#your first commitment should always be to the but

[mintmatcha]

For the first time in centuries, he speaks to the thing that made him. It comes only in the deepest of nights, when the winter air is most bitter.

"Why do you curse me like this?"

The voice tastes of forgotten pine, a species now lost. "Why do you speak in tongues I do not know?"

The language should be dead, but it rolls off his tongue as easily as it did back then. No written word, no official name in the modern tongue: a secret between him and the monster he's bonded to.

"You take her from me, life after life." He never ages, but he feels young again, angry, reckless. "You lied to me when you promised a painless life. You lied when you promised no one else would die."

The wind howls with insult. There's a moment where he can feel it there, hunched and hovering above his shoulder, maw gaped and empty.

"The only lie is the one you tell yourself."

It's gone again, nothing but a whispering voice on the breeze. Without worshippers, it no longer holds much power. Without him, it would fade into nothing, just like the other forgotten gods.

"I know your mind does not fail you. You remember your first meeting with the girl."

"In the summer fields."

"Ach. Your lie." It growls its words. "That was her second life."

He has no answer to that. No, he had met you in the fields, right after the grain had sprouted. The memory is his prized possession.

"You play your tricks again."

"You truly forget the face of the woman you sacrificed in my name?" The hiss runs a chill up his spine. "The one who you killed with your own hands? The one who's blood you drank to live for all eternity?"

Blood is always the price. He had taken a woman from the neighboring village, covered her face in cloth so he could not see the tragedy he was committing. The ritual was long, grueling, and the girl had almost died too soon multiple times, but she fought to live, fought against his hand-

"No." Those screams. Were they yours? "That's- no."

"You had chosen her to die, so you may live."

His stomach turns as he remembers the taste of your blood on his lips, the metal aftertaste as you fought with the last ounce of life-

"Now, she dies."

immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again

[ivysprophecy]

Am I Okay? Chapter Three

a/n: hi again! if you havent guessed already this chapter is going to include the gala i mentioned in part twelve! (which is linked) now as author im going to state clearly that this is not their first date 'canonically', however, its what i MYSELF consider their first date. <3

warnings: i dont think there are any, but i did add a little somethin somethin at the end ;) and i should mention this ones gonna be in rafes pov ;) im in no way saying that rafe is my character

word count: 1241

this shouldnt feel as daunting as it does right now. shes just a friend. its just a dinner party, theres no commitments attached or technicalities to worry over.

its just me and her making a boring evening more exciting.

thats all.

i knock on the door and wait patiently for her to answer. i did come a bit early so i wouldnt be surprised if she was still getting ready.

she has a tendency to get swept up in the music shes listening to when shes at her vanity.

but as soon as she opens that door and i turn to see her... i suddenly forget all the convincing was doing.

cause i know after tonight theres gonna be no more hiding just how into her i am. she looks incredible.

it does something to me knowing its the dress i bought her.

"hi," thats all she says and i swear i forgot how to breathe. how does she do this to me?

"hey," my smile widens, "you look... gorgeous. really you look great."

"cant take all the credit, the dress was all your doing. im just wearing it."

"and you wear it beautifully," just like that, a natural blush replaces the artificial pink on her cheeks "we should get going, are you ready or do you need more time? i can wait."

"i think im ready..." she searches through her purse, going over its contents making sure she has everything. "yep, im ready."

"perfect," i close the door behind her as she walks out, "its a little jarring to see you without your boots."

she chuckles as i open the car door for her, "i tried to clean up as nice as i could."

"you clean up just fine cowgirl," i cant hide my smile.

the drive to the event was that comfortable kind of quiet. i always let her take aux when we drive together. country music definitely isnt my favorite but she could play a lot worse.

besides she throws in the occasional kid cudi or metro boomin for me.

shes thoughtful like that.

"oh theres valet? how fancy," the valet opens her door for her before i can even get out of the car. i suppose thats his job.

"thats kinda how these things go. theyre a bit much."

"well i think its refreshing being so spoiled. dads done a lot of fancy business but nothing like this. its fun."

taking her hand, i lead her up the stairs into the building, "ill spoil you as much as you want cowgirl."

"youre such a sweet talker city boy. for someone who, supposedly, is a serial bachelor youre a total flirt."

