#(Anyway its all disgusting I even have to link this)

[dennisboobs]

this is genuinely... so funny to me. like the hilarity of copypasting rational tweets. i'm literally right. it's not even a funny copypasta because it's literally just. objectively correct. it's a criticism of twitter culture and that makes it funny to you because...... god forbid you actually have empathy for other people. caring is for losers if you're on twitter dot com, you have to be snarky and funny at all times.

[koushirouizumi]

(Under 'read more')

{Claims ('some foreign') hostages will be released in the "coming days"}

[elvirable]

Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

-------

Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this. 

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront. 

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth. 

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him. 

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise. 

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between. 

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you. 

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue. 

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open. 

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware. 

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm. 

==

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit. 

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed. 

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow. 

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock. 

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked. 

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss. 

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest. 

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of. 

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

[armageddon-generation]

Empire of Death was bad and cemented several fundemental flaws in this season.

I watched this in the theatre, and the contrast between everyone's excitement before Empire, and their universal disappointment leaving the theatre was super disheartening. I'm gonna try to articulate my problems with episode, and how they're linked to fundenental structural issues of this season.

SPOILERS BELOW:

Sutekh

The moment the UNIT characters died the story was robbed of any stakes. (Also? Kate and Ibrahim?? During Pride month?? Disgusting)

Sutekh was pointless, big CGI spectacle who was barely there. Saying he's been latched onto the TARDIS since Pyramids of Mars was such an asspull. Why couldn't he have latched on during Wild Blue Yonder? wouldn't that make much more sense??

You're telling me the guy who holds all life in contempt is invested enough in learning the identity of Ruby's mum he willingly reveals himself??

And then they defeat him by dragging him through the Vortex just like before, which it's been explicitly stated *didn't work* last time? He just *lets* Ruby leash him??

The 'death of death is life' bit, and the idea of the Doctor representing life as a Ying to Sutekh's Yang, is a cool concept just jammed in there with no real buildup or depth.

The issue is bringing Sutekh back takes so much effort- a literal, clunky clipshow of Pyramids of Mars, a whole episode spent building up to the reveal of a silly anagram entirely unrekated to Sutekh's previous appearance. And it just... amounts to nothing. What a silly way to cap off a season meant to be jumping-on point for brand-new viewers.

Mel was just takingup space. Pointless.

Ruby's Mother

I don't have a problem with the *concept* of Ruby's mum being normal. I really like the idea thematically. The execution was terrible.

First of all it leaves so many unanswered questions (why the snow? Why was time changing? Why was she shadowed? Literally just for the sake of the mystery-box?) and represents the worst thing about this new era- RTD using fantasy logic to handwave any logic at all, and just do whatever he wants without properly justifying it.

Second, I *hate* how easy and simple and neat the reunion is. Ruby seems incapable of getting angry with anyone. She has never once argued with 15, or Carla, or anyone besides that one moment in 73 Yards. She has never expressed any kind of negative feeling towards her mother for abandoning her. And it's fine for her to reach that conclusion! It's just bizzare we never see Ruby struggle with her feelings beyond the shallow goal of wanting to find her.

(Also Carla? Has nothing to say?? Just welcomes that woman in with basically no comment? Carla is a 2D cutout of a person, used as a plot device and otherwise relegated to the single character trait of I Love My Daughter. The children yearn for the ilk of Jackie Tyler, Sylvia Noble, even Francine Jones.)

15 & Ruby

The emotion behind 15 & Ruby's split felt entirely unearned because we've never seen their bond develop. They never argue, never disagree, Ruby hasn't learned anything about herself or grown or changed. The closest we got to that is 73 Yards, which was undone. She was already brave and kind and musical and sure she loved her adoptive family when we met her in Church on Ruby Road.

Similarly, 15 tells us Ruby encouraged him to talk about family in a way he never has, but that was in what, two moments across the season? And they seemed random, unrelated to Ruby being with him. New viewers will assume 15 is just that open anyway- he was discussing fatherhood with a dead man's hologram- and old viewers assumed trauma-dumping was just a new trait of 15's personality, not Ruby-specific.

The problem is we're told Ruby & 15 are best friends but it isn't earned. I liked 15 crying initially but both he and Ruby do it so much (15 cries about 5 times in this one episode) it loses its impact and I'm becoming numb to it. There is no contrast, no downtime.

Season Structural Issues

I think the biggest problem is Season 1's storytelling priorities. It's much more interested in selling *the show* (look at our big budget! And guest stars! And how flexible our format is! Musical episode! The Beatles as props! Bottle episode! Indie folk-horror! Black Mirror! Gay Bridgerton!) it forgot to put effort into developing and investing us in its characters. I liked a lot of the individual stories this year but in retrospect a lot of them feel like they're wasting space that needed to go to essential character and theme setup.

These skewed priorities, combined with the cut down episode count, really impact the pacing of the season. Ruby and 15 were barely together! Even in Rogue they were seperated for most of the story!! We only loop back to a flashback of 15 meeting Carla in Rogue!

This is made worse by the baffling insistence on a 45-minute runtime. We know key sequences were cut from almost every episode, with highlights including:

The Gobin King invading Ruby's flat and her banishing him with scratchcards in The Church on Ruby Road: Her missing 'companion saves the day' moment!

Refrence to the Toymaker in The Church on Ruby Road, which was itself referenced in The Devil's Chord. 'I told you about the Toymaker when we first met' sir, objectively you did not.

The TARDIS jukebox playing the Sugarbabes' Push The Button in the opening scene of Space Babies, hastily cut around in the final edit. This is the setup of a running joke still in the episode, and part of the story's climax. The first encounter with the Bogeyman was also longer, with 15 taking particular interest in its skin

Extended scenes in Abbey Road from The Devil's Chord, including an apparently significant speaking role for Cilla Black, according to her annoyed actress.

Cut dialogue from The Devil's Chord explaining the musoical number was caused by Maestro's power lingering, and that banishing them undid everything they'd done. Fans inferred thos based on the rules established in The Giggle, but again, new fans haven't seen The Giggle and were left clueless.

An opening sequence for The Legend of Ruby Sunday where 15 & Ruby meet Susan as a nanny in 1947 America, a blue-skinned waitress, and an astronaut meeting a colony of giant, sentient ants. At the end of this we actually see 15 decide to go to UNIT for help. In the broadcast version he just sorta shows up.

Really what Empire of Death exposed to me is how emotionally hollow the season was. I enjoy the exoperimentalism, but not at the cost of character. And then in the finale Russell reverts to almost a parody of his RTD1 finales, with the nonsense logic and lack of consequences. All the worst bits of Last of the Time Lords and The Giggle put in a blender.

[yayakoishii]

Sober (Pt. 2) | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre/Tags: Angst, Happy Ending, Sanji being dumb

Summary: You had waited for Sanji to confess to you when he was sober. Except...

A/n: I don't usually write sequels but I felt like it and then it became unexpectedly angsty?? It's still a pretty happy ending imo, so I hope you like this continuation ♡

To new readers, this is a part 2 to my oneshot that I've linked below. You could read this one without reading that, but it won't make as much sense.

Part 1

also available on ao3!

He didn't do it.

The morning after, Sanji woke up with a terrible headache and vague hazy memories from the night before. It was only when he was serving breakfast to everyone and saw you that he remembered the… conversation you two had had. But then he dismissed it, realising it was only a dream. He had drank too much, fallen asleep and dreamt of you. Yeah, that must have been it.

Thinking so, he smiled at you as usual and mooned over Nami and Robin as always, not noticing your hopeful smile turn into a disappointed one.

Every time you popped into the kitchen or tried to strike up a conversation with Sanji after that, the dream would pop up in his mind and he ended up stammering his way out. A few days in, you realised he was avoiding you and started reciprocating by not going out of your way to talk to him either.

Sanji missed you. He didn't realise what the problem was because he wasn't being that weird. Okay, so maybe he was too flustered from his dream where you had held him so close and he had kissed you (he could still feel the phantom warmth of your breath on his mouth, the wet press of your lips on his cheek) and it was difficult to talk to you about anything without feeling the urge to do that with you. Maybe he had shut down one conversation too many but now you were avoiding him back and he didn't know how to fix it.

He couldn't just tell you about that dream he had had. You would slap him and be disgusted and freak out. Even the thought of that sunk his heart. He could tolerate being just a crewmate to you for the rest of your lives, but he couldn't tolerate the thought of you hating him forever. But without talking about the dream, he couldn't explain himself either.

A week passed like that, the two of you awkward and clumsy around each other. Everyone else noticed and Nami had tried to talk to both you and Sanji about it but neither of you let her know anything. They were all confused and Luffy just wanted you both to go back to being your usual selves because it was weird even for him. Of course, no one had the gall to say it to your faces, and Nami had stopped Luffy from saying it when he tried.

