#should not be saying this when i am bad at writing but i feel like it gives it a funny irony to it
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hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad
ty lovely 💌 fem
“Oh,” you say, “of course.”
You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent.
How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.
“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?”
You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?”
“I heard the engine turn over.”
“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it.
“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”
James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.
“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.”
“You don’t have to go?”
“What?”
“You have rugby today.”
“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.”
James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out.
“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.
James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.”
He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.”
“So it’s definitely the battery?”
“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen.
Your breath gets caught.
“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned.
“I… maybe I did. I think so.”
“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?”
“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.
James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.”
“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.
“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face.
His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car.
James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends.
He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert.
“What are your plans tonight?”
Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.”
“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”
“What do you do with all your time?”
“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.”
You startle. “You and Sirius live together?”
James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?”
“You come in different cars.”
“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.”
James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome.
That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much.
To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…
Well, he couldn’t have. Right?
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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I will never say that I am in love (18+)
{ alternate title: you are the love of my life }
Aemond Targaryen x f!reader
When the one-eyed prince falls, the realisation comes to him in the scent of flowers. In his nephew's laughter. In his dreams.
themes/warnings : just pure sweetness, our emotionally constipated and repressed Aemond Targaryen, he thinks some *impure* thoughts in this one (how dare he!!!), he does NOT want to even think about falling in love (what a stupid distraction, he is not weak, you all should know) - also, he is DOWN BAD for the reader.
all my other works
a/n : this is the first fic I'm writing completely in the male lead's, in this case Aemond's perspective. Complete train-of-thought type of storytelling. (also, this is not in my scheduled works, the idea came to me after watching the new promo clips for s2... never in a million eons did I ever think I would hear Ewan Mitchell utter the word "cheugy" but oh well) - Enjoy! 🖤
{ I. flowers ▪︎ II. innocence ▪︎ III. dreams }
I.
Aemond decides that he finds pleasure in your scent.
The thought comes to him as he strolls through the halls of the Red Keep. Not a strong one, not a revelation by any means. A mere inkling of something he favours.
It is innocent. It is nothing.
He had spied some flowers peeking from just beneath a window. Roses, peonies, or some other, he did not bother to truly look. He glanced them out of the corner of his eye.
And he thought of you.
You smell something rather akin to those flowers - blooming and enticing and sweet.
A simple observation, rising to him now from his memory.
That is all.
Your scent reminds him of springtime in the gardens. You are pleasant, there is no doubt, but that very sweetness can only be construed as sickly if divulged in for far too long, too often.
Besides, his icy disposition does not really take well to flowers in the spring. They are more like to whittle under his boot, and shrivel from the coldness in his gaze.
You are not for him. No.
Flowers. Sweet things. The gentleness in your voice when you call him 'my prince'. Aemond scoffs at himself as he walks on.
It is no transgression to be distracted. It is a natural thing.
You are a distraction, and Aemond decides to think of you no more.
II.
Aemond comes to Helaena's chambers to visit with his niece and nephews. It is only by coincidence that you are almost always there too.
"Prince Aemond." Your voice resembles a song in greeting him. "Queen Helaena has just left to speak with Lady Alicent, but she should return shortly."
"Hmm." You are not a lady-in-waiting to Helaena, but more of a companion, a friend. Yet you do not mind looking after Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor when their mother is indisposed.
This is where Aemond finds you, most mornings. Were it anyone else, he might have sent them away, so that he can spend time alone with the children.
But he lets you stay, because, of course, Helaena would prefer it so. She dotes on you so dearly, Aemond has noticed.
In these instances, he lets you stay only because it is what Helaena would want. Why else?
He settles on an upholstered stool and beckons to the children. They eagerly waddle their way over to their beloved uncle.
You watch the interaction with a smile, as you always do. With your legs curled underneath you, comfortably seated on the floor a few feet in front of him.
Aemond used to pay you no mind, but increasingly it has been nagging at him that you are observing, taking him in.
It is inane to be self-conscious; there is no reason to be. He is the Prince - being perceived has been a constant all his life.
He is the Prince, and you are merely a lady companion.
But when you say things like, "They are very fortunate to have you as their uncle, my prince," it makes him feel a sense of pride. Like it is some accomplishment to be complimented by you.
He knows this. He knows he is a good uncle.
Perhaps it is just that. Vanity.
You pointing it out has nothing to do with anything.
Jaehaerys crosses the many strides it takes for him to reach you again, and he pulls at your hand.
"Come," he giggles.
"Where, sweet boy?"
"Come, come here, come here," he mumbles mostly to himself, grunting when you are unmoving and his three-year old form is unable to magically transport you as he wishes.
"Okay," you laugh once, getting on your feet with your body bent to his level, and you let him pull you to where he wants.
Which is... right next to his dearest uncle Aemond.
"There." Jaehaerys claps his hands in glee, as you curl up on the floor beside Aemond's outstretched legs.
"He has a sense of humour, that one," you grin, looking up at Aemond.
Aemond sees your expression up close and you look okay. Comely. Fine. You are not bad-looking, by any means.
You are the most beautiful lady in the court.
You are fine, just fine.
Aemond would not mind seeing your face everyday; he already sees it every night in his dreams.
And it is just fine.
"Is something the matter, my prince?"
Call him that. Do it again. Or better yet, replace prince with his name. Call him 'my Aemond'.
Aemond desires nothing more than to hear it.
Because... because he is vain. Nothing more than that. It would take a high degree of devotion for someone to utter the words 'my Aemond' to him. And who would not want to be at the end of such idolatry.
Perceive him. Worship him. Consume him.
You already consume him.
Aemond stands abruptly, and you scramble to follow suit.
"Aem... Aemond," you stammer. "I mean, forgive me... my prince, what is wrong?"
Aemond looks down. Your delicate hand is gripping his arm, the sleeve of his tunic doing nothing to mask the heat of your skin.
He is of dragon, he is of fire.
But your touch burns.
The clacking of wooden toy horses ring in the background, the children lost in their imagination.
"Nothing," Aemond clears his throat, and folds his arms behind him so your hand falls. "I am alright. I must go."
The smell of sweetness lingers in his nostrils. Your sweetness. He is growing weak.
He steps away, "I bid you farewell, my lady."
"My prince."
Call him Aemond. Call him by his name, title be damned. By the gods, call him yours.
Aemond nearly rushes out of the chambers, his gait sure and his footsteps heavy.
Tonight, in his dreams, he will finally release his foolish desires and that will be the end of it.
Behind his eyes, he will touch you and taste you and watch you crumble underneath him.
And he will be your Aemond.
That will be the climax of this passing fantasy.
III.*
Aemond has stripped down to his undergarments, supine above the silk sheets of his bed. He runs a hand over his face, and he sees you.
All the better for it, he supposes, that he gets rid of it now before it ruins him further.
It is a memory, from only one moon ago, but he sees it clear as day.
You had let your hair down that day, and it flowed freely, following the gentle breeze. Nestled in what Aemond found out to be your favourite spot in the gardens, needle and thread in your dainty fingers, you tell him that you are embroidering a veil for your dear mother.
You request for him to sit with you, and Aemond obeys.
Pleasantries are exchanged, about the weather, your duties, his training. All the while Aemond watches the contour of your lips, how it stretches back to reveal your smile when he says something that could not be the farthest from amusing, but you find it amusing anyway.
He stares you down questioningly.
You blush then, turning your focus back to your work, "Apologies, but I... I admire the way you speak, my prince. As if every word is deliberate, carefully chosen. You are intelligent, and you care what you say."
"Hmm," he said then, but now...
In his mind, he lets you know just what he wants, "Have you ever been bedded, my lady?"
You look at him in shock, of course you do. Those rosy lips part, and Aemond wonders whether your lips below possess the same shade.
In his grand chambers, Aemond lets his hand drift down, down from the planes of his stomach, to his hardened cock. He licks his lips, and imagines the softness of your own. He strokes the leaking tip with his thumb. The picture continues.
"Do you not ever wonder about the deed?" Aemond asks.
"M-my prince...I do not... I - "
"You must," he sneers. "You must, as I do, and when I do, it is you who floods my very thoughts, and consumes my very being."
"I do not know what to say."
"Say you want to kiss me."