"nah, i only flirt with you," i tell her, truthfully. part of me said it to see her all flustered but really there isnt a point in lying about it.

i know everyones got me figured out already, the guys and their girls are better gossipers than the real housewives. not that id know anything about the real housewives. i definitely dont watch that shit.

"thats exactly what im talking about," shes giggling as we walk into the giant room filled to the brim with investors, partners, staff, clients, a bunch of people i really want to avoid. i was about to lead her over to the bar when we run into someone conveniently.

her father. that i work with. awesome.

"cameron! thought i wouldnt be able to catch you tonig- y/n? pumpkin what are you doing here?"

"dad! were in public can you maybe not call me that-"

i let a smile peak through, "pumpkin?" its just too easy to tease her.

"rafe," she sends me a warning, and you know she means business when she uses my "government name" as she likes to call it.

i throw my hands up in defense jokingly.

"its good to see you y/l/n," i reach out to shake her dads hand, "i invited her, hoping a friendly face would make the night more barrable. i hope thats alright with you."

"nah its good for her. she needs to get out more. i trust youll take care of her."

"dad!" she raises her tone while keeping a hushed voice, "dont talk about me like im not here. please."

"you kids have fun tonight," her dad wraps an arm around her before pressing a small kiss to her temple before shaking my hand again, "good to see you rafe. take care of my little girl."

i nod with a smile as he walks away, heading over to a table of some other clients i recognize.

"unbelievable! rafe im so sorry that was embarrassing. he doesnt know how to act normal. i shouldnt let him out of the house. i need to put him in a home."

"cowgirl, youre rambling. its fine, i get it. hes a dad its his job to embarrass you a little."

she rolls her eyes leading the way back to the bar like we intended in the first place. leaning against the bar she tells the bartender her order and mine, already knowing id like a whiskey.

how am i not supposed to like this girl so much when she knows me so well? i dont care if we come from two completely different backgrounds. a part of me knows this is the girl for me.

taking our drinks i lead her over to our table for the night, pulling out her seat for her to sit when suddenly i see some investors walking my way.

i knew id have to work a little tonight but it doesnt stop me being disappointed from being pulled away from her.

the night goes on, i introduce her to a few of the people i know better than others, but i give her the chance to mingle when she wants too. shes so well spoken and holds her own well.

shes mesmerizing.

at one point i return from the restroom, and when i come back i see that after i stepped away one of the investors sons is making conversation with her.

hes far too close to her for my liking, touching her arm subtly, desperately trying to make her laugh. but i can see shes only doing it to be polite.

i step up right beside her, my hand naturally falling to the small of her back. innocently of course.

"jared! good to see you man, your dad let you come?"

theres nothing i love to see more than his confidence faulter. he needed to be put in his place, what can i say?

im just happy i was the one to get to do it.

"yea... yea he did. it was good seeing you rafe. nice meeting you...?" he smiled in her direction, asking for one more chance silently, i couldnt contain my laughter.

"have a nice night jared. tell your dad ill see him at mondays meeting," and with that i lead her away in the direction of our table.

"you didnt have to be so rude to him you know?"

"cowgirl, that was hardly rude of me. i was doing him a favor."

she plasters on an offended face, pretending to clutch her pearls, "how dare you, im a catch. hed be so lucky to have me, and so would you."

god, shes such a tease.

believe me gorgeous. i know id be so lucky to have you. its all i think about.

[ masterlist ]

[capseycartwright]

tagged by @livingincolorsagain to do a 2024 fic roundup and i am v late but hope u forgive my tardiness i have been enjoying a new year rot of the highest order. anyway apparently i wrote a whole heap of fic this year and didn't realise it until i made this post.

april

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it 

Buck should – he should be freaking out, right? He’d lived thirty-two years of his life without coming close to kissing another man, and it should be making him freak out that tonight, he did – but Buck felt flooded with the oddest sense of calm he’d ever experienced in his life.

He’d kissed a man.

or - after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

stay close, little brother

hen and maddie share a quiet moment of pride about their little brother at the buckley-han wedding.

may

all roads lead to eddie diaz

Eddie inclined his head slightly. “He is,” he hummed in response. “But it sounds more like you’re wanting to pick a fight here than discuss our mutual appreciation for how great a person Buck is.