Fortunately, a new island appeared and the usual straw hat cycle of finding a city in trouble and accidentally saving them played its hand. The resulting party had you downing a few bottles of wine, although Sanji knew how much you hated the taste of alcohol.

"Why would I drink that?" Your face had scrunched up the first time Sanji had questioned you about it. "It doesn't taste good to me at all. I'd rather drink the juice you make for me, Sanji."

There was no one on the ship who praised Sanji's cooking as much as you did. You didn't hesitate to compliment his food every single day and while Sanji was very secure in his cooking ability, it was still validating to hear how much you loved his food anyway.

This past week you hadn't complimented him even once. You had never gone this long without doing it so Sanji knew you had to be really upset with him. He had to try and fix this as soon as he could.

Even during the party, his head was full of thoughts of you. When he looked out for you, he found you slumped over a table, empty wine bottles lying all around you. Without thinking, Sanji made his way over and cleared away the bottles so that you wouldn't accidentally break one and hurt yourself. You stayed silent as you watched him.

"Do you want to go back to the Sunny, my dear?" Sanji looked at you finally, trying to exude his usual self. You shot him a glare and pouted, your cheeks puffing up in what was unmistakably anger.

"Go away," you hissed at him. Sanji had to blink away the thought of how much you resembled a cat in that moment. "I don' like lyin' liars who lie to me."

Sanji had expected you to be angry at him but that statement confused him. He had avoided you, yes, but he could not remember lying to you. You were not one to lie so perhaps there had been a misunderstanding between you two?

"Which lie are you talking about, (y/n)-chan?" He asked carefully. You froze and shot him another glare. Even angry, you looked cute.

"Which lie?" You sounded outraged. "How many lies have you told me, huh?!"

"Wh– that's not what I meant!" Sanji tried to calm you down but you stood up abruptly and started walking back to the Sunny. The chef was stunned for a second. You never just up and leave. He had really badly fucked this up. So of course he had to run after you. Sanji caught up to you halfway, skidding to a halt in your path so you couldn't move. "Wait! I really don't know what lie you're talking about, my love, but I'm sorry for it. I will do whatever it takes to beg for your forgiveness and then try my best to make the lie a reality."

You stopped glaring and shot him a heartbroken look instead. Sanji felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart. Why did you look like that over… him?

"That's what it was supposed to be," you said quietly. The two of you were quite a way away from the din of the party so Sanji could make out the words. He was getting more confused but he had to be patient and hear you out. He couldn't fix his mistake if he didn't know what he had done. "You said that if this was real… you wanted to hold me. You said you would tell me how much I mean to you. That you would kiss me and tell me how much you love me. So why haven't you, Sanji? Do you not feel those things anymore? Or was it all a lie?"

Sanji froze. That was… that was the dream he had had! How did you know– Oh. Oh he had been so stupid. It hadn't been a dream at all. It had been real. And he had fucked it all up by avoiding you after all of that.

"Maybe I was the one who was an idiot for thinking you could possibly like me," you were crying now, tears running down your cheeks. Sanji's heart hurt at the sight; he had wanted to be the reason for your smile and laughter, not for your tears. He had hurt you, the person most precious to him. You suddenly grabbed his collar and pushed him into the tree and he just let you, mind too jumbled up to say anything. "I'm a fool. God, I was so stupidly happy that night, I couldn't sleep. I thought all my dreams had come true. I thought we would be in love. I thought I could finally wake you up with a kiss and tell you how much I loved you too before we fell asleep. I thought I would make you your favourite dish for your birthday and, and go do one of those love compatibility readings at the fortune telling shop for fun! I thought, I thought of so many things I wanted to do with you and you… Sanji, you never came. You never told me those words you had said when you were drunk."

He wanted all of that too. Sanji wanted to do all those things you had said and even more.

Your tightened fists loosened as you breathed heavily, still crying. Even like this, you were still the most beautiful person he had ever seen. If Sanji had had any doubts before this, then they had no place in his heart any longer. All of him, mind, body and soul, was yours. He could not let you go on with this misunderstanding any longer.

"Guess they were wrong," you chuckled wetly, stepping back. "A drunk man's words aren't his truest thoughts after all. They are just his–"

"They are," Sanji said roughly, stepping back into your bubble. You didn't look up at him, just stared down at your feet, still crying silently. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for taking all this time, my love, when you deserved to be told everyday that I'm but a fool for your attention. I was in the wrong, thinking that night had been a mere dream when my imagination cannot even begin to dream up the warmth you possess. I'm sorry and I will spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness, if only you would find it within yourself to give me one more chance."

Your eyes looked hopeless, and you just smiled weakly at him.

"Hasn't it been enough, Sanji?" Your voice wavered. "Don't play with my heart anymore. I love you too much to survive another–"

Sanji pulled you into a tight hug, his arms surrounding you completely. Although you were still mad at him, your body automatically relaxed at the familiar comforting scent of him. "I don't have the words to even begin to apologise for what I have done. But I swear to you, love, I will make up for my mistake in every action from now on. I will leave no doubt in your mind of the fact that I'm madly, stupidly, disgustingly deeply in love with you. So much that my own heart isn't enough to hold all that love."

"You're like a dream, Sanji," you said quietly into his ear, heart racing yet mind calm. "A dream that you can't quite remember when morning comes. A dream that the more you try to grasp it, the more it slips from you. But even if you're a dream like that, I want to believe in that dream. I'm stupid enough to want to get my heart hurt again because it has chosen you and refuses to choose any other. So you better show me that my heart made the right decision."

"I will," he promised, pressing you harder into him. You were clinging onto him just as hard, but your tears had finally stopped.

"I don't like lying liars who lie, Sanji," you repeated your words from before. The chef smiled to himself. "You better keep your word this time."

Sanji hummed and let you go only to cup your cheeks in the palm of his hands. You looked at him, still a mess from crying and drinking. You were starting to look sleepy but Sanji felt like you had blown all his sleep away.

"When I'm sober," you paused to give a tiny yawn that had Sanji's heart clenching from how adorable it was, "you better be next to me."

Sanji smiled and picked you up bridal style. You curled into him and fell asleep in two seconds, barely catching his soft reply.

"I'll be there."

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

★ Taglist:

@phantasmagoricalzenith | @secretlife028 | @100520s | @toertchen | @suga-tofu | @theluckyplaces | @luvfzw | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki | @yuninha2004

+ @vespidphoenix | @cobainlover | @blue-chup | @yourboyhack (tagging because you seemed interested in pt. 2; sorry if it's a bother!)

[belphegored]

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅

nsfw alphabet • Sitri

• content warnings: mentions of temperature play, exhibitionism, jealousy/possessive behavior, masochism, impact play, creampies. minors dni

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Sitri is incredibly fussy and tender.

He often gets too wrapped up in pressing light, fluttering kisses all over your face and body and whispering words of adoration. Tries to be utmostly gentle while he's fucking you, and although he doesn't always manages to, he at the very least makes up for it afterwards, making sure to soothe your aches while he cuddles you into slumber.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Goes without saying that his favorite part of you is your heart; he'd live glued to your chest if that were possible. Sitri adores all that comes with listening to your heartbeat of course, but through mere association has developed a thing for your chest in general. He does love to use your tits as pillow, to nibble and kiss along your collarbone area and such things.

Of himself, he likes his hands the most. Yes, he has a nice ass and so has a pretty face too, but he is most proud of his hands because he links them to his own resourcefulness and capabilities. He can touch, hold and protect you with them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He would rather cum inside you than anywhere else, should you give him the choice. He's unsurprisingly jealous and possessive despite how cool he tries to play it in front of others, so really Sitri wants nothing more than to claim you and finishing inside is the best way to do so. It feels so good too, he just can't help wanting to fill you up each and every time.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Daydreams of being the one to make your heart race. Most of his downtime is spent imagining different ways on which he could manage to. From surprising you a little bit while you are unaware, to embarrassing you so much that you break a sweat, or his guilty pleasure: scaring you...

Sitri gets caught on the fantasy, almost a vivid echo of the sound of your heartbeat on his mind playing all the time, gets hard in public and suddenly its a good thing that he doesn't have such a thing as shame but still gets the stink eye from Ppyong and Satan because they know.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's experienced and skilled but not boastful about it. Doesn't much like talking about his previous lovers (especially not about the human ones and much less with you) but Sitri certainly knows his way around.

Most of what he learned about sex has been taught to him through Solomon, and even if he can't tell, it comes across in the way he loves you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary or lotus or just any position on which Sitri can rest his face on your chest; he's not at all picky as long as he can see your face and your expressions, too. All that said, positions from behind and on which he can't watch you offend him, he'd get all sulky if you ever suggest doggy

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

To have Sitri in a goofy mood you'd have to catch him sleepy, tired from a week of hard work. He lets his defenses fall down unadvertedly and doesn't even realizes he's being a little silly, blowing raspberries on your abdomen before he worships your pussy and such. Otherwise he's uptight and intense.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Takes good care of his appearance and is a little vain but not overly so.