His grip tightens, drawing down and up his cock, covering it with the milky white that has leaked from his tip. He is pained, teeth pressing down on his lower lip. He imagines your hands on him, your dress undone as you watch him come undone.
"We mustn't," you look down in shame. Your legs clench together to keep in the warmth.
"Come here, my sweetness," he leads you to sit atop him, and your work clatters to the ground.
You try to look away, try to hide just how much he is affecting you.
"Kiss me," Aemond pleads.
You comply. He slips his tongue past your lips.
Faster, wetter, he gets harder and it is unbearable. His hands are not enough, he wishes to plunge his aching member right into your soaking folds. Wishes to watch beads of his sweat fall on to you as he pounds you without mercy, his cock squelching deep inside your cunny until it is sore. If only you will ache as he does. Come as he comes.
Aemond lifts you up and the two of you end up stumbling down on the grass. He does not relent. His fingers make quick work of the strings and ribbons holding you together. Your breasts come free and he latches his mouth on one, his tongue swirling against the nipple.
"Oh Aemond!" you moan, and it is a scandal. It is everything unholy. It is every dirty thought nestled in his mind.
Soon he has you bare, your skin practically glowing under daylight. You are perfect, and you are his.
"Take me," you say, practically begging. "I want you to fill me with your cock. Fill me with your seed, my dragon prince. Please."
"My sweetness," Aemond reveals himself to you, undoing his breeches and slipping out of his tunic. How could he resist?
"Do you want me?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I want you, my prince," you affirm, squirming under him, you hips bucking up with desire, hopelessly attempting to rub your cunny against his skin.
"My Aemond," he corrects you. "Say it."
"I want you," you say, "my Aemond."
Aemond rubs his cock faster and faster, the thick green veins in his hand and arms straining angrily under his skin. He feels you, he sees you in his mind so clear. You are his, and he is your Aemond.
He plunges his cock inside you, and you are left mewling and writhing as he quickens his assault.
He groans loudly. The lewd squelching of his cock turning sloppy, hasty, mindless. A few more strokes and he comes all over himself, hot white streaks decorating his torso. His silver hair in disarray on the pillows, like a broken halo. Beads of sweat falling from his temple. His mouth parted as he whispers your name.
He gives himself a few more tugs, emptying out. You would do him so much better. Touch him so well.
In his mind, he still sees it. Fragments of his memory bleeding through his fantasies. He does not know anymore what is real and what is not.
He cleans himself up with warm cloth afterward, feeling shame at his actions.
This is enough. Now he has released you from his being. The desire he holds so closely to his chest must have dissipated along with the lewd act he just committed.
"My Aemond," you whisper from behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso.
Enough. No more of such useless musings.
"I love you, Aemond."
I love you too.
🌸🌸🌸
* In III, reality is fully italicized, and his memories + fantasies are typed as normal.
this was meant to have more sections ( IV to VII )... maybe I'll come around to it eventually.
Let me know what you think of this sort of writing from Aemond's perspective!
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#ewan mitchell
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i wave goodbye to the end of beginning ˚. ✦.˳· ⋆.✧̣̇˚.
pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader
sypnosis: he wasn’t what you desired anymore, but he couldn’t let you go. months passed since your bitter breakup, and yet, he didn’t stop loving you for a second.
cw: slow burn. angst for the sake of angst. falling out of love for no reason fr. unrequited love. alcohol consumption (gojo only) no happy ending me thinks, or maybe somewhat. who knows
word count: 3.1k
author's notes: i’m mourning gojo and so should you! so here’s a piece of an angsty fic that’s been rotting, unfinished, in my drafts since march 29. i was only gonna post a sneak peek of this and suddenly the holy spirit took over me and drove me to finally finish it??? IF U EVER READ ANYTHING OF MINE PLEASE LET IT BE THIS😭😭i’m so in love with the reader crying scene u don’t get it. the metaphors?! i outdid myself. i am so terrified of the deep ocean, and the fact that i find myself writing about it during angsty hours says a lot about me. i can’t emphasize how much i adore this fic. i just love angst sm idkidkidk
also, this is my first time attempting angst for the sake of angst as well as slow burn (?) so idk if i’ll ever come back to this. not beta read.
Time and again, this mahogany dining table was the scene of numerous heartwarming interactions – mementos Satoru wouldn’t be able to replicate a second time, even if he spent a thousand lifetimes trying to do so. Sure, it was more than easy to recreate the scene, but not the genuine warmth the two of you felt in that moment. He could go to great lengths, such as hand-crafting every single piece of furniture in the room that bore witness – carving and polishing wood until his palms became more splinters than skin. But even then, he wouldn’t come close to reliving any of those gratifying sentiments from so long ago.
All the shared laughter at his trivial attempts at comedy had caught up to you; your smiles were forced lately, and he could tell. He possessed that diamond-blue, six-eyed gaze which consistently made you feel as if he could undeniably read your thoughts, but that wasn’t the case. Even a blind person could discern the unforeseen shift in your comportment toward him, and due to this, Satoru questioned himself relentlessly.
What if he’d said something to offend you? What if he left the toilet seat up one too many times for your liking? What if he began snoring in bed but you were too considerate to say anything about it? What if he forgot a special date? What if he tried to offer you something you were allergic to?
What if he stopped being the love of your life...?
It seemed as if, in a fraction of a second, all the enjoyment you once felt had deserted you, and with it, your love for him. Had you forgotten how happy you were by his side all in the spawn of a few hours, or was this the universe’s twisted interpretation of a joke?
Even if it was, you weren’t laughing.
You told yourself it was fine, that it was a mere wave of sadness that would soon pass, but instead the harmless tide you paid no mind to had brutally swept your body into a sea of despair. Before you could process your predicament, the shoreline was well out of sight – blurring with the deep blue expanse of the oceanic abyss that enveloped your mind.
The longer you fought to stay afloat, the clearer the path became for the briny water to replace the oxygen in your lungs, giving you no choice but to drown as everything around you became a pitch-black, bottomless pit – devoid of any sense of worry for you.
It was rather often that you were accused of abandoning the ship when things got bad, and yet, here you were – submerging along with it.
How ironic.
Even he couldn’t save you now. The solace his mere presence bestowed upon you when you needed it most wasn’t there anymore. There was no more capability of initiating conversations with him when you were the only other person in the room, causing the once-upbeat and soothing environment to give way to one of silence and uncertainty; it was as thick as syrup.
Syrup. The sugary taste of it from when you consumed it during breakfast was all but replaced by a repugnant, sour one in your mouth. A persistent echo of those homemade fluffy pancakes you had turned down remained, even though he had made them just for you — his precious girl.
You insisted you would eat later – an obvious white lie to mask your despondency and lack of appetite – but he spoon-fed you, because in his own words, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allow my girlfriend to starve? No, that won’t do. I’ll take care of you even after I've exhaled my last breath.”
“And how would you do that if you’re no longer breathing, genius?” you asked, a wilting smile on your face that you had put on display for him.
“Well, my dear," he retorts with a smug grin. "I've always believed that love has a way of transcending the boundaries of life and death. And as luck would have it, our love transcends the mortal realm. I will always be with you, in spirit if not in flesh.” he smiles, a twinkle of amusement behind his sapphire eyes before continuing.
“Once I've moved on to the afterlife, I'll find a way to send you sweet nothings and a box of chocolates from beyond the grave. Consider it an eternal gift.”
He declares in a complacent tone as he lounges back in his chair, head resting comfortably on the back of his hands.
"But in all seriousness," he then adds, his tone becoming more genuine, "I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're taken care of – even if it means making sure my eternal resting place has a Wi-Fi connection for you to receive my messages.”
Your thoughts were entirely silenced in that moment; white noise overtook the black space within your mind. How had he managed to say such heartfelt words as if they were second nature? This early in the morning, nonetheless.
Would he actually…?
You knew he would.
"But let’s not dwell on my demise just yet,” his words bring you back to the present conversation. “Until the day comes, I promise to make the most of our time together. Besides, knowing me, I’d probably haunt you just to ensure you have someone annoying to keep you company."
He finally remarked, going back to stuffing your face with the soggy pancakes that had been sitting in syrup for too long.