Tommy, at least, looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he admitted. “The way you feel about him.

or - eddie and tommy have a revelatory conversation about the buck of it all.

july

a sky full of stars

Christopher Diaz had always loved fireworks - the pop, and bang, and the way they would light up the sky with bright colours. His dad didn’t like fireworks though. His dad was afraid of them.

or, even in Texas, Christopher worries about his father spending the Fourth of July alone. So he texts Buck.

can't ignore the crazy visions of me in la

Margarita-drunk Buck ruminates on how beautiful Eddie Diaz is while his best friend is dancing to Chappell Roan. That's what LA pride is for, right?

- or, alternatively: Eddie spends his first pride as an out queer man in a gay club, and Buck is in love with him about it.

october

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

knowing damn well i haven't been touched by you

Buck’s been having a really weird year. Buck died, and he realised he was bisexual, and he got a boyfriend, and Christopher left and went to Texas after he walked in on Eddie kissing his dead mother’s doppelganger, Eddie had grown a depression mustache, and Gerrard was back at the helm of the 118 and Buck felt like he was starring in a Netflix Original about how a perfectly normal, functional, member of society was driven to commit murder.

- or, Buck's got a boyfriend, Eddie comes out and starts dating men, and Buck loses his entire mind, actually.

november

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.”

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

december

i'll be home for christmas (if only in my dreams)

It was a silly thing, Buck had started, right when Eddie first got to El Paso – we’re looking at the same sky, he’d quipped, on one of their nightly Facetime calls.

Even when they were far apart from each other, they were still able to look up at the same stars, and if they just remembered that, maybe the distance between El Paso, and Los Angeles, wouldn’t feel so cavernous. That’s what Buck had promised him.

simply having a wonderful christmastime (maybe)

Eddie's family were about to arrive for the first Christmas they were hosting in LA as as couple, and, well, Buck felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack so great it would be in the Guinness Book of World Records for the destruction it was liable to cause.

or - the buckley-diazes are hosting christmas for the first time, and buck is freaking out, a little. he has a good reason, he swears.

see the lights, hang the stockings

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions.

everyone has probably done this already so apologies but tagging @doeeyeseddie @thatbuddie @clusterbuck @hattalove @mellaithwen @sibylsleaves @piningbuddies @eddiebabygirldiaz @hotshotsxyz

[iteratedextras]

So the thing is, when I say it's tribal...

For example, I tried writing out some bullshit some of the perps did, and I asked some guy, OK, would you say that it would be acceptable for the state to impose life in prison with no possibility of parole (or something more serious) on someone who did something like that?

Now, anyone reading this who has done discourse for a while will realize, this is a pinning maneuver.

First, get the target to agree to some sort of serious punishment for the crime. (It doesn't have to be the maximum suggested.) Second, if there is a gap between this punishment and the punishment actually imposed by the UK government, get the target to admit that the UK government are not treating the problem sufficiently seriously.

Someone who has done discourse for even longer will realize that this is aimed as much at the audience as it is at the target. If you dodge, you will get hammered.

However, there is a way to avoid the lock.

Option one, just be literal. "Personally, I think 20 years in prison would be more appropriate. I'm against the death penalty." Simple. Honest.

That looks like it's falling into the trap on the first part of the maneuver. The break is in the second part.

If the existing sentencing is not 20 years, someone can simply say that this party offers the sentencing closest to what they think is appropriate.

You can think of the lock as designed to hit the target with the full balance of moral liability for the government's actions. Politics is full of incompetent people, liars, and awful compromises. Politicians are constantly generating moral liability.

This defensive counter reduces the strength of the lock by reducing the linkage between the politicians or agencies and the defender.

In general, the attacker's objective is to erode the perception of public support for the government's current position, and thereby create leverage on politicians to change the policy (or to shift the party in power). However, often, a government's current position will be difficult to justify on its own grounds.

This technique sacrifices some perception of public support for the government's policy in order to move to a more easily defensible position. This reduces the reputation of the political party, while increasing the reputation of the supporters of that party.

The defender can then attempt to maneuver the discourse into a discussion over what the correct sentencing is for the described behavior, which is more favorable terrain.

Option two, negotiate.

Now obviously, many people may assume it's a fake-out. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't. It may be best to pair this with historical evidence of personal commitment to positions.

