#( it would be very villanelle of him to do that )

[polychocobros]

as a pisces and maybe im biased but i can see lalo as one and my friend who is super into astrology also said yeah i can see him being a pisces with either a aqua or gemini moon i was like 😎😎

[korinthiakos]

@postguilt has sent in this: five times watched:      ( five times the receiver watched the sender while they were working or doing something ) | ’ 𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 ’ 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂. ( accepting !! )

Let's go way back for the first time. The moment Miecz was introduced to Connor and not The Corinthian. Where the wool was pulled over his eyes. Because Miecz did not know who the Corinthian was. The Corinthian observed him, watched Miecz explain how to pronounce his name. Meech. Federal Agent. He saw it when Miecz was getting money from his wallet. And then the Corinthian watched him eventually walk away with his coffee. Meech. Miecz. Hm.

The second time around was a simple thing. He might've watched him in his dreams. Observing as most nightmares do. But the Corinthian did not change anything. He made sure that the Corinthian was subtle. He left nothing untouched. Not when you're mirroring someone. An exact replica of a background character, or a friend from the past. The reflection of someone that Miecz knew, and not some blond figure standing there. It seemed that Miecz had probably fallen asleep doing his work at his desk right at home. Oh, how did he know that exactly? This leads into the third time ( which is technically the second time and the dream would be the third time but I ain't going to try and delete this whole thing-- Tumblr can fuck off. ) He stood under a street light, the darkness devouring everything else that wasn't being saved by a mere light that made moths go crazy over about. Hello, You. The Corinthian thought, craning his head to see the Federal Agent work. He brought a cigarette to his lips and sucked in the nicotine that burns his lungs satisfyingly.

The fourth time is a crime scene, specifically the crime scene that was notoriously surrounding the Corinthian case for Miecz. ( & his partner, Samson. The work wife needs a little shout out. ) It was a romantic gesture, and Miecz deserves something romantic. Roses spelling out his name. A card written in blood. And soon he would see the romantic gesture. He bit into his popsicle, teeth digging in. He doesn't get brain freeze, and a child just stared at him, completely in awe, who has a popsicle in their hand too. No mother in sight. He offered the popsicle and said: "Heeey. For another popsicle, a little bitten in. Do you think you can ask that man over there that I said Hi? And that there will be another one. And if he says who you are talking about? Just say: Meechy Peechy. He'll get the hint."

And the fifth time, a boring one, coffee in hand, eye mouths boring into the back of a profiler who is so keen on putting his entire attention on his work rather than him. Corinthian huffed, drank the rest of the coffee and puts it aside. If Scully ( one of Miecz's cats ) smacks it off the table, not his fault. He leans down, grabs Miecz's jaw and angles it in a way that the Corinthian could make his move and kiss his lips. He'll be watching him this time.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 1 of the major bracket

Propaganda:

For Eve and Vilanelle:

They quite literally are a wlw murderer couple. And I love them very very much.

Villanelle is a joyfully murderous psychopath assassin and Eve is the investigator trying to catch her who Villanelle seduces Eve into enjoying her own more murderous side. Villanelle does a Ton of murders (including of a tech bro billionaire), Eve also does some murders. It’s a good time.

THE murder wives!!! no explanation needed!!!

they got canon homoeroticism AND murdered together <3

For Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu:

you've got the founder of the fantasy ancient Chinese CIA and the leader of what is essentially the mafia and then they're soulmates and in love. they're both willing to kill anyone who dares hurt the other while also just wanting a soft domestic life together

Zhou Zishu is an assassin and spymaster who put the current Emperor on the throne, and then quit his job by faking his death (kinda, hes still dying but not as fast as he was supposed to). Had done A Lot on his old job, including murdering children (more than one, and at least one of them in a way I can't even describe without several trigger warnings), exterminating whole families, war crimes (and i dont mean this in a buzzword way, i mean "organized a public execution of foreign diplomats during war time")… btw he doesn't feel particularly bad about any of this, because he believes it was necessary. Like he wouldn't do it for fun, but he thinks the ends (putting a good Emperor on the throne) justified the means (all of the atrocities). As a retiree, he definitely cut down on the amount of morally reprehensible murder, but not murder in general. He still routinely kills ppl, he just doesn't go out of his way to kill more. Wen Kexing, meanwhile, is the Ghost Valley Master - Ghost Valley being a place where the worst of criminals are exiled. Even in such a place, he has reputation as a complete lunatic, owed partially to the fact that he either skinned a man or fed him his own flesh or both at one point, and partially to him having a rule where he would kill anyone who came closer than 3 meters to him. But in truth, everything he'd done was to survive the Ghost Valley and eventually take revenge for his parents, who were brutally murdered when he was only nine. By the start of the novel's timeline, he put his plan in motion - the plan that would drown jianghu in blood, but also deliver poetic justice to all responsible for his parents' deaths, as well as all who'd commit the same crime given the chance. And these two men, these two murderers and schemers, meet - and unexpectedly, find in each other the person who /understands/. The person who is just as ruthless and whose hands are just as bloody, but also the person who knows standing at the top of the world is not worth it, who seeks the same freedom of leaving it all behind, and who is still, underneath it all, a human, with human heart seeking connection. So you have this couple who understand each other with barely a word, and who want the same things - who are so hungry for domesticity and for people they can just goof around with when all their lives they had to measure every step and word - but ALSO where one half a couple is like "i gotta go murder hundreds in revenge" and the other half is like "ok pick you up at 6". (This btw is why I'm submitting novel's iteration of the couple in particular. Show wenzhou with their ridiculous breakups over morality could Never.) Also they were both hiding who they are when they first met, and later flirted about having figured each other out. Finally, I'll leave you my favorite quote that just. perfectly sums up their relationship: "And just like that, they fell asleep in each other's arms, steeped in the smell of blood."

You’ve probably already had submissions for them but I’ll add on. One of them founded an assassin’s guild and killed a staggering number of people. His malewife is the leader of a sect of insane murderous outcasts, and he attained his position by proving to be the most crazy and murder happy of them all. Most of the plot involves him wandering around watching his schemes get more people killed. Together they adopt a kid that was only orphaned due to said scheming (oops). They’re terrible and I love them.

[sugarandspisces-writes]

Damage Control

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Summary: You get into an argument with your parents and it brings up some tough emotions. Melissa helps you work through those feelings and thinks of a unique way to help you cope.

Word Count: 8k

A/N - Hi! I want to start off by saying that this fic is purely self-indulgent. I wanted to write something for those that don’t have the support of their loved ones in regard to their sexuality. If you’re currently going through this situation, I hope you can find a piece of comfort in this fic. My main goal with this one is to make you feel less alone. I hope you all enjoy <3

TW - Contains themes of homophobia and depicts interactions with unaccepting parents

It was a Saturday evening, and you found yourself at Melissa’s house. Over the past couple months, it became a ritual for you to spend the weekends with her. You found this was the only time you could enjoy her company due to the demands of the week. Things had been rough for her at school, but she was finally getting used to teaching two grades. She had more free time now, and you jumped at the opportunity to spend it with her.

You were currently sitting on the couch in the comfort of her arms. She was lying with her back against the arm of the couch, and you were sitting in her lap in the same position. Your back was against her front, and her arms were wrapped around your waist. Your head was settled on the left side of her chest, and you could hear the faint sound of her heartbeat.

It was a gloomy day and you didn’t plan on doing much. You originally wanted to spend the day out and about, but due to the weather, you changed your mind. You mutually decided that you would much rather have a lazy day in. You finished eating dinner not too long ago and you were now watching TV.

You recommended Melissa to start Killing Eve a while ago, but she never got around to it. You were glad about that because now you were able to watch it together. You were only on the first season, which you’d seen multiple times, so your attention was being pulled in another direction.

You turned slightly in her arms so that you were facing her. Her hair was up and her face was rid of makeup, so every feature was on display. She was absolutely stunning and you wished you could see her like this more. Your eyes roved over her face until they landed on the slope of her neck. You leaned in and placed a few kisses at the junction of her neck and shoulder. You watched her cheeks become pink from your actions. Her lips twitched as she tried to fight a smile and you couldn’t help but let your lips curve into a grin at the sight. You realized you were staring and tried to look away before she noticed, but you knew you’d been caught when she spoke.

“The TV is over there, you know.” She nodded her head in the direction of the entertainment.

“I know that, Melissa,” you laughed. “I just enjoy looking at you more.”

“Someone’s being very charming today,” she said before turning her head towards you.

You locked eyes momentarily and the twinkle in her green orbs was almost too much for you to handle. You couldn’t think when she looked at you like that. You shied away from her gaze before letting out a chuckle. 

“Do you like the show so far?” You asked after gathering your thoughts. 

“Yeah, it’s good. I thought there would be a little more action though.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s coming. I think the next episode is the one where Villanelle shows up at Eve’s house.” You said while reaching for your phone that was resting on the coffee table.

You heard Melissa groan and you realized that your movement shifted her out of her comfy spot. You gave her an apologetic look before turning your phone on. As you looked through your notifications, you saw that you had a missed call from your dad. The two of you usually called each other every weekend, mainly in the mornings. He didn’t call you this morning, so you thought he’d get to it tomorrow. It was strange for him to call you at this time, but you just assumed he missed you extra and didn’t want the call to wait.

“You can call him back if you need to,” Melissa said, knowing how much you looked forward to catching up with him.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna,” you sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the couch. “It must be important if he’s calling this late.”

“Go ahead. I need to get up and stretch anyways.” She patted the side of your leg, signaling you to stand.

“Be right back,” you said before leaning over to kiss her lips.

✦ ✦ ✦

You made your way into the kitchen and sat at the table in a seat near the entryway. You pressed the missed call notification and held the phone up to your ear. You listened to three sequences of ringing before someone picked up.

“Hello?”

You brought your phone down and looked at the screen in confusion. It wasn’t uncommon for her to answer your dad’s calls if he wasn’t in immediate reach of his phone. It still caught you off guard.

