he would inevitably pop open a bottle of wine and find a nice couch to perch on whilst he barked unhelpful comments in your direction. The only good thing about Cassian's laziness was that Azriel would always show up to help you, whether that be resting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you strung up the garlands, or getting on a ladder himself to reach the higher points that were beyond your reach, he was always there to assist.

Since Feyre, you were gifted with a band of women who wanted to help, Feyre reached the highest corners of the room, Elain made fresh garland rings from whatever she could find in the gardens of Velaris, and Nesta was meticulous in the placement of all of the decorations. Wine flowed and music played, and your heart had never felt so full and content.

That solstice had marked Nyx's fourth year within your special little family, and each year, the gifts had become more extravagant for the little one.

You had opted to stay in that morning and skip the annual snowball fight, choosing to watch it from the window with Elain as you both spent the morning preparing the meal you were going to feed to three huge Illyrian bats a few hours from then. Lucien had also opted to stay behind, his reason being to make sure that your wine glasses stayed full which earnt him a teasing glare from Azriel before his eyes flickered to you in silent conversation.

Snow floated down softly from the skies and you watched with a quiet giggle as you noticed Nyx reaching his little limbs upward to the sky in Feyre's arms, grasping at the flakes that were just in reach for him to capture. Then your watchful eye moved to Azriel, the male you were so irrevocably in love with who had no idea of your affections.

It was odd, for Azriel, a male who dreamed of a mate so badly, of real true love, to not see what had always been right in front of him. Though you had to give it to him, you weren't exactly forthcoming with your feelings in fear of being rejected.

Presents had been neatly arranged in piles, thanks to Lucien, and you had made sure to make everyone aware that each person had a certain coloured wrapping paper, you had told them it would make life easier since the family was too big now to spend time reading labels. Rhys had rolled his eyes at you, but pecked your cheek with a smirk at your usual perfectionist antics before agreeing and stalking off to make sure it was imperative to your plans that they do as told.

Life hadn't always been so perfect.

You had come from nothing, no family or title were bestowed to you, and you had unfortunately found yourself being sold to the Illyrian camps to entertain the males there before Rhys and his brothers had found you and taken you in. There was something about you that captivated them, and the more time they spent with you, getting to know you, the more they fell in love with everything that you were. Kind. Selfless. Loyal. Fierce. Their family wouldn't feel nearly as complete without you in it.

Azriel had smirked when they had re-entered the house, basking in the glow of another victory whilst you barked the exact place where they all needed to sit in front of their towering piles of presents. You had gone overboard again, you always did every year, showering them all in gifts which you never expected to be returned. That was the gift of you, all you wanted was for everyone else to be happy.

The house smelt divine. Baked chestnuts and cranberries, pine and candied oranges, and whatever honey you had put on the meat. All of their mouths were salivating at the thought of sitting down at that table and turning into feral beasts at the platter you had spent weeks planning and preparing.

A seamlessly planned gap had been created, a perfect moment for you all to sit down together and open your gifts before you bolted back into the kitchen and ordered Rhys to keep your wine topped up. It was the least he could do after all.

Your pile was nestled between Azriel and Mor's separate towers, the space on the deep seated sofa between them left free for you also. Azriel's eyes roamed your figure as you dipped into the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass of red wine, your bare feet padded along the floor and the short silver chrome dress that you had chosen to wear swayed with each step, grazing against your naked thighs.

Azriel thought that you were absolute perfection, to pure for their world, too pure for him to foolishly believe that he stood a chance with you.

Your scent drifted past him as you shimmied through the gap between his knees and the table, molten caramel apples and basil, a smell he could scent from any place he stood, no matter how far or near he was from you.

All of the piles were as you had ordered, in specific coloured papers, and the beaming smile on your face made all of the hassle of running about town worth it.

Everyone began opening their gifts in turn. Mor had flung her arms around you when she had opened a glittering red floor length dress that you had custom made for her. Feyre was beyond happy at the paintbrushes that you had inscribed her name into, Nesta was thrilled with her books, and Elain's bright eyes sifted through the cookbooks and ornate garden tools you had imported from Dawn. Another jewel for the firedrake and she was content, Cassian was audibly grateful for the armour you had gotten him which held a bit for flare than his current leathers, with golden sockets for his siphons which melted into the taut black leather of the skin.

Azriel shouldn't have been surprised when you went as far as to import delicacies from the Spring Court for Lucien, an assortment of baked goods and herbs that almost brought a tear to his eye. You knew how much Lucien missed being able to have a home, and you knew that Spring was the closest thing to a home he had ever had bar Elain.

Rhys howled in laughter when he unwrapped his matte black lint roller with a violet handle, promising to use it often before opening his real gift, a piece of art you had commissioned of himself, Feyre and Nyx at Starfall a year prior, covered in stardust and smiling brightly. Thoughtful as always.