So, your political party got up to some bullshit. OK, political parties do that. The attacker's political party likely also got up to some bullshit.

You could try a straight deflection ("what about..."), but the initial maneuver is designed to exploit that. (e.g., "This is not a tough question, asshole.")

"20 years seems like a fair sentence. Unfortunately, the last time the other party were in power, they blew up the local water treatment plant, so until that's dealt with, I can't vote on this issue."

Acknowledge the problem is real. Acknowledge the problem is bad. Make a counter-offer. Again, it's easy to make up a fake reason, so for this to stick, you want consistent positioning over the years - your own, personal positioning.

As with option one, you trade some of the reputation of the political party, and their standing on this issue, to improve the reputation of a subset of their supporters.

But, just to point this out here, maybe you should.

You're just one voter. As one voter, you don't have a lot of power. You have little influence over policy or whatever bullshit the politicians get up to.

Politicians are always getting up to some bullshit, partly because you can't go into their office and slap them across the face. If you always defend the bullshit they do, no matter how dumb or evil it is, then you'll have even less influence.

Therefore, you should be selective about when and how much you support them. Rather than spending your reputation on them for free, ration it so that you only take the highest reputational risk when they're writing the best and most important bills.

(Party officers may defend everything their coalition does, but they're getting paid for it.)

Does that negotiating matter? One thing many people agree with me on is that the Iraq War was damaging to the Republican brand for years. They didn't ditch support for it until Trump in 2016.

I think that the negotiating can add up in the aggregate, especially if it's focused on the dumbest or most damaging policy a party gets up to. Some people do actually change parties, and parties do actually change policies.

The above counter-maneuvers are both disjunctive - they separate the individual from the group.

Now, no one is entirely free of political tribalism, and there are rational reasons to engage in political tribalism. Information verification costs are a thing, for instance. All coalitions are inherently somewhat incoherent, but they need solidarity to obtain power majority.

As I've stated elsewhere, tribalism is still a form of cooperation, which allows for the formation of larger structures and the organization of society.

The key tell when someone is taking a tribalistic approach is that they are not willing to separate from the group.

For this class of argument, a political coalition need three things.

A strong, virtuous leadership who take positions that are reasonably defensible.

An adequate-or-better intellectual officer corps who generate arguments to distribute to tribal line fighters.

A broad network that distributes the arguments to the tribal line fighters to deploy in battle discourse.

Tribal line fighters, in general, do not understand the other party.

Without a continuous supply of high-quality arguments aligned with the party, they will come up with increasingly ludicrous arguments that make their own side's supporters look worse.

Part of the reason the arguments get ludicrous is that the tribal line fighter has to defend the coalition's reputation or party's agenda, but he doesn't have enough control over the party's actions to force them into a position that's easier to defend. (If you're arguing as an individual, you can drop harder-to-defend positions.)

The arguments get more absurd as you get asymptotically closer to damaging the group's reputation, even if it's just on some particular issue.

I spent a number of years arguing in a more tribalistic mode myself, largely on behalf of US Democrats. I gave up sometime around 2012-2014. I just couldn't do it anymore.

We can view an ideological system as being more or less coherent or contradictory. One of the objectives of internet arguing is to increase the tension within the opponent's ideological system by making its contradictions legible to him. The hope is that he will then do the socially and cognitively expensive intellectual labor of ideological synthesis to bring his system in line with reality as you perceive it. The risk, the thing wagered, is one's own ideological system.

If the discourse is mostly truthful and well-considered, then this process can produce lift, even if two sides remain in opposition, by removing the lowest-quality positions.

The rebuilding process is also one of the reasons that people often don't immediately change opinions during forum arguments.

Regarding Rotherham, since it's come up again...

If I had a daughter, and a group of men doused her in petrol and threatened to set her on fire, then what would matter to me is making sure that never happened again.

This attitude, that what is important is making sure this never happens to my child again, is what is moral and right. Children are small and weak. Stopping such a thing is what a parent owes their child.

If that requires changing the ideology of the entire country, then my life's work must be changing the ideology of the entire country. This is simply the work that has been entrusted to me. Whether it succeeds or not, I must attempt it.

There are people right now asking others to refrain from criticism in order to protect the reputation of the Labour government.

