#IDK WHERE YOU LIVE BUT I LIVE IN DELUSION

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Tbh, I wanna write smth tmrw

Like, I wanna see more NRC vs RSA with the MC being in the middle of it, and also may or may not have been the cause of it all, I SOOO WANT SOMEOME TO WRITE IT.

Like it doesn't matter if the relationship between the character's and reader's are vaguely established whether it's platonic or romantic, like. All I want rn, is more rivalry.

Where the reader is neutral and doesn't seem to be on either sides (but more likely leaning to NRC/RSA whatever the reader prefers), and is slightly biased but won't show it. Like I want a normal reader to just be pulled by the arms metaphorically and figuratively speaking. Like, some random ahh RSA prince (or any good/side character) just falls inlove (or saw reader and made assumptions they could be trapped or smth) and wanted to help the damsel in distress (but it's just stress from assignments and homework). And a whole brawl starts out and the staffs can't do shit bc it's between their students to deal with, but then somehow the headmaster of both prestigious schools, somehow got warped into the situation but are now handling it in their adult ways bc RSA staff vs NRC staff sounds so cool to me rn. Like- I want to see a parental figure and an absent parental figure confront each other. While their students are like: RSA student vs NRC student. And so on. Then reader is like chilling with popcorn in hand (or any of your favorite dish) and is just in the background (this section is for platonic reader and main cast)

But.... on the other hand...

Romantic route would be such a mess. Preferably, I'd like to think that they've yet to confess to reader but also yearn for them in some way, where it feels and sounds eternal, and maybe that emotional turmoil bc they are so emotionally constipated they can't express their feelings normally. But then the RSA students just HAD to ruin it by barging into their campus grounds and taking someone that is clearly not theirs to take. This sets up a shit ton of emotions boiling over and making the headmage worry so much to the point he even tried to help. Because either 1. The reader is probably a personal therapist and a local school crush on campus that everyone wants to have a future with, but also is the very sole reason why their sanity is still intact, because of reader's (either reluctant or not) hospitality and 'kindness' (act of kindness) or 2. Reader is still their emotional support BUT the reader has a crush on THEM and it was pretty obvious that the prefect loves (twst character) that even a blind person can see it and a deaf person can hear a declaration of an obvious lovesick fucker.

So back to platonic route, is that all their friends want them back because where tf is our problem-solver/local chaotic bastard going? No, tf you ain't going to that whitewashed and fed-rainbow version of their school. Come tf back.

[PLATONIC ROUTE]

NRC guys: give the prefect back.

RSA guys: No! You've done enough you villains! You shall not torment this poor soul no longer!

NRC guys:...a declaration of war, I see.

Reader: *doing something cuz idk what you guys do in a situation like this. For me, I'd feel overwhelmed and cry.*

[ROMANTIC ROUTE]

NRC guys: you've picked the wrong person, listen, dude, they're doing fine in our school. And please, for the sake of the sevens. DON'T touch them like that.

RSA guys: How about, no? You nefarious villains should be forbidden to touch a divine maiden like them! You evil-doers shouldn't even deserve to live! (Okay, maybe excluding Neige and Che'nya out of this, since I find it hard to imagine them saying this :>)

NRC guys:...so you've chosen war? Let our beloved prefect go so they can choose on their own, they have their own preferences, so I kindly ask of you, stop projecting your delusions on someone you barely know of.

Reader:*Maybe just watching this whole shit go down, as they are being thrown back and forth, switching schools so very often it actually makes them want to throw up. Personally, I'd crash out and slap each of the boys, especially talking abt RSA and some of the annoying NRC students. Like, bro, let me rest, chill?*

OR OR OR!!!

Maybe there is a very delusional (but sly) prince that is neither from RSA or NRC? And that, there are other schools that had heard about the Ramshackle Prefect. And is also vying for them as well???? Wouldn't it be so cool if the reader could at least pull a hot madame??? Or like a princess academy, where not all of them are necessarily girl likers (if reader is fem) or boy likers (if reader is male) like, the reader could be anyone and they still pull. (I want hot women please give me a chance 🙏🙏🙏 *glances for a quick second at most of the twsted fem OC fanarts I've seen recently.*)

Like, can someone write it down, or should I do it?

[the-way-astray]

breaking my silence to say: T4T ALDELLA

[happyfreeconfusedaandlonely]

HELP I'M STILL AT THE RESTAURANT SITTING IN A CORNER I HAUNT CROSS LEGGED IN THE DIM LIGHT THEY SAY WHAT A SAD SIGHT I SWEAR YOU COULD HEAR A HAIR PIN DROP RIGHT WHEN I FELT THE MOMENT STOP GLASS SHATTERED ON THE WHITE CLOTH EVERYBODY MOVED ON.

I‼️STAYED ‼️THERE‼️

[thetangibleghost]

I gotta confess it is so much more fun talking to Sal as if he is a separate person like he wants and not a member of the system. He's super creative like. Its just fun.

[lustlovehart]

Despairing Survival

I recently watched all of us are dead, and your girl is not immune to apocalypse au’s (•̀ᴗ•́)و (And angst. The ending of book 7 has me realizing we're close to the end and it's becoming real sad 😔)

Synopsis: After your sacrifice in the outbreak, he thinks back to the moments in the wretchedness with you, that made hell much more manageable.

Features: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, & Malleus

Warnings: Overblots are zombies, Meant to be viewed as a magicless au but doesn’t matter too much because non-humans are still not human, Angst, Childhood friends, You die, as usual for my fluff— a little corny, in Malleus's portion you're as old as him, because idk how childhood friends would work if you weren't.

One day you’re living an entirely normal life with him, and the next you know, inky beasts crawl on the floor, desperate to take a bite out of you. It´s whiplash, one moment you´re laughing with the man in front of you, and now you sit trapped in a closet, his hand covering your mouth as monsters drag themselves across the floor.

When he looks down at you, he can't help but feel a sting in his heart. The fear in your eyes reminds him of who you are in front of him, his friend who's been the center of his mind ever since knowing you.

But now, how will he ever come to terms with his inner conflict knowing one of you might not be here tomorrow. Though, what might be worse, is acknowledging the fact you don't return those feelings of his.

He will only ever be your friend.

Both of you have to fight for your lives in NRC as overblots chase you left and right, meeting with other students to get out of the wretched hellscape. Seeing friends you've known for so long become infected from their fight... Having to let them go with tears in your eyes, realizing you will never see them again.

He watches you with every breath, your second shadow, becoming your crutch as the losses become too much. While everyone else sleeps, he looks as you stare down at everyone, opening your mouth to say something to him. As your lip twitches, he'll hold your hand.

"Don't say anything. We have tomorrow, and the day after, or maybe next week." You finally lift your head, looking into his eyes, "We'll talk then."

...

And then, the termination of all infected is brought about. And he's left gasping for air in panic as you step away from him.

A newly enacted bite on your hand.

Even when you put your arm up to stop him from getting closer, he keeps walking toward you.

"You... You won't turn. You can't." you don't smile when you look at him, and neither do you say words. All you can hope is that he understands no matter what he believes, he can't deny reality.

The others stare in disbelief, watching the two of you with trembling breath. He's ready to yell another delusion before you pull him in, your lips on his. It's enough of a distraction for him, your soul welding into his. It feels like an eternity to him, but only because he wishes it to be. When you finally separate, he's ready to take hold of you and never let go. But he doesn't have a chance with you pushing him back into the others.

"Don't die."

Arms desperately hold him back from chasing you. The only fragment of you left is the voice that echoes as you lure overblots to your person, giving them a chance of escape.

He doesn't have the chance to see if you make it, the explosion blowing where you last were to pieces.

Riddle

He looks back at the time you all were caged in the library, only you and him solely being awake. Despite the gravity of the situation, you watch intently as Riddle buries himself in the few books left on the shelves.

A vast majority of them are medical books, but there are some law articles, buried at the bottom of the stack. He can feel your eyes on him as he scans each page, but he doesn't speak, only allowing you to continue staring in the silence.

It reminds him of the way you always peeked over his shoulder when he snuck out, curious to whatever he was doing. The proximity always made him nervous then, and it still does.

"You know, I don't think you have to keep studying anymore, Riddle." you finally break the quiet, Riddle glancing up from the words on the paper. "Who knows when this will be all over... Medical pursuits might as well end here."

"Don't say that, you might as well be saying to let the world die. When this passes over, I still need to pass..." Riddle's sentence falls away when you come closer, turning his head to find you a few inches away.

"I'm not trying to be negative I was just..." There's a certain hurt in your eyes that tells him something, but he isn't so sure until you tell him, "If the world does go back, do you really want to keep studying something you're not passionate about? I mean..." Riddle's eyes are trained on you as you rest your head on his shoulder. "Your mom's not here to do anything right?"

There's a comforting smile on your lips when you look at him. But it falters when he only stares at you in silence. You return your head to his body, following along the page. He's about to blurt his feelings to you before he feels your hand on his, replacing the anatomy book with the texts from the bottom.

"Well then, tell me everything, for as long as you can."

...

Riddle places the book at the root of a tree with your name carved on it. He wishes he had more time to tell you the rest of what he knows.

