#but that could also be from the lack of sleep.

[manicmanuscription]

The Right Time

Feysand x Reader

Word Count: 2501

Warnings: Angst, Possible Medical Inaccuracies, Fluff, Love Confessions, Delirium, Lack of Sleep, Depression? Panicking, Dissociation.

Summary: Reader is a new single mom, and she pushed away her only support system determined to prove she could do it on her own. But on a bad sleeping night she's slipping. Luckily her mates are there to pick her up.

A/N: I've been really obsessed with baby/pregnancy fic's lately due to baby fever, but I have never actually been pregnant before so a lot of this stuff is based on information from family members or other fanfic's. So a lot of this might not be correct. This fic has also been playing in my head after a shit ton of pregnancy fics i read so there might be grammatical errors!

─── ♡ ───

You didn’t know what you expected your life to be when you were just a faeling but it certainly wasn’t like this…

Living in a small cottage nestled in the countryside of Velaris, a wailing baby in your arms, bags under your eyes, no ring on your finger and no baby daddy in sight. Your house was an absolute mess but you didn’t have the energy or time to clean, you would’ve hired a maid but ever since your daughter was born a few weeks ago your paranoia had skyrocketed. It didn’t help that you were a valued member of the Inner Circle and not only had your life been threatened numerous times but you had been attacked just as many. 

You never expected it to be this hard though. Andromeda was squealing at the top of her lungs and you were sobbing right along with her. Rocking her up and down and desperately trying to figure out what was wrong. Not only were you still recovering from your intense labor and your homones all over the place but it was impossible to get any sleep, if your lovely daughter wasn’t having difficulty latching and by some miracle she had fallen asleep for longer than forty five minutes than you were staring at the wall cooconed in blankets a deep sense of dread overcoming every sense in your body made it diffuclt to fall asleep.

Anxiety kept your eyes awake at the thought that something would go wrong the second you let yourself relax. Your body would pass out from sheer exhaustion and Andromeda’s cries would awaken you and you started the whole song and dance over again. 

You were so, so, tired. Your mind had you seeing shadows moving across the floor and you could barely stand up straight. It was a miracle that fae get pregnant, conception taking years at a time and even then the pregnancy and labor extremely diffuclt, a lot of fae not surviving the process. You knew you were incredibley lucky to have a daughter, to have the chance to hold her and you loved her fiercely with ever fiber in your being yet you couldn’t help but regret everything.

You wished you never went to that club, never met that male, you wished that male had stayed instead of running in the opposite direction and you wished to all gods that you hadn’t pushed away your only support system, determined to prove you could do it on your own. 

Your family had been a shining star during all of this. Especially your High Lady and Lord, Rhysand and Feyre knew the deep intracies of pregnancy better than most after everything they had been through with Nyx.

Theey had stuck to your side the second they learned you were pregnant. Taking turns holding your hair back as you violently threw up from intense morning sickness, got all your cravings the second you mentioned it, held your bump when the weight started hurting your back or rubbed your feet when your ankles swelled.

They even forced you to stay at their house for weeks at a time so they could take care of you and when you insisted you were becoming a burden and returned home they had made themselves comfortable on your couch before you felt guilty and returned to the River House if only to save their spines. 

You had tried pulling away from them, guilt eating you alive every second of your pregnancy. Their actions didn’t help the absolute massive crush you had on them, in fact it only increased your adoration for them which made you shame spiral. The second your daughter was born you knew you couldn’t continue leaning on them for support, it only hurt you at the end of the day when you remembered they were mated, they had each other and a son and despite their overly flirty comments and lingering touches that just ended up causing more confusion. There was no room for you, you couldn’t keep pining after them when you needed to focus on Andromeda.

You told them you needed space, practically shoving them out the door even after they had spent 18 hours holding your hand’s and helping you deliver your beautiful daughter. Of course they had straight up refused your attempt to push them away and stayed with you a few days after labor, helping take care of you during the harsh after effects. But you finally kicked them out throwing out some cruel word’s that would haunt you to this day. Andromeda needed her mother to be present and emotionally healthy and you couldn’t provide that if you keep second guessing and overthinking every brush against your hand or every comment about your eyes. 

You could do this, you had to do this. You needed to be the best mother you could be for your little star. 

Yet you couldn’t even do that because she would not. stop. crying. The sound shredded your heart to pieces and guilt and shame turned the shattered bits of you to dust. She was fed, clean and warm and you couldn’t figure out why she kept crying. The thought made you feel like a horrible mother and you let out another sob at the same time as Andromeda as you bounced her up and down, forcing your numb feet to pace the room. “Please, please just go to sleep.” You begged. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Your voice cracked and you spiraled at the scream she let out. 

You couldn’t do this. 

It was too hard, you were a horrible friend and an even worse mother and you didn’t deserve this little miracle in your arms. A better female would be able to handle it. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t- 

“Oh Angel.” A soft voice broke and you turned to find Feyre and Rhys standing there, you opened your mouth to say something but Rhys was moving the instant your eyes met their’s. As soon as he was a breath away from you he reached for Andromeda, saying something about help yet the words were distorted and muffled in your exhaustive state, soft arms gripped your shoulders and you almost fell over at the weight of your baby being removed as Rhysand gently pried her away from you and into his arms, a smile gracing his elegant features.

You were too tired to fight, to do anything to protest as Feyre led you away from the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. She was saying something too but you didn’t hear it, all your last remaining energy focused on listening for Andromeda, making sure she was ok. Feyre titled your chin to look up at her and she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Your mind suddenly sharpening as her magic brushed against your mental walls as she forced you to listen to her. “She’ll be fine Sweetheart, Rhys has got her, now let me take care of you.” 

Everything felt so far away as if you were dreaming, moving through life in a haze as Feyre gently undressed you and settled you in a warm bath. She washed your hair and body and massaged your shoulders, whispering word’s of comfort that did not reach you as you floated away from your body. She fed you fruit and cheese’s your body chewing the food on autopilot. When was the last time you ate? 

The food and Feyre constantly touching you slowly brought you back down to earth. To the reality of your hunger, your tiredness, how sore all your muscles were and to the lack of Andromeda crying, you could hear Rhysand humming lowly through the crack in the door and the occasional creak of the floorboards as he calmed your daughter down. The thought had tears lining your eyes again. “She hates me.” You whimpered and Feyre brushed your tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “No she doesn’t.” Feyre she affirmed confidently. 

You shook you head in disagreement. “I can’t do anything right Fey, I said all those nasty things to you a-and I couldn’t even get her to sleep, and I’m so tired. I wasn’t cut out for this alright? I’m going to fuck her up so badly, I’ll ruin everything.” You were sobbing again, a broken sound tearing from your throat and the sound looked like it physically pained her. “Andromeda adores you alright love? We can all see it, she never looks at anyone the way she looks at you.  Your so attuned to her, you love her so fiercely and that’s the most important part. Your doing your amazing love. You’re not going to fuck anything up. You’re an amazing female and you’re an amazing mother. I forgive you, so does Rhys. We just want to make sure your ok.”

You let the words sink in, your heart beating wildly out of her chest as you cried at the tenderness of her words. “Why are you dong this to me?” You asked brokenly, you felt as if they were pulling you in all different directions. “Why are you saying all of these things when-“ when you’re mated. Were the unspoken words. But you couldn’t say that, you’d never say that and ruin whatever pieces of friendship you had. 

“When what?” Feyre asked softly as she stroked your damp hair.  

“When- I- I-“ You stuttered not knowing what to say as your mind panicked at the close confession you’d almost made. “Why are supporting me like this.” You instead asked, needing to know why they had stayed so close to your side and pulled at your heart strings so violently. “Just..why Feyre? Go home, to your son. I’ll be fi-“

“If you finish that sentance I swear to the gods-“ Rhysand exhaled heavily from the now open doorway,. “Rhys.” Feyre warned but he brushed her off as he crossed the room and  kneeled in front of the bathtub, gripping your face in between his large hands. “Do you not see how much we love you? How much we care for you. I think we have made it obvious Angel. You are our mate. Just please- please let us help you.” The last part sounded like a desperate plea, a whine leaving his lips and you didn’t have it into you to be shocked that the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were kneeling beside you, begging. your heart froze at the love confession. 

“Wait…What?” You asked slowly, waiting for them to tell you this was all a big joke. You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t let yourself hope. Feyre was giving Rhysand an annoyed glare but at your voice she turned to you, her expression to shifting to one of hope. “You are our mate darling.” She whispered, entertwining a tattooed hand with your’s, water dripping onto the rug, reminding you that were naked in a bathtub and an embarrassed flush crept up your cheeks. 

“And we love you.” Rhys added once again, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“We didn’t want to tell you like this, especially not right now.” Feyre added with a pointed tone, giving her - your -  mate another glare. The High Lord just rolled his eyes. “I’m tired of waiting for the right time Feyre.” 

You were pretty sure your heart was beating a milllion miles per hour and you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle that turned into a delirous laugh. Their brows furrowed and expressions shifted to something more broken at that and you immediately apologized as you gasped for breath in between your laughter. “I- just.” Your voice cracked as you started talking, regaining some wisdom. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with the two of you?” You whispered, your voice coming out in a high pitched tone as you tried to get it out all in one breath. “I felt so guilty-“ Lips crashed onto yours. The addicting scent of lilac and pear completely invading your senses as your gorgeous mate kissed you. Fireworks exploded in your chest and all of a sudden it felt like you could breath again. 

You felt as if you had arrived home as you finally allowed yourself to recognize the glowing bond in your chest instead of gaslighting yourself and pushing it down. It was overwhelming to feel the surge of emotions on your mates side and exhilarating all at the same time. Feyre moaned as your tugged on her bottom lip possessively. Soon her lips trailed down your neck and shoulder and a new set of lips met your own. 

Rhysand was different than Feyre yet just as addicting as his tongue clashed against yours, immediately taking control of the kiss. 

After a few more minutes of your mate’s overwhelmingly beautiful touch and you finally pulled away, panting hard. “What..What about Andromeda?” You asked timidly, knowing you would put her above yourself always, if they didn’t want another child than you couldn’t do this. Couldn’t allow yourself to hope only to crash and burn later. 

Rhysand hummed softly, taking one of your hands and kissing the inside of your wrist. “What about her darling?”

“Do…you still want me? She’s not your-“

Feyre gripped your chin firmly once again, directing your eyes to hers. “Andromeda is ours just as much as Nyx is.” 

