#any other version inspires anger in me

[jewishcissiekj]

WHY DO I HATE MY FAVORITE CHARACTER

[yumeka-sxf]

After what seems like a long time, we finally have a full "Forgers bonding" chapter, in a new location as well 😁

Even though the focus of the chapter was the murder mystery (heavily inspired by Detective Conan) and it didn't have a serious tone (just look at the names of the guest characters! 🤣) there were actually quite a lot of Twiyor tidbits scattered throughout, and I'm here to slurp them up!

Firstly is Twilight trying his best to make sure Yor and Anya are safe with their amateur skiing skills.

And as usual, overlooking anything abnormal that Yor does 😅

When they get to the lodge, he considers her feelings about sharing a room.

Even though she says she'll put up with it, he knows it makes her uncomfortable, so he volunteers to sleep on the sofa so she and Anya can have their own beds. Of course, just the thought of sharing a room with Loid is too much for Yor to handle 😅

Twilight starts to wonder when she doesn't come back for a while.

He's obviously happy when she returns - in the Japanese version, he even says おかえり(welcome back/home).

When he sees there's foul play going on, he immediately wants Yor and Anya out of danger (he also trusts that Yor will keep Anya safe).

Despite Yor being the only one without an alibi, he doesn't show any suspicion (even after hearing her "probably" slip up!)

And lastly, when the others start accusing Yor, he defends her. This scene reminded me a lot of the scene way back during the Eden interview where Swan started putting her down and he stuck up for her without any second-guessing. Even though Twilight gave a lot of fake smiles throughout this chapter, the mix of determination and anger in his expression on the below page is not fake - it's a true look of "I will definitely find the culprit (so no one should accuse my wife!)"

I guess my only nitpick about the chapter is that I wanted it to go on longer, mostly for more Forger interactions (and Loid/Yor reactions when sharing the same room, lol). I thought it would last at least another chapter where we'd see exactly how the mystery was solved. But I guess the joke is that the Forgers are the most OP crime solving team without even knowing it, so no culprit can get away from them for too long! Between Loid's intelligence, Anya's mind reading, Bond's visions, and (though it didn't come into play here) Yor's super strength, they'd be able to solve murder mysteries and apprehend criminals before the police could even file a report! 😂

A couple final comments, I like that Twilight decided to trust Anya's intuition in the end, despite not seeming that way at first (and did she seriously bring the detective outfit with her on the trip?😆) And just like with Yor, no questions about this peculiarity with Anya - no wondering why she knew the time and place of the next murder...what's that expression, "love is blind"? 😅

And Yor always ready to protect Anya ❤️(also looks like she's having some alcohol while Loid isn't...guess she needed something to calm her nerves at the thought of sharing a room with him!)

Endo is going to take a break, so next new chapter won't be until February 19th. Have a nice break, Endo-sensei!

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

don't let me go

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Summary: Y/n gets a concussion in the field but thinks nothing of the headache and later ends up in the hospital with a worrysick Emily.

Notes:

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written fanfiction so if I’m rusty, just bear with me okay, and hopefully the burst of inspiration with last long enough me for to get back into the flow of things.

* Part 2 will be the ending probably.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: mentions of dizziness, headache pain, nightmare, and a very sad Emily (not forever though)

Word count: 1,638

It was supposed to be a regular Tuesday. That’s all.

You hadn’t intended any for this. The pain, the darkness, the silent, deadly suspension between life and death. The cold isolation from everything and everyone you loved—from her.

It just was supposed to be a regular fucking Tuesday. Where did it go wrong?

**

You couldn’t catch your breath; your lungs were on fire and pumping over time from the relentless running, running, running. Sweat matted the hair to your forehead and neck while your ponytail lashed at the wind and your arms and legs muscles screamed from the exertion. You didn’t feel it, though, not with the adrenaline and anger coursing through your bloodstream and the news that a 7-year-old girl’s life was hanging by a thread in a hospital bed and five more lay dead in the morgue because of the motherfucker.

You couldn’t stop. You knew if you did, he would disappear from your radar only to pop up 2-3 years later with the flashing headlines of another murder taunting and screaming at you from a pixelated screen for letting him get away.

So you kept running and running and running. Down street after street, Derek and Emily running perpendicular to you, and the rest of the team split into two cars coming from other directions.

Hotch was giving you orders, and the comms line was buzzing with information from the rest of the team as they tried to predict which direction he would turn next.

But you didn’t hear any of it; it was all white noise, with your surroundings blurring into flashing colors. You were the closest to him. So close you could nearly reach out and touch his shirt collar. So you gritted your teeth into near pain and pushed your tired limbs to go just a little farther, just a little faster.

Your lungs screamed because you hardly had any breath left to give, but you didn’t care—you nearly had him dammit.

Just. A. Little. Farther. And at the last second, without even thinking of it, without feeling a thing… you jumped. Careening toward him, clasping around his torso with an iron grip, you sent both yourself and the unsub flying in a mass of limbs through the street.

Your body smashed against the gravel and rolled with your head slamming into the concrete…but you never let go because you had him dammit. And you didn’t feel a thing.

**

“Y/n!!”

“Y/n! Hey, wake up!”

You jolted awake and flinched away from the warm hand on your already burning body. You couldn’t see a damn thing in the dark, and the air wasn’t reaching your lungs because part of your exhausted mind thought you were still back there—in the dream that wasn’t a dream but a faster and more truthfully terrifying version of the reality you faced the day before.

The sheets were becoming twisting, confining vines around your legs. You still couldn’t breathe right, and the shadows in your room were morphing into ghouls and demons that only caused the sweat on your body to run cold with quickening fear.

Just as you were making up your mind to run, a light flicked on, and a familiar face came into your hazy vision.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s Emily.”

Briefly, you looked at her with trepidation before your mind finally caught up with you, and your crumpled look of fear and confusion relaxed.

“Em.” Sighing, you fell back into your sweat-soaked pillow and closed your eyes while the first breath since waking up eased into your tired lungs.

Emily lightly brushed the matted hair from your forehead and looked at you with concern and solemnity. Because she knew this would come, had learned to expect it not just with you but herself also. After years of fighting the flesh and blood monsters, the imaginary ones would come to take their place until those two could be conquered.

“Deep breaths, angel. That one was rough,” she said while rubbing your arm gently. She would never admit it to you, but it scared her to see you like this.

Your eyes were still closed to try and stop your vision from spinning, but you could hear the soft tremor in her voice. “Hmm, oh, I don’t know. I give it a 4—you pulled me out of it pretty quickly, huh?”

“You still haven’t caught your breath, though, nor opened your eyes.”

At that you did look at her. Slowly, you let your eyes wander over her face: the telltale wrinkle of worry between her brows, the adorable bed hair that she would never stop arguing with you about how it is, in fact, not cute; the soft, flushed cheeks that you can’t help but want to kiss every second of the day; those completely kissable lips that are pressed into a frown; and finally, the endlessly beautiful dark brown eyes that could hold a thousand emotions at once and whose depths you could happily become transfixed by and lost in for eternity.

You looked at her with a familiar comfort and love that is as old as time itself. The kind of love that could cross time and space to reach two people who will continually find one another in every lifetime, in every universe.

“I’m okay, Em. I’m here with you, so I’m okay.” You reached for her hand, kissed her palm, and placed it against your chest so she could feel for herself.

Emily laid back down next to you and let her hand feel the steadying of your heartbeat. Moving her eyes over the plains of your face, she still marveled at how beautiful, strong, and human you were. After nearly two years together, she still was amazed at how much she loved you, at how you could continually make her feel like the most important person in the entire world, at how alive and human you could make her feel after years of feeling numb and cold to the world because of her demons.

“You’re okay. We’re both okay,” she said quietly. Without taking her eyes off of you, she turned off the lamp and pulled you closer to her.

“I’m still sweaty–”

“I don’t care. Let me hold you, please.”

“Okay, Em.”

She could feel you smiling against her neck, and she kissed the top of your head before burying her nose in your hair. Sighing in relief, she let herself be lulled back asleep by your soft breathing, because you were okay.

Right?

**

Later that morning.

“I still think you should go in—at least to get some stronger painkillers than fucking ibuprofen.”

“Emily, I’m fine,” you sighed in exasperation. You knew her worrying would only increase; it always does for either of you when something like this happens. “I got checked out yesterday, remember? And the headache will pass. It went away yesterday, and it’s going to go away today. Just give the pills time to work.”

You could see your words weren’t getting through to her with the way she was watching you like you would drop dead right in front of her. Her fingers were fidgeting already, and you knew she was fighting with herself not to start biting them.

Grabbing her hand, you rubbed soothing circles into her palm. “If it gets worse, I’ll tell you and will go, kay?”

Emily stared at you for five more seconds, letting the colors of your eyes, the feeling of your hand in hers, and your soft smile ease the stuttering, painful feeling in her chest before giving in. She pulled you back into her embrace, leaned back into the couch with you, and exhaled into your shoulder. “Okay…”

**

Five, ten, fifteen minutes into the movie that was playing, you could still feel her eyes on you—watching you for any signs of pain or discomfort. And to be honest, you could feel the headache creeping into unbearability and part of you hated both the headache and your body for falling out of your control.

The stabbing pain escalated to explosions across the back of your brain, the characters on the TV blurred in your failing vision, and you could feel the dizziness slowly clouding your senses.

“Alright, fine, let’s go.”

Emily’s breath hitched because you are always an inch more stubborn than she is, and if you're giving in, then it’s real this time, and no matter how many times you get hurt during a case, she will never be ready for it.

Slowly exhaling, she whispered, “I’ll get the keys and let the hospital know we’re coming,” because to say it any louder is like solidifying your pain into reality.

She lightly kissed your forehead and went to the kitchen to call the closest ER. You could hear her talking in the other room, and even that was becoming increasingly unbearable as the headache worsened.

Breathing in unsteady but measured breaths, you slowly stood and walked to the foyer where your shoes were, and just as Emily came out of the kitchen, you glanced up at her, and time slowed.

The explosive headache pain swallowed your mind, and black dots sporadically burst into your vision. You could feel the strength leaving your muscles, the sound of her voice escaping your ears, and for the first time since waking from your nightmare earlier that morning, you were terrified again. Your body felt so weightless and heavy at the same time—like you might fall through the floor or float up into space without a single tether to your life with Emily.

Slowly, you watched your hand limply reach out to her before the growing black dots finally swallowed your vision, and the last thing you saw was the look of terror on Emily’s face as she dropped her phone, screamed something you couldn’t hear, and ran to catch your body before it fell to the floor.

[papyjr13]

A Swap AU : Wartwood

Here is my version of the popular swap AU. You can also interpret that drawing as if all three of them fall in Wartwood. Anne : She doesnt change but I wanted to give her a new outfit to fit her place in the farm. I was heavily inspired by Missakat.

Sasha : She was adopted by the Sundew, so she became a big sister figure for Ivy who loved her rebel attitude. With Felicia, Sasha learned how to canalise her anger thanks to her "technics". When Sasha discovered that Felicia was very good at fighting, she asked to her to train her.