Then you turned to Azriel, noticing he had opened most of his gifts apart from the ones that were clearly from you by the state of the perfectly wrapped edges and cobalt blue ribbons. He felt your eyes on him, pools of adoration he always found himself searching for, and he met your gaze as you handed him a small square box that rested in his palm.

Unwrapping it, navy velvet welcomed his eye and he looked at you with a small frown, listening to your silent urge to open it to find a thin onyx leather bracelet with a hot white glass pendent at its centre. The light swirled and danced like it was alive, growing more active as he inspected it. "What is it?"

Smiling, you took the bracelet from the box and secured it around his wrist, your touch alone sending electricity coursing through his veins, "I've been experimenting with my power," you told him softly as the room continued unphased in its own conversation like neither of you existed, "It's a piece of my soul," your fingers rested on his wrist and he felt his heart thump in his chest, "It's just so you know that you know I'm with you to light the way whenever you need it."

Azriel exhaled with disbelief, feeling unworthy of such a gift. A piece of your soul. So that you would always be with him.

"Y/N," he breathed, "This is- Thank you," he would give anything to be able to lean forward and capture your lips in his, but instead he restrained himself and reached for your own gift from him in your pile, wrapped in shiny silver paper with intricate embellishments of flower petals.

You hadn't opened a single gift yet, too entranced in everyone else to take a moment for yourself, but you obliged the man you adored so much and ripped open the paper that encased a long box.

Opening it, your eyes widened as you took in the blade in your fingers, an exact match to Truthteller but with a hilt of diamonds and beautifully forged embellishments, "I realised that you didn't have your own, I hope you never have to use it but just thought you'd like one," your stunned silence made him fidget with his fingers and he watched you carefully pick the blade up and turn it in your hands, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," it was beautifully lethal, just like you, "Thank you, Az. Really."

The afternoon continued and you couldn't stop glancing to the open lidded box on the table as you sat nestled under Azriel's wing, sipping from your wine as he opened his last gift, from Nesta, who was busy placing the new hairpins you had gotten her into her staple coronet. Azriel tore open the paper and tilted his head, looking up at the eldest Archeron sister who raised a brow and smirked, "It's a diary, Az. People use them to write down their thoughts and feelings, some people draw in them," you snorted at the condescension in her tone to which Azriel nudged your knee playfully before thanking her and thus wrapping up the present exchange.

It had shaped up to be the most perfect solstice any of you had ever seen.

In the weeks that followed solstice, the snow melted away to give new life to the earth below, and the sun peeked out from the mountains to cascade Velaris in its heavenly glow.

During those weeks, you noticed a subtle change to Azriel, how he would fly away at dusk with his diary secured to his side, to only return an hour or so later seeming lighter and more determined. The subtle changes and the increases of his affection only made you more intrigued to find out exactly what he was writing in that book.

He had caught you far too many times tiptoeing into his bedroom, curtly telling you with a smirk that the diary was nowhere to be seen before pecking your forehead and sending you on your way.

Azriel had been much more attentive since solstice, he rarely took off the bracelet that you gave him, and you liked to think that the glow of your soul coaxed him into sleep, a thing you knew he struggled with often. Even Rhys had told you that Azriel had left his door open one night, only slightly ajar, but enough to Rhys to see him reaching to the ceiling and looking longingly at the pendent which contained your essence atop his pulse.

It was frustrating for your family to see it, to see your mutual pining but watch the other be clueless to it. Azriel had brought you flowers, brought back trinkets from his travels, he would brush up behind you and allow his shadows to feather across your lower back, he'd even cooked for you, something no one had ever seen before. Then there was you, giving a literal piece of your soul to the male, and even that wasn't enough for Azriel to see how in love with him you were.

"I'm calling it," Cassian panted as he rested on the stone pillar of the training ring beside Nesta, watching Azriel jog to catch up with your retreating form and his shadows drawling over your shoulder, "They're mates. They have to be."

"You're too late to that bet," Nesta quipped, wrapping her mate's hands up tighter in the leather straps, "We've all put money in, we bet on how long it would take for them to realise and for the bond to snap."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

Nesta scowled playfully, "You'd cheat," she prodded his armoured chest with her finger, "It has to be natural. They deserve that much."

Weeks ticked by and the group were getting restless, even Nesta, who was stubborn to let the pining play out, was getting annoyed.

Nesta knew exactly what Azriel wrote about in his diary each day, he wrote of you, she had caught a glimpse of a passage when he had stupidly left his diary in the library one night and he had sworn her to secrecy since then, but also sought her out to speak about you, about what he should do.

And Nesta no longer saw a problem in nudging him in the right direction.

"Is she still sniffing around your diary?" Nesta had asked, they were splayed across the seating area in the River House whilst you and Mor had disappeared to Rita's for the evening.