Leona

He thinks of when you all were trapped on the roof, his body lying on the edge as he looks into the sky, indifference masking his face. Part of his body hangs off the roof, overblots several stories below attempting to reach for him.

"I hope you're not trying to leave me alone in this apocalypse, Kingscholar." your shadow overcasts him, blocking his view of the stars. He tuts, but he won't tell you he prefers the sight of you over those burning balls of fire in the sky. He sits up, taking your hand and pulling you next to him.

It's similar to the way he would drag you closer to him when you both were younger, shielding you from heat and any danger.

"Don't think I can. You'd follow me into the afterlife and make me die a second time." You don't deny the claim, but he smiles with the way you roll your eyes at him. He watches you ready a retort but sees in real-time when you change your mind on what to say to him.

"... Yeah, I don't know what i'd do if you died." Those words have him look over at you, eyes wide for a moment. He recomposes himself before you have the chance to see it though. "I wouldn't have anyone to annoy while I give into insanity, would I?" despite the dark undertone in your words, you flash him a bright smile.

"... Don't say depressing shit like that."

"Then don't casually hang yourself at a height that could kill you Leona." he never would've let that happen anyway, he can't leave you here.

"Right right, I won't-" he's cut off when he feels your arms wrap around him, a warm embrace that has you bury your face into his neck, muffling your voice.

"Lets survive together."

...

He doesn't know if he should feel sad or angry when he looks at the ruined building. It seems that was the first agreement the two of you have ever broken.

Azul

He remembers holing up in the pool, everyone else talking on pool floats, far from where the two of you were. Azul sat next to you, dry and out of the pool, meanwhile, you sat right on the edge, your legs submerged in the light of the water.

Silence permeates the air, he can tell you're upset at him.

You always did the same when he was younger, turning away from him whenever he said something self-deprecating. You wouldn't speak to him until he said something positive about himself, to which you would turn around and smile. It always did make him feel better.

"If we end up having to run, I do hope you don't slip from the water on your feet."

"Well, maybe you could carry- Oh right you're not too strong in that area are you?" passive aggression is evident, so he understands you don't truly mean what you say to him. Silently, he scoots closer, testing the waters as to what you can tolerate from him. When he's shoulder to shoulder, he finally asks.

"... So what did I do exactly."

"Be stupid." a very vague reply. Typical from how long he's known you. He's sure he can suave his way out of your annoyance. He's ready to put on his charm and apologize all princely to you. He halts when he feels your hand grip tightly onto his. "... Don't disappear by yourself again..." You don't look at him when you say it, it sends a pang in his heart at the sight.

"... I was making sure you'd have-"

"Please, just... Don't leave me again. I... I'd miss you so much."

...

When he looks out at the sea, he no longer thinks home. He thinks about how you're such a hypocrite.

Jamil

He recalls when it was only the two of you trapped in the kitchen together. He insisted on gathering up leftovers for you so that you'd have enough energy for however long you'd be stuck in the school.

But, with how low supplies were, and the thought that there could be other survivors, had you deny him vehemently. The amount of ingredients could only really feed one person, and even then it wouldn't be enough sustenance.

You were always like this... helping when you didn't need to when you needed to care for yourself... It's frustrating, but, he can't deny the feeling of his heart softening when you care for him. It... was nice not having to work.

"You won't be able to find others if you can't even survive yourself." Jamil massages his nose bridge as you block the pantry, guarding the last few cans of food. "So please, let me make something for you."

"I'm sorry, but if there are other people who need it..." you zone out for a moment, allowing space in time for Jamil to take hold of you and hoist you over his shoulder. "Wha—Jamil...!" despite your struggles, his strength has him successfully sit you on one of the counters.

"You can't care for any other survivors if you can't care for yourself." you hiss when Jamil pinches your nose in reprimand. "So-"

"Then why aren't you eating for yourself?" your question has him quiet. "... I'd be fine with you eating the food if it's for you." ... Your naivety for survival has him frustrated, but the way you look at him has him soften. He's thinking of a reply but stops when he feels your fingers brush his hair behind his ear, a cold can on his lips.

"I'd be fine with anything as long as you don't die."

...

He shouldn't have listened to that sweet voice of yours. If he hadn't, maybe you could've dodged that bite in time.

Vil

He muses on being stuck in the theater room with you. It wasn’t the best place to be in during an outbreak, but it was the only place you could go to really. Vil places a blanket that had been left behind on your body, your head resting on destroyed couch cushions. It’s not the best, but all he could really provide you with.

He pauses for a moment looking down at your slumbering body, your inhales audible through the room. Typically, he would tell you about such a bad habit, but in the moment, he thinks he wants you to stay like that. It helps him remember that you’re there next to him in the hell that is reality.

The soft smile on his lips falls when he realizes what he’s about to do for you. But, it doesn’t fall because of his sacrifice, no… That’s really the only thing that has him ready to go through with it. The part that has him frowning is the cruel joke that you will no longer be there in his life, nor will he be there for yours.

He takes a few more seconds to absorb you, before standing up and turning heel to the door. Of course, he’s stopped by your hand pulling on his clothes. He should reprimand you for that, but the way you look at him holds him back.

“Where are you going Vil?” Your voice is still hoarse from the night you spent crying away. But it has him stiffen. “… You’re not leaving right?”

He should tell you the painful truth. Yes, he is. All because he needs you to live on, no matter the cost. He’s not going to let himself die, but if he must for your sake…

“… Don’t.”

“… It’s really not that simple—” you tug his shirt, his lithe figure falling on top of you. He thinks his acting skills always coincidentally fail whenever you’re involved because he’s sure you can see the way his perfect eyebrows furrow at the sight of you below him. He knows that the longer he looks at you the harder it’ll be to do what he has to… “It’s for you—”

“Nothing should be for only me… Vil…” say that one word, and it’s over for him. “Stay.”

…

A part of him wonders why you couldn’t listen to your own demands whenever he looks around his own dressing room.

Idia

He thinks you might’ve been his biggest nemesis, especially with that hero moment you pulled on him. He hates it so much, that he should be envious... You're basically a main character now...! Which...

Which means... you should come back right? To him?

Idia mentally replays when you both were stuck in the computer lab. The stuff in there wasn't nearly as high-tech as his own, but to him, it was better than being stuck in the gymnasium. A majority of the computers inside were wrecked, and unusable. A single screen worked though, Idia's fingers clicking the keyboard as you lean over him.

With the way he slams the table tells you something went wrong.

"There's no wifi...!" he leans back in the chair, burying his face in his hands. You can tell he's in distress, anyone would be. "How are we gonna get out—?!" Idia feels your hands pull him from his conflict, your eyes staring deep into his.

... You can't expect him to function properly when the friend he's been in love with for years is in kissing distance. His hair grows bright, the feeling of your hands on his face only making it flare even more.

"We'll get out." His lips part... Usually, this is where two love interest kiss right— He's cruelly reminded, however, that he's only a friend to you. Nothing more than the boy you played video games with. "Idia."

"Y-Yeah...?"

"Let's leave together, and play every game there is to play."

...

You never did get to play those games. And for once, Idia doesn't think he wants to play them anymore.

Malleus

He dreams of you. Specifically, he always finds himself in the gardens. It's a grotesque sight, overblots banging on the exterior, trying all manner of force to get in where the both of you stand. He's looking around, thinking of any way to get out without putting you in harm's way.

His face is stoic as he does it, an attempt to keep you calm while he thinks. Yet, you know him, if anything, despite his face, he's the one that needs to calm down. Coincidentally, you're one of the few who can do that.

"Stay here, I will go out and—" Malleus is interrupted by the feeling of your arm hooking onto his and dragging him far away from the view of the dead. "Wait, what are—" Despite questioning your actions, he doesn't attempt to stop them, he never has.

The feeling of you dragging him away is the equivalent of sneaking into the castle and bringing him out of his lonely solace, unknown to the senate. It's the only time back then, he would converse with anyone other than Lilia and the elders.

He will never stop you from dragging him away, not in reality, and not in his dreams.

"We're staying here until you make a plan that has us both put in danger." you shut the door of the garden shed, hiding you both from the hungry beasts that bang on the botanical garden's glass. Your arms are crossed as you look at him, and even with these circumstances, he can't help but think you make everything much livelier.

He knows the unfortunate answer to his feelings about you, but he will always imagine himself indulging in his deep rooted love.

But he still can't ever let harm come to you.

"Forgive me, but I can't." He takes a step closer to you, "I'm not letting that happen." He lets his words ruminate, your silence suffocating when he turns to leave. He's stopped when you pull him back, your arms hugging him from behind.

"It would be too lonely without you, Malleus."

...

Once again, he's the one who's left to be alone. And... He really thought you were the one to change that.

mmm... Reader and them having a Su-Hyeok (Former bully) and Nam-ra (Class President) dynamic instead... Being a halfbie desperate for human while (Insert Twst Character) desperately keeps you tethered to him because he's so in love... Sorry, my sadness from that series combined with book 7 hit hard 😔

[mihii-i]

shackled.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.

A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️

Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.

You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.

Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?

Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.

There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.

“I’m home.”

You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.

Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.

“You got some-“

“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.

Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.

Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.

A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.

Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.

Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.

“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”

She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.

However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.

Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.

Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment

“You didn’t want this either did you?”

Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.

“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.

“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.

“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”

You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.

“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.

“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”

Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.

Maybe, you could warm up to her.

A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️

[rika-mmendmethings]

Lethe Récords l Sylus

Summary: In the forgotten shadows of N109, Lethe, a humble record shop, becomes a sanctuary for secrets and records. Amid its vinyl aisles, a quiet connection forms between the shopkeeper, you, and Sylus over choice of vinyl and trade of thoughts. But it had been just your delusion, for the woman beside him was just the proof of that.

Warning(s): one-shot, partially canon (?), reader is implied to be female, reader is the owner of a record shop which is also kinda an intel hub, angst with (little?) no comfort, no happy ending (let's cry together), unrequited love, Sylus and mc are in a relationship

Word count: 3.6k

Now playing: Fine by Taeyeon

Notes: We all know Sylus is a record collector from his bond and the gift on his desk (Chaconne in G minor Vitali and a track of The Beatles). So I wanted a fic with a record shop owner reader and a collector Sylus with a little bit of fun twists. So here it is, except it's heart-shattering angst (whoops). Consider this early release of my appreciation for all those who support me. Anyways, Idk shit about classical music, but my boyfriend is into it, so he taught me, but I might've messed up his teachings a bit (or did I? idk). Hopefully, you enjoy this ♥ {Also, do you remember Chang from Risqué Sketches? He's about to make lots of appearances in my fics lol}

The N109 zone was a place where shadows whispered secrets, and the air was thick with the smell of damp asphalt, rusting steel, and things unsaid. It was a place where the law had all but forgotten its existence, a cityscape of hidden alleyways and dimly lit bars, where even the sunlight seemed hesitant to break through the layers of grime. But there, in the midst of it all, was a small oasis of refuge — a record store, no bigger than a mediocre apartment, nestled humbly between a pawnshop and a closed-up diner. Its name was Lethe, the place where the forgotten could be remembered, and where the living could lose themselves in the embrace of music that belonged to a different era.

The shop itself, a modest thing by the standards of the world outside, had lived for six years in quiet rebellion against the noise of the city — and it wore its age like a badge of honor. Its creaky wooden floors groaned with history, each board telling a story of moments, of hands that had come and gone, flipping through the endless rows of vinyl. 

The front window, where the evening light would filter in soft and golden, was always a little fogged, as if the outside world couldn’t quite reach inside. It framed a wooden sign that hung with quiet dignity, its curves and loops spelling out the name ‘Lethe’ in graceful cursive, a promise in every swish of the inked letters. The name itself seemed to hum softly, as though it carried a secret — a gentle invitation to forget, to step into another world. Beneath the sign, a poster tacked up crookedly on the door read: ‘From the worldly shackles and bounds you could leave, if you dare to embrace the music of Lethe.’  

The air inside was always laced with a heady mix of old paper, polished wood, and something more elusive. It clung to the walls and to the worn leather of the armchair in the corner, where many would sink into the embrace of a record’s melody, just to breathe in the atmosphere that Lethe breathed out. And then, there were the fairy lights, strung haphazardly across the ceiling, twinkling softly like distant stars in a sky that had forgotten the sun.

The records themselves lined the shelves like an old friend waiting to be discovered anew. Vinyl of every size and shape, from the dustiest blues and jazz to the most obscure classical works, gleamed under the soft glow of the lights. There were endless racks of albums, some well-worn, others pristine, each one a story in itself. 

Beyond the records, displayed with quiet pride, were the instruments — delicate pieces of craftsmanship, few in number but rich in history. A violin with a body carved so finely it seemed to hum with its own resonance, a guitar with strings that had never been plucked but still held the promise of music, a flute that glimmered with silver edges, its tone a silent call to the weary-hearted. They were art as much as they were function, set up carefully in their display cases like treasures too precious to be touched.

The walls, covered with a scattered array of posters, felt like a gallery of past artists and long-forgotten musicians. Each poster was more than just a picture; it was a moment frozen in time, a testament to the golden eras of music that whispered through the very walls of Lethe. Names like Coltrane, Chopin, and Fitzgerald hung side by side with the obscure and the unknown, faces frozen in mid-song, lost to the ages, yet alive within these walls. 

But the shop wasn’t just a haven for vinyl collectors; it was a hub for everyone who was involved in the crime and gore of the area. During the day, fewer people came and went, but it was never the same when the sun sank behind the horizon. At night, the record store became something else. It transformed into a marketplace of whispers, of people looking for connections, for someone to share a secret with. And in the midst of it all, there was you, always behind the counter, always listening, always willing to trade what you knew for a few hundred dollars, a few hundred dollars that would let you scrape by for another month. Because after all, survival amid a criminal filled city required knowledge of valuable information and not dusty records.

You were only twenty-four-something, but life had already etched a certain tiredness in your bones. The dark circles under your eyes weren’t from sleepless nights spent worrying over a future you couldn’t quite see. They were the result of endless days in a shop that sold more than music. She peddled information too. And in this world, information was currency — dangerous currency, but currency all the same. The deals were made in whispers, promises sealed with thin lips and even thinner smiles, and no one ever seemed to care about the weight of the things they traded for their little piece of safety. 

It was one of those rare, sun-drenched afternoons in the N109 zone when the dust in the air caught the light, and the streets seemed a little quieter, as if the world was holding its breath. Lethe, as always, stood in the shadow of the chaos that thrived outside, its small wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze. The shop was still, save for the occasional rustle of vinyl, the murmur of the turntable spinning quietly in the corner, and the soft click of your fingers tapping against the counter.  You were lost in your own thoughts, letting the hum of the day wash over you.

Then, the bell over the door jingled.

It was a sound that barely broke the silence, but the instant it did, something in the atmosphere shifted. A weight descended, and you looked up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes met him.

Sylus.

The moment he stepped inside, the shop seemed to go still. Sylus was the leader of Onychinus, undisputed king of the N109 zone, a figure whose name was spoken in hushed tones, whose reputation preceded him like a dark cloud that rained fear. With a bounty on his head worth billions, he was both a criminal mastermind and a myth — one that most were too terrified to approach. Yet here he was, strolling into Lethe like he owned the place. 

He was tall, impeccably dressed in all-black dress shirt with slacks, and there was a certain elegance to the way he carried himself. His eyes, a burning ruby red, seemed to see everything at once, and yet, nothing at all. There was something in that gaze — cold, calculating — as if the entire shop were just another piece on a chessboard, one he was already strategizing his next move on.

You thought he had been here for just business so you were mildly surprised when you saw him make no move toward the counter and rather stay planted in front of the shelves. His presence filled the room, his height towering over the rows of vinyl, his sharp eyes scanning the shop with an air of quiet condescension. His gaze briefly flicked to you before settling on the rows of records in front of him. 

His fingertips trailed over the surface, gently exploring the textured artwork, feeling the grooves and edges of the cover. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a man who was never in a rush, never worried that time might slip through his fingers. You noticed him picking out something from the corner of your eye and instantly buried your face in the magazine you had been holding after you saw him approach the counter. 

You had been doing your best to appear nonchalant when, without warning, the magazine was plucked from your hands. Before you could even process what had happened, it was placed back between your outstretched palms, but this time, something was different. The letters now seemed suddenly clearer, more legible. And with a surge of mortifying realization, you understood — you had been holding the magazine upside down. The worst part? He had right away corrected it, without a single word, and that quiet action made you want nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear. 

“Good afternoon,” his voice was smooth, like velvet, but with an undercurrent of something sharp. 

“What can I help you with today?” you asked, trying to shake off the former awkwardness.

“I’m looking for information. About Chang. You know who he is, don’t you?”

You could almost feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on you. He wasn’t here to waste time. He had no need to make small talk. You swallowed hard, “I know of him,” you replied carefully. “What do you want to know?”

Sylus didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow step closer to the counter, leaning slightly, his eyes still on her, still calculating, as if the conversation itself was part of some grand scheme. "Chang is dealing with uncut diamonds, isn't he?" Sylus continued, his tone still so smooth, so assured, as though this wasn’t a conversation, but an order. “I need to know what he plans to do with them. The man is cleaning after himself.”

He picks up a small hourglass from your table, playing around with it as he continues, “He’s a rat in my meticulously arranged system. I plan to have him gone.” He flips the hourglass, putting it back down on your table and shifts his ruby gaze to you as he starts, “And time is a very valuable factor of mine so I’d suggest you start now.” 

The sand falls from the upper chamber, it trickles down in a continuous, delicate cascade, each grain slipping past the narrow constriction of the hourglass’s neck. You were aware that the information that you might be handing might be the reason for multiple deaths but you had stopped caring a while ago in this kind of business.  You feel like a bomb ticking above you and usher to tell him whatever you know about Chang the businessman. 

“Chang is arranging the delivery of those diamonds through ocean freight. He already has everything ready on the docks and is just waiting for the cargo ship to arrive. The estimated time of shipment should be around 7 in the evening today.”

