#and not to truly harm those he fights

[sisaloofafump]

Don't talk to me, I'm thinking about Clark Kent and the inherent tragedy of a weapon who only wants to heal

[neverendingford]

.

[cvntydazai]

bad arguments

how these bsd characters are after a bad argument

pairing; dazai osamu x fem!reader, chuuya nakahara x fem!reader, ryunosuke akutagawa x fem! reader

word count; 916

content warning; unedited, angst, fluff, arguing, miscommunication

a/n; just something random i wrote while taking a break from my dazai fic!

DAZAI OSAMU:

arguing with dazai was exhausting, this man would rather die a painful death than admit he was in the wrong about anything, it was usually why your fights got more out of hand than they ever needed to be. you hated how he tried to deflect from a situation instead of just owning up to his mistakes.

one particularly heated argument had you so riled up you had to leave your apartment, no longer wanting to look your lover in the eye until he was ready to apologize. he didn’t even spare you a glance as you left, a smug expression on his face.

you make your return to your apartment many hours later, it was now nighttime and much too late to be out, especially alone. the first thing your eye catches when you walk through the door is dazai’s fluffy head of hair resting on the couch. you huff, putting your coat up before walking over to the couch.

“are you ready to apol-“ you stop mid-sentence when you realize dazai’s asleep.

he looked uncomfortable, heavy eyebags and his head resting at an awkward angle on the arm rest. you couldn’t help it, a soft coo leaves your lips and it wakes him instantly. those honey eyes were everything but smug this time around.

“my flower, you’re back.” he mumbles, large hands reaching up to caress your face.

“i am..” you say, he smiles.

you continue to stare into his gaze for just a little longer, the silence draping over the two of you like a warm blanket. he knows that what you’re truly waiting for is his apology, he was more than happy to give it to you.

“i’m sorry, for everything. forgive me?” he says at last in his usual supple tone.

of course you forgave him, you always would.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA:

fights with chuuya usually didn’t last long, you two actually pride yourself on your communication when it comes to your relationship. he would never try to hurt you intentionally, you’re the most important person to him and he makes sure you never forget it.

but this one fight had you both out of control. you don’t remember who started it but no one was willing to end it, anything that came out of either of your mouths was only more fuel for the fire. if you were being honest with yourself, it terrified you. it wasn’t chuuya and his capabilities that had you so scared, you knew he would never bring any harm your way, it was the reality that this fight could be the ending to your relationship.

you didn’t want it to end like this, it couldn’t end like this. he was all you had and you would never forgive yourself if this was how it ends. so caught up in your own frightened mind, you didn’t even notice that chuuya quieted down and was staring into your eyes.

“ey, why are you crying?” he didn’t mean for the question to come out as harsh as it did, he was just so taken aback.

when you didn’t reply he really started to worry, his mind no longer focused on whatever you two were bickering about.

“come on doll, please don’t cry. i’m sorry.” his voice only made more salty tears spill from your eyes, in your opinion you didn’t deserve such tenderness.

he wrapped his arms around your frame, his hand on the back of your head and his face buried in your hair. he let you sob your heart out, even if it made his own heart ache. when you finally calmed down you were ready to speak.

“am i still the most important person in the world to you?” he smiled.

“of course you are.”

RYONUSUKE AKUTAGAWA:

you knew your boyfriend wasn’t good at communicating, a part of you had accepted that wholeheartedly. he made his efforts because of how deeply he cared for you and you felt that was enough most of the time. your arguments were mostly about his carelessness when it came to his own personal safety, his nonchalant attitude to your concerns irritated you down to your core.

“if you’re going to act stupid and put yourself in avoidable danger then i’m leaving, i can’t take this.” you misspoke, his eyes widened.

what you truly meant was that you were leaving for a moment to calm down, not leaving him entirely. you could only stare in shock at what nonsense you just spewed from your mouth, guilt weighed down your body, preventing you from taking even one step towards him. it took seeing the fear in his eyes to finally break you free from your mind.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean it like that i swear.” you tried to mend, now wanting nothing more than to put this whole argument behind you.

he let you pull him into a hug, you held his waist tightly to you. when you felt his hand holding the back of your head you breathed a sigh of relief.

“i know you didn’t mean it that way, but it scared me.” you nodded, understanding.

you mumbled a few more apologies and once you both had calmed down you were able to talk about some of your frustrations. it was mostly you talking and him listening, but it felt good knowing he was listening with such care. he promised to be more careful for you, and you promised to watch your wording when you’re upset.

[horse-girl-anthy]

Revolutionary Girl Utena: Gender in Context

beneath the cut, I discuss the RGU's portrayal of gender in the context of 1990s Japan.

in Ikuhara's interview with Mari Kotani, he stated that in traditional Japanese society, "prince" meant "patriarch." the same is true in Western societies--there was a time when a prince would be an heir to a royal line. by 1997, this meaning had died out of large parts of the world. even the association between princes and traditional masculinity was fading. Saionji, the weakest, most pathetic man in the show, is a parody of historical Japanese masculinity, with his kendo and his blatantly regressive beliefs about women.

in RGU, prince may still mean patriarch, but in a far more subtle fashion. Ikuhara and Kotani discussed the changing expectations for men in the latter half of the 20th century--it became gauche to fight over a woman with one's brawn, so instead, power struggles were played out in the arena of looks and sex appeal. one can see this reflected in the character Akio, whose power as a prince arises from his ability to turn "easy sensual pleasure based on dependency" "into a selling point with which to control people."

Akio has his moments of showboating masculinity, but when preying on Utena, he operates by making himself seem non-threatening and soft.

not only that, but he purports to want to allow students to express their individuality and thus approves of Utena's masculine form of dress. this is a front--by the end of the show, he's telling Utena that girls shouldn't wield swords. thus, through Akio's character, the show argues that traditionalist patriarchy in Japan isn't gone, but instead has only been papered over with false progressivism.

with all that said, there seems to be more to the character. he's taken the family name of his fiance, Kanae, and whatever material power he has in the school is dependent upon her family. in Japanese society, this is considered a humiliating position to be in, something that only a shameless man would do. the show never gives the audience any insight into how Akio feels about this--is he unbothered entirely, or are his actions against the Ohtori family an expression of his repressed anger? does he harm the children under his care to compensate for his humiliation?

this aspect of Akio's character may seem irrelevant in light of the larger, immaterial social forces at work in the show. however, I would argue that it was included for a reason. Akio, despite his status as ultimate patriarch of Ohtori, is in fact a highly emasculated character, to the point where lead writer Enokido even said that he is driven by an infantile mother complex.

to explain why Akio was portrayed this way, we have to discuss Japanese history. the nation suffered a major defeat in WWII and was forced to accept whatever terms the United States laid out for it. for an examination of how the Japanese have never truly processed those events and have plunged into modernity with reckless abandon, I recommend Satoshi Kon's Paranoia Agent. to sum it up briefly, in a very short period, the nation regained its economic footing, and by the 1980s had the largest gross national product in the world. this economic boom may have allowed Japan to maintain a sense of sovereignty, dignity, and power, but it was inherently fragile.

the infamous "bubble economy" lasted from 1986 to 1991. during this time, anything seemed possible; financial struggles appeared to be a thing of the past, and capitalist excess reached new heights. the ghosts of this period can be felt across Japanese media; for instance, think of the final shot of Grave of the Fireflies (1998), where the two dead children look down on Kobe, glowing an eerie green to imply its impermanence. the abandoned theme park from Spirited Away (2001) is explicitly referred to as a leftover from the previous century, when many attractions were built and then tossed aside in a few short years.

the bubble popped in 1992, leaving an entire generation feeling cheated. the bright futures they'd been promised, which had actually materialized for their parents and older siblings, had been lost to them overnight. economic crises are often accompanied by gender panics. to quote from Masculinities in Japan, "The recession brought with itself worsening employment conditions, undermining the system of lifelong employment and men’s status of breadwinners in general. The unemployment rate was rising, and although it never reached crisis levels, men could no longer feel safe in their salaryman status. Their situation was further complicated by the rising number of (married) women entering the workforce."

with this in mind, Akio's character can be taken as a representation of masculinity in crisis in 90s Japan. he's forced to rely on women for his position in life and has failed to save his only relative, Anthy. he tries to escape his misery through hedonism, perhaps an allegorical representation of how men tried to maintain their old standard of living after the economic bubble burst.

but of course, Akio is not the main character of RGU--the story is about girls. mangaka Yamada Reiji discussed the series in the context of the 90s, stating the following:

while I opened this essay by discussing the prince, the same points could be made about the princess. despite the increasing irrelevance of royalty, princess is still an important concept. how does it relate to the socioeconomic landscape of the 90s?

in Yamada's view, RGU is full of relics of the 80s; for instance, the figure of the ojou-sama, an entitled young woman who never lifts a finger for herself. during the economic bubble, it was increasingly common for women to be entirely taken care of by the men in their lives. Yamada names Nanami as a clear ojou-sama type character: she weaponizes her femininity, demanding to be rescued, doted on, and served.

however, by 1997, the ojou-sama could no longer expect to get what she wanted. from the 80s to the 90s, the percentage of women in the workforce increased around 15%; it was no longer viable for most women to be "kept" by their families. as the men experienced the humiliation of not being able to provide for their wives and children, women were undergoing a disillusionment of their own.

Yamada blames Disney for creating the ideological structure which led women astray. obviously, the company is known for its films about princes rescuing princesses. in Yamada's recounting, during the 80s, the company was infiltrating Japan through its theme parks as well; across the country, Disneylands were opening up, and people were buying into the escapism the corporation offered. Japan, as America, became a country of eternal children. its people were waiting for a prince to appear and save them.

but fairy tales can't stave off reality forever. Yamada claims that RGU embodies the rage of young women who woke up one day and realized that they had been raised on a lie. this anger pervades the work from beginning to end.

though RGU was created in a particular social context, its lessons can be extrapolated to any time and place. as the first ending tells us:

I hope this essay helped provide more context for the series. thanks for reading!

[morose-melodies]

Welcome back! So happy to see that you are doing well ☺️

Since requests are open, I was wondering if you could write some headcanons/drabbles about how the Genshin men (including Pierro, Capitano, and Dottore my fave) would react if their darling, who was pregnant with their child, tried to run away? Saying "I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

what it takes to love | various yandere! fatui harbingers x pregnant reader

content warning: mentions of blood, idk if childe's being sorta trad or not but I'll still put it here. I'm also a bit rusty so they might be ooc...

a/n: definitely not a drabble... I hope you enjoy!

