#I personally believe this is the best out of all of these so far

[chainelunaire]

love languages

gojo satoru

recieving: words of affirmation/acts of service. he's completely fine being far away for a long periods of time, him being the strongest takes a lot. however, he greatly appreciates direct attention to his persona, and not necessarily in a sexual way. i'd say, expecially not in a sexual way. he feels loved when you talk your literal worst thoughts to him, when you express everything that goes through your mind. the most non-judgemental person one could ever met, he would never blame someone he loves for some dark thoughts, he's all here for it. he likes when you tell him directly how much you care, and even if it's worded quite rough, he'll still take it. that way he feels like he means something. he'll never feel enough of your thoughts, and of course, he won't ever be satisfied with how much you praise him. however much, he always craves more. he also appreciates every litlle thing his loved ones do for him. it might look like he doesn't notice sometimes, with him acting this nonchalant. but knowing how perceptive he is, he really does notice everything.

giving: physical touch/acts of service. he's very touchy, sometimes it feels like he needs to touch more than he needs breathing. he literally explores the world with his fingerpads. it's his first instinct - to hug, when you feel bad, to kiss to make it better. he's just as innocent as a child when he expresses his love through touch and without thinking. he will kiss the pain away, he will do your hair and hold your hand - honestly, he's the sweetest when he does such things out of heart. he also enjoys helping his love ones out whenever he can - granted, he's often away, but he does what he can. he rarely complains about chores in his home, in some way he even loves to do them. makes him closer to the ones he loves. he's very simple in that sense, he enjoys simple things in life. do not tell him he's the strongest. he knows that already. however, you might hug him and say that you're so grateful he did the dishes today - and he will be so happy, he'll do them more often just to hear you saying it every time.

geto suguru

recieving: quality time. he feels loved when he feels welcomed, when someone wants his company. moreover, he himself is very social, caring person, who does poor job at being alone. he loves people, loves to spend time with his loved ones, it comes natural to him to care about his family and friends - he's not a loner at his core. so even when alone time are needed of course, in his case, he really lights up from inside when someone is seeking for him to specifically spend some time together. he doesn't really care how you will spend this time, you needing him and standing by his side is what matters to him. call him after midnight - and he will always pick up that call and join you wherever you want. he will be by your side at your grandma's party laughing at her stupid jokes, he'll go shopping with you. he'll help you with laundry and taxes. he will never ever turn yhis loved ones down, no matter how boring or stupid you think the whole thing is. just show him that you really want him near you.

giving: words of affirmation. he's so good, it's unfair. he has this natural talent of finding the right words. he's also great with timing, he reads the room perfectly (probably the second best). there's no such thing as 'i didn't mean to say that', he only says what he has carefully thought of. likes to give instructions, it's one of his ways to show that he cares. very verbal and talkative, when in his natural habitat. he's generous with his praise, he believes in letting people now how good they are (if he really thinks so). and even if not, he will always find something to say to you. such a smooth talker, he will now every one of your secrets without you realising. not to mention he's like an ariel the little mermaid with his sweet soothing voice, it's just nice to hear him saying things.

nanami kento

recieving: quality time. goes without any saying, he values quality time above all else. he too feels very loved when someone seeks his presence. unlike geto, he's doing way better by himself and he's really fine being alone, it's just that he prefers not to be alone (even if he states otherwise). sometimes he finds it amusing, because he often is so tired, he has no fun activities to offer, therefore he's wondering why even seek for his company. sometimes he may think of himself as too stern or even boring, he has some insecurities. but he's very happy, when you express that you want to spend some time together, he's subconsciously waiting for it. he's very unassuming and he never like... expects you to want to spend time with him. so when that happens, he's ready to do whatever, just so it lasts longer.

giving: quality time/physical touch. he just kinda wants to be near his loved ones all the time, can you blame him really. he's very chill with quality time, but sometimes he wonders if you get annoyed with him. like you know when you want to spend time with someone and at some point you'd be like okay that's enough i need some alone time - well, never happens with him. he fears to look desperate so much, he's always so quiet. like there's no possibility to get tired of spending time with him, because most of the times it's just existing in the same room, and that's enough. very laid back and casual, his whole presence if very relaxing and calm. physical touch is very sweet and comforting too - like sleeping together on a sofa on a rainy day, holding you by the shoulder when going through the crowd. it's more out of wanting to protect rather than something else.

fushiguro toji

recieving: words of affirmation. i'm actually very sad about him, his relationship with affection is rooted in such tragedy. he needs praise more than he's willing to admit. of course, him being traumatized to the core plays a crucial role in it; he'd never heard that he's doing well, that he's good. anything that is not insult or a joke in some way. i think he could get burned once or twice because of how easily he could be manipulated. he's actually very wary of people being kind to him, but he can't fight himself when it's somebody being parcticularly kind to him and being verbal with this kindness. it's his vulnerable spot, and he can't do anything about it, falling for it every time. for instance, his first wife was very good with her words, bringing him comfort and safe place withing her company. he very much needs the praise and insctructions how to do... basically anything in his life. not because he's helpless, not at all. but because that's what love is to him, to care enought to let him know what to do, and when he does it, telling him he was good. it's insane to witness what it does to him, how visibly happier he looks.

giving: acts of service/quality time. he does everything he can, that's it. what he doesn't know how to do, he'll learn. he's great with predicting what you need, the absolute best at reading the room quickly. for instance, he rarely needs to know your face expression to know that you're mad (not necessarily at him), he knows it by the way your feet stomp on the floor (yet another oh so useful skill from a loving former household). he prefers to prevent the explosion than to deal with it. he has a mental list what he can do to make you feel better. it's almost like he proves himself every time (and it's a rather sad view, especially at first). with time he relaxes. when he's not in his proving mode anymore, he still helps whenever he can, but in a more chill way. that's when his wish to just spend more time together comes. usually it's just coexisting, but sometimes he'll think of few ways to make time more fun and exciting. he's willing to spend some money on a fancy place from time to time. and he can be surprisingly creative.

ryomen sukuna

recieving: quality time. never the one to miss the opportunity to learn something new, he's actually a great companion for a good talk or sparring (not recommended, in this case you might end up dead). while he's good being all alone, he genuinely enjoys a good company. he won't seek for one himself, but he's willing to accept the offer. surprisingly, he has a lot to give, you just need to find the right words. he's extremely intelligent (probably the most out of all), and he expects from his companions the same level of intelligence, otherwise why bother? he knows a lot about art and culture, he pays his respects to literature and especially poetry. you can always learn something new from him, and he likes when someone listens to him, like actually listens and takes everything he says to heart. when in a mood, he's up for a debate: if you can handle it, he'll be amused and even glad. as long as you are interesting to him, you're fine. he doesn't like boring stuff, that's what you need to think about. the thing is, he's not the one to waste his time on someone he doesn't treasure in one way or another, so when he does accept an offer to spend time together, it already shows his rather warm feelings towards you.

giving: gift giving/words of affirmation. because of his appreciation for culture, everything he gifts is carefully thought of and has it's meaning. if he chooses to gift something, let it be the best. he won't give such treasures to anyone, he saves it for the ones he respects (basically the equivalent of care in his mind). be it some book, weapon, clothes or some art piece, it truly means something to him. and because of his erudition, he expects you to understand everything he wanted to say with this gift. it really is some sort of language to him, you can say so much without saying anything. he likes to hear your opinion on them, he expects you to discuss them with him later. another thing, while he doesn't like to express himself verbally that much, he's actually good at doing it. he's generous with praise, it's more of a deserved-not deserved case to him. becuse he's so skillfull and knowleadgeable, he's not insecure in a sense that he'll withhold praise bc he doesn't want to come off as soft. he really doesn't care. in some weird way, he almost wants you to be better than him in whatever field you discuss. so when he feels like you deserve the praise, he will give it to you. and his praise hits just right, even when he doesn't say much.

itadori yuji

recieving: physical touch/gift giving. oh, how much he loves those hugs, i can't even tell you. he loves to initiate them, but the greatest joy of his is when someone he loves does this first. he feels so loved when someone ruffles his hair, fixes his uniform for him, covers him, when he's taking naps. he literally feels warm from the inside. maybe because it reminds him of his granddad and the fact that he's still not alone. he's still so young, going through so much, and he finds that he feels secure when someone holds him really tight. it's like a heavy blanket to him, like nothing bad could happen in that moment. also, he cherishes everything that has ever given to him. no matter how trashy it is, even if it's just a candy wrapper, he'll cherish it, if it's from someone he loves. he enjoys recieving those little sometimes meaningless things. they matter a lot to him. they bring his loved ones closer, like there's some physical evidence this was real.

giving: words of affirmation. while he's great at almost everything, his greatest power is finding the right words for every person he loves. he says everything kindly, easily, in a very lighthearted manner. never ever you will hear him being rude even by mistake. he's borderline unable to hurt anybody with his words, he's just that good. he's not the one to give a long profound speech, he's very simple yet very impactful. his words would have a longlasting effect even without him realising it. never prepares anything he wants to say in his head (as yuta or geto), a force of nature. he doesn't really say much, when he's not blabbering about something silly. in a serious setting he gets noticeably more quiet. not only that, but he really knows when not to say anything. his silence is very telling. he knows how to make that silence soothing and comforting, or deeply uncomfortable, depends on a situation.

fushiguro megumi

recieving: quality time/words of affirmation. he's very simple, he likes to spend time with his loved ones, and he loves hearing them speak (especially about him). he desperately tries to hide that fact though. he wants to be cool and unaffected, but in reality he's very sensible and reactive. he doesn't understand that that's what everyone love about him. so when he gets praised, it's such a fun scene, like you can see he clearly enjoys it, but still tries to act cool about it. he also likes to just hang around people he loves, he never turns down an offer to spend time together (even when he acts like he'd rather be home than here). however, he really likes some meaningful quality time, so if not you, he'll think of some ways himself. he doesn't like doing 'stupid things', it takes a lot to convince him to participate. it's good for him though, it relaxes him a lot more than he's willing to admit.

giving: quality time/acts of service. i'll be honest, he's not very creative with his ways to spend time. he's almost too serious (he has his reasons, obv), so what he suggests is usually 'let's do homework together', something like that. do not turn down that offer - he'll make it really worth it. not only is he a very comforting to be around, usually being the calmest person in a room, he'll also make it a very... nice experience. he'll prepare you the best tea he has, he'll bake you cookies to snack on while studying, he'll bring out the blankets. he'll ask you if you feel comfortable every five minutes, apparently. he'll tell some stories he never told anyone, he'll ask gojo-sensei to light the fireplace, if you feel cold. you may notice that at home even gojo also gets quieter around him - almost everything is much slower and softer. he very much enjoys these peaceful moments. and he likes to share them only with the ones he truly cherishes.

okkotsu yuta

recieving: words of affirmation/physical touch. he needs a lot of reassurance in his life, he really does. and he's not one for subtle gestures, he needs to really feel it - he needs to feel like somebody holds him safe and sound, he needs to hear that somebody understands him the way he is. he has a lot of dark, dark thoughts, and when someone is able to reassure him that these thoughts are normal, that he's still worthy, that even the best of people have something dark in them - that's when he feels appreciated and loved. he lives on praise, and, like gojo, is very openminded. he actually likes to hear everything you have to say to him, even if it's not necessarily good.

giving: words of affirmation/physical touch. has a silver tongue, never slips up. everything in his head is played so well, the words he says are always on point. bc he's so openminded, he can see everything from different points of view, so he comes of as a very understanding. nothing you say can throw him off, he'll listen to everything and he'll say his word. he knows the power he holds, actually, but he rarely uses it, because usually he's just shy. it's more of a last option to him. he saves it for the rare people he treasures the most - like his friends, sensei, etc. - around who he already feels free and appreciated. he much prefers to show his affection in more physical ways. he doesn't necessarily like to hold hands, it takes a lot to him to trust like that, but he can rub someone's back or offer a massage - and he's great at it. he also kinda subconciously usually stands or sits really close, so the shoulders are touching. he also likes to rest his head on your lap, when he's now really close to you. however, he really tries not to make other person uncomfortable, but, to be fair, almost all of his touches are featherlight and completely innocent. it's just a comfortable way to him to express himself.