During the mayor election, Sasha tried her shot and won. For a while, it was her best times but she learned in the meantime that her toxicity and her drama queen attitude made her very unpopular and all the town went in riot. She gave the mayor title back to Toadstool and apologise to the town. That adventure teached her to listening more the people around them and taking account of their feeling. When the Tax Toads arrive, she want against them when the Sundew were accused to no pay their taxes. With her fighting skill, she kicked their asses (and also Toadstool's). She saw that the town didn't have a militia, so she decided to form her own to fight the toads and taking over the system.

Marcy : She was adopted by the Flour. While helping with the bakery, she was quickly interested by Maddie's dark magic and became quickly friends. With Maddie's magic and Marcy's ingeniosity, together they helped Wartwood with various inventions, some of them works, some of them dont. At the start, Marcy saw the villagers like NPC and she accepted to help them like if it was a quest in a video game. She accepted anything but never took her time to learn about these people. When she finally learnt to slow down, she was amazed how much she could learn from others. By starting to listen to them, the inhabitants started to open their hearts and wanted also to know about Marcy. A thing that the girl didn't truly expect, specially with Sasha and Anne

When the Tax Toads arrive, they were with Anne, who felt at the Toad Tower who heard rumors about a Humus like her in Wartwood. She finally met Marcy and tried to convince her to come at the tower together. Marcy was happy to see her friend but she didnt want to leave the frogs, at least not now. Anne understood and leaves but promise to come back.

If you have any others questions, you can ask me on my AMA blog :

[bellezaycafe]

I Will Break Him || Mafia!Max

genre: mafia!f1

pairing: max verstappen x oc

warnings: THIS IS 18+ … blood, death, violence and the beginnings of a sexual assault. somehow inspired my Max’s broad shoulders (i think that should be a warning on its own)

comment: my first fic! let’s see how this goes. If y’all want an x reader version, let me know. Hasn’t been reread or checked :(

——$——

I had been minding my own business when they jumped me.

I was walking to my car from the library of all places. I’d been carrying three books on statistics in abnormal psychology for an assessment I had wanted to start that night.

Instead, I spent that night in a cold room, disoriented and aching. At least, that was were I had assumed I was kept for the night because I had no way of telling what the time was when I woke.

There was a man, leaning in the corner like a shadow, when I woke.

“I can see why he likes you,” the man deadpanned. I couldn’t make out any facial features in the sun light.

“Wha- What are you talking about?” I croaked.

“I can see why he likes you,” he repeated. “I would have taken you for myself if I had gotten to you first.”

I scrambled to my feet and as stepped forwards. I could make out his eyes, eyes that were dark pits of hate.

“What?” I tried to ask but it came out as a squeak. “I don’t know what’s happening. I-“

“Oh, you are a pretty thing,” the man murmured as he drew closer. I could hear the slight slur of his words that time.

I was trembling. My mouth had gone dry, my teeth clattered and my knees felt weak.

He took another step towards me, muttering, “I think I will have you. Here and now.”

Dark eyes met mine and there was nothing but fear in my bones.

"Please," I begged, "please leave me alone."

"Baby," he crooned. A wicked smirk curves his lips as he looked me up and down again. "Just give me kiss, then you'll be begging for the rest."

He'd backed me against a concrete wall, an arm on either side. I could smell the alcohol on his breath so clearly that I knew he had been drinking vodka.

The room’s door crashed open. A broad-shouldered man stood there, like an avenging angel. His black muscle shirt and trousers matched the dark expression on his face.

He stepped into the room, the gun in his left hand was loaded and the knife in his right was already slick with blood.

A second black-dressed man, followed. There was barely leashed anger and adrenaline in every line of the two men's tense bodies.

A third person entered, slightly taller than the other two with broader shoulders and dressed a white dress shirt. It was not completely white, it had been sprayed with fresh blood and some sections were coated with it. I recognised that man.

Max.

If I had thought that the first two men were angry, furious even, than I had not considered the rage in Max’s eyes. He locked eyes with my assailant and his intense fury doubled.

"Aaron." The second man said, then continued in cool and deadly calm Italian.

Max locked eyes with me and his face softened, slightly. His eyes dragged up and down me, checking me for blood, or injury.

Aaron turned to the newcomers, snapping in rapid Italian. It gave me a chance to scramble away.

Max’s eyes found Aaron again and the men moved in unison, the first two made their way towards Aaron, while Max made his way to me. He didn't spare a glance at me when he put his body between my assailant and I.

The first man, striding forwards, said something in Italian that made Aaron scramble from the room.

It was only then that Max focused on me. The fire bright rage was still there as he gently grabbed my wrists and checked for injuries. His breathing hitched when he found the bruising around my wrists and biceps.

"Carlos." It was a deep, tightly-controlled snarl I had never heard him use before. I had never seen him like this before. "If I see him again, I will break him."

Just past Max's body, I saw Carlos nod with an understanding I didn't have.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He whispered, as if I might shatter.

I shook my head. He bent his knees slightly, brining his eyes level with mine. “Ophelia, be honest with me.”

I nodded helplessly.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shook my head again, a sob leaving me involuntarily.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him.

“My god, Lea. It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, you’re safe.”

I flung myself into his embrace. I needed that physical comfort, I needed hands on me that were gentle and careful. I didn’t care that we was covered in blood, I didn’t care that the blood was probably not his and I didn’t care that he seemed to be a part of an underground war.

But I would care tomorrow, and boy, I had many questions for him.

——$——

If you want more from Max and Ophelia, don’t hesitate to comment a prompt or recommendation :) - Belle

Masterlist

[burningfudge]

Ultimates (2024) #1

OHMYGODDD Ultimates #1 was fantastic! I have so many thoughts that I had to turn it into a post lol.

Poor Steve 😂 I'm very interested to see Steve's journey, though, because he's now the captain of a country that doesn't exist. How is he going to navigate that? I'm also looking forward to Steve and Tony's dynamic in this universe because Tony's a kid, which changes things a lot. He's a kid with the burden of the world on his shoulders, trying to undo everything that the Maker did, and Steve knows that as well. Plus, if they know about all the events on Earth-616, they also know about Civil War. I hope it's brought into the conversation soon.

NOOO IS CAROL DEAD?? MY GIRL This is brutal as a Captain Marvel and Hawkeye fan. Spider-Man is thriving for now (surprising, I know), but Carol is probably dead, and Clint has given up being Hawkeye. But even Spider-Man was near rejection as Peter was thinking about giving up until his daughter convinced him to be Spider-Man. The Maker really fucked up this universe, huh. I'd love for a certain archer to find the uniform and take up the Hawkeye mantle and then Clint to get inspired by Kate in this universe. I think it'd be a fun twist, especially since Tony also mentioned that they can find near-perfect substitutes. He eventually realized his mistake later on the issue, but I really do think Kate could have a big role to play.

Hehe, a fun little wink to Tony eventually becoming Kang the Conquerer.

This version of Tony is so interesting to me because he’s a kid, and making him the center of all this works very well because of it, especially his relationships with Reed and Steve. Reed is more pragmatic and cold, while Steve is idealistic, and seeing both of them influence Tony is fantastic. Tony himself is more idealistic than his 616 version because he’s much younger. Steve grounds the two and makes Tony and Reed understand that whatever they're doing isn't an experiment but a revolution.

While I love all the other characters, the standout in this issue for me was Hank Pym, which I didn't expect. He knows what kind of person he turned to be on Earth-616 and he doesn't want to turn out that way. I think that's a very compelling story arc.

Ahh, I love this. What Steve says is right; Hank can choose to be different. It's also interesting if we compare Peter and Hank because, in Ultimate Spider-Man, we're told that Peter always felt that something was missing from his life, and then he learned the truth about what the Maker did and became Spider-Man, which fulfilled his life. On the other hand, Hank was happy running an extermination business with his wife. (How Janet went from rich heiress to this is also something I'm wondering). Hank was happy, but now he's being told he was supposed to become Ant-Man, create Ultron, and hit his wife, whom he loves more than anything. I felt bad for him, honestly.

616 Tony should say this to his father, too lol. But this part is probably my favorite part of the issue because of the insight it gives us into Tony's mind, who is the center of the new Ultimate universe. As I've mentioned many times, Tony is a teenager in a world run by fascists, a world that his father was complicit in making. He's angry at Howard, but he also loves him. I think an argument could be made about Tony representing today's generation that's also dealing with the effects of (poor) decisions made by our parents and grandparents, and feeling the anger from it. "It's quite a mess you made, Dad. And now we have to clean it up. What choice do we have?" "If there's any hope of fixing things...it won't be enough to be as good as the heroes of that simpler world. We'll have to be better. I don't know what that looks like yet. But we're going to figure it out." "You were the smartest man in the world. You should've known better. And that is failure.”

[the-goya-jerker]

portrait of ross in la?

Oh, I do not feel comfortable rating this one or searching for any eroticism in it.

This is a piece of art inspired by the death of Ross Laycock, the lover of artist Felix Gonzalez Torres, during the AIDS crisis.

Ideally this piece is 175lbs of candy (corresponding to an average body weight of an adult man). Throughout the day, pieces are taken and taken. Like Ross, it wastes away, and viewers are left with the anticipation of loss.

This piece genuinely makes me feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. I want to wail with grief when I think about it too long.

Instead of a review, I humbly offer up, for your elucidation and viewing pleasure, relevant works.

Check out the others works of Felix Gonzalez Torres, they're very moving.

Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate by John S. Boskovich, a thematically similar piece of art. It also brings me to tears when I see it.

Let the Record Show by Sarah Schulman, which is based on...

The ACT UP Oral History Project, a project that seeks to preserve the history of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power and their activism through the AIDS Crisis.

United in Anger a film by Jim Hubbard, a documentary on ACT UP

If plays or films are more your style, I recommend Angels in America by Tony Kushner. My favorite version is the 2003 TV series from HBO. It stars Justin Kirk, and it is genuinely uplifting and gut wrenching all at once.

If anyone else has pieces of art they suggest, please, feel free to reblog with them! I think art is one of the best ways sometimes to engage with historical atrocities like this. Whether that art is fictionalized or factual, it connects us like nothing else.

Let yourself learn about this and let yourself feel things about this.

[mama-qwerty]

We're coming up on 2 months since the Knuckles series premiered and that whole situation still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Not the series itself, but the way the fandom reacted to it. It was just a silly little filler show, and did not warrant such hatred and extreme reactions.

It wasn't like the entire future of the SCU hinged on whatever lore was revealed in this show. It was filler. Was it weird? Sure. Diverged from game/comic lore? Yeah. Focused a little too heavily on Wade? Yep.

But I personally found it fun. Others did not. Completely fair.

What wasn't fair was how those who didn't like it tore it, and the entire SCU in general, down as though the movies had somehow caused all other versions of the Sonic franchise to become 'less'.

It's a different universe. The characters have different backstories. The story is ongoing, meaning they're not going to be 100% just like their game counterparts from the very beginning. They're developing, growing, learning. Knux isn't like his ME guarding comic version, right now. But we don't know what will happen in the 3rd (or later) movies.