He trims his pubes only because he's conscientious but it's not like Sitri is too hairy anyway. His light colored body hair is very soft and has a very peach-fuzz like quality to it, and looks especially pretty in example down his happy trail.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

He's incredibly open, intimate and emotional. Sitri doesn't even wishes he was nonchalant or less intense about intimacy and you in general; he's devoted to you and it shows in the way he makes love. There's not a moment where his hands are not holding yours, nor that goes without him reassuring you of the extent of his adoration.

He can't be casual, he worships you constantly with every deep, messy kiss and hard thrust and hopes that each load he empties inside you makes you see how much he's willing to give.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't do it too often. He only ever masturbates when he knows you won't be around on a good while, but otherwise prefers to tease himself to the thought of you for hours, the whole day even -he can hold on-, so you can find him a needy mess when you return to him. It's just much more rewarding than a solo session.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Besides his thing for hearts, Sitri is a masochist; he's a demon, he can withstand roughness and is especially fond of impact play being on the receiving end.

He's also into sensual stuff like sensory play, biting, crying (you making him cry and not even out of pain, just from being overwhelmed is such a turn on).

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom, chaises... bathtubs are as experimental as he gets in this regard, he's a bit of a purist and just likes to be comfortable enough to give you the attention you deserve.

He's also (though unaware of it) big on ambience; I'm not saying he curates playlists for sex and lights candles for the ocassion but he does like to make things feel special and not rushed or carelessly done. An unmade bed would be a turnoff because he's a prince he thinks you deserve better...

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Other than your heart's song right against his ear, he can easily be enticed by bossiness and you giving him orders. Although he won't reject sweet displays of affection, he much prefers petulance, insubordination, crudeness in the way you treat him.

He's a masochist, and if you ever playfully say something about hitting him, just know it's not a joke for him and he'll actually be expecting a slap across the face or something at least. Biting and rough play also get Sitri going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share. He won't share you at all, don't even joke about it or mention it at all. He has enough with the notion of having to share you with other demons in pacts and circumstances; if you grant him exclusivity he hopes you can keep your word.its a really sore spot for him, to doubt of the bond he has with you. He's a little jealous <3

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Sitri is definitely more of a giver and could spend any amount of time between your thighs; he's not too hung up in making you orgasm a certain amount of times or anything, just loves your taste and how your thighs feel clamping around his head.

He's slow at it if only because he adores to eat you out so much, and oftentimes wakes you up with little pecks to your clit because he just can't help it, knowing you're bare and spread for him and having to resist putting his mouth on you.

Will make eye contact the whole time, too...

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with him often starts gentle, deep and slow paced until he starts to lose it, and then Sitri can't actually tell he's manhandling you and roughing you up just a bit too much. He's not used to humans and forgets his own strength even when taking things slow; what is a shallow thrust for him has you feeling him all the way up your guts.

Sitri tries to be sensual and more often than not he manages, but the bruises along your hipbones and aching between your thighs are testament that you're not fucking just anybody.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He will take what he can get but is not a fan of quickies, can't see the appeal behind them and he much rather take his sweet time with you.

The only exception is when said quickie is risky too, say near exhibitionism, on a tight deadline or something similar; the thrill behind that, Sitri can savor for obvious reasons.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He would try anything for you with blind trust, but isn't all too adventurous by himself. Blame it on a lack of creativity for sex especifically or on the fact that he's too focused on you to care about experimenting, but it's not like he'll come up with something crazy out of nowhere.

The times he does though...he doesn't hesitates in telling you right away in a blunt manner.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

As all demons he can go for basically as long as he wants to and its likely you will be worn before he feels even remotely sated.

Still, Sitri is extremely serviceable and thoughtful and would only go as many rounds as you can withstand. If he notices you're getting tired or sore, he'll pretend he's had enough and cuddle you instead.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He does <3 riding crops, silken blindfolds, cuffs, mostly to use on him but can be easily conviced into using them on you as well.

His personal favorites are cockrings though, especially vibrating ones; he has a modest collection of them and loves to wear one on the daily for you, keeping himself just expectant enough.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Just the right amount, he would say. He is not a tease and sometimes is scared you're gonna pull away entirely if he pushes mind games too far, but truth be told he would love to be mean and have you on edge from time to time.

The less rational side of him wants to get some payback from you for all the time you've been kept away from him, wishes he could edge you and not give you what you want until you're begging, but ultimately you're his soft spot, so Sitri cannot follow through with all that.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Breathy, mumbling and almost loud but for your ears only. At times he can't really help the lewd moans he's allowing you to hear from him, and at time he downright does it on purpose because he knows how much you loves it when he gets noisy.

He's not one to talk filthy to you or be overly vocal other than in sounds (as opposed to words), he's too preoccupied with listening to your heart.

That said, his breathing hitches pretty quickly and it's quite cute.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He's into temperature play, especially cold. Loves to have you tease him slowly sliding an ice cube up and down his torso, around his chest, over his nipples and along the length of his cock until he's broken.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Above average size, cut and pretty, it's the kind of dick that beckons you to press little kisses all over it. The tip blushes up from pink to reddish the more aroused he gets.

He has a near permanent indent on the base from just how often he wears cockrings.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Sitri's libido equals to yearning and is also dependant on you; he's not just horny or needy, he longs to be with you pretty much 24/7 in any way he can, and could he get away with that, he would.

There's no such a thing as "not in the mood for him", so whenever you want him is fine by Sitri, he's pretty much at your disposal.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quickly, it's cute. He's hardly ever truly satisfied, as he could keep going for several rounds, though once Sitri settles by your side to spoon you it's over. He's courteous enough to wait for you to fall asleep first the first couple times you have sex with him. Once he gets truly at ease, he's likely to doze off first, his attempts at staying awake for you futile and silly looking. He'll start mumbling whatever ad he kisses lazily over your shoulders and you know he's gone.

[catscidr]

HIIII CAN I GET DOTTORE(WEBTOON VER) X READER (fluff if u want) PLS..... where ur his assistant (besides krupp, like reader and krupp are both his assistant) and he so clearly has favoritism towards reader, bro is SMITTEN. have a good day... :D

this is sorta taking place right when the manga starts, right before dottore and the gang have a meeting about fatui stuff n all. also spoilers for the manga kinda if u haven't read it already?? i threw krupp under the bus a lot but its to make up for the fact that he’s alive in this lmaoa sry to any krupp lovers out there (′ʘ⌄ʘ‵) also there’s a lot of buildup n world building kinda im sorry i got in the zone HAHA ALSO MB THIS TOOK A WHILE TO WRITE i was drowning in leftover dessert from the holidays and was in a food coma for a couple o days. forgive me nonnie but u can get ur food now ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: reader is overwhelmed, not proofread i just went ham. not too much dialogue it's mostly unspoken bc webttore is an "actions > words" kinda man includes: fem reader, webttore, krupp, diluc mentionned wc: 1,7k

The mission was a complete and utter disaster. 

All three of you were supposed to attend the Ragnvindr ball with a simple goal; blend in as much as possible, gather intel on the Knights of Favonius and leave without a hitch. Of course, that wasn’t an easy task considering Dottore’s eccentric and unpredictable personality and Krupp being a thorn in your side at best. 

Things started going downhill before you had even left your private quarters. While you were getting ready, carefully blinking as you brushed your mascara into your lashes to blend them in with your fake ones, you were startled by a loud, quick series of knocks on your door, making you smudge the dark pigment on your eyelid. Seeing the look on your face, Krupp had apologized (halfheartedly) before leaving you to your devices, seemingly forgetting why he had even interrupted you in the first place. You tried to convince yourself that it was fine, it was an easy fix anyways- but you couldn’t help but get irritated by your coworker’s behaviour at the very least. 

The next accident happened when the three of you had stepped out of the carriage in front of the Ragnvindr mansion. Masquerading as Dottore’s concubine, he held your hand to help you out of the caravan. That in it of itself was fine; the texture of his velvet glove was nice, the warmth emanating from his hand was even nicer and you swore you saw his face soften at the sight of you carefully stepping down the singular stair, leg jutting out as you balanced yourself on the cobblestone path on your heels. But Krupp just had to step on the back of your dress, a brown footprint now adorning the periwinkle frilly trail of your gown. The only good thing that came out of it was Dottore moving his hand to your waist and swiveling you to his side, fixing his assistant with a hard glare that could kill. 

Then, after you had gotten most of the dirt out of your dress (with the help of a kind butler), your trio stepped into the venue, splitting into two groups. Krupp would blend in with a group of nobles whereas you and Dottore, arms linked together, would speak to people in the Knights directly. Eyeing your coworker in the crowd, you saw him courteously kiss the back of a noblewoman’s hand; despite the slight look of disgust crossing your face, he seemed to be doing well with the mission. 