#love languages in general and platonic way!! #so nonproofread it's not even funny #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk general #nanami kento #nanami x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk nanami #jjk toji #jjk sukuna #jjk itadori #jjk megumi

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne can we get a part 2 for reporter!reader?? Picking up where it first left off their first night in the same home - and there's only 1 bed! - and reader shares the bed with him with the promise of not looking at his unmasked face in the middle of the night? And like them realizing over the next few days that they have very similar habits like tendencies to work throughout the night once they've got a lead and not having a set sleep schedule/unconventional sleeping hours.

OKAY HERE WE GO! be fed my lovelies <3 didn't exactly do one bed but hopefully you like it anyway ;) pt 2 of this

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. nightmares, hurt/comfort, jason sexy mf todd being a domestic dreamboat. 2.4k. pls enjoy

****

The Red Hood's apartment is... not at all what you expected.

It looks lived in. It, as awful a thought as it is, looks like an actual person lives here.

And it's not that you didn't know that Hood has a life outside of shooting and scaring, but the giant ficus and the overstuffed bookshelf seem paradoxical to everything you know about Hood.

You're realizing that you don't know him at all.

"So, uh." Hood awkwardly gestures to the apartment. "This is it. Welcome."

"It's nice," you say, stepping over the threshold. "Really nice. I'm a little jealous, Red."

"What can I say? Being public enemy number one is surprisingly lucrative."

You wander to the kitchen. There's a picture of him and a red-headed masked man who looks vaguely familiar. The man is smiling, his arm around Hood. There's a city skyline behind them you don't recognize.

"Where's that?" you ask. You don't expect him to answer.

"Morocco."

"I didn't know you had friends," you say, studying the Welcome to Vegas! magnet that's holding up the picture.

"Ouch."

"No, I—" You turn, shaking your head. "Sorry, no. I meant, like, people you do fun things with."

"Mm, yeah, I know what a friend is."

"Red, you know what I mean. I didn't know you took selfies and kept plants and read."

"Thought I was friendless and illiterate, huh?" He leans against the kitchen table, fist tucked under his helmet. "Y'wouldn't be the first."

"Hood—"

He snorts, shoulders shaking. You stop.

"That's not funny," you say, rolling your eyes. "Jerk."

"It's a little funny. You're always so sharp with your words, smartypants. No, while I'm very literate, friends are admittedly far and few. Arsenal's my closest friend."

"Is he also a crime lord?"

"Nah. Way better guy than me."

You look back at the picture and wonder how often Hood gets to experience joy. And when was the last time he had a vacation?

You feel a gentle tug at the back of your jacket.

"C'mon. You can snoop more later, promise. Lemme show you your room."

Hood takes your suitcase before you can protest. You follow him down the hall. There's one door to the bathroom—the other is to a single bedroom.

The bedroom is nice, bigger than yours at home. It's sort of what you expected (i.e., the mounted katanas on the wall) but also not (a giant framed poster of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film).

Holy hell. You're in the Red Hood's bedroom.

"Hood, I can't sleep here," you say, watching as he puts your suitcase in the corner.

The bed has been made, sheets tucked in without a single wrinkle. They're in various shades of red. You're sure Hood thinks he's hilarious.

"Why? If the swords are putting you off, I can move 'em."

"No, it's—I can't take your room, Hood. There's no way I'm doing that."

He shakes his head. "No, trust me, it's for the best. That couch is only comfortable to sleep on after a dose of painkillers."

"Dude, I am not making you sleep on the couch in your own house."

"Well, dude, I'm the host, and I'm the big and scary Red Hood, so what I say goes."

"Like either one of us actually believes that," you say, brushing past him to grab your suitcase. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. It's–it's very sweet of you to offer. But you physically exert yourself every day. You need a comfortable bed more than I do. Besides, it's not like I'll be here for long."

Hood steps in front of you, casually blocking your exit.

"Well, try this on for size: my room is more secure than my living room," he says. "If someone were to break in, they'd have to get through me out there first."

That... is, unfortunately, a good point. You're still extremely paranoid after the assassination attempt two nights ago.

"You're so manipulative, y'know that?" you grumble, leaving your suitcase where it is.

"I know. I come from a real fucked up family." He doesn't sound too put out by it.

"But if you get injured on patrol, I'm sleeping on the couch."

He pats your shoulder. "'S cute you think you can bargain in my house, smarty."

****

Dinner goes well. Hood makes beef bolognese and it's delicious. You take an extra long time in the bathroom before bed so Hood has enough time to eat, considering his refusal to remove his helmet. You'd offered to blindfold yourself—he'd just laughed.

"Sure you don't want your room? It is, after all, yours," you say when you come out, fresh from your shower.

Hood glances at you briefly from where he's washing dishes. He's out of his jacket and suit, now only in jeans and a white t-shirt. Your face feels hot for some reason.

"I'm sure. Cute robe."

"Oh." You look down at the Wonder Woman robe your friend gave you. "Thanks. Got it for my birthday."

"I'll have to get myself one too," Hood says, drying a glass with a polka dot tea towel. "Big Wonder Woman fan."

"Yeah? We solve this case, and I'll get you all the robes you want, Red."

"Tempting."

You chew your lip as you watch him clean up. "Want any help?"

"Go to sleep, star reporter." He sounds amused.

"You try to be a polite guest only to get shot down..." you mumble, heading to your room.

On your way there, you get distracted by a pile of documents on the coffee table. You stop, picking up the corner to read one. They're about the case, about all the labs that might be involved in the experiments.

Well... you can read just one. It seems like Hood's compiled a lot of information on his own.

You stand for a bit until your legs grow tired. Then you sit on the couch, making notes of what you do and don't know on a nearby writing pad.

"Did you get lost on your way to the bedroom?"

Hood's watching you, leaning against the wall. It's weird to see his bare arms. His very sculpted, muscled arms. You think you peek a tattoo on his bicep.

"My attention was caught," you say, unrepentant. "Anyway, there's a lot of stuff I haven't seen. You've been holding out on me, Red."

"'S just theories, mostly. Didn't feel it was relevant to mention without hard proof."

"Ever hear of a work-life balance?" you ask.

Hood walks over and joins you on the couch, making the cushion dip. You bump shoulders briefly, before you move.

"Look who's talking, Pulitzer prize," he says.

"That's a very reasonable goal, and I'm not obsessed with it. You're just a workaholic. I have activities outside of wo—oh my God, work!"

You shoot up from the couch, panicked. "Fuck. Fuck! I haven't shown up in two days! I'm—"

"Hey, easy," Hood says, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. "I called you out. Said you had the flu. No biggie."

"How did you call me out?"

He shrugs. "Pretended to be your boyfriend. Girl on the line was kinda rude about it. Didn't believe me at first."

"Red, I believe we've talked about these invasions of privacy."

"I'm just fulfilling my host duties. Is it true you haven't taken a day off in two years?"

You sigh. "Yes, okay? Fine. I'm a workaholic, too. That's why Jane, the secretary you spoke to, was so sassy about my having a boyfriend. It's pretty unbelievable."

"That's ridiculous. You could totally get a boyfriend. Some guys don't mind that."

"Like you?"

Hood tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Sure. Like me."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly most men."

"And thank God for that."

You look at each other for another moment. Hood's tattoo is in clear view now: it's a bird surrounded by flowers. You can't tell the species of either one.

"Cool tattoo," you say, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Hood turns his arm so the ink is hidden. "Thanks."

"Right." You start to walk backwards. "I think... I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure," he says. "If y'need anything, holler."

"'Kay. Thank you for dinner. You're a great cook."

"You flatterer."

You smile. "Gotta stay in the Red Hood's good graces."

You start to walk away.

"Do you—waffles?"

You stop and turn. "Sorry?"

"I, uh... do you like waffles? For breakfast," he says. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Nervous habit.

"I love waffles for breakfast."

Hood nods. "Great. Good. Then I'll... we'll have those."

"Please don't wake up early just to make breakfast, Red."

"You're my guest. I'll do whatever I want."

You don't recall the prospect of waffles ever making your heart hammer in your chest. Weird.

"Well, goodnight," you say.

"G'night, smarty."

****

You turn the case details in your mind over and over. It's better than thinking about beef bolognese and peeks of skin you shouldn't see and how Hood's sheets smell like lavender.

But you fall asleep thinking about robins. You don't know why. You can't recall ever seeing a robin in Gotham.

You're on a rooftop. It's the roof you met Hood on, all those months ago. There's a robin nesting with its babies on the crumbling bricks.

The sky is a sick shade of green. You see horrible faces in the shadows on the roof.

That face from the night of the attack returns. He's hideous. You remember the stench of his breath, the way his eyes bulged. He grins at you across the roof.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance," he says, voice distorted.

You look around. The robin is gone. Blood drips from your stomach.

You turn and your attacker is there, inches away. He plunges the knife into you again and again. You can't move. This is it. You will die.

You wake up to wet cheeks. You're hot, and you're screaming. You've died.

A cool, rough hand grabs your arm and you fight because you can't die, you won't die. Not today.

"Hey. Hey, hey! It's me, 's J—Hood. It's Hood."

The room is almost entirely dark, save for a sliver of light from the cracked curtains. You can't make out his face. His voice is different. Clearer. He's without his helmet.

You reach out and feel soft hair. The curve of a neck. A bicep. A warm, bare chest.

"Sure, honey. Cop a feel if that makes you feel better," he murmurs.

Your face screws up and you start to cry.

"Shit," Hood whispers. "Shit, shit. Can't get the comforting thing right, can I?"

The bed dips with his weight. Arms wrap around you. You launch yourself into those arms, that solid chest.

"He g-got me in the dream," you choke out. "He killed us, Red. I'm so scared."

"Nobody's getting me or you. I promise."

Hood's jaw is smooth. His hands are big on your back, rubbing circles. His bare knee bumps yours.

You clutch him tighter. He hums.

"'S okay," he says. "It's alright. I got ya. He can't hurt you. I'd tear apart anyone who tries."

He lets you cry for several minutes, petting you all the while. Hood's body is warm, almost unnaturally so, but his hands are cool. He engulfs you completely.

You wonder what color his hair is. His eyes. What shape his nose is. His... lips.

"God, I'm a terrible guest," you mumble after you've caught your breath. "Fuck. I'm so sorry to wake you."

He hums, the sound going through your chest. "Don't worry. I don't sleep much. And you're not the worst guest I've had. My brother stayed with me for a few days last month. That was hell."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually. And a sister."

"Wow. Do they know you're...?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. They're over it now."

"Cool family."

Hood grunts. "They're... something."

You smile and close your eyes. "You're not who I thought you were, Red."

"Yes, I know. Friendless and illiterate."

You pinch his side. He clucks his tongue in response.

"Cheeky," he says, the gravel in his voice shooting down your spine like lightning.

You pull back, suddenly aware of how long you've been touching him. Hood lets you have your space, scooting to the edge of the bed.

"You know what I mean," you say, glad it's dark and Hood can't see your wide eyes. "Not like that."

"I know. You thought I was a monster, ugly and alone, sleeping in a cave."

Blindly, you reach for his face, feel the shape of his jaw, his chin.

"Doesn't feel like an ugly face to me," you say quietly.

He exhales like you punched the air out of him.

"Trust me," he says. "The dark hides a lot."

You frown and pull away. "I didn't think any of those things, Red. I thought... I thought you were one-track minded. Now I realize that you're probably better adjusted than I am."

"Oh no, I got issues. Believe me. Definitely more than you. Not that it's a competition. 'Cept if it was, I'd win."

You smile. "Title is all yours, big guy. Gotta be a little crazy to do what we do."