Your essence glowed on his wrist, he heard the whispers of your voice emit from it and sighed with a faint smile on his lips, "Everyday," he told her, looking upward at the ceiling and wondering what you were doing in that moment, "She's too good for me, Nes."

Humming in disagreement, Nesta sat up and craned her neck to look at her friend who was clearly thinking of the woman dancing the night away in the centre of Velaris, "Azriel," she deadpanned, "Y/N gave you a piece of her soul so that she would always be with you. Show her what you wrote. I assure you it can only go in the way you want it to."

Hint? No. Spelling it out for the dumb Illyrian? Yes.

Realisation hit him and he bolted upright, he gathered his diary in his fingers and raced upstairs, stumbling past a confused Cassian who stared after his brother before turning to his mate, mouth full of one of the cupcakes you and Elain had baked that morning with wide eyes and a accusatory tone muffling his words, "You cheated!" Crumbs flew from his mouth and Nesta flipped him off.

"You know the money is ours right?"

Cassian flopped down beside her with a grin, "I knew there was a reason why I loved you."

Painful throbs growled at the balls of your feet as you walked up the path to the house with your heels stabbing at your thigh. Intoxication hadn't found you but you still had an amazing time dancing the hours away with Mor and Feyre, giggling and talking about men until you were all talked and danced out.

Golden firelight greeted you, and your dreary eyes scanned the room to find Azriel sat before the fire but turned toward the door where you stood in a floor length black dress, with two long slits that kissed your mid thigh and a plunging neckline held up by two thin ropes.

Azriel's hair was tousled, his hazel eyes were warm pools that beckoned you to dive in, his skin was golden and glowing in the light, and he sat there with a look of wonderment that you had never seen before.

"Az? Are you alright?" You closed the door behind you and made you way over to him, noticing his neck crane to keep his focus on your face as you approached him.

Azriel had pulled the table toward him and a familiar black leather bound book lay open on the table in front of him, "Come here," his voice was low but soft, pleading but not commanding, he patted the space beside him and you sank down into it, "I wanted to show you something. I know I've been hiding this from you, but I want you to see it now."

The book was soon in your hands, and closed, the thing you had been after for so long, "Are you sure?" The idea of his diary in your hands felt wrong, like a delicious invasion of privacy.

"More sure than I've ever been," he nodded downward, giving you the permission you needed to open it.

The pages were filled with words and charcoal sketched, and you took a moment to flick through the filling book before you focused on certain pages.

Bright eyes, unbound hair, and a toothy smile greeted you over a two page spread, your eyes followed the curves of black, and you gasped when you noticed what, or who, you were looking at. It was you. Azriel had drawn you on the pages of the diary Nesta had gifted him. In the time he had disappeared at dusk to be alone with his thoughts, he had chosen to let them wander to you.

You looked to him and noted how he had shuffled closer to you, the warmth of wing draping over your smaller form and his shadows dancing across your shoulders.

"I think in a way this diary is for you," he urged you to carry on, watching carefully as you flipped through to the beginning and scanning the words he had littered on the pages.

To anyone else, they were just a bunch of randomly littered words across the page, a waterfall of sayings and phrases that had come from your lips. Words and phrases that you said often enough for Azriel to take the time to write them down.

On the next page was two lists, one of the things you loved and another of the things you hated with small scribbled beside certain ones depicting when exactly Azriel had noticed.

Flicking through, it dawned on you that the entire diary was full of you, your jokes and mannerisms, the things that made you laugh, passages of your favourite poetry, drawings of you.

"Az, I-"

"Keep going."

So you did, you kept flipping the pages, allowing your fingers to graze against his written word as you read through his thoughts until you reached one page in particular.

Y/N,

I may never have the courage to tell you how I feel, and maybe writing it down will give me the courage to let you finally see what I have been hiding.

I tried to remember the day when everything in my life began to make sense. I went so long feeling lost and alone, of feeling destined to a life of solitude, and then you happened. You brought a joy to my life, to all of our lives, that we didn't know we were missing. I don't think you realise just how amazing you are.

I am in love with you, Y/N.

When you're around I know everything is going to be alright, and when I'm away, all I think about is you. I look at that damn bracelet all of the time, hoping that it was just some thoughtful gift, but a sign of something more. You are fluent in me, you speak my language in ways that even I cannot, and I can't walk this earth without you by my side. I refuse.

I may not tell you everyday that you mean the world to me but you do. The day you entered my life, even when you were petrified, you changed my life into something so beautiful and meaningful, you make me feel seen. I may not be the first man in your life but I intend to be the last, I intend to be the only one who can make you feel loved to your core.

There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I will love you in your weakest moments and brightest of days, I will love you when you don't love yourself, I will love you even when you don't want me to, I will love you until the earth swallows me and even then I will follow you to the next life. There is nothing on this earth that can take me from you, not even death can force us apart.