However, it seemed that whatever Archon was watching over you then didn’t appreciate the lack of drama. As Dottore introduced the both of you to a platinum-haired man, he had gotten his shoulder shoved by what had appeared to be a new hire from the manor (at least, you assumed so considering the way he had immediately gotten yelled at by a lady older than him). 

You yelped when the Harbinger spilled his drink all over the front of your dress, some champagne sliding down your chest leaving an uncomfortable, sticky feeling on your skin. Cheeks reddening from embarrassment and frustration, you brush away his frantic apology as you storm out, grabbing a handful of napkins on a nearby table while making your way to the closest bathroom. 

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to find, not with a maid offering to help you (she had gotten turned down but kindly pointed you in the right direction at the very least). Patting your skin dry, you burst into the surprisingly empty bathroom and assessed the damage. 

That’s where you are currently. 

Staring at the state of your previously pristine appearance you can’t help but tear up. Sure, this was just for a mission, and you could just wipe away the booze as much as you could and go back to do your job. But the one time you get to dress nice, the one time you can rid yourself of that ugly, stuffy uniform and feel pretty... had to be ruined by men. While it wasn’t exactly Dottore’s fault that he spilled his drink all over your dress, you still felt mad at Krupp for stepping on it when you all had first arrived. Was it petty to still be upset about it? Yes. Were your feelings justified? Also yes. 

Being the Doctor’s assistant was a chore. A challenge, sometimes. He was demanding, strict and you often had to walk on eggshells around him to avoid setting him off. Whenever it happened, he’d start ranting and raving about how incompetent everyone in the fatui was- although, he’d never point a finger at you, usually Krupp was on the receiving end of his bite (even if he wasn’t even included in the conversation). 

Knowing him well enough to understand his moods and personality had its perks. Unfortunately, it also had its drawbacks- those being how, naturally, your boss would also know how to read your mood surprisingly well. Dottore was known to be mean and ruthless to anyone he crossed path with, however, he’s always had a soft spot for you. 

Sometimes it was obvious that he did, but sometimes it was like he saw your coworker’s face instead of your own- scowling at your mistakes and scolding you harshly for mixing in the wrong powder in a flask. Whenever that happened, you could almost forget how he was able to hold you so gently, as if you were a glass sculpture ready to break if even the slightest breeze hit you. But if he were to be described with one word, you’d never call him dense- as entitled as he could be, the Harbinger was still (maybe surprisingly) quite well-versed in human emotions. 

You barely hear your name being called in the distance, muffled by the sound of the angelic piano and violin in the main area. Too caught up in your thoughts, you continue seething and aggressively rubbing away the sticky residue on your chest, muttering some choice words about your coworker and your boss. 

The door to the women’s bathroom flies open, revealing a frustrated but concerned Dottore, his curly hair a mess from how often he must have run his hand through it while he ran to find you. Uncaring of how he was intruding on your moment and how he was in the women’s restroom, he stomps over to you, gloved hands coming down to your shoulders as he closes the distance between you so he can look at the damage properly. 

He doesn’t speak for what felt like minutes, leaving your heart to pound in a mix of shock (who wouldn’t get scared at the sight of a Harbinger slamming a door open?) and nervousness. One of his hands come down to move your own that still held onto the (now damp) napkins as he stared at the front of your dress. 

The sweetheart cut of your dress was soaked, the edge and thin lace sticking to your skin, light indigo dye appearing darker because of the stain. Snapping out of your frozen stupor, you push his hand away and bring your hands back up to cover your chest, flustered from how hard he was staring with those blank, crimson eyes. 

“...You’re in the wrong bathroom,” you murmur, unsure of how to get him to leave you alone without possibly setting him off. Dottore’s eyes flicker up to your side profile, his expression still freakishly unreadable. 

You suddenly feel both of his hands on your cheeks as he manhandles you to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. Unable to bring yourself to stay mad, tears prick at your eyes, and you look down. Holding his gaze was impossible, not when you’ve been feeling humiliated since the start of the evening. He doesn’t comment on your sorrow, keeping on staring at you intently. 

“I can always buy you a new, nicer dress if that’s what you want,” you hear him say, voice uncharacteristically quiet, and maybe even... unsure? 

You shake your head softly, sniffling. 

“No? Why are you upset, then?” 

Hearing him so utterly confused, puzzled, perplexed made you even more frustrated. Furious, even. With your emotions all over the place and a newfound fury blazing in your limbs you snatch his hands off from your face and stomp out of the bathroom, shouting I’m waiting in the carriage! before stepping out into the chilly Mondstadtian evening breeze. 

Dottore stood there, brows furrowed and mouth agape in confusion as he blinked at your retreating figure. He didn’t have the chance to go after you because, as if on cue, Krupp interrupted the show. 

“I gathered some juicy intel, boss! Those Knights are incredibly foolish for being so loose lipped,” the mustached man declares proudly, acutely unaware of the stuffy atmosphere. Maybe not completely unaware, but he’s for sure ignoring it if he noticed it. Instead of hearing him out though, Dottore scoffs and walks into him, shoving him to the side with a scowl. 

“Don’t waste my time with your useless boasting. We’re leaving,” the Harbinger all but groaned, running a hand through his hair, stress emanating from him in waves. His assistant catches up to him, stuttering out a Of course sir! as he opens the door for him, his shoes digging into the cobblestone path. 

Dottore immediately looks at your sat figure, chin in your palm, looking out of the window. The sight would make him melt if it weren’t for his other assistant’s presence a mere meter away from him. He says your name quietly, softly enough that no one other than you can hear and Krupp steps into the carriage, shouting directions to the driver. 

“Can I stay in the lab next time?” you grumble, refusing to turn around and look at your boss and coworker. Krupp opens his mouth to scold you, but Dottore beats him to it, shooting him a sharp glare, lips curling down in a frown. 

“You can,” he answers you while still looking at his employee. “In fact, it’ll give me an opportunity to properly teach my other assistant some manners,” he adds, practically growling the sentence. Krupp swallows thickly and pretends to not be involved in the conversation, looking away nervously. On the opposite side of the plush seat, you hide the smile creeping its way onto your features.

Ignoring the way your heart swelled, you inwardly celebrate your small victory. Dottore could be brash and cruel, but you’ll always cherish the moments when he shows you some lenience. Especially when it’s at the cost of your coworker’s imprudence. 

[landos-meat-rider]

mastermind, part one - theodore nott

hi omg im back😍🙌

ok so this is part one of a series called "mastermind" (inspired by the song “mastermind” by taylor swift). its a theodore nott fic and starts from the beginning of sixth year until the end of seventh, im literally making it up as i go😍🙏.

academic rivals, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, heavy angst at times and all that so enjoy😋😋

this ones a short one for now but part two is halfway done and should be out sometime this weekend🤞🤞

please lmk what you think: what were your fav parts? anything i should change?

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

warnings: none for now<33

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

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“Hey, wait on!”

I turn around to see Hermione running to catch up with me, her suitcases on her trolley and her cat happily meowing in its cage.

“Hermione!” I exclaim as I give one of the trolley boys my trolley and go to hug her.

“Oh my gosh I haven’t seen you in ages!” she sighs as she hugs back tightly.

“I know, you promised to write, why didn’t you?” I say.

“Oh shush, it’s not like you sent me any care packages anyways.” she replies as she links our arms and starts leading us to one of the carriages once we’ve taken our pets off.

Hermione and I have been friends since the beginning of our first year, before we were friends with Ron and Harry actually.

To say that my mother was happy with our friendship is a huge lie.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Even her name disgusts me, much less the things she’s done.

She was mortified. I still remember the look on her face when I brought Hermione over one time.

“A mudblood?” she had exclaimed.

“Why on earth would you want to be friends with the likes of them? You’re surely not my daughter, that’s for one thing.”

Hermione and I both knew what rejection felt like. Her, with most of the pureblood Slytherins, and me, with my pureblood Slytherin family.

My aunts and uncles are probably the worst of the bunch surprisingly.

Lucius and Nesta Malfoy.

Even their names are filled with poison.

Not to mention my cousin. Draco.

What a horrible waste of a family.

My uncle, Sirius, is the only one in the family who understands me. Coming from a highly Slytherin pureblood family, we were the only Gryffindors. God knows why.

I think the neglect from my mother and most family is what made me and Hermione such good friends. We both knew how the other felt.

“Have you seen Ron or Harry around yet?” I asked, settling down in the train cabin in the train with my cat, Alfie, in my lap.

“No, not yet. They should be coming up soon though.” Hermione replied and surely enough the door to the cabin opened and in came a mess of ginger hair, already complaining about God knows what;

closely followed by Harry who tried to say hello before he was cut off.

“Guys you’ll never guess what. Mum made me wear Fred and George’s old jumpers again. As if I’ll ever fit into these, they’re huge! And another thing, she said I’m not allowed to get a new pet so I’m stuck with this old bird.” he finishes his rant as he points to the old caged owl in his hands.

“Hello to you too Ron.” I say after a pause.