"Sure. But you're the bravest soul I know. 'Cause you weren't forced into this. You hunted down the story yourself."

"Brave or stupid?" you ask.

"Brave. But it's a fine line."

Nope. It's definitely more stupid than not, clinging to the Red Hood in his own bed in the name of a case.

What are you doing?

"Ah, anyway." The bed shifts as Hood stands. You can just barely make out the shape of him. "You probably won't be going back to sleep any time soon, huh?"

You sigh. "No, probably not. Please feel free to take back your bed."

"Nice try. You, uh... like hot chocolate?"

"Oh. Yes, I do. But you don't have to do that."

"I've been awake," he says. "No trouble. C'mon."

Hood walks to the door and opens it. Light spills out and for a moment, you have a clear view of his back.

His hair is dark and wavy. His back is covered in silver scars and fresh bruises, broad and muscled. You can see the tendons shift as he walks out.

The Red Hood is a man. Made of flesh and blood. Carved, more like.

Your belly flutters. Fuck.

This is no longer just you working a case. And you're about as far from an informant as anyone can be.

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood fanfiction #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #jason todd x yn #red Hood x yn #gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

[jarofstyles]

Sugar, Sugar 13

Hey… sorry it’s been so long angels 😭 here you go!! I hope you missed them as much as I did.

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WC- 3.1k

warnings- mentions of disordered eating and bad relationship with food, body issues, fad diet mention, bad relationship with a parent, body shaming, etc

--------

“So, spill. How was it?” Delilah asked as she eyed Y/N. 

“How was what?” Playing coy behind the counter, she did the initial cash wrap check as she avoided her best friend’s eyes. She knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“Getting railed half to death.” She deadpanned, making Y/N choke on her laughter. “Don’t play games with me, girl. I can see your literal glow.” She paused, her eyes moving south. “And your man has a nasty habit of biting you.” He did. Y/N knew exactly where the hickey was on her collarbone, but her wrap she had on over her lacy tank top usually hid it. She was just careless this morning and didn’t think about it being on display. 

“He is quite bad with that, isn’t he?” She snorted, turning to her friend with giddy light in her eyes. “Great. Better than I expected. Made me really comfortable and I spent the whole night and day.. Y’know.” Her face felt hot as she placed the cash into the register before starting up the POS and making sure everything would be right for when the day ended. “I was worried for nothing. The man is kinda unreal, if I’m being honest. I was taken care of in every way. I shouldn’t be surprised considering he’s been really good to me so far.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, the drawer was closed and she took note of her green tea, picking it up for a sip now that it wouldn’t burn her tongue. 

“It’s what you deserve.” Her friend smiled softly. “You deserve a great love like you read about in your books. Besides, I know you’re going to get it. It’s written in the stars.” She was joking, but also… not really. Delilah knew things without knowing how she knew them, and it was almost always true. “Where is he today? Are we expecting a drop in from him?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Y/N hummed. He hadn’t replied after his initial good morning message but she wasn’t too worried about it. “He said something about stopping by the bakery. He had today off to go run errands so he’ll be dropping things off but I know I’m seeing him tomorrow. We’re going to that new pizza place.” She was excited about that. There was a flatbread she was looking forward to trying, and Harry had suggested getting two different things and splitting it. It was nice to feel comfortable eating with someone. That was one of the anxiety triggers she had to unlearn as she got older. 

“I think we’re going to get a drop in.” Taking one of the baskets they used for restocks, she went towards the tumble table and began to deposit the little baggies of colorful stones and minerals into the correct cubbies. “Have you brought up that Claire woman yet?”

Y/N hadn’t, very well for a reason. She didn’t like the feeling it gave her stomach. Somehow, she was well aware she and Harry had been involved. Somehow, someway. It didn’t seem strong, as she obviously couldn’t be that close to him anymore if she’s unable to contact him but… It still wasn’t a good feeling. The woman wasn’t nice, her energy was rancid and muddy, and she obviously looked down on them for believing in their own thing. That was the exact person she tried to avoid. Y/N knew it was perhaps rude to judge solely off of one interaction, but something told her Harry wouldn’t be happy to hear about her coming in. 

“Not yet.” She said sheepishly, spooning a bit of yogurt into her mouth. “I know, you don’t have to give me the eyebrow. I’m just… You know how it is. When you know it’s going to cause an issue.” Y/N didn’t think it would be with her but the idea of upsetting Harry at all wasn’t something she enjoyed. Being so new in the relationship, she wanted that honeymoon stage. It had been so lovely this far, she selfishly wanted to avoid the past and the real world from inserting themselves in her rose colored daydream with her dreamy new boyfriend. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how life worked. 

“Putting it off isn’t doing either of you any favors, Cher.” She gave her another look, hanging up a necklace back on the display. “I trust you to handle it on your own time, but do it soon. I have a feeling she isn’t done sniffing around yet.”

—--

“Hey.” A wide smile greeted her as she heard the chime of the bells on the door, seeing the man that had been on her mind. High waisted black pants with a flare at the bottom and a yellow tee shirt, he walked in with his boots clicking on the hardwood floor. Lifting his sunglasses off his face into his fluffy hair, he extended his arms to motion for her to walk into them. She did so without a question. How could she not? 

Falling into his warm scent, she nuzzled her face into his neck and allowed herself to be engulfed in him. Something about them felt closer now. More intimate. Maybe she was making it up but a layer had been shed and he felt even more close to her soul. Lips pecked a few times into her hair, swaying her back and forth as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, a relieved sigh leaving the man. “Y’alright, Sugar?”

“Mhm.” She nodded against him. “Tired. Spilled my coffee a quarter through but it’s been a bit busy today so we haven’t had the chance to get away. You win some, you lose some.” She’d rather be a little tired and making money, giving readings, all of that. 

“Should have texted me.” His tongue clicked, finally getting a good look at her as she pulled out of his neck. Didn’t she realize he’d do almost anything for her? “Would have brought you some over, sweets. What good is having a boyfriend if you’re not gonna use me?” He was joking, but not really. He knew that he’d bend over backwards for the girl in his arms. 

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about it. I knew you were busy today running errands and we had a lot of walk in readings, I’ve been a little busy.” Her fingers ran through his hair again, liking how it felt between them. He always melted like a pup getting pets when she did it too, so it was a win win. “Did you get everything done that you needed?”

“I did.” He moved on swiftly. “Are you sayin’ you didn’t eat?” His brow raised, making her wince. Sometimes she forgot, but it wasn’t on purpose. It was genuine distraction. “Baby…” 

“I had a yogurt and granola bar. I was planning on making some food when I got home, but I was busy. Promise.” She tried her luck at a pout which luckily seemed to break down the glare. 

“Too bad.” He sighed. “M’gonna run and get you both food. I don’t like this, Sugar.” Large hands cupped her face, making her feel more delicate than she ever had been. Sometimes it felt hard to lean into that femininity of delicacy when she’d been treated as the opposite most of her life, but Harry had her falling into it so easily. “I know you’re a big girl and you can handle yourself, but it’s okay to ask me for help. I want to help you, I want to be a good boyfriend and grab your things when you’re busy. I know you’d do the same for me.” She already had. The girl had given him a whole welcome basket when he opened his own business, for fucks sake. 

“I know. It’s…” Feeling slightly guilty now, she rested her hands on his wrists. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been independent for years now and I don’t like to rely on people.” It was always thrown back in her face. “I’ll try harder, H. Promise.” Turning her head, she caught his palm with her lips and pressed kisses to it. That move melted him completely, leaning down to kiss her lips a few times before peeling himself away. 

“Good girl. I’ll be back in a bit. Be good for me.”

Y/N hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave. Still buzzing from the affection, she jumped as Delilah came out of the back room fanning herself. 

“That man is completely gone for you. Lord…” She shook her head. “What a guy. I’m glad he wants to take care of you, Cher. You deserve it.” Her hand squeezed her shoulder as she slipped past her. 

“It has nothing to do with the fact he’s getting you lunch too?” She snickered, watching her friend shrug. 

“That definitely helps.”

—--

Y/N’s good mood was squashed just 10 minutes later when a familiar face walked through the shop doors, nose wrinkling at the scent of the incense. 

God, why now? 

“Y/N, I’ve told you that these smoky scents are going to drive away customers.”

Yeah, that was the point. Drive away customers with impure intentions. 

“Hi, Mother.” Y/N sighed, feeling her shoulders tighten as she watched the woman come closer into the shop. Her tumultuous relationship with her mother had a lot to do with the fact that Y/N reminded her of her own. They’d been extremely close, sharing their love of the spiritual world, of magic, all the things while her mom had rejected it. Y/N had been easier to bond with for her grandmother and she knew she held resentment over it for years. 

She wasn’t an awful person, was the thing. She liked to support her at school, took her shopping for makeup, taught her how to do her hair and tie her shoes. She held her when she was sick, stuck up for her when she got bullied- but she didn’t realize she herself was her daughter’s first and biggest bully. 

“Hello. It’s been weeks since you’ve visited me or your father.” She sent her a look. “Are you well? Do you need money? I know the shop is a bit of a hard venture to keep up…” 

There it was. Her mother had always hated this shop. Hated what it stood for, what it represented. Y/N never faulted or judged someone for not believing or being connected in the things she was. It was a calling, she truly believed, whether natural or brought on by a life event. But her mother thought it to be a bit of a waste of time. Always expecting her downfall, though she didn’t think she was cruel enough to hope for it. 

“No, we’re actually doing incredibly well.” It was the truth. They were making bigger profits than the years before and she was more than glad about that. They’d paid off the loan they took out and now they were working towards a possible expansion. But her mom didn’t want to hear about that. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’ve been a bit busy.” 

Her mom gave her a scrutinizing eye, unsure if she believed her. Y/N wasn’t usually a busy person, despite the shop. She liked a slower lifestyle and she knew that, which is why she understood the look on her face. “Have you gone back to the gym like I asked? I haven’t seen you there. I can go with you, you know. I think you’d love my trainer. He’s very dedicated.”

There it was again. Y/N felt her stomach drop, though she should have expected it. Her mother was obsessed with her weight. She’d been the one to try and get her on diets at an early age, effectively ruining her relationship with food. While she knew her mother was someone who cared about her, sometimes she cared about the wrong things a bit too much. Once Y/N had made peace with the fact that she’d always be a bigger girl, her mother had pushed back at it causing more of a rift. She wasn’t going along with her plans and fad diets anymore, and it felt like a personal insult. 

“No, no. I’ve been busy with something else, actually.” With Harry. The pretty, driven, thoughtful man that had her tummy in knots and her head in the clouds. 

“Well, what? I’ve sent you dozens of recipes. I doubt you’ve tried them though. It looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight in the last few weeks. I thought you were making progress.” Her frown made Y/N’s stomach hurt. She’d resigned herself into knowing she would probably never get her mother’s approval on her body, but the reminders didn’t do much to make her feel good. Accepting it didn’t mean liking it. 

“I may have. I’ve been fine, though.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll come by for dinner next week, I promise. I just-”

The door chimed again, interrupting them both. Her stomach dropped as she saw Harry’s smiling face, something that usually would make her erupt into butterflies- but this wasn’t the introduction she wanted to make. Not quite yet. 

“I’m back, sorry. There was a line.” He murmured, going behind the desk and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her body flushed as she looked towards her mother, her eyes wide as Harry adjusted her hair for her before setting the food bag and coffee tray on the counter. “Sorry, I’ll step out of the way if you’re helping someone.”

“Who’s this?” Her mother’s interest was immediately evident. 

“I’m Harry, Y/N’s boyfriend. Nice t’meet you. What’s your name?” He asked, placing a hand on his girlfriend’s back. 

“H, this is my mother.” Y/N swallowed, looking between the two of them. She could see his eyes widen, reaching a hand out for her to shake. He was always so polite, so charming, but she couldn’t help but see the look on her mom’s face. 

