#I have never obsessed over a character before. And the first character who I fixate on has only like. Three known personality traits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soluversworld · 3 months ago

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Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 6!) Final (Rushed)-(Sfw!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-(new tws)

Words: 10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)-(This part is Sfw!)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You’re his and he’s yours…

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

Dubious Consent: Themes of physical closeness and intimacy while one party is incapacitated or pretending to be.

Dark Romanticization: Romanticizing toxic and unhealthy dynamics, including possessiveness and dominance.

Control and Power Imbalance: One character exhibits significant control over the other’s vulnerability.

You worked on preparing something in the kitchen, your focus wavered, and before you knew it, you accidentally called out to Sol the way Hyugo always did—“Sunny.”

He blinked, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion as he tilted his head. “Sunny?”

Realizing your slip, you quickly clarified, chuckling nervously. “Sorry, it’s just… Hyugo calls you that. I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could finish, Sol interrupted, his curiosity piqued. “If Hyugo gets to give me a nickname, why can’t you?”

The suggestion made you pause. A nickname for Sol? That felt… oddly intimate. But you couldn’t deny the idea was a little exciting. Your mind raced for something that felt fitting, something uniquely yours to call him.

“Pumpkin,” you blurted out, testing the waters.

Sol’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his crimson-orange eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “Pumpkin, huh?” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue. He seemed pleased at first but then placed a finger under his chin, his gaze turning thoughtful as he studied you.

“But,” he began slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, “don’t you think that nickname suits you better?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his tone calm and resolute. “Yes, it suits you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you processed his words. “It’s the nickname you want me to have, huh?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but the warmth in his gaze was almost too much to handle.

“It fits you,” he said simply, smiling as if that was all the explanation needed.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words lingered in the air. Of course, you knew exactly why it felt so familiar. Pumpkin. It was the name he whispered when he thought you were asleep, the name he muttered under his breath during those nights he lingered too close for too long. You bit your lip, trying to push the thought away before it consumed you entirely.

“…I always hear this nickname in my dreams,” you muttered absentmindedly, immediately regretting it when you saw Sol’s eyes widen in surprise. You quickly waved your hand to dismiss it. “Ah, it’s nothing, really.”

But Sol’s reaction was something else entirely. His face softened into a look of pure adoration, as if the idea that you might dream of him made his heart burst. That realization seemed to make him… happy. Dangerously happy.

You coughed awkwardly and tried again. “Alright, how about… babygirl?”

The moment the word left your lips, Sol’s eyes widened like saucers before he let out an uncharacteristic snicker. His shoulders shook as he tried to stifle his reaction, but within seconds, he broke into full laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over.

“Ahahahaha!” he laughed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Bitch! I’m serious! Stop laughing!” you exclaimed, your face burning with embarrassment. “You’re so cute—ahhh…” That last part slipped out in a mumble, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Sol wiped at his eyes, his laughter finally settling as he caught his breath. “I have no idea where you got that idea, but I’m clearly far from being a… babygirl.” He snickered again, shaking his head. “It’s cute, though.”

“Husband?”

Sol choked on his breath the moment the words left your lips. His head snapped to the side as he desperately tried to hide the deep crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress the ridiculously goofy smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, god,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. “You… want to… ahaha—”

You grinned at his flustered state, deciding to push him further.

“Are you sure?” he stammered, glancing at you nervously. “Don’t you think people are going to, you know, take it the wrong way if you start calling me your husband, Y/n?”

You leaned forward, propping your chin in your hand with a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t care,” you said with a shrug, smirking at how his blush deepened. “But I think you’ll die of shyness before anyone else says anything.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes darting everywhere except at you.

“I mean, you do give off husband vibes,” you continued with a giggle.

Sol’s gaze immediately dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously fumbling with the edge of his sleeve as he mumbled under his breath, “You’re killing me…Y/n”

You giggled harder, relishing his reaction. “Alright, alright! I’ll think of something else. But hey—‘husband’ would be so cute, wouldn’t it?”

His ears turned an even darker shade of red as he tried to compose himself, but he was clearly losing the battle.

“This is the final one then!” you declared with a triumphant smile. “Love.”

Sol froze, his entire body stiffening at the sound of the word. A visible shiver ran up his spine as his wide eyes finally met yours.

“L-Love?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, grinning like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.

The tips of his ears practically glowed crimson as he quickly looked away again, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His leg began to bounce under the table, betraying the nerves he was desperately trying to hide.

“I’m… I’m alright with that,” he finally murmured, his voice unsteady but undeniably sincere.

You couldn’t resist leaning closer, teasing him further. “You sure people won’t take that the wrong way?”

Sol’s lips twitched into a shy smile as he took a deep breath. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “I wouldn’t mind, though… let them know. Let them all know that you only belong to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your face heating up despite yourself.

You prided yourself on being observant—sometimes you thought it was a curse, noticing every little thing about him. But now? Watching the way his shy smile betrayed the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface?

It felt like a blessing.

“Should I think of something else?” you teased, tilting your head as you watched his reaction.

Before you could even finish the thought, Sol sat up abruptly, almost standing, his hands raised in a halting gesture as if to physically stop your words from escaping.

“No—‘Love’ is perfect,” he said, his tone firm but laced with a flicker of surprise. His expression was serious, almost too serious, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your face. “Alright, Love,” you said softly, drawing out the word just to see his reaction.

Sol froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before leaning back against the couch. His body seemed to relax, but his eyes told a different story. They were heavy-lidded, clouded with a lovestruck haze, as if the nickname alone had sent him spiraling into a daydream he didn’t want to escape.

His gaze never wavered from you, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He looked utterly intoxicated, like you’d just become the center of his entire universe—and you savored every second of it.

Your gaze locked with his, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken emotions that threatened to swallow you both whole. Realizing how deep you’d fallen into his stare, you quickly turned away, heat flooding your cheeks.

“I-I need to cook!” you stammered, desperate to break the spell.

You turned toward the kitchen, fumbling with your phone before pulling up a how-to-make-curry video. “Hey, Sol,” you said without looking back, “could you teach me some food art? Like those fancy lunches you used to make for Hyugo?”

Sol tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at your request before a soft, amused smile broke across his face. “You want me to teach you, huh? Sure… But only if I can help.”

“No!” You spun to face him, waving a finger in protest. “You’re injured! Just sit there and be cute.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, his lips forming a perfect pout as he leaned back against the counter. “Fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

After a moment of gathering ingredients, Sol perked up and began listing off what you’d need for the curry. His voice was calm and instructive, guiding you with ease.

When you finished washing the vegetables, you grabbed the knife, determined to show him you could handle it. But before you could make the first cut, Sol was suddenly beside you, his hand gently covering yours as he slid the knife away.

“Let me,” he said smoothly, picking up the knife and turning to the cutting board with an air of effortless confidence.

“Sol, you’re supposed to be resting!” you scolded, but he ignored you, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

With practiced precision, he chopped each vegetable into perfectly equal pieces, his movements fluid and almost mesmerizing. He finished quickly, setting the knife down with a smug grin.

“Showoff,” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes at his cocky expression.

“Oh?” His grin widened, and he leaned closer. “You asked for my help, didn’t you?”

Before he could say more, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers brushing over his bandaged knuckles. “You’re hurt,” you reminded him softly, your voice filled with concern.

For a moment, Sol froze, his confident facade cracking as his expression softened. His gaze fell to your hands holding his, and something tender flickered in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But he didn’t pull his hand away.

You held his hand a little tighter, looking up at him with a mix of exasperation and affection. “No more sneaky knife tricks, okay?”

He smiled—soft, genuine, and utterly disarming. “Okay,” he said, but the glint in his eye told you he was already planning his next move.

Sol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible. But fine, if you’re going to be stubborn, let me at least guide you so you don’t chop a finger off.”

You grabbed the knife, determined to prove yourself. “I can manage just fine!” you huffed, setting the carrot on the cutting board and trying to carve it into a petal shape. The result was… less than perfect.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you—warm, close, and undeniably suffocating. Sol’s hands gently covered yours on the knife, his chest brushing lightly against your back as his breath fanned your ear.

“You’re too tense,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, like honey dripping into your thoughts. “Relax… I’ll show you how.”

Your breath hitched. Relax? How am I supposed to relax when you’re this close?

He adjusted your grip, his hands guiding yours with expert precision. “See? Like this,” he said, his tone a little too soft, a little too seductive.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. The warmth of him pressed against you, the way his fingers curled over yours… it was overwhelming. You felt your cheeks heat up, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” Sol said out of nowhere, very seriously.

Your heart skipped a beat. “W-What?!”

He paused, confused, then smirked knowingly. “I mean… I do know my ways with knifes.“

Can he read my mind?

Somehow, under his guidance—and despite the mess in your head—you managed to cut a carrot petal perfectly. You stared down at the result, momentarily stunned.

“Well done,” Sol said, his hands still lingering over yours. “Should I show you again, or—”

You practically jumped out of his grasp, spinning around with a sheepish smile. “Nope! Got it! Thanks! All good here!” you blurted, waving your hands frantically.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind helping you again.”

“Nope! I’m fine!” you squeaked, your voice higher than usual.

Sol chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said, stepping back with an air of victory.

Your mind raced as you turned back to the cutting board, gripping the knife tightly to ground yourself. Does he know what kind of effect he has on me?

You groaned internally, deciding then and there to never let him cook with you ever again.

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “No! It’s fine! I got it!” you blurted, jumping up with a Mickey Mouse-like squeak, hands flailing as if trying to prove a point. “I got it right! See?” You turned toward the sink in a panic, trying to wash your hands to do something, anything, to distract yourself from his lingering gaze.

But the thoughts swirled around in your mind like a storm. What was it about him? Why did you feel so… lost in him?

Why was everything he did, every word he spoke, making your heart race like this?

Sol tilted his head, frowning as you adamantly refused to let him help prepare dinner. “I’ll just do something easy then, okay? Like juice. No knives, no heavy lifting—safe and simple.” His tone was calm, but his persistence was unyielding.

You sighed, cornered by his determination. “Fine. Orange juice. That’s it. Nothing else,” you said firmly, though your heart raced for an entirely different reason.

Sol moved toward the counter, pulling out oranges and the juicer, you couldn’t shake the gnawing suspicion creeping into your thoughts. Why does he want to help so badly? It wasn’t that you didn’t trust his skills; you knew he was competent—better than you, even. But the darker part of your mind whispered something sinister: He’s going to drug it. That’s what the sleeping pills in his pocket are for, right?

You shook your head, trying to focus on the curry simmering on the stove. Still, your thoughts kept wandering back to the juice. What if he’s planning to make me fall asleep just so he can…

Your pulse quickened. The idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant, which disturbed you even more. Stop it. You’re the one with the upper hand here, you reminded yourself.

Minutes later, Sol handed you a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a proud smile on his face. “Here. The least painful job, as promised.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, setting it aside on the counter. The curry was boiling hot, nearly ready to serve. You turned off the stove, setting the pot on a trivet. But your mind was already spinning with plans.

“Hey, Sol,” you began, keeping your tone light and casual. “Could you call Hyugo and let him know you’re at my place? You know how he gets if we don’t keep him in the loop.”

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Your phone’s dead, though.”

“Yeah, but yours isn’t,” you countered smoothly. “Just tell him I dragged you here for dinner. I don’t want him thinking you’re in trouble or anything.”

Sol hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Alright. I’ll go step outside and call him.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you grabbed the glass of juice he’d prepared, a sly grin spreading across your face. Maybe drugged, maybe not, you thought, shaking your head. Doesn’t matter. Not taking chances.

You poured the juice into the sink, washing the glass thoroughly before retrieving a fresh batch from the fridge. You poured the untainted juice into a clean glass, you added a few ice cubes to ensure it would be cold enough to mask any suspicion.

“Let’s see who gets played now,” you muttered under your breath, giggling softly at your own cunning.

The curry was ready, the table set, and the replacement juice sat innocently in its place. You had one last card to play, though—a small vial of medicine you had tucked away. It wasn’t a sedative exactly, but it would mimic the effects, making you feel tired without fully knocking you out. Perfect for your plan.

You dropped a dose into the “safe” glass of juice you’d prepared for yourself. You needed to stay just awake enough to watch Sol’s reaction, to see the cracks in his perfect facade when he thought you were asleep.

Let’s see your demons come out, Sol.

The door opened, and Sol returned, his expression softening as he saw the table set. “Hyugo says hi,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Great,” you replied, motioning for him to sit.

The warmth of the curry lingered on your tongue as you took another bite, humming in delight. Across the table, Sol chuckled softly, savoring his own meal with a small, content smile.

“You should write down the spices you had me add,” you said, swirling the remnants of your curry around with your spoon. “I didn’t think this would turn out so good.”

“Really?” Sol’s eyes sparkled. “You did most of the work. I just pointed a few things out.”

He leaned back, his movements relaxed, yet there was a subtle tension in his frame—like a predator watching its prey.

The conversation drifted to food, and Sol offered casually, “I could send you some of my favorite recipes if you ever want to try making them.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you murmured, smiling faintly.

As the room fell into a quiet rhythm, your thoughts wandered, drawn to him. His presence today had been… overwhelming. From the moment he protected you to cooking beside you in the kitchen, Sol had wormed his way into your life in ways that felt far too intimate. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something deeper, darker.

It felt domestic.

It felt… right.

The thought sent a twisted thrill racing through your veins, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You glanced at Sol, who was casually sipping his juice, his eyes flicking to yours every so often.

You tilted your head back, chugging the last of the orange juice in a single gulp. Sol raised an eyebrow at you, amused, but there was something sharp in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken.

Your breath hitched. The room seemed warmer than before.

What if he did drug it? The idea had been lurking in the back of your mind all night, and now, with every sluggish beat of your heart, you were almost sure.

And yet…

You didn’t feel fear. You felt exhilaration.

Your mind spiraled. Would he take care of me if I passed out? Would he carry me to my room? Or would I wake up to something… darker? Would I see that beautiful, unhinged side of him fully unleashed?

The weight of your eyelids began to drag, and you couldn’t stop the lazy smile creeping onto your lips.

“What time is it?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“8:45,” Sol replied, his voice smooth but low—almost teasing.

