#and yes I did draw this just as an excuse to draw emotions on a human face in the second panel...

[sleepis4theweak]

Emotions are literally my FAVORITE thing to draw... but turtles don't have all of the facial features needed for that and IT ANNOYS ME SO MUCH

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #39: Gladiator's ELEVENTH Anniversary! (+ BONUS: Fic-to-Art #36...)

And here we are! March 26th arrived and I did not forget about it, but I paid for my ambitious madness with my wrist and forearm. Somehow, I finished my intended pieces on time, but I do not advise that you ever try to make 9 artworks in 3 days. No, sir. Bad life decisions, that's what that was... but this fic, as anyone knows, moves me to do things I never thought possible, starting with writing the fic itself!

It's really crazy every time it hits me that I've been doing this for as long as I have. It's been a complicated, chaotic journey, with its many ups and downs, but ultimately, it has been our journey. For some people, this is just one more fic in the pile: for me, it's been the best adventure of my life so far. Everyone who has ever been touched by Gladiator, who has ever cherished this story, who's looking forward to the big conclusion, who wants to see how the chaotic war is going to end... you're all part of this crazy adventure along with me, and I can only thank you for joining me.

This year, I had no time to make as big a project as I usually go for. Thus, I did a sort of free-for-all edition of Fic-to-Art over at Patreon and challenged myself to draw as many scenes as I could, out of their suggestions. I even sprinkled in a few scenes I impulsively wanted to draw because I loved writing them or because I look forward to writing them... and this is the result!

In order, the scenes are as follow:

Sokka combing Azula's hair, a common occurrence throughout the story.

Azula watching over a convalescing Sokka in the Chase of Jeong Jeong arc.

The outcome of Sokka's final battle in the Superior Gladiator League, namely a moment where Sokka and Azula more or less gave away their relationship's true nature to the public by raising their hands towards each other...

And now, spoiler territory! Some were by my choice, some by Patreon requests:

An important moment shortly after Sokka and Azula reunite.

Azula confronting her father, with a LOT of backup.

Xin Long's long-awaited freedom.

The aftermath of the final battle.

The full-blown confirmation of their relationship to the general Fire Nation populace.

Sokka, Azula and Hotaru's first night together

And the big final one is ACTUALLY Fic-to-Art #36 but hahaha woops I didn't post it here on time because it was super hard to finish since I had a LOT of things going on... but here it is now! :'D it's a glimpse VERY far into the future of this fic's timeline!

Alright, that should be enough talking and explaining. Some things are vague, some things aren't, but ultimately I really hope you guys will be looking forward to the scenes you haven't seen yet, and to Gladiator's eventual outcome.

So now... with all this being said and done, I'm gonna go take a trip down memory lane and watch my Tenth Anniversary video once more! Feel free to do the same thing if you'd like to commemorate the fic, I think it's a good way to experience Gladiator all over again, hahaha.

Thank you if you read all this, and if you read all THAT: 5 million word landmark, here we come! Thanks for hanging out with me across ELEVEN years of Gladiator!

[cuteniaarts]

What if Suiren and Midori inherited their paternal grandmother’s curlier hair?

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

[muchtodoonterror]

it's 3:30am so please excuse this post which is going to feature decapitation and cannibalism and emotions so content warning for those

but i keep seeing people say they've identified fitzjames' body, but they haven't! they've identified not even his skull but his jawbone. his lower mandible with cut marks. and yes the "they ate his face" jokes are right there for the taking, but probably more likely they in fact cut his head off first specifically so they wouldn't have to look at his face while they carried out their task of butchery. and if they were making use of the head....that's the direst of all, because it's the most individual part, it's the part they would have least wanted to consume. there are so few skeletons that were found in their original arrangement so i know it's not necessarily telling, but presuming that they did cut off his head, it really hits home to me even more that all we have identified is his jaw. not even his "face". certainly not a body. his actual body could be somewhere far distant or nowhere because all that's left is this part because these men who he lived in incredibly close quarters with for so long were forced to do the unthinkable to a man who was widely liked and considered an emblem of vitality and who they served under for years. he did funky little drawings in his letter margins and got excited about goodsir's sea creatures and had served with some of these men not just on erebus but for years before!!! he personally hired many of them (which maybe they were not so glad of anymore) because he knew and liked and trusted t hem. maybe they tried to bury his head with dignity to give at least part of him a christian burial. maybe not. but there's something deeply lonely about a jawbone. . . . with cut marks.

[skeltnwrites]

A/N: I think this is the first time I've ever been so emotional about something I've written 😭 this hit a little too close to home for me

Summary: You help Eddie wash his hair when he can't. | 0.9k words

TW: depression, best friend!reader

“Nooo,” Eddie whines, voice muffled by blankets. “Stop– Seriously!” 

Your grip around his ankle only tightens from where you’ve fished it out of his cocoon. You tug, ripping his sock off in the process, until he’s halfway off the couch, clinging onto a cushion like his life depends on it. 

“You’re so annoying,” he slumps into a sitting position on the floor, eyes peaking out of the fold in his comforter. 

You crouch in front of your best friend. “Yes, but you love me.” 

He leans away when you peel the corner of the blanket away. He’s pale, which is typical, but it’s summer and he looks borderline vampirish with how visible his veins are. A palm brushes his bangs back to meet the knot secured to his crown. He bends away from your touch a second time. 

“Hair’s greasy,” he mumbles; a weak excuse, like you’d ever care about that. 

“I can wash it for you,” you offer seriously. 

His lips tilt into a sort of smile and his brows knit together, “What? Like in the sink?” 

“If you want?” 

He hums, “Prolly uncomfortable.” 

“Okay, in the shower then.”

A real smile this time. “If you want to see me naked just say that.” 

You punch his shoulder lightly. Normally you’d shove him hard without a second thought, and he’d probably push back equally, but it feels wrong to do so when you know he won’t put up a fight. “You can put swim trunks on.”

“I don’t feel like changing.”

“Okay, then in this.” You pinch the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. 

“That’s a little weird.”

“Since when do you care about weird?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, “I guess. If you want.” 

In the bathroom, you turn the shower knob, “Hot or cold?” 

“Warm.” He’s slumped on the toilet lid in his pajamas, having ditched the duvet in the hall. 

“Okay, here.” You whisk the curtain open fully. 

He shoots you a look that says, ‘Am I really doing this?’ before stepping into the tub. His eyes widen when you climb in right after him.

“You’re crazy,” he grins and it makes your heart leap. You’ve missed the way his eyes crinkle at the edges and his lashes kiss the tips of his cheeks when he smiles. 

“Not as crazy as you.” You hook a finger under his scrunchie, gently working it until his curls spill over his shoulders. 

He sighs, eyes drawing shut when you tilt his head back. His clothes are already soaked through, clinging to his slender frame like a second skin. He blocks most of the stream but stray droplets catch your arms where they connect with his head.  

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask, massaging shampoo through his hairline. “I could go for some takeout right about now.” 

He blinks at you. “I know what you’re doing.”

You crane his head to the side to scrub his nape, “I’m not doing anything. I’m hungry.”

You’re not looking, but you practically feel him roll his eyes. 

“So, pizza?” 

He knows you only suggest it because it’s his comfort food, but he’s too tired to argue about getting something you both want. Eddie nods into your hand. You thumb his cheek, studying him self-indulgently while his eyes are sealed again. 

You work conditioner through his dead ends, tenderly detangling, and sticking spirals of black hair on the shower wall as they are combed out. 

Silent tears mingle with the water dripping off his chin. The tremble in his breath gives him away and you acknowledge it with a wordless hug. He reciprocates, squeezing you under the warmth of the showerhead. His nose digs into your collarbone and you trace the knobs on his spine. 

