#writing this was so difficult for me

[octarineblues]

supporting communities & people impacted by the Southport attack and the far-right riots in the UK

here is a list of community fundraisers I found, starting with those aiming to support the Southport community after the appalling attack at a children dance party, to the fundraisers helping those affected by the subsequent racist and Islamophobic far-right/nazi riots

Edited on 5 August to include Middlesbrough fundraisers. Edited on 6 August to correct the link on the Books for Spellow Lane fundraiser, to adjust the name change for the Belfast fundraiser, and to adjust the wording in the second last paragraph.

Southport:

Southport Strong Together Appeal - organised by the community foundation for Merseyside, for those affected by the Southport knife attack

United for Southport families - the funds will be distributed among the nine families of the children who were at the party

Swifties for Southport - a fundraiser for the Alder Hey Children's charity, which supports the victims and the affected families, as well as first responders and clinicians. Extra funds will also support the wider Southport community

Fundraiser for the Southport Mosque - a fundraiser to aid rebuilding or possibly re-locating the Southport Mosque after the damages it suffered during the riots

Rebuilding Windsor Mini Mart - fundraiser to rebuild the locally-owned grocery store that was targeted during the attacks, broken into, and looted

Liverpool:

Fundraiser for the Spellow Hub - the Spellow Hub was broken into, looted and set on fire at night during the riots. The Spellow Hub is a newly created one-of-a-kind (in the UK) institution, which consists of a library as well as a community centre with a mission to help people get education and pathways to work

Books for Spellow Lane - another fundraiser for the library in the Spellow Hub, to replace the books and rebuild the library there edit: included the correct link

Hartlepool:

Fundraiser for the Nasir Mosque - the Nasir Mosque was attacked following Southport riots; this fundraiser is organised by Hartlepool citizens to help the mosque deal with the damages as well as to show appreciation for the role of the mosque in the community. edit: the funds will be also distributed to the local community!

Rebuilding the Farm Shop - the shop was targeted during the riots, and when the owner and his son tried to protect it, they were also violently attacked. The fundraiser is to help fix the damages to the store.

Sunderland:

help rebuild Citizens Advice Sunderland offices after arson - two of the Citizens Advice Sunderland offices were set on fire during the riots, and one of them is completely destroyed.

Hull:

Hull Help for Refugees - a local fundraiser to support the Hull Help for Refugees charity, the donated money will be re-distributed to community members affected by the riots

Fundraiser for Hull Help for Refugees and Welcome House in Hull - collected money will be donated to the two charities

Belfast:

help fix racially motivated damages - originally the fundraiser for the Sahara Shisha Cafe which was targeted by the far right in Belfast during the riots, now a fundraiser for all affected businesses in the area. edited to reflect the change of the name of the fundraiser to avoid any confusion

Middlesbrough:

Supporting residents after the riots - Middlesbrough has suffered so much during the riots, lots of businesses as well as just regular family homes were vandalised, had their windows smashed or even were broken into. This fundraiser wants to distribute the funds between affected people to help them fix the damages, and to generally support the local community. the newest fundraiser, imo potentially the most urgent one

Fundraiser for a Care worker's car which was set on fire - a car belonging to an employee of a care agency was set on fire during the riots while he was on shift at a care home.

If you want to donate locally but there is no fundraiser to support where you live, consider donating to your local charities oriented towards Muslim or PoC communities, or towards anti-racist and refugee organizations! And go support your local Muslim/Arab/Black/Asian/Refugee owned businesses!

If you have any information about other local fundraisers, feel free to add to the post or don't hesitate to let me know and I will add them here! We have seen so much hate in the past few days, we have to stay strong and keep supporting each other!

Stay safe everyone 💛

[shinynewmemories]

Listen to me Suzanne Collins did not have to give Katniss and Peeta a history before the games. She did NOT have to do that. She could have just had their story begin when Peeta's name was called. She could have had them be total strangers until the moment of the reaping.

Like: "And the boy tribute is... Peeta Mellark!" Katniss: Who's that? Or she could have made them vaguely familiar with each other! Peeta's name is called and Katniss just thinks, Oh, I know that name! He's in my class, actually. Poor boy... Anyway!

Either way, SC could have written the rest of the story exactly the same! I think many authors would have done that! Because if Peeta's purpose in the book was to be Gale's competition, to be one of the 3 corners of a love triangle, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE WAY TO DO IT!! But that's NOT how she did it because that's NOT what Peeta is.

And who is he? To Katniss, Peeta's someone who saved her and her family and received nothing in return except a beating. Peeta's someone she has had her eye on but has never worked up the courage to talk to. Peeta's someone she associates with kindness and hope. And all this before the start of the events of the book! Just because WE, the READERS, met Gale before Peeta and immediately felt a connection with him does NOT mean that was Katniss's experience! And that's what SC is trying to tell us!

To dismiss Katniss and Peeta's past as unimportant or inconsequential compared to whatever Katniss and Gale have in the present is to fundamentally misunderstand Katniss as a character and, as a result, condemn oneself to never fully understand the choices she makes in the future.

Suzanne Collins wrote it that way on purpose because she had something to say. And no one will ever be able to convince me that something wasn't "It was always going to be Peeta".

[zephyrchama]

(obey me!) moments where they fall in love with you all over again

---01

It’s dinner, and you’re talking about mundane things that happened during your day. You saw a cool bird, got some gum stuck on your shoe, and bought a new flavor of toothpaste to try. Everyone is listening intently. If only they would pay this much attention in class.

Lucifer knows the way his brothers look at you all too well. It’s a look full of respect, admiration, and fondness. It’s a look that’s often reflected on his own face when in your presence. At first he never really understood why you put up with his siblings, as the option to ignore them and be on your way was always there. Yet you continue to make time for them anyway. How unusual.

Moments like these where everyone is together and you don’t treat them as the Seven Rulers of Hell, you just treat them as your dear friends and family. That’s what makes Lucifer soft. He tries to imagine a long future of things staying just like this.

---02

Mammon’s hesitant to lend anybody money, even you. It takes a few minutes to butter him up and fluff his ego before he relents. At last, he hands you the crispest bill in his wallet. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he kids, knowing full well he’d do just that if he was in your shoes.

He’s curious what you plan to buy. It never dawns on him that you have no intention of spending the cash. Half an hour later, he finds it on his desk. The exact same bill, now creased and folded neatly into an origami bird.

He picks it up to wiggle the little paper wings, entranced, then looks around frantically and catches your eye. A playful smile graces your face and tugs at his heartstrings.

---03

Leviathan is not typically one to make mistakes when it comes to anime. But even he’s not perfect.

He had it set in his mind that the new show premiered at 6:00pm, which left plenty of time to prepare the ultimate solo viewing party after school. He was humming quietly to himself when you walked over. “Isn’t your show starting soon?”

You specifically took an interest in his hobbies. You remembered that it started at 16:00 (four o’clock), not 6:00. Leviathan wondered, how could he make such a egregious mistake? You were the one who dashed back to the House of Lamentation at full speed by his side. When your human stamina started failing, he unconsciously picked you up so you’d both make it in time. You made it with two minutes to spare.

Sweaty and out of breath, still in uniform, you were able to watch the premiere together. It wasn’t until after credits rolled, you went elsewhere, and the live reactions on social media started calming down that Levi realized what a big deal this was to him. What a big deal you were to him.

---04

Satan wasn’t expecting you to be spacing out in his favorite armchair. He had plans to read in it that evening, and considered asking you politely to move. But the way the lamp light shines on your skin, the thoughtful expression on your face while pondering ideas unknown. The way your lips part ever so slightly and your eyes gaze off into nothing. It captivates him. You look like a painting. His breath gets caught in his throat, and in clearing it he manages to break your trance.

“Oh, hey. Welcome home, I didn’t realize you were there.”

You go to get out of the chair, but Satan insists you stay. It doesn’t look right without you anymore. He doesn’t feel right without you anymore.

---05

Asmodeus does not have wardrobe malfunctions often. His outfits are of the highest quality and a lot of care goes into putting them on. Still, things happen.

When his fans rush forward out of nowhere, sometimes they are successful in tearing his clothes. A fistful of shirt here, a mouthful of pants-leg there. Being in the center of a lust-fueled stampede can make even the most collected people lose their minds, but you are steadfast. You shout at the rabid demons, shaming them for their disrespect. You believe you can chase them off all on your own, not knowing that the Avatar of Lust behind you is exuding a killer aura and warning his fans to back off with a powerful glare.

As you sloppily stitch up what remains of his shirt so he can walk home without the incident repeating, Asmodeus is smiling from ear to ear. You’re so focused on genuinely helping that you don’t even notice the bedroom eyes he’s flashing. The scene of you waving your arms and trying to chase off a pack of demons as if they were stray pigeons is permanently ingrained in his memory. Just as your existence is ingrained in his soul.

---06

Beelzebub knows what he likes. He knows what will catch his interest and is pleasantly surprised when a new one crops up.

One thing he likes is you. Another is food. Both are in the cafeteria. He piles a tray high with carbs and goes looking for you at lunch time, finding you seated in the middle of a long table at the edge of the room. He calls your name.

It’s unexpected, the way you quickly swing your head up mid-bite. Your cheeks are full and noodles dangle from your mouth, sauce dripping back onto your plate. Your eyes light up as you look at him from below. It makes him stop in his tracks, causing several shorter demons to walk into him. Such a simple action, yet so profound. You hurriedly chew and offer him a seat while Beelzebub powers through his emotions. He takes a seat across from you to offer a napkin, wondering when he’ll see that face again.

---07

It’s late, far past everyone’s bedtime. Yet Belphegor forgot to tell you something during the day and decided now would be a great time. When you don’t respond to the quiet knocks at your door, he lets himself inside. Your sleeping figure looks too comforting to resist and he gets the brilliant idea to crawl into bed with you to whisper in your ear.