“Hey, mom. I was just calling Dad back.” You said in hopes that she would pass him the phone as quickly as possible.

You loved your mother, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now. You were in a good mood, and you knew she was bound to change that if you continued to speak with her.

“Now, don’t sound too eager to talk to me,” she said. 

You knew she was being sarcastic, but she did have a point. Even though you weren’t in the mood, you were still curious about her well-being. 

“How are you?” You asked.

“I’m just trying to enjoy the day, but the weather has been acting crazy.”

Are we seriously talking about the weather right now? You thought to yourself.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded to yourself. “I was gonna go out today, but those plans got squashed.”

“Oh, honey, I’m glad you realized you need to get out more,” she said. “All you do is go to work, then go home. You need to have a little fun here and there.”

While her comment sounded like she meant well, you knew there was an air of judgment in what she was trying to say.

“I know, mom. You tell me all the time.” You let out a sigh.

“Yeah, well, every time I call you’re always at home.”

“You just happen to call me when I’m at home.” You rolled your eyes.

“You just happen to be at home every time I call you? I find that hard to belie–”

“Mom, where’s Dad?” You asked, trying not to sound too fed up.

“He’s upstairs. He’ll be down soon,” she said. “Why are you in such a hurry?” 

You could almost hear the cogs turning in her head as she thought of the reasons why you wanted to get off the phone with her. You pulled your phone away to see that you’d only been on the phone with her for a little over a minute. Why did it feel like the two of you had been talking for ages? You could feel yourself getting a headache already.

“You can change the subject all you want, but I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt you to get out more.” She said in a tone that you couldn’t quite place, but you knew that it rubbed you the wrong way.

Before you could speak, you heard her say, “Here’s your father.”

You had never been so thankful to talk to your dad in your life.

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad said. “What’s up?”

“Hey, I was just calling you back. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Why?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “You usually call me earlier in the day.”

“Is it a crime for me to be spontaneous?” He asked. “Haven’t you heard the phrase, “Expect the unexpected?”

You could hear the smile in his voice and you couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“It is a crime, considering you’re the most calculated man I know.”

Your parents were very type A, and they always followed some sort of schedule. They liked things to be a certain way, and they were always organized. Despite what it seemed like, they knew how to have fun – especially your dad. However, there were times when they could be stuck in their ways, and that’s why you often butt heads.

“Okay, maybe that’s true.” He laughed. “I just missed you, is all.”

“I miss you too.” You smiled to yourself.

Your heart warmed at his words. Your conversations were so much different than the ones between you and your mom. 

“What are you up to?” Your dad asked, bringing the conversation back to you.

“Nothing much. I was watching TV when you called.”

You could hear your mom in the background making a remark about you not getting out of the house. For some reason, she couldn’t let it go today. 

“Dad, can you put me on speaker?”

“Okay, you’re on speaker.” He confirmed.

You laughed at him before addressing your mom. “Mom, you know I can hear you in the back, right?”

“All I’m trying to say is that the men aren’t gonna meet themselves.” She said bluntly.

You let out a dry laugh. Of course, that’s what this is about. She’d wanted to say it all along, but she liked to bet around the bush for some reason.

“Mom, men aren’t the key to life. I’m fully capable of doing everything a man could do for me by myself.”

She laughed, and you could almost see the shake of her head that came with the action. “Of course, you would say that.” 

“Honey.” You could hear your dad say to your mom in a warning tone.

“No, it’s okay.” Clearly, there was a deeper meaning to her words. “What’s that supposed to mean, Mom?”

It was silent on the other end of the line as you waited for an answer. 

“I think your mother is just trying to say–”

“Dad, I wanna hear it from her. What’s that supposed to mean, Mom?” You repeated. 

You could feel yourself becoming more defensive as the seconds went on.

“I’m not surprised you would say something like that. With you being the way you… are and whatnot.” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words.

“The way I am? Wh–What are you trying to say?” You asked, but you knew exactly what she was alluding to.

You weren’t solely attracted to men, and that dissatisfied your mother more than anything. You knew it bothered your dad too; the only difference was that he wasn’t so brash about it. You had hope that he might come to terms with it in the future. Your mother, on the other hand, was a different story.

✦ ✦ ✦

Melissa was sitting on the couch as she waited for you to finish your conversation. For the past ten minutes, she had busied herself with looking at the pictures hanging on her walls. She couldn’t remember the last time she really looked at them. She had been so busy at work trying to keep up with two classes that she didn’t notice how long it had been since she took a proper pause. This was the first time in about three weeks that she was able to keep her head above the water.

It was also the first weekend that she had been able to fully enjoy in a while. When she realized she would have some free time, her first thought was that she wanted to spend it with you. It was very unlike her to want to spend her spare time with anyone, but there was something special about you. You made her feel at peace, and she craved having you around at all times. 

She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard your voice coming from the kitchen. The sound was muffled from where she was standing, so she couldn’t make out what you were saying. Nonetheless, you sounded like you were in distress. She debated whether or not to go check on you. She knew you were capable of handling your own problems, but she still wanted to make sure that you were okay. She reasoned with herself and made her way over to the entrance of her kitchen.

She didn’t walk in yet out of fear that she might be interrupting something. Your relationship was still kind of new, and she didn’t want to seem like she was butting into your business. From outside the doorway, she could hear another woman’s voice. She assumed this was your mom.

She heard the tail end of the conversation, and she was a little stunned, to say the least. She knew about your weekly catch-ups with your dad, and she had been there to overhear some of them. To her, your parents didn’t seem like the type of people to participate in an argument with you. In her opinion, that was more her family’s style. However, she knew that it was presumptuous of her to assume such a thing without much context. She continued to listen to the conversation, curious to hear what would be said next.

✦ ✦ ✦

“You know what I’m saying, Y/N!” Your mother said, raising her voice. 

You knew you’d struck a nerve. She wasn’t at her yelling point, but she was getting close. If she wanted to play that game though, you would play. If there was one thing the two of you were good at, it was yelling at each other.

“I like women, Mom! So what?” You raised your voice back.

“So what?” She said in disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom what you were saying. “It’s wrong, Y/N. That’s what!”

“Says who? You?” You yelled at her. You didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t gonna sit there and listen to her talk about right and wrong as if she was a saint.

“Do not raise your voice at me.” Your mom said sternly.

You knew you were in the wrong at the moment, but you weren’t going to apologize. She was still your mom, but if she wasn’t going to respect you, you weren’t going to respect her.

“A little support would be nice every now and then, you know.” You said.

“I support you plenty. Or do you not remember me and your father loaning you money a couple of weeks ago?” She pointed out. “Did that slip your mind somehow?” She said in a condescending tone.

“That’s not what I mean!” You said in frustration. 

Your mother thought that monetary support was equal to emotional support. In her mind, if you had all of your needs met, emotions didn’t have to be part of the picture.

“You did it to yourself, Y/N. If you didn’t make the choice–”

At those words, you lost it.

“It’s not a choice, Mom! I didn’t choose anything! It’s just who I am!” You shouted through the phone. Tears began to prick your eyes. You tried to blink them away, but they fell anyway.

You stood from your seat and walked around the table. You could feel yourself getting angry, and you didn’t know how that would end, so you tried to calm down before your emotions got out of hand. 

“That’s not who you are!” She yelled back. “I didn’t raise you to be like that. Your father–”

“No, Mom, it's not who you are!” You interrupted her. You reigned your tears in and gained control of your voice. You wanted her to hear your next statements loud and clear.  “Not everything is about you! And Dad can speak for himself.”

Since you came out to your parents, your mom had a hard time separating her identity from yours. She couldn’t bear the fact that you weren’t straight. To her, you were flawed, and she felt like she had done something wrong raising you. What she failed to see was that your identity had nothing to do with her. It was only about you.

“I’m not talking about this with you anymore,” she said.

You saw that one coming. Once you began talking about her image, she shut down. When it came to slander, she could dish it, but she couldn’t take it.

“Fine.” You said, and that was the end of that.

You plopped down in the chair and took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

“Dad,” you said, “are you still on the phone?”

Your dad had been silent the whole time. Not because he didn’t care, but because he knew better than to get in the middle of your and your mom's spats. He meant well, but sometimes you wish he would give his input. Confrontation wasn’t his strong suit though, so you knew it might be a while before you ever heard his side of things.

“Yeah, I’m here, kiddo.” He sounded dejected. “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t meant for the phone call to go south.

“You don’t have to apologize for her.”

“Yeah, but I know she’ll probably never say it,” he said, sounding defeated for you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

You talked with him for a few minutes longer before saying goodnight and ending the call. This was not the direction you expected the night to go in, but like your dad said, you should learn to expect the unexpected.

✦ ✦ ✦

Moments later, you found yourself still sitting at the kitchen table. Your mother’s words rang in your head as you tried to process everything. As you continued to think about the things she said, you felt your frustration resurface. The feeling had only intensified since then, and you began to feel red-hot anger creeping its way up your chest. It settled at the base of your neck and as a result, you felt suffocated. You couldn’t help but let out a scream at the sensation.

“Fuck!” You shouted before slamming your phone down onto the wooden surface of the table.

The sound must have startled Melissa because she appeared before you.

“You okay?” Melissa asked as she kneeled in front of you. She had a frown on her face as she tried to decipher the expression on yours.

You were embarrassed at your sudden outburst and the fact that she’d heard the conversation with your parents. You were also feeling a little helpless because your emotions were manifesting themselves and you had virtually no idea how to handle them. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You could feel Melissa running her hand along your back and that brought you down enough to muster out a reply.

“Yeah,” you said in a flat tone. You meant to be more convincing, but it didn’t quite work.

“You know, you can tell me if you’re not okay.” She said, continuing to rub your back.