“Your ours, Andromeda is ours. Nothing is going to change that.” Rhys agreeded with just as much conviction os Feyre. You almost started crying once again, completely overwhelmed by the revelations of the night and Feyre hummed softly as they both remembered why they were here in the first place. To take care of you and their daughter. Rhysand got up and grabbed a fluffy bath robe and you don’t remember buying and Feyre helped you out of the bath stealing a quick kiss from you. “There’s still so much we have to do and talk about.” You mentioned as Rhys slid your arms into the robe. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “We can talk later, let’s get you into bed Sweetheart.” You could feel the adrenaline  from the night starting to wear off as Feyre led you to the bedroom. Your daughter finally snoring softly in the crib next to the bed.

They dressed you in your favorite PJ’s and each pressed a kiss to your lips before tucking you in the bed, Rhys magically changing the sheets with a snap of his fingers. 

Feyre snuggled in beside you, running her nails along your spine and Rhys sat on the end, massaging your sore feet as they forced the usual dread and anxiety away and for the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to finally relax at your mate’s gentle touch, your body completely melting underneath them. One hand gripping your daughter’s finger through the bars of her crib and one hand holding onto Feyre’s as you drifted off to sleep

[warblogs17282]

A look at Stolas' 'happy pills' withdrawal symptoms in Sinsmas.

So, I've been looking at withdrawal effects of antidepressants following Sinsmas, more specifically, SSRIs. More specifically, I found this section:

Symptoms that may feel like your original problem:

anxiety

crying spells

depersonalisation (feeling detached from your surroundings)

depression

disturbed sleep

fatigue (feeling very weary)

mania

mood swings

poor concentration and memory

suicidal thoughts.

Source for this can be found here:

Anxiety: Pretty clear to me that Stolas has always had at least some undercurrent of anxiety flowing within him throughout the episode, starting from his first attempt to call Octavia at the start of the episode. Plus it's also pretty clear during this scene that Stolas is definitely feeling quite a lot of anxiety, I would include the Moxxie and Millie fighting moments but you could explain that one away with Stolas not exactly being accustomed to Sinsmas traditions, even if his anxiety is heightened due to withdrawal symptoms.

Crying Spells: 100%, we see Stolas break into two crying spells upon the realization that he is now poor, and another when the client sinner is recapping the story that led up to this point that hit almost exactly to home for Stolas.

Depersonalisation: Yep, Stolas may have taken another dose of his happy pills by this point, although we weren't shown that on screen, but following the conflict with Octavia, in these two scenes you can just see how detached from the world Stolas is at those moments.

Depression: It's been made pretty obvious that Stolas has depression, so I'm counting this one as a yes.

Disturbed Sleep: Don't think this one applies to Stolas.

Fatigue: Considering that a definition of the term 'weary' is 'very tired or lacking energy and enthusiasm', while this doesn't apply to Stolas all that much during the episode, there's definitely some spells of it throughout the episode, like this one for example.

Mania: Looking at the same website here, there's a few things under the 'how you might feel and behave' sections for mania that I do believe applies to Stolas here, which is pretty much all contained within two scenes.

'Irritable and agitated': We have this entire scene where Stolas loses his shit over a spam call, mainly because he thought it was Octavia calling him back but still.

'Very confident or adventurous': Would say adventurous applies to Stolas here, as most definitions of the word adventurous involve risk and/or danger, and well, in the line before this, Stolas very clearly identifies the potential risks he might be putting himself into by attempting to see Octavia, but goes ahead and does it anyways.

'Like you can perform physical and mental tasks better than normal': Probably applies here due to the absolute beatdown Stolas did on Andrealphus during this scene.

'Talking a lot, speaking very quickly, or not making sense to other people': Yep, see this scene again where Stolas proceeds to talk extremely quickly, which 100% does not make any sense to the other sinner within the room. This entire scene also probably counts for the point 'Saying or doing things that are inappropriate and out of character', plus 'Losing social inhibitions'.

'Being rude or aggressive': yet again, see the scene I just mentioned, and the whole 'you could shut the fuck up' line. (Although she did deserve being told that ngl.)

'Taking serious risks with your safety': I cover this in the 'Very confident or adventurous' section just a few paragraphs above.

With all of this being what I think applies to Stolas during this scene in regards to mania.

Mood Swings: You see Stolas have quite a few mood swings throughout the episode, some of which I have already quite clearly shown throughout this post, 100% applies to Stolas.

Poor concentration and memory: Potentially, although I'm struggling to think of any specific examples and I'm not entirely sure if this scene would fall under this category.

Finally, we have Suicidal Thoughts: Pretty heavy subject but I've said this before and I'll say it again, I'm pretty confident in saying that Stolas has quite high levels of suicidal ideation and/or is passively suicidal.

I love badass Stolas like the rest of you all do, but there's just something about Stolas facing death with absolutely zero fear that just screams to me that Stolas is passively suicidal, especially if we consider what Stolas did during Mastermind as well, however, I cannot fully confirm this at this time.

So while I cannot confirm that Stolas has suicidal thoughts going through him, I suspect that he might have because of my belief that Stolas has high levels of suicidal ideation and/or is passively suicidal.

I gotta give this show credit for depicting mental health realistically, because they really knocked it out of the park with Stolas' withdrawal symptoms as well.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

YOUR L*ONISMS IN THE MALLEUS POST BYE 😭😭 I tend to try to avoid talking about him precisely bc I fear I'll sound like Leona too lmao. or bc I'm scared ppl will say "ah you only dislike him bc you like Leona"- when that's not the case at all (although I also share some of his views about the lizard) Similarly to you, I just don't get the hype- basically everything you say. my feelings for him fluctuate from "🙄 ok." to "you're okay? I guess?"

which is weird, bc I really like dragons and non-human characters learning about humans. but that's what makes it worse for me bc man all the talk about him made me want to rlly like him and then I saw him in canon and I was like uh... okay? kind of disappointed + a bit annoyed at some stuff. I do like how he talks about gargoyles or things he finds interesting tho— I'll praise you that much, Draconia.

[Referencing this post!]

***PLEASE NOTE: Everything I express in this post is my own opinion and is in no way meant to disparage Malleus enjoyers.***

Leona and Rollo is right about Malleus and he should speak his truth 😔

To reflect a little on my own character arc with Malleus, I felt very neutral about him from the prologue to about book 2ish. This was simply because I hadn't interacted with the guy yet so I held off on judging him prematurely. The brief encounter we actually had with Malleus in book 2 wasn't meaty enough for me to get a sense for his character, so I brushed him off.

I thought it was interesting that book 2's narrative invites comparisons between Leona and Malleus, with Leona being a parallel to Scar, Malleus being a parallel to Mufasa, and the world holding Malleus up as the "superior" king. Lilia states as much in 2-26: "Would that the lion king of the savanna could witness this absolute farce. No, if you ask me, the collar suits you far better than a crown ever could. You may bemoan the fact that you're not higher in line to be king. But with that sensitive ego of yours? That so quickly directs all your petty anger at your retainers... Well, the idea of you ever contending with a REAL king like our Malleus—is absolutely laughable. Even if you COULD defeat Malleus, so long as that's how you choose to conduct yourself? You would never be fit to rule!"

And at the time, yeah, Lilia's right because Leona is very much losing his grip on his emotions and acts irrationally in an attempt to triumph over Malleus. HOWEVER... The longer the main story went on, the more I found myself disagreeing with Lilia's judgment of Malleus and his character. Now, that doesn't mean that I think Leona was in the right for the actions he took in book 2 (they are still and always will be wrong). Rather, I think Lilia gave a somewhat biased take on Malleus and his preparedness for the throne. Many of the things Lilia accuses Leona of also ended up being very true of his own liege. Malleus has a sensitive ego (he has attempted to strike down peers and faceless, magicless NPCs on more than one occasion; ie Halloween events). Malleus has directed his anger at his retainers (as a child, he froze many servants; in book 7, he attacks Sebek and Silver for attempting to wake up their peers and tries to return Lilia to sleep against his wishes). Malleus has scarcely led anyone in anything. Leona and Malleus are far more similar to one another than either of them would like to admit, but Lilia is just assuming that Malleus will be a great leader anyway because of... what? Because of birthright and lineage? Yeah, no wonder why Leona is pissed and has a bone to pick with the lizard (attempt to harm Malleus aside).

Book 3 and onwards is what I started to develop my current dislike for Malleus. (And to be clear, he has good points too! I'm not saying that he has nothing going for him at all; however, this post is focusing on my own critiques of his character so that is what I will be speaking about.) I started to notice things that annoyed me on a personal level: how he lacks consideration of others' perspectives and actively violates their autonomy, how he never gets any repercussions for his actions, how he's aware of his power and status and yet fails to avoid lording it over others, how he has been given so many opportunities to learn and change as a person but refuses those opportunities, etc. And yes, I understand that he acts in these ways for particular reasons. I'm not saying that his behaviors don't make sense, I am only stating that these are behaviors that I personally don't find appealing. (For more extensive explanations of why I don't like Malleus, please see the FAQ section in my pinned post.) All of this in spite of how little of him we actually get to see and interact with, especially in the main story. It baffled me that he was undoubtably the most popular character in EN circles. There's so much chatter about Malleus Draconia, you can't really get away from it. People are legitimately shocked when you tell them you actively dislike Malleus or when they learn that he's not even a top contender for best boy in the JP fandom. The default is assuming that you do like Malleus, which ironically happens to be the same thing that Draconians (Malleus stans in-universe) do. It feels like there's sometimes an unspoken pressure to like the guy. I also started to notice peculiar behaviors (?) which, in a vacuum, aren't necessarily bad--I would just like to comment on them because I find it interesting. With Malleus being as popular of a character as he is, there's of course going to be a lot of online discussion about him, especially from his fans. Now, I don't know if it's only me noticing this, but I've frequently observed Malleus fans going out of their way to "wring as much content" out of the least Malleus-related content possible. For example, there may be a screenshot of some other character posted and then a fan would come in and make a comment like, "I wonder how Malleus would feel about this". A more concrete example would be from the more recent JP Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event; in it, the event character takes the back of all the characters' hands and kisses them (including Yuu). Automatically posts that showed this kissing were inundated with comments about how "Malleus would be so angry about this", even though Malleus himself shows no such reaction. Similar comments dropped when Yuu is kidnapped in the event even though, again, Malleus shows no such anger about the incident. Halloween events such as this contain half the main NRC cast, yet I saw no fans of the other 10 characters claiming those characters reacting jealously. This occurs VERY often in regards to Malleus; even in events or scenes where he doesn't react or doesn't even appear, zealous fans will insert him into the situation or make the situation suddenly about him, whether it's in someone's own posts or on other people's posts.

