#;; i have to say that your writing for her just. activates my neurons in the right places

[navxry]

HOLY SHIT???

The way it ENDED... OH MY GOD

Oh this is so. Okay I need to lie down. What the hell. Oh my GOD. /pos /exag

JUST...

Holy SHIT I can't stop reading it (I say as I reread it again to gather my thoughts. Did it work? No. No it did not)

Hi Harmony! I just noticed that your requests are open and I decided to drop by with a small request I thought about for weeks.

I was thinking about Arlecchino for a while, and it made me ponder of the concept of Arlecchino with a darling on a reincarnation AU. Maybe Arlecchino has met her darling at such an inconvenient time, and every time that it has happened, only she remembers their past lives.

It probably goes to the point that Arlecchino starts devising ways to be able to keep her darling safe, because each time they would meet, her darling gets into an accident... And it would seem that each time she tried, then it would simply fail. And it would push to a point where she resorts to one of the more not so morally good methods.

I don't know if this counts as a req. or a brainrot, but I offer you this idea because I think it could be interesting to think about sometimes. You're free to deny it btw if its typical, hard, or overall you can't write it <3 I completely understand if that's the case.

(p.s.: this is the one running @yxstxrdrxxm BAHAHAHAHAHA I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your message during OLC, I dont know how to talk to you w/o sounding really awkward </3 also!! hydration check! Anyways thats all, have fun with the idea + I hope you have a great day Harmony :D)

Pantomime Of The Night

yandere!arlecchino x reader

cw(s) : yandere, vampire!arlecchino, mentions of blood, murder, slight gore, non-consensual touching, unbalanced power dynamics

wc : 2.1k

a/n: omg hiii! would you believe me if I said I was just thinking about you before getting this ask? also please don't worry about my message! i had a hunch that you might be in a situation of sorts. thank you so so much for requesting arlecchino because i've been itching to write for her for a long time! i decided to go with vampire!arlecchino for this because i thought it'd suit the reincarnation theme well. i hope you enjoy it<3

At the deepest hours of the night, even the innocent crackles of hearthfire sound as clamorous as gun-shots.

You're dazed by the flame's continuous dance until the aroma of freshly brewed tea reaches your senses and the servants have left. A sharp clank from Arlecchino's glass and the weight of her gaze prompt you to meet her eyes. The light from the fireplace casts shadows on the other half of her fair face, she seemed to have foregone her usual taught posture in favor of a relaxed one. One of her hands supports her cheek while the other holds the wine glass, the beverage within sloshes as the claw-like accessories on her fingers curl around the object.

Your side of the table is far more decorated, desserts that you've never even seen in your impoverished mortal life and that tea you've grown fond of over the course of your stay in her mansion sit appetizingly. All beckon you to feast, all seek to fan the flames of voracity and you offer but a thoughtless stare in return.

The master of the house seems to have noticed your lack of appetite as she finally breaks the stretched out silence, “These are all confectioneries of the highest quality from the town and as I recall, all of your favorites. But you give them no more than a blank stare... you've also not taken a sip from the tea. May I inquire why?”

The raspy tone of her observation has your arms covered in gooseflesh, though, you note she does not sound as confused as her words suggest. You can feel her onyx eyes gloss over every part of your person, inspecting and dissecting each and every visible clue. You swallow dryly, “It’s just that it's way too late in the night,”

“Yet you look as ready as ever to head out. Tell me, have you been anticipating my return, dearest?”

Arlecchino stares pointedly at your attire, likely referring to the traveling clothes you have on instead of the silk nightwear that she had gifted. Your shoulders tense unconsciously, there's something about the way she speaks at this instance that has your heartbeat crescendoing. The silver haired woman gives you a few more beats of anxiety, her talons scrape against the dainty glass.

“I’ve been informed that you have not eaten anything since yesterday.”

The words escape her painted lips easily, but they don't fail to send a jolt through your system. Throughout your stay, she'd never spoken to you like this, like you were one of her children who did not know better and decided to cross a line. That realization renders you further puzzled, you did nothing wrong to begin with, but her tone made you feel as though you were on the verge of doing so. You clear your parched throat and gather yourself to meet her eyes. This time, you do not allow yourself to wilt at the force of her burning stare.

“Arlecchino, I have something to tell you.”

The addressed woman straightens up at your sudden serious tone, her hand abandons the wine glass on the table and you inhale involuntarily at the scratches that now decorate the object, “I’m all ears, dearest.”

Your brows crease, as usual, Arlecchino is courteous, too courteous for someone who makes it obvious she's informed of something that she wasn't supposed to know. She's been like this ever since you and your travel-partner stepped foot in her ambiguous estate. Initially, you were touched by the hospitality she and her adopted children had shown you. Your greed lulled any arising suspicions, you neither questioned why she'd been so generous to a commoner with nothing more than fifty mora to their name nor did you bother to think about how she was affording all those gifts. You naïvely wished to believe in her kindness and that nothing was wrong about this house. But of course, self-woven deceptions last so long.

“Before you mistake me for being ungrateful, I did plan to inform you before leaving. Me and my friend are extremely thankful for the care your house has shown us, but we cannot stay in one place forever.”

“Why not?” you halt at her abrupt question but she follows up before you could even part your lips, “Have we lacked in any area to provide you with the adequate comfort? Have any of my children said something? If it's the latter, I'll apologize in their stead, they can be quite playful at times, I'm sure you understand.”

You stare dumbfounded at the sudden turn this conversation has taken, she wasn't supposed to behave like this. Why is she searching for a reason to make you stay when she should've been happy that a burden was about to be lifted off of her shoulders? Are all nobles this pushy?

“I—” you cut yourself off as the silver-haired woman leans in without warning, her shadow envelopes the delicacies laid out on the small table.

“Or… have you seen something?” she drawled.

You cannot hold back a flinch this time. A curse echoes in your mind at your stupidity, this was no ‘conversation’ to begin with ; this was yet another trap and you'd willingly played right into the palm of Arlecchino's hand. If there's one thing you've learned about this mysterious noblewoman, it is that she enjoys the process of dragging answers out of everyone. From the very beginning, she was aware of your scheme but, she chose to wear that mask of courtesy one more time and lured you out in the open, unguarded. If only your friend arrived to fetch you from your room at the right time, you wouldn't be in this messy situation.

Your eyes dart from her unblinking expression to the sharp accessories that adorn her gloved fingers and something about them forces you to reply quickly.

“No! I mean, you know that I'm a traveler, do you not? It's already been six months since we came to your estate, me and my friend were starting to.. crave that adventurous thrill—yes! We were starting to miss being on the road and decided to depart in the early morning.”

Once upon a time, your late mother had told you that some people in this world are like spiders. They're always at the centerpiece of their lair, leaving intricate translucent webs for unassuming prey to get tangled upon. Although the croaked warnings of your bedridden mother did not make much sense to the younger you, you understood now exactly what she meant.

“Incorrect. You were planning to escape with that friend of yours, weren't you?”

The hearthfire burns bright, shrouding Arlecchino's expression in shadows. The chilling octave of her voice defeats the warmth of the fireplace and has every muscle in your body stiffened. Escape? Her word choice never ceased to baffle you throughout this faux tea-party. She speaks as though you were her prisoner instead of a guest. She tilts her head and has the audacity to look betrayed as though you were a possession she held dear, and not a random human she decided to take pity upon.

Arlecchino runs a hand through her silvery hair with a sigh that actually indicates ennui and you bite back a scowl, “Honestly, I do not understand why you even befriended that thing. He's an obnoxious blabbermouth with a nose bigger than his brain. And he's loud, too. You've always preferred to mingle with level headed people with a sufficient intellectual capacity in the past and here you are, glaring at me as though—”

“Don’t speak like you know me!”

You pant after the force of that outburst, your voice ricochets across the walls of her room and further beyond. You open your mouth to continue but stop when you notice a strange flicker in the silver-haired woman's eyes. It's gone in a blink and is replaced with irritation just as quickly however.

“Oh, but I do know you. I know you better than you know yourself, in fact. I know that there are exactly 11 moles throughout your body, I know all your preferences and fears. Don't believe me? Did you really never stop to question how I managed to give you things that catered to your tastes? How I knew what you desired even before you did? Or were you so mesmerized by the words of that friend of yours to pay minimum attention?”

If the tone of a person's voice could kill, you'd be rotting in a ditch by now. You would've never believed someone could sound this malicious while not even raising their voice. You want nothing more than to shrink away but the adrenaline accumulated through your anger pushes you to keep digging your grave.

“And so what if that's exactly how it is? You have no right to have a say in who I choose to be ‘mesmerized’ by!”

A ‘ha!’ laden with disbelief escapes Arlecchino's lips. Fine silvery strands bounce at the mocking tilt of her head, “So what will you do now? Walk out of the gates with that waste of space like nothing happened?”

“Oh, you bet I will!” you fume, rising from the chair and turning on your heels. You barely take one step away from the table until the full weight of Arlecchino's malice crashes down on you and you remember something important.

“Arlecchino, where is my friend?”

The silver haired woman leisurely raises her wine glass at your stilted words, “In my glass.”

You swivel towards her, blinking several times as if to confirm you didn't mishear.

“Well, here and… probably in the stomach of my pet vultures, excluding the carcass, that is. I'll admit, the taste is subpar compared to the trouble I went through. That thing kept on screaming until one of the vultures tore its heart out. Ugh, my ears are still ringing.”

Your wide eyes tremble towards the glass in her hand, the deep red liquid within sloshes to the direction of Arlecchino's hand ; paired with her words, your friend’s destiny becomes a no-brainer. All your wits abandon you in that instance and in a moment of sheer panic, you take a step back. Arlecchino promptly interferes with your plans, the door and windows close with no little sound and the table and your chair disappear without a trace—all in the snap of her fingers.

“What are you?”

You would've screamed if you didn't forget how to use your lungs. But then again, you doubt anyone would come to save you from her clutches even if you did. Your eyes connect to her onyx ones and in that moment, she appeared far less human than she'd been this whole encounter. Her pupils flash as two red xs and you feel an invisible pull tugging you to her side. The temptation dominates any coherent thoughts until you find yourself an arms length away from her seated self. Her claws dig into the flesh of your arm and yank you to her lap.

Free from the haze of that strange sensation, the first thing that permeates your senses is how cold Arlecchino's proximity is. Your palm meets her chest in a feeble attempt to push her away but all it does is stun you when you notice the absence of a heartbeat. You feel the sting of something sharp on your chin and waist, your eyes glance back and forth between the sources—dread pools in your stomach. Because of your closeness and the light from the fireplace, you're able to see that the sharp objects you'd mistaken for accessories are actually her nails and the gloves, her real skin.

Perhaps your trembling was so pitiful that Arlecchino could not help but soften her gaze, “Do you truly not recall?”

You look up at her, thoroughly perplexed. There's that previous glint in her eyes again but you've already accepted that understanding this woman was beyond you. One moment she accuses you as though you've been unfaithful, then she vividly describes how she murdered an innocent man and the next she looks almost… hurt?

“Recall what?”

The silver-haired woman’s red lips part and you gulp as unnaturally sharp fangs sneer at you. Albeit, she does not answer you and you wonder if you should get accustomed to playing mental gymnastics with her just to get a simple answer. Her talons let go of your waist and drag their up to your collarbone, creating a deliberate and irrepairable tear on your clothes. Her nails drum against your skin for three seconds before they latch onto your throat.

“Although, that'll no longer be an issue.”

She forces you to make eye-contact with a sharp tug on your chin, the color drains from your face as her cool breath washes against your skin. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but are quickly shushed as you feel her fangs sink into your lower lip.

“Because, we'll have ample time to get acquainted with each other starting from today.”

[adumbratrapedme]

“Caught, Almost!”

Pairing: kenma x reader

Synopsis: you and kenma. needy. school grounds. almost caught. ok? ok.

Warnings: “public” sex, smut, +18, p in v, etc. idk im too lazy to properly tag this uhhh, is my first time writing smut cuz i usually get too nervous while writting it ngl (i take constructive criticism, sooo point out what i could do better. thank you!). nyan!

╭⋅Tbh not even you know how you guys enfed like this huh ╭⋅You where supossed to JUST GO AND FIND YOUR BOYFRIEND that was skipping practice (again) ╭⋅He was tired you know?? You guys just finished exam season and! He got a new game! Common!! Let my man rest!! ╭⋅Anyways, you didn’t care, sorry ken ken, disadvantages of having a manager gf unu ╭⋅So, tbh i would never take kenken as someone that has public sex? But i mean lets try to understand him ok? A full exam week, no gf, no kisses and the only opportunities you had to get together he got cockblocked! Wether it was his or you family ╭⋅When you finally find him sitting in his desk playing with the psp you try to pull him away but he does not comply! ╭⋅Until well… you get irritated and start saying that you’d do anything he wants!! ╭⋅So here we go :3

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Kenma~!” you called out, your voice echoing through the empty halls as you searched for your elusive boyfriend. Frustration bubbled inside you, and just as you were about to give up, a familiar mop of pudding-colored hair caught your eye through the window of an empty classroom. “UGH! THERE YOU ARE!!” you huffed, storming into the room, Kenma flinched at your sudden outburst, his eyes still glued to his handheld console. "You're still looking for me? So... practice isn't over yet? Great..." he muttered under his breath, clearly bothered by the situation.

"Honeyyyy~" you groaned dramatically as you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. He didn't budge, his fingers tapping away at the buttons, “keEeeEn~” you whined, playfully trying to push him out of the chair.

"Come on! Kuroo is going to kill me if I don't bring you back!"

Still no reaction.

You leaned in closer, pressing your cheek against his. "Do you really want your beaaauuutiful girlfriend to fail at her manager duties, huh?"

Kenma finally sighed, his gaze never leaving the screen. "

...If it means

you'll leave me alone, then... sure."

"UGH! Kenmaaaa!" you pouted, slumping dramatically in front of him.

Dropping to your knees and hugging his legs you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

His fingers faltered for a second.

"You're so annoying.." he muttered, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After what felt like hours (okay, maybe just ten minutes) of begging and pressing Kenma to go to practice, you finally hit your limit. Refusing to stand from your spot on the floor, you crossed your arms and gave him your best fake teary eyes, complete with a trembling pout.

“Fine then… let them fire me from my manager position,” you huffed dramatically. Kenma finally glanced down at you, his expression flat. “Y/N… this isn’t a job. They won’t fire you.”

But then — ngh! — his gaze lingered. The sight of you sitting on the floor, all pouty and vulnerable? That triggered something in his brain.

Neurons? Activated.

Kenma? Horny

Y/n? Annoyed

Crops? Watered.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he averted his gaze, but his voice softened. “But… maybe there’s something we can do… if you really want me to go back to practice.” Your eyes lit up. “YAS! I knew it!” You leapt from the floor, wrapping your arms around him in excitement. “Come on, tell me! I’ll do anything you want!”

Kenma blinked, momentarily stunned by your enthusiasm, before a tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well… you know how we haven’t been able to spend much time together lately?” You nodded eagerly, not missing the way his voice dipped into a quieter tone.

“And how every time we try to be alone… someone interrupts us?” he added, glancing at you briefly before looking away again, the blush deepening.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, heart thumping in anticipation. Kenma cleared his throat. “Well… maybe we can do it now.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait… here?” “The school’s practically empty,” he murmured, setting his PSP down on the desk. “Only a few clubs and… maybe a janitor. But if we’re careful…”

He finally looked back at you, and the heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

“You serious?” you whispered.

Kenma leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Only if you want to.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

So... in the end, you gave in—how could you possibly resist that pudding-colored mop of hair? And now, here you are, in this exact moment.

You're leaning over his desk, your hands pressing against the surface.