You blinked at him, your vision blurring slightly. Your heart raced even as your body started to betray you. You had overdone it on the dose; the sleepy effects were hitting faster than expected.

“I’ve taken too much of your time, Lo—Sol.” You let out a yawn, barely able to hold back a crazed little laugh at how this was all unfolding. “You… should go home. Right? There’s class tomorrow.”

Sol’s expression softened, his smile laced with something… dangerous. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your stomach twist—half fear, half desire.

“No need to worry about me,” he said, leaning in slightly. “I’m happy you let me in. Happy you trusted me enough to treat my wounds, to share dinner.” His words dripped with sincerity, but his gaze… his gaze was anything but innocent.

You tried to lift a hand to his face, to cup his cheek, but your vision swam. There were three of him now, all staring at you, all wearing the same soft, deranged smile.

“You seem tired, pumpkin,” Sol whispered

Your heart stuttered, a crazed, heady feeling overtaking you. This is it. This is what I wanted. Show me more of you, Sol.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, your words slurred. “Just let me get you… something. You need to g-go home, right?”

The glass slipped from your fingers, shattering against the floor. The sound was distant, muffled, like it came from another world.

And then you saw it.

Sol’s smile stretched wider, darker, and his eyes gleamed with an obsession so raw it almost brought you to tears.

God, I love this. You thought, the corners of your lips twitching into the barest of smirks as your body gave in to the drowsiness.

Just before your vision faded, you caught the glint of his teeth as he whispered something you couldn’t quite make out.

It didn’t matter.

You wanted it.

Beyond your hazy, blurred vision, you caught the faint movement of Sol’s smile—serene, calm, yet undeniably dark. His hand pushed away the untouched glass of orange juice, his fingers lingering as if mocking your little game.

You sly bastard, your mind whispered, every word tinged with a delirious, obsessive warmth. God, fuck you… fuck you… I love you.

Your senses still clung to you, though your body betrayed the act. You were awake—barely. Every sound, every tiny motion, was amplified in the fog of your mind. You could hear him move closer, the scrape of his chair on the floor, the soft crunch of glass underfoot as he stepped toward the sink.

You wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t. He knows… maybe not all of it, but enough. Oh, Sol… you brilliant, twisted soul. Take me.

He turned toward the pitcher of orange juice and the abandoned glass, his gaze unreadable. The slight crunch of a packet in his pocket caught your ears, the sound piercing through the fog like a whisper meant only for you.. those pills. So that’s your game. Were you going to play me, Sol? Or were you testing me?

The thought burned into your chest, clawing its way into your obsessive thoughts.

It doesn’t matter. You stayed, didn’t you? You’re still here… with me. God, I’ll let you win this game if you want, just don’t stop playing with me.

You felt his hands—steady, firm—on your shoulders. His touch was everything. Comforting. Possessive. Sinister. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine.

You’re tasting me already, aren’t you? Savoring me.

He inhaled deeply, the sound deliberate, almost indulgent, as if he couldn’t help himself. The soft tremor that followed made your heart leap even in your lethargic haze.

You wanted to moan. But you couldn’t. All you could do was feel.

His voice broke the silence, soft and low, dripping with tenderness and control.

“Let’s get you to bed, pumpkin.”

Your thoughts spiraled. Pumpkin. That name again… it’s mine, isn’t it? Yours. Ours. Say it again. Say it when you think I’m not listening. Say it while you’re watching me.

He slipped an arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you with a gentleness that made your skin ache. His strength surprised you, even through his bandaged wounds. He carried you like you were precious. Fragile. His spouse

Your heart hammered, your chest heavy with a love so twisted it felt like it would tear you apart.

This is what I wanted. This is what I fucking dreamed of. Take me, Sol. I don’t care what it looks like. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone. You’re mine as much as I’m yours. I’ll make you see that someday. I’ll show you… no one else can give you this.

You felt the rhythmic sway of his steps as he carried you toward your room, his lips moving softly—words you couldn’t quite catch but that you knew were meant for you.

What are you saying, Sol? Sweet nothings? Promises? Confessions? Tell me. Tell me everything. Tell me while you think I can’t hear. I want to live in your darkness… drown in it. You’re perfect. You’re mine.

He laid you down gently, his hands lingering just a little too long as he adjusted you on the bed.

Sol, Sol, Sol… touch me more. Just a little more. Show me everything. Don’t stop now… don’t ever stop.

You felt the covers pulled over you, the fabric brushing against your skin. His fingers brushed against your temple, lingering, soft but firm.

“Heh… Hahaha… Hahahahaha.” Sol’s laughter rang out, soft but unhinged, dripping with the kind of madness that sent chills down your spine and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Oh god, you whispered in your mind, trying to steady the storm of emotions coursing through you.

You didn’t know anymore—was it his broken, chaotic soul you loved, or was it just him, the entirety of him, darkness and all?

“Oh, my darling Y/N,” Sol purred, his voice a velvety mix of affection and possession, “I feel so flattered that you trust me so, so much.”

You giggled silently to yourself. Trust? Oh, Sol… if only you knew the truth. You’d watched him for months, hadn’t you? Studied him from afar, noted every habit, every nuance. You’d been drawn to him long before this moment, long before he thought he had won you.

“Despite meeting me yesterday,” he continued, his tone softening but not losing its edge, “isn’t this proof enough? Proof that you’re meant to be mine, as I was always meant to be yours?”

Your breath hitched. God, the way he spoke, the way his words dug under your skin and coiled around your heart like a vice. You were his… but oh, Sol, how little he knew. You were already more his than he could ever realize.

Your thoughts betrayed you. I want to drown in you, Sol. Kiss you until we’re both breathless. Draw your face over and over, photograph every moment of your obsession, and immortalize it in my mind forever.

He shifted closer, his wicked grin evident even without looking. You felt his breath against your neck, hot and electric, his arms tightening possessively around you. His head rested against your chest, and your traitorous heart thudded faster. You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Your soul resonates with mine,” he whispered, his voice a low hum that made your blood race. “I can hear it, feel it, see it in the way you linger even in your dreams.”

God, you were burning alive. You could barely keep your thoughts contained. Sol, you’re driving me mad. How can I keep pretending? I want to turn over, look at you, and devour the chaos in your eyes.

Sol snuggled even closer, practically merging with you as his body molded against yours. “I love you so much, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your ear. “I want you to realize it, deep in your soul. I want your heart to sing mine’s name. I know it’ll take time… but I’m growing impatient, sweetheart.”

You nearly whimpered, biting down the sound before it could escape. Your pulse betrayed you again, hammering wildly in your chest. He heard it. Oh, you knew he heard it.

His voice dipped lower, as if to himself, but you caught every word. “When will you realize?”

You almost broke then and there, your thoughts screaming. I do, Sol. I do realize. I know exactly what we are, what we’re becoming. You’re chaos and obsession, and I’m the fool who craves it all.

But instead, you stayed silent, pretending to sleep, letting him believe you were entirely under his spell. All the while, you simmered with a deranged kind of love that mirrored his own. You wanted him. God, you wanted him. And soon, you’d let him know just how much.

Your body lay still, but inside, you were burning with a dangerous desire. You had to keep pretending, keep playing this game of sweet dreams and soft whispers, while your mind spun in wicked thoughts of Sol and everything you wanted to do to him.

“Sol… Sol…” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, your voice soft and dreamy, like a confession in the night.

He froze, his heart leaping in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. His breath hitched as his mind scrambled, unsure if you were truly asleep or if this was some kind of delicious tease. His arms tightened around you instinctively, and you felt the sudden heat of his body pressing into yours.

You let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, as if lost in a dream. “Sol…” you whispered again, dragging it out just enough to make him crave more.

His face was burning now, the heat of his blush almost suffocating. He couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips, the kind of smile that was both pure adoration and a little bit dangerous. He believed it — every word you said, every whisper. In his mind, this was confirmation, this was what he had been waiting for, that you truly desired him, just as much as he desired you.

So cute, he thought, watching your lips curl into a peaceful, dreamy expression. It was enough to drive him wild with longing. The way you whispered his name — you were playing, teasing him, and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever heard.

“God…” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He felt a tremble run through his body as his grip on you tightened again.

You could hear him, feel his heartbeat picking up as he fought to keep his composure. But you could tell. His weakness was your touch, your words, your presence. The way you acted like a dreamer in his arms, how you whispered his name as though you were lost in the warmth of him.

It was all too much for him to bear. His face burned with a blush that he couldn’t hide, his breath growing shallow as he fought against the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer.

Sol’s breath trembled as he watched your peaceful expression, your lips softly parted, whispering his name again, and again. His chest tightened with something deep, primal, like a yearning that refused to be ignored.

“Dreaming about me…” he murmured, his voice thick with longing, almost trembling with the raw emotion he couldn’t hide. His lips quivered as if they couldn’t contain the truth he felt deep inside. “Ah… Darling, do you love me too?”

His words were low, quiet—he thought you were still asleep, your body gently relaxed in his arms. He didn’t want to disturb you, didn’t want to force an answer. But deep down, he needed to hear it. He needed confirmation that you felt the same way he did.

His heart pounded as he looked at you, as though you were everything he could ever dream of. He felt weak under the weight of his own desire and affection. He whispered again, voice barely a breath, “I need you to know… I love you so much, Y/N.”

The tears that welled in his eyes were a sign of how deeply he cared, how completely he was consumed by you. It was more than obsession. It was devotion, twisted with a dark desire. He didn’t realize that he was slowly losing control, his emotions getting the better of him.

He pulled you a little closer, burying his face in your hair, his breath hitching. “You’re mine, Y/N. No one else.” His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his possessiveness, but also with a tenderness he only allowed himself to feel in this moment with you.

he held you tighter, his lips kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment, his tears mixing with his whispered confession. “I just want you to know… You’re everything to me, darling.” He paused, his voice shaking as he waited for a response he didn’t expect, but desperately craved.

Sol’s breath hitched as he rifled through your closet, his hands trembling with excitement as he pulled out pieces of clothing he planned to steal some clothing… A piece of you he could keep close, something only he could touch. He grinned to himself, the thought of having you so wrapped around him, even in your absence, sending waves of pleasure through his chest.

He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection, as he turned to continue his search.

You lay there, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, feeling the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but you knew what he wanted—what he always wanted. You felt your thoughts swirl in that dangerous, delicious obsession, but you couldn’t stop it. Not now.

Sol’s arms clung to one of your oversized sweaters as he nuzzled his face into the fabric, inhaling your scent like it was his lifeline. His smile was lazy, lovesick, almost deranged in its intensity. After kissing your cheek and whispering, “I’ll be right back, darling,” he slipped into your closet, leaving you lying there in feigned sleep.

You barely moved, too torn between exhaustion and the thrill of what you knew he was doing. Sol rummaging through your things was almost too perfect a scenario, one you’d dreamed of before, but tonight it was real.

Inside the closet, Sol’s hands moved with almost reverent care as he touched your clothes, holding each piece as though it were sacred. A gleam of mischief lit up his heterochromatic eyes when he decided to “borrow” one of your hoodies. for him to hug.

Then, something caught his eye. A box tucked into the corner of the closet, partially hidden beneath a blanket. Curiosity burned brighter than caution as he crouched down and pulled it into the dim light. His hands were trembling as he opened the lid.

And then… his world shifted.

Photos of him—and Hyugo. Some candid, others blurry as though taken from a distance. Sketches, endless sketches of his face in varying poses, from loving to enraged to serene. Notes and details scribbled in the margins, every single one obsessively accurate.

Bandages. A pencil he hadn’t even realized you’d taken—one he’d lost just days ago. A button from his sweater.

And then there was the journal.

Sol’s fingers brushed over its cover, his breath uneven as he opened it. His name, written over and over again in feverish handwriting. Doodles of hearts, sketches of his profile, and words—declarations, fantasies, phrases that mirrored the chaos in his own mind. It was uncanny. It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

He felt his lips curl into an unhinged look as he flipped through the pages, faster and faster, his eyes devouring every stroke of the pen.

But then, a sound—sharp, sudden, and chilling—broke through his thoughts.

A creak. Like the groan of floorboards or the protest of something heavy shifting. Sol froze, his grip tightening on the journal. Slowly, he turned his head toward the closet door.

“…Y/N?”

The moment Sol turned his head, you were already moving. Before he could react, you were on him, pinning him to the floor with a force that sent the box scattering. Pictures, sketches, and your deepest secrets spilled across the floor like a dam breaking. Sol’s back hit the floor, his wide eyes staring up at you, his lips parted in a silent gasp.

You hovered over him, your hands trembling as they gripped his shoulders—not his neck, not his hands. Not the places that screamed at you to touch. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“I can’t hold you by your neck… because you hate it, don’t you?!” you hissed, your voice breaking, a venomous whisper mixed with something almost tender. “And your hands—I can’t touch those either! Because these hands saved me! They’re too… precious! I know all of this because I saw you too!” Your words were frantic, your breath uneven as your emotions clawed their way out of you, raw and desperate.

His eyes were locked on yours, his mouth slightly agape, but he didn’t move, didn’t resist. His blush deepened, spreading across his pale cheeks, but he stayed silent. Watching. Listening.

You felt your resolve crack further, a sob hitching in your throat as you leaned closer, your voice trembling. “Y-you weren’t supposed to see that! None of that!” You gestured wildly at the journal, the photos, the sketches. “Why couldn’t you just—just stay there? Just lay with me? Why are you so goddamn greedy, Sol?” Your words were sharp, accusing, but your expression betrayed your own obsession, your own twisted love.

“You’ve already stolen so much from me. My heart, my thoughts—hell, a dozen of my clothes! And now, this?!” You gestured to the box again, your voice rising before it cracked into a broken whisper. “You greedy, disgusting bastard… And me? I’m no better. I’m just as bad. Look at us…”

Your words faltered as your gaze met his, and you froze. His face mirrored yours—exactly. The wide, crazed eyes, dilated pupils, blush streaking his cheeks like war paint. His lips quivered, caught between a nervous smile and the urge to speak, but no words came. He just stared at you, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of it—the horrifying, beautiful realization. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry.

He was just like you.

A sick laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the silence. “Look at us… Look at how disgusting we are, Sol! You—stealing my clothes like some lovesick thief. And me? God, I’m worse. So much worse. Hiding this box, drawing you like some obsessed freak… We're—” You choked on your words, tears threatening to spill, but the manic grin on your face remained. "We’re both so fucking far gone. It’s sick. We’re sick.”