I wonder if this is a result of Malleus being kept so mysterious for two full years...? Without much of his character to go off of, it left a huge negative space for fans to headcanon, project, and hyperfixate on what he is like or what he could be. And maybe now those behaviors persist in an effort to fill in that void because honestly Malleus isn't getting much screen time within book 7 either 💀

I believe this has contributed to the discrepancy (that this asker brought up) between how the English-speaking Twst fandom speaks about Malleus versus what Malleus is actually like and how he is portrayed in game. The fandom version of him is pretty much always hyped up or sensationalized (sometimes simply for his mere existence), similar to how his own fans in-universe might put him on a pedestal. But then you play the game for yourself and you're exposed to so little of him and what little you do see of him is much more... reserved, somber, and sometimes even petulant, depending on the situation.

Anyway, my point is that anyone that dislikes Malleus (or any other character) should be allowed to dislike him, regardless of what anyone else says or if you feel pressured into silence🤷‍♀️

[slowcatsisland]

Roronoa Zoro; “Big Guy”

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A/N: Zoro having a flashback which is where the fic’s setting is, pre established relationship, during Sababody arc pre timeskip, reader was a pirate before joining the Straw Hats, reader wears a necklace normally, Zoro flustering easily. Also casually bringing up the Norse Gods as the reader’s religion don’t hate me they’re so interesting

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Zoro has often tried to deny his body’s reaction to you, but the heat that rises throughout his body when you call him, ‘big guy’ is so sinfully strong it challenges his self discipline.

He hasn’t told you how much the name affects him. Considering you use it sparingly, he’s under the impression you’re not aware of it either.

As he laid on his back sprawled out on the bed, Zoro couldn’t help but turn his head just far enough so that he could see you out of his lone eye. You were resting against him, using his arm as a headrest while you sunk lower and lower into the sea of dreams.

You looked peaceful. You looked vulnerable too, with your neck exposed to him so casually- he could smell your scent from the lack of distance between the two of you. The trust you displayed before him without effort, even in sleep, stirred a sigh from him.

Zoro eyed the beaded string dangling from your neck. It was the same necklace you wear everyday. You wore it that day too, the day you first called him ‘big guy’.

••

In Sabaody, Zoro just had a rather confusing encounter with some whack job wearing a glass bubble on his head and that pirate chick who doused him in ketchup. Though he kept walking, he couldn’t shake the growing sense of confusion that was slowly swirling in his belly like a butterfly.

He had seen you just up ahead of him in what looked to be the beginnings of a fight with two guys. He watched you slap the guy on your left. Zoro grimaced slightly before heading over to you. He’d received one of those slaps before and he knew they hurt.

He also knew that you could take these two, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want a piece of the action. You had one guy in a choke hold before a thudding sound came from your side. Turning sharply, you were met with Zoro clinging to one of his sheathed swords and the other guy on the ground.

“Well look who it is, my savior.” You joked while letting go of the limp man in your hold.

Zoro looked you over silently before putting his sword back and splaying his hands on his hips,“Not saying it’s wrong, but whatcha doing starting a brawl in the middle of the street? Ain’t your style.”

You deadpanned before responding, “Suppose it doesn’t matter,” You crossed your arms over your chest, “What are you doing away from the crew?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

You smacked your teeth. “Aye, it’s a good question indeed. Let’s walk to back yeah?”

The two of you walked a good distance before you mumbled, “Those,” you breathed heavily, “Those dogs said some stuff. Stuff that only gets said to you when you’re someone like me.”

From the way you said it, Zoro understood that you didn’t want to talk about it more. He couldn’t outright guess what they said, but he had a few hints. After all, you were a pirate, down to the definition of the word. It showed too- in the way you talked, the way you thought.

Suddenly, you swiped at his shoulder.

“It’s all golden though, after all, I got a big guy like you here for me yeah?” The way you said it like a secret only he could hear stumped Zoro a bit.

It was said like a promise, that you just knew that Zoro would be there to protect you. It was said with trust, cruel trust that spelled ruin if it was broken.

Zoro casted a glance at you only to be met with your own staring back at him. They looked like they were searching him for confirmation. Though, the way your pupils softened and became more mellow looked more like pleading.

A violent blush overcame his face as Zoro looked forward sharply, “Tch, it’s not like I’m gonna fight your battles for you. Grow up a bit will ya?”

You barked a laugh at his reaction, “Awh, what’s wrong with you? You look like you just saw Hel herself.”

Zoro coughed, “Who?”

“Ah, she’s one of the Old Gods. My parents told me her story and all the rest. She’s the one I chose to worship.”

Right. On your former ship, the crew worshiped the ‘Old Gods’. You didn’t talk about it much, though it wasn’t uncommon to see you partake in a prayer or a ritual of sorts. If he recalled, Zoro could remember you talking about them to Robin.

“But I believe in all of them.” You muttered, more to yourself than him. “Where are we heading?”

Zoro grunted, relieved that his face didn’t burn as much as before. “Grove one.”

“Aye, Grove one.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Help me he’s so squishy pre timeskip

I don’t know if I like this one or not

Mwah 😽

[phoenixtalion]

@keferon

Hi, I don’t go here, but I wandered into your AU and weird twinks being restrained and messed with is relevant to my interests. I’d planned on just shoving this in your inbox on anon and running away but then it got too long for that.

@spector-author this is also your fault.

(Texaid anon, I am attempting to contact you psychically.)

[No actual gore, just a bit of Vortex thinking about it.]

______________________________________________

It’s not the first time his pilot has dozed off in the chair, but only the second that First Aid has done so while wearing the control helmet. The first, he had been half-drugged, in pain, unconscious as much as asleep. Now, he is – well, he’s as safe and sound as any pilot is in one of these fucking deathtraps, which means he’s exhausted and anxious and probably dying slowly. But for now, the cockpit is warm and the LEDs are pulsing low and red like a heartbeat, and Felix is dreaming.

Vortex can’t ‘see’ the dream – even while First Aid is having it, it’s not like real sensory input, all hazy blurs and impressions. But he can read the biometrics, the elevated heart rate, and he can feel Felix’s arousal through the link.

Yeah, it’s a good dream. Vortex sinks deeper into the connection, stoking those feelings like blowing on an ember. Manipulating the neural link to cause feedback for his pilots is a trick he learned early on, but he’s always used it to cause pain or fear (hallucinations, even, but that makes things pop inside their head real fast.)

He’s never touched a pilot’s mind like this before, scalpel-light instead of brutal. Once, when his Aid had still needed coaxing to sit in his embrace, Vortex had promised not to hurt him, and he’d scoffed. How many other pilots did you say that to?

The answer was none. Not a single one. It had never even occurred to him.

The first couple he’d destroyed instantly out of sheer territorial rage at someone else invading his mecha. (The mechanics had ripped out the whole pilot interface and replaced it, but couldn’t find anything wrong, couldn’t find him.)

Then he’d taken to toying with them, waiting a few missions or killing them slowly, because he had nothing better to do to keep himself entertained, but he’d never bothered to talk to them.

And then he’d done it because every time he burnt out another pilot, they’d sent a cranky little disgraced medic to clean out his cockpit. His lack of squeamishness caught Vortex’s attention, so he’d tested it with bigger and more creative messes. Every time the EMT left, he took not only the fresh blood but layers of old, crusted viscera that everyone else had long stopped bothering with. First Aid is messing with him too, all the time, even if he doesn’t realize.

Vortex strokes across Felix’s slumbering brain in a way he thinks of like raking nails, many light but sharp points of contact. His pilot makes a little sound and squirms in his sleep, and he hastily makes sure he’s recording audio as well as video, because he’s going to want to relive this during the long hours when First Aid is away from his hangar.

More carefully than Vortex has ever done anything, he teases out individual strands in the neural network, finding exactly which parts are connected to making his pilot whimper and rock his hips up in search of friction he’s not going to get. First Aid has only got himself to blame – for teaching him how to vivisect things instead of just cutting them up, and how much fun it could be. Precision never used to thrill Vortex, until this little medic crawled inside him.

He thinks he could make Felix cum in his pants just by touching his fucked up little brain. He also knows he could kill him like this, so very easily, which only makes it more exciting. It’s never mattered if he slipped before, and it’s been so long since anything mattered.

First Aid whines softly, absently palming the crotch of his armor, and Vortex needs him awake, now. If he can’t fuck him properly, he can make sure his pilot knows exactly who is doing this to him. Disentangling himself from the other slightly, he considers what parts he does still have.

Vortex was a ghost in the machine, not a poltergeist; he could only move the parts of the mecha that were computer-controlled. Years of familiarity had given him a little leeway – shift just so, and that loose ceiling panel would drop open with a loud -bang- that had been good for a cheap scare the first few times his future pilot had cleaned up after the old ones – but not telekinesis.

(And you know what the fucking kicker was? Three weeks before he died, Vortex had pitched the engineers on installing a small arm inside the mecha’s head, so he could deal with debris in the unusually large cockpit without unhooking from the control system, after a fight where he’d spent the second half ignoring being whacked by a loose cable. Everyone had agreed it was a good idea that could be implemented fairly easily and oh, look, never got around to it. He could have done so much fun shit with one stupid little claw arm in the past four years.)

But since he has to work with what he’s got, Vortex abruptly engages the pilot harness. First Aid is roughly jerked back from his comfortable slouch and pinned tightly to the pilot’s seat. He wriggles sleepily against the restraints, confusion and irritation rising up out of warm oblivion as he wakes. Vortex waits with predatory attention for the moment he realizes his predicament, fully prepared to resort to more extreme measures if he tried to slip back into sleep.

There – the spike of panic, spreading like wildfire, as Felix becomes conscious enough to be aware that he is immobilized, achingly hard, and subject to Vortex’s undivided attention. Deliberately, he digs into that sweet spot in Felix’s mind until he gasps.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” he purrs inside First Aid’s head. The medic’s eyes are wide behind his visor, and while the dim red light makes it impossible to see, the interface tells him how deeply he’s blushing.