The problem is, as soon as he lifts the covers, you fart. It’s loud. You don’t move an inch, remaining fast asleep and ignorant of what just happened.

Belphegor freezes in his tracks to process it, but is soon doubled over on the futon laughing. The vibrations wake you. You sleepily open your eyes to see who is in hysterics and ask the obvious: “what?”

Belphegor is laughing too hard to tell you. He doesn’t want to tell you. It’s too priceless. You groggily smack him with a spare pillow and it makes him laugh harder. While he loves to look at you, that week it becomes difficult for him to meet your eyes without erupting into a fit of giggles.

[oblique-lane]

more mercenary analysis, whichever merc you want <3

Not a mercenary but... Okay!

Let's dissect Pauling

Always so collected, responsible and efficient. The one who is not afraid to get her hands dirty for the sake of a goal, and her performance is always one hundred percent. What could possibly be not cool about her?

Well, maybe the fact that this all is, in fact, an act. Of course it is.

I'm not saying her determination and dedication to her job aren't sincere decisions of her heart, she really enjoys it and shines in her work. It's just a matter of WHY and WHAT she's doing it for. And on what scale.

For her, her job is EVERYTHING. Eagerly working 364 days a year with barely any rest, masochistically putting herself in so much danger, blindly following the boss's instructions, not even hesitating to kill people standing on the way...

Wow, there's gotta be something going on here.

Well, obviously the Administrator plays A HUGE role in this situation. Why would Pauling trust her so much? Referring to the comics, Pauling trusted her wholeheartedly on whatever the Administrator was planning, even though she didn't know what it was. This blind following that vaguely resembles nothing less than a weird somewhat child-to-a-mother attachment. It's just a Boss, just a job, why?

Because that's what it is. Mother issues. Very apparent.

We don't know anything about Pauling's past, so there's where the headcanons begin:

I'm assuming her birth mother was very neglectful and dismissing, never acknowledged her daughter's accomplishments and struggles. No matter how hard Pauling tried to become "worthy" in her eyes, it seemed to be never enough, as if she didn't even exist at all. Maybe her mother was a substance addict or something and their household wasn't safe and stable, so Pauling had to become an adult early and run away from home as a teenager and find a job to get by.

(I assume that because I believe there was a mention in the canon lore that Ms.Pauling had been working for the Administrator for long long years (don't remember exactly), indicating that she started working when she was still a minor).

So, being taken under the Administrators wing, her young wounded brain found a substitute for a very thing she was lacking, subconsciously clinging onto the Administrator as a newly mother figure, in order to "get it right this time".

Administrators Strictness, responsibility and demandingness were the most favorite qualities of a person of authority in Pauling's eyes, in contrast to the laziness, unaccountability and indifference of the environment in which she grew up. She could finally strive.

This time she would show the mother figure that she's worthy, she's important and irreplaceable; she exists. She would prove that no amount of hardship is too much for her if it means approval for the Administrator.

And the Administrator kind-of-sort-of gave Pauling this pseudo-love in return, encouraging her to sacrifice herself even more for their work. Which is at the very least unfair, and at most just predatory. Administrators "love" was conditional, in contrast with when the real motherly love Pauling unknowingly expected. Administrator was too immature for a mother figure, too much in power for a partner or a friend, yet too close for a formal boss. What is this!? Something not nice.

The Administrator doesn't love Pauling for Pauling, she loves her working qualities. And thus, Paulings subconscious guess was confirmed that "I'm only important when I'm doing the job. I AM the job."

Tying your worth to what you DO instead of what you are is a huge dangerous existential rout one could choose. But she never really knew her importance outside of her skills, so she wouldn't know.

Now imagine how actually painful that character arc was for her, when the Administrator proved herself to be unreliable and secretive, and when Pauling started to question her intentions for the first time.

"... Because I trusted you!"

"Then why are you questioning me now?"

It wasn't even the real conversation between them, just Pauling's mind torturing her.

It reminded me of the crisis of a 4-year-old when they realise that their parents aren't perfect; they don't know anything and they CAN hurt you.This shattering illusion of almighty love. When a child stops believing that the "harsh love" their mother treats them with is simply an abuse.

Wouldn't it be terrifying to realise in your 20s thar despite running for "the mother's approval" all your life, you will never truly get it. If your mother failed to provide it to you at such a young age, nothing will truly substitute that, especially now, when you're an adult, no one will love your inner child the way it was supposed to be loved.

Unless you yourself decide to take that role.

...

Realistically speaking, it's not nearly that sever with Pauling! She's happy in the environment she's in, there's lots of interests for her to explore (Guns, fights, killin'!) So many adventures every day! Even if Pauling has her inner suffering, it's not that bad aa I describe it. Her mother problems may actually be an advantage, a reason she is such a good and caring boss for the mercenaries.

I'm just edgying things down for the sake of the clearer analysis. But still...

If the Administrator will be gone and Pauling loses her life-dedicated job... What will be left? Who is Pauling once Mann Co is no more? Can she answer that?

References:

– A video that helped me better understand the Good Girl mask:

– "Lise Bourbeau's 5 soul wounds model: Injustice"

[irishmammonagenda]

You pout, arms crossed up against your chest, staring at your boyfriend who currently has his eyes fixated on the game on his PC, mouse and keys being clicked rapidly while the otaku sits cross legged on his desk chair, tongue sticking out in anticipation as he progresses with the battle.

You shift in the bean bag that you made yourself at home on, having long set you DDD down, finding that it had completely lost its entertainment value. Call you a spoilt brat, more millte than the ten year old's in makeup aisles at supermarkets, but you wanted your boyfriend's attention God Dammit! And you wanted it now!

The Avatar of Envy pays you no mind as he continues playing his game, having probably forgotten you were in the room. Well you had been here for hours quietly on your DDD. It was fair, you supposed, though as he starts singing the praises of a certain Ruri-chan, the only thing you could feel was your boyfriend's sin.

That seemed to remind Leviathan of your existence. You huff. He reaches a checkpoint and turns around, jumping when he sees you. "O-oh! S-sorry! M-MC...I-i forgot you were there!" He says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head as his face turns a red that brings out the purple of his hair.

"You should be sorry...." You sulk, sinking further into your seat, Levi flatlines, eyes widening as he nearly falls off his own chair.

"I-I am! I just got so into the game! And you were so quiet...and I-" He rambles apology upon apology as he stumbles clumsily closer to you, finally reaching within inches of you but hesitating. Something along the lines of 'How could they want a pathetic otaku like me anywhere near them right now?!' no doubt going through his head.

You scrunch your nose up, quickly closing the distance with a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. Simple. Leviathan still flatlines, if he was an android he would've stopped working. You grin, giving him another kiss, just as soft but a little less chaste, he blubbers something in his flustered blushy state, demon form popping out. While your pretty boyfriend was normally shy, his instincts were not, while he hid his face and sparkling eyes from you in his awe, his tail wrapped around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to you, something you gladly accepted as you took Levi's hands away from his face and gave him another kiss, he might as well have been the Avatar of Greed with how greedily he was kissing you back.

Holy fuck, you love your boyfriend.

[kusanagihaku]

an indentation, in the shape of you

⭢ haku x mc, 6.1k

God, the sight of him like this – kneeling between your legs and head bent, moss-green hair tangled between your fingers, eyes dark and fierce – it is nearly enough to send you over the edge. It’s funny, some distant, coherent part of you thinks, how he looks like he’s the one in worship but you’re the one chanting his name in fervent prayer. or: my first and last time ever writing smut, so help me god. ao3 here.

｡°⚠︎°｡ minors dni!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

You’re late. 

You’re late and you should have met Haku twenty minutes ago by the Galaxy Express gates so you could head out for the night, but due to an extremely foolish lack of foresight you’ve put off trying on your Halloween costume until now, which of course meant something was bound to go wrong. 

You stare despondently at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t remember cheerleader skirts being quite this short. 

Maybe you’ve bulked up since you’ve arrived at Darkwick? After all, you’ve been running around and pulling off frankly inhumane feats of strength during missions (never mind that those feats were mostly mental and emotional). That’d explain why the top of the cheerleader uniform fits more snug than you thought it would when you ordered it online. 

Would it explain why the hem of the top ended higher up your midriff than you’d like? Would it explain why the skirt, albeit high-waisted, barely covered your ass? Maybe not. 

You tug at the hem of the skirt again, as if it would magically lengthen in the span of time since you last tried to stretch it to cover more leg. Perhaps the real problem was you ordering a costume online. Maybe you should have just borrowed a fox robe or whatever, like Haku decided to do. 

You exhale. The only choice would be to wear a white turtleneck and some stockings underneath and a longer jacket over your costume and pray really hard the area Haku ends up bringing you to won’t have too many creeps.  

Of course, that’s where the next problem arises – you only have the Darkwick-assigned standard black stockings, which barely came up to mid-thigh and barely go with the white turtleneck, and a pair of bright white exercise leggings, which frankly would be ugly as hell. 

You’re going to scream. 

You’re about to give up and go with the lesser of two evils when the chime of the doorbell echoes throughout the empty cathedral. 

…Haku. 

You scramble downstairs to the doors, tugging it open to see a very bemused Haku. 

“Did you forget our- oh, woah.” 

You feel the heat of his gaze brush down your body, catching slightly on the bare of your midriff before alighting on the hem of your skirt, coaxing a flush up your neck and leaving a raise of goosebumps in its wake. Or maybe it’s just the impending chill of October seeping in through the open doors – you reach out to pull your boyfriend in so you can safely shut the doors. 

“That’s, um,” Haku says. “Woah. I thought this’d be for my eyes only, princess.” 