I will admit I'm a little angry at how much this discourse has affected me. I know it shouldn't. I know I should just shrug it off and do what I'd always found fun. But the atmosphere has changed so much, it really makes me pull back, and I don't want to do that.

So this is an open invitation, for anyone out there who loves the SCU or Knuckles series to reach out if you want. If the discourse has affected you too, know you're not alone.

It really sucks that something we were all looking forward to has turned some of us against others, and dredged up such anger that no one talked about the show other than how much they liked or hated it. Where we should have been inundated with theories, analysis, fixit fics, or fanart, or aus or any number of other incredibly creative and inspired pieces, but instead the show has been swept under the rug, and only spoken about in hushed tones with the lead in of "I know it was weird, but".

I enjoyed the show. I watched it with my family, and we all found it fun and entertaining. I'm planning on incorporating the series into my Knuckles MacPherson au, and will weave what I liked or felt inspired by into those stories.

I will write again, damnit. I will push past this stupid block, and get my head back into Green Hills, playing with the characters there like my own personal little puppet show. I have stories that need finished, and more percolating in my noggin that need explored.

[butterflyscribbles]

So I haven’t talked nearly enough about Mutant Mayhem yet but I saw it for the second time a few days ago and they have consumed all my thoughts have some random headcanons I’m dying I have to talk about them more:

⚠️(Spoiler warning for MM as well)⚠️

April

- Lives with her mom and grandfather on her mother’s side. Raised by a single mom who’s a veterinarian and her grandpa, a retired tailor and clothing retail manager, moved in after her grandma passed away a few years ago.

- Listens to way too many murder mystery podcasts and thrillers are her favorite movie genre

- Practices doodling a lot in the sides of her journal or class notes. She’s inspired by courtroom sketch artists and old biology journals.

- Swears like a sailor. Even more than Raph. Tries to censor herself around them but it only gets worse the closer they become as friends

- Becomes a sort of ambassador for the turtles and other mutants in the city. Anyone who doesn’t approve of them, goes through her…

- Favorite subject is biology, outside of working on the school newspaper of course

Leo

- Big time book worm. Has read a lot of the classics like The Great Gatsby, Catcher in the Rye, etc. which gives him an advantage heading into high school. His favorite subject is literature naturally as a result.

- Autistic, practically canon but just putting it out there

- Like April, he’s got a sensitive stomach under pressure. Nausea flares up all the time, especially at the sight or smell of blood. They bond over it. Nothing brings two people together like commiserating that your tummy hurts all the time🤝

- Hopeless romantic. Had fallen head over heels for a few other girls he spotted up top even before April came along. She was just…different. He watches a lot of sappy romance movies too they make him feel all warm and fuzzy.

- Love language is words of affirmation big time. He’s always about hyping up the people he loves and will defend them through anything.

Raph

- He’s the team medic in this iteration. He’s no professional but growing up he had so many injuries from being a scrappy lil dude that he picked up on how to take care of ‘em on his own and of course shares that knowledge with his bros and April later. He’s surprisingly gentle when he needs to be.

- He’s the most prone to nightmares/night terrors. The fact that Raph was the one to go seek comfort from Splinter in the tots scene is so important to me.

- He and Donnie are the anime enthusiasts. Hasn’t seen as many as Donnie but it’s close.

- Scratching his shell gently, especially up by the shoulder blades, is like an automatic snooze button. He passes out within minutes.

- Second biggest crybaby to Mikey. It happens when he feels any emotion too strongly whether it’s happiness, anger, sadness, etc. and he hates it. Makes him feel weak, which is why there usually is a lot of punching involved too.

Donnie

- Can’t swim and is the only one who actively dislikes getting into the water.

- He and Leo have been studying how to speak and write Japanese together for years. Don has picked up a lot from all the anime he watches.

- Is the most emotionally open version of Donnie to date. He’s always telling his family how much he loves them without restraint and is the first to ask what’s wrong if he picks up on someone acting weird or trying to hide something.

- To compliment the above hc, he’s insanely observational, like Sherlock level. They don’t know how he’s able to do it but his attention to detail and his ability to take that and create plans and get a read on people is baffling. If Donnie doesn’t get a good vibe off someone, believe him and run the other way. (Makes him really good at those spot the different puzzles too lol.)

- Loves to dance just like his previous incarnation before him:’) Bootyyyshaker9001

Mikey

- Is actually afraid of cats…growing up with Splinter, who would freak out at the sight of them, only taught him to freak out along with him. They are sharp and unpredictable.

- Other than that however he’s an animal lover. Had a few pet fish through the years that he saved after being flushed.

- Practically canon but the most physically affectionate by leagues. Constantly seeking a brother, adopted mutant family member, or an April to cling to.

- Super into musicals and is a actually a decent singer

- Can take a punch like nothing you’ve ever seen and can still be standing….but gets sick constantly his immune system is wack

[marie-swriting]

He'll Be Here | In My Life Again - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw [2/2]

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Part one

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : ten years later, Bradley wants to apologize for the way it ended between you and him.

Warnings : set after Top Gun Maverick, Mitchell!reader, angst, happy ending, maybe some grammatical as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.6k

Song inspiration : The Last Time (Feat. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

After spending several hours working on Pete’s P-51 Mustang, this latter and Bradley go to have a drink in Pete’s kitchen. Bradley sits down while Pete opens the fridge and looks for two beers ; Bradley’s eyes find a picture on the wall, he looks at his eighth birthday photo with nostalgia. His cake is in front of him and you by his side. Both of you have a huge smile on your face, ignorant of what the future would hold for you. Bradley’s heart tightens in his chest when Bradley remembers he’ll never have the opportunity of seeing your radiant smile on your face whilst he’s next to you again. 

Pete puts a beer in front of Bradley and snaps him out of his thoughts. He thanks him and takes a sip, his eyes finding their way back to the picture, in spite of him.

“You know,” Bradley starts, catching Pete’s attention, “that day, there was a moment where Y/N wasn’t next to me anymore so I went to look for her. I found her hiding in my closet with tears in her eyes. When I asked her what was the matter, she just told me to not pay attention to her, that I needed to stay with my other friends. I said to her I didn’t care about them, especially because she needed me at that moment. That’s when she confessed she was scared of losing me because I had met friends my age who would replace her. I couldn’t believe she thought that !” he exclaims, his eyes wide open. “In my head, it was obvious she could never be replaced, no matter how close I was to my other friends so I promised her she’d never lose me, that I’ll always be by her side. No matter what. I made her this promise and I’ve been breaking it for ten years now.” Bradley mutters, looking down.

“Have you tried talking to her ?” Pete asks, after a few seconds.

“Yes, several times over the years. The first time was a year after our breakup. I wasn’t far away from her Uni so I went to see her. Long story short, she told me to get lost. The last time was a week ago when she came back. I got the same reaction.”

“I’m sure she just needs a bit of time.” Pete reassures him, putting his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “I never thought you’d talk to me again and look at us ! Things can get better. The bond you two shared was strong.” he affirms.

“I find that hard to believe, she hates me. And don’t even try to tell me otherwise.” Bradley adds, seeing Pete was about to talk. “She hates me and it’s understandable.” he admits, sadly. “She had nothing to do with all of this and yet I hold her accountable just the same. And the worst part is she warned me.” he specifies, taking another sip. “There were numerous times where she told me to get my shit together and stop ruining our relationship because of my anger toward you but I didn’t listen to her. I took her for granted so I kept messing up until she got tired of it and I’ve been paying the price ever since.” Bradley exclaims, bitterly. “You know, I’ve accepted the fact she’d never forgive me, however I’d still like to apologise properly. I just want her to know how much I regret how things ended between us, no matter if she answers me or just insults me. It might be too late but she deserves me to fix my mistakes, no matter if she forgives me.”

“I can talk to her if you want to. I can convince her to listen to you.”

“No, don’t say anything.” Bradley refuses after drinking. “If she listens to me I want it to be because she wants to, not because you asked her to.”

“As you wish.” he concedes with a heavy heart.

The two men stay silent for a moment, enjoying their drink. Bradley is finally able to detach his gaze from the photo, staring into the void.

“You still love her, don’t you ?” Pete asks, bringing Bradley’s eyes on him.

“And I always will. She was my first friend and my first love. She’ll always have a place in my heart even if I don’t have one in hers anymore. I miss her so much, Mav’, if you knew.” Bradley confesses, tearing up.

“She’ll never say it out loud but she misses you too. Bradley, I promise you things will get better between the two of you.”

Bradley takes the last sip of his beer, hoping it’ll help him with his tears and the knot in his throat. At the same time he puts the bottle down, the main door opens. He knows it’s you so he quickly stands up. He doesn’t want to give you another reason to hate him therefore he tries not to run into you, though his heart only wants that. You walk in the kitchen, talking about your afternoon with Penny and Amelia to your father until you find Bradley. Instantly, you tense up and glare at your former best friend. Bradley bids goodbye to you and Pete before leaving. Pete rolls his eyes at your attitude.

“What ? I didn’t tell him anything.” you defend yourself, searching for something in the fridge.

“You might as well have.”

“Look, it’s not because you forgave him that I have to be nice to him.” you retort, closing the fridge without finding anything interesting. “Unlike you, I haven’t forgotten the way he treated us, the way he cut us out of his life.”

“I haven’t forgotten either.”

“Really ? Because it sure seems like it. It seems you’ve forgotten the pain he caused us, caused me, all the nights I spent crying because of him, all the nights where you had to hold me in your arms while I was sobbing.”

“I remember very well.” Pete admits, trying to stay calm, “But Y/N, he’s changed, okay ? Besides, he was grieving, he was hurt, angry and young-”

“Young ?” you cut him, furious. “He was twenty-five ! He was a grown ass adult, he knew very well what he was doing.”

“Okay, he has his faults as well, but he really feels bad about the way he treated you. You could at least listen to him.” he suggests and you roll your eyes.

“And did he listen to you when you tried to explain yourself ? He sent you packing. I don’t get why I should be the one making an effort. And as my father, shouldn’t you be telling me to stay away from him ?”

“Not when I know what you mean to each other.”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me. And for a long time now.” you state.

“It’s not true and you know it.”

“I don’t understand why you insist so much.”

“I’m responsible for your fallout.”

“He messed up himself.” you correct, tearing up. “He’s the one who let his anger destroy what we had. He’s the one who distanced himself from me. He ruined everything himself.”

“It’s true, nonetheless you can’t deny if I hadn’t pulled his papers, you’d still be together. Hell, you’d probably even be married with a kid now !”

“Wow, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” you say, shocked. “If he hadn’t fucked up, we’d probably still be together, yeah but the fact is you’re not responsible for it. Look, I’m glad you two put your differences aside, it just won’t be the case for me. Anyway, we should stop here.” you order, crossing your arms on your chest. “I don’t want to argue with you, I only have two weeks left with you before I go home.”

“You can be stubborn at times !” he sighs.

“I got that from my dad.” you smile at him.

“Sometimes,  I wish you hadn’t.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little before starting to leave the room.