My contempt for such people is off the charts. But I can now see the empty space. Many of them are morally underdeveloped. What it means is that they consider Labour their tribe, and they are obediently protecting the tribe.

[mercy-burning]

We’re Really Gone

Mercy’s Ficmas 2024 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: You wake up New Year's morning next to your boyfriend, realizing that once you leave, you'll be gone for good. Based on the song "gone" by VÉRITÉ. Category: Angst Content: breakup, crying, no explicit smut but it's heavily implied. Word Count: 1.3k

If you know me at all then you know that VÉRITÉ is easily my favorite artist at the moment. She has been for a while. This song came up on shuffle on my way home from Target on Black Friday, and between the gray snowy skies and the empty road I was on, immediately I had a vision and a feeling, and the closing chapter to Ficmas was here, in a messy, mournful little bow (even if it's one of the first ones you're getting...just work with me here LMAO) . I hope you've enjoyed your holiday! I love and appreciate you more than you know <3 Happy New Year!

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

It's not a surprise that the bedroom is dark when I open my eyes. I don't want to open them, but once I realize that he's still beside me, probably asleep, I know it's safe.

Still, it doesn't ease the dread I feel deep in my gut as my vision adjusts to the dark. Blue hues fizzle in around me as Spencer's shape starts to define, his features slowly fading into view. I'm surprised that he's facing me, to tell you the truth. At some point during the night, I would have imagined he'd finalize our end with the metaphoric turning of the back. In some twisted way, it might have been easier to get through this morning that way— not having to face him. But nothing in my life has ever been easy, so why should this be any different?

I don't want to lose him, anyway. I will, that much is certain, but if I can prolong it by committing his peaceful, resting features to memory as the last worry-free moment we share, then maybe it won't hurt as much in the end.

Please don't let that be wishful thinking, I plead in my head, over and over like a prayer. It's hard to imagine what I might find in his eyes when he finally wakes up, though it also occurs to me that he might wake up and refuse to look at me, pretending to sleep until I give up and just leave. Perhaps this is just as hard on him as it is on me...

A quick flashback of the blank look on his face as I came undone underneath him the night before, his name a hushed and desperate longing for redemption on my lips, makes my blood run cold; He didn't even enjoy himself. Last night was merely a formality to him, a parting of ways to leave me satisfied one last time. Whether or not he knows if it worked, I'm positive now—as I regain my memories of the last couple of hours— that he doesn't care. I remember now feeling it in every touch. Where he once was so careful and meticulous, last night he was lifeless. Not necessarily rough and unforgiving, but... indifferent. Talented and mission-oriented still, but that's all it had been— A task.

Still, as I watch him sleep soundly, I pretend that there had been some residual love resting there in our atmosphere amongst the indifference. It's the only way to keep me from bolting in shame.

At least, for now, I have this peace. This quiet and calm. In sleep, Spencer isn't indifferent. In sleep, he is here, with me. He is warm and present and not yet haunting. Here, in sleep, he is mine.

I resist the urge to reach out for him like I always have. I don't want to wake him and risk losing his warmth, though I long to feel it in full force, even if for a second or two. I try to recall his hands on my skin, hot and electric even in emotional stasis, and tears prick the back of my eyelids.

He shouldn't see me like this. I should leave. But I can't. I'm too selfish.

I suppose that's always been the problem.

Our last big fight before last night's events had been unresolved. I let him go to bed angry, too stubborn to apologize, and for days we just... fizzled. At first it wasn't cause for concern; unfortunately it had become routine for us after an argument to just ignore each other for a while until we became too restless, settling for a resolution through tongues and limbs and sheets. Sometimes a hot shower. But our cold shoulders only lasted a day before then.

This time it was three.

Part of me wonders if he wanted to hold on until the end of the year. It wouldn't surprise me. As much of a romantic as he is, I wouldn't put it past Spencer to have made this some sort of symbolic "final act" before purging himself of me entirely, leaving me behind in his past and using the New Year to look forward.

Part of me also wonders, though, if maybe I'm just that cynical.

He stirs beside me then, nearly startling me. My heart leaps out of my chest and catches in my throat. I'm forced to hold my breath, and I can't bring myself to close my eyes.

This is it. It's happening.

Spencer's eyes are warm and soft for a brief moment in time as he registers the face in front of him. My features seem to take a moment to fade into clear view, because once they do, that warmth is simply gone.