This is not the first time you’ve seen him cry, or held him while he did, for that matter. You are well-versed in handling his depressive episodes. Knowing when to push and when not to pry. Knowing when to hold him and when to give him space. And most importantly knowing that most of the time he just needs someone there. Not to talk about it necessarily but to just be with him for a night so he can pretend not to feel like shit for a few hours. 

You wrap him in a towel and scour his room for fresh pajamas. There was a time when he’d have been embarrassed to let you see his room in such a state, but you’ve drilled it into his head that you love all of him, even the messier parts. 

You change out of damp clothes in his room while he does in the bathroom. A handful of his things are put away while you’re in there, but not enough for him to scold you for doing so. 

He meets you back in the living room where he sinks back into his spot in front of the TV. You dial his favorite pizza place before joining him on the couch to brush and braid his hair. He thanks you, though you don’t need it. 

With his legs thrown across your lap and half a greasy pie split between your bellies, the hum of a movie soothes you both to sleep. Outside, the world spins on, but for now, here with him, everything feels still.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Jealous!Toto Wolff with wife reader. He trust her. He just doesn't trust people who were flirting with her and getting her uncomfortable. With their son, Jack, both of them team up to protect her and become her knight in shining armor. Thanks!! :))

Hii I hope you enjoy this request :)

Race day buzzed with a palpable tension around the paddock, especially in the Mercedes garage. Despite it being the Red Bull Ring, it was a crucial race for Toto. The fact that you had volunteered to show the celebrity guests around the garage only added to the strain.

Envy gnawed at Toto, a rare emotion for the composed team principal. He knew you were just being your warm, welcoming self, but it didn’t ease the discomfort seeing how close one of the guests, a towering basketball player, was standing next to you. The flirtatious jokes flew over your head, but they didn't escape Toto’s notice. The closeness, the laughter – it was too much. And it seemed he wasn't the only one feeling the sting of jealousy.

"Dad, when will Mom finish with the guests? I want to show her something," your son Jack asked, his eyes mirroring Toto's unease.

Toto bent down, placing a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder. "She’ll be done soon, buddy. Why don’t we go get a drink and then come back?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but his heart pounded with a mix of protectiveness and irritation.

Jack pouted slightly but nodded, trusting his dad’s words. As they walked toward the hospitality area, Toto couldn't help but glance back at you. The basketball player leaned in closer, his laughter annoyingly loud. You, engrossed in showcasing the car, seemed oblivious to the man's intentions. Toto's protective instincts were at an all-time high.

Jack tugged on his hand, snapping him back to reality. "Dad, do you think Mom likes that guy?"

Toto chuckled, though it sounded strained. "No, Jack. Mom’s just being nice. She’s always kind to everyone, remember?"

Jack nodded, his young face still clouded with worry. "But he’s not nice. He keeps trying to make Mom laugh. I don’t like it."

Toto ruffled Jack’s hair, his smile softening. "Neither do I, kiddo. Neither do I."

Back at the garage, you were wrapping up the tour, finally noticing the basketball player’s increasingly bold attempts to monopolize your attention. You smiled politely, trying to steer the conversation back to the car and the race, but he was persistent.

Just then, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Turning, you saw Toto and Jack approaching, both wearing matching expressions of determination. Relief washed over you.

"Excuse me," you said to the guest, stepping away to greet your husband and son. "How are my two favorite guys doing?"

Jack ran to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Mom, I want to show you something! Can you come now?"

Toto smiled, though his eyes still held a flicker of irritation. "Yes, love. We need you back. There are some… adjustments we need to discuss."

Sensing the underlying tension in Toto's voice, you placed a gentle hand on his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Of course. Let’s go."

As you walked away with your family, the basketball player called out to you, but Toto shot him a look that silenced any further attempts. With his attention fully on you and Jack, Toto felt a surge of triumph.

In the relative quiet of a private area, you knelt down to Jack’s level. "What did you want to show me, sweetheart?"

Jack grinned, pulling out a small, hand-drawn picture from his pocket. It was a simple but charming drawing of the three of you, with a race car in the background. "I made this for you, Mom. It’s us winning the race!"

You smiled, your heart melting at the sight. "It’s perfect, Jack. Thank you so much."

Toto looked at the drawing, his heart softening as well. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "We’ve got the best team here, don’t we?"

You leaned into him, feeling the love and support from your family. "We sure do."

[cow-smells]

Decisions | Vinsmoke Sanji / Roronoa Zoro x reader

Summary: You and Sanji are friends. Just like you're friends with Zoro. When a misunderstanding pushes emotions to a boiling point, you're put on the spot to make a tough decision - who really is the man for you?

Word count: 1100

Warnings: none

A/n: this is going to be a choose-your-destiny type thing, where you can choose who you want to end up with! this first part is the prequel to that ~

you chose: Zoro , Sanji

Read on AO3

“Here, like this.”

Sanji took to standing behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his hands on yours, guiding you through the proper motions to chop a carrot as evenly as he did. You couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed against your own, how he smelled of the bath he took this morning, the light caress of his breath on your neck. It was nearly overwhelming. You had to hyperfocus on the task in front of you so to not zone out and chop off a finger.

The carrots now chopped, Sanji’s excuse to wrap himself around you was gone. Reluctantly, he took a step back; you weren’t sure if the sudden coldness you were feeling was disappointment at his lack of proximity.

“Okay,” he started, his voice a little shaken; you wondered – was that because of you? “breakfast’s about as good as done. Do you want to call everyone in?”

“Sure,” you agreed, earning yourself one of Sanji’s beautiful, deep-dimpled smiles.

Gathering the crew for breakfast was rarely a hassle; you were often tasked with the mission after helping Sanji prep breakfast, and so, you already knew everyone’s routines and where to find them. Luffy was usually nearby the kitchen somewhere, ready to pounce on breakfast the moment Sanji permitted; Nami could be found on deck, drawing maps of where you’ve been; Usopp was a bit less predictable, but he’d usually find you as you were making the rounds. And then there was Zoro – which, you learned, was not a morning person.

While Sanji was up at the crack of dawn, already dressed to the nines and on his feet working in the kitchen, Zoro would sleep in until forced out of bed. They really were polar opposites.

This morning was no different; you knocked twice on Zoro’s door before letting yourself in. You smiled at the sight of his sleeping form, splayed across the bed, limbs tangled in his sheets – so unlike the proper way he held himself during his waking hours.

Perching yourself on the side of the bed, you lay a hand on Zoro’s shoulder. He opted to sleep on his stomach, and you couldn’t help but be appreciative of the sight of his muscular back, shaped by the hours of training he put in daily. “Zoro,” you called calmly, caressing his upper back in what you believed to be a friendly manner. “Hey, it’s time for breakfast.”

Zoro mumbled incoherently in to his pillow before shifting to throw an arm around you, his eyes still shut peacefully. “Zoro,” you laughed, being tilted on to him. “come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Finally, Zoro responded. “Mm. Sleep better.”

“Better than Sanji’s cooking?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned. You should have seen that coming. After a short pause, Zoro opened an eye, taking you in. “Did you cook?”

“I helped.”

“Fine.” With that, Zoro threw off the sheet that was covering him, hopping out of bed in surprising speed. While he’d usually sleep in trousers, last night was hotter than usual, and he seemed to opt against them today.

“Sorry,” you apologize, seeing Zoro in nothing but his boxers. You stood up to make your way out of the room when Zoro interjected, “What’s the rush? I’ll walk with you,” as he pulled on a pair of pants. He grabbed a button-up and followed you out of his room, threading an arm in to his shirt.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you came face to face with Usopp. You could see from the way he was looking at you two, just what he was thinking. You both were leaving his room quietly early in the morning, Zoro being half undressed. Usopp’s gaze jumped between you and Zoro, his mouth falling slightly open, trying to think of how to express himself.