And you were cognizant of the fact that you alone were privy to this side of Satoru Gojo: the mushy, gentle one who tended to his companion as if it were a god-given mandate.
To the public, he was a stoic, impervious character who had no dread of others. To you, he was far more vulnerable than he would ever confess.
But that wasn’t nearly enough to deter you from taking the disheartening decision made later that day.
“I can’t stay here anymore.” austere words you didn’t wish to speak, but needed to, in order to provide some semblance of closure for the both of you. “I can’t love you anymore.”
A hushed supplication could be heard flying across the room at the speed of light once your hand reached out to turn the bitterly cold door knob, hitting against the back of your head – identical to an equally-cold shower.
“Please don’t leave me,” he immediately protested weakly.
He approached you with cautious strides, every step causing fragmentation in his all-too-frail emotional state. Even if it was ephemeral, the mutual love between the two of you had already left a blazing watermark on his soul. His feelings for you transcended the nagging rationality that bound his mind, defying all sensible objections he had on the matter of permitting you to depart from his life. Having failed to quell the ardor her felt, it persisted apodictically until he was an arm’s length from your frame.
And that was exactly it – the same frigid sensation your hand clinged onto emulated the one you felt in your wretched heart the moment he approached you. You’d already turned your back on him and expressed every afflicting anguish that tormented your soul, so why plead now? Now – when you already made the conscious decision to leave him behind.
Tears neither you nor he could hold back began flowing down your features. A familiar hand lifted towards your cheek soon after, wiping the salty residue off your delicate face with his thumb.
He never ceased to remind you how gorgeous you were when you cried, frankly because the manner in which your wispy eyelashes retained the saltine tears in your eyes resembled the delicate surface of a tranquil pond.
Every tear you shed would become the gentle water that tickled his skin as his body wafted about in your iris – an eternal reservoir he’d swim in without tiring if the heavens so permitted it.
However, this occasion differed from the rest; the once gentle waters he yearned to lay in became calamitous waves, which may lure him to the ocean’s most profound recesses in the blink of an eye – your blink of an eye. He would usually stay afloat among that innocent gaze of yours, but tonight it was ruthlessly drowning him with no lifeline in sight.
Even after he implored that your crying would come to a halt, more pungent teardrops bled onto his fingers. An eroding desperation flowed through you, aching to hold onto something, anything, in order to cease the mental decay within your subconscious.
Thus, your own hand extended to hold his against your cheek, a glacial embrace overpowering the warmth of his skin; an identical chill tickled his spine when he absorbed the crispness of your graze, but he paid it no mind.
“Not you too…anyone but you,” he pleaded in a low voice, causing more accursed tears of yours to cascade mercilessly as he embraced you in an endeavor to sway your decision. His voice was gentle and soothing, mimicking a caress you’d never experience a second time.
“I’m sorry.” you muttered.
Being unable to bring yourself to meet the sapphire eyes that imitated a midwinter sky so perfectly, your head lay low; the only thing visible to him was the top of it.
It was unclear what you were sorry about. Perhaps you were sorry that you had to leave him behind. Or perhaps you were apologizing to yourself that he was no longer what you thought you wanted with every fiber in your body.
You desired more in this life, and on your game board, he wasn’t a playing piece who could frolic alongside you. It wasn’t because you didn’t fancy his company, rather it was the fact that his own strategy of playing was one that did not catch your eye anymore; it had become a monotonous rehearsal. Every move came to be a discernible one to you – even before he picked up his pawn, causing you to lose interest in the entire game itself.
That realization alone shattered his entire world.
Satoru’s head lay low all throughout as he sat on a wooden stool amidst the empty bar. It was 2 a.m. and he needed to go home, but why should he?
You wouldn’t be there to greet him – or even scold him for that matter.
Colorless, almost lifeless, marbles stared vacantly at the picture of you on his lock screen; he consistently spoke to your picture as if he were having a conversation with it. At this point in time, it had become routine. Maybe one of these days the frozen-in-time frame would speak back to him for once?
Just once.
Where had that tender smile he’d fallen in love with gone?
Where had you gone?
On a nightly basis, the same detestable conversation from that night redounded from one end of Satoru’s mind to the other incessantly – akin to a religiously recited sermon.
It was impractical to disregard the harsh reality that sooner or later every cherished individual he held dear to his heart willingly departed from his life – Suguru, and now you.
If it entailed becoming a regular person, he’d give his life as a sorcerer to ensure the permanent presence of at least one individual in his life. Where was the value of possessing such prowess when one’s vulnerability in the realm of love was inescapable?
What twisted transaction was that?
He'd even willingly forsake his divinely bestowed talents for the purpose of altering the passage of time, thereby reverting to a period where your presence was far from being nothing more than a diminishing recollection.
Ijichi had been dealing with this side of his boss for months on end. Regardless of his efforts to encourage Gojo to put an end to this melancholic act of his, he never managed to convince him to do so. Ijichi attempted the compassionate approach, but to no avail. His optimism and patience were dwindling, fearing that this would continue on for eternity – and perhaps it would’ve if he hadn’t stepped in.
This had to end sooner or later, and for everyone involved’s sake, it had to be the former. So tonight, he opted for a sterner, and perhaps more unforgiving, path.
Your car was parked out front of the bar Ijichi had sent you the address to – forehead pressed against the steering wheel as an audible, exhausted sigh escaped your mouth. It was late and you knew this was nothing short of inane behavior. You weren’t doing this for you; you had to remind yourself that you were doing it for him, with the hope that he would ultimately find someone who would be there for him in a way that you were unable to.
Weary, almost weak, legs lead you to enter the desolate bar. A knife prods at your chest when your eyes dart over to where Gojo was. He kept his head lowered; the only part of him you could clearly see from this angle was his back.
An overwhelming sea of emotions plagued your mind when you witnessed him in such a state. You could feel the knives twist the longer you stared at the back of his fluffy white locks.
Months had passed since your split, and you realized Satoru’s grief and distress were indeed as dire as his assistant conveyed to you during the phone conversation.
A tap on his shoulder was accompanied by a sweet voice that had vanished into the depths of his consciousness a long time ago. Perhaps because he didn't wish to recall the agonizing memories that came with your voice, or perhaps because he needed to maintain a pristine, untouched image of you in his psyche.
As you occupy a vacant stool one seat away from him, your attention is drawn to the half empty vodka bottle in his grasp.
“You know, I talked to your therapist. He said you were getting sober.”
What you said held true, except you didn’t hear it from his therapist directly; Ijichi was the one who was initially informed about that, and being the caring person he was, he relayed the details to you. Mostly because he felt as if, deep down, you still wanted to know about Gojo’s well-being.
"What are you doing here drowning yourself in alcohol?" you added, seemingly concerned for your ex-boyfriend.
He looked up at you, his eyes red and bleary from the drink. His body froze. Blue pupils dilated in a mixture of shock and happiness. It really was you. Had you come back for him after all this time?
"What does it look like I’m doing?" he muttered, his voice bitter and angry.
Satoru detested alcohol; it always interfered with his abilities, and being the strongest meant being ready whenever – no questions asked. After your departure, though, he grew fond of the bitter, burning feeling the liquid provided. That sweet poison was the sole substance capable of muffling the eternal pessimism plaguing his mind.
You approached him cautiously, taking the bottle from his hands and setting it aside. "Come on," you said firmly, "we need to get you home."
He wasted no time to speak what was really on his mind. Even if it was for a mere second, he had felt the sensation of your touch once more. That was more than he needed to vocalize the thoughts that tormented his sanity. Either that, or it was the alcohol he had consumed speaking.
“Why won’t you love me back?” His words slurred, being far too drunk to care, though.
“…You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”
“What home? The one I bought for us that YOU left me all alone in?” he deadpans, the silence following being as deafening as a scream.
Ouch.
“My room feels so empty if you’re not there. I see your precious face and I don't know what to do.” His expression dampens with anguish before he continues – somewhat unclearly, ”whatever I do, I cam’t fubking get you out of my head amd it’s ruining me.”
“I told you to move on a million times every time you drunk dialed me, Satoru.”
“If that’s what you wanted, why did you continue to pick up the call?” He retaliates, eyes glazed with forbidden tears on the verge of cascading against his pale skin.
You knew perfectly well why. He knew perfectly well why. Everyone Satoru vented to about you knew why, so why continue to deny it?