I almost start to cry. My breath hitches.

"You didn't leave yet," he says. A curious observation.

"I will... But I don't want to... Not yet."

I want to hold on just a little longer, I tell him with my eyes.

He blinks slowly and somberly. I understand.

When my knuckles brush his, he merely holds still, not reciprocating my search for cold comfort. He's already gone, yet he allows me to stay. He doesn't even look at me like he pities me. He just looks tired, which breaks my heart considering we'd just slept for hours.

I'd done that to him.

Hot pressure forms behind my eyes, and with a harsh blink, the floodgates open.

Tears fall silently down my face as I squeeze Spencer's hand. He lays there and watches me cry, and I feel miserable. I should have just left.

But I didn't.

I should have fought for him, but I didn't. I should have admitted that I was stubborn and wrong and sorry, but I didn't. Slowly but surely, I was getting spoiled thinking we could cure every problem with a kiss. I took advantage of his forgiveness one too many times, and now I'm paying the price as he watches me.

Eventually, I tire, too. My face is hot and my hand is sore from gripping his so harshly. The room has brightened a little more, but it's still quite purple and hazy. It's probably not even 6AM yet. The sun is rising, and yet I feel like I'm being drained of all my life force.

But then, after a few beats of solemn silence between us, I can finally speak.

I whisper it, afraid I might hurt him otherwise. In every other aspect of our relationship, I've been loud. My loving him was aggressive and possessive, my opinions brash and my expectations bold.

After all of that intensity, he deserves a little sweetness.

"Okay."

The word dismisses him— dismisses us. It built a lot of courage for me to muster it, but it had to be done.

Spencer doesn't say a word as he peels the covers away from his body and rolls over, breaking the spell, and my heart, in the process.

As he pads off to the bathroom and takes his warmth with him, I let go of a long, unsteady breath and follow suit, feeling soreness in every limb as I dress.

My legs shuffle heavily towards the door, miscellaneous belongings in hand, and that's when I hear the bathroom door open.

I know I should turn around and say it to his face, but... once a coward, always a coward, I suppose.

Still, for all the weakness and dread that overwhelms my bones, I tell him over my shoulder with sincere strength, "I'm sorry, Spencer."

I'm not even sure he'll respond. But he doesn't have to. He deserves to hear it from me at least once before we part. Not that it will do much, but I feel guilty all the same.

My hand twists the doorknob, and just as I'm about to close the door behind me, I barely hear his voice, warm and gentle as ever.

"I'm sorry, too."

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

Love I should've warned you I'm a stick of dynamite Threat of explosion Constantly strapped to your side

'Cause I'm afraid of losing Everything I'm ruining There's no getting used to The quiet you're leaving Is louder than screaming

So leave the clothes and mess we made up all on the floor 'Cause when we put them on we're not in love anymore 'Cause I know when we go, we're really gone

--VÉRITÉ, Gone

[dood-itsradical]

Have I ever tell y'all that jake kim is my fav? Yes? Well you'll be hearing it from me again ehehehehe + f!reader is sinu's sister.

Don't you just love it? Saturday, no work. Weather is nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Waking up on a soft bed, soft pillows. With Jake naked with you.

...

With Jake naked with you?!

Sitting up abruptly, gripping on your blanket once you realise how bare you. You face Jake. Jake only started to get fully conscious. Taking his precious time to lick his dry lips, rubbing his eyes and blinking at you. It took him like a good ten seconds to realise.

He was first to scream. You then scream with him. He points at you. You point back. You pull the blanket close to you. He cover his tattooed body with his bare hands. The screaming continues.

Jerry burst in the room immediately. The door broke in half, JAKE! WHAT'S GOING ON?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHAT HAPPENED?!" The big guy turned speechless at the sight.

To Jerry, it was an honest mistake. To you, it is too. But to Jake, it's like he have commited a big ass sin.

"SINU, PUNISH ME AS MUCH AS YOU WANT! I DONT DESERVE TO LIVE!" Jake hit his head on the solid ground multiple times. He forced his knees to hurt. You also kneeled beside him, somewhat guilty and embarrassed of what happened. You're on a same page, thinking it felt wrong to sleep with the current Big Deal's boss. Who is also your brother's best friend.