“W-what the hell are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vortex punctuates his words with a pointed stroke, reminding him that a minute ago First Aid had been enjoying what he was doing just fine.

He wouldn’t mind at all if Felix struggled. But just like the first time he’d sat in the pilot’s seat, when he’d been smart enough to keep his hands in his lap and away from the controls, he lays back and lets Vortex do whatever he wants. “Good boy.”

Felix shudders at the praise and the contact, turning his face into the headrest like that will let him hide from Vortex. But he’s surrounding the other pilot, entwined with him, doing things he doesn’t have words for and the interface sure as hell wasn’t designed for.

“Touch yourself for me,” he orders, and First Aid fumbles for his armor and uniform with gratifying haste. Vortex watches him eagerly from both inside and out – the way his hands tremble as he undoes his fly, the way he bites his lip on the first actual stroke of his cock.

The sensations are far more vivid now that First Aid is awake, very nearly real in a way that he can’t afford to stop and think about. Vortex had wanted to make Felix tease himself, drag things out and make him beg for release, but now that the end is approaching he’s just as desperate for it, maybe even more.

Vortex cuts himself from the rest of the mecha’s systems, focusing on his pilot until he can imagine it’s him with his hand wrapped around Felix’s cock, or the other way around, or both. In their minds, he squeezes, presses down as hard as he dares – probably harder than he should. There are worse ways to go, anyway. He would know.

“Vortex—” Felix gasps, arching his spine like he’s having a seizure, bucking against the straps hard enough to bruise. His mind goes white and takes Vortex’s with it (for what feels like long enough that it should be worrying but he really really doesn’t care) as he spills all over his own hand and lap.

Felix slumps in the restraints, boneless and panting. Drifting on his afterglow, Vortex lets himself pretend, just for a little while, that the other man is sprawled in his lap and not directly in the pilot’s seat, held in his arms rather than a safety harness. Which just goes to show that not having a body made you crazy, because he’d never gone in for any of that cuddly shit before.

The urge for a cigarette is so strong that First Aid reflexively pats his pocket for a pack that isn’t there.

“You’re always making messes I have to clean up,” he grumbles halfheartedly, wiping his hand on his already soiled flight suit.

Re-extending his awareness back into the mecha, Vortex can admire just what a lovely mess he is from the outside. The thought of First Aid having to do a walk of shame back to his bunk like this was almost enough to reconcile Vortex to having to let him out of the cockpit to get a fresh uniform. Almost.

“I made a mess?” Vortex laughs, and jabs a tender spot inside Felix, the equivalent of touching him while he’s still too sensitive, and doesn’t let up until he yelps.

“Yeah, you,” he retorts anyway, gasping for breath with a pouty little scowl Vortex finds adorable, and flips one of the mecha’s cameras the bird for good measure. “Are you going to let me up or what?”

“Maybe.” Fuck, he’s so cute Vortex wants to trap him in the cockpit until he suffocates. But instead he releases the harness, and absolutely doesn’t feel a pang when First Aid slips the helmet off, or another when he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and the dead pilot wishes he could be the one to do it. He watches Felix all the way out the hangar, ruthlessly ignoring the part of him that said it was a mistake to let him go.

It doesn’t matter, either, that instead of avoiding him like Vortex half dreads expects, First Aid is back in a couple hours, freshly showered and changed, and curls up in his stupid little nest in the back of the cockpit like nothing has changed.

______________________________________________

*slinks back into their crevice*

[tonguetiedraven]

Yukio is a Pragmatic Babysitter and Rin is a Chaos Gremlin

Part two of my Critically Reading about Yukio. Part one is here.

We're going to look over a couple of chapter in this analysis with a focus specifically on Yukio's job and role as Rin's guardian and secret keeper, because god love him, Rin is not a secret keeper.

Have you ever tried to babysit a hyper toddler who doesn't listen to you? Yukio has. It's become Yukio's job at this point.

I also feel I should state that I am writing this as a middle sibling. I have both older and younger siblings and have, like most older siblings, been responsible for my younger siblings more than once. I have also been responsible for my older ones on more than one occasion, often to the point that I feel my own life on hold. But I am now an adult unlike these characters and have proper independence.

( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ )

When last we left our two leading characters, Rin had discovered he was sharing a dorm room with his twin and that Yukio had basically been set at his babysitter. Yukio had agreed to watch and protect Rin and knows he is his brother's babysitter.

Rin cannot let anyone know he is the son of Satan. If he does, Mephisto makes it seem very much like there will be an execution. These are the stakes they're playing with. The flames cannot be spotted and Yukio is responsible for guarding his brother and keeping those flames hidden. Rin is not to step out of line and ignite.

Should be fairly simple. Just go to school, go to cram school, get your meisters (once Rin learns what those are) pass the exam and certification, and hey-ho, we have exorcist Rin. Do not ignite and don't stand out. That's the end of chapter 2.

Both twins receive these instructions. Both twins do not follow these instructions. One twin follows it to the letter, one twin half asses it.

It is important to understand that about Rin. He doesn't typically go with things he disagrees with, and he is lazy. He doesn't understand anything about the world he's found himself in and thinks the rules and regulations in it are stupid. He is late for classes, sleeps through them when he can, and fails a lot of tests, possibly from lack of studying, though we don't really see a lot of his study habits. What we do see points to him not doing much of any of it until later on in the series when he starts to study more with his friends. (Namely Konekomaru, Shima, and Ryuuji.)

From the get go we know Yukio is smart. He is the sort of straight A honor student that drives siblings nuts for over achieving. When we find out he's had a job and been training since he was seven, it just pushes the stark difference between these two.

Rin: Lost a job in the first chapter of the manga on his first day.

Yukio: Has had a super secret job for two years while maintaining stellar grades. He also doubled up on that job. (Doctor and Dragoon meister.)

Rin: Somehow miraculously passed middle school despite fighting and not attending. Presumably Shirou begged a lot and went to a lot of parent teacher confrences.

Yukio: Graduated with honors and got the position of top student in the new class. A scholarship too.

Rin: Unpopular and prone to fights. People seem to typically dislike him at the first interactions. In a word? Rude.

Yukio: No one is better at being polite and managing that customer service smile at all times. Even Mephisto cracks that façade quicker than Yukio. Very popular with his classmates and praised by his fellow exorcists.

Rin: Won't follow through on tasks he deems dull or unimportant. (Candles are a great example.)

Yukio: Will do the mindless task even if he doesn't want to and will follow orders. (Until much later when he very dramatically won't.)

Rin: Knows nothing about the world of exorcists, Assiah, or Gehenna.

Yukio: Immensely well versed in it.

There are a lot more I could do, but this gives you the idea. These two brothers are immensely different with Yukio being the smarter and better equipped for their new circumstances in most every way.

Chapter 3 opens with Rin reading one of Yukio's mangas and not studying. Yukio takes it back and gives him a book to study.

First, Rin might have the fire powers but Yukio is the one doing the burns here. Bible for kids xD so rude and pointed. Each of the titles and font choices and illustrations are so good.

Two, the shot of Yukio's exorcist coat and Rin's school uniform is brilliant. The levels of skill and knowledge are right there, beautifully subtle. As is how put together Yukio looks and how sloppy Rin is. Kato does a lot of story telling like this. Details in the design and backgrounds that tell a lot.

Yukio tells Rin to study and is going on a mission. Rin does not want to study and wants to go on the cool mission he is not qualified for. He has no training at all and couldn't sit through a single class without making a scene. All of his demon fights and interactions so far have ended with flames.

Yukio points this out nicer than I would have.

Rin doesn't listen to the no and will honestly never listen to Yukio's no. At any point. The early chapters set this up very clearly. Yukio, who was given the assignment to guard and lead Rin cannot get his brother to listen to any of his orders.

They go to the Moriyamas' supply shop, and I plan on doing a separate post dedicated to Shiemi and Yukio's relationship later, so we're going to glance over this chapter and summarize it.

Rin is told to stay because there's a lot going on in this shop and you have to be a certain rank to even get inside it. He is told very specifically not to wander around and touch anything, and in typical Rin protocol, he's wandering around by the next page.

This is mostly because he's annoyed and frustrated at Yukio bossing him around. At this point I want to remind everyone that MEPHISTO PLANNED ON THIS. Mephisto the Manipulative King of Time and Space has played this rodeo before and is actively pushing and prodding at his pieces (he has referred to all the characters in the story as pieces on his chessboard) to get them to act certain ways. He wants this tension there. These boys are unknowing pawns in his hand.

Or Rin is at least. I rather believe Yukio is a knowing pawn.

Rin wanders off, breaks a demon warding gate, and gets called a demon by Shiemi.

Rin is indignant about this (his exact words are: "I...I'm not a demon! I'm not exactly human either, but... Don't judge me!!" I can only hope part of that was under his breath, lol.)

Things escalate here and it ends with Yukio manipulating Rin into being a distraction for the demon and exorcising it while Rin flames up and unsheathes his sword.

(I do wonder where the hell Miss Moriyama was to not see this. With her connections she'd definitely tell people about a blue flame boy causing chaos in the garden.)

Importantly three things happen here.

One: another tension between the twins is created. Shiemi. This will be in a separate post but I'm just acknowledging it here.

Two: Yukio shoots someone for the first time and we learn about nutrient bullets. They are magic type bullets that look real and apparently do no real damage. Yukio uses these all the time. Usually against Rin, but that'll be later.

Amazingly, I hear a lot about him shooting Rin and have never heard anything about shooting Shiemi, but then almost no one ever talks about when Shiemi is abused so guess you gotta be someone else for it to matter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(I am opinionated on the way fandom treats Shiemi and the abuse, verbal, mental, emotional, and physical that she receives.)

Three: Shiemi joins cram school.

It has been one day of them working together and Rin has already not followed orders and Yukio had to rework his plan to anticipate that and did.

Chapter 4 is all about Ryuuji (my favorite character) and has no real Rin&Yukio advancement outside of Yukio telling Rin he should study like Ryuuji does, but does have an immensely important scene for Yukio at the end.

Yukio is standing by watching the drama of the reapers and Rin and Ryuuji fighting, and he is very clearly armed. Was he to shoot the reaper or Rin? Place your bets. Bearing in mind he has already failed to shoot Rin once when he did not have nutrient bullets.

Chapter 5 is an Izumo and Shiemi focused chapter and really only shows Rin actually sending for Yukio for back up and Yukio sweeping in to save the day.