“He came back for me.” Pete confesses, stopping you in your tracks.

“What are you talking about ?”

“During my last mission.”

“I thought it was Hangman.” you say, frowning. 

“Hangman came to save us when we were on our way home. Bradley had strict orders to leave me behind when I sacrificed myself for him. But he came back. He didn’t listen and he came back. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have been able to leave the enemy territory.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before ?” you ask softly.

“Bradley told me not to. He didn’t want you to think he did that out of interest.”

You stay silent for a few moments, taking in this new piece of information. You can’t help but feel grateful for Bradley, though your anger is still there.

“It’s good to know that, at least, in the air, he has your back.” you state, leaving.

Pete sighs, seeing you walk away. He knows he promised Bradley to not get in the middle of this - even Penny told him to stay out of it, yet he can’t help it. You and Bradley were childhood best friends. He never would have imagined you’d stop talking to each other, in particular because of him. That’s why he can’t stay silent. He might have been the cause of your conflit but he wants to be the reason for your reconciliation. Furthermore, he knows he can reason you and with this last information, he was hoping it’d make you change your mind. Pete can’t help but feel a heartache, understanding it’s not the case.

However, what Pete doesn’t know is that your conversation has affected you. That night, you can’t seem to fall asleep. Your father’s words and your story with Bradley are echoing in your head. You keep tossing and turning in your bed, desperately hoping to put your brain on hold.

Once you can’t take it anymore, you turn on your bedside lamp and stand up. You walk to your closet and open it. You take a deep breath before pushing some clothes to the side in the corner of your closet until you find a box, you haven’t opened it for years. When you had started to grieve your romance with Bradley, you had put every picture, letter and object reminding you of him in that box. You were still too attached to him to throw everything away but too hurt to keep everything next to you.

The box in your hand, you sit down and open it. Tears make their way to your eyes in an instant as soon as you find your prom photo - if your heart wasn’t hurting that much, you’d laugh at your dress. In the picture, you’re looking at each other lovingly. You wish you could go back to this moment where everything was easier.  You put the picture next to you and keep finding others from birthday parties, outings, travels you did at different ages. You hold back your tears until you read the letter he wrote for your eighteenth birthday. At that moment, it becomes too much so you quickly put everything back at its place and go back to bed.

Of course, you’re still hurting from your breakup. Bradley was the most important person to you though you can’t forget the way it ended. With what your father told you, Bradley seems to be the Bradley you used to love once more but you can’t risk another heartbreak. 

For the first time in ten years, your heart seems torn between staying mad at Bradley or hearing him out. You try to reason yourself, remembering why you’re angry at him in the first place, though it’s complicated now.

Sitting at the restaurant near Top Gun, you finish telling your order to the waiter. Once he leaves, you grab your phone and send a text to your father to inform him you’ve already ordered. You’re supposed to eat with Pete who is more than thirty minutes late and quite frankly, you’re starving. You don’t worry when you get no response, knowing he probably hasn’t finished working yet. 

While waiting for your food, you keep checking your phone until the hostess comes to you. Expecting to see your dad, you put your phone down, smiling. Your smile disappears as soon as you see Bradley. The woman wishes you a nice meal before leaving you two alone. Bradley is uncomfortable because of the look you’re giving.

“What are you doing here ?” you question, drily.

“Huh, I’m supposed to eat with Mav’.”

“No, I am supposed to eat with him and…”, you start before understanding the conversation, “I can’t believe he did that.” you sigh, making Bradley frown. “He’s set it up to be sure we’d see each other. Look, I’ve already ordered and I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time left before you have to get back to work so we can eat together.”

“You don't mind ?”

“It’s just for a meal.” you say as he sits down. “I see you’re still punctual.” you comment, sarcastically, Bradley looks at you confused. “I was supposed to meet my dad at noon. You’re thirty minutes late.” you inform, checking your notifications on your phone.

“He told me he reserved for half past twelve.”

“He really thought about everything.”

The waiter gives you your meal then, he takes Bradley’s order before going back to the kitchen.

You start eating silently. Bradley doesn’t stop moving on his seat, not knowing how to act around you. You don’t like the palpable tension either, you’re in the same situation as him. Before, your conversations didn’t have an end, a subject would always appear naturally. Now, you think twice before speaking, not wanting to create an awkward moment.

You stay in this heavy silence until the waiter gives Bradley his plate. Bradley sighs in relief, finally having something to do instead of being uncomfortable. When you’re done eating, you take a sip of your glass of water before talking.

“My father told me what you did for him on your last mission. Thank you for coming back for him.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I could have never left Mav’ behind.” Bradley genuinely states.

You smile at him quickly and Bradley takes this start of conversation as a small victory. He’s grateful for Pete’s help, even if he didn’t listen to him. Bradley tells himself that this moment is his only chance to fix his wrongs with you so he finishes eating the piece of meat he has in his mouth and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“Y/N, can I talk to you ? You don’t have to say anything. I’d be happy if you only listened to me.”

“Go ahead.”

Bradley take a deep breath before looking deeply in your eyes and starting to speak : 

“Look, I know I messed up with you. I’ll forever feel bad for the way we broke up. I should have come at your birthday and-”

“Are you seriously talking about that ?” you question, in disbelief. “Bradley, it’s not the thing-”

“I know I did worse.” he interrupts you, knowing what you were going to say. “I know your birthday isn’t what hurt you the most, the fact is, it was your breaking point. Had I come, we might have found a solution, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. I’m sorry for that night, I know I hurt you by not coming. I also know I broke your heart by ignoring you and your dad after we broke up or with what I said. I know it’s not an excuse but I was in this awful period of my life and I had to exteriorize what I was feeling and when Pete pulled my paper, it was on him then on you. I never should have lashed out on you because our relationship got damaged and that affacted our friendship, too, and for this, I’d forever be mad at myself. I should have prioritised you. I hate knowing I made you cry. I never would have thought I’d be the cause of your pain. I’m sincerely sorry for everything, above all I’m sorry for breaking my promise. If I could, I’d go back in time, I’d do everything to not lose you, to not break my promise. And maybe I’m pushing my luck right now but you’ve listened to me this far so I might as well say it ;  if you agreed to give me another chance, I’d love to be a part of your life again. You still mean a lot to me.”

Bradley finally breathes once he’s done talking. He’s sick in his stomach, fearing your reaction. Before, he could predict what you were gonna say or do with just one look. He doesn’t like the way you’ve become strangers. You need a few seconds to take in what he told you before replying.

“Thank you for everything you said. I appreciate your apologies but I need time.” you confess before looking at the time on your phone. “I have to go. I’m gonna pay.”

“I can totally-”

“I insist. Take this as a thank you for my father. Goodbye Bradley.”

Contrary to ten years ago, your goodbye is full of nostalgia and not of bitterness. Bradley stays static for a few moments, eyes on the restaurant’s door you’ve just walked through. Sure, nothing is done yet. You didn’t say you wanted him in your life again however you listened to him and that’s all that matters. He can only hope this victory is big enough to bring you back to him.

The next few days and nights, you’re lost in your thoughts which have Bradley as a main character. You think back to his words and specifically of the way you two used to be before everything bad happened. You were fine, close and in love. The months after your breakup, you wanted to have this once more, before your hurt turned into anger. If Bradley had tried apologising at that moment and not a year later, you would have forgiven him in a heartbeat. 

Now, you’re hesitating. You’re scared there’s going to be another conflict and Bradley decides to cut you out of his life once more. You wouldn’t handle it if it were to happen. Though, you wish to have Bradley in your life one more time. 

While you’re thinking, you see Bradley occasionally as he comes to your place. You don’t talk but you observe him and a part of you wants to have him close. Pete keeps speaking up for Bradley, more or less discreetly. All of this is making you change your mind and breaking the walls you had built around your heart.

After another night of staying awake, you tell yourself it’s time to speak with Bradley. You can’t stay like this anymore. Therefore, when the sun is up, you muster up your courage and call Bradley. You tell him to meet you at your place at a certain hour at the end of the afternoon, knowing Pete will be with Penny so you’ll be alone.

Your anxiety at its highest, you’re sitting on your couch and playing with a loose strand of a pillow. Despite the TV on, your eyes go from the door then to the time on your phone. There’s a knot in your stomach as you have a feeling of déjà vu.

You feel like you’re twenty-three once again, in your old house with your party dress and your red lipstick, waiting desperately for Bradley, only this time, he arrives on time, like he promised. Indeed, five minutes later, you hear a car parking in your driveway before someone knocks on your door. With one movement, you stand up after turning off the TV then, you open the door, finding Bradley, putting his Hawaiian shirt back in place. You let him in and you go to your living room.

When you’re sitting next to each other, your stress grows stronger. Was this a good idea ? What if now it was too late for him ? What if he got tired of waiting for so long ? As for Bradley, his mind is not at ease either : ‘maybe she just wants to tell me face to face she doesn’t want to see me anymore ? Or maybe in addition to her life, she doesn’t want me in Mav’s life either ?’. Finally, you’re the one cutting the tension.

“I’ve been thinking,” you begin, avoiding his gaze, “about what you told me and about us.” you state, setting your eyes on him. “Although I appreciate your apology, a part of me can’t help but think back to all the times where you apologised just to hurt me every chance you got.” you keep saying and Bradley’s heart tightens in his chest. “Though, I want to believe this time will be different. After all, if it worked out between you and my dad, why not us ? I want to forgive you, have you in my life again, however it’s the last time I forgive you, I won’t have the strength to do this one more time. I don’t know if we’ll ever have what we used to have and maybe our friendship will never be as strong as it used to be but I miss you so much. I miss my best friend.” you confess, tears in your eyes.

“I miss you so much, too, Y/N.”

“If it’s not too late for you, I still want you in my life as well.” you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“You’ve always been the one I want, it’s never been too late for me.” Bradley affirms with a determined voice, putting his hand on your cheek. “I promise you it’s the last time, I won’t hurt you anymore and you will not lose me either and I will really keep these promises.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself in Bradley’s arms and hold against you the person you missed the most the past ten years.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Part one

[sister-lucifer]

Inspire Me

Edward Nygma A.K.A. The Riddler x Male Reader

(This was inspired and technically written with The Riddler from Batman: The Audio Adventures in mind, but I feel like any version of Eddie works here) 

Genre: Smut

Summary: Edward has caught an unfortunate case of writer’s block, but he can always count on you to inspire him

Content/Warnings: Riding, praise, pet names, Edward cums inside 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“Nothing, nothing, nothing!” 

Edward’s frustrated voice reverberated off the walls, the echoes of his anger ringing in your ears from the other room. You sighed to yourself at the sound.

No matter how smart Edward may be, no one is immune to writers block. It is a terrible plague that befalls evil and innocent alike, an indiscriminate ailment with no real cure, and he’d caught it bad. You could hear him quickly crumple up another few papers and toss them away, groaning loudly when they didn’t make it into the overflowing trashcan. 

For days now he had been pondering like this. He didn’t tell you exactly what had happened, but the Batman had done something or other that had gotten under his skin even more than usual. He’d been doing next to nothing but seething and brainstorming, but it seems nothing substantial had come of it. 