Zoro, however, didn’t give him the opportunity. “Usopp.” Zoro greeted sternly. Zoro then placed a hand on your lower back, maneuvering you to keep walking, leaving a confused, suspicious Usopp behind.

Usopp was the last to join you all for breakfast. When he had finally arrived, the expression he wore was one of slight terror, or maybe just pure disbelief; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Usopp took his place sitting opposite Nami, who wasn’t afraid to just ask – “Usopp. What’s up with your face?”

Usopp, reluctant to vocalize at this place and time, opted for giving Nami a wide-eyed look before raising his brows and shifting his eyeline between you and Zoro.

If that was meant to be a discreet message from himself to Nami, it failed, because even your oblivious captain had picked up on the cue – “What’s going on with y/n and Zoro?”

You could see Sanji tense visibly, his eyes growing wide. Zoro, however, seemed completely unbothered.

You could see the panic rise on Usopp before he blurted out, “Zoro and y/n are sleeping together!”

You, Luffy and Nami all shout – “What?!” to varying degrees of emotion. Strangely, Zoro doesn’t protest.

Then, a chair falls back to the floor. Sanji was on his feet, his hands fisted. You knew him well enough to know how mad he was just from the way he held himself.

“No.” Sanji said, his voice almost a growl. Slowly, he picked up his gaze from the floor to Zoro. “This… This is the one thing, I refuse to lose to you. I won’t let you have her.”

“Sit down, cook. This doesn’t regard you.” How Zoro could be so unbothered right now, you had no idea. Why wasn’t he clearing things up? Was he – was he okay with the others thinking you were together?

You could see Sanji flaring up – there was a fight about to break out, you were certain about it. “Sanji, I literally spent all morning with you.”

Instantly, Sanji’s rage melted away. Sanji made his way to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to him. “That’s right. I shouldn’t be listening to this nonsense when I know I’m the first person you see when you wake up.”

Zoro’s brow twitched at that. “What are you saying, cook?”

Looking more smug than need be, Sanji replied, “What do you think, mosshead?”

“Enough with this already!” Nami yelled, far too tired with the duo’s one-upmanship. “You’re talking about a real person here, not a toy. Ever think to ask her how she feels, what she wants?”

“Yeah, y/n.” Zoro stood, and the look he was giving you could set you ablaze. Sanji’s arms around you tightened. “What do you want?”

you chose: Zoro , Sanji

[selineram3421]

*stumbles in and door slams into the wall* Ding-dong💘

Soft Love

Alastor X Chubby Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ food mention-desserts and strawberries, hurt/comfort, italics=thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, mention of cannibalism, slight implied/suggestive ⚠

Life in Hell was hectic.

Love in Hell? Nearly impossible to find.

Especially if its real.

Alastor knew you as the kind, soft demon that everyone got along with in the hotel staff.

Kind even to him.

Your work at the hotel was mostly in the arts. The Princess has you in the therapy area to help sinners express their emotions with different mediums.

Such an interesting demon you were with many hobbies. Painting, singing, dancing, baking, designing, cooking, knitting, photography, drawing. The list could go on possibly for a while, you haven't shared all of them.

He was curious, wondering exactly what damned you to Hell.

"Alastor!"

Speak of the devil, you called.

"Yes dear?", he looked up from his book.

He sat on the lobby couch that was just across the bar, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"Could you try something for me? I made some lava cake for desert but I want to make sure yours is the right amount of bitter."

Yes, you were also very considerate and attentive.

"Of course dear!", he stood from the couch and whisked his book away into the shadows. "You know I always look forward to your baking."

He followed behind you, smiling a little wider at the pep in your step.

The Radio Demon knew that he had feelings for you. It took him a while to come to terms with it but let it happen anyway.

You were also the only person that he touched (respectfully) often. Holding your hand, linking your arms together, squishing your cheeks, holding you close for a dance. All excuses just to feel your warmth and softness.

Sure, he's let his friend Rosie touch him but she knew that he didn't like physical contact too often unless it was needed for dancing.

"I made your cake less sweet too!", you turned to look back at him with a smile.

"I appreciate it."

Once both of you entered the kitchen, you showed him the cakes and got out two different chocolate mixes.

"The lighter one is the sweetest, and the darker one is quite bitter.", you placed the bowls on the counter. "I actually want to try it with strawberries too.."

"Sounds appetizing!", he stepped closer and placed his hand on your lower back, leaning forward. "I wouldn't mind having a bite."

You blushed and avoided his gaze.

How adorable.

"I'll get a spoon for you to try the chocolate.", you said before walking out of his hold and over to the drawers near the door.

One thing he noticed was that when it came to his touch, you'd shy away. When he gave you compliments regarding your appearance, you would brush him off or put yourself down.

It upset him greatly.

Somewhat impatient, he swiped up some of the dark chocolate with his finger and tasted it.

"Alastor!"

Like a child, he quickly held his hands behind his back as if to hide something.

"Yes?"

You sighed and got a napkin before walking up to the red man.

"No use in hiding what you did.", you held out your hand.

"But I'm not hiding anything.", he shows you his hands by placing them on yours. "See?"

You hum and pull him down by his hands. "You've got chocolate on the side of your lip deer.", you point out and laugh.

He let's you clean him up with the napkin.

When you pull back, he stops you by taking a hold of your hand with the napkin. Calling your name, the Radio Demon looks you in the eye.

"I have a question for you"

"What is it?", you ask.

"Why is it that whenever I give you a compliment, you disregard it?"

In a second you stiffened and stared at him wide eyed.

"W-what? I don't do that..", you tried to pull away.

Alastor places a kiss on your fingers, still not letting go of your hand.

"Don't lie to me my dear, I always remember everything about you."

You look away with a sigh.

The frown on your face makes his unbeating heart ache.

"I don't like to talk about it.", you say and pull away.

Instead of leaving, you move the bowls and hop onto the counter to sit. Then you take a moment before speaking.

"I wasn't always treated right because of how big I looked.", you said with a sad smile. "I wasn't beauty standard perfect, or had a body that someone could ogle."

The red demon listened.

"When I did get into a relationship, it wasn't good. I was belittled, abused, and cheated on. But I still loved with my whole being..", you moved your hands onto your lap. "I was stabbed to death by them."

Alastor had to hold back his anger.

He wanted to find the person who dared treat you like nothing. To torture and rip them apart. To eat them alive.

"Silly, isn't it?", you smiled sadly, staring down at your hands. "Its what got me killed in the first place but yet I'm still chasing after it."

The Radio Demon slowly took your hands and gently rubbed them.

"You just put your heart in the wrong hands.", he said and lifted your hands to kiss your knuckles. "If I was the one who you loved, you wouldn't have to worry about any affairs."

He kissed the inside of your wrist.

"I'd compliment you everyday."

You were blushing madly at this point, too shocked and flustered to stop him.

He kissed your shoulder.

"I would never hurt you.", he says and kisses your cheek before whispering. "Unless you asked me to."

"Alastor-", you got one of your hands out of his hold to cover your mouth and some of your red face.

He leans back a bit to get a good look at you.

"I don't know how they couldn't see you for who you are. You're absolutely divine and worth so much more than anything anyone else could offer me."

You were tearing up at this point, still covering your mouth.

Carefully, the deer demon moved your hand away and caressed the side of your face. Wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

"I love you."

You start tearing up more and he sees them start running down, some wetting his hand.