“You’re her boyfriend?” She asked, brows raised. Her voice sounded in disbelief, looking between the two of them as if something didn’t add up. “I didn’t know she even had a boyfriend.” 

Thankfully she’d let him know she hadn’t exactly told her yet so he didn’t seem shocked about that, but the meeting was a little unorthodox. 

His brows did furrow at her tone and she could tell he didn’t like it. But for her sake he kept a smile on his face, shaking the woman’s hand lightly. “Yes, I am. M’quite gone for her. You raised an incredible woman, Ma’am.” He spoke earnestly. 

“Excuse my shock, I just didn’t realize….” She trailed off, still seeming confused. “Y/N does like her secrets, it seems. You’re very handsome. What do you do?” It was likeher mother to be nosy, sniffing out why exactly the man was around her daughter. Y/N could see that she was suspicious and it hurt her because she knew exactly why she was. 

She was making sure he wasn’t using her for another reason. For money or something else, because it was hard for her to believe a man as attractive as him would be with her for pure attraction and chemistry. 

“I actually own the bakery across the street.” He said easily. “Thank you for the compliment. She’s an incredible woman, so welcoming and kind. Beautiful to boot.” He meant every word, tapping the tip of her nose. “I don’t want to interrupt, though… I brought the girls lunch.” 

“Oh, it’s not trouble. I was coming because my daughter forgets she has a phone.” She shot her a look. “Why don’t you come to dinner next week with her? You’re more than welcome. Her father would be more than happy to meet you.” 

“If it’s alright with Y/N, I will.” He nodded, showing his loyalty immediately. Harry wouldn’t do anything that made his girl uncomfortable and he was dedicated to the cause. He was already unsure about the woman, but the next words solidified it for him. 

“Alright, whatever you decide. Just make sure she doesn’t have too many sweets from your bakery, hm? It’s starting to show again.” She was joking as if it was funny, patting her daughter’s hand before stepping back. “I hope to see you next week, Harry. Call me, Y/N, we have much to discuss.” 

Her mother was swift, walking out the door as quickly as she had come in. As soon as she was gone, the energy calmed and her shoulders fell, groaning low in her throat as she moved to hide her face in Harry’s chest again. He knew better than to talk, instead stroking over her hair as he let her recover from that interaction. 

Internally though, his view on her mother was soured. How dare she make a comment to not only her daughter about that, but to him? A man she was dating and obviously really liked her? Did she not realize how awful it was to comment on something like that? Y/N had told him that her relationship with her mother had been a weird one but he hadn’t expected her to say something cruel like that. It didn’t even seem to register that she was being mean, she genuinely seemed to think it was funny. 

“I’m sorry about that.” She sighed, pulling back from his chest. “She’s… she’s a lot. I promise she isn’t all bad, but she’s got quirks.” Her face pulled in a slight grimace, making him smile sadly at her as he caressed her warm cheek. 

“That wasn’t nice to say, but I have a feeling it isn’t something you want t’unpack in the middle of a work day.” It wasn’t something he felt could be properly discussed out here anyways. “We can talk about it tomorrow, if you want…but I just have to say this one thing.” His head dipped to get closer to hers. “I don’t mind if you gain or lose weight. I don’t care about that at all so long as you’re healthy and comfortable. I’ll never restrict you from eating, never make you feel as though you’re too much. I know you struggle with it, but I’m never going to contribute to that. I’m here to support you.” 

His words were genuine, eyes shining as he told her his truth. She could feel it radiating off of him and it made her want to tear up, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply to that before he smacked a kiss to her nose and pulled back to open the paper bag that had been stapled shut. “But now I want you to tell me if I did a good job choosing your meal, please. I did the caramel coffee with oat milk, iced. I remembered that bit.” 

Y/N wasn’t sure where the hell Harry had come from, but she was thankful for whoever had sent him. It seemed like she needed him now more than ever.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #sugar sugar #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles plus size #plus size fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry smut #Harry fluff #harry angst

[acourtofthought]

I find Lucien's story to be set up in such a tragically beautiful way.

Cassian, Rhys, Az. They are over centuries old and while they hadn't yet found their mates in all that time, while they weren't entirely sure they existed, I imagine they still had hope. They wondered if it would ever happen to them, if they'd find her and though they at times were probably left feeling as if they never would, there was a small part of them that believed it was still possible (something Cassian confirms when he says deep down he was holding out for a bond and Az who according to Rhys still wondered why a bond between he and Mor hadn't yet snapped).

But Lucien spent centuries thinking his chance at that kind of love was taken from him. He believed he had her and lost her to death and that was it, there would be no possible love for him that would be greater than marriage, a gift from the Mother. No way to love someone so much that even if one didn't snap immediately, he thought it was a real possibility that it someday would because he already knew he'd had that one chance and it slipped through his fingers.

Lucien has spent centuries without even that kernel of hope that the others had.

Then one day his mating bond did snap and with it a torrent of emotions. Guilt and a sense of betrayal to the memory of Jesminda but maybe, the first hope he's had in centuries of the ability to actually love again. To feel he might be allowed to open his heart to another because he knows mating bonds are a gift.

Only to be left hopeless once more upon the realization that Elain was in love with someone else, that she wanted to marry someone else. So he sets off on what is essentially a suicide mission because what else is there for him but to sacrifice himself for the greater good, to show that he believes in Elain's vision and will do what he can to help them win this war. Not because there's anything left for him to personally fight for, he has no home, he's once again left without love, his closest friendships are in a tenuous state.

Then that spark of hope is reignited at the end of ACOWAR when Elain chooses to walk with Feyre and him rather than staying behind. When she peers up at him and invites him to come to Velaris.

Only to .......... well, we know the rest.

I believe that SJM has written Lucien's arc this way because only the best things are in his future but his story so far is so unbearably tragic to me. This is a male who continues trying to move forward despite having lost all hope. Who, the moment he sees a flicker in the darkness has it suddenly taken away yet he keeps going. He helps those around him regardless of feeling it is of any benefit to him. He helps those in Spring despite them not truly being his people. He helps the NC despite them not truly being his people. He helps those in the human lands despite them not truly being his people.

To me, THIS is why Lucien is the King of Men of the ACOTAR series. Everything he does is to the benefit of others despite getting very little in return. He gives and takes nothing, expects nothing.

When an author writes them like that?? Yeah, Lucien is not going to be getting some second-rate love story. He's going to be part of Feyre's family as her brother-in-law (SJM isn't on record talking about the crazy chemistry of their friendship for nothing), he's going to be High Lord. And he's going to get the girl.

#pro elucien #elucien #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #lucien supremacy #high king lucien #lucien acotar

[rxmye]

I literally know nothing about church so this may come out inaccurate 🫠🫠🫠

please accept my offering

[sub! priest x obsessed! gn! reader drabble]

You’ve never really been one for religion, per say. Sure, you drove by a local church practically every morning on your way to work, and sure, most of your neighbors attended said church, but that was about it. You were too busy with your job. Almost as if you were drowning yourself in it. At this point, your dreams were lined with stacks of paperwork.

Your family and friends often told you that you shut yourself in too much. Most of your other relatives had gotten partners, settled down, had families. You were always the odd one out during family gatherings. The only one amongst family your age with nothing to your name but your work.

That took a drastic turn, however.

You’d heard fleeting talk from your neighbors about a new priest arising within the church. The only thing you could say confidently about him was that his name was Abel. Your neighbors, an elderly couple, politely brought up the topic of church after some small talk with them. You didn’t really have much work to complete, or anything to do for that matter, so you casually agreed. Maybe your parents would leave you alone then.

Sunday came all too quickly for you and before you knew it, you’d put together your ‘Sunday Best’, or at least tried to. You couldn’t say that you looked amazing, but at the very least your outfit wasn’t terrible. It was okay. Fog had covered a great deal of the morning scenery, casting a rather gloomy outlook on the neighborhood. You didn’t bother paying attention though; it was just weather, after all.

So with that, you started your car and backed out of your driveway.

When you arrived at the church, you were pleased to see your neighbors at the entrance. You made small talk here and there, and it was overall a lovely addition to your morning. You watched as more and more people pulled into the parking lot.

The morning had zipped by so fast that by the time you could blink, you’d found yourself seated on a pew in the far corners of the church, listening to who you believed to be Father Abel recite verses from the Bible.

Your palms grew clammy as his gaze lazily drifted across the room, a sense of calmness sweeping in with it. You tried your best to pay attention to what he was saying, but your efforts proved to be unfruitful as you couldn’t help but wander back to Father Abel.

You scolded yourself for being so impacted by a man you hadn’t even met with yet.

For the next couple weeks, you attended the church daily. Every Sunday you’d get dressed and make a beeline for the familiar building. Your parents had been thrilled at the news, grateful that you had found a passion for something other than work. In all honesty, you did. It felt freeing to obsess less over your job, excitement pouring in at the thought of next Sunday.

It wasn’t for the reasons your parents believed, however. On the contrary, it was something much more..questionable.

In all of your life, you’d never been so drawn to a person before. Abel. He had changed that, knowingly or not. With every coming Sunday you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again, though you would still chastise yourself to no avail. You’d end up going to church just to catch a glimpse of him. The way he talked, the way he moved with such dignity and grace had completely captivated you.

You knew it was unhealthy. You knew it was wrong. You didn’t care.

The first time Abel had looked at you—fully, not a restless gaze this time—was your fifth week at church. He had been delivering a sermon, mesmerizing the attendees with his powerful gaze. You were transfixed, in all honesty. The elegance he exuded, the concise way he spoke—you almost wanted to drown in it.

You’d been staring so intensely that by the time you realized he’d looked directly at you, he was already shifting his gaze elsewhere. You could’ve sworn that his eyes had struck a chord deep within you. Captivated.

The second time left you breathless. In the early moments of your arrival, you’d been awkwardly shuffling past the hordes of people at the door towards your usual spot in the back. It was overstimulating; the loud voices paired with the never ending footsteps was definitely something to your half-asleep figure.

Your eyes had been darting all over the place, frantic in their pursuit of whatever you’d been looking for. Abel had been up in very front of the church, as usual, simply watching the crowd enter. You’d locked gazes with him the moment he’d been scanning over the area near you. Your heart had started to pound a mile a minute and you were sure that you saw a ghost of smirk on his face.

The third time was enough for you to go into cardiac arrest. People had slowly been oozing out of the church, as the sermon had just ended. You’d stayed for just a couple more minutes, letting it soak all in.

There was a reason why you’d stayed even for just a little while longer. You’d been waiting for quite some time to just spill out what had been going on inside your home for the past weeks.

It started with dreams. They were never really clear to begin with, but it always ended with Abel. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head. Flushed, sweaty, beautiful as he collapsed back onto the sheets. Taut skin glistening with thin sheens of sweat, ecstasy swirling in his eyes.

Then it slowly escalated to fleeting thoughts. Whether you were in the middle of work or talking to your parents over the phone, your mind would wander just for a moment. Thinking about how he would feel underneath you. How his warmth would mix with yours.

From there it climbed even higher. You’d gone from random dreams to full on fantasies. Touching him, kissing him, corrupting him, him, him, him. You tried to stop. You really did. But you were already too far gone, too deep in.

You were just getting up from your pew when you noticed Abel walking around. Then he’d approached you and started talking. The sound of his voice up close was sweeter than any bird you’d ever hear. It was nothing special. You’d anxiously tried to keep the conversation going. Until he popped the question.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

You paused. You did, truly, but at the moment you’d been granted the opportunity, you hesitated.

You looked down in shame. “…Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”

————————————————————————

“Fuhck! Pleashe, I need it, ahhh!” He gasped, head falling back as his hair prettily framed his face. Glowing. That’s what he was. If he’d dared to curse like this during his sermons, chances are he’d be publicly condemned for such a thing. But this was no longer a priest. This was a man lost to debauchery.