You always worried about Edward when he became like this. You hated seeing him upset, even if it was over something trivial, but you also knew that his greatest breakthroughs always directly followed his worst struggles. Any time soon now he would have his “eureka” moment, you could feel it. 

Of course, that’s not to say he wouldn’t need any help. 

“Oh, sweetheeeaaart!” Edward called to you in a sing-song tone. Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you immediately rushed to him. 

“Yes, Mr. Nygma?” You replied, poking your head into the doorway. The sight before you was a bit jarring, but certainly not unexpected. 

Edward was sitting on the floor accompanied by mountains of discarded papers, half-done drawings of possible inventions or plans of attack surrounding him on all sides. A few metal knickknacks and machine parts laid scarcely about as well. He quickly brushed some of the discarded items away with his arm upon seeing the face you made, but it did little to help. 

You could tell what he was going to ask you from the embarrassed, lopsided smirk on his face alone. 

You and Edward had been a team long before you became his “muse.” He had discovered your brilliant ability to inspire him through…intimate means completely by accident, but he was glad he did. He wasn’t sure how it worked—maybe it was the desperately needed stress relief, or the endorphin rush of an orgasm; it didn’t really matter—but it was more effective than anything he’d tried before. He only used it as a last resort of course (he didn’t want you to feel as though he was just using you), but you were more than happy to lend him a hand. 

Or a mouth. 

Or a hole. 

“My darling, my love, the light of my life,” He began, gesturing for you to come closer. He always did enjoy the overuse of pet names. “As I’m sure you can tell my recent attempts at criminal endeavors have not been very…” 

He flicked a paper ball away with a bored expression as he blew a lock of hair out of his face. 

“…Successful.” 

“Yes, Mr. Nygma, I’ve taken note.” You flashed him an understanding smile as you walked towards him, papers crunching loudly beneath your shoes. “Is there any way I can assist you?” 

Edward responded by simply patting his lap. 

Once you’d planted yourself on top of him he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close with a sigh. 

“Oh, my handsome muse! I’m afraid that my medium has not been kind to me,” He lamented, “Try as I might, no matter how many ideas I conjure nothing is good enough. I’ve exhausted all my resources…” 

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, one of your hands sliding down his arm to lace your fingers with his. You gave a playful squeeze, and you could hear the faintest giggle slip past Edward’s lips. 

“Eddie…” You whispered. Your warm breath against his ear nearly made him shudder. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You pulled back, looking him up and down and toying with the collar of his button up. 

“There’s no need to beat around the bush, you know. If you need me to inspire you, you only need to ask.” 

—————————————————————

“Oh, my inspiration! You beautiful thing, you!” Edward gushed, arms holding you tightly to his chest. The praise encouraged you to bounce faster, craving the feeling of his cock hitting deep inside of you. His restless hands groped and grabbed at every bit of soft flesh you had to offer, leaving no spot on the outside or inside of you untouched. 

“Oh, Eddie!” You mewled in return as you leaned in to press desperate kisses to his jawline. 

“Faster, sweetheart, please…” Edward pleaded. You could feel each heavy breath he took as his chest rose and fell against your own. Your hands held tightly to his shoulders to keep your balance, nails digging into the wrinkled fabric of his loose button up. “More, my love! I can feel it— I can feel your wonderful inspiration! You are absolute perfection, my muse!” 

The best part of his sweet praises was knowing that he meant each and every word. 

Edward adored you. You were the very spirit of his creativity, and he was reminded of it every time he turned to you for ideas. 

Edward needed you in more ways than one, and he was never ashamed to show it. 

“Oh, s-sweetheart—!” He stuttered, an unusual habit for him that only you were ever allowed to witness, “Sweet boy, I-I’m close—!” 

He didn’t have to warn you; you’ve done  this more than enough times to see all the signs. You felt every little twitch of his cock inside of you, and he felt every subtle quiver of yours in return. The feeling of your leaking member grinding against his stomach as you rode him brought him satisfaction to no end. 

“My love, please, will you give me the honor…?” Edward asked, his words soft and sincere against your shoulder. 

“Of course, Eddie,” You replied eagerly. You’d never hesitate to let Edward fill you up, just how you both liked. “Anything for you.”

It was clear you were losing your rhythm now, all your focus directed to angling your hips to hit just the right spot. Edward bucked up into you in return, throwing his head back with a drawn out moan as you squeezed around him. Soon he was thrusting into you wildly, desperately chasing his release. 

“Yes, yes—! Just a bit more! God, mmph—! Perfection!” 

His words of encouragement were sprinkled between frantic calls of your name, which soon took over any attempt at forming a cohesive sentence. He held on to you for dear life, practically screaming for you as he came. The sudden warm rush of him filling you was enough to give you the last extra push you needed. 

“Oh, Eddie!” 

Your last cry was shrill and broken, barely managed between incessant noises of pleasure. Edward hummed in delight at the feeling of your cum falling across his chest. 

Soon you slowed to a stop, both of you going silent as you caught your breath. You rested your forehead on Edward’s chest as he stroked your hair tenderly. 

“Oh, my love, that was exactly what I needed…” Edward said through heavy breaths. You couldn’t help but grin at that. 

“I can feel the ideas flowing, the perfect plan is in my sights— Oh, yes! That’s it! I’m so glad I have you.” The more he spoke the more giddy with excitement he became, muttering to himself in who knows what languages as you stared up at him dreamily. He was adorable when he was like this. You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, one you both smiled into.

“You have no idea how much of a help you’ve been, my love. I can’t thank you enough.” 

You shifted in Edward’s lap, placing your hand over his where it rested on your side. 

“You’re welcome, Eddie. I’ll always be here to inspire you.” 

if you like this fic and want to support me, please reblog! its free, takes two seconds, and it’s essential for all creators on tumblr:)!

[tojifile]

Dazai Osamu: Masquerade

Genre: Angst

No— no, not Yes dearer than you. (Fyodor's version)

(｡ŏ﹏ŏ) PM!Dazai x gn!reader inspired by Dangerously Yours Masquerade & junosmindpalace

A cold, damp, and busy night. The streets of Yokohama were bustling with vendors, tourists, and locals. The night Dazai ran away from the mafia, the night he turned his back on you.

As glad as you are that he was willing to change the path set for him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal that he just ran.

The moment you had heard of Oda's death and Dazai's disappearance your heart shattered. You had led the clean-up where Oda died, making sure he was given a proper burial.

That night you went all around Yokohama, looking for Dazai. You found him in the Mimic's base. You would've thought he'd be at the bar, the same bar he had gone to with Oda and Ango. 'To the stray dogs!' They used to say. Now they've strayed far away.

You approached Dazai from behind. He was standing behind a window; looking at the moonlit sky. As you stood next to him you noticed a faint smile on his face. "Look darling, a shooting star! Did you wish?" He spoke softly. You knew from his tone and actions what this entailed; he was leaving.

The shooting star perfectly reflected onto his dark eyes. "I didn't have time.." You mumbled quietly. "Hm? Then there is something you wish for." He spoke as he faced you. You nodded softly "Yes.." You mumbled again. "What is it that you wish for?" He asked "I wish we were two other people. Two other people who needn't say goodbye." You replied with a melancholic tone as you looked at the night sky with a soft smile on your face and an arrow through your heart.

"Perhaps it can be that way." He spoke as he kept his gaze on you. "You know it can't be that way." Your expression hadn't changed, a faux sense of happiness filled your body.

He moved closer to you, holding your chin with his fingers to make you face him "Come with me, please." You met his gaze, the same gaze that would leave you nervous was now pleading "If I betray you, I betray myself. If I betray the mafia, I betray my family. My family is very dear to me.." You looked at him with a soft expression. It's as if the whole world had stopped the moment he noticed the soft look in your eyes.

"Dearer than I?" he asked; not taking his fingers away from your chin "Yes Dazai, dearer than you." Your expression still remained as if your conversation was simple and light-hearted. "You were part of the family that I so desire and now—you're leaving.." You added as you removed your chin from his grasp.

"You might as well keep my heart with you darling, it's already full of you." Dazai gently spoke, he hugged you from behind; resting his chin on the top of your head while his arms looped around your neck. "You're a fool Dazai Osamu." You whispered with the slightest hint of anger in your voice.

"Isn't any man who falls in love?" He spoke with such passion "Do you know what you are to me? You're something to believe in again. You're the type of person that had ceased to exist for me." He added as his grasp on you tightened.

"But you are none of those things to me." You spoke softly as you gave in to his grasp; facing the ground with your hands to your side. "You know that's not true darling.. I love you and I know you love me." He calmly spoke. "Stop, just stop. Take your foolish little dream and your heart and go. Please go."

Dazai just tightened his grasp as you spoke, he knew the words unspoken. "You know nothing about me.." You added, you spoke with such a quiet yet angry tone that even the smartest of minds would be deceived by your words.

He turned to you to face him, he held both your hands in his as he spoke "I know everything about you. I know your favorite flower, your favorite books, the scents you like, the food you eat, your ambitions, your past, your present.." Dazai spoke with passion and a hopeful gleam in his eyes that you'd go with him "but most importantly.. I know that you love me."

You looked away as he spoke "I've seen you in a thousand plays, read you in as many books. When I saw your favorite things I'd melt at the thought of how happy you'd be if I got it for you." Your eyes widened as he spoke, you look back at him; meeting his soft gaze that you could just drown in. His gaze never left your face even when you were hesitant to face him.

"Oh stop, stop! I am not the person you dream of Dazai! Don't be so foolish!" You exclaimed as you looked at his brown eyes; hoping to catch a glimpse of who you were back then. "You don't know what you're saying darling." He calmly spoke as he looked down at you, tightening his grasp on your hands.

Dazai pulled you to him, he wrapped his arms around you as he hugged your anxieties away. His grasp was comforting, such a shame that you would have to say goodbye.

"You have to believe me, since the day we met I was completely yours. I may have been a foolish teenager; not knowing that my feelings were genuine but it's much different now." He spoke as he gently caressed the back of your head. "When I leave there will be worlds around us, worlds that can't be bridged with words. I'd like to take you to the other side, just you and I." You suppressed tears as he spoke but he knew that they were there.

"Please.. don't leave.." You quietly mumbled in his arms. He still gently stroked the back of your head as he thought of a response "I can't betray him.." Dazai quietly replied "but you can betray me?!" You spat out quickly. Dazai's eyes widened as he stroked the back of your head then his grasp on you tightened as every muscle in his body tensed up.

"Please.. don't make me choose.." You felt a sense of guilt rushing through your veins, a sense that wasn't there before or something that waivered quickly. "I'm sorry.." You mumbled, Dazai then smiled softly. You both stood in silence as he held you in his arms for the last time.

Author's notes:

I love angst, I will definitely make more, I might make more inspired by Dangerously Yours but other episodes this time. I will mainly write for Dazai and Fyodor though.