"I love all of you.", he smiles genuinely. "And if anyone dared try to insult or belittle you again, I'll make sure to torture them a million times over until you ask me to stop."

You've begun to quietly sob, wiping your tears as best as you could with your free hand.

"May I kiss you?"

You laugh at that.

"I'm a mess!", you say with a breathy laugh before sniffling.

"No, you're adorable.", he kisses the top of your head.

He let's you take a minute to calm down and helps you wipe your tears and snot away.

"Can you ask again?", you give him a shy smile.

"May I kiss you?", his smile widens.

"Yes please."

Both of you share a soft but long kiss.

I found the merch!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

None for right now until I can fix how to add more tags.

ML for Alastor🎙

Extra:

You confess to Alastor that you've had a crush on him for quite a while.

"How long?", he asks, deer ears perked up.

"Uh..haha.", you look away with a blush. "After a week of joining the hotel.."

Doing the math, he realized that you've fancied him four months before he started growing feelings for you.

"Is that why you would ask what my favorite meals are? And how much sweetness I could tolerate?"

You nod.

"I can't believe how oblivious I've been. You've been gifting and making things for me.", his deer ears droop down and his brows furrow. "I must make up for all the time you spent on me."

"It's alright love.", you smiled.

"No, you can't change my mind.", he says and steals a kiss. "I'm going to spoil you."

🫀

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Pairing:Mobboss!bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue

Authors Note: I apologize immensely for the delay but my mental health has absolutely tanked in the last three weeks. I have fought enough to feel a semblance of normal and was able to put this chapter together. I hope you all enjoy, and look forward to the groveling and ass kissing our guys gonna do. Love, and many thanks, happy reading. 🤍

Bucky thinks he finally understands vividly the phrase ‘so close, yet so far’.

The two of you have been married a little over a week and it’s as if nothing has changed, he still barely see’s you despite the two of you living in the same house. You’re asleep when he arrives, and you’re gone when he wakes, and despite his best efforts, you’ve managed to avoid him at every turn.

He knows there is no excuse you could give him, no longer any reason for you to still be actively avoiding him the way you have. And while he’d give just about anything to have you at least talk to him about what troubles you, to enjoy his presence the way you had the night of your wedding, he doesn’t want to push when your discomfort is so obvious.

So he gives you time.

The first two days he gave you all the space you could have possibly wanted making himself scarce, but as the third came and went as did the days that followed, he found his patience running quite thin, an underlying hurt brewing deep within his chest.

Your close friends had all but advised against his plan to confront you.

‘She just needs time pal, she’s working through a lot of emotions, don't get a hot head because she’s coping in the only way she’s known, let her come to you when she’s ready.’

‘Listen, I’d avoid you too if I had to marry an ugly mug like yours.’

‘She’s conflicted B, she’s had her happiness ripped from her before, she’s been placed in uncomfortable situations without having anyone check up on her well-being, she’s putting herself first for the first time in a very long time. Don’t mess this up, because she won’t be the only one you lose this time around.’

He had taken their words to heart, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted to talk to you, to feel a sense of normalcy in your shared marriage, he wanted you to be happy, genuinely happy. Bucky wanted you to want to be in this marriage not because it was asked of the two of you but because it was something you genuinely wanted. He knew it was a lot to ask of you, but he would do so anyway.

Or at least he was going to try.

You're finalizing emails to meet with the other heads sometime this week when a knock stills your fingers on the keys and draws your gaze from the screen. You call out for them to enter, you weren’t sure who you were expecting but you hadn’t been expecting him. You only barely manage to conceal your shock.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You question unable to help the way your eyes flicker to the time on your desktop, you were certain you had mastered the times you arrived home. Your eyes flicker back to his, “I was just about to make my way to the house I would have met you there.” You lie.

He offers you a smile that barely meets his eyes as he closes the door behind him, your heart races in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you. You watch as he rounds your desk, he stops to lean against it, his eyes taking you in.

“Is everything okay?” you worry somethings happen, with his sudden appearance.

“I don’t know y/n, is everything okay?” he questions in return.

“Well yes,” you answer, “I was just -” He stops you mid statement, he doesn’t want another lie from you.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t do that sweetheart, don’t hide behind another lie, we both know you’ve been actively avoiding me since our first night home after our wedding, and you’ve been doing so since we signed that contract Monday, and somehow that feels worse than when you would cancel on me when I was with your sister, at least then I wasn’t catching on to the lies you made to get out of it.” Your eyes shut on a shaky exhale, “Talk to me,” he pleads, worried you’ll continue to shut him out, “tell me what I can do to make this right. This isn’t what I want for our marriage I don’t want -”

Your eyes snap open, “and you think this is what I want, you think this is how I wanted our marriage to go?” you question looking up at him in disbelief. “There may have been a time where I envisioned vividly what our marriage would be like but – I,” you shake your head unable to speak on that night right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” you continue, “I’m not even sure how to feel because before all of this,” you gesture between you, “I was certain with all finality that you’d be nothing more than someone I called a friend, my brother in law, my sisters husband and I was finally coming to terms with that, I was finally starting to feel okay with it. But just like that night I’ve had the rug ripped out from right under me yet again and I’m scared Bucky! I’m scared that it’ll happen again, that I will get too close, get too comfortable – fall in love – and with a snap of a finger it’ll all be taken away. I can’t go through that again.”

I don’t think I’d survive a second time.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he knows he’s pleading again, but he wants to do right by you, he wants to right his wrongs. “You’re my wife now y/n your happiness is above anyone else’s, I made vows to you that evening, vows I intend to keep. Please tell me how to fix this.”

The tone of his voice almost breaks you, has your resolve crumbling.

“That’s just the thing B, I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “How do I come out from behind her shadow if everywhere I look it reminds me of her, of everything she had, everything she took from me that should have been mine. I can’t even look at you without being reminded -” you shake your head looking away from his cerulean blues as you press your fingers into your eyes willing away the sting of tears.

You feel your chair being pulled to where he knows kneels before you, gentle hands prying your from your face. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, “y/n, sweetheart look at me,” he murmurs, “please.”

Your eyes slip open, to find his waiting gaze, “you are my wife. And ill be damned if you feel anything but. Please give me the chance to give you the marriage you deserve the one you are worthy of, I know you don’t want too, and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but let me try, let me try to be the man that is worthy of you.”

He can see the hesitation in your gaze as you look down at your intertwined hands, “what if she comes back? Decides she wants you back.”

He runs his thumb along your wedding band drawing both your gazes there. “I made a promise to you, I recited my vows to you,” your gazes find one another, “I am faithful to you. My wife.”

“But what if -” he chuckles shaking his head, “There are not what ifs, I’m. Yours.” He’s squeezing your hands in his, “give me a chance, give us a chance, let’s try.”

Your hearts beating like a wild drum in your chest, “Okay. Let’s try.”

[purrlockswatson]

Phantom of the Opera (1990), you did Erik proud

Alternate title: Christine, we have beef!

(Meme inspired by this post.)

I have not a bad word for this Erik (and not just because I can feel a certain friend of mine holding a chandelier over my head). The 1990 adaptation made some big changes to the story, but it perfectly captured the childlike soul of Leroux's Erik that is often lost in translation but vital to him. (When I was explaining POTO to someone outside the situation, i. e. my mum, two things I kept using as comparisons were a child and Gollum - not because he's a chaos gremlin, I was trying to describe how he has a skewered perspective of the world that isn't evil but doesn't follow the accepted moral system. But that's for another time.)

I found myself trying very hard not to resent Christine - a first time for me. I will defend her choosing the Compte de Chagny over Erik, she doesn't owe Erik love, no matter what he did for her. The problem is that she took on a responsibility she couldn't possibly carry.

