Hate being the burden that everyone just wants to move on and grow up ‼️

my family lives in a 2 bedroom house so my younger sister and mom share a room but like… she’s going into high school soon. And with my friend that was the youngest sibling with the exact same bedroom arrangement as us, she COULDN’T WAIT for her brother to move out, she was counting the days and wishing he’d just get a job and go already.

And now that’s me !! Like fuck I hate being a huge unwanted inconvenience like this, and being too pathetic to get a job or to truly want to move somewhere else. I hate being the thing that is in everyone’s way and making their lives more miserable

Tattoo

Jiang Cheng decides to get his first tattoo the night he resolves to move out.

There has been a huge fight—yet again—where his father was more concerned with talking about Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t even part of this fight, and where his mother listed every single inadequacy Jiang Cheng apparently had.

And it’s enough.

He’s tired of feeling like shit in his own home and he’s tired of being made to feel like shit and he wants a change.

Which is going to start with him getting a tattoo.

His parents hate tattoos—one of the few things they can agree upon—and Jiang Cheng feels a little thrill going down his back just thinking about getting one.

But soon thinking about it turns into actively imagining, then into planning, and all of a sudden he finds himself in front of a tattoo studio.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t go in that first day; he simply can’t bring himself to. But then he spends another evening in the icy company of his parents, who are no longer speaking to him in the misguided attempt to make him apologize and Jiang Cheng decides that this is it.

He’ll get that tattoo and then he’ll get out of here.

Jiang Cheng goes back to the tattoo studio the next day, and this time he also enters. It’s not at all what he expected to look like, but he scolds himself for even thinking that. Clearly his parents and all their prejudices are way too prevalent in his life if he expected dirty corners and suspicious people everywhere.

What he sees are clean counters, tasteful pics of tattoos and not much else.

Until the most beautiful human being Jiang Cheng has ever seen steps out of a room.

“Hi, there,” the man says and Jiang Cheng does not swoon on the spot. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jiang Cheng slightly shakes his head to clear it and then he squares up.

“No, I don’t. I’d like to make one, though.”

“Alright. Sit for a moment,” the man says, pointing at a couch and then vanishing again.

Jiang Cheng does sit down, unbearably nervous now that he made that very first step and he wrings his hands in his lap. He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even notice when the guy comes back.

“First time?” the guy asks as he puts a glass of water down in front of Jiang Cheng, who nods and gratefully takes the glass to take a sip.

“Yeah. That obvious?” he asks with a small smile and the guy shrugs.

“You get an eye for it, after a while. Nie Mingjue,” he then introduces himself and Jiang Cheng puts the glass back down so that he doesn’t notice how much his hands shake.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Alright, Jiang Cheng, what do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks, a sketchbook making an appearance and Jiang Cheng swallows heavily.

“Just something small,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “Something I can hide away.”

At that Nie Mingjue pauses.

“I don’t make tattoos that have to be hidden away,” he cautiously says, already closing the sketchbook again.

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for your opinion here,” Jiang Cheng snaps back before he clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize,” he tacks on, much  more quietly, as he gets up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue says, sighing himself. “That was unprofessional of me. I just think—this is art, you know. Something you chose for yourself, something you should be proud of. That’s just usually how this goes. But if it’s private, then that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Jiang Cheng slowly sinks back down into the couch at those words and Nie Mingjue opens his sketchbook again.

“Alright,” he slowly says. “I want three little dog paw prints on my hip.”

He didn’t give this too much thought, honestly, but it feels right. It’s been years since he had to give his dogs away for Wei Wuxian’s sake and while he’s not mad at Wei Wuxian for that, he does resent his parents for it.

They were just puppies. There was a chance for Wei Wuxian to get acquainted with dogs that didn’t mean him harm. They could have given them to someone close by, so that Jiang Cheng could have gone there to see them every now and then.

But they didn’t do any of these things and just took the only friends away from Jiang Cheng he had at that time.

He is still resentful about that.

“Like this?” Nie Mingjue asks and shows him the sketch he quickly did.

It’s really just those three paw prints, nothing fancy about it, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s perfect.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he can’t wait for them to be on his skin.

“This will be quick and I have time now, if you want,” Nie Mingjue offers him and that makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

He did not expect this to happen so soon, but after a moment he finds that it’s the only thing he wants.

“Yes,” he decisively says and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

Jiang Cheng did not need to know that he has dimples.

“Good,” he nods, before he falls into what Jiang Cheng suspects to be the customary first client talk.

Jiang Cheng does his best to listen and nod at the right moments, but he is distracted by Nie Mingjue and the way he talks and moves and sounds.

In the end Nie Mingjue still seems to be satisfied, because he leads Jiang Cheng towards one of the back rooms where he asks him to take his pants off.

Jiang Cheng freezes again because he did not quite make that connection yet, but of course he’d have to at least take of his pants for this. He sheds them quickly, not looking at Nie Mingjue and reminding himself that he must see this several times a day and that surely Jiang Cheng is nothing special.

He barely realizes that his hands are shaking.

“Are you okay?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s nerves and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to answer him.

In the end, the truth comes spilling out.

“No,” he admits. “My parents are going to disown me for this, should they ever find out. I mean they are going to disown me either way once I move out, but—yeah,” he finishes awkwardly once he realizes that he’s rambling because Nie Mingjue absolutely did not sign up to hear about Jiang Cheng’s fucked up life.

“Are you safe at home?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng catches him quickly checking him over as if he’s looking for bruises.

“Physically yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back as his eyes start to burn. “Emotionally not so much,” he adds in a whisper, admitting to this for the first time out loud, and he sways into Nie Mingjue when he clasps his shoulder.

“But you’re taking steps,” he says and it’s not a question.

“I’m taking steps,” Jiang Cheng agrees and finally gets on the cot, ready to get this first rebellious step done.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly still worried, but also satisfied and when he starts the tattoo gun they don’t talk much more.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is struggling. He feels isolated and lonely and like his parents scathing silence is going to suffocate him one of these days, even after he moved out, and there’s only one thing Jiang Cheng can think of doing.

He finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s tattoo studio.

“Back so soon,” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng realizes that it has only been three months since he got the paw prints.

It feels like so much longer, with everything that happened.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says and sinks down in the couch again. “I want something bigger.”

“Something you can’t hide,” Nie Mingjue replies, even as he sits down with his sketchbook. “How is that situation going?”

“I moved out. I’m not talking to my parents. But—” he trails off, unsure if he should really just unload all of his bullshit on this stranger.

“But there’s a lot of shit to unlearn and figure out for yourself, especially if this has been going on for a while,” Nie Mingjue says with an understanding nod and when Jiang Cheng stares at him, Nie Mingjue shrugs awkwardly.

“My brother has an interest in psychology and he loves using me as his sounding board. It only got worse when he took up some classes at university.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then sighs. “I’m deciding if it’s worth going to see someone,” he then admits lowly and cringes immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, this is not what I’m here for and it’s absolutely not your job to listen to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see this as a therapy session,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and while Jiang Cheng would usually recoil at that, it doesn’t sound judging.

“But I’m here for this,” Jiang Cheng says and puts a slip of paper on the table.

He’s by no means an artist, but he has always enjoyed doodling and he’s perfectly capable of designing his own tattoo, especially when he gives it more than just a few days thought.

“That is bigger,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow as he picks the paper up. “Much more difficult to hide.”

“No more hiding,” Jiang Cheng resolutely says. “I want it to curl around my arm, the head on the back of my hand.”

“Really big then. From shoulder to hand?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums as he starts to sketch something.

When he turns the sketchbook to Jiang Cheng it’s still the snake and nothing fundamentally has changed, but it still looks better than the basic design Jiang Cheng came up with.

He itches with the need to get this on his arm.

“Yes,” he breathes out, reaching out to brush his hand over the sketch. “Please.”

“You’ll need an appointment for this one,” Nie Mingjue says as he gets up to schedule Jiang Cheng in.

It takes Nie Mingjue three sessions to get the snake done and Jiang Cheng loves it more than he thought possible.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng takes his time for the third tattoo. He takes his time to get used to living alone, takes his time to figure out if he really wants to go for a business degree and most importantly, he takes his time to get back together with his siblings.

They didn’t quite fall out when Jiang Cheng moved out, but he kept his distance for a while and now he doesn’t.

Now he welcomes them into his home and his new life and he sits Wei Wuxian down to have a real talk; one where he doesn’t allow Wei Wuxian to laugh everything away—either his own pain or Jiang Cheng’s—and afterwards they feel like family again.

Jiang Cheng briefly debates if he wants to do the same with his parents, but he finds that he couldn’t care less.

He can barely think about them without getting angry or nauseous or both and he figures it’s not worth it. Not now and maybe not ever.

So instead of wasting more thoughts on that Jiang Cheng finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s studio.

“It does get quite addicting, doesn’t it?” Nie Mingjue asks him with a smirk when Jiang Cheng steps inside and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Especially when you finally figure your life out for yourself,” he gives back and he has to admit that for the first time he’s not nervous as he sits down on the couch.

He knows what he wants and he knows what to expect.

It leaves him time to appreciate Nie Mingjue, though, and that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach flutter.

There are tattoos on Nie Mingjue as well; making their way down his arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Jiang Cheng finds that he wants to see all of them.

“Okay, hit me,” Nie Mingjue says as he sits down as well and Jiang Cheng gives him his sketch.

Three lotus pods for him and his siblings. Jiang Cheng does only have good memories of them picking lotus seeds, and especially of Jiang Yanli’s soup.

“Next you’re going to learn how to tattoo yourself and then I’ll be out of a job,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he takes the sketch and Jiang Cheng smiles with pride.

He did put an awful lot of work into this.

“I want it on my calf,” he tells Nie Mingjue who nods.

“Easy enough, but you need an appointment.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and his eyes drop to Nie Mingjue’s hands, which are still holding his sketch.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng did not expect his heart to beat faster at that, or the thought that Nie Mingjue will put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s skin soon enough but he’s not going to stop it either.

The pods don’t take much time at all once the appointment comes around, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stepping out on the street with one tattoo more.

It feels like he’s reclaiming bits and pieces of himself with every tattoo that he gets and he honestly doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s only a little bit because he wants to continue seeing Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

“You’re going to be a regular soon,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile when Jiang Cheng steps into the by now so familiar studio yet again and he frowns, affronted.

“It’s my fourth time. How much more do I have to come by to be considered a regular?”

“Well, the true regulars drop by just to say hello, too,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly trying for nonchalant but Jiang Cheng sees the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, but he still sits down on the couch. “But today I’m here for an appointment.”

“Do I even need to bring my sketchbook?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly remembering that there was nothing for him to do the last time Jiang Cheng came by but Jiang Cheng nods.

“I just have an idea. I need you to draw it.”

“Oh, alright,” Nie Mingjue says, and is quick to retrieve the book before he sits down. “What do you want?”

“I want water, or waves, under my collarbone,” Jiang Cheng says and points at the spot.

It hasn’t been that long since he started to swim again, but he already knows that it will be a big part of his life from now on.

Jiang Cheng used to love it, until his parents made it into a competition between him and Wei Wuxian and pressured him to do better and better. Jiang Cheng stopped after one too many silver medals and he never picked it up again, too afraid of falling back into old habits, of feeling like shit for doing something just for fun, no matter how much he loved it.

But he picked swimming up again, and it turns out he’s still good and he still loves it. Even more now that he can just do it for fun and challenge himself if he feels like it.

And he wants a tattoo for it as well. It’s another piece of himself he reclaimed after all.

“Like so?” Nie Mingjue asks, showing Jiang Cheng the rough sketch.

It’s a little bit too stylized for Jiang Cheng’s taste and he tells Nie Mingjue so, who turns the page and starts again.

When he shows Jiang Cheng the new sketch, it looks more realistic and it’s exactly what Jiang Cheng wants.

“Yes,” he breathes out and smiles.

That one feels just as right as his other tattoos had.

“Water, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks, quite awkwardly Jiang Cheng thinks but he smiles at Nie Mingjue.

“I recently re-found my love for swimming,” he tells him. “It helps that my parents are not yelling at me to win a gold medal.”

“Did you use to? Win gold medals?”

“No. My brother did though, which both my parents used to rub in, in very different way. I stopped because they made me dread going into the water but now that I’m just doing it for fun,” he awkwardly trails off. “I still love it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng is surprised when Nie Mingjue squeezes his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look better. Definitely happier than the first time you came in.”

It makes Jiang Cheng flush, because he didn’t know that it had been that bad or that Nie Mingjue had been paying attention to him.

“I am. Better. Still on the way with a lot of things, but definitely better,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future or if he wants to get a dog, despite Wei Wuxian’s fear, or if he’ll ever be man enough to ask Nie Mingjue out on a date.

But slow steps. First he gets this tattoo and then he can think about what comes after.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng never gave much thought to his sexuality beyond the fact that it wouldn’t matter who he brings home; his parents were surely going to hate them, just because it was Jiang Cheng who introduced them.

He had looked at a few boys during school, but his mother had made it very clear that Jiang Cheng was going to get married to a business woman of her choosing, producing heirs for the company as soon as he could, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think much beyond that except ‘Fuck no’.

But now he has time to re-evaluate his sexuality and while he would probably label himself as bisexual at the moment he’s very definitely Nie Mingjue-sexual.

Not that he’s ever going to mention that to the man himself.

He’s standing in front of the tattoo studio yet again, even though he doesn’t have plans for a new tattoo yet. But Nie Mingjue had said regulars came by whenever, and Jiang Cheng wants to have that connection with Nie Mingjue.

He just can’t bring himself to make the first step.

So instead of going in, he walks up and down on the other side of the studio, berating himself that he just can’t bring himself to do it, but just as he is about to turn around and go home, Nie Mingjue steps out and walks straight up to him.

“Nervous?” Nie Mingjue asks with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng deflates.

“I’m not quite sure how to make friends,” he admits and then wishes the ground would swallow him, because Nie Mingjue never said anything about being friends and it’s not quite what Jiang Cheng wants anyway.

“Usually you start talking to them,” Nie Mingjue says and steers Jiang Cheng towards a coffee shop.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng helplessly asks but he allows Nie Mingjue to lead the way.

“How was your day?” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng finds that talking to Nie Mingjue over a cup of coffee is one of the easiest things he has done.

They start to do it weekly.

~*~*~

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue warmly greets him when Jiang Cheng steps into the studio again but he frowns when Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch. “You didn’t say anything about a new tattoo.”

It almost sounds accusing and Jiang Cheng helplessly shrugs.

“I woke up with the burning need to get one, so here I am.”

“Ah, a true addict,” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, but he does get his sketchbook and sits down with him. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his eyes wander over the tattoos on Nie Mingjue’s arms and he wonders if he can ever bring himself to ask to see them up close. To learn the story behind them.

“I want a lotus flower in the middle of my back,” Jiang Cheng finally says and it’s just because he still has his eyes on Nie Mingjue’s arms that he sees him jerk at his words.

“Between your shoulder blades?” Nie Mingjue asks to clarify and Jiang Cheng nods, finally looking up.

“Yes. And I want it in colour, too.”

It is the family crest and Jiang Cheng was torn about that for a long time, but it’s still his family and it’s still such a big part of himself that he needs to reclaim. Especially since his father does still want him as the head of the company and Jiang Cheng decided to do it.

“Oh, dear gods,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns, torn out of his thoughts.

“Something wrong with that?” he wants to know but Nie Mingjue is quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, busying himself with his pencil.

They fall into an uneasy silence and Jiang Cheng wonders what he did wrong to make Nie Mingjue respond like this, but before he can come up with a plausible explanation, Nie Mingjue gives him the sketchbook.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “It’s gorgeous.”

He didn’t dare imagine the design too much, because he wanted Nie Mingjue to create it, but Jiang Cheng did not imagine this.

“Yeah?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng frowns when he hears his voice crack.

“Yes! When can we do it?” he asks, suddenly eager to get it done as quickly as possible.

“I have time today, if you’re really sure,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng practically beams at him, which clearly is answer enough.

“Alright, get ready then,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod of his head towards the same back room they always use and Jiang Cheng eagerly makes his way over there.