Spontaneous post: 06/21/23 07:58AM GMT+8 Philippine Standard Time

[bitethedevil]

More Than Our Fathers (Raphael x Demigod!Reader): Chapter 3

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five

Read this on AO3

Summary: You get an unwanted visit from your father and you finally have the opportunity to give him a piece of your mind, though he does the same and scares the Hells out of you. Raphael takes you to the Hells, introduces you to Haarlep, and you basically do the Infernal version of getting married in Las Vegas on a whim.

Word count: 4,441

(AN: Had a lot of fun making up Infernal wedding traditions and yeah, it is one hundred percent inspired by that one scene in House of the Dragon)

TW: Blood

You were considering Raphael’s little marriage proposal: you were considering telling him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. The audacity of him…You would not spend centuries trapped in the Hells, when you would finally have the power that you had sought for so long within your grasp. Especially not as Raphael’s doting wife.

You liked Raphael. Despite his nature and his arrogance, the two of you were kindred spirits and he had grown on you throughout the many years that you had known each other. You still thought he was overstepping with his little plan.

Although he was right about one thing: the gods would not take kindly to your newfound powers. You were at a risk if you decided to stay in the Material Plane after claiming your father’s powers, as the gods might strike you down. You would become a threat to them.

A fact that was quickly proven as you fell asleep a couple of nights after your meeting with Raphael.

You suddenly saw a bright light as you were deep in slumber. You blinked in confusion and looked around at your surroundings. Anger started boiling up inside you at the realization of where you were: the Heavens.

Your dear father had suddenly remembered that he had a daughter, it seemed. You had not seen him since those few times he spoke to you when you were still a child. It had been before your mother died. The bastard did not even have the decency to check in on his child after she was essentially made an orphan.

Though here he was now, in front of you with his crystalline face and pale eyes, looking down on you as he had also done then. It angered you to no end that after having been ignored for over a whole millennium, now was the time he decided to show up. He spoke to you in Halruaan rather than in the common tongue.

“My dear daughter…” he greeted you.

You scowled at him.

“What a joke,” you scoffed in Halruaan. “I’m neither dear to you nor have you ever acted like a father to me. What do you want?”

You already knew what he wanted. He felt threatened by what you were doing, and you wanted him to admit it.

“Do you truly hate me so much, child?” Savras asked with a stern voice. “I know the things you have said of me. Are you truly so arrogant? You believe my actions unwise, though have you considered that I simply have seen the grander picture and made my decisions accordingly? You see clearer than any other mortal, and yet, there some things you cannot see and other things you willfully ignore.”

Any ‘other’ mortal, you noted he said. Your father saw you as nothing more than a mortal playing with things she did not understand. His accusation of you being arrogant was also rich coming from him who was currently talking down to you as if you were an insignificant speck.

“Arrogant, am I?” you snapped at him in common and all that hate that you had been keeping inside came rushing to the surface. “If who I am offends you, perhaps you should have been there to raise me. You see everything, isn’t that so, oh wise Savras, the All-Seeing? You knew my mother would die! And you did nothing! I was alone!”

Savras looked down at you with those empty eyes that you remembered from the few times he had spoken to you in your childhood.

“Your mother was supposed to die,” he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his. “Some things are not to be changed. You know that Sibylla.”

Your eyes started tearing up despite your roaring anger at what he had said.

“Why would you put me in this world, just to be alone?” you spat at him.

“You were not alone. You had guidance from the wizard Melesmer. You were always meant to meet,” Savras said. “It is how it should be.”

“But he died too…” you said, your voice cracking.

“Though he did not die before teaching you the things that he should teach you,” Savras said coldly.

“What things?” you asked frustratedly. “Answer my question! Why did you have me just to let me suffer on the Material Plane? I prayed to you at every temple I could find, for decades, and you never answered me.”

“It is all a part of the greater picture, dearest daughter,” Savras explained. “You are immortal, and loneliness is the curse to the blessing. You will not remedy that by clinging to this…hellish half-breed, this cambion of yours. His interference in your life will only bring destruction and chaos. I have seen it.”

For some reason, it angered you even further to hear him speak of Raphael in such a manner.

“Devil,” you corrected angrily. “He’s a devil, not a ‘half-breed’ and not a cambion. And he has been there for me more than you ever have, father.”

“He will lead you to ruin, Sibylla,” Savras warned. “You will discourage him from taking the Crown of Karsus, and you will leave him and the Scepter of Savras alone. If you do not, there will be grave consequences. You are playing with the fates of a lot of mortals, child. I will not abide it.”

You sneered at him.

“How dare you demand anything of me!” you hissed at him. “So, this is what it takes for you to finally act instead of passively letting fate pass you by? You can send me back. No doubt Mystra and Azuth misses their loyal dog.”

Savras’ eyes turned thunderous, and you could physically feel the ground underneath you shake as he spoke. You felt genuine fear for the first time in centuries.

“You will heed my warnings!” he roared. “I am breaking my own principles to warn you, you arrogant child! When I look into the future I see a void, and it will come to pass if you continue down this road. I will not be able to save you from gods, devils, or mortals, should you be ignorant enough to go through with this.”

You were terrified in the face of your father’s wrath, but your stubbornness forced you to try and keep a brave face.

“Send me back,” you said quietly.

Savras raised his hand and scowled at you.

“If you cannot stop this because I tell you to,” he said. “Then think of what Melesmer would have said.”

Savras sent you back with a flick of his wrist and you woke up in your bed covered in sweat.

The next day, Raphael came by to hear if you had changed your mind. You were pacing around your tower in Waterdeep like a trapped animal. There was no doubt about it: your father had delivered a threat from the gods to you. There was a real possibility that they would strike you down, even before you got your hands on the scepter. You were getting paranoid.

The fear of dying is usually a foreign concept to an immortal, and you were experiencing the feeling for the first time in your life. It was terrifying. You did not even hear Raphael appear because you were so lost in thought. You jumped when he put a hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing.

“Whatever is the matter?” he asked confused and looked at your wide-eyed expression.

“We’re doing it,” you said hurriedly. “And we are doing it now. I’m moving in with you.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

“Doing what precisely?” he asked.

“What do you think?” you said frustratedly. “We are getting married. I’m moving in and I am getting out of this realm as fast as possible.”

“What has gotten into you? Calm down, dear,” Raphael said.

You spoke in a lowered voice, as if the gods might be eavesdropping. It made no sense, but your mind was running on anxiety.

“My father visited me last night,” you said. “He warned me about all of this, about the consequences, about you. Not only did he warn me, but it sounded like an actual threat. Please…just take me to Avernus.”

Raphael seemed slightly surprised but nodded. He snapped and the both of you appeared in the House of Hope.

You explained it all to him. How your father had approached you for the first time in millennia and how he warned you about what would happen if you went through with it. You were quickly convinced that staying on the Material Plane was not the way to go.

You weren’t a fan of the idea of marrying Raphael, but the more he clarified and explained how it would work, the more at ease you felt. It seemed simple enough and Raphael went into every little detail of what he expected of you.

You would act like his wife to the public, you would share a bed or at the very least a room when you slept, and you would put on a convincing performance, or the plan would crumble. The devils of the Hells had a good nose for deceit.

Your eventual divorce would be easy enough: it was simply dependent on a verbal agreement between the two of you as well. All you had to do was to mutually come to the agreement that you no longer wished to be married.

You both agreed that the wedding ritual would be performed as quickly as possible so you both could get to work. Luckily, Raphael was ordained to perform the ritual himself, as he was the child of an Archdevil, so you could get it over with in private and without anyone else there.

What you were not a fan of was the outcome of the ritual itself. Raphael explained that you would bear a mark that marked you as his and that particular detail made it hard to swallow your pride.

“I will be marked?” you asked.

“It would not be visible to you,” Raphael explained. “It is merely a formality, really. It is proof that you belong to me.”

“Like a dog-collar…” you commented with a tight-lipped smile. “Will it say, ‘Please return to Raphael if lost’ in Infernal as well?”

Raphael sighed.

“There is little difference between a mark and the rings that mortals give each other,” Raphael explained with a shrug. “Both signal ownership beneath all the tradition and symbolism.”

“Well, there is a difference,” you said. “You won’t bear a mark as well, will you?”

“It is a question of hierarchy,” Raphael explained. “As you are not even a fiend, I outrank you. I cannot make exceptions for you, dear. We will no doubt make a controversial couple as it is…And speaking of ownership, there is another topic that might be uncomfortable for you to discuss that I must bring up as well.”

“Which is?” you asked.

“Sex,” Raphael said casually. “Neither of us are the other unfaithful. We are not to bring other people into our marriage, it is simply too risky for what we are doing.”

“Are you serious?” you asked with a sigh. “Not even if it’s really discreet and someone we can trust?”

“You might as well learn this now,” Raphael said with a raised finger to emphasize his point. “There is no one in the Nine Hells that you can trust. I will keep using Haarlep to sate my needs if you do not wish to, and you are free to do the same, but no one else is to be involved.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not stupid, I know how incubi work. You can keep Haarlep to yourself,” you said. “And I’m not having sex with you either.”

“As you wish,” Raphael replied.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but if sex was the price to pay for security, power, and not getting struck down by the gods, then you could live with it.

“Speaking of Haarlep,” you said. “When will I meet them? I’ve heard you complain so much about them that I feel like I already know them.”

Raphael shrugged and got up from his seat. He beckoned you to follow him.

He took you to a room you had never been in: his bedroom. It was extravagant to the point of excessiveness. You immediately noticed the large pool in the middle of the room.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” you teased Raphael quietly.

He looked at you briefly and rolled his eyes before calling for Haarlep.

“Haarlep!”

“Mmmh?” someone said from further inside the room. It was the unmistakable sound of someone just waking up from a nap.

“We have guests,” Raphael said harshly. “Put on a robe before you enter.”

You took in the room while you waited for Haarlep.

“We’re getting drapes,” you said quietly to Raphael.

“Excuse me?” Raphael said and raised an eyebrow at you.

“You heard me,” you said. “You might be used to there being no night in Avernus, but I’m not.”

“You will get used to it, surely,” Raphael said.

“You can see in the dark anyway, so it matters little to you,” you countered. “You will get used to it. We are getting drapes.”

“Fine,” he sighed and then impatiently called for Haarlep again. “HAARLEP!”

“Always so impatient!” a very familiar voice drawled, making you furrow your brow in confusion.

Haarlep appeared in a black silk robe with red flower detailing. Their eyes lit up and their jaw fell slightly at seeing you.

“No, it can’t be,” Haarlep said excitedly. “Am I finally getting the honor of meeting the little goddess Raphael keeps talking about?”

Your face was frozen in a wide-eyed expression with a smile that was both confused and endlessly amused on your face as you looked Haarlep up and down.

Raphael had neglected to tell you a pretty crucial detail about Haarlep: that they were wearing his form. Not only that, but they also looked exactly like how Raphael had looked when you met him for the very first time in Halruaa all those years ago.

You turned your head to Raphael with the same frozen expression on your face. Raphael narrowed his eyes at you as if warning you to thread carefully. Bullying material for the next few centuries had just been served to you on a silver platter.

“How nice to meet you Haarlep…” you said and turned your attention back on them. “Excuse my reaction, but I didn’t expect you to be…well…him.”