Attempting to keep your temper in check, you take a deep breath, eyes darting back and forth between the door and him. It was more than easy to run away from your problems, like you always did. But not this time.
You owed it to him to at least finally stick around long enough when things got tough. You wouldn’t put up an invisible wall between the two of you anymore, not today.
You sigh, taking the empty seat right next to him.
“We can’t go back to how things were. We broke up, remember?”
“I know,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his beverage. He shook his head, his drunken state making it almost impossible to focus his thoughts or his vision. “But maybe drinking will make me forget that we ever did. Maybe tonight I can pretend we’re still together,” his voice and face etched with sorrow.
His voice trailed off, followed by another long sip of his drink.
“You need to quit drinking yourself into a stupor, Satoru. This isn’t healthy,” you responded, voice softening out of concern.
His eyes still clouded with alcohol, he looks at you before speaking. “I don’t know how to move on.” He admitted, voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to live without you. I loved you…and I still do.”
He silently weeps once and for all, crumbling before the love of his life. You didn’t know what else to say, so you settled on simply allowing his head to rest on your shoulder; you always were his favorite shoulder to cry on, after all. Wrapping an arm around him, you pet his head as you lull him. Instinctively, he envelops you into a warm embrace, face burying itself deeper into your chest.
As he continued to sob like a baby, the sorcerer allowed his emotions to flow freely – months of bottling them up into liquor bottles had finally caught up to him.
He was beyond ecstatic underneath all the melancholy; not only had you allowed him to get closer to you, but even went as far as hugging him too. He couldn't believe it. Just a few moments ago, you were talking about forcing him to move on, but now – you were actually back in his arms, where you belonged.
He felt relieved for a moment, almost to the point where he wasn't thinking properly anymore. You were finally back in his arms, where you needed to be; he refused to let go.
It felt like a fever dream, but this was all he needed. Even if you’re gone, morning come, he’ll live in this moment for the rest of eternity.
#✰ gojodagoat is online#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo angst#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru angst#gojo x reader#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#gojo satoru x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satorugojo
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fic rec friday 16
hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!
best friend, baby by @ghosttotheparty*
“You— You make me feel so… good,” he finishes lamely, his head void of any words that could describe it, because how can Will describe the peace he finds in Nico’s presence, or the way he feels like he can finally breathe whenever Nico looks into his eyes? “You’re my favourite person,” he breathes. “My best friend.”
hooooooo boy the intimacy tag was NOT joking. i was gagged. yall tell me all the time how high u value will angst and like....this one DEVASTATED me for him??? like do yall ever think about how the first dialogue we hear from will in nico's perspective is self-loathing. yall ever think about how nico has always known him hating himself. well this author did. "i know you hate yourself but just because you hate yourself doesnt mean everyone else does too" hey what if we FOUGHT. also im going back in to all my FRFs to star my FAVE FAVE FAVE fics bc this is one of them LET ME TELL YOU.
2. just a dumb game by @ghosttotheparty
Nico di Angelo is not a party person.
But Will Solace is going to be there.
So.
they are SO FUCKING GAY and SO FUCKING IN LOVE and SO FUCKING STUPID. god i love them so fucking bad like they are inherently down bad obsessed with each other and this is how they should be. this is the way of the world.
3. even in the silver light by @ghosttotheparty
Nico is back.
Will is still smitten.
first of all. latino and nb will. thank you. second of all. i am (obviously) obsessed with this author bc they KILLLLLL w burning intimacy. like you have no idea they write them like there is a twice burning fire only alive within them it's CRAZZZYYY. i also fckn LOVE that this is like. okay so the author says its plotless and it is kind of 45k of plotless, yes, but idk theres something to be said of love as a plot?? of learning and loving each other as a storyline.
4. splash by @ghosttotheparty
Annabeth is reading her favourite book.
Someone walks directly into her.
yeah okay i think this is another one author week. sue me. this fic made me GRIN okay. it was so fucking cute and sweet and soft and autistic annabeth my beloved!! my love and light!! they are so in love in every universe fr and i fckn LOVE them dude i am OBSESSED. when this author writes people together it's as if you can hear them click.
5. isnt she lovely by @ghosttotheparty
Their eyes always meet in the halls. Her eyes are grey and shiny, and they make Percy think of stormy skies and marble sculptures. (She could be a marble sculpture, in the entrance of a museum, surrounded by scholars and artists and mesmerised passersby. Fucking beautiful in a way that only art ever is.)
- - -
Percy has had a crush on Annabeth since eighth grade. (He doesn’t know she likes him too.)
percy hitting the ground when annabeth kisses him 😭😭 HES SO REAL. i just recced this fic on instagram and i am here reccing it again bc it is EXCELLENT. i rly rly love to see pjotv percabeth in fic like i DO. theyre so fucking cute. and i LOVE how this author writes autistic annabeth!! it is so important to me!!! and this one is so CUTE like percy had such a huge crush on him.....like not just he liked her he had a CRUSH on her. god. i am melting.
thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!
#i dont have an excuse for how late this is im sorry i fell asleep at Seven Fucking PM Last Night#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#percy jackson#annabeth chase#percy jackson/annabeth chase#percy/annabeth#annabeth/percy#percabeth#pjotv#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo/will solace#nico/will#will/nico#solangelo#will solace angst#latino will solace#non binary will solace#autistic annabeth chase#fic rec#fic rec friday#FRF#longpost
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Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.
Your Existence is Grand
Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader
Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.
(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)
Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes
(I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)
The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.
But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.
One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!
Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.
Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.
Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.
“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.
He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.
I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.
“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.
“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.
The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.
He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.
“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.
“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.
“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”
I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.
“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.
A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.
“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”
He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.
“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.
Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”
I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”
“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”
I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”
“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”
My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?
“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”
“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.
“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.
I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.
A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.
“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.
“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.
“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.
As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.
With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…
Where we’re doing it.
I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”
He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.
“I guess not”
“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”
#x men 97#x men#magneto#xmen#x-men 97#x-men#erik lehnsherr#erik lehnsherr x reader#erik lehnsherr x you#magneto x reader#magneto x you#xmen 97#x men 97 fanfiction#x men x reader#xmen fanfiction#x-men fanfiction#erik lehnsherr fanfiction#x reader#magneto x gn!reader#request#genocidewrites#im nervous to post this#i write a lot but i've never written for x men#let alone post it#im considering posting this on my ao3 too but idk#sorry if its bad!!!#trying my best
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The past is not dead (you buried it while it still breathed)
hope here needs a humble hand - series masterlist here
pairing: platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic batfamily x reader
length: 1.8k
genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy (hopeful) ending
warnings: Bruce is,,,, not so perfect here, it's post Jason's death so uuh it's kinda about that, Timmy's also having issues, also he's robin rn, there's just a lot here but it's like the early days and things are gonna get better ya know
a/n: you would not believe the week I had to drag myself thru before writing this lmao
Tim is spinning around in the chair used for the Batcomputer when you come into the Cave, pulling your mask off and tossing it somewhere as Batman, himself, follows after you. He doesn't remove his cowl, content to fight with you while he keeps himself masked - hidden away. Tim can't find it in him to be surprised.
"You can't do that," you say to Batman, pointing a finger to his chest. "You can't just chase after me all night and step in to save me every time you think something might be going wrong." Tim stops spinning as he stares at the two of you, at Batman towering over you. You're good at pretending you're not afraid, he's realized. But no one's quite good enough when they're up against the Dark Knight.
"You don't tell me what I can and can't do," is Batman's only response.
"This is my life, Bruce. My job. Not yours. You don't get to take this from me," you push back. He crosses his arms over his chest and Tim shifts in his seat.
"I'm not taking anything from you," Batman responds, and his voice is enough that you shift your weight on your feet, like you're trying to stop yourself from taking a step back, away from him. "This is my city. You are my responsibility. If you go out there and act recklessly, you'll be taking this from yourself. Do you understand that?" There's a part of Tim that feels he should leave, Batman's raising voice thundering through the Cave. This isn't really a conversation he wants to witness - it isn't a struggle he feels he should be part of. But mostly, he thinks that moving will get him caught, and he can't help but feel a bit like a rabbit caught in a snare that wasn't meant for him. Tim pulls at the fabric of his pants, rubbing a hand over the Robin insignia on his chest, and feels sort of like he's someone he shouldn't be.