Never, ever assume to fully understand someone. Especially someone like Erik, who thinks and exists on a different pane as most people. Christine was wrong, terribly wrong, to assume she 'knew his heart.'

When faced with a person so sensitive, so particular, when you are the one person trusted by someone who trusts no one, don't make huge gambles like that. She shouldn't have assumed she knew what Erik needs better than he himself does - if he told you he is happy with where they were, then stay there with him! Instead, she pulled the 'I can fix him' and shattered him completely. I don't hate her for being unable to catch Erik when he falls, I hate her for blindly promising to catch him and failing him.

(I do realise how much of the above describes myself and my worries about how people treat me, so fair warning, I may be a bit biased.)

An opinion: in most versions of the story, Erik emotionally manipulates Christine, but here, Christine is the one who is emotionally manipulative. ('Manipulative' may sound malicious, but manipulators aren't always aware of what they're doing.)

In the second part of the series, she said at least three times 'If you love me...' Now, that is one of my least favourite sentences to see and hear in the best of times, but this is somehow even worse because Erik DOES do everything because he loves her. In other versions, there is the question of possessiveness against love when it comes to their relationship; in that context, I would accept her saying this, to remind him that he should love and not obsess over her. But here, Erik is not possessive.

As for Monsieur Carrière, I have beef with him, too. It's an even bigger, tougher slice of beef. He is irresponsible: not once, but twice, he got in relationships and then left his partners when they have children. The first time could be a mistake; the second time, especially when kept Erik's mother in the dark about his marriage, is inexcusable. Yes, he stayed with her till the end, but then left their son in a basement. Yes, he reached out to Erik in the end, but too little, too late. If Erik is emotional and irrational, it's because Carrière never gave him the guidance he should have.

Christine and Carrière love Erik, I don't doubt it. But it's still painful to see Erik fall down through everyone and everything that should have caught him: his talent, his parents, Christine.

If you'll excuse me, I need to cry in the catacombs and draw something miserable.

I talk about several other adaptations here!

[sunshineandspencer]

All the world's a stage

A/N: Have I been plagued by musical!reader and Spencer ever since I set my eyes upon him and Lila? Yes, have I ever had an outlet before? No, suffer the brainrot with me.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Musical!Reader.

Summary: A case takes them to a musical theatre performance and Spencer finds himself utterly besotted for the pretty woman on stage.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: talk of disfigurement but no details, little fluff fic for my soul

Musical theatre is an immense part of her life, she grew up surrounded by it through her entire family, and did dance lessons until she realised that doing tap dance in a leotard probably isn’t going to get her very many places in the future.

So, the minute she left home to go to college, she got a theatrical degree and got herself out in the world. Made a name for herself.

Which is how she found herself playing Jenna in Waitress, absolutely her favourite role so far.

Unfortunately, a week into the show’s run, there had been an incident. No one was quite able to tell her what was going on, but her castmates kept getting replaced with understudies. Until, finally, someone better than the local police arrived.

They came in quietly, which is very good etiquette, and spoke quietly with the director while they practised. While the show was momentarily put on hold for the next few days, rehearsals wouldn’t stop, meaning she was now singing Used To Be Mine with all the emotion she can hold with Federal Agents in the crowd.

Thankfully she’s partially blinded by the lights as she sings, or else she would’ve seen him.

Spencer sat down to wait for the song to finish, and immediately found himself frozen. Whoever this is, she has to be the most talented person he’s ever heard in his life, and while he doesn’t often listen to musical theatre, he’d make an excuse for her.

Ignoring everything around him to just watch this woman give the performance of a lifetime. It’s only the rehearsal but she was treating it like a packed house.

The minute it was over and the stage lights went down, house lights flickering on so that the cast could be questioned, he jumped up and started clapping. Eyes bright as he didn’t realise that no one else had been watching her like he had.

It was impossible for her not to notice him, a bright smile on her face as he realised he was drawing attention to herself.

Laughing softly, she curtsied just for him, loving that she could see the little blur of his face turning a soft red. That giddy feeling settled high in her chest as everyone was sent off to their changing rooms to be questioned in order.

By the time it got round to her turn, a knock on her door swiftly turned into its opening and being met with the stoic man she saw talking to her director. Standing, she held a hand out for him to shake, giving her name as she greeted him.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner, we’re from the BAU.”

“Hi, no one has really told us what’s going on, but it’s not hard to realise that people just.. aren’t here.”

Smiling as he offered for her to sit down, the rest of his agents filtering into the room and starting to look around. She knew she probably wouldn’t be a suspect, but that doesn’t stop her from being nervous at having FBI agents in her dressing room.

Agent Hotchner was talking to her, gently explaining that her castmates had been injured and disfigured, which is why they had been called in. It was very unusual to have so many attacks with all the victims coming from the same theatre, which she could definitely agree with.

Then, as if the Gods themselves handcrafted the interaction, the man that had applauded for her earlier walked in with flowers. She stood up to greet him, a little quicker than she did for Agent Hotchner, which all his coworkers immediately noticed. Hurriedly, he looked between the flowers in his hands and then back to her, his cheeks flushing and jaw dropping.

“Oh! This- This isn’t-- I mean, you were great! Amazing! The best portrayal I’ve ever seen, and you sang.. s-so well.” He saw the look he was getting from Hotch behind her and cleared his throat. “Bu- but these aren’t from me. They were left at the desk, had your name on.”

Granted, it did sting and she had to resist the urge to playfully pout about it, thinking it might actually cause the poor guy to short circuit. 

“Thank you for getting it for me, and for applauding. That was very sweet of you..”

“S-Spencer-- Spencer Reid, Doctor. Uh, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Walking over to take the bouquet from him, smiling down at it and loving that she could see his blush in the corner of her eyes as she brushed her fingers across his. It was a massive bouquet with so many flowers it felt overwhelming, so she moved it to her dressing table and turned back to him.

“Well, thank you, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

He could’ve sworn they were the only two people in the room, and he had to look away from her. Fidgeting with his buzzing fingers and focusing wholly on the bouquet instead of the way she made him want to melt.

Something was itching at the back of his head as he looked at them, it was.. too much.

Rocking back on his feet, aching for a way to ground himself, he pointed out the bouquet to the rest of the team. Pretending not to notice the rest of them grinning at him.

“Orchid, lily, anemone, gloriosa, delphinium, clematis and genista, it’s an awfully overcrowded bouquet. Typically, flowers were used to send messages, usually to people of significance in their lives. There’s a lot going on here, but if I’m right it should mean an ‘all-consuming love’, from a significant other that’s either really sweet or he doesn’t really know anything about flower language. You have.. a very sweet boyfriend ma’am.”

Okay, maybe he was trying to determine whether or not she does have a boyfriend, but he could hide that with a work reason. Knowing that if she didn’t, whoever sent these likely sent them for a reason. Since the show hasn’t actually run today, but they knew she’d be here, that didn’t bode well either.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m incredibly single right now.”

While she was smiling at him, the rest of the team turned to face them a little more. You didn’t just send a bouquet to someone saying you had an ‘all-consuming love’ for them when you didn’t know them. There was no card either, which made it a little more suspicious.

Especially when there has been someone disfiguring her castmates - people who played directly alongside her - so that they can’t get onto stage. Onto stage with her.

Emily walked over, realising that all the attacks were likely connected to her, and they’d struck out massively at finding her immediately. Now they could put her somewhere safe (and have Spencer watch over her).

“Ma’am, were you close with the other castmates?”