“Oh, don’t insult me,” Haarlep purred and pulled you into a tight hug as if the two of you had known each other for forever.

You froze slightly in their embrace. You had never been hugged by Raphael before and it was odd to be embraced by his body like that. You also felt a bit too much of Raphael’s anatomy through the robe, making you move back a bit. Haarlep let you go from the embrace but kept resting their arms around your neck.

“I have heard so much about you, darling,” Haarlep purred and studied your face. “You are even prettier than I imagined and trust me he has gone on and on about you—”

Raphael interrupted Haarlep by clearing his throat and glaring daggers at them. Haarlep smiled mischievously to him over your shoulder.

You studied Haarlep’s face as well. It was so odd to see Raphael’s young face again. You had almost forgotten how he looked underneath all the glamour. Haarlep smiled at you.

“Look how young you looked once…” you said to Raphael over your shoulder. “You were kind of cute.”

Raphael was looking at the both of you with a tired expression.

“Hah!” Haarlep laughed. “I like her already. Can we keep her?”

“She is moving in, and we are doing the union ritual tomorrow,” Raphael replied smoothly. “Which means that you will move into the guest room and only enter here when called upon from this day forward. Do you understand?”

“Whatever for?” Haarlep asked with a slight pout. “Surely she wouldn’t mind sleeping between the two of us…”

Haarlep smiled at you, and you felt a hand slide down your back, making you shiver and take another step away from them.

“Oh, there will be none of that,” you quickly said, politely but firmly to them. “I’m not interested, Haarlep.”

“Oh, we’ll see,” They said with a sultry expression. “Because I am very interested, and I think that you will also find that I am very persuasive, little goddess…”

“Haarlep,” Raphael warned firmly.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Haarlep said and sighed dramatically. “I will move my things to the guest room.”

Haarlep sauntered through the room.

“Oh,” they said and paused to look back at Raphael. “And congratulations on the engagement, of course, you lucky boy.”

Haarlep gave you one last glance before leaving you and Raphael alone in the boudoir.

The both of you were quiet for a moment.

“Well…that was interesting,” you said. “Do you seriously mean for us to start sleeping together in the same bed already?”

“Yes,” Raphael said casually. “Is there a problem with that?”

“It’s just that I thought we could wait until you have the Crown and all that,” you said.

“We might as well start becoming more comfortable with each other now,” Raphael said. “It will make it seem more natural once we have to keep up our little charade.”

“Alright…” you said and shrugged. “Gods, I can’t believe I’m getting fake-married tomorrow…It will just be the two of us, right?”

“There is nothing ‘fake’ about it, dear,” Raphael said and smiled. “We are getting married tomorrow. And correct…just the two of us.”

“It’s weird. Isn’t it weird?” you asked, clearly sounding nervous. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“I suppose I have had more time to make peace with the idea than you have,” Raphael said calmly. “Why, is the blushing bride getting cold feet?”

“Oh shut up…” you said quietly. “This is a perfectly sensible thing to be scared about.”

“It is merely a political alliance, my dear,” Raphael said. “The terms of it are entirely up to you. I would never force you to do anything.”

“You know I’d tear you apart if you tried to,” you said and started walking in circles.

You took a deep breath.

“Just a political alliance…” you mumbled to yourself as a mantra.

After a long day of talking every little detail of your future arrangement through, you were both exhausted and went to bed. Raphael wasted no time starting to undress once you got to the boudoir.

“Whoa, wait a moment,” you said. “Are you taking all your clothes off?”

Raphael paused and looked at you as he was halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. He had already discarded his doublet.

“Did you expect us to sleep fully clothed?” he asked with a smile. “You are free to avert your gaze if the view offends you.”

You wrinkled your nose at him and looked away, while you slipped into bed.  

“I’m sleeping in mine,” you said. “I’m not getting naked in front of you. You can add a screen to the list of things we need for the boudoir, along with the drapes, which I can’t help but notice still haven’t been put up.”

You heard a ‘poof’ from where he was standing. You glanced at him. He had changed into his devil form.

“You’re kidding, surely,” you said. “You’re not sleeping in that form, are you?”

“Sibylla…” Raphael said tiredly. “Do you intend to complain about every little thing I do?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “If I feel as much as a tip of a wing, or horn, or any other limb for that matter, while I sleep, I might just freeze it off.”

Raphael slipped into bed beside you.

“Do you wish to know what I think?” Raphael asked as he laid down beside you, facing you.

“No.”

“You are pestering me because you are terrified,” Raphael said anyway. “In fact, I am not sure I have ever seen you as rattled as you have been today. Is it merely that we are getting married tomorrow or does your little meeting with your father have something to do with it as well?”

You sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

“Both,” you said. “I can’t believe that I’m going to be stuck here…”

“I could comfort you and tell you that there are worse places to be stuck, but we both know that would be a lie,” Raphael said and stretched his limbs before closing his eyes with a sigh. “But rest assured that I will do everything in my power to make sure your stay here is as comfortable as it can be. It will only be a few centuries. It will have passed before you know it.”

“Hm,” you hummed.

It didn’t take long before Raphael fell asleep. You couldn’t sleep for all the thoughts going through your head. It was all so much to take in.

The next day the both of you got dressed in white clothing for the ritual. You in a white dress and Raphael in a simple white pants and ruffled shirt. You weren’t quite sure why that was a part of it. Perhaps Infernal weddings were steeped in just as much tradition as mortal weddings were.

Raphael had talked you through the whole thing before you even started. You decided to do it on the balcony. There were two daggers laid out on the table beside you and you were standing in front of each other.

You placed your hands flatly against Raphael’s as he had explained. Your hands were slightly shaking. Raphael smirked when he felt it. He interlaced his fingers with you instead and held your hands.

“Breathe,” he said.

You nodded and closed your eyes for a moment. You had no idea why you were so nervous. You had made up your mind about doing it, but still it made you so anxious. You took a deep inhale and then exhaled.

“Should we start?” Raphael asked calmly.

“Sure,” you said quietly.

Raphael said a few short sentences in Infernal before getting a dagger from the table. He placed the blade of the dagger between your left hand and his right hand that was intertwined with it. He said a few words again before pressing his palm against yours and pulling the dagger out. You winced when you felt it cut into your flesh, but you didn’t move.

He nodded to you, gesturing for it being your turn. You moved your bloodied hand from his to grab the other dagger to put it between your right hand and his left. He said some more words and you pulled the dagger away, cutting the both of you deeply just like before.

You held both of your bloody hands flatly to his while he mumbled some more sentences in Infernal. The blood was steadily dripping from your hands. The bloodshed wasn’t over yet though. There was one final step.

You both grabbed a dagger each and came closer to each other. You felt your heart beating slightly faster despite yourself as you briefly looked him in the eyes. He parted his lips, and you held his chin and placed the tip on the blade to his bottom lip. He did the same to you. You both cut at the same time before dropping the daggers onto the table again.

You could see the blood was dripping down his chin and you could feel your own running down yours. You were so close to each other’s faces. You placed your bloody hands on his shoulders, and he placed his on your hips. You looked each other in the eyes, though Raphael’s eyes sometimes flicked to your lips with a look of hunger in them.

He spoke the last couple of sentences in Infernal. There was a breathier quality to his way of speaking, and you could feel his breath on your skin because you were so close. When he was done speaking the words, he leaned forwards and kissed you.

You had been told to give it your all, so you did. Your lips parted for him, and you felt his tongue invade your mouth, tasting your blood. You did the same to him. Though it felt odd to kiss someone on the lips that you had known for so long, you had to admit that there was something deeply sinful and exciting about the act of it.

You suddenly flinched when you felt your left arm starting to burn slightly. Raphael grabbed it and ran his thumb over it, never releasing the kiss. You whined slightly at the sensation.

“Shhh,” he shushed against your lips. “It will be over in a moment.”

His lips met yours again and the kiss was softer this time as you felt the burning sensation become worse. You dug your nails into his shoulders as the pain peaked and passed. Only when he could feel you loosen your grip on him did he release the kiss. 

“There,” he said and looked you in the eyes.

The two of you were still standing close to each other and you noticed you were still holding onto his shoulders. You let go of him and stepped back.

“So, it’s done?” you asked. “We’re married?”

“We are,” he said and grabbed some cloth from the table to wrap around your hands that were still dripping with blood.

You rolled up your sleeve with your free hand and looked at the spot where you had felt the burning. There was raised scars depicting Infernal letters around your forearm. Raphael looked at them before continuing to wrap your hand.

“The scars will heal, and the mark will not be visible to you once it has,” he explained. “Only devils will be able to see it.”

You looked at the strange letters in wonder.

“What does it even say?” you asked.

Raphael smiled.

“’Please return to Raphael if lost’, of course,” he said.

You gave him a light slap on his shoulder with your free hand, and immediately regretted it when you felt the scar in your palm hurt. Raphael chuckled.

“It says which layer the union took place on and who you are married to,” he explained.

“Hm,” you said and looked him up and down.

It suddenly made sense why you both wore the white clothing. You were both soaked with blood, and it made a pretty contrast against the white. The symbolism of ruining something pure with blood also fit perfectly into the culture of the Hells. There was something morbidly beautiful about it.

As he finished up wrapping your hands, you looked up at him.

“So, what now?” you asked.

Raphael smiled.

“A bath, a drink, and then we get to work,” he said.

[eatifa]

do you remember? part 1

a/n - hello! this is inspired by a tiktok edit. i mainly posted this to remind myself that i can write. i was planning to do more characters but it was becoming long.

part 2 - draken, baji, kazutora

part 3 - izana, ran and sanzu - this part is dark so please read the trigger warnings

concept - seeing her again, a person that they used to know.

starring - mikey, koko, chifuyu

mikey doesn't like getting attached.

mikey already been scarred by losing his older brother at such a young age. emotions and feelings were a risk, another thing that could pull at his heartstrings if things went wrong.

it would be foolish to dive into a red light zone with a clear do not enter sign but he could never forget about you. the girl that caught his attention from his high school days.

she was just a nobody, another student in his class but he could never forget about her timid and shy smile. the popular girls would throw himself at him but he couldn't remember none of their name expect for the girl that he felt drawn to.

the time flew by and mikey still lived by that golden rule by just doing one night stand with girls that he would forget about the next day. he would leave without a goodbye since it wasn't needed. their phone calls would be block since clingy girls kept ignoring his hints.

but seeing her again behind the counter belonging to a coffee shop is something that he couldn't ignore. for the first time, mikey wanted to take another risk with someone but he was afraid that it would end into another tragedy.

the spark of moving on burned the thread of doubt as he made a order with the girl that he met many years ago.

koko - saying something that couldn't be taken back.

koko couldn't remember the ignitor that destroyed everything with his fiancee. it must been a petty thing but enough for the anger to cloud his better judgement.