You roll your eyes, and turn away to walk back upstairs. You hope he doesn’t see the burn in your cheeks – it’s been a while since you’ve started dating, but Haku’s casual compliments still sends your heartbeat thundering through your veins. “That’s why I’m having trouble choosing what to wear underneath.” 

“How about nothing?��� You can almost hear the growing smirk in his voice as he gets over his initial shock. He catches up to you easily, long legs matching your stride as he follows you up the staircase. 

You snort. “And stay cold? I’d rather not. Help me–“ 

“Help you get undressed?” Haku interjects, teasing grin in his voice. You turn to swat at his shoulder, only to find him a couple of steps further down than you expected, golden gaze trained on where the pleats of your skirt barely covers the curve of your ass. 

The spark of his gaze sends flames dancing across your skin. It is both a familiar feeling and not, a kind of burn only Haku can rouse from the base of your spine, a burn you fear will get you addicted but hope you will never get used to. Heat creeps up your cheeks as you bite back a smile. “Stop it.” 

At least he has the decency to look sheepish as he closes the distance between you, slipping his arm around your waist and kissing the crown of your head. “Can’t help it. I’m just a guy, and it’s such a great view.” 

The warmth of his palm on the bare of your skin spreads as much through your veins as his words do. His thumb stretches, accidentally (?) slipping under the hem of your top as you reach the top of the stairs. 

“Anyway,” you continue hastily, as if filling the air with words will distract you from the questing of his fingers. If you give in to his touch now neither of you will make it out of the dorm tonight. “I was thinking about wearing a white turtleneck underneath this top.” 

Haku hums. “Shame.” 

His thumb slips up further. Definitely not accidental. 

“The issue is I only have black stockings.” 

“Go without,” he suggests, blithely. His thumb slips out from under your top and tucks itself into the waistband of the skirt. 

You turn to narrow your eyes at him as you enter your room. “And let everyone see half my ass?” 

“Hey, now,” Haku frowns, and all of a sudden you are pressed up against the back of your door, his arm coming up to rest beside your face. His hand slides out from your waist to the curve of your ass, squeezing, and he dips his head towards yours, lips brushing the top of your ear as you suppress a shiver. “Who said anyone else is seeing anything?” 

Your breath hitches as the heat of his mouth finds the shell of your ear in the exact way he knows will drive you crazy. “I thought– I thought you wanted to go to–“ 

He laughs, a low chuckle that melts straight into your throat and dries out your mouth. His hand moves lower to skim the hem of your skirt, tugging gently on it, “I mean, we were… until you decided to put this on.” 

Your eyes slip closed as his lips meet the hollow behind your jaw, soft and hot and open-mouthed, and you struggle to find the words you need, hands coming up to rest against his biceps and head tilting back to allow him more access. It’s amazing how after so many times he can still take you apart with one well-placed kiss. “It– it wasn’t on purpose–“ 

Haku grins against your neck. His fingertips drift lower, running over the back of your thigh and dangerously close to where your legs are pressed together. “Really.” 

Well. You’d be lying if you said no. You did order this outfit with your boyfriend in mind after all, wondering how he would react to your showing a little more skin than usual. You just didn’t expect this much skin. 

And you definitely didn’t expect this big a reaction from him either – if anything, your make-out sessions so far have been soft and languorous, framed by the gentle sounds of drizzle on the wood of his Hotarubi veranda, and punctuated with laughter and adoration as you explored each other’s bodies. 

Oh but this, this Haku is different. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the sudden increase in expanse of skin chest-down, and his mouth is hot and panting on the column of your neck as he pivots you away from the door and stumbles you backwards toward the sofa. 

You crash into the scratchy grey of the sofa, legs falling apart naturally to accommodate where Haku has slid his knee between them. He braces one arm on the wall behind you, and his other hand comes up to stroke the side of your face. 

His eyes are dark with an almost-hunger as he leans over you, trailing down to your lips in a silent request, and when your tongue darts out to wet your lips he groans, tipping his forehead forward against yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

You flush – you’ll never get used to the praise Haku lavishes on you. But before you can think of anything to say in return, his mouth finds its way onto yours. 

When he kisses you it is all tongue and crash, a messy and hungry and wet that steals your breath away. He licks into you, like he cannot get enough of your taste, and when you pull away, gasping for air, his mouth finds its new church on the bruises he sucks onto your neck. You let out an involuntary whimper – the nip of his teeth and smooth of his tongue is only overshadowed by the way his hand slides from your cheek to your ribs, brushing gently over the curve of your chest to tuck under the tight hem of your top. 

He only stops two seconds later, frowning and leaning back to tug at the pale purple fabric. “How-“ 

“Zip,” you say, slightly breathless, and lift yourself off the sofa so he can reach around you. His deft fingers make quick work of the zipper in the back, loosening the top, and his eyes follow your chest as he helps you lift it over your head.

His voice is deep and pained as he watches your breasts fall out of the confines of your top. “No bra?” 

You shake your head, eyes tracking the lick of his lips as he stares at your nipples hardening in the cold room air. “Shirt was too tight.” 

“Fuck, princess,” he swears, and slides his hands up your waist to rest under the curve of your breasts. “God, you’ll drive me crazy.” 

He leans down to lick you, experimentally, sliding the rough of his tongue over a sensitive nub. It sends a jolt to your system that immediately pools between your legs, and a gasp escapes your lips. 

Haku grins at the sound. His hand comes up to squeeze the soft flesh of your other breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers and eliciting another gasp. He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your chest, “You always make the most beautiful sounds for me.” 

“Haku…” you squirm at that, but he is already leaning down to attack the expanse of skin underneath his hands with his tongue, biting and nipping and pinching and drawing all sorts of sounds from the back of your throat. His hungry mouth finds your nipples again, soothing and pinching as he suckles bruises into the soft fat under his fingers. 

You arch into the warmth of his hands, keening. There will be marks littered all around you by the end of the night, you’re sure – Haku has never been one to hold back when it comes to tasting the sweet of your skin. 

He bites, harder than usual, on the saliva coated nub between his fingers before laving his tongue over it, and the combination of pain and sooth explodes from your lips in a tight, “Ah, Haku–“

Your legs snap shut. You rut, shamelessly, against the firm of his thigh between yours – the tension between your legs has been building with each slide of his tongue, and you crave some sort of friction so bad– 

Haku presses a hand against the plush of your leg, preventing them from clamping around his own. He pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes looking as lust-hazy as you feel. His lips are slightly swollen, you notice, a delicious pink brought on by the assault against your skin, and it sends a shiver through you as he murmurs, “Let me. Please.” 

His words sink straight to your core; he sinks straight to his knees. His hands drift to your knees, pushing them apart to allow him to sit between them, then pushing them up to allow him a better view of your inner thighs. 

The flimsy skirt flips upwards as you set your heels on the sofa, leaving you exposed to Haku’s hungry gaze. He takes one look at the underwear you chose for the evening and groans. “God, princess, you wanted to go out wearing this?” 

You flush again, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you try to clamp your knees shut, but Haku’s grip is vice-like on your thigh. You know what he’s talking about – the piece you chose today was a thin, black lace number that barely covered anything. After all, you needed to make sure it wouldn’t leave panty lines when you put on the cheerleader skirt. You didn’t think… 

His groan goes straight between your legs. You watch him lick his lips, almost unconsciously, as his eyes zero in on the dark spot in your underwear. You know that you’ve been getting steadily wetter since Haku first kissed you, and you know the effects of Haku’s ministrations definitely show in the dampness of the black material. “Haku…” 

His eyes drift up to meet yours. You know what a mess you must look to him, all dishevelled and neck and chest littered with red bite marks, legs spread and gasping his name without his fingers even touching your drenched core. Your eyes drop, self-conscious, but Haku just chuckles. He rises to kiss you, the gentle, chaste press of his lips on yours a far cry from the way he’s been devouring you. “Gorgeous. Always takes my breath away when you’re spread out like this, just for me.” 

God, he always knows exactly what to say. 

“Just for you,” you echo. Your voice comes out breathy, needy, thinned with want, and Haku’s brows immediately tighten as he rocks backwards, swearing as he kneels between your legs again. 

“Fuck,” one hand slides further up your thighs. “The things you do to me, princess.” 

He places one, two, three kisses on your inner thigh, sliding closer and closer to where your underwear is doing absolutely nothing to hide the way you’re dripping for him. “How did you expect me to keep my hands off you the whole night, hmm?” 

When his mouth finally reaches your core, placing a gentle kiss at your clothed clit, you arch against the sofa with a loud gasp. It takes Haku’s grip holding your thighs apart to keep you from wrapping your legs around him. 

The heat of his breath ghosts across your underwear as he chuckles. “That sensitive already?” 

You could cry. “Haku, please–“ 

He ignores you, choosing instead to place another kiss over the wetness of your core before nosing at it. His eyes drift closed as he buries himself in your scent, nose bumping again and again against your most sensitive part as he places kisses through the lace. 

It takes you a few more dazed seconds of his earrings tickling your inner thighs to realise he has taken his left hand off your leg, and to recognise that the pumping movement of his arm means he has pulled himself out of his pants. “Haku, I can–“ 

His eyes snap open, dark pupils almost taking over the gold of his irises, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to where he knows your clit is.  

The pressure instantly steals your words away, and leaves a loud moan in its place. 

Your cheeks burn as the sound leaves your mouth. God, the things Haku does to you, too. You want to touch him, you want to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, feel the stiff of his cock slide into you, heavy and thick and him, but–

Haku swiftly pulls your thin underwear to one side. The shock of cold air on your exposed core wrests another gasp from the burn in your throat, before it is replaced with the inferno building on his tongue.  