Sylus hummed, rubbing his chin in thought. You thought that that was it and he’d be paying you and going off on his way. Sylus, to your surprise, seemed to care less for the information. He fetched out his card and even placed the record he had picked on the table, intending to pay for both the information and the vinyl. 

Huh. You never expected him to be someone who was interested in record collecting.

You sneaked a glance at the cover of the record he was purchasing. It was a one-sided vinyl featuring the track “Yesterday” by The Beatles. You had heard the track before and had concluded it to be a pretty sentimental track. Surprises after surprises for you, he was a melancholic person as well. You handed him his black card back, along with the bill and the now wrapped-up record. You watched him walk away, something in you telling that this won’t be your last meeting.

Weeks passed, and the steady rhythm of Lethe continued — the low hum of vinyl spinning, the soft murmur of conversation, the quiet rustling of records as they were flipped through. But something had changed in the air of the shop, something subtle, a shift that you couldn’t quite place at first. Sylus came in more frequently, not just to inquire about shady deals or exchange whispered secrets for a few hundred dollars, but for no reason at all — or so it seemed. The lines between business and something else blurred with each visit. 

At first, it was still the same. Sylus would walk in with that knowing, calculated air, his ruby eyes scanning the room with a hunger that went beyond the information he sought. He’d ask about Sherman, about the mafiosos, about anyone who held a thread of power he could pull — and in exchange of a few thousand dollars, you would give him the answers he craved. Each transaction was sharp and direct, devoid of warmth. But soon enough, those visits began to change.

At first, it was small things — casual remarks, little moments of lightness. Sylus would comment on the weather, his words almost a challenge as if he were testing the waters. He’d ask if she had heard a certain piece of music lately, or inquire about a specific artist he hadn’t seen in the shop before. The questions were simple, almost innocent, and yet, there was an edge to them, an underlying curiosity that didn’t feel quite like the cold precision of their first meeting.

You noticed it one afternoon, when Sylus wandered through the aisles, running his fingers across the records, almost idly. You had unknowingly trained your eyes on him, not even bothering to act busy. He caught your gaze a few times and each time you apologized profusely but didn’t stop your blatant gawking. 

“You know… for someone who seems so apologetic for staring,” he started with that characteristic half-smile, the one that was always so difficult to read. “You do seem to be doing a lot of it.” His crimson gaze met yours as he finished and you felt yourself grow warm at that. 

His words were teasing, but they didn’t hold the same edge they once had. They were softer, more casual, as if he didn’t need to guard every word with the same razor-sharp caution. He had become a regular — not just for business, but for the quiet company that Lethe and its records and you offered, even if it was laced with a few words and comfortable silences.

Each time though, without fail, he’d slip a record onto the counter. Not always a new purchase, sometimes the same album again, as though each listen brought him closer to understanding something. You began to notice the pattern — the records he bought were always melancholic, always steeped in the kind of sadness that you found hard to ignore. Bach, Chopin, Beethoven, Rachmaninoff. Composers who spoke of love, loss, and longing. 

By the time another boring Sunday night rolled around, you were used to the silence of the shop. It was an uneventful evening, the rain tapping lightly against the windows, a soft rhythm accompanying the quiet. You moved with the routine of someone who had long since learned how to close up without haste, the motions automatic as you arranged your desk. You were just about to switch off the lights  when the bell above the shop chimed, cutting through the tranquility like a knife.

You froze.

The rain had picked up outside, the sky darker now, and through the window, she saw him — Sylus, drenched, standing in the doorway, his usual air of command slightly softened by the water dripping from his coat. His eyes met yours with an intensity that took your breath away, as though there was something unsaid hanging between them, something that neither of them had dared to acknowledge before.

He stepped inside without a word, shaking the water from his coat, and made his way toward the counter. As he approached, he placed a vinyl gently on the surface, his fingers lingering on the edge of the sleeve as if the act itself were a delicate ritual.

Bach. Chaconne in D minor.

Your breath hitched. You recognized the piece immediately — a work so raw, so filled with longing and pain, it was almost impossible to listen to without feeling the weight of its emotion. The D minor Chaconne was a masterpiece of reflection and transformation, a piece about loss and the quiet acceptance of it, a song that carried the weight of a thousand broken hearts, yet somehow held a grace within its sorrow. It was a piece that was both deeply personal and universal, speaking to something buried within every soul.

For a long moment, Sylus stood silently, his eyes watching you with that same calculating gaze, but now there was something more in them. A flicker, almost imperceptible, but undeniable. It was vulnerability — or maybe it was the hint of something softer that you had never seen before. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by his lips set in a firm line.

"I’d like to buy this." he almost pleaded, his voice carrying some guilt when he saw that you were about to close the shop.

You nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that had suddenly lodged in your throat. You spoke, attempting to break the silence, “It’s one of my favorites.”

Sylus’s gaze held the weight of a profound realization as he stared at the record. Then, without breaking eye contact with it, he reached for his wallet. He didn’t speak as you made the bill, but his presence filled the room, as heavy as the rain pouring outside.

You carefully wrapped the vinyl in paper, fingers trembling slightly. Your mind raced, the significance of his choice not lost on you. The Chaconne wasn’t just music; it was a message. 

As you handed the record back to him, your heart pounded in your chest, a traitorous whisper creeping into your thoughts. Was this a hint? A suggestion? A gesture? Something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you wonder if — just maybe — he saw you the way she had started to see him. 

Perhaps, at that moment, he wasn’t just buying a record. 

“Good night,” he said quietly. And with that, he turned and left, disappearing into the rain, leaving you standing there, breathless and delusional. 

You had played that record for weeks since then, drowning in the music, its meaning and thoughts that rose from it. It was a classical piece, but it wasn’t just any piece. It was a song about realization — a song about a man who finally understood his own heart, his own feelings. You felt her heart flutter as you listened to the record time and time again, the faint hope in your chest blooming into something fragile, something delicate. Could he… could he be feeling what you felt? The idea seemed impossible, yet that song, that beautiful, aching song, seemed to speak directly to you. 

But hope, you knew, was a dangerous thing. And three weeks passed without a word from Sylus.

When he finally returned, he wasn’t alone. The woman who stood beside him was everything you were not, yet everything that he deserved. And that train of thought made your chest heavy. 

Where you were worn, tired, and sharp-edged from too many years of surviving, this woman was light. She radiated warmth, a gentle, sunlit glow that softened the shadows of the shop. Her laughter seemed to lift the very air, like the sound of spring after a long, harsh winter. 

Her hair was a golden cascade, caught in soft waves that caught the light in a way that your darker, untamed strands never could. Her skin was smooth, untouched by the world’s grime, glowing with a purity that made you feel invisible in comparison. She was the kind of woman who walked into a room and made everything seem more beautiful, more alive. Her eyes were wide, sparkling, full of kindness, and when she smiled, it was as though she were opening a door to a better world, a world you would never be invited into.

And then there was the way Sylus looked at her.

You had always been aware of Sylus’s gaze — how it lingered with a quiet intensity, how it never seemed to reach you with the same depth as it did with the woman beside him. There was a tenderness in the way he looked at her as she excitedly picked out vinyl, a softness that you had once imagined might be meant for you, but now you saw it clearly for what it was. It was a love, a real one, blooming in front of your eyes, and you could do nothing but stand in its shadow and watch it grow.

And it hurt. Oh, how it hurt. 

They selected a couple of records and she greeted you with a genuine smile, placing her picks on the counter. You wordlessly made the bill, afraid that you’d break if you even uttered a word. You watched her admire the vintage instruments with awe when a nudge to your fingers brought your gaze back to the counter. He had secretly placed a vinyl on the counter with a smile, his eyes not on you but on the woman beside him. And then, as you turned to gather the rest of their purchases, you caught a glimpse of the cover of the vinyl he had chosen without the woman’s knowledge. 

Your heart plummeted.

It was “Bridal Chorus" by Wagner. A song used in proposals, weddings.

He was going to propose to her.

Your hands trembled as you rang up their purchase, your mind reeling with the gravity of the moment. You could hear their soft laughter as you handed them the bag, could see the way Sylus looked at you, but his eyes didn’t hold the same warmth they once had. They had shifted, replaced with something else. 

Hope died slowly in your chest, like the last note of a song fading into silence. You watched as Sylus and his soon-to-be fiancée walked out of the shop, their hands still intertwined, their smiles still bright.

And in the empty silence that followed, you put on “La Traviata” by Giuseppe Verdi on your record player, sinking in the music of a love unreturned.