Honestly, you feel a little exposed. Your boyfriend's behind you, and you can feel his gaze, while all you can see is what's right in front of you. You feel his cold hand lift your skirt, the breeze of his breath hitting your core, making you shiver just a little..

"just look at this, huh kitten? i barely even told you what i wanted and you are this wet already?” he said as he pulled down at your underwear, “ so eager to please me huh?” He said leaning into you and giving your ear a few kitten licks.

"P-Please, Kenma," you whispered, a hint of shame in your voice. Doing this in school? It felt so forbidden, so sinful. But deep down, you couldn't deny it — you'd been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

To be honest, Kenma had wanted to tease you a little longer, but even he couldn't hold back. After the past week of restraint, he was too pent up to keep it inside any longer.

"So whiny..." he murmured while placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck, while one of his hands ran down your shirt until he reached your breasts, the way he squeezed them was very rough, but it was the right one for that moment, his hand was massaging them and the other was busy unbuckling his belt.

"I'm sorry darling..." he whispered into your ear while holding his member with one hand and rubbing it against your entrance earning a soft moan from you "you know that normally I would go slowly but... I don't think there's enough time for that right now"

You nodded in agreement, eager to feel him inside you, you hadn't realized how much you needed this, how much you missed his hands, his kisses and his caresses...

Just when you were lost in your thoughts a sudden pressure at your entrance made you yelp, Kenma's hands gripped your waist firmly, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you closer. His breathing was uneven, his gaze heavy with desire as he leaned in.

"Ahh... Y/N..." His voice came out low and hoarse, roughened by the tension building between you. He pushed in deeper, his movements purposeful, each one making you gasp as your body adjusted to him. "You're so tight... nghh..." The way he muttered it, half a groan and half a breathless confession, made your stomach flutter.

A whimper escaped you, soft and broken, your lower lip trembling as you tried to speak through the haze. "K-Kenma... it's so big, I-"

Before you could finish, he picked up his pace, each movement making you lose more control over your voice. You couldn't stop the sounds slipping from your lips, and just as quickly, he silenced you with a kiss - rough, needy, possessive. "I like you better when you just moan for me," he mumbled against your lips, his voice low and commanding.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, making you melt into his touch.

You could feel the tension in your body rising fast, and by the way Kenma gripped you, he could feel it too. The way you clenched around him made him groan softly, his head dropping to your shoulder as he trailed kisses along your neck, leaving faint marks behind.

Normally, he would slow down - tease you, drag things out until you were begging for more. But this time, he couldn't hold back. His own release was close, and it showed in the way his thrusts grew more erratic, rocking the desk beneath you as he pushed deeper.

"Fuck... baby..." His voice was husky, strained, filled with urgency as he buried himself in you. "I'm really close..."

You couldn't hold back your own moans any longer. The intensity of his movements, the weight of his body against your back, the sound of his voice — it was all too much. You didn't care if anyone could hear, if anyone walked by. All that mattered was him.

Kenma's fingers tightened their grip on your hips, his forehead pressed to yours as he pushed you both toward the edge. His heart was racing, his breath ragged in your ear, and you could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter.

"Kenma... please." you whimpered, your voice trembling as you clung to him, your body shaking from the overwhelming sensation.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name falling from your lips, his movements never faltering. He could feel how close you were — he always knew your body better than you did.

And though his usual control would have him drawing things out, this time he couldn't stop. His release was so close, right there, and he didn't want to hold back.

Twenty minutes in, and he already had you falling apart twice. But still, he kept going, chasing that final high — for both of you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Kenma's forehead rested against your back, his breath hot and uneven as you both tried to steady yourselves.

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns under your skirt, a stark contrast to the urgency from moments before. There was a softness in his gaze now, something tender beneath the layers of intensity that still lingered in the air between you.

"Are you okay?" he murmured quietly, his voice softer, more familiar. The concern in his tone made your heart ache in the best way, and you nodded, lips curling into a faint smile.

"I'm okay," you whispered, though your voice still trembled slightly from the aftershocks, your body now fully resting in the desk in a weak attempt of catching your breath.

Kenma's lips twitched into a small smile at your answer. He wasn't always great with words, but his actions said enough. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you before before turning you around, facing each other, his forehead brushing yours in a quiet moment of calm.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint creak of the desk beneath you. His thumbs rubbed lazy circles over your skin, grounding both of you as you melted into each other. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. It wasn't like him to ask, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now — more vulnerable, more open.

You shook your head, cupping his face gently. "No... it was perfect," you said softly, and you meant it.

Kenma sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into your touch.

His lips pressed a lingering kiss to your palm before he pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around you like he couldn't bear to let go just yet. "You make me feel things I never thought l'd want," he admitted quietly, his voice almost shy. "I've never... wanted someone like this before."

The honesty in his words made your chest tighten, and you couldn't help but smile as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered against his skin. "You don't have to be afraid of wanting me."

Kenma's arms tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His heart was pounding against yours, steady and strong.

What you both thought would be a peaceful moment didn’t last nearly as long as you had hoped. For a brief second, you let yourselves forget that you were still on school grounds, thinking you could steal a quiet moment together. But reality quickly came crashing back in the form of a loud, obnoxious voice that both of you knew all too well.

"KENMAAAAAA... Y/N!" Kuroo’s voice echoed through the hallways, sharp and unmistakable as he called out for you two. It was impossible to ignore. You exchanged a glance, both of you groaning internally.

"Come on, Y/N, I trusted you!" Kuroo’s voice whined from further down the hall, his footsteps growing louder as he approached.

"Shit," Kenma muttered, clearly irritated. He quickly pulled away from you, his eyes darting around in panic. "We should hurry," he added, his tone serious now.

Both of you scrambled to adjust yourselves. Kenma straightened his uniform with a quick tug at his collar, while you did the same at your skirt. You couldn’t help but glance at Kenma, biting your lip in a mix of amusement and slight concern.

"Do I have sex hair?" you asked, half joking but also genuinely curious, Kenma paused for a split second, giving you a once-over before shrugging. "Hmm... maybe just a little," he said nonchalantly, brushing his fingers through your hair to tame it.

"Great," you muttered, pushing your hair back into place as the sound of Kuroo’s voice drew closer. You had to think fast before he found you both in the hallway, and judging by the way Kenma was glancing nervously in the direction of the noise, he was already calculating your next move.

You both braced yourselves for what would surely be an uncomfortable encounter, wondering if this "moment of peace" was truly ever meant to be.

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 3

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.4k A/N: This is the final part to this mini-series! I meant to upload it last night but I added in some things last minute. Thank yall so much for all the love on the first two parts, and thank you for reading!! As always, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz @batmandallyboy

Part 2

You remained holed up in your room all day, alternating between sobbing and staring blankly at the wall. No matter what transpired, your life was irreversibly altered. Even if you gave away the baby and came home, you would still be the loose hussy. The unruly girl. Doomed to a life of being a spinster and an example to the younger girls in town.

At some point you started praying, hoping God would hear you and somehow lift you from this awful predicament.

All too soon, Elisabeth knocked on the door, saying you were being summoned to the sitting room. You were on edge; it felt like you could feel your individual neurons pulsing and transmitting a network of regret all over your body.

You dragged your feet downstairs and trudged to the sitting room, feeling like you were approaching the guillotine. 

Your two executioners sat on the couch. Your mother had an angry, nasty look on her face while your father seemed a bit apprehensive. It was clear she hadn’t told him yet, choosing instead to let him wonder.

“Sit down,” your mother said icily.

You sat. 

“Our lovely daughter has something to tell us, darling,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. 

You were starting to think she was genuinely evil. You kept silent. Lord, save me. 

“Go on, don’t be shy.” Your mother chuckled. “Or shall I?”

There was no way you were going to admit to your father what you’d done. Eating nails would be preferable to this.

She scoffed. “Alright then. Our daughter…this woman…has gone and got herself with child.”

Both you and your father flinched, him with surprise and you with shame. You bowed your head low. Your secret was out in the open now. 

“With child?” he repeated incredulously. “How?”

How, indeed.

“That is the question,” your mother said. “She won’t tell me who the father is, or she doesn’t know.”

Your father struggled to form words. You didn't dare meet their gazes.

“Is this true?” he finally asked you.

Of course it was true. It was the worst, most painful truth of your life. “Yes,” you admitted in a tiny voice.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I just don't understand how this could happen,” he remarked. “What happened to our little girl?”

You hadn’t been a little girl in a long time, but you didn’t bother pointing this out.

“Do you have any idea who the father is?” your mother demanded. “Or are you such a loose hussy that it could be any man in town? Is that what you’ve been doing every time you sneak out? Answer me!” 

I hate you.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed. 

Your mother sighed. “Now I suppose you’ll wash my feet with your tears next? Stop with the crocodile tears. If you thought yourself mature enough to partake in such activities, you’re surely smart enough to know the consequences.”

The tears came harder and faster. You could barely stand to be here any longer. This was pure torture. You just wanted…well, what you wanted was far away right now, and also the cause of your problems. 

“I’m sending you to the nunnery,” your mother announced, raising her voice above your noisy sobs. “Until this…issue is resolved. You clearly need the fear of God put into you.”

Anything but that! “No!” you cried. “No, please, I can’t! Mother, please!”

“We have no other choice,” she replied flatly. “I will not allow you to bring shame upon this family. Now, you’re dismissed back to your room and don’t you dare try to leave and corrupt anyone else with the knowledge of your actions. Just the sight of you disgusts me.”

“Father,” you pleaded. “Don’t let her do this!”

Your father, the coward, was already standing up. “Well, I don’t think I should disagree with your mother-”

“To your room,” your mother spoke angrily.

You ran out of the room, despaired, fearful, and angry all at once.

It had been less than 3 days since your parents were made aware of your pregnancy, and your mother moved like she had firecrackers under her feet, directing the packing up of your room.

You were being sent to a convent north of Valentine, many, many miles away. According to your mother, you would stay there until the baby was born and either raise it there or give it away. 

“If you ever return here, I have no desire to see a crying brat with you,” your mother told you bluntly. What a pleasant woman.

Well, you were not going to any nunnery, that was for sure. You had a plan. An admittedly rough around the edges one, but a plan nonetheless.

Late at night, you quietly packed a large satchel with clothes and essentials. You were getting the hell out of here, and you were going to track down Arthur.

It was his fault this was happening, and you would refuse to leave until he took responsibility. As much as you hated the idea of groveling at his feet, you had no other options. Raising a baby by yourself was basically unheard of, and you were almost certain to screw it up somehow.

The gang was no longer hiding at Clemen’s Point. You knew this because you’d (ashamedly) ridden down to see Arthur about a month after your final meeting, and saw that the land was abandoned.

At the time you figured it was best he was gone. That toxic energy was better off not being in your life, and so what if you craved his red-hot touch every single day, and touched yourself thinking of him, hoping to replicate the feel of his thick fingers massaging your pussy?

Anyway, you had an idea of where he was. He’d told you before that the gang would probably move further east to outrun the Pinkertons, and he’d expressed his distaste of Saint Denis. 

So, he was possibly somewhere near Saint Denis, maybe on the outskirts. You’d have to ask around a bit. It would be a daunting task– a single, defenseless woman in a big, strange city. 

Not to mention pregnant. Maybe you should have taken those shooting lessons after all.

And it wasn’t like he was waiting for you there– surely the gang was laying low, after that crazy shootout with the Grays in town.

You finished packing and sneaked downstairs, careful to stick to the edge of the stairway. Your parents were apparently asleep, and only some of the help was awake this late.

Elisabeth, as kind as she was, couldn’t be trusted. She was in the pay of your mother and therefore on the enemy’s side.

So you had no one, no companion but your horse, Maverick. He was a very dependable creature and honestly your only friend. 

You attached your satchel to his saddle, then got on and quietly directed him off the property. Luckily the help wasn’t paid to ask questions, so no one batted an eye as you passed by. 

You didn’t dare make a sound, or even breathe, until the manor disappeared from view, and all you could see for miles was the forest and the midnight blue sky.

Sighing in relief, you sped up almost to a gallop, going towards Saint Denis. It wasn’t a terribly long ride, but it was long enough and made more difficult by worrying about your…Arthur’s...child. You still couldn’t quite get used to saying that. 

After some time, you arrived in Saint Denis. It was about 12am, and you were eager to be off the road after getting lost several times and nearly falling into a swamp. You led Maverick to a hotel, where you purchased a room for the night.

You laid down on the bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one back home, but it was miles away from your troubles. That was the important bit.

Snuggling into the pillow, you sighed deeply, formulating a plan to look for Arthur. You would try the saloon first; he’d spent a lot of time there in Rhodes, and you were sure he hadn’t changed that habit. After that, perhaps the post office, or the stables. 

You fell asleep dreaming of his beard scratching against your face and his fingers exploring your filthiest bits.

The next morning, you rode over to the saloon and inquired about Arthur with the bartender. “Tall, broad, very handsome, with brown hair,” you explained. “Looks like a gunslinger.”

“Oh yes, him and his pals have come here a few times,” the bartender exclaimed. “They was just down here last night, even.”

Dammit. You’d just missed him. But that confirmed he was in Saint Denis. “Did he say anything about where he was staying?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am, not that I can recall. But just turn up here ‘round six and he’ll surely be here.”

That was that, then. You would come back to the bar later tonight and catch him.

You left the saloon and remounted Maverick in hopeful spirits. Now that you knew for sure he was here, it was okay to relax a bit. And you definitely felt worn out after that long journey.

You stopped by the general store to get some fresh food and an apple for Maverick. A bit of rum would have taken the edge off, but you supposed it wasn’t good given your…condition.

Arriving back at the hotel, you bathed and washed your hair. As silly as it probably was, you wanted to look nice for Arthur. To show that you were a survivor.

Your thoughts drifted. What kind of a father would he be? What kind of family unit would you be? What with him still on the run, still following that silver-tongued Dutch, it would be difficult for you to run from place to place with him. Perhaps he would just tell you to get a room in Saint Denis and he would visit when he could. What if he walked out of your life one day, and never entered it again?

A scenario like that would effectively doom you for life. You weren’t certain you could stomach giving the baby away, but the thought of raising a child with no money or prior knowledge made you equally queasy. 

But even if Arthur let you stay with him– what then? You’d seen the mess that was John Marston’s relationship with his family. And Jack, the little boy. Did you want your child in the same circumstances?

Arthur is not like John, you told yourself firmly. But really, you had no way to tell until he knew.

You spent the day milling about Saint Denis, exploring the markets and seeing the many entertainers on the streets. The people were definitely ruder here, more coarse and quick to anger. It almost made you miss Rhodes.

Almost, anyway.

At about six o’clock you came back to the saloon. Your heart was pounding like crazy, and you mentally prepared yourself for what you were going to say.

Arthur, I’m expecting.

Arthur, I’m pregnant…and it’s yours.

Please help me.

I’ve nowhere else to go.

Please?

You opened the doors, swallowing hard and gritting your teeth.

“Arthur,” you squeaked, then looked around. It was quite full of businessmen, factory workers, and the odd prostitute. 

You carefully took a pace around the room, searching for that familiar form. You looked all over, but didn’t hear him nor see him. Nor anyone from the gang.

Sidling up to the bartender (a different one this time), you asked, “Excuse me, sir, have you seen a…a gunslinger-type fellow here? Brown hair with a beard. Super handsome. You would remember him.”

He thought for a bit while pouring glasses. “Don’t think so, madam. But a lot of people come through here, I might just not remember. If you don’t see him here, you can sit near the door, watch it n’ see if he comes in.”

Sigh. “Alright, thank you kindly.”