"you're only with me for my money."

a simple sentence. it was a mistake. she didn't see it that way. her slap caused koko's cheek to sting was a sensation that hurts him. but the tears that sprung to her eyes and removing the gold engagement ring from her finger and throwing it in his direction was the thing that kept haunting him.

but nothing could be done. his fiancee was not the forgiving type. a girl that inui introduced him during high school. a girl that he dated before he became successful.

the only woman that held his hand and accepted him despite not being able to offer her anything. she could never been with him for the money because he never had any when the relationship started.

she did not care. she just accepted him for who he was and she still didn't change despite his life beginning to change. the demands for materialistic things never arrived. a person that didn't switch on koko when his fortunates changed for the better.

a woman that could never be a gold digger. her true colours never came out because she didn't have any. getting the feelings of his fiancee to return is something that money could never buy.

the thing that he wanted the most but money couldn't fix it. koko tried moving on but the other girls were too shallow or would bash the lashes when they wanted him to get something for them.

their personalities switching when koko would say no or their complaints irked him. the man rather be alone and he chose that option but the loneliness would get to him.

koko may be rich but he was still just a person.

a man that kept yearning for a girlfriend that stayed with the rags version of him.

absence made the heart fonder and the failed attempts along with the years passing by made him realised he did the biggest mistake of his life.

it's been years. she is probably married and had started her own family.

a thought that brought koko pain where he should forget about the past but he couldn't.

not being able to let go caused him to recognise her straight away. an assistant decorating a mannequin of the designer clothing store that he just entered.

seeing her must be an illusion. she turned around when the manager called out her name and seeing the similar and comforting face caused the memories rushing back.

the first date. the first kiss. the yes. slipping on the engagement ring.

koko wanted to reach out again and locking his eyes with his ex fiancee could be the start of something new.

"sir, do you need my assistance?"

her formal question was directed at him.

koko was just a mere customer in her eyes.

chifuyu - he couldn't control his insecurities.

chifuyu didn't know about the concept of casual. when the feelings start developing, his heart would always be attached to the flowers that he would give to the love of his life.

chifuyu couldn't confess. the aspect of uncertainty made him crawl back into the shell that hid the low self-esteem. being friends was better than creating a dent into the relationship with someone that would always be out of his reach.

his crush began noticing the slight differences, the stuttered answers, avoiding eye contact and the pause that would always happen before asking a personal question.

but she simply did not care.

she proved him wrong.

moving into together with the girl that captured his heart was no longer a dream but became the reality that he secretly wished for. he would wake up to see her soft sleeping form next to him along with planting a kiss on the top of her head.

the sweet fragrance of her hair became his favourite scent, another small cherished detail ingrained inside his heart. the perfect way to start the morning with the person that made his heart skip a beat.

the sunrise illuminating love couldn't be replace by the pitch black of the night. the strong foundation of trust couldn't be destroy by anything.

it will never happen.

the whispers of that she was falling in love with another student attending her university pinged into his direct messages. chifuyu just saw it as spam that he would just delete without opening it.

"get lost."

chifuyu tried stopping his girlfriend from storming out of the apartment but her death glare and the hostile tone froze him to the spot.

her cries startled chifuyu too much that he couldn't help but reach out for his phone since she left thirty minutes ago. a petty fight that spiralled out of control but he accidentally hit a nerve.

a simple apology would fix everything but seeing her phone next to his made him panicked. the time on the screen read out 11:30PM and the anxiety started forming.

a young woman is out at night without a phone to call for help. imaging the worst case scenarios made chifuyu dart for his grey coat along with shoving the phones into the pockets.

it was the worst time to get another message about the fake love interest that kept being spread around. chifuyu would ignore it but seeing the photo of his apparent love rival made him forget about the emergency.

he was too good looking. the fight made chifuyu think that it would be the end. unlocking her phone to check if she was messaging him was a moment of weakness.

"Chifuyu?" the blond spun around to see his love without a scratch on her. there was nothing to worry abo-

"What are you doing?" Chifuyu had forgotten about his treacherous act but seeing the betray glint in her eyes made him realised.

the damage was done.

the end of the most loving relationship that he ever had. chifuyu tried replacing the void but no one could replace her. chifuyu couldn't control his insecurities and he ended up hurting his true love. the innocent soul that did nothing wrong and chifuyu just couldn't forget about her but some people didn't deserve chances.

chifuyu knew he was one of them so he didn't begged her to stay and she didn't.

but the feelings couldn't be snuffed out no matter how hard he would try to stamp them out.

she was his first love but she was never coming back.

chifuyu tried to move on and he waiting to meet another girl for their date. a trip to the amusement park but seeing another figure walked pass him as he waited outside the train station.

his only one true love.

the feelings urged him to reach out and grab her arm. time heals everything and it's been years but chifuyu couldn't do it.

the guilt reminded him that it wasn't a good idea. chifuyu ran inside the train station.

he never like dealing with confrontation.

[swallowerofdharma]

Is Nanahara in love with Yashiro? Dare we call that 'love'? Attraction mixed with affection maybe?

It’s hard to answer in a straightforward way for me, because I think that Yoneda often gives enough hints to make things interesting, but at the same time there is a level of ambiguity due to the fact that these people aren’t going to admit easily or even recognize their feelings or act on them when it comes down to actually pursuing same sex relationships in any meaningful way. There are various parallels between Nanahara and Ryuuzaki in this regard, but also substantial differences, and damn if, in going back to check the translation when I was taking few screenshots to put here, I didn’t almost tear up again when Ryuuzaki tells Nana about nineteen years old Yashiro and how he believes that no matter his ability to be cunning and make the most money, Yashiro shouldn’t even be in the yakuza. The Italian translation of this dialogue in chapter 17 conveys more of Ryuuzaki’s emotions and his exasperation than nobody else seems to have predicted this outcome: so instead of the scans version “What does someone like you knows?”, in the version I have Ryuuzaki says: “Why the fuck you guys can’t see it?”. And I suggest that it is generally better to check the official translations especially when it comes to volume 3!

If Ryuuzaki’s anger is also directed at himself for falling in Hirata’s trap, and he shows genuine worry for Yashiro as a person, the discovery that their kumicho has ordered Yashiro’s death is shattering and hits very hard poor Nanahara, because he genuinely believed in the principles that the yakuza seems to be based on as a familiar system of mutual protection. And I think it is important to look at his reactions here in chapter 17, his backstory in chapter 18 and later when he is reunited with Yashiro and he takes a bullet to protect him in chapter 20, to have a better chance of understanding Nanahara’s feelings and his relationship with Yashiro. You ask if it’s love, or attraction mixed with affection, so you already guess that there is more to it than simply sexual curiosity and that puzzling physical attraction. And I also believe that there is deep affection born from years of proximity and loyalty - and Nanahara’s loyalty is one of his most genuine qualities and a rare thing to see in that world. Yashiro isn’t in my opinion even aware of what he did to inspire these feelings in others. I don’t think that Yoneda is content with just teasing us with hints about generically romantic feelings or sexual attraction, because the reality of human relationships, especially when we talk queer relationships in a patriarchal context, is more complicated and complex than following your heart or your dick. I really appreciate that there are many layers to this story to look at, even for a character like Doumeki that isn’t bothered by directly admitting to his feelings. And Nanahara and Doumeki understand each other on a certain level. But while Yashiro accepted to formalize his relationship with Nanahara under the terms of the yakuza ceremonies, he refused to do so with Doumeki even after he cut off his finger and that is a big clue about what Yashiro felt and what direction he didn’t want that particular relationship to go.

I think it’s important to look back at the circumstances that brought Nanahara to be Yashiro’s subordinate. How easily he admitted in the end that he wasn’t smart, when Yashiro only remarked that he wasn’t a good judge of character - being naive doesn’t mean being stupid. In this last scene, Yashiro makes his decision and takes Nanahara under his wing, willing to look after him and give him direction in the group so he isn’t taken advantage of again. But he also says something that really strikes Nanahara: “An idiot like you could be good”. To be good, to be recognized as having potential even in the face of Nanahara’s most great insecurity - believe me when I tell you I have a whole headcanon of Nanahara being told by parents and teachers that he was stupid over and over again and that really hurt him and he ended up believing it - and to find purpose and a place for himself in the world are not secondary things to a young person. And how the yakuza is formally defined, with Yashiro exchanging sake cups and thus formally recognizing the oyabun and kobun relationship I think mattered a lot to Nanahara. Kobun means literally something like ‘child status’ while the oyabun takes a ‘parent status’ with the implication of taking responsibility of mentorship and giving directions, making good decisions for their protégés and juniors, in a way that we see Nanahara interpret quite literally as a surrogate family. That is why he took Hirata’s betrayal harder than everyone else. He couldn’t even have imagined it. So I read in multiple ways Nanahara’s loyalty and his affection for Yashiro. I don’t think he is in love tho, because he doesn’t seem to want to change things in the relationship he has with Yashiro, he is content with being a subordinate and he took initiative only when he felt personally responsible and under Hirata’s manipulation. He might have suggestions or express his opinion freely, but for Nanahara is too important to know one’s place and to me that is indication of feelings that never really took the direction of being inescapable like a burning love that goes beyond affection and respect and true passion would imply. By the way I wish I knew better ways to communicate the different types of love in English, because I believe it should be easier to differentiate between familiar affections, romantic attraction, reciprocal care and so on, and I hope to convey correctly the different nuances. And if I put so much consideration into the linguistic aspects is because I think that the way we speak determines the way we think and our system of beliefs is also quite influential in how we build relationships with others.

This scene in the car, although I have omitted parts of it and in particular the effects that Yashiro’s words have on Doumeki, is just so well done. It really shows how Yashiro’s disillusionment came so early he never quite knew any other reality that of being disillusioned: how could he innocently believe in anything or anyone even if he wanted to? Yashiro learned out of necessity to simply accept the worst reality behind fake promises and the promises of different systems of beliefs, he learned to not expect anything genuine or unconditional from others. And that type of loneliness is something that is hard to overcome and escape.

In conclusion, I think Nanahara definitely cares for Yashiro as a boss and as someone who gave him a place to belong and a purpose. He launched himself in front of him and took a bullet hoping to “show off” or, in the translation I have, hoping to demonstrate that he was good as Yashiro envisioned for him. But most of Nanahara’s attention is still focused more on the role than the actual person, he still trusts Yashiro to be the one to lead, create opportunities and build a group for them to be a family in the yakuza way. And it has been said and shown how he is attracted to women but he is turned on by the direct sexual displays that he got used to witnessing around Yashiro, but arousal doesn’t quite mean anything that much deeper in my opinion. And a personal consideration of mine also comes to mind, that I am glad that there is at least one person close to Yashiro that doesn’t want him in a possessive and erotic way, that Yashiro can rely on without worrying about being pushed outside of his almost nonexistent comfort zone regarding intimacy. If anything, I think that Ryuuzaki was the one closest to figuring out how the role put on Yashiro by Misumi wasn’t right for him, in opposition to both Nanahara and Doumeki. And the difference is apparently banal but maybe not so much, Ryuuzaki is the same age as Yashiro, and for a moment he looked at him and wondered - something Kageyama never did - while Misumi was much older and thought he knew what was best for Yashiro. Thank you for the ask and I hope this answer makes some sort of sense!