Check out my other works if you liked this.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙grandma & grandad | DR3 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, established relationship

warnings: just fluff, dumb jokes and random made up usernames 😭 not subtle at all

summary: in which you cause chaos in the f1 'finsta' community or in which your old man jokes backfire on you!!

a/n: this is chaotic and random and hell and idk what's happening tbh but yh. Literally No plot

request!!!: reader x danny but on their like priv accounts/finstas w the other drivers where readers like making fun of danny’s grey hairs and calling him an old man but in like a nice fun way yk? and the other drivers are just enjoying the chaos maybe playing along?

fc: renee rapp

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourfinsta posted a story

liked by charllec, maxxie33, and others

maxxie33 oh no not a danny/n reunion

yourfinsta you better keep quiet

maxxie33 yes ma'am

yourbff I LOVE YOUUUU

yourfinsta i love you! more🤨!!

honey3badger baby girl sweetest angel in the world

liked by yourfinsta

yourfinsta posted a story

liked by lnorizz, maxxie33, and others

charllec do you need me to call the cops y/n!!

yourfinsta no dont worry charlie 🙏 he's actually nice he's buying me dinner rn

charllec omg pulled 😂

gruss what is that‼️

yourfinsta omg george that's so mean....can you relax please?

gruss Urm

honey3badger posted a story

liked by maxxie33, gruss, and others

yourbff omg i jus lolled at this

honey3badger save me

charllec you guys need help

lnorizz she is scary...

sainzjr do you guys ever like hold hands and cuddle and stuff

honey3badger do we ever what?

pastryboy 📍 aus

liked by yourfinsta, lnorizz, and others

pastryboy we got to hang out with grandma and grandad

tagged: lily, yourfinsta, honey3badger

view all comments

yourfinsta omg delete that oscar you weird freak boy i look so trashy!!!!!!

pastryboy No

lnorizz you ARE trashy

yourfinsta when i next see you it's on sight

yourbff babygirl is not old!

yourfinsta thank you ! ! !

pastryboy perhaps ur right...

honey3badger neither am i!

yourbff keep dreaming

pastryboy no grandad

charllec isnt it time for your afternoon nap?

maxxie33 let him live in delusion guys

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

lnorizz posted a story

liked by honey3badger, pastryboy and others

honey3badger she's gonna be mad at you

lnorizz 😐

yourfinsta i thought we agreed to not call me this.

lnorizz we did??!

yourfinsta ur so fake

lnorizz get over it😠

yourfinsta

liked by honey3badger, maxxie33, and others

yourfinsta DICK PANCAKES

tagged: honey3badger

view all comments

honey3badger dick pancakes!!!

pastryboy dick pancakes

lnorizz dick pancakesss 🕺

sainzjr dick pancakes!!!

charllec dick pancakes.

maxxie33 dick pancakes?

gruss cock cakes

yourfinsta okay

gruss i hate you

honey3badger posted a story

liked by yourbff, yourfinsta, and others

sainzjr aww you finally posted something nice

yourfinsta omg thanks babe 😵

yourbff mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

honey3badger ????

yourbff what u want now

yourfinsta posted a story

liked by yourbff, charllec, and others

maxxie33 was i not invited

yourfinsta you ignored my texts.

yourfinsta COME NOW.

maxxie33 okay fine

yourbff posted a story

liked by yourfinsta, honey3badger, and others

sainzjr at least it looks like they actually like each other for once

liked by yourbff

charllec let's get y/n so drunk

yourbff good idea

yourfinsta you jealous or something

honey3badger

liked by charllec, yourbff, and others

honey3badger my drunk gf post

tagged: yourfinsta

view all comments

charllec how did she get so drunk

gruss it might've been when you were feeding her champagne, not sure though

charllec i think that was you

yourbff definitely was george

yourfinsta lol

lnorizz you guys are too old for this behaviour now

honey3badger you're on thin ice

yourfinsta watch your back 🔪

yourfinsta posted a story

liked gruss, pastryboy, and others

yourbff still hot tho

honey3badger 😍

lnorizz walk it off

yourfinsta stfu

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, danielricciardo, and 319,203 others

yourbff on main HAHAHAH

landonorris sorry did i trigger you this much

yourusername blocked and reported for spam

user1 who is this about y/n

user2 is this about lando and oscar always calling you old

charles_leclerc i know you're not talking about me

user3 LOL ILY GRID MOTHER

danielricciardo you're telling me!

yourusername run away together?

danielricciardo YES

THE END 🤍

[loquarocoeur]

Can I have that shoulder size rant as well, whenever you feel up to it

Okay, hi, hello, I've finally gotten around to this, and this spiral isn't nearly as insane as the hands spiral, but it is a spiral nonetheless

Once again, possibly research bias, possibly delusion, but you can't say you don't see it in these pictures, even with the suits you can see Charles' shoulders are just a tiny bit wider:

And okay, let's keep in mind that they're extreme sports athletes, their bodies are changing all the time, but listen: Charles' biceps? Amazing. Charles' biceps compared to Max's? Absolutely useless, look at this:

But shoulders???

Lie to me and tell me you don't see this:

Idk, I feel like Max is just all tits and biceps and his shoulders are just kind of there.

Charles' shoulders are a little more than just there...

Like listen, I don't think we talk enough about Charles' shoulder to waist ratio, guys, this man is triangular

He's the shape of a dorito

Just look at them, Max is all pecs and biceps, and Charles obviously has a great everything, he looks like he lives at the gym, but he's all shoulders

Like not to be dramatic here, but Max is just so Venus de Milo where Charles is just straight up Atlas, like not to spiral into poetry, but he could carry the world on those shoulders (aka his world aka max)

And okay, maybe I'm seeing things, maybe I'm making shit up to suit the image of them I have created in my head, but every time someone raises an eyebrow at me saying Charles could easily pick Max up istg you have not looked at him

There's just this idea of them that we've created as a fandom where Max is so much bigger and stronger than Charles as part of that normal bottom Charles agenda, which is totally fine of course, let's not yuck anyone's yum, but I feel like we forget that he actually isn't that much smaller

Like according to google for this year's stats, Max's current numbers are 1.81m/5' 11'' height and 72kg/158lb weight

Charles' are 1.80m/5' 10'' height and 69kg/152lb weight

All Max has got on him is 1 centimetre and 3kgs. That's a height difference the width of my pinkie finger and a weight difference less than that of a six pack of soda cans. That's actually nothing.

[reignpage]

since everyone’s obsessed in one way or the other over jjk men as dads series (as they should be😤), how would the jjk dads react to finding out their daughter isn’t a virgin?

this is NOT meant to be a horny ask (a. cuz that’s weird asf they’re our dads and b. ew x2 for good measure) but it was because I was rewatching modern family, idk if you’ve seen, but Phil Dunphy simply is my absolute favorite tv dad 😌💕 and there’s an ep where he finds out from a misunderstanding that Haley, his oldest, isn’t a virgin anymore. he ofc goes through the motions of realizing his lil girl isn’t his *little* girl anymore, but later on, he just approaches and reacts to it like a dad while still staying true to his character in the show. it was so important to me when I first watched the show because of all these standards for young women/girls in my culture (and many others) to stay pure and innocent and that if you deviate from it, you’re deemed “broken” “impure” “unfit for marriage” like that’s all you’re good for. plus the taboo that is sex and any and all discussions of it smh 🙄

sorry for the yap session, my og question still stands, how would the men react 😭 and as always, feel free to ignore my ask if you’d like

💕💕

I loveeeee modern family and yes I know exactly the scene you’re talking about

Gojo: pikachu face for like a whole hour. he’s got static playing in his head. once he calms down, he tries to be all cool and hip. he doesn’t have anything against it, he’s not big on purity culture either, but he’s just like wow, aren’t you five years old? when the child in question could be well into adulthood. it’s just shocking for him cause when did the time pass.

Geto: since he has two other daughters, he’d understand completely. very supportive. type to be perfectly fine to buy condoms if you really need, he’s just glad you’re safe. he’d rather not hear anything about it tbh, but he knows it’s inevitable when you have children

Choso: heartbroken. he’s crying, rocking back and forth on his ass. man is absolutely devastated. he’ll shake his child by the shoulders and ask, ‘are you sure? are you really really sure? tell me everything. NO wait don’t. Or do. Arghghh’ subway level crash out. eventually reconciles with reality, and he doesn’t cry anymore but he does cringe if there’s any reference to the losing of virginity or sex lives.

Toji: makes a face of disgust. but then he snorts and he’s like, you’re a late bloomer huh? get into competition with you. ‘I lost mine way before that. Jesus kid, you need tips on charming someone into bed? that’s your best line? I’m surprised you’re not gonna die a virgin.’

Nanami: heart attack. chokes on his coffee. goes red in the face and he’s speechless. buffers fr. why would you tell him? were you safe? did he hurt you? is he taking responsibility? do you need to get tested? should we go to the clinic? he’s very supportive but he’d rather not hear about it if he can.

Sukuna: probably kills whoever slept with his kid. he’s proud that you’re not some loser virgin at the very least but also why didn’t you save your virginity for some grander thing. everything can be weaponised. well whatever, ultimately doesn’t care very much. makes no difference to him. he’s not under any kind of delusion his child/ren are some pure perfect little angels.