You took up a post near the door, awkwardly clutching your satchel, examining everyone that came through the door. More men, some women, even a couple rough-looking folks that looked like the company Arthur kept. But no Arthur.

Unbelievable. Had the bartender from yesterday been mistaken? Or did the gang skip town already?...Most likely, it was just a fluke and they decided not to come today. Dammit!

After about half an hour of waiting, you gave up, just wanting to lie down. You dejectedly got up and exited the saloon.

However, as soon as you did, you almost ran face first into someone’s horse.

The horse nearly trampled you, and you screamed in fear as you tripped and fell to the ground.

“What the hell?!” you cried, shaken. What idiot couldn’t control their horse?

“Dammit, sorry, lady,” a gruff voice spoke. The man got his horse under control after a bit of calming. “You okay– wait…do I know you?”

You got up, dusting off your skirt, looked closer at the man and gasped. It was Bill Williamson, another member of the Van Der Linde gang!

This was an extremely lucky situation. “Bill?” you asked, praying you were right.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Ain’t you…wasn’t you Arthur’s little thing?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes, I know Arthur. Is he here?”

Bill shook his head. “No, he’s back at camp–, err, well, no. He ain’t here. You know, he acted mighty strange after you left–”

“Can you take me to him? Please, Bill,” you begged. “It’s imperative.”

He sighed and scratched his nose. “I was plannin’ on gettin’ drunk…but I s’pose so. But keep your voice down, we’re not exactly best buds with the Pinkertons right now. You got a horse?”

“I do.” 

You quickly mounted Maverick, then followed Bill out of Saint Denis towards the gang’s camp. You were practically buzzing with nervousness. The courage you’d had last night had been used up, and now you were just scared. Would he reject you, force you back to your parents? Or claim that the baby wasn’t his? What if he had a new girl?!

You cleared your throat. “Has he…err, has Arthur…been seeing anyone else since I left?”

Bill laughed. “Arthur? Hell no. I swear, all he talks about is you. Back in Rhodes, he swore up and down you would be back soon. Heh, we all had a good laugh at him then. But I guess the joke’s on us, now that you’re here.”

Well, that was good at least. But why was he so sure you would be back? You’d mutually agreed never to contact each other again.

It was kind of ironic. You’d insisted on cutting him off, yet here you were, chasing him down.

After a few minutes of riding, you finally arrived at the dilapidated house the gang was calling their home. It looked more like a demolition zone to you, but you supposed they would take what they could get after Rhodes.

“Here we are, little lady,” Bill announced. “Arthur!”

You dismounted your horse and went into the main campsite. Karen, Javier, Charles…the gang was all here. You got a few greetings and hand waves from the women.

“Arthur,” Bill barked. “You got a visitor, get out here!”

You stood awkwardly by the entrance of the house, looking in the propped open door, waiting for Arthur with bated breath.

Dutch was sitting by the front door, reading. He looked up when you approached. “Well, welcome back, sweetheart,” he said in that demeaning voice. “You wasn’t followed, were you? A lot of people want us dead right now.”

“Err, no sir, I don’t think so,” you squeaked. Dutch made you uncomfortable. You got the feeling he thought of women as delicate creatures that were lesser than men. Even with the few times you’d been to camp, you had heard the cruel words he flung at and about Molly.

You just hoped none of it had rubbed off on Arthur. You knew he was fiercely loyal to the man.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from inside the house. “Alright, I’m comin’, shut up,” a familiar voice grunted.

A lightning strike bolted down between your legs and you gasped softly when Arthur’s familiar, muscular form filled your vision.

“What-” he started, then froze when his eyes landed on you. His lips parted, but no words came out for a second. “You-”

“Arthur,” you whispered.

This was the greatest day of his life.

Arthur was certain he’d failed to impregnate you. That you’d been living fine all this time, not sparing a single thought to his well being.

But you were here. You’d hunted him down, somehow, and you looked scared out of your mind. And he could guess why.

He licked his lips. “What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You stared at him for a good few seconds, transfixed by his rugged beauty. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Arthur took you to the back of the house. The two of you sat in the grass, legs crossed.

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

“By chance,” you said. “I knew you went east, so I asked around at Saint Denis– then I ran straight into Bill.”

He nodded. “You…you got somethin’ to tell me?”

You took a deep breath. Now that the moment was actually here, every nerve in your body was thrumming with anticipation. “I’m…well, actually, I’m…pregnant.”

The only sound was the chirping of birds. 

“Excuse me?” he said quietly.

You felt ashamed. “I’m with child, Arthur. My parents done kicked me out because of it. S’why I came here.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said slowly, like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes. And you’re the father for sure.”

He stayed silent for a bit, but you could hear his breath accelerate sharply.

You felt scared of what he was thinking. “Arthur?”

After a long period of silence, he said, “Are you showin’ yet?”

What an odd question. “A little.”

“Can I see?”

What? But you obliged, letting him lift up your skirt high enough to show off your bump.

Arthur inhaled sharply, then put his hand on your belly. “That’s– that’s my baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m about 4 months along, I think,” you said, fixing your clothes. “So…so are you going to…step up? I don’t have anyone else, Arthur.” Your voice turned squeaky and desperate, and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “My parents wanted to send me to a convent–”

“Baby, hey, shh. I can promise you I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur said hoarsely. “You’re staying here with me.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at his declaration. He was such a…man. Never afraid to take responsibility or action. You were supremely glad that he was going to take care of you and the baby. However long the gang could outrun the Pinkertons, he would, you knew it.

Arthur embraced you, curving his hands around your stomach and kissing your cheek. The two of you rocked back and forth for a minute, in unadulterated bliss. Everything melted away: the camp, the law, your parents. It was just you and him. And the baby between you.

"Told ya, you belong with me," he whispered in your ear.

Arthur was right. You came back again and again and again because you craved the action. You craved excitement and freedom and yes, even bloodshed to a certain extent. There was no use trying to leave him when he represented everything you wanted in life, even the most sinful things.

He was made for you.

Arthur hustled you back up to where Dutch was, fighting a raging erection. Seeing his girl growing round with his baby was insanely satisfying. He felt that was an appropriate reward for everything he had worked for.

And now you were certain to be stuck with him. With a baby in you, you couldn’t do much of anything, much less run away again. He would gently insist that you stay in Shady Belle to recuperate from your no doubt difficult journey east, then as the months went by you would grow more and more dependent on him, stomach getting bigger every day, till you needed his help with the simplest tasks.

He would do it all for you. All this time, Arthur had tried to make you see that your place was by his side. It was just unfortunate that he’d had to resort to deceit to make you realize the truth.

But no matter. All was forgiven. He couldn’t wait to see your pregnant body and show you off to everyone in camp.

And just maybe he would put another kid or two in you, in case you had any doubts after the first one.

Arthur sighed in contentment as he approached Dutch to explain the situation. No matter what, he knew your love was genuine. It burned brighter than the sun, certain to destroy anyone that dared cross its path.

You, him, and your child– you would make a picture perfect family. He was certain of it.

End.

[moodymisty]

Hello I hope you are having a good week! I love your blog and anons so much <3 (The Horus feet post lives rent free in my head)

Your hc about Sanguinius having a secret possessive streak activated a neuron in my brain because its been stuck in my head for days and Im completely normal about him I promise :') my request:

His possessiveness rearing its head unexpectedly for the first time. To the point it even surprises him with how grumpy it makes him feel. His lover had only really been around him and his sons since theyd gotten together so he is caught off guard by this sudden anger.

She is meeting a few of his brothers for the first time at some kind of meeting and she laughing and smiling with Vulkan or maybe Fulgrim is being a little TOO friendly with her and Sanguinius just feels this red hot rage rip thru him without warning.

He goes to his lover and tensely bids his brother goodbye and herds her back to their shared quarters for some totally-normal-not-jealous-at-all sex (and a little bitey blood drinking) leaving her a total mess

If this is too specific, grumpy possessive vampire pigeon boyfriend is all I crave. Angry Sangy hits different...

Author's Note: Tried to write this normally and really struggled, so I decided to do a flashback style just to make it easier on me.

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Biting, Blood play, Possessive behavior

When you first awoke the feeling of lightheadedness overtook you immediately, and you drifted off asleep again for a short while longer.

After you woke for the second time, you noticed your Angel’s absence and leaned up to look around.

The Red Tear has been Sanguinius’ home for quite awhile now, and this trip back to Terra was well deserved. Even if much was unexpected.

A lot had changed in this time away. You first and foremost. He had left Terra with just his legion, and was now returning with a beloved at his side. It was very clear upon his arrival that this was the most interesting news.

Horus had been the first to greet him, giving him a friendly one armed hug. You had tucked yourself behind Raldoron when Sanguinius had waved for you to come forward, and put his hand on your shoulder. Raldoron stood close watch- on edge with an instinctive protectiveness triggered by your nervousness.

“I would like you to meet someone,”

Sanguinius had first told Horus. Horus then went and told Fulgrim. Fulgrim told Ferrus, who then complained to Vulkan. Vulkan was more chaste and didn’t gossip, but did say he was going to meet Sanguinius and his beloved upon passing Jaghatai.

Suddenly then all the Primarchs currently on Terra were crowding around his beloved sniffing around, and Sanguinius was furious.

You had only ever been around him and his sons since he had first fallen in love with you; To see others crowding around looking at you, asking you questions that teeter on the edge of too personal, watching as you struggle to keep your own head and answer without wilting under an unfamiliar primarch aura?

He hated it.

Seeing Vulkan smile at you made him want to throw his spear into his chest.

Seeing Fulgrim put a hand on your shoulder made him want to tear the Phoenician's throat out with his teeth.

Horus’ smile and jokes about you grounding the angel made him watch to wrap his hands around the Warmaster’s neck.

Sanguinius had snatched you and dragged you away the moment he had an opening to, pushing you in the direction of his Terran bedchambers.

'You smell like them.'

His nose wrinkled in disgust.

You should smell like him; The oil on his feathers, the scent of his own sweat and skin. Sometimes you smell like his sons when you are within a close proximity of them for awhile, which is less offensive that what it is currently, but not preferred.

He threw you into the bed, the messy unmade blankets bunching around you as fluffy down flies up. Sanguinius’ quarters are surprisingly messy, and his constant feather losses make the places he spends most a fluffy explosion of down and a few flight feathers.

He never spoke as he caged you under his body, looking down at you with a fierce gaze before his lips trapped your own. You felt the warmth of them, the way his tongue brushed against your lips and demands entry. His fangs are sharp- they nick your lips almost every time he deepens a kiss, and you end up with little droplets of blood on the inside of your waterline.

You can still fell the broken skin this morning, licking your bottom lip.

Something about him snapped, what was normally a gentle and soft man who touched you like you were made of glass suddenly was throwing you around, growling and snorting like little more than an animal.

'S-Sang-'

You could barely even finish his name as his fingers drove deeper into your cunt, and you could tell he was in a rush. Your grit your teeth and moaned, teetering on the knife's edge of pain too intense for you to enjoy, as his hot breath fanned over your skin and his fingers curled and beckoned you from deep inside your cunt. His lips hovered over the large vein of your neck, feeling the pulse of your racing heart just beneath your skin.

When he pulled them out you whimpered at the ache, the way your thighs shook along with your whole body. Sanguinius grabbed your hips and you sucked in air at the intensity, flipping you on your stomach.

'Up.'

When you don't understand his request immediately he gently rapped his hand over your ass and listened to you squeal out after the sound of smacked flesh rang out; Soon after you shifted to push your hips higher in the air for him.

You can still feel the echo of that lingering slap. You lay sideways in bed, wrapped in a thick red blanket trying to ignore the aches. You can still feel in your cunt the soreness as well, more than usual.

The feeling of the fat head of his cock popping past your entrance made you grit your teeth and whine, hands gripping the blankets. Sanguinius kept pushing, listening to your soft noises of half protest until he seated himself fully inside of you and his balls pressed against your clit.

The bruises of his harsh thrusts, hips slapping against your ass and forming a chorus of skin on skin, wet sounds of your cunt tightening and leaking around his cock- are still blossoming, if not in color but in pain.

Normally Sanguinius is gentle enough that you only get a muscle ache at most, but in his lack of self control you now struggle to get out of the bed and get dressed.

‘Their eyes may wander but yours won’t; You are mine.’

You felt the way he thrusts deep into you, slipping through your walls as the tip of his cock knocks against places untouched by everyone but him. The thick base of his cock stretched your entrance far enough that it almost burned, but in an almost pain that had tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and hiccuping moans in your throat.

Sanguinius is rarely rough; But when he is you feel like you can barely survive it, despite your cunt crying for more leaking around him like you’ve never wanted him more.

After he filled you to the brim and had your cunt throbbing with your heart beat from overstimulation, he pulled out of you and listened to the defeated, quiet whine as you feel the stretch from the head of his cock popping out of your entrance.

‘Tilt your head.’

You weakly let him in, feeling his hot skin fan over your own. He bites and listened to the way you hiss, whimpering in pain. He laps at your neck for a few moments before pulling away, finding a spot closer to your shoulder.

He bit again and again, each time enjoying the way your skin broke and blood flooded his mouth. When your eyes watered in pain his hand slipped between your legs to distract you, brushing over your throbbing clit and feeling the way your hole leaks his own cum onto his hand as well as your growing arousal as he toys with you.

Your neck still aches, and your head feels a bit light. You almost stumble walking out of his bedchambers, walking down the hall and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“My lady?”

You hear a familiar voice of the chapter master, who you presume is attempting to find Sanguinius same as you.

He quickly notices your somewhat disheveled state of dress and look, glancing over you curiously. His face is still stoic with only a slight layer of concern and curiosity.

“Are you alright?”

Raldoron comes closer and watches you nearly stumble, before righting yourself. He reaches a hand outward to steady you, but you don’t need it.

“Oh yes I’ll be fine, just tired. It was a long return trip to Terra.

You shift slightly and feel the ache in your neck- wincing in pain. Raldoron’s eyes drift downward, before his expression changes.

He suddenly has trouble making eye contact with you, which is odd. Raldoron is one of the more talkative of the Astartes you know. You reach up to rub your sore neck and feel skin-

You forgot to wear something to cover the marks.

Raldoron can see the full abuse Sanguinus- his genefather - had done to you the evening before, and is awkwardly standing there like it’s eating him alive.

“…Perhaps you should rest some more, my lady.”

Raldoron is clearly trying to avoid the subject, as are you. The sound of much heavier footsteps is like a savior in the darkest of times.

“There you are, my love.”

Sanguinus approaches, looking bright and alert with a lovely smile. He looks like he slept wonderfully, his face fuller and brighter. He greets Raldoron as well, before furrowing his brow as he notices the look on Raldoron’s face and the way you are pulling at the collar of your clothes.

“Is something wrong?”

[boulderpunchinglover]

Hii I was thinking for either bakugo or izuku u can write an image of the trend where the gf pretends that there's not enough food

also I'm so glad I found you, I know you only have one post up but I absolutely love your writing style and the way your profile colors are coordinated is so cute. I love it. Also because my favorite author is retiring 😭

also here's the link to the tik tok I'm referring to if you don't know

byee - 🖤🫶🏾

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNdQHYcw/

Woohoo! My first request!! As soon as I got the notification, I started writing immediately. TY for the profile compliment! I couldn’t decide on whether to write about Bakugo or Izuku so I did both! I hope that you and everyone who reads this enjoys <3

"There's not enough food" Prank on Bakugo and Izuku

Katsuki Bakugo

One night, you were scrolling on TikTok in your bed as Bakugo slept peacefully on your chest. You’re never up this late and you knew that Bakugo would be upset that you aren’t getting your beauty sleep. Good thing he fell asleep before you. He couldn’t fuss at you about being up this late. As you scroll, you see a video that catches your eye. A girl pranks her boyfriend by pretending that there's not enough food for the both of them and takes the plate with less food just to see his reaction. The boyfriend’s reaction catches your eye the most. He immediately takes some of the food off his plate and gives it to his girlfriend. “How sweet…” You say to yourself as you look down at Bakugo. “I wonder if Katsuki would have the same reaction…” neuron activated. You know what you are going to be doing tomorrow.