"I don't need a keeper," you bite back. "I need you to let me do my job - I need you to let me take care of myself."
"Then why are you here?" This time, you do take a step back, letting his words cut you. "Why are you part of this family, then?"
"Am I, Bruce? Am I really?" This time, Tim does let himself slouch down in the chair a bit, your own yells bouncing around the Cave. "Is that what you call a family? A bunch of strays you pick up off the streets because it makes you feel like a hero?"
"You need to stop," Batman presses, his voice loud enough to drown out yours, reaching forward to put his hands on your shoulders. "You need to let me -"
"I don't need to -"
"You need to let me take care of you, Jason -"
That, of course, is enough to make everyone freeze, your eyes wide as you and Tim both stare at Batman's heaving shoulders and the tight grip he has on you. You're sure his knuckles are turning white with the way he's holding onto your shoulders, but you make no move to stop him.
"I'm not… Jason, Bruce. He's… gone," you say gently, and something about it rips Bruce out of whatever state he was in, his hands pulling away from you as he takes a lurching step back.
"Bruce -" you start, but he's already fleeing, his cape covering him as he turns and, before you or Tim can say anything, he's disappeared out of the Cave and back towards the streets of Gotham.
"I almost feel bad for the criminals he'll find tonight," Tim says - a desperate attempt to break the silence. You wince as you consider it, but shoot Tim a small smile, nonetheless, as you walk over to him. Sitting up on the desk next to the computer, you let your legs swing back and forth as you watch him, his hand absentmindedly rubbing over the Robin insignia painting his chest as he stares at where Bruce had just been.
"It's not your fault, Tim," you say quietly. He looks at you like you've just shot him.
"I didn't say it was," he splutters. You nod.
"I know. But… it's still nice to hear, sometimes, isn't it?" You ask. Tim pauses his hand's movement, bringing it away from his chest to grip onto the chair arm, instead.
"It's not… it's not your fault, either," he points out, and the chair arm creaks under the weight of his grip. "It's not your fault."
For his sake, you pretend to believe him. You hope you're a better liar than he is, just this once.
It's days before you see Batman again, the two of you flickering by each other like shadows, indistinguishable from the backgrounds of the dark corners you belong in. You're sure he's still around, sure he's still tracking you and making sure you stay in line. You're also sure you still don't like it.
You wonder if he's watching you the night you stumble into Red Hood, the cases you're working on tangling your paths together as you stare at him across the docks. His gun is in his hand, and you wonder, a bit abruptly, if he'll shoot you when you get in his way.
"Thought the Bowery was your corner, Hood," you say cautiously, eyeing him under your mask. The moonlight above you ripples down between the clouds, casting shards of light onto your hidden faces. "You're a long way from home."
"Could say the same about you," he spits, his hand tightening on his gun. You shift your weight, bracing yourself for whatever fight this might turn into. "You're a bird flying too far from the nest."
"It's not my nest," you say back too quickly, and you wince internally at how directly his snub hurt you. "I'm not a Robin - as you can see through that helmet, I hope. These docks have known me longer than Batman has."
"Yea, but he owns you now, doesn't he?" Red Hood drawls, trying to push you - trying to bait you. You grit your teeth together.
"And he doesn't own you?" You quip back. "You really think you're free of him?" He huffs at that, spinning his gun in his hand as he leans back on his heels.
"Yea, go on," he snaps. "Keep talking. See where that smart mouth gets you around here."
"Are you threatening me?" You push. He slides his gun into his holster.
"I don't think I need to," he shrugs. "It'll catch up to you without my help." You sigh, ever so slightly, letting yourself relax a bit, letting the possibility of a fight cool from your mind. Red Hood pauses, the white eyes of his helmet staring through you. There's a drop to his shoulders, a heaviness to him that makes you wish you could see his face. You wonder if he would ever really shoot you - and then you feel a bit nauseous for ever thinking he would.
"I'm just saying," you push on, suddenly wishing you knew how to make peace - wishing your hands knew how to extend an olive branch. "The past doesn't die just because you bury it, Hood. Either dig it up, yourself, or it'll climb out of that grave on its own."
"Excuse me?" He bites back. You hold your hands up in surrender, already stepping back as you begin to let yourself disappear into the shadows behind you.
"Hey, it's up to you," you say. "But… you know. Start running now, you'll never stop, right?"
Red Hood stands on that dock for longer than he cares to, after that - after you leave, disappearing in a way that feels an awful lot like running away. His ears ring as your words play over in his head, as he thinks of the boy who died and the thing that came back in his place. He wonders if you take your own advice, ever, then scoffs, kicking at a rock as he turns to leave.
It's not running away, he tells himself. The boy I was is dead and the thing I am now might as well be.
You do go home that night - eventually, creeping back into the Cave. You're not sure if you expected Bruce to be sitting there, cowl resting by the desk as he stares at the Batcomputer. You're not sure if you're really surprised that he's tracking you up on the screen, having been following your movements all night.
"You need to loosen your grip, Bruce," you say firmly standing behind him. He doesn't turn in his chair to face you.
"I won't have another one of you die because of me. I won't fail you like that." His words make you sigh as you reach a hand up to rub the back of your neck.
"You won't have the chance to fail us if you keep pushing us away," you point out. This time, Bruce does turn in the chair, looking up at you where you're now standing in front of him.
"I met Jason tonight," you say honestly, your eyes searching him for any kind of reaction.
"I know," is Bruce's response, though. You roll your eyes.
"Does anything happen in this city without you knowing?"
"No, that's the point," he says. It's as close as he gets to joking and you recognize it for what it is and what it isn't. An outstretched hand, but not an apology. A plead for peace, but nothing more.
"If you want to talk about failing your Robins, maybe pay some attention to Tim," you point out. He stiffens.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying," you rock back on your heels, glancing over at where Jason's Robin uniform is encased in glass, a constant memory of the one Batman couldn't save. "You wouldn't want him to, ah, fall through the crack, so to speak. Slip through your fingers - you know what I mean."
Bruce stares at you hard after that, his arms crossed. You hold your hands up in surrender and wonder if he knows how much of himself is in Jason's demeanour, in his life, still.
"I'm not going back out there tonight, so," you gesture to the Batcomputer as you walk away, "you know." He doesn't respond and you don't wait for him to, slipping away from him and up towards the Manor. As you glance back on your way out, though, you can't help but notice him still staring intently at the screens, his profile on Red Hood up while he tracks the vigilante across the city. You wonder if Jason knows how much Bruce loves and misses him - and then you wonder if Bruce, himself, has realized it at all.
#smsn.writes#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne drabble#bruce wayne fanfiction#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne headcanon#batman x reader#batman x you#batman imagine#batman headcanon#batman fanfiction#batfamily#batfam#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#batfam x you#batfamily x you#tim drake robin#tim drake x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#robin x reader#batfamily headcanons#batfam headcanons
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Lol this is incredibly fucked up and I don’t think Tamlin or Lucien in canon would ever actually do this but it was too freakishly weird not to write. Based on this post by @nocasdatsgay This takes place the day after the Solstice after Lucien gifted Elain those pearl earrings.
Tamlin found his old friend once more in his delapidated manor, looking even more miserable than the face Tamlin saw in the mirror every day. That’s when Tamlin knew it was bad.
His friend, his Lucien, always so bright and witty and strong, reduced to this lifeless thing. Part of it was Tamlin’s own fault. Much of it was his family’s fault. And the rest…well Tamlin guessed it was the Night Court’s fault. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut to try and control the emotions roiling through him.
Tamlin walked up behind Lucien slumping on the couch. He showed so little reaction that for a moment Tamlin almost thought he couldn’t sense his presence.
“I don’t understand,” Lucien said at last.
Tamlin stilled, listening to the Autumn court male speak.