He curled into his nude body as you thumbed his slit, heavy breaths escaping his throat. At this rate, he didn’t even want to be saved. Abel reveled in the feeling of your fist pumping his cock, giving him high after high after high. A part of him was embarrassed that he was losing himself to sin on a wooden pew of all places, smack in the middle of a holy place. That part was long gone.

He bucked his hips up into your hand, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt another release coming.

You kissed up his neck softly as you fucked him silly, while he moaned directly into your ear. “Are you close, baby?” You asked, stroking his length.

“Yesss,” He choked out, “Ca—uh!—can I?” He let out a shaky breath, addicted to the feeling of your body on his.

“Cum for me.” Your blunt answer sent shivers up his spine, and before he knew it, he’d been bucking up into the air again, ropes of cum coating his chest. He panted heavily, collapsing back on the pew as his eyes threatened to close.

Finally, with one heaving breath, he uttered, “Can we…can we take this to my place?”

Giggling, twirling, kicking my legs . . he seems so cute !! <3

#— answered #🥟 : sweet tooth

[quintenrosenburgwrites]

Okay, I know it's probably been said before but I am a BIG fan of how the different coping mechanisms of the main characters of The Amazing Digital Circus are portrayed. Like, it seems like a lot of the main characters could be described through how they cope with the idea that their actions don't matter. (I JUST WANNA SAY HERE THAT THESE ARE ALL JUST MY INTERPRETATIONS! IM NO EXPERT, JUST A STORYTELLING NERD) (SPOILERS FOR TADC EP 1 AND 2)

Ragatha plays along, seeing Cain's games as a way to practice escapism. She pretends her problems don't exist, and actively avoids confronting them (Like how there's clearly still SOME kind of tension after Pomni ran instead of helping her, but she says it's fine). She doesn't try to change things because she believes things CAN'T be changed.

Jax just does whatever he wants, because if his actions don't matter in the long run, why shouldn't he? He also practices escapism, but in a very different way from Ragatha. Instead of playing along, he is horrible to the people around him because there aren't any consequences anyways. He also avoids anything he finds stressful, much like Ragatha (He looks upset for a frame before rolling his eyes and walking away when Kaufmo's funeral is mentioned). Both of them refuse to confront their problems, and would much rather ignore them through each of their preferred types of entertainment.

Zooble doesn't really have the energy to participate in Cain's adventures, because their mindset is that if nothing matters, why should they do anything at all? They do put effort into some things, such as setting up Kaufmo's funeral, however so far it's been shown that they prefer not to participate in Cain's activities unless they are actively forced to.

Kinger. Um. I don't know how to describe Kinger if I'm being honest. Same with Gangle. We don't know a lot about either of them yet, but I'm sure other people have some fantastic theories on those two! My personal theory is that they're actually NPCs, because Cain mentioning the risk of mixing up real people and NPCs felt significant. It's kinda a very loose theory though, and it has literally ZERO proof, so

FINALLY, POMNI. I am a HUGE fan of Pomni's characterization! The best way I can describe Pomni is, if she was in a time loop, I imagine that she would, without fail, try to prove that she is a time loop to her friends EVERY loop to try and get their help. She's very clearly struggling a LOT in episode one and the beginning of episode two, but once she actually makes a friend, and later when she realizes that the others DO care, she starts to actually have hope. While the others have less healthy coping mechanisms, the way that Pomni copes with the idea of none of her actions mattering in the long run is, "At least my actions matter to the people around me." Having a support system matters a LOT to her, and I think that's why Pomni is going to be the one to get all of them out of there. The others have given up on escaping, resorting to escapism and/or apathy to cope, but because Pomni copes with her surroundings through her friendships with others, I don't think she'll give up like the others.

Anyways. I love TADC so much. I am SO excited for what's coming up next, and if Gummigoo doesn't come back I'll cry /hj (gummigoo getting eviscerated destroyed me on the inside)

#rant #tadc #the amazing digital circus #ragatha #jax #pomni #zooble #tadc theory #sorta #writing analysis #sorta?? #idk #i just had fun with this #character study #again SORTA #tadc spoilers #tadc episode 2

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 10/34 - new years rockin' eve

[Read on AO3]

After the pleasant, downright normal Christmas they'd had, Mulder wasn't surprised that their New Years Eve was spent being chased by zombies like something out of one of his bad horror flicks.

He did, however, get to spend it with Scully, which was all he really could have asked of the day.

Their first few days back at work had been pretty run-of-the-mill. The traffic in the hallways was a little lighter, with some agents taking additional days off until after the new year. They used their slow days to complete the adoption paperwork and send it in, which allowed them to put it out of their minds so they could finally focus on work.

Aside from Skinner briefly asking in passing if they'd actually done it (trying his hardest to appear only mildly interested), it was easy to forget the monumental step they'd taken over the holidays. Their rings remained safely tucked under their clothes while on the job, but when he was at home, Mulder liked to wear it in its intended place, finding it helped him focus his thoughts when he twisted it idly on his finger.

A mangled arm was a small price to pay for ringing in the new year with his partner by his side, all things considered. A happy ending for all, most especially for Frank Black and his daughter.

Scully watches as the older man wraps the girl in his arms, burying his face in her hair. It's a sweet sight, but something about it makes her grow pensive, her expression darkening.

“What kind of world would we be bringing a child into, Mulder?” she asks quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from the little family as they leave the room hand in hand.

Her words surprise him in their negativity, drawing a halfhearted chuckle from his throat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Scully, but adoption usually means we’re getting a kid that’s already in the world, doesn’t it?

Her shoulders deflate a little and she casts an unamused glance in his direction, looking far more vulnerable than she typically allows herself to be.

“You know what I mean.”

He does. Of course he does.

“Well, it’s the same world people have been bringing children into for millennia,” he reasons. “And now we’re about to be in a whole new one.”

He nods back at the TV screen, tuned in to Dick Clark's coverage of Times Square. All those people, completely oblivious to the dangers lurking in this world that defy logic and reason. Zombies are the last thing on any of their minds as they count down to the new year. 

“But I believe mankind, in its essence, stays the same,” he finishes.

He'd faced this question months and months ago when Scully had asked him about IVF. Was this a life he could bring a child into? Was he a person worthy of being a father, even if only by genetics? The conclusions he'd come to had not been arrived at lightly.

“We can do this, Scully,” he says, softer. Sure. “We might have to make some changes, but… when it comes down to it, you and I are no different than anyone else wanting to raise a child.”

She gives him a disbelieving look, her eyebrow quirking into the air. He knows what she’s thinking; The reanimated corpses they'd just encountered would like a word.

“No, think about it,” he continues. “What's the one thing all parents—well, the good ones—have in common?” His question is semi-rhetorical, and she doesn't seem inclined to respond, so he answers for her. “They want what's best for their children, and they do all that they can to provide it to them because they love them. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty willing to do just that. And I think you are too, if these are the things you're worried about.”

Scully sighs, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Mulder…”

“I promise to protect you and any children we may acquire from zombies and all other supernatural forces of evil, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” he adds, his joke finally drawing a smile out of her.

“Don't call it 'acquiring,’ Mulder,” she says with a breathy laugh. “That's weird.”

With the mood successfully lightened, he turns his attention back to the TV, where Dick Clark is beginning to count down.

“The world’s a-changing, Scully,” he says as he moves closer, tilting his head up to watch the broadcast. She mirrors him, standing close by his side.

“Thirty seconds, now. Thirty,” Dick Clark announces as the camera hones in on the Times Square ball, lit up in bright colors as it begins its descent. “Hug your friends and loved ones tight. What the heck, whoever that person is next to you. No time like the present!”

Now there's an idea…

“Here we go!” the announcers chant.

Ten!

Mulder looks down to his left. Well, she is standing next to him, after all. Why not?

Nine.

She's smiling. She has a beautiful smile, too. He's always thought so.

Eight… Seven… Six…

New Year's Eve is plausible deniability, right? If this doesn't work? Maybe there's a written rule somewhere he can check…

Five, four.

Well, it’s not like they haven’t done it before…

Three. Two.

Is this a stupid idea?

One.

Without further ado, Dick Clark's voice cheers, “Happy New Year 2000!” and Mulder makes his decision, leaning toward her with purpose. No turning back now.

She catches him at the last second, and by then it's too late to play it off. The only option is to follow through.

And follow through he does.

His eyes flutter closed as his lips make contact with hers, their touch light and tentative as it had been in the courtroom just a week before, only this time, he waits a moment longer to pull back. Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and it immediately sends his heart pounding into his throat, and he finds he can't speak. Auld Lang Syne is playing, but the sound fades from his ears.

The only thing his senses can hear, feel, taste, smell, is her.

When he opens his eyes again, she is staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Her hand hasn't moved, and neither does he.

“I—”

“Mulder, I—

Whatever words he was trying to conjure to explain himself die on his lips in an instant, and he can do nothing but gape at her. The air feels charged, and all at once he wishes he'd never done it and that he'd done it years ago.

His eyes flick down to her lips and then back to her eyes, desperate to know what words will come out of them next.

“I– got a call from the adoption agency,” she finishes, and his thoughts come crashing back to the present, his heartbeat pounding at an alarming rate. However he'd thought she might finish that sentence, that wasn't it. 

She's looking at him though, worry flickering in her eyes.

“Th– the adoption agency?” he asks, his good hand slackening its hold on her lower back.

She nods.

“What did they say?”

Suddenly he feels nauseous, like maybe the mixture of zombies, drugs, and potentially life changing news was a little too much for his stomach all in one night.

“They… said that our application looks good, and they want to schedule a preliminary interview.”

At this, even his fingers on his injured arm have to reach out to her, brushing against the fabric of her shirt at her waist and stretching his sling to its limit.

“What?”

She nods again in confirmation, looking equal parts scared and excited.

“Scully that's– that's great news! It's good news, right?”

He doesn't know what he'll do if she gets cold feet now. A crushing blow like that isn't exactly how he'd like to start out this century, much less the millennium. 

Her hand drops to his shoulder and she smiles, holding tight to him.

“It's good,” she confirms, though a trace of doubt still remains in her voice.

He pulls her into a hug, resigning his poor limp arm to be stuck uncomfortably between them, but otherwise holding her tight.

“Mulder, we're actually going through with this?” she asks into his shoulder.

He nods emphatically, a wide grin stretching his face. “Heck yeah, Scully!”

“They could still tell us no.”

His little pessimist. Good thing he's got enough belief for the both of them.

“Not until they've seen us and we've pled our case,” he says, pulling back to look at her. “Call ‘em back and make an appointment!”

Tears begin to pool in her eyes and she nods shakily again. “Okay,” she says, and releases his shoulder to wipe the wetness beneath her eyes. “Okay, I’ll– um… I’ll call them tomorrow.”

He wants to kiss her again. He wants to so bad, but he doesn't. Emotions are understandably high, and this entire situation is so confusing and complicated already, that he's not sure anymore where they stand.

One day, he thinks. One day he'll find the courage.

“Hey, Scully,” he says instead, placing his hand on the back of her neck to capture her attention. 

She looks up at him tearfully. He shrugs and smiles goofily, relief and hope shining in his eyes.