There was this restaurant that you and Bakugo went to regularly that had food worth dying for. You guys ordered the same thing every time: katsu curry. You decided to set up a date there to conduct the prank. Convincing Bakugo to go on a last minute date with you wasn’t hard at all. He was always happy to spend time with you. As you enter the restaurant, you come up with a plan on exactly how to go about this. “Kats, find us some seats. I’ll order the food for us.” Bakugo shrugs and does as he’s told. When you go up to the counter, you order a medium sized katsu curry bowl for Bakugo, and a small one for yourself. Once you sit beside Bakugo, he sees that you’re holding back laughter and raises his eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” You try to get your laughter to a minimum in order to answer his question. “Nothing, just thought of something funny.” Bakugo shrugs. He’s still sort of suspicious, but he doesn’t think much about it as he holds your hand. “Ok, weirdo…” A few minutes later, the waitress comes out with both of your bowls. She places the smaller one in front of you, and the bigger one in front of Bakugo. As you begin eating like everything is normal, you glance over at Bakugo’s face. He looks quite baffled.

What the hell?” Bakugo says as he compares your portion size to his. “Did you order a smaller size?” You shake your head. “My portion was smaller because the restaurant was running out of ingredients.” Bakugo scowls and begins to dump some of his food into your bowl. “That’s bullshit.” You giggle and try to stop him. “You don’t have to do that, Katsuki! I’m not even that hungry, for real!” Bakugo doesn’t believe that. “You were looking forward to going to this restaurant all day, idiot! I’d be damned if you can’t at least enjoy your meal like you wanted!” When Bakugou is done, you both have equal portions. In fact, you might have a little more. “There you go. If you want more, you can have more off my plate.” How sweet. You kiss Bakugo on his cheek and lay your head on his shoulder. “My hero. Thank you, babe. I love you.” Bakugo slightly blushes at your actions and words. He lovingly rubs your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too ♡”

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku insisted that he cook dinner when you were staying over at his house. After all, you were a guest. In his mind, you shouldn’t be the one cooking when you were the one staying over at his house! But after much convincing, he finally gives in and lets you cook. But little did he know, you offered to cook for a reason… to recreate a prank on TikTok that you saw where girls would give their boyfriends a plate with more food while they took the plate with less food just to see their reactions. Once you saw it, you knew that you just had to do it with Izuku. You decided to make Katsudon, which was his favorite food. His reaction was going to be interesting, as you knew that he loved Katsudon and he would most likely be reluctant to share with you. 

As you cook, you glance at Izuku as he studies at the kitchen table. He looks so peaceful, that you almost feel bad for your impending prank. (Keyword: almost). Once you get done cooking, you place each other's plates down on the table and take your seat. Izuku affectionately grins at you. “Thank you, love-” Izuku’s sentence is cut short when he notices that you barely have any food on your plate. “Y/N? What.. what is this about?” He says as he looks down at his plate in confusion. You smile and begin digging into your own, smaller portion plate. “There weren't enough ingredients for us to have the same amount. But that’s ok. I wasn’t that hungry anyway. 

Izuku shakes his head and swaps your plates. “In that case, you can have mine. It’s not fair for you to cook and eat the least amount.” You try to argue and swap the plates again. But he stops you. “Honey, I insist. Please don’t fight this…” You look into his eyes and see the genuine concern. You smile, knowing that you picked the right person to share your life with.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello! I’ve been back and forth on writing you this bc I’m nervous but eh fuck it, I have no shame. So first off, I just want to say that you, Salome, are an absolutely stunning and brilliant writer. As someone who majored in classical studies in college, I was completely blown away by Fatum Nos Iungebit. The world you built was so deeply immersive and characterization of König, in that story as well as your other headcanons, is perfect. For the past week or so, I’m going to be honest, I’ve been going through your blog because I’ve been so hungry for more and the only reason I haven’t interacted more is that 1. I don’t wanna feel like a creep and 2. I was so scared of you blocking me for ‘’spam-liking” or whatever. I can assure you that I am a real person and I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve seen. I came across one concept however, that definitely got my neurons firing and that’s the idea of belly dancer reader x könig and I have some thoughts I wanted to share with you if that’s okay. :)

So I’ve been a belly dancer for almost a decade (I actually celebrate my ten year anniversary next year!). I was part of a belly dance performance troupe at my old university and I currently dance with a studio in my new city. It’s genuinely one of the great passions of my life. I’ve performed at all kinds of venues and for all different occasions from festivals to galas to charity events to hookah bars, so I definitely have some performing experience under my belt, well as what audiences are like. So when I saw the idea of König being mesmerized by a dancer at a wedding, I went !!!

I want to add the caveat that this is based on my experience as a dancer living in the US, and while I’ve performed for SWANA audiences (which is always an amazing experience 🥰) and non-SWANA audiences, I can’t speak for what it’s like in other countries. So, in my ✨personal✨ experience as a belly dancer going on a decade, it’s pretty rare that men will approach dancers during or after a performance—especially to actively hit on her. And believe it or not, it’s because many of them are actually intimidated! I have seen the most seemingly cockiest, proudest men just stare blankly and stand back while we do our thing. If anything, it’s usually women who approach us, gushing about our performances or asking where they can take classes and stuff. Women tend to be the first ones to get up and dance with us, shower us with tips, etc. (again, very much my personal experience as someone living in the US). When it comes to more family-friendly events like weddings and stuff, we also get a lot of kids approaching and that’s always so adorable and sweet—especially when the little babies think we’re princesses. 😭

So back to König, especially Y!König. 😈 he’s at the wedding. He’s mopey. He’s picking at his plate of chicken and rice. He’s happy for his friend and his bride, but a little bitter and jealous that he’ll never get to be that happy. Then, a mejance (essentially an entrance/overture piece of music) swells over the speakers and out comes the dancer, adorned in an Irina Sheyner number (she’s an absolutely STUNNING costume designer, plsplsplsPLS look her up 😭), veil flying behind her. She does her mejance, a drum solo, and at some point…she does a sword number. The level of control she has to be able to balance the sword on her head in impressive, but König can’t help but imagine what it would be like for to dance wielding his knives in hand. Finally, dancer opens up the floor and in typical faction brings out the bride and groom to dance with her, and then most of the other guests follow. Not König though. He hangs back and watches as this beautiful dancer holds the guests in the palm of her hand. Gone is the cocky, brutal soldier, and only the shy, anxious boy remains, the one who would always be left out of games at recess and who wasn’t invited to birthday parties. König has never been the dancing type, but he can’t even bring himself to offer her a few of the banknotes or dollars or whatever currency he’s using. He just stares, and she’s completely oblivious.

A while later, he’s getting ready to leave, when he spots Dancer. Her makeup and hair still done up, but she’s now fully cloaked and awkwardly lugging her suitcase and bags full of props and other equipment across the poorly paved parking lot. König zeroes in on her and before he knows it, he’s approaching her, asking her if she needs help carrying her stuff. Dancer, surprised but this gigantic man suddenly appearing before her, flashes a winning smile at him and says he can. König easily lugs the stuff to Dancer’s car. She thanks him profusely and just like that, she drives away.

It’s only a few hours later that the obsession starts to creep in. König, who’s ordinarily not a big social media user, is now checking the feeds and stories of his friends who attended the wedding. Finally, he comes across one friend who posted a video of themself with the dancer and tagged her Instagram. König can’t click on it fast enough and suddenly, he’s greeted by dozens of images and photos of Dancer. Some are adorably mundane. He finds out that Dancer teaches classes at a studio nearby, and some of the videos consist of dancer teaching basic moves to the camera. There are other videos of her at the local hookah bar, where she performs on a regular basis. König sees one particularly video of Dancer doing a piece of floor work, that same sword balanced proudly on her head as she’s propped back on her arms, her gorgeous hips undulating toward the sky. König feels a dark wave of heat wash over him. He jokingly thinks to himself that maybe he should take up hookah. But one thing is for certain, she’s going to be his one day. He’ll just have to be sneaky about it, subtle.

He clicks the follow button on Dancer’s instagram. She has a few thousand followers. Surely she can’t notice one faceless profile, right? 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I know you’re taking a break from fics but if you see this I want you to know you’re an amazing writer. Lots of love! 💖💖💖💖

Ughhh and another lovely soul 😭💗 I don't know what's going on in here this week but both you and anon have really made my heart swell!

And please please please, spam liking is never frowned upon here (I don't know why anyone would block someone who's clearly not a bot for loving your stuff?!) It's such a delight if I see that someone has liked a ton of things instead of just one. It's the highest compliment and praise! ❤️🥺

And your bellydancer prompt/drabble is so mouthwatering, god. If I'm being honest, I'd read whatever you wrote for this thing in a hot minute because you have the skill and you've done the research (an actual bellydancer in my inbox?! Ok Salome try not to be a creep) and the premise is just. GAH. So good, especially with yandere König! ❤️❤️❤️

I have to reveal I wrote like 8 chapters of a story relatively close to this in the fall: Stalker!König obsessing about reader, invading her DMs on Instagram and literally stalking her. She's not a bellydancer, but damn if I didn't think about changing her into one... :) The story is on hold for now, but here is a little snippet as a thank you gift!

CW: Yandere/Stalker!König, harassing, obsessive behavior

I’m sorry, Liebling. You were too beautiful yesterday. I got carried away.

You wake up just to see that your phone is full of messages. From him, of course. He’s created another account on Instagram.

I’m just a man.

You ignore it altogether, even if there’s messages and emails from other people too. You simply go to brush your teeth, hearing how the phone buzzes on your desk.

I know it was disrespectful. I could never call my wife that. Will you forgive me?

You sigh and finish with your morning routine, but the phone buzzes again.

I sent you flowers. Did you get them?

It’s like he knows when you’re awake, because you can see the messages from your screen without having to unlock it. Even if he refreshed your conversation every minute, every second, he can’t possibly see that you’ve seen them yet.

It bugs you to no end, this feeling that he somehow knows that you’re awake. It’s like he knows your every move. It’s the most unnerving thing, and makes you think about horrible scenarios where he has broken into your house while you’re at work, to install cameras or microphones or something. You feel like you’re about to go mad if this nightmare goes on.

You go to the front door, but hesitate a while before you turn the knob.

What if it’s a trap?

What if he wants to kill you because you yelled at him last night at the pub...? What if there’s a bomb or something that goes off when you open the door, what if he aims at you with a gun from across the street and kills you on your doorstep this morning?

Just what the actual fuck does this guy even want with you...

You sigh with a broken heart and some broken nerves, deciding it’s as good a way to go as any. You turn the knob and open the door, only to find the usual porch, and a large bouquet of dark red roses planted there.

More ice sinks into your stomach as you witness the evidence of him knowing where you live. But the fact that he chose to send red roses… Ugh, this guy is so old-fashioned and so unimpressive that it’s somewhat a dull surprise to actually see flowers on that porch.

Who buys red roses these days?

Couldn’t he have picked peonies or something, something to go with your other decor… Red roses are so eighties, so funeral-like, so boring.

You sigh and go and take the flowers to the trash. Then you walk back to your house, make sure the door is locked tight, and go back to your phone to type a message.

Did you see that?

The answer arrives immediately.

What? ❤️

I threw your flowers in the trash.

There’s bit of a pause after that. Your wannabe boyfriend clearly hasn’t got his eye on you at every given moment. That’s a bit of a surprise, almost a disappointment, actually. But only if you were any more crazy.

The reply comes after about 30 seconds, after a series of Typing… bumping up and down on the screen.

I’m sad.

You get some satisfaction from that, but the first reaction is a tiny, tiny dagger to the heart. You sigh – you do nothing but sigh these days – not only because of his message, but also because you can’t seriously be having a moment of compassion for your stalker, for god's sake.

You make me sad, Liebling 💔 Are you still angry with me?

You throw the phone away and go to make yourself some breakfast, only to stop and turn when you hear the phone buzz again.

I’ll send you more flowers.

Jesus…

You unlock the screen in a frenzy and type a reply in mere seconds.

Don’t bother. I’ll throw them in the bin too.

Typing…

You have to keep them at some point. Trash bins get full so soon.

STOP HARASSING ME.

You throw the phone away for good this time, and don’t come back to it for another hour. You eat your breakfast with squirming insides and a rattled heart, waiting for someone to come bring you flowers at any given moment.

But no one ever comes.

You check your phone before going to work, but there’s nothing from him there. You go and block his new profile, unsurprised to see that there are no pictures this time, not even a profile picture (well, there is one, but it’s only a black circle), just in case. You don’t know why you didn’t block him in the first place.

There’s a radio silence for a few days. You spend them at the edge of your seat, with lots of trouble sleeping, but soon start to ease into the fact that maybe he finally had enough. Maybe you were not as interesting or attractive as he thought when he met you in person…

Wait, what?

Gosh, you can’t be this desperate... You simply can’t. This has to end.

You don’t talk about him in therapy, mainly to convince yourself that you’re not thinking about him at all. You’re not missing him harassing and stalking you, and you’re not disappointed that he didn’t send you enough flowers to fill your entire bin.

You know you should address this: this crazy need to be something groundbreaking to someone. To want someone to be this obsessed with you, no matter how sick that someone was. You know you would have gone to the police if your stalker was the sleazy, weak-wristed man from the pub. You would’ve packed your bags and moved houses already, changed your name and closed your social media accounts, quit everything if your stalker was small and ugly and weak.

But now that you know he’s relatively good-looking, does something dangerous and has a lot of money, and looks like he could fuck and fight half the city by himself, you’re not in that much of a hurry to go to the authorities.

You’re even a bit sad that your stalker hasn’t given you any fevered attention these past few days... He hasn’t even asked you how you’ve been.

No one has asked you how you’ve been: no one ever does. You have to wade through this life all by yourself: depressed and anxious and crazy. Lonely… And horny.

Gods, you just want someone to hold you at night… Someone strong, and big, someone who would pay a few bills for you, take care of you and give you a round of good sex…

Your phone buzzes from time to time, but there’s no message from him. One night before going to sleep, relatively early, so early that it could be called the bedtime for old spinsters, you break down and cry a little. It’s not a wail: only a soft little sob, a few sniffles and a couple of tears until your nose gets clogged and the pillow is wet.

Your phone buzzes, and you reach for it, feeling so, so pathetic when you hope it would be him.

And the message is from him.

You’re the most beautiful woman on this earth. I know I fucked up. I’m just a horny dog and I don’t deserve you.

You sniffle and rise to sit, your whole system fully awake now. Oh god... You’re so fucked.

The message makes you feel incredibly good and sweet, almost giddy. It feels like he’s kneeled right there in front of you, like a knight who has misbehaved in the throes of his lust. You know it’s ridiculous, but you start to smile a little, and the tears dry on their own. The merry feeling is followed by righteous rage, a little fit, because he’s made you wait for days, he’s tortured you in every way possible, and he does absolutely nothing right.

You unlock the screen and start to type, not thinking it through at all before hitting send.

That’s right.

Fuck… Shit. That was a mistake. No, a huge error.

Why did you have to send that? Stooping to his level, sending stupid things like that…

You put the phone away quickly, then reach for it again to delete what you just send. But it’s too late.

I can be a good dog if you forgive me.