“Oh yeah, hi guys!” he says smiling.

Hermione rolls her eyes at him with a smile and pats on the space next to her, motioning him to sit down and Harry sits next to me after hugging me and Hermione.

“So what’s all this about Draco and a weird-looking cabinet? And who are all these people you’re talking about?” Ron asks Harry settling down and rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“Don’t you see? It was a ceremony, an initiation.” Harry says, looking over at me.

“Stop that rubbish Harry. I know where you’re going.” Hermione says, trying to ignore whatever Harry and Ron were talking about and looking out the window.

“No guys listen to me, it’s happened. He’s one of them.” Harry says the last part quietly.

“One of what?” Ron asks, confused as I take a sigh and say,

“Harry’s under the impression that Draco Malfoy is a death eater.”

“You're barking.” Ron says as he sits up, ‘What would You-Know-Who want with Malfoy, he hasn’t got any hair to want Malfoy’s bleach bottle.”

“Well then what’s he doing in Borgin and Burkes? Browsing for furniture?” Harry quips.

“It’s a creepy shop. He’s a creepy bloke. Put two and two together and there you go.” Ron responds.

“Look, his dad’s a Death Eater, his aunt’s a Death Eater, most of his family is, whos to say he isn’t following in their footsteps.” Harry says as I look away in shame.

Harry realises his poor choice in words and says, “I need some air.” and walks out the cabin.

“He’s going mad I’m telling you.” Ron says to Hermione and I.

Hermione and I don’t say anything in response but busy ourselves with our reading books while Ron raids the sweet trolley.

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It only took us around half an hour to get settled in our dorms again, this being our seventh year we had a lot more practice and we were all now making our way to the great dining hall.

“Welcome all students…” McGongall’s voice boomed as we took our seats, Hermione and Dean Thomas on either side of me with Ron and Ginny in front. Our table was on the other side of the hall to the Slytherin table but I could still see my cousin's crispy fried blonde hair as he took his seat next to one of his friends.

What was his name again?

Thomas?

Timothy?

“Why are you staring at Theodore Nott? I thought you hated him.” Ron interrupts my thoughts as he shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth.

Theodore. Right.

“And now with the sorting ceremony finished for another year, let us feast!” McGonagall’s voice, thankfully for once, gave me a chance to change the subject before things got weird.

“What? No I’m not, pass the mashed potatoes.” I say shrugging it off as I draw my attention to Hermione.

“Where’s Harry, he’s already missed the welcoming.” Hermione says, looking around in anticipation, clearly worried.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here in a moment.” Ron responds shoving a spoon of jelley in his mouth.

Jelly with chicken? Ew.

Hermione stares at him for a moment before hitting him with her book repeatedly, making me laugh, “Will you stop eating? Your best friend is missing.” “Oi! Turn around you lunatic.”

We turn to where Ron is looking and see Harry walking towards us with a white cloth at his nose, stained in blood.

“Why do you always have to be covered in blood?” I say, taking the cloth from his hands as he sits next to me. I try to clean up his face the best I can.

“Where have you been? And whats happened to your face?” Hermione hisses at him.

“Later, what’ve I missed?”

“Sorting hat urged us to be brave and strong on these troubled times.” Ron replies.

“Easy for it to say, its just a bloody hat innit?’ I say.

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“Y/N! GET UP!”

I open my eyes and see Hermione pacing around our room trying to get ready.

“What?” I say groggily, putting my head back on my pillow.

“I said get up, you’re going to be late and we have potions first thing.” she said as she pulled the pillow from under my head and tore the duvet off my body, forcing me to get ready.

“Eugh no I can’t deal with Snape this early.” I say as I make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

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“Attention to detail in the preparation is the prerequisite of all planning. Ah! Hello ladies. Please, please take a seat.” The professor says to us.

Wow. This is a change.

Hermione rushed to take the nearest seat available next to Lavender Brown which left me next to,

“Well hello to you too.” Theodore Nott says smirking up at me from his chair as I drop all my books down.

I took a seat before my knees had the chance to give out.

Woah, what?

“Hey.” I say curtly, drawing my attention to the assignment, trying to ignore Theodore’s piercing gaze and strong cologne.

“Late on the first day I see, not a good impression. If Snape were here, he’d have your heads.” Theodore says as he scribbles down the assignment on the board into his scrolls.

I roll my eyes and ask, ”Who’s this anyway?” as I copy the ingredients for the potion in my scrolls.

“Professor Slughorn. He’s taking our class for this year.” Theodore says as he waits for me to finish writing so we can get the ingredients for our potion from the back of the room. “The whole year?” I say standing up and making my way to the back with Theo, “What’s happened to Snape?”

“No idea love.” Theo says, making butterflies erupt in my tummy but I shove them down before they can travel up to my throat and make me say something flirty back.

Theodore and I never had a reason to dislike each other. Well, not officially. We never had a big fight or any interactions of any sort honestly. I didn’t even take any notice of him until he had beaten me to a question in first year in dark arts and gotten 10 house points because of it. Since then we’ve had something going on between us. The need to one-up one another, to be smarter in lessons and faster in quidditch.

I’m not going to deny that he was attractive, because God he was beautiful.

Beautiful and conceited.

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part one, done!

lmk what your fav parts were!!

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

taglist: @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere

[yourlocaltreesimp]

May I ask Wild with a reader who got hit by Ganon's malice on the final fight and gets infected (like, veins turning purple, pale and clammy skin, drained energy and etc) pretty please?

In flesh, blood and bone.

Omg i’ve literally been obsessed with this since you sent this in!! Finally got around to it (after a while, admittedly) but I hope you enjoy!

Tw: Description of decomposition and gore.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The cyclical war of good and evil had taken its toll down the timeline. Dues were paid in blood and flesh. Link knew this. He knew this very, very well. It was hard to ignore given the fact of it was branded into his skin. Time and time again, life through life he can understand his place. He was a means to an end in the eyes of many. He was a saviour to the others.

He was a Hero.

Even if sometimes he really wishes he weren’t.

He knew that he was unlikely to finish things. But perhaps with enough blood, with enough effort, with enough pain he could bring an end to things.

He’d paid in flesh. As many of the victims of the calamity did.

He was covered in scars, gained both prior and post the guardian ending his life for the first time. But make no mistake, it was not the matter of the scar that bothered him. The uneven texture in his skin wasn’t uncanny after a while. Skin was just skin. He didn’t feel much like himself anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered. It wasn't the flush of blood or streaks of uncanny colour that bothered him. Well that’s not to say they never did. The looks he got while walking through villages were less than enjoyable, but you quelled that. One soft, loving glance and the whole world doesn’t matter. Let alone their hostility.

It was perhaps the sight of you now that made him hate his scar.

It was the reminder of what it meant.

The mold. The rot. The decomposition.

Malice, as the people called it.

And Oh how he hated it.

He was not usually so squeamish. The squelch of a dying monster or the marr of an unmoving corpse had never really bothered him. Not when it was his purpose.

The former was the before stages of the rot. It was just spilled blood. It was just body. Of course it wasn’t really living persay, but it was close enough that all he had to do was ignore the glassy eyes and he was fine. The latter was when the rot was already over. The bones were picked clean, the blood and flesh returned to the earth to start anew. Bones would always just be bone.

It was the inbetween that really, really began to bother him.

It was tender flesh melting and oozing. It was soft tissue becoming home to fungi. It was the body no longer being a body but not quite bone. It was You laboured to breath, the wind a hollow whistle in your lungs. It was how your eyes fluttered, bloodshot. It was how your tears were cold against your feverish skin, the salty beads puss filled and gorey. It was how your skin was pale and patchy in places, flushed pigmented and unhealthily purple in others. Your skin was sunken and sagged. It was how your skin was plump and pushed awkwardly against your bones.

The malice seeped through your blood. It pushed through your injuries, webbing over your skin and casting roots into muscles.

And all he could do was weep.

He was utterly useless.

He sat by your bedside for weeks as Purah tried her hardest to fix you.

He kept staring down at you, replaying everything. It should’ve been him. You should’ve never been there. He could do nothing but watch as that disgusting thing whittled you down to nothing. Malice clinging to your skin; you screamed. A noise of such absolute agony he nearly dropped the mastersword where he stood.

He knew the dues were paid in blood. In body. In bone.

But why did it have to be you?