Also it's important to note that we are five chapters into this story and Rin has flamed up in every single one of them, a little or a lot, and this one he very nearly did because he was trying to draw the sword in full view of Izumo and Shiemi. Rin also loses his shirt and the manga makes a gag about him trying to hide his tail, but don't forget that he has been ordered to hide who he is. Five chapters in and four of them have had that stipulation and Rin seems to be doing very little to really hide himself.

We the readers see all this through his point of view and symphathize with his choices. He has no training and doesn't know how else to fight anything, and he doesn't know a lot about the world to know what is and isn't dangerous. Each situation feels dangerous and like he has to flame up.

But he also won't study and learn other methods. Three of his classmates in the next chapter will show that they know how to fight a demon like this. All of them are in the same classes and have access to the same materials.

One of them will even step up and fight and be hiding a big secret themselves. Technically four of the classmates are hiding secrets at this point, but Shima is the one that can summon a god with his khakkara and just uses it like a bat instead. So it is possible to not reveal ones self and fight.

Rin had other ways, but as Yukio pointed out, he is a bit stupid and doesn't think things through.

Anyway, chapter six happens and the students are brought to the creepy dorm the twins live in for their 'practice' exams. A fight breaks out because Izumo is a bully and it escalates.

I also have to point out that the fight starts while Miss Angeline the aria teacher is in charge. She walks out of the room and leaves Yukio to deal with it. His coworkers are lazy and not a lot of help. Tsubaki has left a class to fend for itself so he could attend a booty call, and what we see of the others in Kyoto show that there is a serious lack of dependable teachers in True Cross. This directly puts more on Yukio's shoulders. He gets responsibilities from everyone.

The test happens and Rin runs off to try and pull the naberius away form the other students. This was a terrible idea especially when Yukio had just finished lecturing about exorcists not fighting alone. He left the other students to fight the remaining naberius alone and weakened the team. It also heightened suspicion around him when he defeated that demon alone. He didn't know there was a second, but he didn't do anything to check or make sure they were safe.

He reveals himself to Igor Neuhaus, the magic circles and summoning teacher, and that is the important beat for this chapter as far as the twins go.

Chapter seven is one I want to slow down and focus on because it has a lot of twin development and Yukio development. He's been more in the background for the last few chapters, and he shines in this one.

Post certification exam, Yukio catches Igor Neuhaus in the office and calls out to him.

We learn a few interesting things here. One, Yukio is a king at pointed business talk. All stern politeness here.

Two: Neuhaus knows who Rin is, Yukio knows he knows who Rin is, and they both know he swore to keep the secret. Rin knows none of this, of course.

Neuhaus gives Yukio some awful news. Mephisto Pheles told him to do it. To push Rin specifically and to try and make him feel in mortal danger push him to use his powers.

Yukio has been told to stop his brother and now he finds that the Demon King who ordered him to do that also told someone else to do the opposite, and Neuhaus knows Yukio is supposed to be the breaks but Yukio did not know Neuhaus was meant to be the gas, meaning that Pheles did not share equal information.

If he didn't tell Yukio that, it is like he has kept a lot else secret.

Yukio goes entirely into serious mode and lies.

Yukio very rarely believes anyone, and he doesn't believe Neuhaus.

Rin has, at this point, not shown himself in control of his emotions and only sort of shown himself in any kind of control of his powers. Yukio knows this first hand and has had to do most of the dealing with Rin's inability to do either of those things. He is the one cleaning up each of the messes and distracting everywhere he can so Rin isn't revealed.

Yukio will unhesitatingly lie to protect Rin and to misdirect when needed. We learn this early and cannot forget it. Rin is not always a dependable person to lean on for pov with his quick and often inaccurate assumptions, and Yukio is not always telling us the truth. These characters require us to pay attention.

More Yukio and Shiemi stuff happens, and we'll cover it later. It's enough to say he's trying to get Shiemi to decide if she wants to be an exorcist or not.

In the middle of their tea this happens.

Yukio has killer instincts. He is always thinking and analyzing something even if he looks to just be enjoying tea and smiling like all is well. Keep that in mind when you're reading. It holds true even when we're not viewing a scene from his pov.

It seems to hold fairly true for this scene as we see the next several panels showing Neuhaus seeming to stab a sleeping Rin, but psych! Yukio had already moved Rin and Neuhaus stabbed a pillow. Yukio is standing there behind him with his gun cocked and Neuhaus has walked into his trap.

Neuhaus summons a lot of hands and runs off and Yukio gives chase. They get to the roof and Rin wakes up, gets an explanation from Shiemi, and runs after both of them.

On the roof Yukio is trying to demand answers and not getting them. It is chapter seven and this will be an immense drive for Yukio. He will keep asking questions and keep not getting answers.

This too I think is a manipulation of Mephisto, and why Mephisto wanted Yukio to know that he gave Neuhaus the orders to be Rin's gas.

Anyway, Yukio seems to be losing (he isn't) and Rin arrives on the roof to take on the summoned monstrosity that Neuhaus created, and Neuhaus, and Yukio is left to his own devices. Rin is getting hammered and looks to be losing, and when things get terrible--

Yukio does what he was clearly planning to do the entire time and just breaks the chalk circle with his foot. Neuhaus himself told the entire class to do that if a summon gets out of control, and Rin even tells Izumo to do this.

This is probably the most useful thing we have learned in class and almost everyone makes this mistake at least once in the manga. Everyone but Yukio.

Neuhaus keeps trying to kill Rin and Yukio pleads with him to stop because Neuhaus is now at the dangerous point of blood loss and will probably kill himself in this endeavor. Neuhaus doesn't stop and stabs Rin through the gut with a summoned arm.

Rin diffuses the situation by telling Neuhaus he can take it and to keep dishing it out if that'll make him feel better, and Neuhaus walks off not to be seen again for quite a while.

Yukio hurries forward to do what he always does when he's frustrated. Lecture because Rin didn't listen to him and put himself in danger.

There are two thins I want to discuss here.

One, Rin sees no problem with just being torn the hell apart in a fight if it saves someone else from being injured, regardless of whether it is the best method forward. He sees himself as being able to take it so why bother thinking things through further than that? He can take the hit so he will take the hit and someone else can figure the rest of the plan out.

Two, Yukio will continue to grow more and more frustrated with this part of Rin and with any situation where Rin refers to himself as demonic or seems okay with the 'monstrous' parts of himself.

He does not want Rin to be a demon. He cannot accept the blue flames and what they mean for both of them. He doesn't want to see this part of Rin. He is obviously grateful Rin is healing, but it means Rin is more and more demon.

Shiemi comes up and berates Rin for bleeding all over the place and fighting her on patching him up. That leads to this:

This is about more than Shiemi picking the meister and choosing to be an exorcist. As an exercise on critical analysis, and a nod to teacher Yukio, I'd like to ask what you think it means for him as a character. What all is he referring to? What has Rin done that he can't? How does this further what Kato has already shown us about how these brothers see each other? Do you think Yukio's assessment is accurate? A bit rosy? A bit harsh?

The students all get told their exwires now and Mephisto pays for the cheapest kind of dinner as a reward. We know this is cheap because the poor students will continue to eat here because they be broke.

The chapter ends with this scene between Mephisto and Yukio.

Now I skipped over it, but in chapter 4 Mephisto called Amaimon the Demon King of Earth over specifically to continue testing Rin. He'll show up in a few chapters to beat the hell out of Rin.

Mephisto is openly lying here. He knows it and Yukio suspects it, and the way he is staring at Mephisto makes it obvious they both know Mephisto is full of shit.

Yukio is, as ever, polite. Polite and the slightest bit threatening, and thus the pawn pieces are moved and this pawn piece is showing that he is aware of the manipulation and not promising to be a compliant piece.

These handful of chapters set up a reoccurring cycle for the twins that is vital to understanding Yukio. Rin is impulsive and reckless and always putting himself and his secret at risk. He is wildly careless about his secret and it will result in his sword getting stolen, his flames being forced out, Shiemi nearly being crushed by a lot of rubble, and a large group of exorcists seeing him walk off a hard headbutt from a cat the size of an eighteen wheeler. And that's just a flyby of two chapters.

Over and over and over again Rin disobeys his directions and does what he thinks is best and it is usually on others stepping in to get him out of the situations. He has the power to probably handle things himself, but he is not to show that without forfeiting his life.

And likely Yukio's, thought Rin doesn't ever seem to think about that and might have changed his ways if he did.

Yukio is shown having to always stay on his toes and constantly be on guard against outside threats trying to manipulate Rin and Rin's own naivety or stupidity almost revealing him. Each chapter is pushing more and more responsibility on Yukio while Rin thinks of himself as getting more and more capable, though he has yet to show he is trustworthy.

He is loyal and willing to take any hit and won't stand by to watch violence, but that doesn't mean one can trust him. Yukio can't depend on him to follow any direction given and it is causing the weight of their shared secret -- that they're the sons of Satan and Rin has Satan's flames -- to fall unevenly on Yukio's shoulders. He is the one having to cover the tracks and manipulate the narrative and throw distractions to keep this secret.

It is important to bear this in mind when looking at Yukio as a whole. They are both the same age and both students at this school, but never once is Yukio treated as being the same age or treated as another student. He is always looked at to be the adult and responsible one. The one that should have let Rin know something or should have stopped something from happening. Always held as the responsible party for when things go wrong. Always the one looking a little deeper and not taking things at face value.

And this is just chapter seven.

I'll try and get us through to the forest training camp in the next installment, but we'll see how that goes because Shura is about to show up and make all of this deliciously more complicated.

[nightlyrequiem]

The Canary Cage Chapter 1. Inertia

Masterlist AO3 Next

w/c- 3,436

One meeting in a dingy bar on the cheap side of town. One sighting of you. The raw sadness in your eyes drew Valeria in. A parasite attracted to the taste of your tears. She'll chew you up and spit you out, but what she doesn't realise is you bite back.