He’s just taking off his shirt when he hears Nie Mingjue come back in, mostly because he hears the muttered “Fuck”.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, turning around, his shirt still around his arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Wanyin, you can’t do that to me,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, his eyes trailing over first his tattoos that Nie Mingjue himself put there and then towards his shoulders and back.

“Do what?” Jiang Cheng asks, honestly confused, but there’s something in Nie Mingjue’s gaze that makes him go hot all over.

“You can’t let me mark you up all the time and then not go on a date with me,” Nie Mingjue says, finally meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to smile at him.

But once he starts, he can’t stop.

“Well, you’d have to ask for me to say yes,” he tells Nie Mingjue, finally taking his shirt off. “Why now, though?”

“Now,” Nie Mingjue huffs out and steps close, dropping a quick kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head, catching him completely off guard with that. “As if I didn’t want to ask you since that first time you came into my studio.”

Jiang Cheng can’t hide his blush, he’s sure of that, but when Nie Mingjue’s gaze goes soft, he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“Okay, but why now?” he asks again, though he couldn’t be happier despite the fact that Nie Mingjue still didn’t ask him out.

“You look happier, more grounded,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “And honestly, I’m only human. There’s only so much self-control I have, especially if you’ll allow me to mark up that masterpiece of a back.”

“I swim a lot,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything, because Nie Mingjue looks like he could bench press Jiang Cheng if he really wanted to and to hear that he likes how Jiang Cheng looks, that’s quite the ego boost.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, though he sounds strangled. “Go on a date with me, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says, and Jiang Cheng likes the fact that it’s not even really a question.

“Weekly dates are not enough for you?” he teases Nie Mingjue, absolutely delighted by how this is going and he enjoys seeing Nie Mingjue flounder for a bit.

“You owe me at least twelve kisses then,” Nie Mingjue finally says, sounding absolutely indignant and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“You only want one kiss per date? That’s quite disappointing, really,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re working our way up, once it’s officially a date and not just coffee. But you can owe me all the kisses you want.”

“I think I like that,” Jiang Cheng happily says and leans in to get started on repaying his debt right that instant.

It leaves Jiang Cheng breathless when they part and he’s strangely relieved to see that Nie Mingjue is not doing that much better himself.

“Your hand will be steady enough for this, right?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he wants that tattoo now and he would be disappointed if Nie Mingjue said no.

“I’m a professional,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, even as he gently cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “I managed to keep a steady hand all the other times, too, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back and nuzzles into the hand.

They lose themselves a little bit in each other for a while, but eventually Nie Mingjue does get to prove that he has a steady hand, despite the circumstances.

Once the lotus flower on Jiang Cheng’s back is done, they go on their first official dinner date.

~*~*~

On their one year anniversary, Jiang Cheng gets Nie Mingjue to tattoo a green band around his right arm and Nie Mingjue manages to make it look like it’s shining from the inside.

Jiang Cheng catches Nie Mingjue wiping away a tear once he’s done and he would tease him for it, but since Jiang Cheng cried when Nie Mingjue revealed that the frog over his heart was for Jiang Cheng, he fears he has no leg to stand on.

Paw Prints Snake, expect imagine this spanning down the whole arm Lotus Pods Water, under Jiang Cheng's collarbone Lotus Flower, except it's in the middle of Jiang Cheng's back Green Band, there's no real pic for this, but imagine this ring as a tattoo around Jiang Cheng's forearm, because Mingjue's name is made up out of the characters for 'bright, shining' and 'jade ring' if google didn't lie to me

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst  Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person... 

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day… 

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be. 

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Subaru Sakamaki (Story 11)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! If you enjoy these translations, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Monologue

While being held by Subaru-kun, we escaped from the Scarlet mansion together.

I entangled my fingers strongly with his, this way, I’d never be able to let go of his hand.

And while I did so, Subaru-kun strongly clasped my hand as a response to my action.

Both of us couldn’t do anything else but run for our lives.

We tried finding a place to hide in, even though there wasn’t any place for us to go.

Place: Outside — Abandoned house

Subaru: What’s this?

Yui: Seems as if there’s an abandoned house even in a place like this.

Subaru: I wish we came here earlier. I’ll let you down.

Yui: Yes, thank you.

*Subaru lets Yui down*

Subaru: ...There seems to be no sign of any familiars around here either. But we can’t let our guard down.

Yui: That’s a relief for now. Would you like to go inside and take a rest then? I’m still worried about your injury.

Subaru: ...It might be best not to enter the house instantly.

Yui: Why is that?

Subaru: We couldn’t escape in case of emergency. Plus, we don’t mean to stay here forever anyway.

Not only Scarlet and Orange are after us, Violet is also still aiming for us.

We should try to find a safer place instead of getting ourselves into this run-down shabby house...

Yui: …..

Subaru: Heh, how funny. I really can’t trust anyone anymore here. It doesn’t even matter if it’s any of my brothers or not.

Everyone is looking for me because they want to snatch Eve away from me.

But they can bring it on if they dare. I don’t need to borrow anyone’s strength to protect my precious girlfriend.

Yui: I hope this never happens though! It’s not a bad thing to rely on other people after all. But during times like those I understand how hard it is to trust others...

Subaru: ...Guess so.

Yui: (Neither of us can trust anyone besides ourselves… but it’s only natural that he’s frustrated after Reiji-san betrayed us like he did, right?)

What should we do about your injury, Subaru-kun? The wound opened itself again a while ago, right?

Subaru: Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.

Yui: Please, Subaru-kun. Don’t try to act tough in front of me.

I’m afraid it will get even more messed up because you’re holding the pain in just to have me not worry about you.

Subaru: You…

Choices

1) I can’t see the future (black)

2) It’s because I like Subaru-kun (white) ♡ ♡ ♡

— I can’t see the future

Yui: We’re forced to get chased by everyone without even knowing why this is happening to the both of us...

I’m just worried because I can’t look into the future. I can’t help but wonder how long we’ll have to continue living like this...

Subaru: I didn’t mean to worry you, sorry.

Yui: No! You’re wrong! I’m not saying this is your fault or anything, Subaru-kun… !

I’m sorry, Subaru-kun. While I’m whining about all the things I just said, you’re relying on me more than ever.

It’s just hard for me to see you get even more hurt than you already are...

— It’s because I like Subaru-kun ♡

Subaru: I told you already, I’m fine. I’m a vampire, so this won’t be a big bother to me.

Yui: You might act as if it’s not bothering you, but it does bother me...

I really like you a lot, Subaru-kun. Therefore, I hate it when people I like are going through hard times by themselves.

I know I don’t have the same approximate strength as you do, but as much as you want to protect me...

I want to protect you as well.

Subaru: Does it really bother you that much?

end Choices

Yui: Hey, Subaru-kun. Be honest with me, would you be happier if I wasn’t here with you and the injury never happened?

Subaru: Hah? What are you talking about so suddenly?

*Yui starts crying*

Yui: You’re still injured because of me, and you have to force yourself to run away from everyone and everything due to me being with you.

...Maybe without me you could’ve stayed at Carla or even Reiji-san’s mansion.

Speaking of that, if I ended up cooperating as Eve, maybe someone would end up helping—

Subaru: Don’t say stupid shit!

Yui: Subaru-kun…

Subaru: You can’t decide these things on your own like that! Do you really think you’ll rescue everyone if you selfishly give yourself to them!? Hah!?

You’re still seen as a saint woman here, you know. So don’t play around with that!

Yui: I didn’t mean it like that...

Subaru: I said it so many times already though! No matter what you are in this world, I need you to be safe and sound!

*grabs Yui*

Subaru: Fuck, why won’t you get it!? I’ve already prepared myself to be with you from the start, okay!?

Yui: ….. !?

Subaru: It doesn’t matter to me what might happen to my body. I don’t want to give you to anyone else, even if things will go wrong…

*Subaru gets closer*

Yui: Subaru-kun…

Subaru: I don’t ever want to lose the feeling of holding you in my arms like I do right now… !

That’s why… ouch...

Yui: ...Ah, your injury… are you okay? Don’t overwork yourself.

(After all, his face does look as if he's in pain. You’re acting strong, but the wound actually does hurt you a lot, doesn’t it?)

(And despite that, he’s trying his hardest not to make me worry about him…)

Subaru: Shit, I just hugged you but it already started hurting so much… Ngh

I can’t do anything with this injury. I doubt I could even fight any of them in my current conditions… !

Yui: (I’m so sorry, Subaru-kun… after all, without me—)

Subaru: What do I do!?

*lightning strikes*

Subaru: What was that light just now!?

What’s going on?

???: …..

Yui: A glowing… ball?

Subaru: What’s with this ball? Looks like the odd things strike yet again...

Socrates: My name is Socrates—

Subaru: Damn! That thing talked! Yui, stay behind me!

Socrates: What heroic actions indeed. So you really are protecting Eve despite your whole body continuously suffering from your injury.

It appears as if we have hit an interesting phase in our experiment. I could not possibly miss this opportunity.

Subaru: Experiment… ?

Yui: What do you mean by that exactly? And who even are you?

Socrates: You do not need to know me. But let’s say that I am the specific reason why you are participants of this world.

Yui: (So this thing knows about this world…)

Um, why are both of us expected to be here to begin with? And where are we right now!?

Socrates: This place is a closed world created with magical power. You can imagine it like a miniature garden.

And as long as you are staying in this garden, neither of your memories were supposed to ever come back.

Subaru: As long as we’re in this garden? Does that mean...

Socrates: Exactly. If you can find a way to get out of this garden, everything will return back to its normality. The changed memory will return to their usual state as well.

However, I did indeed notice both of you had their memory returned without my interfering.

It seemed as this took place due to a sudden shock situation the both of you found yourselves in.

It could have also happened because of my extreme inadequacy. Let’s try to use this as a reference to what happened in the future.

Subaru: In the future… stop bullshitting me.

Spit it out, bastard! If you know this much, then it was you who trapped us here, right!?

What the fuck is the purpose of this entire shit anyway!?

Socrates: …..

Subaru: Tch… don’t shut up now!

*Subaru tries hitting Socrates*

Subaru: ...Nn, what… ?

Yui: Subaru-kun’s fist didn’t hit it...

Socrates: Such attacks are utterly useless. You cannot even touch me, I hope you realized that.

If you truly wish to go fight against something, go against this world itself, not me.

Subaru: Hah?

Socrates: This miniature garden is designed to break easily if it’s confronted with certain conditions.

Yui: (I’m glad to hear that. So there is a way to escape from here!)

Can you tell us about those certain conditions?

Socrates: The condition for this outcome is that one person in this garden has to sacrifice themselves for the other players.

Yui: Sacrifice… ?

Socrates: Any method for this matter will do. They merely have to end their own life.

Yui: Ending their life, you say...

Subaru: ...Don’t spread bullshit around! Are you telling us to kill ourselves here or what!?

Socrates: Not everyone has to die. In the end, only one has to sacrifice its life.

If there will be a player killing themselves instead of being killed by somebody, the experiment can no longer continue and the garden will be destroyed.

Subaru: Even so, we can’t do that!

Socrates: Well then, you should simply continue being trapped in this garden where time has stopped.

Nevertheless, it does not matter. I will now continue to watch attentively over the fate both of you will choose in the future.

*Socrates disappears*

Yui: Ah, it disappeared.

Subaru: Hey! Shit, come back!! We weren’t done talking yet!

Yui: Socrates-san! Why would you think and carry out such a cruel plan!?

Why do these brothers have to fight each other and even try to kill one another for this… ?

(We finally understand how this world works, but we can’t possibly do something as horrible as that… !)

(If nobody in this world will commit suicide, nobody will end up being saved)

(It might be ridiculous to accept what that glowing ball said without being able to question it…)

(But if there’s really no other way out here, should we really try this method… ?)

Subaru: Kch…

Yui: (Subaru-kun seems really worried about this too)

(No wonder. You can’t force someone to kill or even commit suicide to escape so suddenly like that…)

(I wonder, is there any other way we could try? There has to be a way to break free from this garden and for everyone to return there safely…)

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?

My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...

"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"

He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."

The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -

"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"

I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.

"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.

I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.

The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.

"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."

"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.

He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.

God help me.

I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.

A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.

"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.

I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.

"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.

"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.

"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.

There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.

"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.

Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.

"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.

"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."

"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.

I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.

"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.

"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.

The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."

"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.

"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"

I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.

"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.

The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.

I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?

"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.

"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.

"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.

"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.

I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.

"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.

"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.

"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."

That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.

"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.

"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."

"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."

"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.

"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.

"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.

The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.

"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.

My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.

"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.

A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.

"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.

I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.

My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.

"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.

The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.

The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.

"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.

His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.

"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.

"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.

"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."

He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.

My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.

The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.

He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.

Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.

My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.

His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.

"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.

I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney

As always, feedback is welcome and this blog is keyboard smash & emoji friendly.

Gladiator: 200th Chapter Celebration

Tagging: @kigozula @seyaryminamoto

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Seyary, this is a great milestone for you. Just want to let you know that I’m happy for you and impressed by the work that you have done over the long years of writing this story. You’ve inspired others to get into Sokkla as well as to have fun with the ship. Its been a great pleasure!

When I first picked up this story, I was still in college and rediscovering ATLA. Gladiator, as well as your other stories (which I recommend that others read as well) really cemented my liking for this ship. Years later, I’m still here, though all the ups and downs.

Now, despite me liking Gladiator a whole lot, I’ve admittedly fallen behind on catching up with it, chapter by chapter. That said, I do want to read it at my own pace and as I read more I still find myself loving the story, as there is much to enjoy. 

So, to that end, I’ll be commenting on the parts of the story I have been caught up with, Chapters 1 to 100. I hope that’s okay. 

---

1.) Favorite Character: Sokka

Now, this doesn’t mean I don’t like Azula. Of course not. And choosing one over the other is such a hard call to make that I would rather have them both occupy the same spot. But I decided Sokka in this case for a number of reasons. Others have commented on Azula in their own posts, so I thought giving my reasons for Sokka seemed only fair. 

We’ve seen Sokka change a lot over the course of the story and I seeing him morph into the character he is now is such a stark contrast to the one we saw at the very beginning. He hated the Fire Nation and was unwilling to cooperate with Azula. And yet, after trial and error and harsh circumstance, we have seen become a great warrior in his own right and the closest companion Azula has ever had, being her secret lover. It has been such a treat seeing him change and adapt and grow in this story. And as someone who really does like him as much as Azula, it was (and still is) a thill to see him get an all-star treatment in a story. 

And yet there are lingering complexities within him in this story, as far as I have gotten in it. There is still that awareness within him of who he serves and what he is doing, along with a nagging feeling of inadequacy that has hounded him at every turn. Bit by bit, either by his own efforts or with a little help, he is clawing his way forward internally to find some reconciliation. And I find that very compelling. 

And also its fun to see him thrash gladiators.  

2.) Least Favorite Most Dreaded Character: Ozai

Well, that’s not true really. I don’t dislike any of the reoccurring characters actually. 

The best way to describe this particular choice is “Most Dreaded Character”. I chose Ozai for this one because I dread the moment in when he finds out Azula and Sokka’s little affair. Now, again, I’m only on Chapter 100, so things could have changed by now. Yet, I believe still that if Ozai finds about about all this... a lot is going to change for Azula, Sokka, and even the Fire Nation. He will be a consequential character in the chapters to come and dread to see the his wrath and what that will mean for everyone else. It will not be pretty.

3.) Favorite “Antagonist”: Toph

When I first picked up this story and saw Toph introduced as an adversary, I was hyped. Like, you have no idea how hyped and pumped up I was for them to brawl. And I was not disappointed. 

See, for me, Toph represented more than just a metaphorical torn in both Sokka’s and Azula’s side for a good chunk of this story. She is at times a very compelling mini-villain, as if she is straight out of a Disney movie. She loves what she does and enjoys it, and knows just how powerful she is. And flaunts it in spectacular display. She has such a simple yet understandable motivation and was a very real threat to Sokka’s own life in the very first fight they were in. And despite both Sokka and Toph eventually learning to respect and even befriend each other, there was always the nagging thought that they would eventually fight again, and each one knew they wanted to win that rematch. Toph provided Sokka and Azula a reoccurring adversary to strive toward beating. Even as other gladiators came and went, they always knew Toph would be their biggest obstacle. So much build up was focused on training for that eventuality. And all of it was compelling enough to paint Toph as this great rival to them. Her being a part-time ally in some cases and even being a friend didn’t really change that until after they had fought a second time. 