The message is waiting for you already, and when you don’t reply, the oppressive, ominous Typing… hits on the screen once more. God, how could you be so stupid…

I’ll kill anyone you need me to kill. I'll give you money, whatever you need. A new kitchen so you can cook me something nice? I’ll be a good dog, I promise.

What did you even expect?

Everything always blows up when you give him attention: any dumb person knows better than to give this hungry dog a bone. You’re just too fond of digging your own grave, it seems.

There’s no end to the messages: this guy starts typing a new one every time he has sent the last.

I’ll fuck you like a good dog too….

You lean your forehead to your palm, trying to figure out a way to stop this.

And then–

Fuck, now I’m hard

You take a quick breath of air and put the phone away.

Please don’t send a dick pic, please don’t send a dick pic…

The phone buzzes.

Look how hard you make me

There’s a picture attached, but you can’t see it when the screen is locked.

This is what I have to live with, day and night…

Message after message, your phone buzzes, and you check them quickly from your screen, swearing to yourself that you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of opening the conversation and checking the image he sent you. You know perfectly well what you will find if you do that.

But after only a minute or two, you unlock the phone, and open the conversation with your heart ramming in your chest.

Just one quick look...

[maxdibert]

These are the comments you received on the James defense post. I’d love to see your responses to them if you’re interested in answering.

what i don’t understand is how someone defending a 15yo james potter (thus apparently making them a classist which u think is tantamount to death lmao) is better than y’all defending snape? like. how is That not fascism considering mans was a literal DE who agreed w the ideals from a young age and also created torture curses that he used frequently enough to become his ‘signature spell’ and also became an adult who went on to bully literal children from his position of authority (and even becoming a kids boggart as well as actively harming other kids) whereas james was a kid who was a bully and went on to die at the age of 21. snape lived til his mid 30s and never stopped being an asshole. so. being a fascist defender of a racist bigot, how are you throwing stones at classists? also. if you’re talking ‘european cultural context’ pls remember this is not post-industrial britain and is a society of its own separate from the trad class system of the muggle world. money might play a role but so does blood politics and james was considered a ‘blood traitor’ which would’ve been a stroke against him during voldy’ speak war era. snape, on the other end, actively supported and endorsed the rhetoric. that’s just one layer to it. u can’t just juxtapose any theory to any context without considering the difference in that society from the one marx envisioned. that’s just lazy work.

You really talk a lot about class and aristocracy and brag about your experience and education and how much of an intellectual you are, but you still don’t understand that classes in the wizarding world are not the same as classes in our world. You use big words, brag about your experience, and clearly assert your moral and intellectual superiority over others, yet you don’t understand the meaning of “eat the rich”, the concept of class, the accumulation of capital, or even what capital and the means of production are. Or, most likely, you understand, but you just manipulate with these words to defend Snape thinking that no one can see it.(If you want to debate more substantially, I can send you my meta about classes from a Marxist perspective in the wizarding world. ( though you’ll probably say I don’t have enough neurones to write anything coherent😄)

Regarding the first person, I’ve already talked about this many times, and they’re mixing up concepts. First of all, I don’t understand what adult Severus has to do with James, because the relationship between James and Severus is limited to their teenage years. It makes no sense to bring adult Severus into the debate because we’re not talking about that Severus. We’re talking about the teenager in a teenage context with a teenage bully.

And, even so, if we were to talk about the adult, we could discuss how the violence inflicted by James Potter probably influenced his character as he grew up, precisely because it left him with a host of unresolved traumas. These include an inability to manage his emotions or deal with stressful situations as a functional adult, due to a significant developmental delay directly tied to his experiences at school and the importance he still places on them as an adult.

In any case, that’s beside the point. On the other hand, these people seem to be willfully obtuse. Rowling didn’t create a world out of nowhere; her world is the British Wizarding World, and throughout the series, she uses analogies for real-world political and social issues (like discrimination against Muggle-borns, which is supposed to be an analogy for racism but comes off as ridiculous, or Voldemort being a sort of Hitler figure but not even reaching the level of a nationalist terrorist party leader, or the werewolves being a disrespectful metaphor for HIV victims). So, it’s based on the real society she lived in, which is specifically post-Thatcherite Britain. For these people to claim that Severus was some kind of fascist racist and then have the audacity to deny that Rowling’s world is connected to the real world—when it’s closely based on real-world social dynamics and constantly shaped by her bourgeois, reactionary perspective—is as contradictory as it is ridiculous and even shameful.

And I’m sorry, but class is something that permeates everything. Class is the trunk of the social structure from which other branches of intersecting social issues emerge. Homophobia is also tied to class; feminism is tied to class; racism is tied to class. All the problems and axes of discrimination in our society have a class-based foundation because the social pillars on which it is built were based on class castes that date back to pre-Medieval societies. The Roman Empire was a class society; ancient Egypt was a class society. Our cultural references are strictly linked to class. Ignoring this and claiming that Rowling somehow created a completely isolated bubble uninfluenced by the politics of a world closely modeled after ours, and with issues she constantly alludes to in her work, is basically not understanding a thing, having the reading comprehension of a monkey on amphetamines, or simply refusing to acknowledge the obvious to avoid re-examining personal prejudices or deconstructing their neoliberal perspective.

As for the second message... Yes, I mean, I would tell them that not only am I an intellectual, but I also studied Law + Political Science, have two master's degrees, and have worked in unions. So, it’s not a matter of what I think; it’s that I literally have qualifications in this. I’m a criminal lawyer and political scientist. It’s not like I’m drawing my conclusions from a handful of Tumblr posts I came across.

They’re telling me I don’t understand the concept of means of production or capital accumulation to defend a character who literally lived off the wealth of his ancestors and used that economic and social capital (because there are various types of capital) to maintain a position of power over others during his school years. A character who, precisely because of his accumulated capital, managed to sit at the top of the social hierarchy without lifting a finger and who had nothing to lose by acting like a tyrant because he had an economic and familial safety net (another type of capital) to fall back on. All this while the character he attacked was on the opposite side: working-class, with no resources or financial support, and zero accumulated or generated capital.

I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about, and it seems quite incoherent to start posturing as a Marxist intellectual while defending abuses of power by the magical equivalent of an aristocrat against someone from the working class. And I’m sorry, but the social structure of the wizarding world functions exactly like the social structure of any society that still maintains class-based castes rooted in aristocracy. Pure-bloods are basically nobles, aristocrats, members of families with great lineages—they’re essentially lords. It doesn’t take much insight to find the parallel, nor does it require much knowledge of British culture; just a glance at how modern European monarchies work makes it evident.

But anyway, what do you want me to say? They can bring whatever meta they want, but I’m not going to change my opinion. My issue with these people is basically this: one knows what their strengths are, and I’m not pretending to be an intellectual or acting like I know it all. It’s just that I literally have experience in activism, paid work, and university-level studies (master’s level) on these topics.

I’m not going to share my opinions about physics, theories on how spells or magic might work, or whether certain things are plausible from a logical point of view because I don’t have the faintest idea about those things. I don’t know math, I don’t know physics or chemistry, and I don’t know engineering. I’m an absolute illiterate when it comes to equations. But I’m not when it comes to political theory. I’ve earned honors in political theory.

So, as you can understand, these people are hardly going to change the mind of someone who not only has expertise but also has a damn university degree. And frankly, I don’t think degrees are everything, but aside from that, I’ve spent 10 years actively participating in Marxist union activism, leading the university union, and I also worked for a year in the field of labor law after finishing my degree. So, I don’t know—they can say whatever they want, but I don’t care.

[fumifooms]

Hello👋 I came here from your Maki-Angel AO3 fic. I really enjoyed reading your Makima analysis on here. It's always awesome seeing people reflect on her character. I'm also quite normal about her. I remember hating her on my first reading. But as time went on, her whole arc and existence resonated with me. What were your impressions after your first run through Part 1? Did you love her from the outset, or did it take time to build?

(Mentioned makiangel fic here! Give it a look maybe~)

This is like really long lol I recount my reading experience like a dramatic play. For the occasion it's now my Makima central post for talking about my personal thoughts on her and all, I also recommend some fics and fanart at the end.

Have my little Makima shrine that I look at with wistful sighs. I want the Yoyo studio bust of her so bad but it only comes as a purchase bonus for an expensive af figure. Also the zaohua figure but I'll keep dreaming

I actually may have the weirdest chainsaw man reading experience... I actually read Chainsaw Man part 1 FOR Makima. She was my fuel and my drive to keep reading, knowing more about her and what happened to her was the thing keeping me reading. At the time I didn't know fujimoto like that™️ yet so I didn't really have built up trust in his writing and I took everything at face value sort of. The humor, the shonen-ness of some of the story really wasn't for me, and as an ace I don't like putting sexuality and romance on a pedestral of importance, when it isn't done self-awarely.

I like to say about csm actually that it does this really interesting thing where it starts out making you suspend your disbelief about red flags. There's obviously something wrong about Makima from the very get-go, but it's not really like Aki and Power were nice healthy buddies for Denji at first either. Everyone introduces CSM as being this craaAAazyyYy series so sure, okay, a messy morally ambiguous cast à la Dorohedoro, love that! Her weirdass direct and smiling behavior had me intrigued scene 1.

And having a character be blatantly uncanny and ominous despite having done nothing much actually wrong yet is the best way to activate my charitability neurones... I was consciously dismissing the red flags listen I drunk the koolaid- it actually gave me this very interesting experience of being in denji's shoes about Makima. Early on I shipped Denji Makima and I clungggg to that hug in the first meeting, I clung to that warmth I clung to every bit of humanity she showed. I clung to it maybe being a underdog x underdog story, I thought... I thought she could have a redemption arc like Power and all, I thought Denji could fix Makima I thought he could complement her very cold practical mindset and ground her 😭😭 I cheered when she didn't die in the train, I cared about nothing else.

So obviously that did not go very well for me. When she died let me tell you I MOURNED Makima, I also had to mourn their relationship alongside her- it was really masterfully done of just pushing and pushing until it couldn't be denied in the slightest that the relationship was abusive, plain and simple, and that Makima wouldn't change. That the way Denji defeats her works because she never cared about him in the slightest at all- tough pill to swallow that crushed my soul, 10/10 unforgettable Fujimoto I trust you with my life now. But you know, I couldn't help myself from still loving her, for my heart still aching for her and wanting to see the humanity in her- Denji's sushi reaction about still loving your abuser rang so true. Makima feels like she was MY abusive partner 😂 So i see her as someone who couldn't be saved from herself, sort of. Denying to yourself that you crave connection and love never goes well. So in the end the thing about Nayuta and giving her the hugs Makima couldn't receive really comforts me a lot. You can't save makima, but you can do good in her memory, even if all she left you was empty adoration and hurt. Am the #1 hater of the "the control devil can only be evil" theory.

And then the next level of this is that for like a year I did not actually complete my read of Chainsaw Man. That's right, I dropped Chainsaw Man... It's only with part 2, which is much more my thing story wise, that I started reading again- still avoiding reading what I skipped in part 1. Last year I eventually did binge part 1, but I really had to prepare myself mentally for it for a long time first.

What was so bad I dropped you ask? Reze. Reze's debut. I'm not kidding lol, even now I still dislike Reze, sure it's some of what she did too but it was mostly what she represented, the tropes and plot progression she brought with her. Reze showed up and Denji started crushing on her, and immediately I knew where the story was going. Immediately I knew it wasn't going the Makima redemption route. Ah shit red flags real. You don't introduce a secondary love interest in a story like that like THAT without setting up themes of moving on and letting go and noooooo no I did NOT want to let go of Makima. So I skimmed ahead and my fears got confirmed and then I stopped. I wallowed. Then an hour later I go to the chainsaw man wikipage for Makima and spoil myself on everything. Oh she's the control devil? Checks out. Oh she wants to set her own world order and wants to have an authorotarian government? Yeah she would... Too true...... And then I did read the last chapter and I did grow a lot of appreciation for Fujimoto and the whole story. Ah shit it was about abuse all along and u played me like a fiddle. Sob. So when I say I mourned makima, -gestures-.

I stewed in my feelings for a long time and just sorta digested my emotions and thoughts and curled up in a ball on the floor rolling sobbing chanting her name in misery. My appreciation for Denji and Fujimoto's writing grew directly as my unconditional love for Makima wilted. I have a lot of love for Denji and a lot of respect for Fujimoto.

I tend to have a character reading style where I get my enjoyment and emotions from growing to understand and be attached to characters more than events happening and keeping action going. Sort of instead of "what happens next" my drive is "what happens TO THEM next". By latching onto bits of psychology I find interesting or promising that means i got really attached to Makima hard and fast. I knowww pass me the clown wig.

She does target a lot of my specific interests in characters though. My favorites things ate the undesirable and the dehumanized- and the control devil Makima plays into both (because her desirability is limited by her feeling uncanny and it being an instinctive red flag) but mostly the latter, hard. I love people having a hard time finding somewhere to belong, I love nonhuman characters willingly or nof craving being human, I love characters struggling with their humanity (even when they aren't human! But you can't outrun a desire for bonds and emotions), I love characters who don't know how to give or receive love. Even when characters are pure evil I will always attempt to humanize, even if it's just for the sake of understanding them onesidedly. Seeking the humanij thd inhuman is MY SHIT!! Esp as someone who gets dehumanized for not being born intuively understanding socialization, either. Part of her resonates with me, the afab autism vibe and demeanor, the scripted way she approaches socializing, the perfectionism to compensate, the rigidity and the self-preservation of denying she has feelings. If denjima was endgame it WOULD have been addictive to me, reading redemption arc longfics 1000 times. Well the reveal Denji is 16 did have me horrified but in a perfect world yk. But no instead makima is an exercice in things being tailored for me, yes being humanized in canon which considering her character ia frankly surprising, but being told very firmly "No, they can't get better". Don't get me wrong the angst is great and I love pain, but man, even with like Metal Sonic's chronix self-destructive obsession there are silver linings. So no instead i just get to read fics about her and her dogs chilling together with crumbs of happiness and make my peace that she's doomed, that this is doomed. She's tragic, that's what she is to me. Falls down a flight of stairs

I yearn for a world where I could love her unconditionally and the meta IS part of the angst for me. I watch this edit a lot:

Makima with Washing Machine Heart really does go unfathomably hard "I know who you pretend I am" not as 'you love another' but as 'you hold onto this version where I am nice instead of untrustworthy, as this idol as- Ughhh ugh ugh ugh ugh I love trying to understand her I love the slope of her eyes I love the way she emotes and moves and her petty or opiniated words whenever she lets herself intone I love whatever I can glean from her impersonal unfeeling brick wall persona, I love the person I pretend she is.

So yes I never hated Makima but she did hurt me a lot.

Recommendations time!!!

Slice of life Makima is a fic genre I really like, I have a couple of wips in store for that I might get around to too. Here are my Makima fics ao3 bookmarks:

Sanctum

Girl Synanthrope

In this world, we walk on the roof of hell gazing at flowers

(No preview this time just read it)

I actually discovered makiangel on a binge of fics like this, with the tags Makima + character study on I think, with Terrible Fish which I also really recommend. I love exploring characters and making them have arcs specifically through relationships they have a lot, which leads me to shipping being important to me. No ship with her fit quite right for the longest time though, they're all doomed of course, but Denji doesn't provoke much in her, I like Makima x quanxi and I also entertained x Kishibe and x Power, but makiangel just CLICKED. You've already heard my manifesto but I'll have to make a makiangel ramble on tumblr too eventually I swear.....

Say no more, fellow of huge brain size. I am on the boat

Fanart wise, I only really have one peeson to recommend, Psicheanima.

They also hold this Makima rp twitter account reviewing movies and talking about everday situations, which like I mentioned I love, Makima slice of life 🫶

And while I'm here, linking my Makima spotify playlist again.