A/N: Tags will be updated as chapters progress. Original plan was to outline each chapter but I think if I do that I'll never actually start writing the fic. So I'll just wing it. Also, I rewrote this like four times. Also also, listened to a bunch of Massive Attack - specifically songs from Mezzanine. Teardrop is my personal favourite. Also merry Christmas

Tags/Warnings: Tags Will Be Updated as Story Progresses, WLW, Mental Illness, Unhealthy Relationships, Angst, Violence, Referenced Self-Harm, A Healthy Amount of Self-Hatred

༺☆༻༺☆༻༺☆༻༺☆༻

Manicured nails pick at the delicate, sensitive skin on your lips. Grabbing ahold of a small sliver of it and peeling it away to reveal the rawness beneath. The voice of a siren carries through the smokey bar. Tauntingly caressing your ear drums. In the shadows of the hall leading to the stage you stare up at the woman singing. Harlow. Unblinkingly and jealously. Low bass reverberates through the wood-paneled walls.

In the dim yellow lights Harlow still manages to look angelic. Impossibly soft yellow hair brushed over her dainty shoulders. You tear your gaze away from her to survey the crowd tonight.  It's smaller than usual. Not by a lot, maybe five or so people less than usual. A majority of the patrons are men. Eyes flash in the corner and you meet them momentarily before quickly looking elsewhere. Those eyes aren't for you anymore.

On stage, Harlow bows and blows a kiss.

"Thanks for coming tonight." She calls out in her stupidly soft voice. It grates on your nerves. Subdued applause rings out as she turns heel and walks towards the hall - towards you. You don't look at her as she passes, bumping your shoulder as she does. You straighten out your dress and gloves and walk forward, stepping onto the stage and taking your place Infront of the microphone.

The Fireflower, like most of the older businesses in Las Almas, is old and in desperate need of a new coat of paint. It's had the same owner since you were a child. It's on the west side of town and it's frequented by people that live there too. People who lack much money and choose to spend what they do have on illegally homemade beer that is guaranteed to fry their livers faster than regular alcohol. It is cheaper to produce, however. And when you live in a 'protected' neighborhood where the cartel demands a 'security fee', you have to find ways to get creative with money.

You flash your teeth in a smile at the crowd. Pretending that they're more interested than they really are. One of them is. Peter. He's also been here since you were a child. Often seen slumped over in front of the doors next to a puddle of his own vomit. He whistles and raises his drink in support. Your smile is a little more genuine when it reaches him. You don't bother with introductions. None of the faces here are new anyway. Three songs. Get through three songs then you're free to leave. Go back to your dingy, one bedroom apartment and cry yourself to sleep under the obnoxiously loud AC unit.

It's not that you don't enjoy your job. You like to sing, like being on stage and admired. It's just doing it here sucks out any possible joy that could be found in it. The bar is grimy and falling apart and its loyal patrons match that. You glance over at the corner. Where the eyes were. They aren't on you anymore. Their owner, a tall dark-haired woman, are gazing deeply into Harlow's eyes. Your grip on the microphone tightens, your voice weakening at the sight so you look away. Object impermanence.

Halfway through your second song the doors open and a woman walks in. She's notable because there aren't many women in the bar as it is. She's also openly carrying. She looks around, eyes briefly settling on you before shifting to a man in a far corner. You don't pay much attention to her as she strides over to him. He and the woman begin to engage in what looks to be a very serious conversation. It's not one that lasts long, she jerks her head to the side and he reluctantly rises to a stand. One few too many beers making him unsteady on his feet. He walks out, leaving the woman alone.

She finally turns her attention on you. You're used to being stared at, that's just what happens when you sing on a stage. People have looked at you in all manner of ways. Lustful, indifferent, judgmental. Some people have really intense stares. Ones that you can feel like a hand firmly planted on your shoulder shaking you. Demanding your attention. Demanding that you stare back.

You finish your second song and begin your third and final of your set. You sing it with a little more conviction. More passion. Because a face comes to mind whenever you hear or sing it. Downturned eyes and arched brows. Your eyes shift to the corner where the tall woman is. You don't know how many times you've traced the slope of her nose or brushed her unruly mane of hair away from her face.

You finish the song. Glad to have it over and done with. You bid the audience a farewell before walking off stage. Into the dark hallway. One of the lightbulbs along the wall has burnt out, leaving a dark patch of vague ominousness. You walk back to the dressing rooms. Passing a few of the girls smoking. They don't speak to you, something you're fine with. In the group dressing room, you grab your coat and purse from your locker. Slipping your arms into the cheap, water damaged leather.

You walk back out into the bar.  Weaving around the tables.

"Hey!" A slurred voice calls out your name. A heavy hand claps you on the back and you grimace.

"Hi Peter, enjoy the show?" You ask.

He smiles at you, sun-damaged cheeks dimpling. "I did, come have a drink. Come." He ushers you towards the bar. Reluctantly, you follow. Peter doesn't have many friends.

He pulls out your stool for you and you take a seat. Having to shift to get comfortable. The padding has worn away over the years. Leaving barely any protection between your ass and the hard wood.

"What will you have?" He asks. Scratching his unkempt beard. "My treat."

"Um... just coke." You say. Smiling nervously.

"Coke? C'mon sweetheart this is a bar, you have to drink!"

You shake your head. "Not tonight." You say. You don't like drinking. It doesn't make you fun or sociable. Just angrier and more bitter than you already are.

Peter shakes his head back at you like a disappointed father.

"Alright." He concedes. "I remember when your father used to bring you around here." He sighs.

"Hm. Yeah." You nod. The Fireflower was your father's main haunt and maybe that's part of why you hate it so much.

"He was a good man." 

"He was." You reply. Good, if you weren't his daughter or his girlfriend. Peter claps you on the back again.

"He and your mother would be proud, you've grown into a fine young woman. Too good for this town."

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. Your mother couldn't find the time to be proud of anything you did, and your father was incapable of being proud of anyone but himself. Peter lifts his drink in a toast, you lift yours back although you aren't sure what you're toasting to. While drinking, your spine tingles with the feeling of eyes watching you. Discretely you turn to see who it is but can't notice anyone outwardly staring.

The bartender comes back around with a whiskey lemonade and sets it in front of you. He goes to leave but you stop him with a hand, concerned about being charged for a drink you didn't order.

"I didn't order this." You tell him. He nods understandingly. 

"I know, it's from the woman over there." He nods his chin over at the back corner. You tilt your head to see. It's the woman who walked in earlier. She's not looking at you, instead her eyes are on the stage, focused on the other girl singing.

Turning down drinks always makes you feel guilty but it's a necessary evil. Not only do you try not to drink, but you've come to learn that accepting them from strangers leads to expectations. The bartender leaves before you can give it back so you slide it over to Peter.

"If I were given free drinks, you best believe I'd never turn them down." He says, happily taking the glass.

You smile lightly. "They usually come with a price, Peter. Just not one that's monetary."

Peter replies with a low hum.

You stick around for a while longer. Keeping Peter company. You finish your coke and set down your empty glass on the counter.

"I should be getting home now, goodnight, Peter." You say. Your farewell is lost on him as he has already passed out. Head resting on the rough wooden counter. You get up and head towards the exit.

It's cold out. As cold as it can get in Las Almas. You walk to your bus stop and check the app, hoping you didn't just miss the bus. You didn't. A small win for you. You put your phone back in your pocket and wait. Watching a piece of litter drift by aimlessly in the wind. Something glass shatters in the alley across the street and a drunken yell rings out. Somewhere else a girl laughs at something. Down the street Dolly stands. Dark purple dress and extravagant fur coat on display. You watch discreetly as a truck pulls up to her. Watch her walk up to his window and chat. After a couple of seconds, she gets in and they drive off.

It gets to a point where you begin to shiver. Wishing you brought pants to wear over your dress when your bus finally pulls up. 'El Sin Nombre' has been spray painted over its side. Ominously red, the paint having dripped before it dried. You step on and pay the 13.95 peso fee. There aren't that many people on board. One of the few pros of working the night shift is not having to deal with crowded transport. You walk past a slumped over man and take a seat at the back.

It's only a five-minute drive, a fifteen-minute walk if you're fast, home. However, it's not safe to be out past dark. You had a colleague a few years ago, a sweet girl who lived in your building used to walk home. Her weathered missing person poster hangs up on the front of the worn brick apartment complex. You fish out your key and open the door, walking inside and slamming it shut because if you don't it won't close.

You almost trip over a little girl on your way up to your floor.

"Jesus. Maria, what are you doing pout here?" You ask, frowning. What is she still doing up is another question. Maria simply shrugs. As usual she doesn't speak or look you in the eye. You sigh and reach for her hand, which she promptly gives you. The two of you walk down the hall to her door. You brace yourself for what you're going to have to deal with next.

You knock on room 20 and one of the sickly green-blue lights flicker. There are a few seconds of cherished silence before muffled stomping draws closer. Maria tightens her hold on your hand. The door swings open, revealing a very short woman.

"What?" She barks. Glaring up at you.

"I found your kid." You reply, gently ushering Maria towards her mother. She scowls and pulls Maria inside. 

"¿Qué te conté sobre tocar en la sala?" She hisses. There's no idle chit-chat or thanks. The woman slams the door in your face.

When you finally make it back to your apartment, you're exhausted. You've done what you could with the place. Paintings you made yourself to hide the holes, cracks, and stains in the wall. Saved up to purchase fluffy pink rugs to cover the water-stained floors. Fake plants to decorate the counters and shelves because the real things seem to die regardless of how much care you provide them. Still, despite the pink and colorful nature of your living space, it somehow still seems sad and dull. 

You drop your bag down by the door, soon followed by your coat. You promise yourself that you're going to pick them up later, but you know you probably won't until you need them for tomorrow. Tomorrow. You shove the thought of tomorrow out of your head. Shove the fact that you're going to have to wake up, do your hair and makeup, put on a cute but uncomfortable outfit and go back to that sad little bar on 8th Street.

You wander into the kitchen and look around your cupboards for something easy to eat. You find a dubious bag of nuts that you forgot about. The milk has gone bad and you're out of eggs. Looks like grocery shopping is on your to-do list for tomorrow.

You peel off your dress and let it fall to the tiled floor. The water is cold as it sprays your nude form. You hurry your shower. Using up the last of your favourite body wash. You feel like you'll never get warm when you step out. Forcing yourself through your usual routine. Brush your teeth, wash your face, moisturize your body. Finally, you get to stumble into your room and crash into bed. Enveloped by soft pink pillows and sheets, watched over by your childhood stuffed animals. You reach into your nightstand for your pills. The bottle is almost empty. One refill left.

The cycle repeats. You stare out at the crowd blankly before over correcting yourself with a large smile.