You cleared your throat and shook your head as if you were trying to reset your brain to 30 minutes ago: when you were peacefully lying in your girlfriend’s arms and not having thoughts of taking your mother’s neck in your hands and–

“Hon,” Melissa said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm,” you hummed before looking at her again. 

You soon came to realize that was a big mistake. Suddenly everything was too much. Too real. How close she was to you, the look in her eyes, the hand on your back. You needed her to move, but you couldn’t vocalize that. 

“What can I do?” She asked.

“Um, I don’t, I–,” You stumbled over your words.

You reached around to your back so you could grab her hand. She mistook the gesture as you seeking more comfort. She clasped her hand around yours and that gave you the push you needed to speak up.

“I don’t know, but you need to move.” You snatched your hand away as if her touch burned you.

She looked a little shocked, but she moved away as fast as her body allowed her to. Once she was gone, you realized how harsh you’d sounded and you instantly felt bad. She was just trying to help, and here you were snapping at her.

“I’m sorry. I just– I’m really hot and I can’t–” You stood up and started to frantically fan yourself.

Melissa continued to look at you. She was trying to figure out what her next move would be. She’d never seen you like this, and she wanted to handle this situation correctly. As soon as she realized that staring at you wasn’t going to help, she jumped into action.

“That’s okay. How about we start by taking this off.” She stepped closer to you before realizing she should probably warn you. She wanted to avoid your previous reaction at all costs. “I’m just gonna come closer, but I’m not gonna touch you.”

You couldn’t even focus on what she was saying because you were about two seconds away from freaking out again. You could only make out every other word, but it was enough for you to piece her sentences together. You nodded your head to show that it was okay for her to come closer.

Why the fuck am I so hot? You thought to yourself.

“I just wanna get your jacket off.” She said.

Jacket? What jacket?

As you watched her reach toward you, you looked down to see that you were wearing the hoodie Melissa let you borrow earlier. You were so scatterbrained that you didn’t realize you still had it on.

She grasped the zipper on the garment before pulling it down, causing the sleeves to fall off your shoulders. Once the item was off, you felt so much better and your thoughts started to become more clear. You sat back down and let out a sigh of relief as you leaned forward, resting your palms on your knees. You looked down at the ground in an attempt to focus your attention on something other than the anger and shame you were feeling.

“That feel any better?” Melissa inquired.

You thought about her question for a second. You felt better because you weren’t burning up anymore. However, you could still feel the remnants of ire in the pit of your chest. 

“A little, but I feel like,” you paused. “Like I,” you trailed off before giving up.

Melissa reached out to gently grasp your jaw. She tilted your face upward so you could look at her. Her palm felt cool against your warm skin. 

“Like what?” She looked at you intently.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged before removing your face from her hold.

It wasn’t a secret that you experienced emotions deeply. You felt more than the average person, and you were very in tune with other people. You were the definition of an empath, and it was a gift as well as a curse. You cared for others, but the weight of harboring their emotions in addition to your own was too much to handle at times.

You were also prone to burying your feelings. That’s where your difficulties with communication stemmed from. When you were hurting you kept it to yourself, and that made it harder for you to navigate situations like this. When you had a chance to express your feelings, you weren’t always sure how to convey them to others.

Melissa pulled up a chair and set it directly in front of you. To be honest, you were taken aback by the action. You fully expected her to leave you alone until you could figure out an answer to her question. As you looked at her, you saw through all the concern and found there was determination in her eyes. She wanted to figure out what was going on inside your head, and she wasn’t going to give up until she got an explanation.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling physically?” She reached out to grab your hand, finding it hard not to show her affection. “Just one thing.”

“Um, kinda like I might… explode.” You looked toward her in hopes of receiving some form of validation, and without fail she gave it to you.

“Okay.” She nodded her head and began to stroke the back of your hand with her thumb. “Anything else?”

“My heart is beating really fast and I feel tense. Like, all over.” You took your free hand and motioned it in a circle around you.

“That doesn’t sound like a nice feeling,” she spoke softly. 

To you, her tone seemed uncharacteristically gentle. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard from the redhead.

“What do you usually do when you feel like this?” Her eyes never strayed from yours.

“Nothing really.” You looked at her sheepishly. “I usually just push it away or try to focus on something else.”

The lost look in your eyes pulled at Melissa’s heartstrings. She could see the trouble you were having processing your emotions, and all she wanted to do was help you. She had an idea, but she wasn’t sure how you’d receive it. However, she knew it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Are you willing to try somethin’ for me, hon?” She bit her lip as she anticipated your response.

“Sure.” You were willing to try just about anything if it would make you feel better.

“Okay, give me just a sec.” She held up her index finger, then proceeded to walk out of the kitchen.

Melissa soon returned with something interesting in her hands: a baseball bat. You looked at her with curiosity as she came to stand before you.

“Come on.” She nodded her head toward the back door. “Let’s go outside for a minute.”

You followed her into the yard, where she walked you to a secluded corner. As she moved a few items around to create some space, you noticed her backyard was very homey. There was a couch decorated with pillows and blankets and it was placed near a fire pit. There was also a garden located on the opposite end.

Above you, there were string lights that were activated by the two of you stepping outside. They lit up the yard with a warm glow and you began to find comfort in the cozy atmosphere. She had a fence built well above your height that surrounded the area, and it made you feel completely safe.

When she was finished rearranging, Melissa came to stand across from you. “When I get upset, I take this and use it to do as much damage as I can.” She presented the bat to you.

You tried not to think too much into her statement, but you couldn’t help raising your eyebrows.

“I promise everything I’ve done was legal,” she said after seeing your reaction. “Well, mostly.”

“Melissa!” Your eyes widened at the thought of her committing crimes with the object.

“I’m kidding, hon,” she assuaged your fears. “I don’t have anything for you to hit, but I think the ground will do just fine.” She tapped with her foot, illustrating its firm nature.

You still felt unsure of what to do.

“You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to,” she assured you. She didn’t want to talk you into doing anything that made you feel uncomfortable. “We can always figure something else out, but I think this might help you release some of those emotions.”

If she thought it would help, what was the harm in testing out her theory? 

“Okay, I’ll try.”

You reached your hands out to accept the bat from her. She handed it over, then stepped closer to the house to give you some space. You stood there for a second, those feelings of uncertainty coming back to you. You felt out of your element as you twisted the bat around.

You took a couple breaths before holding it up by the handle. Your arms lifted above you before swiftly coming down to slam the head of the bat against the ground.

Sightly alarmed by the loud crack that echoed around the space, you looked toward Melissa and let out a gasp. She was standing against the fence with arms folded across her chest.

“How’d that feel?” She looked at you expectantly.

“Good.” You nodded. “I wonder what your neighbors are gonna think.”

“Don’t worry about that.” She began to walk toward you. “If they have a problem I’ll handle it.”

You must have still looked suspicious because she spoke again.

“You just focus on letting those feelings go.” She squeezed your shoulder affectionately before taking a seat on the couch. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

You stood there for a moment gathering your thoughts. The only thing Melissa cared about was making you feel better. She could care less about anyone else at the moment. With that in mind, you felt completely safe to express yourself however you needed to. She just wanted to be there to make sure you were safe. Your heart warmed at the thought, and your anger nearly dissipated.

Now all you could focus on was how much she cared about you and your emotional well-being. She looked after you so intently. No one had ever taken the time to truly listen to you and help you combat your insufferable burdens. That thought settled deep within you causing a twinge to flutter through your chest. The ache was so profound you felt it in every fiber of your being.

You closed your eyes and took another deep breath before smashing the bat into the grass for the second time. You repeated the action until you began to lose count of how many times you’d struck the ground.

All you could think about were the feelings your mom had brought up and the pain associated with them. When you couldn’t think about that anymore, you thought about every time you wanted to express an emotion, but couldn’t. When you’d exhausted that thought, you just focused on how free you felt at the moment. With each hit, you could feel yourself letting go of the pain you’d held onto for so long.

Then, something broke within you. You slammed the ground one last time, your body sagging forward from the force. You felt your chest heave as a guttural sound escaped your throat, and you let out a final breath in its wake. 

The metallic bat dropped to the ground with a clang and you used every last bit of your strength to stand up straight. You filled your lungs with air and on the exhale, you felt a sob bubble in your throat. Your hands flew to your mouth to muffle the sound, but it was too late. You had already released an echoing wail into the open. Surrendering every part of the anguish, you let the sobs wrack your body. It was getting harder to breathe, but you didn’t care, really.

“Y/N.” She was gentle as not to startle you.

Upon opening your eyes, you were met with a worried look. She was maintaining her distance just in case you were feeling overwhelmed, but by the look in her eyes, you could see that she just wanted to comfort you. You pulled her closer and once the gap was closed, she brought her hands up to wipe your eyes. She gently held your face in her palms as you continued to weep. 

“You didn’t mention that I would cry my eyes out,” you joked. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, but your delivery was pathetic. You were all choked up, trying your best to talk through broken sobs. “A warning would have been nice.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Melissa said in a hushed tone. It almost sounded like she was fighting back her own tears. But you knew she hadn’t gone that soft on you— yet. 

You were pulled into a hug, her arms wrapping firmly around your torso. You hugged back, arms hanging loosely around her neck, then brought your head down to rest on her shoulder. She pulled you closer before placing a kiss on your forehead. The action was so delicate that it caused a surge of fresh tears to fill your eyes.

Melissa could feel your chest quavering with each breath you took, so she gave you some encouragement. “Let it out, hon.” 

You shook your head and released a whimper instead. You’d cried enough and there was no need to do it all over her. However, you should have known that wasn’t going to satisfy her. Your pain didn’t serve you any purpose, and she refused to let it weigh you down.

“Come on, love.” She murmured into your ear, voice so velvety you couldn’t help but give in. “There you go,” she praised as your cries got heavier.

You collapsed into her arms and let your body go slack against hers. She staggered backward, not expecting you to fall into her like that, but regained her footing and held you steady. 

“I’m here, okay? I’ve got you.”