And yet… there was something so horribly, perfectly satisfying about it.

Sol lay beneath you, his eyes wide and unblinking, his breath caught in his throat as your words tumbled out in a chaotic symphony of revelation. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came. His silence was deafening, his body frozen, his face betraying that strange, terrifying cocktail of shock and… acceptance.

“You… you’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?” you whispered, your voice sickly sweet as you leaned closer, lips brushing just past his ear. “You watched me, didn’t you? Followed me home… went through my things. You even drugged me—or almost did. Almost.” Your laugh was low and breathy, sending shivers down his spine. You could feel it, the way his body tensed and trembled beneath your touch.

And then, with a sudden, wicked grin, you asked, “May I?” Your lips hovered near his neck, the words dripping with teasing affection. He didn’t answer, only inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. That was enough.

You pressed your lips to his neck, slow and deliberate, and he shuddered under you. His arms moved almost instinctively, wrapping around you as if to anchor himself. His breaths came heavier now, his hands gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“Sol, Sol, Sol…” you murmured against his skin, giggling softly as you pulled back to look at him. His face was a mess of emotions—blush spreading across his cheeks, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with something primal. “Look at you… My beloved, my sweet, sweet Sol.. Is it shocking to see me this crazey?!”

You tilted your head, studying him like an artist admiring their own masterpiece. “I can’t even decide if I should kiss you again or just… hug you forever.” Your laugh broke out again, louder, unhinged. “Ahahaha! Oh, God, I can’t even choose! You make me want everything, Sol! Everything you are!”

Your grin widened further, almost painful, your voice sharp and cutting even as your tone stayed sweet. “That smile of yours… That’s the one, isn’t it? The one that blinds me to everyone else. Like a bright, burning sun that drowns out the whole world. God, you’re so good at pretending to be sweet, but I see you, Sol. I see what’s behind it!”

You pressed your forehead against his, your grin softening, but your words still carried that playful, mocking edge. “You’re a little liar, you know? Just like me. And you know what?” Your voice dropped, almost reverent, as you whispered, “I love it. I love you.”

You paused, giggling again, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. “But let’s not pretend I’m better. Oh, no.” You gestured wildly at the scattered contents of your box. “I’m just as bad as you. Worse, even. Look at all this! I’m a walking red flag, and you—” You leaned back slightly, giving him a once-over, your smile turning teasing. “You’re waving me around like you’re proud.”

Your laughter echoed again, filling the space around you, almost hysterical. “What a pair we make! The obsessed and the obsessive… No, wait—who’s who again?” You tilted your head, smirking. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re both disgusting, both broken… and God, isn’t it just perfect?”

Sol’s wide-eyed stare softened just slightly, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. A fragile, deranged thing that mirrored your own.

And as you leaned closer again, your voice dropped to a whisper, still playful, still sharp. “I’ll trash-talk myself all day, darling, but don’t think for a second you’re off the hook. You’re mine, Sol. And I’m yours. So, go ahead…”

You cupped his face again, your grin never faltering. “Say something. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m not exactly what you wanted.”

Your fingers curled into Sol’s shirt with trembling force, clutching it so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, tears pooling in your eyes as you stared down at him. The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, each syllable laced with frustration, desperation, and something raw and terrifying.

“Why? Why aren’t you saying anything?!” Your voice cracked as you shook him slightly, your grip relentless. “Why aren’t you telling me anything?! I know you feel it—I see it! You’re just like me! You’re the same as me!” Tears streamed down your cheeks, but your voice only grew louder, more frantic. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Sol! You—”

You froze mid-sentence, your eyes locking with his. His expression hadn’t changed. Those eyes of his… they were the same as yours. Wide, shimmering, and brimming with something overwhelming—something obsessive. They mirrored your own crazed love-stricken gaze so perfectly it stole the breath from your lungs.

He was silent, utterly still, and yet… there it was. That unshakable devotion, that desperate yearning. It was written all over his face, in the way his lips parted just slightly, the way his breath hitched, the way he clung to you as if letting go would shatter him completely.

Sol’s voice came out almost as a whisper, unsure but laced with a tinge of fear. “How—long have you known…?”

You tilted your head, an innocent smile playing on your lips, though your eyes were anything but innocent.

“What…?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Sol’s gaze dropped, his fingers twitching at his sides. “That I was…watching…you.”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that bubbled up from deep inside you, the sound light but eerie. “Oh, honey… the correct word is ‘stalking.’ But you know, since a few months now… I knew exactly what you were up to. Every little thing. The way you’d slip in and out when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. The food you tried to drug… oh, how cute it was. But, don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time I noticed.”

His expression faltered, surprise crossing his face, but you could sense a mix of pride and discomfort swirling within him.

“How—and you don’t hate me?” His voice trembled slightly, cracking for the first time.

You leaned in closer, almost toying with him, your voice gentle as you whispered, “No. Not at all.”

Sol’s eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parting as if to say something but then stopping himself. His brows furrowed. “What? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you hate me?” He asked again, but this time, there was more clarity, more strength in his tone than before.

You smirked, tilting your head to the side, as if you were finally offering him the answer he so desperately wanted. “I don’t have a ‘choice,’ Sol.”

A flicker of confusion danced across his face as his grip tightened slightly around you, as though searching for more answers in your gaze. “What?”

You paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. A soft, almost eerie smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “It’s just that I didn’t have any other choice but to love you.”

His expression faltered, and for the briefest of moments, you saw something almost human—something fragile—cross his face. A flush crept up his cheeks, though his eyes remained sharp, guarded.

“You basically own me now, Sol,” you said quietly, your voice unshaken. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride in the way the words fell from your lips. You weren’t afraid. You were comfortable in this.

And then, softly, hesitantly, he finally spoke. His voice was fragile, almost trembling, as if the question itself might break him. “Do you… love me?”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. His words hung in the air, heavy and vulnerable, cutting through your spiraling emotions like a knife. For a moment, you were stunned into silence, your grip loosening slightly on his shirt.

That’s what he was worried about? After everything—after the stalking, the stealing, the obsession—that’s what he cared about? Your mind raced, trying to process the absurdity of it all.

But as you stared at him, at the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes, something shifted. All the anger, all the chaos inside you seemed to pause, replaced by a single, undeniable truth.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you answered, your own vulnerability slipping through. “Sol…” Your hands trembled against his chest. “Of course I love you.” Your voice cracked on the last word, tears slipping down your cheeks. “How could I not? You’ve consumed me. You’re all I ever think about. All I ever want. All I ever need.”

His lips quivered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he searched your face for any hint of deceit. But there was none. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder this time, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “And I hate it, Sol. I hate how much I love you. I hate what it’s turned me into. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling you against him with a force that stole your breath. His body trembled as he buried his face in your shoulder, his voice muffled and shaky. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “So long…”

You didn’t need to say anything more. Just the way you looked at him spoke volumes. There was a darkness to your smile, a chilling calmness that matched his own twisted nature. You leaned in slightly, your voice low and almost pleading, but still with an air of authority, “Don’t ever leave me, Sol.”

His breath hitched. He froze for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching for his head, his fingers gripping it tightly, as though he could escape the weight of the words you just laid upon him.

“That won’t happen,” he murmured, voice thick with a promise that both scared and thrilled you.

Before you could respond, before you could even process what was happening, Sol closed the distance between you, his hand coming to the back of your head. He pulled you in closer, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

There was no gentleness in it, only a raw, desperate need—a desire to consume, to possess, to claim. His kiss was demanding, as though he couldn’t wait any longer to have you all to himself. It was everything you wanted, everything you needed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but neither of you seemed ready to face it. The silence was comfortable, the weight of your shared night still lingering in the air. Sol’s steady breathing against you was soothing, and it made it hard to even think about moving. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go.

You lay there, with your head resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. Everything felt so surreal. After everything—the madness, the obsession, the twisted love—you were here. Together. And for a brief, beautiful moment, you couldn’t find a single reason to pull away.

Sol shifted slightly, his voice a soft whisper in the stillness of the room. "Is this… is this the first time I’ve slept well in a while?”

You paused, taking in his words, unsure how to respond. He had told you things, bits and pieces of his own brokenness, but this was different. This was the side of Sol that you never really expected to see—the one that wasn’t in control, the one who needed something, someone.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “After everything… with you, it feels… different.”

The quiet lingered between you, but neither of you rushed to fill it with words. The kiss, the emotions that came with it, and the truth that had been laid bare—none of it was easy to digest. But somehow, it felt right. Neither of you had to say much. The bond was there, thickening around you like an unspoken promise.

For once, Sol wasn’t the one in control. For once, he just wanted to stay there with you.

You lightly brushed a strand of hair from his face, gazing down at him, trying to make sense of the situation. It was strange, how the person who had been stalking you, watching your every move, could now look so… innocent. After everything you’d gone through together, after the craziness of the past few days, here he was, holding you like you were the one thing that could keep him grounded.

Your fingers brushed his cheek gently, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, Sol,” you whispered, “the soul you are…”

Sol didn’t respond immediately, his arms tightening slightly around you, pulling you in closer. He wasn’t saying anything, but his presence spoke volumes. His usual intensity had faded, replaced by a softness, like he was content. Almost like he was at peace for the first time in a long time.

It was funny. You’d expected so much resistance, so much chaos between the two of you. But instead, Sol had become… almost like a puppy. Gentle, needy, and completely devoted now that you’d given him what he wanted—a relationship. The storm inside him had quieted, and now he just wanted you. All of you.

He nuzzled his face against your neck, letting out a small, contented sigh.

The morning light streamed through the window, but neither of you seemed eager to face the reality outside. You could feel Sol’s arms tightening around you, his grip almost possessive, like he didn’t want to let you go—not now, not ever. His presence was soothing yet consuming, and despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. He simply held you, content and silent.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of your thoughts press down on you. “Sol,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, “We have school today.”

But even as you said it, you didn’t move. Sol didn’t either. His gaze shifted to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that you had come to recognize all too well. Then, that damned smile of his—bright and blinding like the sun—spread across his face. He closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head into your neck, as if the world outside didn’t matter.

You smiled in return, that same small, knowing smile, as you closed your eyes. Skipping a day doesn’t matter, you thought, feeling your heartbeat steady as you lay there with him, cocooned in the quiet warmth of the moment.

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know if it was the obsession, or just the way Sol had slowly wormed his way into your heart. Part of you wondered if you were truly in love with him, with his darkness, or if you had fallen for something else—his childlike, innocent need for you, perhaps. But one thing was certain. You were in love with something dark.

Something inside you whispered that it didn’t matter what it was, as long as you had him. You felt yourself sinking deeper into him, losing track of what was real and what was just a product of your twisted desires.

The day could wait. Everything could wait. You were here, with him, ad that’s!

……………………

………………………………………..

……………………………………………………………………

Your thoughts twisted in a way you hadn’t fully expected. Sol’s warm body pressed against yours was all you could focus on, as his steady breathing filled the space between you. His presence was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you’d fallen into this spiral.

Is this what love feels like?

You couldn’t stop the question from swirling in your mind, but you weren’t sure if it was love anymore. Not the kind they talked about in fairy tales, not the kind people dreamt of. This felt different—darker, somehow. The way he clung to you, the way he needed you, it was suffocating yet strangely comforting.

It’s like I’m his obsession, his world, and I can’t escape it. But I don’t want to.

His grip on you, though tender, felt possessive—like he was marking his territory. Your heart fluttered, but not from nervousness. There was something wrong with the way you craved his touch, the way you wanted him to tighten his hold on you.

You tried to brush the thought away, but it lingered like a haunting whisper in the back of your mind. What if this is all I’ve ever wanted? To be owned, to be the center of his world?

You looked down at him, the boy who had slowly seeped into your life, becoming the very air you breathed. His face, soft and serene in sleep, looked almost innocent. But you knew better. He wasn’t innocent. Not with that smile. Not with that darkness lurking in his eyes whenever he was awake.

Do I want to be the one to tame him? The thought came unbidden, a dangerous curiosity taking root. But you weren’t scared. No, you were… enthralled.

He stirred slightly, his breath tickling your neck as his lips brushed against your skin. You felt that familiar thrill course through you, the dark and twisted desire that you couldn’t stop. You wanted to taste his madness, wanted to pull him deeper into the abyss with you. You both were tangled in this web of obsession, and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

God, what is wrong with me?

The question was fleeting, a mere afterthought to the way your heart sped up when he pulled you closer. You didn’t care anymore.

You’re mine, Sol. I’m yours. Forever. The thought was clear, possessive, and there was no escape from it. You smiled to yourself, knowing deep down that you were just as tangled in this as he was.

And that was exactly how you wanted it.

Thank you for everyone who read this series, TBH the ending is rushed. I wasn’t able to write it much any longer I wanted to end it. I’m sorry if the ‘ending’ is bad. I was just pointing out two things Reader only started to love the side of his true self than himself. It has to be messed up. I hope i didn’t ruin anyone’s day with it. I wanna thank to everyone who supported me it was really fun to write…I guess it’s time to wrap up! Please send comments I like reading them and replying I’m so sorry Comments make me happy.

A important note too, Please tell me a review of this fic if you can! It has to be truth! I don’t mind some tips I WANT THEM. It’s also okay if you didn’t like it. That’s exactly why I did what I did. If you cringed even one time, Just know that it was a trap by me.