Its because of this that I now believe firmly that Toph should be used as an antagonist more, if a story needs one. She is just so fun and so good as villain that hope others come to use her as one in AUs. 

As I read more, I’m sure this might change in time. But, even with all the fights Sokka has had, I firmly maintain that Toph was his greatest adversary on many levels. 

4.) Favorite OC: Rui Shi

Honestly, I think this guy is a sprit animal to someone out there. He’s just a guard trying to do his job right and the person he protects consistently makes that job harder for him in the most ridiculous ways. “Oh great, my princess is in an affair with her Gladiator and that won’t stop fucking like rabbits. Joy.”

Honestly, this man needs a vacation. A long one. And Seyary hasn’t given it to him, because she likes to make his life hard. Rude. 

For the longest time, I actually thought Rui Shi was much older than he actually is in the story. So until a picture of him was finally made, I pictured him as a 40 year old veteran with a graying mustache and beard. Even with how he actually looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if his job made him grow gray hair from all the stress. 

Good OC, one of a few I like.

5.) Favorite Suitor: Zhao

Should probably be no surprise. Where I am at right now, he’s essentially the suitor to beat as well as having the ultimate Gladiator for Sokka and Azula to defeat. Azula even admired him at some point. Though that has changed, I feel that Zhao has his eyes set on courting Azula further. Its a move that Ozai would likely not object to, provided Zhao pulls off something grand to earn that honor. And although every suitor has made Sokka angry, I feel Zhao would anger him on a deeper level as his interest in Azula grows. 

I look forward to seeing him more.

6.) Favorite Gladiator(s): Jet and Suki (For Chapters 1-100)

Jet being a brainwashed Gladiator highlighted a dark aspect to the games. He was also a brutal berserker when in the ring and one of Sokka’s most bitter adversaries. Suki to me was an interesting contrast to Sokka his situation with Azula. She was to me a kind of noble gladiator, an Amazon in the ring put gentle when out of it. Putting the canon characters in as Gladiators was always a treat for me and actually lends itself to some world-building.

7.) Favorite Gladiator-Canon Pairing: Sokka/Azula

This should not be a surprise :P 

I could go on and on about it, but for the sake of brevity, I’ll keep things short. This should not be surprise because the driving force and the very soul of this entire story is about a warrior-princess falling in love with a tribal gladiator. Their differences and how they reconcile them, their fears and pain, their passion and drive, all propel this story forward. Things have changed in this story because of them and they themselves have changed because fate brought them together.

If that isn’t enough to make them my favorite, then I’m sorry I don’t know what else to say to convince you XD 

8.) Favorite Arc(s): Rough Rhinos Arcs

Two arcs hit me hard on an emotional level - The end of the introductory arc and the Rough Rhino’s arc. They literally crawl out of quagmire, find a dragon in the process, and have one of the most touching and sincere heart-to-hearts in the story thus far. It was one of my favorite arcs to read and the emotional stakes were high. As I read more and continue, this might change, but for now I maintain this is one of my favorite arcs.

9.) Favorite Places/Locations: To Be Determine

This is the down side of having to catch up. There are a lot of locations in the story and in the ATLA universe that I like, and its always a hard choice for me to decide. I am a big fan of settings for a story and when I find a setting I like I usually latch onto it in all its locations. So for now, I will not decide on a solid choice.

... however, in any AU it might show up in, Bs Sing Se is my first choice by biased default. I just love that city and I always appreciate when a story fleshes it out in little ways. Gladiator being set for a fraction of its time in the city was great for me as I got to read more about the city I like so much. 

10.) I wish to see Sokkla in...: More tender, couple-like moments

Surprising, I know. But I what I mean is this - moments where they refrain from arguing, don’t bicker, and just enjoy being around each other, doing small things together. And its hard for them, they have to train they, have to keep their relationship a secret, they can only be a true couple for fleeting moments because of how dangerous and vulnerable it will leave them. And it claws at my heart every time. So I cherish the moments they have when they can be themselves around one another, fleeting as they sometimes are. 

11.) I believe Sokka and Azula’s relationship will be revealed when/like/because of...:

... when they get careless. When they feel that they are safe in their secrecy, complacaent in their routines for keeping their relationship hidden, that’s when it will be revealed. Its a kind of Hubris of sorts. 

And when its revealed, it will lead to something bad and irreversible for the both of them. You can only hide something like this for so long. Even historical royal affairs were never as secret as theirs. And they have taken painful precautions to keep it all under wraps. 

So when it finally does, it will change everything. And that’s going to be quite the wild ride.

12.) I believe at the end of Part 3...:

... that a sacrifice will be made. A death or a relinquishment of something. Sokka and Azula will be together, but something will have to be given up, and it will test them for the final time. 

I can’t say what it will be, but I’m going to enjoy finding out.

Would love a fluffy Bughead fic where Gladys takes Jug to Toledo but he and JB come back after she gets arrested, just in time to find Betty in need a junio prom date so she's not the third wheel to Varchie...

Hi! Thank you for this! Hope I did it justice!

•

Being back in Riverdale feels freeing in a way. When they first left for Toledo, Jughead admits he felt like he was escaping. Escaping his father and a life that wasn’t at all what he wanted for his sister. Jellybean couldn’t grow up like he did, even at fourteen, he’d lived through things that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, things no one should ever have to deal with at such a young age. An alcoholic father who could get violent, whose loud voice was forever stuck in his mind.

His mother had packed up their things when FP was passed out on the couch, a bottle of whiskey empty on the floor. He remembers being woken up and ushered out the door and into the car. He remembers how quiet leaving was. It’s not as though he was expecting anything, it felt, though, calmer than he’d ever realized it could be. But Gladys, despite getting them out, was still Gladys. And Gladys was complicated. Nothing she did was really within the confinement of the law. Jughead realized that too soon. He didn’t want Jellybean to notice it, to be in the midst of it, but all of it was too late. He’d confronted the fact that he needed an out when he found out she’d been dealing drugs. He couldn’t possibly let Jellybean anywhere near that.

The call comes through and Jughead makes a split second decision based on a weak reassurance.

“I’m sober. I’ve been sober since you left. I go to meetings. I have an apartment. Come home.”

He doesn’t leave in the middle of the night. He sits Gladys down and tells her. What hurts the most is the understanding look on her face and how she lets them go without a fight. Somehow that’s worse than anything she could ever do.

Jellybean is fine with it. She hates Toledo.

FP picks them up at the station and he looks healthy. Jughead tries not to get his hopes up. Turns out he can.

“Jughead?”

The sweet voice that calls him out as he sits in a booth at Pop’s belongs to one Betty Cooper. His childhood crush. One third of the now dismembered three musketeers. The first friend he’d ever made.

“Hey, Betty.” He greets awkwardly.

“You’re here. You’re back.” She smiles her infamous smile and he feels himself under her spell in a second.

“Yeah, I...yeah.” He mumbles lamely, cursing himself the whole time.

“Come on, sit!” She gestures you the seat in front of her and he sits. “How are you? Are you coming to Riverdale High?”

He clears his throat, a little intimidated by having her full attention on him. “I am, yeah.”

Her eyes light up and she smiles. “That’s great, Jughead. That’s really great. How have you been?”

He shrugs. How do you phrase it? I left because of my drunk father but it turns out being out wasn’t as good because my mother sells drugs so now I’m back here to my alcoholic father because he’s sober?

“Good.” He decides to say. “How are you, Betty?”

Her smile seems to falter a tiny bit. “I’m great. Had that internship. It went great. I met Toni Morrison last summer.”

“Oh? Really? That’s great, Betty! I know how much you love her!” He smiles and Betty’s mood seems to shift as she launches into the story of how she met her favorite writer. Jughead is reminded why he pined after her for most of his childhood.

He tries to steer the conversation away from himself. It’s not as though he doesn’t want to tell her everything. He’s just not ready for all of that, things changed. They’re not kids anymore, they’re now in that weird phase where they used to be best friends but after this long, it’s not the same. He missed her but he’s embarrassed by his own life.

And then Betty’s phone rings. He hears the shrill of Alice Cooper’s voice on the other side of the line, notes how Betty’s demeanor changes as she tells him she needs to go home. She smiles at him one more time before leaving. And he saves that moment in the back of his mind.

•

“Prom is in a week, B! You have to get a date!” Veronica tells her best friend. They’re all sitting together during free period. It had been two days since he began attending Riverdale High.

Jughead is confused by Veronica’s whole being, if he’s honest. He doesn’t really understand why she wears pearls to school or heels or why she dresses like she’s some top notch CEO with an assistant following her around. Maybe it’s just his absolute inadequacy when in dealing with privileged people or maybe it’s just really that odd. But Betty loves her and Archie’s in love with her. So he doesn’t say anything. His sardonic humor might pop out at some point but he’ll save it for now.

“V, there’s still time.” Betty laughs. “And it’s fine if no one asks me, I’m totally fine with not having a date. 21st century independence and all that.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “I refuse that idea for prom. A girl deserves a date.” The dark haired girl argues. And then the worst possible thing happens, Veronica snaps her head towards him with laser focus as he sits beside Betty, munching on his chips. “Jughead, why don’t you ask her out?”

He chokes on his chips, coughing miserably.

“Veronica! Stop that!” Betty’s eyes widen. And Jughead can’t help but feel his heart ache a little. Was the thought of going to prom with him that insane? “Jughead, it’s fine.”

The bell rings, he’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

•

Archie and Veronica are admittedly, from where he’s standing an annoying couple. They love each other alright but it’s the way in which they display it that kind of makes Jughead want to gag. Archie follows her around like a love sick puppy and the way Veronica calls him ‘Archiekins’ makes him want to bury himself six feet under. They’re apparently, as Veronica and Kevin had put it, Endgame. It’s all a very confusing event, especially considering the fact that Betty had a very obvious crush on Archie when he left.

Still, Betty sends him amused looks when his expressions can’t be hidden within Varchie’s vicinity, so he tries to hide it even less now that he’s noticed it makes her smile.

He walks her home everyday. And it’s easy to be back to being friends with her. It’s not like being friends with Archie. Him and Archie had grown apart a bit, different interests, and he will only say that to himself, but seriously different IQs (he loves his ginger friend but there’s no way he can lie about that). But being friends with Betty means real meaningful conversations, it means a hundred million topics as long as they keep going.

“Can I ask a question?” She looks at him, as they walk and nods. “When I left, you had a pretty obvious crush on Archie, so what happened there?”

Betty lets out a laugh. “I never had a crush on Archie.”

“You didn’t?” His eyes widen at this new bit of information.

“I mean when I was like seven, probably, but by the time you left, that was long gone.”

He’s truly flabbergasted at this new piece of information. “So, nothing on the romantic horizon?”

“Mmmh, I don’t think so.”

“How in the world has no one asked you out?” He blurts out incredulously.

Betty blushes. Had he made her blush? “Maybe I’m too boring for everyone. Next to girls like Cheryl and V, it’s easy to bypass me.” She brushes it off and he hates that.

“No fucking way.” He shakes his head, the way he says it coming out like he truly doesn’t believe anyone could ever find Betty Cooper boring. “Betty, you’re fucking incredible! You could never be boring. It’s you!”

“Jug...” She chuckles just as they stand in front of her house. She turns to face him. “You’re sweet, you know? Beneath all that broody exterior of yours.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.” He jokes and she laughs, her beautiful face lighting up. His crush on her doubles up. “Whoever dates you, will be the luckiest guy in the world, Betty.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “For sure.”

•

It’s a day before prom when Veronica Lodge corners him, in the Blue and Gold, bursting through the door.

“Why haven’t you asked her out?” She asks pointedly and once again, he’s so confused by her. “Betty, Forsythe!”

“How the hell do you know my real name?”

“Archie, obviously, but that is besides the point. You need to ask Betty to prom.”

He scoffs. “Veronica, no offense, but why would I do that?”

“Because she can’t be our third wheel!”

“Why would she be your third wheel?”

“Because she doesn’t have a date. And also, you need to ask her, because she wants you to.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“She does. It’s very clear that she does.” Veronica tells him firmly.

“I’ve been back for a week.”

“Your point?” Veronica furrows her brows. “You know, between the pictures of you I saw from before and now. You had a glow up, Jones.” Again, complete utter confusion. “So it’s very clear that Betty is not only crushing on your brain, she’s also crushing on your physique. And she probably had a crush on you before, but I can’t get it out of her.”

He gulps, feeling like the wind was knocked off his lungs. “What?”

“And you are adorably pining after her. Probably have for a while, right?” She smirks. “Just ask her out, will you? End everyone’s suffering. The longing gaze on both your faces is painful.”

Turns out that he doesn’t have to ask her because Betty one ups him. He’s walking her home as always, he’s babbling on and on about a book he’s reading, she’s listening intently as usual, a smile on her face. When the conversation dies out, he feels her fingers softly brush against his, between them. He’s dreaming, he has to be dreaming. Betty doesn’t wait, she takes his hand, interlocking their fingers together. And holy shit, had Veronica been right?

“Betts.” He chokes out.

“Yeah?” The words seem stuck in his throat, unwilling to come out, so she stops them, turns towards him and smiles, taking care of it herself. Her hand is still gripping his so he’s sure it wasn’t a mistake. “Go to prom with me.”

“What?” He breathes out. “Betty, what?”

“Prom, Jug. I’m asking you to prom. I was waiting for you to ask me but I thought, screw it, might as well as you.”

“Are you serious?” He asks in disbelief. “Like, for real, not in a ‘let’s go as friend’ way?”

She pauses, smiling. “For real. So, is that a yes or do I have to suffer for longer?”

He laughs. “Yes, yes, it’s a yes.”

“Great. Pick me up at seven tomorrow.” She pecks his cheek and leaves him with a dumb grin on his face in the middle of the street.

What had just happened?

•

He picks her up, in the only suit he owns. She looks breathtaking. He’s pretty sure his heart might jump out of his chest when Alice waits with him in the living room. Alice is still as terrible as he remembers and he wonders how in the world Betty turned out the way she did. But Betty’s beautiful and she’s his date and when she climbs down the stairs, he’s sure he’ll remember the image forever.

“You look beautiful, Betts.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Juggie.”

She drives them to prom. He doesn’t have a car but he likes watching her do the most mundane things in the world, even driving so he doesn’t feel bad about it. Instead, he feels like this is the best night of his life. Because Betty Cooper is holding his hand, he keeps a hand around her shoulder as they walk around talking to people. She kisses his cheek whenever she feels like it and she holds him against her.

The first time he kisses her is the the most cliched thing he’s ever done in his life. They’re dancing, his hands on her hips, her hand around his neck. She has the most beautiful smile on her lips. ‘Work Song’ by Hozier, he later learns, is playing in the background and it’s the happiest he’s ever felt.

“I really like you, Betty.” He murmurs in her ear, his cheek against the side of her head.

She leans back to look at him. “I’ve liked you since we were twelve.”

He laughs. “That’s oddly specific.”

“It was when you put your beanie on me when I was sad because my mom yelled at me.” Her hand reaches up to run a finger across the fabric on his head.

“When you kicked Reggie in second grade because he pushed me.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “My little seven year old self was ruined after that.”

There’s a beat and she’s just looking at him and he wants her to look at him like that forever. He wants to freeze this moment forever. As her hand moves to caress his face, he almost melts into it. Hand warm against his cheek, it’s like every dream come true. They both lean in, lips brushing tentatively at first, as he draws her nearer, arms wrapping around her. Her lips taste like strawberry and they’re soft against his. And he’s falling in love with her. He wonders when he’ll stop falling.

When they pull back because their lungs demand it, she laughs, forehead against his.

She still laughs the same way, when he kisses her again, with the same song playing, on their wedding day.