It's very cathartic for me to write about her even when you can never overstate the rot that she is, the aching infected wound, the destructive ruthlessness of her.

I'm aware this post may make me look insane but whatever lol, art can make emotional fools out of all of us and that's precious I think.

[nottoxicfr]

Pfffff! I Didn't double check what I wrote. I meant to ask "What are your Rosegarden Headcannons?"

What are my Rosegarden head canons? Hmmmm…that’s a pretty good question. I’ve never made a list to be honest. My brain is more like a highway where my neurons activate when I think of the pairing. I'll try and cover what seems to be the foundational stuff first, then maybe get more specific?

Who falls in love first?

Oscar falls in love first, but he doesn't fall in love immediately. He get a crush on her fairly quickly but actual love only starts during the time when Oz is hiding in Oscar's mind. He has more time to think about stuff that isn't an impending death of identity, and he naturally thinks about why he likes Ruby. He has the realization of love in Salem's dungeon, which is a depressing time to realize you love someone. I like that timeframe of events because it makes Emerald interrupting the Rosegarden hug funnier and a little sadder, which I like. He just realized he loves a girl and he can’t even get a hug! Maybe he could confess to her later, but then she dies…(kind of). He's entirely devastated and barely recovers.

Ruby falls in love with Oscar second, but it’s falling. There’s not a slow descent from affection to crush to romantic love. That wouldn’t happen until after V9, though there is a certain lovely feeling to Ruby being in love with Oscar but prior to V9 just feeling like she can’t be in love the world is ending and I need to save it so I can’t be in love. I respect anyone who head canons that. For mine, I think the first big indication is writing a recurring thread of Ruby missing Oscar in the Ever After.

“Oscar would know what to do. Oscar would know what to say. Oscar would think this is weird.”

It’s incredibly important that the thoughts don’t indicate that she thinks Oscar is better than her (a perilous trap for RWBY writers of all pairings) but that she thinks he would be able to take the lead while she is free to fall apart. She wants someone else to be there and she trusts Oscar to be that person.

NSFW Questions? Y'know, like sex.

I don't really think about them having sex. Partly that's because that seems like a good policy to prevent mean behavior on my posts (I assume you've seen anti-RG rationale) but also my mind just doesn't really go that direction. It's not quite to the point of Aesexual! RoseGarden, although I enjoy that too. Most of the time that I write big consummation of romance scenes, it ends up being more about kissing or they essentially propose to each other and swap necklaces or something. Rings are a hassles! This is influenced by FFXIII...

I do think they’re the type of people to adopt and co-parent a kid while living together, but not be in a confirmed romantic relationship. They’d sleep in the same room with two beds next to each other. Eventually they’d confirm that relationship and switch to one bed, but the important thing is starting off with two beds in one room because they are not dating. I think it is 1) Funny and 2) Filled with the comfortable tension of co-habitation. It’s very Advent Children.

I’ve written them with a kid twice (unpublished), both times adopted and both times it was a Grimm that had evolved to the point of essentially being a human. Once was post-series and the other was a thing where a Grimm ate part of Ozcar’s magic and got turned into a kid between V6 and V8. I’m very fond of the second because it’s incredibly silly to me to do that at that specific time. I need to talk about that sometime.

Who is taller? That comes up a lot, right?

Oscar is taller than Ruby, but it’s close enough that it really depends on who laid down the most recently. A height difference of maybe three inches? Something that’s easy to catch up to for Ruby by wearing tall shoes and standing up straighter. I like negligible height differences.

What’s another thing people are always talking about? I don't get involved in discussion a lot...

Food?

Oscar likes coffee, but Ruby enjoys fruit smoothies. Oscar has a weakness for sour (not bitter) desserts like lemon tarts or lime sorbet, but not much of a sweet tooth. Their main point of agreement is orange cookies.

Is there any song I associate with RoseGarden?

Steven Universe's True Kinda Love, specifically the end part where Steven (Universe) is climbing up the big Injector-Thing to reach Spinel. Oscar is hardly Steven, and Ruby's no Spinel, but during V9's Peak Ruby Breakdown Time I liked to imagine Oscar climbing the Tree to reach Ruby.

Also Simple and Clean from Kingdom Hearts 0.2.

Also also Lightning's Theme from Final Fantasy XIII. It has a lot of sentimental meaning to me, but it plays under dialogue about growing up in the wake of grief. I strongly associate that with time-skipped Oscar.

Who supports the pairing the most?

Emerald and Blake/Yang are the biggest supporters of the pairing for Oscar and Ruby respectively.

I think we've discussed Emerald and Oscar as a duo before, but I'll say again that my long term hope is that Emerald and Oscar become close pals. I like to write angst and the EO duo, so I write Emerald as being aware of Oscar's plentiful sadness and also his determination to live.

On the other hand, I think Blake likes Rosegarden because she's a suppressed romantic and also because she thinks they're a good couple conceptually. She wants them to get their happy ending!

Yang supports the couple mostly because she wants Ruby to be with someone who has open arms, meaning Oscar doesn't hesitate to give Ruby his time or affection. He's also very good at detecting when she needs his attention/affection/time (mostly because he asks).

My ideal HC ending?

Oscar decides to go on a road trip at the end of the series and Ruby goes with him. His idea stems from the feeling that Oz was very familiar with Remnant’s past, but Oz has passed on now. Both Ozma and Oscar loved the world, but Ozma is gone now. There’s only one person of their duo to live in the world they love, and Oscar wants to see Remnant as it is now, and he wants to live to see the future. He wants to live!

Ruby goes with him for several reasons. She wants to see Remnant. She wants to be a hero. She doesn’t want to be the hero. She thinks she can probably do that on a smaller scale and still help the world. She thinks Oscar's likely to disappear from her world if she lets him slip away.

Together, they also share a formidable feeling that they’ve completed the major plot of their lives. They feel lost without a major goal in their world, and everyone else they know is settling into their lives in their new roles, so Ruby and Oscar bond together to take care of each other. In the short term, Ruby’s goal is to keep Oscar alive. Oscar’s goal is to teach Ruby how to drive.

In the long term, I like to imagine Ruby as a courier with a bike that she can use to zoom across continent and Oscar as…something? His day job would be like an innkeeper or a librarian, a job which stays in one place. He takes the calls for the Rose Courier Service. However, people also call for him a lot. They need help or advice or wisdom, so he isn't actually all that stationary. They both have adventure, but they also both have a place to return to.

I really like angst and AUs so I have a lot of head canons about that stuff. I tried to limit the above to what seemed most relevant. Below, I'll will do some more AU-esque head canons.

Favorite Time-Skip head canon?

I have a recurring image of Oscar walking in the desert walking past scenes of Oz's life and then being confronted by the "ghost" of Ruby standing in front of him. Sometimes he stops and sometimes he keeps moving, but it always does something.

Emerald is Oscar's most frequent friend during the time-skip, and she's the only one who knows the depth of Oscar's feelings for Ruby. After Ruby comes back, Emerald pushes Oscar into hugging her at some point.

Ruby is strongly caught off guard by Oscar running around trying to keep everyone coordinated, or by how well he's doing. For the entirety of the time-skip, they've been trying to prepare for Salem trying to destroy Vacuo. Ruby thinks Oscar takes to leadership strongly, but he is not doing very well.

One person Oscar never talks to about Ruby or his feelings is Qrow. Things go from peaceful to bitter and back again really quickly between them, and Oscar is certain being in love with one of his dead nieces wouldn't help. Qrow would just be sad about it though.

Oz is quiet more often now. There's a space between them, but Oscar is more dedicated to protecting the world than ever before so he thinks that's part of the reason. The actual reason is that Oz wants Oscar to live on his own while he can be Oscar. They're very fused together still.

If any of this interests you, please ask away! I have a lot more timeskip stuff to talk about.

Is there a head canon prompt I enjoy?

I really like writing the faux Dojo Scene 2. The Dojo Scene being Oscar asking Ruby how she deals with everything (you already know this). The Dojo Scene 2 is the much anticipated reversal, but I like writing it where Oscar dodges her questions. He's not sure how to feel around a resurrected Ruby Rose, much less answer her questions about how he is handling everything.

Favorite AUs (I just wanted to list this one)

My personal favorite is the FFXIII AU I have where Oscar is a l'Cie (meaning someone given a mission by a god to complete or turn into a monster, given access to magic and such) and Ruby (a third year at Signal) has to escort him across Remnant to awaken sleeping gods. I intend to publish this one on AO3 later on! Generally though, I really like Time Travel AUs, with Lost Parallax being a favorite of mine.

I'm very passionate about fanfiction, and that makes me a bit of an airhead when I talk about this. I'm also kind of bad at answering questions. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and I hope you feel free to ask anything ever. I love answering!!

I also submitted an ask to Chaikachi about headcanon reactions to scars, but I was so nervous about it that I made it anonymous. If you see it, that's me!

[thetobiroppofan]

one piece rant #4 (i think): the tobiroppo and why i love tjem

one day im going to be famous and whether it be for murder or a simple delusion in my mind it WILL happen one day trust me on this those who read this post. anyways i talk like my business is everyone elses deal cause it IS i mean im posting this to STRANGERS!!! ON THE INTERNET!!! i dont CARE if im judged its the INTERNET. i am THE internet gremlin. ohmygod shoot me for that i change my mind.

anyways this isnt what this post is about (pro tip: if you think youre funny write a script and go animate something i estimate soon we'll be needing the next batch of funny animated youtubers soon like jaiden animations and does anyone remember that one guy with the demon horns?? i think his name was adam smth i used to watch his videos religiously)

I love the tobiroppo if you couldnt tell by my cool awesome username. the tobiroppo are AWESOME. BEST villain group in one piece i dont CARE what anyone says. NO!! I AM NOT INCLUDING KAIDO OR HIS ALL STARS IN THIS. JUST THE TOBIROPPO.

LOOK AT THEM!!! THEYRE AWESOME!!! I LOVE THE TOBIROPPO. I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY IF I HAD THE CHANCE TO MEET THE TOBIROPPO AND THE ONLY WAY TO DO IT WAS THROUGH DYING I WOULD DIE!!!!!!!! LITERALY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ID DEFINITELY BREAKDOWN UPON SEEING THEM SINCE THEYRE SCARY ASF AND ALSO THEYRE SO COOL!!!!!! BUT ITS SOO WORTH IT!!!!!! HEAVEN HELL BE DAMNED I LOVE THE TOBIROPPO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

one day im gonna travel to japan and find eiichiro oda and stalk him until he breaks down and i force him to tell me EVERYTHING about the tobiroppo from all their dynamics with the other members to their least favorite food!! (ALL JOKES!!! I AM NOT GOING TO STALK ODA!!!)

anyways if i had to rank my favorite members to least favorite itd go in an order like this: 1. ULTI MY GOAT!!!!!!!!!!!!

2. BLACK MARIA MY QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!

3. PAGE ONE MY MOODY NERDY TEENAGE BOYMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!

4. SASAKI!!!!!!!!!! THE HOT ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5. The racist.

6. X-Drake. (i like him but not as a tobiroppo member he knows his place.)

who's who would be higher than 5 but i am a die hard jinbe fan (i say with the only piece of merch i have of him being a funko figure that holds my house keys) and that fishman racism was NOT!!!!!!!!!! cute.

sasaki shouldve gotten more screentime he was sooo fine i love you sasaki mwa

page one is LITERALLY!!!!!!!! me core (not really but let me be insane oh my GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) also i LOVE that one hc i saw one time where he has a special interest for dinosaurs like thats so real ily page one

black maria is THE cuntiest member of the tobiroppo. like have you SEEN her in the anime AUGH!!!!! THE THINGS ID DO FOR HER!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE IS THE GIRLBOSS!!! MOTHER IS MOTHERING!!!!!! CURNTY!!! SINJIN DROWNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ULTI IS MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE THOUGH!!!!!! SHE IS THE TOBIROPPO MEMBER.

THIS SCREENSHOT OF HER IS SO CUTE I LOVE HOW TOEI DREW HER HAIR. ULTIS DESIGN IS ULTIMATELY ONE OF MY FAVORITES FROM THE SERIES ENTIRELY. I LOVE HOW COLORFUL HER HAIR IS AND HOW SHE LOOKS SO CUTE IN HER OUTFIT!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER HAIR TEXTURE AND HOW SHE HAS A CUTE LITTLE AHOGE AnD I LOVE HER LITTLE FLOWER MASK.

ODA!!!!!!!!!

DROP MORE ULTI CONTENT AND MY LIFE IS YOURS.

phew!! sorry gangalang (i say as a 15 year old white boy) i got carried away there. anyways when ulti dies so will i its me and her for LIFE.

i know the tobiroppo members either died or got arrested but in my head theyre living the same reality as the baroque works agents did because im insane over the tobiroppo.

I actually dont even know when this obsession started??? it mightve been when i started one piece which was like a year ago during july '23 (which oh my god?? a year's passed already since last year?? what the FUCK????)

but when i saw the tobiroppo (More specifically, sasaki, he started my obsession) a neuron activated in my brain and ive been OBSESSED with the tobiroppo (and one piece 'by extension' i argue despite having two large one piece posters, like 4 figures, and a stupid ugly law plushie right where i lay my head to sleep. sigh. he terrifies me, the buttsnatcher.)

i think originally my favorite member was sasaki, since i found that greenhaired fishman IRRESTISITIBLE (idk how to spell that word im a bit stupid) and then like idk the rest i dont actually rank my favorites tbh which i really should do in retrospect but its stressful when i have mixed opinions

anyways

i love the height differences between the members its so stupid and funny teehees

Also i need to be honest to you people of the internet but i cant be the only one who thinks page one's mask and hair and hat is like 2020 core

it isnt BAD i think he pulls it off its just when i saw him for the first time i thought "girl 2020 called they want their get up back"

he looks cute though i think he works it yasssssssssssss queen erm give them that nonbinary 2020 dsmp core!!

(I support all lifestyles and I am trans myself, please do not cancel me.)

on another topic i think page one autism hcs are real since like one thing and one thing only: his sit

I love him dont get me wrong, but it is hard to believe that hes any form of neurotypical with this sit. ankles crossed n everything. like my guy has GOT to get that autism diagnosis oh my god.

on another note there is a fly at the foot of my bed and i am going to have a mini heart attack i hate flies so much oh my god tumblr pleease send guns and cannons

i think id die to know the dynamics between ANY of the tobiroppo members outside of page one and ulti because i wonder if any of them were close friends. like

i wonder if they were like some form of friends??? also does EVERY tobiroppo member have some form of tattoo on their torso??

also while writing that i thought "wait a minute"

wake up babe new hc dropped: page one got inspired by who's who to have a chest tattoo of his name when he first joined.

ok thats it honestly i dont have anything else to say this was just a divulgence in my own taste tonight through yapping about nothing specific and just the tobiroppo in general. i really love the tobiroppo genuinely and after this i might make a list of my top 10 favorite one piece characters in general since itd be fun. ok bye gangalang

this is THE tobiroppo fan getting off and remember: i am the tobiroppo's fan trust me on this i love the tobiroppo so much if you see someone claiming to be a bigger fan than me tell me ill follow them back to their house and violently mutilate them (joking! i love you my fellow tobiroppo fans!)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

youngsheldonfan9992

[sanguineterrain]

omg just a random ramble (and a bit of a request hehe) about your recent fic about "this is for your own good" Jason:

i don't know if you've seen this scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqK4UOMha2Q which is basically where Jason confronts the Joker in Death in the Family (2020) [i think this is the timeline where Bruce is the one who dies but we can take these scenes out of context JSHJS]

But I really, really found the idea of memory repression super interesting - and mix a little pit madness maybe 👀 Think about it, after everything's done, Red Hood's debut and with the finale between him and Batman, Jason comes to and realizes the fucked up things he did to Vigilante!R (the drugging, the chains) while Vigilante!R's left with being a compliant and dependent shell of themself; how do you think he'll approach this? Will he decide to keep her "safe"? Would he try to rehabilitate her himself? Would he let her go? I find it terribly heartbreaking for him to see one of the most important people in his life broken because of him

[also btw, i absolutely love how you characterized Jason here because he seems so detached despite being so obsessed and how there's this false sense of security ughhhh; i feel like the neuron activation monkey every time little details and the sentences you put connect with like with "This is a man who was trained by Batman." to Jason saying "'I know my mistake.'" which then leads to the drugging because that moment was so terribly Batman I could probably write a thesis about it if i had time 🥸 anyways, hope your week was great!]