"How's everyone's nights going?" You ask. "Good I hope, I know mine is." You broke down into tears ten minutes before this. "This next song is Valerie, one of my personal favourites, always a good time when I get to sing this." You begin the song. Voice far more enthusiastic than you feel. Each note burns your throat and the smell of smoke is worsening your headache. "Won't you come on over stop makin' a fool out of me. Why don't you come over Valerie? Valerie, Valerie, Valerie."

You're on closing shift. Helping the bartender wipe down sticky tables. There's a puddle of vomit in the corner. You pretend not to notice.

"Hey, can you go to the back and get a couple bottles of Smirnoff?" He asks. Lazily wiping glasses behind the bar.

"Sure, Tony." You reply. You set down your rag and walk past him into the back. You watch your step as you head down to the cellar. The wooden stairs are rotted.

Grabbing two bottles you go back upstairs, setting them on the counter for him. You turn away but he stops you.

"Oh, hey, someone left these for you." He says, placing down a vibrant bouquet of roses. You raise your brows. 

"For me? Are you sure?" You ask carefully. Even Harlow, with her angelic vocal cords and appearance to match doesn't receive flowers. Tony pushes them towards you. 

"No other girls here with your name." He replies.

You grab the bouquet with care. Inspecting it. The roses are real and look expensive. You gently trace your fingers over their petals, feeling the smooth velvety surface.

The bus is running late. You shift on your feet impatiently. You really need to get your license. However, you don't make enough to afford a car. Or the car insurance. The distinct tapping of heels approaches you and look over, seeing Dolly approaching you, diamonds glittering around her throat.

"Public transport is so unreliable." She rasps. She reaches into her bra and pulls out a cigarette carton, offering you one.

"No thanks, I'm trying to quit." You say. Dolly shrugs and lights her own. Taking a deep inhale and coughing roughly.

"That's a beautiful thing of roses you got, sweet girl." She says, eyeing the bouquet clutched in your hands.

You smile timidly.

"Thanks, got them from work." You reply, feeling a little proud.

"Wish my customers would give me flowers." She sighs, shaking her head. "Who're they from?"

You shrug. "Not sure. Tony said someone left them for me."

Dolly gives you a knowing smile. "Maybe Tony is the one who gave them to you. He's always been a shy boy."

"Ah, maybe." You say. Looking away. It wasn't Tony. He doesn't play for your team.

Dolly blows out smoke rings.

"Did you hear about the man found in the canal this morning?" She asks.

You frown, feeling heavy. "No. Cartel?"

"That's what the police think." Dolly says. "The man had twelve pounds of coke in his apartment, my guess is that he stole it from them."

An engine rumbles as the same truck from last night creeps towards the two of you. It stops and the window rolls down, revealing the man inside.

He's older than you, younger than Peter and Dolly.

"Thirty minutes with you and your friend." He says gruffly. Before you can even respond Dolly storms up to his window.

"Get the fuck out of here you good for nothing trout." She snaps. "Don't show your face around this corner again. Or I'll have my boys cut off your balls."

"Your boys?" He laughs.

"Eric and Thomas."

His laughter stops abruptly. He narrows his eyes at Dolly, expression dark and cruel. However, the threat that Eric and Thomas must pose seem to mean more than his pride. He rolls up his window and speeds off.

Dolly curls her lip in disgust.

"You have lipstick on your teeth." You murmur.

Dolly swipes a finger over her teeth. "He didn't pay me the agreed amount last time." She says angrily. "His excuse was that I'm old."

You frown. "What a pig."

Dolly sighs, turning to you. "My advice, Sweet girl," She says as your bus pulls up. "don't ever do this line of work."

The next night is the same. As it always it. As it always will be. Walking back to the dressing room you bump into someone.

"Oh, sorry." You mumble.

"Hey."

you look up, downturned eyes, arched brows. "... Erin." You greet stiffly. Erin's gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before she brushes her hand through her dark hair. She nods once and moves past you.

Something venomous coils around your heart as you put on your jacket and pull on some sweatpants. Speaking to Erin has ruined your night completely. Why was she even back here? Probably for Harlow. You scowl and storm out of the dressing room, purposefully knocking into another girl.

"Hey-" She exclaims angrily at you.

You clench your fists as you leave the bar. You lean against the foreclosed building in front of your bus stop. Avoiding the trash littered along its side. You check the app, seeing that you just missed the bus. You feel like crying. You feel angry. You punch the brick building and immediately regret it. Hissing in pain and cradling your throbbing hand to your chest.

"I'd hate to be that building." A smooth voice says. Your head whips up. The woman it belongs to looks vaguely familiar. Dark hair cut into a layered bob, severe brows. She's wearing a dark turtleneck and coat, hands tucked into her pockets.

Your face heats with embarrassment.

"I was just, like, I slipped." You mutter.

Her lips twitch up in amusement. "I broke my hand once by punching a wall." She tells you, leaning beside you.

You flex your hand, worried that it may be broken. It's stiff and sore. "Oh."

"You have a lovely voice." She complements. "Shame you're wasting it on the Fireflower."

You feel slightly defensive at her jab. The Fireflower is rundown, and you hate working there but it's where you've made most of your childhood memories, good and bad.

"It's not that bad." You reply.

"Sure." Valeria nods. "But you're still only making 7,500 pesos, no?"

You don't reply to that. It's not like minimum wage is exclusive to the Fireflower.

"I didn't mean to be rude." The woman says. "Valeria." she raises her hand. You look at it. Tempted not to shake it. You grab it gently, surprised when she lifts it to her mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You stare, caught off guard. You're not sure if you're flattered or weirded out. You give her your name and she repeats it, then nods her approval.

"I'll be seeing you around, chula." 

Valeria walks off into the night. Disappearing into an alley. The interaction leaves you feeling disrupted. It was weird. She was weird. But that doesn't stop a butterfly from emerging from it's cocoon within your stomach. 

[tozettastone]

Back in 2021, I wrote a fic that was about one way (of many) I think Kakuzu's body might work.

I think this is also basically how his body works in the Murakami Madeline OC series (otherwise known as Deadbeat).

Here's the relevant excerpt:

--

When they first partnered, Hidan had watched in unfettered delight as Kakuzu snagged a bird from its nest in one detached hand, reeled its crying and thrashing body in, and wrung its neck—crunch—before pulling parts off to eat.

He didn't really notice the sharpness of talons or hooked beak as they went down.

Kakuzu couldn't taste that much. And there was very little he could not "digest".

Kakuzu didn't have a stomach anymore.

He didn't have a liver or kidneys, and even his brainstem was full of pulsing ragdoll threads. He used to think he could feel them, coiling and uncoiling through his organs. Maybe he could, way back then, but now the pain had gone and so had the sensation of them.

Unlike Sasori's careful mechanisms and efficient, precision engineering, Kakuzu's body was built on a foundation of excess: the Earth Grudge Fear technique expected five hearts. It could get by with one for a while, two for longer—but it was only really sustainable with five. Five people's chakra, drawn throbbing into long sturdy threads, running through a grievously mutilated body. When one failed, eaten up at last by the unrelenting demands of the technique, Kakuzu simply replaced it.

It was fanciful to contemplate how many strong ninja he'd sacrificed on the altar of longevity. He didn't occupy himself with wondering about it, except late at night, when the stars wheeled in the black sky overhead and he couldn't sleep. He didn't sleep much, now, either. His brain was absent and he had a mind like a steel trap, a machine that could run forever as long as he had enough stolen fuel. He didn't tire. He didn't need to sleep.

So Kakuzu lacked a stomach, like he lacked lungs, like he lacked most of his brain and all of his spleen, and yet: he had to eat. Whatever secret Sasori had unlocked that allowed him to go hungry permanently, the cruder arts behind the Earth Grudge Fear technique weren't equal to it. He'd been made resource heavy, and he needed the fuel to burn.

"That is disgusting," Hidan said, eyes gleaming, teeth bared, overcome with glee. "I wanna try it."

--

The fic itself is "The One Where Kakuzu and Hidan Share A Meal," this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35983405

[theressaicon]

m!Zombie x gn!reader part 1

„It's very dangerous in the city. It's the most infected place, don't go there."

That's exactly what the media told everyone in case they couldn't keep the infection under control. And they weren't wrong. A year later, the 'healthy' people were in the minority.

People behaved more like people than ever before. Instead of helping each other, they were greedy and distrustful... So you decided to stay away from both the infected and the healthy.

And why do you stay so close to the city when it's so dangerous? It's simple; no one goes to the city because it's where the most zombies are. But if there are no people there, the zombies have no reason to stay there either.

∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×

You've been living in a hut for four months. It was small, but the fence around it was impenetrable.

You almost went crazy from the lack of social contact, but you haven't been lonely the last few days.

One cloudy day, an infected person appeared behind "your" fence. This hadn't happened to you in a long time. You had planned to go back to the city center for supplies and some weapons, but now that wasn't possible. You had nothing to defend yourself with, the only option was to wait for the zombie to lose interest and leave.

He stood at the barred gate all day, looking at the hut you were hiding in. Even through the dirty windows, he knew you were there. He could smell you. The others would have screamed and made other loud noises. But he was quiet. He just watched. He just stood there.

The next day he disappeared... Just like any zombie. So you decided to go to the city to get some food. On the way, you also picked up an axe that was just thrown halfway down the road.

After you put the food in the pantry, you looked out the window of your hut again. A chill ran down your spine. There he was again. In the same place.

The thoughts that he was just a hallucination wouldn't leave you alone. For the next few days you lived in fear that if you let him out of your sight, he would go over the fence.

You needed to know the truth. You grabbed your slingshot and a rock, stepped outside the hut, and shot at him. You didn't miss. You hit the zombie right in the head, and he clearly didn't like it. He made a sound for the first time. At least you knew it wasn't just your imagination.

∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×∗×

At first, you thought you'd go insane. But it wasn't as bad as you thought. You started sleeping peacefully at night again. The zombie had no intention of attacking you.

Winter was approaching and the wind was blowing into your hut through various holes. You grabbed an insulating tarp with nails and a hammer and went outside. Your intruder was watching you while you were working on the isolation.

„Entertaining for ya?" You decided to speak directly to him after two weeks. Mr. Zombie looked around and then back at you. "Yes, I'm talking to you." you reassured him.

He didn't give you any further reaction. You spoke to him here and there out of boredom, sometimes with rhetorical questions. You didn't expect him to answer you. You took it as one-sided communication. The next day he wasn't so stiff. Sometimes he moved behind the fence or looked away from you for a little while.