“I protected her in Hybern. I traversed Prythian for her. I demanded she get sunlight and fresh air from the Inner Circle. I journeyed across the content to seek an army based on her vision. I returned with a retinue complete with her own father, and I fight across the battlefield to reach her, and she asks me to stay in Velaris. Then nothing. Avoids me like the plague. I understand she wasn’t expecting all this and she was in love…but was I not also? Yet I’m trying to make the most of this and she…pushes me away. I learn about her. I gift her garden gloves. I gift her pearl earrings. She loves gardening and pearls. She seems to dislike my gifts. She cringes away. I feel her attention towards that dark angry shadowsinger. He despises me for some reason. I don’t understand. Am I that unlovable?�� Lucien seemed to be talking to himself.
Tamlin’s heart strained at the longing and anguish etched on his face. All these years, Tamlin had hid much of his true darkness from Lucien, not wishing him to ever wear that expression. His hopes had been for naught, for there he was. Oh, he wore it so well, but he should never have to bear the burden of this pain. Part of it was Tamlin’s fault; he’d do whatever he could in order to make up for it.
Tamlin swallowed and cleared his throat. “You are not. You’re not unlovable, I mean.” He finished with a whisper, “I love you, Lucien. And I’m so sorry.”
Lucien looked at him then, his mismatched eyes burning with a fire that raised the temperature of the entire room. “Are you her? Are you my mate? Elain?” he demanded with a bitterness that threatened to undo Tamlin’s composure.
Tamlin swallowed. He had sworn to never do this long ago, but he was a different man then. A better one. More whole than he was now. Now he was but a shred of a man, a broken man with a broken throne.
“I could be,” he croaked. He couldn’t believe what he was saying. Monster, a voice hissed in his head. Oath-breaker. Ah well, what was another thing broken?
He didn’t know Elain Archeron’s exact proportions, which was a relief because he didn’t want to violate her. But he remembered her face, and he willed his emerald eyes to transform to that of a fawn’s coat, his hair to darken slightly to a burnished gold, his stature to shorten, his rugged body to grow elegant curves, until he was Elain’s double. Tamlin’s pants, now far too baggie for him, slipped down his body until he was left in his oversized shirt, which hung off his shoulders.
Lucien’s fiery eyes softened, his voice filled with affection and concern as he murmured, “Elain?”
“Lucien,” Tamlin sighed in Elain’s voice. He felt so disgusting, but if it was what Lucien needed to feel comfortable in this very moment, he would do it. Tamlin could do with the comfort himself, lonely as he was now.
“Elain,” Lucien breathed again, one hand tentatively reaching out towards Tamlin-no, Elain. It was Elain he was reaching for; Tamlin had to do well to remember that.
Tamlin couldn’t bring himself to care much longer about propriety when Lucien grabbed his hand and yanked him onto his lap. His breaths became hard and heavy as that hand trailed up his inner thigh.
“I want you so badly,” Tamlin gasped as Lucien’s hand went to the hem of his shirt. Lucien leaned forward, his mouth brushing the spot where Tamlin’s neck met his shoulder. Then it trailed up, up, until he reached his ear, leaving embers in its wake. “Shall I take this off then?” he crooned, tugging on the shirt. “Yes,” Tamlin let out barely, and Lucien slowly began pulling it off, brushing the skin it left exposed as he went. One hand was firmly on Tamlin’s breast as the other lifted the shirt off of his head. Lucien then stared and stared at Tamlin with a fire that had he been standing, would’ve made him weak to the knees.
“The most beautiful faerie I have ever seen,” Lucien whispered, gently pushing Tamlin flat onto the couch. Such pretty words he spoke against his skin as Lucien took his time, starting from the forehead, moving down the slope of his nose, his cheeks, the bow of his lips, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, skipping over the place Tamlin needed him most, caressing his thighs, his calves, his ankles. Tamlin whined and grabbed Lucien’s head, pulling it between his legs.
Lucien chuckled darkly. “So desperate for me, are you, Elain?”
By the Mother. Tamlin could not help but feel envy. Lucien wanted to do all of this to her. It was beyond him why Elain was still turning Lucien down. Were Tamlin in her place, he would’ve accepted the bond without hesitation.
Mind foggy with pleasure and envy for the lady he was impersonating, Tamlin could only form one word.
“Yes.”
#i’m scared to tag this LOL#lucien vanserra#tamlin#tamcien#elucien#kind of#eltamcien#elain archeron#it’s fucked up#angst#fanfic
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I’m gonna call these posts:
“Huskerdust the Musical”
Where I explain how songs from musicals would work perfectly for Huskerdust and why. And if someone could write full fics about them or create animatics I would actually cry.
For this episode we’re gonna look at:
All I’ve Ever Known from Hadestown
This is a duet so both Angel and Husk will be singing— I would say together but some separated pining would be cute.
ANGEL:
I was alone so long
I didn't even know that I was lonely
Out in the cold so long
I didn’t even know that I was cold
Turned my collar to the wind
This is how it's always been
— Angel is torn up about his past on earth and in hell.
All I've ever known is how to hold my own
All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own
But now I wanna hold you, too
— Basically he’s tired of doing everything alone and finally decides that he wants Husk.
You take me in your arms and
Suddenly there's sunlight all around me
Everything bright and warm
And shining like it never did before
And for a moment I forget
Just how dark and cold it gets
— I’ve seen in a lot of fics how Angel and Husk are in this trope of “the world is less harsh when I am with you” and I think this just works really well with them.
All I've ever known is how to hold my own
All I've ever known is how to hold my own
But now I wanna hold you
Now I wanna hold you, hold you close
I don't wanna ever have to let you go
Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight
I don't wanna go back to the lonely life
HUSK:
I don't know how or why
Or who am I that I should get to hold you
But when I saw you all alone against the sky
It's like I’d known you all along
— I feel as if a majority of Huskerdust nation believes Husk is gonna pull a “I’m a bad person you deserve someone better” card (lol card) so this fits really well here especially if they sing apart from one another.
I knew you before we met
And I don’t even know you yet
All I know is you're someone I have always known
— To me, this hints to them possibly know ing each other on earth, but it could also be seen as Husk finally getting to know the real Angel.
HUSK & ANGEL:
All I know is you’re someone I have always known
And I don't even know you
— They simply bonded over taking care of one another whether after hard days. And they fell for one another, but they also know they have so much more to learn about one another.
Now I wanna hold you, hold you close
I don't wanna ever have to let you go
ANGEL:
Suddenly the sunlight, bright and warm
— Contrasting his previous statement about him being left in the cold.
HUSK:
Suddenly I’m holding the world in my arms
— I can totally see Husk just being love struck whenever he thinks about Angel
ANGEL:
Say that you’ll hold me forever
Say that the wind won't change on us
Say that we'll stay with each other
And it will always be like this
— Angel knows this promise can not be fulfilled cause they will never be able to be completely safe in their current situations.
HUSK:
I'm gonna hold you forever
The wind will never change on us
Long as we stay with each other
— Husk is definitely a pessimist so this line truly shows how he cares about Angel — to make this promise even if it just gives him false hope.
HUSK AND ANGEL:
Then it will always be like this
Love this musical highly recommend it. If you all have any other ideas on what songs would work well for them let me know!
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#huskerdust#your honor they are in love#hazbin angel dust#angel dust#musicals#hadestown#headcanon#music#hazbin husk#angel dust x husk#huskdust
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I usually don't put my thoughts out too much outside of tags really but I feel a little ranty after seeing the reactions to jjk 261 so here we go. I'll just never understand why people are so afraid of feeling negative emotions. Like I get it they are negative emotions, but they are emotions we have and will feel and should feel. I love me a good fluffy series (see obsession with precure) but sometimes I want to feel more. I mean, even in cute kids shows they broach topics of anxiety, jealousy, loss, etc. It is a normal part of life and fiction is a safe place to explore those topics and feel those emotions. So jjk is a tragic series, I'm so in. Does it hurt? Of course! But that's the point!! I see so many people say it's bad writing, but how can it be bad writing if there are people being moved by it and feeling things because of it! I am literally never going to stop thinking about this series. So often I find a really good tragic series just to find it has horrible reviews because "bad things happened" like yes!!! That's the point!!! I hope that it's just people's gut reactions right now and when they think about it more they'll realize what it all means to the story. As much hate as I've seen, I've also seen some great analysis as well. I just think jjk became too popular and people started reading it because it's the "big" thing and not going into it prepared to tackle the themes that gege has never been anything but clear about imo. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's a flawless series that everyone has to like. It's totally fine to not like it, or tragedy in general, but you don't have to go so far as to write it off as bad just because it's tragic. It's a great series that means a lot to many people, it's maybe just not for everyone. Basically I'm just trying to say don't hate on or blame gege for writing a tragic story if you don't like tragedy, that just means it isn't meant for you!