Between universes, oceans and moons, I am so lucky that I got to step onto the same land and dream under the same stars as you; and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of any reality, I would find you and I would choose you.

I love you, Y/N. I'll write it and say it as many times as you need me to, whether that be verbal or not, in whatever way you need me to say it, I will.

You have me, until the last star in the galaxy perishes, you have me.

You didn't realise that you were crying until you saw your tears splatter onto the page. In an instant, Azriel was cupping your face in the hands that only you found comfort in, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks as he felt your longing and love flow through him.

Felt your longing and love flow through him.

Azriel tensed, his eyes went wild and wide as he searched your soul for a sign for anything to confirm what he had just felt pang in his chest. The pressure was building and his actions confused you, he was panting, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.

You reached for him, resting your fingers over his heart and feeling the world flip on its axis at the singular contact, energy exploded around your forms, white oceanic waves rippling with intertwining shadow, shrouded in a golden shimmer.

The sight was beautiful, so beautiful that it stole your attention and you watched as your essences danced with one another, and his shadows rallied to join in the celebration. Azriel's breath was warm against your cheek and you tore your gaze away from the display above your heads to meet his tearful eyes.

"We're mates," his voice was soft, so gentle, and he ran his fingers down the side of your face, sighing with a smile when you nodded.

"Nesta is going to be thrilled that she won the bet."

Azriel threw his head back and laughed, tears of pure happiness spilling from the corners of his eyes as he fell back to your level, "Bet?"

"They all betted on how long it would take us to realise that we love each other. They thought I didn't know."

"Beautiful smart creature," Azriel purred to you and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, a blush that was soothed by his shadows curling over it, he slowly closed the gap between you, his lips hovering just before your own. "How rude of us to keep them waiting."

Azriel noticed your line of sight flicker between his eyes and downward at his lips, "Extremely," you breathed and Azriel wasted no time in pulling your face toward him and connecting your lips in something that could only be described as universe shifting, like the entire galaxy was holding a collective breath and watching you fall into one another.

There was a hunger behind it as his tongue danced with your own, you felt those golden threads snap into place, you heard the string connecting your souls hum in appreciation and yearning for what was no doubt going to occur behind closed doors.

Just as Azriel was about to scoop you into his arms and take you somewhere more private, a shuffle of feet and a groan sounded by the stairs.

Pulling apart, you saw Cassian stood there with giddy eyes, "GUYS! NESTA WON!"

The house and its inhabitants collectively snarled, "FUCK!" Rhys cursed from somewhere upstairs followed by Nesta's victorious chuckle whilst Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you both, you buried your head into Azriel's chest to contain your red cheeks.

Azriel shrouded you with his wings, forcing you to look up at him, "Let's get out of here? I'd like a night alone with my mate."

"Say it again."

"Mate," he kissed you, "My perfect, incredible mate," he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk, cradling you to his chest and growling at Cassian for whatever crude remark he had made before soaring into the sky with you pressed to his chest with plans to make you his over and over again.

Authors Note

Got a little carried away but this has given me life x

I'm drafting the next parts to some of my series tonight for tomorrow, what do we want prioritised? New Pages? A Fate Inked In Starlight? Can't Keep My Hands To Myself? When I Kissed The Teacher?

Let me know x

[vervainandspritz]

—I'D GO BACK TO YOU

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy and Y/N can't seem to be able to let the other go despite the growing hurt and conflicted feelings ruining their friendship.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, jealousy, abusive childhood

A/N: SEND ME REQUESTS BITCHES

~~

Have you ever had someone by your side long enough to not remember the time before they came around? Almost like they were always here, through the good and bad. Relationship with no beginning nor ending, a permanent part of reality so dear, you barely ever stop to think about the direction.

The earliest memories Y/N had of Tommy were back in childhood. His small, thin hands covering her ears with eyes wide open as he listened through the old wooden door to her parents break the glass in the kitchen. Their words sharper than the pieces shattered on the floor as he braced himself against the door, silently praying for Y/N's father to not come looking for them. The early years of childhood they spent travelling through the imaginary lands where love was gentle and voices never rose in anger, where the outstretched hand did not mean upcoming pain of impact. Two kids so lonely, as they clung desperately to the presence of each other, holding hands so tightly, trembling from helplessness whenever the world would decide to remind them of cruelty from which they couldn't hide, not even in the four walls they grew up to call home.

As they grew older the definition of friendship became rougher around the edges, proving that no matter how hard you run, you won't outrun the blood in your veins. The uncontrollable rage Thomas inherited from the man he swore to hate, causing wounds that ran deeper than the broken skin on his knuckles after countless fights in Y/N's name, not letting anyone hurt her. Despite the differences they remained by each other, as he held her hand even tighter than when they were kids, not letting her drown in the ways of protecting herself by staying small and loving from a distance, until she couldn't stand it as the definition changed once more.