For a moment, all you could focus on was her. She rubbed large circles across your back and you nestled closer into the curve of her neck. Her scent invaded your senses; something spicy, sweet, and clothed in warmth. You could feel yourself calming down with each breath you took.

“That’s it. Just breathe.” She instructed.

She began to sway your body from side to side. The motion was so soothing that you felt your eyelids getting heavy. If she kept it up, you were sure you’d fall asleep. You willed yourself to stay awake so you could relish in the safety she was providing.

“You doing okay?” She asked after she was sure your sobs had ceased.

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

It wasn’t the best response, but Melissa took your even breaths and lack of tears as a sign that you had settled down.

She began to unwrap her arms from around you, but you weren’t ready. You held on tighter, which was physically impossible considering you were already as close as you could get.

She held you a little longer before deciding to ask for permission this time. “Is it okay if I let go?”

She hadn’t given you any indication that she was leaving, but a piece of you was afraid that you might not find that level of comfort again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, sensing your hesitation. “I just wanna get you back inside.”

You obliged and she maintained her proximity by holding you by the waist. The gesture was tender and affectionate, and she kept her word leaving no room for doubts in your mind.

✦ ✦ ✦

“You gonna be okay by yourself for a second?” Melissa asked as you sat in the living room.

“I’ll be okay,” you rasped.

“Okay, sit tight,” Melissa said before venturing off.

You were grateful for her tenderness, and it was the first time you were seeing this side of her. Of course, she was always gentle with you, but something was different tonight. She was being so patient and loving—it made your heart feel so full.

She returned with a glass of water and took a seat next to you. You gladly accepted the beverage and found yourself nearly downing it in one gulp. The cool liquid felt nice on your sore throat. You set the cup down on the coffee table and let out a deep sigh. A familiar sting pricked your eyes, but you refused to do any more of that right now.

You could see Melissa watching you out of the corner of your eye. She was trying to be discreet, but even if you couldn’t see her, you’d be able to feel the intensity of her stare. You weren’t sure what she was trying to communicate to you, so you redirected your gaze.

She smiled at you, her lips gently curling, as she brought a hand over to rest on your thigh. You placed your hand over hers and began to play with her fingers. She had a singular ring on the middle one and you twisted it around to distract yourself.

She pulled you out of your head by locking your fingers together. You looked back up at her and she opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. Her eyebrows were knit together and she had a pensive look on her face. She looked like she was going through a mental tug-of-war.

You watched as she dropped your hand and changed her position so she was leaning against the arm rest. She waved her hand, motioning for you to come join her. You took your place in her arms and laid on top of her, tucking your head under her chin and settling in. You took a hand and rested it on her stomach, feeling it move up and down with each breath she took.

You closed your eyes as she placed a kiss to the crown of your head. She repeated the action before moving her lips lower and doing the same near your hairline. She slipped her hand underneath the fabric of your shirt and began to lightly trace her nails against your back. That had to be one of your favorite sensations, and you could feel yourself melting deeper into her touch. She was almost lulling you into a trance.

“Your mom seemed pretty upset earlier, hm?” She asked, switching the pattern she was making on your back.

Melissa knew what she was doing. She wanted to get you as relaxed as possible so that you could talk about the events that led to this moment. She knew it would be hard for you to get worked up if she was holding you close, giving you kisses, and rubbing your back. It was the gentlest form of persuasion.

“Yeah.” Your voice cracked as your thoughts wandered back to the conversation. You cleared your throat before continuing, “I guess you could say so.”

Not missing the hitch in your voice, she encouraged you to take a deep breath. Once she was pleased with your effort, she formulated her next response.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She didn’t want to upset you again.

“No, it’s okay.” You assured her. “I just don’t understand.”

Melissa waited for you to elaborate, but when you didn’t, she prompted you. “You don’t understand what, babe?” She asked, moving back a couple of inches so she could look at you properly.

“I’ve spent the majority of my life–” A lump made its way up your throat. You swallowed it down, determined not to let your emotions get the better of you. “I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to be perfect for her. I’ve done absolutely everything I could to please her.”

Melissa nodded her head in understanding as you peered up at her.

“I made good grades in school and I did all the extracurriculars. I went to college, navigated everything the way she advised me to. I sacrificed so much of my happiness to make sure she was content. It worked for a long time, you know? She was happy.” 

“And because of that you were happy,” Melissa stated.

She knew how you were. People pleasing was part of your character. It was hard for you to grasp the idea that you wouldn’t be able to satisfy everyone. No matter what, there would always be someone who didn’t agree with you.

You nodded, taking a breath before continuing, “That all changed when I came out to her though. I mean, I knew what her reaction would be, but I wanted to take some of my power back from her. I had quite literally burnt myself out trying to do right by her.” You took a beat before saying, “I just felt like I wasn’t my own person anymore and that kind of scared me.”

Melissa moved a hand up to your cheek, as she continued to look at you. Her thumb smoothed across the side of your face and your eyes fell closed at the feeling. You hadn’t even noticed the lone tear escaping your eye until she swiped it away.

“So, I told her.” You laughed wryly. “I wasn’t even sure what my labels were at the time. I’m honestly still not, but I just knew that I wasn’t straight. I just felt so compelled to let her know that she didn’t have a say in every aspect of my life.”

“I’m proud of you for making that decision. That must have been really hard.” Melissa empathized with you.

Her sage eyes were glassy as she listened to you tell your story. Hearing about your relationship with your mother allowed her to gain a deeper understanding of your habits. She’d wondered why you were such a perfectionist, why you cared so much about what people thought of you, why it was hard for you to say no sometimes.

“Oh, it was a nightmare.” You looked off to the side as you recounted the day. “I told her right before I went off to college. I told my dad too. She didn’t speak to me for months. I think that’s part of the reason why me and my dad got so close.”

“How did your dad take it?” Melissa asked.

“Better than her. He wasn’t jumping for joy, but he was respectful of me. He understands that it’s not up to him to pick my life partner.” You looked back at her before saying, “That’s all I asked of them. To respect me. He just happened to be the one who could comply with my wishes.”

“There’s always that one person,” Melissa sighs. She didn’t know your mom personally, so she wouldn’t bash her. Not to your face at least. Instead, she opted to give you a piece of wisdom. “You can’t please everyone, hon.”

“I know.” You sighed, matching her tone. “It just doesn’t make sense to me. My dad can do it, so why can’t she?”

You looked at Melissa with sorrowful eyes. You could feel your resolve starting to crumble and that ache in your chest returned. “Why can’t she just love me how I am?”

You were directing the question at her but unfortunately, she didn’t have an explanation. She tried to compose an answer, but her words wouldn’t come. The way you looked at her made her brain lapse. She tried to think of something quickly because she couldn’t take the site of that sullen look. However, she didn’t have anything to say, and that was rare. Her lack of words generated a response from you, and it wasn’t one she was expecting.

“No matter how hard I try, nothing I do will ever be enough for her.” Your lips crumpled as the words left your mouth. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“Oh, honey. Come here.” She closed the small space between you by pulling you into her chest. 

You cried, but it was mild in comparison to your previous round of tears. “I just don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either,” she said, resuming her gentle back scratches, “but let me tell you something.” She pulled your chin up so you were level with her eyes. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“There must be. Why else would she–”

“You are passionate, hardworking, and so damn smart. You always make me smile, and you are a joy to be around.” Melissa said with conviction.

“You are perfect just the way you are. Do you hear me? When you began to shy away from her words, she pulled your attention back to her. “I’m not sure what your mother sees when she looks at you, but I see a wonderful person who is kind and caring. You have a beautiful personality and a heart that is too pure for this world.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, hon. Why would I say that if I didn’t mean it?”

You could only shrug at her question.  

“No, don’t give me that. Talk to me,” she urged.

You could tell she genuinely wanted to hear your thoughts because she had that determined look on her face again. How could you possibly say no to that?

“I know you mean it. It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?”

“I don’t get to feel validated very often,” you disclosed. “So it’s just nice to hear those words.”

“I meant every single thing.” She punctuated her words with a nod.

“I know, Lissa. Thank you.” You smiled at her. “For everything you’ve done for me tonight.”

You leaned forward to wrap her in a hug one last time. You hoped you could convey every ounce of thanks into the embrace. She’d done more for you in a few hours than you could have ever asked.

“You’re welcome. But you don’t need to thank me. It’s what I’m here for.” She hugged you back with just as much enthusiasm, if not more. “I’ll always be here to listen to you and validate you anytime you need it.”

You pulled back from the hug just enough to see her face, and you leaned in to kiss her lips. It was delicate and sweet, but full of passion. You tangled your hand into auburn locks so you could keep her near as you exchanged a few more pecks. She pulled away and pressed a final kiss to your temple.

You ended the day the same way you started it: wrapped up on the couch enjoying each other’s presence. In that moment, you realized you’d found something special with her. In the midst of chaos, she had the ability to bring you back to center. She put things into perspective, and helped you see the bigger picture.

Sure, you wanted your mom to come around, but you couldn’t make her. That was something she would have to do on her own timing—you couldn’t force it upon her. Whether or not she would come to accept you was a mystery. However, what you did know was that Melissa would always be in your corner and that was more than enough for you.

[sailtomarina]

Flourish, Blotts, & Granger

Fred bustled through the busy streets, one person at the forefront of his mind. Everyone seemed to be talking about her workplace and how shocked they’d been over the news. Not a single one of them had been able to answer his questions.

Villanelle, the long-established owner of Flourish & Blotts, had announced her retirement.

He couldn’t remember a time where the woman wasn’t the bookseller’s proprietress. Even Charlie and Bill had stories of their run-ins with the witch during their school years. She was as much a part of Diagon Alley as the Leaky or Fortescue’s. Fred could only hope that one day WWW would hold a similar timelessness to those playful of heart.

Now, he feared the worst. He needed to speak to someone who would certainly know more. Someone who was very close to the owner herself.