#sorry for the rant#i just have a lot of feelings about jjk#may delete later#jjk 261#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk manga#jjk manga spoilers#jjk spoilers
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it is friday my dudes (little hearts added by @tazmiilly)
#sorryyyyyy for not posting ... please accept these as compensation#gravity falls#fiddleford mcgucket#artwork of the damned#tales of the wild zeep#ummmm ok context for the first one should be mostly self-explanatory#i purposefully left the person he's calling open to interpretation#however for the record i will say i am a 'fiddleford was divorced before he came to gravity falls' truther#but that does not mean he would never call back to cali to check in on his son or anything#so take that as you will#uhhhh everything else is pretty silly and doesnt require much explanation i dont think??#i dont draw pre-college fidds a lot even though i literally have a whole backstory written for him LOLLLL#also i have a whole complex where when i draw a character pre-transition i feel embarrassed#sort of like i've walked in on them in the bathroom or something. like 'whoops sorry' and i politely look away#want to make it VERY CLEAR i dont think theres anything wrong or bad about drawing someone pre-transition!!#it's just a weird thing ive noticed about myself that i'm trying to deal with#and it literally only happens when i'm drawing. not when i'm writing
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oh this is going to be......... a problem actually
#me when i start wips i KNOW are going to be so much longer than i want them to be#I KNOW IT I FUCKING SEE IT IN MY MIND#every time Every Single Time#to make things even better it's vega and warden AGAIN#which is objectively not a bad thing because i love them deeply and intensely#but in terms of my bitter and hateful need to be externally validated this is some of the worst news possible because#what it inevitably means is tens of hours of my life in exchange for maybe 30 or 40 notes lmao#half of which are my own self rbs#head in HANDS. why cant i just like writing about characters that are easily and broadly popular#i should have conditioned myself harder into liking milo or asher or sam something#OR DAVID AND ANGEL. GOD my life would be so much easier if i liked david and angel#(you know full well this is not an attack on people who do like those characters. don't pretend like it is so you have an excuse to be rude#i say it every fucking time I AM NOT OWED ANYTHING I GET IT I UNDERSTAND#doesn't mean it's not disheartening to make tens of thousands of words and see almost no acknowledgement of it at all#yes again for the millionth time: nobody is OBLIGATED to like my writing or like the characters i write about YOU DON'T HAVE TO#once again: you KNOW that is not the thing i am bitching about here#i am a hateful spiteful bitch for DIFFERENT reasons#those reasons being i have a deeply insecure and desperate need for validation that no amount of 'art for art's sake!' can cure#art for art's sake is all well and good. doesn't ever seem to make me feel better though#delete later
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Maaaaaaaaaaaan, come on.
(the post has ended up in the tags btw. I am not changing this and I need you to understand that it is just me talking to myself semi-publicly)
#Nevi Writes#things said by a guy writing a thing he doesn't even intend to be writing and it's like 10k of words now. >:[#while that's true I do want to emphasize that nobody should get excited about it right now tho okay#because like it's just. idk. I feel very much like it could end up not worth pursuing anyway. it's just a little baby wip.#(when the fuck did my little baby wips get to be 1/4-1/2 the length of my previous 'finished' stories!! what the hell)#it just feels nice to make words tho. and it does have that kind of 'ah good to catch up with these guys again' vibe which is nice.#even if the break has once again been like. on the order of days to a week maybe. I'm so bad at this taking a break business suddenly. lel.#but I don't have anything much to say about it at this point#other than I'm debating inventing a reason that presidential elections would have been moved by a couple of years between now and 2212#what is it with me and having to be so damn precise with dates in this whole narrative. am I just mad that Capcom never tries?#(yes) (so mad)#(and 2212 would actually be an election year is the problem. I want time to have passed but I also want there to be a pres. election.)#(it's fine don't worry about it)#(this is how I decided that Blucifer got bload up and then replaced also. weird reliance on mashing up IRL things and fictional explosions)#(but it's fun isn't it? got that veneer of verisimilitude. I'm good at long words)#idk this is inevitable isn't it. but I'm going to keep playing like it's not. I think I need a little more space for this one mentally.#the first one just sort of fell out of my head fully assembled and the second one did that also but with different vibes#though it did actually take some cutting things and adjusting things to make it work which Failure to Compile did not#Failure to Compile was bizarrely effortless until the mad editing dash. Outcome Unpredictable was WORK#fun work at least! but in hindsight it was definitely more work to make it flow properly.#the real job for the 3th if it happens is gonna be wrapping up threads without dropping new ones in bc that's such a habit of mine now
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my co-teacher isn’t coming back for the rest of the year. 🙃🙃🙃 guess who has to take on all of her responsibilities including writing 3 ieps which are these long ass LEGAL documents outlining the goals, progress, modifications etc. of children receiving special education services. they’re also supposed to be based on data and i don’t think her bum ass has been taking any soooo
pray for me yall 🙏
and then she has the NERVE to ask if she can video call and say bye to the kids. like no bitch i hate your guts
#pls ignore me#i just found out today and i am livid#smoking now to chill tf out lmfao#for those who missed my last bitching and complaining rant#my coteacher is a miserable human being who was told she isn't being hired next year#and instead of self reflecting and parting on good terms#she not just burned but NUKED that bridge#threw a fit and acted like she was being targeted#and now she got a dr to write her out for the rest of the year#when there is NOTHING!! WRONG!! WITH!! HER!!#which screws me over so bad#and even though she would always yell at the kids and had no patience#they really do love her#so i just feel sorry for them mostly#still though i don't think she should say bye when she's the one choosing to stop coming in. i feel like it should just be a clean break#luckily i dont have to make that choice alone bc my principal said the same thing and told me to say no and blame her hahah
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okay the rooster is screaming at me to get up but... i wanna write...
#should not be saying this when i am bad at writing but i feel like it gives it a funny irony to it#the rooster isnt mine btw. hes just a dick who screams at 5 am nonstop#sometimes he gets out of my neighbors pen and wonders up to my house and i end up having to make sure its dumbass doesnt get hit by the#people street racing down my street in the early morning/late night hours#he likes corn btw. his name is dick cause hes a cock. the neighbor doesnt know thats his name though >:3
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Hi! I’m here suffering from lack of good Archivist!Sasha content as well 😭 On that note, do you have any fic on that topic you would recommend? Or just good Sasha fics in general, (or Jonsasha, if that’s your cup of tea)? Thank you in advance 😊
Tragically, I think there is a general dearth of good Archivist!Sasha content (and just about none of it Jonsasha content, as far as I can tell (and not only is Jonsasha my cup of tea, but the ONLY thing standing between it and the #1 OTP spot (currently occupied by JE) is the fact that the Jonsasha that I desperately crave exists in my brain and nowhere else)). Admittedly, I haven't looked very far into her tag yet (I should rectify that at some point tbh) but I've dug around the Jonsasha tag when I first got into it, and I know at least one fic where Sasha drifts towards Beholding through an interest in office gossip.
In terms of Jonsasha Ao3 has:
This very good Sasha lives fic where Jon shows up to Georgie's with an unconscious Sasha and everyone involved is very confused.
These two fics are cute also. The former is by @/suttttton and is them getting together, the latter is established Jonsasha from @/dickwheelie.
Eyevatar Sasha might actually be thinner on the ground (outside of fix-its where she solves everything and her canon reckless curiosity is completely ignored). Ao3 has:
This fic, which is Jongerry with outsider PoV Sasha. Just barely has the implication that she might be shifting towards the Eye (via prying into the lives of her coworkers) but gets a mention through sheer force of Excellent Sasha Characterization. I read this and I feel like I'm reading a fic from a Sasha Understander.
There's also this fic, which looks very promising but which I haven't actually gotten the chance to read yet, so I can't speak to its quality.