With a small distance that inevitably grew, Y/N watched him try to scratch the itch which seemed to never go away until he became an open wound, too raw for comfort.

Spiraling into the uncontrollable rage that ran between his veins, hating the reflection of his father staring at him in the mirror. Despising the flesh and blood he was made of, passed down like a legacy he never asked for like the scars on his face. She stood nearby, watching from the other side of his small room, not knowing what to say but offering her presence, too deep in her chase for the love she so desperately needed and never had.

Love from the hands gentle enough to not leave scratches, desperately seeking the fulfilment her childhood never offered.

Like two opposites, they stuck together through the worst years, separated by war just to be reconciled again in the worst versions of themselves.

He came back almost dead inside, and she felt too much. Y/N soon enough noticed the rough skin on Tommy's hands, the wilderness in his eyes dressed in expensive suits. Money coming from pain and blood mixed with gun powder, which he used to sharpen the blade hidden in his cap, one she feared so badly.

It took months for the colour to come back into his eyes, making them look lively, impossible to avoid the glances he'd send her across the table. Eyes watching so intently, she could never miss the gaze that weighed more than any other. Emotions swirling in them, creating a storm she was fearing, seeing clearly that she was the one directly on it's path.

For months they danced around the topic, not daring to address his longing. The lack of interest in other women and attention he couldn't bring himself to give to others.

Oh, how scared she was, knowing the destruction that Thomas Shelby held in his heart. One she didn't dare to reach for, shying almost as if she got burnt.

...and years passed without a word that would matter, just sticking through it.

How on earth was she still here?, Y/N wondered walking through the too familiar street. Passing by the old buildings which held more secrets than anyone could count, yet remaining silent, maybe too used to the violence of Birmingham.

Her long coat kept her warm, and emphasized the legs, causing men to glare.

Coming to a stop by the pub, her lips stretched into a smile, seeing him there, waiting. The little routine which formed by itself between them, as Thomas reached for the pack of cigarettes, offering her one before lighting it.

”Morning” He spoke up in a husky voice, the lack of sleep visible in his eyes, causing them to be paler than usual, as he stole a glance of her long legs.

Legs that he saw completely bare too many times to be able to restrain himself, brimming on the edge of hurt he was so used to.

”Are they inside yet?” She asked, glancing towards the entrance to which he shook his head, inhaling the smoke. Y/N nodded, looking at him with a small smile.

”What?” He eventually asked, seeing the light dancing in her eyes, to which she shrugged, remaining silent for a moment before letting out a sigh.

”He asked me out on another date. Brought me flowers” She confessed quietly, clearly happy. Cocking an eyebrow, Thomas just nodded, taking another puff of his cigarette. The numbing pain in his heart was nothing new, the uncertainty of his decisions making the wound remain open, never healing. He looked to the side, letting out a ragged breath.

”I'm happy for you, Y/N” He responded, causing her to shift awkwardly on her feet as she recognized the feeling in his voice. Stubbing out his cigarette, Tommy nodded towards the door. ”Let's wait inside, eh?” He suggested, his silhouette tense, to which she agreed.

***

A couple weeks later, Y/N realized the shift in his behaviour. Tommy's eyes grew distance, avoiding. The usual.. weight of his gaze shifted, not busying himself anymore to catch her eyes.

He seemed more closed up, focused on business and races which were very important. Looking more eager than usual to celebrate taking over major districts in London, he informed all Blinders to come to the Garrison tonight.

Arthur was more than happy, cheering about it since early morning but only when she arrived, hand to hand with William she understood why.

Amongst the chaos Thomas stood, leaning forward with a smaller hand in his grasp. Playful smirk dancing on his lips as he whispered sweet nothings to a dark haired woman. Y/N had to admit that she was pretty, lips smeared with red lipstick and short curls dancing close to her face with each move. Ripping her gaze away, she led William to Blinders table.

”I'll introduce you,” she offered, feeling the tiny bit of resistance in his uncertain walk, lacking the stride she was used to. Ignoring the nagging feeling on the back of her head she pulled him closer as they stood by the big, wooden table.

”Boys,” She spoke up, getting their attention, ”That's William, my good friend,” Y/N generously offered, as Arthur looked at him closely, quickly subconsciously placing him in one of the categories he had for men in this city.

”Arthur” He eventually offered with a slightly mocking grin as the younger man shook his hand weakly. Y/N pulled some chatter further, interrupted by her companion.

”I'll go... Get some drinks.” He quietly said, eyes dancing around the room in search of familiar faces, finding none, to which she nodded.

His tall, thin frame quickly disappeared in the crowd making her sigh as her eyes landed on the couple sitting by the other side of the pub.