Crowds swarmed the entrance and first floor of the shop, but he fought his way through and up the stairs to spot a familiar head of cinnamon-threaded brown atop a ladder.

“Hermione!”

It was a good thing he still had the reflexes that had saved him all those years ago from certain death. She spun in surprise at his voice, lost her balance, and fell straight into his arms as he dashed forward to catch her.

“Fred! Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”

Sprawled on his back and looking up at the halo of curls around a face dearer to him than his own life, Fred could only grin.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, say something or I’ll think I’ve knocked you silly!” She pulled out her wand to run a diagnostic over him, not caring that she still sat astride him for anyone to see.

“Godric, you’re beautiful.”

Her breath caught and colour filled her cheeks. Fred thought she’d never looked more becoming.

“Now you’re really frightening me.” She reached out to smooth a hand across his brow, which he caught and pressed to his lips. “Fred! What has gotten into you?”

This time, he finally did sit up, but he trapped her there in his arms as he continued to gaze at her. He lowered his voice. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“Heard what, exactly?” She tilted her head, a furrow appearing between her eyes as she frowned at him.

“About Villanelle’s retirement, of course.”

The furrow vanished as she perked up, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Oh! Yes! Isn’t it wonderful news? I’m so happy for her. She’s been planning this for so long I wasn’t sure she was ever going to do it.”

Her sincere joy for her employer baffled him. Fred would have thought her distraught about the change in ownership. “But what about the shop? Will it be closing or have you already met the new owner?”

Her follow-up actions were as unexpected as they were aggravating. She wiggled, her body swaying from side to side and hands coming together as she clapped.in excitement. It was adorable, but it also rubbed against him in a way that prompted him to grab onto her hips to still her motions. 

“You’re looking at her!” she cried. Arms came up around his neck to hug him tight and it took her choking hold for the words to finally penetrate his thick skull.

“You’re the new owner of Flourish & Blotts?” 

He felt like he should have seen that one coming. Hermione had worked for them for ages now, having found refuge in their shelves shortly after discovering that Ministry work wasn’t for her. Villanelle became the mentor she’d always dreamt of, providing invaluable feedback on her writing and lending a listening ear whenever she needed to bounce ideas off of another. 

“We’ve already signed the paperwork! There should be an announcement in this weekend’s Prophet.” She pulled away, fingers gliding up to card through his hair, eyes soft on him. “We’ll be seeing each other even more now since I’ll be taking her place in the Diagon Alley Association.”

He snorted, already imagining several ways he could sneak in inappropriate touches under the table without anyone the wiser. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, though it does mean I’ll be less likely to pop over for lunch until I get used to juggling it all.”

Fred snuck a look around before making his next move. It wouldn’t do for unsavoury comments to begin before she’d even taken the mantle publicly. Assured at their privacy, he cast a quick Disillusionment spell before standing up abruptly to pin her against the same ladder from which she’d fallen. 

“Fred! What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. He noticed she didn’t push him away. On the contrary, her legs wrapped around him automatically until she settled against a step.

“I’m taking advantage of the time we have left and celebrating with an early lunch.” 

It took months of ownership for Hermione to finally stop blushing every time she looked over at the second-floor ladder, and even longer than that before she caved and let Fred pin her against it again.

He vowed it wouldn’t be the last. He had plans in store for the two of them, after all; plans that involved a lifetime of celebration.

876 WC

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3

Word prompt “Flourish” from FB Group Lauren’s Kitchen

I loved getting this word since I felt like I could go many different ways with it. I ended up sticking with the familiar bookshop since I’ve been in a cosy mood lately curled up in my blankets and sweaters while it rains outside. What better place to spend my time than in the book-lined aisles of our favourite Diagon Alley shop?

I’ve always adored Fred, but this one today is for Moonfairy. May Fred live on forever in our hearts!

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Becoming Villanelle

"It would take some work, but there, now you will not make a lot of noise."

"The person you are killing will not make a lot of noise," Konstantin corrects.

"Yes," she agrees. "That is what I said."

Konstantin and Villanelle, early days. Training in the snow.

"This is a gun," Konstantin informs her unnecessarily, offering her the weapon. "Never point it at anyone you do not intend to kill."

She immediately points it at him. He gives her an appraising look, nods to himself as though she'd done only what he expected. "That one, of course, is not loaded."

She shrugs, lowers it while offering him a girlish smile. It is a cold, snowy day, but she has an expensive new coat, and more importantly, she is not behind bars, trapped in the grueling regimen of a slate-gray prison. "Of course I would not kill you," she tells him, doe-eyed and innocent. "You are my handler, you practically saved my life!"

"Of course not," he agrees. "But if you had to, how would you kill me with that gun?"

"I would put some bullets in it."

"Do you know how?"

She hesitates, then shakes her head. Her knowledge of guns comes from the same place as everyone else's, movies and TV shows. She could make some educated guesses, but knowing is different. She considers the weight of the weapon in her hand. "I could beat you to death with it?”

That earns her a warm smile. She is still wary of him, this strange man who has taken her out of Hell and into fresh air with the expectation that she will kill for him. That's an easy expectation to meet, so she doesn't trust it. Of course, she can and will do it, better than anyone ever has, but she wonders what else will be expected of her.

"Do you know how?" he repeats.

She stares at him for a long moment, trying to work out if he is making fun of her, then gently taps him on the head with the butt of the gun. He doesn't flinch. "Like this, but you do it many, many times and with more force. Should I demonstrate?"

He laughs like she had told a very funny joke. "That will not be necessary," he assures her. They are speaking English, because she asked not to speak Russian and he turned down her request to speak French. English, he said, is more useful, which presumably means that he is shit at French.

"It will take a long time and make a lot of noise," he says. "Beating someone to death with a gun."

This is getting tedious, she considers demonstrating that the process is faster than he thinks. "I could probably get enough of it in your mouth to choke you," she says instead. "It would take some work, but there, now you will not make a lot of noise."

"The person you are killing will not make a lot of noise," Konstantin corrects.

"Yes," she agrees. "That is what I said. Hey, why haven't you tried to have sex with me?"

It turns out he can do doe eyes too, amusing in a man of his age. "Villanelle! I would never do that," he says, pretending affront at the very idea. "I think of you like a daughter to me."

She doesn't believe that for a moment, but she's distracted by how much she likes being called Villanelle. In prison, she had asked him, "So do I get a cool code name?"

"Of course!" he had agreed. "Whatever you like."

And so she had chosen one, an expensive, stylish codename, said goodbye to Oksana, a sad girl in love with a teacher who didn't love her back, and hello to Villanelle.

Villanelle will do things differently. She will learn how to kill people and not get caught. She will have all the things Oksana always dreamt of, the beautiful clothes, the nice apartment, the cool job. She will know how to load a gun, make poisons, infiltrate locations and whatever else being an assassin entails. Most importantly, she will know to never, ever fall in love.

"I want to learn to shoot the gun," she tells Konstantin, who shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says, his tone soothing. "Guns are tricky to smuggle, illegal to be caught with in most places and they make a lot of noise. They are a weapon of last resort. You will learn other things first."

"...Then why did you give me a gun?"

He looks at her with more of that warm approval and she still isn't sure what she's supposed to do with that. "To see what you would do with it, of course."

"Oh." She looks at the weapon in her hand, at the flat, snowy field they are standing in, then hurls the gun away from her as hard as she can. Konstantin's eyes go gratifyingly wide as he watches it sail past, tracking where it will land.

That means he's not looking at her, and she's got the sharp tip of a bent paperclip she stole this morning shoved against his carotid before he realizes his mistake. "There," she tells him. "That is how I would kill you with a gun."

He bursts into delighted laughter. "Well done, Villanelle! Very well done."

After a moment, she releases and ruffles him, feeling pleased with herself. The sun is shining, the snow is pretty, and she is certain she is going to love being Villanelle.

[zagreuses-toast]

My Vetinari Playlist. Some songs are very specific others are entirely vibes based, also a lot of girlboss songs because those fit his approach to being a Tyrant the best somehow. Like Vimes he would vehemently hate some of these songs, I have added them nonetheless. Reasoning/guide to the songs under the cut.

Politics and The City, always the City. I think a lot about Vimes' internal monologue from Night Watch about the city's supply chain and Vetinari being the only ruler of the city to really worry about it's function :

Hymn to the Breaking Strain by Secular Solstice (because the Leslie fish version isn't available on Spotify. Vetinari isn't an engineer but he appreciates their value and danger)

All Along The Watchtower by Bear Mcreary (Vimes gets the Jimi Hendrix, Vetinari gets the version from BSG, which is ominous and was used to unveil a conspiracy)

& by Tally Hall

How Now Dark Cloud by TMBG

I Am Alone by TMBG

Darling The Dose by TMBG

His Kiss The Riot from Hades Town (I also imagine if Vetinari sang his voice would be a baritone of this caliber)

The Body Is A Blade by Japanese Breakfast

Stone Cold Coup D'etat

Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles

Ballad of a Politician by Regina Spektor

Everybody Wants to Rule The World by Tears for Fears (cover by NSP)

She's Always A Woman by Billy Joel

The Circle by Secular Solstice (this is actually a carrot song, but there's a reason Carrot and Vetinari get along)

Gun Song from Assassins (I am always thinking about men at arms and the Gonne)

This is where I would normally put the characters love interest songs but Vetinari's one true love is The Bit:

Hate the Villanelle by TMBG

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park & Pollution by Tom Lerher

Rest Employed by The Stupendium

I Palindrome I by TMBG

Party Dog by Tom Cardy (dog things AND city-state politics)

The World's Address by TMBG

Havelock "do I need a button that says Tyrant" Vetinari and his commitment to the Villain bit:

Villain by Stella Jang

Red Right Hand by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Oh No! By MARINA

Villain by K/DA

Feeling Good by Nina Simone cover by Micheal Bublé (Bond villain sounding song but the lyrics are just enjoying normal nice stuff, exactly Vetinari's thing)