“The world didn't end.”

~~~

Should I? Oh, why not. One more chapter. It's the weekend.

Chapter 11/34 - confessions

The interview with the adoption agency is scheduled for Friday of that week, which Skinner happily approves time off for. That leaves less than six days to prepare, and Scully busies herself with making sure they have everything they could possibly need to maximize their chances.

The night before the big day, Mulder is ordered to come over for a last minute study session (not that he would have been unwilling if she’d asked nicely, but with the stress she’s under, it comes out as more of a command). It feels like Arcadia again, going under cover, making sure they both have their stories straight.

Only this time, their cover is more or less their real life, give or take a few necessary oversimplifications.

“So, we’ve covered employment, medical history, familial relationships…” Scully lists, kneeling beside an array of papers spread out on her coffee table. “Am I leaving anything out?”

She bites the tip of her pen, glancing over her notes with her brows furrowed in thought. Reviewing this stuff could mean the difference between a happily ever after and rejection, that’s the scariest thing. She just wants to be thorough, and Mulder—bless him—has humored her thus far, answering questions, finding solutions to explain their… less than ordinary pasts. 

It takes her a moment to notice when he doesn’t immediately answer, the silence dragging on just a little too long. Her first assumption is that he’s fallen asleep—which she wouldn’t blame him for if he did—but that assumption is quashed the moment she looks up at him on the couch, the serious expression on his face instantly shifting the mood.

“Mulder?” she asks, a worried crease appearing on her forehead.

"You know, we never talked about it," he says quietly, carefully, glancing across the coffee table at her. “Not really.”

"About what?" She’s starting to get anxious.

"The IVF."

And there they are, the three letters that still fill her stomach with dread and immense sadness anytime she hears them.

I. V. F. 

"Mulder..." she starts, but he only leans forward, reaching out across the coffee table for her hand.

"I want to. I really do, Scully. I need to talk about it. It could come up tomorrow."

"I don't really like... thinking about it,” she says softly, wanting desperately to look away from the pleading expression that she knows she can’t say no to.

"I know. But don't you think we should?” he argues. “I mean, we can't brush it away like it never happened, Scully, I won't do that. It was important to me."

She doesn’t want to hear this. Her heart twists painfully, and she slams her eyes shut to lock down the tears beginning to form, shaking her head. Sure, she knows he’d wanted it back then, had hoped it would succeed. But it’s too late. It’s in the past, and she’d like to leave it there, if at all possible. To hear him say, in as many words, exactly how much he’d invested emotionally in those tiny embryos…

She doesn’t think her heart can take it.

"Since when do you like talking about things like this?" she asks, trying once to pull her hand away. “Things that… cause you pain?”

He clings on tighter, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with both of his. "I can tell you the exact moment, Scully, and it’s when you knocked on my door in a dingy motel room and asked me what those bumps on your back were."

His earnest words stun her into silence.

Rain on the windows. A story of tragedy and determination. Honest words coming from the lips of a man she’d met only days before.

That trust had been there from the start.

He stands from his place on the couch and circles the coffee table, carefully pushing aside the papers in front of her to make a space for himself to sit. "The past hurts, but somehow—” he continues, “somehow you make it easier to face. To me, at least."

She sighs, turning her head so that she can muster enough strength to answer his heartfelt plea. Articulating something like this is not her strong suit, but for him, she’ll try.

"I– I've never wanted anything more in my life,” she breathes, the admission one she has never spoken aloud. 

It’s the truth, though, and he knows better than anyone how difficult that is for her. Scully is not one for dreaming big, expecting rich blessings from the earth or her life. She, like him, has grown used to being disappointed, to having the things she wants taken away from her. He could make an itemized list, if he wanted to, of all the ways they’d been let down. Even the expectation of a clean, comfortable motel room has been slowly drained from her, and yet she had still allowed herself to hope in this.

“You know, for a minute, I really did think it had worked, that I was—" She pauses, leaving the word pregnant to hang in the air. Instead, she takes a shaky breath and continues. "Do you remember that day I got sick in the car on the way to a crime scene?"

She doesn’t have to specify which one, because it had only ever happened once, that was what was so odd about it.

"I thought that was it,” she says, “I thought that maybe—"

"I thought the same thing," Mulder cuts in.

Of course he had. She’d guessed as much that day, too, between bouts of heaving into a plastic bag in the front seat of their rental car. 

The way he treated her extra carefully, taking turns slower, making a point to turn on the blinker with every lane change on the highway, stopping at a gas station for some ginger ale… She had allowed it all, too—the special treatment—because what if she was? She couldn’t risk it until she knew for sure. If that was her only chance…

Her lower lip trembles and she ducks her head. "I tried to keep my expectations low, but..."

His finger lands on her chin, tipping her gaze back up to face his.

"It would have been pretty cool, huh?” he says, offering her a small smile for comfort. “Can you imagine telling Skinner out of nowhere that we combined our DNA in a petri dish? I think the vein in his head might have actually burst.” He laughs, and is graced with the smallest of smirks for his efforts.

"I'd have these dreams,” she continues. “What our baby might look like, what personality they'd have. Whether they'd… be more like me or like you."

His lips. Her hair. His passion. Her scientific mind.

"Well, hopefully you,” Mulder speaks, smiling at the thought. “I think you've got your hands full already with one of me. There are many who would say you were crazy even to ask me in the first place."

She looks up at him with her head tilted, her eyes softening.

"I knew what I was doing."

She can tell by the way he brushes off the compliment that he doesn’t believe her, so she doubles down.

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're brilliant, imaginative, bold, caring... I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't want my child to share those same qualities."

She loves Mulder. She loves every infuriating little thing about him. She'd have been lucky to have a son or daughter with his kind, gentle personality, his determination to keep fighting when everything in his life is telling him he can't win. Teena Mulder didn't know what she had, with Fox Mulder as a son. He should have been loved, cared for, nurtured, supported all his life. Instead, Scully has the sense that the first and only person he has trusted to give him all that is her, and that is not a responsibility she takes lightly.

"I pictured this little boy,” he says, his lips curled in a sad smile as he speaks. “Dark sandy blond hair with just a hint of your red. Blue eyes just like yours. Jeans absolutely filthy with dirt and grass stains on the knees."

She closes her eyes, allowing the picture to form in her mind. She smiles, but it's pained. Such a beautiful thought, never to be.

"How can I miss someone so much that I don't even know?” she asks, the hurt audible in her voice. “Someone that never existed?"

Mulder presses his lips tightly together in thought, his eyes trailing over the room. 

"They say that grief is the love we have that has nowhere to go, because that person has left us,” he starts, his voice reverent and pensive. “They never talk about how to love a person we never had in the first place, or a dream that’s just out of reach. But still, I think that love feels just as real as any other kind.”

He has a way with words, her Mulder. It has been the bane of their assistant director’s existence on numerous occasions, when such existential ponderings found their way into his reports.

But now… Well, it's just another thing she loves about him. She wonders if he's allowed himself to grieve for Samantha, or if his belief that she's still out there somewhere makes him fall into that second category.

"I just wish I hadn't put us both through that,” she says. “That I dragged you into it..."

"I'm glad you did,” he’s quick to assure. “Scully, that day you asked me was one of the happiest days of my life. The future is such a messy, terrifying thing, sometimes. You showed me that it doesn't have to be that way. That there can be hope. I'd forgotten what that felt like."

She's silent, unsure of what to say in response to that. He has all the right words, and suddenly, she has none of them.

"I don't regret it for one moment, Scully. We gave it a try."

She purses her lips, forcing back tears that are threatening to spill. "I don't think I could have done it without you," she says, shaking her head. 

"Well, obviously,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a cheeky smile.

She gives him a look. "Mulder…"

"I know, I know,” he says, turning serious again. “I'm honored that you let me be a part of it." 

That she would have let him be a part of so much more. A family. Everything, if he had wanted it.

"Well, listen,” he continues, “we ace this interview tomorrow, and we're back on track. Plenty of kids out there that need a home, right? Someone's bound to pick us."

His optimism emboldens her. "I hope so."

"We got this, Scully. They're gonna take one look at you and know for certain that you're meant to be a mother."

She distracts herself from his sweet-sounding words by focusing her attention on his loosened necktie, smoothing it down with one hand. "I'm picking out your tie,” she declares. “No alien decals or wild shapes and colors."

"I think it shows personality," he says in mock defense.

She can’t help the fond smile she flashes at him, glancing up into his eyes. "Not tomorrow, it doesn't."

-.-.-

The agency they ended up going with is out in Annapolis, so on the day of their interview, they drive out together, mostly in silence. Scully fidgets with the folder full of information and other documents they might need, picking at the corner of it while she goes over the important points in her head.

Mulder holds the door open for her when they arrive at the building, and she double checks that her ring is in place on her finger before approaching the front desk to check in. They’re instructed to take a seat in the small waiting area, and Mulder follows and sits down beside her. On the coffee table in front of them are a stack of brochures, the same one she found on Mulder’s desk what feels like forever ago. That had been the catalyst for this entire affair, and now look where they are.

She never could have imagined it.

A few minutes later, a plump older woman appears from behind a door, smiling at them warmly. 

“Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder?” she says, checking her clipboard.

Scully stands, followed by Mulder. “I, uh– I go by my maiden name. Scully,” she corrects.

“My apologies, Ms. Scully,” the woman says, leading them into her office and taking a seat behind a wooden desk. 

They sit down in a pair of chairs opposite her, taking in their surroundings. There are dozens of thank you cards lined up on the windowsill behind the woman’s desk, presumably from families who have benefitted from the services offered here. It fills her with a cautious hope, though does nothing to quell the restless feeling that has plagued her since she woke up this morning. Mulder has kept his cool, so far, and she wonders how he does it.

“My name's Brenda Koske,” the woman continues, introducing herself. “I’ll be your case manager throughout this process. Should we just get right into it, then?”

They nod, unable to do any more than that at the moment.

“Okay, then,” Brenda says with a beaming smile, opening up a file folder on her desk. “So, tell me about yourselves, what made you look into adoption?”

"Well," Scully says, looking at Mulder for approval. "I– We found out a few years ago that I am unable to have children. We tried in vitro fertilization last year, but... it wasn't successful."

The woman at the desk nods and jots some information down in a notebook. Scully suspects their story, so far, is a familiar one. 

"And how long have you been together?"

Scully's mouth drops open, but she isn't sure what she'll say. Before she has a chance to stammer something out, Mulder answers, "A little over seven years, now." He’s confident. Sure of his answer, despite it being a lie, or at least an egregious stretching of the truth. 

The case manager writes down some more.

"And I see here that Ms. Scully has petitioned for the adoption of a child before. Emily Sim?" she states, checking her notes.

Scully tenses, and Mulder puts a calming hand on her knee.

"It's a long story," he says, answering for her, "but Emily unfortunately passed away from her chronic illness before the adoption proceedings could get very far."

Brenda nods. "I understand that this is a difficult subject, Mr. Mulder, I'm just trying to get all the information I need. From what I see here, this child was the biological child of Ms. Scully. I'm afraid I need more of an explanation."

She knows Ms. Koske doesn’t mean any harm by asking these questions—after all, they’d prepared for them last night. But it’s still hard to hear them come up.

Thankfully, Mulder was paying attention and is more than willing to take the lead.

"My wife was treated for her infertility by a doctor we couldn't trust,” he explains. She still finds it odd to hear him refer to her in that way, but it makes sense that he does it now. He can’t very well call her ‘Scully’ in front of the woman they’re trying to convince to give them a child. 

Now comes the next part of their explanation. 

“Her ova were stolen and used without her knowledge or consent, and Emily was a result of that. It was complete happenstance that we even discovered what happened."

"I'm very sorry you went through that, Ms. Scully," the woman says, looking genuinely sorry for her. "Quite a world we live in."

You have no idea , Scully thinks, and nods in recognition of Ms. Koske’s expression of sorrow.

"And you're married?" she asks next, her pen hovering over a checkbox on the form in their file.

"Yes, just recently,” Scully answers. The box gets checked.

"Congratulations! Why the long wait, if I may ask?" Brenda says.

“I ask myself that every time I look at her,” Mulder says while leveling her with his adoring gaze. He’s dialing up the married man act, which he is definitely within his rights to do, but it still catches her off guard. She hopes he doesn’t overdo it, risking tipping off their case manager.

"It, um– It never really seemed like something necessary for us to do," Scully answers, ignoring his sickly sweet comment and hiding her blush.

Mulder turns back to Brenda and adds, "But we figured, if adoption works out..."

"We'd like to make it as simple and straightforward as possible," Scully finishes.

"It certainly will help," the agent says, nodding as she jots down another note. "Where would the child be living?"

"I– We have an apartment in Georgetown.” Scully’s heart flutters anxiously at the close call, thankful she was able to correct herself before misspeaking.

"An apartment," the woman says as she adds that to her notes. It's impossible to tell if she means it in a good or bad way, and Scully can’t make out her handwriting enough to tell.

"I have money set aside from my father's estate," Mulder cuts in, causing Scully to look at him in confusion. "We'd eventually like to buy a house, if this works out." This wasn’t something they’d talked about in any of their previous discussions, nor has he ever mentioned it before, so she doesn’t know where it’s coming from. When she catches his eye, he gives her a subtle shrug.

They’ll have to talk about this later.

"I'll put down the Georgetown address for now," Brenda says, smiling encouragingly at them. "Just a couple more questions for now, you guys are doing great." Scully exhales in relief, her shoulders relaxing just a little. "I have to ask about your work. Your medical history tells me that your jobs put you in some pretty dangerous situations. What are your plans should a child be placed into your care?"

Mulder nods and squeezes Scully's hand, encouraging her. They'd planned for this, too.

"I plan to take a step back,” she answers, “I've spoken with our boss, and he's assured me that I could return to a teaching position at Quantico while serving part time in my current department as a consultant."

"Mr. Mulder?" Brenda says, turning to him next.

"I will be doing the same."

Scully looks at him incredulously, which the woman thankfully misses. 

"It's time for us to settle down,” he continues, avoiding her questioning stare. “I think we've accomplished most of what we set out to do with our work, and we can't keep doing it forever, especially if we want to start a family. I've talked to our director about seeking out replacements for the both of us. Someone else will take over the department, while we lend our expertise as needed to the new agents."

This is the first she’s hearing about this too, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut, letting him say whatever he needs to say. Starting an argument about this now would not tip things in their favor. 

But he can’t be serious about giving up the X-Files, can he? It hadn’t even crossed her mind to ask. Arguably the main reason he started the unit was to look into the disappearance of his sister, and that case remains unsolved. Would he just walk away? Would he resent her for it eventually, if he did? 

"I'm glad to hear you're making strides in that direction,” Brenda comments, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “I was afraid we wouldn't be able to consider your application on account of your chosen field of work, but it sounds like you’re serious about starting a family.”

She writes some more and it falls silent. Mulder wraps his other hand around Scully's, bringing comfort and reassurance to them both.

"Last thing—and I'm sorry to keep bringing up difficult topics—” Brenda starts again. “Ms. Scully, you were diagnosed with cancer three years ago. Is there any chance it could return? You understand why I have to ask, don't you?"

"Yes– I understand,” Scully nods, swallowing nervously. “Um, no, I've been told there's little reason to think it will ever come back. I've been in remission over two years now."

Brenda nods and makes a final note, her pen leaving the paper with a flourish. "That's great, I'm so happy to hear that." She closes her notebook and file and smiles. "Well, you two, it sure sounds like you're overdue for a happy ending. Hopefully we can do something about that." 

She shakes each of their hands in turn, standing up from the desk to escort them out. 

"It was a pleasure to meet you, we'll be in touch as soon as your application is approved, and then we'll start looking for potential matches."

"Thank you very much, Ms. Koske," Mulder says, the perfect picture of a responsible adult worthy of becoming a parent.

Scully mumbles her own "Thank you," too overwhelmed to manage more words than that.

Mulder places a hand on her back and leads her out of the office and into the hall, standing closer to her than he usually does when they walk this way. His neck bends so he can see her face, and he whispers, "You hear that, Scully? She said when our application gets approved!"

Scully shakes her head, not wanting to get ahead of herself quite yet. 

"She said 'as soon as', not when,” she corrects.

"Same thing,” he argues. “Come on, that went well, don't you think?"

"I hope so," she says.

His stride is confident and energetic. "It did, trust me. We had all the right answers."

"I was so nervous. I knew she would ask about my cancer," she states, shaking her head in disappointment.

"She was just being thorough,” Mulder assures her. “Cheer up, Scully, the part we had to worry about is over! I'm taking you to lunch."

"Mulder, we really should just get back to work—” Scully tries. She’s supposed to be the responsible one, after all. Reining him in. Wasn’t that why she complemented him so well?

"We're celebrating. One step closer to being parents, right Scully?"

It’s time she admits it to herself: she failed at reining him in years ago.

Now, she just goes with the flow. The best surprises are around the corner when she does so. 

She hopes that this time is no different.