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

okay so normally when i make informative posts about current news, i try to always link a source for it (i tend to rely on the guardian) or at least explain the source of it.

but i dont know if the government are planning to publicise this or quietly implement it so im hesitant to give details on where i got this info. im just gonna say it was from someone/s who works in the department of work and pensions, and hope that my prior post history speaks well enough of me for you to trust that this isnt misinformation.

i dont like doing this but i think this information is too important for me not to share it and said info is fucking disgusting.

starting in march, in the uk, if you ask at the job centre for a voucher for a local foodbank, you are going to be turned away.

under the current system, if you go to a job centre that has a food bank referral service, the staff will fill in a slip (theyre advised not to call it a voucher but tomayto tomarto you know?) and refer you to a local charity which will allocate you food according to the slip.

that ends on march 1st. after that, they will just hopefully signpost you to other services that can help you get an emergency food parcel. that will likely involve you having to travel somewhere, potentially on a public transport, costing you more money that you dont have. and that does not guarantee that you will get the food you need either that day or at all.

our government does not care about its citizens, but especially not about us who are poor. they see the working class, the impoverished and the homeless as subhumans. they see us as what new right sociologist and white nationalist libertarian charles murray coined the underclass.

and you know this because of how the current system will be working from now until the end of february because if youre gonna stab someone while theyre bleeding to death, you might as well double tap it, ay?

from now until february 29th, you now must have an interview so that they can be "sure" that you need that food.

bear in mind that this does not cost the government anything. they are not losing money because of this service, if you want to call it that.

and that interview? that could take up to 3 days; its whenever they have a timeslot within 3 days of your asking. you could go in and say "i have no money and i have no food, i havent eaten for days, please help," and they could tell you to come back in three days, and then not even give you that slip of paper anyway.

this could kill someone. yes, it takes longer than three days to starve to death, but if someone is struggling that much to need help acquiring food, theyre gonna have more problems going on. people might choose food over heating and freeze to death; they might decide to eat food thats gone off and end up dying from it because they couldnt call 999 because they didnt have electricity; they might decide to try and injure themselves so bad that they have an extended stay in hospital as a way to get food and die in the process; they might not have eaten in weeks and starve to death.

but hey, if you do pass the interview process, youll get the referral you needed up to three days ago and a discussion about how better to manage your finances, because hey, youve already stabbed the stabbed person two more times, why not twist the fucking knife?

[esamastation]

Part thirty-three of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two

-

Reno hates the fact that in the last twenty four hours he's somehow become the Turk Expert on SOLDIER behaviour. Well, Rude did some of the research too, but still, this is not the way Reno expected to see his career going.

"I think the fundamental problem with the entire SOLDIER corps is that they don't know how to take a fucking break," he decides, rocking his chair back and forth on its back legs while making faces at the ceiling. "I mean, just look at the shitshow that started just because Sephiroth took some time off! They couldn't even let him have that."

Rude hums, shuffling through what looks like all of the camp's paperwork.

Reno continues, crossing his hands behind his neck. "Rhapsodos and Hewley don't leave him alone, everything he does is scrutinised -"

"Mostly by us," Rude comments.

Reno ignores him. "The other Firsts take him out training, because they don't do enough of that in their work hours, clearly, and then Rhapsodos drags him out shopping, and that's just the first day. The second day he goes to train in what was at the time an empty training room not in use, and the moment he does, people call Hojo on his ass," he waves a hand. "The poor schmuck took a break, and all he got was so much stress for it! And that's without even taking into consideration his memory loss!"

Rude hums in agreement and then looks up. "SOLDIERs don't have work hours."

"What?" Reno asks, his momentum halted.

"SOLDIERs aren't paid by the hour - they're paid by the mission. They, technically, pick their own hours. They can and do regularly make thousands of Gil in a matter of hours."

The front legs of Reno's chair bang against the floor, rattling their entire paper hut of a house. "Well, I know that, yes, everyone knows that. It's a big selling point, aside from the whole become a hero by having Mako pumped into your veins thing."

Rude hums in agreement. "With his mission completion rate, Sephiroth regularly makes up to quarter million Gil in a month."

"... By working how many hours, in general, per day?"

"Seventeen - 

"Seventeen?! When does the fucker sleep?!"

Rude shrugs and puts the papers down. "According to his medical file, he generally can do with five hours of sleep while maintaining optimal function."

"And who the fuck determined that - Professor Hojo?" Reno scoffs. "Un-fucking-believable. Also my point is made! SOLDIERs don't know how to take a fucking break."

"Truly a detrimental view on work," Rude agrees.

"It really fucking is! I mean, come on! You take a bunch of jacked up meatheads, give them a system that massively rewards their overwork, you keep them on call all the time, keeping them on edge and hyped up, all the while Hojo looms over them like the fucking boogeyman and can pull them into the labs any time he wants!" Reno scoffs. "Never mind the fact that they're considered, technically, Shinra property, with all the Mako in their veins, so they have fuck all employee's rights."

"Might add to the reason why so few take time off," Rude agrees.

"They do have paid time off, right?" Reno asks. "The program isn't that much of a shit, right?"

"They do, standard rate… which is on average about a fifth of what they'd stand to make working. Or in Sephiroth's case… one-thirtieth."

"Of course it fucking is," Reno scoffs with disgust.

"... And the Science department can still call them in, if they're in Midgar."

"So either work yourself to early death or take a massive hit to the wallet and still Science can just grab your ass if they feel like it! What the fuck," Reno mutters. "Who the fuck designed the SOLDIER program, anyway?"

"According to the paperwork, originally Professor Gast… but its current form is mostly Professor Hojo's handiwork."

"Guess I should've expected that," Reno mutters and rocks back in his chair again, glaring at the ceiling. "The whole fucking system is rigged to blow. Nice fucking experiment you got there, Professor."

And now it's his problem to deal with. Wonderful.

He thinks of the way Angeal said it, time and privacy, like it was a joke, an impossible task. It makes him so fucking mad.

The only fucking reason work as a Turk is worth it sometimes is because it comes with some sweet fucking benefits - including properly paid time off and all the incentive on the fucking planet to use it, too. Because way back when Turks were first put together, then still called the Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department, someone had the common sense to look at these guys, with abilities and access of fucking spies, and go, "yeah, you know what we don't want to see - what happens when these assholes get burnout." Because that's how you end up with your asshole bosses assassinated in the night.

To this day Turks will fight tooth and nail to keep their off work hours off the fucking clock. Because what happens on the clock is bad enough, and if it doesn't justify being able to fucking punch out at the end of the day, then what's even the fucking point?

Time and privacy aren't impossible to get, for the Turks - those are fucking contractually enforced benefits they're entitled to, and just a few of many! They keep them fucking sane! And woe be the fucking asshole who tries to mess with them. Even Heidegger knows better.

It's so damn wild to realise that just a few floors down there a bunch of bastards who just don't… care? Who are incentivised not to care. Who'd rather work themselves to death rather than risk being seen at loose ends. Guess that's how Shinra keeps the SOLDIERs in check - they're clearly all of them too overworked to even think straight anymore. And those who are not working still might be pulled into the Science Department any time. Shit.

Dragging his hands down his face with a groan, Reno rolls out of his chair. "I hate this fucking assignment already. Did you find anything?"

"There are a few potential sites," Rude agrees and shows him a drawn map of the area. "A charcoal burner's house over here has been abandoned for months, and might be in bad condition. A hunter's lodge over here, it's higher up on the mountains and might be within view of Wutai patrols from Fort Tamblin. And here there's an old farm, partially burned in a bombing two years back, abandoned since."

Reno considers the locations. The hunter's lodge is right out… "We'll start with the charcoal place," he decides. "If that doesn't work out, then the farm."

"Sounds good," Rude agreed. "How will we justify it?"

"Do we justify it? It's Turk business," Reno scoffs, taking out his PHS. "And so, it's no one's business."

Rude thinks about that for a moment and then nods. "I'll requisition supplies."

"You do that," Reno agrees, checks his watch to make sure it's office hours back home and makes a call. It takes no time for the call to connect. "Good morning, boss, how's the weather in Midgar?"

"There was a storm, but it looks like the worst is over now," Tseng answers. "What's the word for Sephiroth?"

Reno flashes back to the moment he heard the arguably strongest man in the world sobbing into his hands about how fucked he is. "Yeah, so, about that. We're making some new arrangements."

-

What I love most about the Turks is how they definitely know how to appreciate time off.

[maple-the-awesome]

Friend or Foe || Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: Link visits an alternate world without its hero and, more importantly, a version of you without your Link. Unfortunately, it seems even the smallest of details can lead to disastrous results. In spirt of October and Halloween, I've decided to do a little evil prompt because none of the Links have enough emotional damage yet😈

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Four has known you since childhood, both of your families having been good friends for generations. You've always been peas in a pot together with a level of closeness that results in a lot of ‘old married couple’ jokes. You're usually the first person Four returns to after his adventures, never sparing a single detail as he knows he can trust you with his life if it were to come down to it which makes this situation so perplexing...

This you is nothing like his dear friend back home. You don't have that same sweet smile that makes his heart do loops of delight, rather a wicked grin that makes his stomach turn in disgust. When he heard murmurs about an evil magic-wielder terrorizing this world, it would've been his last guess that such a person could look exactly like you - same face, same name, same everything!

"What an interesting assortment of weapons, especially this one!" Four bites back a snarl when this cursed version of you holds the Four Sword high into the sky with a teasing smirk, "It's practically dripping with magic. Where did you get it? ...Still not going to answer me? Oh, but you were so talkative earlier - what, with all your meaningless questions and desperate begging.”