CAPITANO

with the newfound knowledge that you were gone, the captain was on the way home.

there was not a lick of hesitation, no, he dropped everything. your leaving meant you were alone on a cold night while pregnant. who knew what trouble you could be in?

the captain knew you couldn't travel far-- it was too dark, too cold. all that surrounded the manor was woods and woods. he made sure to wear his thickest coat and brought with him his weapon in case you were in true danger. he saw your footprints in the snow, it looked as if you were stumbling about in the cold.

Oh, poor you.

this isn't how things should be-- you, running about at night without him there to protect you. you should be in the safety of his arms, in the walls of his manor.

he wouldn't try to further frighten you, that must be why you ran, no? he would place his coat over you and take you home with him.

following those footprints, it seemed you tumbled and fell a couple of times. you couldn't possibly be in a good state. (y/n)... where could you be ?

"(y/n)," the captain called out. he saw you, your cowering form, pressed against a tree, using one of his coats you'd taken with you to warm yourself, "oh, (y/n)."removing his coat, he set it over your shoulders and lifted you into his arms, expecting you to comply.

"no! st-stop. let me go, i... I'm fine!" you'd argue, though, it seemed you were in no state to.

"(y/n), no," the captain shook his head, trying to keep a gentle hold on you even as you squirmed and argued, "you're tired- you don't understand what you're saying. I'll be taking you home."

"i know what I'm saying," you shook your head, pressing your hand against his mask, attempting to push him away, "i don't want to be with you or near you! l-let go of me!"

the cold must be getting to you, capitano reasoned, who knows how long you've been out here? you're clearly not in your right mind. pressing a hand against your cheek, he felt your skin, he felt how cold it was. you needed to be home and in bed. "hush, you're delirious. (y/n), stop fighting me, i need to bring you home. you're harming yourself *and* our child."

"let go of me! stop- i refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

his hold on you loosened-- he was stunned, caught off guard. a monster? his hand gripped at the fabric of the coat over your shoulders, "is that truly what you think of me?"

you hated him? that was why you ran? "(y/n)," the captain repeated, his grip on the coat lessened, "answer me. is that what you think of me?"

do you understand how that makes him feel?

it's not as if you always thought this of him, this was a recent development. after getting pregnant, he was... more protective. he took extreme measures to keep you home, to "keep you safe."

it drove you mad.

so, when you woke up one morning to see that all of the house staff, including your maid that you truly loved, had been replaced-- you knew you had to leave.

"yes, yeah..." you nodded, a stray tear running down your cheek, "so, let me down- let me go," you demanded once more, squirming, trying to get away from him once more.

capitano raised his hand and wiped away that stray tear, "(y/n), do not say that-- not to me, not to my face," his hand dropped back to his side. he needed you home with him, now.

and that need was stronger than any other feeling he had at this very moment.

holding you against his chest, trying to keep you as warm as possible as he worked on getting you home.

he needed you back home; whatever happened afterward could happen, as long as you were home with him.

DOTTORE

how things seemed, you enjoy causing dottore problems.

if you weren't knocking his vials over, you were barging in on his experiments, and if not that, you'd rejected him when he expressed even the slightest bit of affection.

it was always something with you.

and now, on his day off-- on the one day when he had nothing to do and nothing planned, you ran away, or at least you tried to.

dottore refused to let his good day be ruined by something so trivial, so he took precautions.

knowing you, you would do something so he prepared for just about anything you could do.

just about anything... well, he didn't expect you, a pregnant woman, to attempt to jump out of your window to get away from him.

he heard the tell-tale shatter of glass and just knew it was you-- it was always you. he begrudgingly got up from where he was resting and went to your room, where you were halfway out of your window, bloodied from the broken glass digging into your skin.

dottore sighed, "goodness, (y/n)," dottore was approaching you and you could hear him coming closer, so, you tried to lunge yourself out of the window, to get away from him-- to protect your future.

pressing your hands against the sides of the window, you pushed yourself forward, slipping out of the window, but, of course, dottore caught you by the ankle just as you were falling.

you wasted not even a second before you began screaming and swearing at him, trying to squirm out of his grip, "let me go! let go-" you kicked at him as he dragged you back into the room.

once you were in, lying on the glass-covered floor, somewhat numb to the pain, dottore stood somewhere near your side, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at you. he was disappointed, but why?

"don't... lie in the glass. (y/n)..." he sighed once more, and reached out, grabbing your arm and helping you stand.

it was then that he assessed your injuries, asking that you stand still as he looked at your bloodied arms and torso area-- it was painfully cut from the glass.

*you must be in pain, no?* dottore mused, straightening his back as he looked at the thin layer of blood coated on his fingertip, "I'll forget about this-- I'll even forgive you for... attempting this," dottore assured you, holding your arm as he began to guide you out of your room, "I'll forgive you, i just ask that you never attempt such a thing again."

but... you refused, tugging your arm back and out of his hold, "Don't touch me-- i don't *need* your forgiveness!"

you'd never hated him quite as much as you did after finding out that dottore had no problem with experimenting on children that the knave gave him.

it made you sick. you couldn't allow your child to grow up with a man like him, "i *refuse* to raise my child with a monster like you."

dottore's eyebrow twitched, though you couldn't see it. he thought he knew what to expect from you, but, you always surprise him, "a monster? can you genuinely call me such a thing after all I've done for you?"

when you nodded, dottore stifled his third sigh and brought you along with him, despite all of your arguing and fighting. "(y/n), you're hurt. let me clean those wounds of yours. since you cannot accept my forgiveness and let this go, we'll have a talk tomorrow."

dottore cared for you, of course, he did.

he realized just how much he cared for you-- just how much he needed you when he felt his heart drop at the sight of you trying to leave.

he understood just then how much he'd hate it if you left him.

a/n: lowkey ooc...

PIERRO

escape was impossible.

with guards at your door, and all around pierro's manor, you couldn't escape.

but, when pierro found out that you had still tried to leave him-- attempting to walk right out the front door, dressed as if you had places to be, he was displeased.

he was immediately informed of this.

so, as you tried to open the gate that was locked, pierro approached you, "(y/n), where exactly are you going?" he asked, stopping to stand right behind you, "it's cold, and you aren't dressed for the weathers condition... ah, aren't you supposed to inform me of where it is you want to go before going?"

pierro knew exactly what you were doing but for you, he could play dumb. it was better than making you feel cornered and possibly upsetting you further.

he could change, he wasn't above it. after all, there weren't many things he wouldn't do for you.

he held his hand out for you, hoping you'd take it, hoping you wouldn't give him trouble-- not now, not when he was in such a generous mood.

you didn't take his hand, no, you weren't even looking at him as you said, "I'd like to go... I want to stay with my family."

your family? pierro felt his eyes twitch-- he wouldn't allow himself to be seen as the jealous type, no, pierro instead nodded his head slowly, "why don't we go back in? it's terribly cold tonight, is it not?" he'd tried to change the subject, try to ease you back into the house without an argument.

"no, uh... I've got a ride. i just need the gate to open."

pierro saw and understood what you were feeling perfectly-- desperation. "we can talk about this tomorrow, no? it's late, (y/n), im not particularly in the mood to be standing out in the cold while you talk about leaving me."

"pierro- im leaving... I'll send you letters and I-I'll even come to visit," you offered, taking a step towards the gate, looking at the lock, that stopped you from leaving.

"no, no, (y/n), you aren't leaving, at any point. how ever you feel, I'm sure you'd feel better if you spoke to me about how you feel-"

"i want to leave because i dont want to raise my child with you."

first, you cut him off, and now you say this? "you're being very rude-- now, we're going back inside. do not argue with me," pierro took your hand into his and began to guide you back toward the manor.

"no! let go, stop it!" you would drag your feet, crying and arguing, "I don't want to be here! not with you! st-stop it! let me go!"

it saddened him, truly, to hear you cry and beg so desperately, but those words rolled off of him. he didn't care at the moment; he just needed to get you back into the manor, and whatever happened after didn't matter.

he'd have a talk with the guards too.

"You're so evil! let me go-! let me be!" you'd argued, dragging your feet, attempting to make things harder for him, "i refuse to have a child with a monster like you!!"

you couldn't imagine raising a child in this environment, in the fatui...

pierro stilled, glancing back at you, his grip on your hand tightened-- then immediately loosened, "you're testing my patience, (y/n). please, just come inside with me. we can talk about this inside."

because there were fewer places to run inside.

(y/n), you truly are a work of art, pierro mused, as he dragged you along, well, he attempted to be gentle but you were making it hard for him.

but since it was you, he'd do anything, even tolerate your rude behavior, since you were his woman and his alone.

CHILDE

when childe found you, whenever that was, there was no telling what could happen or what he'd do. he loved you, that much was obvious but he was an impulsive guy.

maybe he'd take off his coat and put it over you-- you'd like that, wouldn't you? or maybe, just maybe, he'd hug you out in the blistering cold until he felt good enough to release you... which would be near to never.

or maybe he'd react in anger. again, he loved you, it was inconsiderate, rude even, to leave him while you were pregnant with his child. didn't you promise to start a family with you? (he misheard you. you said you didn't want to start a family with him.)

he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him, no. he was better than that-- he was raised better than that. yeah, he was raised better than that.

childe raised his hand and wiped at the tip of his nose, he was cold. he couldn't image how you'd be feeling right now.

that was all more the reason to find you as soon as possible!

he took this journey alone. he thought it would be somewhat intimate if he found you on his own, it would be manly too-- you'd think he's the type of man you want to raise children with... that's what he thought anyway.

you got a bit of a head start on him, he had just gotten back to snezhnaya when he was informed that you had run off a few hours before he'd gotten back.

oh, he was worried. real worried.

he forgot everything he was planning to do-- eat, change into something warmer, brush his hair, those sorts of things, he forgot all about. you were more important!

before running off, you were staying with his family. it was probably easy for you to leave, just say you're going for a walk and never come back, since his family didn't exactly know all about your relationship with him and how he sorta smuggled you into snezhnaya.

he got home and followed after your footprints for a good while. the sun was setting, and it was only getting colder; at this point, you were probably regretting leaving him and wished to be at home in his arms-- that was just an assumption, of course.

when he finally saw you, in a thin dress and coat, stumbling up a snowy hill, he smiled. (y/n)! its (y/n)!

oh, he felt so relieved to see you!

running past all the bushes and trees in his way, he ran straight into you, hugging you tightly from behind, his hands on your pregnant belly.

"are you hurt anywhere?" that was the first question he asked as he turned you to face him, patting his hands over your arms, checking for any signs of blood on your or your clothes.

he leaned in once again, hugging you after being sure you weren't injured, and his second question, asked in a muffled voice by your ear, was, "What'd ya go running off for?"