#sol x reader #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back sol x reader #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb sol #tkatb vn #tkatb x reader #tkatb crowe #tkatb sol x reader #the kid at the back mc #sol brugmansia

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curseofbunny · 2 months ago

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things on my miraculous rewatch that i am noticing that are just. funny and help make things make sense in my brain

chloe and alya are both reaaaaally big into superheroes, alya with majestia as we all know and chloe not seeming to have had a favorite until ladybug/replacing her previous favorite entirely with ladybug if she had one, and chloe and sabrina being cosplayers.

it also seems like chloe is really good at making props and pretty passable at video editing, given malediktator and her 'lair' up on the roof/balcony. all of that background props for her little documentary (which is as endearing to me as it is lightly cringe-worthy, i love chloe so so much) were handmade and honestly looked really good, they must have taken aaaaages to make. me and my friend were also noticing that max looked upset during the 'making fun of chloe' scene in malediktator after chloe got hurt by sabrina laughing at her, and we were joking that he was disappointed it got turned off because the editing was good

kim really liked the alec cataldi's show 'alternative truth' in kwamibuster. him liking and looking up to alec cataldi makes so much sense for why his character is the way it is, why he does the dares and the teasing. it's really interesting seeing how the childhood bullying/harassment alec went through shaped his life, and then he in turn continued the cycle on a massive scale to the point where it could be said that he influenced more people to act just like him. i am not even coming into this from a salt perspective, it's entirely just fascinating that in that little bit from a s3 episode we can see part of why he is the way he is

chloe watching the news is such a common experience she's a news girliieeee i love that for herrr

accidentally got a fixation on how the tv studio in universe works. alec cataldi is a catty gay guy who runs a bunch of random slot-filler garbage tv. nadja chamack is a (seemingly single) mother, friend of sabine's, who is the primary news anchor. clara contard is her primary correspondent, who according to the wiki has an unnamed boyfriend/husband (i'm going to go with boyfriend) and unnamed son. obsessed with these three they're so good i love the ~vibes~ of the station crew

all problems in the later few seasons of the show would be lessened greatly if we let Luka Murder Bob Roth!!!

psychomedian should have been a season 2 episode. the plot, the vibes, the marinette characterization. everything besides the flashbacks in the beginning scream earlier actions. also they used flashbacks from the puppeteer 2 in that episode. which makes me confused. so the end lesson for mari in that ep was that adrien isn't good with jokes, and kind of wants to try being more serious because the girl he liked wasn't into funny guys. by using a clip from that episode, and specifically the clip where they're talking from the end of it from that same conversation where he says he doesn't get jokes very well, mari in psychomedian then extrapolates from a single video mention that nino showed adrien that clearly adrien is a huge huge superfan of harry's, and proceeded to hype herself up to try and do a comedy routine that is so specific and embarrassing that i physically couldn't watch that. girl do you even listen to the words from his mouthhh. i would have had less issues with this if that flashback didn't make me go "huh whats that from i've never seen that episode" and paused in the first minute of psychomedian to go watch the puppeter 2, then circled back to psychomedian, and only one of those episodes felt like they deserved to take place in the latter half of the show. on god.

back to the news crew tee em but this retroactively gives a lot of insight to me on how chloe and kim could have been friends and how their friend group was structured before a combination of marinette/ladybug and rampant akumatizations and teenage hormones destroyed the friend group over the course of season one and beginning of season two, but like. chloe and sabrina long term friends with their own particular dynamic and sabrina's crush on chloe. chloe is a news girlie and a superhero fan but keeps her cosplays on the low, only sharing that part of her life with sabrina. kim likes watching tv, specifically the more gossipy/gameshow type things. max is glued to kim's side and is his very close friend, and probably also liked working on nerd stuff with sabrina. alix was probably lumped in because she's athletic and friends with kim, and even if she isn't chloe's biggest fan they can still commiserate about being rich girls together. i know i'm extrapolating and halfway just wishing this was how it was, but it really did feel like that was the it group until they started slowly breaking off and chlobrina got isolated and then chloe got further isolated. in a perfect world this friend group would have stuck together and lila just joined the fold as a baby it girl trying to show off.

i'll shush for now but those are some babbles thank you for letting me refuse to shut the fuck up *bows* *bows*

#miraculous ladybug #i don't think this is salt or crit this is just my thoughts watching it #but if i need to add those tags lmk #kym speaks #bun.txt #ml hcs

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melshifting · 2 months ago

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Shifting tarot reading ～ #02

❝ What does your S/O think about you? ❞

little disclaimer before starting: remember that this is for a diverse collective, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't! don't force messages that aren't meant to be ^^

Choose an image below! ⤸

🫧 | For my pile one...

Hmmm... its giving mixed signals and a SLOW burn. This person has contradictory emotions or difficulties in expressing what he/she really feels BUT they definitely feel a romantic connection towards you. There are two possible scenarios: you both are good friends and this person doesn't want to ruin the friendship, or, your person has just come out of a breakup/BAD experience and is having a hard time falling in love/trusting others again. Relax babe, as I told you before: this does NOT mean that there is no attraction or interest, but that there is something inside this person that prevents him/her from opening up completely. I see them as someone afraid of rejection (or being really prideful), that's why they have a hard time being open about their feelings. What is certain is that they appreciate you, and very much, but they're still not sure how to handle this bond? The good news is that this person is in the process of solving all those doubts and fears that separate you! YAYYYY

channeled lyrics ⤸

♫ ～ "How can it be? You and me might be meant to be, can't unsee it" - Ariana Grande (The boy is mine)

♪ ～ "I summoned you, please come to me; don't bury thoughts that you really want" - Elley Duhé (Middle of the night)

♩ ～ "I hope love is perfect with just love, may all my weaknesses be hidden" - BTS (Fake Love)

🎀 | For my pile two...

they are HEAD over heels for you, oh my… makes me think it was most likely love at first sight (awwww). Your person feels a special connection, even if they haven't expressed it openly or they try to downplay it. They may, in your presence, feel that electricity in the air, that little tingle yknow. But, they also feel kinda disconnected from you..? Like there's some kind of barrier that distances you both, either literally or not - is this an enemies to lovers trope? Maybe, deep down, they see you as someone who is somehow different or hard to reach; like an impossible type of love. This is why, at this moment, they don't know how to approach you - they could be acting erratically or sending mixed signals, because deep down they're not clear which way to go... They've never felt this way about anyone before, something so deep and genuine (so you're their first love huh?), which explains the confusing signals.

channeled lyrics ⤸

♫ ～ "Boy, why you so obsessed with me?" - Mariah Carey (Obsessed)

♪ ～ "I shouldn't have fallen in love, look what it made me become" - Chris Grey (Let the world burn)

💌 | For my pile three...

I'm hearing the part of this one song that says ' and I only have eyes for youuuuu', so you can assume that they're obsessed with you lmao. Not only do they like your personality and character, but they are almost fixated on your body and physical beauty. WOAH, this person has been looking for you between lifetimes and universes (or vice versa) - this is your SOULMATE bro im telling you. You may have met at a time when one of you was going through a significant emotional or spiritual crisis, or even in an unusual circumstance...? Its one of those bonds that start out explosive, as if yall already knew that you wouldn't see each other as mere 'friends'. This relationship is a big change in your lives, but a good one lol. When this person looks at you, several naughty thoughts come to mind..! so expect your days at their side to not be very ''calm''. Even if there are some possible barriers in this relationship, your person is willing to fight for the person they want to share their life with <3

channeled lyrics ⤸

♫ ～ "Think I met you in another life" - Jungkook (Seven; but the whole song in general lol)

♪ ～ "But when there's two dimensions, there's only one I'm missin'. And if you feel alone, you don't have to feel that no more" - Jungkook (3D; AGAIN, whole song in general lol)

TYSM for reading!!

#kpop shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #shifters #shifting diary #shifttok #reality shifter #desired self #desired reality #bts shifting #shifting reality #shifting antis dni #shifting tarot

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kleptomaniakrow · 13 days ago

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there's something that tickles me the cutest shade of pink whenever i think of these silly little guys (coughKönigcough) having interests or hobbies outside of just being the world's most terrifying forces of nature on the battlefield.

this is plaguing my thoughts! i am imparting it onto the general public! i cannot stop thinking about this man or other KorTac members, so im making it YOUR problem with my silly antics! to preface, i'm saying this as someone who streams, and there are a couple of military guys who stop by to say "hi" from time to time. pairing this experience tandem with watching simon riley's va wishing an indie streamer's birthday... it just got my toasted ass at 3:47 in the AM whimsically thinking.

what weird, obscure hyper-fixated interest these built, brick shithouses (/pos) would enjoy in their brief reprieve of the horrific effects of war?

who would even be most likely to enjoy such niche interests? would they try to share it amongst their brethren? who lives under a rock and knows little to nothing about such online entertainment? do they watch informative essay-long videos? obsess over vtubers/streamers/youtubers? what is it do they fixate over?

König is someone whom i personally and selfishly pen down as a silly little streamer enjoyed. specifically indie streamers so he isn't overwhelmed by the ridiculously large audience or crowd, as lines of text are a blur by sheer explosive speed alone in popular, mainstream chats... no bueno, really. at least for him and his shy nature.

men like Krueger and Nikto seem a bit of a harder sell (imo) because they just seem a bit more... how do i put this nicely—a bit too out there to project this stupidly silly ideation onto them even as fictional characters yk? even for me! but it is very amusing to think about the potential of König getting clocked off-handedly by someone when he wasn't looking, just watching something on his phone off-duty or in the commissary before lights out.

König is watching a particular streamer/content creator play a game he likes. if he happens to catch you playing a FPS for the first time, it'd be akin to watching a baby deer stumbling into the world; utterly precious and genuinely impressed as you progress and improve, even if his messages in live-chat are a bit.. dry.

König's probably the only one who willingly provides tips or directions (only) if asked, and is fairly genuine about it. bless him, honestly, especially when he takes the time to explain certain mechanics to you in a way you can understand and implement rather seamlessly (he's so proud btw).

König is also probably in the minority camp of cheering you on instead of roasting/bullying you like the rest of the chat does, urging you to do your best!

König is frankly a very merciful viewer/lurker. unbeknownst to you, that it's the one humanizing silver lining when things get hard. eventually, his visitations become frequent enough that said streamer will be elated seeing his name pop up over and over again. he may not be able to say much, or attend every stream, but it's a welcome distraction. there's no known word that can express beyond any word in his bilingual lexicon to describe such gratitude for even a moment of peace.

König and his visitations are very sparse due to his line of work taking precedence over rather fleeting comforts. which is unfortunate, but he usually comes back or shows quiet support, however he can, a token of his gratitude. little did you know that sometimes even the strongest of men need a little corner to forget the battering surroundings... and that was both a very saddening realization but a warm one. a simple person on the other side of the world. the one who has never, not once, endured hardship like him, yet somehow is the same individual carving out space where built stress can shed like muddied boots and a sodden coat. even if unintentionally. it was the little things, really.

is it silly? ooc? unrealistic? yes to all of the above, but i do not care enough to be bothered with it! this is a treat to myself i am sharing publicly because.. i can! i had a hard week or so, therefore i am considering this a shitily drabbled treat to myself! and hopefully with this fluffy, crack-leaning list of head canons, i can finally sleep!

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attempted--eloquence · 1 month ago

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Hi hi!! I'm the person whos been leaving heinously long comments on ao3 lately- heh

I honestly just wanted to hear what first drew you to theo and liam as a ship. I always felt like they had such a push-pull dynamic in the show (almost noxious chemistry) but i feel like my view of them has evovled so much since while reading Handle With Care. Also, thiam aside, what drew you to Theo as a character on his own? My friend and I have always (lovingly lol) fought over him because she hates his guts and ive always felt this strange pull to him. Like is he a bad human being? Yes. Is he so much more than that though? Also yes. You're takes on him are always fascinating to me.

Sorry for such a big question! I'm always so wordy 🤭

Omg HI!!!!!!! 💗 Also there is no such thing as heinously long comments I would rejoice over a dissertation in my inbox I stg!!!

Okay, regarding Liam and Theo: you show me two characters who communicate like they hate each other but all their actions scream the opposite, I will be LOOKING👀 Make those two characters also have incredibly complex emotional backgrounds and an ugly history together and I am done for. I’m gonna get really ramble-y here so more under the cut!!

You’re so right, there is such a push-pull between them not only literally in their interactions but also in their personality traits!! Something complementary about them that I think borders on clashing. A sort of heart vs brain thing. Open book vs brick wall.

Theo seems to treat emotion as a tool at best and a weakness at worst (boy always had the waterworks ON TAP in s5 whenever he needed to manipulate someone lmao), so for him to be sooo mindful of Liam’s emotional state in s6—even if he’s provoking him, it’s for a reason—and also weirdly encouraging toward him is such a pleasant change of pace. Obsessed with the way their relationship started under the guise of responsibility and was held together by the threat of Theo being sent back, became a sort of begrudged alliance, became trust??? Kinship??? I’m like foaming at the mouth.

Theo is like at the center of Liam’s guilt over stuff that happened in s5: missing Hayden’s death + trying to kill Scott. I think there’s something to be said about Liam bringing Theo back not only giving Theo a chance to “redeem” himself (heavy on the air-quotes, I have convoluted thoughts about Theo and the idea of redemption, but I digress) but also that it could’ve facilitated Liam forgiving himself for s5. (Cough cough, “Scott will never forgive you,” Liam says to Theo in the middle of a scene that revolves around Liam’s anger and his inability to stop himself from hurting people when he’s having an outburst. In the locker room, as they’re STANDING IN FRONT OF A MIRROR. The idea that Liam is projecting his own guilt and concerns about Scott’s forgiveness onto Theo here is positively yummy.)

From “you’re going to help us or you’re going back [in the ground]” to Theo voluntarily showing up to save Liam’s ass and Liam saying “I will fight with you” just…nghhh I dunno to me it feels like now being able to look at the past and accept it, even if it’s ugly. Not being wounded by it anymore. For both of them.

Okay, so regarding what drew me to Theo…..he is just so…[dreamy sigh] fucked up. What can I say, he lured me in with his sociopathic swagger in s5 and won me over with his kicked dog demeanor in s6💘 also I think he’s a fucking freak (affectionate). I wish I could better articulate what made me obsessed with him but I’m past the point of no return with my fixation on him that I can’t remember my brain being normal anymore. There is simple B.T. and A.T. (Before Theo and After Theo).

Like…he shows up in s5 with this story about Scott helping him through an asthma attack tucked beneath his tongue and all these speeches at the ready for why he showed up to join Scott’s pack and I can’t help but wonder how long he planned for that. How long he practiced those lines and his delivery and the inflection and the facial expressions. He spent part of his childhood being raised by such inhuman unfeeling robotic beings and yet he can tap into this emotional expressiveness like no other; he smiles, he plays coy, he feigns concern, he gives hugs, he constantly offers help, he cries, and it’s all an act. But I feel like the most honest thing about him in s5 is whenever he has to interact with the Dread Doctors—it’s like he can’t stop being a scared kid. He’s all false bravado, a paper tiger.