Oooh just watched that scene! Wow, Joker's dialogue was amazing. I miss the days where superhero movies had meaningful dialogue 😭 absolutely diabolical of him to manipulate Jason like that. The way Jason became a child again when Joker got inside of his head (and he really is young to begin with!) ohhhh my boy 💔

Anyway, I think it's so interesting that most of the reactions to my fic have been requesting a fix it. It's like we love Jason so much, we can't bear to see him go dark 🫶

In my universe, Jason never "realizes his mistake" because I think he'd be in too deep at that point to face what he's done. And protecting someone he loves by any means necessary is very Batman-esque of him. Jason genuinely believes he's doing the right thing, even though it's causing R mental distress. I actually like the idea of the entire Batfamily going dark and helping Jason if the Reader ever seriously escaped. I also think it's interesting if the dynamic shifted over time and Reader used Jason's guard dog personality for their benefit. Jason is truly dedicated to them, that's no lie. They'd make each other worse 🥰

But let's say he did realize his mistake! Honestly, I think Jason wouldn't forgive himself and he'd let them go before doing something really self destructive. Reader would be the only one who could pull him back, and after everything, it's hard to say if they'd want to do that! Jason would've caused them a lot of grief at that point.

But yeah. Maybe I'll write a niceys Jason fic next because it seems like dark Jason makes all of us sad 😂 I admit that it felt weird to write him this way but I enjoyed it too. I think my favorite iteration of Jason is where he's insane and dedicated and wants you soooo bad but he tries so very hard to be normal. He would kill and die and eat people for you but he's super normal :) prommy!

[ninepentz]

Wendy Williams diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia and aphasia

So it's officially come to light, that Wendy Williams is diagnosed with the conditions I mentioned above, I can't say I'm surprised bc over the years she seemed to be getting worse in health. Such sad news to hear about anyone to be honest. I'll leave a link for more info on her diagnosis below for those interested.

What I want to do here is just check her chart + transits to see what they can tell me about this recent diagnosis.

I know that when Bruce Willis was diagnosed with the same condition, Saturn was transiting right over his mercury and sun I believe, which was crazy to me bc frontotemporal dementia and aphasia affect speech/language, understanding, personality, motor function, daily functioning, decision making, our memory, our neurons.. so basically all mercury related things. It was just insane to me that astrology explained what was happening. And I hope to do the same here with Wendy Williams charts, I've pulled up her natal chart and the airing date of her last episode. So let's dive in..

I'm using the last episode air date bc this is the only exact date I have that shows when she was beginning to have serious issues.

So the 1st aspect I was looking for and expecting to see was mercury aspecting saturn and yeap it's definitely there.

Last episode chart at the top and Wendy's birth chart at the bottom, cancer sun, aquarius rising.

Her natal mercury opposing transit saturn:

So this tells me that as Saturn transitioned over her mercury things were happening outside of her control, she was unable to understand things the way she used to, she was possibly going more mute than she would like, maybe she felt that something was holding her back from speaking/expression, things in general were just difficult and it was a lot pressure surrounding this all.

Her Mercury was transitting into the 12th house during this time so she could of been slowly becoming deluded, confused, in the dark, wanted to hide away, she basically didn't want anyone to know what was really going on at this time. She may have also been heavily medicated to deal with the truth of her situation, maybe she didn't want to face the truth in some way and was using substances to lessen the pain. She knew for a while what her condition was, long before we did, she just wasn't ready to share with the public.

And like I said above I was def expecting to see this aspect, so it's safe to say that mercury-saturn transits can def affect communication, travel, activities, decision making, sometimes in really harsh ways such as what happened with Wendy Williams and Bruce Willis. I'm currently going through this transit myself, mercury conjunct Saturn and it feels more so like I'm unable to start things as smoothly as I would like, delayed communication, thoughts, struggling to write esp bc I have mercury in the 3rd house. I used to be more free with my communication, my level of activity, creativity and ever since it's conjunct Saturn I feel like I'm stuck in place, more serious than I used to be. It's a hard, depressing, limiting transit to go through. Mercury is also much deeper than I can even explain it, but soon I'll try to make a blog post on everything that I know.

Natal saturn conjunct transit saturn:

I recently went through this and actually it's still going on right now as we speak, it feels very much depressing, there's always obstacle after obstacle when it comes to this type of transit. It also means that she was going through her 2nd Saturn return I believe. So that must of been harsh, it is a transition period that represents your growth over the years, it sets up the stage for the future years to come and who you will be moving forward.

Saturn transits are basically showing us the results of our actions, karma or in general just the sequences/cycles of our life, it's almost like sobering/awakening period. It can be a good reminder of all the things we need to work on.

Natal uranus square transit mercury:

Interesting so she was definitely aware of everything going on and was irritated that things just weren't going her way. It's like everything was unpredictable or going haywire.. in general maybe she was unable to function with tasks, communication. She was having a rough time during this transit. Being forgetful, inappropriate, moody, impulsive/erratic etc.

Natal MC opposite transit mercury:

Crazy.. for those of us who are fans of wendy williams and have been keeping up with her over the years, you would know they this show was something special. It was literally Wendy's calling to speak, and do her thing. She started out on radio stations before she eventually got her own TV show, so her calling in life was this. Basically expressing her thoughts/opinions/truth, she was a universal figure who could speak on things that mattered in the moment. She has a Sagittarius MC so imo, her purpose/career was truth telling, being educational, philosophical, being a big personality type you couldnt miss, she was an entertainer forsure.

And her MC transiting onto mercury is literally as clear as day telling us something was amiss here, out of her control, she was unable to do what she usually can do just fine. Oppositions can often show point of crisis moments, so things were unstable, contradicting, unbalanced. In other words, her career/public life was being affected by mercurial type things. Technical, communication, motor function, daily tasks, travel, thinking/logic/processing-difficulties.

Natal moon square transit saturn:

She felt very alone during this time, she knew and was aware of her reputation as someone who talks about people for living, so this was maybe a transit where she felt isolated, alienated, lonely, awkward. She def didn't want to tell anyone why her show was being cancelled bc she knew the reaction she would get and theres really nothing she could do about it bc people weren't wrong for feeling how they feel.

Mercury sextile MC:

Out of anything that came out from all this, this is a good aspect to see in regards to her career and legacy. I think Wendy Williams def was apart of making the decision to end her show. I hope she had a moment to gather everything in her own way, not being rushed, pressured, or told what to do next. Hopefully she had time to plan what she wants the rest of her life to look like. Atleast that's what I would of tried to do if I knew that I would be losing my memory, personality, ability to make decisions about my life in a few years. So maybe she made a plan for herself and hopefully it didn't/doesn't end up in the wrong hands.

✨Nine of Pentacles ✨

[misslilli]

Thank you guys, for your encouragement 😌 and thank you so much @today-in-fic for getting this wee fic out there :)

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 19 - Enjoy The Good Times While They Last

[ DS ]

On the morning after the party, I’m awoken by the tickle of sunlight on my face and a chilly ocean breeze through the partly open doors. I keep my eyes closed and stretch languidly, the memories from last night putting a smile on my face. What a night! This morning, I feel lighter than air, high on endorphins and him. The one whose touch lights my skin on fire. The one whose presence makes me stumble over my words. The one whose smile has a blush creeping up my cheeks. The one whose voice sends a tingle up my spine right into my brain, the neurons misfiring. The one in whose arms I felt so safe, so protected. The one who makes cleaning up a dirty kitchen seem like the most enjoyable activity on the planet.

I’ll keep my eyes closed for only a minute longer, blocking out the reality I know will come rushing back in when I open them. The past. The hurt. The scary. But for now, for a few moments, none of it matters and I let myself fall for him, in the darkness behind my closed eyes and the cozy confines of my bedsheets.

----------

[ In the kitchen of the beach house ]

“Operation: Bullwinkle is going really well, don’t you think?” Sarah looks immensely pleased with herself, stretching out her arms over her head.

“Who would’ve guessed that it would be the little Moose who’s our very best wingman, getting her out on the dancefloor where she could be whisked away by his dad! And then gets her to stay way past the duration of the party. The look on Moose’s face when he saw them, I wish I could’ve snapped a picture!” Holly sighs at the memory.

“Okay next up, Halloween. What are we goi-“ Alex is interrupted by a sharp “Shh, Squirrel!” from Sarah and they turn their heads in unison towards their friend coming downstairs to join them for breakfast.

“Wow, look who’s walking on sunshine!”

They haven’t seen a smile so big on their friend’s face for far too long now and once she sits down, Sarah starts the questioning.

“So Smiley Miley, care to tell us what happened last night?” Dana only smirks around a bite of her bagel.

“No.”

“Oh come on, D, don’t make me beg! I’m dying to know what happened between you waking up alone with the handsome stranger and sneaking into the house in the middle of the night!”

“It was a good night, that’s all I’m going to say.”

Sarah gasps. “Did you sleep with him??”

“What? No!”

“Then why in the world are you being so secretive about it?”

Their friend rests her chin in her hand with a dreamy smile on her face. “I love you guys but I don’t want you to dissect it to what it all means and taint my memory. I just want to remember how it was. I want to remember how it all was!”

----------

[ FM ]

The morning after the party, Sam and I gather around the kitchen table for breakfast. Felix is still fast asleep so it gives my sister and I some alone time to recap the events of the previous evening. Sam never beats around the bush and gets right to the point.

“Bro, I really like that girl of yours.” I smile wistfully at that and touch my hand to my cheek;  I really do too. “The way you guys looked on the dance floor was breathtaking, let me tell you. It’s a pretty perfect match, don’t you think?”

“Sam, I feel like I’ve looked for someone like her for all my life. She makes me so nervous, I stumble over my words and say and do stupid shit, I called her Snoozy for crying out loud.” Sam laughs at my pained expression and pats my arm.

“You really don’t know your head from your ass when you’re in love, do you?. So, what happened afterwards? Did you talk to her again? Did you ask her out like I told you to?” She looks at me imploringly on her last statement.

“Yes and no. Yes we did talk, she fell asleep with Felix on the couch reading about butterflies and when she woke up, we cleaned up the kitchen together.” A reproachful look from my sister.

“You made her clean up the kitchen with you? Are you insane?”

“Hey, she insisted! And I didn’t want her to go just yet. We had such a good time, laughing and bantering back and forth, flirty stuff. And then, there was a moment…” Sam gasps.

“There was a moment?”

“Yeah… the perfect moment where we just stared at each other and I wanted to kiss her so bad, Sam, but…”

“Oh God there’s a but…”

“But then Felix came downstairs for a glass of water and the moment was gone.” She groans in frustration.

“I love that kid but damn he’s got bad timing!”

“I’ll say. So then I walked her to the door and I was so dazed from that almost-kiss, I couldn’t think of anything to say to make her stay. So no, I didn’t ask her out. She kissed my cheek before she left and that almost made me keel over…”

“I gotta say, bro, I’ve never seen you talk about anyone like that before and I’m really happy for you! Now, ask her out damn it!”

“If I can string two coherent words together the next time I see her, I’ll try!”

My sister nods and at that moment, Felix comes padding down the stairs in his dinosaur pajamas, rubbing his eyes. He crawls into Sam’s lap, stealing a piece of her waffle.

“Good morning, handsome! Did you have a good time yesterday?”

“Yeah auntie Sam, I did, it was awesome! Did you see how I danced?”

“I did, you did pretty well!” At that, he grins widely. “Too bad your dad cut in, huh? Did you watch them dance, too? It was pretty amazing, I think”

“Meh… it was okay, at least you didn’t step on her toes, dad! Did you see all the gifts people got us? Can we go open them now?”

“Breakfast first, gifts later, son!”

We clear the table before heading to the living room where we put the gifts yesterday, opening them one after another, Felix beside himself with glee.

One of the last gift bags is the one from the four teachers and I’ve been wondering all night what they got us. Felix pulls out both presents, handing the one with a neatly written “Fox” over to me. There’s a card for both of us as well and in a loopy handwriting, it reads:

Felix,

We know how much you enjoy reading, so we hope you’ll enjoy your gift and we’re looking forward to all the interesting thing’s you’ll be able to tell us at recess soon!

A big hug and a very happy birthday

Miss Scully, Miss Anderson, Miss Spencer and Miss Carter

“I know what’s in there!,” Felix exclaims and rips the paper off to reveal the very heavy “Oxford History of Ancient Egypt”. He gasps excitedly, gripping the book tight. “Oh my God, I love it! I’m gonna go read it right now so I know all the facts on Monday!”

I open my own card with shaky hands, very aware of Sam’s eyes on me. In the same loopy script, this one says:

Mr. Mulder,

As a fellow magician’s son, it is absolutely essential for Felix to hear the amazing stories of the greatest wizard of our times. It makes a wonderful good-night story and we hope you and your son will enjoy it as much as we did!

Happiest of birthdays

Dana, Sarah, Holly and Alexandra

My finger traces the twists and turns of the D in her signature thoughtfully and with a smile I imagine her sitting at her desk, writing our cards, a scowl of concentration on her face. Sam interrupts my daydreaming: “So?  What is it? Open it!”

I oblige and pull out an elaborately designed copy of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”. It’s the collector’s edition with beautiful pictures almost on every page.

It’s the perfect gift. Because it’s from her. For me.

[icasttourniquet]

Can Your Character Survive... Altered Mental Status

Character E is confused. She thinks she's talking to someone besides Character F and accidentally admits that she has a crush on F while F is treating her injury. Oops.

Or, F is trying to get E out of the enemy base and E keeps laughing when F shushes her, attracting the attention of the guards

Whether for comedy or tension, altered mental status can add a fun wrinkle to your plot. But, what causes altered mental status and how do you make sure E survives?

STOPEATS

The big kahuna of the altered mental status world is the acronym STOPEATS. If it makes your brain go a bit wonky, it's probably included in STOPEATS.

Sugar

If E is a diabetic and lost track of her sugar intake, she could suffer from altered mental status as a part of hyperglycemia. If F knows E has diabetes, he can hopefully guess at the cause of her confusion and help her take her medication, or get her to a hospital.

Temperature

When the body gets really cold or really hot, the brain can stop working right. In fact, altered mental status is a key sign of being hypothermic vs. just cold. Ditto with heat stroke. Hopefully, the environment makes if obvious to F what is causing E's weird behavior. He can treat her by bringing her out of the cold or heat.

Oxygen

Hypoxia occurs when the brain is starved of oxygen, such as at a high altitude. It is most common in mountain climbers and pilots, such as the one in this video who reports having "no control" of his aircraft but otherwise, is not concerned at all about the situation. Astronomers may also suffer from hypoxia on occasion.