"because I don't want to have a child with you."

huh, it seemed childe couldn't hear all of a sudden, as he released you from the hug and slipped his coat off, tossing it over your shoulders, "bet you're cold, huh? now, what'd you say?"

"i do not want to have a child with you."

again, it went through one ear and out the other for childe. he wasn't hearing things right, he couldn't be, could he? "huh? what was that?" his eyebrows raised, and he leaned closer, gesturing for you to repeat yourself once more.

now annoyed, you leaned closer, saying, "I'm leaving you because i dont want to have a child with someone like you."

he straightened his posture, backing away with a less-than-happy expression-- he looked defeated. so, he was hearing things right, huh...

"we gotta see it through... y'know that, right?" still holding your hand, his grip loosened. childe had never felt quite so... sad? angry? betrayed? before.

"no, we don't. I want to go back home, I'll see it through with my famil-"

"we are family," quickly cutting you off, he corrected you, his fingers tensed around your hand, "I'm your family-- everyone back at home is your family. we're your family so why are you trying to leave us?"

he bit at his bottom lip as a means of stopping it from quivering but you could see the tears in his eyes.

"are you kidding me? you forced me to be here with you! you think i came here willingly or someth-"

"you promised me we'd make a family together! you said it yourself, so, why're you acting like you hate me?" his hold on your hand tightened, and he leaned closer to you.

he was desperate-- he didn't want to hear this! not from you, not from anyone he loved, but especially not from you because he didn't just love you; he loved you.

attempting to tug your hand away from him, you shook your head, "I never said that, ever. let go of me- i wouldn't... i refuse to raise my child with someone like you!"

everything he thought knew and believed came crumbling down around him, " oh, well... i don't care," he replied-- he had abandoned his feelings for you, for now at least, he just needed to get you home without harming you, "I love you and... I guess, sometimes that's all that matters."

you could figure it out later-- you could learn to love him later but he loved you now and couldn't let you go so easily.

[jymwahuwu]

anon who got beaten by covid coming through with more Capitano thoughts.. (no thirsts..yet. I need to coach myself with scenario building..Capitano talks you through every climax. There. That is the most I can write 😭)

Capitano tried to be patient, he truly tried. But he only sighs softly when communication cannot work but force must.

He is a very broad man and it's quite easy for you to spot his looming shadow over you when you had fallen onto the ground, having tried to escape the cabin with only the moonlight as your guide.

"S- Sir.." You look up, tears welled up in your eyes as you try your best to calm your racing heart. You've seen how he has dealt with..most unsavory soldiers. What will he do to you? A lone soldier who has deserted their post?

The man doesn't say anything for a moment, the darkness of his helmet staring holes into you.

"Have I done wrong with you?" He finally speaks, crouching down to speak with you. Despite him trying to match your height..it only makes it more threatening. "I don't believe.. I've mistreated you?"

He's genuinely confused, he can't..register the fact that he's feared by a soldier that he has treated so gently and nicely. "I apologize if I have harmed you.." He tried to make amends anyways.

But then you go and ruin it by trying to run..tsk, tsk, and of course, he only needs to grab your wrist and you're completely immobile. You are a deserted soldier..and unfortunately it seems like you must treat you as the soldier you are.

Even if he wishes you were more than just a soldier.

Bingo. All he has to do is make your punishment..become his bride. He doesn't like phrasing it as a punishment but..perhaps a training session would be better?

You're still training..just..training to be his wife. (Also training to take his very impressive size that he always sighs as he coaxes you into taking every inch of..)

cw: dub-con, forced marriage, yandere, size kink, female reader

Thank you for sending me a story, I really enjoyed it😽💖 You posted it in two parts, and I replied to both here!! (part 1 of the story is here)

Like gentle giant and skittish darling trope! Frightened, awkward you.

Be informed that you have been chosen as a warrior, and that you have given it your all…but, maybe you don't have the talent here. The combat movements are a bit clunky and don't flow smoothly. The vision tied around your waist shines with the light of the elements, but your skills… (such as flowing out a small amount of water, like a spring spring, or just condensing some cheap gems, or electricity like a kitten claws, etc…). Those skills are just not suitable for fighting, you know? Will you use gentleness against Heavenly Principles, against enemies?

After training, failure and frustration have overwhelmed you, and the physical pain and exhaustion cannot be ignored. Not to mention that Capitano in his cape looks down at you like an unshakable mountain. You rubbed your cheek against his palm and couldn't help biting your lip, shedding tears like a little kitten. He pats your head gently and tells you how to improve your movements and use elemental powers. Easier said than done. You nodded, but there was still no way to improve next time.

He's not biased, really. In Capitano's eyes, everyone can fight, but you… may be able to put your talents in other areas, such as cooking and knitting. Your elements are just as gentle as yours. Maybe you can keep that water and food warm. His confession to you is formal and prepared. He asks you in serious terms if you can marry him and spend the rest of your life together.

You… look terrified, hyperventilating from shock. "Me-me?" You pointed at yourself, shaking. Captain wants to marry you? That first of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? He was just joking, right? You refused and distanced yourself from him like he was a flood.

I like drama🫣😹 so I added some wind and snow. On a moonlit night, you planned an escape, only to fall on the snow and almost be washed away and submerged by the wind and snow. Looking back, I saw that familiar huge figure walking out of the falling snow. He grabbed your wrist a little too roughly, "Sir- Sir?" As always, you looked at him with tears, but fear gnawed at your heart even more.

"You might be dead." There was ice in his voice. He knelt down on one leg and looked down at you. "What are you doing? Did I… hurt you? If you feel that way, then I apologize."

"I-I'm sorry!" You cried, even the tears froze. You know he's right. He is worried about your safety. How is he going to treat you? Will he put you in jail? Capitano carries you in his arms and takes you back to his home. It's there to restore your body temperature and keep you warm. He immerses you in the warm water and towels you off.

If you don't plan an escape, you can still enjoy your options. Since you ran away… you can't return to Fatui, but as his wife stay with him and receive training. Starting from looking directly at his mask, you panicked, but now you can't. You have to look directly into his dark blue eyes, from the depths of your soul. A huge cock stood erect in the middle of his pubic hair and was leaking pre-cum. You stammered, placing your hands on his heated belly as you looked directly at the impressive size of his cock for the first time, "W-What is this? How does this work…!? Can you- can you be a little smaller…"

That's why you need to be trained to accommodate his size. Capitano knew it was unlikely to work the first time. His cock swells against your belly and rubs against your clit, or pushes deeper into you, opening up the tight folds of flesh. The pounding of pulses sends pleasure through your limbs, into your brain as flesh slaps and pops, until the warm cream spurts and rushes into you.

There will be another training next time.

[bandgie]

Buttons | ARMAGEDDON EVENT

Request: Wrath | Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ) by anon🎀! song!

warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, public sex, mean!yunho, pussy play, pussy slapping, nipple play (brief), PIV, cumming inside, no protection, ruined orgasm, squirting, reader is a menace, super slight, gagging

2.4k words

The best part about Yunho’s anger is that he’s never destructive. 

He never yells. He never breaks things or makes a hole in the wall he’ll have to plaster later. It took what felt like centuries to control that sickening desire to harm when his top blew off. Yunho knows he struggles with keeping his cool in the heat of the moment, but at least he tries and tries until he succeeds.

He’s trying to control that anger now. Your manicured fingers feel over the crotch of his slacks repeatedly with that mischievous look in your eyes that only pisses him off more.

“I told you to stop that already.” Yunho isn’t looking to pick a fight at the movie preview. He was invited to watch a showing with a plus one, his lovely girlfriend. That’s the last thing you are, however, as you keep pestering him.

“Stop what? Can’t I touch my boyfriend?” Those glossy lips twist into a knowing smile. Yunho briefly looks down at the hand and forces his head back to the big screen. “You’re doing more than touching, you know that.”

Neither of you can speak that loudly considering the movie had already started and other invitees have been watching dutifully. 

But you only hum, in agreement or disagreement, Yunho doesn’t know. All he can feel is your hand rubbing over his thigh to find where he might have hidden his cock. It doesn’t take long in the dark, especially when he’s sitting down which causes him to bulge.

He shoots you a glare. The pretty vein sticks from his neck as if he’s keeping himself from speaking too loudly. But you only stare back in challenge when you grope his cock. It’s warm even through the fabric. You cross your legs tightly and let out a tiny sound.

Shit. You look good. It was your idea to match tonight and you decided to bring out your finest black dress. It makes your boobs squish for extra cleavage that even Yunho had a hard time looking away from. Now it’s all he sees as he peers down on you, switching between your breasts and smooth thighs that continuously rub together. 

His jaw ticks.

“Babe,” he leans down, burying his nose in your hair and getting a whiff of your rose-scented strands. “You’re pissing me off.”

But like a child who finds joy in pulling a cat's tail, you grip him harder. “I am? Why? Do you want me to blow you instead?”

You have to keep in your laughter at his reddening cheeks. “I don’t mind getting down and dirty in the theaters. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“When we were high schoolers,” Yunho pulls away from your alluring scent to look into your seductive eyes. “We’re adults now. Act like one.”

You roll your eyes. If he truly meant that, he would have slapped your hand away the moment you began to feel him up. Instead, Yunho widens his legs and keeps still while you make him hard. It’s not as easy considering it’s a horror movie playing in the background, but your persistence pays off when you feel him throb.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” you whisper. It’s pure enjoyment you feel when his cock finally strains against the confines of his pants. When you could just barely make out the outline of his head from the dim light. 

You use your thumb to run over the tip, over and over until Yunho’s breath gets caught in his throat and his hips instinctively raise off his seat.

As quickly as he feels pleasure, he feels infuriation. Something in his honey eyes snaps. You nearly yelp when he stands, pulling you along with him in haste and you don’t have time to grab your purse. 

“Yunho!” You try to yell with your breath. “I almost knocked over the popcorn!”

He doesn’t say anything. Can’t when he's bubbling underneath the surface and his cock painfully aches against his boxers. You embarrassingly smile at the people in the theaters, giving a polite ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse us’ while Yunho aims for the exit.

You stumble over your heels and you swear they threaten to snap under your feet.

Wooyoung, a colleague of your boyfriend’s, gives you a weary look as if to say ‘you good?’ Yunho doesn’t pause to let you tell him that yes, you are all right. 

You just probably won’t be walking for the next few days. 

The halls of the movie theaters are much brighter, but just as quiet as inside. It’s now that you can talk freely. “You can’t just drag me outta the theaters right in the middle of the movie!”

He passes the main bathrooms, heading for the ones that are nearly abandoned way in the back of the building. 