And beyond trying to take Scott’s power to become an alpha (and sever the tie between him and the DDs by being a real werewolf), I feel like Theo was also kind of trying to assert his flawed existence in front of a creator that can’t see him as anything but a failed experiment. A sort of, I am like this because you made me like this. To think that The Surgeon came into the whole chimera/beast project kind of out of…love? (A desire to bring back your closest friend that drives you to the point of abandoning all humanity for a centuries-long scientific pursuit is a beautifully insane form of love to me lmfao). And there’s some kind of devotion between a scientist and its experiment, something like love in the act of surgery, and yet they regard Theo with such indifference because he’s not successful in the right way. The failure was the Dread Doctors’ but Theo wore it like his own. Dude’s fucked.

((Not to mention The Beast gets resurrected and fucking kills them. There it is!!! Theres the success! There’s the love! What they wanted was this creature that would kill them instead of acquiesce. They wanted a monster but they raised a kid.))

I also think part of what’s appealing about Theo from a writing perspective is that his backstory is vague enough that there’s room to creatively fill in some blanks, but also the parts of his life that we do know about—and the parts we can infer from everyone else’s interactions with the DDs—are pretty bleak. He’s also really easy to project onto for that reason. Fear of imperfection and/or failure? Check! Inferiority complex? Check! Childhood upended by trauma? Check! Alienated from your own body? Check! Feeling inherently different than everyone around you? Check! Isolated and unable to authentically connect with other people? Check and check.

This is totally a headcanon bc obviously we don’t know if the Dread Doctors kept Theo in BH the whole time, but lately I’ve been fixated on the idea of him potentially growing up in the tunnels — and, like, those run underground all over Beacon Hills, right? The idea of him having this life that runs parallel to Scott and Stiles, but beneath their feet the whole time, makes me crazy. Stiles said that he used to skateboard in the tunnels and I’m bashing my head against a wall at the thought of Theo watching him from afar. Of Theo watching from afar every time the pack members go in the tunnels over the course of the show pre-s5. Of him living adjacent to the pack but not a part of it. Dude wants to be part of something soooo bad he wants to be accepted as he is soooo bad (gonna lose it over him being in the tunnels with Mason and saying “maybe I want to be in the pack”).

Okay I’m so sorry I don’t even think I scratched the surface of my thoughts on Theo here yet I’m rambling past the point of meaning right now😭 so, in summary…I just think he’s neat.

#is any of this coherent or logical at all? no? didn’t think so😎#please ignore the way my headcanons skew my interpretation of canon I do it out of love sjfhsks #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar

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vikdec4i · 6 months ago

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Heyo it’s me, I’m here to ruin ya day

Thoughts on Mitzi and Mordecai’s parallels and how desperate they are to find answers about Altas’s death?

mordecai heller and mitzi may: a piece on grieving.

FIRST of all, i apologise that this response took a very long time to cook up. i wanted it to be as fleshed out as possible because i do have a lot to say in this regard. the train of thought initially departed because of the widespread misunderstanding around mitzi’s character. to which i thought to myself: well it’s strange that people can easily extend their empathy towards mordecai, who (to me) has undoubtedly done worse. but what’s even worse is that, if you really look closely— if we made a venn diagram for these two, there’s a large chunk of overlap between them.

(p.s. now that i am proofreading all of this i realise its a bit different from what you asked but nonetheless i hope it captures the complex nature of grief as a theme in lackadaisy, especially when discussing the parallels between mitzi and mordecai)

so let’s break it down.

if someone wanted to read lackadaisy and asked me if there were any main themes that circled around the story— i would say: grief. more specifically, the consequences of untapped grief. mean the story itself starts off with the mysterious and brutal death of atlas may, who was THE big cat behind the lackadaisy. atlas himself was an enigma, and i have mentioned this before in another post. his position within the story bears a lot of similarities to rose quartz as they play the ghastly spouse that haunts the narrative.

however, this is not about atlas, but instead the two people that served as his vessel after his passing:

his wife, mitzi, and his right-hand man, mordecai.

instead of dissecting this theme individually, finding the differences between the two, i thought it would do the analysis more justice to extract it directly from the source material itself. initially i wanted to talk about how this grieving bleeds out onto others around them (e.g. mitzi forging a check from wick, mordecai kneecapping viktor).

let’s take “hamstring” and “monomania” for example, as they both converse over asa’s claims at their lunch. but if you really think about it, it was never about that.

this scene embodies a power struggle between the two. for one, mitzi’s mentions of mordecai’s “obsession” as a deflection. she sees his rigid loyalty as both a flaw and a threat. by framing mordecai as overly fixated, she’s able to position herself as the more pragmatic party who is trying to keep afloat. which is true and mitzi, rightfully, views mordecai as a “relentless former associate.” his meticulous nature, his refusal to let go of the past, and his allegiance to ideals that no longer align with business’ survival paints him as the wildcard to her. then again, it’s hard to take empty words from someone that had abandoned the very concept he claims to protect.

that’s not to say mordecai doesn’t return the sentiment, because he very much does. to him, mitzi’s pragmatism looks more like opportunism, evident in her willingness to bend rules, and in his perspective, betray atlas’ vision to keep the business alive. while she plays the capable leader, that imagery clashes with his perception of her as someone who lacks discipline— possibly bred by the history that mordecai knows her to be atlas’ wife and nobody more. he sees mitzi as culpable in the lackadaisy’s downfall and he makes sure she knows this.

but at the end of the day, they are having this conversation inside the same car. while one might interpret this being the main divergence between the two, we can see a striking commonality in which they are failed actors starring in roles they never wanted.

what do i mean by this? while the dont outwardly acknowledge it, grief survives in this scenario as a subtext. you can tell by the use of dialogue. mitzi’s sarcastic tone and pointed remarks, almost shoving the spotlight towards mordecai, suggests a stage of denial and pain that comes with her grieving over atlas. remember what mordecai said to mitzi in response?

“losses are endemic to this business. you’ve brought them on yourself in your persistence… as though you could bring the remains of atlas’ estate to anything but further disgrace.”

his crticisim of mitzi isn’t just about the state of the lackadaisy, in fact, mordecai subconsciously targets himself for his own inability to move on. mordecai and mitzi are different people, that is no question. but this scene serves as a great analogy that this conversation could very much be happening in their heads. this is a conversation not between two people but between one and oneself.

here’s also another thing to note: their seating arrangement.

whether or not tracy meant for this to be intentional, there’s a lot you can take in this scene in regards to their character. mitzi sits in the passenger seat at the front, where the light is more prominent. it symbolises her active role as the current face of the lackadaisy and the one taking on visible responsibility for its perseverance. however, note that she is still in the passenger seat, not the driver’s— mitzi is losing control, she is struggling to move forward in the wake of atlas’ passing. but she’s still not fully in charge of its trajectory, think of how asa and mordecai looks down on her current position.

occasionally, she’d glance back at mordecai to speak, which definitely shows her discomfort and mistrust towards him, she’s unwilling to fully confront him. and in my opinion, not only does this reveal her vulnerability, this also shows her internal discontent.

mordecai, on the other hand, is sitting behind her (literally AND metaphorically) in the shadows. he sits in the back, detached from the lackadaisy but not completely. he observes mitzi from behind, his direct vision fixed on the back of her head, almost as if he’s reflecting on her choices and her struggles— perhaps… confronted with his own betrayal.

plus, if you’re thinking: what about the holes in the windows? GREAT question. despite how they want to present themselves, be it independent (mitzi) or calculated (mordecai), they’re both incredibly vulnerable individuals.

as they sit in this confined space together, they breathe in the air of their inescapable bond and mutual dependence. their dynamic equal parts antagonistic and deeply intertwined.

#THIS IS A LONG ONE PHEWWWW #sorry it took so damn long #i hope you enjoy this read!!#i had soooo much fun writing this and i cant wait to put out more analysis like this #im considering a separate post for both of them individually #i wanted to put it here but that’d be waaaay too long and it’d definitely derail the flow #so much to say abt them … . they are so!!!#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #mordecai heller #mitzi may #atlas may #xan: rambling #xan: analysis

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i-smoke-chapstick · 1 year ago

Text

Request: I'm already back for more. As l've already told you I love your interpretation of a reader with dwarfism and since you are okay with me requesting more, can I get multiple headcanons of Gotham!Rogues x Dwarf!reader with just either simply day to day headcanons or their first reaction to meeting/seeing them? Rogues including jervis(obv Imao), Jerome, Oswald, Victor fries, Zsasz, and ra's al ghul!

The plot can be the reader being similar to the Cheshire Cat or Nightcrawler when it comes to teleportation powers. They're friends with Barbara, Selina, and Tabitha. The rogues always see photos on them on the news, newspapers, and sometimes in person but if they even get caught staring, reader teleports themself and whoever they're with away, so they don't really get a chance to talk or know them.

Like last time, only write this if you're okay with it and I'll understand if you can't or just don't want too!

Thank you tons again! - anon

‘VOULEZ-VOUS,

-GOTHAM VILLIANS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Jervis Tetch, Jerome Valeska, Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Fries, Victor Zsasz, Ra's Al Ghul

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; gotham villians with a cheshire cat!reader who has dwarfism!

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. FLUFF! I love readers power SOSOSOSO much! Super creative <3 Also villians being whipped for reader just cuz they can. Protective Tabitha. REALLY protective Oswald. Jerome's a bit insensitive. Victor Zsasz is not immune to a pretty girls smile. Have never written for Victor Fries or Ra's, so fingers crossed their parts aren’t too bad! Ra’s and Fries parts got a little angsty

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝑉𝐼�� 𝑇𝐸𝑇𝐶𝐻

♫ “Across the room, your eyes are glowin' in the dark." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Oh, the man is completely enthralled with you. How could he not be? You're the missing piece to his wonderland puzzle.

Similarly to Alice, he believes your powers go hand and hand with each other. He rules the mind, while you have complete control of your body. His first thought when he see's you in the newspaper is simple.

He must have you.

He will do anything it takes to track you down. He finds himself becoming more and more entranced with the prospect of you working with him, partners in crime, connected body and soul. Of course those feelings of admiration become obsession.

Before you know it, the man is going lengths to find you; just like how he was with Alice. Hiring Jim Gordon as a bounty hunter? Mayhaps...

When he finally finds you at the siren's club, he can't help but be in awe. You're so small, so fragile, so unique. He wants to kiss your flattened cheekbones that look like pure porcelain. Your his doll.

"My dear, Y/N!" He's calling when he finds you, his teeth spread into a wide grin. He finds your eyes quickly turning to meet his gaze, glowing underneath the club's light. His shadow towers over you.

"You look ravishing, I must admi-" He goes to speak, just before you disappear from thin air. His mouth is open for a few moments, eyebrows scrunched.

Where did his precious little Cheshire Cat go?

Oh yeah, he's pouting. He's never been a fan of the disappearing act. But he doesn't mind. He's determined. He's played this game with Alice for far too long, he will not take no for an answer.

You'll find notes, gifts, flowers, dresses tailored to your sizing. All perfectly crafted from Gotham's most professional hypnotized seamstresses or florists.

Barbara is smirking when she finds the gifts, cackling about how sweet small little Y/N has a loony admirer. Tabitha's less than pleased, throwing out any bouquet she finds before you see them. Selina agrees, the guy's a freak.

It's up to you if you want to give him a chance <3 He would be the most devoted lover and partner if you decided too...if not a bit overly infatuated.

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝛰𝑀𝐸 𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐸𝑆𝐾𝐴

♫ “Nothing promised, no regrets." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Uh oh! Murderous clown on the loose, and he's also 100% fixated, just like a certain hatter.

Jerome brushes you off at first, don't get him wrong, he adores your work on the city. Nothing he loves more than seeing some horribles destroy Gotham! He's a fan, if you could call him that.

It takes him some time to warm up to the idea of being whipped. But once he is, you have him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Similar to Jervis- he can't help himself. You're powerful. You're strange. You're a freak just like him and the rest of these bad boys in Gotham! You remind him of the circus, all different shapes and sizes of people around him. You belong with him. By his side. On his side. Maybe sitting in his lap... What?

Yeah, he's not sure where that came from either. But hey, he's not complaining! He likes to think he's a bachelor, a young beau waiting for his turn in the love game! Before he knows it, he's slicking his hair back, putting on his finest and most colorful suits, and making sure his face is stapled all the way. Then he's getting his cult to crash the Siren's club. Moment of silence for Tabitha who will have to clean it up after.

The place is a shit show, people in makeup dancing wildly and giggling manically. Tabitha, Barbra, Selina and you get tied up in the confusion. It's hard to fight back against a bunch of crazies when your expensive alcohol is being thrown at walls, and you four are simultaneously tied up together in one big rope. Barbra's throwing a bit of a hissy fit.

Everyone is quiet when Jerome enters, dressed to the nines, with a loud and boisterous,

"Hey gorgeous! I'm sure you've heard of me," He speaks, bending down to your level, invading your personal space. He goes to continue, until the four of you evaporate before him. Teleported away. He's left staring at the loose ropes, smile unchanged- but eyes widened in surprise.

Oh. Okay. So that's how it's gonna be. Alright.

Jerome loves a game of cat and mouse.

He craves attention. He loves the center stage, and he will not be ignored. No no no no.

He will not leave your club alone until you confront him. Yeah, sorry Babs and Tabs. Barbara will start urging you to just "sleep with the damn clown!" while Tabitha is trying desperately to not have you anywhere near that creep.

But the club isn't all he'll do, doll! No, he'll get his cult to do more and more mass murders and sprees across the city, each one broadcasted on live television. Each time, he looks into the camera, blood on his face, professing his undying love.

"This is for you, Y/N!" He's showcasing the violence around, "Call me!" He gestures, ending the broadcast abruptly.

Well, kind of hard to ignore a man when your club is in shambles, Barbara is going batshit insane, AND you have Jim Gordon trying to find you; just in order to stop these massacres around the city in your honor.

Once again, you should give the man a chance! He doesn't think he'd make a horrible boyfriend, y'know, if you're into gingers.

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “Take it now or leave it." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Ozzie's a bit harder to gauge, because I don't think he'd become infatuated with someone unless he got to meet them first. So for arguments sake, we are just going to say you two have meet previously on many occasions! Specifically when he's had some bad blood with Barbara and Tabitha.