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna (soundtrack to drumknott getting out the Tax Ledger)

I'm Alive from Next To Normal

No one Knows My Plan by TMBG

Be Prepared from The Lion King (did you think I wouldn't include a real Disney villain song, besides it's JEREMY IRONS aka Vetinari from the Color of Magic tv series)

Vetinari's nihilism and humanism, the roiling sea of evil and the moral imperative to be better than the gods:

Things Are Not What They Appear by The Gothic Archies

Last Wave by TMBG

This Too Shall Pass by Danny Schmidt

They're Only Human from the Death Note musical (hear me out, it's a conversation between Vetinari and Margolotta, you decide who's who)

Let's Get This Over With by TMBG

Cruel to be Cruel by Jessica Law

Living Thing by Electric Light Orchestra (Vetinari and his difficulty getting rid of one of a kind things, I think about leonard of quirm a lot)

Mad World by Gary Jules and Micheal Andrews

Misc:

I Like Fun by TMBG (entirely for the "my excellence at parkour may be unexpected at the age of 58" also the clock thing)

A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel (local patrician haunted by a little goblin girl's music forever)

Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons (Vetinari and Vimes song, ruining his life/the watch, being part of fixing it, constantly pushing him, occasionally pushing too hard)

[storms-corner]

a little fic with eve and konstantin talking about oksana that just wouldn't leave my mind.. enjoy! (855 words)

Oksana lays sleeping in Eve’s arms. Her cheek on the comfortable swell of Eve’s breast. Her legs resting on Konstantin’s lap. Her hand is curled small on Eve’s chest and even in sleep her mouth continues the gentle suckling motions on her pacifier. Eve cradles her, propping her sleep-heavy body up with one arm and resting her other hand on Oksana’s belly. The little one had complained about a bellyache earlier.  

Konstantin has one hand on Oksana’s calf and holds a cup of coffee to his mouth with the other. It’s early in the afternoon and the three of them had just eaten a slice of homemade marble cake. Oksana had gotten sleepy not much later and, naturally, used her mommy as a pillow.  

“Getting her to nap by herself is a battle, but as soon as I’m available to sleep on she doesn’t miss a single opportunity,” Eve chuckles.  

Konstantin barks out a soft laugh. “You’re warm and comfy, why would she pick her bed over that?” 

“True, true,” Eve smiles. She looks down at Oksana lovingly. “I can’t complain. Not really.” 

“She is very clingy,” Konstantin ascertained. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I’m not very proud of how I acted the first time I met her. Little her, I mean.” 

“No?” Eve inquired, her hand rubbing Oksana’s belly gently. “How come?” 

Konstantin sighs and looks at Oksana, as if to make sure she was truly asleep. Which she was. She was nothing but a heavy lump on Eve’s lap. 

“I didn’t understand it, and because I didn’t understand it, I was cruel,” he admitted. “I came to her flat in Paris one evening. She had gotten a job with short notice, she had to leave the morning after, so I had to hurry to tell her. I usually never visited in the evening; she always said it was her time. I respected that, but this time I had to make an exception.” 

He takes a sip of his coffee. “So, I used my key and came in. She was sitting in her bed with a colouring book, already in her pyjamas. I figured it was just one of her strange ideas, she was always a little childish, so I didn’t care. I told her about the job, that she had to go in the morning, and she was upset. She was never upset! She said ‘no, no, I don’t want to’, and her eyes were all full of tears,” he said and gestured to his own eyes. “She was like Irina when she was little and didn’t want to get dressed, so I did the terrible thing that I also did to Irina. I yelled that she had to do it, that she had no choice, that The Twelve would be angry. She seemed to ... snap out of it. And she agreed to do it.” 

Eve listens attentively to Konstantin’s story. Villanelle had never told her, he hadn’t told her either. But it seemed like he needed to let it out.  

“I put her on the train the next morning and I could see she had been crying the whole night. She didn’t say anything, she just sat in the corner with her thumb in her mouth,” he said. “That was the first time she was hurt on a job. It was terrible all around. Sometimes I don’t understand why Oksana lets me get close to her, let alone watch her when you’re not here.” 

“Your relationship has always been far from conventional,” Eve reminds him with a smile. “We can’t expect ourselves to understand everything the first time we see it. You knew the assassin, you didn’t know Oksana. You responded that way because it’s how you responded to Irina, and it’s probably how your dad responded to you.” 

“Now you’re digging deep,” Konstantin chuckled. “Eh, I think you are right. There was a lot of yelling. I just passed it on.” 

“I know it sounds cliché, but Oksana did help me look at things differently,” Eve said. “You don’t yell anymore. I can’t remember you ever yelling at her. She talks about you a lot, and it’s never anything bad. It’s mostly ‘when’s Konstantin coming?’ over and over until I call you so she can ask you herself.” 

Konstantin laughs heartily. “You’re saying I shouldn’t torture myself with it?” 

Eve smiles. “Yeah. If she can let it go, you can let it go,” she says. “Oksana and I have worked a lot on letting things go. She trusts me with basically everything now, but that wasn’t always the case. She used to scream if I moved too suddenly, she used to throw herself out of the bathtub when it was time to wash her hair, she used to hide food in the closet because she was afraid I wouldn’t feed her.” 

She looks down at her sleeping girl and kisses the top of her head. “But she’s never scared anymore. And she’s never scared of you,” Eve says.  

Konstantin hums and smiles softly. He reaches over and caresses Oksana’s cheek tenderly. A smile twitches on her lips around the pacifier.  

[thedeal-if]

The angst ask answer for Aliyah has me wondering 👀 how would the ROs react to & comfort a dying or severely injured mc? Sorry if this is spoilery or anything!!!

Loving ur writing so far u are so epic <3 /gen

Thank you anon😭💕

The angst ask!

Nearly all death scenes (no one is safe here) are already outlined and rely very heavily on the moment and the plot! I don't think this is spoilery at all without context so yay!

I chose the severely injured angst bc I got a very specific death scenario ask too and I didn't want to answer the same thing for the two of you/blend my answers into one ask ^^

Crushing stage btw

Dante doesn't think it's physically possible for him to keep his distance from you—as if simply holding your hand would give you enough leverage to slip away from him, as you lay bleeding out. No, Dante needs to hold you. He needs to be the one whose hands press against your bleeding stomach, the one whose chest attempts to chase your heartbeat from behind.

And there it is, Dante barely remembers that he too needs to breathe. He speaks, speaks, speaks, and then he realizes he's not speaking in English. Dante switches languages clumsily as the words weigh on his tongue:

“I know it hurts. I know, I know,” you wince in pain, Dante presses his lips together, his palms grow warmer and warmer against your wound “I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, okay? Hang on a second.”

Lilith thinks, rather irrationally, that the only reason they can smell your blood so vividly is because of her monstrous nature. They convince themselves that yours is a nick and theirs is a delusion fueled by overwhelming care and worry. But Lilith is often wrong, and the scent of blood grows so thick they can practically feel it down their throat.

“Oh, love,” Lilith frowns, they wrap an arm around your waist and help you sit down “Breathe with me, okay?”

You nod woozily and Lilith worries—they often do, they have plenty of reasons to be concerned about you. The Succubus removes their jacket and presses it against your wound.

“I’m here with you, love, everything will be okay.”

Your best friend proudly wears the badge of ‘Person Who Worries Most About [Name]’, and the mere idea of watching you getting hurt is more than enough for Josh to feel queasy—he has that good of an imagination. Josh can't fathom the thought of seeing you getting hurt, but control slips between his fingers like water, and that very thing is proven when he sees it unfold before his very eyes.

It's much worse than anything Josh could have imagined, but his mind isn't catching up with such a line of thought. He's too busy catching you before you fall, keeping you awake, trying to do something, anything. At all.

Josh's ears ring.

“Shit, fuck. Shit,” your best friend looks around. Josh needs to find some help, he keeps his hand tightly wrapped around your wrist, feeling your pulse against his fingers. Is he panicking? Josh feels like he is.

Villanelle thinks she's seeing things. Maybe it's some kind of prank, maybe it's a dream. Maybe she'll wake up on her cozy bed. But that doesn't happen.

The young witch then thinks this is a vision. Villanelle feels detached from her body as soon as you start bleeding, like her soul was flung out of her body and into a movie theatre: a horror movie starring you.

But Villanelle blinks and finds herself standing just as she was, battling denial.

“[Name]!” the witch calls, wide-eyed and terrified. She runs to your side frantically, hand trembling, “Stand�� Stand still. I think I might be able to help. Everything will be okay—everything is okay.”

Leather rustles together as Victor takes off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders—it doesn't warm you up, but it does make you feel ever so slightly safe. The Demon Hunter pulls you a little closer, checks your breathing and pulse, he checks you over carefully in case you're bleeding. He's so methodical you almost feel like you're at a doctor's appointment. Victor presses a hand against your bloodied side. He grumbles something, speaks up when you woozily tilt your head in his direction.

“I'll take care of this,” Victor assures you, his inflection betrays nothing, but his hands are steady as they support you “Focus on staying awake, [Name]. Can you do that for me?”

Victor drags you, but then he stops and hoists you up.

Aliyah grips your shoulder, keeps you standing straight as your head swims with the lightheadedness of the pain. Her demeanor is serious, her eyes are anchored on your wound—and how it bleeds, bleeds, bleeds—

“It’s not fatal,” Aliyah declares, so coldly and so surely, you don't know what to think “Not now.”

The Genie looks up at you, then down at your wound. She sighs, hesitates, presses a finger against your non-fatal injury. You see her smirk a little.

“Do you want to wish for me to heal you?”

The situation is so bizarre you nearly laugh.

“Are you going to stop if a say no?” you gasp.

Aliyah hums a little, your wound stings as she seals it shut, “I'll add it to your tab. Let's find your doctor friend.”

Panic seizes him like a constrictor around his stomach. There's an entire rave in Nathan's stomach.