[bountycancelled]

ANTIFRAGILE

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

opla zoro x reader

in which, even though it doesn't seem like it, zoro cares (alot, about you, specifically)

genre: one shot, gn! reader, short

requested: yes! tysm (reqs are still open for anyone<3)

a/n: idk, enjoy I guess? (unedited)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"need any help, darling?" Sanji's flirtatious voice rang out from behind you, disturbing your damn near embarrassing attempts at lifting a box.

you huffed as you dropped it once again, turning to face Sanji as you shrugged him off with a wave of your hand. "no no, I wouldn't want you using your hands for something that isn't in the kitchen. I can manage."

an unconvinced Sanji nodded before walking off, leaving you and your own stubbornness to deal with the heavy lifting. the truth of the matter was, that you definitely did need help, but you'd be dammed to hell before accepting any.

it seemed as if you had some sort of problem accepting yourself for who you were.

you were by far the most stealthy individual anyone had ever met, most people didn't even know you were in the room until you had a knife to their throat. you were the resident idea person in high pressure situations, and what you lacked in strength, you made up for in technique.

ah yes, strength. if there was one thing that you could not accept that you didn't have, it was physical strength. you were never the type to brute force your way out of a situation zoro-style, bit it would still be nice to have the option of doing so.

it wasn’t as if anybody in the crew made you feel bad for your lack of strength, it was more so an internal issue within your own psyche.

what could you say? you were tired of having to ask your fellow crew mates to help you do something as simple as carrying something from point A to point B. you were tired of feeling useless every time more hands on approach was needed. but that all ended today. (well, you hoped that it all ended today anyway)

after what felt like and probably was an eternity you could finally lift the box that you had set your eyes on, sure you had taken so long that Luffy had forgotten that he even wanted it but you had done it nonetheless and you were proud of yourself. that pride however was short lived with your body ache in a way that you never thought possible.

you knew, or at the very least, you thought that you knew how much your body could take, but said body had no problem humbling you the second you had gotten a little too confident in skills that you didn't have.

you weakly limped towards your room, ignoring the sympathetic look from Sanji, the "you shouldn't have done that but I still feel bad" look from Nami, the soft pat on your back from usopp, Luffy not even noticing your current state, and Zoro's blank cold stare with what you could only hope bubbled with a bit of concern.

you would be lying if you said that you weren't trying to impress a certain green haired individual on the crew with a knack for using swords in unconventional ways. but your little schoolgirl crush was getting to the point where it was causing you physical pain, and you needed to get your mind out of its delusion.

Zoro was not going to give you attention just because you lifted a heavy bo–

your self chastising session was ended prematurely by a knock in the door, that kind of sounded like an alien life form trying to imitate a human custom. you let out a small 'come in', not being entirely suprised to see Zoro on the other side. (after all, he's the only in the crew who would care or even think to knock.)

what you were suprised to see however, was the plate of food in his hand. it was your favourite dinner which he had threatened Sanji to make which he placed on your desk, walking out just as quickly as he came.

before he left, he looked at you over his shoulder, seemingly contemplating if he should say what he wanted to say.

"you shouldn't push yourself to do something that's dangerous for you body. you're... more talented than you give yourself credit for."

you smiled to yourself, unable to not feel the butterflies floating around in your stomach, but his last words sent you over the edge.

"I don't want to see you hurting. ever."

[targaryenluvs]

Idk if you are taking requests currently, but if you are…

Could you write a similar fic to our little dove, where Coriolanus doesn’t kill Lucy. I would’ve loved to see more of them arguing over who gets to spend time with the reader, and all three of them spending time together.

Or maybe a different ending where Lucy takes reader to pick up katniss with her. And whilst Coriolanus is in the cabin lucy convinces reader to run away with her… but Coriolanus finds both of them and takes them to the Capitol with him.

OUR LITTLE DOVE,, ALT ENDING

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

a/n: here’s for all who wanted a different ending! the full fic is here ( our little dove )this is just a detour for everyone who wasn’t happy with the ending! DONT READ IF YOU HAVENT READ THE FULL FIC!!!

the trek back to town had you dying. it usually didn’t take so long but with coriolanus’s arm practically glued to you, the sun beating down on your trio and your dress sticking to you? fainting seemed very fun right now.

the entire routine was rushed, food stashed, no goodbyes to your family nor friends, just lucy and coriolanus wanting you on the train asap. they’d sprung their plan of going back to the captiol on you quite abruptly once you reached town but at this point you had no hope in your body of escaping them. so you obliged and followed like a lost puppy.

being in the capitol was worse.

you were completely and utterly alone. coriolanus was busy running the country, lucy was always working and you always seemed to be stuck on your windowsill. staring out onto the streets as the world passed you by. stuck in a prison of marble and luxury.

at first you had to endure lucy and coriolanus’s never ending arguing, always over you. when you still had an inkling of freedom. “are you kidding me? you chose what she wore yesterday lucy. will you just back the fuck off?” lucy’s jaw was dropped open, “excuse me? she was my-” coriolanus’s head tilted back as he dragged his hands over his face, “oh my god how many times are you going to use that? who the hell got her here huh? who provides for all of us? sure as hell not you. now don’t make this any harder. she’s wearing the red dress.” you sat there the whole time, just waiting for someone to notice you.

it always led back to you. but apparently kidnapping you and uprooting your life wasn’t enough since after time the duo fed off of eachother, delusions enlarging. seemingly everyone was out to get you, be with you, but you were theirs. coriolanus wasn’t president long enough yet to go around killing people without raising suspicion and alert towards him and as much as people did respect him, he couldn’t exactly go around killing everyone who looked at you and lucy even if he wished to. so he settled for the next best thing. keeping you away from them, out of reach.

and here you ended up, alone.

you had everything you’d ever dreamed of yet it all meant nothing. you were a shell of your old self and the two of them knew it. but all they cared was that you were with them. whisperings of the president having two lovers were imminent, lucy gray the victor, and the other. the unknown. and you weren’t sure if they’d ever know you. if anyone knew who you were, what you looked like let alone your name. even the staff of your prison did what was necessary, nothing more nor less. food, water, changed bedsheets and drawn baths was all the interaction you had with people that weren’t corio nor lucy.

you wanted to die, anything was better than living the same day over and over. the little flickers of hope came in the form of broken promises whispered during the dark nights, barely heard over the heaving breaths originating from yourself and the other two. promises of people, of the sun and temporary escape from here. but you’d learnt not to believe them.

“sweetheart, it’s not good for you to sit there all day. come, eat.” coriolanus asked demanded from the doorway of your library. the book at your feet long forgotten. coriolanus led you to the dining room where lucy was already eating. “there you are baby. somethin’ wrong?” lucy’s eyebrows were creasing as she took you in, empty eyes, emotionless face, slumped shoulders. you were nothing like the girl from twelve.

y/n l/n. sweetheart to almost everyone. a smile on her face as she went about her day. opening up to people and allowing others to lean on her. making sure her friends were okay when she noticed the slightest shift in feelings. always the lover. the carer.

but the girl who stood in front of her was so different and it broke her heart.

but she knew if she wanted to repair you she’d have to let you go. and as the three of you cuddled together in bed, your soft breaths lulling coriolanus and herself to sleep, she knew it was worth it, as long as you were here.

how selfish! she thought, but at the end of the day.

you’re our little dove.

[goldsainz]

❝ OUT OF NOWHERE ❞

SERIES MASTERLIST!

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . daniel ricciardo x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . there is no better day to hard launch than on valentine’s day.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . still not over the february 1st news🧍‍♀️ can we take a moment to appreciate me posting three fics in a row… didn’t post for a month and half and now look at me!

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 473,892 others

danielricciardo Back at home.

view all 7,108 comments

danielfan1 DANIEL WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN

danielfan2 signs of life 🙌

danielfan3 i hate him (i’m madly in love with him)

ynfan1 what is my wife doing here…

⤷ danielfan4 good question. danielricciardo we want answers!!!!!!

⤷ ynfan1 ANSWER US yourusername

danielfan5 look at him chilling while we were all worried about where he was

ynfan2 GUYS WHY IS NOBODY COMMENTING THAT Y/N IS ALSO IN PERTH

ynfan3 pls we need to know why mother is here

danielfan6 he’s sooooooo hot😩

danielfan7 I NEED HIM

yourusername updated their instagram story!

liked by danielricciardo, sukiwaterhouse and 629,583 others

yourusername first day in australia… it’s a vibe

view all 9,430 comments

danielfan21 now what is daniel doing here🤨

⤷ ynfan21 first y/n on his post… now him… something fishy is going on here

ynfan22 cannot believe i could run into her at any moment

ynfan23 SHE’S SO CUTE

danielfan22 her being in perth + daniel’s back in perth = them possibly meeting

camilamorrone Should’ve taken me with you ☹️

⤷ yourusername some trips are meant to be solo 😔

⤷ camilamorrone The betrayal…

ynfan24 mother is mothering

danielfan23 “solo trip” daniel ricciardo this is your moment!!!!

ynfan25 the red hair is saur hot

ynfan26 the possiblity of her meeting daniel haunts me

ynfan27 whose house is that??????

⤷ danielfan24 a question we all want answers too

⤷ ynfan28 idk but it’s not giving airbnb

liked by ameliadimz, scottyjames31 and 805,264 others

yourusername first valentine’s day with this guy. he’s kinda fun.

view all 12,078 comments

danielricciardo KINDA fun?!?! I’m the funnest person you know 🙄

⤷ yourusername eh debatable

⤷ danielricciardo Wow.

ynfan31 WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK

danielfan31 sorry for not believing the delusion of twitter

ynfan32 bye they’re giving ryan reynolds and blake lively

landonorris Did not need this on my feed.

⤷ yourusername real mature landinho!