Sinu Han stand there with a sheepish look, "Jake, you're exaggerating. I already respect both of your relationship." But Jake wouldn't budge, believing that he deserve anything that comes his way to make up from his mistake.

"But I never ask for her consent! I didn't even remember what I did. There are bruises everywhere on her body! What kind of monster am I? I should be punished immediately!" His firm voice muffled from below, he could've sworn he swallowed a rock.

Your felt your face heating up. Curse Jake for having no filter when speaking to Sinu. But he's right about something. You don't even remember what happened. You felt slightly sore and noticed few marks during shower.

Sinu sighed with slight amusement. He doesn't even opposed to the idea of Jake and you dating. He encouraged it even. You two always have been close so it's only fair to tied that knot. Literally.

Then he snort before burst into laughter. It catches everyone else off guard and confused. Especially you. What is it that he found it funny?

The laughter slowly died down as Sinu wipe his tears. "Oh, I'm not angry. You guys are like two peas in a pot. About time anyway." He crouched down and rest a hand on Jake's shoulder. "If you felt that way towards her, it's me who should be lucky. You're already a brother. I wouldn't have anyone else to look after her."

Your heart fluttered at your brother's words. Sure he's a sentiment by heart, but you didn't get to hear that all day. You could only give a grateful smile.

However his words seem to be left hanging by Jake. Confuse, Sinu shakes him slightly. "Jake?"

Slowly, Jake raised his head comically to reveal his sobbing mess self, shocking both you and Sinu. Tears and snot running down on Jake's face as he sniffles violently. "Th-ank you..." He hiccups. "I'll take good care- of her, Sinu. I swear on it."

Sinu's lips curled with satisfaction alongside you. You chuckled warmly at the sight.

Masterlist

[scarslittlehat]

jimmy saying that grian didnt speak the whole night while he was dressed up as that fuckass penguin and would bring out a toy gun and shoot anyone who said [the bird’s] full name…honestly not even that surprised thats the level of commitment i expect for him

[tremendously-crazy]

"i'm sorry i committed the crime of being born this way," says michael, fourteen year old cisgender heterosexual male after a teenage girl says she'd pick the bear

[layerberitamoderna]

my favorite old people in love song 😭❤️ LOOK AT THEM

[an-urgent-appeal]

monitoring by deco*27 could be a soldierspy song if you just give me 12 hours and 5 cans of monster to explain

[ardenrosegarden]

Amnesia is a comedy, actually.

[kaienmaru]

@landofsamurai @braveryhearted joui4

[fruitydiaz]

google how to uninvite homophobic family members from my wedding after finding out that they were being homophobic about literally MY WEDDING mere hours after sending their invite and getting their rsvp......

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

on a job site and came across "policy contributor for the pvv" so here i go on my 73 yards mission to sabotage the radical right

[quicksilverlightning]

It’s a game… it’s all a game and someone is watching.

It’s such a bizarrely easy conclusion to come to, yet no one is picking up the clues. He had thought the detective at least would catch on, but Saihara remains bafflingly obtuse, no matter how many arrows he carefully drops to point in the right direction. At this rate, he’s going to have to ditch any pretense at subtlety and outright tell the idiots what’s going on.

Kokichi scoffs to himself and shoves his hands in his pockets. Right, as though anyone would believe the answer if it came from him; he may as well change his name to Cassandra. No, they have to puzzle it out themselves, or all his effort will be worthless. He’s burned too much goodwill building this persona to discard it like an old hat - besides, if the rest of the class can’t see what’s right in front of them, then perhaps they don’t deserve the benefits of his intelligence.

That’s a lie of course - he’ll help however he can. But it will always be on his own terms; Kokichi has a lot of cards in his arsenal, and the horse is already nestled deep into the heart of Troy. He kicks at a loose piece of gravel and smirks, needle-sharp, wondering what the audience will read into his expression.

He hopes it’s something interesting

[dirt-str1der]

Love the thought of kiryu losing nishikiyamas lighter fucking instantly after he gave it to him. Like he leaves it in the car and nishiki is nice enough to re-gift it to him when they meet up again and then two weeks after that whole fiasco kiryu loses it again and nishiki just buys him those cheap packs of like fifty plastic lighters because this is why they cant have nice things and he hates (loves) him so much