“But you can be a slut in the theaters. Is that right?” He turns to spare you a look full of annoyance, arousal, and everything in between. “I’ll give you what you want if it means you can be decent in public.”

Yunho yanks the door open to the men’s restroom. He doesn’t bother checking to see if anyone occupies the stall as he drags you in, capturing you between the sink and his arms. 

Your dress had ridden up from walking so quickly. Yunho doesn’t allow you to fix yourself before he spins you around, facing your reflection. It’s him you focus on in the mirror though. His heaving chest and the redness of his neck only accentuate the veins there. He stares at the exposed part of your ass and wordlessly pulls the material higher until it bunches around your waist.

You jump, but arch your back to give Yunho a good look at your clothed cunt. 

“What if someone walks in?” “Oh well.”

That makes you clench with something you think isn’t fear. “I don’t think this is a good idea. If you get caught-” But a slap to your ass shuts you up. It’s a yelp that comes out rather than the end of your sentence. You turn your head to see Yunho’s heavy hands soothing your ass, then grab it in a warning.

“Now it’s a bad idea? You really are trying to get on my bad side, huh?”

That isn’t true. Well, sorta. There’s just something about pushing Yunho to his limits that you love doing, which makes you get in trouble that’s worth it in your eyes. Deep down, maybe you did want him to treat you like this. But you just can’t stop yourself from pressing his buttons a little more.

You fake a pout. “I don't want someone walking in.”

You got him. He bares his teeth and reaches for his neck to undo his tie. It slaps against his chest before he finally wraps it around your lips. You cry out, tilting up as Yunho ties a knot to the back of your head. The silky cloth sits tightly between your lips, drool already beginning to seep from your mouth.

“Then this should shut you up.”

Putting his hands back on your ass, Yunho tugs your underwear down to your thighs. His fingers find your pussy before the cold air does and he’s pleasantly surprised to feel that you were already wet. The pads of his fingers rub circles on your clit. 

The pleasure is immediate. You perch yourself on the counter and grind your hips in his hand, shamelessly muffling your moans into his tie. He lets you, despite his demeanor, and follows your movements. It only takes seconds for his palm to grow slick. He maintains his other hand on your ass to keep you moving.

You ooze with arousal, knowing that it’s Yunho’s hand collecting it all. You would feel bad, but it makes your cunt slide against it so much easier. He’s not applying enough pressure to make you cum, but it’s enough to make you desperate. To make your walls clench in hopes of being stuffed. You whine, looking at your lover in the mirror with spit seeping down your chin.

Even with his dark eyes, he laughs. The sound sends shivers through your body and you know his smile is far from genuine.

He pulls his hand from you, smiling wider when your hips wildly buck and your fingers aimlessly grasp for his. “No! Nonono! Yunho!”

The smile on his face disappears. It’s replaced with a stern look that makes you regret raising your voice. He whips you around, effortlessly planting your ass on the counter and ripping your underwear off until it’s nothing but a lump on the bathroom floor. 

He pulls your thighs apart, staring at your core before he raises his hand and comes down on it. 

You squeal. Your hips buck in the air as he comes down again, again, and again.

“Who” slap! “are you” slap! “talking to like that?” slap!slap!slap! 

Strings of white cream connect to his hand every time he pulls away even for a second. It's hot pleasure that’s on the brink of pain when your clit throbs under his touch. Your cunt spasms and convulses. The makeshift gag can’t let you cry properly. All you can do is drooly apologize. Closing your legs isn’t an option. It would only make things worse for you.

“Shorry ‘m shorry!” You squeal again when his hand comes down, but he doesn’t move it from your core. Yunho flicks his wrist rapidly so his palm rubs tortuously on your pussy. It takes everything in you to keep your thighs from snapping shut. You lean against the cold mirror and try to keep your jerking hips under control. 

Something not quite like an orgasm, but not quite like normal arousal builds in your stomach. It's a stark contrast to the painful pleasure on your clit. It’s warm, it’s sweet, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You realize what it is too late. The only warning you manage to give is a wide-eyed yelp as clear fluid shoots from your cunt right onto Yunho’s fine tux.

It releases in floods. Making you embarrassingly moan and gasp for air as your stomach can’t help but continuously squeeze the squirt out. Yunho stares in awe, still flicking his fingers across your clit to help get it all out. 

“Fuck!” You can feel your makeup ruining from your tears. “I dinn’t- Yun’o I dinn’t mean ‘o.”

It’s not anger you see, but a pleased grin. As if soiling yourself was the only thing that could have made him feel better. With his wet hand, Yunho undoes his belt. He doesn’t bother removing it from the loops as he tugs his slacks just low enough for him to pull his cock out from the slit on his boxers.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” But Yunho is anything but repulsed. He runs his flared head over your messy clit, watching little droplets of your juice dribble into the counter and his cock. “I have to fuck you.”

You can’t argue if you wanted to. The cloth between your lips is completely drenched with drool and your cunt is so sensitive that it can hardly feel Yunho tap his tip before finding your entrance.

It’s too easy for him to push in. There’s no need to stretch or warm you up when his cock can reach the hilt in one go. You gasp at the pressure, your hazy eyes meeting his fired-up ones as he quickly finds a pace.

Each thrust earns a moan. Each moan earns a thrust. You grip onto his broad shoulders that easily cover your entire body as your body bounces. He groans, reaching for the top of your dress to spill your tits.

They’ve been hard for what seems like hours. Your nipples beg for attention that Yunho happily gives. He leans his head down to suck on your bud, rolling his tongue around the hardness while keeping his hips pounding into yours.

You clench around him. Your back naturally arcs into his form as he tugs on your nipple. None of the sounds you make are pretty. It’s all whines and gasps from the constant way he slams into you. 

Yunho lets go of your nipple, pressing a last kiss to the one he neglected in apology before raising back up again.

He’s going to cum. You can feel it in how his thrusts turn sloppy and his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. His hands find your waist as he moans, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back.

Every pump resonants in the empty bathroom. You can feel his pelvis touching your clit with every thrust and you know you’re not too far from your own orgasm. 

He looks down at you, deciding it’s your tits (and face) he wants to look at when he finishes. You think he might kiss you with how he’s begun to lean towards you, stopping just inches shy from your mouth. 

Everything feels warm. Yunho reaches down a hand to play with your clit. You wrap your legs around his torso as your high approaches closer. It’s Yunho who cums first. He finishes inside, ignoring how you can’t pucker your lips or you can’t beg for a kiss with how much you’re moaning and the tie in your mouth. Instead, Yunho spurts his cum deep in your pussy with a knowing smile. The blood vessels on his forehead sticking out with how much he pours into you.

Still, you cum with him. Your walls clamp around his cock as he rides out his high. He stops too soon though. There’s not a chance to come down from your orgasm as Yunho cruelly pulls out of your needy cunt, ignoring how it squeezes him to stay and finish what he started. 

You cry against the gag, trying to keep your legs wrapped around his hips that he easily pries apart.

His cock shines with your arousal and cum, with the orgasm he ruined perfectly.

Yunho scoffs at your whining form, the crocodile tears he’s learned to not be affected by. “What? Don’t tell me you thought I was gonna let you make more of a mess.” You were planning on begging when he finally untied the tie from your lips, but he shushes you with another slap on your cunt.

“You just want to piss me off today, huh?”

[kettlefire]

Not Always a Villain (DP x DC Prompt)

Alfred Pennyworth is a man who always stands on business. Despite what the world might think, Alfred is truly the scariest man within the Wayne family.

He is a man of morals, that is correct. There are some lines Alfred refuses to cross. Harming kids is one of them. However, some morals become flexible when it comes to his family.

Alfred isn't Batman. Or any of the other vigilantes under Batman's wing. Alfred is simply a butler, and that's all that matters. He loves his family, deeply and truly. If there is a day when no love is shared, that is the day he is dead.

Despite all that, Alfred is detatched from the vigilante work. His job is to be there for the Wayne family. To offer them help in any way he can. And Alfred always delivers.

Even if it goes unnoticed, just how large of a role he plays.

Alfred is content with his role, with his life. He is more than happy keeping his darker traits hidden and tucked away. Unneeded in a family like the Waynes.

That was until a new villain appeared in the scene. A young man who seemed to strick fear in the hearts of everyone who encountered him. With snow white hair and blood red eyes.

Alfred barely spared a thought to it. Barely paid attention to the chatter about this villain. It wasn't his job to. Alfred was simply a butler, and that was all.

That was until the day it happened. Damian Wayne was sent to the hospital. Bloodied and broken. A truly brutal attack.

When Alfred looked down at the young master. Bruised in a hospital bed with a tube helping him to breathe. Bandages hiding most of the damage, but the whole family knew. This was an extremely close call.

In that moment, Alfred Pennyworth snapped.

He pulled some strings and checked in a few long, overdue favors. Before long, Alfred was on his own mission. He didn't breathe a word of it to Bruce or the others.

Alfred knew they would try to stop him. Or worses, they'll try to join in. This was something Alfred needed to do. Despite being an overall kind-hearted man, Alfred still had the heart of a stone cold killer.

He failed when it had been Jason. Alfred wasn't going to fail Damian. Not another Wayne kid will be failed. Not anymore.

Alfred had been so set on doing it. In taking out this villain before things escalated further. This young man was clearly cold-hearted, willing to hurt anyone and anything.

That's what Alfred thought.

What he believed until the moment he was face to face with the young man. It had been so certain. The man was unbelievably cold. Laughing in the face of Alfred's words, only stroking the old man's anger.

That was until Alfred had landed a hit, and everything shifted.

Blood red eyes suddenly shifted to bright lazarus pit green. The cruel look in those eyes suddenly changed to a horrified guilty expression. The man had stopped the fight in an instant.

Pulling away from Alfred. Terror and guilt clear as day as the villain seemed to retreat. In that moment, it all seemed to click in Alfred's mind.

This wasn't a villain. He wasn't a monster only determined to hurt anyone in his path. He wasn't the Joker.

Even when green eyes turned red once again. Even when the young man struggled and fought against him.

Alfred didn't yield.

He slapped special cuffs on the man, removing the powers he had. Dragged the villain all the way back to the cave.

Even when the anger and recognition flooded everyones' expressions. Alfred didn't stand down. He held strong, refusing to let anyone get their hands on the young man.

The young man that seemed too much like a young boy.

Alfred pushed the crusade to help. Laid his case out. Pulled the trust card. The supposed villain wasn't the person Alfred had beef with.

Not after hour long interrogations. Getting as much information as they could. It was a struggle, but it found an end. Alfred had no qualms with this young man.

No, he quickly learned who was to blame. Who was the person who deserved Alfred's anger. Deserved to pay for what was done. Alfred had a name, and soon... Very soon, that person will be in an obituary. A name was all Alfred needed.