At first, he detests you. He thinks you're a nuisance, and a powerful tool for the Siren's. You can escape from ANYONES grasp, and take them with you. His nose is scrunching up every time he thinks of just how he can get rid of you.

Well, if he can't get rid of you, he's well versed in manipulation. Perhaps he can convince you to join his team.

You're going about your day at the club, tending bar on a step stool, the usual. Oswald comes in, Victor trailing behind him. Tabitha and Barbara are instantly on alert.

"Hello." Oswald fixes his suit jacket, rolling his cane in his fingertips. He wears a faux smile, and Tabitha huffs.

"What can we help you with, Ozzie?" Barbara is smiling, just as fake as his. It's a weird Gotham crime boss stand-off.

"I was wondering if you, my dear," He speaks, suddenly nodding down to you, "Would like to accompany me for lunch tomorrow."

Yeah, everyone's jaws drop, including Oswald's at the silence. Oswald didn't necessarily intend for it to sound like he was trying to ask you on a date. He's flushing red under everyone's gaze, suddenly fidgeting. If you look closely, Victor's giving a lazy amused smirk in the back.

"Like hell-" Tabitha's about to answer for you, before you squint at the man.

"Sure." You scan him up and down, hesitantly. Before anyone has a chance to speak, Oswald's turning on his heel.

"Wonderful! 2:00 sharp. Don't be late." He's smiling, knowing he's got a one-up on the Siren's.

...Well, leave it Oz to have things never work out quite his way. One lunch turns into two, and two turns into three. He's forcing himself to remember why he's doing this; you are just a tool. This is all a charade!

Hard to focus though, when you two seem to enjoy one another's company. Like when you show him what it feels like to teleport, (He's closing his eyes in fear, only for it to feel like nothing.) Or when you two have a strangely intimate discussion about what it was like growing up not very normal.

He's opening up about his schoolyard bullies, about his mother. About the feeling of being taunted, teased for his nose or height. You tell him, you know the feeling.

He stares at you, eyes focused solely on you. He's enamored.

He turns viciously protective over you. Any snide comment made towards you by a henchman of his, or a frequent at the Siren's club, they are brutally stabbed to death, a bit impulsively, with a bottle shard.

When he realizes he's falling in love with you, similar to Jervis, he likes doing grand gestures to get your attention. If there's anything you desire, you'll get it. Which is why when he finds out you're avoiding him, he becomes sour.

What? Why are you leaving him? He doesn't understand. The intimacies you two have shared, did they mean nothing to you? He's hurt, he's angry, he's aggressive. He's more irritable than usual; and judging from the fact he's irritable ALL the time, it's pretty bad. If you don't explain yourself, this sadness will probably turn into anger. He already believes you two have some weird pseudo-romantic relationship, so he's taking this like a break-up. He's a vengeful ex.

Whenever he stops by the Siren's club, and sees you teleport away at the sight of him, it stings. It all comes to a head when he's breaking down in his mansion. You will have to be the one to confront him, because he'll be too busy sulking. He loves you. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. If you don't want to talk to him, he won't force you, even if he's going crazy trying to figure out why.

When he sees you, he's standing up in a hurry, fumbling over his words, sniffling. His blue-green eyes are puffy, and you'll have to sigh and talk to him.

Please, tell him why your avoiding him. Explain if you're insecure, if you're scared of loving. He'll be thankful for the explanation. He'll be angry on your behalf for anyone who made you believe you were unloved, whether for your dwarfism or your powers. He's promising to kill for you, tear down the city to avenge you.

"Okay, Oz, I'm not dead yet."

"Yet?!"

Cuties <3

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆

♫ “Now is all we get." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Forgive him, he’s trying his hardest not to care, and failing miserably.

Similarly to Ozzie, I can’t see him becoming infatuated or obsessed like Jerome and Jervis so quickly, not since what happened with Nora. So, I’m imagining you’ve also met him once or twice; using your powers for the sirens, just like he and firefly have done some hitjobs for you four in the past.

He’s in love with the idea of having a family; of being accepted, of leaving this life behind. It’s made him bitter, cold; but the man will do anything for love. Anything.

And it’s hard not to notice the small woman running around on her toes in the club, parts of her body vanishing here and there. You’re gorgeous to him. Those small cheshire-like smiles you send him when he’s supposed to be working. They break his hard exterior. He doesn’t know if he loves or hates it. He loves it.

Even a small pit of jealousy fills him, whenever he sees you in the news. Or when he watches silently on the sidelines, while you talk with Barbara and Tabitha and Selina. You do it so effortlessly. How could anyone not be entranced by you?

He thinks that he’s a freak. Firefly’s a freak. Just like Jerome and Oz, he definitely finds solace in the idea you are just like him. You’re one of them; a freak. Pushed out by Gotham’s careless inhabitants, forced into this life. He remembers being driven out of town by Penguins army. He wonders if you’ve expirenced the same treatment at one point in your life. He wants to show you, he’s here for you. He loves you, every part of you. No matter how unconvential or mistreated. He just wants to take care of you.

Just like Oz, he’ll be ready to kill anyone for you. Freeze em’ to death in one single sweep. Just give him the go ahead.

Victor is terrified of hurting you, as well. Not only your tiny stature, but he’s sure he’d get ice burns from his fingertips. He imagines a life where it’s just the two of you, without the cold, back when he was just himself. He dreams of cooking for you. Owning an apartment. Even having a family. He swears, he’d be gentle. But he’s too uncertain. He isn’t good enough, and he certainly isn’t good for you.

You’ll have to be the first person to talk to him, warm up to him. He might not state it directly, other than a nonchalant nod here and there, but it makes him feel special. It’s the little interactions you two have that make him fall helmet over heels.

You two will spend hours, at the club, watching from the sidelines. Barbara and Tabitha out on business, Selina doing…Selina things. You’ll poke fun at the passerby’s to get a reaction out of him.

“Oh god, I just saw that guy kissing that girl- what’s he doing with that other chick?…Oh- they are making out. Oh, okay, he’s taking him to the back. I’ll give you $20 if Barbara kills this guy for doing it on her desk.” You’re snickering, gossiping. Every now and then you look over at him to see him already staring at you, the hint of a smile on his lips. It’s all you’ll get for now…until he responds.

“…Guess you’ll owe me $20 then.” He’s firing back, voice low. It’s the first time he’s spoken. The first time you’ve seen him do something other than brooding. It’s sweet.

These little things will become routine, and he’ll find solace in them. Eventually you’ll even play some tricks with your teleportation on the clubs costomers, scaring them, bumping into them. All the while you’re watching him in the corner, smiling, exhaling through his nose. He playfully scolds you sometimes, other times he chuckles. Either way, it’s a sight to see.

God, please don’t dissapear on this man. I don’t think he could take it. Gotham be damned, if you ever find yourself scared of him, he’d be broken. He’d think it was his fault, he’d think he lost his second chance at love. If you ran away from him, he might just up and leave Gotham.

But even if you did try to avoid him for awhile, I think he’d let you go without a fight. He’d just be more sulky than usual, more prone to picking petty fights with Firefly. You might find the room uncomfortably cold, even when he’s not occupying it. (He froze the AC to the club, he was upset. Sorry Barbara.)

I think he’s the only one on this list of characters that Barbara, Tabitha, and Selina might all actively approve of. Barbara wouldn’t mind having a henchman dating her bestie; soldifies his loyalty to them. Also, he’s good eye-candy. Tabitha doesn’t have any personal issue with the man, other than previously working with Penguin, of course. Selina will still make fun of him for being a walking freezer, but hey, what can you do. You have their blessing.

If you caught him before he decided to up and leave, explain to him why you run away, why you’ve been avoiding him. He won’t just understand, he’ll practically worship you. He’ll explain himself too, why he’s terrified of touching you. It’s not because of your dwarfism, or your powers. It’s just how he’s afraid of hurting or loosing you. Loving people is hard.

If he could cry, he would. But his tears will freeze when they touch his cheek. You’ll have to show him you aren’t fragile. He’ll believe you.

You guys can heal eachother.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “The girl means business, so I'll offer her a drink." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

THIS Victor, on the other hand, is much more brash in his approaches to courting you.

He’s heard about you on the radio, from his boss, seen you in the newspapers, on the tv, watched you from the window in your apartment.

…What? Who said that?

He studies your every move. The man is calculated in his methods, what can he say? He’s not obsessed! (loud incorrect buzzer)

He just wants to size you up a little, see who the newest danger is in Gotham. He’ll convince himself he’s doing it for his boss, whether it be Falcone or Penguin. But it definitely goes deeper.

Unlike the other villians on this list that see your dwarfism as something to empathize with, Victor doesn’t really pay it any mind. He’s been around the block a few times- he’s been with women of all ages, heights, race, etc. The man really doesn’t have a type. What he’s attracted to is strength, independence, someone who will laugh at his dry humor with him. He’s stalked you at the club. He sees the way you banter with Tabitha and Selina, the way you make Barbara dissapear when she’s being too annoying with a flick of your wrist.

He’s incredibly attracted to a woman whose witty and good at what they do. Just like him.

Victor’s more subtle in his approach. He’ll make it casual.

So when you’re at the bar in the club, sitting around, watching the passerby’s, he’ll make his move.

“Now, what’s a girl like you doing here, alone?” He sneaks up behind you, giving you a start. You flush red at the man in front of you. Victor Zsasz. The words are spoken as he drums his fingers on the bar, cocking his head at your short frame. He towers over you, caging you in.

When you don’t speak, it doesn’t phase him. You’re about to teleport away in an instant, until he drawls your attention back to him with a lazy smile.

“So…” He whistles. “What’s your drink of choice? Wait- Let me guess.” The man doesn’t stop talking, listing off drinks that are most definitely not your drink of choice.

He watches you all the time. He knows exactly what your favorite drink is. But he wants you to stay.

It’s a bit awkward, a bit intimidating, and strangely charming. He speaks with an inflection that borders on sarcasm and curiosity. It’s intriguing, coming from Gotham’s most dangerous hitman.

“Can I ask-“ You squeak, now nursing a drink he ordered for you. It’s a Vodka Cran, and it could be worse. “…Is there a hit on me?”

He stares at you expressionless for uncomfortably long, before it forms into something quizzical.

“…Nah,” His voice is slow. He clicks his tongue. “Just an admirer.”

There’s an awkward scilence. He shrugs.

“Y’know. I’m a big fan of this place. Like the ambience.” He sips his own drink, you don’t know what it is. Just as his words sound out, you swear you can overhear a gunshot in the distance, probably from Barbara’s meeting with some other underground boss. Somehow, the sentiment makes you laugh.

He perks up at the sound.

You aren’t used to this. Someone being so casual about you, your powers, your small stature. He’s a bit flirty from time to time, but between the alcohol and his quips, you don’t seem to mind. He seems oddly genuine in his demeanor with every compliment or joke that slips.

You two keep the banter going for the rest of the night. Mostly chatting about how tiring your respective bosses can be. He does a poor drunken impression of Penguin, and you do one of Barbara. It’s a relaxing night in comparison to what you usually expirence living in Gotham.

You think you only see him every so often. Coming by the club whenever Penguin comes, or when a job is sent out, and his target is there. He’ll always send you a wink when he leaves, blood on his face.

But he sees you every day.

Yeah, the stalking only worsens. If you find your phone in different places throughout the day, or your window reopened, he’s the reason why.

He’s fine like this. In his head, the two of you are going steady. He’s pretty committed. You’re his girl, and that’s that.

Until you start avoiding him like the plague.

Zsasz WILL find a way to confront you. He doesn’t care if you teleport away each and everytime. He’ll find a way to get the message clear, through other means.

If you find a “talk to me.” with a smiley face, written with some poor saps blood, on your mirror, I apologize. He’s gotta get the message sent somehow.

Yeah, he won’t give up. He’ll go great lengths to get you two back together. He’s also listening to disco break-up ballads to cope. He’s getting the zsaszettes to stalk you when he can’t. If you still won’t budge, yeah, Tabitha might end up with a gun pointed at her head until you talk to him.

He’s not necessarily angry, but chasing after you is certainly taking a toll on him. Give the guy some credit.

Tabitha, still with a gun pointed at her, will be barking at you to not talk to him. He’s a creep, he’s an asshole, and you shouldn’t compromise your honor! (His eye will twitch at her words, trigger finger itching.)

Up to you what you decide to do! Explain the situation, talk to him, make things official, or…bye bye Tabitha. And that still won’t stop him. He doesn’t take rejection very seriously.

When you tell him exactly why you teleport yourself away, he’s the only one on this list who might think it’s stupid. He’ll understand, don’t get me wrong, but this is Gotham! Why would you be insecure? He garuntees you he’s met at least ten other people with far worse skeletons in their closet. You’ll have to teach him that’s not the issue.

Yeah, our little sociopath has a hard time with feelings. But I think you two would maybe be good for eachother! Teach him to listen more, whip him up into shape, and reap the benefits of having Gotham’s number one hitman as your personal bodyguard and lover. He’ll take you to stakeouts, make fun of Jim Gordon, crash your place. You two can watch Netflix under the blankets. He loves your size- cuddling into you like his own personal pillow.

Tabitha’s very dissapointed.

𝑅𝐴’𝑆 𝐴𝐿 𝐺𝐻𝑈𝐿

♫ “I'm really glad you came, you know the stars, you know the game.” Voulez-Vous by ABBA

May god have mercy on your soul, reader. Ra’s is a sight to behold when he’s in love.

He heard whispers of your name all around Gotham. He sees you on the news when he’s absentmindedly listening. A girl who can teleport herself and others, to any location? Even the power to control which body parts you maneuver. Extrodinary.

He’s immeadiatley infatuated with your power. He wants to covet you. Possess you. Have you close to him. He needs to see your power for himself.

He’s similarly calculated in his response to tracking you down. He will appear at the club, slinking into the shadows, whispering a quaint,

“Hello.”

It makes you jump, and as if on instinct, you teleport yourself away. He marvels at the way in which you do so right infront of his eyes. How rare it is, for him to be so easily confounded.

He must see you again.

You’ll feel his presence every now and then. Maybe even catch a glimpse of him watching you. You’ll turn back, eyes squinted, only to find he’s not there anymore. It confuses you just the same.

Though, you eventually get used to him watching. It turns into a little game between the two of you. If he can catch you, if you can catch him. It’s strangely endearing.