Trapped behind cold iron bars, all Four can do is watch helplessly as you search through the rest of the items you’ve stolen from him, making little comments here and there which he refuses to acknowledge (he’s learned from Vaati that responses are only encouragement). The others should be here to rescue him soon anyway. In the meantime, he’s trying to make sense of this whole situation as he has been since you first caught him.

'This just can't be our flower. I refuse to believe it. They'd never be so cruel to us like this! They're our friend!' 

'Of course they aren’t, you idiot! There's no way they'd be evil at all! This scum is an imposter and the second we get out of this prison we'll teach them a lesson about why they shouldn’t dare tarnish an angel's name like -!'

'- Calm down. We're in a different version of Hyrule which means this is more than likely this kingdom’s version of -'

'- Hogwash! Don’t you dare finish that sentence! They'd never act like this even in a different world!'

'I don’t want to believe it either, however the fact of the matter is it isn’t impossible. Think about it. Everything about this world is similar to our own excluding our existence. There is no hero meaning we weren’t ever there to protect them. Did you think about that?'

'...No...'

'That's so sad!'

Four must agree with his arguing thoughts. Although this you isn't the one he has waiting for him back home, he can't help feeling some pity towards you, refusing to believe you could simply be born evil. Something led you down this path you currently trek, and maybe this world isn't necessarily within his range of responsibility, however he still feels a bit guilty for not being able to help any version of you, here or there.

Hyrule met you shortly after meeting Zelda which was natural considering you were the eldest child of the crown. He must admit he's unfortunately never gotten the chance to know you too well, seeing as you have so many responsibilities that keep you busy while he, himself, is often sidetracked venturing through a broken world, yet nevertheless, he does know you to be a kind and generous leader - someone he’s always admired very deeply which is why he’s having so much trouble accepting you could ever be like this…

This kingdom has a sort of sadness that flows throughout the dusty sky and crumbled grass. Legend mentioned something about visiting a kingdom like it before, although Hyrule wonders now if all aspects of the Vet's experiences would match. He would ask, however such a question wouldn't be appropriate at the moment given as both heroes have been brought to their knees, spears held close to their heads to keep them submissive (not that it gets rid of Legend's scowl).

When Hyrule first laid eyes on you while being forced him to take a knee in front of your throne, he had been relieved, so certain that you'd immediately wave off your hostile guards and take note of the obvious misunderstanding that has occurred, after all this traveler is a dear friend of yours who should be treated as such. Alas, Hyrule shivers instead, frozen under your cold gaze as you glare down upon Legend and him.

"These are the heroes you found? I thought they'd be taller - more a threat than little mice," You sigh boredly with your head rested against your hand, although you do take a second longer to admire Hyrule, smirking at the boy who unlike his feisty friend looks absolutely petrified to be in your presences. 

Pushing yourself off your throne, you approach the poor boy and kneel before him. Despite his attempt to flinch away, you still succeed in running your hand against his cheek, "...Oh, but you're a cutie, aren't you? A rare gem in a world so broken."

At least you're aware of the current status of this kingdom. Hyrule would like to think that with some bitterness in mind, however he actually manages to feel sympathetic while watching you wander back to your throne, not missing that frown upon your face. 

It’s then that he’s reminded of a story his friends and him were told upon arrival here - that this world’s hero had died tragically many years ago. There’s no evidence that this world’s current state is because of you which means you could’ve simply inherited a cursed throne and allowed your own heart to hardened under the depressing circumstances, a fate Hyrule fears might have easily occurred to his own version of you as well if not for the support you had received from your siblings and himself. If only you weren’t alone in this world. Maybe then you could have become a beloved queen here, too.

Legend denies that he ever knew you; it hurts too much to accept otherwise. For the short time that he had known you, you had been a light in his life, always so sweet and magical in a way that could lift even the darkest of thoughts. There's a side of him who wishes every night that he'll be blessed with a dream about you because much to his dismay, that's his only way of seeing you again. He'd give anything to meet you in person once more even if for just a second, but not like this...

He's trying hard to keep the scowl on his face - trying to act unintimated, trying to act annoyed - despite how much his heart is aching deep down. He can feel his eyes burning. He can taste iron as he bites down upon his lip, praying to Hylia he'll wake up any moment now.

Promptly after arriving in this Hyrule, the Chain had received several warnings from locals about a ‘demon’ which lurks in the night. They claim that the creature only ever appears in the shadows, preying upon weak minds and cursing them with cruel nightmares. 

Legend, of course, dismissed it all as a story meant to scare children, even going as far as to give Warrior a hard time for being jumpy while the group was setting up camp in a forest right outside of town. Unlike some of the others, Legend doesn’t care if the wind whispers or how certain trees around them look like faces, and he was actually sleeping quite well amongst it all until getting up to go to the bathroom. 

Walking back into camp, he had been alarmed to notice a cloaked figure hovering right above Wild, their hand outstretched towards his head as the Champion shifted and whimpered in his sleep. Everyone else appeared to already be in similar states of distress, even Time’s stone expression crinkled in pain.

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM THEM!" Legend was quick to shout, catching the monster's attention before drawing his sword which he had thankfully taken with him earlier. He planned on fighting off the beast then hopefully waking the others from their nightmares, yet instead he found himself trapped in one of his own when the cloaked figure removed their hood.

Now he can't move, frozen in terror as he tries desperately to shake the feeling...No...No, it can't be you. This is a trick - an illusion the monster has created to mess with him. You would never stain your beautiful face with such a wicked smile. You'd never hurt anything or anyone the way this thing already has!

Regardless of his doubt, Legend can only shake as you approach a lot faster than he can process, likely aided by your ability to effortlessly float his way. Whether due to a spell of yours or a result of his own weak will, he doesn't jerk away like he wants to when you run a hand over his cheek, cooing in a mocking way, "Aw, get a lot of nightmares, do you honey?"

"N-No. Not at all," He manages, at last finding the strength to swing your way which is an action helped by closing his eyes. If he can't see your face, he won't have to battle his concern over hurting you; he can better convince himself that you aren't truly here as you've never been.

"Liar," You easily dodge him, using merely two fingers to grab his sword midair. Keeping it in place, you lean forward, your breath making his legs wobble as the tears finally begin to prick in the corners of his eyes, "I can read your thoughts - see your fears…Oh, but this is far worse than any nightmare you've had, isn't it, my dear? Far worse than any I could bestow upon you with my magic. Poor thing. You miss them terribly, don't you? If that's the case, then you shouldn’t avoid me so. Soak it up. Remember what I look like. After all, it's the last chance you'll ever get to reach out and touch me."

[allcirclesvanish]

honestly i think it's pretty fucking shameless of the first poorly written toonimal callout to release a second version with edits that are supposedly safer for the victims involved with even more screenshots (why? to entice readers?). as if we should simply trust these grossly irresponsible and negligent people now that they've covered up some people's usernames. there is already an archived version. and reposts, and screenshots, and people who have most assuredly noted every relevant detail in that document including actual predators who now have a roster of potential victims and a list of communities that will harbor them.

it is extremely fucking clear that so many people only care because they see an opportunity to circulate something disgusting and salacious. people in the notes of posts before the rewrite were acknowledging out loud that they knew it was wrong to publish the usernames of minors who are actively being groomed, but asking for the archive link anyway 'to stay informed' or whatever. the first callout document, reposts of its archived version, and its rewrite have aggregated thousands of notes now. it's made its rounds among all the people who write and reblog callouts regularly, because the spectacle of online drama outweighs anyone's right to privacy.

& the fact that there's fallout for even reblogging a popular post from them absolutely *delights* some of you, who now have an opportunity to endlessly interrogate random trans women on everything from their stance on hentai to their personal sexual trauma. and what more could you ghouls want? if tumblr ever goes down, you'll all be quite at home on kiwi farms.

[emblemcest]

The thematic link between cannibalism and incest in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

Something I've been thinking about is. The huge emphasis on cannibalism in the marketing of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And the way people talk about it: like, 'of course these siblings aren't normal, they literally ate their neighbour!'

And I think it has some very interesting parallels with the incest that happens later on.

Because. All things considered? The cannibalism in act 1 is sincerely one of the least fucked up things these characters do, morality-wise.

They didn't murder the guy. In fact, they had nothing whatsoever to do with his death: if they hadn't been there at all, it would've all turned out exactly the same way, and you can't even accuse them of inaction, because a) it all happened so quickly and unexpectedly, and b) it's not like calling for help would have done anything anyway. In material terms, they did no harm at all to the guy.

On the other hand, they were literally starving to death. Ashley sincerely wasn't sure they'd even last a few days more the way they were going. What they did to the guy wasn't for fun, or revenge, or even a lack of concern for him as a person, but survival. It was an emergency!! In a lot of ways, it could be seen as comparable to self-defence.