Alfred was going to take down this Freakshow. Even if it was the last thing he could do.

[ironunderstands]

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

[letorip]

aline

“et j'ai crié, crié "aline!" pour qu'elle revienne, et j'ai pleuré, pleuré, oh j'avais trop de peine”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: sometimes you’d talk about dying to wednesday, though it was something an addams couldn’t ever really fear. that was, until the person being lost was you.

warnings: erm you die lol, major character death, wednesday being sad, mentions of blood, self sacrifice, maybe a little contrived way to die but too bad

word count: 1.6k

A/N: i promise im okay but this was truly an interesting plot line to follow, and i couldn’t bear not writing it down. if it made you sad, don’t worry, because i have more fluffy stuff on the way. it was something short i had considered doing for a long time, so even if this flops i'm completely happy with how it came out.

===+++===

===+++===

"Wednesday?" you asked, eyes on the wooden ceiling of her room. From the way her head rests against the warm plane of your chest, she can feel the smooth skin move as you say her name, heart right under her ear. It nearly lulls her to sleep, had it not been a question.

"Yes?" she purrs, lazily propping herself up on her arm. There are heavy weights on her eyelids, but the line of your mouth tells her something is troubling you. You’re too saturnine, much too glum for what you and Wednesday just did, and her eyes soften imperceptibly, her thumb going to your side to quietly stroke itself back and forth there. “What’s plaguing you?”

You can’t help but shudder at the contact of her hand and the goosebumps the pads of her fingers leave in their wake. “Are you... do you...," you attempt, the question falling flat on your tongue. She furrows her eyebrows at your hesitation.

"Say your thoughts,” she says, forehead creased in concern. It's almost funny, how caring and soft she is, now that she's given up on trying to seem aloof and apathetic towards you, her skin warm against your own.

The Addams Curse to love someone with every fibre of their being had taken hold of Wednesday entirely, and she looked at you sometimes like you held her beating heart in your hands, or at least like she'd cut it out for you, if you were to need it. She raises a hand, gently brushing a few hairs from your forehead.

“Are you afraid of dying?”

Her eyebrows furrow even further, scanning your face for any indicators of harm. “Where is this coming from? Has something been done to you?”

But you shrug, finally looking down to look her in the eyes with softness. “I was just wondering… are you?”

She narrows her eyes. “You know I’m an Addams. Death is a friend, not a foe. Fear of that serves no purpose. Only cowardice from facing a fight. Only to make you weak.”

Your eyes flit away. “Hm.” There’s no hiding of disagreement in your tone, and it has an embarrassing amount of power over her, how she itches to know what goes on in that head of yours.

“What?”

“I think… I think my fear is what makes me strong. I’m afraid of losing those I care about. And so I fight with every bit of sweat, blood, and tears that I have. Your loss is my deepest fear, Wednesday. My deepest.”

She stared at you momentarily, then looked out the window to the stars. “How is one to fear death when it is far from the end? Death may take me from your sight, but it cannot take me from your heart. There I live, vibrant and whole. Forever.”

===+++===

You’d never even realised how much blood the human body could actually hold, until you were standing there in the centre of the quad with an arrow straight right below your heart, its steel tip poking from your back. Your own blood coated your hands where you cupped it, dribbling down the splintered wood and splattering in droplets to the cobblestone in thick, dark red splotches.

The blood— your blood— is coming out even more now, and you turn to look at Wednesday, where you had shoved her out of harm’s way. Her eyes are wide in horror, like she's seeing something straight from a nightmare of hers, and you take a clammy step towards her, frigid and burning at the same time.

“Wens—” you stammer, and suddenly your knees are giving out. She rushes forward, trying to catch you in her arms, but you're too heavy, deadweight that tugs on her. You fall onto them, your knees, clutching at the newly opened maw of your chest with a gasp, and before you know it you’re falling forward towards the floor.

Wednesday follows you down, catching you before you can land, and she holds you tight, turning you over onto your back as the arrow sticks straight up from the heart she cherishes so much. The wood is already splintering, nearly falling apart, and her hand goes to your wound as if trying to put your blood back into your body.

It’s uncomfortable, with the metal tip of Xavier’s arrow sticking from the back of your chest and lightly prodding at her front, but she squeezes you tightly against herself, hands frantically travelling the length of your torso and raking over your arms, anywhere she can reach. But there’s nothing she can do. It’s a thought she refuses to confront, but Wednesday specialised in dealing with dead things; she was unfamiliar with how to keep things alive, no matter how much she needed you to stay that way.

Crackstone is cackling from his belly, a toothy sneer spreading itself out onto his leathery face as he looks at the damage he’s done, stomping towards you. “Hey!” Bianca yells from the opposite door, and the pilgrim whips around, as Xavier takes another shot at him. It lands in the pilgrim’s arm but he pulls it out like a twig, snapping it and tossing it to the ground, before he makes his way towards Bianca.

Your white shirt is completely soaking itself in your blood, droplets running down Wednesday’s fingers where she tries to hold the wound and apply pressure. But there was no saving a skewered heart.

"No, no, no," she coos, voice barely above a whisper and tears already pricking at the corners of her eyes. You're crying out in pain as the arrow shifts within you, fingers scrabbling at Wednesday's arms where they hold at you. Your fingernails sink into her skin, and she winces but doesn't pull away.

"Wens," you say again, infinitely weaker than before. "Wednesday…” It’s like your mouth won’t move coherently with your brain, like words mean trudging through ice and slush to come out, even the red-hot ones you need to say. “H—Hurts,” you spit out, and with it comes a small stream of blood from your mouth as you cough and air becomes less and less available.

She nods in a rush, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “I’m aware, I know,” she’s completely crying now. “We will get you care, cara mia, just hol— just hold on for a little while.” But you’re shaking your head.

“Don’t have— I don’t have—” you’re coughing up more blood, and she wipes it from your chin with a shaky hand. There’s just too much of it, everywhere. You had once gifted her some as a token of your devotion and it was a prized possession of hers, but now there was so much and she would have given it back in a heartbeat if it gave you any more of those.

She can vaguely hear Bianca and Xavier yelling on the other side of the quad, and various fires rage on in their chaotic yet vibrant corners, tickling against her skin in large crackles, burning in the reflection of your eyes that stare up at the sky. Your head is leaning against her shoulder, and she raises her hand, stroking through your soft hair as you heave in her arms.

“You must live, I promise you,” Wednesday insists fiercely, “I promise you, if you die right now, I will kill you.” But its tears that streak down her face, her jaw clenching and dark eyeliner running down her cheeks. She’s squeezing you right against herself, feeling the pain of the sharp arrow poke at her own skin.

“Vibrant and wh—whole?” you said with a smile, feeling your voice begin to slow down and with it, the beating of your heart. The blood has pooled in a sick puddle around your body.

She’s shaking her head. “Cara mia, we don’t need to do this, we will get you to a doctor. You will be—”

“—Wednesday,” you interrupt. Your voice has reached an eerie calm that sends a shiver down her spine, and it snaps her from any sort of hope. “Vibrant… and whole?”

She looks down at you for a moment, tracing the features of your nose, the planes of your cheeks, the colours of your eyes and the wryness of your smile. Wednesday swallows. “Forever. You know that. You must always know that.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh. It hurts, she can hear you wheeze right after you done it, but you sit in silence for a moment, and she can feel you get slower and slower, and your shirt gets redder and redder. The tears are uncontrollable, now, as she sits there with you. Her friends are losing in the corner, but she's losing something unthinkable, and she's so damn scared the entire time it's happening.

"The stars look beautiful tonight," you whisper so only she can hear it, your voice cracking at the end. In seconds, you're gone. She can feel the life, the glorious life, evaporate from you, your head lulling back against her and your weight becoming a hundred times heavier, but she doesn't move, squeezing you against her.

She's unsure how long she stays like that, but when she can no longer take it, she shifts, laying you down on the ground. You look peaceful, looking up at the stars, and it takes an effort to close your eyes that Wednesday had never felt with the dead before. She gently closes them, shutting the door on the eyes that used to captivate her very heart. It's almost like she could convince herself that you're only resting for a moment, and she leans over you, placing a meaningful kiss upon your forehead, just like she would when she snuck out after a night of sleeping over, and there were no prying eyes there to watch.

"Vibrant and whole," she whispers like a promise, turning back to the fight with a piece of the sword in her shaking fists. "For you, cara mia."

===+++===

well that was sad... anyways more happy stuff coming next time

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Sometimes I see reviews about D&W where people think Worst Wolverine's backstory is super lacking. That they expected something epic like how Mysterio tricked Logan to slaughter everyone in the Old Man comic run.

But that plot, at least to me, doesn't make The Worst Wolverine. It probably makes the Most Tortured Wolverine -- the story of a man slaughtering his own family with his bare hands because he was mind controlled. Which inevitably created a power vacuum so gigantic that the world basically collapsed as supervillains take over the world.

But the title of Worst Wolverine should belong to the Logan that completely abandons his most important moral value: to be the protector.

Sure, he tends to be nomadic and at times self-isolates, but at his core he truly knows what it means to be a pack animal: to be a part of a cohesive family unit, rely on others, be a guardian for the weak.

In a literal sense, a common backstory for him was that he just fucked off from human society after he mutated to live with a pack of wolves. He turned feral, but they also taught him about the importance of community.

Even if you aren't a fan of the wolf background (which I AM because I think it's funny and dramatic as hell), there's other stories where he got taken care of by the Blackfoot Tribe and Lord Ogun before somehow winding up in the Weapon-X Program. Then, the Hudson family rescued him and helped him gain his humanity back after the adamantium experiments. He joined Department H, and sometime after, he found his place with the X-Men.

My point being that past or present, Logan has always belonged to a family. He needs it -- his human AND animal side both need it. He's not meant to be a creature of solitude. When he is, it's a form of punishment that he inflicts upon himself because he doesn't feel worthy to be around the people he loves or he's worried about hurting them. Or it's something inflicted upon him -- aka he's been captured and is being experimented on.

So what does all this tell us about Logan's moral code? He cares deeply for others because it's in his nature to be a part of a pack and he will do anything to protect them.

He's very caring towards animals (ex. looking after wolves that took care of him, mercy killing a bear in The Wolverine, and saving the horses in Logan). He tried to save Silver Fox's life when Sabretooth attacked her. When his wife Itsu was murdered, he relied on the advice of Lord Ogun to get vengeance for her with the Muramasa Blade. He joined Department H and Alpha Flight because he owed the Hudsons so much after re-acclimating him to society. He stayed with the X-Men because Charles gave him a home, family, and purpose outside of being a weapon. He enabled him to be the good man that he is by not only using his powers for the good fight but also being a teacher for the students.