Your head hits the back of the sofa. “God, Haku, please, oh–“ 

He hums against you. Whether or not it is a muffled moan at the taste of you or if he is just pleased with the way you drape his name on the tip of your tongue, it does not matter – the vibrations unfortunately shoot straight up your spine and into the most animalistic pleasure-centred part of your brain. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to keep yourself from humping his face as you press the back of your fist into your mouth. 

Haku stops. “Princess,” he says, roughly, and the pet name is so loaded you pry your eyes open to look at him. His voice is thick with want as he rushes out a, “Don’t– don’t hold back. I want to hear you.” 

Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, he rests his cheek against the soft of your thigh. His gaze is filled with something you can’t quite name, a blend of lust and adoration, a different type of exaltation you only see the likes of when Haku is between your legs. “Please,” he rasps. 

Lord, you would do anything in the world for Haku, if only he asks. 

You move your spit-slick hand away from your face, wincing at the way a string of saliva connects your fist to the shine of your lips, and Haku’s gaze hardens at the sight. 

“Fuck,” he growls, and sinks his teeth into the tender skin where your leg meets your core. 

You jerk up in surprise, his name flying from your lips as he soothes you again and again with laps of his tongue. Before you can say anything else, though, he licks a slow stripe up your centre, rough and sweet, dipping his tongue in between your folds. Your fingers find their way into his hair as he moves into you, tongue pressing inside your aching core desperately like a man who has not found water in days. A familiar tension coils between your legs under the movement of your boyfriend’s tongue, a slow burn that you know will consume you and leave you bereft at the end of the night, but right now you need more, more–

“Taste so fucking good, princess,” he pants, breaking away. The lower half of his face glistens, a testament to how fucking wet you are for him; a whimper escapes you at the sight. 

He taps a long finger against your entrance. “Can I–“

“Please,” you whine, hips shifting shamelessly to press yourself against his finger. “Need you–“

When he pushes his finger into you, gently, slowly, your eyes drift closed, his name floating on the shape of your moans. Every drag of his fingertip against your walls draws fireworks on the back of your eyelids, sends sparks up to the cry of your lungs; every clench you make on the slender digit sliding in and out of you sends fresh curses spilling from the sweet of Haku’s mouth and loads his name on the runway of your tongue. 

When he latches onto you, sucking harshly on your clit and sliding another finger into you, his name flies out from your lips, the vowels of Haku, please, ah, Haku, Haku unintelligible amongst the squelching as he pushes you closer to your climax. 

God, the sight of him like this – kneeling between your legs and head bent, moss-green hair tangled between your fingers, eyes dark and fierce – it is nearly enough to send you over the edge. It’s funny, some distant, coherent part of you thinks, how he looks like he’s the one in worship but you’re the one chanting his name in fervent prayer. 

But oh, Haku curls his fingers just right, just so, exactly in the way you acutely need and are so hopelessly addicted to, and just like that you lose all train of thought and tumble headfirst into the delicious friction of his fingers. You cannot help but tighten against the pump of his hand, breathless and wanting and so, so close, and are rewarded with a hazy hum that blazes right into the fire between your legs. “Haku, wait, I’m gonna–“

“Fuck,” he curses, voice strained, “Love it when you say my name like that– you’re so good, so tight for me, princess–“ he sucks your clit hard, once, twice, vibrations of his voice echoing through your nerve endings “–fuck, cum for me, please–“ 

He curls his fingers again, and all at once everything explodes behind your eyelids, a blooming white that shoots from between your legs to the tips of your fingers and the curl of your toes. His name tumbles again from your lips, a desperate devotional that he rises to seal and swallow against his own as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. 

You don’t know how long your free fall lasts, a blinding pleasure that sends trembles through your thighs and soaks into the pump of his fingers in and out, in and out, but as you regain some semblance of cognition, weakly clenching around the still steady push of Haku’s hand, you taste yourself on the slip of Haku’s tongue against your own. 

“God,” he says, resting his forehead against yours, breathless, “you should see yourself when you come. So beautiful, so good,” another kiss, pressed against your open, panting mouth, “like a work of art.” 

You whine a little at the way his thumb is still rubbing circles against your clit, shifting your hips slightly away from the overstimulation, and he chuckles, finally bringing his hand up to your mouth. 

The chuckles stop, however, when you take his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around the long digits as they slip toward the back of your tongue. “Gods, princess–“ 

You take your time cleaning his fingers, tasting your own slick and licking up and down and between them, brain still hazy from the way your orgasm slammed into you less than a minute earlier. Christ, the way his fingers work you – you’d spend all your life worshipping them if you could. 

Haku groans, watching your tongue flick around the base of his middle finger, and with some degree of self-control, tugs them out from between the pink of your lips. He presses his lips against yours instead, soft, gentle, reverent. 

Your mind is marginally clearer after that. You mumble his name as he helps you sit back up, propping you against the sofa backrest with your heels on either side of him. 

“Hmm?” he says, as he runs his hands down your thighs, searching for where your underwear is still clinging to your hips through force of will. 

“Are we… are we still going out?” 

Haku laughs, startled and breathless, then taps your hip so he can pull the soaked scrap of fabric you used to call underwear off your legs. “I don’t think we can.”

You want to suggest that you maybe go tomorrow (or whenever you can find a more… suitable costume, really), but your eyes follow Haku’s fingers as he wraps the damp black lace around his cock, stroking slowly. 

Fuck.

You try and sit up. “Haku–“ 

Haku groans again, using his other hand to press you back onto the sofa. “If you touch me right now, I don’t think I can last, sweetheart.” 

Only now you notice the sheen of sweat around his temples, the squeeze of his fingers around the tip of his leaking cock like he’s trying to hold himself back. You swallow at the sight of his precum smearing itself onto his hand, throat bobbing as you consider his words – he got so close to cumming at just the act of eating you out. God. 

You can’t believe he’s real. 

Oh, but the thought of the taste of him on your tongue, the weight of his cock hitting the back of your throat just the way you like it, the tug of his fingers in your hair as you swallow around him–

“Please,” you whisper, looking up at him – from underneath your lashes, in just the right way you know will bend him to your will – “I want– I want to taste you,” and just like that you watch his resolve crumble like dust in the wind. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles, and rises to crush his lips against yours. It is all teeth and tongue this time, a dance of desperation that tastes all too much like you and not enough of him. 

You whine, scrabbling your nails against his biceps – how is he still clothed – and he lets you flip him backwards into the sofa. 

From there it is a battle of will for you, caught between making sure he is as unclothed as you are so you can nip and suck your way down his body, and going straight for his cock. You end up trying for the former, clumsily, if only so you can watch the flex of his abs as he comes; Haku takes pity on you and helps you divest the rest of his uniform as you straddle his lap. 

You run your hands down the smooth of his body, then lean forward to kiss him once, twice, thrice. You can feel the laze of his smile against your lips, a familiar sensation from your quiet afternoons in Hotarubi, a reminder that– 

You shift forward a bit too much, and the head of his cock brushes against the bare of your core. 

The moan bursting out from Haku’s lips is sinful, melting straight between your legs and reigniting the ashes of a fire not yet burnt out. You roll your hips again, whimpering at the drag of his cock against your folds, thick and solid and delicious, but Haku grips your hips, pushing you away from him as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting. 

God, the way he reacts to your touch – you want to bottle this feeling up forever. 

It takes all your remaining braincells to remember your goal, and to the disappointment of the other parts of your body you do not impale yourself on the tantalising firm of his cock, but instead push off his lap to kneel between his legs. You take the base of his shaft in your hand, squeezing lightly, and are rewarded with Haku’s voice, thick with want. 

“Gotta let you know, princess, I’m not gonna last long.” 

You lean up to kiss his abs, hands letting go of his length to brace against his thighs, tongue flicking out to taste the hard muscle. “Then don’t. Let me– let me make you feel good.” 

Haku makes a sound at the back of his throat, eyes on you as you lick your way down his obliques, leaving a trail of spit and kisses in your wake. His skin is feverish under your lips, a far cry from the casual leisurely make-out sessions you’ve spent exploring his body. His cock strains under your chin as your mouth goes lower; it weeps pre-cum against where it slides along the bruises he has left on your neck. 

Haku’s hand comes up to rest on your hair. He is a complete wreck beneath your mouth, breathing rapid and Adam’s apple bobbing in anticipation. “Look so good like this– ah– between my legs.” 

His breath hitches as you take him in hand again. You press a soft kiss, feather-light, to the tip of his cock, and hear his sharp inhale. He twitches, in your hand, the head an angry purple-red smoothness that leaks clear pre-cum into your touch. His body trembles beneath you; he groans, clearly holding back from thrusting up into the soft of your fist.  

You give an experimental tug. Your thumb rubs the thick vein running down the side of his cock as you pull the weight of his cock towards you, tongue darting out to lave over the thick pre-cum coating his tip. It is salty, bitter, mixed in the taste of you from where he slipped along your folds earlier. “Taste so good, Haku.”  

His hand slides down to cup your face, thumb running over your cheekbone. You look up at Haku at his gentle touch, only to find him watching you intently, dark ochre eyes trained on the way you lick his slick from your lips. 

“So perfect,” he mumbles, moving his thumb to brush over the spit-shine of your lips. “Mouth was just made for me.” 

You tilt your head to suck lightly on his thumb, just before he can move away, and feel his cock twitch again in the palm of your hand. He groans. “Don’t tease me anymore, princess, please.” 

Alright. 

You don’t give him a warning before you sink your lips down over his head, flattening your tongue to take the length of him all the way into your mouth. 