“Shit that looks bad,” Nathan mumbles.

He makes no effort to touch it, or you, at first. His hands hang by his side for a few moments, then he lifts them and cups your cheeks, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“You're not dying on me, okay? I'm sure it's not that bad. Breathe with me.”

Nathan helps you breathe, and he also tells you to close your eyes. There's a soft press of his forehead against yours, and a brief light that burns your eyelids. It disappears as quickly as it came, and Nathan takes a wobbly step back.

“There,” he grins “All healed up.”

Eden catches you before you fall—she nearly falls with you, manages to draw strength from some unknown place, and keeps the two of you from keeling over. She pushes every muscle in her body until you find yourself sitting, with Eden pulling your shirt up—taking her own jacket off—and pressing the fabric against your injury. Eden strokes your knee when she sees you wince.

“Bear with it,” her voice sounding so rough might be due to nerves and not lack of empathy.

“I’ll try,” you wince again, forcing a tiny smile so she doesn't worry too much.

Eden rolls her eyes—fondly—and looks your wound over, “It looks bad. But not too bad. Hang on, [Name].”

[justrustandstardust]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

hi omg i would LOVE to answer this!!!! my list changes all the time but here is my current lineup (in no particular order).

hange zoe from attack on titan - i LOVE that they're a nonbinary afab person who is canonically a mad scientist whilst existing beyond the trope with nuance and dynamism. they're genuinely FUNNY in a way that afab people just aren't allowed to be in media.

bellatrix lestrange from harry potter: i fucking LOVE a crazy woman. a woman who just exists to be crazy and goes around killing people? i eat that shit up.

geto suguru from jjk: SUCH A WELL-WRITTEN ANTAGONIST. his moral compass is subverted so it ends up being the very thing that pushes him down a dark path. [chef's kiss] he's also, HOT

gojo satoru from jjk: the other half of geto. he's such a deeply tragic, mournful character and the way that his constitution is so at odds with his disposition is fascinating to me. i eat up the ying/yang dynamic he has going on with geto (i definitely don't project onto gojo)

jinx from arcane: once again, i love a crazy girl. she's nuanced, she's beserk, she's complex and she's batshit crazy. i love seeing girls portrayed in ways that challenge tropes of femininity.

korede from my sister, the serial killer: such a great read, i love her dry ass sense of humour and her dynamic with her sister. she's so funny in a really deadpan way, she's full of emotion but doesn't express it, and she grapples with really relatable tensions

hercule poirot from various books: i grew up reading him because i LOVED agatha christie. he's such a wonderful representation of masculinity (he's just a little guy) and he's really nostalgic for me.

katie from kira-kira: i read this in my elementary school years and it was one of the first times i saw my experiences as an asian immigrant reflected in a book. her character, and her relationship to her older sister, moved me to tears (i have a thing for sisters)

cristina yang from grey's anatomy: she challenged everything that was established about asian women on television. i loved her spirit, her ferocity, her caustic nature and how she was unapologetically herself.

villanelle from killing eve: another crazy woman, but simultaneously deeply complex and nuanced. seeing her in scenes is literally drugs. i love her dynamic with eve (i have a thing for narrative foils) but she's also an outstanding, unpredictable character

thanks so much for your ask! i definitely rambled but i'll take any opportunity to talk about my favourite medias

[warningsine]

Having finished season 1 of "Good Girls," let me say that:

It is a hilarious series with 3 disaster leads (affectionate), but for all of its slapstick humor, its heart is: working class women trying to stay afloat.

Retta, Hendricks and Whitman give amazing performances that complement each other. Their chemistry truly is the biggest strength of the show.

Joan on "Mad Men" was understandably guarded, so it's refreshingly different to see Hendricks let loose as Beth. The way her voice switches from sweet and girly to sharp and authoritative on the spot? 11/10.

Retta nails both the comedic and dramatic bits with ease.

Whitman is charming as emotionally immature yet completely lovable Annie.

Truth be told, the season drags a little towards the second half despite the fact that the series is fast paced in general. They could have gotten away with 8-9 episodes instead of 10.

Yes, the concept is not entirely believable or original, but who cares? Didn't see anyone criticizing "Breaking Bad" for its straight up cartoonish moments. Why do we have to be so harsh when it comes to soapy delights that do not take themselves seriously like this one or "Why Women Kill"? Prestige dramas are good and all, but please give us a break from the typical male antihero narrative.

My point is, it is not the most scathing or poignant take on #MeToo and feminism, but so what?

Watching Beth hit the guy that almost rapes her sister reminded me of that moment in "Kevin Can F*ck Himself" where Patty injures her brother to protect Allison.

They paraphrased "Thelma and Louise" during that very scene. <3

Allison Tolman, here you are again being a total gift. If only she had more screen time/were a regular. Let her extort the ladies all she wants, but get rid of Leslie.

Say whatever you want about Dean, but Matthew Lillard's scenes with Hendricks are [chef's kiss].

Really loved Annie's child. Ruby's was also a delight. Both family arcs were touching.

Ruby and Stan. What a loving relationship. It was inevitable that the lie would leave their marriage in shambles, but it still is upsetting when that happens.

For a moment there, I was afraid that they were going to make Nancy the 1D "bitchy" wife so that the audience would root for Gregg and Annie (I do like them, but I do not think they will work out). Suffice to say, I gave a sigh of relief when they had Annie sympathize with her and call Gregg out on his shit.

I do not get the hype about Rio. He was funny in the beginning, but his generic/1D bad guy shtick got repetitive and annoying pretty fast. He shows up, puts on that growly voice, recycles 3 facial expressions while threatening the ladies and flirting with Beth, leaves. It does not help matters that Hendricks outshines the actor in every scene they share. From the way people talked about him, I thought he'd be more of a male Villanelle (s1 Villanelle), but without APD. Mea culpa. Knowing that they were actually initiating a romance, not just sexual tension between them, does not surprise me in the least, but it does leave me unimpressed.

[whatyourusherthinks]

Dune Part Two Review

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT'SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS HHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What's The Movie About?

SAME THING AS THE FIRST ONE!

Ahem. Sorry, excited. This is the follow up to the first Dune movie and portrays the second half of the Dune Novel. Mostly Paul and his mother imbedding themselves into the Fremen and amassing an army to take on the re-enstated Harkonnens.

What I Like.

These movies are fucking gorgeous. There are quite a few jaw-dropping compositions and the designs of all the technology and outfits are very cool. The story is excellent, although it should be a surprise since the book is a classic and as far as I can tell the movie is mostly faithful to it. The few changes they made I actually think are for the better, like not jumping the story forward or changing how a certain character dies. I really liked the Fremen society. It felt like a real society that would exist on a planet like Arrakis. The pool of water they add their dead people's water to felt like something that would actually come to be. And I dug Paul's downfall at the end. The Bene Gesserit are so sleezy that I felt genuinely bad for everyone who fell for their religion. I also felt like Stilgar is probably completely broken by the end, and that sucked because I really like Stilgar. (Sucked in a good way I mean. It was definitely intentional for the audience to feel bad.) I also weirdly like Feyd-Rautha. Like he's absolutely a villain, but I like his personality, how he's supposed to be an opposite to Paul, and I kinda liked him more than Paul at the end of the movie. He's just a silly guy, it's not his fault he was born on the German Expressionist planet to a family of snuff film makers. Christopher Walken as the emperor is also pretty awesome, very inspired casting. The score is great. I'll catch myself wanting to belt out the wailing used every so often. The action was also pretty awesome. The high frequency shields is an inspired bit of world building, because it brings more of the fighting into the realm of desperate knife fights, which I find more interesting than just people shooting back and forth. Also, as someone who's played the Dune board game before engaging with the Dune story at all, was was neat to see the characters take actions that could be done in the game and where some of the names of cards come from.

What I Didn't Like.

So I was praising how cool some of the shots were right? Well guess what. Pretty much all of them are in the trailer. Also, while I like how well built the Fremen society was, the Harkonnen planet seems like it should have flamed out in three generations. All they do is kill each other and they especially mistreat their women, so I don't know why they still exist. I get it's just supposed to be the evil guys so they took every opportunity to have them be evil, but it's kinda lazy writing. Speaking of Harkonnen, and this is gonna be petty, but I and everyone I talk to about Dune pronounces the name "Har-Ko-Nen". The movie pronounces it "Hark-En-En" and it was really distracting. There is also a major plot reveal 45 minutes before the movie ends, which happens to be when we drop checks in the theaters at my work. So I got fucking spoiled, thanks Denis Villanelle or whatever you name is.

Final Summation.

It's awesome. It's all the climax to make up for all the set up of the first movie. If you put a knife to my neck and made me choose which one I liked more, I guess I'd say Part 2 since more cool stuff happens, but like all stories split into two parts you should really treat it as a whole. And as a whole, Dune is fucking awesome. I cannot wait for the sequel.

[dontpetmeibite]

🌸

This is a little awkward because you're my stepdaughter (I think that's the word--humans have SO MANY relationship words that we don't have), and yet I just met you.

So, ah...I like you because you're Soundwave's daughter, and I'm inclined to like his offspring whether they are mine or not, and because you are also Jazz's daughter, and I can see a lot of him in you, and because you've been very pleasant to me during the limited time we've spent together and my kids adore you.

The thing about concordium--about the web of relationships on which a just society is founded--is that everyone has people they love and care for. Everyone is important to someone so we take care of everyone. That's also true of what humans call "family".

Family and concordium put you in relationship to people who are relatively strangers all the time. We don't get to decide who our conjunxes or creators or children enter into relationships with, but because someone is important to someone who loves you, there's still a transitive relationship, and that can be awkward at first. Right now I care about you because you are Soundwave's daughter and Jazz's daughter, and also because you seem like a good person and I have enjoyed your company so far. I can't say that I love you, yet. I would like to be able to say that someday, though, and as long as we do well by each other and the people we love in common, I think that is probably a reachable goal.