So is cannibalism so strongly associated with the game, and with the horror genre in general? The taboo.

Regardless of the circumstances, regardless of the level of harm done, cannibalism is a no-go. It's a line that must not ever be crossed. Even if we can understand and sympathise with the people involved - even in cases of literal life and death - there is a wrongness to it that we can't easily move past. In an increasingly secular world, it's one of the few really spiritual crimes that still resonates as much as ever.

And, yeah, sure, you can talk about the health risks of ingesting brain matter, or the practical issues with not making cannibalism a crime, but those aren't the reasons we shy away from it. It's instinctive; philosophical. Cannibalism is simply wrong.

Much in the same way we react to incest.

Again: this is not claiming that incest is always totally okay, just like the point of this post isn't to be all 'yay, cannibalism!' There are practical reasons to disallow it, and there are potential health issues here, too (albeit for the children rather than the subjects).

But that's not why we wince at incest. Even if everything was okay - a consensual relationship between two twins of the same sex where nobody else would ever see - it would still elicit strong reactions. Incest is simply unnatural - simply wrong.

The incest in TCOAAL isn't quite so straightforwardly defensible as the cannibalism. The relationship itself is unhealthy, and adding sex to the mix is very unlikely to make it less so, as well as the fact that sex is literally the exact place where 'consent issues' tend to get REALLY important.

But also... the relationship was already unhealthy. The two were already isolated and excessively dependant on one another, and most importantly, they had already enabled one another into cold-blooded murder. It's sorta... hard to get much worse than that.

By contrast, the incest vision itself? Seems entirely consensual. Pleasurable, even. The two are uncharacteristically happy, once Andrew gets over his moral anguish (or, rather, until he gets distracted away from it). And the 'Not Sane' route portrays them as closer and happier and kinder than any other.

It doesn't matter. Even if the results are entirely positive - like with getting food into the mouths of two starving people - it's still wrong. By its very nature. It's 'disgusting.'

I know I'm not the first person to comment on the willingness of some antis to whole-heartedly accept murder and cannibalism in fiction but then draw the line at incest. But I think this comparison of taboos illustrates a really big thematic link between the cannibalism and incest specifically, and in doing so, just one way that the incest really is important to the themes of the work, rather than just gratuitous shock shlock.

...in fact, if you wanted to really stretch the metaphor... You could ask: 'are things good or bad inherently, or due to the surrounding context?' Which, honestly, is a pretty good question about our titular two characters themselves. Are Andy and/or Leyley inherently bad people? Should we judge them based on the circumstances of their upbringing or the world in which they find themselves? Or does none of that matter, and they would have turned out this sort of way regardless?

[chuuyasfanboy]

HII!! Could you do one with Dazai, Chuuya and Atsushi reacting to a reader who has one of those SHTWT accounts? It's a kind of strange request, but I've never seen anyone talk about it!!

I actually loved your blog, I'm currently hooked! <3

NOT a weird request at all! I dont have any social medias like this, but I interact with edtwt and have friends with both edtwt's and shtwt's, so I think I'm comfortable enough talking about the issue!

Now this may be very hypocritical of me BUT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING MENTALLY PLEASE REACH OUT FOR HELP! Here's a link to a website with hotline numbers! Even if you cant get yourself to stop completely, please at least be save enough to keep living. Love you all mwah<3

https://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/

Definitely didn't skip a matchup request to write this... Promise I'll get to you soon other person! I've had some ideas in mind heheheh

Dazai, Chuuya, and Atsushi (Seperate) x shtwt!Reader

Tw: Sh tw, mentions of edtwt in the ooc lol, spoilers dazai totally has a shtwt too</3

Dazai Osamu

Starting off with the worst reaction

Why is he the worst, you ask?

He has one too!

He totally followed you by accident because he just found this all so inspirational. And then you posted a tweet with the same joke you'd made earlier that day.

And oh he knew.

He's mad, but mostly because you never told him you were struggling.

He's the one who's supposed to be masking his emotions, damn it!

(I'm not sure if shtwt is the same way, but i know edtwt is chock full of motivational disgusting food images posting! I'm making those assumptions that its similar lol)

He definitely tries to convince you to get help, and he feels really bad for not actually being that worried.

He trusts you to keep yourself safe enough and so eventually he just gives up on the notion altogether

It doesnt take long for the two of you to be a bit more open with it all

He finally shows you whats under those bandages

It's worse than you think.

You're the one who convinces him to properly treat his cuts, and after enough bothering, you finally let him treat you the same.

Late nights when the two of you cant sleep, and he comes over.

The both of you in each others arms, disinfectant and fresh rolls of bandages discarded on the nightstand

While he may not be the one you go to for support, he definitely wont judge you for anything, not even a bit

And if you do decide to finally get help, he's there to cheer you on

Dont be fooled though, he wont be changing his ways at all

Good luck getting this stinker to find value in himself!

Chuuya Nakahara

He's got the best reaction, by far

He's trying not to judge you, really

It's not something he's ever had to struggle with these things, and the furthest he can really give you is an absurd amount of sympathy

The little experience he does have comes from his years with Dazai in the port mafia, but that was a long time ago and he hasnt had to think of it since

It brings up old memories...

You'd left it open on a private tab one night, and he found it when you asked him to look up something

He's about ready to cry, really, but he's strong

For you

He encourages you to get help, professional help

And if you decline, he doesnt push it much further

Instead, he offers you help directly

He cofiscates your razors the best he can, but he soon finds you manage to get them anyway

So he comprimises

When you forget to clean them, he does it for you

Buys you disinfectant and fresh bandages every time he knows youre running low, keeps your first aid stocked

Things like that

He politely asks to not be shown any fresh wounds, twitter post or not, and does his best not to think about the fact you post these things so openly and he hadn't even known

If you do decide to seek help, he's the most supportive.

He keeps you on your recovery plan, holds you close if you relapse, and never passes a single word of judgement your way

He's here for you, always

Atsushi Nakajima

Akutagawa found it before he did

Atsushi was told, immediately

He PANICS, and as soon as he sees you he pulls you aside

And he just cries into your arms

You're left so confused like?

What????

He understands why you didnt tell him, and he doesnt blame you for it

But he's still pretty upset

Moreso with himself than you

Again, like the other two, you'd been posting pictures of it all online and he had to be told!

He insists you get help, and he wont let up on it

Reminds you every day after a nicely times good morning text

"If you're feeling down make sure you call somebody before you do anything, okay?"

He's practically on his hands and knees begging you to unfollow the shtwt's you've bombarded your feed with

Suddenly he's terrified of looking over your shoulder at your phone, but also so afraid every time he isnt

He's really not good at sorting it out, his brain is scrambled and he's panicked every time he thinks about it

But he really does try hard to stay positive

And while one or two things he says may unintentionally come off as judgement, a good majority of his opinions on the topic is really just trying to get you help

He makes an alt account just to keep tabs on your shtwt

Its really obvious, made a day ago and following only you

You don't tell him that though<3

[horizon-verizon]

I wrote on Twitter this abt Daemon and Alyssa of S2 Epi5, btw...

LINK

I think it was supposed to be less attraction to his own mother & more them having Alys making him confront his desires for a person w/absolute faith in him. Alyssa, lost & forever inaccessible, unable to really contradict him, is fantasized as such. It was out of place. And why through sex? I think they bc its direct, nonverbal communication w/all passion that can matches his non sexual desire for a particular sort of connection. But they really tried to Freud him. And it's still not likely to go down this way in the orig story bc Daemon was at Harrenhal when Luke died & there is not hint of a real distance b/t him and Rhaenyra to the degree and kind where Daemon is trying to make himself a King...seemingly. So, that argument Daemyra had that I didn't like anyway...hate it more now.

LINK

Other than that, it's still so damn weird to make Alyssa exist to become her son's fantasy of power and deuce out when she was so much more to more people even with the brevity of her life. More than a blip in some sexually expressed power fantasy.

LINK

Aside from that, the real issue is that this was an unnecessary scene that includes his mother in a way the worst out of all possible & better, respectful, & narratively sensical options. Death by Childbirth & seeign her struggle to survive/epi 10, his attempt to claim Meleys,etc

So yes I know what the writers were going for. I still criticize it.

On the one hand, people say Daemon's desire is manifested in this dream, the desire for a family member to believe in him...meanwhile, the only female Targs he knew are Alysanne, Alyssa, Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, and Rhaenyra. Of the options he could be having sex with in a dream he is clearly having fun with AND with this woman not looking like any of the women he knows...isn't it so weird that Daemon goes to town on a woman he supposedly has never seen before? Or is it that people brush it off as him fucking a random Valyrian look-alike sex worker?

Either way, another contradiction comes up: Daemon's enthusiasm & his seeming disgust in finding out it was Alyssa all along vs people saying that all of the dream (plus Daemon's own enthusiasm) was Alys' magic's fault, not his own.