Unfortunately I've only gotten into Sasha fairly recently (especially as compared to Jon, who my brain latched onto in a deathgrip from the start), so I haven't gone through her tag yet. A scroll through the Archivist!Sasha or Beholding Avatar!Sasha tags pulls up a lot of fix-it and J//mart, which isn't really what I'm looking for from the concept. I'm sure there's more out there, and if/when I find them I'll come back to this ask probably, but I lucked into Reverse Nighthawks (I was on a Jongerry kick).
But god every day I wish that I could write romance and/or longfic, because about a year ago I read a Jonmichael fic that, when discussing alternate universes (where Jon ended the world) it's revealed that he once did an apocalypse out of love for his Archivist, Sasha James. And it was one (1) single line, but it struck me so hard because god. A perfect concept I think. The potential dynamics of Archivist!Sasha/Assistant!Jon are enthralling to me. Jon destroying the world (or helping her destroy the world? Cute date night I think: bringing about armageddon with your eldritch monster partner) for Sasha... anyway mostly I mentioned that one because My God if I have to live with that tantalizing AU rotating in the background of my mind 24/7 so do the rest of you.
#also I'm very sorry how much this was About Jon#I really /do/ love sasha it's just that jon lives in my brain literally all the time#I am incapable of making a single solitary tma post that is not like 50% about him#not a Single One#every character and relationship and dynamic must somehow include jon to interest me. I struggle to care about jon-less anythings#it's a Problem#anyway I really really love sasha and want to write her one day but I need to finish my JE stuff first#the thing is the sasha in my brain is in zero other places#I extrapolated some stuff from canon to create a Blorbo but I don't think many other people interpret her the same way#I have some sasha and jonsasha stuff lying around somewhere but the gist is that I think sasha should become a morally questionable eyevata#who feeds the eye by invading people's privacy ''accidentally.'' based on her actions in the s1 finale she's probably a good person usually#but is reckless when protecting those she cares about and ESPECIALLY when curious and I want her to be a lil freaky with it#too tired to string my sasha thoughts together properly but they're mostly about how she should have a fun corruption arc#I want her to end the world in s3. I want her to have extremely difficult and complicated feelings about leaving the institute. about being#an eyevatar also. I think she didn't get enough screentime to say a lot for certain but she has enough interesting and complex things in he#brain that she could offer an interesting perspective if she survived or was the archivist. I also think she and martin should've switched#places. sorry martinlikers but she had more stuff going for her and also her perspective would be unique and interesting instead of yet#another 'the Eye is Bad.' that's actually the jonsasha thing I like the most. reading her statement and there's so many parallels between#her and jon. I think they'd compliment each other in a way literally no other jonship could manage#anyway sorting tags#jonsasha#asks#thank you for the ask btw!! I am. VERY. passionate about this subject. sasha has so much potential and stuff going for her but I get so#bitter because nobody is willing to engage with the stuff I find most interesting about her. probably another reason it took me as long as#it did to get Attached to her. I spent too much time with fanon sasha who's had the potential and complexity and points of interest#stripped away so that she can fix the world for jm to get together which is so much more boring than whatever the hell was wrong with her#(affectionate) (I like my characters a lil weird and fucked up. a lot weird and fucked up even)#ok veryvery tired need to stop rambling and think about sasha some more.#oh wait one more thought actually she's autistic and trans (projecting but also. like. tell me i'm wrong) thank you and goodnight
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having issues with men, the associations the instant distrust, which i dont like i dont want it i want things to be different, just all of it so much just the dynamic i have the relationship all of it the way the world is atleast online and having a younger brother. I wouldn't trade him for the world, I try and talk to him where I can and will continue to do so i adore him but i fear. i believe in him i want joy for him. I fear that his peers will feed him fckn brainrot and it scares me. not even just that he'll fall into that thinking that his fuckn upstanding that his unwillingness to follow ppl will hurt him. crazy shit at schools, like why tf r ppl dying kids young teens killing eaachother with knives? ??I don't want to loose him i don't want to see him loose who he is and the heart that he has i don't and i hope he rises above it all and will continue to. i feel like im stating what he has to be or smth but all i could ask for is his wellbeing, respect, humanity, that he treats himself well know what he deserves and has some sense of self, some gravity. I feel like shit sometimes for this aspect that i'm concerned that i just idk, i dont like the whole 'dont disappoint me' thing he owes nothing to me other than basic human decency and respect, hes a reason why i live but to i just that intrusive thought of there is no different the hell u think of is real about men to someone i hold so fckn dear to in a way show me their fckn fuckery its idk, like another? it'd hurt me, it'd hurt me bad.
i've never understood men or boys, amab, who go on about their connection or like protectiveness of their sisters of their mother but treat other women like shit like their familiars aren't women? you don't want to fuck them so its different? what is it like just whats the difference why does it have to pertain to you for you to care? do you care or do you see them as an extension? is it a personality trait for you? a 'lover boy' thing? a signal to women, women u imagine u want and is going to be 'ur woman' but u cant even like visualize them in a way that doesnt pertain to your sexual interests? a signal so people can say oh he loves his mother so hes good to go and prime? a 'mummys boy' ? are they not real women just because u dont feel that sort of way? talking about women that way with your friends? do i have to bring up the fact those same people could date your sister etc for you to care? those people could make the kids that surround your kids, your daughter. idk.
its like okay u want sex so u respect them less? did no one hear dont bite the hand that feeds you? what the fuck is going on. you cant fuck them so its all good? the demeaning-ness? lack of gravity, venom is just rapid, vapid
#*txt🗣️#real world issues#i instantly think of counter points before i say anything especially online and i hate it because its like im accustomed to ppl being accus#atory. at being contrary. shitting on vulnerability. shitting on emotions. shitting on hhumanity. shitting on the ability to care.#women can be pieces of shit men can queer folk can i can be you can be to me theres an ability just as people and the world of choice that#-e have. im not saying everyones on the brink of doing the worst and makes a choice not to either if ur going through that u need to seek#help or some sort of sincere dialogue well and truly. but the world around me has made me who i am just as much as my reaction. not all etc#is a no brainer. ppl dont have a neon sign on their forehead. its understandable why the caution has been fckn drilled into so many afab so#many women in the hearts of many and thats hurt fear and absolute rage simmering anger for bs. i understand proventitive cautions to ppl#especially those who tend to be the direct target demographic but to drill in fear to woman to afab not even just on a personal level imsur#everyones experience is different on that front and their thoughts but on a society level and then take no action to then be like atleast t#my knowledge or its just not fckn working bitch its crickets. men should be able to feel safe enough to share their fears and worries to be#vulnerable but that isn't coddling bs and pointing the fingers at women at afab. theres weight in the way both sexes have been socialized#its cause and effect i refuse that it can't be helped. i refuse it. i reject it. thats not me discrediting or trying to come at gender(s)#at ppls gender identity etc. i mean everything makes us who we are. its all part of a journey. ones sex doesn't invalidate such a thing.#humans are so complex to say someones just pulling shit out their ass for the giggles is wild. no matter what it rings true for people#its not for us to choose for eachother we don't choose what others want to share we can't decide how someone else feels we can't read them-#back a book they feel like they've never heard or is bs and give them the finger. u can't tell someone they're the authour and they didn't#write the book or they didn't hire you or agree and want u to write it for them? ur not a ghostwriter bitch ur writing perception#i mean the way we're brought up the way society has become accustomed it effects results its a world in of itself made#to no fruitful benefit atleast to me for any party. when desire grips you at the throat when you allow your will you allow your every whim#the desire isnt even desire anymore. now you're creating a loop you're creating a possibility for a life with no balance#if men are so upstanding they aren't like one another they aren't the bad ones why is the refusal to move forward and write past men up#write them wrong feel so heavy or resound so heavily atleast to me. write for better because you're better. know you're better.#excitement as it once was turns into not enough then again and again. and the core issue even thbere i care for other parties responsibilit#relationships are a back and forth dont choose for others what they want dont decide for others. ask them.#u shouldn't have to constantly prove ur different but heres the thing if in ur life those who know you atleast if u have walked the road#u speak of the valiant road you've trecked supposedly there'd be nothing to prove. you've walked it. if a new person comes along you dont#need effort to show you have basic respect for another. and if u dont have that respect dont get mad at those who dont want u in their live#u took yourself out their market. life is a in moment custom experience. buckle up. not me talking about love like a business worker or smt
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