His hand was draped over her shoulders as he knocked back the rest of his whiskey. Fingers slightly tracing patterns as he intently looked in her eyes, listening to her words.

Y/N's pulse quickened while her face remained completely stone cold, looking away as she felt the weird thumping in her ears as annoyance grew rapidly.

”Here” William suddenly appeared by her side, handing her a colourful drink. She looked at it funny, before cocking an eyebrow at him. ”What? It tastes good. Trust me” He offered with a smile, suddenly being way more annoying than before.

Letting out a huff, she placed it on a table.

”Let's dance,” Y/N suggested, trying to keep her gaze on him and not on the table several feet away.

”Oh, no, no, no” He shook his head, taking a step back. ”I don't dance. My back hurts” He lied, glancing nervously towards the big table.

Y/N breathed deeply, trying to calm her sudden frustration with the way he... Just was.

”You know, what? You're right. I don't have much time today, anyway.” She faked a smile, leading him outside and trying as fast as possible to get rid of him before making her way home.

***

Hours later once the party finished, Y/N was unable to contain her frustration any longer. Quickly walking across the city she knocked on the door of the house she knew too well.

Not waiting longer than a couple minutes before the door swung open, revealing Tommy in his undershirt.

”Y/N” He spoke up, before she took a step forward, her lips pressing tightly against his. Her hands clutched onto his shoulders as Tommy reacted immediately, pulling her inside.

The temperature immediately rocketed, when he leaned her against the wall. One of his arms grasped the back of her head while the other pulled on her hip, pawing on her dress. The familiar touch of his rough hands against her skin made her moan audibly, feeling his lips move onto her neck. Sucking and biting marks that she'd try to hide away later, as they fall into the same habit, unable to let go.

”Tommy” She whined, pulling on his belt and ripping it open with need. ”I need you” Her voice came out the same way as always.

Full of emotion. Passion and raw craving for the intimacy they could have only together, in no other setting. He shuddered under her touch, as she pulled him out of his underwear, stroking and pulling on his already fully hard cock.

”Why” He breathed out, as she pulled him onto the armchair, straddling his lap with her underwear already discarded to the floor. She took his breath away with another kiss, hands greedily pulling on his hair as he lined up his tip with her leaking entrance.

”I need you” She repeated, slowly sinking down as she threw her head back, exposing her neck. ”I need you to tell me, Tommy.” She pleaded, craving the roughness, the safety she felt in his strong hands. ”Please!”

Thomas knew what she asked for. She always did whenever they would be close. The first couple times he'd give in without a second thought, hope blossoming in his heart as he made love to her, but... It was never enough. She would never be there when he woke up.

He pulled her closer by the neck, hiding his face against her skin as he shook his head.

”No” He mumbled, thrusting up into her heart, fingers digging into the skin of her thighs, greedily pulling her closer. Needing her more than physically possible.

Her fingers pulled in his hair, tearing him away to look into his eyes. Her own were half lidded, drunk on the intimacy they shared.

”Please, Tommy” She whimpered in a voice so delicate and beautiful, he felt his heart tightening, bracing for the impact he'd feel in the morning.

Letting out a deep sigh, he shut his eyes.

”Please” She repeated into his ear, riding him skillfully just the way he liked. Her hands pawing on his skin less than patiently.

”I love you” He confessed in a choked moan, giving into her pleadings, hurting himself again.

”Again” She begged, feeling her heat squeezing around him, as her words made her feel what she needed. Making her feel like it was just them in the whole world again.

”I love you. I love you so much” He groaned, grabbing her hips as his released came sooner than expected, giving her deep thrusts that pushed her over the edge, as she pulled him closer. Embracing him as she screamed his name, before slowly trying to catch her breath.

Tommy leaned back, breathing deeply as his eyes searched for emotions on her own. Reaching up to her face, still sheathed deep inside her, Thomas grabbed her chin, making her look at him and the pain in his eyes.

”You're hurting me” He said, seeing the storm mirroring his own, as his heart slowed down to the normal tempo.

Y/N felt something shift, as the realisation dawned at her.

***

This time, Y/N fell asleep with him in the armchair, not waking up till the very morning. Sitting up she looked around, realising that she was in his bed, but... He wasn't around. The bedding on the other side was cold, already made and the only thing she found was... A piece of paper. Neatly folded in half, revealing his italic handwriting that brought fear into her heart.

I can't keep doing it anymore, it's too much to be with you but never have you. You have to let me go.

T.S

Reading the small letters, breath caught in her throat as she quickly threw on her clothes, rushing towards the phone and calling around. Asking everyone where Tommy could be, creating some serious chaos as she rushed to one of his cars. Jumping behind the wheel she drove to his office, praying to any deity watching over that he was there.

She could barely think, remembering the way his hands danced across her skin, bringing the feeling of safety she clung onto for so long. Associating the roughness, scent and weight of his gaze on her skin.