Saving grace || A.M - Chapter 2

Story summary: Arthur struggles with his guilt and his loyalty towards the people he always thought of as family. He starts questioning the life they’ve been leading lately and wonders if there’s still a place for him somewhere out there in a world that’s so quickly chaning. Then he meets a woman with fire in her eyes and gold in her heart who seems equally lost in the great unknown that’s life. 

Chapter Two: “ Dreams”  Find the other chapters on my blog under /masterlist

Chapter summary: As he rides into Valentine, Arthurs plans on having a drink or two with young Lenny and then returning back to camp. He doesn’t expect running into a familiar face. And spending the next day with that person. And learning about her childhood and her dreams.

Likes, comments and especially reblogs are more than appreciated ♥

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

The small town of Valentine is an awfully dirty place. Both figuratively and literally. You don’t even have to take two steps and your shoes are already coated with mud. Like the sweltering humidity of the Lemoyne swamps that cling to your skin or the grimy winds coming from the mines of Annesburg that settle on your lungs, the dirt lies upon the town like a thick blanket you just can’t shake off. 

Arthur thinks it’s ironic, how the people turn their noses at him and the gang and their way of living. Of their makeshift camps and on-the-go lifestyle. They scowl at the thought of their tents and bedrolls yet voluntarily move to a town like this where you can’t tell if you’re wading through mud or your neighbors’ shit. 

Then again, Arthur doesn’t care an awful lot for other people’s lives. His own is chaotic and confusing enough, what good could it possibly do to rack his brain about other people’s choices? Least it ain’t quite as bad here as it is in Saint Denis. That place is a cesspool of every single thing Arthur has an unprecedented disdain for. Too many people pretending to be above everyone else just because their jackets got fancy gold buttons.

He can’t picture himself ever living in a place like that. Though to some it might be a place of comfort, of safety, to him it only feels like a cage. And he’d rather die than give up his freedom. 

Mouse slows down to a gentle trot as they approach the Valentine Saloon. A golden glow shines through the newly fixed window of the building and laughter and song echo through the room and flood out into the streets. Lenny hitches his horse next to Mouse and gives Arthur an expectant look “Just one of two, right?” 

“Sure. Just a drink, no drama”

None of the men are getting lots of chances to wind down. Sure some of them are perpetually drunk to some extent but to really get a night off to - to have fun, that’s not a chance that presents itself very often. Living a life like they do, you always have to be alert. Life ain’t your friend so you gotta look out for yourself and your people.

There’s quite a few people inside, drinking and eating and laughing. Sometimes Arthur wonders what his life would be like if he had married Mary and given up on the gang. Would he spend his free time here drinking away his sorrows and his feelings of inadequacy compared to Mary and all she could’ve had? Or would they wander into town every once in a while, grab a bite to eat, and enjoy each other’s company?

He shakes his head to push the thoughts away. There’s no use in getting lost in what-ifs. They’re just another reminder of what he can’t have and what he messed up.

“You,” the Barkeeper approaches, pointing at Arthur as he leans against the bar “ I don’t want no trouble!”

Arthur raises his hands in mock surrender “And you ain’t getting none from me. I was just defending myself.”

Though his eyes still hold a hint of doubt the barkeeper seems to be satisfied with that answer. Something tells Arthur that he isn’t the first person butting heads with that damn Tommy guy.

Lenny regards the exchange with a smirk playing on his lips as a shake of his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just … do I wanna know?”

“Nah don’t think you do.”

They share a laugh and receive their drinks and for a moment, Arthur’s heart feels a bit less heavy. For a second the weight of the world doesn’t rest inside his chest. Like he can be unbothered for just a night.

Two drinks in he leans his back against the bar and lets his eyes wander around the Saloon. Drunk fools stumbling over each other, a piano player belting out melodies, smiles upon smiles and songs, and music. 

In the furthest corner of the place, a woman sits alone by a table, a plate untouched in front of her. She seems too fancy to end up in a dump like this. Her hair is pulled up in intricate braids and her blouse has frilly lace in the front. Something about her intrigues Arthur. 

The first time he ever laid eyes on Mary an electrical current surged through his system like waves crashing to the shore. She was beautiful and smart and she spoke like she knew the world belonged to her. He never felt deserving of her and he never was but for a while she let him believe it. She was beautiful and soft and she wasn’t … she wasn’t what he’d known all his life. And maybe that’s also part of what intrigued her when it came to him. The excitement and the unknown. But that novelty wore off for her rather quickly it seems. The night she broke the engagement and his heart, he doesn’t remember that night but he does remember the pain.

Looking at the woman in the corner, he doesn’t feel the excitement or the sense that he needs to have her in his life, the way he did with Mary. That doesn’t mean he’s unaware of his intrigue. As much as he doesn’t want to get involved with other people’s drama, he sure likes to hear their stories. After all, ain’t that what our life is made of? Stories. One after another. Sometimes you’re the main character and sometimes an onlooker. Sometimes your the hero and sometimes - sometimes you ain’t.

When she lifts her head though, a strange sensation floods through him. Though the dimly lit room doesn’t allow him to get a perfectly good look at her, Arthur can immediately read the sadness on her face. It’s radiating from her. He knows it ain’t his fault, at least not entirely but still, a pang of guilt settles in his stomach. A knowledge that he ain’t innocent in any of this either. Seeing her brings back all the heaviness and the weight that rests on his heart. It floods back in and clings to him like cigarette smoke.

He wants to leave now. Just get out of here and take Mouse for a ride through the fields and valleys and relish in the great wide somewhere. But he can’t. His legs feel like they’re stuck to the ground like flies on a honeypot. He feels guilt sometimes, about his deeds. Especially when the people don’t deserve his unkindness. He’s never really felt like this before. Then again, usually, they don’t have to face their doings again.

Drinking his third beer, he tries to ignore her. He genuinely does. It ain’t his fault and it ain’t his problem. Why should he care? No one asked her to pawn off her jewelry for a mistake she didn’t commit. Maybe that’s exactly the problem though, the knowledge that she’s a good person and the fact that Arthur voluntarily chose not to extend the same kindness towards her.

A commotion from the corner pulls his attention back towards her. A big burly man with a frizzy, unkept beard stands beside her table, leaning on it for support. A bottle dangles from his fingers and the sway in his posture tells Arthur that he’s way deep in by this point.

“I’m just tryin’ to be nice Miss. Ain’t no reason to get feisty on me.”

“Can you please let me enjoy my dinner in peace?”

“Come on sweetheart, lemme buy you a drink at least. Then maybe I can take you up to one of them rooms. How ‘bout that.”

“That’s disgusting and I said no!”

Though he can’t see her eyes, he’s sure they’re filled with the same fire and wrath that had been directed at him just a few weeks ago. With every moment passing, he gravitates more towards her, ready to jump in if the man got any more stupid ideas running through his head.

There’s a special place in hell for men who can’t extend a certain amount of respect towards the fair gender. He knows that even some men in his own group, his own family, often seem to forget that and Arthur is the first to call ‘em out on it. They call him soft for it but he doesn't think that’s him being soft as much as it’s him basically being raised by two men who value women for what they are. Smart and beautiful and human beings worthy of being treated with respect. Not objects for their own enjoyment and entertainment.

“Lady, I ain’t gonna be asking so nicely no more.”

“Is there a problem here?”

May’s eyes snap up towards Arthur as he approaches the table and he catches a glimpse of the flames, passionate and … pissed off. Though as they fall on him, a kind of calmness washes over her and he isn’t quite sure if he likes it or if it makes him nervous. 

“Just a dispute between two lovers, ain’t that right Dove?  None of your concern, buddy.”

“We ain’t lovers you delusional rat !”

Arthur can’t help but let out a laugh at her insult. It fits the guy, really, though his frame is broad and meaty, he’s got beady eyes and a long face.

“You better shut your mouth you-“

As the man lifts his arm, that’s when Arthur really sees red and takes a step in between him and May who, despite her best efforts, can’t suppress the worry and fear settling on her face.

“Nah, I suggest you shut up and get the fuck out of this place. They just fixed the window and it would be an awful mess if I had to break it again when I throw you out. Of course, I could also shoot or stab you right here right now but, I don’t think that’s in any of our best interests now, is it?”

Arthur’s voice is low and deep and though that’s both a result of bad genes and chain-smoking, it does come in handy every once in a while. Mary–Beth had once told him that it gives him a sense of perpetual danger and toughness. 

The man stares at Arthur, unsure of what to do. His eyes then shift towards May, back to Arthur and back and forth one more time. Carefully he considers his next move and then — then he shrugs his shoulders in defeat, huffs out an annoyed sigh and turns around, leaving the saloon with the slam of a door.

“What a horrible horrible man.”

“Sorry about that”

May rests a gentle hand on Arthur’s arm and signals for him to sit down, which he does - reluctantly. Again she extends a kindness towards him he is severely undeserving of.

“What are you apologizing for? You ain’t don’t nothing wrong. “

“Oh, I’ve done plenty of things wrong in ma life.”

“I meant right then. What brings you here then, Mr. Morgan? Spending my money on a beer?”

Though she says it with a smirk and not a hint of malice, it still sends a sting to his chest though. He could ease his mind and tell her that he hasn’t sold the ring, hasn’t even put it in the camp’s collective. The earrings yes but not the ring. It still sits in his saddlebag waiting for — well he isn’t exactly sure what for.

“Just having a drink with ma friend over there and saving women from delusional rats it seems. What about you amiss Everly? What’s gotten you dressed up so fancy? You look like one of them ladies on the poster they hang by the theatre in Saint Denis.”

She scoffs then takes a bite of her lamb fry. “Glad you think so but unfortunately that ain’t no consolation to me.”

“What happened?”

He’s well aware that he has no right to ask her about it. They hardly know each other and yet she’s been so open and forward from the first second she opened her mouth that day he came around the Downes Ranch, it doesn’t feel strange asking her about it. It feels natural. Like the right thing to do.

“ Well since Thomas ain’t doing good and I’m looking for a new place of work I thought about finally taking a leap and making my dream come true. But, as you know, I am no woman of a big fortune nor do I come from a family of money. I was trying to get a loan from the bank of Valentine but …. no luck.”

“Huh, ‘m sorry about that.” He’s not exactly sure what he’s sorry about. The fact that Mr. Downes is dying or the fact that she wasn’t granted a loan. Or maybe both. Probably a bit of both.

“Ah,” she shrugs “I’d already expected this outcome. Some big-shot oil tycoon from Saint Denis already has his eyes on my piece of land anyway so the money is only the first obstacle.”

“Piece of land? You wanna become a rancher now?”

May lets out a sweet chuckle, “ No. I wanna be a teacher. I want to build a school for Valentine.”

“A school? What for?”

“Well … to teach. The world is changing, Mr. Morgan. We’re living in the age of progress but what good does it do us if we have machines taking us anywhere and everywhere when we can’t read even the most simple of instructions? We owe it to the children to start the progress with them.”

Arthur has never set a single foot inside a real school all he’s ever learned he learned on the road. From Dutch and Hosea. Reading and writing were never something he was particularly fond of learning but now that he’s older, even he can admit that it’s a big advantage in life.

“If you say so.”

“I do. I taught Archie to read. Edith too. I think it’s a luxury we should all be able to afford.”

“ Well, I ain’t gonna disagree with that. Let me buy you a drink.”

She takes the last bite of her lamb, then wipes up the remaining gravy with a potato, before softly tapping a napkin to her lips. “That’s very sweet of you but I should go. I have a room at the hotel for the night and I’m quite concerned that if I agree to one drink I will agree to more and then I won’t make it to my room and that’s just money wasted now ain’t it.”

For a second he wants to be brash. Wants to tell her that he wouldn’t mind making sure she gets to her room safe and sound. Wouldn’t mind joining her there. But while he lets himself think it, it just ain’t his personality to speak those words. Especially not to a woman who shows him kindness time and time again when all he ever does is disappoint and do the wrong things.

“Alright, Miss. You stay safe out there. I sincerely hope it all works out for you. With that school and all. “

May places her small hand on his stubbly cheek, warm from the alcohol coursing through his system and the gentle touch of a woman.

“Oh don’t make this sound like a goodbye. Our paths will cross again, I know so. Trust me, Arthur!”

He likes the way his name sounds falling from her lips. Likes her warm smooth skin on his. Like the sincerity in her eyes and the fire softly burning beneath it. He likes this girl and that’s one scary thought. Ain’t nothing good ever happened to the girls he liked.

“You have a good night, Miss Everly.”

As he returns to the bar, Lenny already fixes Arthur with a look of amusement and mischief. His eyes are glossed over from the drinks and his balance don’t seem to work quite as he’d like.

“So who was that pretty lady?”

Just the woman he hasn’t been able to get out of his head since he met her. The one he’s been sketching in his diary over and over again. The one he ain’t don’t right by. The one that’s way too good for him.

“No one. Just some girl. Now how about another drink, Lenny ma boy?”

The night goes by in a flash. It’s a blur of yelling and dancing and laughing and fighting. Of searching for Lenny, several times. Of walking into a room he has no business walking into. Of making friends and enemies. And then fade to black.

That is until the next day when the midday sun beats mercilessly down onto his tired body, slumped against the trunk of a mostly barren tree. It’s the sun that wakes him up. The sun and — her.

May stands before him like a goddess in an ancient story from a foreign country. The sun shines behind her veiling her in a golden glow, giving her a gleaming halo.

“Look at you, I told you our paths would cross again. Why are you down there?”

“Fell asleep.”

“On the floor?”

“It happens.”

His voice is rough with sleep and exhaustion from the night before. He ain’t as young as he used to be and nights like the previous one leave marks now. It’s something he doesn’t like to admit but something he has to come to terms with.

“I know it’s past noon but I can offer you some breakfast if you like,” May exclaims pointing towards her horse and the little wicker basket strapped to the saddlebag. “Well it’s lunch for me but breakfast for you. I got coffee too.”

Arthur rubs the sleep from his eyes and scratches his beard in contemplation. He’s got nothing to do today and he’s, he could be checking up on Dutch and his plans but with the way things are right now, he doesn’t really mind getting some time away from all that mess. Micah is also waiting for him in a cell in Strawberry but that’s so far down on Arthur’s list of things to do. That nasty son of a bitch can rot there for a while longer. Might do him some good, actually.

“Coffee sounds mighty fine.”

“Alright, you’ll have to follow me though. “

“Sure. Lemme get Mouse real quick. “

Arthur drags his tired body back towards the Saloon and a few minutes later he returns, now straddling Mouse and carrying a big bundle of fur on the back of his horse.

“What in the world is that,” May asks, swinging herself back onto Beans.

“Fur of a grizzly.”

“No way! You’re a hunter, then?”

The two of them fall into a slow trot next to each other with May walking just a tad in front of him leading the way.

“Ain’t much of a hunter. Just pure luck. Had help from my —“

What exactly was Hosea to him? His father, kind of but it wouldn’t feel right calling him that. He had had a father, albeit a pretty poor example of it. But he’s more than a friend. He’s family.

“ from a family member.”

“I think you’re allowed to take pride in this, Arthur. It’s a nice fur and it seems like it was one big fella. That’s something not a lot of people can do. Allow yourself to be proud.”

Pride, Arthur knows, makes men do foolish things. It makes them feel invincible. Makes them stop paying attention. It leaves them vulnerable. Pride ain’t doing no one no good.

“Whatever. Where we going anyway?”

“Oh, I’m just going to break my own heart real quick,” May says as if it’s a completely normal thing to exclaim. 

They gallop on for a short while until she stops at the top of a small hill. Slowly, not moving her eyes away from the patch of land before her, she gets off of her horse and takes the wicker basket. “Come, let’s sit down by the trees.”

A row of oak trees provides some shade from the burning sun as they sit down on the warm prairie grass. For a moment the world is still. Not silent but still. Soft and comfortable. The scent of coffee fills the air, waves along with the desert winds. The mug May hands to him, it’s warm in his hand and for the first time in a long time, Arthur feels at peace with himself and the world.

“This is it,” May announces and, arms spread out wide, gestures to the land before them.

“Well I must say, this is quite impressive,” Arthur humors her, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, you big oaf. Stop making fun of me. This is the piece of land I wanted to buy. The school was supposed to sit right there. Walking distance for the children of Valentine and the surrounding ranches. Now it belongs to Mr. Robert Montgomery and god knows what he’ll put here.”