⤷ landonorris Blocked ❌

ynfan33 couple goals!!!!!!!!

ynfan34 this makes me want to be in love

danielfan32 oh i just know they’re the funniest together

⤷ ynfan35 need to have a conversation with them fr

ynfan36 REAL COUPLES ARE BACK ‼️

danielfan33 the amount of danny pics she must have…

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @burberryfilms @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version @alearicci @onecojg @minkyungseokie @blue1amory

[angellekookie]

Reception Dance | KTH - VALENTINE'S DAY

Summary: The one where you meet a criminally handsome stranger at your friends' wedding.

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU, maybe Tae is an actor idk yet, it's romance- fluffy romance, maybe cliché (this is a warning)

WC: 1.7 K

Other Tags: Jimin x OC, Namjoon x OC, Wedding, Valentines Day,

Warnings: None that I am aware of except that I wrote this with Delusions and Delusions only...

Pairings: Kim Taehyung x F! Reader

Dividers by @saradika

The sweet fragrance of fresh roses waltzed around you to the romantic music being played by the live string quartet your coworker hired for her wedding day. Fairy lights were strung above you, creating just enough light so it's not completely dark, but still keeping just enough light to lend to the atmosphere of romance. It was a beautiful and fitting follow-up to the tear-jerking outdoor ceremony that took place earlier in the day.

Everything about the day screamed romance- fitting, for a Valentine’s Day ceremony. The bride, your friend Hana, met Namjoon on Valentine’s day and both saw it as fate or destiny or a celestial sign of good luck to get married on the same day four years later.

For you, it was just… a day. A day filled with possibilities just like every other day. You may not believe in things like the magic of Christmas, or cupid’s arrow, but you do believe that everything happens for a reason. Even if it feels hard to understand at the moment.

Like the two empty chairs that were at your table. You were supposed to be sitting beside your best friend and her boyfriend, but she just had to come down with the stomach flu the day before the wedding. She was also ridiculously stubborn and insistent that Jimin attends the wedding on behalf of the both of them. It's how you ended up third wheeling the two (somehow) once again. Poor guy spent most of the reception with his buried within the confines of his phone keeping what contact he could with his girlfriend, often throwing in an apology for being such bad company in Soojin's absence. Adorable.

You were just finished with dinner, half listening to the best man's speech, half trying to figure out where Jimin went when you noticed him sneaking in- tall and handsome with floppy hair you imagined belonged to someone who just stepped off of a vintage movie set. There was something more about him, about the way he seemed to command attention from the room with a sort of timeless grace, classic elegance… perhaps you were only just enamoured by his very presence. You turned away, not wanting to get caught staring at the random- gorgeous- stranger, wondering why you never saw him during the ceremony. You doubt you would've missed a face like that.

You joined your fellow wedding guests in a round of applause when the best man wrapped up his speech. Just as the emcee was announcing the cake cutting, Jimin came back from wherever he disappeared to, his face holding the weight of what you're assuming is not-so-pleasant news. Your assumptions proved to be true when he tells you he just got off of a call with Soojin and she isn't feeling any better. "I'm gonna go get her and take her to the hospital. I told her I didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone," His hands taking the path through his hair that they're well acquainted with by now. "I said 'Soo, i don't want to leave you alone' just like that, like six times before I left and she still-"

"Hey it's fine, Chim." You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We all know how stubborn she is. She was my roommate for like, a while." Despite your worry, both you and Jimin managed to laugh a bit at this. "Do you need me to come with you? Are you okay to drive alone?" You started gathering your things, but Jimin stopped with the shake of his head.

"No it's alright, one of us has to stay and rep the rest of us." He was… definitely right, it wouldn't make sense for all of you to leave. Not to mention Soojin would have a monumental breakdown. You were nodding your head, just about to vocalise this when he spoke up again. "Besides, Hana's sister is heading over here and I'm pretty sure you have forty-five seconds to prepare for the bouquet toss. I'll update you on your bestie, I promise!" Those were his last words to you before you were all but dragged to the space they cleared for that aspect of the evening. You knew Soo would be fine, Jimin would make sure of it. With that, you were able to let worry rest somewhere at the back of your mind and make attempts to enjoy the rest of the ceremony. You let Haeun take you the cleared space, Jimin takes his leave and you pretend not to notice the once empty seat in front of yours has been taken by none other than Mr. Tall and Handsome himself.

As soon as it began, it had ended and you left the bouquet toss with… no trophy. At least in hand. You would be lying if you said you had tried to win at all- superstitions and old wives tales just weren't your thing. But, you still had fun watching the intense battle for the bouquet. Hana, ever observant and ever one to take all signs seriously, had noticed the single white rose at your feet- one that fell from her bouquet. "Take it, it's good luck! I can feel it!" At her insistence, you took it. You weren't going to tell a bride "no" on her wedding day, a bride who also happened to be a good friend at that.

You've returned to your designated table, flower sitting beside your purse on the now empty seat beside you. You take a sip of your champagne, listening to the slow rendition of a popular love song that the musicians are playing in the background while Namjoon and Hana took to the stage for their first dance as husband and wife. You've also been pretending to not notice the obvious eyes on you, your own not-so-subtle glances finding its way across your table.

Hearing collective ooh's and awe's from the audience, you turned around just in time to see Hana lowered in a surprisingly graceful dip by Namjoon. When he lifts her, they share a kiss through wide smiles. You imagined Soojin would joke about Hana thanking him for not dropping her on their wedding day.

You're reaching for your champagne flute and this time, brown eyes directly meet yours. One of you was caught red-handed. You won't say it was you, though. With new resolve, you take a sip of your champagne and finally turn to face the man before you. The scene before you? Absolutely criminal. It had to be a crime for somebody to look that good and know it- because he had to be aware that he was quite literally ethereal in his existence. "You know," You began. "The bride and groom are dancing over there." You tilt your head in the general of the dance floor, eyes not leaving his.

"I'm aware," Two words. But you could see the confidence stitched in the velvet of his voice. "But you're sitting right here." He followed his statement with a little tilt of his head in your direction.

Fair, you decide to test the waters just a bit more. "I mean… I could always change seats, we have so much to choose from-" He interrupts your sentence, much like he has been interrupting your focus ever since he stepped foot into the venue that evening.

"Hmm, no need. I like the view."

You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face. But the conversation has further piqued your interest so you lean in, brow slightly raised in question. "You always flirt with the guests at the weddings you crash?"

"Only the absolutely gorgeous one with the heart-stopping smiles." He was leaning in on the table now too.

"Alright. Mystery Man. Will you at least tell me your name? I think it's the least you could do if you're gonna flirt with me all night."

He bit his lips- holding back a smile while shaking his head ever so slightly partly in disbelief because he couldn't believe you'd just called him 'Mystery Man.' And perhaps he couldn't quite beat those allegations. He was late to his cousin's wedding, and he could admit that sneaking into the reception might look… suspicious- to say the least- to the average wedding attendee. But that wasn't a story for today. No, today his goal was to speak to the woman who's had his attention from the moment he saw her across the room. "I'll tell you over a dance in exchange for yours."

There was a change in the music, the emcee's voice followed over the microphone letting everyone know that both the bar and the dance floor were open for the rest of the night.

"Are you asking me to dance?" Your voice dipped just a bit at the latter part of the sentence.

"Would you like to dance?"

You don't usually dance at weddings, or anywhere because you weren't much of a dancer. According to persons you love and respect very much, you have "two left feet and ten left toes." (so said by Jimin and Soojin the one time they were teaching you how to dance- in high school, no less.) But the night was young and it was a night filled with possibility. That much you already believed in. Not to mention the man in front of you was charming and handsome, the wittiest you've had the pleasure of meeting in a while. So despite the confidence in your dancing abilities, or lack thereof, you decide to agree.

"I'd love to, but don't go running away if the 'gorgeous girl' steps on your toes." You joke.

But as he takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor, he turns to you and says "I think I'd be so inclined to forgive you if it comes to that." You're both on the floor, soft music playing and he pulls you in. You don't miss how his hand rests on a respectful place on your back despite his bold flirting since you've met. You were dancing for maybe a minute, maybe ten minutes. You're not sure, but you felt like you found the answer to a question you've always had; how does a moment last forever?

The comfortable silence is broken by the man before you. "I'm Taehyung, and you?"

"It's ___"

AN: Aaannd that's a wrap on whatever this was!!! This could have maybe happened earlier but like life got in the way. You guys can also thank Tae for this cause I'm actually still not over those insta pics :,) so anyways you guys get a drabble 🙂‍↕️😊 (Please don't mind the whole bit where it's past the actual day, it's still the 14th in my heart ) I hope everyone had a fantastiic Valentine's however you celebrated 🩷 PS, Massi this is our Valentine's Day gift because we deserve it <3

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AN2: I'm trying to sort out this taglist thing properly so if you do want to be apart of my taglist (permanent or otherwise) you can fill out the form right here! Thanks again for reading my silly little stories lol 🩷

[moonsaver]

I think the reason why yan Sunday appeals to me so much is because of how he reflects a sad desperation to be loved and for the world to be made right in some way. He’s learned not only from gopher wood but also from his own experiences how cruel the world can be, and although he loves his family I think he does so partially out of some sense of responsibility for what they’ve done for him, almost putting them on a godlike pedestal. He is the ultimate martyr that will make the world right, even if it means he is the sacrificial lamb.