How foolish she was, all these years. Settling for having him in the moment and then letting go.

Jumping out of the car she rushed through the door, not bothering to knock before almost flying into the room.

For a longer moment the only audible sound was her panting as she tried to catch her breath. Slowly looking up, her eyes locked with his. Thomas' brows furrowed with surprise, seeing her in such a disheveled state.

”Oh my god, you're here!” She breathed out, straightening her back and sighing with relief. Reaching for a pack of cigarettes, Tommy lit one of them, taking his time to inhale and then slowly exhale smoke in the air.

”Where else could I be, eh?” He asked, his voice distant and rougher. His eyes so unavailable.

But she knew. She understood his stance, and the realisation swirled around her mind as she took a step forward.

”I'm... I thought you'd be gone. I don't know what I was thinking.” She stuttered out, biting her lip. ”I'm.. I'm so sorry, Tommy.” Y/N said, this time quieter as her eyes caught his once again.

”Nothing to be sorry for. Forgotten, as always.” He said dismissively, grabbing one of the papers sitting on his desk, trying to get away from the uncomfortable topic. Y/N wasn't surprised by his reaction, after the humiliation she put him through.

Letting out a sigh, she came up, pulling the document out of his hands, pulling him back and standing between him and his desk.

”Tommy, look at me.” She pleaded and it took a moment before he did. The hesitation made her heart hurt. ”I was... An idiotic dunce.” She eventually said, making him furrow his eyebrows again in surprise, yet the corner of his lips slightly raised. Y/N sniffed, before sitting in his lap and grabbing his face.

”I still am, since it took me so long to realise... And figure it out. I just.. I was scared, Tommy. I felt good around you. Nice and tingly, whenever you'd be around or look at me but it felt so... Different. New and scary, and i—i didn't want to be scared anymore so...” She relaxed slowly into the way he held her gaze. ”So I was running away from you. From us. But I never felt fear so strong like this morning. Like when I thought that you'd be... Gone, and unavailable for me.” Her voice grew shaky as she held his face.

Tommy just listened, his gaze softening as he watched her struggle with words.

”...and I'm sorry for yesterday. I don't have the right to be jealous, because you're not even mine... But I... I'd like you to be.” She added, her thumbs caressing the skin on his cheeks as her own turned pink.

Y/N waited for a reaction but he didn't say anything, so she leaned closer.

”Say you want me too” She whispered nervously, but Thomas just shook his head with a delicate grin, raising his eyebrows. ”Oh, come on, don't leave me hanging after i—” She began ranting, suddenly being silenced by his strong hand gripping the back of her throat, pulling her into a deep, very emotional kiss. She put her hand on his chest, feeling how quickly his heart was beating. Closing her eyes she savoured every second, the seemingly unending kiss making her dizzy.

As he pulled away, his eyes were bright and shiny, lips grinning at her mischievously. Expecting him to say something, Y/N smiled back.

”Idiotic dunce?” He repeated before a husky laugh pushed past his lips making her shove his face away slightly.

”Shut up, Shelby”

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta

@preparedfruit

[nevertheless-moving]

Considering the amount of emotional and moral nuance he managed to muster up immediately post Guanyin temple (despite having a terrible week and zero good role models) AND considering his front row seat to the dissection of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s downfall, I think that in a time travel fix-it, Jin Ling would actually be pretty successful at brute forcing yunmeng family therapy.

I mean he'd probably cry, but even that would be good! Because 1) modeling negative male emotions beside anger, and 2) Oh shit that’s shije’s kid we made Shije’s son cry, fuck, fuck! Bam! Instant high ground! Also he has the most authority of any second gen character by virtue of the fact that he could pull “DO YOU WANT MY MOM TO DIE??? BECAUSE YOU TWO ACTING LIKE MORONS IS WHAT GOT MY MOM KILLED! NOW SIT DOWN AND SPIT OUT ALL YOUR FUCKING SECRETS OR MY MOM WILL DIE AND I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!!” It would work! Tell me it wouldn't work!

Not to mention once he gets a few sect leader years under his belt, he might be the best person to manage a fix-it, in general. He's got perspective. He's got political training. Others might get too caught up on the specifics of the Wen remnants or the Ying Tiger Tally or Vengeance against One Person or Another — Jin Ling is critiquing the basic structure of how Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are living their lives and he's getting away with it.

He would even be good at dealing with Jin Guangyao, the slipperiest motherfucker in the timeline. Jin Ling's got as good a handle as anyone on his motivations, and he has sincere (if messy) affection for him, which would hit Guangyao right in his weak spot. Depending on your headcanons it may or may not be in vain, but he's got a real chance of getting the man to set some more modest and less destructive life goals.