He cannot help the jerk of his hips in response to the unexpected wetness, forcing the head of his cock past the back of your mouth. It triggers a swallow almost instantly; the sudden push of your tongue on his shaft against the roof of your mouth as your mouth tightens around him drags a low groan from the back of his throat. “Fuck—“ 

You pull off slightly to breathe, hollowing your cheeks around him before bobbing back down; what you cannot reach with your lips you make up for by stroking the velvet of his skin with your fist. You set a comfortable pace for yourself, making sure your teeth don’t scrape the sensitive skin and making sure the head of his cock hits your soft palate every time you sink down on him. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth; you swallow again, looking up. 

Oh, Haku is glorious. 

His forehead is sweaty, fringe stuck to his forehead in a mess; the red strings of his earrings are plastered to the side of his cheek, darkened with sweat. His mouth is open, panting with the effort of restraint, and his eyes are hooded, staring down at you with a mix of adulation and awe as his cock rests in the heat of your mouth. 

You quicken your pace, twisting your wrist just so as you pump the base of his shaft, and watch as his golden eyes glaze over as he groans. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, princess, so good with your tongue–“ 

The gravel of his voice makes you squeeze your thighs together. Your other hand leaves his thigh to wander beneath your skirt, sliding between your legs to–

“Fuck,” Haku curses, and adjusts himself so he can see where your hand has pushed the edge of your skirt up. 

You pull off of him, cock springing from your lips as you shuffle on your knees, trying to adjust your own position in accordance with his. A thin string of spit connects your lips to the tip of his cock as it tips back to hit his abs. 

“God,” he breathes, eyes darting back your lips, “what a sight you are.” 

His voice is rough with need, but filled with adoration all the same as he brushes your hair away from your face. You can’t help but smile back up at him. You’re a sight, you’re sure, on your knees and hair dishevelled and salivating for him, but when he looks at you like you’ve personally hung the stars-

Your hands return to his cock, smearing the copious mix of your saliva and his pre-cum down his shaft. The image of you on your knees, both hands pressed together around the thick of his cock, does not slip by you; what was it that Haku said the other day, murmured words lost in the rustle of undressing – something about a belief that your lover is cast in the image of your gods. When you glance back up at Haku it feels like you understand. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs. He reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re praying.” 

You laugh. Haku’s uncanny way of knowing exactly what you’re thinking strikes again. You press a kiss to his shaft, then another and another, up the throbbing vein in his side until you reach his glans. You swirl your tongue around the flared head of his cock, dipping into his slit to collect a pearl of precum before sucking lightly on his tip, coating it in the warmth of your spit. “And what if I am?” 

“I’m pretty sure whatever– ah– whatever holy you pray to isn’t supposed to– ah, princess– isn’t supposed to defile you like this–“ 

You hum, taking all of him into your mouth and sinking down until he hits the back of your throat before swallowing around him. Is it defiling, if you want the taint of his taste on your tongue? Is it defiling, if you have never wanted to be pure of him? 

What is the point of holy, anyway, if not to find something you’d devote yourself to? 

You set a far more punishing pace this time, his thickness threatening to split your jaw open, and watch as Haku tips his head back in pleasure. Your personal deity, your personal idol. You’d stay on your knees all night for him, if he’d let you. 

It doesn’t take long before the tell-tale flex of his abs comes, before he tangles his fingers in your hair and your name in his speech, before he tugs tenderly on your scalp and a litany of praise comes spilling out, unfiltered from the gold of his tongue. “So perfect, princess, you– ah– can I—“ 

Your deity, falling apart under the heat of your tongue. 

You hum around his cock, meeting his eyes in permission, and all at once he comes, hot of his seed shooting into the warm confines of your mouth. The thick cum is salty as it hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, drawing out pump after addictive pump from the twitching cock between your hands. 

His body jerks up, thrusting shallowly into the heat of your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. He groans your name, low and long. “So tight and warm, so beautiful around my cock, ah– so good for me–“ 

You continue hollowing your cheeks around him, rubbing your tongue along the underside of his shaft. One hand leaves his cock to brace against his thighs; the other keeps up the slip-slide of his cock into the heat of your throat as his hips begin to stutter. You swallow as best as you can, trying to keep the thick rivulets of cum from spilling out between your lips as the erratic jerk of his hips against your hands slow and come to a stop. 

When you look up, lips still wrapped around him, his eyes are trained on you again, glassy and awestruck. 

You’ll never get tired of the way Haku looks just after cumming. His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, almost like he’s glowing, and the light catches in his hair like his own personal halo. All dazed, all blissed and reverential. All fucked out, just for you. 

You suckle on him, again, dragging his cock along the pad of your tongue. His hands tug on your hair, the pain a delicious distraction from where your jaw is aching around his width. He lets out a groan at the overstimulating shift of your mouth around his tip. “Princess, please–“ 

You grin, pulling off of him with a pop, and you both look down as the string of spit and cum connecting the head of his cock to your lips elongates and breaks apart. His thumb finds your cheek, stroking gently as you leave a kiss on the soft pink of his tip. 

You rest your cheek against his thigh as you breathe in the salty musk of his scent. Your voice is slightly hoarse as you look up at him, “I don’t suppose we’ll make it to that Halloween fair tonight.”

It takes Haku a while to find words, like he has to pull braincells back from where you’ve been sucking them right out of his dick. He smiles lazily at you, “We can always go tomorrow.” 

You laugh, and he sits up to help you up off your knees. His hands rub at where your knees have turned red, then reach up to smooth over the pleats of your skirt, still too short to cover anything important. He playfully squeezes your ass, before tugging you down into his lap.

You let out a soft unf as you land in his lap, straddling him. You shift forward to kiss him, pressing your chest against his; in doing so your folds, wet and warm, brush once again over the thick of his cock. 

Haku groans into the kiss at the same time a small gasp escapes you. You feel him twitch in renewed interest against your core, stoking the small fire that now burns brighter between your legs. 

“That is,” he adds, voice husky, hands moving under your skirt to grope your ass, “if you can still walk tomorrow.” 

You roll your hips against his, grinning brightly. “Bet.” 

[privateolives]

This is probably because I grew up watching 24/7 animal planet, but what finally made the allo/aplatonic thing click for me were the nature's of big cats.

Lions are powerful, regal creatures who are uniquely adapted to pack life. They need these connections to live a healthy life; A lonely lion is a miserable creature indeed.

Jaguars are solitary, beautiful creatures who live happily solitary. They prowl their lush world with self-sufficient majesty. A jaguar is not lonely without a pack. In fact, forcing jaguars to share space with others they do not enjoy is just as damaging as forcing a lion to live alone.

A lion may choose to head out on it's own for the most part, but in the end must return to the pack to thrive. A jaguar can choose to trust and enjoy the company of others, but they never feel the need to form a pack.

Is a jaguar selfish for this? A psychopath, a narcissist or any other such horrid assumptions? Is it a less moral creature than a lion, who seeks others like it to thrive?

Is a lion pathetic, or needy, or selfish for wanting community? For requiring contact with others like they require water? For their inherent need to string complicated webs of relationships that may seem silly or dramatic to others?

Of course not. These are ridiculous questions to even ask.

They are simply lions and jaguars.

In fact, is a jaguar that chooses to spend time with you not as magical as a lion's love? For a creature that needs no bond to thrive to still enjoy your presence enough to share it a time? Is a lion who can prowl the night alone not impressive in its strength and resilience? Is it not awe-inspiring in its ability to conquer a life it was never wired for and reign still?

Are they not both beautiful and awe-inspiring in their own ways, without being wrong?

Alloplatonics. Aplatonics. Are we not both special and beautiful in both our bonds and self-confident happiness equal, in each our ways? Is there not unique beauty in lifelong bonded packs and magical encounters that need no perpetuity to carry life forward?

Are we not but lions and jaguars? Neither wrong, neither selfish, but just different and beautiful creatures in each our ways?

That's how I've come to see it, anyway.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt#128 Part 4

Danny could tell Jason was getting upset over the things he was telling him. He wanted to open up and tell him more about the past but it was painful. Eventually Danny might tell him the full story about how he died but for now focusing on what they needed to do from now would take priority. 

Jason took a moment to calm himself down before speaking and Danny was a little afraid of breaking the silence, “alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” Danny stayed silent waiting for Jason to continue, “I don’t like that belt, we’re getting rid of it, and then, I’m taking you somewhere safe.” 

Danny felt a little confused; it felt like Jason really cared about him even if they just met. The belt only shocked ghosts so he figured his soulmate would have little problems taking the belt off of him so he nodded his head. He was tired and even if he didn’t 100% trust Jason yet, if they were truly soulmates, Jason wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. 

Jason reached out and gently touched the belt. It gave him a little shock and he tossed it away as soon as it was off Danny, who felt his strength finally returning. He took a few deep calming breaths, it's been quite a while since he was able to just exist without something terrible happening. He had forgotten what it felt like to have full access to his powers and ectoplasm again that the feeling felt amazing no matter what pain he was in. He could finally tap into his powers such as accelerated healing, which was already working on the damage on his chest. He was trapped within that facility for only a few months but the damage was already done. Being forced under the knife for days at a time where they treated him more like a dead body than a person had really done a number on his psyche. 

“Damn, I hated that fucking belt… Thank you” Danny finally said, Jason was silent the whole time just watching his hand where the belt had slightly shocked him. 

Jason took a few moments to process everything that happened and then sighed, “Why’d it shock me? You said it was set to shock you right?”

Danny glanced away and took a moment to think of what exactly to say next, “I’m not 100% sure actually. The belt shouldn’t shock a normal person.”

“The fuck are you then?” Jason’s sudden harsh words shocked Danny and he knew he let something slip, “... I accidentally touched it when I was you. That wasn’t a light shock like I just got.” Jason was still looking at his hands but when he looked up to see how terrified Danny was his face softened a little.