Silverwing has lived next door to us as long as we've all been on Sanctuary. So I love her not just because she's my daughter's best friend and will probably be my daughter's conjunx or amica someday, nor because her mother is my friend (which in part happened because the girls became friends, throwing us together in a situation where the welfare of each other's children was important to both of us), but because I have watched her grow up and she's treated me as a second mother.

But someday one of my other offspring may go to a colony world or another dimension or Cybertron and they may come back with someone I know nothing about and have never heard of before, and say "hi, this is my conjunx."

In a situation like that the only thing you can do is be welcoming and make space for love and friendship to grow over time, but you also have obligations and duties of care immediately.

It's not a bad thing. We have no idea who our bitlets are when they come into the world. They get to grow up and show us and we have to pay attention, so that we can be sure to love them for who they are and not spend too much time loving the people we want them to be to notice who they really are. Catfish was originally named Villanelle but when Rodimus called her a little catfish she decided she preferred that, and she gets to choose what we call her...even though I really liked the name Villanelle!

So if I said I loved you right now I'd be interacting with some version of you I made up, because we learn to love our children more and more every day. We bring them into the world because we want to love them and care for them, but the more we pay attention to them, the more we know them, and the more we know them, the more deep and strong the love grows.

I look forward to getting to know you and love you for yourself, and I do like you, but I'm going to love you more when I have reasons to other than that you're my husband's daughter, my lover's daughter and my children's friend. Because the burst of romantic attraction when you meet a lover and the burst of joy and care and tenderness and defensiveness when your new sparkling lies on your plate instead of inside you are just the beginning, and the friendship and good will you feel when someone you love brings someone that they love into your life is also just the beginning.

You're part of our family now. That's why I like you.

In a vorn or two, or even in maybe a decivorn, ask me again, and the list of reasons will be much longer.

[becameundone]

WHERE: halloween party WHEN: before 11:30PM WHO: atticus villanelle ( @pcisxnivys )

Min wasn't exactly a lightweight, at least not totally, but he didn't hold his liquor all that well either and Tomo wasn't what you might call a good influence. Not when he'd put himself in charge of ordering drinks anyway. Tomo's tolerance had always been above average, although not remarkably so, but he was also very good at keeping a hold of himself until he reached an absolute limit. Atticus, on the other hand, seemed to have the highest tolerance of the three and was relatively unaffected. The same could not be said for Min, who could already feel his cheeks reddening and was beginning to regret his choice of regular foundation instead of something a little more costume-y. Suddenly, he perked up and looked about himself. Atticus was stood to one side of him and...

Huh? Where was Tomo? He must have left at some point, with Min too distracted to notice. He threw back the remaining contents of his glass, which had been far from empty, and braced himself for the burn. Atticus had come here with Micah and Min was more than happy to admit he was kind of third-wheeling but, because Tomo had been with them, that hadn't bothered him. And maybe it wouldn't have bothered him if he wasn't several glasses of something deep. Everything was fine right now but the second Atticus left to spend time with Micah, as he had all right to do, Min would just be...well, Min. He pushed himself away from the bartop and stood straight, looking to Atticus with a look on his face that could only be described as scandalised. Affected by the thrumming and clamour of the rest of the room, he rose his voice a little too loudly and without any mind paid to the looks any of the bartenders might be throwing him or even how Atticus might respond; "I've been fucking dumped!"

[villanesus]

Another KE edition:

V's kills:

1. Favorite kill, be it the most memorable, the ugliest, bloodiest, most ruthless, most deserved...that one kill you liked best for whatever reason.

2. A kill most unlike her?

3. A kill that shocked you the most?

4. How do you think she killed her mother?

This is a fun one! Thank you, beloved Pistachio.

Favorite Kill

(source)

Inga in the Hole. The entire sequence from the introduction of Inga to their actual fight is a favorite of mine. Vil doing her little tests and jump scares, waiting for Inga to do something—anything. And when it finally happens, the fight is just scrappy as hell and the audience (or at least I) was really kind of worried for Vil. And she goes fucking feral, which I adore. The brutality, the blood, the way she kind of dissolves back into Oksana at the end. <3<3<3 

(source 1, source 2)

Runner-up is when she kills Kasia in the first episode. This is based entirely on my headcanon that Villanelle was intending to follow Konstantine’s instructions and make her death look like a suicide. But she sees Eve and she’s so thrown off that she loses focus and kills half a dozen people. The fact that she even bothered with the nurse’s disguise and her reaction in the next episode when she figures out who Eve is are the selling points for me.

Most Unlike Vil

(source 1, source 2)

Guns. The couple of gun deaths are so… lackluster. The first one in Bulgaria is used to highlight her dissatisfaction and waning enthusiasm for her job. Later on, when she shoots the accountant guy, the show tries to make it super dramatic with the framing making it look like it’s going to be Carolyn who dies. But the reality is Vil just pulls them over, walks up, shoots a guy, and walks away. Yawn. Not creative, not clever, not emotional (from Vil’s perspective). I know there are other times (Anton, shooting [but not {killing] Eve}), but the couple I mentioned are the ones I'm thinking of.

Shocking Kill

I’m gonna cheat and give two answers (again). For me, the kill where I personally was most shocked was Bill. He was super interesting and the story had established so much about him. We knew he was a dad, saw his kid, heard about his wife, knew he had some history with Eve, and learned about his various adventures. Such a fun dude, definitely recurring character material! It made sense when it happened—I really shouldn’t have been surprised. In the early episodes, we have a Villanelle who likes shock value and gets a thrill out of murder. We see her intentionally luring Bill. The audience’s whole lens on her is violence and playfulness. But I was still just… no way! Why Bill? Why Bill?

(source)

The kill where I was shocked because it felt out of character was when she murdered May and the pastor. I’m counting this as different from “unlike her” because I feel like a character can still be “in character” but execute an action that reads as “out of character.” This felt like a completely different person to me. Season four, so, eh. I know Vil was hurting from multiple rejections (her family in the previous season, Eve, the church group, God?) and obviously in some very chaotic headspace to be having the Jesus-Nelle vision, but it didn’t play right for me. The shock of "why bother"? Sloppy and weirdly personal for people whose opinion Vil really wouldn’t have given two shits about.      

Killing Tatiana

You know, I wondered about this when the camera pans past her body before the explosion, but never really considered it. I’m gonna say she strangled Tatiana. We’ve seen some indicators that strangling comes out when she’s emotional. The bathroom at the club in Amsterdam. Rhian later on. I also think she wanted to watch Tatiana die. She wouldn’t have done something sweet and quick like she did for Gabriel in the hospital. Vil perceived her mother as a monster and I think she would have wanted to experience that suffering as she killed her.

And, after all, she likes the breathy ones. 🙃

[ikementally-deficient]

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Cayenne (See Masterlist for rating descriptions)

Tags: Nanami Kento & Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Shibuya Incident Arc, canonical character death

A/N: Title is a line from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

If you had to choose an adjective for Nanami Kento, it would be ‘dry’. From his sandy blond hair to his tan suits, everything about his appearance is reminiscent of a desert, sere and arid. His rough baritone voice does nothing to mitigate the impression; quite the contrary, when everything he says is as factual and objective as he can make it. Even his cursed technique is a thing of ratios and numbers.

You’ve never been good at math. 

Words are your playground. Language can be slippery and malleable, synonyms and puns and emotions tangled up together. Words are messy and ambiguous, visceral. Even Nanami can slide into the verbal quicksand on occasion, usually when asked about his purpose in life. You’ll never forget the shock of hearing this dry, unemotional man suddenly shout “Work is shit!” with the same level of intensity other people reserve for war crimes and public tragedies.

But you know that jujutsu sorcerers all have to be a little crazy, so maybe this flat affect interspersed with moments of disproportionate passion is just how Nanami expresses that. It’s caught your attention though: you find yourself watching him, waiting for the next moment that he slips and expresses a feeling or an opinion not backed up with facts and citations.

These incidents – you find yourself calling them ‘incidents’, like you’re going to write a report on them later – slowly accumulate and you string them together like metaphorical beads, a rosary of instants that you run your thoughts over in times of quiet. You build a picture of the man: likes to travel, hates overtime, weirdly intense about bread, wears bizarrely loud ties at odds with his boring salaryman suits. Takes his responsibilities so very seriously, trying to hide the deep affection that underlies his protective attitude towards his students (“They’re not my students. I’m not a teacher,” he says, completely avoiding the obvious fact that he cares regardless of formal relationships). Puts up with Gojo’s lackadaisical approach to, well, everything, even though it clearly irritates him. 

It’s a complicated picture, when you finish assembling it. You’d expect any poem about Nanami Kento to be a sonnet or villanelle, some form with fixed rules of rhyme and meter. Instead you find yourself thinking of him in free verse, subverting any expectations. 

After Shibuya, when the dust settles and the bleeding is staunched and you have time to think and grieve, you think of him again. What elegy can you write for this complicated man? Dry, yes, but also warm and soft and occasionally tender, the little despairs that made him human blurring out of the sharp outline of the 7:3 sorcerer. He wouldn’t appreciate your grief, wet and messy and ruining the lapels of his suit, but you know he’d understand it. Maybe he’d even, if he were present, give you one of those rare nods and brief smile when you stand at his grave reciting T.S. Eliot.

Nanami Kento was indeed a man composed of odds and ends; the empty space he’s left behind is not one coherent man-shaped void, but an ongoing series of unexpected holes in your every day life. You wish you had known him better, gotten close enough to understand the heart behind the ugly tie, but instead all you can do is lean against his marker and whisper a shaking goodbye.

“You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,

And how, how rare and strange it is, to find

In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,

(For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind!

How keen you are!)

To find a friend who has these qualities,

Who has, and gives

Those qualities upon which friendship lives.

How much it means that I say this to you—

Without these friendships—life, what cauchemar!”

-- T.S. Eliot, Portrait of a Lady