“Oh, I mean, somewhat? We all worked together, but I’m newer on the cast so I don’t really hang out with anyone yet.” It’s dawning on her now, they can see it in the subtle shift to how she’s standing and the brush of her hair out her eyes. “Is this.. my fault? Did someone do all that because of me?”

She looked to Spencer, as if expecting him to answer, and he immediately felt the need to step forward. Gently holding onto her upper arms to stabilise her, knowing how easy it is to get lost in your own head and not wanting that for her.

Of course, his own aversion to touching people and germs is nothing in the face of helping to calm this woman.

“For whatever reason this person is doing this, it isn’t your fault. We’ll take you to the station and I’ll- I’ll stay with you until they’re caught. Okay?”

His eyes fly to Hotch, but the man just nods at him, so he picks up her bag and leads her out of the dressing room. Leaving the team behind, buzzing with the need to talk about their resident genius and his obvious crush on the performer. 

All of them just watch the door swing shut until Morgan huffs out a laugh, going back to looking through the storage cupboard.

“He never comforts me like that.” 

Thankfully, they managed to catch the guy pretty quickly once Spencer took her to the station. Since he had no way to watch her, like he had apparently been doing since she joined the cast, he went a little crazy.

Genuinely trying to break into the station to both see her and attempt to disfigure Spencer since he was now the closest person to her.

The man, however, was an idiot, and got caught almost immediately because he was carrying the exact same bouquet he’d gotten for her before. Not even getting through the reception. Leaving her and Spencer completely unaware in the break room, slowly getting to know each other.

Now, she is convinced she could fall in love with this man so easily. It’s hard not to imagine a little life with him. He’s an absolute sweetheart.

When he offered to drive her back to her shitty little apartment, she jumped at the chance. Much to his team’s continued amusement. Spencer didn’t often get a lot of attention, but when he did it was adorable to see him trying so hard.

The drive back was filled with an immediate panic, his phone connected to the car - which he didn’t even know could happen - and it started playing his most recently looked at song.. which happened to be from the Waitress playlist. Cue him hurriedly mashing at the radio to get it to stop, only for her to lean in and press the right button to change it to the stations again. Assuring him that she finds it cute that he was listening to the show she was in.

For the most part, she talked about the other shows she had been in, and tried to coax out some stories from him just to get him comfortable. Unfortunately it was a very short drive.

Undeterred by that, she showed him where to park and invited him up, just to see her to her front door after such a harrowing experience. He picked up on the sarcasm, and nearly fell out of the car to be with her.

Although, when they finally got there and she unlocked the door, she turned and leant on the doorframe, smiling at him softly as he resisted the urge to look into her home.

“Thank you for bringing me home Spencer, that was very sweet of you.”

“Of course, it was the least I could do.”

She bit her lip, wondering if she really could do what she was thinking. It probably wasn’t a very good idea, but then she watched his eyes dart down to her lips and then past her into her hallway and immediately back to her eyes.

Humming softly, she reached up to smooth his tie that definitely needed to be fixed.

“And you.. don’t have a girlfriend?”

He shook his head so fast that she was worried about him hurting himself, but that thought was quickly overtaken when he parroted her words from earlier ‘incredibly single right now’. Nodding along, she tightened her grip on his tie and tugged him closer.

Kissing him very lightly before pulling away, barely a brush. He would’ve sworn that he imagined it if it weren’t for the giddy looking smile on her face, backing away into her apartment.

“You have my number right? Please call me, I’d love to talk to you some more.”

“Yeah! Y-Yeah, of course, I’ll text you.” More breathless as he forced himself to stop looking at her lips, giving a tight smile. “I can do that.”

“Of course you can sweetheart, goodnight.”

Smiling softly at his wispy ‘goodnight’ and shutting the door.

Leaving Spencer in the hallway alone to react to what had happened. Eventually, a giddy little laugh passed his lips and he needed to move. Pacing quickly and in a small line outside her door, wanting to calm back down before having to drive to the hotel.

The fact that she had kissed him and wanted to see him again was insane. Even though he’s in another state, she doesn’t seem to care, so neither will he.

But just as he was about to whip out his phone and text her, not caring about the social etiquette in waiting, he just wanted to text, her door swung open again. And it looked like she’d been similarly celebrating on the other side, if her messy hair and red face were anything to go by.

“Uhm.. hi, would you like to come in instead? I have a spare room.. and a bottle of wine?”

Holding out her hand for him to take, desperately hoping he says yes. And even though he’s probably going to miss his flight in the morning, how could he ever say no to a woman who looks at him like that.

Slipping his hand into hers and allowing himself to be dragged into the apartment, the two of them happily discussing things like dinner and movies they could watch. Is it wrong to say that he’s glad her castmates got disfigured if it meant they could meet?

Probably.. he’ll keep that to himself for now.

Want more?! Good!

[franki-lew-yo]

Mouthwashing and fandom discourse as a whole.

So I recently explored the tag for Mouthwashing after watching two no-commentary lets plays of the entire game. I'm seeing a lot of posts pointing out how annoying it is that this game has a fandom and that this fandom is doing fandom things and stanning/"uwu-ing" characters from this incredibly nuanced, raw and not-fandom friendly piece of art. To paraphrase someone I just saw "you don't want mouthwashing; you want Among Us ocs but darker". And

for a moment I wanna talk a bit about how I absolutely agree with this statement while also talk for a moment about how and why fandom and catharsis fan fics exist and shouldn't be shamed inherently. Or, I guess, not in theory.

The "come on! Stop trying to make everything shippable/cutsey/memey/have a happy AU and face unpleasant emotions someone's trying to tell you about!" is SUCH a vibe with me. I felt this way in the 9 fandom a lot as a kid and that was just 9. Mouthwashing is like 9 on bathsalts emotions and theme-wise. It's a game where you play as both the flawed but caring captain of a doomed ship who's life becomes a Johnny Got His Gun-nightmare, and also a deplorable, hateful piece of garbage who got himself and his friend in that nightmare situation to begin with. Both characters, moreso Jimmy but Curly too, are the causes of their own misery. They're complex dealing with one of the two committing SA and doing nothing really about it/dodging the responsibility and humanity needed to support the victim whom they've wronged.

I fully admit it's groan-inducing seeing people be shipped up Anya with anyone on the ship considering what happens to her. On a pure pr level I think it would be illegal even since romance between coworkers in a workplace is considered conflict of interest/harassment as it so often is. (NOT that what Jimmy did to Anya is 'romance'. I'm talking about the shipping of Anya with the other three guys. I know there's people out there who do ship Jimmy/Anya; you don't have to tell or show me I believe you and also I already hate it.) It's ALSO groan inducing to see people ship Curly and Jimmy considering all Jimmy does to him- and just the fact that this incredibly tragic, toxic one-way-gone array friendship is reduced to "toxic yaoi teehee". It's annoying AT BEST.

I get the hostility towards fandom-tastic stanning and fandom behavior in general...the issue is it's still hostility and I wish some of you guys got that.

Like it or not (you don't have to like it) fandom culture is inevitable to some degree. You can and should complain about your hangups but that's all you can do besides avoiding tags and just not engaging with that side of the fandom at some point. Save your call-outs and rage for when you see active deplorable bs being committed that people are excusing for dumb fandom reasons, like lolicon, hatespeech or harassment. I'm sorry but you can not actively go after and try and take down the innocent people involved in your trigger that aren't directly hurting you by liking the thing that triggers you; ie. people who get all shipping and fandom-brained about Mouthwashing's characters which you find offensive to do at all.