“I’m real sorry about it. I ain’t ever really had a dream like that but I bet it’s not a nice feeling. It’s a damn shame too. Can see you teaching them kids some things.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

She looks wistfully across the valley, a glimpse of longing sparkling in her eyes. “It’s all I've wanted to do since I was a little girl. My daddy never had much and he wasn’t a good man but he was honest and he was a hard worker. My momma was soft and sweet like honey. She made him more gentle. Made life sweet for him. They both came from nothing but when they had me they wanted to make sure they gave me everything I needed to survive in this world. To make something of myself. Momma learned to read and write from an older lady who lived across the street and taught it to me and my daddy. From him, I learned to fish, to hunt, to skin and prepare animals. I think with the way they gave me all this knowledge they wanted me to become good at something and make that my crime. Instead, I became passionate about sharing knowledge. About giving this education to other children. That’s where our future rests, ain’t it? The children?”

She’s right. Whenever he looks at Jack. Whenever he watches Abigail or John look at Jack, all he sees is the hope that he turns out better. That his life doesn’t rest with them. That there is more for him than robbing and plundering.

“Do you have children?”

It’s an innocent question but it manages to hurt him more than any other question probably could. It reaches all the dark corners of his heart he tries so hard to ignore. He doesn’t have children, but he had. Past tense.  Ring a father, another role he failed at filling. He ain’t never been a good father to Isaac. He wasn’t there when it mattered. Wasn’t there when they killed him for a meager 10$.

“Nah.”

“Did you go to school?”

Arthur scoffs a laugh at that, imagining himself young and wild sitting in a classroom with a bunch of other rowdy kids. 

“No. Never. I was taught how to write and read by my family. Like you.”

“See, I told you we ain’t so different.”

Her smile, it sends another shiver through him. Not uncomfortable but oh so scary. She doesn’t know the kind of person he is. The one he really is. A bad person. The goddamn villain of the story.

Everything in him screams at him to go. To leave her alone. To not get in any deeper. But for one day, just this one time, he wants to allow himself to relish in a what-if. So he stays and they relax in the shade as the sun fills the valleys with rays of gold.

They stay there for so long, that Arthur is sure the sun has turned his skin a shade of red. When they get back on their horses, he notices the crown of white daisies sitting on top of Mouse’s head. A crown matching the one adoring May’s. The white flowers shine atop her flowing red locks like little stars when the setting sun is coloring the sky a blood-red but the stars have come out to play already.

Her hair is down for the first time since he’s met her and she looks beautiful. Like the wilderness and the calm all at once.

“Thanks for listening to my dreams, Arthur Morgan.”

“Thanks for sharing them, May Everly.”

Her name sounds sweet on his tongue. 

“Now don’t look so blue. We'll meet again, I know it. I was right last time, wasn’t I?”

“You were.”

And as she rides away, red hair flowing in the wind like the wings of a Phoenix, Arthur hopes she’s right again this time. He ain’t ready to let go of the way she makes him see the world and her and himself. Not yet.

My Ultimate Jikook Fic Rec Part 1

Hello everyone~

Finally! I’ll be starting my kookmin/jikook fic rec. This has taken quite a while and I have over 500 fics to share 😭I’ll be dividing my posts into different parts and hopefully when I read new ones, I can start posting them separately.

So again, some disclaimers before we start!

Most of the fics I read involve some pretty heavy tags and almost always involve smut (lmao sorry, I’m a heathen what can I say)

With that said, READ THE TAGS FOR EACH FIC. Remember kids: dead dove don’t eat. 

This compilation will include: one-shots (c*mshots hekhek), chaptered, on-going, completed, and discontinued (yes, sadistic i know).

There may be some fluff recs here. But don’t count on it.

I'll cut the summaries as much as I can so that you won't get the whole block of text some writers include ksjdkjs

Again, and I will not stress this enough, don’t come at me if there are fics with dubious tags. I am a pretty open-minded reader and I’ve read my sizeable share of dark, disturbing fics so if you see tags not for you, move along.

I won't tag side ships unless they're tagged as the main relationship too

Also, I’ll intersperse some personal comments/observation if I feel like it. Usually I have these if a fic is particularly good or if I love how it's written  😊

Here's the link to my previous fic rec post: My Ultimate Jikook One-shot Fic Rec

OKAY, LET’S GET IT!

You are my home | On-going (15/?) | by: Erika1694

Summary: Jungkook is an awkward guy who befriends his next door neighbour Taehyung. Things go well until Taehyung introduces him to Jimin after which Jungkook's world turns upside down and he starts questioning everything including his sexuality.

His Pup | On-going (7/?) | by:Cho_Ha

Summary:Park Jimin must be going crazy because there was no way this disheveled looking guy was the cute little puppy he used to feed everyday after his night shift at the restaurant. Or Park Jimin feeds a puppy and meets a naked-ass dude.

Eden Afterworld | On-going (22/?) | by:Hadefex

Summary:Driven by rage over the public execution of his law abiding parents, Jimin enters the elite military district under the guise of being a prized Omega Positive to come face-to-face with the one person he hates more than himself - High Commander Jeon Jungkook. In a world where being Neutral is about as useless as being dead, how far is Jimin willing to go to get revenge?

Comment: i LOVE the writer's big mind. this is ot5 before jikook happens tho ehehe so if ur not down with that, skip

My Honey, You Taste So Sweet | On-going (7/?) | by:MyHope (CutesyMe)

Summary:Where Jimin only wants to find his soulmate but there is a war threatening him every second of his life

PHASES | On-going (2/?) | by:disneykoo

Summary:It was 4:30pm on a sunny friday evening in the middle of Seoul with nobody noticing that Park Jimin, son of CEO Park Jaemin, got kidnapped in the span of 15 seconds.

Typhon.exe | On-going (5/?) | by:kookiepeach

Summary:When grey hat hacker Jeon Jungkook sees Park Jimin at a party, all he wants to do is find out just a little bit more.

Your heartbeats told me | Completed (27/27) | by:Linn_Linn

Summary:What starts off with hate, soon turns to something else as Jimin and Jungkook begin to meet in secret. But what happens when secrets no longer can be kept? Friends comes and goes, but what about soulmates?

Comment: OMG I LOVE THIS FIC SM!! the gay awakening, the jk POV, the character development, the twists UGH! love it

Stockholm Syndrome | On-going (9/15) | by:expensive_latTae

Summary:“P-please, I’m sorry, let me go!” “You’re mine now. I’ll only let you go in death Angel.” Jimin never understood the Jeon Mafia’s Heir’s twisted obsession with him, and when did the pulsing pain under his skin and the artificial cage he was locked up in become a sign of love.

Comment: I'm interested to see where this goes. Hopefully the writer hasn't abandoned this yet

I Want Your Heart, Not Just Body | On-going (27/?) | by:IlovewritingJikook

Summary:When his village is attacked, Jimin is captured made a slave where he is bought on a whim as a birthday gift, and his life takes a drastic turn. Third Prince, Jungkook receives a surprising birthday gift- a beautiful, human named, Jimin. But Jungkook has no use for a personal slave, however, Jungkook has no choice but to keep him. The Two find friendship and love when they least expect it but can love between a vampire and a slave survive the lies, deceit, and betrayal that looms around every corner of the palace?

Kindred | On-going (2/?) | by:serendiplini

Summary:Jeon Jeongguk, heir of the illustrious Jeon Enterprises, is sent to a sleepy lakeside town to stake out a location for a new shopping mall. Unfortunately, his search quickly reaches a dead end—literally—when he learns the previous owner of the property has passed away with an iron grip on the deed to the land. Luckily for him, it just so happens that his eccentric innkeeper Park Jimin has a way of communicating with the dead. For a price, of course.

Soul Mates | On-going *Abandoned?* (8/?) | by:SomewhereAnywhere

Summary:Jeon Jeongguk, heir of the illustrious Jeon Enterprises, is sent to a sleepy lakeside town to stake out a location for a new shopping mall. Unfortunately, his search quickly reaches a dead end—literally—when he learns the previous owner of the property has passed away with an iron grip on the deed to the land. Luckily for him, it just so happens that his eccentric innkeeper Park Jimin has a way of communicating with the dead. For a price, of course.

the heart of a siren | Completed (16/16) | by:namakemono

Summary:Beware of what you take from the sea. She is not a treasure to be plundered, but a dark, vast void that will swallow you up and think nothing of it.

Comment: What a damn wonderful fic. The merman!JM fic I've always wanted to read. Loved the writing, the plot and how each character was portrayed.

Blood, Love & Tears | On-going *Abandoned?* (9/?) | by:Iamconfusion

Summary:You would think Jimin's life is like any other broke, 23 years old university student.

He has the craziest bestfriends.

He works a waitersjob at a highclass club.

He caught the interest of Jeon Jungkook.

Maybe it’s not so ordinary afterall.

This is Another Jikook Mafia au.

Comment: I hate that the writer seems to have abandoned this but good lord this fic is HOT.

The Lost Kingdom of Crows | On-going (7/10) | by:Priska

Summary:Jimin, who belongs to the widely spread kingdom of swans, falls in love with the youngest heir of a small noble family despite knowing they can never be. Jungkook, the youngest and wildest Prince of the crows, doesn't care about rules and restrictions. Wars and politics. He wants Jimin anyway. He wants him, even if it results in a curse that'll follow them through time and into a different reality.

Comment: Cute fic.

Life As a Beta | On-going (4/?) | by:lapetitemortjm

Summary:“Who wanted to present as a Beta?” Park Jimin had shit for luck when his unrequited love happened to be Jeon Jeongguk, an Alpha.

Dark Paradise | Completed (13/13) | by:makimonojjk

Summary:Park Jimin has life sorted. He does. He has a good job, a lovely wife and two beautiful kids. When he starts working at one of the most dangerous prisons in Seoul, he begins to question many of his life choices. When a certain inmate, Jeon Jeongguk, gets into his head and makes him rethink his whole life he knows he's in big trouble.

Comment: I enjoyed this fic sm. I loved the unique setting and ohhh myy JM is so hot in this one.

Arrangement Null And Void | Completed (15/15) | by:Holymotherofduck

Summary:Jungkook is the prince of the north. Dutiful to his position and passionate about his kingdom. When his parents announce they have found him a partner he is not surprised it is a member of the south kingdom. They had spoken for years on a union between the two sides of their country. What he does not expect is for that person to be a prince, in the same position he is and with the same passion. Prince Park Jimin. Unfortunately their views differ greatly and Jungkook has little respect for the south's soft approach, but Jimin is a prince just like him and will not stand by and let him have his way.

Comment: Nice plot progression.

Nemesis: Love | Completed (18/18) | by:AttilaTheHun

Summary:Park Jimin works hard, and everyone knows it. His boss likes him, his coworkers adore him, and he knows it's just a matter of time until he graduates from the ranks of the desk farm and into something better. All he has to do is conquer every single feeling of inadequacy he's ever had. Simple enough. Job-stealing newcomer Jeon Jeongguk doesn't seem to work for much of anything at all, and he's more than arrogant enough for them both. But he's certainly well-connected, tall and rich and good at everything. Jimin hates him on sight, and by the end of the first week he's sure they're eternal enemies. And sure, Jeongguk may be cute, even hot underneath his suits, but Jimin doesn't care about that. Not at all.

Comment: They say this is the must-read office!KM fic.

The Scent of Lemons | Completed (1/1) | by:Portent

Summary:There's Jimin, a dog, a duck and a tree. There's Jungkook, a little prejudiced, a little clueless and a whole lot gorgeous. Then there's this thing called love. Sometimes it hits like a truck and sometimes it blows like a gentle breeze.

Comment: The writing is awesome! This fic is too cute for words and literally JM is so cute here with his lil pets :D

a dose of salt | On-going (9/10) | by:Daisyjjang

Summary:Park Jimin is a renown cardiothoracic surgeon—a genius, a medical prodigy, the best surgeon at the hospital. He’s kind, friendly, handsome, and patient. He’s also the son of the hospital’s Chairman. But nobody needs to know that since he’s worked for and earned everything he’s accomplished on his own without the help of nepotism. Everyone loves him. Everyone but Jeon Jungkook, the hot new military trauma surgeon straight out of the army. The decorated veteran is brilliant and quick witted, but has a hot temper and absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit. When Park Jimin makes a bad first impression on him, things get extremely salty between the two very different personalities.

Comment: From one of my fave twitter AU writers, she never disappoints. The medical!KM fic y'all should read. Don't be bothered by the remaining chapter, I think it's only an epilogue to the story anyway.

Okay, this is it for now! I'll create part 2 in a while. Let me know if you loved any of these! Enjoyyy! Thanks!!

Anger

I feel very bad for angry people, for I see them creating their own hells to live in, and they usually don't even realize it. I've seen few things in the world that deserve the kind of anger that we see on a regular basis; on the radio this morning, one of the disc jockeys was telling about taking her mother to a cancer treatment center. She parked the car close to the entrance to help her mother into the center, and as soon as she was out of the car, the person in the car behind her started laying on the horn. This person actually came up and hit the back of her car with his car-- not hard enough to do any damage, but hard enough to let them know he was angry.

I feel very sad for this man. He can't be happy with life if such a trivial thing can cause such rage in him. Inner peace? Forget it. He's probably so busy looking for excuses to be angry that he never notices the beauty of the world, the wonderful parts of life, the nice people who surround him every day. I've known people like him, and there's no convincing them that life is wonderful, because it can't be since people are such jerks. But people aren't jerks. They do jerk-like things on a regular basis--we all do--but that doesn't make us jerks.

The angry person reacts in anger and causes others to be angry, and a cycle begins. My hope is that I'm able to be a person who ends such a cycle, a person who reacts to anger with love and understanding, because the angry people need that more than anything else.

Reacting in anger is merely perpetuating these people's belief that their anger is justified, but reacting in love may get them to question whether or not their anger is justified, effective, and/or helpful to them.

We can't psychoanalyze everyone we meet. We can't say this person is angry because she's been neglected, or this one is angry because he's trying to compensate for feelings of inadequacy. We need to separate the anger from the person, the creation of God who stands before us and who deserves our love.

When I'm tempted to react angrily myself, I try to remember to ask myself this question: Am I contributing to the anger in the world, or am I contributing to the peace and love in the world? I need to contribute to the love--we all do. Love is the only power that can cause a permanent change.

Of course, we have to look at the other side of anger--the side that gets us to act when we see an injustice done to another person, the side that causes the feeling of righteous indignation that gets us moving and feeling for others. There is injustice in the world, and as Arthur Ponsoby points out below, if our lack of anger is a sign of indifference, then it's a big problem for us and for those people with whom we share the world.

But we still have to control this anger, as Aristotle points out below. Unchecked and misdirected anger is destructive, and if we're to be angry at all, we want that anger to be constructive, not destructive. Controlling our anger takes learning and practice, and we have to keep learning from our mistakes and the mistakes of others to learn how to use our anger effectively, and to know when to recognize anger that's justified, and anger that's a reflection, a symptom, of something else that's going wrong in our lives.

Anger destroys the angry person and all those around him or her. The

angry father can cause fear and terror among his children. The angry

wife and mother can manipulate with a force and subtlety that can be

felt for years. Open anger roars through human relations with a

destructive force--a firestorm. The hidden anger that burns and attacks

and manipulates can last for years. It destroys the underbrush; it twists

and poisons the ground growth. And so with us. The ferocious exterior

flame is uncontrollable except over a long period of work and time.

We must isolate our anger and allow it to burn itself out.

Edward J. Lavin

quotations - contents - welcome page - obstacles

the people behind the words - our current e-zine - articles and excerpts

Daily Meditations, Year One - Year Two - Year Three - Year Four

Sign up for your free daily spiritual or general quotation ~ ~ Sign up for your free daily meditation

Eugene Carman

Rhodes' slave! Selling shoes and gingham,

Flour and bacon, overalls, clothing, all day long

For fourteen hours a day for three hundred and thirteen days

for more than twenty years.

Saying "Yes'm" and "Yes, sir" and "Thank you"

A thousand times a day, and all for fifty dollars a month.