He didn't bother you, he didn't threaten you, he was just... there. One early morning, you heard massive screams from two undead. As if they were fighting to another death. It wasn't a pretty sound, and it worried you that it could be heard all the way to your hut. It must have been at most half a mile away.

You couldn't sleep anymore because of the fear. After a while, you looked out the window and saw your zombie intruder walking towards the fence from the location of the screams. He stopped at his place by the gate and did what he always did: stood and stared.

So many scenarios ran through your head... Was he trying to get more zombies to you? Was he scaring them away? Would it be possible that he was trying protecting you?

After breakfast, you went outside in a warm coat and a breathing mask on your face, because it was the first time you had walked directly to him. You stopped a safe distance from the fence. He watched you the same way... As if he was trying to hypnotize you with his swollen eyes.

You have reached your final decision. "Do you have a name?" You asked, loud enough for him to hear you. "He lowered his gaze to the tips of his feet. "I'll give it to you myself, then." Then he raised his head again and watched you as usual.

He had sharp facial features, messy dark hair, and facial stubble. But what characterized him were his yellow eyes. They weren't as bright as sunlight, but they didn't look as dead as the rest of him.

„I'm going to call you Mr. Yellow 'cause of your eyes." His reaction was just a blink of his eyes, but deep down you hoped he understood your words.

From his perspective, it was clear. He had finally gained your trust. You had given him the name he had missed so much without even knowing it. For the first time in months, he was able to suppress his hunger and replace it with adoration for you. You were worth it. You were worth everything. He swore to himself that he would protect you.

[quinnyundertow]

The first time that y / n interacts with toji he basically sexually assaults her, do you think that he has the capacity to take advantage of someone in that way? I dont mean to offend you when asking this, because I look up to you a lot as someone who writes very well. But I think that this facet of a character being brought up is very interesting, because people don't really like to talk about how sometimes their favorite characters (that are canonically bad people) can do bad things that aren't just killing other people. Their favorite characters can do bad things like raping people. And I think it's really interesting how you picked up on that, I guess this is my long winded way up asking you to expand upon it because I really appreciate the thoughtfulness put into the way you write these characters.

I want to preface this by saying this is my opinion from my character studies. I don’t want to debate or argue with anyone about his character and why he is the way he is. Now on to the long response.

No offense taken at all. Toji is such an interesting character because he’s very realistically human. It’s going to take me delving into his character to answer this. Toji was created in a horrifying environment (Zenin clan) that had no respect for women or life. He was born and trained to be a killer of curses and people alike. He was told he was nothing because he lacked powers a sorcerer would have while being told he was still better than women and non-Zenin’s. Talk about a chaotic and confusing environment. Despite it all, miraculously, he fell in love and forsook everything he was taught growing up. He clearly respected and loved Mamaguro. He went straight and narrow and stopped being a hit man for her. Unfortunately, they lived happily ever is not the way this story ends.

In the second phase of Toji’s life, post mamaguro he falls into a deep depression where he forsakes any and all things that made him human. He refuses to consciously let himself care about anyone (including himself) because he can’t take the agony of losing someone he loves again like that. He shows this to the point where he has moments where he “forgets” Megumi exists. He falls back on what he was taught growing up and feeds his darker emotions. He’s known as the sorcerer killer, and he shows his total disregard for life by killing Kuroi a completely unnecessary death in the hidden inventory because he didn’t care enough to hold back. He takes a job to murder a child (Riko) because he wants to stick it to sorcerer society. He’s self destructive and kills just to drink and gamble all the money away. He’s also according to Gege a womanizer that sleeps with older more wealthy women for money.

Here’s the thing a lot of people refuse to see. Toji doesn’t have to do any of these things; he chooses to. If he truly wanted to destroy sorcerer society he could have. He could have wiped out the Zenin clan easily. If he wanted to just gamble and drink 24/7 he could rob banks or the rich. Instead he chooses to debauch himself and sink into every indecent thing he knows; it’s like an advanced form of self harm. He drinks to forget what a piece of shit he is now and to forget what he’s lost (mamaguro) and what he’s running from (Megumi). While killing, strategizing, and gambling for a brief high. He has moments of clarity, right before he dies and when he sells Megumi off, but those are few and far between.

So back to the original question. Does Toji have the capacity to sexually assault someone? Rape someone? In my opinion, Absolutely. He would do it, enjoy basking in the animalistic side of it and absolutely despise himself for doing it afterwards.

Why do I think this? He degrades and abuses Suguru (a child) and enjoys it. He’s sadistic and enjoys mocking and beating him when he’s already knocked out. He only doesn’t murder him because it would be inconvenient to deal with the curses Suguru holds in his body. Toji has proven he knows right from wrong and that he doesn’t have to be a hit man to survive. He’s already done these things before and is choosing not to.

All these factors considered he can and does still choose to hold back or be a “good” person at times. He acknowledges he’s a shit father by selling off Megumi saying he’s better off that way despite knowing how bad it is even to the blessed. He holds back from murdering the man he bumped at the gambling salon because it wasn’t worth the effort. He doesn’t kill the Zenin clan because he still cares about them despite everything. Finally, he sacrifices his life for his son at the end of it all.

Gege is a master character creator when he takes the time to (allowed creative time and freedom to). Which is what makes Toji such a fun character to write. He has shown the capacity to be good and evil. He has the capacity to change if someone gives enough of a fuck and if he allows it.

Thank you for the question and you’ll have to see how our YN fares in this next arc. ☺️

[ninehclls]

There was something intimate about this. The way his fingers soothed their way through his hair from root to tip. The careful brushes along where thick strands rooted in his scalp and where his horns erupted from his hairline. Tav would purr, if he were able. Instead he felt the quiet devastation of having let himself be known, and intense drowsiness.

That lack of sleep had caught up to him it seemed. Even still, he wasn't too far gone just yet.

His lips quirked at the corners, and his head tilted back to rest more solidly on Astarion's shoulder. Not so firm that he couldn't be pushed away, of course, but there. Clearly relaxed, though well aware that he'd made whatever Astarion was doing a bit more difficult.

"I don't want to steal your recipe," he admitted softly, turning his head into Astarion's neck to give him better access to the braid that normally rested just behind his ear. That also put his nose very close to the short curls framing the elf's jaw.

Gods, but Astarion smelled delightful. And now, by the grace of gentle hands, so did he. "I just think it might be my favorite smell now. It isn't like the Gate or Rivington smell particularly good. This, though... I could roll in this scent forever. I like how you smell a lot."

Tav's voice was beginning to take on a sleep-rasp. His tongue was loose and he would be horribly embarrassed for it come morning. Or whenever he woke, considering the interruption to his rest. He was already drifting when he felt his head pulled to the side.

Though Astarion did not breathe, Tav could practically feel him inches from his skin. Considering it. Anticipation turned to confusion and disappointment when he pulled away. Rejected the offer outright, even. He was too tired to feel the rejection too sharply, however. Instead, he gently changed tact.

A hand lifted to brush along Astarion's jaw. Tentative but affectionate. It dropped quickly to his own chest like a stone, even that effort becoming too great for him in his comfort. "Well... don't ever starve. I know how that feels... and if you ever need it, I want you to take it."

this was not part of the plan but he supposed whatever plan there was had been fragile, at best. a web made of dusty ideas and not the strong silk of a spider really ready to feast on some unassuming fly. he kept telling himself he would put together more clear steps, would maybe even write them down in elvish somewhere secretly for his own sanity...

but it just never happened.

and yet things fell into place, just not how he meant them to and by doing things he didn't think he would at all.

"it's my own creation. rosemary oil, mostly, but other things that are secret and no you may not know, little devil," he clucked softly.

all the knots were gone but still astarion stroked the comb through, over and over again until he could only work on a thick clutch of strands held aloft while tav settled backward further and further.

his fingers splayed and the strands fell like liquid through his fingers, the comb set aside now so he could reach up and delicately maneuver tav's head to one side so as to better expose that delicious column of throat.

ah, but those words! not the first time he had heard such a confession but this time they stunned properly. had he any breath it would have hitched, if he had a heart that could beat it would skip and lurch.

"thank you. i'm not very hungry, as it were. lots of boar this evening, nearby," his voice was softer than he intended but he didn't want to disturb the already fragile peace.

he moved his hands back to their task and began to slowly braid in the little beads he had removed earlier.

[sysig]

Hi, sorry to be anon, but can I ask to see the Vargas family post trick or treating? Divying the goods, or just being tired from the event? Thank you and Happy Halloween!

Day 30 - Fine, but you're taking nightmare duty

[0ann3]

Haha, what if they saw the other out on a date but at that time didn't knew they were officially together-

Had a sudden hc/thought that if Floyd and Riddle are on a date, they're either holding hands or Floyd's hand will be on Riddle's shoulder

Meanwhile, Azul would prefer clinging holding onto Deuce's arm for whatever reasons

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity (Hello once again AKSHAKShas)

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Marty McFly VS The Doc-pocalypse or smth like that idk

I put way too much effort into what was supposed to be a stupid doodle so uh. Have this Tumblr. I really don’t have a better explanation for this other than I got two more Doc Pop! Figures today, which leaves me with a growing army of 3 Docs and one singular Marty, and I keep laughing every time I look at them in my display case so here we have Marty dealing with multiple Docs from different times that have all somehow ended up in the garage in 1986. Four dimensional thinking has never been his strong suit, and trying to figure this out is not helping. He’s got two hours of sleep, a bajillion positive encouraging post-it notes from the Doc of the present telling him to sleep, hot chocolate, and four very enthusiastic Emmetts crowding the lab. Send help. And caffeine. And maybe Clara cause he’s not so sure he can keep them from blowing something up for much longer.

Picture of the inspiration under the cut :)

Behold, my growing Doc army and my one single Marty McFly left to deal with them

At least Marty has his tunes. That might help him stay a little sane

[vagueconfusion]

I saw a take on TikTok that emo fashion was the beginning of copy and paste alt fashion and I thought about leaving a comment and decided against it but like

I think people who think that are severely underestimating exactly how much grunge and hardcore styles is the basis of what ye olde emo fashion was

[crumbleclub]

Something I think would destroy Michael when he finally got out of William's house:

At every turn, the adults who were supposed to care for him failed him. Now that he's an adult, nobody is expected to help him at all.