~~~

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#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[pauking5]

Runaway ~ Chapter 1 ~

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.

Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add, proud podium sitter for thousands of times, also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world. The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me in case you didn't know.

Anyway, without any second thoughts he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it, be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of the rally series in Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards.

And everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by dnf's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point.

The mess piled up more and more and it showed.

Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.

It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.

Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing was a man's world.

With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.

The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.

It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.

"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally. The later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.

You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma - 1.24.55

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.23.40

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck was this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.

"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.

If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty.

Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.

The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

#Runaway #Naozumi Hiyama #Naozumi Hiyama x reader #Naozumi Hiyama x you #Overdrive x reader #Overdrive x you #racing au #Overdrive Mackenyu

[rocknroll7575]

Guardian Ghost: Ruby Rose Hype

The mention of Ruby Rose, the beacon of hope for aspiring Huntsmen and an emblem of courage, stirred a sense of admiration within Jaune. To him and countless others, she represented the epitome of what it meant to be a Huntsman—brave, skilled, and unwavering in the face of adversity.

There was a reason she was dubbed by many aspiring students as "Humanity's Hope".

XXX

Qrow: Let me tell you something kids, if you ain't ready to fight, or have the resolve to risk it all, even your own life, then none of you will even reach the level of Ruby Rose

XXX

Cardin: Don't you know? Xiao-Long is the younger sister of the Ruby Rose

Reese: You kidding me!? She's Ruby Rose's sister!? That means she's gotta be freaking tough right!

XXX

Jaune: So, if it was a fight between you four and Ruby Rose, could you win?

Coco: *Chcukles* We may be the best team out of the 2nd years, but we don't hold a candle to Ruby, there's a reason she's been the only Solo Huntress in Beacon history.

Yatsuhashi: Trust me, I don't think there's a single person, even those in PAYS, that could last a second against Ruby

XXX

Harriet: *Looking at Coco* You tell Rose, one way or another, She better show up, I want my goddamn rematch!

XXX

Ironwood: *playful smirk* The Specialist will be taking part in today's Vytal Tests, I doubt any of your new students will get far.

Summer: *Chuckles* You think so? you're lucky my daughter isn't here, last I heard she wiped the floor with your little Ace-Ops, and even defeated Winter, from what I heard~!

XXX

Yang: There's not a person in the world who can beat my sister, there's a reason she's one of the strongest huntresses in all of Remnant!

XXX

Weiss: You actually lost to her!?

Winter: *Nodded with a small smile* Indeed, Ruby Rose was quite the formidable opponent, I see why many believe her to eventually surpass her Mother

XXX

Pyrrha: I may be called the invincible girl, but that's a lie... if there was anyone truly invincible, it would have to be Ruby Rose.

Weiss: Why would you say that?

Pyrrha: I've seen her fight before, she took down Grimm and Hunstmen faster than I ever could, even with my semblance.

#rwby #rwby meme #rwby shitpost #rwby ruby rose #ruby rose #rwby guardian ghost au

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

some fans said they set up Aemond with that line about Daemon and it was cringe but what if all his lines are cringe😔 some people are still making fun out of his rant to Cole in episode 9

Hi, and thank you for the ask!

I'd like to begin by saying that I personally don't find Aemond's line about Daemon cringe. Yes, there is something worth an eyeroll about it; but IMO it's not the fact that Aemond considers himself good enough to be able to stand against Daemon - it is that he thinks Daemon fears him.

When it comes to them potentially facing each other in combat Daemon definitely has an advantage thanks to his experience with actually fighting to the death, which is a completely different thing from being trained even by the best of the best. But let's not forget that Aemond has something on his side too, namely youth. And even if we discard this, I still don't think that Daemon is so superior to Aemond as a swordsman that it is ridiculous to even think the latter could have a chance at winning.

However, implying that Daemon would hesitate to face him... Come on, sweetheart.

And yet, even that does not feel cringe to me because it is 100% in character for Aemond. He was bullied and underestimated by his peers, including his brother, for years - and then, still a child, by claiming Vhagar he managed to accomplish a feat no one had thought him capable of achieving. So it's quite possible that from that moment on Aemond felt like he was meant to be the victor - in every situation; him managing to overcome his partial disability and become an excellent fighter surely helped as well. And this must have made his frustration with having to be behind Aegon - at the very least where the right to rule was concerned - grow stronger.

Aemond is dead sure he knows where to find his brother (but he doesn't); he rants about himself being a good candidate for the throne (which quite soon turns out to be quite arguable). And remember this -

He has got off the back of the largest living dragon - of course he would be able to do just as he says and face no consequences. How could it not be true? How could it not feel true? Leo Ashton just nailed capturing this newly discovered aspect of Aemond's personality.

So did Ewan - and I can't wait to see him developing it further in Season 2. One of the most wonderful things about his Aemond is that he combines arrogance and overconfidence (which initially came from the place of insecurity) with vulnerability - sometimes even with gentleness.

Sorry, it got kind of ranty:) To finish this, I would like to say that there certainly are ways to ruin Aemond's character - but as far as I am concerned making him believe in his utter invincibility is not one of them.

#aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #leo ashton

[swiftcast-selene]

✨ pre-dawntrail wol questions! ✨

over on our little server i've been asking a WoL development question a day until dawntrail and it's been well-recieved so far, so after a month of doing it i figured i may as well put them on here~

use them to draft your own posts! send each other asks about them! answer them in the tags! do whatever you want with them, as long as you're having fun!

how is your wol about personal hygiene? are they on top of it? always perfumed and spotless, a little messy sometimes, or do they have to be reminded to groom?

is there a texture your wol absolutely can't stand, either food or feeling-wise? or is it not something they tend to worry about? do they go to great lengths to avoid it or do they just power through it?

what is your wol's evening routine? do they prepare for the next day? do they just wing it? do any weapon or gear upkeep? just pass out because that's tomorrow them's problem?

how does your wol's echo manifest itself? do they see visions as they happen? all at once? delayed? do they get any physical symptoms from it?

does your wol have any siblings? how do they get along with them? is it a good relationship or is it tense?

how does your wol feel about romance? are they a hopeless romantic, waiting for The One, or are they more casual? do they believe in soulmates?

how does your wol feel about their hair? is it important to them? just kind of in the way? who cuts it? do they take good care of it or are they not particularly fussed about it?

how good is your wol at taking care of their armor/clothes? do they mend them themself? pay to gave it fixed? just change it when it gets old?

what's in your wol's travel bag? any trinkets? any vital items they cant go without? do they travel light and figure stuff out on the fly, or do they bring way too much with them? (bonus points if you have images!)

how does your wol sleep? very light? very heavy? do they need a specific item to fall asleep? is it easy for them to fall asleep, or does it take them forever? where do they prefer sleeping?

where was your wol during the last calamity? how did it make them feel? did it change their life, and if yes, for better or for worse?

shadowbringers spoilers: how did they feel being so... up and personal with another calamity? did they feel responsible? scared? did they feel like they owed the first to stop it, or were they more detached from the situation?

for the canon casters: what does casting magic feel like to your wol? how does being "out of mana" feel?

for the physical fighters: how does it feel when they do those impossible moves? the twirls, the jumps? do they supplement with aether? dynamis? is it purely physical or is something else involved?

what would your wol be if they weren't the wol? what would they do as a job or career? would they be happier?

is your wol good at cooking? what's their specialty? what can they never get right no matter how hard they try? what flavour profile are they good at cooking? what do they eat on the road?

out of all the scions, which one is the one your wol gets along with the best? what about the one they get along with the least? why?

how good is your wol with money? do they save up? scrounge around? spend it with wild abandon?

what would you say is your wol's greatest flaw? what part of their personality causes them the most problems?

what is your wol's best quality? what's the thing that they do that really gets stuff done of makes people like them? hard mode: their own perception vs. a friend or partner's perception.

what does your wol do to unwind? any hobbies? reading? sewing? croquet? sitting in a dark room in complete silence?

how good are your wol's table manners, based on their own culture? how does it compare to ishgardian table manners? eorzean? doman? steppe?

what is your wol's inner monologue like? do they refer to themself as "i"? "we"? "you"? is it organized or all over the place? are they kind to themself, or do they chide themself constantly?

what's your wol's relationship with food? do they skip meals or do they eat at specific times religiously? is food important to them, or is it just a means to an end to keep their body going? does food mean something cultural or personal to them?

what is your wol's relationship with their family? are they estranged? still very close? tense?

what does your wol think about lying? is it unacceptable to ever lie, are white lies okay, are they a pathological liar? how do they feel about people who lie to them?

how does your wol feel about allag in general? the tech, the experimenting, the crystal tower? any thoughts on allagan ruins? are they impressed, scared, resentful, neutral?

what sense does your wol most rely on? hearing, touch, sight, smell, taste? maybe even aethersense or dynamis?

how does your wol feel about mind-altering substances? do they partake? do they dislike them? are they neutral? do they take them socially, or anytime, or not at all?

how does your wol feel about children? do they want them? like them from a distance? hate them? no strong feelings?

how does your wol work out? lifting? sports? walking? how often do they do it? is it for fun or to keep up their physique? do they enjoy it?