Jason took a shaky breath before speaking again, “You’ve been through enough, I… know I can be… intense, I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.” When Danny stayed silent he continued, “You mentioned ghosts earlier.” Jason paused again waiting for Danny to respond. 

Danny wanted too but he felt himself a little too scared to respond. Jason’s raised tone reminded him too much of how the GIW agents would berate him over everything. 

Jason sighed deeply and leaned back on the sofa, “alright, I won’t pry, but I think I know why it shocked me… I’m just trying to figure out why it shocks you so badly.” 

Danny could tell Jason was just worried about him so even though he didn’t want too he spoke up a little, “I know the reason it shocks me…” Danny said slowly and softly, “and I want to tell you, but I’m honestly a little scared. I haven’t had to tell someone this before and it honestly isn’t a pretty story.” Danny’s words were genuine, he really didn’t know how to even begin to explain to someone. It felt like something he shouldn’t say, not that he didn’t want too but if felt wrong down to his core. 

Jason nodded his head, “I get it, I’ll be honest, my backstory ain’t too pretty itself.” 

Honestly Danny didn’t know how he felt about that, knowing he wasn’t alone in hardships was both alarming and comforting. 

Jason nodded again, “Alright, I get it’s a touchy subject, you can talk about it when you’re ready.” 

———

Jason was a little peeved but he got it, he doubted if he could keep his cool when talking about his own death and revival. He was wondering if maybe being thrown into the pits might have something to do with how he got shocked by that damn belt. Danny didn’t seem to want to talk about that and Jason wanted to know but he also didn’t want to pressure him into talking about something he didn’t want to. He was a little pissed at himself for how he scared his soulmate.

Jason was also pissed this was how they met, he wanted to be the one to pull that trigger and even though he thought it was kind of hot that his soulmate finished the job, he was also jealous he didn’t get to pull the trigger himself. Danny said he had a fear of clowns and he was determined to keep him safe.

Jason was a little bit of a romantic and he wished he had a proper meeting like most soulmates got but instead he got whatever the fuck bullshit life Danny had. 

Jason took a deep breath after realizing his thoughts were spiraling out of control. He still had to figure out what exactly was after his soulmate, romance could come after he knew how to keep him safe.

Master Post:

Previous:

[th3secr3th1story]

gojo and geto when you don't say "i love you" back

biggest losers ever

gojo

"baby, i'll see you soon, ok? don't miss me too much," gojo whined, attached to your hip as you rubbed his back.

he was assigned a mission somewhere in rural japan and likely wouldn't be back for a couple days, which was especially hard for the both of you seeing that you were never separated for more than 12 hours. (you and gojo were typically assigned to missions together, but this one wasn't a special-grade curse so it was only given to him. what a loser.)

"i should go," he sighed into your shoulder. "don't cheat, call me every day, don't start any new shows, don't go out, don't let anyone talk to you, buy tons of sweets for me, annoy megumi, punch nanami for me, don't for-"

"'toru! it's just a few days, i'll see you soon. just be careful, ok?" you giggled.

he (begrudgingly) removed himself from you, turning towards the door with a massive pout.

"alright, baby, i love you," he grouched.

"stay safe, 'toru! bring me back souvenirs," you smiled, waving at him.

except he didn't leave. he stood there, grinning at you expectantly, one hand on his mini suitcase and another on the doorknob.

when you simply kept waving at him, confused, his smile dropped.

"okay, fine. i guess i won't come home then," he said with a pout, glaring at you.

"huh?! what are you talking about?"

"well, since you clearly just want me to kill myself because you don't love me anymore, i guess i'll find someone else to marry," he sniffed.

"stop playing around, 'toru. you know i love you."

and just like that, gojo satoru was grinning like an idiot.

"okay, sweets, see you soon!"

and just like that, gojo satoru was out the door.

geto

the two of you were currently coddled up in your bed, you on top of geto as he massaged your scalp.

you weren't sure how long you both had been laying there, but neither of you wanted to move.

geto listened to you talk about your day, mainly filled with complaints about gojo and his weird behaviors.

you were currently telling him how itadori pranked fushiguro earlier that day in your class, barely able to suppress your giggles.

"-and then he put a fake spider on his shoulder. i swear, when fushiguro saw it i thought he was going to cry. it's so hard being a teacher sometimes, i forget that i can't laugh at the students."

geto chuckled lightly at the story as he listened to how happy you sounded retelling jujutsu high's antics.

once you finished, the two of you laid there in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"you know i love you, right? you're the most important person in my life, y/n," he said softly.

you simply sighed and kissed his neck, happy to be in geto's embrace. but after a few seconds the head massaging stopped.

you whined and looked up to see why he paused. you were met with his dead stare.

"why'd you stop?" you asked, confused.

"'cause you don't appreciate me," he teased.

"no! you're my favorite man ever. i love you so much, suguru," you wailed, pressing his hand back on your head.

"man?"

"fine. you're my favorite person ever."

"person?"

"you're my favorite...organism ever?"

"that'll do, i guess," he mumbled, smiling.

geto resumed his ministrations and slowly lulled you to sleep with his light humming of a song gojo couldn't stop singing earlier that day.

(it only sounds good when it comes from him. no offense, gojo.)

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 08/08 // miscommunication 

wc: 2k // rating: M // cw: smoking, language, character death // tags: s4 missing scene, canon compliant, miscommunication, first kiss

divider credits @firefly-graphics

“Hey, Harrington, did we have any more nails? Think I can fit a few more on this bad boy.” Eddie swings his makeshift-trash-can-lid-shield around in an arc, whooshing under his breath. He feels a bit silly, but it’s what he does. Clowns around for the benefit of others.

Steve snorts, before looking around. “Uh, yeah, I think so.” He shifts a crate of bottles over. “Somewhere around here…” Finally spotting the box of nails, he underhand tosses it over Robin’s head.

Eddie catches it easily, earning a raised brow from Steve, and points the box back to him with a nod. As Steve turns back to Robin, Eddie lets out a low whistle. Waiting for him to turn back, Eddie tilts his head, gesturing to the other side of the RV in a not-so-subtle follow me way. Frowning, Steve glances at Robin, who gives him an equally quizzical look in return, then moves toward him, following around the front of the vehicle.

“You good, man?” Steve asks as Eddie leans up against the side of the RV, dropping the shield and the nails at his side.

Eddie hums in the affirmative as he pats at his pockets, locating a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He pops one between his lips before holding the box out in offering. Steve hesitates for only a second before taking one. Clicking on the lighter, Eddie waves him in. Steve leans closer, letting the end of his cigarette touch Eddie’s, both of them lit under the flame. Neither of them moves back immediately, caught in a smoky haze where their eyes are locked onto each other. 

This wasn’t the first time Eddie had caught Steve staring at him, hazel eyes travelling from his lips back up to his eyes. It happened the day prior, in the Upside Down, where Eddie had been running his mouth, talking endlessly about being not-a-hero and unambiguous signs of true love, all but shoving Steve in the direction of Nancy Wheeler. Despite this, Eddie got the sense that Steve wasn’t listening to a word he said. Barely responding, eyes locked on Eddie instead, who wanted to ask—because, hey, what’s that about?—but they were cut off by the freak earthquake.

Then earlier, when Eddie jumped into the driver’s seat of the RV to start hotwiring, Steve was right behind him. Like he couldn’t help himself. Like he was being magnetically pulled into Eddie’s presence. Like they’d constantly found themselves since the boathouse—in each other’s bubbles. Steve never once pulled away from the invasion of his personal space. Not when Eddie got right up in his face again, not when Eddie had blatantly flirted with him—don’t ya, big boy?—and not now, when their faces had no reason to be this close together.

It’s Steve who pulls back, who finally breaks the spell between them, taking a shaky inhale of his cigarette. “Robin’s worried… thinks maybe we might not make it out this time.”

“Shit…” Eddie says with a puff of smoke. “But, y’know. Who else is gonna do it?”

“That’s what she said too.” Steve taps the ash off to the side, before taking another drag. “D’you ever feel like… I dunno, like you might be missing something that’s right in front of you? Something that everyone else sees, but you just… don’t?”

Eddie snorts. “Only every day, Harrington.”

“I think maybe…” Steve hesitates. “Maybe I am. Missing something.”

“And what is it,” Eddie says, tapping his ash. “That you think you’re missing?”

Eddie turns his head when Steve doesn’t respond, finding those hazel eyes boring into him. He feels it again, that magnetic pull, that electricity that seems to fire up between them any time they’re near each other. It wasn’t like Eddie to second guess something like this, to wonder if he might be wrong. By all accounts, he knew when someone was attracted to him. But for some reason, when it came to Steve, he couldn’t help but question it. That said, Eddie felt… something. It was there, palpable and pulsing between them.

“Enjoying the view?” Eddie’s voice drips with sarcasm as he gestures down at himself, knowing he looks a mess.

Steve jolts, a light pink dusting his cheeks as he looks away. “I don’t know. What I’m missing,” he quickly clarifies. “That’s kinda the problem, right?”

Eddie hums as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Anything I can help with?”

Looking at him like the answer is right on his lips, Steve falters. “You—you don’t—no, I couldn’t—”

“Steve,” Eddie cuts him off softly. “It’s okay.”

What exactly is okay, Eddie isn’t actually sure. But if he’s right—and god, he hopes he is—then he’s willing to take the chance. And fuck, if he can’t find a little bravery right before jumping back into hell, then when will he ever? Eddie flicks the butt of his cigarette to the ground, turning to Steve fully, stepping right up in his space again. Steve’s eyes widen, and Eddie spots the green flecks in them, but he doesn’t step back. Watching as Steve’s gaze jumps from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again, Eddie feels a small smile pull at the corners of his lips. From the edge of his vision, he notices Steve drop the remainder of his cigarette.