As a character, Logan was created to reflect the archetype of the cowboy/samurai with the morals of honor, integrity, and justice. He's also not afraid to be judge, jury, and executioner for the people he loves. He's a man of action.

So what is the antithetical? A man who dishonors himself by not taking his job seriously. A man of inaction who abandons those he loves. A man who doesn't seek justice but wallows in regret and guilt.

And what did the Worst Wolverine do?

He let his fondness for drinking harm his work. While he was drinking at a bar, a group of humans invaded the X-Mansion and killed a large part of the staff, students, and X-Men. He entered a berserker rage where he murdered the invaders AND innocent people. He tarnished the legacy of the X-Men.

The title of Worst Wolverine doesn't go to the man who got brainwashed and killed without knowing. The title goes to the Logan who killed indescriminantly and didn’t want to stop.

He chose to walk away when they called out for him. He went into a beast state that made the public completely turn against the X-Men in just one night. Instead of making up for his sins, he just went back to the bar -- the very thing that killed his family. He did everything he could to go against his morals of honor, integrity, and justice.

He was a man who failed his family.

THAT'S what makes him The Worst Wolverine.

[nonbinarypirat]

education vs. fascism in iruma-kun

someone mentioned this in another post but iruma-kun does a wonderful job of showing that education is key to fighting fascist and harmful radical ideas. As soon as it became clear that things were going to change in the netherworld what was Sullivan's response? It wasn't "oh we need to send spies" or "we need to find the people" (though im sure people are working hard to find those answers) it was "we need to focus on educating our students." Because only knowledge and diversity in thoughts can combat fascist ideas. The issue only becomes worse with a lack of understanding and an echo chamber. And by doubling down with education, we can make sure our students are prepared for what lies ahead. Thats how we truly fight the power.

The teachers themselves can tell that things are changing. They stay informed and guess what? its obvious things are about to throw down soon. And so they work tirelessly not just because it's their jobs, but because they need to. this is their protest. this is how we can prevent the spread of gross rhetoric. And after Heartbreaker what they do? they double down on their education too. Because there is always something new to learn, always a way to grow/sharpen your strength. They too know that they can't stay stagnant, they must continue pushing to provide their students with the best chance of survival.

When you have villians that believe in these ideas in media, there's a big issue of them leaving out education as a weapon. But it's crucial if we want anything to truly change. Iruma himself wants to no longer be naive about the netherworld which was growing to be an issue the longer he stays. because yeah, you can't stay uninformed anymore iruma. its time to learn about the history of you new home and the leaders. taking being the king out of it, ignorance about these topics is a breeding ground for becoming complacent. iruma wants to be a hero? or at least, do the right thing when he can? that requires knowledge to make sure you aren't inadvertently hurting someone along the way.

Iruma loves the netherworld, the place he proudly calls home. but it's frought with danger and cruel people. And yet, Iruma is still proud of his new home and friends and wants to do anything he can to stay here. This reflects real life, where there is goodness and pride in the place you live and yet a faction of people who taint it with othering ideas. However, it's always worth fighting for the good overall and bettering yourself so you can see another tomorrow through. Iruma knows he can only protect himself and his loved ones is through learning. And I love Nishi for truly understanding this too. You can't fight fascism through pure will, it has to be beaten by education and the williness to better one's knowledge. That is how we will take back the Netherworld.

but yeah, this is just my little spiel as someone who loves educational activism and is going to school to become a teacher :). If i can find the original post I'll make sure to credit the op!

[whatifitis]

♡ I knew it, I know you - FC 43 ♡

Based off the song: I knew it, I know you by Gracie Abrams

Summary: You and Franco dated but when things took a turn with your career, your world got turned upside down.

Author's note: i was told i should add additional parts to this plot so lmk if that's something you guys would like to see <3

WC: 3309

CW: fights, brief mention of a car crash, a bit of angst i think

You swore to god, you hadn’t thought of him in ages. But there he was, plastered all over social media as a driver for Williams for the remainder of the season in F1. The man who absolutely destroyed you. But you had also destroyed him. You had destroyed each other towards the end of your relationship. 

You and Franco dated back when the two of you were in F2 and F3. The two of you had hit it off almost instantly, already so drawn to each other. You weren’t gonna lie, the two of you almost weren’t a thing. You are terrible at not only initiating, but also keeping conversations going. But the fact that Franco was so bold and carefree, he was able to stick with you till you opened up out of your shell, which was truly insane to you. And you’re grateful for him and everything he has done for you, no matter what went down all that time ago. 

The two of you were always there for eachother, whether one was winning races or not. You would always scream the loudest when he won. Every single time he was on the podium, you’d be so incredibly proud of him, standing there watching in awe, tears streaming down your face. You’d never met someone so perfect. 

He was so different from anyone you’d ever met. He was valiant, hilarious, strong, and so beautiful, on the inside and out. He knew you’d often struggled with your mental health and maintaining relationships, whether platonic or romantic. But he stayed, he actually stayed, through all your faults. He loved you anyway. He was the best thing that ever was yours. 

But now it’s like he’s on another planet, you wonder how the weather is there. 

While you were proud of him for making it to F1, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit of annoyance. The two of you would often talk about the future together. The plan was always to work your asses off and make it to F1 together. He was gonna be the first Argentinian driver in ages, and you were gonna be the first woman in ages to drive in F1. During this time, you guys were gonna save money and buy your dream home together. He’d always wanted a big patio where you two could do barbeques together, where he could bring his family. He also wanted a pool where everyone could enjoy their time together, away from the cameras and chaos. 

But now those dreams are just that. Dreams. 

The breakup wasn’t necessarily mutual or on good terms. Franco initially wanted to work things out and talk but you didn’t think it’d fix anything. Things were already getting rocky as your racing career was coming to an end. After a bad accident all those years ago, you weren’t able to get back in the car. And for that, you were so angry. Racing was all you could do, you didn’t have a backup plan. Your anger got the best of you and you were taking it out on those around you. Franco got the worst of it though wanting to do his best to help you, but all it did was make you feel pitied. 

Things just kept spiraling from there, til you officially ended things with him. 

It was the night after the F2 race in Monaco. You had been there the whole weekend, cheering on all your friends. You were making your way to see Franco but you were stopped by a journalist. You weren’t really in the mood to speak to a stranger but you decided it wouldn’t do any harm to stop for a minute or two. 

The journalist was a young man, about your age and a bit taller than you. 

“Hello, thanks for taking a moment to speak with me.”

You simply smile at him, still not feeling all that sociallike. 

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.”“Sure. Hit me.”

“My first question is, how does it feel to have had to drop out of racing due to your crash back in Australia?”“Oh well, you know, it didn’t feel great. I’m super disappointed in my performance from that day and of course not being able to race again has been a big struggle. I miss it a lot, but there’s nothing I can do now besides keep going. I’m still gonna come to some of the races and cheer on and support my friends.”

“Amazing. Now, how does it feel to know you won’t be the next woman in Formula 1? To know that you’ve essentially let down so many women, young and old, with you leaving the sport?”

You were honestly baffled by that question. Why the fuck would he ask that? Who in their right mind asks that? 

You seriously had no words, so you simply nodded your head and walked away. 

When you reached Franco, he could practically smell the rage emanating from you. 

“Amor, what’s wrong?” going to touch your arm, before you quickly pull away.

“Nothing. Let’s go.” 

Your shortness with him wasn’t new at this point, so he stayed quiet till you guys reached your flat.

Once you guys had walked in, he was quick to ask what happened at the track that led you to be stomping around with smoke coming out your ears. You told him everything that happened with the journalist, and he was nothing but sorry that something like that had happened to you. He knew how hard your transition was into a life without racing. 

“Baby, I know things are hard right now, but we can figure it out. This isn’t the end.” Franco tried to reason with you. But all you could see was red, feeling an intense pressure and heat in your chest. 

“You don’t even get it. My career is over, everything I’ve worked towards is gone. I have nothing left.”

Your words hit Franco, like a knife. You had nothing left? What about him?

“There are so many things you can do. We’ll find something that works for you. Stop being negative and actually try.” 

“Fuck you. I am trying, you don’t understand how hard this is. Everything’s working for you. Your life is perfect and amazing. Stop pitying me. I’m not a child.”

Somewhere in the chaos in your mind, you had lost all sense of where you were and who you were talking to. All you knew was that you were screaming everything you felt. 

Your mind was racing, you weren’t making total sense. 

After the race today and having dealt with you these past few months, he was tired. He wasn’t gonna coddle you and go easy on you anymore. 

“Well you’re sure acting like one. You need to grow up. Shit happens and you have to deal with it. Not everything will work out in life, you just have to deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say. Your life is perfect and you have everything you want.”

“If I had everything I wanted, then I wouldn’t have a girlfriend who’s giving up. I’d have a better girlfriend.” 

What? Did he really just say that? I hate when we fight, sucks when we fight. 

“I can’t pretend I’m sorry, when I’m not sorry. All I’ve ever done was my best when it comes to you and us. Unfortunately your girlfriend is awful.” 

You looked him in the eye one final time, “Get out. We’re done.” 

“That’s it? You’re gonna give up so easily?” he lets out a huff, “Typical of you to give up, again. Let me know when you’ve grown up.” 

With the slamming of the door, he was gone. That was the last time you saw him.

After a few days of radio silence from you, Franco felt abandoned. He’d already felt lost when you told him to leave, the second the door slammed closed, he almost went back in through the door to fix everything. It felt as if you didn’t care about his feelings, like he’d been cut a thousand times. Franco actually struggled to keep it together. He didn’t realize how much he needed you in his life. He didn’t realize how he depended on you, on your support, your touch and how it kept him sane and stable when everything around him was just pure chaos. 

It was hard for him to race after that day. And words could never describe how his heart hurt when he got called up to F1, when he got a seat. He immediately thought of you, he was living your dream after all - he couldn’t even share the experience with you, you weren’t by his side anymore. You were gone. 

Until now. 

Since that day, you have been working on yourself. You were in therapy now and continuing school to become an engineer. You thought, maybe since you can’t be in the car, you could work around it or with it. Things had been looking better. You started to surround yourself with love and support from your friends and family. 

You were on a work trip in Texas, helping a company work on a new up and coming project that could be innovative, when you got a call from an old friend. Oscar had seen through social media that you were in Texas, and invited you to see the race at COTA. When he initially offered the invitation, you almost didn’t go since you didn’t think it’d be a good idea, considering how you and Franco had left off. But it had been years, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You would be able to go and support the rookies and maybe make up with Franco. 