This type of convo is the crux of most 'antifandom' v profandom discourse in general; for Antis I think there ought to be a difference between the people that set you off bcuz of fandom nonsense vs sociopathic 'got mine'-creepiness. There's a difference between someone who draws r34 v Shadbase. For profandom types you out to face the fact that yes- maybe NOT EVERYTHING is meant to be shippable/memed. Maybe try practicing that a bit. Yeah it's mostly harmless and makes you feel happy, but considering how people outside of your hyperfixation-of-a-hyperfixation is a thing. Asking to care or think about others once in awhile is not an attack on you as a person, believe it or not. The thing about the "don't like, don't read" argument is it goes both ways. If you're truly a "good fan" like you say you are than you have to realize that people will not like your problematicisms. Learn to interact with characters and stories without the possibility of shipping sometimes- or at least understand that that's the crux of what makes a story like Mouthwashing engaging, even if you also partake in the fandumb and AUs on the side. You can call Curly your babygirl and ship him or make him happy all you want but PLEASE acoknowledge that the game doesn't woobify him or excuse what he did to Anya as well. You can make some kind of AU scenario where Jimmy gets out somehow and becomes/is a slightly better person for all I care...so long as you PLEASE remember that he is canonically a r@pist and awful. Also, even if I'm okay with your fan decisions, note that myself and others are still going to be critical and be upset that you wrote it at all because of what kind of character Jimmy is. 'Critical' =/= declaring something evil.

Fandom behaviors are not souly a destructive parasocial outcome of brainrot; they're also a natural reaction to what happens canonically and the emotions you have to experiencing a story. It's normal and rational to sympathize and love Curly and despise and hate Jimmy. You can love/like/enjoy a problematic-to-DEEPLY DISTURBED-character based on their complexity in canon. They are fiction. They are not real. The reason you are so invested with them is because of that complexity and yes because they are fiction they are your 'toy' and you can doll them up in any kind of speculative AU crap you make. That's fanfiction, baby. Make yourself a fixit fic if you really want

BUT-

remember: it stays as a fixit fic. DO NOT cross the streams, or insist that your active misreading of the text is the same as the text itself. EVER. You should care about your special interest's escapism as a means of self-care. What you shouldn't do is demand that EVERYONE ELSE LOVE your coping mechanism and that any complaints by people on their own terms on their own blogs is #badfaith or an inherent attack against you. It isn't. You'll know when it is an attack against you and that's when you, the profandom-type, need to be prepared and save your call-out posts and blocklist for.

To me that's the fragility to fandom debates and fandom as a whole. You can not/should not police or control an entire group of people and how they perceive or interact with media. That's not fair and it's definitely not sporting or decent of you in a community. You have to share your community -your fandom- with people who hate ur fav and people who love your least fav. Agreeing to disagree means not tagging your nOTP as their shipname or by tagging your shipname loud and clear. It means filtering out posts with those topics but enjoying and/or reblogging the fandom takes you do share with your fellow fandom-mite that obviously posts abt those topics.

When schmit REALLY goes down and some assface reviewer/fan/SOMETHING is being an assface or doing something amoral under the guise of fandom-ing, that's where you out to put your foot down. Callouts and complaints are for people who did an egregious thing and refuse to take responsibility(lol) for it. They're not for "soandso likes the thing that triggers me, kill them"/"so and so is hating on the thing I'm kinning because it triggers them, kill them". Be an adult.

Your DNI lists should consist of "lolicon defenders" not "proshippers", as those ARE NOT one in the same. Same goes the other way around. List off "bigots, purity culture bs", not "antis and critics". These positions ARE NOT interchangeable. If you make them interchangeable than you're making things a lot harder for yourself.

-sincerely, a message from autistic ADHD/OCD woman who likes horror and media analysis as much as she loves popcorn fanfic schlock.

We don't all have to be friends and buddybuds. I just hate us hurting each other over being different kind of fandom-folk rather than for when someone sincerely mucks up and does something bad. Can't we all stick to our guns and just boycott Harry Potter like god intended?

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥

✧·˚ things with zaros have always been casual, right?

“i need to leave, i have a meeting with my mother.”

“stay.”

the word hangs in the air for a moment as zaros wraps his arms around your bare waist. you didn’t mean to be in this position with him, well you didn’t mean to be in multiple positions with him yet here you are, both of you naked under the covers of his bed after some passionate activities.

your fingers subconsciously play with the ends of his hair as he draws shapes on the small of your back, the action sends shivers up your spine.

“i have to go.” you reply but show no actual initiative to move from his arms.

“please my earis,” he says teasingly as he hides his face in your neck to place a whisper of a kiss. “stay with me. i do not wish to hate you again once you leave this room.”

“so it must be.” you kiss him gently and remove yourself from his arms to dress yourself as he watches your every move.

zaros stares for far too long as you button your clothing and secure everything in its proper place. he watches as your nimble fingers that once gripped his bed sheets mere moments ago now grip the fabric of your royal robes that hug your figure beautifully.

“i assume i will see you at dinner?” you ask, turning to look at him.

zaros refocuses on your eyes and suppresses a smile so you don’t notice how eager he is to see you again that the dinner between your two houses.

“yes of course.”

“good.” you reply as you tie the final knot on your robe and leave the room without another word.

zaros sat in his bed contemplating on how he got to this point in his life. fucking the earis but not being in a real relationship with them, everything was so confusing to him. he knew that you did not love him the way that he loved you, but a small part of him wished you did.

zaros leaves his bed and starts to get ready himself, putting on his shirt his eyes catch himself in the mirror and locks onto the marks you left on his lower neck. his fingertips graze over bruised skin gently as he examines them. you told him to never mark you for fear of someone seeing them but he never minded you making your claim on him.

something about these marking though triggers something in zaros and anger gets the best of him as he throws the vanity chair across the room. he breathes heavily before composing himself and fixing his hair in the mirror to join his mother for the upcoming dinner.

by the time dinner has rolled around zaros does his best to maintain his emotions that seemingly got the better of him after you left his room. your constant glances over at him are starting to get to him though and he does his best to focus on the food that is in front of him even if he can feel your eyes on him.

"i must excuse myself for a moment i believe i lost one of my broches in the hallway. zaros will you accompany me to look for it?"

zaros looks up at the mention of his name and stands to follow you into the empty hallway.

“did you actually lose your broche or is this just a ploy to get me alone?” zaros smirks, part of him can’t help but be a bit full of himself.

“i need you. let’s fuck.”

zaros is taken aback by the sudden confession. it’s not the crudeness of the statement more of the time and place for it and this was not the time nor place to fuck.

“you’re insane if you think i will fuck you while our parent are in the next room.”

“so that’s a no? i would’ve thought you were bolder than that zaros, i guess i was wrong about you.”

your words hit all the right places that you were intending to get zaros to do what you want. it’s easy to read his face since he is very expressive but somehow unaware of it.

your hand finds his arm and guides him to an empty room with a lock and against zaros’ better judgement he lets you take control of him once more for the second time that day.

“you’re such a good boy for me zaros.” you say as you kiss him deeply. a flush warms his face at the unexpected compliment from you. you rarely praise him like this, let alone kiss him with so much care, it confuses him.

“let us go before they grow more suspicious, hm?”

you’re both sweaty but he can’t help but think about how angelic you look with the glow of sweat shining on your body.

“you look beautiful…”

you lock eyes with him and nod before being the first to leave the room to return to the dinner. zaros is left alone with his thoughts for the second time that day and he hates it. he doesn’t know what to think or how to feel about you. he wants you but you don’t want him and it’s driving him mad. what could he be doing wrong? why are you so cold with him but so loving at times?

all zaros wants is answers that you are not willingly to easily give. unlike him who will always give his body, and soul if you’d only let him, to you.