Eddie brings a hand up to cup Steve’s jaw, leaning in closer, watching closely for any sign that he’s wrong, that he should stop. He feels Steve’s breath on his lips, and watches as his eyes become hooded. Eddie closes the distance. Steve’s lips are a little dry, but he moves softly, tentatively, gently. It’s almost… romantic. Feeling a hand come up to the side of his neck, then into the back of his curls, Eddie presses a little harder, just slightly parting his lips. He feels Steve’s tongue swipe at his lower lip, and can’t hold back any longer. 

Eddie surges forward, mouth opening and tasting Steve fully. It’s sloppy and frantic, teeth knocking and lips bruising, a sense of urgency suddenly taking over their movements. The hand that was cupping Steve’s jaw is now gripping, holding him in place, the other placed against the wall of the RV, pinning him there. Steve is twisting Eddie’s hair between his fingers, other hand pulling at his waist, bringing their bodies flush against each other. Their tongues slide together and Eddie thinks he could get high on this feeling. Whatever spark was between them has grown into a wildfire, and Eddie wants to chase it and burn up in it. The desperation they hold each other with, the desire that they kiss with, the sheer need that runs through both of them, it consumes him.

“Steve…” Eddie groans against his lips.

Steve lets out a muffled whimper. “Eddie…”

Eddie moans low in return. He wants to get closer, to feel more, to live in this feeling until his dying breath.

“Eddie,” Steve pants. “Eddie—stop. Stop-stop-stop.”

Once the words register in his mind, Eddie jumps back like he’d been electrocuted. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he breathes, chest heaving, heart racing.

“No, no, it’s—” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, it’s fine, I just…” He exhales heavily, lips shining with spit. “I just, I’m not—I don’t…”

Eddie’s heart drops as words seem to fail Steve. Oh… Oh, he was wrong. He doesn’t need to hear the rest of what Steve was trying to say, doesn’t need to hear I’m not into men, I don’t like you that way, I’m not like you, I don’t want you, or any other sentence that’ll tear his heart out. Taking another step back, Eddie tries to look anywhere but Steve’s face, mentally kicking himself for having read the situation so badly.

“It—I’m sorry, I just thought—” Eddie stumbles his way through his words as he backs away. “It’s okay though, uh, just. We can—we can act like it never happened.”

“What? Eddie, no, it’s not—” Steve sounds like the words are getting stuck in his throat, eyes wide and glistening. He looks lost.

“It’s alright, Steve,” Eddie cuts him off. “I don’t, like, blame you for, y’know, trying something at the end of the world.” Fumbling to grab his shield from the ground, Eddie creates more distance between them. “It’s fine. Like I said, didn’t even happen. Take it to my grave.”

Reaching out, Steve grabs for his wrist. “Eddie, please, wait, just—”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie cuts him off again, yanking his hand out of Steve’s, unable to stand the feeling of the heat between them any longer. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.” With one final glance at Steve’s hurt expression, Eddie does what he does best, and runs.

He wants to go back. He wants to ask. He wants to know what Steve was going to say. But Nancy approaches soon after and tells them they need to get moving. Eddie tries not to watch as Steve and Robin huddle together, whispering to each other. Tries not to think about what they’re saying. Tries not to imagine that it’s something good. Maybe… there was a tiny chance it could have been… But no, it hurt enough to think that Steve didn’t want him. Eddie didn’t want to have to hear the words aloud. Ultimately, Eddie picked protecting himself over everything else, that’s how he survived this long. Did that make him a coward in his own opinion? Yes. But it’s what he did. 

Still. Eddie wondered. Maybe he reacted too quickly. Got scared too easily. Wouldn’t be the first time for him. Wouldn’t be the first time he ran his mouth and got himself into more trouble than if he’d just kept quiet. Wouldn’t be the first time he jumped to conclusions. Wouldn’t be the first time he bolted to avoid a hard conversation. Maybe he should have stayed. Maybe Steve was going to say something else. Maybe Steve wasn’t going to shatter his already fragile heart. Maybe, if Eddie hasn’t completely fucked this up, there’s a way through this for them. Him and Steve. Maybe, just maybe, he can fix it.

They don’t get a chance to talk about it. Eddie catches him more than once, staring at him with those eyes, filled with an unreadable expression—Hurt? Guilt? Longing?—before they both quickly look away again. They have to focus on the plan, have to put on the front for everyone else, for the kids. This can wait until after.

Once they’re back in the Upside Down, plans in motion, they share their parting words. Steve tells them not to be heroes, big-brother mask perfectly in place for Dustin’s benefit. Eddie tries to match it, going for a joke—that they’re not heroes—but a cold sick feeling travels down his chest as he says it. Steve already knows Eddie isn’t a hero. He can’t just leave it like this, so he stops Steve again. The mask has slipped now, and Steve looks close to tears.

“Make him pay,” Eddie says, finally looking Steve right in the eyes, begging him to hear the meaning behind his words. Make him pay. End all of this. Come back to me. We can try again. Maybe we have something. All the things he wishes he could say but doesn’t have the courage to.

Steve nods like he understands, and Eddie hopes to god he does. Hopes that he’ll give Eddie another shot, an opportunity to fix whatever was between them, a chance to show that he’s not the coward he claimed to be.

They don’t get to find out.

Because Eddie needs to save Dustin. Because Eddie runs out to distract the bats. Because Eddie regrets a lot of decisions he’s made—running away from Chrissy, leaving her for Wayne to find; not getting a chance to say goodbye, to tell his uncle how much he loved him; running away from Steve—but not this one. 

Because Eddie chooses a hell of a time to not be a coward for once in his life.

[kori-senpai]

Fanart for @honeydots Fire Emblem fanfic. I've been using it as a reason to fluke out of social interactions for the last two weeks and boy oh boy I will continue to do so >:)

[otaku553]

Little sabo and ace doodles since I just posted chapter 2 of the asl spy x family crossover fic :)

I just really wanted to see longer-hair gremlin child sabo hehe

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[can-of-slorgs]

*japanese funky nightcore cover music in the background*

[unclewaynemunson]

'What's your favorite holiday?' Steve asked while they were looking at the fireworks, pressed against each other in the dark of the night. They had been dancing around each other for months, ever since Eddie woke up in the hospital with Steve already at his bedside. They had taken their time to get to know each other better, to let that something between them grow and to figure out what it all meant exactly. But around the time Eddie graduated, it had finally culminated into what it had been destined to be from the start.

Eddie could barely believe they had only been official for about a month and a half, that Steve had only been part of his life for a little over three months. But he knew, with a certainty that he couldn't really explain, that he and Steve belonged to be like this. No matter how scary it had been to fall for him, it had been the only available option.

'Sukkot,' Eddie answered his question with no hesitation.

Steve leaned away a little bit to be able to look at Eddie.

'Was that the one that was, like, three weeks ago?'

'No, that was Shavu'ot,' Eddie answered patiently. He knew that Steve was trying very hard to keep up, and that the Hebrew words didn't exactly make it easier on him. 'The boring one that Wayne's obsessed with.'

Steve chuckled. 'So what is Sukkot?'

'I thought you'd never ask, big boy,' said Eddie, a wide grin creeping over his face. 'It's the best fucking week of the year. We build those huts in our yards where we're supposed to live all week. It's really awesome, we get to be outside all the time and Wayne tells all the best stories about how our ancestors escaped from Egypt and wandered through the desert for years. Back in Virginia, on the farm, it also used to be this celebration that the harvest was done. The best moment of the year, man, like when the summer holiday starts, y'know.'

'Sounds pretty cool.'

'Pretty cool?' Eddie repeated in a mock-offended tone. 'Pretty cool?! Stevie, how dare you, it's fucking magical! It's the awesomest of holidays! You know what? You're gonna have to join us this October and get the whole experience!'

'Are you sure?' Steve looked weirdly hesitant about Eddie's proposal and Eddie felt the excitement in his chest deflate like a popped balloon.

'Yeah, I mean... If you want to,' he said, reigning himself in a little bit. Maybe Steve thought it was weird, maybe he would never quite understand it, maybe –

'Of course I want to,' Steve cut off his spiraling thoughts, like the mere suggestion was completely ridiculous. 'But would it be okay? You wouldn't mind? And your uncle?'

'Why the hell would we mind, Stevie?'

'Well, I'm not Jewish...'

Eddie chortled. 'Yeah, we know that, dude. But you're always welcome in our humble little home.'

And Steve's face lit up in a way that the fireworks in the sky above them could never compete with. 'Alright,' he said. 'Then I'd love to celebrate this awesomest of holidays with you.'

******

And so it happens that a little over three months later, Eddie runs out of the trailer with even more excitement than usual when Steve's way too fancy car shows up. He basically jumps into his boyfriend's arms as soon as Steve gets out of his car – and of course Steve catches him, stumbling only a little bit while huffing out an “oomph” as Eddie wraps all four of his limbs around his body.

'Hello to you, too,' he murmurs with a soft smile on his face. He can't exactly kiss Eddie here, in broad daylight with all of Eddie's neighbors to see, but he lets his hands linger around Eddie's shoulders when he gently puts him down on the ground.

'You're excited.'

'We're building the hut today!'

'The sukkot, right?'

And the proud smile around Steve's lips makes it almost impossible for Eddie to correct him.

'The sukkah, babe. It's one sukkah, multiple sukkot.'

'Sukkah,' Steve repeats, his voice still as unsure as ever when he tries the Hebrew words that are so familiar to Eddie and Wayne and still so foreign to him.

'C'mon, Wayne's already waiting for us.'

Eddie starts tugging Steve along with him towards the trailer. He wishes he could do that by taking his hand instead of the sleeve of his jacket, but he's too aware of how careful they have to be here, out in the open in the trailer park.