Living in this stinking room in the rattle-trap "Commercial."

And compelled to go to Sunday School, and to listen

To the Rev. Abner Peet one hundred and four times a year

For more than an hour at a time,

Because Thomas Rhodes ran the church

As well as the store and the bank.

So while I was tying my neck-tie that morning

I suddenly saw myself in the glass:

My hair all gray, my face like a sodden pie.

So I cursed and cursed: You damned old thing!

You cowardly dog! You rotten pauper!

You Rhodes' slave! Till Roger Baughman

Thought I was having a fight with someone,

And looked through the transom just in time

To see me fall on the floor in a heap

From a broken vein in my head.

Edgar Lee Masters

from Spoon River Anthology

How could I feel so miserable in the midst of such splendor? The question flashed

through me all at once, not waiting for words to express it. The answer came

more slowly: No one makes you angry. Anger, like love, is something you choose.

Stunned, I sat down in the middle of the field I'd been walking through.

I knew I needed to look within myself, let go of my anger and have a quiet talk with God.

Susan L. Taylor

No person can think clearly when his or her fists are clenched.

George Jean Nathan

Anger is a symptom, a way of cloaking and expressing feelings too awful

to experience directly--hurt, bitterness, grief and, most of all, fear.

Joan Rivers

Anger is not only inevitable, it is necessary. Its absence

means indifference, the most disastrous of all human failings.

Arthur Ponsoby

As long as anger lives, it continues to be the fruitful parent of

many unhappy children.

St. John Climacus

They are fools who cannot be angry;

but they are wise people who will not.

Proverb

anger 2

Anger in its time and place,

May assume a kind of grace.

It must have some reason in it,

And not last beyond a minute.

If to further lengths it go,

It does into malice grow.

'Tis the difference we can see

'Twixt the serpent and the bee.

If the latter you provoke,

It inflicts a hasty stroke,

Put you to some little pain,

But it never stings again.

Close in tufted bush or brake

Lurks the poison-swelled snake

Nursing up his cherished wrath;

In the purlieus* of his path,

In the cold, or in the warm,

Mean him good, or mean him harm,

Wheresoever fate may bring you

The vile snake will always sting you.

Charles and Mary Lamb

*place where one goes often

Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness

forces you to grow beyond what you were.

Cherie Carter-Scott

Ruby stepped toward him. "Edward," she said softly. It was

the first time she had called him by name. "Learn this from me.

Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that

hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But

hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.

"Forgive, Edward. Forgive. Do you remember the lightness

you felt when you first arrived in heaven?"

Eddie did. Where is my pain?

"That's because no one is born with anger. And when we die,

the soul is freed of it. But now, here, in order to move on, you must

understand why you felt what you did, and why you no longer need to feel it."

She touched his hand.

"You need to forgive your father."

Mitch Albom

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

It is wise to direct your anger towards problems--not people;

to focus your energies on answers--not excuses.

William Arthur Ward

If you get angry easily, it may be because the seed of anger in

you has been watered frequently over many years, and unfortunately

you have allowed it or even encouraged it to be watered.

Thich Nhat Hanh

- From Living Life Fully

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 30)

On The Move Again...

Idk what to say about this chapter other than a little bit of fluff? A little bit of angst? A little bit of pissed off reader? Just.. mucho dialogue, as per usual with my stuff lmao. 

Just wanna let y’all know that I go back to uni tomorrow (I start back really late, I’ve realised) and I’m going into my final year, so I will likely be busy. BUT, I hope to keep posting enough that you wont notice much of a difference, but yeah. If updates become a little less frequent, it’s not cause I’m getting bored of writing this :) side note... I’m so fucking ready to be done with university! 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Arthur woke me up gently, dusting kisses over my face and petting my hair, whispering my name and rocking me in his arms to rouse me as delicately as birdsong. For about thirty blissful seconds I completely forgot about our circumstances, so enamoured with the feeling of waking up with him. This was something I had only done a handful of times but if this was every morning I would be a very happy woman. 

"Good morning, angel. I'm sorry to wake you, but I gotta get up," he whispered to me, his hand still smoothing over the back of my head. 

"I don't mind waking up if this is the first thing I see," I murmured sleepily, making him laugh. 

"I gotta say, it was real nice for me too," he said, kissing my forehead once before wrapping his arms around me and rolling us over until he was above me, though dangerously close to the edge. He slammed a hand on the table next to us before we ended up on the floor together and we laughed as he shuffled us back into the middle of the bed. 

"I don't want us to get up," I sighed. 

"Me neither, but we gotta figure out what's happening with Jack," he said, and it all came tumbling back to me. 

"Oh God, yeah, you know I was almost at peace for a second," I grunted, dropping my head back against the bed and trailing my hands up Arthur's sides. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, nestling his face against my neck and inhaling deeply. "I can hear Dutch out there. I ought to go out and talk with 'em, hopefully he's figured something out."

"Alright," I whispered, patting his back a couple of times before releasing him. 

With a groan Arthur pushed himself up and off of me, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stretching, rolling his neck and grunting as his joints popped. His jaw stretched open with a yawn, one which I caught and mimicked shortly after. I shifted to join him sitting up, and after taking a moment to straighten out our clothes and tidy our hair, we rose to our feet and emerged from the tent. It struck me how shameless we seemed to suddenly be about what was going on between the two of us. It had gone unspoken, but I believed both of us had frankly stopped caring about who knew and who didn't. 

Regardless, nobody noticed us leaving the tent together, too preoccupied to care, thankfully. Dutch, Hosea and John were sat around the table talking; Arthur joined them and I pottered off, leaving the men to it and instead heading to grab my morning coffee. I caught sight of Abigail sitting on the ground on her bedroll with her knees hugged into her chest, eyes distant. I opted not to disturb her, taking a seat with Tilly and Mary-Beth in front of their wagon. 

"Morning, girls. How're you two holding up?" I greeted them. Tilly was washing a chemise while Mary-Beth was distractedly stitching a white garment that I quickly noticed was dappled with a few specks of blood. Before any of them could even answer I spoke again. 

"Mary-Beth, you're bleeding!" I pointed out, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. 

"Oh! Oh shoot, what a mess. I pricked myself earlier on, didn't realise I'd drawn blood," she plopped her finger in her mouth and sucked on the injured digit. I put my coffee down and took the garment from her; it was a stocking with a tear in it. 

"I'll finish this, don't worry. There ain't too much blood on it, no harm done. 'sides your finger."

"I'm away with the fairies this morning," she shook her head at herself. 

"Ain't we all. How're you, Tilly?" I asked. 

"About as well as you'd expect. The other day I couldn't stop thinkin' about how bored I was, now I'd happily take boredom over all this mess," Tilly sighed, sitting back on her heels and shaking her hands free of water. 

"I'm confident the men'll get Jack back," I assured them both. 

"Me too, it's just all the worrying until then. Has Arthur said anything to you about where he is?" Tilly asked me and looked up at her, momentarily – and frankly unjustifiably – surprised that she'd asked me about Arthur. 

"Oh, no, he hasn't," I said after a pause. 

"How is he doing, anyway? He's been awfully quiet lately," Mary-Beth began, "not that he ain't usually quiet, but you know what I mean."

"Arthur? He…" I paused, looking down at my sewing. "I reckon his injury knocked it out of him for a bit, he didn't much like being cooped up. Then of course, first thing he does after getting back out there is watch Sean– it's understandable. I jus' think he's going through it a bit."

"Well I hope he knows he can come talk to any of us if he needs it. Though, I suppose he has you for that, now," Mary-Beth commented. I looked at her, a light frown on my face. 

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, we ain't idiots," Tilly laughed "it's extremely obvious that you and him are somethin' more than friends."

"No, that ain't what I meant. You don't think I'm… stealing him, hogging him away from all of you, do you?" 

The two girls looked at me, two sets of eyes going wide for a few long seconds before they both laughed. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Mary-Beth patted my knee, "I just meant he has you to open up to now, I ain't surprised if he don't talk to us about that stuff all that much anymore. I don't mind it, it makes sense."

"Before you came along, if Arthur was going through a rough patch, he'd come speak to one of us women. That ain't happened in a while so we figured he was talking to you instead, is that not the case?" Tilly added, picking the chemise out of the bucket and squeezing the water out.

"Oh, no, he does," I nodded, thinking back to the previous night, all his talk of getting out of here, no matter how idealised the thoughts were. Mary-Beth leaned forwards a bit, inspecting my expression. 

"Everything okay between you two?" She asked. 

"Between us, yes, everything is wonderful," I told her, a small sigh escaping me. "I just wish everything else was the same. I don't like seeing him worried. I'm worried too, but I know it ain't a scratch on how he must be feeling."

"Well, I'm just glad he has you. That man deserves a bit of love, that's for sure," Mary-Beth said, "after Mary, and everything that's happened to him."

"Mary-Beth," Tilly said, her tone a warning. 

"What?"

"You don't bring up a man's past relationships to his new lady," she chuckled, shaking her head. I smiled in amusement.

"It's alright. I know about Mary, even met her once. Well, not really met, saw her from a distance."

"Really? Oh, well I admit I was a little worried when I heard she was around. She practically carved the poor feller's heart out and spat on it. He was real excited when she agreed to marry him, I don't know how she could do that to him," Mary-Beth sighed. 

My heart thumped uncomfortably and I stared blankly at her. She noticed my silence and looked at me, the colour draining from her face soon after. 

"They were engaged?" I asked, my voice small. 

"Oh, Mary-Beth," Tilly said tightly, shaking her head. 

"I thought you knew," Mary-Beth covered her mouth. "Oh, goodness. I'm a fool."

"No, no it's fine. I've no right to be upset," I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. "I guess it just surprised me, I didn't know it'd gone that far."

I understood better why Arthur had been so deeply hurt by her. Why he'd held onto her for years, why he'd kept her photo, why he'd acknowledged her letter and gone to meet her despite the pain he knew it'd cause him. She was the woman he'd loved so much he'd wanted to share the rest of his life with her.

"No, you're upset. Oh gosh, forget this I'll do it later," Mary-Beth snatched the sewing from me and tossed it aside, clasping my hands in hers. "This was years ago, he's clearly moved on and he has you, he's completely taken by you, it's so easy to see."

"I don't need reassurance, like I said, I have no right to be upset over something that happened before he even knew me. He has his own life, how awful would I be to turn sour over him living his own life?" I forced a laugh, shaking my head. 

It was true, I had no reason to be upset. And I wasn't upset, not with Arthur, he'd done nothing wrong. But I did feel something cold and sickly and gross in my tummy and it was startlingly close to inadequacy.

"Mary-Beth is right, he's crazy about you. I watched him drawing you the other day when you weren't looking. Never seen the man look so peaceful," Tilly added, moving closer to join us. She put a hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me. 

"You did?" I sputtered, eyes going wide and my face going hot.

"Yeah. You were brushing your horse and he was at that table over there just watching you, sketching away in that journal of his. I'd love to see what's inside that thing," Tilly giggled. 

"I bet it's real romantic," Mary-Beth remarked, her voice low and tender.

"It never occurred to me that he might write about me in there," I thought aloud. 

"You should sneak a peek while he's sleeping," Tilly whispered and I flashed her a disapproving frown. 

"Oh, I couldn't. That'd be a violation of his privacy," I said. 

"I guess," Tilly sighed glumly. "You should at least ask him."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I reckon I might prefer the mystery."

"Might be full of things he's too scared to say, could show a soft, vulnerable, tender side to him that his tough, manly lifestyle forces him to hide," Mary-Beth stared off into the distance, her expression nothing short of dreamy.

"Good lord, Mary-Beth. You really have to stop reading those novels," Tilly laughed and Mary-Beth playfully swatted her arm. I couldn't help but smile, eyes wandering over to Arthur across the camp. That smile quickly faded though, when I noticed Lenny approaching the group with two men I did not recognise. 

"Hey, Dutch! We got a problem," he called out, pointing his gun at the back of the men, keeping a close eye on them as they walked towards Dutch. 

The men were well dressed in suits and ties and bowler hats, the second of the men had a gun slung over his shoulder. Something told me they weren't friends of the Van Der Linde gang. I stayed put as the men exchanged a few words. 

"Crap, that's the Pinkertons, I reckon," Mary-Beth hissed under her breath when she noticed. The gang slowly surrounded the group, forming a crowd that couldn't not be at least a little intimidating. I rose to my feet, crossing the camp towards them to listen in on what was happening, aware of the fact that Tilly and Mary-Beth were hanging back. 

"I don't know if you're aware but this is a civilised land, now. We didn't kill all those savages to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it's done," the first gentleman was announcing when I got close enough to hear. The atmosphere was so dark and thick, it was like I could taste it or smell it, it was foul like the contents of a spittoon.

"This place ain't no such thing as civilised. It's man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites," Dutch responded, his words so well articulated, spoken almost like poetry right from a book. 

"And as a consequence, that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the Messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?" The agent questioned, eyes scanning the crowd around him. His eyes found me. "Oh, and who is this? You must be new, haven't heard anything about you."

Dutch and Arthur looked my way, Dutch's expression stony and serious, Arthur's immediately turning to painful worry. 

"Leave her–" Arthur started, abruptly cut off by Dutch. 

"You'd single out a lady whom to your knowledge has done nothing wrong? That doesn't make you a man any more than threatening the likes of me does," he said. Hosea, who happened to be closest to me, pushed me behind him and obscured their view of me.

"Whether or not any of you lowlifes consider me a man is of no importance to me. I am here to offer you all a deal. You, Dutch, come with me and I'll give the rest of you three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else," he bargained, and I stared at the back of Dutch's head, my heart in my throat as I awaited his response.

Dutch chuckled.

"You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine?"

"I don't wanna kill all these folk Dutch. Just you," the agent stared at Dutch with such disdain I could practically feel the second hand effects of it, creeping hotly up my arms like vines.

"In that case, it'd be my honour to join you," Dutch's words were low, pleasant, "excuse me friends, I have an appointment to keep, with…"

The metallic clicks sounding out across the crowd rose hairs on my neck, weapons being readied, the threat loud and clear. 

"I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch," Miss Grimshaw warned. It was clear that nobody here was prepared to let the men take Dutch away. And Dutch… he was well aware of this.

"You're making a big mistake, all of you," the Pinkerton glowered, unsettled and frustrated, losing his grip on the situation he was so evidently being overpowered in.

"Yeah, dreadful. We have got something. Something to live and die for, how awful for us. Mr? Milton, stop following us, we'll be gone soon," more cool, velvety words from Dutch.

"I'm afraid I can't, and when I return I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place you fools. Run!" 

"Come on," Lenny grabbed his arm, got him moving only to be shaken off.

"Get your damn hands off of me, boy," and with that, the gentleman returned from the direction they came. As they disappeared through the trees, the air seemed to clear just a bit. It left behind an unpleasant sludge but at least I felt I could breathe. 

The crowd dispersed as Dutch turned to Arthur, the men spoke quietly and I backed away, shaken by the experience. I knew that the Van Der Linde gang were wanted, chased by a dozen different groups of enemies, but actually seeing the evidence standing in the middle of the place we were all meant to feel the safest was difficult to wrap my head around. 

-

I found myself with Javier again, I'd sought him out when Dutch made the announcement that we were moving again, so I could help to take some tents down like last time. We worked together well enough. We were taking down Arthur's first, deconstructing the canvas and posts, loading everything up on the ammunition wagon it all attached to. I was tasked with carefully unpinning his photographs from the side of it so that they wouldn't be lost in transit. Javier and I weren't as talkative this time around, but his choice to start this particular conversation vexed me.

"This piss you off?" He asked, holding up the photograph of Mary. I frowned at him. 

"No," I simply said. 

"Alright," he said innocently. "I just thought, since you and him…" he trailed off. 

"Whatever he and I are, he's allowed to keep a photo of a person he once held dear," I said, packing away the keepsakes in Arthur's chest. I took the photo from Javier and it joined the rest.

"So, are you guys serious?" He asked. When I didn't answer him, he walked around to stand in front of me, folding up Arthur's bedding. "Micah's been sayin' some stuff."

"Micah," I repeated, looking up at Javier. "Micah doesn't know anything about Arthur and I so take it with a pinch of salt."