He’s also becoming increasingly more attentive to your daily habits. He memorizes your schedule. He sends members of the League of Shadows to observe you, to take notes on how you use your powers.

If any member insults you, or pokes fun at your dwarfism, Ra’s will spare them no mercy. Yeah…he’s making it a big deal. He’s ruthlessly insulting them for their ignorance, before killing them without a second thought. In a way, you belong to Ra’s already. He will not stand for disrespect among his order.

Ra’s is a gentleman. Just like Ozzie and Jervis, you’ll find gifts littered around your apartment. Little notes from him, written in the most exquisite cursive, expressing his admiration of you. Beautiful, rare, and expensive jewelry, tailored to the size of your wrists and neck.

You’ll see him exiting Barbara’s office sometimes, when he needs her for the demons head. He’ll send you a smile, half-way gentle, half-way playful. He’s unsure where the lines between love and facination blur; but he’s slowly realizing he loves you. He hasn’t felt such a way in decades. He’s been alive for very very long. No human woman has made him feel so helpless. He enjoys it thoroughly.

He’ll confess, the night before Gotham is meant to be blown to the ground. He’ll turn up, before the events are set in motion. You won’t have a clue in the world what he’s up to.

“My dear.” He’ll drawl, and you’ll go to teleport away, as you always do. It’s tradition for you two at this point.

Before you get a chance, he’ll click is tongue at you.

“Wait.” He speaks, voice sounding strangely desperate. It makes you freeze. “Come with me. Leave the city. Get somewhere else. I’d like to show you my home.”

Your choice, if you choose to leave with him. He’d make for a very attentive lover, and would protect you at any cost. But if you choose to do so, you’ll leave Tabitha and Barbara and Selina to their own fate <\3

Not that it matters if you decide to reject his offer. He’ll have you, one way or another.

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lesbicosmos · 19 days ago

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happy one year of dead boy detectives!! ❤️🔎💙

incoming very long very sappy ramble about it:

it's always the shows you find while you're ill at home and just looking for something to make time go faster, huh?

see: me last june, suffering in bed because of a really bad chest infection and stumbling on a few tumblr posts about this silly ghost show, then deciding to watch it because i had nothing better to do, and needed something to distract me from feeling like shit.

i knew ten minutes into watching episode one that this show would become a fixation - and a big one. but even that is such an understatement of how much i love this show and how much it means to me.

i've been in many fandoms over the years, gone through many phases of a movie or a tv show taking over my life and personality for weeks or months at a time but i don't think any of them have stuck with me as much as dead boy detectives. sure if you mention any of my past interests i'll get really excited and mentally dust them off, but this one hasn't had the time to gather the dust in the first place. i'm also always desperate for everyone i know to watch whatever it is my brain is fixated on at any time, but i fear i annoyed my friends and family more than ever with this one, i'll still bring it up in conversation whenever i can

i've always been more of a character-oriented person than a plot person - even if a piece of media has a plot that barely makes sense, i will obsess over it if it has good characters. and this show has SUCH good characters. they're all so unique and every one is relatable in some strange way. and, of course, the queer representation is everything to me. it's SO queer without feeling performative about it. so many of the characters are queer and that aspect of their character is an intrinsic part of who they are as a person without it being their only trait. i only hope future shows take notes. no show has ever really had characters that resonated with me as much as these ones, especially the core four. and bonus! it has brilliant plot writing, too!!

and of course the cast and crew are all just as brilliant. i love when you can just tell the people involved in a show had a genuine passion and genuinely loved working on it. that's evident in every part of dead boy detectives, and the cast interactions that still happen even a year later.

this fandom is hands down one of the kindest most welcoming ones i've ever been in: the fandom events (i ran one myself and co-ran another!! i've never been that involved with a fandom before and it was so much fun), the meta commentary, the fics, the fanart - and the people. i only joined the dbda haunt discord a couple months ago but it's already one of my favourite online places to be and the people i've met on there are all absolutely wonderful, i love you all sm <3

the inspiration this show has given me to write fanfic has been INSANE. i've written before, but i've never had this many ideas i'm so desperate to write down. i still have so many that haven't been written yet!!

okay this post is long and i'm rambling but i just love this show so much and even though we've now had twice as much time since the cancellation as there was before it, i'm in awe of how much the fandom has arguably grown since then. i'll never stop fighting to get this show back, but even if we don't, i'm forever grateful for what we've got and the people i've met and become mutuals with because of it, and i truly believe no one will ever be able to stop us keeping this show alive - no pun intended

happy one year dead boy detectives, can't wait to see what the fandom brings over the next one <33

#am i about to cry? no #not at all #why would i #me getting emotional over my favourite show?? this has never been heard of ever!!#literally the only show that's ever had this much of an impact on me is doctor who and i've been watching that for like 14 years #dead boy detectives #dbda #my dbda posts

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thousandsons · 2 months ago

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i've been thinking a lot about mortarion recently because i read mortarion: the pale king and re-read lords of silence and it's so interesting to me how mortarion seems to have a lot of fixations that border on compulsions.

in lords of silence, vorx describes mortarion as having "relentless superstitions" even before the heresy. mortarion also has "an exaggerated interest in names, bordering on obsession" that has "only grown" since his ascension to daemon prince. mortarion's manse on the plague planet also seems to be subject to this:

"The gates are, like everything here, a parody. They are, it is said, seven centimetres taller than the Eternity Gate on Terra. Just seven. Mortarion did a lot of things like that -- petty things, mediocre digs at fate. The cupola is slightly taller than that raised over the Senatorum Imperialis. The walls are steeper by seven degrees."

mortarion's compulsions appear in mortarion: the pale king as well, particularly his fixation on numbers.

Sanguinius stared right back. ‘Help me understand this, then,’ he said. He pointed to one of the hills of corpses. ‘Those mortals, for instance. What are they doing?’ ‘They are tallying the dead of the Order,’ said Mortarion. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I commanded it.’

mortarion's behavior here is indicative of a larger trend within his character: his own desire for agency within a series of systems that do not allow him any. for example, lords of silence asserts the following:

"...it is said of him that everything came late, and with difficulty. He was the last to succumb to the full embrace of the pantheon. He was the last to arrive at the Siege. He was the last to retreat, it is rumoured, though others contest that."

mortarion is an agent of others' will. first necare, then the emperor, and finally nurgle's, and his compulsions appear to be a desperate reach for agency where otherwise he'd have none. furthermore, mortarion is fundamentally scarred by his youth on barbarus and appears to see himself in slaves and serfs. in mortarion: the pale king, mortarion is reprimanded by horus and sanguinius for use of excessive force on a planet ruled by small group of people who keep the rest of the populace heavily drugged, forcing them to work. his reaction is ultimately a reflection of his own trauma on barbarus.

furthermore, mortarion seems to be viewed as fundamentally broken by his brothers, which in turn fuels the death guard's us-vs-them ideology. (from mortarion: the pale king)

"The ship seemed unadorned compared to those of its brother Legions. The olive-green band of the emblem on its wings made the bone colour of the rest of the hull even more apparent. It was a machine that had been scraped raw. It was, Horus thought, a suitable chariot for his brother, and that saddened him."

"It was, Horus thought, as if no matter where Mortarion went, he never truly left the toxic world that had nurtured him."

Mortarion looked past Horus, up the slope of rubble to where the Angel waited. Mortarion was less pleased to see him. Sanguinius was so consumed by the illusion of nobility that Mortarion felt the Angel was perpetually looking down from on high as he circled an unreachable ideal. Why had their father instructed the Angel to come to Galaspar? Why not someone like Perturabo? He might have been an ally. And Sanguinius and Horus were so close. Mortarion felt a bond with Horus, but he knew it was not as strong as the one that joined Horus to the Angel. He was facing a united front, whether or not the other two would admit it, even to themselves.

‘We may hold this council aboard the Reaper’s Scythe if you prefer,’ said Sanguinius, sounding sympathetic now. The look in his eyes reminded Mortarion of their father’s sorrow, and he did not like it.

mortarion's nihilistic outlook seems to also drive a schism between himself and the other primarchs. mortarion views the Great Crusade with no love, contrary to the likes of horus and sanguinius who believe in the dream proffered to them.

An embrace was a promise of unity and comfort. That made it a promise of illusion. That made it a lie. He knew that Horus didn’t look at things that way. That didn’t change the truth of things. Horus was lying, only not to Mortarion. He was lying to himself. Mortarion put much more stock in his ceremony of poison. To share a draught of concentrated toxins with one of his warriors was to acknowledge the reality of their lives. He and his legionaries stood with each other, fought with unity, but never pretended that the ultimate truth of war was anything other than death. In the toast of poisons, there was no promise that could not be kept. It was an acceptance of risk, and of the inevitability of the end.

in fact, some of the only times mortarion demonstrates any affection or care are to his so-called lessers, including serfs and his own astartes.

At his side, Cinis nodded, watching in respectful silence for the manifestation of judgement. The serf was a favoured one, more disciple than servant. She took in all of Mortarion’s lessons and taught his precepts to the thousands who laboured for the Legion. Having come from neither Terra nor Barbarus, she symbolised the unity of all aspects of the Death Guard, and her understanding was profound.

mortarion first encountered cinis after liberating her world from the oppressive order aforementioned. in fact, in the pale king, mortarion actively chooses to humanize her, granting her the name cinis. in lords of silence, mortarion calls on vorx to fight "by [his] side, as we were before."

vorx earlier in the novel says this of mortarion:

In Mortarion, more than in any other, is conflict. Hatred was everywhere inside him -- of his father, of circumstance, of the Imperium, of himself. The poison of his foster world was hard to excise, and even if things had been handled differently by those in command, his would have been a damaged psyche.

mortarion's lack of agency directly ties into this. he views himself as being more similar to his servants than to his primarch brothers. the us-vs-them mentality returns.

ultimately there are dozens of examples of mortarion's issues across both novels and i have zero interest in regurgitating all of them. what is interesting are the implications about mortarion's character. mortarion's self hatred feeds into his compulsions; his trauma forces him to rely on them to regain a scrap of freedom.

his compulsive nature appears to contrast with nurgle's evident draw towards entropy, but i think this also fits with the nature of his character. he was the last to succumb. he continues to fight against the his own nature, because he doesn't know how to do anything other than fight. he doesn't believe in the kind of peace nurgle offers, so he can't accept it.

#mortarion #death guard #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #sorry for the long post

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fiddleyoumust · 5 months ago

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I need everyone who watched episode 7 of Your Sky today and walked away feeling sorry for P'Oh to stop it.

Your Sky is doing a really great job of showing you the differences and similarities between Muenfah's behavior and Oh's. They're both hotheaded. They both have a tendency to react violently when angry.

This episode is the first time I've been upset with Muenfah. Even though it was Oh who pushed Teerak, Muenfah was more interested in punishing Oh, then checking on Teerak. It's the first time he's ever given me pause and made me question whether he's the kind of person Teerak should date.

Oh is worse, though. Sure, he shows concern for Teerak in the moment after Teerak falls, but he's also the one who put him on the ground, so that's only right.

In the aftermath of the fight, he blames his mother for his actions. She's a shit a parent, but Oh is an adult who has made bad choice after bad choice because he got obsessed with a boy who was nice to him ONE time.

Teerak is a kind person. He is also a timid person. He doesn't like negative emotions and wants to please people. It's hard for him to say no, which makes it easy for people with bad intentions to take advantage of his kindness.

Oh has repeatedly done that to him. He's pressured him. He's stalked him. He's drugged him. He's coerced him and now he's physically hurt him. All of this because Teerak was nice to him once and Oh fixated on him.

The flashback to their first meeting was important, because it shows you that Teerak never treated Oh special. He treated him the way he treats everyone, with genuine kindness and care.

Oh clearly hasn't had that in his life. I feel bad for him for having a shitty mother, but his trauma doesn't give him the right to cause harm to others. Oh doesn't need Teerak. Oh needs therapy, and it's not anyone's job to save him. The problem is, Oh doesn't think he's the problem, so he will never work on himself.

The show told us that by introducing another character at the end, doing exactly what Teerak did by being kind to a stranger, and leaving us with the sense that the cycle was about to start again. Even as Oh was shedding tears over his "love" not being returned, we could see in real time the fixation beginning to shift to a new target.

In contrast, we have Muenfah, still reeling from Teerak second-guessing their kiss. A kiss where Muenfah did nothing wrong, and got consent before he did it, and it still ended up being something that made Teerak uncomfortable.

Sometimes, we can do everything in our power to make sure our partner is ready and it still isn't enough. I kind of want this show to talk about it, because it's doing a lot right on communication and consent, and I think we need to talk more about what you do when communication and consent still end with a bad result.

The great thing about Muenfah, and one of the reasons I adore him, despite his anger issues, is that he KNOWS this is an issue. He's aware. And he's not looking for Teerak to fix him.

The conversation with his parents, where he acknowledges that his temper is a real problem that might cost him a relationship with Teerak, was so important. The fact that he says he knows he needs to work on himself so he can be a good partner is just. SIGH. I love this man.

I hope we get to see him say some of this to Teerak next week. I hope he also apologizes for what happened in the bar because it was traumatic for Teerak, and Muenfah is sorry, so he should say it. And I hope they talk about their kiss because being that intimate when their relationship status is uncertain, has left Teerak spiraling, and I think it would be neat for a show to talk about regretting consent and how to forgive yourself and your partner when things like that happen.

#your sky #your sky the series #muenfahteerak #thomaskong #thomas teetut #kong jiro

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longing-for-rain · 9 months ago

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Out of curiosity, what makes you feel drawn to Zutara as a lesbian. Is it still relatable to you?

It does feel relatable to me. Obviously it’s a heterosexual relationship, but given the lack of good and complete representation of lesbian relationships in the media, I still gravitate towards certain aspects of romances like this.

There are many reasons why, but before I get into it, I want to preface this by saying that the point of this is not to say that Zutara is “lesbian coded” or anything like that so please don’t construe it that way. It’s a heterosexual relationship, period. All I’m saying here is what I, personally, enjoy about it as a lesbian.

The biggest reason I like it is because it represents female desire to me. I know the BoyMom and Pick-Me brigade hates that I’ve described Zutara that way in the past—but it’s true and I stand by it. That is the reason why Zutara became so popular and why its fanon narrative is almost entirely driven by female fans. It directly reflects their desire in a romance and what Katara’s canon one was lacking.