Similarly, I think he'd do a pretty decent job at a harsh-but-fair critique of Xichen's neutrality and Mingue's rigidity and Huissang's delibrate uselessness, though getting them to listen would be more of a crapshoot.

All of this makes it especially funny how badly he would handle Wangxian.

For context: Wei Ying and Hunguang-jun are not just the gayest people Jin Ling has ever met, they are the gayest people he's ever HEARD of.

He wouldn't want to bring it up. He wouldn't mean to. He doesn't want to talk about it. But when he inevitably calls Wei Ying a slur only to be met with genuine bafflement? Jin Ling would completely lose his shit.

Because I don't think Wei Ying is going to get offended, or defensive, or have a response that his nephew could coherently mock. Wei Wuxian thinks 'hey these time traveling guys are actually pretty funny!' Him and Whom? Not even a serious topic of contention. You got me for a second, haha.

Jin Ling would break. Wei Ying eventually says something the effect of "I'm straight? Obviously?" and Jin Ling would nod once, start screaming, then climb across the table to strangle him.

It's — look. How do you fucking explain that all of the worst moments of your life were, in someway or another, characterized by Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanjii being FLAMBOYANTLY into one another.

The man who saved his life also killed his father and Jin Ling stabs him but it feels awful and — ok Lan Wanjii is cradling Wei Wuxian tenderly. Ok they're just going to go. They're leaving like that. Hunguang Jun was — is — was the Yiling Patriarch's widow, so that's another layer to add onto everything else. Hunguang-Jun is visibly expressing emotions with his face and voice and Jin Ling is going to go throw up now

Jin Ling's kidnapped at the burial mounds and everyone’s lost their spiritual energy and all his friends and family are going to die and — those two are smiling at eachother. They're telling inside jokes. They're holding hands.

Jin disciples (his own clans disciples) just shot at him and and Xiao-shushu really is what people sa— WEI YING SHOUTS ABOUT WANTING TO FUCK LAN WANJII

THEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF BEING KIDNAPPED AND HE DOES THIS

Jujiu is bleeding from the stomach and crying he's bleeding and crying his jujiu is doing that and Xiao-shushu caused it and his whole life is a lie and Hunguang Jun and the Yiling Patriarch are visibly groping in a corner.

And then they never stop groping again. Forever.

So yeah, I'm quite confident that if Jin Ling had to be even peripherally involved with coaching Wei Wuxian through a bisexual awakening and homoerotic courtship, he would explode. He would black out with rage. He'd make an honest and embarrassingly unsuccessful attempt at killing Lan Zhan. He would walk into a lotus pond and stay there until he drowned. He'd start heavy drinking. He'd punch a random passerby in the dick.

In conclusion, Need More Jin Ling Time Travel Fics

[foone]

Games are kinda weird as a creative medium because it's one of the few where it's possible to be incredibly incompetent at one of the major parts of it (the programming) and it not be noticeable in the end product.

Like, if you're a musician who can't sing or play your instruments worth a damn, that definitely comes across in the final product, no matter how good you are at lyrics or composing.

Making a movie? It doesn't matter how great the script is, if your performers can't act and your cameraman doesn't know which end points towards the action, your movie is going to be noticeably bad.

But games? There are games that have sold a bunch of copies, developed by one person, with brilliant game design, highly playable, not noticeably buggy, but if you look inside them it'll turn out it's just absolute dogshit. They barely are holding up against the strain of just existing.

The kind of game that when the sequel comes out, they just throw it all out instead of reusing any code, because it's all so terrible that it'd be more work to adapt any of it than to just burn it.

That happens so often. But you would never guess it from just playing it. Like, if you think about "badly programmed games" you get things like "skyrim", which is just... Not exactly right.

Skyrim has lots of bugs but that's because it's trying to do so much. It's simulating a huge world with so much interactivity and so many complex interacting systems, that it's almost inevitable that it'll have weird glitches. It'd take so much playtesting and careful bug fixing to make that game glitchless, and they clearly did not do that. The game is known for glitches, but not crashing (unless modded), suggesting their QA approach was "weird unexpected stuff can happen, but the game must continue working".

Or Pokémon red/blue! That game is so glitchy, with so many bugs, but a lot of that is that it is just stuffing way too much game on a tiny cartridge. Its only failing is that of Icarus: it flew too high, too close to the sun, it did too much.

Skyrim and Pokémon gen1 are examples of amazingly coded games, even if they have their glitches.

But there's games that seem to work just fine that are held together with toothpicks and duct tape, at best. They're immensely fragile, and they only work at all because the crash bugs were fixed, painfully and slowly, far more painfully than they would have been if the program had just been designed correctly in the first place.

Just absolute disasters of game programming, but then those games go on to be critically acclaimed and start entire mini-genres because of how influential they were on certain gaming niches.

But you'd never know! That's the weird thing to me.