It’s not like you didn’t feel love for him anymore. Maybe you two could work things out and get back to where you were. So you told Oscar you’d be at COTA. 

“That’s great! I’m so glad you’ll be able to make it. It’s been so long and I’m sure Lily would love to see you too.” “Omg, I’m so excited to see her again! I’ve missed her so much.” “Yeah. So, I’m sure you’ve heard. Franco is driving for Williams for the rest of the season, so he’ll be at COTA. Will you guys be able to keep it civil if you run into each other?”

“I can. I’ve lived a lot and I’ve let the rain in since everything. It’s just a matter of how he’ll react.” “I’m not gonna lie, I think he’s been waiting for an apology from you. Er, at least he did for a while.” “Yeah, he deserves one from me. I was pretty shitty to him, I know that now.” 

“I’m glad you were able to sort everything out on your end, hopefully you two can be friendly again.” “Maybe. I gotta go, Osc. Talk soon.”

“Talk soon.”

The amount of various feelings flowing through your body was making you physically shake. You were excited, nervous, happy, and everything mixed into one. 

You pull up Franco’s contact, thinking it’d be better to reach out and arrange a meeting rather than bombarding him at the track. 

You must have typed and deleted about 50 messages before settling on a simple “hey”

Franco didn’t expect to see your name show up on his screen. He chuckled bitterly at the irony of life, bringing you back onto his path after being the one to send him away. He doesn’t even know how he feels about you anymore. 

“Hey” he replied

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. You?”

“I’m okay”

Three minutes pass, you simply just stare at the screen, not knowing how to proceed. You watch as three dots float on the corner of your screen. 

“What do you want?”

Damn, harsh much?

“I was wondering if you wanted to meet up sometime this weekend? Oscar invited me to watch the race and I thought maybe we could talk. I think I’ve calmed down since the last time we spoke.”

“Sure. I don't know when exactly I’ll be available but I can text you closer to the weekend”

“That sounds good. Thanks for being cool about this.”

“No problem, see you soon.”

He was quick to cut the conversation. Maybe he's just busy. You decide to put your phone away and focus on some work stuff. 

The weekend comes around quickly and you find yourself wandering around the paddock alone. You weren’t able to make it Friday, but at least you’re here for qualifying. You managed to get a few minutes with Oscar and Lando, catching up a bit before they had to get ready for qualis. You made your way to where you were gonna watch the race, texting Franco at the same time. 

He was letting you know he’ll be able to meet up with you after the race today. You were so incredibly nervous because you wanted things to work out between the two of you. You missed him. He was your best friend, and you guess that was the worst part of losing him. If he just said when, you’d play again because you felt more in brief moments with him, than with anyone else. 

You sat down and watched the qualifiers, screaming and cheering everytime one of your boys passed someone or did something impressive. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed this. Watching and cheering on your friends from the sidelines. It felt good to watch them achieve their dreams, even if you couldn’t reach yours. Franco ended up in P6, which was impressive considering he’s only raced a few times in an F1 car, and he’s in a Williams car. 

After about 20 minutes, Franco texted you, letting you know to meet him in his driver's room. You made your way to his room after getting lost for about 8 minutes, when someone eventually felt bad for you and pointed you in the right direction. 

You walked up the steps to his room, standing there for a minute, nervous about seeing him. It’s been about 2 years since you last saw each other. You wonder if he looks any different now. Of course you’d seen his pictures around, but sometimes the cameras don’t catch certain things. Like how his eyes are essentially a kaleidoscope of everything you’ve ever loved, how his nose crinkles a bit at the bridge when he’s happy. 

Fuck it, enough stalling. You knock on the door and wait there for a response. After a minute, you don’t hear one so you assume you didn’t knock loud enough. You raise your hand to knock again when the door swings open. When it opens, your eyes quickly find his. 

He looks deep in your eyes, trying to find a glimpse of the past in them, a recollection of the memories you shared together, but it’s like you’re not there anymore. Sure, you’re standing right infront of him, but the you that he knew, the one he fell in love with, is missing. 

“Hey” he said softly. 

“Hey” 

You two stood there in silence for a moment, sort of processing that you’re seeing eachother again in person. As if your brains are trying to decipher whether this is real or a hallucination. 

The silence breaks when Franco shakes his head and clears his throat, 

“Come in.” he says, holding the door open for you. 

You walk in, brushing past him. 

The room is spacious, quiet, yet suffocating. 

You walk to the middle of the room, feeling a bit self-conscious. Turning back to face Franco, you watch as he closes the door and turns his body to you. 

“So’’ he says. 

“So”

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“I wanted to catch up, see how you’re doing. A lot has changed since the last time we saw each other.�� you look down, swallowing a gulp before continuing, wringing your hands together, “I also wanted to apologize, for everything. The way I had acted all those years ago, especially towards the end. I wasn’t being fair to you and all you wanted to do was be there for me.”

“It’s fine.” he replies, leaning against a counter, crossing his arms over his chest, not giving you an ounce of emotion.

The burning sensation he feels in his chest now isn’t love anymore - instead it’s a mixture of pain and anger, feeling a riot form in his emotions. He’s wasting time on listening to someone who kicked him to the side without caring about how you had let him down when he needed you the most. 

Well, you didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t that dry and short answer. 

“That’s it? I came all this way to come and see you and apologize, and all I get is ‘fine’?!”

“I said ‘it’s fine’ actually.” 

Why was he being like this? You get that you fucked up a lot and that you had hurt him, but if this was how he was going to act, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue this conversation. 

“Why did you even agree to talking to me, if this is how you’re gonna act?”

“How am I acting?” “Like you don’t give a fuck. Like you just wanna gloat, see how badly I was doing. You don’t know how to step outside yourself.” “You think so little of me? It’s not my fault you can’t sit with the hard thing.”

“Well when the proof is in the pudding then yeah. Are you even sad about the fact that we don’t talk anymore? That all we had is gone?”

“I’m not the one who ended things, you were. You’re the one who ruined us.” 

“I blew all my plans, just to get to talk to you today. I’m trying to fix everything that I broke but you’re not letting me.” “Maybe you aren’t trying enough.” he says as he pushes off the counter and walks towards you, stopping a few inches from you. Close enough that you can feel each other's breathing. 

“Not trying enough? Or not enough for you? For your deluded self?”

“I’m not the problem here, especially considering I’m the one driving in F1.”

“I should be the one with this chance, not you! All you have is an inflated ego and your shallow thinking.”

“I was the one who worked my ass off to get here. I’m sorry you couldn’t join me in this like we had planned, but it’s not my fault that things fell this way.”

“I should be in your seat, not you!” 

“No, you don’t deserve this seat. I actually put in the work to be here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I earned my way through those races. I was one of the best.”

“Keyword: was.”

“You know that crash stopped me from driving. I can’t get back in the car.” “Can’t or won’t” 

“Can’t”

“No, you’re just a fucking pussy. You’re too scared to get back in the car cause you know you can’t do it. You can’t amount to anything.You know that even if you get back in the car, you’ll never get a seat in F1.”

You stand there for a beat. You never knew he could be so mean. Maybe you brought it out of him. 

It’s all your fault. You’re the problem. 

You feel the tears threatening to spill. You take a breath before saying, “I thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose.”

He looks you up and down, lip twitching, “I guess I lied. I had the wrong idea about you.”

An all too familiar sight, his back, as he walks out the door, again, because of you. 

You really thought you would get what you wanted. But what did you want?

[beckyninja]

Revelation

Pairing: Lt. Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: descriptions of torture

Description: Our favorite Ultramarine Captain Lieutenant realizes his personal serf means far more to him than he thought. And all it took was his subconscious concocting a truly horrific scenario.

Alright guys, you seemed to like my fluff. Now I thought I'd try my hand at some angst. As always, please forgive any non-canonical details. And thanks to @solspina who's Dante dream fic heavily inspired this.

Pain.

Demetrian Titus knew this feeling. In his long life as an Astartes, he’d experienced more kinds of pain than most Imperial citizens dreamed of in their worst nightmares. Stab wounds, shattered bones, burns, bites. He’d endured them all, healed, and moved on.

Not this time, though. This pain… lingered. It welled and pulsed within his very nerves, bypassing all attempts by his enhanced body to neutralize it. It stemmed from the chains bolted to his wrists and ankles, from the hundreds of injection sites scattered across his skin.

And from the mind of one Inquisitor.

“Ah, awake again, I see.”

The deceptively calm voice echoed inside his skull. A face came into view, seeming to float in the endless void.

It smiled.

Once, he would have lunged at that smug face. He would have strained against the shackles that bound him, warrior’s instincts screaming at him. Fight back! Kill!

No longer. That time had passed. Days? Months? Years ago, perhaps. Now he simply stared. He would not speak. He could not give the answers this madman desired, and he would not dishonor himself by lying. 

His silence was the only resistance he could give.

Normally, this infuriated his tormentor. He would rant and rail, promising new and varied forms of agony. 

“There is heresy within you, traitor. And I will dig it out, if I have to do so from your broken corpse!”

The Inquisitor often promised death, either as punishment… or reward. At times, Titus welcomed the idea. Then thoughts of the shame such a ignoble death would bring his Chapter filled him and he silently vowed to live another day. 

Eternal service. The vow of an Astartes. The vow of an Ultramarine. It did not matter the circumstances. He would endure. He would-

“I have something new planned for you this time, Titus.”

A sickly light illuminated his surroundings. It slowly revealed a figure crouched at the Inquisitor’s feet. After years of silence, a word fell from Titus’s torn lips.

“No…”

You. It was you. How? Titus’s mind whirled, trying to piece together a timeline that suddenly made no sense. You couldn’t be here. He hadn’t even met you yet! A deception. It had to be.

Then the Inquisitor reached down and yanked your head back. The hood of your serf’s robe fell and Titus looked into your eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had looked at him with hope and adoration. Now full of terror.

He jerked against his bonds without thinking, trying to reach you, trying to shield you from what was to come.

The Inquisitor laughed. “Such a reaction! And here I thought Astartes were above such mortal frailties as affection,” his hand left your head and strayed lower, “and desire.”

You yelped as that hand groped your flesh. Blind fury filled Titus and he lunged once again. 

“Do not touch her!”

“Or you will do what, exactly?” The Inquisitor gripped your chin and forced it up. “Look at him, girl. Look at your hero.” Another cruel laugh. “So strong and noble. And now all he can do is watch as I do this… and this…”

Your cries brought a pain greater than all the Inquisition’s tortures combined. Your eyes fixed on him, begging him to save you. He thrashed against his chains harder than ever before.

They only grew tighter.