So when he meets someone that’s kind to him for no reason it’s probably strange, receiving affection just because. This time he looks at them as if they are divine being, gracing such a sinner as himself with their love. But in return, this time he’ll succeed in protecting them like he wasn’t able to do for others in his life. he protects them from the world even if it means overruling their own choices.

Also I lowkey relate with him and feel like no matter what I can’t give back to the people I love the most lmao.

Sunday let’s form an unhealthy codependent relationship and live in the delusion of love formed out of desperation.

idk if any of this made sense I’m bad at conveying ideas but tldr: Sunday and unhealthy codependency mixed with a martyr complex appeals to me since I think it reflects some of the more unhealthy aspects of love that leads to obsessiveness and a lack of respect for one’s own autonomy.

Hey anon, i cant even add anything to this. This is pretty much perfect in encapsulating what relationships can be like with yan!sunday.

I love yan!sunday for the exact reasons you've said so. He's probably utterly foreign to the concept of actually receiving unconditional love and kindness, and when reader actually does give him just that, he can't help but want more.

But, since it's yan! Sunday, he most likely isn't able to replicate that specific, ecstasy feeling when he gets it from you vs from anyone else (i mean, particularly because of his status, its even harder to find). Reader becomes his sole source of this love where he's able to see them on equal ground – not someone who needs his help and neither someone he needs help from. You aren't in debt to him, you don't need to pay him back, you don't want favors, you're just.. so sweet and kind to him. You actually want to understand him, you understand his ideals of what a world can and should be, you listen to him, and you don't treat him as though he's supposed to be sacrificed – you treat him as someone who needs to live, as someone who doesn't, or rather shouldn't, martyr themselves, you don't take his sacrifice as something that should have come by default.

I would love to add more but rn i have a splitting headache and this is as much as i can add as of now. Anyways you perfectly capsulated him.

[s0lemnhypn0s]

(Warning for this post I'm half asleep so I might be incoherent or have disjointed topics. Bare with me, I'm trying to express my thoughts the best I can.)

(and WARNING! i discuss personal paranoias at one point during this, which include the topic of bugs and self harm)

"Billford is ironic we're shipping them ironically" "We don't actually want to see them together" "We don't think theyre a good pair" "its irreconciliably abusive" "its one sided"

ok I'm gonna put forward a take that might be poorly recieved: I think you all are misunderstanding Billford (And each character individually) and just reducing it to "bill abused ford" takes away so much of what makes their dynamic fascinating. And also claiming "Erm its a bit" while engaging in something you "recognize" as abuse only does a disservice to the topic of abuse and how it relates to the mentally ill (I will get into that later). You are treating the relationship as a joke and only acknowledging the abusive aspects when people come at you is just pretty scummy of you. Speaking as someone who experienced a near identical abusive relationship, where my paranoia was preyed upon, causing me to still suffer from the paranoia of being watched by them or that my abuser will eventually send someone after me.

In general, the existence of abuse is a complicated one and abuse is not a catch all, end all term. Not all abuse is built the same. Billford is undeniably abusive, but there is not a period after "abusive", are you picking up what I'm putting down. It's not just "Bill was exerting power over Ford and thats it"

Lets start with: We all recognize Ford is paranoid, but we don't seem to recognize Bill as paranoid in the exact same way, dare I say - Even more paranoid than Ford. I mean, ford got his "Trust no one" quote from Bill directly saying his rule of thumb for trusting people is to just trust no one. He doesn't trust others - He simply doesn't. And this is part of where Bill Cipher's manipulation of SPECIFICALLY Ford comes in.

Now I am going to speak from a personal anecdote of my experience with paranoia and delusions - Me, I will try to "safeguard" against my every little fear and belief that something will, undoubtedly, undeniably, be out to hurt me, and these safeguards are often extreme in nature. They don't make sense to the people around me, but they make sense to me. Sometimes they hurt the people around me. Sometimes, they hurt me. I believe this is the same with Bill Cipher himself. He is taking measures to make sure his worst fears do not come to pass. And because Bill is decidedly not human, only interacts with humans when he deems neccesary, those measures often take the form of something even more extreme than, idk, me shaving my head because I thought bug eggs were in my hair or trying to cut open my skin because I thought something was living in it. They take the form of something abusive (Which is also just... Something that happens with the mentally ill sometimes. I see you guys trying to separate our mental illness from our actions and claim "thats not making you do that". I see you.). Him trying to guard himself from something so terrible(facetious) as Ford's percieved betrayal ultimately becomes a self fufilling prophecy.

Not to mention, if you guys didn't notice. Bill without a doubt projects his own insecurities onto Ford. "I make you feel important" Ford makes Bill feel important. "No one loves you" He was ostracized in his dimension. "Who will miss you" He destroyed his entire home, nobody would mourn Bill, because they were all gone, long gone. "I'm sending someone to steal your eyes" Might be a stretch, but I look towards the silly straw poem "A different kind of eye doctor, who wants to make his patient blind" Obviously the use of "blind" here is metaphorical, but I feel its still in some ways applicable.

Bill very evidently experienced medical abuse and ostracization in Euclydia, something exceedingly common for those labeled as mad. (Which also brings me to the topic of people saying "I'm so glad they didn't make Bill a sympathetic villain in the book of bill" bc. Hi. I'm a guy thats experienced ostracization and medical staff forcibly medicating me in order to fix me. I think he is sympathetic actually). Not only that, Bill Cipher had a trillion years to fester in his resentment and his guilt, and you think that like. Didn't effect him at all. I really and truly beg to disagree.

Not only that: I think Bill felt a kinship with Ford. Ford was ostracized, he was betrayed by the world (and "betrayed" by his brother), he was regarded as a freak for what he was born with, just as Bill was regarded as a freak for his mutation in Euclydia. Bill thought Ford was just like him. Bill thought Ford would understand him, and furthermore would jump at the opportunity to burn the world down with him. And. to his credit. Ford does, in some capacity, understand him. As much as Ford could understand, with Bills lies within lies. Bill craves the intimacy and fears the touch. He uses fear to get Ford to love him, not only because he thinks it will safeguard him from what he fears most, but likely because it is all he knows, all he was taught. Love through fear. Our love is painful, but we only want to help. Pain in love is natural. It's right. It will only hurt a little. This is how you know we love you. He was shocked when Ford rejected him. He thought he did everything right. He had everything planned, for them to be together for eternity.

And bare in mind also that - Bill. Most evidently. Views himself as a monster. When Ford asks about what happened to his dimension, who destroyed it - Bill responds "A monster.", he says "Sixer, it would eat you alive" when Ford offers to help hunt it down. He lets his mask of jovial, mysterious mischief drop just slightly, and we understand just a little bit more of how he feels about the euclidean massacre, how he understands himself through his actions. And what he understands, is that this is just his nature. "I liberated my dimension, Stanford", a lie but not in the way you'd think. He lies, acting like what he did was intentional, as its the only way he could ascribe "reason" to what he did. It couldn't have been an accident. That is just how I am. It wasn't an accident, and I liberated them. (I wish I could go back.) And I come back to the idea of a self fufilling prophecy, because its again- That exactly. Bill decided this was all he could be, he did everything that would make him a "monster" after the accident that caused the euclidean massacre - And so, he was. A sick prognosis that he created and fufilled with his own two hands, he became the monster he and his home dimension envisioned him as.

Abuse is a complicated subject. What Bill did was abuse, yes, but I also distinctly believe it to be a case of abuse between two mentally ill people, one of which is so old, his hate his anger and his regrets, all are ancient and yet so fresh.

I feel another part of the problem is people are taking Bill at face value. Which is exactly what he wants to do because then you dont get at what hes doing all this for and why. You don't get past the exoskeleton to the tender flesh beneath. But stop taking what he says at face value. Read into it more. Analyze the triangle.

Also it might be controversial (hyperbole.) , but I do thing it means /something/ that during Ford's part of the book of bill, where Bill and Ford's relationship is recounted from his perspective, Bill is notably absent, whereas in the rest of the book, he is guiding us through it and constantly maintains a loud presence in it. You could interpret this in a lot of different ways I think, but the way I've chosen to interpret it is as a mix of shame, regret, and an unwillingness to revisit their past together. Perhaps even Bill having enough respect for Ford to not interject his telling of their story together, if you want to get real complicated about it. Paradoxal, if you will.

(Also I find the theraprism to be a most fucked "end" for Bill Cipher due to the medical abuse he experienced as a child. Something something, mad people can never escape the institutions which seek to "fix" them.)

anyway if you read through my mad sleep addled ramblings CONGRATS! i'm probably going to make edits and add to this when I wake up in the morning but i needed to get this out or id forget. billford is abusive but its way more complex than just... abuse. Abuse is a complex subject and it exists on a spectrum, for a lack of better words. and dont twist my words - That isn't saying "this is less bad abuse", this is saying "its complicated and just leaving it at abusive does their relationship a disservice"