"No, not about Arthur, 'bout you and him, at the Parlour House," he told me. 

I stared for a moment, mind failing to conjure up a response. 

He smirked, though he seemed surprised. "So something did happen?"

"What's he been saying?"

"Nothing, really. It's all vague suggestion, was saying it 'round the fire the other night when you were in here with Arthur," he explained. "I know you and Micah have had some tension, with that kiss that day."

"What the fuck did he say?" I reiterated, getting irritated. 

"Said stuff like you and him make a good team, the usual crap. But then he talked about you two going out drinking at the Parlour House, you two had fun together, got along real well. Said it with this smirk on his face," Javier told me, wearing a salacious smirk of his own. "Didn't make it hard to read between the lines."

"Right, so basically, he's tryin'a start a rumour about me and him? What, that we kissed? Slept together?" I scoffed, and Javier shrugged. "Well, here's a rumour, spread it all you like. That bristly faced creep asked me to sleep with him at the Parlour House that night, an' he's clearly feeling hard done by considering I rejected him. And don't worry, Arthur already knows about the whole damn embarrassment and I talked him down from beating him, but I'm sure he'd reconsider if I jus' said the word." 

With every word I stepped closer to Javier, poison in my tone that wasn't really directed at him. The corner of his mouth curled up and he leaned away, holding his hands up in surrender. When I was finished, he let loose a chuckle. 

"Alright, I got you, loud and clear."

"I've been trying my damnedest to find the best in him, I know there's some decency in the man, but, by God. He's making it real difficult for me not to join the rest of 'em in hating the bastard," I huffed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment mixed with anger.

"Ay, it's okay. I never really believed him. Don't think anyone else did, either, we all saw how you were when Arthur got fucked up by the O'Driscolls," he reassured me, putting a hand on my shoulder and gingerly pushing me backwards, out of his personal space.

"Yeah well, even so, I don't take kindly to someone making me out to be somethin' I ain't. Say if someone did believe him, then watched me hanging around in Arthur's tent all these weeks, they'd think I was a real piece of work," I muttered, snatching the pillow from Arthur's bed and putting it in the wagon, then moving to roll up the thin padding that served as a mattress.

Javier laughed. "I think you're overestimating people's ability to give a damn. Even if it was true; you wanna get it on with half the gang, that's up to you. Wouldn't be the first girl," he snickered. 

I cocked a brow at him. 

"Could'a been any one of us in John's position," he shrugged. My head whipped around towards where Abigail was, helping pack with Sadie and Karen. 

"Oh, I ain't gossiping. Stop it," I muttered, shaking my head.  

"Alright, muñequita," he chuckled, "no more gossip."

"What does that mean?" I asked. 

"What does what mean?"

"Mune– mune– that word you said," I shook my head, the unfamiliar word dissolving in my mind before I could repeat it.

"Muñequita?" He smirked at me, looking a little surprised that I'd asked. A little embarrassed, even. "Oh, nothing. It's a… just a name. A term of endearment."

"Oh, alright. It's a pretty word," I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him. 

"Means little doll. People don't tend to ask me what I'm saying, so I'm a little caught off guard," he laughed, shaking his head and turning away from me to lift up the bed frame. "The name seemed to suit you. Those jobs you do, putting on all these roles, playing pretend. Like a little kid's doll." 

He leaned the bed up against the wagon and turned to me, appraising my reaction.

"Well, playing pretend…" I started, pursing my lips in thought. "I guess I can pretend it ain't me robbing people blind. It's Jemima Jones." 

Javier laughed through his nose, tilting his head down. 

"Jemima Jones. She's a clever girl, but don't let her take all the credit–"

"I'm glad you two are gettin' along so nicely but if you remember, we all have the threat of death hangin' over us until we get packed up and gone. Get moving!" Miss Grimshaw hissed as she marched passed us. 

Javier and I shared a glance before getting back to work.

Interesting (imo ofc) parallel between Diego and Vanya: both are angry/bitter/resentful bc of their upbringing and while I’d say Diego is more obviously verbally aggressive, they both lash out at their siblings, but Diego attacks others (most notably Luther) to shine light on their abuse, when Vanya attacks others she usually glosses over their own abuse and trauma to highlight her own (a la “you couldn’t handle that Dad might find me special!”)

That is an interesting parallel that I hadn’t noticed before, honestly.

I think their difference in behavior comes in large part from how they see their pasts. Diego was raised in the Academy while Vanya was mostly at the periphery of it; and while it seems clear that Vanya knew at least the basics of what her siblings endured, we know she thought her own exclusion was worse. There are a number of reasons for this, and I’ve touched on some of them before—she thought they were more favored, she may have accepted a somewhat sanitized view of their pain, she may have decided whatever pain they endured was worth the glory of being in the Academy—but the important thing is that Vanya saw herself as the least favorite and the most abused. Maybe there wasn’t a chance for her to unlearn this as a child, since we see her siblings do exclude her on the security tapes; but she squandered her chance to unlearn it as an adult when she chose to mostly cut ties with them. Her book alone—and her lack of remorse for writing it—is evidence enough that she hasn’t let go of the notion that she had it the worst as a kid and that her siblings’ suffering can’t even compare.

Diego, on the other hand, was in the Academy from the beginning. He endured verbal abuse and constant negative comparisons to his brother, but he also saw that what he went through wasn’t unique. It was different from what Luther endured, and not the same at all as what Klaus was put through, but unlike Vanya, I don’t think Diego ever believed he was the only one who suffered. I do think he remained bitter toward his siblings for a good long while, and he probably spent some years believing he had it worse than anyone simply because his suffering was different. But unlike Vanya, he didn’t cut ties with his siblings. Not completely, and not forever. He definitely went low-contact, and I think he maintained that for at least the first year; but I also think he eventually re-established contact with Klaus. We see him listening to a police scanner to find crimes to stop before police can arrive, and Klaus speaks of his work as a vigilante as if he’s witnessed the bloody aftermath firsthand. I wouldn’t be surprised if Diego kept one ear on that scanner listening for any mention of a junkie matching Klaus’ description so he could make sure to beat the police there and keep his brother out of trouble. And if that were indeed what he did, I think those glimpses into Klaus’ life would have changed his thinking toward him, taking his thoughts from Oh my god, my brother spends his entire day getting high, why is he such a loser  to My brother is in deep shit.

In the years following Ben’s death and preceding Reginald’s, it seems Vanya avoided her siblings as much as possible. They all moved in different circles, which probably helped keep them separate. And I think this separation made it easier for Vanya to go over what she’d endured, compare it to what her siblings endured, and decide, again and again, that she had it worse than anyone. Memory isn’t a recording of an event; it’s an individual’s impression of it as seen through the lens of emotion. I don’t think her memories of her time at the Academy ever became wildly inaccurate, but I do think they twisted a bit. We see it when she’s walking through the Academy, hallucinating her siblings telling her she’s not welcome. She sees each instance as one where she’s cruelly rejected from the family dynamic; but the only moment that fits this description is when Reginald refuses to let her be in the family photo. All the others are rude, to be sure, but nothing out of the ordinary for siblings who have been interrupted. Ben’s “To go on a mission, you have to have a power” is definitely blunt, but it’s also a statement of fact. Yet because Vanya remembers her siblings as willful tormentors who hated her for something beyond her control, she sees each of these encounters as far, far more sinister than her siblings likely intended them to be. In isolation from her siblings, Vanya seems to have built up an entire story where she is constantly victimized by a father and siblings who want to hurt her with every word and deed—a story she eventually shared with the world.

Diego, on the other hand, might have had contact at least with Klaus, as I mentioned. But even if he didn’t, I think he took stock of his childhood, much like Vanya did. I think he relived some memories, and I think he went over conversations in his mind. None of that made him any less angry—if anything, it seems to have left him even more bitter than he was as a kid—but where Vanya used her memories to reinforce the story she’d always told herself, Diego used his to challenge that narrative. Maybe he went over one of a dozen conversations where Luther defended Reginald, and instead of focusing only on how he’d felt in that moment, he started to wonder—okay, Luther had just gone through something that left him broken and quiet; he wouldn’t say what it was, but why the fuck would he defend the guy who put him through that? Is this like those times when Dad yelled at me until I cried and then yelled at me for crying, and I walked away feeling like I’d done something wrong? His resentment toward Luther seems to have remained steady through the years, but there’s sympathy present too—sympathy that I don’t think existed in their childhood and teen years.

He and Vanya are still both very resentful toward their siblings; and in Diego’s case, I’d wager his resentment is strongest toward those he believes had it better than he did—Allison, Luther, and Vanya. Ben is dead; it seems his dislike of Five is based more on personality clashes; and he’s protective and even somewhat kind toward Klaus. But with Luther, that resentment takes on a different tone. They’re still bitter rivals, and they lash out at each other on more than one occasion. But when Diego dishes out verbal abuse on Allison and Vanya, there is no purpose beyond reminding them of something they did wrong or making them feel less than. It’s meant to point to their own wrongdoings and rub their faces in it. But when he verbally abuses Luther, all or most of that abuse (which I might track one day in a different meta) points back to Reginald. Some of it points more directly (“He turned you into a monster”) while some is more circumspect (“At least I make my own decisions”) but when he reminds Luther of his own inadequacies, he often seems to hint that Reginald is at the root of them. He holds Allison and Vanya responsible for their own failings, but he tries to get Luther to see that Reginald is the cause of all his problems. I don’t think he likes Luther at this point, and I think he has a lot of unresolved anger toward him; but I think he’s at least beginning to see him as a product of his environment, rather than as someone who was just awful right from the cradle.

Vanya also takes multiple opportunities to point to the failings of her siblings, most often Allison. But this verbal abuse is more akin to what Diego dishes out on her and Allison. It’s personal. It’s sometimes condescending and sometimes acerbic, but I don’t think she ever uses it to point back to Reginald as the ultimate villain. The only instance I can remember where she brings Reginald into it at all is when she gaslights Allison after her confession: “You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find ME special!” In that case, it’s crystal clear that Reginald was the villain; but in Vanya’s account, he is transformed into a henchman, acting in service to Allison’s pettiness and jealousy. Diego might remind his siblings of things they’ve done wrong, flinging it in their faces when he wants to take the upper hand; but he calls attention to their actions without ascribing motive.

I’m not saying Diego’s verbal abuse is right, and I’m not saying it’s justified or remotely okay simply because he uses it to point to Reginald as the one to hate or because he doesn’t exaggerate or gaslight the way Vanya does. I’m not defending his abuse at all. It would have been far more productive and kind for him to try and sit down with Luther, clear the air with whatever apologies or explanations might be necessary, and then steer the conversation toward Reginald and how he’d come to realize their childhood was abusive, fucked up, and something that’s going to take years to recover from. What he does instead is childish, abusive, and absolutely wrong on nearly every level. He’s trying to make things better, but what he chooses to do makes things even worse. But at the same time, he’s recognized that he wasn’t the only one who had it rough, and he knows that Luther is going to need help to see what he sees. When he lashes out at Luther, this belief that they both suffered and that Luther just needs to see it—that is what guides his actions. Vanya is still stuck in the belief that her suffering was far greater than anyone else in that house could even imagine, and her treatment of her siblings is guided by this belief. She doesn’t need to help them see that they were abused. To her mind, they were hardly abused at all in comparison to what she went through. Therefore, while Diego tries to get Luther to see something about himself, Vanya’s only goal is to get her siblings to see something about her. 

Deku!

I know it’s been a while, but this ask was in response to a post I put out asking others to give me characters from HeroAca other than Hawks to stretch my character analysis skills to see what theories, predictions, or just interesting observations I find. Because this is outside the realm of my usual character subjects and my style may not be well known in this tag - I ramble and am long-winded, hence the cut to not be obnoxious to scroll past. As a manga reader I won’t add any information past the anime’s run so far if you’re curious and want to hear what I have to say.

Deku’s an interesting character to look at in the series because compared to the way we find out about literally every other character, we outright know what he’s thinking or what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, so any development we see from him we pretty much see it coming from a mile away. He’s an open book.

In contrast, not many fans were able to see how Aoyama may have been struggling with feelings of inadequacy over his abilities - particularly in the Sports Festival Arc; and this became obvious with the license exam in season 3, but the point goes that while many fans saw it coming, there were those who weren’t able to read between the lines and saw him as a two-dimensional joke character meant to fill up the class roster up to that point.

We don’t really have that level of mystery or uncertainty with Deku. As the main viewpoint into the series and the world Horikoshi is building, we’re basically experiencing everything that’s happening vicariously through Deku. Yet, it’s not like there’s no room for theories, specularization, or characterization with his character. I’ve already said I’m avoiding spoilers so theories and most speculation are out of the question as I can only vaguely hint that there’s some potentially neat thematic parallels beginning to be explored in part through him, but that’s about as many of the beans I can spill without dumping out the whole thing.

I had some neat stuff to talk about before I actually sat down and started writing this and realized so much of it was spoiler-y; but at least in way of my opinions on Deku, I haven’t actively rooted for the main anime protagonist like this in a while and his likeability is off the charts. That said, he’s not a stellar role model just yet, mainly due to his hero complex. We’ll see some of the nuance of this subject explored in the next season, but by and large Deku’s drive to save people can use some level-headed reigning in before he acts. There are many times where his action is completely appropriate and justified - almost always when there’s someone right in front of him that needs saving; and let me make it perfectly clear that the unyielding drive to help someone in distress is a positive quality through and through; but when he goes out of his way to break the rules and disregards the repercussions in order to save someone I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t gotten in much bigger trouble so far what with his history of it at this point.  That’s all to say that he’s a loose canon in the series so far and needs more experience before he’s real top hero material.

However, I don’t think this lone wolf mentality is what Horikoshi is trying to glorify or endorse through the series. My guess is that the series as a whole is philosophically leaning towards the Good Samaritan principle. (I said I wasn’t theorizing, but I guess I’m a liar now.)

If you aren’t familiar with the story of the Good Samaritan, it’s a parable in the Bible Jesus told about doing the right thing in helping others, no matter who you or the other person is - even if under normal circumstances the person you’re helping would despise you. This story is so iconic that there’s a type of law named after it - The Good Samaritan Law.  (And if you’re unfamiliar with it you should read it and the other parables in the Bible, they’re not just moral tales but might get you good points on an English/Literature essay if you reference them well.) 

It differs from place to place and not all countries have them, but the principle is if you think someone is in immediate danger and you attempt to save them they can’t turn around and sue you for “wrongdoing.” For example, if you see a baby or an animal locked in a car on a hot day and you smash the windows to pull them out and get them cooled down, whoever owns that car can’t sue you for smashing their windows and damaging their car. There’s a lot more nuance and fine print, but that’s the basic idea. In many cases where this law exists it actually legally obligates the bystander to help. The hope is that these laws help reduce the Bystander Effect (really neat if you look it up, but also scary and very humbling) and encourage people to help those in imminent danger without fear of negative repercussions.

Something I didn’t quite realize until now is that with the advent of a superhuman society, the Good Samaritan Principle is largely done away with all the way across the globe. Even if people are in active, life-threatening danger, you can’t use your powers to step in unless you have a hero license or you risk getting in serious legal trouble. To an extent this is understandable in a precarious and delicate situation - just look at the precision called for in the second half of the Provisional License Exam; but it occurred to me that not only are everyday people discouraged from getting directly involved they’re actively penalized if they do! If a hero was already on the case or shows up while you stall for time it makes sense to not insert yourself and complicate matters - you wouldn’t get in the middle of a hostage negotiation, for instance. Yet, that’s not what we see reflected in the series. There’s an over-saturation of heroes to the general public so that there’s almost always a hero close by to swoop in which rarely ever leaves an opening for someone else to step in while a hero is on their way; and the problem with this is that it leads to an over-dependence on heroes to intervene in other’s lives instead of taking the responsibility into one’s own hands as a citizen of the community.

This has repercussions that are directly echoed across the series, even (and especially) up to date. If you’re not a hero, you’re supposed to step back and let a “professional” handle it. If there’s truly no “Good Samaritan” exception in the world of HeroAca then that really gives Deku a solid ideal to embody and work towards in his world. He outright inspired All Might at the beginning of the series because he demonstrated the Good Samaritan Principle when rescuing Bakugo.