They go around the trailer, where Wayne is already surrounded by a bunch of corrugated sheets and some big pine branches.

'We're building it here?' Steve sounds surprised. 'Why not on the porch?'

Eddie sees his uncle's face fall, and his own excited smile fades away as well.

'It's too eye-catching, on the other side,' Wayne explains to Steve. 'Too many folks lookin' to trash stuff 'round here, ya know.'

Almost every year, they find some graffiti on the walls of their sukkah at some point of the week. It has become better since they moved the hut to the backside of their trailer, hidden away from Forest Hills' main roads. Before, when they still built it in front of their home, they'd regularly find the roof or the walls demolished. Nothing ever happened when one of them was home: both Wayne and Eddie were protected from any serious danger by their own scary looks. But unfortunately, the sukkah did not enjoy the same protection when the Munson men weren't present to keep an eye on it.

Wayne doesn't outright say it with that many words – that's not his style – but Eddie can see in the arch of Steve's eyebrows that he gets it. That he understands that Forest Hills is not the kind of place where Hebrew should be spoken loudly and that anything more than a menorah in front of a window can be considered offensive real quick. He sees that Steve understands it, because Steve knows what it feels like to not be able to take his boyfriend's hand when they're outside. It's not the same, but it's similar, in a way.

When Eddie came out to Wayne, his uncle told him that he was sorry Eddie got dealt the wrong cards twice. But that's not how Eddie sees it. Standing here, in the quiet world behind the trailer, with his uncle, his boyfriend and a pile of junk that will soon turn into a refuge, he gets the confirmation of what he already knew back then: that he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it means having to hide away from prejudiced eyes, he'd choose this right here over anything easier in a heartbeat.

Wayne takes off his trucker hat to reveal the kippah he often wears hidden underneath it, then turns Eddie around by his shoulders so he can attach a kippah to his curls with some hairpins. Eddie usually never wears one: he doesn't like being told what to do in any way, and he proudly wears the pentagram of the Church of Satan on his denim vest. But for events like this, Wayne insists the kippah is important, and Eddie has long since he moved in with his uncle learned that there's no use digging his heels in the sand about it. If it's that important for Uncle Wayne, he'll doesn't mind complying.

'And one for you,' Wayne states after Eddie's kippah is properly secured to his head, turning towards Steve with a third one in his outstretched hand.

Steve's eyes widen in an almost cartoon-like way.

'For me?' he repeats, as if he's unsure if he understands Wayne correctly.

'U-huh,' Wayne confirms with a nod of his head.

Steve's eyes flash back and forth between Eddie and Wayne, still clearly confused, like he's trying to catch some lie or a prank between the two of them.

'That's – would that be okay?' he stammers.

'Neshama sheli,' Eddie says, his voice soft. 'Of course that'd be okay. It's the polite thing to do, actually, when you're in shul – or in other Jewish places – whether you're a Jew or not.'

'Okay, cool,' Steve says with a little shrug of his shoulders. He's slightly too obviously trying to play it cool, and that makes Eddie realize something he hadn't really considered before: that Steve is nervous about this. For Eddie, sukkot is nothing but a holiday of fun. But Steve doesn't know any of those traditions, he doesn't know any of the unwritten rules. For all he knows, what they're doing today is something sacred and solemn – it makes sense that he's afraid to do the wrong thing or mess it up somehow. It's written all over his face: he's afraid to be disrespectful, to be an intruder, to somehow offend Wayne and Eddie without meaning to...

Steve takes the kippah from Wayne and places it on his hair, where it lies dangerously close to sliding off.

'Here, lemme help you.' Eddie digs around in his own pockets to find some long forgotten hairpins and slides up behind Steve, attaching the kippah to some strands of his soft, shiny hair. When he's done, he slides his arms around Steve's waist and tugs him close to his chest.

'Hey,' he whispers in his ear, nuzzling his nose against the soft hair right above it because he simply can't resist the temptation of touching Steve's locks in any way, ever. 'You don't need to worry 'bout anything. We're just gonna build a hut, that's all. And we're trailer park Jews anyway, we don't care about etiquette and shit. Or, well, maybe Wayne does, a little bit, but he's used to me, so... You're good.'

Steve chuckles, then turns himself around in Eddie's arms until they're face-to-face.

'Thank you,' he whispers in the space between them.

Wayne emphatically clears his throat, no doubt worried that the boys are about to forget he's still with them.

'You lovebirds ready to get to work?'

Slightly unwilling, Eddie lets go of Steve and flashes Wayne an excited grin. 'Alright, my dearest uncle, tell us what to do.'

The next hour or so is spent hauling corrugated sheets around and assembling them into a decent-sized hut. While Eddie is drilling their metal walls together, Wayne tells Steve all about the meaning behind what they're doing. He gets like that with every holiday: he loves the big stories, and Eddie has always loved listening to Wayne telling them.

'All of this,' Wayne explains with a gesture towards the half-finished sukkah, 'Is to remind us of what happened to our people a long time ago. They were enslaved in Egypt, far away from their homes. When they got out, they wandered through the desert for forty years, tryin' to find their way back. They suffered drought, storms, heat, famine... But G-d's protection was with them every step of their way, until He safely delivered them back to their homeland. For forty years, they didn't have no place to call home. They slept in huts beneath the stars. That's why, for one week a year, we still live in huts. We don't sleep here, 's too cold for that in Indiana –'

'I do sometimes,' Eddie cuts in.

'Your boy is crazy,' Wayne dryly states. 'But we live here as much as possible. The most important thing is to have all our meals in here, as long as it ain't raining too hard. We're not supposed to make a solid roof, y'know, 'cause it's supposed to be a reminder of how our people used to sleep under the open sky. It's a symbol for how we should submit ourselves to G-d's protection.'

Steve listens attentively and keeps asking Wayne all kinds of questions while they continue working on the roof, which they assemble out of pine branches that Eddie and Wayne took from the woods around the trailer park earlier that day.

'This day's extra special,' Wayne tells Steve when they're almost done, 'Cause it's a Friday evening. Means our first meal in the sukkah is a Shabbat meal.'

Usually, Wayne isn't exactly world's most diligent cook, but for days like this, he always tries to go a little bit bigger than usual. Not that their kitchen is suited for fabricating any kind of fancy meals – let alone that they can afford anything like that – but that doesn't really matter. Not to Eddie, at least, and he's pretty sure the same thing applies to Steve. The most important thing is that Wayne tries his very best to make days like those feel special. So while Steve and Eddie get tasked with setting up the interior of the sukkah, Wayne heads back to the trailer to make sure the food will be all done before sunset.

Steve and Eddie haul a bunch of plastic lawn chairs and a trestle table inside. After the furniture, they add some pillows, a truly hideous tablecloth, and a bunch of random clutter from the trailer to make it feel more homely. Eddie always likes to put this one Jesus sculpture they once got from the old Mrs. Brooks from number 70 in one of the corners, for no other purpose than to get on Wayne's nerves. Steve, on the other hand, actually cares about making the sukkah look good, and he comes up with the idea to walk around the trailer park and go into the woods to find some flowers as a finishing touch. Most of the vegetation around Forest Hills is withered all year round, but Steve manages to find some branches with beautiful autumn colors and a bunch of shiny chestnuts among the decaying junk.

'You manage to make anything pretty, huh,' Eddie notes when they're all done, with leaves of dark orange and golden yellow miraculously brightening up every single corner of the hut.

Steve smiles and pulls Eddie in his arms. Now, shielded by the walls of their dwelling, they can do that without worrying about the watchful eyes of nosy neighbors.

'Nah,' he murmurs, his lips ghosting over Eddie's cheek. 'I don't make things pretty, I attract pretty things.' And the way in which Steve's lips find his, soft and full of promise, tells Eddie that he wasn't merely talking about pretty things. It makes his heartbeat stutter and his cheeks heat up.

Steve pulls back before the kiss can become anything more than a promise, with a sparkle in his eyes and a soft smile still tugging at his lips.

'C'mon, let's go help your uncle with the food.'

By the time they're ready to welcome Shabbat, the autumn sun has long disappeared behind the trees and it's rapidly cooling off outside. Wayne puts on his thick plaid jacket and Steve borrows one of Eddie's favorite black hoodies. During this time of the year – when it's not yet cold enough to waste money on heating – the trailer doesn't really stay much warmer than the sukkah, so they're used to the cold anyway. Steve, however, is shamelessly exploiting the chill of the evening as an excuse to cuddle up close to Eddie at the table – not that Eddie minds that at all.

But when Wayne lights the candle and recites the blessing at sundown, it feels like the sukkah is actually much warmer than any other place in the world. It's because what's happening in this place is special, Eddie thinks. For a week, this hut is their home. It's designed to house two people – just Wayne and him – but Steve fits in this cramped space with them like he was always supposed to be here. And when Steve turns to Eddie to wish him a good shabbos with a smile on his face, Eddie knows that he will never want to celebrate another holiday – Jewish or not – without him.

Some fun facts for those who are interested: Sukkot 1986 indeed started on a Friday (October 17th) The use of corrugated sheets for a sukkah is actually quite common, and I took the liberty to interpret the skillful way in which we see Eddie drilling them down in the Upside Down, as him having plenty experience with creating a refuge with those things. For those who don't speak Hebrew: when Eddie calls Steve neshama sheli, he uses a common Hebrew pet name which literally translates to "my soul." I imagine Eddie loves calling Steve all kinds of Hebrew pet names and this is a truly beautiful one imo. I hope I did right to this really cool holiday with my lil story!

[honehonn3honey]

All drawings about Shouto from 2019 to 2024

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Special mention to this kind of fish and cat’s ass Shouto:

Oh! And this pillow that I don’t remember his name: