please forgive my ugly ch4

a fic in which jesper gets evicted and ends up finally having to tell his friends just how bad he's gotten again.

ch4: Kaz pays Jesper a long overdue visit.

Kaz feels a familiar, ugly self-satisfaction settle between his ribs—a feeling that still seems to be reserved for hitting Jesper where it hurts. “It’s a simple safety precaution.” “It’s been years.” Jesper’s voice cracks on the shaky words.  “And I still have no intentions of letting it happen again.”  “So that’s it, then?” Jesper’s eyes meet his and Kaz watches desperation and resignation fight a losing battle against each other. A familiar fire of indignation burns through his words. “That’s why you’re here? To check if I’m a danger to them?”  Kaz raises his brows. “Are you?”  “Saints, Kaz,” Jesper exclaims, “how much more shit do I have to suffer for a little forgiveness?”  “What do you think my forgiveness looks like?” It’s a familiar question, one that had gone unanswered when Inej was in a hospital bed and Jesper’s nose cracked under Kaz’s fist. This time, Kaz doesn’t let the name slip out, but he watches Jesper straighten as if he said it all the same. 

read full chapter and fic on ao3

heeppy hoolida

ok hear me out—

(sue me but he was one of the only mfs in that damn place who wasn't tryna kill the player and i think we should have been able to save him. so, fix it au where y/n helps the gang escape and they live happily in a secluded house in the woods)

happy summer to dykes in tank tops and basketball shorts, goths who's makeup is melting, little kids catching frogs and fireflies, guys who just bring their guitar everywhere now, 13 yr olds very obviously in their emo phase during a family vacation, gas station employees, old people sitting on porches, and dogs swimming at the beach

LOKI 2x06 Glorious Purpose

i lost myself trying to get you to spit me out

MESSI I 96th Annual Academy Awards

this is kerdly 2 me. btw

womp womp

coming out as a "Will snores obnoxiously loud" and "Nico breaths so quietly you can barely tell hes alive" truther

“ryo,” it rolls off your tongue. naturally—as if you’ve called him that thousands of times before. you don’t realise it until he stops his movements.

sukuna narrows his eyes. you turn your head and look up, oblivious to your slip-up. the sorcerer doesn’t utter a word and instead glares down at your short frame. he looks irritated, or more annoyed.

“oh,” you realise why only a few seconds later. you bow your head at him and try to explain yourself in a hurry. normally, you’d address him with respect like everyone else does. ‘my lord’, ‘lord sukuna’, or even ‘master’.

you nearly fall to your knees. you don’t know how or what sukuna’s going to do now that you’ve dropped the honorifics on accident and called him by a nickname. you hold your hands together, “my deepest apologi—“

“again,” sukuna demands in a rough voice. you freeze for a second before tilting your head back. you catch a glimpse of his expression; he’s amused, intrigued and perhaps still a bit annoyed. he repeats, “call me that again.”

sukuna isn’t annoyed by the fact that you’ve called him by a nickname for the first time. he’s annoyed, because your sweet voice makes him feel stuff he’s sworn to never feel for a regular human. that warm feeling in his chest. . . he hates it. yet he yearns for it. from you.

you hesitate for a second, unsure if the firm tone in sukuna’s voice was a bad sign or not. you decide to just comply and hope for the best, “. . . ryo.”

sukuna grits his teeth. you think he’s mad, but in reality, he’s trying to eliminate the feelings of love from within him. your voice calling him so affectionately—so intimately; it makes him feel that warmth in his chest.

no one’s dared to call him anything like that before. everyone’s formal with him. it’s a must. sukuna’s used to everyone acknowledging his superiority in the conversations he holds. it’s a given.

no one refers to him so casually. no one dares to.

you’re the first one to break that pattern. the first one to make sukuna’s cold heart tremble. if it were anyone else, they’d be his dinner by now. but it’s you so it’s. . . fine, he assumes. an exception.

silence falls in the hallway. luckily, not another soul is around to witness the king of curses struggling to contain his own ‘foolish’ emotions. sukuna clicks his tongue and sighs before continuing to walk ahead of you.

you scurry after him—keeping your head low. you don’t wish to upset sukuna any further. you feel like you overstepped a boundary just now. the silence continues for a couple seconds, both of you deep in thought.

sukuna’s the one to end the quiet atmosphere. his voice is as deep and cold as ever, though there’s no denying the subtle softness that creeps in whenever he talks with you.

he takes a deep breath and sighs. sukuna keeps walking and doesn’t spare you a glance, however his voice and words tell you enough;

“from now on, that’s the only way you’ll address me until i say otherwise, understood?”

Hugs and kisses

okay so they may have a minor chokehold on me at the minute-

a little death ~

plunged into the deep end

*inside Cazador's palace*

Astarion: What are you doing???

Tav: ...stealing clothes?

Astarion: Cazador's about to start his ritual, and you're stealing clothes?

Tav: Yes? They're pretty?

Astarion: I— *takes a look inside the closet* You know, actually... *starts grabbing stuff* At least we're going to look gorgeous while we kill him :)