“It doesn’t matter that he hates me and bullies me and steps on my dreams. It doesn’t matter that I’m not a hero and can’t even stand up for myself. It doesn’t even matter that I don’t have any kind of superpower to use in this situation. He’s in danger and if I don’t do something now he’ll die! I can’t let that happen, and I won’t let that happen!”

That’s literally the parable in a nutshell. He even gets reprimanded for it after the fact, but he certainly doesn’t apologize for it. Deku is the personification of the “hero’s heart.” It’s recklessly helping others when they need help, and the moment he recognizes that someone is lashing out in pain (a la Todoroki or Shinsou or even Bakugo) he instantly recognizes that even though they may be against him in the moment and that threat needs to be reigned in, they’re still as much in need of saving as someone falling from a building. While All Might deterred crime through threat of force, Deku is on track to deter them before they even get to that place at all, and his character is making a case of normalizing this mentality instead of drawing black and white lines in the sand and chasing the symptoms of the disease rather than the cause. (I’m literally having a big brain moment typing this, “All Might-y power” in one generation vs “Deku” as someone who might normally be worthless but only needs a nudge to become “Dekiru/ I-can-do-it!”)

It’s a theme resonating through the series about how heroism and villainy both have roots in the heart, and while there are threats that have to be dealt with in the immediate and physical, there’s still an emotional and psychological component that has not only gone unaddressed for too long but is directly responsible for the surge of villains in society. You can already see it in so many of the League of Villains’ members (and some of the more troubled heroes) - if someone had been there to reach out their hand and metaphorically save them when they personally needed it in their lives (“It’s okay, I’m here.”) then they probably never would have become bad guys in the first place.

When all’s said and done, I think that’s the point of Deku’s character in the story, why he’s the main character, and why he’s going to be the greatest hero in the world.

~~~~~

Wow, that was more satisfying to write than I thought it would be. And to you, Momo and Uraraka anon, I have heard your question and I am trying to get it out soon. I just have… Much work to do.

After that, though, I hope to open HC requests again soon!

Maybe... Everlark Oneshot

So I finally, after years of wanting but not doing it, I wrote something! I’m excited, and scared, and I know it’s going to be hard for someone to actually find this and read it, but I still feel happy about posting it here. So here goes nothing!  

This is a story where we see Katniss struggling to come to terms that she is not alone on her misery, even in her darkest times Peeta is there for her.

It's been two months since Peeta came back, since I woke up from the fogginess that covered my thoughts, since my nerve-endings became aware of how much that fog was covering up the pain and grieve. Sometimes I don't know how I can manage to breathe, how is it that my body has not gotten the idea that I'm dead inside, that I wish to be dead on the outside as well.

That first day, when I saw Peeta again I was so confused and shocked that I did not recognize this feeling inside me that is consuming me now. I feel such sorrow, and guilt. And each time I see Peeta, it all comes back to me, it's like a train set in motion that cannot be stopped. I see him, and I feel tremendous guilt, for what they did to him to break me, for what I did to him in order to not be broken, he is so calm, even now after all, each time he comes he brings an aura of peace and calmness that makes me want to crawl out of my skin because I feel anything but.

So, I start to close myself off to him, he comes in the mornings, after I have come from hunting, we eat breakfast with Sae, sometimes they talk sometimes they don't, but I usually just listen. Too tired, and really what can I say that has any meaning now? I'm sorry? Too little, too late. Because a world with no ducktail in it is not a world I can see as something whole, or good so why bother talking about it?. A world where supposed-friends were nothing but an instinct of survival, where mothers forget they still have families when others don't even get to say that and where the best people had to go through the worst just to keep living. I try to remind myself that we live in a different world now, a better one. But for the life of me, today I can't seem to be able to grasp that concept. Maybe if I hadn't heard about Gail today while I was coming back from my usual morning in the woods, but I did and I remember everything so vividly that I cannot escape the past reality on my own now, which revolves around a dead sister. Maybe if Peeta, being the gentleman he is, was trying to give me space, because even without communicating it so to him, he felt that I was withdrawing and didn't want to push me. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

But, we will never know now. Because we don't live in a world of maybe, we live in a world of facts, and the fact is that I have several pills on my hand, most of them I don't know their purpose but I do know that I'm taking more than my fill for a couple of days. And the fact is, that I feel relieved. I take the pills and with a last sigh, I swallow them all.

I guess I could have left letters, I have heard that was the custom thing to do on these cases, but I can't say I thought this through, I just did what it felt I needed to stop feeling everything I was. Or maybe I did think about this before and am just as selfish as everyone thought I was. It can be either way, but the fact is, that I'm beginning to feel really sleepy now, and can't summon the energy to write anything now. I guess selfish it is then.

And just as I am starting to be lifted into the darkness, I see him. Right there in front of me, and I think that this is the final reprieve from life to me, a gift, his face one more time before I go. And I embrace it.

But as it turns out, it wasn't a reprieve. Because first, I start feeling something stuck on my throat, making me gag until I can't breathe, this along with something rhythmically trying to make me spit out my longs by hitting me in the back, and a burning that goes up from my stomach to my mouth. And all I once I'm aware that I'm throwing up everything into the floor of my bathroom where I was just sitting before with someone forcing it out of me by hitting my back and introducing their fingers down my tongue.

Once I feel some air in my lungs again I chance a peek up and come into view with the angriest Peeta I have ever seen in my life. Not even when he had his hands around my neck did I see such anger in him, I saw fear, desperation, and an almost animal instinct to fight, but not this pure raw rage.  "What are you doing Katniss?!"

I find that I can't answer his shouts, so I just lower my gaze to something safer to watch, like his trembling hands which come up to me, but it isn't until I'm suddenly surrounded by his arms that I understand what they were meaning to do. I feel him all around me, something I haven't been able to feel in months and I'm thankful I came back even if this was the last embrace he ever gave me, because it feels so incredibly good that once again, I know I'm not going to be the first one to let go. I hear him whisper something, and first I can't decipher its meaning, then as I pay better attention I make out a faint  "Please no, Katniss, don't do this. You can't, please."

This is the final straw for me, and it's ironic that after all, fires, mutts, arenas full of monsters, even ghosts, this is what breaks me. I start sobbing so hard, that I can't keep myself from shaking and repeating over and over how sorry I am. Sometimes to him, sometimes to people that can't ever hear me again. And each time he just replies "Shhh, I know. I'm sorry too"

And for what can be hours or days, I just sit there, in Peeta's arms crying like a little girl, because for once I get to do just that, I get to fall apart and someone was there to catch me. Peeta keeps feeding me gentle words, his rage nowhere to be found now, it evaporated as fast as it came. And it's a wonder he has held me so close and hasn't had an episode, I guess he has come farther than I have realized, lost in my grief as I was.

Once I have settled, we come back to my bedroom where the light of midday is shining through the curtains. And it seems so foreign, that I could feel like that in such a beautiful day. And I still feel it, inside me, but it's no longer consuming me because now I feel like someone is lifting the weight with me. Somewhere along the tiles of the bathroom I understood that being as good as he is, Peeta also feels guilt like me, he also lost people, his family was killed indirectly because of him too, though it was really mostly my fault he still carries that on his shoulders and I feel like he can understand after all.

So, when I lift my face and find his there, waiting for me, with an arrangement of emotions on his face like sorrow, anger, empathy, and just general understanding I decide that maybe, I can keep on going as long as he walks along with me. Of course, the implications of this scare me, and instead, I just say "I felt so lonely"

"I know Katniss, I do too. Do you think it's easier for me? All my family is gone, I have nowhere else to go, not really. There are days where I just can't keep myself out of bed. But I do, and I'm here, and you are here and doesn't that counts for something?" I just keep staring at him, because I realize that yes, it does counts for something. It must, because otherwise what was the meaning of everything we went through? But, before I can reply, he continues "Can't we be lonely together, until we are not anymore? I know we can get better Katniss, Dr. Aurelius has taught me that I can get better, but most of all, being here has proved that to be right because each time I'm with you in the same and I don't get lost in my hijacking I feel that as a small victory. So, please just let me help. Take it one day at a time, and it'll become a week at a time, and then a month, and you'll see Katniss..."

"I'll see what?"

"That we can make it worth Katniss, everything that happened, we can give it meaning. Don't you see? That by doing this you throw all that away? There has to be a meaning Katniss!" And his pleads are so desperate, that it awakens my protectiveness of him.

"Ok," I say

"Ok?"

"Yes, Peeta. We can find its meaning together"

"Do you want breakfast?"

And just like that, we are back to our morning routine. We both know the magnitude of what I just did, and that we'll have to discuss it later. But we both also know that we are not nearly ready at the moment to do so without causing another breakdown in me or a flashback on him. I guess we were lucky it wasn't anything bloody or reminiscent of his torture days, otherwise, I think things wouldn't have had worked out as they did. For now, I'm just glad he found me, and that I found in him a companion for my burden. Even though he was there all along, I didn't understand that he could walk this path with me, that we could find understanding on each other again. Or that he would even want to. But I guess we are all each other has at the moment, and for now, that's all we need.

Weeks later, I find that we were wrong, we have so much more than just ourselves. Haymitch, by some miracle, starts appearing out of nowhere for dinners, and it becomes a thing. Sae keeps on coming for breakfast even after I'm well enough to start cooking, not every day, but enough to make it count each time she does. I find that Peeta was right, and Dr. Aurelius can help along the way, and I even start calling my mother which helps me comes to terms with everything that has happened, everyone who is not here but we fight hard to still make proud. There are still days where I feel in a black pit again, but Peeta is good now at figuring out what I need and when I need it. And I have found, that even with all my inadequacy at emotions I can read him quite well, so well that I also know when he is having a bad day or week, and in those moments I try harder to be of help. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. And because of this, I think that maybe, just maybe we will be able to make it through after all.

And there comes the day where that Maybe starts to become more and more blurry and gives wake to a Real.

alright, here we go.... did anybody want a write-up on my (initial/current/main) Fallen Hero protagonist? because I sure have got one, and an obsessive need to talk about this game!! :’D

they’re actually more intentionally a self-insert than most characters I play, since I didn’t really have any pre-game time in which I was considering what sort of person to play and what their name/background would be. eyyyyyy impulsivity!

anyway, on with it. some facts, as they were, about one Ishvah Bakker, formerly known as Sidestep...

Basics

Probably mixed race of some sort, or otherwise on the liminal edge of (not?) white - other people’s perceptions are crucial, and more defining than they’d like, for as long as they can remember. (Good thing they’re a telepath!)

Nonbinary and genderless and generally salty about it. (Dysphoria makes every other body-related trauma response even more fun!)

Long-ish dark brown hair, which they usually wear down or in a simple ponytail. Better than needing to think about styling it, anyways...

Aromantic bisexual. Full of angst. (Aren’t we all.)

Supervillain codename: Iconoclast

Says fuck! :D

Psych profile

Generally quiet and watchful and cautious - a thinker, a planner, a tactician, at least as far as their comfort zone goes. Curious (sometimes morbidly curious) as all hell, in a “killed the cat” sort of way. Alas, not much satisfaction has been had. More just worry about what it says about them that their curiosity can “override” alleged basic human reactions like “empathy” or “getting freaked out by gore”.

Despite the control-freak tendencies, the more a situation slips away from, or otherwise can’t be planned and controlled, the more they do Impulsive Shit. Reckless, adrenaline-junkie, can’t-sit-still-because-then-the-anxiety-will-know-where-you-live, self-endangering impulsive shit. Anything to get the situation back under their immediate influence, if not control.

Speaking of which, attitudes toward bodies? They’ve got a callous disregard for physical sensations like pain, & the (temporary) structural integrity of bodies, especially once that aren't theirs.

They’re very dissociated from bodies in general really, their own included; thinking of them as tools, and willing to let them get fucked up in the service of "more important" goals.

(Shoutout to when they had to perform surgery on themself! :D Totally not fucked up or anything. Especially that they hated seeing themself naked, especially through “another’s” eyes, more than they hated having to actually do the surgery. Nothing to see here folks, just a normal person.)

When needing to improvise interpersonally, they try to head for whatever reveals the least about who they actually are & what they're capable of - using others' preconceptions and biases to fill in blanks with whatever they're expecting. They’ll use appearing weak, tired, unassuming as a shield, but it... grates. Still, feels less dangerous and attention-grabbing than being confident.

Relatedly, they do hate losing their telepathy - the lack of sensory overload is nice, but that doesn't outweigh how... naked they feel, exposed and cut off and unsure if they can trust what they see. (Only what they see.) It’s easier in their puppet’s body, Alex, since everyone else just sees an obvious young white man and there’s no need to manage those expectations, but even so, a loss of information never feels good. (Objectively useful to learn how to manage without, but not their emotional preference.)

Yeah, even if their puppet body goes around in a binary gender, they still prefer to have a name that’s genderless to their own ears at least. Alex is common and unassuming. (And leaning into the private supervillain grandiosity in-joke with themself as far as other notable Alex(ander)s is.... entertaining. Hush, it doesn’t mean they need a life.)

They tend toward being perpetually un(der) satisfied by accomplishments as soon as they’ve just come out of the oven, as it were - a restless mind always moving onto the next step, the next thing that needs to happen. They didn’t used to be like this, did they? But it’s better like this now, considering all that’s happened. 

(Perhaps because of that, perhaps in contrast, their personal apartment is done up in a surprisingly cozy way. Soft carpet and dark encompassing furniture, fabric on the walls, understated lamps and indoor string lights, and only a small window in each room. It’s one of the few things they can find calming, especially when it comes with some coffee.)

(Delicious self-medication with minor stimulants~)

And hey, the coziness is probably also nice because of how disgustingly touch-starved they are. Starved and averse all at once, really, which is just the best. (And uh, also sexually frustrated.... not that they let themselves think about that, hahahaha....... Moving on.)

The lack of sleep involved in maintaining two lives? Is absolutely getting to them, even if they don’t realise it. Sure, they think their body is getting all the rest it needs while they're in Alex's, but their brain is still active in maintaining the telepathic link such that the sleep isn't quite as restful and rejuvenating as it otherwise could be. (Well, assuming they didn’t constantly have nightmares.) Hence some of the increasing emotional instability & inability to hide their feelings when confronted with actual stressful situations.

Background

LA was the first place they ever tried to make a home, really. Or multiple different home iterations. They feel tied to the city, not least because of how the change in the place and its name feels like a macrocosm of what they’ve done switching sides themself.

Because this is a self-insert (and I do what I want, Thor), and to provide some justification for their first name, I’m thinking about their first (failed, aborted) attempt at being A Person (after getting out of whatever X-23 situation is getting teased for their origin story?) and joining any sort of community, being with a local shul. Perhaps after being helped out by people involved in a community service program? There’s a fair bit that resonate(d) with them, or at least felt good - the idea of being wanted and cared for and responsible for each other, of improving the world and doing positive deeds, of having a fucking family... They probably poked some feet into the idea of converting...

But that definitely crashed and burned. Half of it was coming to realise just how much self they’d have to put into the community to become a part of it - and they either had no self to speak of, or couldn’t risk, couldn’t feel comfortable, revealing what bits they did have. Peace was hard to come by. Comfort with uncertainty, with simultaneous opposite-seeming truths, never coalesced, and in fact felt actively threatening - as did the idea of being able to achieve any sort of relational parity with a higher power of some sort. It’s in the name, after all - a higher power is something you’ll never be able to live freely under with respect. So as that all came to a head, all the paranoia and feelings of inadequacy, they just... left. Don’t really think about it much now, don’t like to think about it, because it felt perhaps even more naive than trying to play masked hero, but... the name stuck.

As apparently did the desire to Be Good And Make Things Better, despite themself, because there they were back again with this stupid hero scheme, meeting Julia Ortega and making friends, being naive and trusting and thinking the whole damned system didn’t need to be burned down for anything to change. That other people could help protect you, that being part of a system could help protect you even if you weren’t one of the bastards at the top pulling the strings, helping nobody but themselves and their own power and pocketbooks.

Well, that sure isn’t going to happen again. This time, they’ve learned their fucking lesson.