#wol questions #ffxiv wol #character development #it's mostly self-development questions but a few are lore or relationship related~

[twinstxrs]

there’s something so personal about the scene in fantasy high s1e7 where gorgug calls himself stupid & fabian, who up to that point had basically entirely been acting like the bad kids (especially gorgug) were beneath him & had also been the one calling ragh stupid two lines ago, instantly says “okay, do not put yourself down like that. don’t you dare do that to yourself.” like it was obvious he liked the bad kids at that point but the instinct to protect his friends manifesting as an immediate strong refusal of gorgug’s self-deprecating talk kills me. that boy loves his friends so bad oh my god i feel sick.

#fabian seacaster #fantasy high #gorgug thistlespring #these two specifically are so dear to me #top 5 most underrated fh dynamic the girls that get it get it #acts of service (gorgug) meets words of affirmation (fabian) #spring break i believe in you. i hand you an orange. you never hug me / shut up. #THE TENDERNESSSS #it’s about gorgug fixing the hangman & fabian having no idea how to repay him other than saying ‘i’m gonna buy you an orange.’ #when fabian a year ago had an insecurity about buying other people things bc he thought they’d just use him for that. #it’s about gorgug’s tin flower that’s tattooed on his arm being both symbolic of his roots & deeply tied to his relationship with fabian #it’s about ​fabian being the reason gorgug was in that fateful detention in the first place. #& gorgug being the first person to see fabian again in the nightmare forest. #all the bad kids are tied by destiny but god. fabian & gorgug you are so tied by destiny. #anyways i will not lie this far into my tags i expect nothing but in another universe they would be the slow burn of all time. to me. #it is so subtle & casual but there is so much love there it makes me kinda crazy. #but either way my beloveds who i think have helped bring out the best parts of one another but who r also both soooo lame (affectionate). #also i think it’d be funny if a) gorgug was the final bad kid to join the giant family tree via dating fabian #and b) telemaine was eventually gorgug’s grandather in law. can u imagine. #thistlecaster #fabigug #whichever one it is idk idc #they r just so gentle :( #UPDATE sorry i stopped right when this happened to write this whole post & literally like 5 minutes later gorgug has that idea to look at- #zayne’s pearl & his hunch isn’t right but fabian IMMEDIATELY jumps back in with ‘it’s moments like these that prove you’re smart’ GODSDD #when the fabian & gorgug dynamic hits it truly hits. besties/bfs ever i can’t decide they r simply so great

[luck-of-the-drawings]

two wrongs WILL make a right! ive got another lease on life, and im using it well, who cares if this is all fucked up cause we're all GOING TO HELL! IM JUST WILLIAM WHO SHOULD BE DEAD, HAD TO FOLLOW THE THREAD, thought he was just chillin! now he is a villain! HES ALWAYS SUCH A BUMMER, HE WANTS TO TRUST HIS BROTHER WILLIAM IN A HALLWAY BY HIMSEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi pd spoilers #william wisp #RRAAHHHHGH I KNOW THEIR LIL PARODY OF MICHEAL IN A BATHROOM OR WHATEV WAS SLIGHTLY COMEDIC. LIKE WIWI IN A HALLWAY #HAHAAA HIS NAME IS WIWI ISNT THAT FUNNY. ISNT THAT FUCKIN FUNNY. AND YYYEEEEEEEEEEETTTTT!!! #WILLIAM IS SO FUCKIN SAD DUDE... ESPECIALLY DURING THE GRAYSCALE ARC. HE REALLY THINKS HES BETTER OFF DEAD. #HIS FIRST DEATH WAS AN ACCIDENT! AND THEN HE WAS SADDLED WITH ALL SORTS OF POWERS AND RESPONSIBILITY HE DIDNT FUCKIN WAANT #AND IT TURNS OUT HES STILL DEAD! HIS BODY IS ROTTING AND FALLING APART AS WE SPEAK!! THATS SO FUCKING SCARY!!! #BUT THEN. OOOHH BUT THEN HIS WONDERFUL FRIEND DAKOTA TELLS HIM. ILL GIVE YOU MY HEART SO YOU CAN LIVE AGAIN. AND IT WORKS!!! #WILLIAM ACCEPTS LIFE AND REJECTS THE WISP POWERS AND FEELS SO SO THANKFUL TO HIS WONDERFUL BEST FRIEND DAKOTA. #A DEBT TO REPAY EVEN IF DAKOTA WILL NEVER CASH IN ON IT. HES JUST A PERFECT HERO LIKE THAT.. BUT WILLIAM.. OHH ROTTING LIL WILLIAM.. #EVEN WITH NEW BLOOD RUNNING THROUGH HIM HES STILL DEAD INSIDE. HES STILL USELESS. POWERLESS. SELFISH AND IMPULSIVE AND STUPID AND JUST. #NOT A HERO. WHICH IS FINE! IF ONLY HE WAS A GOOD ENOUGH PERSON TO RETURN THE FAVOR TO DAKOTA THOUGH. BUT HES NOT. HE DOESNT THINK SO. #WILIAM REALLY BELIEVES THAT HE IS FORSAKING EVERY GIFT OF LIFE HE HAS BEEN GIVEN. HE THINKS HE SHOULD BE DEAD BUT HES TOO SCARED TO DIE #JUST FAR TOO SCARED.. OF EVERYTHING.... WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT BRINGS US HERE. I GUESS THE GOOD NEWS IS THEYLL FORGET. #HE JUST WANTED TO TRUST HIS BROTHER. HE WANTED TO HAVE A BROTHER AND FIX THE RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM AND HONESTLY? #I THINK I WOULD DO THE SAME THING IN HIS SITUATION. MAYBE USE MY WORDS BETTER BUT YKNOW. THATS HIS BROTHER!!! #OKAy okay william makes me sooo EMOTIONAL but now ill mention the ART #THIS WAS Aboutthe time i actually figured out how to draw the white streak in williams hair. IT PISSED ME OFF SO MUCH ORIGINALLY but imPROU #AND THE SHARP SPIRALS!! I LOVE THE SHARP SPIRALS. I LOVE DRAWING HIS HAIR JUST IN GENERAL... I JUS LOVE DRAWIN WIWI... #OHH And xavior... poor xavior... theyre still looking for cantrip arent they? they have no idea where she is..and DAVID YOU BIIITCH #david bell is such a good fucking antagonist. he COMPLETELY believes himself to be in the right and bizly plays him SO WELLL!! #BECAUSE HES SMART!! AND SMART PEOPLE CAN LOGIC THEIR WAY THROUGH ANYTHING! THATS WHY SMART PPL FALL INTO CULTS TOO! #BC A SMART PERSON CAN FIND A GOOD WAY TO JUSTIFY ALMOST ANYTHING TO THEMSELF. DAVID IS SMART AND THATS SCAARRYYYY... #IM So excited to see the consequences of williams actions carry on into season 3. i hope they contact allen and exavior and do. idk. someth

[cringesunday]

special place in hell for the "x are the best years of your life" crowd

#it's almost as if not everyone lives the exact same lives... 9 out of 10 people could be living it up in college but the 10th person has #more fun in their 30s than they ever did in college. someone can be at their career peak as early as 30 and others could start over at 30 #i honestly can't tell you how fucking depressed this mentality made me in high school and all of college it's only recently that I've starte #started trying to unlearn this. someone went so far as to insinuate even if you're at your most miserable from 13-21 it'll still be the best #time you'll ever have and it's all downhill after that etc etc and honestly FUCK you for telling vulnerable and scared kids that #my dad has a bigger and much much more fulfilling social circle and social life at 52 than maybe ever. the guy literally lives like hes 25 #our family doctor was still bettering his knowledge of medicine at the age of 88 #life is not all about 13-25 it just can't fucking be and fuck you if you've made even a single person believe that #anumania

[taylorrepdetective]

It’s been very interesting to see how this is slowly being picked up in the mainstream media. No one outside the fandom really cared when it was him just being reported as a creepy, misguided edgelord. Then once the porn stuff went around, more people got upset within the fandom, Buzzfeed picked it up and it made it into a few other semi-mainstream publications, like Insider. Black Twitter picked up on it and it spread. But still, no significant impact in the general public. And just when it felt like she might have been winning the PR war with her concerts last weekend and him not being seen, as well as her gaining sympathy because of the crazy crowds, she brought him out again and it picked up again just in time for her to include Ice Spice in the mess, and now it’s in the Washington Post. Regardless, everyone will be watching and listening tonight to see what the fuss is about and I have yet to see any sign of a dent in sales/streams/ticket prices (they keep going up), but I do wonder about that cash grab purple swirl vinyl they put out the other day and how that sold. As well as speak now preorder cancellations. Because those are bought by the die hard fans and that would give them a really good datapoint to see any actual effects from all this, beyond people yelling into the void.

#still wondering if this is an ‘over by the end of May’ thing or if it’s gonna last #and how much a breakup would help at this stage. would people quickly forget? #I personally believe there are several goals from all of this and we’ll see the impact for years to come. #but I want to fast forward to the short term results #ice spice so far is getting the best out of this I think #some will depend on if this remix/possible video is any good #found out today that dua lipa is also releasing today so that 1 I presumed could be in danger #but all this hype could put it over the edge all on its own

[vanyafresita]

why can't a boy take a break from the horrors ? oh, must i always suffer this way ? is there no end to this madness ?

#<- had to deep clean its bedroom and decided to take a 20 minutes power nap that became a 3 hours existential crisis depression time #everything is laying around on the floor and for the life of me i cannot get up from bed to clean it up #i found a bunch of boxes filled with stuff from when i was suicidal in highschool and it hurts too much to look at it #but i cannot bring myself to throw them away bcs these are the only things i have that certify that i was Alive at that time #ive no photos of me no nothing apart from these notebooks filled with gore drawings and fanfiction about characters killing themselves lol #how do i make peace with who i used to be when that person brings me such sadness.... #im so sorry ivan i should have treated myself better im doing my best nowadays !!! #u get to turn 18 ! and 20 ! and 25 ! and soon we're turning 26 and youre so much happier and content in life #its not all good u still are depressed and cant talk to people but ure much better than u used to be #i think of teenager me and how he thought i wouldnt make it this far... and when i think about my future and how i wont be able to make it. #i think... actually i was wrong once and i figured things out #i think i can do it again.... #and i will !!!! by all gods that i dont believe in i will !! #vanya strawberry flavored