XKCD 1463: Altitude

Hypoxic people behave as if drunk. They are often euphoric, may speak slowly, and will act confused. The key treatment for high-altitude hypoxia is reducing altitude ASAP. In the video, you can hear the air traffic controller trying to coax the pilot lower. He knows he doesn't need the pilot to land—as soon as he can breathe a little better, he'll remember how to fly be able to land himself.

Pressure

If a brain injury causes bleeding in the skull, that blood has nowhere to go and can build up pressure. This causes the brain to lose functioning and is called intracranial pressure (ICP). It's the worst type of traumatic brain injury (TBI) besides one that just kills E outright.

If E is suffering from ICP, she'll probably be confused and behaving erratically. She may have gaps in her memory as well. Most likely, she'll also report "the worst headache of my life"—literally. In training, we were told to look out for that exact phrase when diagnosing head taumas. In later stages of ICP, E may also vomit, a lot.

Treatment involves getting to surgery ASAP so a doctor can cut open her skull and relieve some of the pressure. For obvious reasons, that is not something we attempt in the field.

Electricity

I'll be honest: I think they just wanted the acronym to work when they made this one E. What they actually mean in most cases is seizures. The classic seizure is a grand mal seizure, which involves the muscles tensing, twitching, etc. But seizures come in all shapes and sizes. For some, a seizure might mean smelling something that isn't there, or hearing music, or a single twitching muscle. Because seizures are unauthorized electrical activity in the brain, they can cause disorientation and erratic behavior.

Often, coming out of a seizure can be quite disorienting too. If F is helping E through a seizure, he should first try to prevent her from harming herself. If she's banging her head against the wall, that means putting a hand or pillow there. If she's near a table, that means moving the table. (NO sitting on / restraining people with seizures and NO putting stuff in their mouth! No! Why? You want them to choke? No!). As she recovers, F can remain calm, help her understand what happened if she needs it, and get her further care if requested.

Altitude

As with temperature, both very high and very low altitudes can cause brain problems (if you are beginning to suspect the brain is just a picky organ, you'd be correct). Scuba divers who ascend too quickly can suffer from nitrogen narcosis, which can lead to euphoria, confusion, memory loss, difficulty concentration, etc. (all classic signs of altered mental status).

If E goes too high, say, on a mountain, she could suffer from High-Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE—controversial opinion but high-altitude stuff has all the good acronyms and names, HACE being but one example). It occurs when the brain swells at a high altitude and leads to confusion, lethargy, and a headache.

Luckily, as with most high-altitude problems, it can be solved quickly by going lower. When in doubt, on a mountain, taking the patient to a lower altitude is probably a good idea.

Toxins

Alcohol, LSD, marijuana, morphine—drugs cause altered mental status, as can bites or stings from venemous animals.

There are as many ways to treat toxins as there are toxins, maybe more, so I leave you with a fun fact the majority of snake bites in the US are people who tried to pick up the snakes.

In the words of Mod N's WFR instructor: "Red near black? Who cares. It's a snake. Why are you messing with snakes?"

Salt

Salt concentrations across cell membranes is one way nutrients travel into and out of cells. If E's blood suddenly has way less salt (electrolytes) than normal, this causes all the nutrients to flow out of her cells and into her blood, starving her organs. Brains run on salt and not having enough salt makes... neurons fire different? Stop firing? Something scientific and complicated. For our purposes: not enough salt = brain go weird.

This is called hyponatremia and is my favorite of all the STOPEATS ailments. Hyponatremic people behave as if drunk. The treatment is to 1) stop chugging water, 2) stop competing in your high-endurance sport (and therefore stop sweating), and 3) drink / eat something salty.

Conclusion

Give your characters altered mental statuses. It will be fun. I promise.

The most easily treatable problems that make brain go weird are: hypoxia and high-altitude cerebral edema.

Please write more characters with hyponatremia.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Also saw you're doing requests so yay!!. Any chance of jercy bakery au? Love your work sm hope you have a great day ☺☺

My Darling Anon how dare you make me fall more in love with Jercy???????? I squealed when i saw this and then promptly started writing even though i should be studying for my (ironically) Greek Mythology test.

i hope you love it because if i fail at least i know it’ll be worth it :) Also this was honestly supposed to be a quick drabble and it somehow ended up as 1,5K+ words so??? #isanyonesurprisedthough

Masterlist

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

Jason Grace smiled as the birds beside his head chirped and then swiped his phone to cut off the amusing sound. His fiery friend, and co-worker thought it was hilarious to steal his phone and change his alarm tone every few weeks. Usually it was something inane and silly like a cartoon laugh track or just a repeating “It’s time to get up BakerBoi” that gets increasingly louder. He had arrived to work with a scowl on his face only to see the shit-eating grin of Leo Valdez waiting at the door.

Now Jason stumbles out of bed, letting his limbs loosen as he pads softly to the bathroom, feeling cool tile and a winter breeze on his exposed skin. He loves mornings like this, when the world isn’t quite awake, and the sky hasn’t decided what colour it wants to be for the day. He knows in is baker’s bones that it’ll be cold and rainy, but he has time for a morning jog before the world starts crying.

“Good morning boss,” A bright eyed, fidgeting Leo greets as he steps into the bakery.

Jason had been there at seven thirty, pulling down the café chairs and cleaning the counters. He already had a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and about three different types of muffins in the oven. The bread was waiting for the busy hands of Leo and Hazel who somehow always seemed to make heavenly fluffed, soft rolls and the deliciously crusty baguettes. Hazel jokes that it’s the New Orleans blood that flows through her veins. They’re all half inclined to agree.

“Morning Valdez, I like the alarm this week.” He tosses a grin over his shoulder before going back to his icing ritual. Mix, taste, mix, ice.

“I figured you would old man. Even though i much prefer my ASMR food audio from last week. What’s the specialty today?”

“We need to get beignets out and the pain au chocolats before the breakfast crowd. Also the fruit stuffed pastry twists and the honey bread have to be prepped before we open so we can bring them out hot in time for the brunch crowd. Specialty today is a new thing I’ve been working on. Blue blondie doughnuts with Oreo cream filling and sugar glaze.”

“Gods boss, you tryna give people heart failure?”

“Just trying to insert some sweetness into the world,” He winked.

Before Leo could give an undoubted snarky reply a bubbly head of dark brown curls and glittering eyes popped around the door.

“Goooood morning everyone,”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that graced his face at her cheeriness, “Hello Miss Levesque, glad to see a prettier face around here,”

Leo made a strangled noise of indignation from the other side of the kitchen but didn’t get the chance to voice his offense before the last member of their little group walked in.

“Ah there you are Miss McLean, I do wonder how you arrive with Hazel and still manage to get in after her.”

She gave him an exasperated look, “I have to say goodbye to my girlfriend before I come in Boss. You’re the one who banned couple calls in the bakery.”

“Well maybe if we didn’t have to hear you and Annabeth explicitly planning your night’s activities I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

Piper just rolled her eyes and went to grab her apron and a cloth to wipe down the tables.

"Everyone ready?" He asked, from the door of the kitchen an hour later.

"Ready for the storm boss," They all yelled back, as they did each morning.

"Then let's roll like thunder," He grinned, flinging the doors to Ambrosia Bakery open.

"Oh thank the heavens, I could smell the goodness from here and it was a struggle to keep the drool in," One Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano breathed in deep.

"Good morning my favourite customer," Leo smirked from behind the counter.

"Jason tell your bread boy to stand down before I make him,"

"Is that an invitation?" Dark eyebrows wiggled in amusement.

"That is a threat," She growled.

"Well mark me down as scared and h—"

"Valdez I swear if you finish that sentence I'm putting you on wash-up duty for the next week."

A faint "you got it boss" followed Jason into the kitchen, where he allowed himself to smile. It was an ongoing amusement that Leo flirted with Reyna and in return she came up with increasingly terrifying threats.

"Jason, your sister is here to see you" Hazel said, gently shoving him out the way so she could take over rolling the pastry.

"Get the doughnuts ready for the fryer I'll be back soon, thank you!"

He maneuvered around a blushing Leo who had icing on his nose and a suspicious lipstick stain on his cheek, finally making his way to the confectioners stand.

"What's up loser?" He said by way of greeting.

"Hey you're only allowed to call me that if you come baring nice things." Thalia Grace frowned.

"I am nice things," He pouted.

"Not even on your best day." She snorted, "I want to know if you're coming to the gala this weekend. I need a date to steal extra bread-sticks for me."

"Why can't I just make you bread-sticks and we can sit in your lounge and watch bad reality TV?" He groaned

"Because I have to show face or the sponsors aren't going to sponsor. Besides you need a night out. You're gonna start smelling like bread if you don't take a break."

"It's insulting that you think I wouldn't want to smell like breadsticks."

She laughed at, that ruffling his hair, "Just be ready by seven. You better be wearing a suit."

And with that his sister had grabbed her daily croissant and cappuccino and vanished into the drizzling day.

Before he could make it back to his safe haven beside the ovens and marbled counter-tops a flash of black hair caught his eye.

Turning around he couldn't contain the grin that tugged at his lips; standing by the counter already staring intently at the newest creation was Jason's favourite customer.

"Hello Percy Jackson,"

"Jason," A dazzling smile revealed pearl white teeth and the tiniest dimple on a cheek the color of rich toffee.

"I see you've already found Neptune's Tridoughnut,"

A bright laugh escaped a wickedly beautiful mouth, "Oh I love that. How'd you come up with that one?"

Jason smiled softly, debating whether to tell the owner of the 5-Oceans Conservation Company that he was the muse behind all of his latest creations, hence the variations of green and blue.

Instead, as he did every time Percy asked, he lied, "My sister went to an opening ceremony for a new exhibit at the Education center all about Mythology so I thought I’d offer my services and well, they were a hit."

Piper who was walking past at that exact moment coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Liar" but with a pointed glare she disappeared behind the counter.

"That sounds great. Guess I'll have to recruit you for all my functions," He winked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

Jason cursed his pale cheeks and hoped the blush he now sported wasn't too noticeable, "What can I get you besides a specialty doughnut?"

"Can I get one banana and walnut muffin, a dozen chic chips, and I'm gonna go see mom this afternoon so maybe a couple of caramel pastry twists and some blueberry muffins?"

"Sure. I guess Estelle is off her carrot cake faze?" He laughed, remembering how Percy had to stop at the bakery twice a week to grab carrot and pecan mini cakes just for his little sister.

"Ugh she's onto wanting fruit in absolutely everything now so my mom has been frantically buying boxes of peaches, strawberries and apples to cut up and send with her for lunch at school." Green eyes rolled in fake annoyance.

"Well if she likes fruit things maybe she should try the raspberry and orange pastry twists?" He pointed to a display stand piled with various pastries coloured by blackberry jam, apricot pieces, kiwi slices and mango syrup.

"I could kiss you right now!" Percy exclaimed rushing towards the display, unaware that the baker was frozen to the spot.

I could kiss you, could kiss you, kiss you, kiss...

Jason's brain had short-circuited, his neurons too busy having a dance party with his hormones to process the world.

I could kiss you.

A lazy, unconscious smile took over his face as he stood there in the middle of his bakery, arms slack, head lolled, and eyes crinkled.

"Jason?" A faraway voice called.

"Jason? Hello?"

And suddenly a hand was waving in front of his vision trying to get his attention.

He pulled himself out of his reverie, blinking back into existence, "Right yes the pastries"

"Didn’t get enough sleep last night?" Percy teased, slugging him softly in the shoulder.

He snorted at the implication, "Unfortunately I'm a bit of a grandfather. Sleep early, rise early."

"Oh guess you like morning activities then,"

He sputtered, head snapping up to stare into twinkling eyes, "N-no, I just meant—"

"I'm kidding Mr BakerMan," That brilliant, bright laugh again, "I know you're a homebody. Your sister likes to tell me how boring you are."

He huffed at that, "We'll see if she gets her pear tarts this weekend."

"Speaking of this weekend," A sly grin played at Percy's mouth, "Are you coming to the gala?"

"Yea," He sighed, "Thalia says she needs me to steal bread-sticks ."

Sea green eyes widened before Percy burst out laughing. In a matter of moments tears were streaming down his face.

If Jason wasn't so smitten with that gorgeous smile and those mischievous eyes he may have been inclined to laugh too. But Percy Jackson was a vision he half believed only his dreams could conjure.

When the laughter had mostly seized Percy wiped his eyes and managed to gasp, "That sounds exactly like something Thalia would ask. When we worked on the marine life project together she always stole the mints from every CEO’s office because she said they had enough money to buy a mint factory, they could afford to replace a single bowl."

"Yep, her life goal is to end capitalism. I swear if it wasn't for Annabeth, Thalia would be walking into office buildings with a sack like some reverse Santa Claus where she steals the office supplies and fruit bowls."

"Well I can't wait to see you stuffing your pockets with bread-sticks on Saturday so I guess I'll see you then," He gave another dazzling smile.

"Yea, and say hello to little Estelle for me. Tell me how she likes the pastries."

"Don't worry I'm sure I'll be back soon with a long list of request."

"Can't wait." He grinned.

Percy chuckled, "Me neither, see you Friday." And then he was gone.

Oh gods, Jason thought, how am I ever gonna survive Percy in a suit?

***

Spoiler alert past-Jason: you didn't.

[parisbian]

hey miri! how did you learn french? what sources did you use? what was your strategy of studying it?

Salut! 

(I’m on my laptop so can’t accent letters, I apologise!) Also, my textposts always wind up super personal and include stories and details from my life for some reason. I will never change, I will never improve. 

I guess technically I started French as a very young kid! I have vivid memories of  ‘comme ci, comme ca’ being a very satisfying phrase to say lol. But I have equally vivid memories of  being sixteen and my French teacher shrieking at us because we were all staring at her blank faced while she tried to make us recite etre. In our defense, ‘vous etes’ is very counterintuitive. 

So I really only tried or learned anything when I took French at A level, and that was mainly when I used this blog. I found it very helpful to explain to others how certain grammar structures worked, to assert them for myself. Also, a good challenge to pick a topic, memorise 20 words related to it, and force yourself to just write about it for as long as you can and not look anything up. The work may be a travesty, but your neurons will thank you. I also used to keep a big poster up that I made, about how to formulate every tense in French. Should I maybe make an online version and put it up? Peut-etre! 

So I started French at uni, because apparently I was glutton for punishment. I’m a double honours student and my french DOES get neglected. I always lie and say it doesn’t and actually have a great little speech about it for prospective students but being real.. it suffers. But that’s because i’m an avoidant person and I like to throw myself into what I’m good at (literature + translation) and not what I’m bad at (everything else.)

We study a lot of books and films in French, and are encouraged to just claw our way through them and not worry if we misunderstand bits. If you’re curious about what books/films/poems you study as part of a French degree then just lemme know, I have a good memory for stuff like that! My flatmate is French and he assures me they're violently stereotypical lol. 

We get taught these different forms of French academic writing (résumés, commentaires, something to do with stylistic analysis.. all sorts! I’m happy to elaborate on these too). And we discuss French politics, culture, history... lots of stuff! I think there’s a misconception that it’s silly to study a language at uni because you can just go to the country and learn it, but it does aim to teach you  how to actually function in that country and culture too. Like, we had to learn about applying for jobs in France. My knowledge on this is patchy though because hélas.. I found it very boring. 

Nowadays I don’t really study French (I should!), I just read and write in it and use bonpatron to catch the worst of my crimes. The reason this blog isn’t very active anymore is because at a certain point vocab lists and grammar lessons aren’t helpful you kind of just need to humiliate yourself until you’re good. I’m working on it!

Basically, the fact that I’m not fluent is totally inexcusable and a tribute to my laziness and hatred of embarrassing myself. 

Just expose yourself to as much french as you can, and work through the grammar lessons until you stop getting bamboozled. You’ll get there!