I honestly didn’t have strong feelings about Zutara until I saw the backlash it received. The narrative and the fans both treat Katara as if getting with anyone besides Aang makes her selfish, or that she’s neglecting some kind of duty by doing so. Katara’s voice and desire is fundamentally unimportant to the writers, because they always focused on Aang’s feelings over hers, and even though fans try to pretend otherwise, the dominant narrative surrounding this relationship has always been about Aang. How he needs airbending children, how his heart would be broken if she left, how he needs her to rebuild, etc.

And from Katara’s side, even though she never shows that she shares Aang’s level of interest, fans insist on reading in signs that aren’t really there. They also focus on logical reasons why they’d work. Aang is nice, he’s fun, he’s a prodigy like Katara, both have suffered in the war, etc. At first glance, it seems like a good match…but we never actually see the writing demonstrate how they actually connect over any of these things.

Good in theory, but bland and passionless in reality.

That narrative resonated with me in a bad way, because it’s exactly how I’ve felt as a lesbian. It reflects the pressures I’ve felt to put aside my desire for love to date a man instead. I’ve been told to my face that it’s selfish for me to “choose” another woman—a person I actually desire—over a man.

“What about children?”

“This is going to make your life so much more difficult!”

“Think of your family!”

“Jakey is such a nice guy, can’t you just give him a chance?”

“You have so many interests in common with Jakey and he has a good job! Why won’t you go out with him? It makes so much sense!”

“You’re so shallow, being fixated on looks. What if your perfect match comes along, but he’s male? Would you really say no?”

“You only want that because you’re a pervert. You need to stop being so obsessed with sex and think about the person instead.”

It’s eerily familiar, that’s all I’m saying. A lot of these ideas are used to attack Zutara and its fans nearly verbatim.

Katara isn’t a lesbian, but like a lesbian, Katara in the context of Zutara commits the crime of marrying for love and desire over duty. Some people see that as an evil act of selfishness, but to me, it’s just love.

We can’t control who we love, and I like to see the narrative of a female character breaking free from the social expectations placed on her to pursue it. No; Zuko isn’t the “safe” option, their relationship would be heavily criticized, and it could even endanger them. But that relationship is one they both feel passion for, and together, they would draw power from one another and use it for good. Their love and connection is powerful, and they would have fought hard for it. Because love is worth fighting for.

That’s deeply admirable to me, and an empowering narrative when I think about how I’m inevitably going to have to fight hard for any love of mine. But it’s worth it to me—it’s always worth it.

#zutara #atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #canon critical #lesbian #ask #anon #fandom salt #anti kataang

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jebbzfixations · 24 days ago

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I’ve been writing essays about criminal minds so much that you’d think it’s my number one hyperfixation, but that actually isn’t true. It was back when I first watched it, but my writing about criminal minds is more of a “research” project to me than an intense fixation. Inception, however? Oh boy. This is a long winded way of me saying I’m about to write so incredibly much about this movie that is really, truly unnecessary. I’ve done this before on letterboxd on my last rewatch, but on this rewatch, I figured I’d have more fun writing here.

I decided to rewatch mostly on a whim, deciding to take handwritten notes that’ll stay private because it’s mostly just nonsense and the bones of what I’m writing about here. I’m constantly thinking about this movie. It’s a 24/7, 365 days type of thing. This fucking film is entrenched in my every day existence to the point that I genuinely don’t think I’ve gone a day without thinking about it since the hyperfixation took hold over two years ago. In a way, Inception sort of got performed on me when I watched this. An idea got implanted, and it’s come to define me. Part of why I rewatched, I suppose, is because of all the work I’ve been putting into the Eames x Arthur fic I’ve been writing. It’s been a multi-month affair, and I recently finally hit roughly halfway through the behemoth of a story. As I’m sure you can tell, conciseness isn’t my strong suit. Never has been.

With that, I think I’ll start this analysis/essay/rambling with those two idiots. The Eames x Arthur ship (do we call it dreamhusbands? I like that even if it’s kinda corny) is what kickstarted my obsession with this film. It actually wasn’t my first watch that sent me into this never ending spiral. When I first saw it, I was sitting on my dad’s couch and was like “whoa cool movie.” Then, on a second watch, I thought, “whoa cool movie. Those two are definitely gay.” And here we are. I know any fan of this ship has picked apart every Eames-Arthur scene, considering they really don’t get a ton of screen time together. But I think I differ from a lot of the typical analysis of these two. I think a lot of people see them as scorned exes or something similar. I definitely get that lens, but I’ve personally never seen it that way. To me, they’re more so two people who have built up so much tension over time that they pretty much want to kill each other in the process of wanting to sleep together. Their conversations are all so flirty in a way I don’t think bitter exes would be. The fling theory works a little better for me, but I just don’t think two people who had already been together would act like this. There’s too much unknown, too much tension. That’s just my opinion, though. It’s hard to pick a favorite scene between the two of them, but lately it’s been the small one in the car. After the shooting and the chase, Arthur screams out to Eames asking if he’s alright. Eames is a little taken aback by the fear and urgency in Arthur’s voice, but he answers gently and assures him he’s okay. Meanwhile, poor Saito is bleeding out in the front seat actively. He’s probably wishing he got stuck with any other pairing of people. Arthur and Eames are too busy staring at each other to give a damn about anyone else. The two have an almost comical focus on each other throughout the movie. I genuinely don’t know why Christopher Nolan did that. I know a large part of it is how JGL and Tom Hardy chose to play the characters, but I mean, Nolan still wrote the scenes, right? He approved them. Did he know what he was doing?? Then why include the stupid Ariadne-Arthur kiss? I genuinely love Nolan’s work, but the thought of asking him about this makes me want to throw up. I feel like he’d call me an idiot. “How dare you turn my masterpiece into some gay love story?” Sorry, man, but that’s what my life has come to.

On that note, I do think it’s worthwhile to discuss this movie outside that focus. Despite my joking, I do think it’s a little reductive to boil this movie down to the queerness implied between two side characters. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s genuinely important to the movie and definitely very important to me, but there’s so much else about this movie that I’m itching to talk about. I typically find myself focusing on one character through a rewatch. The watch before this one, it was Ariadne. I wrote a lot about her in my letterboxd post. This time, it was actually a mix of Cobb and Saito. I know, wow, I focused partly on the main character, what a surprise. But Cobb actually is very rarely my focus when I watch this movie. He remains in the background a lot of the time to me, but this time, he caught my eye again. Mainly, his relationship with Saito. I did touch on this the last time I watched this, but it was only toward the end. This time, the full picture became clear. It is entirely fascinating to me that Saito becomes representative of Mal. It reminds me of how in Disco Elysium, Kim Kitsuragi in a way replaces Dora, Harry’s ex-wife. If you don’t know that game I guess that comparison is entirely unhelpful, but it helps me, my bad about that. Anyway, Saito becomes a way for Cobb to right his past wrongs. In Saito, he sees Mal. He sees the mistakes he made and seeks to correct them. A lot of the lines Saito says are lines Mal says as well. “A leap of faith.” Something Mal asked for, something Cobb couldn’t do. Something Saito then asks for, something Cobb becomes brave enough to complete. “This world is not real.” Something Cobb tells Mal, something that ruins Mal’s life. Something Cobb tells Saito, something that saves Saito’s life. Through Saito, Cobb can find the same catharsis that Robert is searching for. He can right the wrongs of his past. Like Robert’s catharsis, Cobb’s isn’t strictly “real.” But is there one reality? The movie tends to say “no.” So, in some world, both Robert and Cobb can heal their pains of the past. And isn’t that how life works? You can’t really right past wrongs. You can only decide that you have. I can be hurt by someone and forgive them for it. That doesn’t right what they’ve done, but it gives me peace. I think catharsis isn’t about fixing. It’s about release.

Robert is a heartbreaking character. Cillian Murphy plays him with such skill. I am forever haunted by his last scenes with his dying father. He’s in this quite frankly frightening room, a room that any sane person could tell you is not real. But it’s real to Robert because it has to be. He needs it to be. He finds that pinwheel in the safe and it’s not enough, but it almost is. It’s a chance. It’s a tiny piece of evidence that his father may have loved him. Despite years and years of evidence otherwise, if you were him, wouldn’t you believe it, too? Wouldn’t you want to believe that despite everything, your father did really love you? How would you ever be able to convince yourself that, “no, it was a fluke, that doesn’t mean anything.” That pinwheel fucking means something. It gives Robert hope. More than anything, he needs that. He cries by his father’s side and he’s finally, finally allowed to mourn him. He can clear the guilt in his heart created by all that anger. He doesn’t have to feel bad for his sadness nor his ambivalence.

“That guilt is always there, reminding me the truth.” Guilt is something that I think is incredibly difficult to dispel. I know that it unfortunately drives me. I wish it didn’t. I wish I was driven by love, or hope, or righteousness. But a lot of my motivation is guilt. I still feel guilty for things I did years and years ago, things that weren’t even my fault. Things I’ve apologized for, things I’ve attempted to make up for, wrongs I’ve (pointlessly?) tried to right. Guilt is so powerful because trying to dispel it requires something humans aren’t built to do: letting go. Love doesn’t take that. Sure, “if you love someone, let them go,” but you don’t have to lose love to let someone go. You can let someone go because you love them and still love them. But guilt? You have no choice but to let go, or it’ll eat you alive. You have to release, you have to let memories die, you have to do the one thing we’re taught to avoid and forget. Cobb has to leave Mal behind. He has to accept that he will forget her face, has to learn to live with the loss. The bravest thing we can do is stand strong in the face of time.

Cobb is a man out of time. He is constantly fighting against the clock, racing through the stages of his life over and over again. He has to change those memories, and yet he can’t. He traps himself in a paradox. You can’t beat time. You can’t go back, you can’t push far forward. Cobb has to accept that no matter how hard he tries, Mal is gone. How do you accept that? I sure as hell don’t know. I haven’t faced any major life deaths yet, but I’ve lost things. Lost people in ways other than death. Lost pieces of them. I still can’t accept it. I still remember them on their birthdays, still look for my dead cats on the windowsill, still think fondly of the past and long for it. Just like Cobb, I sometimes wish I could hop in an elevator and go back. Just to watch. To watch those memories, good and bad, and take them in with the knowledge I know now. Just to hold on to them a little longer. But we can’t. I can’t. I try to learn that with every rewatch. Maybe one day, it’ll take.

On a lighter, less outlandish and pretentiously philosophical note, I want to pivot and talk about Arthur a little. My beloved Arthur. I think Eames tends to be the fan favorite, and I definitely understand that. He’s funny, witty, and he’s Tom Hardy. There’s not much you can fault him for. But I don’t care, Arthur will always be my favorite. He’s more complex than he gets credit for. On the surface, he’s this no-nonsense, intelligent point man with a massive ego and a one-track mind. But I think there’s more to him. There’s a moment I always reflect on in this movie, and it’s when Arthur reveals to Ariadne that Mal has died. He gets so…quiet. So gentle. He almost struggles to get the words out. “She was lovely.” That haunts me. He becomes almost childlike. He’s spent the entire movie to this point being the “suave, smart teacher” dude. But this moment humanizes him. It shows us that he’s got a past, that Mal meant something to him, that he acts the way he does not because it’s who he is but because it’s who he has to be.

Arthur’s relationship with Cobb is another thing I get stuck on. I know that Arthur x Cobb is a ship but wow I do not see that at all. In fact, on this rewatch, I noticed a lot of animosity between them that I haven’t before. Cobb not wanting to tell Arthur the truth about Mal, Cobb telling Arthur blatantly “it’s every man for himself,” Cobb treating Arthur almost like he’s disposable. I’ve always seen it in my head that Arthur and Cobb have a long history of working together. I’ve even at times seen them as close friends. But who calls their close friend by his last name? It’s not a nickname, because Mal calls him Dom. It’s a professional courtesy. On this watch, I think I saw Arthur as stuck in some odd, mentor-mentee relationship with Cobb. Cobb taught him this world, maybe even introduced him to it, but won’t get any closer. He has to keep Arthur away to some capacity. I haven’t written them this way in most of my fics, mostly because I prefer the idea that this team could all be some big happy family. But in reality, I think Arthur’s constantly pulling at straws trying to figure Cobb out, but can never quite do it. I also like to pretend that Arthur and Mal were close before she died, but how he treats seeing her puts doubt on that. In the first dream sequence, he harshly says something like, “Why is she here?” If they had been close, I don’t know if he’d react that way. Maybe he was just in “job mode” and had to turn off his emotions. Or something like that. I’m rambling, I know I am, I should move on.

The conversation about this movie always goes back to that top. But I don’t really want to discuss that more than I already have. I believe it fell, but I understand why it’s more complicated than that. Either way, this movie is a happy ending. Cobb gets his family back. He’s able to believe in them. That’s what matters. I think a lot about this movie, particularly the little details that in all honesty don’t matter to anyone besides a desperate writer trying to make sense of how to create stories in this world. Luckily, the fic I’ve been writing is an AU, so I’ve been able to avoid a lot of the complications of the movie reality. But half of my notes today were me once again trying to figure out the idiosyncrasies of this world. Straight up, some of it just doesn’t make sense. But like I’ve always concluded, that doesn’t really matter to me. This world is magical and odd and full of an originality I don’t know we’ll ever see again on the big screen. A least, not for a long time. There’s just something special about Inception. It always calls to me like some sort of siren. I’m so attached to this world. The characters feel like friends to me. I’ve spent so long in their heads that I feel like they’ve become a part of me. I know that sounds crazy, and it is. I think I had more to say, but I’m starting to get delirious. All in all…fuck, I love this movie. More than anything. Arthur and Eames should’ve fucked at the end.

I’m kidding! (I’m not kidding)

#inception #eames #inception Arthur #arthur x eames #eames x Arthur #dreamhusbands #movie analysis #inception analysis #rambling #inception rambling #holy shit I should not have this much to say #everyone in this movie is so fine it’s actually a little maddening #I have most of Eames’ lines memorized #And a bunch more memorized #One day I’ll be able to quote this entire movie I know it #I know more about how they filmed the rotating hallway scenes than I know about the degree I’ve been working towards

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