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[castleofravens]

unpopular opinion but you're allowed to say that characters such as fitz or keefe or sophie exhibit toxic behaviors.

teenagers can be manipulative. teenagers can be cruel. teenagers can be jerks sometimes because they are still learning how to be people.

and saying they exhibit toxic behaviors isn't calling them toxic, just as saying a kid did something naughty (drawing on the walls, breaking something, etc.) doesn't make them a bad kid, you aren't defined by your behaviors because those are things you can change.

however it is still a perfectly valid thing to say "hey this behavior isn't healthy and they should be held accountable for this" because that's... something that is applicable to real life as well?

i'm a little older than a lot of the main keeper crew but still a teenager and i've dated people my age who were manipulative/toxic. you can absolutely have those behaviors as a teenager, and a shitty home life or mental health issues are explanations but they should never be excuses for that behavior.

topics such as this especially when they deal with trauma, mental illness, abuse, and interpersonal relationships should be looked at with way more nuance than a lot of people give it.

because yes, keefe (just as an example) does have textual evidence of toxic behaviors regarding his relationships (particularly with fitz and sophie), however that does not make him a toxic person. he does care about his friends and girlfriend (i don't remember if they made that official or not), he's just... inexperienced with relationships? and doesn't have much healthy examples from older figures to go off of for how he should act (just as fitz doesn't have healthy examples from older figures for how he should manage his emotions). (i would love to write an essay on cassius and gisela's relationship and how that affects keefe's relationships) (or the vackers' attitudes towards image and how that affects fitz - and biana's - self image)

i think a lot of keefe hate just stems from frustration that he doesn't really get held accountable a lot the same way other characters do, and i get that, but that still isn't an excuse to claim he's some horrible unredeemable person. he is a realistic and flawed character, you can't fit him in any "keefe good" "keefe evil" box, he simply is.. keefe? he definitely has shit he needs to work through but he's not... forever doomed to be some monstrous villain or whatever, a lot of people need a little (or big) nudge in the right direction to self awareness. people change, that is the nature of... i would say humanity but they're elves but i think the point would end up the same

[hina-has-no-life]

Dark Era: Dazai and Akutagawa

The Scene in Dark Era where Dazai shoots Akutagawa was abusive and messed up, but sadly justified on Dazai's end.

Now this may sound harsh but let's take a step back from the emotions the scene causes and look at it purely logical and analytical. (No I am not excusing the abuse Akutagawa went through. Dazai had no right to abuse him but this scene is more than abuse.)

What happens in this scene?

Per Dazai's orders as an Executive within the Port Mafia agents from Mimic were captured to be taken to Kouyou for interrogation, as is her department. Akutagawa then kills the hostages in retaliation for the casualties the Mafia suffered at the hands of Mimic. Dazai proceeds to punch and shoot Akutagawa.

In essence this is what happened: Akutagawa disregarded direct orders of his executive in front of multiple people and said executive. Plain and simple, this is insubordination.

We know, due to Stormbringer, that insubordination of the Boss and his executives (who essentially work as extensions of the Boss within the BSD Mafia) is a death sentence. It's at the same level as betrayal.

So, while messed up and abusive, Dazai's reaction can be classified as a mercy. Had it been another executive or Mori, Akutagawa would be dead. And no, you can not use that Chuuya cares for Akutagawa as an argument against Akutagawa dying here were it Chuuya. Chuuya's loyality is to the Mafia and Mori in a situation like this. We saw this at the end of the Guild Arc when Chuuya asked Mori what punishment Akutagawa should face for disregarding Mafia orders and going on to the Moby Dick. Since the moment in Dark Era is a similar case, it is safe to assume Chuuya would have asked Mori for the punishment and then delivered it.

Now here comes the much more interesting part about this scene I sadly do not see talked about. (If you find posts talking about it please send them my way!)

This scene shows us, in a very subtle way, how the dynamic between Akutagawa and Dazai works.

But how? Let's count it: - Akutagawa is very self assured in his insubordination. - Dazai gives him a chance to speak up about his reasoning, to defend himself and ask for forgiveness for his blatant insubordination. - Akutagawa in turn arrogantly doubles down on his decision. - Dazai punishes him.

While Dazai framed the moment at the end as a teaching moment with his comment about Akutagawas use of Rashomon, it is mostly a punishment. Yes there are 2 moments that can be seen as a teaching moment but what Dazai does is in fact nothing more than a punishment in his eyes.

(Giving Akutagawa the chance to think about his rash action was the first teaching moment btw)

Now the way the scene is handeled with it's framing tells us something interesting about the relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa.

Dazai actively favours Akutagawa with his treatment.

But how? It's a good question because the answer is very much hidden.

Both characters treat the situation as something usual. This in turn tells us that Akutagawa often commits insubordination against Dazai. And only Dazai, since Dazai takes him under his wing as his direct and only student. (This is made clear in the short where he actually recruits a younger Akutagawa) This means that Dazai does favour his student above other subordinates rather openly. We know he would not let this slide with other people under his command. The scene at the beginning of the Dark Era LN with Hirotsu shows this.

Akutagawa's reaction to being shot also tells us that this is the first time Dazai points a weapon at him. While not expecting, but accepting, the punch he did not expect to face a harsher punishment than this.

He is visibly surprised. But not just him.

In the Anime adaption (which is the best LN adaption in BSD) we see that even the other subordinates around them only become surprised when Dazai draws the gun and shoots Akutagawa.

Did Dazai think Akutagawa would survive being shot at? 100% yes. He even says as much after the fact.

(This is actually what makes teaching moment number 2, since he remarks that Akutagawa "finally" managed to protect himself with Rashomon. This tells us that they were actively training this and Akutagawa was failing at it for some time already.)

In short: - Akutagawa feels very much secure in his position at Dazai's side, despite the regular abuse. - Dazai favours Akutagawa openly enough within the PM that other subordinates are surprised when Akutagawa faces an openly harsh punishment. - Akutagawa, in committing insubordination, regulary disrespects Dazai as his superior and Dazai let's it slide. This is something that mirrors the relationship between Dazai and Mori, as Dazai does disrespect Mori in private and Mori let's this slide. (The biggest difference in this relationship mirror is that Dazai never disrespects Mori in front of other people.)

In my eyes (and I hope we learn more soon) this also shows that Dazai's abuse of Akutagawa has multiple reasons. - Dazai sees himself in Akutagawa. Dazai also hates himself and blames himself for shortcomings so he projects this onto Akutagawa, who he then abuses because of it. - A warped sense of care. In his own, very fucked up, way Dazai does care for Akutagawa. Is he good at showing it? Absolutely not. He wants Akutagawa to be stronger than Dazai himself is, he wants him to be better. So he favors him but also abuses him. - He favors Akutagawa so Akutagawa needs to get strong extremely fast to avoid a conflict within the ranks of the Mafia. - Dazai tries to get Akutagawa as strong as possible as fast as possible since Akutagawa effectively went from joining to third highest rank in 10 seconds and needs to prove himself in front of everyone else, not just Dazai's eyes. In this he ends up abusing Dazai because he himself is a child with a very limited understanding of teaching. What he does know, through Mori as his teacher, is that cruelty and abuse are effective teaching methods that work faster than proving patience and taking things slow.

(am I saying that Mori physically abused Dazai? No. But he, as shown in Beast and Fifteen, honestly answers to the questions his students ask him. It is entirely possible that he simply told Dazai different teaching methods and Dazai decided on the fastest one instead of the best and most effective.)

and thank you @sorcerersandskillusers for sending me the LN parts I mentioned above!! I didn't have the energy to look them up when I initially posted this and he did me the favor of getting them for me!

To summarize: The scene is a punishment for direct insubordination and shows us, the viewer, a deeper look into the relationship between Akutagawa and Dazai.