The Inquisitor’s laughter rose to a shriek. “You swore to protect her, Titus! You swore to never let her come to harm again!”

He drew back his hand and struck you across the face. Again. And again. Titus watched welts and bruises bloom across your skin. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed. 

“This is your fault, Titus.” The Inquisitor grinned.

My fault. 

He had taken you for his own. Your companionship, in a galaxy that had abandoned him, soothed the ache in his soul. 

Now you suffered the consequences of his selfishness. 

For the first time in his life, the proud Ultramarine begged. “Stop, please!”

The Inquisitor threw you to the ground and brought his booted foot down on your arm with a sickening crack! You screamed.

Titus felt something break within him as well. “I WILL CONFESS!”

Silence. Darkness. He found himself alone in the void. He could no longer see you or the Inquisitor. For an eternity he hung there, waiting for something… anything.

Then, a voice whispered in his ear. “She means so much to you, doesn’t she?”

The sound of a blade splitting flesh. The overwhelming scent of blood. 

***

Titus’s eyes snapped open. All three of his lungs expanded as he gasped for breath. He lay on his cot, in his quarters, surrounded by the soft glow of candles. The omnipresent hum of the ship buzzed in his ears. 

His torment at the hands of the Inquisitor had ended over a century ago. You were not there. You had never been there. 

Why, then, did he still smell your blood?

At that moment, a soft beep came from the door as it slid open. You stepped inside, a bucket of cleaning supplies perched upon your hip. You glanced at him with a smile.

The scent of blood grew stronger.

In the blink of an eye he knelt before you, hands grasping your shoulders. “Where are you wounded?” 

“My Lord?” You gasped, the cleaning supplies clattering to the floor.

He noticed the reddish marks on your sleeves and growled, low and predatory. “Who hurt you?”

He’d find them and tear them limb from limb.

“No one, my Lord. I am not hurt.”

“Do not lie to me!”

You flinched. He winced, removing his hands.

“I am not injured.” You repeated. “The medicae are short-staffed at the moment and I offered to assist with the wounded in the infirmary. I know I should have asked your permission, but I didn’t think you’d disapprove. I’m sorry, my Lord.”

“I… I do not disapprove.” Titus closed his eyes and tried to regulate the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “There is no need for you to apologize.”

You were silent for a moment.

“You had another nightmare.”

“Yes.”

“It involved… me?”

“Yes. You were… injured. I could not… I tried to…”

Emotions ran riot through him. Some he could name: anger, guilt. Others were entirely foreign. He felt unmoored, severed from the comforting order of practical and theoretical.

“Perhaps I am indeed corrupted in some way.” He muttered, almost to himself. “Perhaps I deserve to suffer.”

“No!”

Something soft pressed against his face. He opened his eyes to find your hands cupping his cheeks. 

“Forgive me, but I hate it when you say such things.” Your beautiful eyes burned with conviction. “You saved me when no one else would. You are honorable and courageous and deserving of whatever happiness can be found in this life. You, Demetrian Titus, are a good man.” You hesitated then, your voice dropped to a whisper only an Astartes’ ears could have heard. “Emperor forgive me, I love you for it.”

Your words. Your touch. The strange emotions stirred up by his subconscious. All these things ignited in his mind… and Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines experienced a revelation.

He covered your mouth with his own.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @lemon-russ @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

I hope I tagged everyone who asked!

[writersblockiskillingme]

hi love!!!! your work is so amazing i love how you write

i was wondering if you could do a corionlanus x fem reader where she’s his tribute and is about to be killed in the game but it’s kind of like that scene in you where she says “no don’t kill me im pregnant” and it’s his reaction and everyone watching trying to get them to end the games? i’d love to see what you could do w that feel free to change anything u want!

Songbird's Plan | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!tribute!reader

Summary: The presence of a song bird can change everything for one who appreciates them or "if it weren't for the baby" TBOSAS edition.

Warning/s: a bit of angst, Coriolanus Snow being in love, nickname (songbird), mentions of death, mentions of pregnancy, short fic, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: It's finally here. Hope you enjoy.

The moment Coriolanus Snow met you he knew that he would do everything in his power to protect you from harm no matter what.

Of course he knew that that was going to be a difficult challenge because you were his tribute.

You were supposed to be in the games, you were supposed to literally fight for your life. There was always the chance that you would die, but Coriolanus didn't allow himself to think too long of this outcome. He knew that it would simply drive him to compete and utter madness.

So once the rebels bombed the arena, once he was out of the hospital and once he made sure that his tribute was okay, he sneaked into the arena the night before the games.

He spend more than half of the night searching for the places for his little songbird to hide. He did everything he could, he truly did, and he truly did though that he would be prepared for everything.

Yet as he found himself leaning towards the screen in front of him that displayed the scene of you being attacked by Coral he felt himself automatically freeze. He felt helpless.

He felt like he let you down and that ate him inside out.

Coriolanus felt like his heart was going to simply burst out of his chest as he watched, his throat tightening.

He watched Coral getting closer to you. He felt useless.

But there was something that both of you underestimated. There was a certain connection between you two. Both Coriolanus and you were smart, willing to do anything to survive.

Once Coriolanus remembered that, he forced himself to move. He could probably wipe out Coral with those badly made drones, but he needed some distraction because if Coral sees them, it's over. He could hit you.

"Please, don't!" Your voice broke out of the screen, Coriolanus felt himself flinch at the desperation behind it.

He watched your helpless form glazing away from Coral like you were on thin ice.

Coriolanus felt like he would scream put as Coral raised her weapon against you. But that's when you yelled out something that made his heart completely stop.

"No!" Your forceful voice shouted. "Don't kill me, I'm pregnant!"

Coral stopped for a moment. Coriolanus stopped for a moment. In fact, it seemed like the entire world stopped for a moment.

Coriolanus couldn't move, his mouth slightly agape as he watched you breathe heavily as you waited for Coral to move.

"Stop the games!" Tigris shouted in despair.

Coriolanus felt himself turn around quickly as he watched the mob of students standing up, waving his hands in air as they shouted to stop the games.

Coriolanus quickly turned to the screen and watched Coral still trying to gain her composure. He moved quickly, his body quicker than his mind.

If he doesn't do anything now, it would be over for you.

So as he send at least ten drones into the arena, successfully killing Coral, and as he watched your face twist in relief, and as he heard the cheers behind him he realized that maybe the hope wasn't lost after all.

His little songbird was truly a genius.

->

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TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…

(or, in other words, promises of their dedication to you.)

✦ featuring: childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli, kazuha.

✦ warnings: none, just the smallest smidgens of angst in some places.

✦ notes: so, this is a really old work i posted on my first blog that i'm proud of sjhhjs i found it a while ago and decided to rework it a little!! (i haven't changed too much of the original though, just tweaked some sentences and added and subtracted.)

…i’d pull hell and heaven to their knees at your feet, and i’d kneel alongside them (if I could. oh, if only i could).

childe wants to give you the world and more.

he’s almost reverent in his devotion to those he loves, seeking to please beyond all else, and what he holds toward you is no different. at merely a blink of your eyes, he’d bring you the sun and the stars, weave moonlight into fabric and find a chunk of the most beautiful emerald you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he does it all with a wink and a smile and a ‘you need only ask, dear,’

and it is true, you need only ask for him to lay out the world for you.

but alas, there is only so much fate will allow him to do. his heart and soul may rest in your palms, but he is duty bound to the tsaritsa.

ajax can promise you everything in the world, just not himself.

he cannot promise you himself in his entirety, he cannot promise you an ajax without his secrets, without an always existing barrier in between you.

no matter how desperately he wants to.

…i’d stand bare in your light, arms asunder, abandoning my secrets and shedding the shadows i once called home.

kaeya alberich fears trust.

he’s scared of what it could lead to, what it could do to him, what it has done to him. he’s a man who lives under a cloak of secrets and inside a cocoon of fear and mysteries, and for him to allow himself to expose everything he hides is no small feat.

but it is the surest mark of his trust in you, that some hopeful part of him believes that you’ll stay against all odds.

he thinks you shouldn’t, though, that it’ll cause you more harm than good— he won’t let himself want you. but you’ll know he is truly yours when he hesitates no longer to tell you the deepest desires of his heart, to bare his whole soul and lay it before your eyes.

patience, and you'll find him the most beautiful butterfly of them all.

…i’d cross the deepest of chasms, weather the harshest of storms, and brave the most treacherous of paths to return to your arms.

not a soul can say that adeptus alatus has no home to go back to. (and if they did, how utterly wrong they’d be.)

his home is the warmth of your embrace, the love in every gentle caress, and the soft cadence of your voice. it's the smile in your eyes, and the spring in your step, and the softness of your heart. he’d call it almost dream-like, but xiao knows what dreams are like, far better than anyone. he also knows that every dream— no matter how intense, no matter how vivid— always disappears.

but you’re still here, day after day,

does that not mean you’re as real as the air he breathes and the sun that sets over liyue?

xiao’s loyalty is hard won, but it is steadfast. he cannot promise that he’ll live forever, nor can he promise you happiness every single minute of the day. but what he can promise you, is that at the end of the day, he’ll fight his hardest to return to you, no matter how far away he might be.

…i’d etch your memory— from the most mellifluous laugh to every tiny victory— onto my very soul, so that not even the flow of time can wash it away.

morax has prospered for centuries.

he’s witnessed dynasties fall to dust; paupers rise to prominence. he’s come across many he was fond of and cherishes the memory of everyone he has ever cared for. 

he’s also aware that forgetting some people in the vast expanse time is inevitable. the withering of the blooms of thought spare none, not even a god, and the tree of the psyche grows ancient. after all, even the mind is not permanent in a world of transience, is it?

but zhongli would be damned if he ever let you fade.

his promise, no, his contract— one he made to himself the day the realization that you'd one day no longer be by his side fully set in— is to preserve even the last wisps that linger, encasing the thought of you in shimmering gold, so that after you are long gone, you’ll live on as part of his soul.

…i’d whisper the softest of tales into the night breeze, tales of you and i, so that even when we’re long gone, the wind will carry our stories for aeons to come.

kazuha is no stranger to the whispers of the wind.

he’s intimately familiar with them, a rare blessing he knows he is lucky to have. but his most divine blessing is the privilege of being part of a story with you. life is short, unpredictable; one never knows what their fate might be, but he's beyond glad that this part of his destiny has you.

he has no desire to be a legend, and he knows you don’t either. but he is sentimental in the regard that he wants the whispers of the two of you to stick around. he’s lost so much, and reciting stories of the two of you is his way of preservation, for nothing spoken into the wind vanishes.

the world knows only a fraction of this wanderer, but he hopes that if they remember anything about him, they remember how much he loved you.